What most visitors to Innsbruck notice first are the mountains, which seem to encircle the city. The mountain landscape is not only beautiful to behold, but has always influenced many aspects of life in the city. This begins with seemingly minor things such as the weather, as the perspective of the theologian, writer, and politician Beda Weber from earlier times demonstrates:

"“A phenomenon of its own is the warm wind, or Scirocco. It comes from the south, strikes the northern mountains, and then plunges violently into the valley. It often causes headaches, but quickly melts the winter snow masses and greatly promotes fertility. This makes the cultivation of maize possible in Innsbruck.”"

This weather phenomenon may have changed its name from Scirocco to Föhn, and traffic was not yet a major problem in 1851. Yet just as Innsbruck’s motorists complain today, the horseshoer in the old town in 1450 and the legionary dispatched from central Italy to the Alps in the year 350 certainly lamented the warm downslope wind that seems to drive everyone mad several times a month. While people in the past were grateful for the warm air that melted snow on the fields, today tourism officials complain about snow-free ski slopes on the Seegrube.

The location between the Wipptal Valley in the south and the Nordkette range influences not only the frequency of migraines, but also the leisure activities of Innsbruck’s residents, as Weber also observed. “The inhabitants are distinguished by their sociability and benevolence; they particularly enjoy excursions into the countryside during the fine season.” One may debate the sociability and benevolence of Innsbruck’s residents, but countryside outings in the form of hiking, ski touring, or cycling remain very popular today. No wonder—Innsbruck is surrounded by mountains. Within minutes, one can be standing in the middle of a forest from almost anywhere in the city. Young people from across Europe spend at least part of their studies at the University of Innsbruck, not only because of its excellent professors and facilities, but also to enjoy their free time on ski slopes, mountain bike trails, and hiking paths without having to forgo urban flair. This is both a blessing and a curse. The university, as a major employer and educational institution, boosts the economy, while at the same time the influx of students from elsewhere drives up the cost of living in a city that, hemmed in by mountains, cannot expand further.

What today may be perceived as a limitation to spatial growth was once a reason for growth. Innsbruck was fortunate to have access to fresh drinking water thanks to the nearby mountains. In the 15th century, the Nordkette was tapped to supply the city with drinking water. In 1485, the city council had a pipeline laid from a spring in Gramart, near today’s Katzenbründlweg east of Hungerburg, into the city. Using larch-wood pipes up to four meters long, clean water was conducted down into the valley floor. At the Inn Bridge, the pipeline branched left and right toward Mariahilf and St. Nikolaus, and across the Inn into the old town and the Neustadt. Until this small technical masterpiece was constructed, Innsbruck—like other cities—had relied on groundwater from wells. This water was often stagnant and full of pathogens. Beer and wine were not considered safer everyday beverages than water without reason. While the plague could not be kept at bay permanently, typhus and cholera were less widespread than in other cities. Not only because of its drinking water did Innsbruck rise in the 15th century from a small trading outpost to the residence city of the Tyrolean sovereigns. The Brenner Pass is very low and allows the Alpine belt winding along Italy’s northern border to be crossed relatively easily. In times before railways transported goods and people effortlessly from A to B, crossing the Alps was hard labor, and the Brenner was a welcome relief. Between 1239 and 1303, Innsbruck was the only city between “Mellach and Ziller” in the central Inn Valley to hold the princely staple right. Within the regulated carting system, goods had to be transferred from one wagon to another here—an enormous advantage for Innsbruck’s economy. Innsbruck was not as wealthy as Bolzano and had no political significance until the early 15th century, but it became one of the most important transport and trading hubs in the Alpine region. The former provincial capital Merano had no long-term chance against the city on the Inn between the Brenner, Scharnitz, and Achen passes due to its isolation. The Alpine location also favored tourism, which gained a foothold by the 1860s at the latest. Travelers appreciated the combination of easy accessibility, urban infrastructure, and alpine flair. With the opening up of the mountainous region by rail, visitors could travel comfortably, spend their leisure time in the mountains or in one of the spa resorts, and still enjoy the comforts of city life. Once tamed by the rails, the Alps had transformed from a source of problems into an economic asset. The era shaped by difficult agricultural conditions was over; yesterday’s enemy had become a savior.

Alongside the mountains, rivers and springs played a crucial role in Innsbruck’s development. Although the city’s drinking water came from the Nordkette via a pipeline, the Inn and the Sill were responsible for sanitation. Livestock were led to the Inn to drink, laundry was washed there, and all kinds of waste—including human and animal excrement—were disposed of in the river. As the city began to grow during industrialization, a first landfill was created at the Sillspitz in the east of the city, later supplemented by another in the west at today’s Sieglanger. More than a thousand years after Roman settlement, the Inn Valley was still a marshy landscape crisscrossed by riparian forests. Settlements such as Wilten, castles like the fortress above Amras, and roads were built some distance from the river on alluvial fans or at mid-altitude elevations. Around Innsbruck, the floodplains were used as communal land by the villages. Depending on the water level, pastureland and firewood were available, and the river could—or could not—be used as a transport route. Field names such as Am Gießen in the Hötting floodplain still recall the fact that the Inn, within today’s city limits, remained an untamed and only poorly cultivated wilderness until the early modern period. Flooding was a recurring consequence of the unregulated river. Between 1749 and 1789, several floods in Innsbruck claimed many lives, and the economic damage was immense. The Inn Bridge brought customs revenues into the city treasury and was the reason the settlement could develop into a city.

Until the road network was improved in the 16th century, heavy river traffic prevailed between Telfs, Innsbruck, and Hall. The rafts used to transport goods were flat platforms measuring up to 35 by 10 meters. Several of these vessels formed a convoy that carried all kinds of goods down the Inn to its confluence with the Danube in Passau and onward to the east. Silver, building materials, timber, salt, wheat, meat—the upstream-bound convoys, hauled by horses along towpaths beside the riverbed, were the fastest way to transport large quantities of goods through the Inn Valley. The military also used the Inn for logistical support. For centuries, timber from the Upper Tyrol was floated downstream as log drives. In Hall, a timber rake at the Inn Bridge caught the valuable driftwood. Innsbruck, and especially the salt and silver mines in Hall and Schwaz, depended on this material and energy source. Near settlements and cities, fortified river engineering structures were built to tame the river at least somewhat and reduce the effects of flooding and drought. In the 18th century, the economization and scientification that affected all areas of life also promoted the cultivation of the landscape. Inspired by the spirit of the Enlightenment, efforts were undertaken to optimize the Inn as a transport route and increase the productivity of available land. The communal lands along the Inn were increasingly placed under the stewardship of individual landowners who advanced the reclamation of this alluvial terrain. The Theresian state apparatus sought to connect the vast Habsburg Empire not only by roads, but also via its major rivers. Responsibility for regulating and engineering the Inn shifted from the municipalities and the Hall saltworks to the state. Innsbruck’s first chief river engineer, Franz Anton Rangger, began mapping the Inn in 1739 in order to make the river course more predictable and faster through straightening and construction works. The project of taming the river would take more than 100 years. The Napoleonic Wars delayed construction, and only after the economic hardship of the early 19th century was the state able to continue the project. Stone block dikes gradually replaced the earlier wooden structures. By the time the Inn was finally tamed, railways had replaced river shipping as the main transport route. The next major phase of river engineering came in the second half of the 20th century. The Olympic Village, the motorway, and settlements such as Sieglanger required space that had previously been reserved for the river in order to enable the postwar economic miracle.

