Journal of the American Historical Society of Germans from Russia

Journal of the American Historical Society of Germans From Russia

Vol. 4, No. 1 Spring 1981 TABLE OF CONTENTS

REDACTIONS: THE EDITOR'S PAGE ...... i

DROUGHT CHILD A Poem by Edward Reimer Brandt...... ii

FATHER WENZLER, THE VILLAGE ELDER Hertha Karasek-Strzygowski Translated by Sally Tieszen Hieb...... 1

VILLAGES IN WHICH OUR FOREFATHERS LIVED; EARLY DAUGHTER COLONIES NEAR MARIUPOL Adam Giesinger...... 7

KAMENNAYA MOGILA William Schroeder...... 13

FOLKLORE FORUM; "WO SCHEINT NIE DIE SONNE HIN? -WHERE DOES THE SUN NEVER SHINE?" RIDDLES OF THE GERMANS FROM RUSSIA Timothy J. Kloberdanz and Contributors ...... 16

WE SING OUR HISTORY Lawrence A. Weigel...... 24

GERMANS FROM RUSSIA IN GERMANY IN THE 1950's: THE EARLY YEARS OF THE LANDSMANNSCHAFT Adam Giesinger...... 26

AUS HEIMAT UND LEBEN: ABOUT MY LIFE AND HOMELAND David Weigum Translated by Dona Reeves and Leona Pfeifer...... 34

WANDERERS ON THE STEPPES IN OLD RUSSIA A. F. Wanner Translated by A. Becker ...... 39

THE ORIGINS OF AHSGR: THE ORGANIZATIONAL MEETINGS A History Based on Documents in the Society Files Adam Giesinger...... 44

A VOICE FROM THE PAST: A GERMAN-RUSSIAN LIFE Christian Welsch With an Introduction by Roger L. Welsch...... 50 (Continued on inside back cover)

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American Historical Society of Germans from Russia

REDACTIONS: THE EDITOR'S PAGE This issue of the Journal contains a variety of articles dealing with several phases, periods, and settlement areas in the history of the Germans from Russia. Professor Adam Giesinger continues his series on "Villages in which our Forefathers Lived," focussing on the eleven daughter colonies of the "Jewish Steppe" northwest of Mariupol which were founded between 1832-1852. He provides translations of the village reports for Belowesch, Grosswerder, and Bergtal. AHSGR member William Schroeder adds a description of Kamennaya Mogila, the strange granite rock formation a few kilometers from Grosswerder which he visited in 1976 and again in 1979. This issue draws heavily on personal recollection. The second installment of Dr. Walter Weigum's edition of his father's autobiography, "Aus Heimat und Leben," recreates the idyllic life of the German colonists on the Crimean Steppe during the 1880's. A. F. Wanner describes the motley parades of itinerant craftsmen, peddlers, beggars, and Gypsies that enlivened the Black Sea villages in the pre-revolutionary period. Professor Roger L. Welsch, a widely-published authority on folklore, shares his father's autobiography with members of the Society. Christian Welsch's homely reminiscences typify the experiences of the German-Russian immigrants to the United States who were forced to work as manual laborers and live in the most primitive of accommodations during the early decades of this century. The fate of those Germans who remained in Russia is encapsulated in the sketch of "Father Wenzler, Village Elder," translated by Sally Tieszen Hieb from Wolhynisches Tagebuch, the effecting collection of portraits and biographies of that remnant of victims of war, revolution, and famine Hertha Karasek-Strzygowski discovered living in the Volhynian village of Blumental in 1942. The biographical sketch of Julius Wenzler reads like a hauntingly stoic lay of a last survivor. Several articles deal with current history of the Germans from Russia. Professor Giesinger continues his survey of the origins of AHSGR, drawing on correspondence in the Society's files to clarify events during the formative years of the organization. An interesting companion piece is his study of "The Germans from Russia in Germany in the 1950*s" which describes the origins and aims of the Landsmannschaft der Deutschen aus Russland, AHSGR's "half-sister" in Germany. Poet Edward Reimer Brandt, a descendant of Molotschna Mennonites, makes his first appearance in the pages of the Journal. A new member of AHSGR, Professor Brandt, who teaches at Minneapolis Community College, is president of the Minneapolis Poetry Society and state vice-regent of the Midwest Federation of Chaparral Poets. Reviews of three volumes recently added to the loan collection (each containing contributions by members of the Society) complete this issue. Emma Schwabenland Haynes in reviewing The Volga Germans: Pioneers of the Northwest, notes the discussion of the Protestant religious life of the immigrants but wonders about the fate of the Catholic Volga Germans in Oregon mentioned by Richard Sallet in Russian-German Settlements in the United States. According to Sallet, there were 1,000 Catholic and 3,750 Protestant Volga Germans in Oregon in 1920. Members who know where in Oregon the Catholics settled and what happened to them should contact Mrs. Haynes through Society Headquarters. The special feature of the spring edition of the Journal is the annual Folklore Forum edited by folklorist Timothy J. Kloberdanz (with expert help from Rosalinda A. Kloberdanz). This spring the forum provides amusing examples of riddles traditional among the Germans from Russia. Musicolo- gist Lawrence A. Weigel contributes a riddling song popular among Volga Germans who immigrated to Ellis County, Kansas in 1876. The Folklore Forum scheduled for publication in the spring 1982 issue of the Journal will focus on family stories. The reminiscences of Christian Welsch in this issue of the Journal provide a memorable example of the genre which creates a vivid picture of his life and times of interest not only to his descendants but to all those who share the memory of "the agony felt by the poor and less educated." With earthy candor, Mr. Welsch reveals the ethnocentricity of the German-Russians, their ability to be perpetrators as well as victims of prejudice, but above all, the resilient wit and exuberance that characterizes the German-Russian ability to make the best of the worst of times. The editors urge members of the Society to follow Professor Welsch's exhortation to begin immediately to collect your own family's history since "it is precisely in the common life that the real drama of history can be found." On behalf of all members of AHSGR, the editor wishes to thank the authors, researchers, translators, reviewers, artists, photographers, and all contributors who have made the Journal a vehicle for preserving and perpetuating the history and culture of the Germans from Russia. On her own behalf, she wishes to thank all those persons whose dedication has made her work with the Journal during the past seven years a most pleasurable and rewarding experience.

Nancy Bernhardt Holland DROUGHT CHILD

The earth is surely drying up. Of that, My genealogy is certain proof. My first known forebears pumped a dammed up vat With windmills, so the marsh would hold a hoof And stay the seawaves level with the roof. They literally built the polderland Which hitherto had been but ocean sand.

Then fugitives resettled far out east, Where Flemish-Frisian reclamation skills Won back the delta which the sea had fleeced And flooded during Baltic battle kills. Although they suffered fevers, pains and ills, They dotted Nogat shores, near alder woods, With farmyards and supplies of farmers' goods,

With land and freedom insecure, events Made thousands leave two centuries or more Of Prussian homes to found new settlements Upon the arid steppes, where mill pipes tore Into the ground to seek a water store. They found enough to make Molotschna bloom, Soon saturating every verst of room.

On freedom's trail, the bisoned plains came next; First Manitoba and Nebraska, light In rain, with homesteads visited and vexed By clouds of jumping longlegs with a bite Whose devastation led to blight; then flight To west of ninety-eight, where I was born Just sunward of a mill one Dust Bowl morn.

- Edward Reimer Brandt

11 FATHER WENZLER, THE VILLAGE ELDER Hertha Karasek-Strzygowski Translated by Sally Tieszen Hieb

The poignant portrait of Julius Wenzler, village elder of the Volhynian village of Blumental near Zhitomir, is one of the chapters of Wolhynisches Tagebuch published in West Germany in 1979. In the volume, Hertha Karasek-Strzygowski, a Selesian artist provides sketches and biographies of German colonists with whom she visited in 1942.

In order to get an accurate picture of the small colony of Blumental, I wanted first of all, to visit the village elder. Father Wenzler. He was one of the few men left in the village, and because of his eighty-two years of age, I assumed he would be able to relate much of the development of this settlement. He had immigrated here with his parents when he was a small boy. Mother Fenske thought that I would find him at home only late in the day when he was finished with his work, because in spite of his age, he worked in the fields the entire day, especially now during the time of the fall plowing. He also assisted the neighbor women (who were all without husbands) who wanted their small plots of land around their houses plowed. No one understood the art of tilling as well as Father Wenzler. Also, he was the only one in the village who owned a horse. It was old and weak, but wherever there was need, Father Wenzler helped out, not for pay, but just as charity. That's the kind of man he was, this Father Wenzler. He lived somewhat outside the settlement, and since the sun was still high in the sky and there was still no rest from the days' work for some time for Father Wenzler, I had time enough to make an excursion through the village. For the first time I saw a true collective. Up until this time I'd only heard about them or seen them from the train window on my journey. With the picture of a native village in my heart, this collective had a shocking effect on me because of its bareness and poverty. On three of the streets which were probably still there from the time of the founding of the village, the wretched, small, wooden houses stood next to each other in disorderly rows, white washed and thatch roofed, without stables, without out-buildings, without orchards, without any single comfy little spot anywhere round about the house. Only the tall draw- wells next to the houses somewhat brightened this otherwise dreary picture. One had to look much closer in order to notice individual attempts to beautify, —perhaps a tiny flower bed in front of the house, edged with small white stones, as might have been placed by children, or a bunch of flowers at an entrance, or perhaps even a rose bush against a house wall. There wasn't a farming tool or a wagon to be seen anywhere. The small plot behind the house which was the only little piece of land which the people could rent from the collective and could till for their own use, seemed completely filled with potatoes, cabbages, pumpkins, and sunflowers. But here, too, one seldom saw a person contentedly at work on his small plot. Well, it was still working hours, and most of the youths were certainly laboring in the collective or harvesting in the fields. But children! Where were they? Since it was towards evening, possibly the older ones were tending the cattle somewhere far out in the fields, or helping gather the harvest of potatoes. But the little ones? Those, who in my own villages laughingly and joyously played around the houses giving the village its life, where were they? There were no children's toys or wagons lying around, or any babies' diapers fluttering in the wind. Only a few five or six year olds stood or squatted around the houses, singly or in groups, who quietly and timidly gazed after me or scurried back into the house. I had asked Mother Fenske about the buildings of the collective; she had just pointed with her hand in the general direction of where they stood scattered here and there in the area, the office, the stable, the mill, the granary, the school. They didn't look any better than the rest of the buildings. At any rate, they were not the heart of the settlement, the hub on which all village life turned. The people did their expected work diligently but with a lack of interest, for they were, after all, only farm hands, and poorly paid besides. A longing for the native villages overwhelmed me — villages which represented rural work and life and peaceful security- A foreboding of much sadness and of the unknown awaiting me in this settlement left me heavy-hearted, It was only after I had gone beyond the rows of houses to fields in the distance that I felt any calmer and more confident. The expanse and immensity of the landscape pulled me into its spell, and once again I gradually became more serene. I attempted, still hesitatingly, to at least grasp it in thought and mind. Deep in thought, I walked on farther to the last houses along the small path; the sunflowers, heavy with seeds, glowed to the right and left of me. The sun shone like a red ball in the deepening violet haze of the plain, enveloped by golden hued trees and shrubs. Strangely lost and lonely, a single group of children grazing cows blended with a tall, golden-brown straw pile; they were as nothing in the eternity of this vast plain, and yet a harmonizing note in the God- like symphony of this autumn evening. Far outside, completely alone and hidden, behind a large sunflower field was Father Wenzler's house, The sunflowers which were taller than a man hardly allowed the long extended roof to be visible. It was also just another small, miserable kolkhoz house. But the sunflowers all around, which almost served as a fence, and the vegetable and flower beds, the picturesque draw-well, also surrounded by sunflowers, poultry and dogs, and here and there a farming tool, a wagon fully laden with potatoes and large yellow pumpkins, all made the entire scene appear comfortable and familiar. One was aware of the work of painstaking and attentive hands, and one almost felt one was looking at one of the small German households of West Poland. The familiarity of this scene made it self-evident that an elderly woman would be sitting on the long bench in front of the house. Her very symmetrical face was encircled with a shawl, just as I had seen worn by the other women in Mother Fenske's kitchen. But this "old one" was noticeably better dressed, and she wore wooden shoes. She had a large clay bowl on her lap and was peeling and cutting up yellow-gold pumpkins. An old man could be seen through the open stable door. All the while he was rubbing down his horse with a handful of twisted straw, he carried on an affectionate conversation in his German dialect with the horse, and in return he got a similar kind of affectionate neighing reply from the animal. It appeared he had just come from the field, and he was so engrossed in his work and conversation that he did not notice me. I stood perfectly still for a moment, feeling fortunate to be able to absorb this picture of peace and serenity. It was so lovely to observe this old gentleman in silence. With his white, bearded head and old-fashioned high-buttoned quilted vest and the heavy boots, he had the air of a mediaeval peasant about him. Involuntarily one had to think of the already legendary journey of his forefathers to the east, forefathers who were no doubt carved out of the same mold as he. When the old man finally straightened up and noticed me, he, after a short, critical glance, immediately came towards me at the front of the house. "Ah, company from Germany," he called. "This is an honor." He had heard of these German girls visiting their village, and that one was still expected, an artist. The village had never experienced anything like this before. He turned in lively fashion to the elderly lady, "Well now Pauline, she's here, the artist!" The woman immediately put the bowl which was brimful of pumpkin on the ground and greeted me warmly. One could sense a difficult, sorrow-filled life in her pleasant, rustic face. But I could well imagine how very pretty she had probably been in her youth. I sat between these two old ones on the bench beside the house in the glow of the setting sun and felt at home and safe. Ordinarily he did not yet stop work at this time of the day, the old man said, almost apologetically, but such a rare visit as this was an exception! And I didn't have to ask long; he immediately began to talk about himself. It seemed that he was eager and proud to give an account of his long life and its events, an account both for himself and for me the visitor from the motherland. And what he then pensively and movingly related was a piece of stirring colony history which applied not only to his own village, but generally to all the many small and large German colonies in Volhynia, His father emigrated from Germany, likely from Pomerania, to the German colonies around Lodz, in Poland, "to look for a wife," Father Wenzler said. There he married the daughter of a colonist, had a small farm, and soon there were six children, five of them sons. For a true colonist it was taken for granted to have as one's life's goal the provision of a farm for each of the sons. One day a letter arrived from a friend who had emigrated to the east several years earlier. He wrote that everything was going well for them in Russia, more farmers should come, cheap land was available, and that there were "many trees." Wenzler's father thought the matter over: inexpensive land, consequently arable acres, and "many trees" - naturally fruit trees, he thought. This was certainly something for him and his five sons! He thought about the letters which many of his relatives who had migrated to the east had written which contained wonderful tales of the good and pleasant farm life which they could lead there and of the bountiful harvests. On winter evenings he always brought these letters out and reread them to the listening family. Slowly, a strong yearning for this distant land settled in them and kept growing through the years. The state of affairs in Poland wasn't the best, to be sure; there was always unrest and agitation. The Germans felt like outsiders among the Poles. So he did not ponder long, but sold his small farm and with this money purchased two new large covered wagons, four strong horses, young healthy cattle, and good new farming implements. He loaded seed corn, household goods, wife and children, and full of good courage, he moved, along with six other families. This journey to the east took many weeks. The expectations which filled their hearts made all the hardships and dangers of this long journey seem unimportant and surmountable, But how disillusioned they all were when they found in fact only seven families in Blumental who had arrived two years earlier from Alt Samara and who had small farms! Otherwise, they found only dense forest in which the axe would need to open a first path. This forest was the cheap land which was available, and these were the trees which had enticed Wenzler's father to move to the east! Wenzler's father bought one and one-half hides of land [1 hide = 60 to 120 acres or more, depending on local usage] which cost 450 rubles. But he had only 45 rubles left, so he had to buy this small amount of land in installments. It was fortunate that they had attempted their journey in the spring time. That made it possible for them to live out of doors the first weeks. Their wagons were set together; each night a campfire burned, and one man kept watch all night because of the wolves. Work has begun immediately on the difficult job of clearing the forest; trees were felled; the worthless wood and the stumps which were removed with great difficulty were burned. The good wood was taken to the next town, Zhitomer, twice a week where they sold it for one ruble and sixty kopecks. Using this money they bought flour, grain, and bread from the Jews. That had to suffice for the entire family. Part of the money had to be laid aside to make the payments on the land. The village leader, Frederick Schmidt, banked the money that was due. It was autumn before they built a stout shelter out of woven shrubs and branches for their domestic animals, and an earthen hut for the family. The hut was roofed with bulrushes from the marsh and covered with heavy canvas. Inside it was well covered with moss. In spite of this, it was terribly difficult to survive that first winter. Here the winter was even longer than it was where they had come from. They were snow bound for months; their sod hut resembled a snow knoll on the vast white plain. At night the howling of the wolves competed with the howling of the wind, and when the children nervously crowded around their mother in the hut and she comforted them saying, "It's only the wind," their father murmured, "How is one to survive in this wilderness if one is afraid." He was a good hunter, and many a troublesome wolf had to believe that! In spite of the cold and storms, the winter grew weary and ran its course. By spring there had to be as much tillable land ready as possible. Hunger already stalked the family in the hut as well as the animals in their shelter. That gave their weary arms new energy. By spring then, they had cleared a considerable area, ready for cultivation. Before the father made the first furrow in the virgin soil, he knelt down at the edge of the field with his entire family and prayed, "God, let your face shine over us and give us your blessing, Amen." Potatoes, millet, and grain were planted first of all. After the first harvest the worst need was over, After only two years a self-built sturdy wooden house was finished, small of course, only a living room, kitchen and stable; but encircling the house, the productive fields grew and expanded. And that had to be, because now there were eight brothers and sisters in the family. With considerable pride, Father Wenzler recounted how much he helped in spite of being only eight years of age at that time. He pruned the trees, stirred up and took care of the fire in which the worthless wood and stumps were burned. He tended the cattle and led them through the densest forest to succulent plots of grass, and protected them carefully from snakes. He gathered foliage to use for litter for the animals, and juicy berries which were then dried for the winter. Yes, even now as an old man, he was still proud of how even then as a young boy, he'd worked as a true colonist. I was eager to know if he was able to go to school during this youth so full of work and drudgery. "Yes, to be sure," he assured me enthusiastically. "The plot of land for the school and the church was designated from the beginning. But at that time the community was still too poor to build or to hire a precentor. But Farmer Schmidt who was the head of the village at that time conducted school in his home and held church services in his home every Sunday. That's where I studied. For about eight days. Then my father said, 'Now you've learned enough. Always all this studying! That won't do. Now it's time that you learn to be a proper farmer.' " He was ten years old at that time and instead of learning reading and writing, he learned how to plow and how to handle horses. That appealed to him more than going to school anyway. "Yes," said Frau Wenzler with an almost coy side-glance at her husband. "He cannot read or write. But read the Bible, that he can do. Just open the Bible, and he can tell you everything that is written there, on every page!" "Now, now," said Father Wenzler almost annoyed at this interruption, "Every proper Christian certainly needs to be able to read the Bible!" At the age of twelve he had to be able to slaughter hogs and know how to skillfully cut them up. But plowing became his favorite work and still was up to this very day. "Plowing, tilling, and sowing," he said, almost reverently. "In other words, praying for our daily bread. . , ." Now he noticed how preoccupied I had been with the appearance of his hands during the telling of his story. Hands, broad, gnarled, and worn, which rested on his knees. Hands which so completely substantiated the difficulties of the life he had just talked about. Now he looked at his hands himself, turned them up and down, and then said pensively, "Yes, what a person really can endure; these hands have guided the plow for seventy-two years, and have always done so willingly, and if God grants it, will still continue to do so for a few more years." Indeed, it was fortunate that he had learned to be so diligent as a young boy. Soon there had been nine children. His father built a larger house which was roofed with reeds from the marshes. He always bought another piece of forest, and so they were never out of work. More settlers continued to come in those years. The village grew, and the fires blazed year after year, day and night, throughout the summer and winter. That's how it was wherever the colonists lived. If one looked at the forest, of this one could be certain: Where smoke ascended, there Germans were at work; there woodland was being cleared for cultivation. So farms and villages grew everywhere up and down the land. The soil, when worked well, produced marvelous harvests. There was no want. To the Ukranians round about them, this was all very strange. Up until that time they had had only very primitive wooden plows which did not burrow deeply into the soil. They were astounded at how deeply the colonists' metal plow shares cut into the earth, and still more astonished when they saw the rich harvests. They shook their heads and said, "It seems the Lord tosses down everything from heaven for the Germans." "Oh yes," said the old man reflectively, "God's blessing was truly on our difficult work. That old colonists' proverb which says 'The first ones experience death, the second know great want, only the third have bread' — was not valid with us." He toiled year after year and grew up healthy and robust, and because of continual work didn't consider marriage. He was now twenty-seven years old, and it was already long past the time for marriage. Once, right while he was busy plowing, a neighbor came by and asked, "Tell me, why don't you get married?" "Don't know anyone to marry," he answered, and continued his plowing. "The Bonn girl," called the neighbor urgently after him, and pointed toward a neighboring house with his thumb. "Pauline?" he thought to himself. Yes, he'd known her since she was a child. Her parents had come to Blumental from Alt Samara when she was an infant. They now had a splendid farm nearby. "I wonder whether they would consent to her marriage," he pondered hesitantly, "She's probably still too young." She was seventeen years old and "like peaches and cream," "Should ask her," called the neighbor in departing. So, — he quickly made up his mind to visit the parents as his own matchmaker and propose to Pauline. The parents agreed, and so they became engaged, They made all their plans and promptly announced their marriage. The wedding festivities lasted three days and were celebrated completely in the old way. They built a large house and worked diligently on their own farm. Before long they enjoyed true prosperity, owned six cows, ten hogs, horses, chickens, geese, and fourteen and one-half dessiatines of land. They had German girls from neighboring villages as maids and a Ukranian farm hand. The servants generally worked four or five years. Then when they married they received a feather bed, a cow, and in addition, all the necessary household supplies. It was a busy, well regulated, but tranquil life, lived in the customs of their forefathers which drew and held the colonists together. But they had one tremendous sorrow; their children always died. Ten of them. Often while they were infants, a few weeks or months after birth. "God willed it so," they said, almost simultaneously. But I felt they had never been able to overcome this sorrow. In the course of years, new German settlers continued to come to Blumental — from Poland, Selesia, East Prussia, and Bessarabia, who soon all owned their own farmsteads and helped earn Blumental the reputation of a well-to-do village. Five Ukranian families also settled in the village. They joined in the German community, and all lived together on the best of terms. It seemed this would continue forever. Then came the world war. And one day in 1915, completely unexpectedly, a decree was issued: All Germans must leave Volhynia and move far to the east. They were full of despair. Leave their beautiful farms? Hadn't they always paid their taxes and fees promptly, and always shown the tsar that they tried to be good and loyal subjects? Hadn't they wrested the finest arable land from the forest and thus enriched the country? Could the Russian peasants or the Ukranians ever have done that? The peasants had always had a panic-like fear of the huge forest and thought the Germans were crazy to venture into it. "Yes," said one German who had never lost his sense of humor in spite of many difficulties, "A tree need have no fear from the peasants. If there is one in the middle of the field, they will plow around it for years. If it weren't for us, the virgin forest would still be there!" No, they could not comprehend the fact that they were to be dispossessed. Banished! One of the older men thoughtfully tried to explain it to them this way: "That old Tsar Nicholas will realize what an asset we Germans are. He needs us for his land. He's afraid we may change sides and support the Germans if they should come to Volhynia. So you see, instead of allowing that to happen, he has to send us farther into the interior of Russia." "But I believe," said Father Wenzler emphatically, "Whatever God sends needs to be borne and overcome as well as possible. The Lord God knows what He is doing; He has a purpose for everything." That's what he had believed at that time, too, and many of the colonists had agreed with him. So all the Germans had to leave Volhynia with wives, children, and only a few of their possessions, and journey to the east. Where? That no one knew. Who dared to ask? They journeyed many weeks, always farther to the east. It was a difficult, desperate route, which for many became a death road. The children and the elderly who did not have the physical stamina to endure the dreadful hardships died by the thousands. Occasionally they arrived at a camp, but there an even greater number of children's deaths occurred. Then most of the colonists traveled on secretly and at their own risk, in order to save whatever there still remained to be saved. They journeyed farther to the east to the German settlements in Saratov, Samara in the Caucasus, and to Siberia. There they found shelter and employment with the German colonists living there; in distress, people stick together. Wenzler himself came to the Volga area with his family and worked for a wealthy Russian landlord as a coachman. His employer was very satisfied with his services; he would ride in his four-in-hand carriage only if Wenzler were driving. Wenzler received preferential treatment above all the other servants. Here they knew no want or suffering. Even now he was still proud to have had the best job during that difficult time so far away from his homeland. In spite of this, they were sorrowful years for him and his wife, because the last of their ten children died. This was the same experience so many of the colonists had. But this tragedy also had to be borne. At the end of the war they were allowed to return to their homeland. The families which had been so large were now considerably smaller. Many a person came home alone as the only survivor of the family. In their settlement where the war had raged all those years, they found their farms burned, fields and gardens wasted, and cattle and farm tools stolen. Everything had to be begun anew, and the work was severely difficult. Father Wenzler worked just as tenaciously and persistently as all the other men in the village. It was good to be able to cultivate one's own soil once again. It took barely two years for him to have his fields in production, and in time his court yard was well-groomed again. Finally all misfortune seemed to have been overcome. But the period of rebuilding and successful work did not last long. Taxes and fees always became more oppressive. The farmers had to sell their hard-won arable land and their cattle. The farms often shrank down to below subsistence level. In these years the large estates were liquidated, the owners were imprisoned or exiled as "Kulaks," undesirable people. Before long the smaller farms met the same fate. Father Wenzler lost his farm, too. In order not to starve, he, who for all time had been a farmer, heart and soul, had to become a worker in the collective, a "Kolchosnik." He had to leave his large home and move into a small kolkhoz house on the street. He was allowed to keep one cow and one calf, as were all those who "volunteered" to join the collective. The small plot of land around the house that he rented from the collective would not have been sufficient for more cattle anyway. In addition, he had to be content to be allowed to retain one pig, a sheep, and a couple of chickens. His lovely home, the stables and barns were torn down, and the wood was used in the collective. All machinery, farm implements, and all cattle became the property of the collective. Now he worked for the "new order" as he called it. He labored conscientiously and diligently as he had learned from his father, and as he had done all his life. This "new order" burned like a wound in his heart. Now, as village elder, he had to watch helplessly as the sturdy young men had to perform the monotonous assigned work, year in and year out — this one working with horses, the other in the stable, in the field, or at the mill. Each became a "specialist," but not a single one had the opportunity to learn how to farm. In a short while the appearance of the village was completely changed. There were no private farms any longer, no large houses, no barns and farm buildings, no fruit orchards or flower gardens. The beautiful fields, once the pride of the colonists, now inadequately tilled, bore only meager harvests. "How could one have a good harvest when there were always fewer and fewer cattle, and so, less manure?" Almost at the same time that the farm laws were changed which caused them so much grief and distress, the deportations were begun. At the beginning of the 1930's, two large estates were liquidated in Blumental. The owners were imprisoned as "Kulaks," and later they and their families were sent to the Urals, No one ever heard from them again. In the following years, families were suddenly deported for a great variety of reasons, or sometimes just the men were taken away. One rarely ever heard from these exiled ones again. In 1937 the last fifteen young men in the village were suddenly taken during the night. Why? Where were they taken? No one ever learned the answer. Only the very old men and the half-grown lads were spared. Father Wenzler escaped the deportation; he was over seventy years old at that time. As the oldest and healthiest of the men who were left, and with his wealth of experience, he now assisted all the people and the fatherless families with word and work. As much as possible he tried to hold the village community together in the "new order." He became "Father Wenzler" to all of them. Even now, it was self evident how the strict, unwritten colony rules of the past still gave support and direction to the individual as well as the community. Ukranian families were now settled on the farms of the deported Germans; they were brought here from the interior of the country. They lived in the homes vacated by the Germans, and worked in the collective together with the colony women, young ladies and youths. In the fall of 1941 when Blumental became the site of the front line fighting during the second world war, and the battle raged here and there in that area for seven days, Father Wenzler's house was hit by a grenade and burned. He was able to save only a few of his possessions. Many of the Ukranians who had settled there fled the area when the German soldiers occupied Blumental. So Father Wenzler moved into a vacated Ukranian's house. The same one in which he now lived. After that, with his old sense of German order, and firmly believing that everything would stay as it was, and probably even improve, he allowed his old colonist spirit to have its way, took up his old plow and tilled a piece of earth around his house, as large as he felt he could handle, considering his age. No one forbade him. In that same fall he prepared the neglected soil for spring cultivation. So once again, at eighty-two years of age, the oldest in the village, and the only one full of confidence and tenacious courage, he started all over . . . The evening haze lay over the distant horizon as the old one ended his story. He sat there completely absorbed in hushed reflection, somehow a permanent piece of the landscape himself, belonging to this earth . , , With difficulty he then got up and led me a distance from the house, away from the sunflowers which were heavy with seeds, to where I could get an unobstructed view of the vast countryside. He made an arch with his right hand that indicated which was his property. With a happy smile on his wrinkled face he said, "Well, it's not very much, but now, with God's help I can begin anew again. Now once more I'm a free farmer. I've prayed for this all these years. God grant that our youth can once again become genuine colonists, here and everywhere in this Volhynian countryside!" VILLAGES IN WHICH OUR FOREFATHERS LIVED: EARLY DAUGHTER COLONIES NEAR MARIUPOL Adam Giesinger

