Oberhausen Audio Tour: From Industrial Charm to Urban Oases

In front of you rises an impressive, dark brick building with light-colored windows and a square clock tower - you'll best recognize the Rathaus by spotting the wide stairs and the balcony in the center, directly above the arcades; the whole structure visibly thrones on an elevated position overlooking the Grillopark. Imagine standing here on the 'Galgenberg,' a picturesque but historically significant hill that gets its macabre name from the fact that a gallows actually stood here in the past. No joke - Oberhausen built its Rathaus practically on an old crime scene! One might think even Sherlock Holmes would have enjoyed it here. At the beginning of the 20th century, the small, old Rathaus was bursting at the seams. The city grew faster than yeast dough in the warmth, and the administrators urgently needed more space for files and consultations - and certainly for the legendary coffee breaks. The first plans for a new Rathaus emerged over a hundred years ago. Back then, there were big dreams: the entire district around the Rathaus was supposed to become a kind of 'city as a park' - a noble residential area with lots of greenery. They wanted to build a Rathaus that would be at least as impressive as the seat of an Italian prince. In 1910, an architectural competition was held, which Friedrich Pützer won. He even designed the city's first savings bank building. But, as sometimes happens: his spectacular Rathaus dream ended up back in the drawer. World War I intervened, and when Pützer died, no one really dared to tackle his plans. Instead, they resorted to a so-called 'emergency solution' - an annex that offered more function than style. But then the local heroes came into play: Mayor Otto Havenstein and Eduard Jüngerich. They didn't give up and commissioned Ludwig Freitag, a student of the legendary Pützer, to create a new design. Freitag was inspired - his Rathaus was to consist of real bricks and natural stone instead of flourishes - unadorned, but full of character! This, of course, fits perfectly with Oberhausen, where people don't need frills but prefer clear lines. In 1927, it finally began: everything became bigger, better, more modern. At the topping-out ceremony in 1928, it certainly clattered properly, as it should. Just two years later, in March 1930, the new Rathaus was finished. At the festive opening, Wilhelm Heuser was immediately appointed as the first mayor of Groß-Oberhausen - imagine the festive hall, with much fanfare, political tension, and certainly a few very proud city fathers. But the building is more than just administration - it's an eye-catcher between brick expressionism and hard-hitting 'New Objectivity.' Look at the different building volumes - something jumps forward, something recedes, and the colors play from light limestone to dark clinker. Almost like a giant building block game that impressively combines art and function! The south side is loosened up by arcades, and the second most important room, the chic council meeting hall, has huge windows and a balcony flanked by two stone figures. Its history is also audibly exciting: during World War II, there were unfortunately destructions, but most of the damage could be quickly repaired. Only the old Rathaus, which was severely hit, had to be completely removed in 1946 - sometimes space must be made for new things, even if it hurts. Over the years, daily work in the Rathaus has become technologically advanced: in the city administration, you can even use a Paternoster elevator - a real nostalgic feeling, but be careful, no selfies in the elevator! Fancy a little fun fact? The Grillopark at your feet was brought back into the shape desired by the first city planners just in time for the 75th anniversary of Groß-Oberhausen. And the large council meeting hall was reopened in 2023 after an expensive renovation - clearly, with construction costs of around seven million euros, that was probably Oberhausen's most expensive facelift! So, as you stand here, you might hear the soft murmuring of past discussions and the footsteps of the council members - a place where city history remains alive.