Almost as important as the Inn was the smaller river that runs through Innsbruck. Where the Sill emerges from the Sill Gorge today, the Sill Canal originated, supplying the city with water. When the Counts of Andechs founded their market at the Inn Bridge in 1180, the canal already existed, as the mill of Wilten Abbey in St. Bartlmä was already in operation. From there, it ran along what are now Karmelitergasse, Adamgasse, Salurnerstraße, Meinhardstraße, Sillgasse, and Ingenieur-Etzel-Straße to the Pradl Bridge, where it rejoined the Sill before flowing into the Inn. During construction work, sections of this walled channel are repeatedly uncovered. Initially intended primarily for fire protection, many businesses soon made use of the water flowing through this artificial canal for energy generation. The last remnants disappeared in the 1970s after bomb damage during the Second World War.

Innsbruck’s residents were blessed not only with drinking water, the Inn as a transport route, and the energy-providing Sill Canal—many springs were also said to have healing properties. As early as the Middle Ages, water from the Nordkette was used to treat various ailments. The oldest bathhouse was the Ofenloch Bath, also known as the Weinstock Bath, in the old town, where since the 13th century Innsbruck residents could relieve themselves of numerous complaints under the expert hands of the bath attendant, thanks to the miracle water of the Weinstock Spring in Hötting. The Kaiserkronen Bath in Innsbruck’s Badgasse was based on this institution and used water from this spring until it closed in the 20th century. Bad Egerdach near Innsbruck has been documented as a healing spring since 1620. The spring was said to cure gout, skin diseases, anemia, and even the nervous disorder known in the 19th century as neurasthenia, considered a precursor to burnout. The bathhouse chapel still exists today opposite the SOS Children’s Village. In the 18th century, a bathhouse for wounded soldiers existed in the hospital next to the Mariahilf Church, supplied with water from the Hötting Cherry Valley. The Neckelbrünnl in Mühlau was also a well-known healing spring. At the Kratzerbrünnl on Brennerstraße, halfway between Innsbruck and the Stefansbrücke, people followed the popular 19th-century drinking cure to detoxify the body. Innsbruck’s rise as a stronghold of early alpine tourism is also due to these healing springs, which enabled an early form of wellness.

The final geographical ingredient in the city’s success story is the broad valley basin that favored Innsbruck’s development. As the city grew and its population increased, so did the demand for food. While farmers in the higher side valleys faced harsh conditions, the Inn Valley offered fertile soil and ample space for livestock farming and agriculture. Until the High Middle Ages, the Inn Valley was far more heavily forested. In the 13th century, as in many parts of Europe, the area around Innsbruck experienced early large-scale and long-term human interventions in nature for economic purposes. Contrary to common portrayals, the Middle Ages were not a primitive period of stagnation. From the 12th century onward, people no longer relied solely on prayers and divine grace to escape the effects of recurring crop failures. Innovations such as the three-field system made it possible to feed the agriculturally unproductive urban population—what would be called “overhead” in modern terms. The reclamation of the surrounding countryside allowed the city to grow. On the slopes of the Nordkette, Innsbruck even had its own vineyards until the early 16th century, albeit with modest yields. Cities such as Schwaz, Hall, and Innsbruck could not feed themselves, and especially during the early modern mining boom, substantial food imports were necessary—meat and wine in particular came from neighboring regions. Without the surrounding farmers, however, Innsbruck would not have been viable. The maize that Beda Weber already found noteworthy in Innsbruck’s cityscape in 1851 is still growing vigorously today and continues to give large areas on the city’s outskirts an agricultural character.

In the 1990s, an Austrian television series caused a scandal. Die Piefke Saga, written by the Tyrolean author Felix Mitterer, portrayed in four darkly humorous and revealing episodes the relationship between the German tourist family Sattmann and their hosts in a fictional Tyrolean holiday resort. Despite all justified criticism of modern tourism and its sometimes extreme excesses, one should not forget that tourism in the nineteenth century was an important driving force for the development of Innsbruck and its surroundings—not only economically. The first travellers to visit Innsbruck were pilgrims and “business people” of the early modern period. Merchants, journeymen on their travels, officials, soldiers, entourages of visiting nobility, skilled labourers, miners, clergy, pilgrims, and scholars were the earliest “tourists” attracted to the city between Italy and the German lands. Travel was expensive, dangerous, and arduous. Moreover, many subjects were not permitted to leave their place of origin without the consent of their feudal lord or abbot. Those who travelled usually did so on foot. Although Innsbruck’s inns and taverns profited from travellers as early as the Middle Ages and the early modern period, tourism in the modern sense did not yet exist. This began only when a few eccentrics were first drawn to mountain peaks. For this to happen, not only was a growing middle class required, but also a new perception of the Alps. For a long time, mountains had been regarded purely as a threat. It was primarily the British who, having explored the world’s oceans, now sought to conquer its mountain ranges as well. From the late eighteenth century onward, during the Romantic period, travel accounts began to spread the idea of the natural beauty of the Alps. The first foreign-language travel guide to Tyrol, Travels through the Rhaetian Alps by Jean François Beaumont, appeared in 1796. In addition to the alpine scenery, it was also the “wild and exotic natives” of Tyrol that fascinated international audiences. The bearded rebel Andreas Hofer, who had managed to challenge Napoleon’s army with a peasant force, attracted as much attention in Britain—the traditional enemy of France—as among German nationalists north of the Alps, who saw in him a kind of proto-German figure. Tyroleans were perceived as a stubborn, archetypal, and untamed people, comparable to the Germanic tribes under Arminius who had once resisted the Roman Empire. Descriptions of Innsbruck by authors such as Beda Weber (1798–1858), along with other travel accounts in the rapidly expanding press landscape, helped shape an attractive image of the city.

The next step was to make the wild Alpine environment accessible to a growing number of tourists who wished to emulate early adventurers, even if their willingness to take risks and their physical fitness fell short. In 1869, the German Alpine Club established a section in Innsbruck, following the relatively unsuccessful founding of the Austrian Alpine Club in 1862. Driven by the Greater German idea shared by many members, the two associations merged in 1873. To this day, the Alpine Club retains a largely bourgeois character, while its social-democratic counterpart is the organisation Naturfreunde. The network of hiking trails expanded, as did the number of mountain huts capable of hosting guests. As a transit region, Tyrol already possessed numerous mule tracks and footpaths that had existed for centuries and now formed the basis for alpine tourism. Small inns, farms, and stations along postal routes served as accommodation. Key figures such as the Tyrolean theologian Franz Senn (1831–1884) and Adolf Pichler (1819–1900) were instrumental in surveying Tyrol and creating maps. Contrary to popular belief, the Tyroleans were not born mountaineers but had to learn how to master the alpine environment; previously, mountains had been viewed mainly as dangerous obstacles in agricultural life. The Alpine clubs also trained mountain guides. Around the turn of the century, skiing began to gain popularity alongside hiking and mountaineering. Ski lifts did not yet exist; to climb mountains, skins were attached to skis—a practice still used in ski touring today. Only from the 1920s onward, with the construction of cable cars to the Nordkette and Patscherkofel, did a wealthier clientele begin to enjoy the modern luxury of mechanised mountain access.

