East Germany: Of Meissen Men

When they packed up their displays at the end of this month’s Leipzig trade fair, most East German companies found themselves with virtually empty order books. One state-owned company had an altogether different problem. The famed Meissen chinaworks, which was the hit of the show, wound up with six months’ worth of new business. The company’s popularity was so striking that its managers were already finding it embarrassing; the “People’s Own Plant, State China Manufactory, Meissen” had been running far behind in filling orders even before the trade fair began.

The backlog can only be blamed on success—not Communist inefficiency. Aside from putting Red bosses in charge of the operation, Walter Ulbricht’s government has refrained from tampering with Meissen’s time-honored techniques. As a result, Meissen continues to demonstrate its 257-year-old knack for producing exquisite china. The translucent, ornately decorated product commands capitalist prices: a twelve-place dinner service in the famed blue and white “onion” pattern sells for around $900, and more elaborate patterns can run $4,500 and up. And even though few, if any, East Germans can afford to spend that kind of money, the demand for Meissen still outstrips the supply. The china is one of the country’s most valuable export items.

Tails & Top Hats. Meissen dates back to the early 18th century, when it became Europe’s first true china manufacturer. Alchemist Johann Friedrich Bottger was employed by Augustus the Strong, Elector of Saxony and King of Poland, to find a way to turn base metal into gold; instead he discovered an ancient Chinese method of making porcelain. Augustus set Bottger up in a medieval castle in the cathedral city of Meissen. There the factory turned out its china until 1865, when it was moved to its present site on a slope overlooking the town. Because Meissen (pop. 47,000) is just 15 miles from Dresden, its chinaware has also come to be known as “Dresden china.”

Though standards inevitably slipped during the Nazi regime, today’s quality is consistently high. If Meissen’s artisans no longer wear tails and top hats to work, its 1,000 employees (150 of whom are Communist Party members) can nonetheless take pride in their plant’s well-preserved tradition. Still working a single shift, Meissen’s chi-namakers fire their pottery to over 2,500° F. in antiquated, three-story-high ovens that hold 5,000 pieces at one time. Its painters, trained by long apprenticeships, continue to do all their work by hand—and earn an average $150 monthly. In addition to its present line of 5,000 basic designs, Meissen has kept the forms for all the chinaware it has ever made. It will reproduce any piece for buyers willing to pay the price.

Daughter’s Dowry. All together, East Germany has 150 china companies Though Meissen accounts for only 4% of the output, its high prices make it by far the best hard-currency earner of the lot. Since few of its wares are sold in other Iron Curtain countries—”They need their money now for other projects,” is the explanation of one East German official—Meissen’s eyes are fixed on the West.

China-loving West Germany, where few well-heeled families would think of omitting Meissen from a daughter’s dowry, accounts for perhaps $2,000,000 in annual retail purchases. Now Meissen hopes to expand its outlets in the U.S., where exports have been severely limited by restrictions on East German travel and trade. Having pried into the U.S. market with a trade visit last spring, Meissen Director Rudi Richter hopes to get permission to send another delegation next year. “After all,” says he, sounding almost like a capitalist, “you can’t really properly develop a market in a country you can’t visit.”