Hochmeisterplatz

Who were the Hochmeisters? Here at Hochmeisterplatz, their legacy whispers through the rustling leaves and across the wide expanse of green. Hochmeisterplatz, a tranquil haven just a stone’s throw from the bustling Kurfürstendamm, isn’t just a park. It’s a living echo of history, a place where the grandeur of the Teutonic Knights meets the modern rhythm of Berlin. The very name, Hochmeisterplatz, refers to the highest office within the Teutonic Order, the Hochmeister. Their presence is marked by the imposing Hochmeisterkirche, the brick basilica that anchors this square. Built in 1910, the church has seen its share of transformations, its altar redesigned multiple times, each change reflecting a different chapter in the city’s story. Hochmeisterplatz itself emerged in 1876, initially christened Buchwaldplatz. It wasn’t until 1892 that it took on its current name, aligning itself with the church and the historical resonance of the Teutonic Knights. Before the concrete and steel of modern Berlin crept closer, renowned garden architect Erwin Barth envisioned a green oasis here. Before 1930, he laid out the groundwork for the park we enjoy today. He imagined children playing, their laughter echoing amidst the trees. He pictured a sunken lawn for quiet contemplation, a place where one could escape the city’s clamor. Richard Thieme, Wilmersdorf’s garden director, brought Barth’s vision to fruition in 1936, adding walkways lined with hazelnut trees. Later, in 1959 and 1960, Eberhard Fink added seating areas, inviting visitors to linger longer, to absorb the tranquility of Hochmeisterplatz. But Hochmeisterplatz isn’t just a peaceful retreat. It carries the weight of history, a reminder of the tumultuous past. Memorial stones scattered across the grounds commemorate the victims of Kristallnacht, the dark night of terror that foreshadowed the horrors to come. Another stone honors Albrecht von Preußen, the last Hochmeister who held the highest office of the Teutonic Order until 1568. Today, the undulating lawn at Hochmeisterplatz beckons you to lie down and gaze at the sky. As you relax, imagine the figures who walked these paths before you. Perhaps the composer Friedrich Hollaender, who lived nearby on Cicerostraße 14 until he was forced to flee the Nazi regime in 1933. Or perhaps the writer Vladimir Nabokov, who described the house he lived in, just around the corner, as a “huge red ship with a complex structure on its bow.” Hochmeisterplatz has always been a place of contrasts. The serenity of the park stands in stark contrast to the bustling Kurfürstendamm just steps away. Its history, marked by both tranquility and violence, reminds us that even amidst the beauty of nature, the echoes of the past persist.