This development required new hotels, cafés, inns, shops, and modes of transport to meet the needs of visitors. Guests accustomed to running water and telephones in cities like London or Paris were not willing to accept basic conditions such as outdoor toilets. Inns of the first and second class were suitable for transit travellers but not equipped for more discerning tourists. Until the nineteenth century, innkeepers in Innsbruck and the surrounding villages belonged to the upper middle class in terms of income, but their profession was not considered particularly prestigious. Many were farmers who supplemented their income by serving food and drink. As local meeting points and hubs in postal and goods networks, inns were centres of information, yet innkeeping did not carry the status of a guild profession or bourgeois occupation. This changed with the professionalisation of tourism. Entrepreneurs such as Robert Nißl, who acquired Büchsenhausen Castle in 1865 and transformed it into a brewery, or Johann Gruber of the inn Zum Riesen Haymon, invested in tourism infrastructure. Former aristocratic estates such as Weiherburg were converted into inns and hotels. In Innsbruck, the true transformation did not occur on the barricades of 1848 but later, within the tourism sector, as ambitious citizens replaced aristocrats as owners of estates.

The Österreichischer Hof, opened in 1849, dominated early modern hospitality but was not yet a true grand hotel. That distinction only came with the opening of the Grand Hotel Europa in 1869. In 1892, the Habsburger Hof followed, offering modern comforts such as electric lighting—a sensation at the time. Hotels like the Kaiserhof and Arlberger Hof were located near the railway station, which at the time represented the centre of modern urban life rather than the congested traffic hubs of today.

Visitor numbers grew steadily. Shortly before the First World War, Innsbruck recorded around 200,000 guests annually. A report from June 1896 noted:

“Tourism in Innsbruck in the month of May amounted to 5,647 persons, including 2,763 from Austria-Hungary, 1,974 from the German Empire, 282 English, 65 Italians, 68 French, 53 Americans, 51 Russians, and 388 from various other countries.”

In addition to the sheer number of travellers influencing life in the small town of Innsbruck, it was also the international character of its visitors that gradually gave the city a new face. Beyond purely tourist infrastructure, general modern developments were also accelerated. Wealthy guests could hardly be expected to frequent inns with cesspits behind the building. While a sewage system would inevitably have been built sooner or later, the economic importance of tourism enabled and accelerated the allocation of funds for the major infrastructure projects of the turn of the century. This transformation affected not only the city’s appearance but also the everyday lives and working conditions of its inhabitants. Enterprising individuals such as Heinrich Menardi succeeded in expanding the value chain by offering paid leisure activities in addition to accommodation and food. In 1880, he founded the carriage hire and later automobile rental service Heinrich Menardi for excursions into the Alpine surroundings. Initially using horse-drawn carriages, and after the First World War buses and cars, affluent tourists were transported as far as Venice. The company still exists today and is now headquartered in the Menardi building at Wilhelm‑Greil‑Straße 17, opposite Landhausplatz, although it has since shifted from transport and trade to the more lucrative real estate sector. Local retail also benefited from the affluent international clientele. By 1909, there were already three dedicated tourist equipment shops in the city, alongside the fashionable department stores that had opened just a few years earlier.

Innsbruck and its surrounding areas also became known for spa tourism—the precursor of today’s wellness industry—where wealthy guests recovered from a wide range of ailments in an alpine environment. Spa facilities existed in Egerdach near Amras, in Mentlberg, and in Mühlau. Establishments such as the Igler Hof (then the Grand Hotel Igler Hof) and the Sporthotel Igls still retain some of the charm of that era. Michael Obexer, founder of the spa resort in Igls and owner of the grand hotel, was a pioneer of tourism. Although these facilities never achieved the international fame of major spa destinations such as Bad Ischl, Marienbad, or Baden near Vienna—as evidenced by historical photographs and postcards—the treatments offered, including brine baths, steam therapies, gymnastics, and even “magnetism,” corresponded to what was considered state of the art at the time and still partially resonates in today’s wellness practices. Perhaps the most spectacular tourism project Innsbruck ever experienced was “Hoch‑Innsbruck,” today known as the Hungerburg. Not only the funicular railway and hotels were built there; even an artificial lake was created after the turn of the century to attract visitors.

One of the former landowners in the Hungerburg area and a pioneer of Innsbruck tourism, Richard von Attlmayr, played a key role in the predecessor organisation of today’s tourism association. Since 1881, the Innsbruck Beautification Association had been concerned with meeting the growing needs of visitors. The association developed walking and hiking paths, installed benches, and opened up hard-to-access areas such as the Mühlauer Gorge and the Sill Gorge. The distinctive green benches along many paths still serve as a reminder of this organisation, which continues to exist today. Seven years later, in 1888, those benefiting from tourism in Innsbruck founded the Commission for the Promotion of Tourism, the predecessor of today’s tourism board. Through joint efforts in marketing and quality assurance among accommodation providers, businesses hoped to further stimulate tourism.

“Each year the number of overseas pilgrims visiting our country and its glacier-crowned mountains increases, much to the annoyance of our friendly Swiss neighbours, and many a fine dollar is left behind. The English are beginning to find Tyrol just as interesting as Switzerland, and the number of French and Dutch visitors spending the summer here grows year by year.”

Postcards became the first mass-market “influencers” in the history of tourism. Many businesses produced their own postcards, and publishers created countless images of the city’s most popular sights. It is striking what was considered worth seeing at the time. Unlike today, it was primarily the modern achievements of the city that were depicted: the Leopold Fountain, the city café near the theatre, the chain bridge, the cog railway to the Hungerburg, or the Stefansbrücke (opened in 1845), a stone arch bridge crossing the Sill. Andreas Hofer also served as an effective testimonial on postcards: the Schupfen inn, where he had established his headquarters, and the Bergisel with the large Andreas Hofer monument were popular motifs.

In 1914, Innsbruck had 17 hotels attracting visitors, supplemented by summer and winter holidaymakers in Igls and the Stubai Valley. The First World War abruptly brought this first wave of tourism to an end. Just as tourism began to recover in the late 1920s, the global economic crisis and Hitler’s 1,000-mark travel restriction in 1933—introduced to pressure the Austrian government into lifting the ban on the Nazi Party—dealt further blows.

