THE BRANDENBURG GATE, WEST BERLIN
JUNE 12, 1987
The American president’s words echoed over the heads of thousands of West Berliners, all crammed into the historic Brandenburgplatz, the public plaza in front of the Brandenburg Gate. And while eleven-year-old Liesl Stumpff didn’t quite understand the gathering in the huge plaza, she knew it had to be important. Why else would so many people come to hear this man speak? She cupped her hands over her ears every time the crowd clapped and cheered.
“In the Communist world, we see failure . . .”
Liesl knew he was right. Nothing seemed to work on the other side of the wall, and everyone always seemed grouchy or afraid. And strangely, that Communist world started just through the big beautiful stone arch of the Brandenburg Gate, the symbol of their divided city, Berlin.
“Even today, the Soviet Union still cannot feed itself . . .”
Neither could the Soviet Union’s puppet country, East Germany. That’s where Liesl’s Uncle Erich lived, in the apartment his grandmother, Poldi Becker, had once owned on Rheinsbergerstrasse — Rheinsberger Street. Just through the gate that divided their city, Berlin, in two.
“Do you think Onkel Erich can hear the speech from his window, too?” she wondered aloud. How could he not, with the huge loudspeakers turned toward the east?
“Maybe.” Willi Stumpff, her father, shrugged. “Or maybe from the hospital where he works.” If so, he would hear the American president declare: “ . . . Freedom is the victor!”
Was it? Liesl and her parents could briefly visit her uncle in East Berlin every three or four months. He, on the other hand, could never leave. The barbed wire, the armed guards, and the wall itself made sure of that. What kind of country had to fence its people in to keep them from escaping? Maybe she was only eleven, but she’d known things weren’t right for a long time.
The crowd cheered as the president went on. “Are these the beginnings of profound changes?”
“What does profound mean?” asked Liesl, and her father tried to explain. Big, he thought. Important. Though she didn’t quite understand all of the president’s English words, she liked his voice. Smiling and strong at the same time, like her papa. Looking up at her father, she wished she were small enough to ride on his broad shoulders. She wasn’t tall enough to see over the crowd yet.
Papa smiled at her. “Maybe they’ll show Mr. Reagan on the news tonight.”
They did, indeed, show Mr. Reagan on the news. One line especially. Over and over, until Liesl had it memorized and could deliver that part of Mr. Reagan’s speech with passion and pizzazz:
General Secretary Gorbachev, if you seek peace . . . Come here to this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, open this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!