In an earlier issue of the Journal we dealt with the history of seventeen German colonies lying in an area twenty-five to fifty miles northwest of Mariupol (Zhdanov), a seaport city on the Sea of Azov. These colonies were founded by 500 families who came to Russia from West Prussia in the years 1818-1819 and lived with the Molotschna Mennonites, their former countrymen, until the land in the Mariupol region was assigned to them in 1822. In 1823 they built houses and established themselves in villages on their land grant. Other immigrants, these from southwest Germany, were assigned land in the same region in the following years. In 1825- 1828, seventy families from Baden, Hesse, Wuerttemberg, and Lower Alsace founded two additional villages, Elisabethdorf and Ludwigstal, north of the West Prussian group. Years later, in 1842, an additional fifty-six families came from Hesse and Hesse-Dannstadt to found two more villages, Darmstadt and Marienfeld, also in that area. Southeast of the West Prussian villages, in the direction of Mariupol, there was still, in the early 1830's, much unoccupied land. A large part of this had been set aside for Jewish settlers, and hence was called the Jewish Steppe, but it was never settled by Jews. The Mennonite entrepreneur Johann Comies rented some of this land from the crown for some years and used it for sheep-raising. Beginning in 1831 the Russian government, responding to urgent requests from overpopulated older German colonies, gave out land grants on this steppe for the founding of daughter colonies. From 1832 to 1852, eleven German villages were founded here by landless sons of older colonies.2 This diagram did not scan well. Refer to the original volume. It showed some German villages northwest of Mariupol.

^ • • 1825-1828 Immiwants from South West Germany 1842 / / 6 ^:/// > /^*^ • / <^' • / • ^ « 1823 Immigrants from West Prussia s.^ • • ^ _ Grunau

•, ^^ * / 1832-1833 Chernigov Colonists ^/^ ^ Grosswerder ^ -^ » Neu-Jamburg 1848

"• ^ ^r-\ 1836-1852 Mennonites ^ ^9 & ^ ' from Chortitza ^ «• Bergtal ^ / ('•..•// MARIUPOL (ZHDANOV) GERMAN VILLAGES NORTH WEST OF MARIUPOL The first such group to receive land here came from the Belowesch colonies in the Borzna district of the Ukrainian province of Chernigov.3 Founded in 1766, these colonies, like those on the Volga founded at the same time, had received only thirty dessiatines per family, an amount which their rapid population increase soon made inadequate. By the early 1800's the complaints of these colonists about their land shortage became a constant refrain in all reports to the authorities. The government was slow to act, but finally, in 1831. it acceded to their request and gave them a grant of about 9,000 dessiatines on the Jewish Steppe in the Mariupol region. In the fall of that year, 122 families4 from the Chernigov colonies arrived in their new settlement area. They lived through the first winter with the West Prussian colonists and in the spring of 1832. under the guidance of Christian Claassen of Grunau,5 they went to their assigned village sites to build houses and set up their farm operations. They did not receive financial help from the crown for this purpose. Each family, to be acceptable for this settlement, had been required to have 400 rubles to establish itself. Five villages were founded on the new land grant, named after the mother colonies from which the people came: Belowesch by twenty-six families; Kaltschinowka by twenty-six families; Rundewiese by twenty-six families; Kleinwerder by sixteen families; and Grosswerder by twenty-eight families. The first three were Lutheran and the last two Catholic. The second group given land on the Jewish Steppe in the 1830's came from the Chortitza Mennonite colonies, the oldest of the Mennonite settlements in Russia. The first eight of the Chortitza villages had been founded in 1789 and another ten villages in the same region had been added by 1824.6 Population growth was rapid, from 3,760 in 1825 to 4,680 in 1834.7 and no more land was available in the neighborhood, Because landholdings passed undivided from a father to one of his sons only, there soon developed a large group of landless families.8 In the early 1830's the leaders of the Chortitza settlement made an urgent appeal to the government for a new land grant. By a decree of 30 March 1833 this request was granted: the Chortitza Mennonites were given 9,540 dessiatines on the Jewish Steppe near Mariupol.9 Settlement on the new land did not begin till 1836, when the first families were transported to the new area and built houses on the site of the new village of Bergtal. Altogether five villages were founded; 1836 Bergtal by thirty-two families; 1837 Schoenfeld by twenty-five families; 1838 Schoental by thirty-one families; 1839 Heuboden by twenty-eight families; and 1852 Friedrichstal by nineteen families.10 According to Epp,11 a total of 145 Chortitza families and a few from the Molotschna settled in the Bergtal villages. Some of these did not become landholders. The last piece of land on the Jewish Steppe was given out in 1847 to thirty-seven families (241 persons) from the three small Catholic villages, dating back to 1767, near Jamburg (Kingisepp) on the Luga river, about sixty-five miles southwest of St. Petersburg (Leningrad). This group founded the village of Neu-Jamburg just north of the Bergtal Mennonites in 1848.12 There are Village Reports (Gemeindeberichte) of 1848 for all the villages mentioned, except Neu-Jam-burg and Friedrichstal, which were not in existence when the reports were called for by the authorities in January 1848. 13 Translations of three of these reports are given below.

BELOWESCH14

The colony Belowesch near the river Kaichik, about 168 versts from Alexandrovsk and 240 versts from Ekaterinoslav, was founded in the year 1832. Because of the severe climate, the soil here does not grow winter grains very well, but summer grains do better. On the west side of the colony's land, on the river Kaichik, there is a small stone quarry. There were no wooded areas here at the time of settlement. Because many of the settlers here originated in the colony Belowesch in the province of Chernigov, one of the founders, Georg Bechthold, who is now mayor, gave this colony the same name. Twenty-six families from the Borzna district in Chernigov province settled here in the years 1832 and 1833. The population of the old colonies, founded by forefathers who had come from Germany, had increased so much in the long period since the founding that their land was no longer adequate to provide food for all. As a result of a plea to the crown for more land, they were given an area for settlement on the so-called Jewish Steppe. In the fail of 1831 our colonists arrived here, along with all the others who came to this region from their old home. They were quartered for the winter among the Prussian colonists. In the spring of 1832 they began to build houses on the assigned sites, a task completed in 1833. The colonist Christian Claassen of Grunau, member of the Forest and Garden Society of the Mariupol colonist district, rendered substantial services to these colonists by surveying their lots and guiding them in establishing themselves. Our steppe had formerly been rented by Johann Cornies, an executive member of the Forest and Garden Society of the Molotschna Mennonite district, but there were no houses on it when the settlers arrived. Our colonists received no financial help to get settled, but each family had brought along 400 rubles to provide for itself. The famine year 1833 and the livestock epidemic in 1834 that arose from the shortage of feed created great difficulties for the settlers, but also brought great blessings, since the many who had been addicted to drunkenness now began, with God's help to lead sober and moral lives. Without the help given by the government in the year 1833 many would undoubtedly have died of hunger. The earthquake on 11 January 1838 began here at eight o'clock in the evening and caused no damage, In the year 1842 steppe mice did much damage to the crops. The same year the forest plantation was established. In December 1945 a livestock epidemic robbed several farmers of the major portion of their stock. The three-week storm of 1848 did much damage to the fruit trees. Teacher: Johann Stamm. Mayor: Bechthold

GROSSWERDER^

The colony Grosswerder was founded in 1832. It lies south of the little river Karatish, about 168 versts from Alexandrovsk and 240 versts from Ekaterinoslav. The land has a light and chalky black soil, with rock twenty-three to twenty-four feet below it. Rye and winter wheat rarely grow well, but summer grains better and oftener. On the south side of the colony land, near the river Karatish, there are several rocky hills. On the east side, three versts from the colony, there is a high, dome- shaped mountain of rock {Kamennaya Mogila), occupying an area of 217 dessiatines, perhaps the burial mound of a Scythian king. [See article by William Schroeder below.] The village was given its name by Georg Schekk, because he and many others of the settlers came from the village Grosswerder in the province of Chernigov. Originally twenty-eight families settled here in the years 1832 and 1833, all originating from the Borzna district in Chernigov province. Because of a land shortage there, they had asked the Russian government for a settlement area in the south. Their plea was heard and they were given a land grant on the so-called Jewish Steppe. They arrived, in the fall of 1831 and were provided with winter quarters by the Prussian colonists. In the spring of 1832 they began to build their houses and in 1833 all were finished. The Grunau colonist Christian Claassen had been delegated to guide them in getting settled and he did his work in exemplary fashion, earning the gratitude of the settlers. Our steppe had previously been rented by Johann Cornies. The newcomers found no houses on it and had to build some with their own means. They received no financial help, because every family had 400 rubles of its own, Special Occurrences: In the year 1833 there was a general famine. The crown had to help, otherwise many humans and livestock would have died of hunger. In the years 1834 and 1840 destructive livestock epidemics prevailed, depriving many farmers of their needed work animals and cattle and plunging them into poverty and debt. There was good consequences: people gave up their vices and turned to God, raising the moral tone of the colony. On 11 January 1838 at eight o'clock in the evening there was a violent earthquake, but it ended without any serious damage. In the year 1842 the crops looked very good, but they were largely eaten up by field mice. In the same year (1842), on orders of the supervisory authorities, trees were planted, half a dessiatine per family. In December 1845 there was another livestock epidemic which caused significant losses. At the beginning of the year 1848 a terrible storm came from the east; it lasted three weeks and did much damage to houses and fruit trees. 21 May 1848. Author: Teacher Schmidt. Mayor: Knorr. Councillors; Knorr and Baer. BERGTAL16

Through arrangements made by His Excellency the Guardian-in-Chief of the Colonists in Southern Russia, following a petition from the leaders of the Chortitza Mennonites, it was decided by an imperial decree of 30 March 1833 to give to the Chortitza Mennonites, because of their increased population and consequent land shortage, a piece of land of 9,540 dessiatines, left over from a tract that had formerly been set aside for Jewish settlers, located near the Mariupol colonist district in the Alexandrovsk region of the province of Ekaterinoslav. Thereupon, in the year 1836, steps were taken to establish this colony. That first year twenty-nine families built houses and later three additional land-owners and several landless families were settled. At the present time the colony has thirty-two landowning families and fourteen landless families. The name of the colony was proposed by the Chortitza district mayor, Bartsch, was accepted by the settlers and confirmed by the higher authorities. It was meant to describe its site. The colony is 180 versts from the regional capital Alexandrovsk and 34 versts from Mariupol and lies on a little river which the neighboring Russians and Greeks call the Bodni. The soil here is friable and gravelly and dries up quickly in summer heat. The largest part of the forage grass on the meadows of the steppe is yellow clover, which remains short in dry weather and does not bloom. In order that the fields, farmyards, gardens, and streets might be suitably and regularly laid out, three local farmers, Wilhelm Rempel, Jakob Martens, and Johann Wiebe were chosen as deputies and they remained in charge until after the founding of three additional colonies, at which time a district government was set up. Apart from a small hamlet which the peasants of Count Tolstoi occupied here, there was no habitation on the entire piece of land. The settlers, immediately after their arrival on the site, had to put up tents or huts to protect their better household goods from the weather until the houses were ready two or three months later. Because most of the migrants were families without means, their household furnishings and other property to a maximum of five wagon loads were transported free from the Chortitza district to the settlement site by transports supplied by Chortitza landowners as a community service. Through the building of their houses and later through a series of poor crops, some of the settlers sank deep into debt, but, after receiving good income from their grain and other produce for some years, they have now almost paid it off. All but two of them have also built good stables and granaries mostly from their own resources. The best income which farming produces in this region is from wheat and flax-seed. These grow well here and can always be sold for a good price in the nearby seaport city of Mariupol. The industrious farmer is therefore not sorry that he ventured to undertake the hardship of re-settlement practically without means. If God grants us his peace and preserves for us our Most Gracious Emperor and the Colonial Administration placed over us for our protection, then this little people will continue to be happy to be here. 1 May 1848, Mayor: Penner. Councillors; Falk, Funk. Teacher: Heinrich Wiens.

The subsequent history of the Bergtal Mennonites has received the attention of several authors,17 but information about the other six villages is scarce. We do know that the Chernigov colonists became relatively prosperous in their new home. As compared with their mother colonies whose isolated location away from the main trade routes handicapped them throughout their history, the situation of the Mariupol daughter colonies was favorable. They had easy access to the sea through the port of Mariupol, which gave them a profitable outlet for their farm produce. Their proximity to large numbers of other Germans also made it easier for them to preserve their cultural and religious heritage than it had been in the province of Chernigov. Until about 1860 the populations of these villages grew rapidly, but thereafter they levelled off and even declined, because a developing land shortage and better opportunities elsewhere caused many families to leave.18 Some of the emigrants founded daughter colonies in the Don region to the east and later in Siberia, while others found new homes overseas.19 The largest migration from this region was that of the Bergtal Mennonites, who left Russia as a body in 1874-1876 to go to Canada. Although in 1848 they had been described by their chronicler as a people who were happy in their Russian home and devoted to their emperor, by the 1870's they were unhappy enough to leave. Partly responsible were economic problems, but mainly it was the introduction of compulsory military service in 1874, rumored since 1870, that precipitated the emigration. The new military service law was resented by all the German colonists in Russia as a breach of faith, for they had been promised freedom from military service forever by Catherine II and Alexander I to induce them to come to settle in Russia. For the Mennonites the law was even more obnoxious than it was for the others, because they were conscientious objectors to military service. Although special concessions, in the form of alternative service, were eventually offered to them, the people of the Bergtal settlement and some Mennonites from other areas decided to emigrate. After sending delegates to America to investigate conditions, the Bergtaler opted for the province of Manitoba, Canada, as their new home. The first group arrived in 1874 and the rest over the next two years.2 ° At the time of the emigration, there were 540 families in the five villages of the Bergtal settlement,21 They sold their houses and land to neighboring German colonists; Bergtal to Catholics, Schoenfeld to Lutherans, and Schoental and Heuboden to Separatists from the Berdyansk colonies.22 Friedrichstal was bought by Russians and re-named Feodrovka. Of the 540 families, 453 found homes in Manitoba, 53 settled in the Mountain Lake district in Minnesota, and the other 34 remained behind in Russia, None of the villages mentioned in this article have any German population now. The Mariupol colonies in general suffered

greatly during the civil war period in 1919-1920 and did not fare well during the Corn-

10 munist era that followed. When World War II broke out in 1941, there were still about 12,000 people in the thirty-one German villages of this region. The majority of them were deported to Asiatic Russia before German armies reached the area. Included among these were all but a few of the inhabitants of the villages discussed in this article. Some few escaped deportation: eighteen persons in Belowesch, twelve persons in Rundewiese, seventy-two persons in Grosswerder, and sixty- seven persons in Kleinwerder.23 Later, when the fortunes of war turned, these survivors were removed from this area and "repatriated" to Germany.

NOTES

1. AHSGR Journal, Vol. 2, No. 1 (Spring 1979), pp. 4044. 2. The best book on the Mariupol colonies is Josef A. Malinowsky, Die Planerkolonien am Asowschen Meere (Stuttgart: Ausland und Heimat Verlag, 1928). The colonies of this group appear on the Stumpp map Karte der deutschen Ansiedlungen im Gebiet Saporoshje, which can be purchased from AHSGR headquarters. 3. The history of the Belowesch villages in the province of Chernigov was described in AHSGR Journal, Vol. 2, No. 3 (Winter 1979), pp. 14. 4. Alexander Klaus, Unsere Kolonien, transl. by J. Tows, (Odessa: Verlag der Odessaer Zeitung, 1887), p. 204, says there were 131 families. Malinowsky, Planerkolonien, p. 29, puts the number at 122 families, which agrees with the information given in the 1848 village reports (see below). 5. Grunau was the district government center for the German colonies in this region. 6. For information about the history of the Chortitza settlement, see AHSGR Work Paper No, 19, (December 1975), pp. 17-24. 7. M. Woltner, Die Gemeindeberichte von 1848 der deutschen Siedlungen am Schwarzen Meer, (Leipzig: Verlag von S. Hirzel,1941),p.25n. 8. The number of landholding families remained at 460 from 1824 to 1855, although there was a large population increase over that period. See Woltner, p, 18. 9. Malinowsky, Planerkolonien, pp. 29-30. 10. The story of the founding of the five villages is told in English in William Schroeder, The Bergthal Colony, (Winnipeg: CMBC Publications, 1974), pp. 9-18. 11. D. H. Epp, Die Chortitzer Mennoniten, (Odessa: Druck von A. Schuize, 1889), p. 143. 12. The founding of Neu-Jamburg is described in Friedrich Matthai, Die deutschen Ansiedlungen in Russland, (Leipzig: Hermann Fries, 1866), p. 25. It is also mentioned in Malinowsky, Planerkolonien, p. 30. 13. The reports of 1848 for the Lutheran and Mennonite colonies (except Friedrichstal) appear in Woltner, pp. 186-188, 191-194. For the Catholic colonies of Grosswerder and Kleinwerder they appear in Josef A. Malinowsky, Diedeutschen katholischen Kolonien am Schwarzen Meere (Stuttgart: Ausland und Heimat Verlag, 1927), pp. 16-18. 14. Woltner, pp. 186-187. 15. Malinowsky, Diedeutschen katholischen Kolonien, pp. 17-18. 16. Woltner, pp. 191-192. 17. See note 20 below. 18. Konrad Keller, The German Colonies in South Russia, transl. by A. Becker, second edition, (Lincoln, Nebraska: American Historical Society of Germans from Russia, 1980), p. 32, gives the population of the five villages as 2,506 in 1859, but only 1,801 in 1905. 19. There is a rural community named Grosswerder in Saskatchewan. The earliest settlers here, in the spring of 1907, were five families from Grosswerder in the Mariupol region: Adam Scheck, Conrad Sperling, John Oborowsky, Philip Oborow-sky, and Henry Oilenberger. Shortly after them several families arrived from Schuck in the Volga region. Both groups attracted others from their home villages in the following years. When it came time to establish a post office in the district, there was discussion regarding the naming. The problem was solved by locating the post office in the home of a Volga German from Schuck, Joseph Schachtel, but naming it Grosswerder. 20. The Bergtaler migration to Manitoba and their settlement in that province is described in Schroeder, pp. 35-65; C. Henry Smith, The Coming of the Russian Mennonites, (Berne, Indiana: Mennonite Book Concern, 1927), pp. 48-76, 104-106, 126-127; B. K. Francis, In Search of Utopia: The Mennonites in Manitoba, (Altona, Manitoba: D.W. Friesen and Sons, 1955), pp. 28-79; Heinz Lehmann, Das Deutschtum in Westkanada, (Berlin: Junker und Dunnhaupt Verlag, 1939), pp. 94-97,148-155. 21. Francis, p. 69n. 22. Sch-i'oeder,p,57. 23. This information is taken from Dorfkarten prepared by SS-personnel in February 1942, after the German army occupied the area. Copies of these, obtained from the Bundesarchiv, Koblenz, Germany, are in the AHSGR Archives.

Prepared by William Schroeder on the basis of a map of the region cartographed in Russia in 1865.

12 KAMENNAYA MOGILA William Schroeder

The author is a descendant of Bergtal Mennonites who came to Manitoba in the 1870's. His curiosity regarding the region in which his forefathers lived led him to undertake two fieldtrips, in 1976 and in 1979, to the area in which the granite mountain Kamennaya Mogila is located. The information in this article comes from personal observation and from published Soviet sources.1 Visitors through the ages who have crossed the remote part of the Ukraine a, few kilometers north of the Sea of Azov, have been pleasantly surprised when they came upon a miniature mountain range, which stands in sharp contrast to the monotonous steppe from which it protrudes. This granite formation is an outlier of the Donetz Ridge some distance to the north. It is a form of volcanism known as an eroded structural dome or simply, a volcano that almost made it. The exposed extrusions reach a height of more than a hundred meters above the surrounding steppe. The formation consists of two parallel ranges running in a southeast to northwest direction, and covers an area of 456 hectares. These beautiful and enfabled rocks are known as Kamennaya Mogila, literally "stone graves," because of their resemblance to the Scythian burial mounds called Kurgany, found all over the Ukraine. The Greeks who settled along the Kalmius River and on the shores of the Sea of Azov called them Garni Oba (Ship Hills), because the profile of the four main peaks in this formation, when viewed from a certain angle, resemble a sailing ship. Similarly, the German-speaking settlers who came to this area during the first half of the nineteenth century called them Schiffhugel. This fascinating rock formation is located on the west side of the Karatish River, forty-five kilometers northwest of Zhdanov (Mariupol)2 and just three kilometers east of the former German village of Gross-werder.3

The highest of the four major peaks in Kamennaya Mogila, a miniature mountain range east of the former German village of Grossworder.

A view of Kamennaya Mogila, the enfabled rock formation, now a state park, from the east. Photographs courtesy of William Schroeder.

Kamennaya Mogila is an ideal habitat for a large range of plants and animals. Botanists have identified about 470 different types of plants in this area, which is now a state park.4 There are sixty varieties of lichens and twenty types of mosses, as well as a great variety of flowering plants that flourish here. Several of the plant varieties are believed to be very rare remnants of former geological ages. During the winter months and during the dry seasons lichen give the entire area a gray-brown color, but as soon as moisture is received5 the rocky surface is rapidly transformed into a mosaic of colors. This transformation begins towards the end of March. From the middle of May to the middle of June, the entire park is covered with its richest floral growth and the air is saturated with the sweet aroma emanating from the blossoms of the thousands of wild rose bushes scattered over the entire area. By the middle of June the life cycle of most of the flowering plants has been completed and the region begins to turn brown again. Kamennaya Mogila serves as an ideal nesting place for a great number and variety of birds. The natural crevices and small caves among the rocks make excellent homes for foxes, for whom numerous rabbits, hedgehogs, and mice serve as food. There are also many lizards, frogs, and two types of snakes that feed on insects and thereby control their number. The shapes and the arrangement of the exposed rocks are fascinating. With the help of the imagination they may resemble any number of familiar objects. When viewed from a certain angle, one of the large boulders near the top of one of the peaks reminds the observer of a frog that is Just on the verge of leaping from its lofty perch. Another rock resembles a cap. A series of partly submerged rocks remind some observers of the links in a chain and others of a dragon. It comes as no surprise that these rocks fashioned in such exotic shapes, along with their "magic" transformation of colors, have evoked legends and superstitions in the minds of the people who live near them. One of these legends,6 whose origin can be attributed to the fact that these mounds of stone resemble ancient ruins, is as follows: Many years ago Kamennaya Mogila was the site of a beautiful city with several magnificent palaces. A beautiful princess lived in the largest palace. For reasons now unknown, the city was suddenly transformed into a pile of rocks. There was, however, one way of bringing back the lost city. Once a year, on the feast of St. John,23 June, between the hours of eleven and twelve midnight, the princess would sit on the highest granite peak, the ruins of her former palace, and near her would be a very beautiful flower. If a worthy young man came and picked the flower and carried it back to his village, the city would be restored. This was a very difficult task to accomplish, for as soon as the young man had picked the flower he would be pursued by a roaring dragon and other indescribable beasts that threatened to devour him at any moment.

