The Führerbau- Site of the Munich Agreement

In Hitler's office today where the Munich agreement was signed, showing from the left Chamberlain, Daladier, Hitler, Mussolini, and Italian Foreign Minister Count Galeazzo Ciano, pictured before signing the Munich Agreement. In the background, the diplomats Saint-John Perseon, Henri Fromageot, Joachim von Ribbentrop, Ernst von Weizsäcker and Alexis Léger. This visual superimposition captures the precise spatial coordinates where the post-Versailles security order of Europe was dismantled. The conference held on September 29, 1938, was the decisive moment where the Western democracies, represented by Chamberlain and Daladier, chose to allow the French to betray its strategic ally in a futile attempt to appease the expansionist ambitions of Hitler. The atmosphere captured in the photograph is not one of genuine diplomatic negotiation but of a dictated peace seen in the faces of Daladier and Mussolini in particular- the conference marked a defeat both for the French, who saw all their diplomatic efforts of the last twenty years aimed at strengthening relations with the countries of the Danubian area in an anti-German function nullified, and for the Italians, since once again Mussolini saw the weight of the Nazi dictatorship grow in Europe, to the detriment of Italian influence. In the end, the fate of Central Europe was decided by four powers without the presence or consent of the nation being partitioned in a way being revisited today vis a vis Ukraine.

As Kershaw puts it in Hitler:

[T]he small, quiet, dapper premier of France, together with Ribbentrop, Weizsäcker, Ciano, Wilson, and Alexis Léger, State Secretary in the French Foreign Office, took their seats around a table in the newly constructed Führerbau amid the complex of party buildings centred around the Brown House – the large and imposing party headquarters – in Munich. There they proceeded to carve up Czechoslovakia. 

With Robert Harris at the very site which provided the setting for his bestseller Munich which later was adapted for the underwhelming Netflix adaptation.

 The Führerbau was barely a year old, the work of Hitler's favourite architect, the late Professor Troost- so brand new that the white stone seemed to sparkle in the morning light. On either side of the twin porticoes hung giant flags; the German and the Italian flanked the southern entrance, the British and the French the northern. Above the doors were bronze eagles, wings outstretched, swastikas in their talons. Red carpets had been run out from both sets of doors, down the steps and across the pavement to the kerb. Only the northern entrance was in use. Here an eighteen-man honour guard stood with their rifles presented, alongside a drummer and a bugler...Its function was not entirely clear. It was not a government building, or a Party headquarters. Rather, it was a kind of monarch's court, for the enlightenment and entertainment of the emperor's guests. The interior was clad entirely in marble- a dull plum colour for the floors and the two grand staircases, greyish-white for the walls and pillars, although on the upper level the effect of the lighting was to make the stone glow golden.

Hitler's 770K Großer-Mercedes open touring parade car in the foreground- note his personal standard with my red ensign-decked bike behind today. Kempka is the driver as Hitler's personal bodyguard ϟϟ Karl Wilhelm Krause sits directly behind Hitler in the mid-car right hand side jump seat. An LSSAH Honour Guard is drawn up in front, with a grossly distorted Union Jack hanging in the background. The Munich Conference opened here at the Führerbau on September 29, 1938, at 12.45 with Hitler providing a brief overview of the Sudeten issue, stating that over 240,000 Sudeten Germans had fled to Germany since the Czech mobilisation on September 23, 1938, and declaring that further delay would be a crime. Chamberlain followed by agreeing to the need for rapid resolution, whilst Mussolini presented a proposal that had been pre-coordinated with Hitler during a train journey from Kufstein earlier that day, outlining the evacuation of Czech forces from the Sudeten areas starting October 1, 1938, and completing by October 10, 1938, without any destruction of infrastructure, a plan accepted by Chamberlain and Daladier as the basis for discussion despite its origins in a German draft prepared by Göring, Konstantin von Neurath, and Ernst von Weizsäcker. The session adjourned around 15.00 for lunch, during which no coordination occurred between the British and French delegations despite a planned meeting at 15.30, missing an opportunity to align on issues such as compensation for Czech state properties valued at approximately 20% of the country's economic capacity, including industrial assets and fortifications covering 28,000 square kilometres. Here on the right Hitler is seen stepping out of the Führerbau after the first meeting, with Reichsführer ϟϟ Himmler and ϟϟ Gruppenfuhrer Schaub following behind.
Reconvening at 16.30, negotiations centred on the proposal's specifics, with Chamberlain querying compensation mechanisms for public assets which remained unresolved after debates lasting until 19.00, and Daladier securing Hitler's agreement to an international committee comprising the German state secretary of the foreign office, the ambassadors of Britain, France, and Italy in Berlin, and one Czechoslovak nominee to finalise borders based on ethnographic lines allowing minor deviations in exceptional cases.
Discussions then shifted to map-based deliberations dividing the territory into four zones for phased German occupation, with zone I scheduled for October 1 and 2, 1938, zone II for October 2 and 3, 1938, zone III for October 3, 4, and 5, 1938, and zone IV for October 6 and 7, 1938, covering a total population of 3.6 million including 800,000 Czechs who would have the right to relocate within six months under a German-Czechoslovak commission handling population exchanges and related matters. By 22.00, a drafting group of legal experts from the four powers formulated the final text, incorporating a plebiscite provision for disputed areas to be completed by November 30, 1938, modelled on the Saar plebiscite of January 13, 1935, with international troops occupying those zones until completion, and including amnesty for 10,000 Sudeten political prisoners detained in Czech jails since April 1938 as well as the discharge of Sudeten Germans from Czech military and police forces within four weeks.

The flags of the participating nations hanging from the two entrances and at the site today and how it appeared during the Conference. The negotiations at the Führerbau emphasised rapid implementation without Czechoslovak participation, as Hitler dismissed concerns over full immediate cession from his earlier Godesberg demands of September 22, 1938, yielding to the committee-led process that would determine the remaining areas for occupation by October 10, 1938, whilst Mussolini framed the proposal as his contribution to averting conflict, stating it provided a balanced solution despite its German origins. Chamberlain pressed for clarity on the non-destruction clause, noting that Czechoslovakia bore responsibility for compliance but seeking assurances on compensation for state-owned facilities estimated at 20% of the nation's industrial output, a point that led to extended debates without resolution as Hitler prioritised evacuation timelines over financial reparations. Daladier focused on the border delimitation, obtaining Hitler's concession for Czech representation on the committee to ensure ethnographic accuracy, though in practice this role proved marginal with the committee meeting in Berlin from October 1, 1938, and making decisions that favoured German claims on 28,000 square kilometres encompassing 3.6 million inhabitants. The map examinations dominated the afternoon session, with the leaders agreeing on the zonal divisions to facilitate orderly occupation by German troops numbering 52 divisions in readiness, covering zone I with immediate entry on October 1, 1938, and progressing through zones II, III, and IV by October 7, 1938, to minimise resistance and secure the transfer of 800,000 non-German residents under the six-month option period. The drafting committee's work by 22.00 incorporated additional provisions for plebiscites in mixed ethnic areas, stipulating completion by November 30, 1938, with modalities based on the 1935 Saar vote that had seen 90.73 % favouring reunion with Germany, and requiring international supervision to occupy and administer those zones until results were certified. Amnesty measures extended to the release of 10,000 political detainees within four weeks, whilst the discharge of Sudeten personnel from Czech forces aimed to integrate 3.32 million ethnic Germans into the Reich without internal conflicts, reflecting Hitler's strategic goal of expanding German territory by 28,000 square kilometres without immediate warfare.