It took the economic boom of the 1950s and 1960s to revive tourism in Innsbruck after the destruction. Between 1955 and 1972, overnight stays in Tyrol increased fivefold. Following the hardships of the war years and the reconstruction of Europe’s economy, tourism became a stable source of income for Tyrol and Innsbruck, extending even beyond official hotels and guesthouses. Many Innsbruck families crowded more tightly into their already small apartments in order to rent out beds to foreign guests and supplement their income. Tourism not only brought foreign currency but also enabled locals to develop a new sense of identity, both internally and externally. At the same time, increasing prosperity allowed more Innsbruck residents to travel abroad themselves. The beaches of Italy became particularly popular destinations. Former wartime enemies thus became guests and hosts to one another.

Hardly any era is more difficult to grasp than the interwar period. The Roaring Twenties, jazz, and automobiles come to mind just as readily as inflation and economic crisis. In major cities like Berlin, young women carrying themselves as flappers with bobbed hair, cigarettes, and short skirts danced lasciviously to the new sounds. In Innsbruck, American drinks were served during Five O'Clock Tea at the bar in the Knights' Hall (Rittersaal) of the Cafe Gasthaus Zur Annasäule, which later became the Alt-Innsbruck. The suits of armor can still be admired in the bay window from Maria-Theresien-Straße. For the most part, however, as part of the young Republic of German-Austria, Innsbruck’s population belonged to the faction of poverty, economic crisis, and political polarization. Right from the start, the proclamation of the republic in front of the parliament in Vienna before more than 100,000 people—who were less enthusiastic than they were curious and unsettled—was anything but smooth, accompanied by riots, shootouts, two deaths, and 40 injuries. No one knew how things were supposed to continue after the end of the monarchy and the loss of a large part of the state territory. The new Austria seemed too small and incapable of surviving. The bureaucratic apparatus of the Austro-Hungarian Empire carried on seamlessly under a new flag and name. In the constitution, the federal states, as successors to the old crown lands, were granted a great deal of leeway in legislation and administration under the framework of federalism. However, enthusiasm for the new state among the population remained limited. Not only was the supply situation miserable after the loss of the vast majority of the former giant Habsburg empire, but people also distrusted the underlying concept of the republic. The monarchy had not been perfect, but very few people could relate to the idea of democracy. Instead of being subjects of the Emperor, people were now citizens, but only citizens of a dwarf state with an oversized capital that was little loved in the federal states, rather than citizens of a great empire. In the former crown lands, which were largely governed by the Christian Social Party, people frequently spoke of the "Viennese hydrocephalus" (Wiener Wasserkopf) that let itself be fed by the yields of the hardworking rural population. Other federal states also toyed with the idea of breaking away from the republic after the plan to join Germany, which was supported by all parties, was banned by the victorious powers of the First World War. The various Tyrolean plans, however, were particularly spectacular. From a neutral alpine state with other federal states, a free state consisting of Tyrol and Bavaria, or extending from Kufstein to Salurn, an annexation to Switzerland, all the way to a Catholic church-state under papal leadership, many options were considered. The most obvious solution was particularly popular. Feeling German was nothing new. So why not also attach oneself politically to the big brother to the north? This desire was highly pronounced, especially among urban elites and students. The annexation plan (Anschlussplan) received 98% approval in a vote in Tyrol, but it never came to fruition. In Innsbruck, the Tyrolean National Assembly (Tiroler Nationalversammlung) and the Tyrolean National Council (Tiroler Nationalrat)—a concentration government with members from all parties—constituted themselves in the autumn of 1918 from the members of the former provincial parliament (Landtag). The National Council had authority over the people's and citizens' militias (Volks- und Bürgerwehren), which had formed at the municipal level to maintain public order, at least on paper. Primarily between Innsbruck and the Brenner Pass, up to 50,000 soldiers were stationed at the railway stations, causing problems while waiting for their transport home.

Instead of becoming a part of Germany, Tyrol was occupied by the hated Wallsche (Italian forces). For nearly two years after the end of the war, Italian troops occupied Innsbruck. Following the complex and lengthy peace negotiations in Paris, it finally became a certainty: on October 10, 1920, the formal annexation of South Tyrol took place. At the Brenner Pass, the barrier gate went down. On the North Tyrolean side, only a few administrative and customs buildings were erected, but in the southern part of the village, large barracks shot out of the ground to secure the new border militarily. Historical Tyrol was split in two. In Innsbruck and many other Tyrolean municipalities, pompous mourning ceremonies were organized annually on this date for years. In 1924, the Innsbruck city council decided to name squares and streets around the main railway station after South Tyrolean cities. Bozner Platz as well as Brixner Straße and Salurner Straße still bear their names today. Many people on both sides of the Brenner felt betrayed. Although they had by no means won the war, they did not see themselves as losers to Italy. Hatred toward Italians reached its peak in the interwar period, even though the occupying forces acted with pronounced mildness. A passage from the 1930s short story collection "The Front Above the Peaks" (Die Front über den Gipfeln) by Karl Springenschmid reflects the general mood:

"The young girl says, 'Becoming Italian would be the worst thing.

Old Tappeiner just nods and grumbles: "I know it myself and we all know it: becoming a whale would be the worst thing."

Trouble was also brewing in domestic politics. The revolution in Russia and the subsequent civil war with millions of fatalities, expropriation, and a complete reversal of the system cast its long shadow all the way to Austria. The prospect of "Soviet conditions" terrified people. Austria was deeply divided. Capital and federal states, city and countryside, citizens, workers, and peasants—in the vacuum of the first postwar years, each group wanted to shape the future according to its own ideas. The cultural struggles of the late monarchy between conservatives, liberals, and socialists continued seamlessly. The rift existed not only on a political level. Morals, family, leisure activities, education, faith, legal understanding—every sphere of life was affected. Who should govern? How should wealth, rights, and duties be distributed? Liberals and the Tyrolean People's Party (Tiroler Volkspartei), which had emerged from the Peasants' League (Bauernbund), the People's Association (Volksverein), and the Catholic Working Class (Katholische Arbeiterschaft), were at least as hostile toward Social Democracy as they were toward the federal capital of Vienna and the Italian occupiers. A communist overthrow was not a real danger, especially in Tyrol, but it was effectively instrumentalized in the media as a threat to bring Social Democracy into disrepute. Although a workers', peasants', and soldiers' council (Arbeiter-, Bauern- und Soldatenrat) modeled on the Soviet system had proclaimed itself in Innsbruck in 1919, its influence remained minimal and it was supported by no political party. From 1920 onward, so-called soldiers' councils were officially formed, but like the rest of politics, they were dominated by the Christian Socials. The conservative peasant and bourgeois camp right of center militarized itself more professionally with the Tyrolean Homeland Guard (Tiroler Heimatwehr) and enjoyed a stronger influx of members than leftist groups, also thanks to church support. From church pulpits and in conservative media, Social Democracy was referred to as the "party of Jews" (Judenpartei) and homeless traitors to the fatherland. People were all too eager to blame them for the lost war and its consequences. The Tiroler Anzeiger summed up the public fears: "Woe to the Christian people if the Jew-Socialists win the elections!".