14 If he showed the least sign of fear, the flower and the beautiful princess would vanish in the twinkling of an eye. A man of that caliber, according to the legend, has never been found and the city is therefore forever lost. Kamennaya Mogila has been the scene of much violence and bloodshed. During the Revolution the area was occupied at various times by the Red Army, the White Army, and the forces of the anarchist Makhno. German artillery units took advantage of the elevated position during World War II. But the military activities that transpired there during the Revolution and during World War II are dwarfed by the great struggle that occurred there in the year 1223, when Kamennaya Mogila was the site of the Battle of the River Kalka. This battle was the decisive one of the Mongolian invasion and led to a 240-year occupation of Russia by the Mongols. The land around these rock formations was first used commercially by Johann Cornies (1789-1848), the most enterprising of the Molotschna Mennonites. He rented this land from the crown for some years and used it to graze huge flocks of sheep. Gradually, however, over the period 1822 to 1852, the government gave out all the land in this region to settlers from West Prussia and other parts of Germany and to landless families from older German colonies in Russia.7 The German farm villages founded here over that period survived till 1941. During World War II all Germans were removed. A few years after the war Kamennaya Mogila was made into a state park. Visitors to the park are treated to a scene of beauty and tranquillity. A lush carpet of grass and brilliant flowers accent the chain of pink granite. The wonderful stillness is interrupted only by the singing of birds and the gentle rustling of leaves.

NOTES

1. The Great Russian Encyclopedia, The Geographical Encyclopedia of the Ukraine, and a small booklet, Kamennaya Mogila, written by Lydia C. Panova, published in Donetzk in 1974. 2. The geographical coordinates for Kamennaya Mogila are: N. 47" 17' O", E. 37° 5' 30". See the accompanying map, which is based on a topographical map of the region cartographed in Russia in 1865. 3. Kamennaya Mogila is mentioned in the 1848 Village Report for Grosswerder, which appears in Josef A. Malinowsky, Die cleutschen katholischen Kolonien am Schwarzen Meer (Stuttgart: Ausland und Heimat Verlag, 1927), pp. 17-18. A translation of this report appears in the article on the Mariupol colonies by Adam Giesinger in this issue of the Journal. 4. The park is under the supervision of the Botanical Institute of the Academy of Sciences of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic. 5. The annual precipitation for Kamennaya Mogila is 400-430 mm. 6. Josef A. Malinowsky, Die Planerkolonien am Asowschen Meere, (Stuttgart: Ausland und Heimat Verlag, 1928), pp. 77-79. The version of the legend given here is a summary of the Malinowsky version. 7. Information about the colonization of this region is given in the article on the Mariupol colonies by Adam Giesinger in this issue of the Journal.

The American Historical Society of Germans from Russia solicits articles related to the history, culture, and folklore of the Germans from Russia in the Old Country and the New World. The Editor welcomes original research materials, translations, book reviews, short stories, drawings, photographs, poetry, letters, journals, diaries, recollections, and materials previously published elsewhere which may be of interest to members of the Society. Submissions will be edited to conform to the second edition of the MLA Style Sheet. Materials should be sent to the Journal Editor at AHSGR Headquarters, at 631 D Street, Lincoln, Nebraska 68502.

15 FOLKLORE FORUM "WO SCHEINT NIE DIE SONNE HIN? ~ WHERE DOES THE SUN NEVER SHINE?": RIDDLES OF THE GERMANS FROM RUSSIA

Timothy J. Kloberdanz, Forum Editor While proverbs tend to clarify a particular situation by offering a bit of ancient wisdom, riddles customarily confuse their listeners and challenge them to reach conclusions on their own. The Germans from Russia, like other peoples around the world, possess a rich body of riddle-lore that has been passed on from generation to generation via oral tradition, Russian-German riddles range from relatively simple question and answer gags to complex verbal puzzles that frustrate as well as entertain. Among the German colonists in Russia, riddles served as both a popular form of amusement and an "unofficial" means of education. Children were taught to think clearly and deliberately in response to riddles posed by adults and peers. The importance of memorization also was enforced through the use of riddles, since the traditional answers to many riddles could only be remembered rather than logically solved. Still another function of riddles was to allow participants to allude to taboo topics without actually speaking of risque subjects directly. The riddles contributed by Peter Koch ("Was macht die Kuh am Morgen. . “) and Elizabeth Kloberdanz ("Ich nehm dich und verziech dich ../'), which appear in the following pages, are excellent examples of "pretended obscene riddles." These were heard (and enjoyed!) in even the most pietistic of Russian-German homes. Sometimes, the art of riddling was absorbed by other folklore genres such as folksong. Hertha Karasek- Strzygowski, in her beautifully-written Wolhynisches Tagebuch (Marburg: N.E. Elwert, 1979, pp. 126-127), describes a love song sung by young Volhynian Germans during the time of courtship: Maedchen, ein Raetsel will ich Dir wohl sagen, Und wenn Du dieses ratest, so heirat ich Dich: Sag mir eine Scheune, die ohne Maeus, Und sag mir einen Bettelmann, der ohne Laeus,.. Maiden, I want to tell you a riddle, And if you guess it, I will marry you. Tell me of a barn that has no mice, And tell me of a beggar who is without lice. . .. The young woman traditionally responds by singing the appropriate rhymed response: Die abgebrannte Scheune ist ohne Maeus, Der abgestorbene Bettelmann ist ohne Laeus... . A burned-down barn has no mice, A beggar who is dead has no lice .... The song continues for several verses and concludes with the following lines: , . . Sag mir einen Bogen, der gelb. gruen und blau. Und wenn Du dieses ratest, so wirst Du meine Frau. .,. Tell me of a bow that's yellow, green, and blue, And if you guess it, I will marry you. To which the young woman correctly replies: Der Regenbogen am Himmel ist gelb, gruen und blau, Jetzt hab ich es geraten, jetzt werd ich Deine Frau. A rainbow in the sky is yellow, green, and blue, Now I've guessed it, now I'll be yours true. Variants of the above folksong perhaps existed among all German groups in Russia and elsewhere. In fact, the "Raetsellied" has its counterpart in a popular Anglo-American "Riddle Song" as well ("I gave my love a cherry that had no stone/I gave my love a chicken that had no bone. . .").

16 Many of the riddles known among the Russian-Germans have a widespread distribution and complex history. The riddle submitted by Mrs. Peter Roth ("Auf Bablo geh ich.. .") which appears on page 23, was heard by her as if the incident on which it is based had occurred in a Russian-German village. Actually, the riddle was popular throughout peasant Europe and is an illustrative example of a Halsloseraetsel or "neck riddle." These riddles were so-named because they were supposedly thought-up by criminals who attempted to literally "save their necks" by outwitting riddle-loving kings, judges, and executioneers. Folklorist Richard M. Dorson provides some interesting variants of the "Bablo" neck riddle among both Rhineland and Pennsylvania Germans in his Buying the Wind: Regional Folklore in the United States (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1964, pp. 149-151). The Russian-German riddles that follow are fairly representative of the many different kinds familiar to the Russlanddeutschen in the Old World and the New. Readers who share an interest in these riddles may enjoy learning more about their wider context and cultural significance by consulting these basic folklore references: "Riddles," by Roger D. Abrahams and Alan Dundes, in Richard M. Dorson’s Folklore and Folklife: An Introduction (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1972), pp. 129-143. The Nordic Riddle: Terminology and Bibliography, by Laurits Boedker> et al. (Copenhagen: Rosenkilde and Bagger, 1964). "Riddles and Other Verbal Puzzles," by Jan Harold Brunvand in his The Study of American Folklore: An Introduction, Second Edition (New York: W. W. Norton and Co., 1978), pp. 63-76, Raetsel, by Mathilde Hain (Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler, 1966). A Bibliography of Riddles, by Archer Taylor. (Helsinki: Folklore Fellows Communications 126, 1939). (The above studies by M. Hain and L. B0dker, incidentally, are particularly valuable for those interested in the history and distribution of German-language riddles.) Since the following riddles hardly comprise an exhaustive inventory of riddles known among all the diverse groups of Germans from Russia, it is hoped that their appearance here will prompt many AHSGR readers to contribute unpublished riddles and verbal puzzles of their own.

Volga German Riddles Collected by J. Erbes and P. Sinner Translated by Marie M. Olson

Editor's Note: In 1914, two Volga German scholars who sought to record varying aspects of the folk heritage of their people published Volkslieder und Kinderreime aus den Wolgakolonien [Folksongs and Children's Rhymes from the Volga Colonies]. The authors were Johannes Erbes and Peter Sinner and their 256-page volume was printed by the "Buchdruckerei Energie" in Saratov, Russia. A portion of this interesting and extremely valuable, book was devoted to Volga German riddles (pp. 210-219; 253-256). The following texts comprise approximately sixty of the two hundred riddles published by Erbes and Sinner. The numbers which precede the riddles correspond to the sequential ones given them by the original collectors. Answers to the riddles appear at the end of this section so as to allow contemporary readers an opportunity to guess the correct responses, Viel Glueck! 1. Wer moechte gem einaugig sein? Who would like to have only one eye? 8. Wer lebt vom Rauche? Who makes his living from smoke? 10. Wer laeuft ohne Fuesse? What runs without feet? 11. Welches Wort wird kleiner, wenn man cine Silbe hinzufugt? What word becomes smaller by adding a , syllable? 12. Welches Wort sprechen selbst die studierten Leute falsch aus? What word do even educated people pronounce wrong? 22. Welches ist das staerkste Getraenk? What is the strongest drink? 30. Welches ist das staerkste Tier? What is the strongest animal? 41. Welche Krankheit hat noch in keinem Lande geherrscht? Which illness has never affected anyone on land? 53. In welche Faesser kann man keinen Wein fuellen? Into which barrels can one not pour wine? 58. Was hast du an der rechten Hand, wenn du spazieren gehst aufs Land? What do you have on your right hand when you go for a walk? 17 59. Was machen die zwoelf Apostel im Himmel? What do the twelve apostles make in heaven? 60. Was hast du aufdem Kopfe, wenn du in die Schule gehst? What do you have on your head when going to school? 63. Was steht zwischen Berg und Tal? What is there between hill and vale? 66. Was tut man, ehe man aufsteht? What does one do before getting up? 76. Wann fangen die jungen Enten an zu schwimmen? When do geese begin to swim? 81. Wo scheint nie die Sonne hin? Where does the sun never shine? 86. Wo haben die Fluesse kein Wasser? Where do rivers have no water? 91. Wie kann man mit roter Tinte blau schreiben? How can one write blue with red ink? 93. Wie schreibt man duerres Grass mit drei Buchstaben? How does one write "dry grass" with three letters? 95. Wieviel Erbsen gehen in einen Topf? How many peas will go into a pot? 97. Warum regnet es nie zwei Tage hintereinander? Why can't it rain two days in succession? 100. Warum tragen die Muller weisse Huete? Why do bakers wear white hats? 101. Warum Iaeuft der Hase ueber den Berg? Why does a rabbit run over a hill? 103. Warum sieht sich der Fuchs um wenn der Hund hinter ihm ist? Why does the fox look back when pursued by a dog? 110. Meines Vaters Sohn und doch nicht mein Bruder. Wer ist das? He's my father's son but not my brother. Who is he? 111. Ich bin eines Vaters Kind, einer Mutter Kind, und doch keines Menschen Sohn. I am a father's child and a mother's child but no one's son. 119, Was fuer Haare hat die schoenste Frau? What kind of hair does the most beautiful woman have? 123. Warum backen die Kolnijer ihr Brot groesser als die Katharinenstaedter? Why do the Kolnijer bake their loves of bread larger than those of the people of Katharinenstadt? 127. Wer bricht eher das Bern, der vom Tisch faellt, oder der vom Kirchturm faellt? Who breaks his leg sooner, one falling from a table or one falling from a tower? 130. Wieviel Buchstaben sind in der Bibel? How many letters are in the Bible? 131. Warum hat Paulus an die Korinther geschrieben?' Why did Paul write to the Corinthians? 132. Was machen die Bergseiter, wenn es auf der Wiesenseite regnet? What do those in the hills do when it rains on the meadow-land? 133. Welcher Esel hat geschrieen, dass es die ganze Welt gehoert hat? What donkey brayed so the whole world heard it? 135. [Warum] fressen die weissen Schafe mehr als die schwarzen? [Why] do white sheep eat more than black sheep? 136. Aufwelcher Seite hat die Katze die moisten Haare? On which side do cats have more hair? 137. Wann ist es gut allein zu sein? When is it good to be alone? 138. Welche Sohlen halten am Iaengsten? Which soles last the longest? 141. Welches Pferd sieht hinten so gut wie vorn? Which horse sees as well in back as in front? 142. Wie kan man Wasser in einem Sieb tragen? How can one carry water in a sieve? 146. Wenn neun Sperlinge auf einem Dach sitzen und man schiesst einen herunter, wieviel bleiben als—dann noch sitzen? When nine sparrows sit on a roof and someone shoots one> how many are left? 148. Alle Menschen beduerfen ihn, aber keiner mehr als einmahl? What do all persons need but will have but one time? 149. Was kann ein Sack am wenigsten entbehren? What can a sack tolerate the least? 152. Wer hat einen Kamm und kaemmt sich nicht? What has a comb and doesn't comb itself? 153. Wie schreibt man eine lebendige Maeusefalle mit fuenf Buchstaben? How does one spell a live mousetrap with [three] letters? 154. Sitzt einer auf dem Dach und raucht, der weder Pfeif noch Tabak braucht, Was ist’s? He sits on a roof and smokes needing neither pipe nor tobacco. What is it? 155. Wer findet nie sein eigen Haus und sucht eralle Strassen aus? Who can never find his own house, even though he searches every street? 157. Wie kann man aus einem Sack voll Korn zwei soicher Saecke zugleich voll machen? How can one fill two identical sacks from one which is full of grain? 164. Wer hat Zaehne und kaut doch nie? What has teeth yet never chews? 165. Nach was fuer Zeiten sehnt sich der Hungrege? What time does a hungry one long for? 166. Wer ist ein Eisenfresser? What is an iron eater? 170. Welche Pflanzen koennen auch von den Blinden erkannt werden? Which plant can be identified even by a blind person?

18 173. Was ist noch schlimmer als ein boser Bube? What is worse than an ornery boy? 181. Wann hat der Mensch so viel Augen, als Tage im Jahr sind? When has a human as many eyes as days in the year? 184. Was sieht von vorn wie hinten aus? What appears the same from the front as from the back? 187. Welches Tier hat die Knochen auswendig und das Fleisch inwendig? What animal has its bones on the outside and its flesh on the inside?

191. Wer es macht, der braucht es nicht; wer es kauft, der will es nicht; wer es braucht, der weiss es nicht. He who makes it doesn't need it; he who buys it does not want it; he who needs it does not know it. 193. Ein Grossvater, zwei Vaeter, und zwei Soehne fingen fuenf Hasen. Sie sollten dieselben zu gleichen Teilen imter einander teilen, was aber nicht geschehen konnte, weil kern Hase zerlegt (zerschnitten) werden durfte. Wamm war solche Teilung nicht moeglich? One grandfather, two fathers, and two sons, shot five rabbits. How could they divide the rabbits equally between them without cutting up any rabbit? Why was such a division impossible? 194. Ein Bauer musste einen Wolf, eine Ziege und ein Krauthaupt uber den Fluss bringen. Das kleine Boot vermochte aber nur den Bauer und ernes von jenen Dreien zu tragen. Wie hat erdas nun angefangen, dass der ohne Aufsicht gebliebene Wolf die Ziege, oder die Ziege das Kraut nicht gefressen hat? A farmer had to take a wolf, a goat, and a cabbage across a river. His small boat permitted him to take but one at a time. How did he accomplish it without losing any of the three? 198. Es steht ein Baum in unserm Reich, der hat zwolf Aeste, sind nicht all gleich. An jedem Ast sind vier Zweige, an jedem Zweige sieben Feigen. Was ist's? There was a tree in the land, which had twelve boughs, not all alike. On each bough were four branches. On each branch were seven twigs. What is it?

ANSWERS 2. Der Blinde. A blind man. 8.Der Schornsteinfeger. A chimney sweep. 10. Das Wasser. Water. 11. Klein. Small. 12. Falsch. Wrong. 22. Das Wasser, denn es treibt Muehlen. Water, because it can drive mills. 30. Die Schnecke, denn sie traegt ihr games Haus mit sich herum. The snail, because it carries its house on its back. 41. Die Seekrankheit. Seasickness. 53. In voile. Into full barrels. 58. Fuenf Finger. Five fingers. 59. Ein Dutzend. A dozen, 60. Haare. Hair. 63. Das Woertchen "und. " The little word "and." 66. Man setzf oder legt sich nieder. One sits or lies down. 76. Wenn sie keinen Grund mehr haben. When they are no longer on land. 81. In dem Schatten. In the shade, 86. Aufder Landkarte. On a map. 91. Man schreibt: "blau. " One writes the word "blue." 93. Heu. H-a-y. 95. Sie gehen gar nicht hinein; sie werden hineingetan. They don't go in, they're put in. 97. Weil stets eine Nacht dazwischen ist. Because there's a night in between. 100. Urn den Kopfdamit zu bedecken. To cover their heads. 101. Waere ein Loch durch den Berg, so wuerde er hindurch laufen. If there were a hole in the hill, he'd go through it. 103. Weil er hinten keine Augen hat. Because he has no eyes behind. \\Q.Ichselbst. Myself. 111. Eine Tochter. A daughter. 119. Ihre eigenen. Her own. 123. Weil sie mehr Teig dazu nehmen. Because they use more dough. 127. Der vom Tisch fallt, denn er kommt eher union an. The one who falls from the table, since he lands sooner. 130. Funf: B-i-b-e-l. Five: B-i-b-1-e.

19 131. Weil er nicht in Korinth war. Because he wasn't in Corinth. 132. Sie lassen es regnen. They let it rain. 133. Der Esel in derArche Noahs. The donkey in Noah's ark, 135. Well es mehr weisse als schwarze Schafe gibt. Because there are more white ones than black ones. 136. Auf der AussenseUe. On the outside. 131.Bei einer Erbschaft. At the time of an inheritance. 138. Die Fusssohlen. The soles of feet. 141. Das blinde. A blind one. 142. Wenn man es zu Eis gefrieren laesst. When one lets it freeze to ice. 146. Gar keiner. None — they fly away. 148. Einen Sarg. A coffin. 149. Einen Sackoeffnung. More than one opening. 152. Der Hahn. The rooster. 153.Katze. C-a-t. 154.DerSchornstein. A chimney. 155. Der keins hat. The one who owns none. 157. Wenn man die Saecke ubereinander zieht. If one inserts one inside the other. 164. Die Saege. A saw. 165.NachMahlzeiten. Mealtime, 166.DerRost. Rust. 170. Die Brennenesseln. Stinging nettel. 173. Zwei boese Buben. Two ornery boys. 181. Am 2. Januar. On the second day of January. 184. Die Bratwurst. A sausage. 187. Der Krebs. A crab. 191. Der Sarg. A coffin. 193. Well esnurdreiPersonenwaren: Grossvafer, Sohn und Enkel. Because there were only three persons; a grandfather, a son, and a grandson. 194. Er brachte zuerst die Ziege uber den Fluss; dan den Wolf und nahm die Ziege wieder mit zurueck; dann das Krauthaupt, zuletzt die Ziege, He first took the goat across the river, then he took the wolf and took the goat back with him; then he took the cabbage across leaving the goat, and returned for the goat last. 198. Das Jahr mit zwoelf Monaten, vier Wochen und sieben Tagen. The year with twelve months, four weeks, and seven days.

Folklore Contributions from the 1980 AHSGR Convention

During the Eleventh International AHSGR Convention in Dearborn, Michigan, several riddles were contributed by individuals at the open Folklore Committee meeting on 9 July. The session, expertly chaired by board member Ruth Stoll of Yuma, Arizona, was enjoyed by members of the audience who matched their wits with those of the wily riddlers. Occasionally, there were outbursts of laughter when those in the audience came up with some unique and somewhat personalized answers of their own. When, for example, riddler Peter Koch asked, "Who is the best cook in the world?" [Wer ist der beste Koch auf der Welt?}, someone answered in a loud voice, "You, Peter" instead of the expected response, "Hunger." Mrs. Cari (Rachel) Amen of Loveland, Colorado, who traces her ancestry to the Volga German Protestant colony of Frank, posed the following riddles; Do lied' was uf'm Dach, Der hot Zehn' wie 'n Drach.

There's something on the roof, It has teeth like a dragon. Answer: A rake.

20 Kaiser Augustus hat einen Hand, Er gab im einen Namen nach seinem Mund. Also hiess Kaiser Augustus semen Hund. Wie hiess Kaiser Augustus semen Hund? Emperor Augustus had a dog, He named him out of his mouth. So Emperor Augustus named his dog. What was the name of Emperor Augustus's dog? Answer; Also. (So)

In addition, Mrs. Amen shared a riddle told to her by Mr. Paul Fritzler of Windsor, Colorado, whose ancestors came from the Volga German Protestant colony of Grimm;

So weiss wie Schnee, So krum' wie Klee, So rot wie Blut, Schmeckt's alien Kinder gut. As white as snow, As crooked as clay [clover?] As red as blood, Tastes good to all children. Answer: Kirsche. (Cherries)

Canadian Jacob J. Amendt of North Battleford, Saskatchewan, who was born in Frank, Russia, managed to stump all members of the AHSGR convention audience with this interesting riddle (no German version given). I and you see it every day, Kings and queens seldom, God never. What is it? Answer: Our equal—God has no equal, Mr. Arthur E. Flegel of Menio Park, California, whose Black Sea German ancestors lived in the villages of Rohrbach, Kulm, Lilienfeld, and Gross-Markosowka, shared two riddles. Art learned this item as a child from his mother: Wie geht der Schimmel ans Heu? How does the dapple-gray horse go to the hay? Answer: Grau. (Gray) The second riddle was heard by Art from a Russian-German man many years ago in Loveland, Colorado: Was hat e' holzener Kessel unf e' fteischene' Deckel? What has a kettle of wood and a lid of flesh? Answer: A toilet. Mr. Peter Koch of Portland, Oregon, who was born in the Volga German colony of Kolb, offered the following riddles: Was macht die Kuh am Morgen? Was macht die Kuh am Ersten, am Morgen bei Sonnen aufgang? What does the cow make the first thing in the morning when the sun comes up? Answer: Its shadow.

21 Welches Wasser hat kein Sand? What water has no sand [in it] ? Answer: Your tears. Welcher Koenig - older Herrscher - hat kein Land? What king - or ruler - has no land? Answer; A king in a picture [especially one in a deck of playing cards],

From Our Readers

Mr. Peter Stoll of Windsor, Colorado, who was born in the Volga German Protestant colony of Doennhof, contributed the following items (with original German spellings):

Ein Bauer hatt beims Dorf Erbsen gesaeht. Werendem das Er die Erbsen ein geegt hatt sprache Er so var sich bin: "Kume sie net so kume sie doch; Kume sie doch so kume sie net. " Was soli das Raetzel sein ? Die Antwort: Kommen die Tauben nicht und scharren die Erbsen aus der Erde, dan Kommen die Erbsen aufund wachsen. Kommen aber die Tauben und picken die Erbsen aus der Erde, dan Kommen sie nicht, naehmlich die Erbsen. A farmer planted some peas near the village. As he was dropping the peas into the ground, he said to himself: "If they don't come, then they do come; If they do come, then they don't come." What is the meaning of this riddle? The answer: If the doves don't come and scratch the peas out of the ground, then the peas will come up and grow. If, however, the doves do come and pick the peas out of the ground, then the peas won't come up and grow.

Mr. Stoll also sent in the following riddle; Es geht was urns Haus mm und tallt Pfannkuchen aus. Was ist das? It goes around the house making pancakes. What is it? Answer: Bine Kuh. (A cow) (Editor's Note: The above is similar to this Pennsylvania "Dutch" riddle: "Was geht im Haus rum un legt deller, un was geht urns Haus rum un legt deller? — What goes about in the house and places plates, and what goes around the house and makes platters?" Answer; "En Frau un en Kuh — A wife and a cow." See Richard M. Dorson’s Buying the Wind [Chicago, 1964], p. 154.) Edna Heberlein of Greeley, Colorado, who traces her ancestry to the Volga German Bergseite colony of Merkel, told the following riddle to AHSGR folklore collector Rachel Amen: Der hangel, der bangel, der haengst so hoch, Der horrich, der borrich, der graubst danoch. The hangle, the bangle, it hangs so high, The horrich, the borrich, [something] grabs for it.

22 Answer: A cat [trying to get a sausage].

Mrs. John C. (Elizabeth) KIoberdanz of Sterling, Colorado, who traces her ancestry to the Volga German Catholic colony of Seewald, remembered the following riddles which she first heard from her mother: Ich nehm dich und verziech dich, verwendt dich, verdreh dich, und macht das du e' dicke Laib griescht. Was is des?

I take you and pull you, twist you, turn you, and give you a big belly. What is it? Answer: A woman talking to the dough she is kneading.

Gruen wie Grass, Green as grass, Weiss wie Schnee, White as snow, Red Rot wie Blut, as blood, Tastes so good. Schmeckt so gut. Answer; Erbus. (Watermelon)

Mrs. Peter (Bertha Dies) Roth of Denver, Colorado, whose grandmother came from the Volga German Protestant colony of Eckheim, contributed the following riddle-tale: There was a German in Russia that had a mad dog. When the police came to shoot the dog, they couldn't find [it]. So [they] asked the man where the dog was or [the man would have to] go to jail. This is what he told them:

"Auf Bablo geh ich, Auf Bablo steh ich. Auf Bablo geh ich fleissich. Das kann dann all die Leute nicht."

