Goldenes Verdienstzeichen des Landes Wien 2016

City Councillor, esteemed guests, dear Michael Satke:

Two people were given the task to praise Michael Satke this evening: Wolf D. Prix and I. As you all know, Prix is an architect and university professor, and therefore a man of big buildings and big words. I, the editor of the magazine Falter, bake smaller loafs of bread, so to speak, and perhaps prefer more hushed words, but I also know how to enjoy myself in the arena of letters.

Unfortunately, Wolf Prix is unable to speak tonight due to illness. The architectural firm he co-founded, Coop Himmelb(l)au, is only represented with—let's put it modestly—smaller works in Vienna. They built their large projects, their signature buildings, all around the world. But not in Vienna.

I, on the other hand, a Vienna non-native, have presented my work in Vienna. It hasn't turned into a signature work so much as a small collective monument in several thousand installments—the magazine Falter. But more on this later. Even in honoring others, we love to speak about ourselves more than anything, and, as you may have noticed, I am no exception.

Why Wolf Prix would have spoken here tonight is fairly evident: Michael Satke was his first Viennese client. Satke was the young marketing manager of the American mechanical engineering company Cincinnati Milacron at the time, and came from an artistic background: He had studied at the Academy of Applied Arts Vienna and had seen the avant-garde architects Coop Himmelb(l)au at the Galerie nächst St. Stephan. He commissioned them to build an exhibitor's booth at the trade fair in Düsseldorf, which was an instant sensation. That was back in 1975.

It's strange how some biographies run parallel and cross at crucial moments. On his way home after an alcohol-heavy all-nighter at the Himmelb(l)aus, Michael Satke noticed a sign in the window of a bar in Vienna's first district that read “for rent.” After months of bargaining, he finally owned the bar. That was back in 1977.

The concept of a trendy nightspot had not yet gone into wide circulation. Needless to say, Coop Himmelb(l)au designed the project, which was to become the legendary Reiss Bar. Speaking of intersecting biographies: The Reiss Bar was also on the route of street vendors selling the magazine Falter, which was also founded in 1977. I myself sold one or two Falters at the Reiss Bar back then, for ten Schillings each.

With this new type of bar, Michael Satke helped to turn Vienna into the place that is still dominating international lists of the world's most liveable cities. Reiss Bar and other bars triggered what later became the Viennese “Beisl boom.”

In 1978, Satke in collaboration with Gerd Winkler and Günther Lebisch founded the magazine Wiener, which was to be a driving force against Viennese pettiness and to deal with art, design, architecture, and people in a reemerging city.

The magazine Wiener became the model for many other publications, but its first large-format version, which many still remember with a certain nostalgia, was scrapped after a few months for lack of budget. This marked the end of Satke as a magazine editor.

Then came the Rote Engel [Red Angel]. Satke had long ceased to be a marketing man and, as a consequence of Reiss Bar's success, had become a full-fledged restaurateur. But “restaurateur” is just another word, like innkeeper, and is not quite to the point. Michael Satke became an animator, a door opener, a mood accelerator with his art-tinged sensibilities. He made a substantial contribution to the completely different vibe Vienna had during those years.

Satke turned the Engel—of course also designed by Coop Himmelb(l)au—into a legendary venue for the crème de la crème of Austrian pop music. It was an open venue without bouncers; everyone was free to drop in at any time. It was a piece of walk-in city life at the Rabensteig; it was beautiful, it was loud, it was urban. But there's one thing it wasn't: it wasn't chichi. It had the Satke Spirit.

What the Satke Spirit consists of is probably best explained with a personal anecdote. In the early 1980s, Falter was looking for private investors who understood what Falter was and who wanted to help us get the project off the ground. With the help of Christian Reder, later a professor at the University of Applied Arts, who became a partner on the spur of the moment, as it were, we embarked on a search for people with money who would be willing to become silent partners at Falter in exchange for a few tax advantages they could have gotten elsewhere as well, and better.

In the course of our inquiries, we met with many now-famous people who were already quite wealthy at the time—people of the so-called progressive milieu. It was never about large sums of money. And yet, one of them suddenly had to buy a plot of land for his kids to play outdoors, another one had to extend his firm, and a third had no money because he was busy establishing world peace.

And then there was Michael Satke, who had just founded Falter's competitor, the Wiener. And although Falter had not always written the nicest things about the Wiener, Satke did not hesitate for a second and agreed to support us. Not only that: He brought in his friend, who then also agreed to support us. This man showed true sportsmanship!

One might say that Michael Satke has an eye for the important things in life, and he is a generous man. A man with a sharp eye and precise judgment. A man with a sense of humor. And a Viennese person, who has helped to shape the city. There are other things that bear mentioning: the First Floor with Gregor Eichinger, the Ron con Soda, the Champagne Balls—one of them with Charles Aznavour and Juliette Greco—the beautiful books he edits, the exhibitions he hosts, the wines he produces. Many of these things may not have been given the amount of appreciation they deserve. After all, Michael Satke was awarded the Austrian Tourism Prize, and rightly so. At the beginning of this millennium he sold his venues and moved to Ireland, where he built a garden with his wife. Of course, it was a Satke project and therefore measured a slender 25 acres. An artist's garden, Glenkeen Garden, located by the sea and documented in a luxury book box full of gorgeous photographs, which, just on a side note, won the German Garden Book Prize in 2015.

Given this incredibly successful vita, we should not gloss over the failures. Michael Satke takes failures in stride and with elegance. But that the Trialto, the project he and Gregor Eichinger initiated, failed—that hurt. Trialto would have extended the Schwedenplatz with bridges, which would have connected it, together with two lower levels, with the second district. A truly urban and daring, great, but far from chunky, product. It would have made Vienna better and more beautiful. But a failure also gives us the opportunity to enjoy one’s accomplishments. Vienna without the Satke Spirit would be a different city. Michael Satke can’t help but make urban and rural life more pleasant with his projects. We should take this honor of the city as a call on him to keep on doing what he does.

Congratulations!

Armin Thurnher, Vienna, September 14, 2016