By Michaela Schiessl in Munich
Oktoberfest's hosts welcome Munich's strict adherence to the rules. They fear that the festival's traditional Bavarian charm would be lost if their Oktoberfest were turned into an advertising showcase. For them, even without advertising revenues, having a Wiesn license is like winning the lottery -- and getting it is just as difficult. In the past 17 years, the city council has only issued a single new license. The 14 major hosts in the tents must satisfy extremely rigorous standards. Each of them must demonstrate that he is capable of operating a large-scale food and beverage concession at a consistent level of quality. Their tax-paying history must be completely free of blemishes, and they must maintain a good relationship with the city, which renews their licenses annually.
Toni Roiderer, a spokesman for the hosts and manager of the Hacker tent, also has a few unofficial criteria. In his opinion a Wiesn host must be "an upstanding man and not a wimp." Besides, he should weigh at least 100 kilos (221 lbs.) so that he remains grounded, so to speak. Wiesn hosts are more popular in Munich than many political figures. "I get in wherever I want," says Roiderer with a grin. Like his fellow hosts, Roiderer is constantly investing in innovative features for his Oktoberfest concession.
Having already spent millions on improvements, including a retractable roof and a rotating stage for the band, Roiderer is annoyed by never-ending complaints about high beer prices (up to €7.90 ($11.20) for a liter mug, or "Mass") and the supposedly money-grubbing hosts.
Attending a match of Munich's legendary FC Bayern soccer club, says Roiderer, is naturally more expensive than watching a regional league team play. And spending €60 on a match doesn't even come with the guarantee that it'll actually be worth watching. "But those who come to our tent are guaranteed a good time," Roiderer says. So why should people begrudge him his Porsche?
Big Costs for the Big Event ...
These complainers, says Roiderer, have no idea what it costs to stage an event of this scale. Setting up and taking down his 9,400-seat tent costs him about €2 million a year. The entire setup process takes 10 weeks. On top of that, Roiderer pays the city a fee ranging from €150,000 to €180,000 to rent the site. Musicians cost him between €100,000 and €150,000. And since 9/11, insurance premiums have jumped eightfold -- to anywhere from €70,000 to €90,000 per tent.
Roiderer employs a staff of 420 people for the 16-day event, including 80 security guards, at a cost of a quarter of a million euros. A stocky Bavarian, he almost loses his cool when he sees his bouncers treating guests poorly, and lets them have it. "Hey, what do you think you are, Guantanamo guards?" he barks. "Don't roughhouse, you fools! You're supposed to protect people, not threaten them!"
Hippodrom owner Krätz also pays close attention to the quality of his service employees -- and no wonder, given that labor costs eat up 30 percent of his revenues. He spends two days training his staff, teaching waitresses the unique and harrowing Oktoberfest method of balancing 12 beer mugs at a time and the art of the smile, which he feels his choice customers deserve.
Krätz took over the run-down tent 12 years ago. He had a prominent architect redesign the interior, brought in tablecloths and upholstered the benches, added coffee and champagne to the menu and improved the quality of the food and the music. Each waitress is responsible for 20 guests, and she is expected to know the names of each and every one of them. The customer, says Krätz, should experience nothing less than pure delight.
... and Bigger Rewards
Krätz's Hippodrom is the third most popular place at the Wiesn today. He is constantly walking through the corridors, slapping Ukrainian heavyweight boxing champion Wladimir Klitschko on the back and cozying up to fashion czar Werner Baldessarini. His commitment is worth it. Krätz's operation brings in €600,000 on a good day and about half as much on an ordinary day.
Michael Käfer grins like a Cheshire cat when asked about his sales figures. "No Wiesn host has ever gone bankrupt," is all he says. Käfer never talks about money, partly because the Wiesn hosts are constantly under public scrutiny. He presides over the Käferschränke (or "Beetle Bar"), the most popular spot at Oktoberfest. Instead of a tent, Käfer's establishment is a log house built in the style of an alpine cottage, filled with intimate corners with room enough inside for 1,400 guests and for another 1,900 in the garden area.
Käfer, who runs the gourmet food empire of the same name, isn't concerned about attracting celebrities. Many are already regulars at his restaurants and his nightclub, P1, or are customers of his catering business. The professional restaurateur and third-generation owner of the family business grew up at Oktoberfest and knows how important his presence is. "Guests expect to see the host," says Käfer. The host's job is to provide discretion amidst all the confusion. Käfer's bouncers make sure that, as the night wears on, his exclusive clientele can climb up on the benches and blithely bellow out German beer drinking songs. After 11 p.m., the bouncers keep the doors to Käfer's palace shut to all but the most select guests, making sure that the rich, the famous and the noble can let it all hang out without running the risk of rubbing shoulders with the hoi poloi.
By then the members of Käfer's select crowd have nothing to worry about, and even the DJ can finally let his hair down. "Cheers, dudes," he shouts at the crowd. And the dudes shout back: "Cheers, dude!"
Translated from the German by Christopher Sultan
Post to other social networks:
Stay informed with our free news services:
| All news from SPIEGEL International | Twitter | RSS |
| All news from Business section | RSS |
© SPIEGEL ONLINE 2007
All Rights Reserved
Reproduction only allowed with the permission of SPIEGELnet GmbH