While the Tyrolean People's Party dominated in rural districts, Social Democracy in Innsbruck under the leadership of Martin Rapoldi always managed to win between 30% and 50% of the vote in elections from 1919 onward, despite the strong headwinds. Under the new municipal code of 1919, which provided for universal suffrage for all adults, the city council comprised 40 members. Out of 24,644 citizens called to the ballot box, an incredible 24,060 exercised their right to vote. A certain degree of emancipation also became noticeable. Right from the first city council with free elections, three women were represented. The fact that the Social Democrats did not secure the mayoral seat was due to the majorities in the city council formed by alliances among the other parties.

High politics, however, was merely the backdrop to the actual misery. Martin Rapoldi got straight to the point in September 1919: "Gentlemen, for the moment the constitutional question is completely secondary to the population, as is whether the province has more rights or fewer rights. More potatoes is the slogan in our province." Time and again, looting and hunger riots broke out in the provincial capital. Those who had money could supply themselves with food on the black market; the rest depended on charity from foreign aid shipments. Long after the war, the province of Tyrol still required outside help to feed its population. Under the headline "Significant Expansion of the American Child Relief Action in Tyrol," the Innsbrucker Nachrichten reported on April 9, 1921: "Taking into account the needs of the province of Tyrol, the American representatives for Austria have most generously increased the daily number of meals to 18,000 portions." Alongside hunger, medical care was a major issue. The epidemic that went down in history as the Spanish Flu also took its toll in Innsbruck in the years after the war. Exact numbers were not recorded; worldwide, the number of fatalities is estimated at 27 to 50 million. In Innsbruck, at the height of the Spanish Flu, around 100 victims are said to have succumbed to the disease daily. Many Innsbruckers had not returned home from the battlefields and were missing as fathers, husbands, and workers. Many of those who did make it back were wounded and scarred by the horrors of war. As late as February 1920, the "Tyrolean Committee of Siberians" (Tiroler Ausschuss der Sibirier) organized a benefit evening at the Gasthof Breinößl "…in favor of the fund for the repatriation of our prisoners of war…". On top of this came unemployment. Civil servants and public sector employees in particular had lost their jobs after the League of Nations tied its loan to harsh austerity measures. Public sector salaries were cut. Strikes occurred repeatedly. Tourism as an economic factor was nonexistent due to the problems in the surrounding countries, which were likewise ravaged by the war. The construction industry, which had been booming before the war, collapsed completely. Innsbruck’s largest company, Huter & Söhne, had over 700 employees in 1913; at the peak of the economic crisis in 1933, only 18 remained. The middle class largely collapsed. The average Innsbrucker was destitute and malnourished. Often, no more than 800 calories per day could be scraped together. In this climate of poverty, the crime rate was higher than ever before. Many people lost their homes. In 1922, 3,000 families in Innsbruck were looking for accommodation despite a municipal emergency housing program that had already been in effect for several years. Apartments were built into every available property. On February 11, 1921, a long list in the Innsbrucker Nachrichten detailing the individual projects under way included this item:

"The municipal hospital has vacated the epidemic barracks in Pradl and placed them at the disposal of the municipality for the creation of emergency housing. The necessary credit of 295 K (Editor's note: Kronen) was approved for the construction of 7 emergency apartments."

In the early years, there was hardly any improvement in people's everyday lives. The central government had little enforcement power in distant federal states like Tyrol. For a time, Innsbruck, like many other Austrian municipalities, even began printing its own money. The amount of money in circulation rose from 12 billion kronen to over 3 trillion kronen between 1920 and 1922. An epochal inflation was the result. Then, politics woke up from its lethargy. Under Chancellor Ignaz Seipel, the Republic managed to secure a League of Nations loan. The krone, a relic of the monarchy, was replaced by the schilling as the official currency of Austria on January 1, 1925. Between 1918 and 1922, the old currency had lost more than 95% of its value against the dollar relative to the pre-war exchange rate. With the currency stabilization following the League of Nations loan, however, not only did banks and citizens recover, but public sector construction orders also picked up again. Innsbruck modernized. What economists call a sham boom (Scheinblüte) occurred. This short-term economic recovery was a bubble, but it brought major residential construction and infrastructure projects to the city of Innsbruck. In Innsbruck, there are no deliberate places of remembrance dedicated to the creation of the First Republic. The heritage-protected residential complexes such as the Schlachthofblock, the Pembaurblock, the Mandelsbergerblock, the Pembaurschule, the municipal indoor swimming pool (Städtisches Hallenbad), the Höhenstraße up to the Hungerburg, and the cable cars onto the Patscherkofel and Nordkette are contemporary witnesses that remain in operation to this day. The city purchased the Achensee lake and, as the main shareholder of TIWAG, built the power plant in Jenbach. In 1930, the Universitätsbrücke bridge connected the clinic in Wilten with the Höttinger Au. On the Sill river, the Pembaurbrücke and the Prinz-Eugen-Brücke were constructed. In Reichenau, the first airfield opened on June 1, 1925, involving Innsbruck in air traffic 65 years after the opening of the railway line. Many interested onlookers gathered on the meadow east of the city to witness the event. A monument to the pilots who fell in the World War was unveiled before the German airline Aero Lloyd took off for Munich in a single-engine Fokker-Grulich F III. In the autumn, the integration of the new airfield into the Strasbourg – Zurich – Innsbruck – Vienna route by the French Compagnie Internationale de Navigation followed. Thanks to the daring efforts of pilot Raoul Stojsawljewic, remote regions and alpine mountain huts could now also be supplied with food from Innsbruck, as a report in the Innsbrucker Nachrichten from June 7, 1926, shows:

"In fine weather yesterday morning, Major Stojsawljewic from German Lufthansa took off with his aircraft and flew toward Kühtai, where he dropped free beer, donated by the 'Löwenbräu' brewery, by parachute from a low altitude. At 10 o'clock, the Patscherkofelhaus was approached and beer from the Zipf brewery was dropped..."

Trotz der kurzzeitigen Höhenflüge war die Erste Republik auch auf lokaler Ebene eine schwere Geburt und sie sollte nicht lange Bestand haben, obwohl viel Positives seinen Anfang nahm. Aus Untertanen wurden Bürger. Was in der Zeit Maria Theresias begann, wurde nun unter neuen Vorzeichen weitergeführt. Der Wechsel vom Untertanen zum Bürger zeichnete sich nicht nur durch ein neues Wahlrecht, sondern vor allem durch die verstärkte Obsorge des Staates aus. Staatliche Regelungen, Schulen, Kindergärten, Arbeitsämter, Krankenhäuser und städtische Wohnanlagen traten an die Stelle des Wohlwollens von Grundherrn, Landesfürsten, wohlhabender Bürger, der Monarchie und der Kirche. Bis heute basiert vieles im österreichischen Staatswesen sowie im Innsbrucker Stadtbild und der Infrastruktur auf dem, was nach dem Zusammenbruch der Monarchie entstanden war. Auch gesellschaftliche Bräuche und alltägliche Lebenseinstellungen veränderten sich in der Republik nach dem Zusammenbruch der Monarchie. Der 1925 eingeführte Weltspartag erinnert alljährlich an die Einführung des Schillings und die Mahnung an Kinder und Erwachsene zum verantwortungsvollen Umgang mit Geld. Die Handschrift der jungen Massenparteien und das neue Verhältnis zwischen Zentralstaat und Bürger sind bei allem Lokalpatriotismus unübersehbar.

