Twenty years ago I was privileged to cover the brave citizens of Leipzig, Germany. I had thought my country defined Democracy, but in 1989 these fine folks gave it entirely new meaning. In the following year (thanks to The Orlando Sentinel's once ample travel budget), I was able to cover nearly every first free election in Eastern Europe. I will never forget the indomitable souls of Leipzig who ultimately forced change (driven by the courageous people of Hungary). Germans still must sadly bear lingering pain from the evil horror inflicted during their nation's unforgettable past, but in these days a new generation bore witness to euphoric freedom, forever earning for their unified country a significant measure of unforgettable redemption:
LEIPZIG (1989) -- Communist East Germany's rising frustration showed in the words of a handmade banner Tuesday outside this city's oldest church, the Lutheran St. Nikolai.
"SED - das tut weh," it read. Translation: The Communist Party gives me a pain.
Since early October, Leipzig, 75 miles southwest of Berlin, has been the fulcrum of east German discontent. And the Romanesque walls of St. Nikolai provided its sanctuary.
Monday the city repeated a weekly routine: 300,000 orderly protesters marched from prayer services at St. Nikolai to a target of their hatred - the headquarters of Stasi, East Germany's once-feared secret police.
For seven Mondays factory workers, seamstresses, clerks and teachers - the city's core population - met at this church to hear the Rev. Christian Fuehrer urge quiet determination in their struggle against the state.
"We begin each march with prayer, setting the mood for non- violence," Fuehrer said. "If the power of the streets can stay non-violent, we will achieve even more far-reaching changes."
So far the strategy has worked beyond the imagination of its founders. Few thought the government was creative enough to open the Berlin Wall, as it did last week.
"It is unbelievable and unexpected," said Christoph Kehler, a Leipzig activist. He compared it to the biblical story of the walls of Jericho tumbling down.
Kehler and other Leipzig dissidents believe that their city spawned national unrest. He said critical food shortages and widespread unhappiness here first exposed German communism's dark side: a failed economy and a citizenry without hope.
Life grew so intolerable that something snapped two months ago, dissidents say, producing the nation's first round of protests.
Then neighboring Hungary opened its border to the West, punching a hole in the Iron Curtain that drew tens of thousands from Leipzig.
That's when church and civic leaders began forcefully seeking political reforms.
"Without it, our city would become extinct," Fuehrer said. "Everyone would leave."
The Monday protests became a way of maintaining hope - and keeping people home.
Beginning Oct. 9 the rallies drew the attention of the international news media. Other East German cities joined in.
Worried Communist leaders who tried to speak to the crowds were booed off the stage. They were called "lazy gangsters" and "dirty liars."
The dam burst earlier this month when the government tried a show of force to disperse the crowd. At the next Leipzig rally, Nov. 6, more than a half million protesters clogged the city's Karl Marx Square.
By week's end most government leaders had resigned, and the Berlin Wall was coming down.
A West German newspaper editorial praised Leipzig's marchers: "The perseverance, the courage and the maturity that they discovered in themselves became a force the Communist leadership no longer dared resist."
Dissident leaders were relieved Monday to see continued enthusiasm for the rallies. They do not want the government's new openness to dampen interest in reform.
"We have won back only a piece of our freedom," said Sebastian Pflugbeil, a physicist in Leipzig.
Banners on public buildings throughout Leipzig on Tuesday gave a list of demands. One read: "Free votes - free press - free thought: Democracy."
In the city's center, Karl Marx Square, a black coffin used in Monday's march perched on a bench. It bore the inscription in German, "Here lies the Communist claim to power."
Fuehrer said his congregation and dissidents throughout the country are just learning how to express themselves freely.
"They are losing their fear," Fuehrer said. "You can see it in the banners."
At Monday's pre-march service, Fuehrer urged parishioners to speak out, saying the "walls within the mind" must crumble as the wall within Germany had done.
Before leaving they sang a hymn, which ended: "Loosen our tongues, and we shall bear witness to freedom; wake us to a new life." -- Craig Crawford, The Orlando Sentinel (1989)