"With Bablo I go, On Bablo I stand. With Bablo I hurry away. This riddle no one can guess."

Answer; [The man had] killed the dog [Bablo 1 and made himself some boots out of the [animal's] hide. Mela Meisner Lindsay of Denver, Colorado (celebrated author of The White Lamb), who was born in the village of Kindsvater Chutor on the Don Artchada in South Russia, submitted the following piece: This is not a riddle, but it was the means of solving one. When my father, David Meisner, was a soldier in the Russian Army he was involved in the capture of a deserter, dressed in woman's clothing. Being not quite sure if it really was a woman, they hesitated in making a strip-search. Then, Papa had an idea. At an unexpected moment during the questioning, Papa tossed the suspect a coin. The man's natural instinct gave him away. At the spur of the moment, he brought his knees together to help make the catch. Whereas, a woman would have spread her skirt wide. Papa's theory . . . proved correct.

23 WE SING OUR HISTORY Lawrence A. Weigel

This is one of the humorous songs of "Unser Lait," and concerns cine dicke Hausfrau, und ein himmellanger Mann. Many of our grandparents and great-grandparents fit the description of the people in this song — a well proportioned woman and a tall, slender man. The covertly risque theme, the double entendre, and the questions which begin the verses relate Die dicke Hausfrau to the riddles of the Germans from Russia and to the riddling songs described by Professor Kloberdanz in the Folklore Forum in this issue of the Journal. Humorous songs played an important part in the social singing of "Unser Lait." This type of song helped people forget their daily cares and worries. The song was carried by the oral tradition to America in 1876, and had its origin in Obermunjor on the Volga in Russia. Joseph Pfannenstiel taught it to me many years ago, and he learned it from his grandfather who was a founder of Munjor in Ellis County, Kansas 105 years ago. J 100 DIE DICKE HAUSFRAU UND DER HIMMELLANGE MANN

dank, schon dank, ich mach' mein Bett mit mei-nem neu-en

^ l f ~ r 9 ' Deck - lein da mach' ich mein Bett." Song from the Lawrence Weigel collection. Transcribed for L. A. Weigel by G. Groeger Deutsches Volkslied Archiv - Freiburg, Germany 1973 1. Was schafft denn die Hausfrau, Die What is the housewife, The heavy dicke und die fett? Da drunten in der and fat one doing? Down in her Kammer, Da macht sie ihr Bett, room She is making her bed,

"Guten Tag, guten Tag, Dudick und "Good day, good day, You heavy fett!" "Schoen dank, schoen dank Ich and fat one!" "Thank you, thank mach' mein Bett. Mit meinem neuen you I am making my bed. With my Decklein Da mach' ich mein Bett." new little quilt I am making my bed."

24 2. Was schafft denn die Hausfrau, Die What is the housewife. hubsche und die fein? Da drunten in The pretty and refined one doing? der Kammer, Da zieht sie sich an. Down in her room She is getting dressed. "Guten Tag, guten Tag, Du huebsch und fein!" "Schoen dank, schoen "Good day, good day, You pretty and dank, Ich zieg mich' an, Mit meinem refined one!" "Thank you, thank you, I neuen Kleidchen, Da zieg ich mich' am getting dressed, With my new little an." dress I am getting dressed."

3. Was schafft denn der Hofknecht, Der What is the farmhand, himmellange Mann? Da drunten in That heavenly tall man doing? der Scheuer, Da hackt er sein Holz. Down in the shed He is chopping his wood. "Guten Tag, guten Tag, Du him m ell anger Mann!" "Schoen dank, schoen "Good day, good day, You heavenly dank, Ich hack mein Holz Mit meinem tall man!" "Thank you, thank you, I am neuen Beilchen, Da hack ich mein chopping my wood. With my new little Holz." hatchet I am chopping my wood."

NEXT FOLKLORE FORUM

The next Folklore Forum will focus on "family stories" as related by Germans from Russia or their descendants. Such narratives, while largely confined to individual families, often reveal similar experiences of a memorable or humorous nature (e.g., a strange happening witnessed in the Old Country; the voyage to the New World; difficulties learning the English language; finding employment in the U.S. or Canada; seeing or driving an automobile for the first time; hardships during the Depression; etc.) — the topical possibilities are endless! Contributors should make every effort to write down the story exactly as it is related, preferably in the language it is traditionally told (i.e., dialect German or English). Tape recorders are ideal for recording family stories since the stories can be transcribed word for word and later checked for accuracy with family members. Contributors are urged to pay close attention to the situational context of family stories: When are the stories usually told (family gatherings, holidays, large reunions)? How many people are present and what age groups are represented? What kinds of gestures and facial expressions are employed by the storytellers? And what is the usual reaction of listeners to the stories (awe, disbelief, sadness, laughter)? Photographs of the individual storyteller also will be considered for publication. All contributions should be mailed to Timothy J. Kloberdanz, AHSGR Folklore Committee, 631 D Street, Lincoln, Nebraska, 68502. The deadline for submissions is February 15, 1982.

25 GERMANS FROM RUSSIA IN GERMANY IN THE 1950*s: THE EARLY YEARS OF THE LANDSMANNSCHAFT Adam Giesinger

During the war years, from 1939 to 1944, about 770,000 ethnic Germans were evacuated from eastern Europe to Germany or to German-occupied territory intended for annexation to the Reich. Nearly 490,000 of these were "repatriated" before the Nazi invasion of Russia in June 1941, by agreement between the German and Soviet governments, from territory occupied by the Soviets in 1939 and 1940: Estonia, Latvia, Polish Volhynia, the Narev region, Galicia, the Lublin-Chelm region, Bessarabia, Bukovina, and Lithuania; and from the Rumanian DobruJa.1 Most of the evacuees were settled in the Warta river region in western Poland, which the Nazis called the Wartheland,2 smaller numbers in the Danzig region and in eastern Upper Silesia, on lands taken from Polish farmers who were forced to migrate eastward. These parts of western Poland were to be populated with Germans, because they were intended to become part of the Greater Germany that was to be. Although more than half of these evacuees came from areas that had been Russian before 1917, none of them were Soviet subjects in 1939, The next group of Germans evacuated from the east, however, were citizens of the Soviet Union. These were evacuated in 1943-44, when reverses on the eastern front forced the Nazi armies to withdraw. Gradually, as the front moved westward, the Germans still living in the Black Sea region, Russian Volhynia, and White Russia, numbering about 280,000, were brought to the Wartheland, the last of them only a few weeks before that region too had to be abandoned.3 When the Soviet armies broke through unexpectedly on the Polish front in January 1945, the Wartheland settlers fled westward in an effort to find a safe refuge in Germany. There were heavy casualties on the road. Many were overtaken by the Russians and were deported back to slave labor camps in the Arctic regions and in Asiatic Russia, Some reached the relative safety of West Germany. Here they were joined by other ethnic German refugees fleeing before the Red armies, particularly from Czechoslovakia, Hungary, and Yugoslavia. When the war ended in May 1945, West Germany had hundreds of thousands of destitute foreign Germans. After the collapse of the Nazi government, the conquering allies set up a four-power occupation regime, dividing Germany into British, American, French, and Soviet zones. There was much to do to restore tolerable living conditions. The economy was at a near standstill. Large parts of cities had been destroyed, causing an extreme housing shortage. Food was in short supply so that help had to be brought in from abroad to prevent starvation. The situation was greatly aggravated by the fact that the wartime refugees were now joined by millions of Germans expelled from the parts of eastern Germany annexed to Poland, as well as from some areas of southeastern Europe.4 All of these had to be fed and housed, at least in some primitive way. They were placed into camps all over Germany until places could be found to settle them. Although all Germans in the defeated Reich were poor at this stage, these were the poorest of the poor. For the Germans from Russia in the camps an additional disaster now struck, the most dreaded of all. The Soviet government insisted on the repatriation of Russian citizens who were in Germany as refugees, however unwilling these were to go back. To their eternal shame, the western allies permitted Soviet officials to search the refugee camps in West Germany for Russian citizens and to transport back to the Soviet Union those that they found. Thousands of Germans from Russia, who had thought that in West Germany they were safe, were deported to Soviet slave labor camps in 1945 and 1946. A remnant saved themselves by assuming false identities or going into hiding. The possibility of more such searches and deportations kept many of these in constant fear for years thereafter. This remnant, in West Germany, numbered about 50,000.5 Along with the other refugees, the Germans from Russia were dependent, in the immediate post-war years, to a large extent on the charity of sympathetic people abroad. Help came to them through church organizations of the major religious denominations to which they belonged. Emigration overseas, which many desired, was not as yet permitted for German- speaking refugees and absorption into the war-devastated German economy was slow. It was not until after the establishment of the Federal Republic in West Germany in 19496 that refugee problems began to receive serious attention. Forbidden to do so heretofore, the refugee groups now began to form organizations to speak for their people before the government authorities. Writing some twenty years later,7 Pastor Heinrich Roemmich explains the situation as it had existed then: In the first years after the end of the war (1945-1949), the occupying powers did not permit the expellees and refugees to form any organization except under church auspices,

under the leadership of a clergyman. The Germans from Russia, as a result, became organized into four groups according to the four confessions to which the majority of them had belonged in Russia: the Aid Committee of the Evangelical-Lutheran Resettlers from the East (Pastors Rink in Hanover and Roemmich in Stuttgart); the Center for the Pastoral Care of Catholics (Prelate Pieger in Furth, Bavaria); the Mennonite Central Committee (Professor B. Unruh in Karlsruhe); and the Mission for the Evangelical Free Church (Preacher K. G. Wessel in Kassel). These had the task of distributing charity to the needy among their people, as well as providing them with religious services. After the establishment of the Federal Republic of Germany, when the federal government began the preparation of legislation to deal with refugee problems, it recognized quickly that the great task of incorporating eleven million refugees into the social and economic fabric of the nation could not be accomplished without the help of representatives of the various refugee groups, who alone had accurate knowledge of the social systems and ownership conditions [in their homelands]. This help was obtainable through the Landsmannschaften'6 whose formation the federal government now encouraged.

Pastor Heinrich Roemmich, the prime mover in founding the Landsmannschaft der Deutschen aus Russland. A native of the village of Worms in southern Russia, he emigrated to Germany from Bessarabia in 1932 and served the Landsmannschaft as business manager and as Sprecher between 1957 and 1968 Although the way was now clear for the founding of an all-inclusive society of Germans from Russia, such as was essential t this juncture for bringing their common problems to the attention of the German government, there was great hesitancy among the refugees about forming or joining any society that would tag them publicly as Germans from Russia. The fear of forcible repatriation to the Soviet Union was still widespread among them. The initiative for the needed organization had to come from the earlier German emigres from Russia, those who left after the first world war. Pastor Heinrich Roemmich, a native of Worms in southern Russia, who came to Germany in 1932 from Bessarabia, where he had been since 1917, and was now head of the Lutheran Aid Committee in Stuttgart mentioned above, took the lead.9 He invited representatives of the other three religious societies involved in work with the German refugees from Russia to meet with him at the office of the Lutheran Aid Committee in Stuttgart to discuss the formation of a Landsmannschaft embracing all Germans from Russia. The meeting took place on 15 April 195010 and was attended by B. Unruh for the Mennonites, Klemens Kiefel for the Catholics, and Pastor Roemmich and Andreas Mergenthaler of the Lutheran Aid Committee. Preacher Wessel of the Free Church was not able to come but later gave his approval to the decisions reached. Present as guests were Julian Merling, Dr. Gottlieb Leibbrandt, Dr. Wilfried Schlau, and 0. Apel. This meeting decided unanimously that an all-embracing organization was needed and that it should be formed immediately. It adopted a constitution for the organization, prepared before the meeting by Andreas Mergenthaler and Dr. Gottlieb Leibbrandt

27 at Pastor Roemmich's request. The objectives and the tasks to be undertaken were agreed upon. The heads of the four denominational societies, as well as a representative of each of the Volhynian Germans, Black Sea Germans, and Volga Germans were to be members of the advisory board. Elected to the directorate were Pastor Roemmich, Professor Unruh, Klemens Kiefel, Preacher Wessel, and Dr. Gottlieb Leibbrandt, who was to be business manager. To disguise the society to some degree so that membership in it would not automatically identify a person as a German from Russia, it was given the name, Arbeitsgemeinschaft der Ostumsiedler.11 It was not until five years later, in May 1955, by which time people's fears of forcible repatriation had subsided, that the name was changed to Landsmannschaft der Deutschenaus Russland.^2 During the summer of 1950, information about the formation of the new society was spread over the whole Federal Republic and aroused much interest among the German refugees from Russia. On 15 October delegates from all areas of the country met in Kassel and gave unanimous approval to the decisions made by the founding group in April.13 The delegates agreed that local, district, and provincial chapters of the society should be organized. They authorized the publication of a newsletter to keep the members and the general public informed about society activities. They set membership dues. They recommended collaboration with the organizations of other refugee groups in matters of common concern. Finally, they elected to the executive board Dr. Gottlieb Leibbrandt as chairman, business manager, and Sprecher;14 Josef Bohm as vice- chairman; Klemens Kiefe! and Wilfried Schlau as board members. The objectives and tasks of the new society, as decided at the founding meetings, were the following: 1) to foster our inherited culture and the bonds of our people to each other; 2) to make effective our rights to a home, human dignity, and justice, and our right to be incorporated into the German people; 3) to bring about recognition of our social and economic needs in matters of social security benefits, pensions, vocational training, education of youth, resettlement, etc.; 4) to work with others in the determination of war losses suffered by individuals and the equal sharing of burdens resulting from the war; 5) to provide documentation for our people; 6) to give appropriate advice regarding emigration; 7) to provide a search service for the finding of relatives; and 8) to carry out scholarly research projects,15 Dr. Leibbrandt worked very diligently at the task of gaining recognition for the Arbeitsgemeinschaft.16 As early as July 1950 the new society had joined an umbrella organization of all ethnic German refugee groups, the Vereinigten Ostdeutschen Landsmannschaft en, which had been helpful to the new German government in solving refugee problems. On 7 October 1950 representatives of this organization, including Dr. Leibbrandt, were received by Dr. Theodor Heuss, president of the Federal Republic of Germany, and explained to him their objectives and the needs of their people. On 19 December Dr. Leibbrandt himself, in his capacity as Sprecher of the Arbeitsgemeinschaft, was received by Dr. Heuss and was given the opportunity to describe to him the difficult situation of the German refugees from Russia. One of the most important decisions made by the delegates' meeting at Kassel in October 1950 was that the society should publish a newsletter. The first issue of this publication, given the name Volk auf dem Weg, appeared early in January 1951. Although the financial resources available to it at first were precarious, it survived somehow and has continued to appear monthly since that-time. Its survival through the early difficult years was due mainly to the efforts of its first editor, Dr. Karl Stumpp.17 His eloquent pleas at every opportunity always managed to secure the funds needed to keep Volk auf dem Weg alive. From its pages through the early years, one can trace the progress of the new society and the development of its efforts to improve the economic and social position of the German newcomers from Russia, The widespread interest in the new Arbeitsgemeinschaft was apparent from the fact that the first Bun-destreffen,18 which took place in Stuttgart on 12-14 May 1951, attracted 1,500 people from all parts of West Germany. Government representatives came to address the gathering, promising to do everything possible to solve the problems of the refugees. Several of the leading men in the society contributed eloquent words of advice and encouragement. A major portion of the time was devoted to topics of special interest, such as the proposed legislation to give the refugees equality with native Germans in social and economic matters, the possibilities for emigration overseas, and the search service to help separated family members to find each other. 19 Because of the difficult conditions that still existed in Germany at this time, many of the refugees saw emigration overseas as a desirable solution for their plight. Volk auf dem Weg took cognizance of this desire and published informative articles through the years 1951, 1952, and 1953. The articles gave information on the immigration laws of overseas lands and a description of economic conditions there, special attention being given to the United States, Canada, South America, and Australia. Noteworthy was a series of articles by Andreas Mergenthaler, who made a special study of the various emigration possibilities for Germans from Russia.20

28 In the meantime, throughout the year 1951, there was discussion in federal government circles of legislation to solve the problems of the refugees. For the Germans from Russia these discussions were not proceeding favorably. The officials and legislators at Bonn were preparing legislation which would do much for two groups: 1) those who had come to Germany in 1939^0 as a result of agreements between the German and Soviet governments; and 2) those who had been expelled from the parts of eastern Germany annexed by Poland or from southeastern Europe. To give these the means to re-establish themselves in West Germany, the proposed legislation provided compensation for them for the property losses they had suffered as a result of their removal from their former homes. The Germans from Russia, however, because they had come from a communistic state, in which it was assumed no private property existed, were not recognized as having suffered property losses entitling them to compensation. In fact, many of these people had owned land until it was taken from them during the collectivization of the 1930's and subsequently were shareholders in a collective farm. Indeed, even as late as 1939, they still had private ownership of a house, a garden plot, some poultry, and a cow. Moreover, Soviet law, which required workers to make contributions to social insurance funds, gave them the right to retirement income, widows' and orphans' allowances, and other similar benefits. Although documentation was scanty, which was a serious problem, there was no doubt that the refugees from Russia had suffered losses, for which they should receive compensation on the same basis as the others. The officials in Bonn, however, were difficult to convince. Dr. Leibbrandt spent many hours pleading his people's case and eventually became very discouraged by his lack of success. He reported on his efforts at an assembly of delegates of the Arbeitsgemeinschaft in Hanover on 17 February 1952 and tendered his resignation from the post of Sprecher.21 A few months later he emigrated to Canada, where he now lives in Kitchener, Ontario, Because of the failure of the Arbeitsgemeinschaft, in the negotiations on 1951, to obtain for them equal treatment with the other refugees, many Germans from Russia now lost interest in the society. Deprived of the hope of compensation for their losses and plagued by poverty, unemployment, and housing problems, they no longer saw a possibility of establishing a new life for themselves in West Germany. Their main interest now became emigration overseas and they applied for it by the thousands. If the doors had been wide open in overseas lands, which they were not, there would have been a mass migration.22 It was fortunate for the refugees from Russia that there were in Germany at this time a number of self-sacrificing individuals, emigres from Russia after the first world war, now at home in Germany, who were willing to devote time and energy without stint to help their destitute brothers. Two such men now came forward to take the lead in the work of the Arbeitsgemeinschaft: 1) Pastor Johannes Schleuning, born in the Volga region but living in Germany since 1918, who became the new Sprecher, and 2) Pastor Heinrich Roemmich, the prime mover in the founding of the society in 1950, who now offered to take over as business manager. These two men carried the burden of leading the society through its critical years and obtained for their people many of the benefits that had appeared to be a vain hope in 1952. Pastor Schleuning had to retire from the onerous post of Sprecher in 1957 for health reasons, but he remained active as honorary president till his death in 1961.23 Pastor Roemmich succeeded Schleuning as Sprecher in 1957 and served as head of the society till after his eightieth birthday in 1968.24 His contribution to the welfare of his countrymen was immense.

Peter Froese, a German Mennonite refugee from Russia who as head of an office of the Landsmannschaft in Stuttgart was instrumental in helping Germans from Russia secure compensation for property losses suffered during the war.

29 On 1 September 1952 the war losses compensation law, under discussion in Bonn throughout 1951 and the early months of 1952, finally came into force. The extent to which Germans from Russia could benefit from the provisions of the law was far from clear. At this juncture, through the good offices of the Mennonite leader, Benjamin H. Unruh,25 Pastor Roemmich was able to persuade a very knowledgeable Mennonite refugee, Peter Froese, to take over the task of helping the refugees from Russia to apply for compensation. After careful study of the legislation, Froese contributed a series of articles to Volk auf dem Weg. in which he explained the provisions of the law, described the application procedure, gave advice on possible claims that Germans from Russia might make, suggested the kinds of documentation that they might use, and answered questions on other points that caused difficulties,26 An office, with Peter Proese in charge, was then set up in Stuttgart, to which the refugees could come in person or write to get the information that they needed to make appropriate application for benefits under the law. With Froese's help, many of the refugees from Russia now received compensation for the loss of house and garden and other private property that they had owned before the outbreak of war. It was much more difficult to persuade the Bonn authorities to pay compensation for loss of land. Eventually, in 1957, just a few weeks before Froese's death,27 he was able to announce in Volk auf dem Weg26 that the refugees could receive compensation for the loss of a land share in a collective farm. This was as far as the government was willing to go. Losses of land suffered during the collectivization era were not recognized for compensation. By August 1959 Pastor Roemmich was finally able to announce to his people the details of the criteria that would be used in determining compensation.29 In addition to compensation for property losses, there were other problems of great concern to the German refugees from Russia. Very urgent for them was the recognition of their rights to social welfare benefits, such as health care and retirement income, on the basis of their contributions to social insurance funds in the Soviet Union. Such recognition was given to the German refugees from other areas, but the rights of workers in the Soviet state regarding these matters were not well understood in Germany. In January 1958 a German court decision finally cleared up the situation, interpreting Soviet legislation in a way that made refugees from Russia eligible for the same benefits as the other refugees.30 A second problem, of a somewhat similar nature, was the recognition of the training and experience of professional people, particularly 6(f the Soviet-trained teachers who wanted to continue working in their profession. Because the Soviet educational system differed greatly from the German system, it was difficult to obtain recognition from the German educational authorities. That the effort to obtain recognition was eventually successful was largely due to the work of Joseph Schnurr, a later Sprecher of the Landsmannschaft, himself a teacher in the Soviet Union and now in Germany, who first became known in the society through the expert advice and documentation he was able to provide in this matter.31

Joseph Schnurr, a teacher in the Soviet Union who after immigrating to Germany served as Sprecher o/ the Landsmannschaft and editor of its publications.

In the late 1950's, while the compensation problems were being cleared up, the Landsmannschaft had new and important tasks imposed upon it by events. Stalin had died in March 1953 and after his death there came a gradual softening of the Soviet attitude towards West Germany, technically still an enemy state. For economic reasons, Khrushchev, the new Soviet leader, was eager to restore commercial relations

30 with the German Federal Republic, which by the mid 1950's was becoming an economically important state. In September 1955, responding to an invitation from Khrushchev, Chancellor Adenauer of the Federal Republic, visited Moscow.32 In return for the favors that Khrushchev sought, commercial relations and consular representation, Adenauer asked for the freeing of several thousand prisoners-of-war still in Soviet hands and for the repatriation of German citizens deported to the Soviet Union from the Wartheland in 1945, Khrushchev acceded to the first request but denied that any German citizens had been deported to the Soviet Union in 1945. The people in question were the refugees who had been granted German citizenship by the Nazis during the war, an action which the Soviets refused to recognize. No agreement was reached at this time but negotiations continued in succeeding months. The Adenauer visit did produce some immediate results. To make West Germany more amenable in the negotiations, the Soviet government, by decrees of 17 September and 13 December 1955, granted amnesty to the Soviet Germans who had collaborated with the occupation forces during the war and freed hundreds of thousands from the slave labor camps in which they had been languishing for ten years or longer. Once freed from constraints, these Germans, scattered over the vast areas of northern and eastern Russia, began a feverish search for family members within their country and abroad. The German Red Cross Society and the Landsmannschaft office in Stuttgart were swamped with letters from the Soviet Union. These sought not only the whereabouts of family members, but also begged for help to make emigration to Germany possible. The West German government and the German Red Cross Society did their utmost to persuade the very reluctant Soviet government to permit these Germans to leave Russia. Eventually, in negotiations stretching from January to May 1957, the Red Cross societies of the two countries worked out a limited program for the reuniting of separated families,33 but it took another year before the Soviet government signed an agreement with West Germany to permit the limited emigration involved in this plan.34 For some years thereafter this program of bringing family members out of Russia to unite them with their relatives in Germany and to provide the newcomers with advice and help to adjust to their new life, was the main preoccupation of the leaders of the Landsmannschaft. Although the Soviet authorities continued to put obstacles in the way of the movement, the program did eventually, over the years, bring thousands of Germans from Russia to their ancestral homeland.

It is clear from the foregoing that the Landsmannschaft der Deutschen aus Russland was set up mainly to help the Germans from Russia, who had come to Germany during and after the war, to solve their economic and social problems and to become assimilated into the German people. It has consistently, to this day, devoted most of its efforts to that and related endeavors. A study of its accomplishments over the years shows that it has been a very effective lobby among West German politicians to gain rights for its people in the Federal Republic and to influence German policy towards the Soviet Union in a way that would help the Germans still in Russia. The emphasis has changed from time to time, as needs dictated, but the main thrust has remained the same. There has been, however, another aspect to the society's work, particularly in its first twenty years, which has had a great impact on Germans from Russia everywhere. This was the publication of historical material of inestimable value, collected mainly by the indefatigable Dr. Kari Stumpp.35 Dr. Stumpp served the Landsmannschaft and all Germans from Russia in several capacities over a long period. He became Chairman of the Board in 1957, succeeded Pastor Roemmich as Sprecher in 1968, and served in the latter capacity till 1975. His main contribution, however, was in the field of historical research and publication. As mentioned earlier, he was the first editor of Volk aufdem Weg and retained that post till 1963, Although the main purpose of this newsletter was to inform the members about the society's work for the advancement of their economic and social welfare, it contained also, in the early years, in almost every issue, historical articles written by Dr. Stumpp and others. But there was never enough space to accommodate the many such items that the editor would have liked to publish. Another medium was needed. Dr. Stumpp decided that it should be an annual journal devoted to the history of the Germans in Russia. Beginning in 1954 he edited a series of twelve Heimatbilcher, which together covered materials on all German settlement areas in Russia.36 He also prepared a series of maps covering all settlement areas and included one or more of these with the Heimatbuch each year. In 1958 he published his very valuable Schrifttum liber das Deutschtum in Russland, a bibliographical guide widely used since that time by all students of the history of the Germans in Russia.3 7 All these publications, a basic library of materials in this field, appeared under the auspices of the Landsmannschaft: Unfortunately, since Dr. Stumpp's retirement from the editorship in 1966, his plan for an annual Heimatbuch has been abandoned and the Lands-mannschaft has published historical material only infrequently.