Anyone seeking proof that the people of Innsbruck have always been an active bunch might turn to the painting Winter Landscape by the Dutch artist Pieter Bruegel (c. 1525–1569) from the sixteenth century. On his return journey north from Italy, the master likely stopped in Innsbruck and observed the local population ice skating on the frozen Lake Ambras. In his Handbook for Travellers in Tyrol (1851), Beda Weber described the leisure habits of Innsbruck’s inhabitants, including ice skating at Lake Ambras: “The lake nearby (note: Amras), a pool in the marshy area, is used by skaters in winter.” To this day, wearing sports clothing in almost any situation is perfectly normal for Innsbruck residents. While in other cities functional clothing or hiking and sports shoes might draw raised eyebrows in restaurants or offices, at the foot of the Nordkette such attire hardly stands out. This was not always the case, however. The path from the ice-skating peasant to the active citizen was a long one. In the Middle Ages and early modern period, leisure and free time for activities such as hunting or riding were largely privileges of the aristocracy. Only with the changing living conditions of the nineteenth century did a significant portion of the population—especially in urban areas—experience something resembling leisure for the first time. Increasingly, people no longer worked in agriculture but as workers and employees in offices, workshops, and factories according to regulated schedules. Industrialised England played a pioneering role, where workers and employees gradually began freeing themselves from the excessive demands of early industrial capitalism. Sixteen‑hour workdays were not only detrimental to workers’ health; employers also realised that overwork reduced productivity. Since the 1860s, efforts had been made to introduce an eight-hour working day. In 1873, Austrian printers established a ten-hour working day, and in 1918 Austria adopted a 48-hour workweek. By 1930, a 40-hour week had become standard in industrial enterprises. People from all social classes—not just the aristocracy—now had the time and energy for hobbies, club life, and sport. English tourists, in particular, introduced new sports, disciplines, and equipment. The cost of equipment largely determined whether a sport remained reserved for the bourgeoisie or was accessible to workers. Sledding, for example, became widespread around the turn of the century, while bobsleigh and skeleton remained elite sports. Sport was not only a leisure activity but also a marker of social distinction: the working class, bourgeoisie, and aristocracy all shaped their identities through the sports they practised. Nobles maintained traditions such as riding and hunting; the bourgeoisie displayed individuality and wealth through expensive equipment like bicycles; and the working class played football or engaged in wrestling and physical contests.

By the mid-nineteenth century, athletes, like singers, museum and theatre enthusiasts, scientists, and lovers of literature, began to come together in associations. Gymnasts were the pioneers of organized club sport in Innsbruck. Gymnastics was considered the quintessential form of sport in the German-speaking world. Competition was not the primary focus; rather, members were expected to train their bodies in order to serve the national body effectively in times of war. As sedentary professions—especially academic ones—became more common, gymnastics was seen as a form of balance. Looking at historical images of gymnasts practicing and performing their exercises, one cannot fail to notice the distinctly military character of these events. Friedrich Ludwig Jahn (1778–1852), commonly known as “Turnvater Jahn,” was not only a leading advocate of physical exercise but also the intellectual founder of the Lützow Free Corps, which fought against Napoleon as a kind of all-German volunteer army. One of the best-known mottos attributed to him is: “Hatred of all foreign things is the German’s duty.” In Saggen, Jahnstraße and a small park with a monument still commemorate Friedrich Ludwig Jahn. The German gymnastics clubs, much like student fraternities, played a significant role in the emergence of the national movement. It therefore took some time before the first official gymnastics club could be established. Gymnasts, who were regarded as particularly liberal and aligned with the Greater German idea, were viewed with suspicion by the Habsburg authorities under Metternich. The founding of gymnastics clubs was banned throughout the German-speaking world. Only one year after the social upheavals of 1848 was the Innsbruck Gymnastics Club (ITV) officially founded. After a conservative backlash in 1850, during which gymnastics clubs were once again banned, the development of the Austrian Imperial Council in the 1860s spurred the formation of political parties. Sports clubs benefited from this as their precursor organisations. In 1863, the ITV was founded for the second time and continues to exist to this day. Soon, Christian, socialist, and Greater German associations emerged, with people gathering in different clubs depending on their ideological and social affiliations.

Among the earliest sports facilities were swimming baths. The first bathing establishment welcomed swimmers from 1833 onward in Hötting, at the open-air pool by the Gießen stream. Additional facilities soon followed near Büchsenhausen Castle, as well as a complex next to what is now the Sillpark site, which was divided into separate areas for women and men. Particularly beautifully situated was the Schönruh outdoor pool above Ambras Castle, which opened in 1929 shortly after the indoor swimming pool in Pradl had been built. The population had grown significantly, and so too had people’s enthusiasm for swimming as a leisure activity. In 1961, the range of sports facilities at Tivoli was expanded with the addition of the Tivoli outdoor pool. In 1883, cyclists founded the Bicycle Club. The first cycling races had been held in France and Great Britain from 1869 onward. The English city of Coventry was also a pioneer in the production of the elegant “steel steeds,” which were extremely expensive. In the same year, the Innsbruck press reported on these modern means of individual transport, when “several gentlemen ventured onto the streets with multiple velocipedes ordered from the firm Peterlongo.” In 1876, cycling was temporarily banned in Innsbruck due to repeated accidents. Cycling was also quickly recognised by the authorities as a form of physical training that could be used for military purposes. A decree from the Imperial Ministry of War was reported in the press:

“It is intended, as in previous years, to also employ cyclists in this year’s exercises involving combined arms… The commands of the infantry and Tyrolean rifle regiments, as well as the field rifle battalions, are to call upon those individuals who are registered as cyclists and are obliged to participate in military exercises this year to report for duty with their bicycles.”

Unter der Regie des Münchners Anton Schlumpeter entwickelte sich die Szene vor der Jahrhundertwende weiter. Schlumpeter deckte mit einer Fahrschule, einem Geschäft für Fahrräder samt Werkstatt und schließlich mit den in seiner Wiltener Fabrik produzierten Fahrradmarke Veldidena die Wertschöpfungskette komplett ab. Die Velocipedisten siedelten sich 1896 im Rahmen der „Internationalen Ausstellung für körperliche Erziehung, Gesundheitspflege und Sport“ im Saggen nahe der Viaduktbögen mit einer Radrennbahn samt Tribüne an. Die Innsbrucker Nachrichten berichteten begeistert von dieser Neuerung, war doch der Radsport bis zu den ersten Autorennen europaweit die beliebteste Sportdisziplin:

“The Innsbruck cycling track, which is to be opened in the coming weeks in connection with the international exhibition, will have a length of 400 metres and a width of 6 metres… The velocipede racing track, the construction of which is chiefly due to the efforts of the President of the Tyrolean Cyclists’ Association, State Railway Chief Engineer R. von Weinong, will be one of the most outstanding and best-equipped cycling tracks on the continent. On the 29th of this month (June 1896), a major international cycling competition will be held on the Innsbruck track for the first time, and in the future, regular annual velocipede prize races are to follow, which will undoubtedly be of considerable benefit to both the promotion of cycling as a sport and tourism in Innsbruck.”

