The First Class of Fulbrighters - Fulbright-Kommission

from the war on the road to Bad Honnef; the destruction
surrounding the cathedral in Köln; the shabby clothes of
many Germans; the prevalence of bicycles in the streets in
place of the automobiles Americans were accustomed to seeing;
the piles of rubble still visible in every German city I
visited; the yawning gaps between buildings; the lack of
almost any form of luxury.
MY GREATEST SURPRISES WERE POSITIVE:
the absence of any visible anti-American feeling; the lack of
recriminations about the destruction American planes had
inflicted on the country; the lack of self-pity; and a remarkable
objectivity about assessing blame for the general carnage
of the war. Only once did I hear a criticism of the American
air attack on Germany, and that was in the context of the
destruction of Dresden, about which I—a former member of
the U.S. Air Force—had previously heard nothing!
As for my fellow grantees, I soon learned that my fears
about their reaction to Germany and the Germans had been
unfounded. At the end of a typical orientation day, we would
usually get together and compare impressions, which were
almost invariably favorable. Each of us had anecdotes to
relate, many of them humorous, and I recall no condescension
towards the Germans we had encountered, even though
Donald H. Crosby was born in New York City in 1927. He served in the U.S. Air Force between 1945-47. After majoring in
English at New York University, Crosby studied German Literature at Princeton University, from which he received a Ph.D. in
1955. As a pre-doctoral student at Princeton, Crosby was awarded a Fulbright fellowship for study at the Universität München
from 1953-54. Author of many studies in the area of German literature and music, Crosby taught at Indiana University, the
University of Kansas, the City University of New York, and the University of Connecticut, where he is Professor Emeritus of
German Studies. Still active as a lecturer for the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., Crosby resides in Springfield,
Virginia.
A FULBRIGHT YEAR IN MUNICH was the decisive
turning point of my life and literally the crossroads of
my career. After a somewhat rocky ocean crossing on the
U.S. Independence and a whirlwind train ride from Genoa to
Germany, we arrived at the picturesque Rhineland town of
Bad Honnef for several weeks of orientation. Our stay at the
pension Vater Rhein was memorable—fresh Brötchen 1 with
delicious German coffee were a gourmet breakfast delight
for this American’s taste buds and have remained so to this
day. I still take a sentimental journey to this locale whenever
I am in the vicinity and recall that first impression of
German culture—in spite of the changes a half century has
wrought. Our rigorous orientation program in Bad Honnef
was a challenge, and the encounter with a melange of students
and professors from various disciplines brought a
sense of excitement to my parochial heart.
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most Germans in those days were living under conditions
that seemed terribly “primitive” to us spoiled Americans.
Likewise, I can recall no instance of hostile or discriminatory
behavior towards Americans during our orientation period.
On the contrary. Tradesmen and professionals in Bad Honnef,
such as the English-speaking couple who owned the
Apotheke Willi Sick, went out of their way to assist Americans
who needed practical advice but who were still struggling
with the German language.
The impressions I had gained at Bad Honnef carried over
into my stay at my “home base” of Munich. As an example of
tolerance on both sides, I recall that a blatantly anti-Semitic
remark passed by a certain professor at the University of
Munich was shrugged off by one of our Jewish grantees with
the comment, “Oh well, give him some time—he’ll learn!”
Time and space will not permit the inclusion of my first
impressions of academic life at the University of Munich in
Germany in 1953, except to say that despite freshly erected,
wet concrete walls, puddles in corridors, poorly dressed professors
and students, woefully inadequate libraries, and freezing
lecture halls, the spirit of learning, the spirit of Goethe,
Kant, and, yes, Heine, like the Germany itself, had been
reborn.
Fulbright Memorabilia
by John Fetzer
The subsequent year in Munich was magical;
Akademiestrasse 21, about two blocks from the university
and directly across from the Kunstakademie left an indelible
mark on my memory, as did some of the still bomb-damaged
streets in the vicinity as well as my landlady, who
apparently had little love for Americans.
Vorlesungen, Seminare and Hauptseminare 2 ran the gamut
from Germanic philology, medieval and modern lyric poetry,
and Wagnerian operas, to Shakespearean drama. In short, I
enrolled for a full forty hours a week, began my day at 7:30
a.m. and staggered home at 7:00 p.m., exhausted but exhilarated.
In crowded lectures, Hans Heinrich Borchert, Arthur
Kutscher, Romano Guardini, Friedrich Wentzlaff-Eggebert,
Wolfgang Clemens, Helmut Motekat, and some less fabled
stars illuminated the academic heavens for me. How strange
it felt on one less auspicious occasion, however, to be the
only student in a huge hall, when after a few days, all the