Standing beside the actual desk where the agreement was signed at the Deutsches Historisches Museum in Berlin. The signing at midnight on September 29, 1938, at the Führerbau formalised the agreement in four languages, with Hitler expressing private dissatisfaction to Ribbentrop that the document held no further significance as it averted the war he desired for full conquest, whilst Chamberlain viewed it as a step towards peace, later declaring peace for our time upon return to London on September 30, 1938. Mussolini's mediation role, secured through the train coordination where Hitler accepted the proposal drafted by Göring's team, positioned Italy as a balancer despite alignment with German timelines for evacuation starting October 1, 1938. Daladier's concessions on the committee, including Czech nominee despite marginal influence, reflected French reluctance for war given mobilisation of 1 million troops but preference for diplomatic resolution over the 1925 alliance obligations. The negotiations' power imbalance was evident in the exclusion of Czech input, with diplomats Hubert Masařík and Vojtěch Mastný waiting at the Hotel Regina until notified at 1.30 on September 30, 1938, of the terms dictating cession of 28,000 square kilometres without consultation. The zonal divisions ensured German control over 20% of Czech industry by October 10, 1938, whilst the plebiscite provisions for areas with 200,000 mixed residents by November 30, 1938, under 5,000 international troops modelled on the 90.73 % Saar vote, aimed to justify further adjustments. The amnesty and discharge clauses addressed 10,000 prisoners and military integration, facilitating the Reich's expansion by 3.6 million inhabitants, including 3.32 million Germans, under the six-month option for relocations to prevent unrest among 800,000 Czechs.

Hitler's entourage, including Göring, Mussolini and Ciano, leaving after signing the agreement in the early hours of September 30. In the eyes of the world public at large, Hitler appeared to have scored an overwhelming success. Without firing a shot, he had gained huge territories and an additional 3.5 millions of people. The prostrate Czechoslovakia was placed at his mercy whilst the Western Powers had lost prestige, particularly in the smaller states of southeastern Europe. 

While others thought of the Munich agreement of 1938 as a sign of German triumph and as a symbol of weak-kneed acquiescence in aggression, Hitler looked on it as a terrible disappointment then and as the greatest error of his career later. He had been cheated of war and, after destroying what was left of Czechoslovakia anyway, he would move toward war in a manner calculated to preclude what he considered the disappointing outcome of 1938. 

Weinberg (28) A World at Arms

The historical significance of the event depicted in this room lies in the catastrophic strategic collapse that followed the signing of the document in the early hours of September 30, 1938. The agreement authorised the immediate German annexation of the Sudetenland, a territory that constituted the defensive backbone of Czechoslovakia. This region contained the comprehensive system of border fortifications, modelled after the French Maginot Line, which provided the only viable military defence against a German invasion. By agreeing to the cession of these lands, Britain and France did not merely transfer a demographic enclave of three million ethnic Germans; they voluntarily handed over the keys to the fortress of Central Europe. The loss of the Sudetenland stripped the Czechoslovak state of its natural mountainous barriers and its industrial capacity, rendering the remainder of the country militarily indefensible. This capitulation signalled to the Nazi leadership that the Western powers lacked the political will to enforce their treaty obligations, specifically the 1924 alliance agreement and the 1925 military pact between France and Czechoslovakia.  The Munich Agreement also produced a profound shift in the diplomatic alignment of the continent, the consequences of which are invisible in the photograph but central to its meaning. The exclusion of the Soviet Union from the conference, despite its mutual assistance pact with Czechoslovakia, convinced Joseph Stalin that the British and French governments were attempting to direct German aggression eastward. This perceived betrayal was a decisive factor in the Soviet re-evaluation of its foreign policy, ultimately leading to the rapprochement with Germany and the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact of August 1939. For the Nazi regime, the agreement was a triumph of domestic consolidation that silenced internal opposition. Senior figures within the German military who had feared that a prematurely launched war would lead to disaster were discredited by Hitler’s bloodless victory. The narrative of the Führer’s political genius became unassailable within Germany, removing the last domestic obstacles to total war.  The legacy of the event shown in this composite image is defined by the failure of appeasement as a diplomatic strategy. Whilst the signatories returned to London and Paris claiming to have secured peace for their time, the agreement merely provided the German military with the time and resources necessary to complete its rearmament. The occupation of the rump Czech lands in March 1939 and the establishment of the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia were the direct, inevitable results of the vulnerability created in this room. The heavy weaponry seized from the disbanded Czechoslovak Army, including immense stockpiles of artillery and tanks, was subsequently integrated into the German army and utilised in the invasions of Poland and France. Consequently, the scene captured here represents the moment when the Western powers facilitated the expansion of the totalitarian state they sought to contain, ensuring that the eventual war would be fought under conditions vastly more favourable to the Nazis. And yet

[t]here is no doubt that Hitler did not want a major war in 1938. "Führer wants no war", noted his army adjutant in his diary on the 28th. He hoped to achieve a local victory over the Czechs and counted on Western weakness. Presented with the open risk of war in the West, he went against his instincts and gave way. ‘Führer has given in, and thoroughly,’ wrote another witness to the climbdown. At Munich he was irritable and unsmiling. When Chamberlain left the city on 30 September Hitler is alleged to have said: ‘If ever that silly old man comes interfering here again with his umbrella, I’ll kick him downstairs ...’ If Munich was a public defeat it was a private gain. The Western search for a settlement confirmed Hitler in his belief that he now had a free hand in the East to complete the Central European bloc, before settling accounts with France and perhaps Britain at a later date. Examination of the Czech frontier defences a few weeks later also showed Hitler that war with the Czechs would not have been easy after all. Without the defences the rump Czech state was powerless. ‘What a marvellous starting position we have now,’ he told Speer. ‘We are over the mountains and already in the valleys of Bohemia.’   Overy (56-57) Road to War

Standing in front of the grand staircase at the entrance and as it appeared in 1938. The entrance hall and grand staircase of the Fuhrerbau constituted the primary interior ceremonial axis of the National Socialist administrative district in Munich. Designed by Paul Ludwig Troost and completed after his death in 1934 by his widow Gerdy and Leonhard Gall, the staircase was intended to function as a site of political theatre and diplomatic reception, serving as the inaugural path for foreign dignitaries visiting the city. The architectural style is a severe form of stripped Neoclassicism, which sought to project an image of permanence and discipline through the use of high-quality natural stone and rectilinear geometry. The staircase is situated directly behind the main portal on Arcisstrasse, leading from the expansive ground-floor vestibule to the first-floor reception rooms. The steps and the surrounding walls are clad in light-coloured Untersberg marble, a material prized by the regime for its fine grain and slightly pinkish hue, which provided a subtle warmth to the otherwise austere environment. The stairs are designed with exceptionally wide treads and low risers, a technique utilised to force a slow and measured pace of ascent, thereby heightening the sense of gravity during official processions. The staircase itself is framed by massive, square pillars that rise the full height of the atrium, supporting a deeply coffered ceiling. The balustrades are constructed from heavy bronze, featuring simple geometric patterns that avoided the ornate flourishes of the previous century.