The cement railway was used for daily training in the warm season. The smoke-filled air as the locomotives passed by was probably not good for the lungs. After initial enthusiasm, Schlumpeter had to step in to save the railway. The enterprising entrepreneur realised that the cyclists were not providing enough activity and, on his own initiative, began to build a kind of predecessor to today's Olympiaworld at the Tivoli with several facilities for sport. In addition to cycling races, boxers could compete in the ring. He also had tennis courts built in Saggen. Despite all his efforts, the facility was demolished again in 1901.

Football proved more sustainable than cycling in establishing itself in Innsbruck. For a long time, it was regarded as an English sport and therefore as “un-German.” Unlike gymnastics, it was considered too focused on commerce and professionalisation, and it was seen as offering too little military, educational, or societal value. It was only with the International Exhibition of 1896 in Saggen that football began to gain a certain level of acceptance. There were already interregional matches, for example a 1–1 draw between the team of the Innsbruck Gymnastics Club and Bayern Munich. In order to compete against other teams, the footballers were required to leave their parent organisation, the ITV. The “Aryan clause” embedded there not only prohibited the admission of Jewish players, but also banned matches against teams that included Jewish players. In 1903, the club Fußball Innsbruck was founded, which would later develop into SVI. Matches were played on a football field in front of the Sieberer orphanage. In Wilten, by then part of Innsbruck, SK Wilten was established in 1910. The football ground Besele, which still exists today next to the West Cemetery, was equipped with grandstands to accommodate growing numbers of spectators. In 1913, Wacker Innsbruck was officially founded, the club that remains the most successful football team in Tyrol to this day. For a long time, successful football remained largely confined to Vienna. While the Austrian “Wunderteam” gained international recognition in the 1930s and even won the precursor to today’s European Championship, football in Tyrol was played at a more modest level. It was only after the Second World War that national and international successes began to emerge. Ten Austrian championship titles and reaching the semi-finals of the European Cup testify to the deep-rooted enthusiasm for football among the people of Innsbruck.

In addition to the various summer sports, winter sports also became increasingly popular. Sledding had already become a popular leisure activity by the mid-nineteenth century on the hills surrounding Innsbruck. The first ice rink opened in 1870 as a winter alternative to swimming, on the grounds of the outdoor pool in Höttinger Au. Unlike water sports, ice skating was an activity that could be enjoyed jointly by men and women. Instead of meeting during Sunday strolls, young couples could arrange to meet at the ice rink without parental supervision. In 1884, the Ice Skating Club was founded and used the exhibition grounds as its rink. With facilities such as the ice rink in front of the Imperial and Royal shooting range in Mariahilf, Lake Lans, Lake Ambras, the swimming complex in Höttinger Au, and the Sill Canal in Kohlstatt, Innsbruck offered numerous opportunities for ice skating. As early as 1908, the first ice hockey club was established with the IEV. Skiing, initially a Nordic-style pastime practiced in the valleys, soon spread as a downhill discipline as well. The Academic Alpine Club Innsbruck was founded in 1893 and organised the first ski race on Tyrolean soil two years later, running from Sistrans to Ambras Castle. The sports shop Witting, established in 1867 on Maria-Theresien-Straße, demonstrated strong business acumen by selling ski equipment to a well-to-do clientele even before 1900. Following St. Anton and Kitzbühel, the first Innsbruck ski club was founded in 1906. Equipment remained simple for a long time, allowing skiing primarily on relatively gentle slopes, combining alpine and Nordic techniques similar to cross-country skiing. Nevertheless, skiers ventured to descend slopes in places such as Mutters or the Ferrari meadow. From 1928 onward, two cable cars led up to both the Nordkette and the Patscherkofel, making skiing significantly more attractive. Skiing achieved its breakthrough as a national sport with the World Ski Championships held in Innsbruck in February 1933. On an unmarked course, participants had to cover 10 kilometres and 1,500 metres of elevation between the Glungezer and Tulfes. The two local athletes Gustav Lantschner and Inge Wersin‑Lantschner won multiple medals in these competitions, further fuelling the growing enthusiasm for alpine winter sports in Innsbruck.

Competitions in various sports—above all cycling, boxing, athletics, and football—had become mass phenomena by the interwar period at the latest. In 1924, Joseph Roth (1894–1939) wrote his praise poem dedicated to sport:

The zeitgeist stretches the biceps and fulfils,

with knockout and belly kick the century,

if there is someone who wonders about it,

never read the newspaper Sport im Bild.

After the Second World War, sport finally became a mass phenomenon. While footballers were no longer able to build on the successes of the pre-war period, it was above all skiers who contributed to the slowly emerging sense of national identity among Austrians. Innsbruck remains strongly identified with sport to this day. With events such as the UEFA European Championship in 2008, the UCI Road World Championships in 2018, and the Climbing World Championships in 2018, the city has been able to reconnect—also at the elite level—with the “golden years” of the 1930s, which saw two World Ski Championships, as well as with the Olympic Games of 1964 and 1976. However, it is less elite sport than grassroots participation that contributes to Innsbruck’s reputation as the self-proclaimed “sports capital of Austria.” There are hardly any residents who do not at least strap on alpine skis from time to time. Mountain biking on the numerous alpine pastures around Innsbruck, ski touring, sport climbing, and hiking are exceptionally popular among the local population and are deeply embedded in everyday life.

Einer der wichtigsten Akteure der Innsbrucker Stadtgeschichte war Wilhelm Greil (1850 – 1928). Von 1896 bis 1923 bekleidete der Unternehmer das Amt des Bürgermeisters, nachdem er vorher bereits als Vizebürgermeister die Geschicke der Stadt mitgestaltet hatte. Sein Wirken war nicht nur lange, sondern fand auch in einer besonders dynamischen Zeit statt. Die vier Jahrzehnte zwischen der Wirtschaftskrise 1873 und dem Ersten Weltkrieg von einem nie dagewesenen Wachstum und einer rasenden Modernisierung gekennzeichnet. Es war die Zeit der Eingemeindung ganzer Stadtviertel, technischer Innovationen und neuer Medien. Private Investitionen in Infrastruktur wie Eisenbahn, Energie und Strom waren vom Staat gewünscht und wurden steuerlich begünstigt, um die Länder und Städte der kränkelnden Donaumonarchie in die Moderne zu führen. Die Wirtschaft der Stadt boomte. Betriebe in den neuen Stadtteilen Pradl und Wilten entstanden und lockten Arbeitskräfte an. Auch der Tourismus brachte frisches Kapital in die Stadt.

