It was around 1977 or 1978, and Stein had already been in a state of upheaval for some time: On one side, a crowd of students in chic suits and ties or expensive Hermès scarves draped around their necks, adorned with pearl necklaces. On the other side, a handful of students in patched jeans and “WalleWalle” Indian dresses, shuffling toward the hard court with steaming cups of tea in hand.
I was more of a second-string student, but I had a few tricks up my sleeve: student body president, head of the film club—to quote Olaf Ziegler , “withthe best program south ofMunich” —and founder of a tea room in the school basement. And that’s why the Zieglers invited me, along with a few deserving classmates, to the theater in Salzburg.
I was standing in front of the cowshed, smartly dressed, with Mrs. Ziegler, when some classmates from the “flannel crowd” called out with grins, “Hey! Nice suit, Staufi—heading to dance class today?” Before I could say anything in reply, Ms. Ziegler called out in a loud voice, “No, we’re going to the theater in Salzburg, because unlike you guys, Staufi actually does something for others—that wouldn’t hurt you guys every now and then.”
I admit, I was pretty embarrassed by that back then, but now I know that both Zieglers always found the mavericks among the “Steiners” the most interesting. And I still think that’s great.
Clemens von Stauffenberg | Altstein, Abitur, 1979