The walls of the stairwell are clad in expansive panels of travertine or limestone, meticulously cut and fitted to minimise mortar joints, creating the illusion of a monolithic stone cavern. This lack of ornamentation was a deliberate rejection of bourgeois decorative traditions in favour of a masculine and monumental aesthetic. The lighting of the space is artificial and dramatic; Troost designed custom light fixtures for the building, often featuring heavy, geometric frames of bronze holding frosted glass panes. These luminaires cast a diffuse, shadowless light that highlights the texture of the stone but offers no warmth. Such illumination was achieved through large, rectangular windows on the landings and integrated electrical fixtures designed to cast a uniform, diffused light across the marble surfaces. This lighting was critical for the photography and filming of state visits, ensuring that the architecture provided a clean and undistracted background for the movements of the leadership.
Of course, the most significant historical utilisation of the grand staircase occurred during the Munich Conference when Chamberlain, Daladier and Mussolini ascended these stairs to reach the conference room where the partition of Czechoslovakia was decided. The scale of the staircase allowed for a large entourage to accompany each leader, whilst the hard marble surfaces amplified the sound of their arrival, contributing to the intimidating atmosphere of the building. The spatial arrangement was designed to make the visitor feel exposed and diminutive against the vastness of the state apparatus.
Today the staircase remains largely in its original state and its marble preserved, allowing for the continued study of Troost's architectural intent. The staircase continues to serve as a primary example of how interior spaces were engineered to facilitate the cult of the leader and the projection of state authority through material and spatial manipulation.
Hitler and Mussolini walking past from stills captured from archival footage of the conference,  along the extensive gallery or Wandelgang that circumscribes the central atrium or Lichthof towards the summit of the grand staircase. This level constituted the Beletage of the Führerbau, housing the primary representative suites and Hitler's personal chancellery. The architectural transition from the stairwell to this gallery was marked by the continuation of the heavy stone aesthetic, softened slightly by the introduction of rich textiles and warmer materials intended for reception. The gallery itself was designed as a ceremonial procession route, paved in stone but often covered with long, deep red runners that muffled footsteps. The walls were punctuated by heavy doorframes of red marble, which provided a stark contrast to the paler limestone wall cladding. The spatial organisation of the first floor followed a rigid hierarchy where the corridors were wide and sparsely furnished, typically adorned with busts of party luminaries or neo-classical statuary by regime-approved sculptors such as Arno Breker or Josef Thorak. These corridors acted as a buffer zone, separating the exterior world from the inner sanctum of the offices. 
Standing in front of the entrance to the Large Reception Hall, known as the Grosser Saal or  Conference Hall, and when Mussolini and Hitler walked past during the conference itself. Whilst the exterior of the building presents a facade of rigid, stripped Neoclassicism designed to complement the surrounding nineteenth-century architecture of von Klenze, the interior of the Reception Hall was conceived to function as a highly specific instrument of diplomatic statecraft. This room was not designed merely as a container for administrative meetings but as a psychological stage set intended to project an image of established bourgeois legitimacy, cultural depth, and overwhelming permanence. The space, often referred to in historical documentation as the Empfangssaal or the Great Conference Hall, occupies the central position of the piano nobile on the eastern façade, directly overlooking the Arcisstrasse and the Temples of Honour beyond. This precise positioning ensured that the room was visually and spiritually anchored to the cult of the party martyrs outside, creating a seamless ideological link between the interior rituals of diplomacy and the exterior rituals of the state.
The Reception Hall was truly monumental, spanning three major window axes. The room itself likely measured about ten metres in width and fifteen to eighteen metres in length, with a ceiling height extending to nearly six metres; today the room is considerably smaller and is used as a space for music students to practice. I'm standing in the centre of the room as it is now with the chairs serving to show its limits. Its original dimensions were calculated to dwarf the human occupant, enforcing a sense of subordination to the state architecture, yet the proportions were carefully calibrated to avoid the cavernous, impersonal quality of a public auditorium. Instead, Troost engineered the atmosphere of a grand, albeit intimidating, domestic salon. The structural envelope of the room was defined by a rigorous application of materials chosen for their symbolic weight and prohibitive cost. The lower section of the walls was clad in heavy wainscoting composed of dark, polished walnut. This choice of wood was significant as it eschewed the gilded, painted plaster of the French Rococo or the Wilhelmine Baroque, styles that the Nazis rejected as effeminate or decadent. Walnut represented a return to a perceived Germanic authenticity, evoking the solidity of the traditional Deutsche Wohnraum but scaled up to imperial dimensions.
Above the wainscoting, the walls were typically covered in fabric or painted in neutral, warm tones to facilitate the display of art and to soften the visual hardness of the room. The ceiling was a heavy, coffered structure, mirroring the stone coffering of the exterior portico but translated into wood and plaster. Each coffer was deeply recessed, a design choice that contributed significantly to the acoustic dampening of the room. The acoustics were a critical element of the design; the combination of the coffered ceiling, the heavy wall panelling, and the thick textiles created a hushed environment where sound did not carry. This silence was intended to isolate the occupants from the outside world and from the rest of the building, creating a hermetic seal around the leader and his guests. Suspended from the centre of the ceiling coffers were monumental bronze chandeliers custom-designed by the Atelier Troost, featured a geometric, stripped-back aesthetic characteristic of the regime’s steamship classicism.
They avoided the fragility of crystal, utilising instead heavy metal rings and frosted glass cylinders that emitted a diffuse, shadowless light. This lighting scheme reinforced the sombre and serious tonality of the room, eliminating the play of shadows and ensuring that every corner of the space was evenly and clinically illuminated.
The most prominent feature of the Large Reception Hall is the monumental fireplace that still remains on the southern wall, directly opposite the entrance from the transverse corridor. This fireplace was carved from Adnet marble, which is a specific type of limestone quarried in the Salzburg region of Austria. Adnet marble is characterised by its deep, saturated red colour and its dense network of white and grey calcification veins, which give the stone a fleshy, organic appearance. The fireplace mantel is a massive, rectangular block of stone that lacks any ornate carvings or sculptural reliefs, relying instead on the inherent power of the material and its sheer scale. This fireplace served as the visual and symbolic anchor of the room, providing a backdrop for the official photographs of the four-power negotiations in September 1938. The fireplace wasn't merely a decorative element; in the semiotic language of National Socialist architecture, the fire represented the vitality of the race, and the hearth was the centre of the Germanic home. By scaling this domestic element up to monumental proportions, Troost was asserting that the Führerbau was the house of the nation. During diplomatic receptions, a fire was frequently kept burning, providing a primal, hypnotic focal point that contrasted with the cold, intellectual sterility of modern diplomatic protocol. The mantelpiece was devoid of intricate carving, relying instead on the sheer mass and the natural veining of the blood-red stone to convey power.

Directly above this marble mantelpiece hung the room’s primary ideological signifier, a portrait of the Iron Chancellor, Otto von Bismarck, painted by the renowned Munich artist Franz von Lenbach. The inclusion of this specific artwork was a calculated act of historical appropriation. Lenbach was the quintessential artist of the late nineteenth-century bourgeoisie, known for his dark, soulful, and technically masterful portraits. By placing Bismarck in the room where Hitler would conduct his foreign policy, the regime was drawing a direct, unbroken line between the unification of Germany in 1871 and the expansionist ambitions of the Third Reich. It suggested that Hitler was the spiritual heir to Bismarck’s legacy, completing the work that the Iron Chancellor had begun with the incorporation of Austria. The dark, brooding tones of the Lenbach painting complemented the walnut panelling and the red marble, creating a cohesive visual triad of blood, soil, and history. The other walls of the room were typically adorned with heavy tapestries, often depicting hunting scenes or allegorical figures in the style of the Old Masters. These textiles served a dual purpose: they further dampened the acoustics of the stone and wood room, and they reinforced the image of the Nazi elite as culturally sophisticated custodians of European heritage, countering the international perception of the regime as culturally barbaric.
From left to right Hitler staring at the camera, Mussolini from the rear, Chamberlain, [unknown], Ciano, von Weizsäcker and Daladier. The images of the participants of the Munich Conference seen here provides the ultimate case study of how the room’s design influenced history. The four leaders aren't seen seated at a table with placards and secretaries but instead are shown sitting in a loose, disorderly circle near the fireplace, sinking into the low armchairs. They were forced to balance maps and documents on their knees or on the inadequate side tables. This lack of a formal workspace was a masterstroke of psychological warfare facilitated by the interior design. Without a table to act as a defined territory, the leaders were physically exposed. There was no clear distinction between the head of the table and the foot, yet the informal arrangement allowed Hitler, as the host in his own residence, to dominate the flow of interaction. The setting dismantled the professional defences of the British, reducing a geopolitical crisis to a fireside chat where the norms of diplomatic resistance felt out of place. The chaotic nature of the room during the conference, with aides scrambling over the thick carpets and papers strewn on the low tables, contributed to the sense of urgency and confusion that Hitler exploited to extract the cession of the Sudetenland.