The political landscape of the late Austro-Hungarian Monarchy was, broadly speaking, shaped by liberal nationalist parties representing the various ethnic groups of the multi-ethnic empire, as well as by conservatives and social democrats. The Catholic conservative party had already lost influence and was considered outdated, retaining support mainly among the petty bourgeoisie and farmers, but in Tyrol it formed a bloc with the reform Catholic Christian Socials. Social Democrats, Christian Socials, and German Nationalists can, in a sense, be seen as the precursors of today’s parliamentary parties SPÖ, ÖVP, and FPÖ. Innsbruck’s municipal council was long dominated by the liberal and Greater German-oriented “German People’s Party,” to which Greil also belonged. What appears contradictory today—being both liberal and nationalist—was a common and functional pairing of ideas in the 19th century. Pan-Germanism was not a political peculiarity of a right-wing extremist minority; rather, especially in German-speaking cities of the empire, it was a centrist current that retained influence in varying forms across almost all parties well into the post-Second World War period. Anyone examining newspaper articles from around the turn of the century will find countless pieces emphasizing the commonalities between the German Empire and the German-speaking territories. Innsbruck residents who prided themselves referred to themselves not as Austrians but as Germans. Only after the incorporation of Wilten and Pradl in 1904 were conservatives able to make gains, though not enough to catch up entirely. Social democracy played hardly any role before 1918. Due to an electoral system based on property classes, only about 10% of Innsbruck’s population was entitled to vote, while women were fundamentally excluded. Within the three electoral bodies, a majority voting system applied—essentially meaning: the winner takes it all. Mayor Greil lived, fittingly, in a manner similar to a Renaissance prince. He came from the upper class of the large bourgeoisie. His father could afford to establish the family’s home base in the Palais Lodron on Maria-Theresien-Straße. Thanks to this electoral system, Mayor Greil could rely on 100% support in the municipal council until the period of the First Republic, which naturally made decision-making and governance considerably easier. Despite the apparent efficiency displayed by Innsbruck’s mayors at first glance, one should not forget that this was only possible because, as part of an elite of entrepreneurs, merchants, and professionals, they governed without significant opposition and without consideration for other population groups such as workers, craftsmen, and employees—in what might be described as an elected dictatorship. The Imperial Municipal Act of 1862 granted cities like Innsbruck, and thus their mayors, greater powers. It is hardly surprising that the chain of office presented to Greil on his 60th birthday by his colleagues in the municipal council closely resembled the chains of orders of the old nobility. Nevertheless, Greil was also a skillful politician who navigated the power structures and media landscape of his time with great adeptness. Article 17 of the Austrian Basic Law of 1867, also known as the December Constitution, guaranteed freedom of expression in the press for the first time without prior censorship—excluding criminal offenses such as blasphemy or insults to the authorities, of course. As a result, a wide range of newspapers emerged, such as the conservative Neue Tiroler Stimme, the social democratic Volkszeitung, and the liberal Innsbrucker Nachrichten, each shaping a worldview in line with the preferences of their publishers. Thanks to the reach of the Innsbrucker Nachrichten, Wilhelm Greil was able to promote his views. Despite sometimes vehement speeches inspired by the program of the German nationalist founding figure Georg Ritter von Schönerer (1842–1921), he managed to come to terms with conservative forces in the region, even though conflicts were often fierce, especially in the media. Issues such as taxation, social policy, education, housing, and the design of public spaces were debated with passion and zeal—often with violence as the ultimate argument.

Under Greil’s leadership and fueled by the general economic upswing driven by private investment, Innsbruck expanded at a rapid pace. Acting in a forward-looking manner like a merchant, the municipal council acquired land in anticipation of future developments. As a politician, Greil was able to rely on civil servants and urban planners such as Eduard Klingler, Jakob Albert, and Theodor Prachensky for the major construction projects of the time. Infrastructure projects such as the new town hall on Maria-Theresien-Straße in 1897, the opening of the Mittelgebirgsbahn, the Hungerburg Funicular, and the Karwendel Railway were implemented during his tenure. Other visible milestones included the redesign of the marketplace and the construction of the market hall. Alongside these prestigious large-scale projects, however, many inconspicuous revolutions took place in the final decades of the 19th century. Much of what was advanced in the second half of the century is now part of everyday life, but for people at the time these changes were sensational and life-changing. Greil’s predecessor, Mayor Heinrich Falk (1840–1917), had already contributed significantly to the modernization of the city and the development of the Saggen district. Since 1859, the expansion of gas pipeline lighting in the city had progressed steadily. With urban growth and modernization, cesspits—used as latrines in building courtyards and emptied and sold to nearby farmers as fertilizer—became unacceptable to an increasing number of residents. In 1880, the emptying of these latrines, colloquially known as “Raggeln,” was transferred to municipal responsibility. Two pneumatic machines were intended to make the process at least somewhat more hygienic. Between 1887 and 1891, Innsbruck was equipped with a modern high-pressure water supply system, which made it possible to supply even upper-floor apartments with fresh water. Those who could afford it now had the opportunity to install flush toilets in their homes for the first time. Greil continued this campaign of modernization with numerous infrastructure projects. The growing concentration of people in increasingly confined spaces, often under precarious hygienic conditions, brought many problems. The city’s outskirts and surrounding villages were regularly plagued by typhus. After decades of discussion, construction of a modern sewer system began in 1903. Starting from the city center, more and more districts were connected to what is now a commonplace utility. By 1908, only the districts of Mariahilf and St. Nikolaus—nicknamed “Koatlackler”—remained unconnected. The new slaughterhouse in Saggen also improved hygiene and cleanliness in the city. Poorly controlled private slaughtering largely became a thing of the past. Livestock arrived by train at Sillspitz and was professionally processed in the modern facility. Greil brought the gasworks in Pradl and the power plant in Mühlau into municipal ownership. Street lighting was converted from gas lamps to electric light in the 20th century. In 1888, the hospital was relocated from Maria-Theresien-Straße to its current site. During this “Innsbruck Renaissance,” the mayor and municipal council were supported not only by the growing economic strength of the pre-war years but also by patrons from the bourgeoisie. While technical innovations and infrastructure were the domain of the liberals, care for the poorest remained in the hands of clerically oriented forces—though no longer directly with the Church itself. Baron Johann von Sieberer donated the old people’s home and orphanage in Saggen. Leonhard Lang donated the building on Maria-Theresien-Straße—where the town hall is still located today—in return for the city’s promise to build an apprentice residence.

In contrast to the booming pre-war era, Greil’s leadership after 1914 was marked by crisis management. In his final years in office, he guided Innsbruck through the transition from the Habsburg monarchy to the republic—a time characterized above all by hunger, hardship, scarcity of resources, and insecurity. He was 68 years old when Tyrol was divided at the Brenner Pass after the war. During his political career, Greil had often exploited general hostility toward Italians (“Walsche”) in a similarly populist manner to his Christian Social counterpart in Vienna, Karl Lueger, who used antisemitic rhetoric. At the end of his career, he had to witness the Italian occupation of Innsbruck. With the introduction of the republic, the census-based voting system was abolished, marking the beginning of the end of liberal dominance in the municipal council. In 1919, the Social Democrats won elections in Innsbruck for the first time. Only due to council majorities and a coalition of Greater German-liberal and conservative-clerical politicians did Greil remain mayor. He died in 1928 at the age of 78 as an honorary citizen of the city of Innsbruck. Wilhelm-Greil-Straße had already been named after him during his lifetime.