The story
As you stand here in the shadow of the grand Feldherrnhalle on Odeonsplatz, take a moment to look at those massive, sweeping arches. Today, this is a place of tourism and photographs, but eighty years ago, it was the site of a mandatory ritual that carried the heavy weight of fear. After the Nazis rose to power in 1933, they transformed this monument into a sacred shrine for the sixteen participants of the failed 1923 Beer Hall Putsch who were killed here.
It was guarded day and night by SS soldiers, and every single passerby was legally required by the state to perform the Hitler salute as they walked past the eastern side of the building. To refuse was to invite immediate arrest, interrogation, or worse. For many Munich residents, the sight of the swastika banners and the rigid guards was a daily trial of conscience.
But if you look just to the side of the Feldherrnhalle, tucked behind the building, you will see a narrow, unassuming passage called the Viscardigasse. This small alleyway connects Residenzstrasse to Theatinerstrasse, and during the years of the Third Reich, it became the most famous shortcut in the city. Locals began to call it Drückebergergasse, or Shirkers' Alley.
By turning into this narrow lane just before reaching the memorial, citizens could bypass the SS guards and the mandatory salute entirely. It was a quiet, subtle, and incredibly risky act of civil disobedience. Imagine the tension of those who walked here: the quickening of footsteps, the eyes kept low, and the shared, unspoken understanding between strangers as they slipped into the shadows of the alley to avoid a gesture they could not bring themselves to make.
Now, look down at the ground beneath your feet. Since the mid-nineties, a line of bronze-colored cobblestones has been embedded in the pavement, snaking its way through the Viscardigasse. This is the golden trail, a memorial by artist Bruno Wank.
It follows the exact path those so-called shirkers took decades ago. As you follow this golden line yourself, notice how narrow and intimate the space feels compared to the grand, imposing scale of Odeonsplatz. This trail doesn't honor generals or grand battles; it honors the everyday courage of the ordinary person who chose to take the long way home rather than compromise their dignity.
It reminds us that resistance doesn't always have to be a loud, heroic shout. Sometimes, it is simply a small detour, a quiet turn down a side street, and the refusal to raise an arm in a salute that felt like a betrayal of the soul. Walk this path slowly, and let the golden stones remind you that even in the darkest times, there were those who found a way to walk around the shadows.