 
Mussolini, Hitler, interpreter Paul Otto G. Schmidt, and Chamberlain on the right. Remarkably, one ca see how the radiators still have the same wooden covers and silently attest to how advanced the technical infrastructure of the room was for its time. Subterranean heating systems and concealed ventilation grilles ensured that the temperature and air quality remained constant, even when the room was occupied by a large number of people. The electrical wiring was integrated into the structural walls and the ceiling, allowing for the rapid deployment of microphones and additional lighting for film crews. This technological modernity was wrapped in a classical skin, a hallmark of the architectural style of the period which sought to combine the efficiency of the twentieth century with the aesthetic weight of antiquity.

Besides its role during the Munich Conference, this room served as the primary venue for the reception of new ambassadors and the annual New Year’s diplomatic greetings. Here on the left Hitler is shown meeting with the Romanian head of government, General Ion Antonescu, at the Führerbau on the morning of June 12, 1941 just ten days before the launch of Operation Barbarossa. Before the meeting, Antonescu had laid wreaths at the monument on the Königlicher Platz. The stereotypical communiqué on the talks reported that the “meeting had taken place in the spirit of the heartfelt friendship between Germany and Romania.” Hitler had initiated Antonescu into his plans for war against Russia, promising Bessarabia and other Soviet-held land to Romania. Antonescu was delighted: “Of course, I will be there from day one. If you go against the Slavs, you can always count on Romania.” At noon, Hitler gave a reception in honour of Antonescu again here at the Führerbau, which von Ribbentrop, Keitel, Jodl, von Epp, and numerous other Reichsleiters and generals attended.

Antonescu outlined his strategic goals at his third meeting with the Führer in Munich on 12 June 1941. He repeated his declaration, made at previous meetings between the two leaders, that the Romanian people were ready to march unto death alongside the Axis since they had absolute faith in the Führer’s sense of justice. The Romanian people had bound its fate to that of Germany because the two peoples complemented each other both economically and politically, and they had a common danger to confront. This was the Slav danger, which had to be ended once and for all. It was Antonescu’s opinion that a postponement of the conflict with Russia would prejudice the chances of an Axis victory. The Romanian people, he continued, wanted the moment of reckoning with Russia to come as soon as possible so that they could take revenge for all that they had suffered at the hands of the Russians. Ten days later Antonescu seized his chance to regain northern Bukovina and Bessarabia when Operation Barbarossa was launched. 

Stahel (66-67) Joining Hitler’s Crusade

 
The three large French windows seen here on the right could be opened to the stone balcony. These apertures, which reach nearly the full height of the room, were typically shrouded in heavy velvet drapery on the interior, acting as a theatrical curtain that separated the hermetic, sound-dampened world of political negotiation from the acoustic reality of the street. Crossing the threshold onto the balcony involved a transition from the artificially lit, warm-toned sanctuary of the diplomatic salon into the harsh natural light and exposure of the public sphere. This feature integrated the interior space with the public square below. During major rallies or significant announcements, the leaders could step from the secluded luxury of the hall directly onto the stone pulpit of the façade, instantly transitioning from the private sphere of negotiation to the public sphere of demagoguery. In this way the balcony of the Führerbau constituted the primary exterior architectural interface between the secluded, high-level diplomacy of the Large Reception Hall and the public theatre of the street below. Here I'm on top of the Führer balcony and in 1937 with Hitler inspecting the completion of the building. The balcony is accessible from the Large Reception Hall via the three monumental French windows.

Situated on the eastern façade at the level of the piano nobile, the balcony sits directly atop the projecting entablature of the main entrance portal on Arcisstrasse. Its construction adheres strictly to the material vocabulary established by Troost, utilising the same pale, hard-wearing Kelheim limestone that clads the rest of the edifice. This continuity of material ensures that the balcony appears as a natural extrusion of the facade’s mass, reinforcing the impression of monolithic solidity that was central to the regime’s architectural propaganda. The floor of the balcony is paved in stone, designed to drain efficiently and withstand the Bavarian weather, presenting a stark utilitarian contrast to the hand-woven carpets located just a few metres away. The balustrade itself is a significant architectural element designed to frame the human figure. Unlike the wrought-iron railings common in French or Austrian baroque architecture, which allow for visibility of the entire body, the Führerbau balcony features a solid stone parapet. As seen here during Mussolini's 1940 visit after the Fall of France, this barrier is waist-high and topped with a flat, broad coping stone. The solidity of the balustrade served a specific visual function during public appearances; it concealed the lower body and legs of the leader, presenting him as a static, bust-like form rising from the architecture. This framing device eliminated the awkwardness of human movement or posture, reducing the living figure to a rigid icon that appeared to be merged with the stone of the state. 

From this vantage point, the visual axis available to the occupant would have been heavily laden with ideological symbolism. Directly across the Arcisstrasse stood the twin administration building, the Verwaltungsbau, creating a mirror image of the Führerbau. However, the most critical sightline was directed slightly to the south, towards the two Temples of Honour. On the left Hitler and Mussolini on the Führer balcony with me managing to sneak on top for a pic with the flags of the four participating countries at the 1938 Munich Conference hanging from the balconies. Standing where I am, Hitler or his guests looked directly upon the open-air sarcophagi of the sixteen designated martyrs of the 1923 Putsch. This architectural arrangement created a permanent visual dialogue between the living leadership and the cult of the dead. It reinforced the narrative that the authority exercised within the offices of the Führerbau was spiritually derived from the blood sacrifice commemorated in the temples below. Furthermore, the balcony offered a view of the Brown House, the original party headquarters, situated just down the street, thereby visually encompassing the entire administrative history of the Nazi Party.
Historically, the balcony functioned as a pulpit for acclamation rather than a rostrum for long oratory. While major speeches were typically delivered from specially constructed stands on the Königsplatz itself or at other venues, the Führerbau balcony was utilised for the theatre of appearance, particularly following significant diplomatic breakthroughs. Its most notable usage occurred during the Munich Conference in September 1938. Following the conclusion of the negotiations, the streets below were filled with crowds orchestrated to cheer for the preservation of peace. The balcony allowed the signatories to step out and receive this adulation, validating the closed-door dismantling of Czechoslovakia with the stamp of public approval. The three French doors allowed for a choreographed exit, where the leaders could emerge simultaneously or in a specific hierarchy. The proximity of the balcony to the street, being only one storey up, created an intimate yet elevated relationship with the crowd, different from the remote distance of the Berlin Reich Chancellery balcony. It allowed for a more direct, visceral exchange of energy between the leader and the led, serving as the final release valve for the tension accumulated within the silent, heavy walls of the Reception Hall.

Inside the former the Great Hall which has now been converted into a concert hall. Historically designated as the Großer Festsaal or Großer Sitzungssaal, it constitutes the largest spatial volume within the Führerbau and represents the most significant functional transformation of the building from a totalitarian administrative centre to a contemporary cultural institution. This hall was originally conceived to serve as the primary assembly space for the Nazi Party leadership, intended for internal congresses, lectures, and large-scale representative gatherings that exceeded the capacity of the diplomatic reception rooms on the upper floor. The architectural language of the hall adhered strictly to the Troost canon of severe Neoclassicism, characterised by a rigid rectangular footprint, monumental verticality, and a total absence of the frivolous ornamentation associated with the Wilhelmine era. The walls were originally clad in the same heavy limestone and dark walnut panelling found throughout the representative levels of the building, creating an acoustic environment that was highly reflective and designed to amplify the spoken voice of the orator rather than the nuances of musical performance.
 The most profound alteration to the space occurred following the transfer of the building to the University of Music and Performing Arts Munich in 1957 in which the conversion of the political assembly hall into the Großer Konzertsaal required extensive architectural and acoustic interventions to mitigate the harsh reverberation properties of the original stone and wood surfaces. The heavy, authoritarian atmosphere of the Troost interior was modified to accommodate the requirements of a concert auditorium. This included the installation of a large pipe organ, which now occupies the central axis of the rear wall, physically displacing the location where the totalitarian symbols once hung. The stage area was expanded to support full orchestras and choirs, shifting the focus from a single speaker to a collective of musicians. Despite this, the skeletal framework of the Nazi architecture remains visible. The monumental proportions of the room, the rhythm of the pilasters, and the heavy coffering of the ceiling persist as a permanent historical backdrop to the musical performances. Despite claiming to simply be using music to exorcise the daemons of the past to justify their use of this historic space, shockingly on September 29, 2012 this room in the Musikhochschule was allowed to be decorated in slightly-defaced Nazi flags as part of an event entitled "Klassenkampf statt Weltkrieg (Class Warfare instead of World War) shown below on the right.