Karl Stumpp addressing a gathering at a. Bundestreffen. An indefatigable researcher. Dr. Stumpp has served the Landsmannschaft in several capacities, as Chairman of the Board, as Sprecher/row 1968 to 1975, and as first editor of Volk auf dem Weg and compiler of twelve volumes of Heimatbucher,3 8

NOTES

1. The official figures, quoted in Volk auf dem Weg (VaW) 1953, No. 4, p. 8, are as follows: Estonia 21 368; Latvia 57 141-Polish Volhynia 64,554; Galicia 55,440; Narev region 8,053; Lublin-Chelm region 30,275; Bessarabia 93,548; Bukovina 96,763; Lithuania 47,517;andDobruja 13,988; a total of 488,647. These were later called Treaty Resettled (Vertragsumsiedler). 2. There is a description of the evacuation of ethnic Germans from Polish Volhynia, Galicia, and the Narev region in AHSGR Journal.Vol l, No. 1, (Spring 1978). pp. 13-19. Included is a map of the Wartheland. 3. For details about this group of refugees, see Adam Giesinger, From Catherine to Khrushchev, (Battleford, Saskatchewan-Marian Press, 1974) pp. 311-313. 4. The total of ethnic German evacuees, refugees and expellees that ended up in West Germany was estimated at 8 to 10 million. See VaW 1951, No. 7, p. 4, 5. The West German census of 1950 showed the number as 51,235. See VaW 1952, No. l,p,5. 6. There is an excellent description of the process of establishment of the new Federal Republic of Germany in Elmer Plischke, Contemporary Government of Germany. (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1961) pp 16-31 7. VaW 1973, No. 3, p. 1, translated by A.G. 8. There is no good English equivalent for the term Landsmannschaft ^plural -en). It is an organization of members of an ethnic group who are countrymen, i.e. natives of a particular region or country. 9. There is an account of the career of Pastor Roemmich in VaW 1953, No. 5, pp. 5-6, written for his 65th birthday by his friend, Pastor Johannes Schleuning. 10. The most complete account of this founding meeting is given by Heinrich Roemmich in VaW 1973, No. 3, pp. 1-2. 11. As for Landsmannschaft. there is no good English equivalent for Arbeitsgemeinschaft. It means a group that has agreed to work together to accomplish common purposes. Ostumsiedler = Resettlers from the East.

32 12. See under the heading Landsmannschaftliche Mitteilungen in VaW 1955, No. 5, p. 9, and under the heading Berichte der Sacharbeiter und Neu-wahlen in VaW 1955, No. 6, p. 4. 13. See VaW 1951, no. l, pp. 5-6, under the heading Bundestagung in Kassel. 14. Sprecher (== spokesman) was the title adopted for the leader of the society, the one who spoke for it before government authorities. The chairman of the board (der Vorsitzende) was, as we shall see later, sometimes the same person, sometimes a different person. 15. See VaW 1951, No. l, p. 5, under the heading Warum Landsmamschaft? 16. His efforts at this time are described by Pastor Roemmich in VaW 1973, No. 4, pp. 2-3. 17. Dr. Stumpp remained editor till 1963. There is a tribute to his work in this capacity by his successor, J. Schnurr, in VaW 1971, No. 5, pp. 2-3. 18. Bundestreffen are open conventions to which all Germans from Russia in the Federal Republic are invited. They are generally held every second year and are attended by 1,500 to 2,500 people. The meeting at Kassel in October 1950 had not been a Bundestreffen but a Bundes-Delegiertenversammlung, a meeting of delegates from local groups in all parts of the Federal Republic, to decide policy and elect officers. Such meetings were held annually in the early years, sometimes along with a Bundestreffen. 19. There is a very full account of this gathering in VaW 1951, No. 4, pp. 1-7. 20. VaW 1952, No. 7, pp. 6-7; No. 8. p. 7; No. 9, pp. 10-11; No. 10, p. 7; and VaW 1953, No. 3, p. 7. 21. The story is told by Pastor Roemmich in VaW 1973, No. 4, pp. 2-3. 22. Roemmichin VaW 1973, No. 5, p. 1. 23. The story of Pastor Schleuning's eventful life is told in the following: H. Roemmich, VaW 1954, No. 1, pp. 3-5; B.H. Unruh, VaW 1954, No. 2, pp. 5-6; H. Roemmich, VaW 1961, No. 10, pp. 2-3; and Joseph Schnurr, VaW 1979, No. 1, pp. 1-3. 24. Tributes to Pastor Roemmich appeared over the years in Johannes Schleuning, VaW 1953, No. 5, pp. 5-6; Karl Stumpp, VaW 1963, No. 5, pp. 1-2; Stumpp, VaW 1968, No. 5, pp. 1-2; Stumpp, VaW 1978, No. 5, pp. 1-2. 25. Benjamin Heinrich Unruh was one of the founders of the Arbeitsgemeinschaft in 1950 and often an inspirational speaker at its Bundestreffen. He died on 12 May 1959. There are several accounts of his career in VaW: 1951, No. 6, pp. 3-4, by Gottlieb Leibbrandt; 1956, No. 10, pp. 4-5 by Peter Froese; 1959, No. 7, pp. 1-2, by Johannes Schleuning. 26. See the articles on Lastenausgleich in VaW 1952, Nos. 7,9, 10; VaW 1953, Nos. 1,2,3,4,7. 27. Peter Froese died on 23 September 1957. His life story is told in an obituary by Benjamin Unruh in VaW 1957, No. 11, pp. 2-3. Roemmich pays tribute to his work in VaW 1973, No. 6, p. 4. 28. VaW 1957, No. 8, p. 6, and No. 9, p. 2. 29. VaW 1959,No. 8, pp. 1-2. 30. VaW 1958, No. 2, p. 1. 31. VaW 1954, No. 6, pp. 8-9, and VaW 1955, No. 2, p. 5. 32. For the story of the Andenauer visit to Moscow and its results, see Giesinger, From Catherine to Khrushchev, pp. 316-322. 33. Roemmich, VaW 1957, No. 2, p. 1, and VaW 1957, No. 7, pp. 8-9. 34. VaW 1958, No. 3, pp. 1-2, and VaW 1958, No. 5, pp. 3A. The agreement was signed 8 April 1958, 35. The following tributes to the work of Dr. Stumpp appeared in Volk aufdem Weg over the years: Johannes Schleuning, VaW 1956, No. 5, pp. 2-3; Karl Gotz, VaW 1966, No. 6, p. 2; Heinrieh Roemmich, VaW 1966, No. 6, pp. 1-2; VaW 1971, No. 5, pp. 1-2; and VaW 1975, No. 7/8, pp. 1-2. 36. The issues of 1954 and 1955 were called Heimatbuch der Ostumsiedler, subsequent issues Heimatbuch der Deufschen aus Russland. 37. A revised edition appeared in 1971 and a second revised edition in February 1981. The latter will be available from AHSGR shortly. 38. Photographs accompanying this article are courtesy of the Landsmannschaft der Deutschen aus Russland.

33 A US HEIMA T WD LEBEN: ABOUT MY LIFE AND HOMELAND David Weigum Translated by Dona Reeves and Leona Pfeifer

The following article is a continuation of the reminiscences of Pastor Weigum introduced in AHSGR Journal Volume 3, Number 3 (Winter 1980), pp. 6-10. The manuscript which provides an intimate picture of German colonist life in Russia in the 1880's has been edited by Dr. Walter 'Weigum, the author's son, Notes are by Adam Giesinger. Now I shall return to Ludwigstal, the little village in which I was born. At the time that it was founded, this was one of the first few [German] villages on the [Crimean] steppe. There were to be many more of them in later years.1 Our village lay in a gently sloping broad valley; the steppe surrounding it had been primeval sod, grassland in its original condition. That was soon changed by the plows of the hard-working German colonists. As far back as I can remember, golden fields of grain undulated like a sea in the winds of the steppe. Nevertheless, as children, we were still able to get a vivid impression of the vast grasslands with their colorful, often brilliant array of flowers. A not very wide strip of grainfields belonging to the neighboring German village, Goluba,2 separated our village land from the estate of a rich German sheep farmer by the name of Lustig. On his land the Ludwigstal farmers usually cut the extra supply of hay that they needed, my parents among them. We children, when there were still not many of us, were allowed to come along. Actually, we had to come along. Mother was still indispensable to Father at that time, even in his farm work, and so there was no one to stay at home to watch over us. What a joy it was for us in this flowered, fragrant wilderness of grass! Now and then we could hear the concerned call from Mother or Father, "Children, where are you?" It was dangerous to get very far away from the wagon or camp. It was all too easy to get lost in this grassy sea, where even a horse and rider could not be seen a few hundred meters away. After the grass was laboriously cut with scythes and very quickly dried under the glowing hot sun, it was dragged into stacks with horses. Piling it with pitchforks was too slow. Ropes were tied to the ends of a pole three to four meters long and the pole then used as a drag. Such was the steppe before the colonists' sharp plow cracked open the primeval sod and laid back the black earth in straight furrows. Just as this grassy sea had once undulated silvery-white with the long woolly blossoms of the "goat's beard," there later waved a sea of golden yellow wheat. My youth was still in the times when the value of the grain rolling heavily through one's fingers was measured not so much in terms of its monetary worth as in the pure grateful joy for the daily bread which the golden grain provided, It was probably during my earliest childhood years that the first railway was built through the steppe. Some of my first memories are connected with it. It ran from St. Petersburg through Moscow, Kharkov, Lozovaya, and on southward. It did not enter our peninsula over the slender tongue of land that connects us, but ran straight ahead over a bridge across the straits, on through Simferopol, the capital of the province of Tauria, and then to Sevastopol, the terminal station, not far from the so- called Khersonesus, the southern tip of the Crimea. Little Father Tsar could now reach his summer residence, Livadia,3 on the southern coast with more ease and comfort. The Sevastopol line was intended to bring the fertile steppe regions of the Black Sea coast closer to the old Great Russia and to expedite both economic development and military security. In the years 1854- 1855, during the Crimean War, there had been the greatest difficulty in bringing Russian troops face to face with the enemy. Even more difficult had been the transporting of supplies and of the wounded. My grandfather often told us about those times and how they had to help with men and horses. They lived in Kronental, only forty kilometers from Sevastopol, and could hear the artillery fire. He told of the quartering of Russian and more particularly of foreign troops, French and English, and of the ships on the sea only twelve kilometers away. The village had to be evacuated several times. The railway line was fifteen kilometers distant from Ludwigstal, or at least we had to travel that far to reach the closest station, Kurman-Kemeltschi, which was also our post office. Everyone had to pick up his own mail there and take his letters there to send away. There was no public mail delivery service back then. But the colonists' correspondence was also extremely meager. For with whom were they to correspond? The German homeland had become foreign to them; only a few school books or religious writings still came from there. Religious magazines were just beginning to be known and read. Colonist relatives lived close together and could visit from village to village. Whenever a letter did arrive from somewhere, we children were amazed at it as something magic; we smelled it and touched it again and again. Soon the whole village knew that someone had received a letter. The recipient became something special just by receiving a letter.

34 Later one had more to do with the postal service, but not always with pleasure, because the friendship and goodwill of the postmaster had to be bought. Like all his colleagues in the civil service, a postmaster had an understandable weakness for German sausage, ham, and butter balls. Such people were all miserably paid and, in order to make ends meet, had to keep the back door, the one to the kitchen, open. They made it quite clear to you that the door was open for a purpose. The postmasters, in particular, seemed to have the wondrous knack of finding something not "Po Sakonu," in the law, when it was to their advantage. For example, because a document had not been drawn up absolutely correctly, your trip of several hours to the post office might have been in vain. But those who had much to do with the postal service soon understood what had to be done. Anyone who had the Nachalnik4 on his side could count on the doors being open day or night, and not just the back door, but the front door as well. The value of such friendship was not to be underestimated and was worth some service in return, if a long special trip on bad roads was to be avoided. Our Christofvetter,5 in the house next door, was one of the first to strike up the right relationship with such officials. He also probably received more letters and printed material than anyone else except the schoolmaster. All of his relatives were in Prussia, and besides he was perhaps the most intellectually interested and active man in the community. In this respect, he certainly outstripped even the schoolmaster by far. A wide, heavily-travelled road passed by the upper part of the village. People from the neighboring village of Totanai, eight kilometers from us, and the Catholic village of Karamin nearby, travelled it on the way to the nearest railway station, as did the people of some more distant German and several Russian villages. At times there was traffic day and night. When you came from the railway station and turned at the wheelwright's cottage into the village street, our house was the second on the right. Like all the others, it was set in a lot 120 faden long and 20 faden wide (1 faden = about 2 meters), with a wooden fence toward the street. Some of the houses, ours for example, were set at an angle to the street, but with their gables facing it. Everybody had built as he wished, probably like his parents had built their house in the mother colony. At any rate, the origin of the inhabitants of every house, whether they came from Kronental or Neusatz or Zurichtal, was revealed not only by their dialect, but with reasonable accuracy also by the way they built their house. Enough room was left m front of each house for a small garden with flower beds and vegetables. Acacia trees had been planted along the front fence, with roses and lilacs between them. The shed for wagons, machines, and implements and the stables for many cattle and horses, along with the well and a long wooden water trough, closed off the front yard from the back. In the back yard were the circular threshing floor and the hay and straw stacks. Finally there was a straw wall and behind it the third and last piece of the yard, shut off from the open field by the "upper wall." Originally this had been planted with potatoes and to some extent with pumpkins, but later fruit trees and grapevines were grown there. Since I may not have occasion to speak of it later, I shall say something about this "orchard" now. It played an important role in our life on the steppe. It enabled us to see the growing of fruit, which we learned to prize doubly because it was so rare, as well as the ripening of the even more delicious grapes. For us children, grapes formed for a long time the main attraction of the trips to Kronental, always in the autumn. I shall speak of these trips in detail later. It was our neighbor, Konradvetter, I believe, who was the first to plant fruit and grapes, because he liked it so much and was particularly expert in such matters. The second one was probably my father. They supplemented each other. Coming from Neusatz, Konrad knew more about the cultivation of fruit. My father, coming from Kronental, knew more about grape- growing. Neusatz was closer to the forest and so fruit trees were well known there. Kronental, on the other hand, cultivated almost exclusively grapevines. I don't know whether this was because of the climate, or whether it was because of the background of the settlers, the former coming mainly from fruit tree areas and the latter from wine-producing areas. The latter reason seems more likely to me. In any event, both fruit and grapes were soon growing in Ludwigstal. Of course, they did not grow as quickly or as easily as I am describing it here, for the open steppe is quite unprotected, hot and dry, and only years of experience could determine the great hindrance that lay in the hard clay subsoil beneath the black soil on the surface. Only when the trees and vines had grown bigger and had to send their roots ever deeper did they encounter the difficulty of penetrating the hard subsoil. Many sorts of trees could not do it; they became stunted and finally died gradually. In the beginning, however, growth was luxuriant in the soil loosened to a meter's depth and fertilized generously with manure. Watering the young trees was essential. The sweetest water in the village was hauled to them from the clay pit. It was probably mostly rain water, for every heavy rain fed water into this low-lying pit. Often it was so full that the well in it lay in water for weeks. We planted apple trees and pear trees, and plums, apricots, and peaches of several varieties. The quickest 35 to grow and bear fruit were the apricots. After only a few years the trees were laden to the point of breaking with the most delicious fruit. Later we did not know what to do with it all, until a factory opened in Simferopol to which one could sell one's surplus. But there was no big profit in it. The time came when my mother could no longer bear to give away this gorgeous fruit so cheaply, for two or three kopeks a pound. She had the children and the maids spread clean wheat straw under the trees, for the ripe fruit to fall on and dry quickly in the burning hot air. The dried fruit was then gathered up in sacks and hung in the granary. It tasted so good with Kuechle6 in the winter! We did not have fruit every year, only when the late spring frosts did not come and destroy everything. Those terrible frosts! For days and weeks everyone lived in fear of them. Making a smudge was generally not successful, mainly because you missed the nights of frost. When you made a smudge, there was no frost; when it froze, you had made no smudge. As a result of the frosts and the hard clay subsoil, people eventually lost the desire to plant and tend the trees. In addition, caterpillars, worms, and bugs did much damage to apple, pear, and plum trees and people did not take enough time to fight these pests. Everyone would have had to participate, for a single uncared-for orchard would raise enough pests to damage all the orchards. My last memories of our fruit trees are sad ones. There were many trees half dead, having some green branches full of blossoms or laden with fruit and next to them bare dry ones bristling to the sky. It was astonishing how the apricot trees, even as fantastically shaped cripples, were still loaded with delicious fruit containing their last drop of sap. When the cultured trees among them became twelve to fourteen years old, they had to be dug up. The volunteer or half-wild variety lasted longer; I can't recall seeing any of them with dry branches. On the contrary, I can look back on myself alone or with my brothers and sisters or with good friends, lying on our backs under the splendid foliage of the half-wild apricot trees, with their golden yellow fruit nearly hanging into our mouths. They formed the last row of our fruit trees. Behind them were the grapevines. Konradvetter’s orchard next door always did better than ours, for he understood the cultivation of fruit trees better, liked it more and devoted all the needed care to it. Above all, he watered his trees generously. But he had the same clay subsoil as we had, at the same depth. Thus his orchard too had its limitations. This layer of clay was so hard that wells dug into it did not have to be lined with masonry. Water could be drawn from such unlined wells for decades. The walls might crumble a little from the moisture, but they took a long time to cave in. Only one type of tree grew old in this soil and that was the acacia. Its roots apparently pierced the clay stratum and went on down to ground water. Stately acacias stood along the street in front of the houses. Even when loaded with dust in the heat of summer, their leaves stayed green, though it had not rained a drop for months. But now to the grapevines. They were behind the row of half-wild apricot trees. My father knew a lot about grape-growing and my grandfather Weigum even more. The latter had come to live with us shortly after my father began to plant the vines. When Grandmother died, he remained for a while in his home at Kronental, after his son Johannes had taken over the farm. But this arrangement did not last long; then he came to us. Here he helped to plant grapevines and in this he was in his element. Apart from harvest time, during which he helped with the threshing, as long as his strength held out, he spent his time among the vines from daylight to dusk, armed with his "hub," the vintner's knife, which resembled a sickle. He used his "hub" for everything, from pruning in the spring to the harvesting of the ripe grapes. He never used shears, for it would have hurt him to press or crush the vines. But I don't want to write about my grandfather yet, but rather about the grapevines. Before the planting the soil was dug to a depth of one arschin (71 cm). Then vine stems of varieties that had been proven in the Kronental vineyards were inserted. They took root and grew. That was something new for us children: the fuzzy vine leaves in rows across the smooth clean yellow soil, for at this point the black soil lay below the yellow clay. In the fall, the tiny plants were covered with earth, then uncovered again in the spring; otherwise they would have frozen in the cold winter. Some of the individual plants already had tiny blossoms in their second year, even more in the third. Each of us knew every one of the blossoming plants individually. We followed the growth of the first tiny grapes with the closest attention: how they became larger and brighter, some yellowish, others blue, then suddenly expanded and grew thicker. Not long after, my father brought in the first ripe grape one day. Looking back, I think it should probably have stayed on the vine a little longer to get sweeter. But he had observed our impatience and knew that we just could not wait any longer. Now, each one got a few grapes to sample. We had all eaten grapes before, of course, but these were from our own garden! We had been there when the first gray stem was planted, we had observed every stage, one after the other, down to this sweet grape! How good, how sweet! What a pleasure it was! But

36 there was something more than this: respect for this life and growth on the hot dry steppe and amazement that something so delicious could grow out of this soil that we were treading. The soil had been carefully tended, of course, since the vines were planted. Many a drop of perspiration fell upon it, while the couch-grass was being dug out deep down to its roots. It could not, unfortunately, be dug out all the way, because it usually tore off. How deeply down it went! It liked the loose well cultivated soil. Not only the grapevines did well in this soil and could push their roots deep down into it, but also this nasty steppe grass. What broad, dark-green, luxuriant leaves it grew above ground; no wonder, considering its complex root system below. I cannot recall our ever having got rid of the couch- grass. At first we were determined to do it and dug down deeply to get its roots. Gradually we settled for what we could reach with the hoe. The hired help usually did little more than chop off the leaves. It was not their vineyard! Finally, there was wine for a few years, but not for long. If I remember correctly, the catastrophe began on a Pentecost morning in June. A heavy frost destroyed all the tender young shoots already covered with blossoms. When the sun came out, they all just wilted, turning black as if they had been scalded. That fall would have been our first big crop. My father and all of us were grieved by what had happened. The vines were never abie to recover from this setback. Later phylloxera attacked them and totally destroyed them. But we could find consolation in the fact that we were not dependent on the vines for food. My parents' house, the house in which 1 was born, was the smallest of all the farm houses in the village. Even a medium sized man when entering had to stoop to avoid bumping his head. The bottom door-sill was so low that, when it rained hard, a small drainage ditch had to be dug to allow water to run to the center of the yard where the ground was lower. When a thunderstorm with a heavy downpour came suddenly, the water forced its way into the entrance hall. The four walls were built of sundried clay bricks. Close to the building site, in a circle about three and one-half meters in diameter, the soil was turned over the depth of a spade and made into a dough into which chaff or short straw was mixed. Since the kneading would have been too difficult for men, it was done with horses. The straw served as a binding material and kept the bricks from cracking while they were drying in the hot sun. A door which had been removed from its hinges served as the top of a roughly constructed table on which the tough paste was pressed into rectangular forms, twice as long as wide. The bricks were then placed on the ground in long rows. When the first batch of dough was used up, the soil was again turned over a spade's depth and a second batch was prepared. The deeper one dug, the better the bricks became, because there was yellow clay below. Often thousands of bricks were removed from such a hole and it became quite deep. We had in our yard for years and years the hole from which our bricks had been taken; it served as a place to dump rubbish and ashes. The bricks dried in a few days and were then ready for use. With such bricks my father and mother, perhaps with the help of a farm hand, built our little house. A similar clay mixture, but somewhat thinner, was spread over the inner and outer surfaces of the walls and whitened with pipe clay or later, when lime was burned, with lime. I don't know whether the attic was there from the beginning or not. In any event, it ended up being such a low structure that one could move about in it only on one's knees or stooped over. We used it to store the grain kept for bread and seed. It was very laborious to carry things up and down the roughly constructed ladder which led upstairs from the hallway. Rakes and forks and other tools were also stored up there. A thin wall separated the kitchen, with the brick fireplace, from the hallway. The stoves in the two rooms were heated from there. One of the stoves, the one in the back room, was a baking oven. The back room was entered from the right of the hall and the front room from the left. Because the stoves were heated with straw, there was always disorder in the kitchen in the mornings and evenings, but it provided much fun for us children. We enjoyed standing in front of the stove opening and stuffing armful after armful of straw into its fiery pit. When the fire consumed the last of the straw near the stove opening, smoke came out of the ends of the hollow straw stems. We boys then put these into our mouths and "smoked." Perhaps that's how we learned to smoke, although we had ample opportunity also to observe our father doing it. He was a heavy smoker and his fingertips were always brown. Cigarette smoking was customary. One rolled his own. 1 shall have more to say about smoking later. Unfortunately it played too great a role in our youth. The kitchen fireplace itself was also heated with straw. Only at noon when some of the food had to cook longer did mother use manure fuel. The manure from the stables was not used as a fertilizer. Fertilizing was not necessary; our black soil was fertile and rich when it received the needed moisture. The manure was therefore placed on a heap in the back yard during the winter. In the spring it was spread out in a layer about twenty-five centimeters thick and sometimes trampled with horses similar to the preparation of

37 the clay for the bricks. Then it was compressed with a roller and, when it was dry enough, cut into pieces of the desired size with a spade, separated and dried. It was then stacked in large piles, covered with straw and soil and left in the yard through the winter. It was brought in as it was needed. Those who had room stored it indoors. As I mentioned earlier, our little house had only two rooms, a front room and a back room. In the front room my parents and guests, if there were any, slept in the four-poster bed with its colorful curtains. A chest of drawers, with three large drawers, and two smaller ones in a head-piece, stood at the gable end of the room between the two windows. All the good clothes and the better underclothing were kept in it. Everything else was kept in a large trunk, which, along with a sofa and a table, Mother had brought to Father as her dowry. We did not have a wardrobe. The furniture had been made by the village wheelwright, painted and decorated with flowers. A few simple chairs in the front room, which were soon replaced by Vienna chairs, and a fireside seat completed the furnishings. A Black Forest clock with a flowered face kept time. In both rooms one did not walk on a wooden floor or something equally as "artificial," but instead on a dirt floor. When it developed cracks, water was poured on it, straw sprinkled over it and we children had to walk around on it until it was solid again. On Saturday, if the women had time, the floors were usually "oiled" with a mixture of fresh cow manure and clay applied with a rag. Before festive days the red, yellow, or blue border on the wall, about the width of a hand from the floor, was freshened up. Later the white walls were also decorated with flowers in these colors, by dipping a rag into water colors and dabbing the wall with it. In addition to the two windows facing the street, there were two facing the yard. All had colorful cotton curtains. Flowers, generally geraniums, stood on the narrow window-sills. Because of the many flies in the summer, the curtains were always drawn tight. We children had no business in the front room. Not until later, when father bought a small harmonium, which was placed in the front room, and we children, one after the other, learned to play it, were we allowed to go to that room. The back room was even simpler. There were the beds for the children and the maid, a table with a bench against the wall and several chairs. That was all. This room was also the living room and dining room. During the long winter evenings, when guests came and stayed late, and everyone talked and smoked and, before the guests' departure, ate and drank, the back room was used, seldom the front room. When we children got tired, we somehow just slipped into bed under the covers. Nobody cared how we felt about the heavy stuffy air, full of cigarette smoke. For us boys, after we became a little older, the summer was much better. Then we slept outside on straw in a wagon box or during the harvest and threshing season on newly cut grain or freshly threshed straw. It was so tender and soft and so thoroughly warmed by the sun that it was a pleasure to sleep on it, A wagon cloth was spread over it and a cotton blanket or a sheepskin served as a cover. Although it was hot during the day, the nights were mostly quite cool. In the morning the pillows and blankets were all wet with dew.