Directly in front of you, you'll see a modern, rectangular building with large glass fronts and many windows, cleverly hidden behind tall trees and lush greenery - just look between the tree trunks, and you'll discover the Luise-Albertz-Halle! Imagine standing here in 1962! The air is full of excitement, as the city of Oberhausen celebrates its 100th anniversary. Back then, citizens gathered in smart suits and dresses, small flags waved in the wind, and a solemn ceremony was held - you can almost hear the crackle of anticipation in the air. The brand-new Stadthalle, as it was called then, was the chic creation of architects Stumpf and Voigtländer, specially built to offer all Oberhausen residents a place to celebrate, meet, and marvel. There was space not only for balls and festivities: a huge ballroom with up to 1600 seats - can you imagine how loudly the applause thundered in there? - alongside smaller halls for film screenings, readings, and heated discussions. A very special magic filled the air when the lights dimmed and the organ played - an instrument with 68 registers, a true sound monster, built by Orgelbau Hammer, which unfortunately is no longer preserved today. But if you listen very closely, you might be able to dream yourself back to that time when international short film festivals took place here and people marveled with popcorn in their hands. Did you know that the hall owes its current name to an Oberhausen power woman? Luise Albertz was not only mayor but also the heroine who pushed through this massive project - and all this at a time when women in politics were still a rarity. In 2000 and 2012, the hall received a stylish makeover: new conference rooms were added, named after European cities, and the restaurant 'Albert's' served delicacies until the last fork dropped. Today, the ground vibrates underfoot when symphony concerts or major events take place - and perhaps you can still hear in the wind some sounds from all the parties, gatherings, and secret flirtations that have taken place here.

In front of you stands an impressive, large brick building with a characteristic tower and a striking clock - for the best view, direct your gaze upwards to the right, to the pointed spire with its octagonal upper story and slate roof. Welcome to the Christuskirche in Oberhausen, one of the oldest buildings in Alt-Oberhausen and perhaps even the heart of the city's Protestant history! Imagine, it's the year 1864: around you, coal dust billows from the newly opened mines, railway whistles echo through the early industrial city, and little reminds one of the many churches that shape the cityscape today. Here, directly on Nohlstraße, the Christuskirche was built, in response to a growing community amidst pulsating change. Back then, when there were more sheep than people on the streets - well, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. The origin of this church is quite curious: the first services for Protestant believers took place from 1853 onwards, simply in the Rubbert residence. The bell, which later announced lessons and church services, was initially mounted on a small brick tower of the school, right here on today's Nohlstraße. Imagine the ringing on Sunday morning, as children streamed to lessons and believers gathered for the sermon simultaneously - probably many a homework assignment was only finished in the first pew. With industrialization, more and more people came to Oberhausen: Zeche Concordia and the Köln-Mindener Eisenbahn caused a real rush. The small school soon burst at the seams, the need for a proper house of worship grew louder and louder - fittingly, August Koenigs, the most diligent fundraiser with a sure sense for jingling coins, was elected as the first Protestant pastor in 1859. There are said to be people who get particularly creative with the collection plate. Through collection trips, even to the Netherlands, and help from foundations, the construction could be financed. Even before its completion, the Protestant community separated from the mother church in 1864; from then on, things moved quickly here. The architecture? A true unique piece! Maximilian Nohl, Cologne's famous architect, designed a church so innovative that the authorities frowned: too bold, they found - so the plans had to be tamed. Shortly after the laying of the foundation stone, Nohl passed away, and August Kind took over the leadership. The result was a magnificent building in the Rundbogenstil, with elements of Neo-Romanesque, Neo-Gothic, and Classicism - the perfect mix, should you ever participate in an architecture quiz show. The trademark? Brick all the way to the spire - and so much iron inside that you could almost have built a second train station out of it! But the history of this church is also a story of destruction and new beginnings: on Easter Monday 1943, in the middle of the war, the Christuskirche completely burned out after a bombing raid. The ruin stood, weathered, sad, and empty. Only in 1950 did reconstruction begin: without the fine Neo-Gothic spires of the towers, but with modern reinforced concrete elements and a new ceiling in coffered technique. Speaking of the ceiling - if you look inside: it's a true example of the spirit of the 1950s. And the windows! In 1959, the Dutch master Henk Schilling designed the colorful choir windows - motifs from the Old and New Testaments, with scenes such as the expulsion from Paradise or the dove of the new covenant. Art critics call these windows Schilling's last truly pictorial work; some also say: the last before he finally lost his clear vision. The organ of this church is another small celebrity: already in 1876, the community received a magnificent piece from the Ibach company, with 21 registers - later even 30. Then came the war, everything destroyed. In 1951, a new sound giant followed, and finally in 2001, today's Hey-Orgel with 32 registers on three manuals. Its sound is oriented towards Bach's times, but also mixes warmer tones - Bach himself would have improvised in Oberhausen, I bet? A real highlight is the Echowerk, which is arranged like a Brustwerk above the console - perfect for accompanying echo effects or a continuo for choir singing from the gallery. Today, the Christuskirche is more vibrant than ever: in 2023, it merged with two other communities to form the Sophien-Kirchengemeinde. It stands - officially - as a protected monument, not only because it is old and beautiful, but because it embodies over 150 years of the district's heartbeat. From the small school bell to the grand organ, from bomb damage to colorful windows - the Christuskirche is a house full of stories, sounds, and change. So, the next time you walk past the clock, take a look: it's always time for a little historical stroll through Oberhausen!

