Hanns Dieter Hüsch: the philosopher of cheerfulness

"You're in it too. Thoughts of a traveling poet" is the title of Hanns Dieter Hüsch's autobiography, published in 1990. While the cabaret artist recounts his own life, one can recognize oneself in the mirror of his memories: the peculiarities and quirks he accurately diagnosed in himself point beyond himself. "People always say: He must have been sitting in our closet!" Hüsch joked. No one was better at detecting the comic and tragicomic aspects of everyday life without embarrassing people.

Hanns Dieter Hüsch acquired the tools for this ability at an early age. His early years in Moers, where he was born on May 6, 1925, shaped the cabaret artist's worldview and program. It may come as a surprise that Hüsch considered his childhood in the tranquil town—"25,000 inhabitants, 32 swans"—a paradise, despite the Nazi dictatorship and the hardships of war. This is all the more so given that he was born with a disability that would have derailed less resilient individuals: a "clubfoot" made it difficult for the child to play around with friends.

"I was a problem child," Hanns Dieter Hüsch wrote in his memoirs. He continued with irresistible dialectic: "And so, really, I had no other choice: I had to become a lucky child!" He found and experienced this happiness primarily on stage.

Hüsch toured the country for more than half a century. It all began when he founded Studio 45 with director Theo van Alst in the late summer of 1945. It was a "loose association of all the black sheep of Moers" who were interested in theater, literature, and music. That same year, he enrolled in medical school in Giessen. He promptly corrected this mistake by continuing his studies in theater studies in Mainz one semester later. He wanted to become an opera director.

Hüsch realized, at the latest in the spring of 1947, during a visit to the Düsseldorf cabaret ensemble Kom(m)ödchen, that the rebellious chamber format of cabaret suited his nature better than the pathos of opera. This sparked his switch to comedy. A decision that proved resoundingly successful: The "stage hog," as he called himself, presented over seventy cabaret programs by 2001. Then, a stroke, from which Hüsch never recovered until his death in December 2005, brought the curtain to an abrupt close.

The restless man, who lived for a long time in Mainz and later in Cologne, practiced cabaret on a grand scale: as a songwriter and actor, clown and preacher, poet and philosopher, as a mouthpiece for ordinary people, as a writer, radio presenter and as a dubbing artist.

Hüsch countered Schopenhauer's pessimistic view of existence, formulated in "The World as Will and Representation," with a philosophy of cheerfulness: for him, cheerfulness consists, on the one hand, of the ideas in which the Lower Rhine-based world of appearances takes shape, and, on the other, of wit, which reveals the hidden essence of things.

Hüsch also made stops in Switzerland during his career. From 1973 to 1979, he lived with the Bernese actress Silvia Jost. Together they developed a literary cabaret program ("Faux Pas de Deux"). But later, the German comedian returned to Mainz, where his first wife, Marianne Lüttgenau, and only daughter Anna had waited for years with astonishing patience for their lost husband and father.

Hüsch's compass always remained focused on Moers, the setting of his Lower Rhine comedy, in which so many characters appeared that it was easy to lose track. Anyone who wanted to unravel the extensive family relationships would end up "from one thing to the next," as the Rhinelander says. With subtle humor, he erected a monument to his clan, without ignoring the weaknesses of this type of people: "The Lower Rhine people are incapable of anything. They know nothing, but can explain everything. Conversely: If you explain something to them, they understand nothing, but keep saying: It's logical." His mockery was also directed at the Lower Rhine hypochondriacs: "When you introduce yourself in the Lower Rhine, it's best to mention the illness right away." Sooner or later, the conversation will end up with the ailments anyway.

It's not surprising, then, that the honorary citizen in Moers was initially perceived as a traitor. A misunderstanding. It was precisely these minor shortcomings that Hüsch not only loved, but also identified with. He was immune to hometownism, however, because he considered the region between Emmerich and Düsseldorf to be a prime example of humanity, all too human: "The Lower Rhine is everywhere," Hüsch knew.

Especially where he performed. The language artist maneuvered from here to there without stopping. He told his anecdotes, sometimes at breakneck speed, always enriched with filler words like "isn't it?", "it's like that," "or something like that." Hüsch's punchlines, puns, and quirky anecdotes elicit a smile, sometimes even outright laughter, but never roaring or knee-slapping. In this respect, he embodied a counterpoint to the comedians who fill large venues today.

On stage, a spartan setup sufficed for him anyway. His only essential instrument was his small electronic organ, the Philicorda. The "little organ" also served as a manuscript storage device. Because he was too lazy to memorize and too old-fashioned for the teleprompter, he sight-read. Still, no one in the audience was bored. Minimalism – with Hanns Dieter Hüsch, it became a real event.