NOTES 1. For a list of the German villages founded on the Crimean steppe during the 1860's, 1870's, and 1880's, see "Verzeichnis der deutschen Siedlungen auf der Halbinsel Krim," by K- Stumpp und Th. Eisenbraun, in Heimatbuch der Deutschen aus Russland 1960, pp. 182-190. A Stumpp map showing all these villages is available for purchase from AHSGR headquarters. 2. Goluba is called Koluba in the Stumpp-Eisenbraun list. Its German name was Hoffnungstat. It appears on the map south of Ludwigstal, 3. Livadia was the tsar's summer residence, on a landed estate owned by the royal family just south of Yalta on the southern Crimean coast. 4. The Nachalnik was the chief tsarist official in the district. The powers of such an official over his district were as absolute as those of the tsar in the Empire as a whole. 5. In the dialect spoken by the colonists in this area, Vetter and Bas do not mean cousin, as they do in modern German, but mean uncle or aunt and more generally any adult relative or neighbor. Since the relationship is indefinite, they are best left untranslated. 6. Many items baked or cooked by colonist women have no exact English equivalent. These will be left untranslated, wherever they occur. Many of our readers will remember the Kuechle made by their mothers or grandmothers.

38 WANDERERS ON THE STEPPES IN OLD RUSSIA A. P. Wanner Translated by A. Becker

The following article is excerpted from Untergehendes Volk, which was published in Canada in 1946. Though the book, now out of print, gives only a sketchy account of the history of the German colonies in Russia, it provides fascinating sidelights on life in the German villages of the Black Sea region. Groups of travelling folk were a phenomenon familiar to all in the German colonies of southern Russia. Anyone born there remembers it well. Like the migrating birds who fly to a warmer land in the fall only to return again in the spring, endless caravans of people travelled through the villages each year, a new one arriving when its predecessor had scarcely left. Sometimes they were Gypsies, sometimes Tatars, but often they were people whose race and origin no one knew. Usually they were ragged figures, whose poverty and need one could see; predominantly they were just vagabonds. I can recall quite vividly how quickly, after a caravan had entered the village, every farmyard was occupied by the visitors. They were not beggars, but something not too different. If they were Gypsies, they needed not only food for themselves but also feed for their horses, for they usually came in many wagons. In payment for these anticipated gifts, they told the fortune of the first person they met after entering the farm gate, whether this person was interested or not. By the time such a Gypsy caravan had finished its begging and its horses had grazed in the village, every young lady knew what her future husband would look like, whether he had red, black, or brown hair, whether he was a good man or a good-for-nothing. Although almost nobody really believed in the swindle, it generally got the Gypsy woman a juicy piece of meat or a ham. When it could be accomplished without the parents' knowing about it, many a young beauty had her cards read twice, paying the double price, of course. In such a case, naturally, the future husband became handsomer, better, and richer, according to the maxim, "He who greases well, drives well." If the mother happened to arrive on the scene while this was going on, it was not too serious a matter, for the Gypsy knew how to deal with her. It was otherwise when the father came, for he usually ejected the visitors from the house. By that time, however, they had generally finished their business, the hams had been well stowed away, and the daughter had taken those fine sweet words to her heart. While the women were promising the village beauties a more or less rosy future, the men were going from farmyard to farmyard, working on the sympathies of the soft-hearted farmers to get feed for their animals. This was usually not refused, for the horses aroused more sympathy than their owners. Having received a favorable reply, the Gypsies were not backward about helping themselves and, had they not been restrained, would have walked away with the whole pile of feed. One man had scarcely left when another appeared with an equally big sack. This continued until every one of them had paid a successful visit to a farmyard. They did not, of course, want the feed for nothing! Oh no, they would be happy to pay for it, but at the moment they did not have the money. They were prepared, however, to render some service in return. Perhaps the master had an old pair of shoes that one could mend. But the farmer, well acquainted with Gypsy ways, rarely trusted them with a pair of shoes, because after mending them they often forgot to return them to their owner. Even Gypsies could not always go barefooted! The Tatars, who were Mohammedans, were more welcome in the village, for they belonged to a nobler race, a more respected brotherhood. They usually condescended to buy things, although they offered only a fraction of the actual value of the article. They manufactured many items for the farmers, for example, sieves, which they made out of hides in their canvas- covered wagons. They tanned the hides, stretched them out over wooden frames and made holes in them with a hollow punch. With the wood splinters left over from the manufacture of the frames, they made ornamental baskets, as well as rattles for the children, which their womenfolk then exchanged for milk and other things that they could bargain for in the village. By the time such a caravan left, every farmhouse had some kind of a souvenir of the Tatars. For us boys it was a special delight to observe their life and activity and to study the habits and customs of these Orientals: the way they lived day after day packed together in their covered wagons, whether stopped in a village or on the road; the women in their multi-colored gowns and their hair abundantly decorated with medals of every description; the men wearing the heavy fur hats on their heads, which they did not remove even in the greatest heat, and wearing pantaloons wide enough to accommodate a dozen of them. They came, mostly barefooted, to begin their bargaining; here a hide, there a loaf of bread, elsewhere a few potatoes or whatever was available. They appeared to be very poor people; it must have been poverty that caused them to wander. They always offered a small payment for an article they wanted, but were much happier to accept it for nothing. At most homes they were given something as a gift or the farmer bought an article

39 from them. When their right of asylum in the village had expired, they moved on. No one cared whence they came and whither they were going. No one shed tears after them, for there were always others arriving; as in the weather house, when Hansel goes, Gretel comes. It frequently happened that when one group was leaving at one end of the village, another group was entering at the other, with much shouting and yelling. Sometimes it was jugglers showing their skills, or it was acrobats, who worked under the tents and, on payment of an admission fee, showed stunts never seen here before. Others stopped only to rest their horses. Occasionally the travelling group was an insolent lot, who had to be driven away by force. They came at a time when the men were out in the fields, snooped around everywhere in the village, and generally made a nuisance of themselves, until the men came home and drove them away, Some of these wanderers spoke Russian, but often they spoke a language that no one understood. No one knew whether they had a home anywhere or not. They wandered aimlessly from village to village, from place to place in the vastness of the Russian empire, leading the lives of nomads. Was it a spirit of adventure or did poverty force them into this kind of life? That they were poor was clear. Poverty was their badge. For anyone interested in ethnology, the situation here provided a splendid opportunity to study peoples and races without having to visit foreign lands. There was enough variety, more than enough, in these nomads who wandered through the villages of southern Russia.

Travelling Craftsmen Apart from the usual blacksmiths, wagon builders, and carpenters, there were not many artisans in our villages; the deficiency was made up by travelling craftsmen. Building construction, for example, was carried out mainly by people who came from afar, in our case by Russians from the densely populated parts of the empire. These, with their somewhat coarse tools, did the masonry work, for in our area most buildings were made of stone. Usually the same group of masons came each year, as very few of our people could do the work themselves, for they were farmers who seldom meddled with the work of craftsmen. Masons were not all that were needed; the village needed also glaziers, painters, scissor and knife sharpeners, tinsmiths, travelling shoemakers, plasterers, and many others. The masons came into the village in the spring. As everything was built out of stone quarried locally, it was rough, heavy work, A farmer who wanted to construct a new building collected his material in the winter so that work could begin immediately when he had made his deal with the masons. The trenches for the foundations were dug and filled with stones and clay. Strings were stretched out as a guide to further construction. The stones had to be cut first, so that they would lie properly. For the corners and for door and window openings the softer sandstone was used, because it could be cut readily to any desired size. Since the walls were usually two feet thick, the building of a house took a large mass of material. After the masons had finished and had left for another farmyard, it was the turn of the carpenters, to put on the roof. This work was usually done by carpenters living in the village, who were assisted by the owner's family. Most commonly the roof was covered with baked tiles, more recently sometimes with cement tiles. The art of laying tiles was acquired readily by the farmers .and so they helped each other out. When tin was used, the work was done by a tinsmith. Then came the plasterers, who did the decorative work, and finally the carpenters again to do the finishing. These were paid at a certain rate for each window opening, The plasterers were real artists, who did the most beautiful decorative work in the interior of the house. The architectural plans were always basically the same, but there were variations, according to the wish of the owner, always simple yet beautiful. The painters then added their art and the whole gave an attractive result, particularly when the stove and chimney builders also knew their trade. By fall the family could move into its new home. The rooms were beautiful in their simplicity, even elegant. A beautiful clean room was the pride of every housewife. The whole thing cost the owner a lot of money, but if he gave a generous tip to each set of workers as they took over, they all gave him equally good service and the new house became an ornament for the village. Our glaziers were mostly Jews, who sometimes bought hides on the side. But they did not all do this, because then they would have taken away the livelihood of the Jewish hide-buyer. They usually drove into the village with their emaciated horses, with a few boxes of glass and some clumsily built windows on their wagons. Although their windows did not sell well here, they found a ready sale in Russian villages. For the mud huts of the Russians they were good enough. My grandfather used to say that it was a shame to waste good wood building such windows. But the Jewish glazier did know how to cut glass. He put the pane of

40 glass in front of his knee, placed the ruler over it and drew the diamond across it with lightning speed - and the pane would fit! He quickly placed it into the window, put putty around it and the job was finished. A large crowd usually gathered to watch the process in silence until the panes were in the windows. The tinsmiths too came in their wagons, stopped in the middle of the village, unhitched their horses and gave them feed. Soon one of them emerged, loaded down with tin objects, like Santa Claus in this country, and went from house to house offering his wares. They were mainly serrated bake pans, in which the women of the village proudly baked their good bread, and a bundle of stove pipes for the samovar, the world-renowned Russian tea-machine, of which every house had one. This man was the advance agent, advertising their presence. The little boys of the village soon followed him carrying pails with holes in them and other items needing repairs. When he returned to the wagon, his partners were already busy. They bent and shaped their tin over an iron bar fastened to the spokes of the wagon wheels. It was exciting to observe how skillfully they molded it. A few dexterous movements and there was a new bottom on a pail; this was quickly soldered and the job was finished. These people were usually Great Russians from the north, superior in skills to our South Russians. The tailors again were Jews. Many of them spent months in a village doing their work. They were mostly poor people, but had a good education. It would not surprise me if one or the other of them has become a government minister in the New Russia, where the Jews are in favor. In our time their status in society was uncertain. They were despised by the Russians. But they were specialists with the needle, real artists; they made the best suits. They had little good to say about the Tsar. Knives and scissors too occasionally became dull in the village, but that was no great misfortune. The scissor sharpeners came through the village periodically carrying their rotating grindstones on their backs. They wandered from farmyard to farmyard looking after the sharpening chores, always surrounded by a crowd of little boys. It was a pleasant experience to hear them singing a song while rotating the grindstone, with the sparks flying in all directions. So the craftsmen came every year to render their services. Their pay was low, but they made enough for a modest and frugal livelihood. Those that lived in the village were citizens of it like the farmers, their houses being indistinguishable. None of them became factory owners or grew rich, but neither did they suffer hunger. They were a part of the village.

Travelling Merchants There were also travellers of another sort, who came through the village singly or in small groups, sometimes in a vehicle, often on foot. They were merchants who provided the villages with needed wares. There was, for example, our cloth merchant, Solomon, who lived in Suiz and who was a very wealthy Jew. To do his chores, which consisted mainly in carrying the cloth into the houses, he brought a servant with him, who also had to feed and drive his horses. Although in our village we had two general stores, also owned by Jews, and later a consumers' cooperative store as well, neither the Jews nor the cooperative could compete with Solomon. In cloth merchandising he was the master. His goods must have been of the very best quality, or he understood the art of hypnosis. People often spent their last kopeck for cloth from Solomon. Many owed him money and thus Solomon was able to exert gentle pressure on them to buy from him again. There were other traders who came into the village. One such was B. B. Srull. I don't know whether that was his real name, but it's the name people called him and to which he answered. He usually came before or during threshing time. He was our grain buyer and lived in Warwarowka, a suburb of Nikolayev, on this side of the Bug, where the storage facilities were located. He was said to be very wealthy. At one time a man in our village was a partner in his business, an arrangement that lasted several years. The grain trade yielded good profits. When the new firm had acquired considerable assets, the cashier, a Jew, vanished with the funds. This unspeakable action of his cashier grieved Srull almost to death. He considered that it cast aspersions on his efficiency! Then there was the Jewish ribbon salesman, Maishe. He was a smallwares pedlar, whom we boys liked to see come, for he always had the most beautiful things for us. We stood there with mouth and eyes wide open and could never see enough of the many colored ribbons and the like. His wares shone in the most brilliant colors, red, blue, and yellow. He knew how to show these off in the best light and to praise and extol them so that the young ladies gave their mothers no rest until they had some of every kind. Ribbons played a large role in village life. Young ladies decorated themselves with them for all festivities. This was especially so for weddings, for which not only the bridal pair and their attendants but even the horses were

41 decorated with ribbons from head to tail. In spite of his active sales, Maishe remained always a poor man. For us small fry, his large money bag, from which he removed handfuls of money to make change, was very impressive; to us he was the richest man in the world. His poor skinny horse, however, showed that he was not rich and that his big money bag contained mainly coppers. Still poorer than the ribbon salesman was Yoshke, who did not even own a horse. He carried all his wares, which consisted of perfumed soaps, from house to house in a basket. He too found a ready sale for his products among the mothers and daughters of the village, but he did not in our time attain the status of a rich merchant. His profits, over all the years in which he visited our village, never enabled him to buy a horse, something that he badly wanted. Lippka, however, was the poorest of all. He was blind and usually came to our village on foot, led by a boy. He was our pharmacist and carried his wares in a basket. He was a tall thin man, with a full white beard. As soon as he entered a house, he began to recite his litany of praise for his wares, in a monotone and always in the same order: "Do you need Hoffmann drops, peppermint drops, headache drops, stomach drops, cough drops. . . ?" It was a line of chatter that he had memorized. His sales, however, had not brought him anything except his worn suit, which someone had probably presented to him, and his basket. He continued to come to the village, looking like a patriarch of old, reminding one of biblical times, And so the village was provided with all the things that it needed and some that it didn't need, each of the travelling salesmen having his own specialty. Other visitors were the Russian brush salesmen, who also carried their wares on their backs. In addition to brushes they sold smallwares: cutlery, knives, scissors, and the like. They lugged their frequently very heavy loads from village to village, where they also bought the bristles that were removed from the hides of slaughtered pigs before scalding. These travellers usually came from far distant regions. In areas where the villages were not too far apart, or where they received a ride now and then, it was a bearable kind of business. But where the distances between the villages were great and every step of the hard road had to be covered on foot, it was a laborious life, in which the salesman earned his bread by the sweat of his brow. These travelling salesmen were a part of our village life. We were accustomed to their coming, like we were to the swallows, who came and went with the seasons. They contributed to the comfort of village life. Although honest citizens were often cheated by being sold trash or useless things for good money, the salesmen saved the villagers many a step because they brought their wares directly to the customer. In spite of their usefulness, they were still a nuisance, about whom one never felt secure. They understood only too well how to trade on people's weaknesses. Many a silver or copper piece found its way unnecessarily into the pockets of these visitors. There were also other salesmen, who did not come to the houses but drove through the village streets advertising their wares. Early on Sunday mornings, at an ungodly hour, long before most people had awakened from their sleep, the butcher came and shouted out his wares. His scale hung on a pole attached to the wagon and the meat block stood in a corner of the wagon. By sunrise every housewife had a fresh piece of meat for her Sunday dinner. At certain times of the year the Russian lubricating oil salesmen came to the village. With the shout, "Lubricants, lubricants," they summoned the farmers who needed oil and wagon grease. As this trade was not so well advertised as it is in this country, nor so well organized, the products were cheap. For a few kopecks the farmer could acquire his year's supply of wagon grease. He needed also lubricating oil for his horses' harness and for his high leather boots, which had to be soaked in the smelly liquid once a year to keep them pliable. For us boys the Russian apple salesmen were more welcome visitors than the smelly oil salesmen. These usually came during threshing time, in the fall, with their straw-covered wagons. They were genuine Russian figures with long grey beards, whom we called Kazaps. Even in the greatest heat they wore their high leather boots and their shirts fluttered freely about their bodies, in genuine Russian style, serving as shirt, as pocket and as underwear. As soon as the shout "Apples, apples" resounded, the children ran into the street. The shouting was actually superfluous, for one could smell the apples long before the wagon reached the farmyard gate. In a very short time every child in the village had a juicy apple or other fruit and was enjoying eating it. Fruit tasted better in Russia than it does here, but it didn't look as good. Following these, other fruit and melon salesmen came to the village in their turn. The farmers at this time seldom raised their own fruit, melons, or wine. During Lent Russian fish and herring salesmen travelled through the villages. Their wares were bought

42 right at the barrel in which they were neatly packed. As usual with everything in Russia, they were quite cheap. Herring and potato salad was favorite lenten fare of our village. But not only sellers came to our village, but also buyers. There was not only Srull, but for every item there were ten buyers. No cowhide or horsehide went to waste. Much in demand were butter, eggs, poultry, and live cattle. There were never too many of these in the village. Everything could be sold. The poultry buyers came with net-covered wagons, already partly filled. The cackling noise in the street was deafening. The calf buyers always annoyed me; I felt sorry for the poor animals. As soon as they had caught the calf, they tied its legs together and threw it on the wagon, with its head hanging out, sometimes so that it rubbed against the wheel. There was a sale even for worn-out rubber boots! If the customs described here were suddenly brought to a halt in these villages, much of the romance of life would be lost. It would be similar to the sudden disappearance of all the Chinese laundries and restaurants in the villages of the [Canadian] prairies. Every land has its manners and customs, its institutions and its salesmen. In Russia the best established of these were the travelling salesmen who wandered through the villages.

Don't Miss The Twelfth International Convention of the American Historical Society of Germans from Russia

Radisson South Hotel Minneapolis, Minnesota

July 74 -19, 1981

43 THE ORIGINS OF AHSGR: THE ORGANIZATIONAL MEETINGS A History Based on Documents in the Society Files Adam Giesinger

As was described in the first instalment of this history, [See AHSGR Journal Volume 3, Number 3 (Winter 1980) pp. 11- 18.] late in August 1968 David J. Miller, on behalf of the committee interested in organizing a society of Germans from Russia, sent a "memorandum" to a number of people in Colorado and Nebraska, and to some farther away, inviting them to an "organizational meeting" to be held on Sunday, 8 September, at 7:00 p.m. at the Windsor Gardens in Denver. The memorandum explained the nature and the purposes of the proposed organization, listed some possible names for it, and suggested that a membership fee of $10.00 per family might be appropriate. It asked those who could not attend the meeting to indicate their interest by writing. The response to this invitation exceeded the fondest expectations of the organizing committee. Forty-two persons arrived at the Windsor Gardens on the evening of 8 September and several others, who could not come, expressed their interest in letters, some of them enclosing $10.00 as membership fees. Among the latter were three persons who became well known in the society later, Emma S. Haynes of Frankfurt, Germany; Arthur E. Flegel of MenIo Park, California; and Joseph S. Height of Franklin, Indiana. According to the memorandum, the organizational meeting of 8 September was to "consider articles of incorporation, by- laws, the selection of a name, and the creation of subcommittees." Because the minutes, written by the acting secretary, John Werner, were not so detailed as they might have been, disputes arose later regarding the accomplishments of this meeting. Fortunately, there exists also a tape-recording of the proceedings, made by Mrs. Werner, of which we have a copy. The recording shows that the meeting was a relaxed, friendly, enthusiastic gathering, where talk flowed freely. Although it fell short of accomplishing all that had been hoped for, it did arrive, in its informal way, at a number of decisions: (1) It approved unanimously a motion by Chester Krieger, seconded by Theodore Wenzlaff, "that we create an organization for German-Russians in the United States and Canada, with other interested persons eligible for membership," (2) It referred the problem of a name for the society, about which no agreement could be reached, to a proposed Organization Committee, which was to bring a report to the next general meeting. (3) It authorized David J. Miller to name the members of the Organization Committee, which was to recommend the name for the society and to plan future action. (4) It reached a consensus that membership fees should be $5.00 for an individual and $10.00 per family, (5) It set the next general meeting for the afternoon of Sunday, 6 October, at Greeley, Colorado. Probably the most solid accomplishment of that gathering of 8 September, however, was the great enthusiasm it generated for the cause. Nearly all persons present immediately paid membership fees and subsequently became active and ardent recruiters for the new society. By the end of September 1968 the records show the following members (names marked * were persons present at the meeting): Henry J. Amen, Lincoln, Nebraska *Lydia F. Amend, Aurora, Colorado *Mr. & *Mrs. William Cook, Wheatridge, Colorado *Mr. & *Mrs. Henry J. Dietz, Greeley, Colorado Mr. & Mrs. Arthur E. Flegel, Menio Park, California Paul Fritzler, Windsor, Colorado *Marie Gilbert, Aurora, Colorado Rev. & Mrs, F. W. Gross, Sacramento, California Emma S. Haynes, Frankfurt, Germany Dr. & Mrs. Joseph S. Height, Franklin, Indiana Mrs. A. A. Hunt, Fairbury, Nebraska ^Edith Kenner, Denver, Colorado *Mr. & ^Mrs. Chester Krieger, Denver, Colorado *Mr. & *Mrs. John Krieger, Denver, Colorado ""Mr. & *Mrs. Jerry Lehr, Denver, Colorado Mr. & Mrs. Roland Lehr, Oakland, California *Mr. & *Mrs. John Metzger, Denver, Colorado

44 *Mr. & *Mrs, David J. Miller, Greeley, Colorado Esther L. Miller, Independence, Kansas Conrad Rehn, Rupert, Idaho ^Albertina Sanger, Denver, Colorado *Mr. & *Mrs. Sol Schlagel, Pierce, Colorado *Stan Schlagel, Pierce, Colorado *Mr. & *Mrs. George Stahia, Greeley, Colorado *Mr. & *Mrs. Henry Stahia, Kimball, Nebraska Mr. & Mrs. Harold Stoll, Burley, Idaho Ruth K. Stoll, Yuma, Arizona ^David Strecker, Denver, Colorado *Mr. & ^Mrs. Henry Uhrich, Loveland, Colorado Mr. & Mrs. Conrad Urbach, Colorado Springs, Colorado *Mr. & *Mrs. William F. Urbach, Denver, Colorado *Mr. & *Mrs. Daniel Walker, Denver, Colorado Roger L. Welsch, Lincoln, Nebraska *Mr. & Mrs. Theodore C. Wenzlaff, Sutton, Nebraska *Mr. & *Mrs. John H. Werner, Aurora, Colorado *Rev. & ^Mrs. William Werner, Denver, Colorado *Sarah Wolfe, Denver, Colorado ^Mr. & *Mrs. Jacob Zeiler, Wheatridge, Colorado Among the first persons outside of Colorado contacted by David Miller in connection with the formation of a society of Germans from Russia was Emma Schwabenland Haynes, whom he had known as a student at the University of Colorado and who had written a master's thesis at that time on the history of the Volga Germans. She was now living in Frankfurt, Germany, but he obtained her address from the alumni office of the university and wrote to her on 25 July 1968, telling her about the proposed organization. She replied on 26 August, expressing great interest and offering to donate books to a depository that might be established. When Miller sent her a copy of his "memorandum" calling the meeting of 8 September, she replied with a $10.00 check as membership fee. On 17 September Miller wrote to her again asking her to serve on the Organization Committee. This letter contained remarks on the naming of the society: Believe it or not we are hung up pretty badly on what to call this organization. There is a lot of resistance to the word Russian. The group could not reach a decision on Sunday last. ... If you have any suggestions on the name I would appreciate it. In her reply of 24 September, after discussing some of the phrases in the names that had been suggested, Mrs. Haynes concluded with this interesting observation: And so, for what it's worth, I'd vote for "Historical Society (or Association) of Germans from Russia." Or, if the title doesn't seem too cumbersome, "American Historical Society of Germans from Russia." This last was the first suggestion of the name that was finally adopted at the meeting of 6 October. At this point, however, the suggestion appears not to have registered in David Miller's mind, then rather preoccupied with organizational problems. There is no record of any reference to it during the discussions that led to the adoption of the name. Another person in Germany to whom David Miller sent a copy of his "memorandum" of late August 1968 was Dr. Karl Stumpp. He responded on 9 September, very pleased with the prospect of a society being formed in America. He had four comments regarding it: (1) In connection with the names being suggested for the new society, he objected to the use of the term "German-Russians." (Es darf nicht heissen "Deutsch-Russen. " Das klingt schrecklich und gibt es auch nichf.) (2) He urged that the society include all groups of Germans from Russia, as does their Landsmannschaft in Germany: Volga Germans, Black Sea Germans, Siberian Germans, Petersburg Germans, Volhynian Germans; and both Protestants and Catholics, And he hoped it would be possible to have representatives of all of these on the founding committee and on the board of directors later on, (3) He urged that the proposed archive be established on a secure and permanent basis. (4) He promised to be helpful in the acquisition of materials for the archive. A copy of this Stumpp letter, or a letter with similar content, went also to Dr. Joseph Height, who commented on it approvingly in a letter to Miller on 14 September, in which he suggested that Dr. Stumpp, because of his "outstanding achievements in the field of Russian-German research" should be made Honorary President of our organization. After reporting Dr. Stumpp's objection to the use of "German Russians"