Directly in front of you rises a magnificent, sandstone-colored building with many large windows and an ornate gable - look out for the elaborate facade and the stately portal, which seems like a gateway to another time. Imagine standing now where the elegant lifestyle of the German Empire once filled the air, and a curious problem prevailed: the city grew like a yeast cake on a warm oven, and the first Amtsgericht simply no longer fit after a short time - it was, in fact, a converted residential house! Judges and lay judges squeezed through narrow corridors, while outside, more and more citizens needed new space for their concerns and legal matters. The city administration had enough, and so, between 1904 and 1907, this proud courthouse was built in the Neo-Renaissance style, as if an architect had said: 'Something magnificent, please, so people get respect from the outside already!' Today, the Amtsgericht Oberhausen is the legal heart of the city - not to be confused with a courtroom drama; things are usually peaceful here (except perhaps when the coffee runs out during the break). Cases range from small civil matters to major issues, and above all, the powerful Landgericht Duisburg and the Oberlandesgericht Düsseldorf watch over everything - because even courts have their 'bosses.' Do you feel a bit of history tingling in the stones? Who knows - perhaps right where you are now, the spirit of an old judge still stands, marveling at how modern his 'work hall' of yesteryear seems today!

Directly in front of you, framed by plane trees, rises a magnificent building with a striking stone facade and ornate gables - where you look, the Friedensplatz with its historical atmosphere is unmissable. Imagine standing now in a place that was once filled with loud hammering and hissing - because precisely here, from 1854 onwards, was the factory site of Styrumer Eisenindustrie AG. Back then, one might have recognized the square more by its industrial sound than by its current tranquility, as machines clattered everywhere, and chimneys blew smoke into the sky. But change came when the company declared bankruptcy in 1901, and the city did not return the areas to industry after the old halls were demolished. Now you stand at one of Oberhausen's perhaps most important connecting points, between the train station, the Rathaus district, and the Altmarkt. The city had big plans: a new train station with an imposing forecourt was to be built here. However, typically bureaucratic, the railway administration had other priorities - so the grand train station idyll remained a dream. Back then, the people of Oberhausen decided: Neo-Renaissance meets Brick Expressionism - sounds almost like an architectural blind date, doesn't it? On the northern edge, however, the stately Amtsgericht was built in 1907, which you see so majestically before you - a building that surely makes every judge feel like they're working in a fairy-tale castle. Once the square was called Kaiserplatz (sounds quite imperial, doesn't it?), later Industrieplatz, and - well - in darker times, even Adolf-Hitler-Platz. Fortunately, after World War II, peace returned, and with it the beautiful name Friedensplatz. In the 1920s, the square got its current shape: the angular lines replaced the oblique street layout - no more chaos, bring on straight edges! New buildings arrived: the police headquarters, a bank, the tax and cadastral office, all according to plans by Eduard Jüngerich and Ludwig Freitag. Back then, you could have watched dozens of men with bricks and trowels. In the 1980s, the square was finally freed from the grip of car traffic - tranquility returned. Today, you stroll along a peaceful place that has a central axis with a long water basin, which even boasts a fountain at its southern edge. To the left and right, a double row of plane trees and flowerbeds adorns the scene. The Friedensplatz now stands for exactly what its name promises: a place for encounters, relaxation, and perhaps a little daydream in Oberhausen.