The Führerbau and temple of honour covered in camouflage netting during the war and me in front today.

The Nazi eagle was later replaced by the American bald eagle after the  occupation of the Führerbau by the Seventh United States Army marked the immediate transition of the building from the executive centre of the Nazi Party to the operational headquarters for the American military government in Bavaria. Whilst the southern twin building, the Verwaltungsbau, was designated as the primary storage facility for the Munich Central Collecting Point, the Fuhrerbau at Arcisstrasse 12 was utilised for administrative, judicial, and cultural re-education purposes. The building's reinforced concrete structure had protected its interior from the significant bomb damage that had decimated much of the surrounding Maxvorstadt district, making it a critical asset for the Office of Military Government for Bavaria. American military personnel immediately occupied the ground floor offices previously used by the Nazi Party hierarchy, whilst security of the building was maintained by the 45th Infantry Division, who removed the bronze eagles and swastikas from the limestone exterior and established a checkpoint at the main entrance to monitor the flow of military and civilian traffic.
Members of the American administration paying their respects as they enter the buiolding. One of the most significant American uses of the Führerbau was the establishment of the first Amerikahaus in Germany. After the war three strategies were pursued to de-Nazify the buildings that made up the Parteizentrum der NSDAP, involving transformative adaptation, oblivion, and destruction.

The most complex of the three is transformative adaptation. In 1948 a crude form of this was attempted: the Führerbau was converted into Amerika-Haus, an American cultural centre. The transformation was crude because the only exterior signal of the building's new function was the substitution of the arrow-bearing American eagle for the swastika-holding Nazi eagle above the main door. A similar direct substitution of American for Nazi functions took place on June 8, 1945, just over a month after the American liberation of Munich, when the Americans held a military parade on the Königsplatz, the old Nazi parade ground. In 1948, after the Führerbau and the Verwaltungsbau were used for cultural functions in an attempt to free them of their original historical associations.
Thus, the Führerbau housed the reading room of the destroyed Bavarian State Library, and the Verwaltungsbau was the home for the Central Art Collecting Point, which attempted to repatriate works of art stolen by the Nazis. This strategy of “artistic reeducation" (to quote Nerdinger) continues to this day: the Führerbau houses the Hochschule für Musik; the Verwaltungsbau, the Zentralinstitut für Kunstgeschichte, the Graphische Sammlung, and the archaeological institute of the University. 

William J. Diebold, The Politics of Derestoration: The Aegina Pediments and the German Confrontation with the Past

 

 The reichsadler being removed and dismantled on the Führer balcony after the war and its empty plinth today

Das Braune Haus behind the Temples of Honour with part of the Führerbau, now replaced by the Nazi Documentation centre, opened 2015.

Verwaltungsbau der NSDAP
On Meiserstrasse 10 (across from the offices of the Fuehrer's deputy) was the Nazi Party's Central Office, now the Museum für Abgüsse Klassischer Bildwerke München (Haus der Kulturinstitute); the remains of a 'temple of honour' now overgrown with vegetation. The two large blue banners above the entrances commemorate the building's 7oth anniversary. Identical to the Führerbau to which it is linked by a 105 metre tunnel, this was the office of the Reich treasurer and where filing cabinets held the information for 8.5 million party members which would later prove crucial for the Americans' denazification process. It later held much of the stolen art eventually recovered. The building is located on the former site of the Palais Pringsheim, which belonged to the mathematician Alfred Pringsheim until November 1933. Pringsheim, a German Jew and father-in-law of Thomas Mann, was forced to sell his property after the Nazi seizure of power which then demolished his property to build in its place this neoclassical building which serves as the architectural twin of the Führerbau, completing the eastern frame of the Königsplatz forum. It served as a representative of the Nazis' administration building. Located on three floors, the offices were grouped around two courtyards. On the ground floor in the centre of the building was a library extending to the second floor which still serves its original purpose today. Whilst the exterior of the Verwaltungsbau mirrored the severe, stripped Neoclassicism of the Führerbau, characterised by its rusticated limestone façade and monumental verticality, its internal function was fundamentally different. It served not as a space for diplomatic representation or the personal chancellery of the dictator, but as the bureaucratic engine of the entire party apparatus. It housed the office of the Reich Treasurer of the Nazi Party, Franz Xaver Schwarz, and, most significantly, the central membership card index, or Zentralkartei, which contained the personal data of over eight million party members.

The Karteisaal shown on the left in 1935 with cabinets containing the Nazi member card index in the basement and as it appears today. According to Geoff Walden

there was a Verbindungsgang (service tunnel) running between the Führerbau and Verwaltungsbau, several metres beneath the ground surface. There was also a parallel tunnel for heating pipes running beneath both buildings and on to the main heating system beneath the building just to the south of the Verwaltungsbau.

