Monday, Oct. 03, 1949

HICOG with a Horn

In the mountain hotel atop Petersberg near Bonn, not far from the cave where Siegfried bathed in dragon's blood, the proconsuls of the three Western powers met to turn a historic leaf: they ended West Germany's military government. Henceforth, the land which Allied armies conquered would be under civilian rule.

Up the mountain road in black limousines rode Chancellor Konrad Adenauer and five members of his day-old Cabinet. A guard of honor of ten U.S., ten British, ten French soldiers snapped to attention for the Germans. Waiting in a drawing room were the high commissioners: the U.S.'s cagey, hard-driving John J. McCloy, France's scholarly, elegant Andre Francois-Poncet, Britain's shy, gruff General Sir Brian Robertson. Facing the commissioners across a red carpet, Adenauer announced formally that he had formed his government. In a brief speech he paid tribute to the Allies' help to Germany, expressed the hope that Germany would soon get greater autonomy.

On the hotel's glassed-in veranda overlooking the sparkling blue Rhine below, the Germans and the Allied commissioners toasted, in German champagne, the end of one era and the start of another.

"A Wonderful Team." From 11:17 that sunny morning, the supreme law in Western Germany became the Occupation Statute, a sort of interim peace treaty drafted by the Allies last spring (TIME, April 18). It gives the Germans wide scope for self-government, although the high commissioners still keep important powers over foreign affairs, demilitarization, decartelization and D.P.s.

The switchover from military to civilian rule was a hectic experience for the people on occupation duty. U.S. occupation headquarters, which had moved from Berlin to Frankfurt in August, was in turmoil. One by one, General Lucius Clay's top men had resigned; personnel had been slashed from 2,300 to 1,400. New men were coming in. In Berlin, 200 families of U.S. officials were waiting anxiously for houses in or near overcrowded Frankfurt. The old headquarters of OMGUS (Office of Military Government for Germany, U.S.), where Clay had sat out the blockade, was deserted.

To run HICOG (High Commission for Germany), McCloy has had to build a new staff from the ground up. The only two Clay men are Major General George P. Hays, deputy military governor, who will stay on as McCloy's deputy, and Major General James P. Hodges. Among the new members of McCloy's "cabinet" are the State Department's old Germany hand, James Riddleberger, who will be in charge of political affairs; Benjamin J. Buttenwieser, formerly of Kuhn, Loeb & Co. in New York, who is assistant high commissioner; and Labor Director Harvey W. Brown, former A.F.L. official and EGA labor adviser. Says the high commissioner: "I've got a wonderful team now."

Gent In a Morning Coat. Before tackling his vast problems, McCloy spent some time sweeping away the musty remnants of military government. He ordered removal of all signs on U.S. homes proclaiming: "No Entrance for German Civilians"; he lifted a ban on Americans eating in German restaurants; he ordered all officials who come in contact with Germans to learn to speak German forthwith.

One of McCloy's officials last week explained HICOG's functions to TIME Correspondent David Richardson: "A high commissioner," he said, "is an ambassador with a great big horn. Whenever possible, he will talk quietly through the horn. Occasionally he may have to holler through it. But because he is, after all, a gent in a morning coat, he will count past 100 before he will even think of conking anyone with it."

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