45 in the name of the society, Height made the following interesting comments: To be sure, when I translated his book, I used the term "German Russians" whereby (in analogy to "German- American" or "German-Canadian") I regarded the adjective as designating the ethnic component and the noun as denoting the citizenship. I know that some prefer the term "Russian German," and I have no objection to it. Indeed, it might be preferable. Both in this letter and in another of 28 September, which he wrote after receiving the minutes of the meeting of 8 September, Height supported strongly the Stumpp view that the new society should include "all the regional groups . . . Volga Germans as well as Black Sea Germans, Lutheran as well as Catholic." In the latter letter Height also sent Miller names of a number of persons "deeply interested in German-Russian research": Dr. A. Becker of Saskatoon, Saskatchewan; Dr. A, Giesinger of Winnipeg, Manitoba; Rev. W. C. Sherman of Fargo, North Dakota; Victor Leiker of Atlantic Highlands, New Jersey; and Rev. Hessel Stevens, Hosmer, South Dakota. All of these later became members of the society and some of them became well known. Many of our early members heard the first news about this society through a letter written by Chester Krieger of Denver to the Congregational Churches of northeastern Colorado, in whose congregations were many Germans from Russia. He wrote this letter soon after attending the meetings of 8 September, in which he had taken an active part. The following are excerpts from the letter; Plans are being made to expand an organization which was formed to represent the Germans from Russia and their descendants. The organization is open to everyone who has an interest in the accomplishments of the Germans from Russia. It is hoped that there will be many people interested in such an organization. All of the German Congregational Churches in Colorado were founded by Germans from Russia, and both the people and churches have made a worthwhile contribution to the development of Colorado. The Germans from Russia who settled in other parts of the country have also made similar contributions wherever they lived. Thus far, most of the accomplishments and contributions of the Germans from Russia have gone unnoticed. Only a very limited amount of literature is available in the Colorado State Historical Library. With enough effort, this situation can be changed, not only for Colorado, but for every state where the German-Russians have settled. The German Churches have been very helpful and effective in bringing together and keeping together many of the people who came from Russia. These churches can also have an active part in gathering information and promoting the achievements of the German-Russians. Therefore it is requested that you inform all your church members, and all your friends and associates about the organization which has been formed to promote the achievements of the German-Russians. . . . Also, on Sunday, October 6, at 1:30 p.m. a meeting will be held in the Greeley Community Building, Greeley, Colorado, to bring more people together. . . . Everyone will be most welcome, and it is hoped that there will be a large group attending. On 29 September the Organization Committee, appointed by David Miller in accordance with the motion at the meeting of 8 September, met at the Windsor Gardens in Denver. The following committee members were present; Mr. and Mrs. David Miller, Mr. and Mrs. Henry Dietz, Mr. and Mrs. Chester Krieger, Mr. and Mrs. John Krieger, Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Walker, Mr. and Mrs. William Urbach, John Werner, and Jerry Lehr. David Miller, who presided, stated that the purpose of the meeting was "to select a name for the new organization and prepare in brief form a proposed constitution or articles of incorporation to be presented at a meeting of the present membership and those interested in becoming members on October 6, 1968, at Greeley, Colorado." Chester Krieger acted as secretary. After lengthy discussion the committee approved the following motions: (1) that we adopt the name: Inter American Historical Society of Germans from Russia; (2) that John Werner, Jerry Lehr, Mr. and Mrs. Walker, and Mr. and Mrs. Urbach meet as a committee to prepare a brief consolidated form of a constitution for the organization, and articles of incorporation, for presentation at the Greeley meeting; (3) that John Werner be chairman of this subcommittee; and (4) that the articles of incorporation make provision for a board of directors composed of fifteen persons. On Sunday afternoon, 6 October, a general meeting of persons interested in the new organization convened in the Greeley Community Building, Greeley, Colorado. David Miller presided and Chester Krieger acted as secretary. Although the minutes do not mention this, a newspaper report of the time said that "approximately 70 persons" were present. No list of those attending is available. The meeting heard and approved the minutes of the meetings of 8 September and 29 September. It adopted the present name of

46 the society, approved a tentative set of articles of incorporation, and elected permanent officers. The business meeting was followed by musical entertainment on the dulcimer and accordian and an interesting talk by Reverend William Werner about his experiences as a young man in Russia. There was a display of maps and books about the Germans from Russia and of a variety of interesting articles brought from Russia by the immigrant generation. The following excerpts from the minutes give a picture of the highlights of the business portion of the meeting: The chairman welcomed the group to the meeting and thanked them for their interest and attendance. Then he commented on the background of the organization . . . Very good progress had been made considering the time that the organization had been in existence, and there are now 45 members. . . John Werner read the minutes of the subcommittee meeting on organization,... He then read the resolution of the organization subcommittee, and submitted a copy of the said resolution to the chairman. .. . [He] moved that the resolution be accepted. The move was seconded. The chairman read [from the resolution] the [suggested] name of the organization "Inter American Historical Society of Germans from Russia" . . . Chester Krieger presented the reasons why the name was selected from the several names that had been suggested. . . . The meeting was opened for comments and suggestions, and a short question and answer period ensued. . . . There seemed to be a general consensus that the words "Germans from Russia" were preferable to any other arrangement of words. Mr. Jacob Zeiler suggested that the word "Inter" be dropped from the name of the organization. Other names were suggested during the discussion. . . Mrs. Heinz then moved that the name of the organization be "American Historical Society of Germans from Russia." . . . The motion was seconded and approved by the group, thereby amending a part of the earlier motion by eliminating the word "Inter" from the name of the organization. The chairman [then read from the resolution] the [suggested] articles of incorporation and asked for questions, comments or possible amendments. . . . [There was] a motion that the retired military rank of the secretary nominee be officially added to his name. The motion was seconded. , . . and approved, thereby amending the original motion and resolution. There were no further amendments or changes offered. It was then moved and seconded that the resolution and original motion be accepted with the amendments that had been approved. The motion carried unanimously. David Miller was elected president, John Werner and Theodore Wenzlaff were elected vice presidents, Chester Krieger secretary and Mrs. William Urbach treasurer. Mr. Jacob Zeiler moved that a vote of thanks be given to the committee for their outstanding work in preparing the articles of incorporation. The motion was seconded and approved unanimously. The treasurer's report was read by Mrs. Walker, in the absence of Mrs. Urbach. A total of $444.00 is on hand in the treasury at this time. This meeting of 6 October was again a very enthusiastic gathering, which undoubtedly gave a strong impetus to the growth of membership in the new society. A newspaper report of the meeting, with a picture, in the Greeley Tribune of 10 October 1968, copies of which were later given wide distribution, also played an important role in increasing membership. The Greeley Tribune report, although no objection was raised to it at the time, later became controversial. Its opening sentence, "The American Historical Society of Germans from Russia was organized in Greeley Sunday by approximately 70 persons at the Greeley Community Building," was said to be a misrepresentation of the facts. This statement, the critics said, implied that the meeting of 6 October was the organizational meeting of the society, when in fact there had been an earlier one on 8 September, Argument developed over which of the two meetings was the "founding" meeting and which date, therefore, was the correct birthday for the society. Since one's conclusion regarding a "founding" date depends upon one's view as to what formalities constitute "founding," such arguments are obviously futile. Actually, in this case, two more meetings were needed before al! the "founding" formalities were completed. One could therefore make a case for adopting the date of incorporation, 20 December 1968, as the official birthday of the society. But, we are getting a little ahead of ourselves. There was no controversy about this matter until two years later. In the fall of 1968 the leading personalities in the society saw no problems in the newspaper report. Theodore Wenzlaff, for example, on 11 November, wrote to the Urbachs,

47 I submitted the item with picture that appeared in the Greeley Tribune on October 10th to our local newspaper, "The Clay County News", today. The publisher said he would print an item in his paper based on it. On the same date, Wenzlaff wrote to Miller, I have submitted the press release to our local newspaper, adding the membership costs, and the publisher has promised that he is going to run it this week. I'll send you a copy when it is issued. Perhaps our membership should be given a similar press release that could be published in the small town newspapers where Germans from Russia are living. We will need the publicity. An item based on the Greeley Tribune article did appear in The Clay County News on 14 November, Later in the month, on 24 November, at a meeting of the Organization Committee, it was suggested that a membership recruiting letter be prepared and be printed on the reserve side of copies of the Greeley Tribune article. At the board meeting of 15 December, this was authorized and Mrs. Gerda Walker and Jerry Lehr were asked to prepare the letter. The letter in that form was widely distributed in the new year when Gerda Walker was made membership chairman. But long before this organization recruiting campaign got under way, word somehow got around to many areas of the United States and Canada and people sent in membership fees. By the end of October, the records show the following additional members signed up during that month: Mr, & Mrs, Carl Amen, Loveland, Colorado Dr. & Mrs. A. Becker, Saskatoon, Saskatchewan Nancy L. Bernhardt, Bayard, Nebraska Mr. & Mrs. Robert T. Cattte, Seward, Nebraska Louise Ditter, Denver, Colorado Fred Fahrenbruch, Crete, Nebraska Judge & Mrs. Ray R. Friederich, Rugby, North Dakota Mr. & Mrs. James R. Griess, Hastings, Nebraska Alice Amen Heinz, Greeley, Colorado Mr. & Mrs. Harold Henkel, Brighton, Colorado Mr, & Mrs. David Hock, Anaheim, California Fred C. Koch, Olympia, Washington Mr. & Mrs. Conrad Krening, Portland, Oregon Charles R. Lambrecht, Butte, Montana Mr. & Mrs. Alex Schafer, Denver, Colorado Mr. & Mrs, Donald R. Schwartz, Lincoln, Nebraska Rev. Hessel Stevens, Hosmer, South Dakota Mr, & Mrs. Peter Stoll, Windsor, Colorado Amy B. Toepfer, Placentia, California Hanna E. Wago, Denver, Colorado Mr. & Mrs. Roland Zehr, Oakland, California Mr. & Mrs. Henry Zeiler, Loveland, Colorado

In the meantime the officers of the society were trying to arrange a meeting to be devoted to choosing a representative board of directors, listing of which in the articles of incorporation was a requirement. This task was accomplished at a meeting in the Windsor Gardens, Denver, on 24 November, attended by the following: Mr. and Mrs. David Miller, Mr, and Mrs. Jerry Lehr, Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Walker, Mr. and Mrs, William Urbach, Marie Gilbert, and Chester Krieger. Chosen as directors, subject to their approval (for those absent), were the following: Rachel Amen, Arthur E. Flegel, Marie Gilbert, Joseph S. Height, Chester Krieger, Jerry Lehr, David J. Miller, Fred Ostwald, William Raugust, Harold Stoll, Theodosia Urbach, William F. Urbach, Gerda Walker, Theodore C. Wenzlaff, John H. Werner. Three of these, for various reasons, felt that they had to decline the appointment: Fred Ostwald, Theodore Wenzlaff, and John Werner. Wenzlaff, however, agreed to stay on as a vice-president and later on Werner agreed to the same. Early in December, in an effort to get wider geographical representation, David Miller wrote to several people with whom he had corresponded earlier, offering them board membership. Among these were Edmund Heier of Waterloo, Ontario; Adam Giesinger of Winnipeg, Manitoba; Ray R. Friederich of Rugby, North Dakota; and Victor Leiker of Atlantic Highlands, New Jersey, Professor Heier declined, but the other three, along with Mrs, Emma S. Haynes, were added to the board of directors.

48 The new board of directors met for the first time on 15 December at the Windsor Gardens, Denver, The following board members were present: David Miller, William Urbach, Theodosia Urbach, Jerry Lehr, Marie Gilbert, Gerda Walker, and Chester Krieger. Present also were Pauline Lehr and Daniel Walker. The main business of the meeting was to put the articles of incorporation into final form. This was accomplished and the articles were then executed and acknowledged before a notary public, Mrs. Pauline S. Lehr. Copies of the articles were subsequently filed with the Secretary of State, State of Colorado, who issued a Certificate of Incorporation dated 20 December 1968. The American Historical Society of Germans from Russia was now a legal entity, a Colorado nonprofit corporation. The founding formalities were complete! On 30 December 1968 we find for the first time in AHSGR correspondence the name of Ruth M. Amen, who was to become David Miller's successor as president in June 1973. In a letter of 30 December, David Miller extended to her an invitation "to join us in the exciting adventure of the American Historical Society of Germans from Russia." He asked her to become a charter member of the society and a member of the board of directors. Ruth accepted the invitation and attended her first board meeting on 1 March 1969, Her involvement in "the adventure" has been the main activity of her life ever since.

49 A VOICE FROM THE PAST: A GERMAN-RUSSIAN LIFE Christian Welsch with an Introduction by Roger L. Welsch

The following document may not seem to many readers like much out of the ordinary. It isn't. It is very ordinary. It is the memory of one German-Russian who was born in this country, worked beets around Scottsbluff, Nebraska, worked as a laborer in Lincoln, became a skilled laborer, raised a family, bought a home, and retired. His name appears in no history books and probably never will. He is something special to me: he is my father. He distinguished himself in my eyes by completing his high school education a few years before I did mine, demonstrating to me that education is a lot more important than any false sense of pride or shame. Then he and my mother spent many years serving as domestics, mowing lawns, pulling weeds from the lawns of the rich, in addition to working at a regular job, so I could have a college education. It therefore goes without saying that this man is something very special to me. But why should I assume that he is someone important enough that we should include his words in these pages? Well, the training I was given by my parents led me into the field of folklore and in that field we study the products, the customs, the minds of the common man. We learn that there is art and history, literature, and philosophy that is generated and transmitted among the nameless, Far from being insignificant it is often precisely in the common life that the real drama of history can be found. For example, more can be learned about the history of Nebraska in the stories of the Kinkaiders, the men and women who confronted the challenge of the Plains, than from the story of Moses Kinkaid, the otherwise undistinguished politician who happened to sponsor a bill in Congress. I am therefore suggesting that we can learn a good deal about the history of the German-Russian people in America through the words of this ordinary man, Christian Welsch. And yet there is something extraordinary about Chris Welsch and this testament of his. First, he is articulate in his writing. No one is more surprised about that than I am. I don't believe that he and I have had a real conversation in my forty years of life. Part of that assuredly came from his difficulties with hearing. Part of it came from the German-Russian's avoidance of conversation with younger people in general. And a part—a part I learned about from this document—came from many hard, hard years. But here Chris Welsch speaks with eloquence. I am a teacher of literature and here I recognize a sparkle of humor and fine laconic style that would do any professional writer credit: One of the big things to do on Saturday evening was to weigh ourselves on the penny scale at the Lingle [Wyoming] Drugstore. It had three slots to put your penny into. If you put your penny into the right slot you not only got weighed but you got your penny back, and you could enjoy another period of time trying to decide what to do with that extra penny. There were several girls about the same age as my sister Mary and they all weighed about the same. All but Edna Schwarz—she was always rather heavy. One Saturday Clara Dmkle weighed more than my sister Mary, which made Clara unhappy. A few Saturdays later Clara weighed more than Edna Schwarz, and shortly thereafter John Meier disappeared. Then everybody knew why Clara Dinkle weighed so much. Perhaps the most important distinction of Chris Welsch's story however is not its historical, cultural, or literary merit but the fact that he wrote it down. How many people after all have meant to write down their story but never have. Chris Welsch did write. He is not a writer, so it was all the more a labor and thus all the more a triumph. And he wrote not for fame or money but for his grandchildren. He wanted them to know his story. He rarely editorializes in his account, leaving it up to us to draw our own conclusions about the nature and purpose of his life and the German-Russian struggle in this country. I fed my father questions to help bring out things I wanted to know but the substance and best materials of the manuscript are wholly his. I have consulted with him during the editorial work on the papers to clarify some points, to seek guidance in omitting some few points (indicated by ellipses) that might have been painful to families or friends of the people mentioned, or to fill out gaps. (It should be remembered therefore that this is not a continual narrative but a series of responses to questions I submitted to the writer.) Perhaps the principal changes I have made have been the names in the narrative, I could see little purpose in embarrassing-or incriminating!-people or their descendants. Since my theory is that it is the ordinary

50 wherein the story lies and that this is an ordinary story, the names after all are of little importance. My decision to submit the manuscript for publication was quite fortuitous. I had had the papers for some years. I occasionally drew on a passage for an article I was writing or for my own amusement. On this occasion I was writing a chapter on the German-Russians for the University of Nebraska's Bicentennial Ethnic Resources Catalog [Published as Broken Hoops and Plains People (Lincoln, Nebraska: Nebraska Curriculum Development Center, 1976).] and I intended to excerpt a few items for my article from my father's memoirs. But as I began reading the papers once again I found myself lost in the reading, I picked out the paragraphs I needed but how I hated to leave behind in that folder the other hundred and some pages of equally interesting data! It was at that moment that I decided that the materials are not interesting, moving, and humorous simply because I am the writer's son but because the materials are fundamentally interesting, moving, and humorous. So, there it is. I submit these pages of my father's words to you in part of course as a proud son but also as a German- Russian who wants the story of my people told, and as a folklorist who wants to call the attention of the members of this Society to the importance of the typical as opposed to the extraordinary, as an American who wants to remind other Americans of the agony felt by the poor and less educated, the laborers and migrants. If you are thinking as you read these pages, "Why, this is nothing special; I could have done the same thing with my father!" the moral is not that I should have ignored my father's words but that you should immediately begin to collect your family's heritage yourself. Despite those high-minded and well reasoned theoretical bases I also know that I am working under the very worst of ethnographic conditions: I am writing about my relatives. And they are German-Russians, who are not very enthusiastic about having their private lives revealed to the public. That, however, is a risk I am ready to accept, with the anticipation that if they are not happy with this account, I can look forward to visits from aunts and uncles I see far too rarely anyway! So, thanks, Dad, for me and the kids.1

****:!;*

Part One

I know nothing about my grandfather. My father was in the Russian army, but I do not know how long. A son, my brother, named Phillip, was born in Russia and died on board ship enroute to the U.S.A. After arriving in the U.S.A. he was buried in a Boston, Massachusetts, cemetery. My sister, Mary, was born on the same ship while at sea. She had great difficulty obtaining her citizenship papers. My mother told of many small children dying enroute to the U.S.A. After seeing how the first deceased children were buried at sea, the mothers would not report the death of their children. They kept it secret so the deceased children would be buried on land. Each year on 13 May, the "Bollington"2 Railroad parked a long train, made up of box cars and passenger cars, under the North Tenth Street viaduct.3 There the beet4 tenders loaded their household goods, dogs, cats, rabbits, chickens, geese, ducks, etc. in the box cars, the people in the passenger cars. The train pulled out about noon. There usually was a long lay-over in the middle of the night at Alliance, Nebraska. The next day people arrived at their destination. A separate box car was used for each town. Some of the more prominent towns for beet tenders were Bridgeport, Minatare, Mitchell, Morrill, Scottsbluff, and Henry in Nebraska, and Torrington and Lingle in Wyoming. There was no diner on the train. Each family brought along their own food. It had to last the entire trip. Most beet tender families were large families. The more children a family had, the more beets they could work. The more beets they could work, the more money they could make. These large families made it necessary to take large quantities of prepared food along on the train to the beet fields. We had no refrigeration or thermos bottles, or pop coolers, or such. It was necessary to prepare food that would not spoil, such as well-done fried chicken, home-made white and rye bread, hard salami, minced ham, home- made dill pickles, cans of pork and beans. This was washed down with water, which was furnished free on the train. Some families did have a good supply of home-made "hootch" to keep them in good spirits throughout the trip. Before leaving Lincoln, each family signed a contract to work a certain number of acres of beets for the farmer named on their contract, for a certain price per acre. Some families worked for the same farmer for

51 many years. The Great Western Sugar Company furnished the train to the beet fields. After the beets were harvested in the fall, the beet tenders had to furnish their own transportation back to Lincoln. Because the sugar company furnished the transportation from Lincoln to the beet fields, most families took large quantities of white and rye flour, several hundred pounds of sugar, cases of hard salami, pork and beans, gallon buckets of Karo syrup, Mazola cooking oil, cases of Carnation evaporated milk, many pounds of Butternut coffee in the bean form. It did not lose its flavor if ground shortly before it was used. The sugar company notified the farmers when to expect the beet tender special. The farmers would then be at the depot with large horse-drawn beet wagons. The beet tenders' things would be loaded on the wagon along with the whole family and the long drive, sometimes ten or twelve miles, out to the farm would start.

An intriguing photo of Germans from Russia at a Burlington boxcar in 1913 from the archives of the Adams County (Nebraska) Historical Society. The group may be embarking for the beet fields of western Nebraska.

Lingle, Wyoming, was the last stop for the "beet tender special." It got there late in the afternoon of 14 May 1919. So late that most of the farmers had given up waiting and went home to do their chores. After much discussion, the railroad people agreed to spot a passenger coach on a side track and the beet tenders could spend the night in it. What they did not tell was that they had about a railroad passenger car half full of Mexicans that would also spend the night in the same car with the Germans from Russia. When the Mexicans moved in, the Germans put up a very loud protest. Apparently, the Great Western Sugar Company had a representative on the train. He soon made reservations at the Lingle Hotel for all the white families. The Mexicans stayed in the railroad car. The Lingle Hotel had two sections, the old and the new. Fortunately, we slept in the new. All those who slept in the old spent the night fighting bed bugs. Once bed bugs got in your clothing, they got in your house and it was next to impossible to get rid of them, Most beet shacks were infested with them. When they got unbearable, all beds were disassembled, taken outside and washed with kerosene. We had no mattresses. We used straw ticks. These were emptied and washed, using homemade lye soap and a soap powder named Rub-No-More. Then the ticks were filled with clean, fresh straw. It was said that bed bugs did not like sunlight. So the bedding was hung out in the sun frequently. The cold did not seem to bother the bed bugs. Our bedrooms never had heat in them, but the bed bugs lived on, In 1920, we went to Scottsbluff. The farm we went to was seven miles from town. The trip from the depot to the farm was made in an open wagon in cold rain and snow. Our family had seven children. The oldest was twelve years old, and the youngest was five months. After traveling seven miles in an open wagon, in rain and snow, the farmer insisted on moving us into a one-room shack which had no heat, light, or any other modern conveniences. My father told the farmer to either take us into his home, give us a good hot supper and a warm, dry place to sleep or he would beat hell out of him. The farmer saw my father meant every word of it. So we did not move into our shack until the following day. We finished beet harvest in late November. The farmer hauled us back to the depot in Scottsbluff and that was the first time we children got to town since we arrived there in May.

52 Blocking sugar-beets in Nebraska in the late 1920's. Photo courtesy of Harry Schwartzkopf and the Adams County Historical Society.

The beet tending consisted of "blocking and thinning," sometimes called the first hoeing, second hoeing, third hoeing and topping. The first hoeing was done by hoeing out a ten or twelve-inch space of beets, leaving a very small space or group of beets, and so on, through the length of the row. This hoeing was done by the adults and older children. They walked upright and used long-handled hoes which were kept very sharp. The younger children followed on hands and knees and thinned the beets which were left in the spaces or groups, one beet to each space, no more, no less. If you were caught pulling them all out or leaving more than one beet in a block or space, you were threatened with the hoe handle. I am sure I am not the only one who got whipped with a hoe handle. The first hoeing had to be finished by the Fourth of July. The family that was not through by the Fourth was looked down on. The adults got blisters on their hands from the hoe handles, and the children who had to crawl on the ground got very sore knees. Sometimes they were raw, open sores. If a child did a good job of thinning and worked real fast, he sometimes found money on the ground in the row he was thinning. I was so slow, I usually was so far behind that I was crawling in the opposite direction of all the others. One day my dad placed a silver dollar in the row my older brother was thinning. I was thinning southward and my brother was thinning northward. I happened to glance over into his row and found myself a silver dollar. My dad took the silver dollar for safekeeping and I never saw it again. The second hoeing consisted of hoeing out weeds and pulling out any double beets. This was usually done by the women and younger boys. The father and older boys helped the farmer with haying, irrigating, shocking and threshing grain. The third hoeing consisted of hoeing out and pulling out weeds. These had to be laid straight in the row so they would not interfere with the irrigation water. 1919, we went to Lingle, Wyoming, to work for a Fred Greenwald, a very distant relative, if any, to Sam.5 He had just built a new shack out of one by twelve inch boards. There was no covering on the sidewalls. As the boards dried out large cracks appeared in the walls and floor. The knots fell out of the knot holes. We nailed lids from tin cans over the holes to keep the snakes from coming inside. There was no well for water. We had to carry it from the farmer's well. He lived about six or seven blocks from our shack. This meant all the water for drinking, cooking, bathing, etc. There were no trees or bushes nearby. Nor did we have toilet facilities of any kind, indoor or outdoor. ... After several months of living like this, my dad managed to get a contract from a farmer named Harry Brown. After many bitter arguments and near fights with Mr. Greenwald, we moved to Mr, Brown's farm. Mr. Greenwald's farm was about one mile from town. I was seven years old and one day I was given a grocery list and a gunny sack and sent to town to get the groceries. The grocery store was run by Mr. and Mrs. Fish.

53 I gave them the grocery list and the gunny sack and they put the groceries in the sack and then the sack over my shoulder and I staggered out of the store under the weight. In place of ordinary cans, they put in "near gallon" cans. I carried the sack as far as I could, then stopped to rest. After resting, I was unable to get the sack back on my shoulder, so I drug it on the ground. When I was about halfway home, two men in a Model "T" Ford came along and offered me a ride. The only thing wrong with that was, they were going the opposite way. After they drove on I sat down and cried. It took me so long that my folks got worried and sent Mary, John, and Emma to look for me. When they found me I damn well made them carry the groceries the rest of the way. The gunny sack had a large hole worn in it and groceries were falling out, to add to my frustration, On Mr. Brown's farm, our shack had two rooms, tar paper all around. It was very close to Mr. Brown's house, so we had a well and toilet nearby. After beet harvest, Mr, Brown took us and our worldly possessions in a wagon and hauled us into Lingle and we rode the train to Alliance, Nebraska, where we had a long lay-over in the middle of the night. I was so fascinated by the drinking fountain that I kept going back to drink more water. Finally, I got sick and threw up on the depot floor. When we got back to Lincoln, we learned that everything that had been shipped got lost in transit. There was no insurance on it and it was never found. 1920. We went to Scottsbluff "de Katz ihr loch."6 1921. Mr. Harry Brown wrote my folks a letter asking them to come back and work for him. This was considered a great compliment by beet tenders. A few beet tenders worked for the same farmers many years. Usually, one year was all that could be tolerated because most farmers thought beet tenders were very inferior people. When we arrived at Mr. Brown's farm, we found the beet tender's shack had been moved about one-half mile away from his house. There was no well and no outhouse. Mr. Brown promised to put in a well and an outhouse just as soon as possible. Mr. Brown had turned into an alcoholic, so his promise was not kept. We learned that Mrs. Brown made him move the shack because she didn't want those "Rooshin kids" running around in her yard.

