A Black Cat in Friesenheim

Once a year, the oldest pub in Ludwigshafen, which has been around even longer than BASF, comes back to life. The Enzenauer family opens up its quaint public room for a good cause just in time for the annual Kerwe fair.  

It is still shimmering softly in the former taproom of the Ludwigshafen pub “Schwarze Katz”, meaning “Black Cat”: the old horse’s harness. It hangs on the wall with its shiny, polished metal ornaments. Right next to it, there are two portraits. Of horses, mind you. And these two must have been very special—if only because they were the last ones the Enzenauer family owned. And sent to the last festive parade of the Kerwe fair. Adorned with the beautiful horse’s harness used for the parish fair day of the year 1905.  

“My father owned a transport company,” Thomas Enzenauer says. And before Alois Enzenauer drove around Ludwigshafen with his trucks to supply the booming industrial city with gravel or sand, his two horses had served him faithfully. In the old pub that his son Thomas Enzenauer opens for a good cause once a year at the time of the Kerwe fair, you can still see them: such keepsakes of the family—that are also part of the history of Ludwigshafen, for that matter.

The “Schwarze Katz” was founded in 1864—you can still see the number of the year above the door with its beautiful sandstone lintel. And the fact that three fairly high steps lead up to it was by no means a coincidence—the area between Frankenthal and Oggersheim had already seen some nasty floods that could be prevented only after the rectification of the Rhine. The new pub was built correspondingly high. “Friesenheim was still a farming village when the public house opened,” Thomas recounts—the name of the street where the old pub is situated, Bauernwiesenstraße, literally meaning “farmer’s meadow road”, is still a reminder of that. So, it was the rural population that in the beginning had a beer there in the “Katz” after work—before, just one year later, the Baden Aniline and Soda Factory (BASF) began operations only a few hundred metres away. And grew into a global corporation.

As late as in 1859, the back then Bavarian Ludwigshafen had been granted city rights by King Maximilian II. Only a few years later, BASF had already increased its number of workers from initially 30 to more than 10,000 in 1914. And with this increase, the popularity of the “Katz” grew as well. “At times, Friesenheim was like a real Bermuda Triangle with countless bars,” Thomas reports. Born in 1961, he had worked in BASF’s finance department himself for a long time. He still remembers a historic photo from there very well: Countless women could be seen in it, as he reports, who had been waiting for their husbands in front of BASF’s factory gate—in order to take the pay packets from them straight away, so their earnings wouldn’t end up in the till of one of the bars. 

These days, public houses like the “Katz” have virtually died out. “But perhaps the longing for it is stronger than ever,” Thomas says. Especially in times when so much is shifting to the digital sphere, “third places” are becoming more and more important. In the late 1980s, Ray Oldenburg had described spaces in his book “The Great Good Place” where people felt welcome like in a second living room—away from their “first place”, their own home, and their second one, their workplace. This idea had occurred to the American after he had moved to the “incredibly quiet suburb” of Pensacola, Florida. Because there had been no public places where you could meet, he without further ado converted his garage into a bar—to host friends. In a certain way, this anecdote from sociology is not unlike Thomas’s commitment today. “Friesenheim might still have a bit of a village feel to it, but the places where you can meet disappear.” This is one of the reasons why, although the “Katz” is officially closed, it does open once a year—as a “Besenwirtschaft”, a kind of tavern that opens only during certain seasons.

The places where you can meet disappear

Many stories are still here. And a lot of old furniture. The “Maffenbeier”, Ludwigshafen’s quaint bar right on Goerdelerplatz in the Hemshof neighbourhood, has been around since the end of the 19^th century, too. However, it had lost its original furnishings in a fire. In contrast, the furnishings in the “Katz” are still the originals—the corner benches, tables, and chairs, the wall panelling, and a tiled stove.

An old sign serves as a reminder that Thomas’s grandmother Erna closed the bar in 1975, but she then turned it into a guesthouse. That was before, in the mid-1990s, her grandchild began to restore the cosy original state—and to add some of his own personal touches to it. Today, not just old road signs and photographs adorn the walls, but also memorabilia from the history of cycling—as Thomas trains young players at state association level, and his sister had even won the German cycling world championship in 1981. As the youngest in her discipline, no less.

Furthermore, motorcycle parts, stylishly illuminated memorabilia and photos from tours are telling of the world of Harley-Davidson—Thomas’ passion. And this in turn has an impact on the “Katz”, too: When the pub opens its doors for four days once a year, the “Harley Friends of Friesenheim” come round and help out alongside Thomas, his wife Sandra and their son Timon. And 40 more people help out as well—all of them on a voluntary basis. And all the proceeds are then donated to a good cause. For social projects and initiatives in Ludwigshafen. This all goes to show that a “Black Cat” crossing your path actually is a very good thing—at least if it is the “Schwarze Katz” in Friesenheim.