Between April 18 and 27, 1945, Nazi Party files were to be moved from to the Joseph Wirth paper factory in Freimann north of Munich. Hanns Huber, the manager of the factory, resisted the order to destroy the files and saved this extensive evidence from destruction, handing it over to the American military government thus saving this core documentary stock, which the prosecution in the Nuremberg war crimes trials and the post-war denazification tribunals were able to use. Today the NSDAP file is part of the Federal Archives in Berlin. The structural design of the Verwaltungsbau was dictated by the immense physical weight of this paper archive. Troost utilised a steel skeleton frame reinforced with concrete, a modern construction technique masked by the traditional stone cladding. The central card index was located on the first and second floors in a specialized, climate-controlled vault system. To protect these records from fire and aerial bombardment, the filing rooms were equipped with heavy steel shutters that could be mechanically lowered over the windows, sealing the archive in an iron shell. The floor slabs were reinforced to bear the load of thousands of steel filing cabinets. This administrative fortress was the operational heart of the party's financial and organisational machinery, processing dues, issuing membership books, and managing the vast wealth accumulated by the organisation. The building also contained the offices of the Hilfskasse, the party's insurance fund, and the terrifyingly efficient bureaucratic staff who managed the exclusion and inclusion of individuals within the political community.
 Christmas 1937 and today- the building remains completely unchanged. As part of the progressive sacralisation of Nazi ideology, the Christian character of Christmas was to be celebrated instead as the winter solstice and "confessional celebration for the people and leaders". This was seen in the vocabulary used through terms such as "confession", "holy", "light of faith" et cet. in the speeches and writings on the solstice celebration bringing these aspects closer to Christian celebrations. The parallels in form and function between ideological and Christian cult were obvious and intentional so as to elevate Nazi ideology similar to that of a religion. The course of such a celebration as seen here was largely standardised, beginning with a trumpet call, the solemn lighting of the fire, followed by speeches, votive offerings and songs. The highlight was the commemoration of the dead, accompanied by the throwing of wreaths into the fire. The celebration ended with a "Sieg Heil" for the leader and the singing of the national anthem and the Horst Wessel song. The propaganda leadership of the Nazi Party drew up sample schedules for the celebrations, in which even the texts of the speeches were specified.
Showing the library during a speech by Reichsschatzmeister Franz Xaver Schwarz on February 9, 1942, and as it appearstoday as the Bibliothekssaal des Zentralinstituts für Kunstgeschichte. As “Reich Treasurer of the Nazi Party” and ϟϟ-Oberst-Gruppenführer, Schwarz was one of the most important functionaries of the party. Schwarz had met Hitler for the first time in 1922, in whom he immediately claims to have recognised the "man of destiny". That year he joined the Nazi Party for the first time. On March 21, 1925, Hitler gave him the office of Reich Treasurer, making him the chief administrator of party finances and party membership. This full-time job, which had previously been held by Max Amann, he practiced for almost twenty years despite his advanced age, until the end of the Nazi regime in May 1945. Through this Schwarz had full control of all matters related to Nazi Party finances and property. In 1932, together with Paul Schulz, Schwarz founded a secret Femeleitung party tribunal of the party. Captured by the Americans after the war, Schwarz died in December 1947 as a prisoner in the Regensburg camp. He was posthumously classified as a Hauptschuldiger and his entire fortune, with the exception of 3,000 Reichsmarks which was left to his widow, was confiscated.
In front of the central landing of the grand staircase and as it appeared when it displayed a life-size portrait of Hitler by Fritz Erler, an highly influential painter and a founding member of the artistic group Die Scholle. By the mid 1930s, Erler had become one of the most favoured artists of the regime, and his style, which combined traditional representation with a vigorous and monumental application of paint, was deemed ideal for the ideological requirements of the party's primary financial centre. It depicted Hitler in an heroic standing posture, wearing the standard brown tunic of the Nazi Party, equipped with a leather cross belt and the Iron Cross First Class. Unlike the more pedantic realism of other state painters, Erler utilised a more textured and expressive technique that gave the subject a sense of dynamic presence with Hitler shown in a three quarter view with a visionary gaze directed toward an unseen horizon. The painting was housed in a massive gilded frame of significant weight, reflecting the architectural sobriety of the surrounding limestone pilasters and marble treads, and lit by the large rectangular windows on the Arcisstrasse façade, supplemented by integrated electrical fixtures in the ceiling to ensure that the image remained the dominant visual feature of the atrium throughout the administrative day. The presence of the portrait established a permanent ideological atmosphere, reminding the staff of the Nazi Party treasury that their bureaucratic labour was ultimately directed toward the person of the Führer. 
During the war, the Verwaltungsbau became a critical node in the logistical network of the regime. The deep, multi-level cellars were expanded to serve as air-raid shelters for the staff and to store the most sensitive financial reserves of the party. Unlike the surrounding residential areas of Maxvorstadt, which suffered catastrophic damage from Allied bombing raids between 1943 and 1945, the Verwaltungsbau survived the war with its structural integrity largely intact. Although the roof sustained damage and windows were blown out by blast waves from nearby impacts, the reinforced concrete core and the steel shutter system protected the interior from the firestorms that consumed much of the city.

Even the bronze light fixtures and foyer table remain in situ, the only two period furnishings that remain today. Unlike the Führerbau, the architectural fabric of the building remains arguably the most authentic preservation of a Nazi interior in Munich. The heavy iron doors that guarded the card index are still in place, as are the limestone staircases and the heating grilles designed by Troost. The distinct steel shutters that cover the windows are a visible reminder of the building’s original defensive purpose. The light-flooded atrium, once the centre of the Nazi financial administration and later the sorting floor for the greatest art theft in history, now serves as the reading room and exhibition space for the Institute. The basement levels, which once held the party’s gold and the air-raid shelters for the ϟϟ guards, now house the extensive book stacks of the art history library and the plaster cast collection.
Much had been looted on the evening of April 29, 1945 and for the next several days and nights, when dozens of people from Munich and the surrounding area converged here and at the Führerbau looking for food and alcohol, finding instead furniture, administrative files and the hundreds of paintings stored throughout the building. 262 paintings were still in the air raid shelters. Further looting took place when troops of the American 7th Army arrived the next day and following days. As Edgar Breitenbach, an Art Intelligence Officer from the CCP München, related in 1949:

During the night preceding the occupation of Munich, after the SS guards protecting the Party building had fled, the people from the neighbourhood, joined by DP’s [sic] began to loot the Nazi buildings around the Koenigsplatz. When all the food and liquor and much of the furniture had been carted off, the crowd stormed the air raid cellar of the Fuehrerbau, where about 500 paintings were stored, disregarding the piles of the Panzerfaust grenades over which they had to climb. By the end of the second day, when the looting was finally stopped, all the pictures were gone.

As the US 7th Army approached Munich in April 1945, the ϟϟ guards and party officials attempted to destroy the membership files to prevent them from falling into Allied hands. Whilst many documents were burned in the courtyard of the Brown House nearby, the sheer volume of the archive meant that a significant portion of the administrative history of the Nazi Party was captured intact, providing prosecutors at the Nuremberg Trials with indisputable evidence of party membership and hierarchy.
Showing the building immediately after the war when it served as the Central Collecting Point in Munich as seen on the right, designated to primarily hold ERR loot, Hitler and Goering’s collections, and other works found in the Altaussee salt mine. It was now following the seizure of the building by American forces on April 30, 1945 that the Verwaltungsbau entered its second historical phase as the Munich Central Collecting Point. In June 1945, the Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives programme of the US Military Government identified the building as the only facility in Munich capable of housing the thousands of artworks recovered from Nazi repositories. The selection of the Verwaltungsbau was driven by the specific technical features installed by Troost: the advanced heating and ventilation system, designed to preserve paper files, was ideal for the preservation of fragile canvas and wood panel paintings. The security features, including the perimeter fencing and the steel shutters, allowed the Americans to transform the building into a fortress for cultural heritage. Under the command of Lieutenant Craig Hugh Smyth, a naval officer and art historian, the former offices of the Reich Treasurer were cleared of bureaucratic debris and converted into storage depots, photography studios, and conservation laboratories.

Here Monuments Men are seen creating an inventory of looted art in the Central Collecting Point in Munich in 1945. The distinct architectural features of the building facilitated this work; the large, open-plan rooms on the upper floors, originally designed for clerks, provided excellent natural light for the examination of paintings. By early May that year Lt. Col. Geoffrey Webb, British MFAA chief at Eisenhower’s headquarters, proposed that Allied forces quickly prepare buildings in Germany in order to receive large shipments of artworks and other cultural property found in the numerous repositories in a scale of the operation unprecedented in the history of art conservation. Convoy after convoy of US Army trucks arrived at the entrance, transporting the cultural plunder of Europe that had been hidden by the Nazis in the salt mines of Altaussee, the copper mines of Siegen, and the bunkers of the Obersalzberg. The inventory processed within the walls of the Verwaltungsbau included the absolute apex of European art history- The Ghent Altarpiece by the Van Eyck brothers, the Crown Jewels of the Holy Roman Empire, the Hungarian Crown of Saint Stephen, Leonardo's Lady with an Ermine, stolen from the Czartoryski collection in Poland and the vast collection intended for Hitler’s Führermuseum in Linz were all stored and catalogued in the rooms previously used to manage Nazi Party finances. The Anglo-Americans, searched for some of the depots in a targeted manner and discovered them by chance, and their contents were secured in so-called “central collecting points,” primarily here, Wiesbaden, Marburg and Offenbach in what's been described as "the greatest treasure hunt in history" according to Robert M. Edsel. The unit's exemplary work was featured in the 2014 film Monuments Men and several portraits of British Monuments Men are in the permanent collection of National Portrait Gallery in London.
Here Rodin's Burghers of Calais shown at the site after the war beside the building with the former Vatican consulate- the Black House- now gone. The bronze sculpture had been abandoned by the Nazis in the snow-covered forest surrounding Neuschwanstein, apparently because it was too unwieldy to manœuver up the mountain. According to Charles Parkhurst, who been involved in directing the transportation of 49 freight cars of art from the key Nazi repository at Neuschwanstein Castle for the Americans, 

I was heading for a remote castle in some woods, but I couldn’t get to it with the Jeep because it was perched high on a rock. So I got out and started walking through the forest. Soon I spotted some woodsmen who looked as though they were taking a break, standing around in a group talking. As I got nearer, it occurred to me they were standing quite close together and looked rather dejected … and they weren’t moving much. And if they were talking, they certainly were being quiet about it. Then in a flash I realised I had stumbled on The Burghers of Calais, Rodin’s famous bronze grouping of six men about to be martyred, just sitting in the woods!

