Midwiesn in Munich: Oktoberfest once a year is not enough – Munich

Many work their whole lives towards it, apply dozens of times, and then nothing comes of it, their dream job at the Wiesnwirt. Alon Gleibs from the Neuhauser Großwirt on Volkartstraße, on the other hand, suddenly became a mid-wiesn host a few years ago. Simply that way. Because his inn was big enough and because one of the initiators, Gert Jäger, a native of Neuhauser, was looking for a new location for his traditional event.

Once a year, Glebs and Jäger are allowed to slip into their roles as Midwiesnwirt and festival president, including last Saturday afternoon. The wooden barrel with Augustiner Hellem (unfortunately there is no own Midwiesn beer) should be tapped on the dot. This time it will be three minutes later, because co-initiator Julian Rautenberg quickly gives a welcoming speech and Jäger needs at least eight shots until the change is in the barrel. But then it’s: “Ozapft is!”, the beer is flowing, the music is playing, and around 60 men and women in lederhosen and dirndl toast to a tradition that isn’t supposed to be revived for another six months, namely on April 16 September.

Now you have to admit: “Traditional event” is perhaps a bit much to say in connection with the Midwiesn. The event has only been around since 2010, says Jäger, but he’s not so sure either. In any case, the term Midwiesn came about at a time when a large Scandinavian furniture store began to advertise with the Swedish Midsommar, the summer solstice festival. Jäger: “So we said to ourselves: Let’s just call our festival in the middle between two Oktoberfests Midwiesn.”

They immediately had the term protected, much to the displeasure of some Oktoberfest landlords, who thought that the Oktoberfest was generally their affair. But they were probably just angry that they hadn’t thought of it themselves.

“We thought it was actually a pity that we only meet once a year”

If the whole thing wasn’t ultimately about beer, the Midwiesn could of course also be described as a crazy idea. Heinz Winzinger, 54, says that he and Jäger came up with the Midwiesn as a mountain festival “on the first Saturday, which is closer to the first Oktoberfest Saturday than it is to the last Oktoberfest”. Gert Jäger doesn’t want to swear by it, but says that it all started at a Oktoberfest table in the garden in front of the Augustiner tent. “We actually thought it was a pity that we only met once a year,” he says, “then we set up a monthly regulars’ table in the Mariannenhof in Lehel. But it fell asleep after the second time.” This is how the idea of ​​the mountain festival at the end of March came about.

Open detailed view

And the Midwiesn works splendidly. The Mariannenhof soon became too small for it, six years ago they moved to the Großwirt because up to 100 people came to the Midwiesn. It was canceled during the two Corona years, but instead they celebrated on the actual Saturday of the Wiesn, namely a “non-Wiesnanstich”, also in the Großwirt. The aim is to transfer the Oktoberfest feeling to everyday life on a Saturday, says Jäger: “The Oktoberfest is very grass-roots democracy, the CEO sits next to the worker at the table. So the normal people and those who think they are something better .” The latter, it seems, are missing this Saturday, after all, a former CEO is there.

The mood is cheerful, but not party like in a beer tent. “It’s about promoting the pub culture,” said Julian Rautenberg in his opening speech. This also includes the tavern music, performed live by the harpist Dorothea Hutterer and the guitarist Thomas Suppmayr from the tavern band, which has since been dissolved Happy Zipfeklatscher and by some members of the rainy day music comes from Moosach. They have the task of “undermining the event musically,” as Rautenberg says. This is done with the help of Bavarian folklore, but alternative hip-hop band hits are also used Bloodhound Gang.

And how does Alon Gleibs feel as Midwiesnwirt? “Excellent,” he says and grins, “Wiesnwirt is the dream of every Munich restaurateur.” After all, he himself was an innkeeper near the Wiesn. At that time he had the Padres cocktail bar on Blumenstrasse. “Of course, after the bar closed at the Wiesn, things always went really well.”