Look for the colorful logo with a stylized, open book page and a CD - that's how you'll find the Stadtbibliothek Oberhausen directly in front of you. Imagine standing where everything began more than a hundred years ago - amidst book covers, curious readers, and an atmosphere where stories swirled through the air like pages in the wind. The Stadtbibliothek Oberhausen, now in this modern building, has quite an adventurous past. It all started tiny: in March 1907, a public library opened here with a mere 470 books. That's as many as you'd find in some large children's rooms today - a Harry Potter would just quietly chuckle at that… By 1914, there was already a hand-printed catalog with a proud 3,500 titles. From 1929, Oberhausen grew into a major city, and the library immediately gained four hearty branches: in Sterkrade, Buschhausen, Holten, and of course, here in the center. 20,000 books - reading was suddenly really in vogue! But in 1944, in the middle of World War II, a bomb hit the main branch. Where the whisper of stories was usually heard, the thunder of destruction suddenly echoed. But what did Oberhausen do? The library was not given up; instead, in 1945, as soon as the dust and ashes had settled, it was simply reopened provisionally in a school. Books are not so easily defeated - they are the superheroes of knowledge. Then in 1953, a sigh of relief: the 'Meuthenvilla' became the new home. There, books were displayed for the first time in a modern 'browsing format' - you could simply stroll, rummage, and discover among all the works. It was a bit like a treasure hunt, just with more paper and fewer pirates. Here, the name also changed: the public library became the venerable Stadtbücherei. But the space problem remained, because Oberhausen's hunger for reading grew faster than the shelves! So, in 1975, the library moved into a real department store, with two floors for all the books, audio plays, and, completely new and revolutionary: records. Records? Exactly, music to take home! The crackle of the needle on the vinyl, the whirring when putting it on - suddenly, reading almost felt like a small concert. In 1981, the bookmobile arrived: a rolling treasure chest full of reading material that trundled through Oberhausen, always on the hunt for knowledge-hungry children and adults. But that was just the beginning! Then in 1985, the big move to the now well-known Bert-Brecht-Haus. A new era began, and borrowings soared like the page numbers in an adventure novel. In 1992, the library broke the sound barrier of one million borrowings for the first time - that sounds almost as if every Oberhausen resident had at least two books in hand simultaneously. Of course, there were also a few stumbling blocks: plans for a cozy reading café fell through, the famous bookmobile was decommissioned, a branch closed - sometimes life just turns a page, whether you want it to or not. But Oberhausen remained creative: in 2009, the Bert-Brecht-Haus was extensively modernized, so that since 2011, the central library boasts not only elegant new rooms but also a top-equipped children's library. Today, you'll find not only books here but everything from Blu-rays to console games to e-books from the 'Onleihe.' Whether young or old, bookworm or audiobook fan - the library welcomes everyone. And if you don't feel like reading, you can experience events, readings, or competitions organized by the literary society. So, if you ever need a break from everyday life: just come to the Stadtbibliothek. A thousand worlds are waiting here to be discovered.

