www.latimes.com/templates/misc/printstory.jsp?slug=la%2D000020087mar19
March 19 2002
COLUMN ONE
Workers Born to Wander
CRAFTSMEN IN GERMANY FOLLOW A CENTURIES-OLD
TRADITION BY GOING ON THE ROAD TO FIND JOBS. WITH
UNEMPLOYMENT HIGH, THEIR NUMBERS ARE RISING.
By CAROL J. WILLIAMS
TIMES STAFF WRITER
NEU FAHRLAND, Germany -- With a fresh paycheck in his pocket and his few
worldly goods bundled up with his tools, roofer Rene Schroeder is hitting
the road again, halfway through his journey along a path blazed during
the Middle Ages.
Unable to find permanent employment, Schroeder has joined a society of
wandering craftsmen bound by strict codes and traditions that oblige him
to remain itinerant for at least three years and one day.
The ranks of the wandergesellen--skilled carpenters, cabinetmakers and
bricklayers--have grown in these times of high joblessness and a
nationwide construction slowdown after the frantic first decade of
reunification, when much of eastern Germany had to be rebuilt. Now, with
more than 4 million Germans out of work, artisans such as Schroeder are
selling their skills on the street as did legions of their forebears.
"I thought I wanted a regular job after trade school, but there aren't
any to be had now in the eastern states," says Schroeder, 20, who left
his parents, brothers and girlfriend behind in Magdeburg, capital of the
impoverished Saxony-Anhalt state. "But it's been rewarding being on the
road. Wanderers bring fresh air to a construction project, and we don't
feel the stress of everyday life that builds up when you have a home and
a family."
The wandergesellen, who now number about 500, usually travel alone,
meeting up with fellow wanderers from more than 30 guilds covering crafts
such as bricklaying and roofing. Settled veterans of the walz, as the
period of itinerancy is known, administer the private society of
journeymen and set the rules.
In exchange for their willingness to travel, the wanderers get access to
short-term jobs and gain experience working for a respected organization.
Clad in uniforms designed for 19th century shipwrights, wanderers in this
suburb of Potsdam seem to have arrived via time travel. There are no cell
phones chirping in their pockets or laptop computers in their crudely
bound satchels; only the tools, such as hammers and chisels, that have
changed little through the ages. They are craftsmen who do not use power
tools.
A few bows toward modernity have been made in recent years as the number
of lone artisans has grown along with Germany's new economic troubles.
Qualified women are admitted to the guilds, and odd jobs for the
journeymen can be called in to a computerized administrative center in
Cologne. But women are still excluded from the network of hostels
maintained by former wanderers for those still on the road, frustrating
female guild members' efforts to participate in the walz by making them
pay for their accommodations.
Many graduates of the walz run their own construction companies or
workshops, providing a word-of-mouth network about short-term jobs that
might interest the young peregrinators.
Road Passed Through Russia, Japan, Canada
"It's easier to get work as a wanderer because general contractors want
access to our skills but not necessarily to keep us on their permanent
payroll," says Guido Brauer. The 33-year-old carpenter recently completed
four years on the road that took him around the world, through Russia,
Japan and Canada. He's now working for a construction firm in Berlin.
The first year of the walz must be spent in German-speaking territory,
which includes Austria, Switzerland and the Alsace-Lorraine region of
eastern France. But after the indoctrination year, the wanderers are
allowed, even encouraged, to range as wide in the world as their earnings
can take them.
Herbert Wiegman and Olav Schmidt worked as traveling journeymen in the
1980s and now own a construction firm based in Berlin. They hire young
wanderers for jobs requiring special skills, such as the restoration of
buildings under historical protection. Four itinerants were busy recently
replacing the solid wood beams of a 100-year-old apartment house in
eastern Berlin's Prenzlauer Berg neighborhood.
"When you want quality, you go to these guys," says Wiegman. "They are
clearly diligent in their work, or they wouldn't be putting up with this
lifestyle. It's not for everyone. A lot of guys prefer to stay home with
their moms until a regular job surfaces, or they have girlfriends who
want to get married. But those who stick with it can be counted on to do
top-class work."
France Also Has Wandering Workers
Wandergesellen must be single, free of debt and, in the case of men,
already through their compulsory military service, unless they have
arranged a deferment, says Guenter Grimm, the "old master" for the
Berlin-Potsdam veterans group, one of dozens around the country that
administer the program.