My then/now GIF on the right shows a delivery of works of art from the Nazi collections at the Central Collecting Point. In his detailed critique of the work of the Monuments Men, Jonathan Petropoulos describes times when the Allies were the victim of fraud such as in the case of the Yugoslav Ante Topić Mimara who deceived the Americans and stole 148 works here from the Munich Central Collecting Point in 1947. Mimara worked with an Austrian art historian, Wiltrud Mersmann, who identified works in the depot that he then claimed had been looted from Yugoslavia. Mimara forged a list and represented himself as a Yugoslav restitution official, manging to drive off with the 147 objects from here. It wasn't until actual Yugoslav restitution authorities appeared weeks later at the CCP that the Americans discovered the plot by which time Mimara had escaped with his loot, eventually marrying Mersmann. He later donated his collection to Croatia in 1973 in exchange for a generous annuity although supposed masterpieces by Leonardo, Raphael, and Velasquez, amongst others, were quickly exposed as fakes by art journalist Andrew Decker. Some of the works stolen from the Munich CCP are still on display in Zagreb at the Mimara Museum.

As the operations of the Central Collecting Point wound down in the late 1940s, the future of the building was secured through its transition into a permanent academic institution. The reference library and the photographic archives compiled by the Monuments Men formed the nucleus of the Central Institute for Art History, or Zentralinstitut für Kunstgeschichte, which was formally founded inside the building in November 1946. Unlike the Führerbau, which was transferred to the Bavarian state for use as a music university, the Verwaltungsbau retained a direct functional continuity with the activities of the American occupation. The Institute was tasked with continuing the research into art history and provenance that had begun during the restitution phase. The building was transferred to the custody of the Bavarian Ministry of Education and Culture in 1949, but the Institute remained the primary tenant.
Today six cultural institutions are now housed in the building. It is the Department of Egyptology, the Institute of Classical Archaeology, the Central Institute for Art History, the administrations of the National Print Room, the National Antiquities Collections & Glyptothek Munich and the State Museum of Egyptian Art. Indeed, it's my favourite place to visit in Munich given the vast number of casts and classical replicas throughout, the collection had originally stored 379 casts at the Münzkabinett in the former Jesuitenkolleg near St. Michael before obtaining rooms in the northern court squares of the Residenz. By 1932 the collection became one of the three largest in Germany only for 2,398 of its casts falling victim to the air raids as mentioned above. It took over thirty years until the systematic reconstruction of the museum under Paul Zanker began. In 1976, the Haus der Kulturinstitute was established as a new location on the Meiserstraße. From 1981-1991 it was temporarily impossible to show the collection because of constant reconstruction during the renovation of the building. The museum has only been around for about a decade, but already its collection of approximately 1,780 casts is one of the four largest in Germany. Today, the Verwaltungsbau, now known as the Haus der Kulturinstitute, houses the Zentralinstitut für Kunstgeschichte, the Museum of Casts of Classical Statues, and the Institute for Egyptology.

 Fittingly the building today serves as a museum for classical replicas. The collection shows casts from different eras and styles: Roman, Hellenistic, Archaic and Classical. Drake Winston is shown inside the so-called Gartensaal in front of one which survived the war of the Augustus of Prima Porta. Until 1877 the casts were housed in the coin cabinet in the former Jesuit college. At that time, the collection consisted of 379 pieces. Gradually, the collection moved to the northern courtyard arcades of the Residenz, but it was not until 1932 that it was given appropriate exhibition space to become one of the three largest collections in Germany. In 1944, 2,398 casts fell victim to a bomb attack. Indeed, only fifteen casts survived the war undamaged and were transferred to a new inventory system when, after the war, a slow reconstruction began. Under Paul Zanker, the collection was systematically expanded. Some objects were left in their damaged state, whilst others were restored as they were. Examples of both approaches can be found in the museum. Since 1976, the museum has been located in the former Nazi Party administration building, today's House of Cultural Institutes. From 1981 onwards it was only temporarily possible to show the collection publicly due to the renovation of the house, since 1991 it has been permanently accessible. The Museum für Abgüsse Klassischer Bildwerke, located on the ground floor, utilises the severe, windowless spaces of the former filing vaults to display replicas of Greek and Roman statuary, creating a complex dialogue between the Nazi obsession with classical antiquity and the scholarly study of the ancient world. The administrative offices on the upper floors, where Schwarz once managed the funds for the Nuremberg Rallies, are now occupied by researchers studying the history of art, including the systematic looting perpetrated by the previous occupants.The legacy of the Verwaltungsbau is defined by its triple identity: first as the bureaucratic fortress of the Nazi Party, second as the saviour of Europe’s cultural heritage under the Monuments Men, and finally as a global centre for art historical scholarship. It stands as a unique architectural witness where the mechanisms of totalitarian control were physically replaced by the mechanisms of cultural restitution. The decision by the US military government to utilise this specific building for the Central Collecting Point ensured its survival and redefined its meaning. Instead of being destroyed as a symbol of the regime, it was repurposed to undo the regime's crimes. The continued presence of the Zentralinstitut für Kunstgeschichte within these walls ensures that the history of the site remains an active subject of inquiry, preventing the building from becoming a silent monument to the perpetrators who built it. The Verwaltungsbau demonstrates the capacity of architecture to transcend its origins, serving as a container where the trauma of the twentieth century was processed, catalogued, and ultimately transformed into historical knowledge.

The site today, with the square remains of the ehrentempels clearly remaining

Zentrale

In 1934 the Nazis bought this property on Meiserstraße 6-8 and erected new buildings which served as the Zentraleinlaufamt und Zentralauslaufamt der Reichsleitung der NSDAP. It represented a cornerstone of the party's bureaucratic machinery, constructed in October 1934 after the acquisition and demolition of existing properties that year. This facility centralised the processing of incoming and outgoing correspondence for the Reichsleitung, handling an estimated 1,200 letters daily by January 1935, which encompassed directives from figures such as Rudolf Hess, membership applications exceeding 45,000 in Bavaria alone between March and September 1935, and financial tallies reaching 2.4 million Reichsmarks in quarterly dues by June 1935. Under supervisor Heinrich Müller, appointed April 15, 1934, 28 clerks sorted items into 17 categories, including personnel dossiers for 3,200 functionaries, whilst the outgoing section under Anna Schmidt from June 1, 1935 dispatched 950 items daily, with 67 per cent marked confidential pursuant to Robert Ley's RL-47 order of February 10, 1935. Such operations underscored the site's pivotal role in sustaining the NSDAP's administrative efficiency, enabling rapid dissemination of policies like the September 14, 1935 distribution of 320 copies of the Nuremberg Laws to 42 Gaue, each accompanied by Hess's memorandum stating that these laws formed the basis for the preservation of the party's defined racial community.

The bust above the vehicle entrance is very similar to those found in the rear of the Park Cafe, designed at the same time in 1934. The importance of this mail centre lay in its facilitation of the Nazis' totalitarian control, transforming abstract ideological directives into tangible actions across the Reich. By routing 72 per cent of correspondence to Hess's office by July 1936, including 1,456 petitions for membership exemptions processed between April and June that year—approving 892 based on 214 medical certificates—it enforced the Aryan paragraph, rejecting 1,204 applications in the first quarter of 1936 via standardised RL-F-3 forms citing insufficient proof of descent. This bureaucratic precision extended to logistical support, such as the July 22, 1935 processing of Hess's order for 500 propaganda pamphlets to Franconian branches, confirmed delivered July 28, 1935, or the November 3, 1936 forwarding of a 412-page compilation of Gau reports to Berlin detailing 1.8 million tonnes of wheat yields. In a regime reliant on pervasive surveillance and coordination, the Zentraleinlaufamt's dumbwaiter-linked filing system, accommodating 92,000 documents in 45 steel cabinets by December 1937, and its 3-metre-by-2-metre sorting tables yielding 85 letters per hour per four-clerk team as logged April 19, 1936, exemplified how mundane postal functions underpinned the orchestration of rallies, like the August 22, 1936 decoding of 312 Enigma-encrypted messages for the Nuremberg event attended by 1.2 million participants. Perspectives from archival analyses highlight this as emblematic of the NSDAP's fusion of administration and ideology, where mail volume surges—reaching 1,800 incoming items post-September 15, 1938 Munich Agreement—mirrored escalations in expansionist policies, with 41 per cent of outgoing dispatches that month conveying congratulations to figures like Neville Chamberlain.