In front of you, the Herz Jesu Kirche rises visibly with its impressive, angular tower of brown stone and pointed roof at the Altmarkt - simply stand at the Altmarkt, look up, and search for the tallest building in the vicinity. Imagine how, just over a hundred years ago, a hall stood here on the Altmarkt, which gradually became this mighty house of God. You can almost hear the murmur of the Oberhausen residents from 1888, when, in the middle of a relatively new city, a building association requested permission to turn a simple hall on the market into a church. Back then, there was already an emergency church, but the many Catholics in Oberhausen could hardly get enough of it! After all, the community already numbered more than 12,000 people - and a roof over your head is good, but a proper church roof is better, don't you think? So they started in 1909, the architect Hermann Wielers gave the building its characteristic Neo-Gothic style, and two years later - after hard work, sweat, and certainly many a cake sale for fundraising - the Herz Jesu was finally consecrated. You can imagine what a celebration that was for Oberhausen! Probably one or two grandmothers back then saw the first doves fly to the tower out of pure joy. And then - as in a real drama - came the war. In 1943, on the night of Easter Tuesday, the church was severely hit during a bombing raid: the masonry crumbled, the tower partially collapsed, and everything burned fiercely. Imagine the flickering flames in the dark night and know that hope still remained! Because the community did not give up. Until 1948, they celebrated services in the Kolpinghaus, but as soon as it was possible, reconstruction was organized, donations were collected, and the construction site was watched day and night - all communally, of course. In December 1948, the time had come: with a solemn procession, the community moved back into the almost reborn church. Some of the furniture came back by handcart - what a sight! Later, there was even a new wooden floor and real heating (which must have been a blessing in winter, especially for people with cold feet like me). And because the tower was still such a natural disaster on two legs, the roof was flattened in 1955 and - no joke - a copper rooster was placed on top as a symbol of vigilance. Imagine that, a rooster overlooking the colorful hustle and bustle of Oberhausen from such a lofty height! The interior is still impressive today: the choir and side chapels were clad with Jura marble, a new altar was installed, even a new organ. Oh, the organ! It was installed in 1990 and lends its heavenly sound to the church space. Do you actually know how many bells there were here? Already in 1911, the first bells were cast, but then came World War I, and the state said: 'Thanks, we need them for cannons.' As soon as new bells were acquired, poof, the next war came. As so often in the history of the church, the people of Oberhausen had to take everything with humor and patience - and eventually, after many years, the carillon was complete again: four new bells complement the venerable sound - presumably even doves in Oberhausen have developed a finer sense of hearing! With such a turbulent history, it's no wonder that the Herz Jesu Kirche is now a protected monument, a witness to all the turmoil, celebrations, worries, and victories of this city. The Pacellistraße next door, by the way, was renamed Christoph-Schlingensief-Straße in honor of the city's famous son, Christoph Schlingensief - because where else, if not in a place of community and creativity? Today, the large parish of Herz Jesu Oberhausen-Mitte includes an impressive 15,469 members. One could almost be envious - so much community, so much history under one, well, rather restored roof! Who knows, maybe a secret letter or a candy wrapper from a naughty altar boy still rests somewhere in the masonry. So, look up again, take a deep breath, and experience the feeling of how many lives these walls have seen - and what else they will experience!

Straight ahead, in the middle of the open square, a tall sandstone column rises, crowned by a radiant goddess of victory - you really can't miss her! Glad you've reached the Altmarkt - welcome to a square that has seen quite a lot! Imagine: it's June 1859, and this spot is still quite peaceful… until farmer Wilhelm Stöckmann makes a grand gift: he donates the property to the community of Styrum! Back then, Oberhausen wasn't yet the city it is today - the Altmarkt was practically like the nursery of a giant. Don't panic, before you think you're stumbling over an ancient sack of potatoes: Stöckmann actually made such an impression that the Stöckmannstraße to the east of the square still commemorates him today. But pay attention, it's getting exciting: in 1876, the mighty War Memorial is erected in the middle of the square - made of sandstone, as stable as the Oberhausen residents themselves, and on its top, the goddess of victory Victoria watches. Sure, she looks friendly, but I bet she's already kept off a rain shower or two! The monument commemorates the eventful years and exciting battles from 1864 to 1871, which led to the founding of the German Empire. Imagine the commotion here when it was market day… or a little boy secretly tried to climb the monument - but no, better not to imitate that! Turn north - there you'll see the Herz Jesu-Kirche, built between 1909 and 1911. The other sides of the square? A colorful mosaic of shops, offices, and culinary temptations. And on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, the market comes alive - it smells of fresh fruit, people chat, vendors praise their goods. During Advent, it gets especially cozy: then the Altmarkt transforms into a Christmas forest with lots of magic. Nowadays, the Altmarkt is even part of the Route der Industriekultur, and on the roof of the Jobcenter, crisp greenery for tomorrow's climate grows in the ALTMARKTgarten. Well, who would have thought that this square has so many stories to tell? Perhaps you'll hear some of them today, as the wind blows around the monument!

