In late spring 1937, while deeply entangled with Lida Baarová, Joseph Goebbels was busy planning art exhibitions. He had Baron August von Finck to thank for that. What the frugal financier lacked in generosity, he made up for by inspiring it in others. In four years’ time, von Finck had raised twelve million reichsmarks for Hitler’s new museum in Munich, enough money to cover the building’s continual cost overruns. Bavarians were mockingly calling the massive building “the white sausage temple.” The Nazi Party had to contribute only 100,000 reichsmarks to its construction; von Finck did the rest. The banker combined business trips with his fundraising mission, visiting other tycoons at their villas and estates. As rearmament millions flowed from the regime into industrialists’ pockets, von Finck convinced some of the biggest names in German business to give back and become founding members of the museum — and all this for just 100,000 reichsmarks. Friedrich Flick, Gustav Krupp, Carl Friedrich von Siemens, and Robert Bosch were among the munificent moguls who got their checkbooks out.
In early June 1937, Hitler and Goebbels flew to Munich to inspect the museum and its jury-picked inaugural show, called “The Great German Art Exhibition.” Von Finck personally led the tour. The duo, however, were appalled: “They have hung works here that make your flesh creep,” Goebbels wrote in his diary. “The Führer is seething with rage.” The walls were mostly lined with grisly historical scenes depicting German conquests. Apparently, those planning the exhibition had focused on the Nazi theme of “blood and soil,” interpreting the concept quite literally. The resulting show didn’t quite live up to the chancellor’s artistic vision of National Socialism. Hitler considered postponing it for a year rather than “display such muck,” and he appointed his personal photographer to curate the show going forward. But the high-profile exhibition couldn’t be dismantled at a moment’s notice without causing the chancellor some minor embarrassment. The show had to go on.
When Hitler and Goebbels returned a month later for the opening, the chancellor was happier. Nothing had been changed thematically; the number of gory paintings had simply been reduced. On July 18, 1937, the führer opened the Haus der Deutschen Kunst and its premier exhibition, with von Finck standing at his side. At the vernissage, Magda and Goebbels spent fifty thousand reichsmarks on Nazi art for their homes. Goebbels had staged another show, just a few blocks away in the Hofgarten Arcades, which was intended to run at the same time. Goebbels had come up with the idea of displaying confiscated works by mostly German modern artists, and some foreign ones; together they were meant to represent art that had no place in the Third Reich, at least in Goebbels’s opinion. The exhibition of “degenerate art” displayed six hundred works by artists such as Max Beckmann, Marc Chagall, Max Ernst, Otto Dix, Paul Klee, George Grosz, and Wassily Kandinsky. The show quickly drew over two million visitors, twice as many as attended the exhibition at the Haus der Deutschen Kunst.
Overall, the regime was pleased with von Finck and his efforts to raise funds for Hitler’s museum. The banker would soon be rewarded for his service.
Months later, Goebbels gave his feedback on another prized Nazi innovation. In early September 1937, Goebbels visited Stuttgart to join Ferdinand Porsche for a test ride in the Volkswagen. “The car has fabulous pulling power, climbs well and has excellent suspension. But does it have to be so unadorned on the outside? I give Porsche some advice on that. He takes it readily,” Goebbels wrote in his diary. He preferred to ride in fancy limousines. The propaganda minister inspected the Volkswagen again three months later and was happy with the improvements. “Dr. Porsche delivers a masterpiece here,” Goebbels wrote, pleased as he always was when someone obeyed him. He soon awarded Porsche the National Prize of Art and Science. Even bigger rewards awaited Porsche down the road.