Justus Matthias, a Berlin architect, spent four years in the 1980s with
Les Compagnons du Devoir, the French equivalent of the German wanderers.
The far more structured and less tradition-bound society employs about
2,500 craftsmen from Europe in union-supervised internships. Matthias'
stint with the French cabinetmakers guild took him to Ireland and Greece
before he returned to his native country to study architecture and start
a family.
"It has a lot less to do with tourism than with furthering your education
and experience and social skills," says Matthias. "What you come away
with after being on the road and learning all these different ways of
approaching construction is a sense of confidence. I learned to do a lot
of things--put up a fence, build stairs, make cabinets and furniture--so
I know I will always be able to take care of myself and my family."
The wandergesellen are more skilled and often command better wages than
homebound unionized workers, Matthias says. But he insists that there is
neither resentment nor rivalry between the two groups vying for work in
these hard times.
"We play at entirely different levels," Matthias says. "Trade unions as
representatives of employees focus on the material benefits accorded
their members, whereas these are not important at all for craftsmen who
have chosen the road over creature comforts."
Those on the walz are forbidden by the centuries-old code of conduct to
come within 50 kilometers--31 miles--of their homes, except in cases of
death or serious illness in the immediate family. They also must wear
corduroy bell-bottoms and vests, along with heavy felt hats that vary to
identify them as members of a particular guild. White shirts, chains of
metal badges from previous places of work and a single earring complete
the signature garb, a uniform with minor variations for each skill but
collectively known as the kluft. The outfit costs a stiff $600.
When traveling between work sites, wanderers carry two items: a walking
stick and a belted satchel, which wraps a bedroll, tools, clothes and
toiletries in a cloth bearing the guild's symbols.
"You have to decide for yourself how much other stuff you want to carry
in the [satchel] besides your second kluft and your work things," says
Jonathan Baum, a 21-year-old from near Frankfurt working on Wiegman's
restoration project. "It would be nice to have a few books for the time
you are traveling, but you have to balance that against how much weight
you want to carry."
Itinerants Keep Record of Their Work
Another must in the wanderers' bundles are logbooks in which each
employer and hostel manager records the youths' travels, noting wages
paid and fees exacted for lodging. Although employers save on some costs,
the wanderers are obliged to pay the same taxes and pension contributions
as their more settled counterparts.
Though older Germans recognize the wanderers and are often charmed by the
endurance of their antiquated lifestyle, the near-disappearance of the
itinerants during the latter half of the 20th century has made the sight
of them cause for surprise--and sometimes alarm--among younger
generations.
"Sometimes people are put off by our appearance," says Baum, recalling
distrustful rural innkeepers who refused to rent him a room. But others,
he says, are motivated by curiosity or nostalgia to give a lift to
hitchhiking itinerants or stand them to a free lunch or a glass of beer.
To be admitted into the ranks of the wanderers, craftsmen must have
completed an apprenticeship and meet or exceed skill levels required for
union membership in their trade. Because they are exposed to new
techniques and work styles from job to job--no position can exceed six
months--they tend to be regarded as the creme de la creme of each
construction craft, says Claudia Crepin, project manager at the Chamber
of Craftsmen, a liaison office between guilds and employer groups in
Cologne.
Practice Goes Back More Than 700 Years
The wandering tradition began in the 13th century, when European guilds
were rigidly structured to ensure a good living for each town's resident
master craftsmen. Before admission to the guilds, journeymen first had to
leave their hometowns and place of apprenticeship to ply their skills
from farm to farm and gather experience.
"The guild masters controlled everything then, except the wanderers,"
says Hans Mueller, a carpenter trained in East Prussia before World War
II and the wanderers' de facto historian and go-between with the Cologne
chamber.
Trade union movements of the 19th century broke the guild masters' grip
on urban employment, causing the wanderers to nearly disappear as workers
found sufficient opportunities at home. Economic hard times after both
world wars gave a short-term boost to the practice, as Mueller recalls
itinerants willing to work just for food in the lean years building up to
Germany's economic boom of the 1950s. But by the time of Germany's 1990
reunification, the number of wanderers had dipped below 200.
The renewed popularity of the walz is attributed not only to the slowdown
in construction but to the highly regulated nature of the building
industry in western Germany, which poses its own barrier to economic
growth.
"I wouldn't have a job if I stayed in Magdeburg," says Schroeder, the
roofer. "Hitting the road is one way of keeping your options open."
