Munich - He has a reputation for being a tough dog, but with a soft heart. He is not diplomatic, but spokesman for the Oktoberfest restaurateurs. He had to carry his firstborn to his grave and recently became a grandfather: Toni Roiderer will be 70 years old on Monday.
There is an appetizing smell in the kitchen of the Straßlacher Gasthof zum Wildpark. Toni Roiderer strides past steaming pots and out into the beer garden. He's rarely here these days, he's in demand at the Oktoberfest now. "Servus Chef", greet the cooks who caramelize Kaiserschmarrn and grill ox chops. Chops from Roiderer's butcher's shop, dry-aged for five weeks. A delicacy.
In the beer garden - the only one in Bavaria with underfloor heating - the boss crouches down and orders a “Caesar Salad”. He'd rather have something decent on his plate. But nothing helps. Roiderer has "surpassed himself" in the past few months, as he says. Ten kilos should be down. That's why he gets on his bike every morning. "If I'm already fat, I want to at least be fit," he grumbles. Otherwise Roiderer is in good health. Might be enjoying retirement long ago. But he doesn't. “I see it as my job to support my son Thomas. As long as I can."
Roiderer is not used to idleness. He comes from the post-war generation who learned to do without. She believes you can succeed if you work hard enough. In fact, the native of Peißenberg has come a long way - from tavern to entrepreneur. His parents, who came from Straßlach, ran the inn "Zur Sonne" in Peißenberg in Pfaffenwinkel. In the 1950s they returned to Straßlach with their son and two daughters. There they continued to run the Gasthof zum Wildpark, which Roiderer's grandparents had acquired in 1904 and ran until their grandfather's death. A butcher's shop and an agricultural area were also part of the business.
Roiderer had to work as a child. Make hay. Help out in the garden tavern. Cutting off calves. While his guys went to bathe after school. “I didn't find that torture,” says Roiderer. “My parents also worked day and night. That was the case back then. ”He was fascinated by slaughter, which is why he completed an apprenticeship as a butcher and became a master before he took over the inn. But that wasn't enough for Roiderer - he wanted to become an Oktoberfest host. "That is the highest that a Bavarian host can achieve," he says.
In 1989 the time had come: Hacker-Pschorr and Paulaner owner Josef Schörghuber personally gave Roiderer the contract for the Hacker tent. Schörghuber's attention was drawn to the butcher because he turned the Straßlach farm into an inn that meets the demands of the noble Grünwald neighborhood - without losing its Bavarian character. In times when the tavern was dying, the Gasthof zum Wildpark was buzzing. In addition, Roiderer won the prestigious “Bavarian Cuisine” competition for the first time in 1988.
Even so, Roiderer's wife Christl had no hopes when applying. “My wife said we would never become Oktoberfest hosts. So I said to her: sit down and write your application, ”says Roiderer. After all, he is an entrepreneur, not a neglect.
That's one of those pithy sayings that Roiderer likes to let go. He also often emphasizes that as an Oktoberfest host you have to be a true man, not a wimp. “Better to be a rascal than a fool”, his father taught him that. Roiderer is an established man, no question. One who runs the hacker's tent, which has almost 10,000 seats, and the mostly jam-packed inn in Straßlach, including the butcher's shop. But the pithy sayings hide the fact that Roiderer is a gentle patriarch. One whom his employees respect, not fear. One who has a social conscience. For example, he invested heavily in the expansion of the infrastructure in his home town of Straßlach. On the occasion of his 70th birthday, he is donating a large sum to charity.
Of course, he can afford it. But he could treat himself to a villa in Mallorca instead. In 2013 he was honored with the Federal Cross of Merit for his commitment. Roiderer wouldn't be Roiderer if he hadn't commented on it with a joke: “The federal government knows what I'm worth.” He didn't let it be seen that the award touched him - sensitive words are not his thing. For example, he loves his family more than anything, even if he would never put it that way. “That is not part of the Bavarian vocabulary.” If you ask him how he met his wife Christl, he jokes: “She was looking for happiness and found it.” What was it really like? Then he presses around: “Yes, my ... Christl comes from Deining. I've seen her often and thought to myself: Fesches Madl. "
He also finds it difficult to talk about the death of his son Markus, who died of a brain tumor in 2011 at the age of 33. For the tough host it was unbearable not being able to help his son. "I've been very lucky in life, but that ..." Roiderer shakes his head. “In the end, Markus was so weak that he couldn't even bite.” Markus died at home with his family. Roiderer still has the blanket he covered himself with. Often he hugs her and thinks of his louse, as he called Markus. “When I wake up at night or in the morning, my first thought is Markus.” Recently, Roiderer had a bronze bust of Markus set up in front of the “Markus-Hof” in Straßlach, named after his son. Sometimes he strokes her head - as if it were Markus'. “The Lord God doesn't ask you,” he says. "He also asked Abraham to sacrifice his son."
A few months ago Roiderer became a grandpa. Toni is the name of the dwarf that gives him great pleasure. The little one is not yet allowed to go to the Oktoberfest: "A baby doesn't belong at the Oktoberfest!"
Roiderer has been the spokesman for the Oktoberfest hosts for twelve years. His colleagues chose him because his predecessor was too indulgent in negotiations with the city - they needed a tough dog. Roiderer has been known as the “Chauvi host” since his first year at the Oktoberfest. At least that was what the evening newspaper had called him in 1989 and accused him of misogyny after he had publicly called his waitresses “bastards”. Before that, a couple of them had complained to the tabloid about him: he was stingy when it came to eating the chicken.
The matter made waves - the Roiderer almost cost the concession: The women's representative in the town hall at the time sensed chauvinism behind the expression “bastards”. The new Oktoberfest host was a thorn in her side anyway, as he had printed his menu with busty blondes! She asked the then Wiesn boss Gabriele Weishäupl to remove this host from office.
Roiderer had to crawl to the cross: on the orders of the women's representative, he had the décolletés of the ladies on the menus reduced - and remorsefully donated to the “Action against Male Violence”.
Today Roiderer says that the first Oktoberfest was one of his most difficult. The waitresses could have said they wanted more chicken. “You can talk to me!
Bettina Stuhlweissenburg