Directly in front of you, you can recognize Flaßhofstraße by its striking red facades and the red barrier, which presents itself almost like a splash of color at the roadside - look to your right, and you'll see the distinctive red buildings. Welcome to the famous, or should I say infamous, Flaßhofstraße - the heart of Oberhausen's red-light district! This street may look quiet today, but imagine what it used to be like: lights, voices, soft laughter in the shadows, mysterious figures in colorful clothes, and curious strangers wanting to risk a glance. The Flaßhofstraße has existed in its current form since 1963, but its history begins much earlier. Originally, it was called Eintrachtstraße. Already in 1914 - those were times! - women moved onto the sidewalk at the upper end, and the trade began. News quickly spread to other cities: 'If you come to Oberhausen, check out Eintrachtstraße...' A bit like a classic film, only here there wasn't always a happy ending. In 1920, when the Ruhr Uprising raged, things became dramatic. At that time, the Red Ruhr Army, fighting against the Kapp Putsch, employed so-called Red Cross nurses as paramedics, who often came from the milieu - and many of them came from Oberhausen! People affectionately and a bit disrespectfully called them 'Karbol-Mäuschen' (Carbolic Mice). Imagine brave women setting off with first-aid kits and sometimes even a pistol, not afraid of the fighting, but perhaps of bad shoes. A famous story tells how such 'nurses' were involved in a looting in 1920 - a wild chapter in which they even confronted nobles. At that time, the street was still called Eintrachtstraße, but it soon became clear that the name no longer fit: in 1921, it was officially renamed Flaßhofstraße, named after Christian Flaßhof, a pioneer of mining who, in 1845, with friends, virtually 'christened' the later Zeche Concordia through test drilling. But the new name brought not only honor but also many discussions! The administration threatened homeowners: Show us that you are using your houses for normal living space, otherwise they will be expropriated! The Oberhausener Tageblatt joyfully reported that the regulation had an effect. Whether the residents were just as joyful is another question... From the 1930s onwards, business returned, and residents in the 'other part' of the street were not amused. In 1938, this section was therefore renamed Linsingenstraße - presumably, it was thought that this would keep the red light somewhat 'in check.' But as with prohibitions: secretly and with a wink, business continued to flourish. By the end of the 1960s, Flaßhofstraße even housed Germany's 'shabbiest brothel,' a corrugated iron shed - imagine the smell of metal and cigarette smoke, plus the squeak of a rusty door. Later, the city of Oberhausen tried to regulate the district. Between 2001 and 2003, the brothel area was declared a 'Special Brothel Zone' - sounds almost ceremonial, doesn't it? But there's more than romance: since 2009, the city has been charging an entertainment tax, affectionately called the sex tax. Sometimes even fun has to be taxed! The exciting disputes about it even played out in court. Most recently, there was trouble in the underworld: sometimes the Hells Angels were in charge, sometimes the Bandidos - a real story of dominance, sometimes with fists, sometimes with shootouts. In 2013, 50 years of the brothel street were celebrated here. And as if there hadn't been enough color in the red-light district, the notorious Bert Wollersheim was even supposed to make everything a bit 'prettier.' The new mayor dryly countered: Nothing needs to be pretty here - he would prefer to drive the district completely out of the city center. But now you stand here - at the end of a tour full of history, secrets, and curious anecdotes. Remember, every street, even one like this, always tells more than just about curbs and houses. And who knows - maybe the red wall will whisper an old joke in your ear on your way back!