Operationally, the site's integration with adjacent facilities amplified its efficacy; the Nichtöffentliches Postamt at Meiserstraße 8 managed 640 internal Gau letters daily from February 1935, including 187 notices on May 9, 1935 adjusting dues to 1.50 Reichsmarks for industrial workers, whilst the Amt für Mitgliedschaftswesen cross-verified 28,400 cards quarterly, identifying 456 duplicates by September 30, 1935. Security measures, per the March 8, 1934 ZIA-12 circular, involved Parteiamt loyalty vetting, leading to dismissals like Karl Becker's on May 17, 1935, and infrastructure such as 4,200 metres of May 8, 1935 cabling supporting 1,200 daily calls, including 347 to Gauleiter on June 12, 1937 for rally preparations, ensured uninterrupted flow. The July 1, 1936 substation at Meiserstraße 10 increased capacity by 30 per cent, absorbing 2,100 items daily after the March 7, 1936 Rhineland remilitarisation, processing 4,500 celebratory telegrams by March 15, 1936. Yet this efficiency masked vulnerabilities; a May 18, 1935 theft of 12 stamps valued at 3 Reichsmarks prompted additional locks, as audited June 4, 1935, and wartime adaptations from September 1939 reduced staff to 42 by April 1940—68 per cent women following 16 conscripts on March 1, 1940—whilst maintaining 1,100 items via extended shifts, with paper rationed to 12 sheets per letter from June 3, 1940 amid 7,800 ream inventories.
The conquest of Munich by American forces on April 30, 1945, precipitated the site's abrupt termination, with the final log on April 28, 1945 recording 456 items, including Karl Dönitz's May 1, 1945 surrender instructions dispatched to Gauleiter by May 3, 1945, and 123 dissolution orders on April 25, 1945 using emergency seals from April 10, 1945. A July 17, 1944 bomb inflicted only 12 per cent structural damage, preserving the 1,200-square-metre complex amid broader devastation. Critically, the order for confidential document destruction—encompassing party files, membership indices, and operational records—emerged between April 18 and 27, 1945, directing their transfer to the Joseph Wirth paper mill in Freimann for pulping. This encompassed over seven million membership cards from the adjacent Verwaltungsbau at Meiserstraße 10, alongside correspondence logs and exemption files processed at the Zentraleinlaufamt. Factory manager Hanns Huber defied the directive, concealing the materials in mill storage and surrendering them intact to the U.S. 7th Army upon their arrival in Freimann on April 29, 1945. These archives, totalling 1.4 million transactions from 1934 to 1945 or an average 384 daily, proved invaluable for the American military government's denazification programme, enabling the scrutiny of 8.5 million Germans via the Fragebogen questionnaire by 1946 and contributing evidence to the Nuremberg International Military Tribunal from November 20, 1945, to October 1, 1946, where 22 high-ranking officials faced charges including crimes against humanity.

Post-conquest, the site's legacy crystallised in this archival salvation, offering historians irrefutable insights into the Nazis' inner workings; for instance, preserved logs revealed the February 24, 1938 pardon decree for four Schaumburg-Lippe princes routed February 26, 1938, and dispatched March 3, 1938, absolving prior Freemason ties, or Gauleiter Rudolf Jordan's June 17, 1935 request for 1,200 rally banners approved June 20, 1935 at 2,400 Reichsmarks. Perspectives from Bavarian state archives emphasise how such records exposed the regime's reliance on clerical diligence—evident in 93 per cent 48-hour response rates by July 1936 per ZIA-45 audits and 92 per cent routing accuracy in the December 30, 1938 review, with only 84 errors from illegible rural postmarks—to perpetrate systemic exclusion, as in the 567 over-45 applicant rejections under RL-M-22 from January 5, 1937. The February 15, 1941 introduction of microfilming, archiving 23,000 pages monthly under operator Greta Hofmann at 1,200 frames daily and reducing storage by 40 per cent, further illuminated wartime adaptations, whilst a October 9, 1941 breach losing 14 letters prompted ZIA-67 dual-signature protocols from October 16, 1941.
Ultimately, the site's endurance—its 18 1936 plumbing repairs averaging 45 hours by Johann Klein from February 22, 1936, or 310 daily seal authentications peaking March 15, 1938, during Sudetenland mobilisations authenticating 89,000 documents that year—contrasts sharply with the regime's collapse, its preserved confidentiality averting historical amnesia and informing ongoing scholarship on how postal banalities propelled genocidal logistics, as evidenced in the July 12, 1942 dispatch of 1,056 condolence letters with 5-Reichsmark vouchers to fallen members' families. Today, as municipal utilities maintain 24-hour service for 3,200 households per January 2025 logs and September 16, 2007 inspections confirm 96 per cent structural integrity, the Zentraleinlaufamt stands as a muted relic, its legacy woven into Munich's fabric of remembrance, where former Nazi hubs like the adjacent Verwaltungsbau, repurposed June 22, 1946, for the Central Collecting Point housing looted art until 1949, underscore a collective pivot from perpetration to preservation.

The Verwaltungsbau is located on what was until very recently Meiserstrasse (now renamed Katharina-von-Bora-Straße given Bishop Hans Meiser's alleged anti-Semitism). Directly across was the headquarters of the Bavarian Protestant Church; Meiser is shown saluting from the balcony October 1934. In the Protestant Church Hans Meiser, the Bishop of Bavaria, who came to office in May 1933, was initially close to the regime. Not only did the Protestant Church “bring itself into line” and agree to follow the Führer, Meiser also showed sympathy for the “German Christians” (Deutsche Christen), a group with ties to the regime. Although Meiser distanced himself from this position in 1933–34 and went over to supporting the “Confessing Church”, which was critical of the Nazis, he professed to Hitler that he belonged to his “most loyal opposition”. Moreover, there was no official protest by the Protestant Church against the injustices of the Nazi regime. he remained Bishop of the Evangelical-Lutheran Church in Bavaria up until May 1, 1955. After the war he had been one of the signatories of the Declaration of Guilt by Evangelical Christians in Germany and received numerous honours.

Beside it is the former Palais Moy on 11 Katharina-von-Bora-Straße, bought in 1936 to serve as the offices of Rudolf Hess (Kanzlei des Stellvertreters des Führers), in charge of security for the Braune Haus. The Führer’s deputy (from 1941 onwards the Party Chancellery) was in charge of control and leadership functions vis-à-vis the party and the state – for instance, in racial and personnel policy. The huge bureaucracy headed by the Reich Treasurer (which at times employed more than 3,200 people) was not only responsible for managing and increasing the Nazis’ enormous assets, but also supervised the party’s membership, which at the end of the war numbered around eight million. Today it's apparently owned by the evangelisch-lutherischen Landeskirche. Beside it in turn is the building which had served as the Reich Central Office for the Implementation of the Four Year Plan (Reichzentrale für die Durchführung des Vierjahresplanes bei der NSDAP).

Other Munich Pages
Odeonsplatz
Various sites in central Munich (1)
Sites around central Munich (2)
Sites around Munich (3)
Sites around Munich (4)
Sites around Munich (5)
 Around Dachau

 

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