German-Russian field workers at a typical beet-tender's shack in Scottsbluff in 1927. Photo courtesy of Harry Schwartzkopf and the Adams County Historical Society.

54 After many bitter words with Mr. Brown, my dad was able to get a beet contract with a Mr. Walter Orama, a very fine gentleman of Japanese descent. He claimed he had been a male nurse in a Los Angeles hospital before he came to Wyoming to farm. He farmed the T. H. Ranch. He had a white family, whose name I have forgotten, working for him. He said this man was the ranch foreman. He also had several unwed Japanese men working for him. We moved into a roomy two-room tar paper shack, and shortly after we got there the white family moved out and we moved into a six-room house. Mr. Otama caJled my dad the ranch foreman. I recall my dad and Mr. Otama having many friendly discussions about which were the better workers - the "Japs" or the German-Russians. Mr. Otama was very flighty and my dad told him many times that he ran around like a rooster with its head chopped off. One Saturday night, the hired men went to town and they bought peanuts and candy. I believe Albert was about one and one-half years old. Sunday, they gave him all the peanuts and candy he wanted and he got very sick the next day. Somebody rushed into town to get the doctor, Dr. King. A spring flood had washed out the bridge by the T. H. Ranch, so it was a six- mile ride on horseback to get the doctor and he came out in a Model "T" Ford coupe. Before he got there, Albert went into a convulsion and my mother told me to run out to the beet field and get Mr. Otama. He was irrigating. He ran all the way to the house and apparently did all the right things. Everything was fine when the doctor got there. After that, we all believed Mr. Otama had been a male nurse. As Dr. King got out of his Model "T," he threw away a cigarette butt. After seeing a doctor smoke, I just knew there was nothing wrong with smoking, and to prove it, on several occasions John and I took pieces of newspaper and matches, crawled up into the hayloft which was piled full of dried alfalfa hay, scratched leaves out from under the hay, rolled them into cigarettes and sat on this huge pile of hay and smoked them. I have wondered many times, "What kept that pile of dry hay from catching on fire?" A few miles west of Scottsbluff is a place called Hague, [= Haig] Nebraska. It was named after a wealthy couple who came to the United States from England. It was said that they were so English that Mrs. Hague had to return to England to give birth to their daughter. The Hagues owned many acres of fertile irrigated land. They somehow induced Japanese families to leave California and come to Hague to farm their farms for them. They got too many for Hague, so they financed several of these Japanese families for farming near Lingle, Wyoming. One of these was Mr, Otama. He had no family. He did have a beautiful Japanese girl living with him. She could not speak English, The hired men teased him about this, but he insisted she was merely his housekeeper and they had separate bedrooms. She could not cook, so my mother had to board the hired men. Mr. Otama said he had been married to a white woman and they had two children and then she divorced him. These Japanese families all farmed very large farms. They used a large number of horses and they all had to be matched teams, all beautiful horses. This took so much hired help, horses and equipment that these Japs at Lingle all went broke. After the beet harvest was over, the hired help expected to get paid and move on. One morning we got up and Mr. Otama and his lady friend were gone. The other Japs had disappeared, too. Shortly thereafter, the bank, or somebody, came and removed all of the machinery and livestock, and the hired help were left practically penniless, The T. H. Ranch was owned by the Swan Land & Cattle Co., a large England-based company. They owned several large ranches and large herds of sheep and cattle in Wyoming, Their land office was in Chug-water, Wyoming, Mr. Templin was the head man, and Magnus Larson was his assistant. After the Japs sneaked out, we could not afford to return to Lincoln, While my folks were trying to figure out what to do, Mr. Templin and Mr. Larson showed up and asked my dad to stay and farm the T. H. Ranch. They said they would help him get started. About that time, a Mr. Kraus, who had been fanning south of Torrington, was sent to prison for bootlegging. The bank repossessed all of his machinery and livestock and they agreed to sell it to my dad with no down payment and no collateral other than the machinery and livestock which they sold him. All this machinery and livestock had to be moved about fifteen miles. Two other families had moved onto the T. H. Ranch by this time, the Phillip Brandt Family and the Wilhelm Mauer family. Mr, Brandt had a Model "T" Ford, a wife and four children, Mollie, Lydia, Minnie, and Alee. Mr. Mauer had a wife and three children, Hazel, Lena, and John. When it came time to bring the machinery and livestock home from Torrington, my dad, brother John, I, Mr. Brand, Mr. Mauer, and John Mauer got up awfully early one morning, got in the Model "T," drove down to Torrington, harnessed up the horses, loaded the wagons and tied plows, cultivators and any machinery with wheels on it behind the wagons. The cattle were driven along behind all of this. For some unknown reason, I, a nine-year old boy, was put on the lead wagon. I am positive I had never driven a team of horses before.

55 Everything went fine for about two miles, then we came to the railroad tracks. A freight train was approaching from the west; I was approaching from the south. I had every intention of stopping and letting that train go by, but somebody behind started to yell and wave their arms and I thought they wanted me to get across ahead of the train. I yelled at my team of horses; they started to run; and we got across ahead of the train, but the crossing was so rough I almost fell off of the wagon seat, and when I grabbed hold of the seat I dropped one of the lines and the horses turned the wrong way and I was on the north side of the tracks going east, instead of west. The others were on the south side and a freight train was between us, and I had my first run-away. Two strangers in a Model "T" were able to pass me and stop the run-away team. We arrived home late that night, very tired, very scared, and I believe we went all day without food. The cattle were turned into a hay meadow that night. The Japs, or somebody, had left a partial sack of grasshopper poison out in this hay meadow. Some of the cattle found it and the next morning at least half (probably eight or ten) of our cattle were dead. So, we spent 1922, 1923, 1924, and 1925 farming the T. H. Ranch. Mr. Templin and Mr. Larson paid frequent visits to the T. H. Ranch. We always tried to be on our good behavior when Mr. Templin came. He was the big boss. He arrived late one afternoon and he was invited to spend the night at our house. He wanted to go to town and stay in the hotel, but we all insisted he stay with us. He finally agreed. What an honor it was to have the head of the Swan Land & Cattle Co. staying overnight at our house! But, oh, how embarrassing it was the next morning when we learned he spent most of the night sleeping in his car and he showed us hundreds of red spots where he had been bitten by bed bugs! And we had let him sleep on the bed in the living room where we were sure there were no bed bugs. We always enjoyed Mr. Larson's visits. He told us many stories about Wyoming and the early settlers. We loved to hear him play Yankee Doodle by snapping his finger against his front teeth. I have yet to see an act on television like that was. Nor have I met anybody who can duplicate his act. When we started farming, my dad made it known that he was a farmer and his family did not have to tend beets. So in 1922, we had a Mexican family doing our beet work. They had a son named Joe. Joe was slightly retarded, good natured, and a very good worker, if you told him what to do and how to do it. In the spring, Joe helped with the spring plowing. As I came home from school one day, I walked by the field where Joe was plowing and he was singing at the top of his voice. When we heard someone sing in those days, we good-naturedly teased them by saying they were "singing the tune that the old cow died by." I do not know the origin or meaning of this saying.7 When Joe got to the end of the field where I was, I teased him about singing the tune that the old cow died by, and Joe just laughed and sang on. When I got home from school, it was my job to fill the managers "plum full" of hay, put grain in the grain box for each horse, make sure the water tank had plenty of water in it, and have all of the manure cleaned out of the bam. After all, I was ten years old and at that age you were supposed to be as good a worker as most hired men. The men doing the plowing were using two-way plows, pulled by three horses. One of the horses that Joe was driving was coal black. He had been used as a stallion and castrated at an age considered too old to be castrated. He was a very proud looking horse. He was the ruler over all the horses on the T. H, Ranch, so he was properly named "King." The men plowed from daylight to dark. When they came in from the field, the horses went to the water tank for a drink and then into the barn, where they were tied up and unharnessed, and then we went to the house for supper. The livestock was always taken care of before we were. On this particular evening, King would not go to the water tank for a drink. He almost walked right over me to get in the barn. He went into his stall and dropped over dead. For a long time after that, I teased Joe of singing "the tune that King died by." We had several pigs, which I also had to feed. One was quite large and we were going to butcher it in the fall when the weather cooled down. But one very hot day the men folks of our Mexican beet tenders approached my dad and said they wanted to buy that pig. They wanted to butcher it right there. My dad tried to convince them the meat would spoil, but they insisted, and finally my dad sold them the hog. They butchered it, and carried it home. The next day I rode by their shack on horseback and they had that hog cut into long, thin, narrow strips, completely covered with salt and pepper, and perhaps other seasoning, and the strips of meat were hanging on fences, bushes, and any place they could be hung in the sun, They told us later the meat was delicious. It took approximately fifty horses to farm the T. H. Ranch, Some of them were as big and beautiful as the "Budweiser" horses. Some were mediocre, and some were small and scrawny. They were called "crow baits." The weight or amount of pull usually decided which size horses would be used to do a particular job. 56 Each horse had his own name and usually responded when his name was called. Many things decided what name to give to a horse, such as looks, disposition, color, former owner, sex, etc. We had a beautiful sorrel mare who, due to her looks and actions, was named Queen. Others were Dolly and Daisy, Prince and Dan, Duke and Baldy, Maud and Jim, Charlie and King, Jack and Tom, Frank and Nellie. We also had milk cows. Only one of them had a name. The others went by description such as the Holstein, Jersey, or Bob Tail. The one with a name was bought from a Mr. McClung, She was called the *'McClung Cow." It seemed I was the only one in the family who had time to milk the cows and slop the hogs.

The seven siblings of the Welsch family pose in front of a beet shack in western Nebraska where the family worked as beet- tenders. Christian Welsch, author of these reminiscences, is at the far right.

There were seven of us children, three older than I, and three younger. I was never old enough to do things with the three older ones, and too old to do things with the three younger ones. I soon learned there are many things one can enjoy doing by one's self, such as teasing one's older and younger brothers and sisters. My older brother John was always bigger, stronger, faster, and my superior in many ways. He loved to take advantage of me. One day he took something away from me and would not give it back. I picked up a piece of one by six inch board, about six feet long, and John ran full speed for the house and I right after him. When I stepped into the kitchen John was standing behind my mother with a "Ha, ha, you can't get me grin" on his face. I never slowed up. I went up to him and whacked him over the head with the board and before my mother could ask what was going on I was out in the yard and heading for the barn. As soon as school was out in the spring, we took our shoes off and went "barefooted" all summer. We did have to put shoes on to go to town Saturday evening and no one, under any condition, went to church barefooted or in overalls. Some men did wear brand-new overalls and a white shirt to church, but even this was considered sinful by some. After you were confirmed you were supposed to wear a suit and tie to church. Before boys were confirmed they wore knee pants. The pant legs went only to the knees and buttoned above the knee. They had to button tight enough so they would not slip down below the knee.

57 The leg folded over the buttons so they would not show. With this, you wore long black stockings that came up above the knee. They were held up with home-made black elastic garters. If they were too loose, your stockings came down and the other kids teased you unmercifully. If they were tight enough to hold up your stockings, they stopped the blood circulation in your legs. When you came home from church you had a sore red ring around each leg, just above the knee. We immediately went into the house, took off our shoes, stockings and knee pants, rubbed our sore legs, and put on overalls and went barefooted for another week of freedom. One major problem each Sunday morning was finding my shoes and stockings. It was amazing how lost they could get in a week's time. I have never been able to figure out how all the others could find their shoes and stockings and mine were next to impossible to locate. Boys and girls usually got confirmed at fourteen to fifteen years of age. In 1924> I was twelve years old and long pants came into style for boys who were not confirmed. Christmas Eve, 1924, Edward Greenwald and I were the proudest two boys in the state of Wyoming and the envy of all the unconfirmed boys in the Lingle German Church, We both had long pants for Christmas and we wore them to get up in front of the whole congregation and speak our Christmas piece. Before many Sundays went by all of the unconfirmed boys wore long pants. That Christmas was a day of liberation for me. My stockings and socks have drooped loosely ever since. About the time these long pants came into style, bobbed hair for girls and women was coming into style. I well remember the long and heated discussions about the sinful ways of the women who wore short hair.8 But one by one, the girls won their parents over and each Sunday more girls showed up at church with bobbed hair and were the center of discussion over many Sunday dinner tables. I do not recall any of the older German-Russian women bobbing their hair. They kept their long hair to their dying day. Sunday noon was the time for the big meal of the week. Seldom was it eaten by the family only. Either we had company or we were invited to somebody else's house. Many times the parents and smaller children were invited to one place, and the older children were invited separately to other places. Many times getting home was a big problem. There were very few cars. If they had a car, they wouldn't take a kid home in it. He could walk or hitch a ride with somebody with a wagon or saddle horse. Usually, the beet tenders visited the beet tenders, and the farmers visited each other. The farmers' children and the beet tenders' children usually got along with each other. As they got older, the parents tried, usually unsuccessfully, to keep them apart. They did not want them to inter-marry, although some teenagers had sweethearts in Lincoln and in the beet fields, and some farm boys and girls married beet tenders.

NOTES

1. The major acknowledgement for this account of course must go to my father, who A) lived the life described here and B) had the courage to share it with all of us. However, I want to add a sincere note of gratitude to Ed Carter, Jr,, of Lincoln, Nebraska. It was through Mr. Carter's courtesy that the manuscript was typed for publication; if it had had to wait until I had time to transcribe 100 pages, / might have been an old man before its appearance. 2. This is of course the Burlington. 3. All locations are in Lincoln, Nebraska, unless otherwise indicated. 4. References to beets throughout this account are to sugar beets, 5. Sam Greenwald married the author's sister Emma. 6. The German-Russians made wide use of nicknames for locales as well as people. In some cases the names were complimentary, descriptive, or, as in this case, editorial. 7. This is not, strictly speaking, a joke because there is a folksong by the title "The Song the Cow Died By." 8. It has always been remarkable to me that it is precisely the women who endured or rebelled against the idea that only loose girls bob their hair who today rail against men with long hair!

58 ADDITIONS TO THE LOAN COLLECTION Readings in American Folklore, edited by Jan Harold Brunvand. New York: W. W. Norton and Company, 1979.466pp.

Reviewed by Timothy J. Kloberdanz. The seldom-tapped folklore of the Germans from Russia gradually is receiving the scholarly and public attention it deserves, as evidenced by this most recent volume designed for use m college folklore classes. While the editor of Readings in American Folklore, Jan Harold Brunvand, modestly admits that his anthology does not - and cannot — "represent fully the folk traditions of this or any other nation," Brunvand does include two scholarly articles about Russian-German folklore, as well as two additional articles by an American folklorist of Russian-German ancestry. Aside from American Blacks and American Indians, no other single ethnic group is so well-represented in Brunvand's reader as are the Russian Germans. Such "exposure" may well prompt a significant number of the many thousands of young folklore students who will read and study this volume to learn more about the folk traditions and heritage of the Germans from Russia. Readings in American Folklore contains some thirty-six articles which originally appeared in such scholarly journals as the Journal of American Folklore, Journal of the Folklore Institute, Proverbium, and Western Folklore. The articles are neatly arranged into four topical sections: Collection of American Folk Materials; Folklore in Context; Analysis and Interpretation of American Folklore; and Some Theoretical Perspectives in American Folklore. The essays range from traditional accounts about "witch-riding" collected in the French-Catholic area of southwestern Louisiana to more contemporary folklore, inspired, for example, by the magical-corrosive effects of Coca-Cola. The two articles about the folklore of Germans from Russia are Warren Kliewer's "Collecting Folklore Among Mennonites" (pp. 22-30) and Albert J. Petersen's "The German-Russian House in Kansas: A Study in Persistence in Form" (pp. 374-386). Kliewer's essay originally appeared in Mennonite Life and is based on his experiences while collecting oral folklore among Russian-German Mennonites in the Mountain Lake, Minnesota area- The examples he provides are given in the Low German dialect yet are similar to dialectal expressions shared by non-Mennonite Russian Germans: "Doa es tjeen Groape woa nijh' n Datsel topausst— There is no kettle which can't be fitted with a cover" and "Wann dee Mus saut es, es et Koorn betta ~ When the mouse is full, then the kernal is bitter." Kliewer also lists a number of expressions that seem dis- tinctly reflective of Low German Mennonite culture: "Aule en 'ne Reaj/Aus Klosses Tjeaj — All in a row/ Like Klassens' cows" and "Harschoft en Schwien woare hinje jefaat — Upper class people and pigs are hauled in the rear." Albert J, Petersen's article on Volga German folk-architecture in Kansas originally appeared in the journal Pioneer America (January, 1976). Petersen's brief analysis is no doubt based on his doctoral dissertation (submitted a decade ago at Louisiana State University), "German-Russian Colonization in Western Kansas: A Settlement Geography." The thesis of Petersen's analytic essay is a deceptively simple one: the Volga German Catholics who settled in Ellis and Rush Counties more than a century ago retained traditional Old Country house forms and designs well into the present century despite changes in building material. Thus, in Petersen's own words, "the traditional German-Volga einfaches Haus, or 'simple house,' was reestablished on the Kansas landscape with only minor variation" (p. 381). Petersen's article is enhanced by the inclusion of a map, a traditional floor plan, and nine photographs showing various features of Volga German folk-architecture in Kansas. The Brunvand reader also includes two articles by Nebraska folklorist Roger L. Welsch, who is of Volga German ancestry. Welsch's essays include a concise but exemplary description of "the cornstalk fiddle" (made and played by some ingenious pioneer Nebraskans) and an interesting and well-written discussion of folk-cuisine entitled " 'Sorry Chuck' - Pioneer Foodways" (pp. 152-167). While neither of Welseh's essays relate directly to Russian-German folklore, Welsch does rely on a traditional German proverb to provide an appropriate — and flavorful — opening to his article on pioneer foodways: "Man ist was man isst — One is what he eats."

Note: Paperback copies of Jan Harold Brunvand's Readings in American Folklore are available from the publisher at $8.95 each: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 500 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10060.

59 The Soviet Germans in the USSR Today by Sidney Heitman. Koln: Bundesinstitut fur Ostwissenschaftliche und Internationale Studien, 1980. Photocopy of a typewritten manuscript, paperback, 135 and v pages, notes, tables, a map, bibliography, German and English summary,

Reviewed by Adam Giesinger.

This is a report on a study carried out by Dr. Heitman while he was on sabbatical leave in Germany. In his Summary (p. 133), he describes this as "the first effort in any language to systematically analyze the current status, aspirations, and political importance of the Soviet Germans, based on all of the available documentary and oral evidence." In the Introduction (p. 1), he explains the difficulties that he encountered in obtaining the information that he sought. The Soviet Union maintains "a conspiracy of silence concerning these people , . . despite a voluminous outpouring of publications dealing with the Soviet nationalities" and "in the West, reliable data is scarce, despite a large body of literature produced by emigre Soviet Germans in many different countries, for much of what is available is colored by ethnocentric bias." Further on in the Introduction (pp. 2-3), he describes his sources as follows: The sources for this study consist of published and unpublished scholarly research, newspaper and periodical literature, official reports by various governmental and other types of organizations, and oral testimony by emigre Soviet Germans, spokesmen for various organizations in West Germany concerned with the Soviet Germans, and specialists and informed individuals in this country. West Germany, Great Britain, and elsewhere. Taken together, these sources comprise all the known available information accessible in the west. No effort was made to conduct research in the USSR, for the Soviet Germans are still a sensitive and proscribed subject of study in the USSR. The bibliography at the end of the report lists titles of works used in the study and other publications useful for an understanding of the Soviet Germans but not necessarily cited in the study, An especially important source, whose extent and richness cannot be conveyed by a single entry, is the collection of Soviet German samizdat and press clippings at the Samizdat Archive in the research collection of Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty in Munich, which was made available to the writer during three extended visits there. More than 1,000 documents were collected and studied for this report. The report itself is in four parts. In Part I, after a somewhat inaccurate definition and classification of "Soviet Germans,'* which will be discussed later in this review, Dr. Heitman gives a brief outline of the history of the Germans in Russia, discusses some of their demographic characteristics and their geographic distribution, and describes the extent to which their culture and traditions, their language, religion and folkways have survived their removal from their ancestral settlements and their subsequent dispersion over the Asiatic republics of the Soviet Union, Of special interest is Table 7 (pp. 26-30), which gives statistics regarding the distribution of Germans over the Soviet Union in 1970 and the extent to which they were then still German in mother tongue. Part II deals with the current status of the Soviet Germans in economic, political, and social spheres, in so far as information about these matters is available. Economically the Germans are again making an important contribution to Soviet life, not only in agriculture, their traditional occupation, but also in many types of urban occupations. As compared with the Asiatic peoples around them, they have again become relatively prosperous. Politically, in spite of the withdrawal of the wartime restrictions against them by the decrees of 1955 and 1964, their status is still uncertain. They are still in some respects second class citizens, Particularly discriminated against are those who express a desire to emigrate. Many are adjusting to conditions, becoming sovietized, taking part in public life, holding managerial positions in the economy, and intermarrying with the non-German peoples around them. Part III deals with the current trends among the Soviet Germans, the extent to which they are adjusting to the Soviet system and becoming assimilated, and the extent to which resistance to the system still exists among them or has arisen anew in recent years. Information about the relative importance of these trends is difficult to come by. It is clear that many Soviet Germans are reasonably satisfied with their lot in Asiatic Russia and are gradually becoming assimilated. Some would like to return to their old settlements in European Russia, which is not permitted, or be given an autonomous German region in the area where they now live. Others, who want to preserve their language and religion or live in a freer society, want to emigrate to West Germany. Protests, muted for many years, now occur openly even in Moscow visible to the western press, and repressive measures do not seem to bring them to an end. Since 1955 many thousands

60 have succeeded in emigrating, despite the obstacles placed in their way by Soviet officialdom. How many thousands of others would emigrate if the door was really open is difficult to estimate. Part IV deals with the significance of the Soviet Germans for the USSR and West Germany and the implications for the United States. The fate of the Soviet Germans has frequently been on the agenda of meetings between West German and Soviet leaders since 1955. The intercession of West German leaders has undoubtedly improved the lot of the Germans in the USSR and has made emigration possible for some of them. Because West Germany is a friendly ally and the USSR a potential enemy, there are obviously implications also for the United States. In conclusion, Dr. Heitman suggests a large-scale interviewing project to obtain from recent Soviet German emigres information to fill the gaps in our knowledge regarding the situation of their people in the Soviet Union. Carrying out such a project is fraught with more difficulties than just the financial ones. The response of the emigres to questioning by "trained scholars," as he envisages it, would probably not yield the kind of information he hopes for. These people have been conditioned by their experiences to be extremely reticent. They mistrust strangers who ask probing questions and they fear that their speaking out against the Soviet regime would bring punishment on their relatives left behind in Russia. Although this work of Dr. Heitman's does not bring us any significant new insights into the present situation of the Soviet Germans, it is a good synthesis of the information that is available and will therefore be of interest to many members of AHSGR. Unfortunately the work is marred by inaccurate statements about some groups of the Germans in Russia. In Table 1 (p. 6), for instance, the Bessarabian Germans and the Volhynian Germans are classified as "occupants of areas annexed to 1914," which is incorrect. Further on (on p. 9), after mentioning the arrival in Russia of the Volga Germans in the 1760's and the Black Sea Germans in the early 1800's, the statement is made: "Smaller groups of agricultural settlers also colonized the Caucasus region and Bessarabia and Volhynia, where large German populations already lived, having settled there earlier under entirely different circumstances. " The last clause in this statement is erroneous. The first Germans migrated to the Caucasus in 1818-18I9, after the region had been annexed to Russia, and the first Germans settled in Bessarabia in 1814- 1815, after the province had been ceded to Russia by the Turkish Empire in 1812. Both the Caucasus Germans and the Bessarabian Germans were part of the movement into the Black Sea region under Alexander I. Volhynia became part of the Russian Empire at the second partition of Poland in 1793 and had almost no German inhabitants then. The German migration into this province took place mainly after 1860, although a small group had come in 1816 and others in the 1830's. All came in response to invitations from Volhynian landowners looking for industrious farmers to develop their lands. Finally, since my book is given as the source of the information in Table 2 (p. 7), I must make clear that this table is not a "reconstruction" of any table in my book and that I do not agree with Dr. Heitman's classification of the Soviet Germans given in it. He classifies the Germans in Russia into two groups: German Russians and Ethnic Germans. If a German who is a Russian citizen is properly called a German Russian, then all the groups he lists, under both headings, were German Russians; and all the groups were certainly also Ethnic Germans. These names do not distinguish the two classes he is attempting to describe. A proper classification, such as he is groping for, would have been: German Colonists and Other Germans. The German Colonists were the groups that came in response to the invitations of Catherine II and Alexander I and received the special privileges of the manifesto of 1763, particularly the Volga Germans and the Black Sea Germans, the latter including the Germans in the Crimea, Bessarabia, and the Caucasus, and the descendants of these groups in other parts of Russia. The Other Germans were: (1) the early Town Dwellers, invited by tsars preceding Catherine, and their descendants; (2) the Germans in the Baltic provinces and in central Poland, who became Russian subjects through annexation of their territory; and (3) the Volhynian Germans, who were invited by landowners of that province. If you ignore pages 5-10, in which these inaccuracies occur, you will find this an easily readable and informative monograph.

Note: A copy of The Soviet Germans in the USSR Today has been presented to the AHSGR Archives. The publisher is the Bundesinstitut fur Ostwissenschaftliche und Internationale Studien, Lindenborn-strasse 22, D-5000, Koln 30, German Federal Republic.

61 The Volga Germans: Pioneers of the Northwest by Richard D. Scheuerman and Clifford E. Trafzer. Moscow, Idaho: The University of Idaho Press, 1980, 245 pp. $18.95.

Reviewed by Emma Schwabenland Haynes.

This book is based upon Richard Scheuerman's 1978 master's thesis at Pacific Lutheran University of Tacoma, Washington. It is an eloquently written saga of the Protestant Volga Germans who settled in the states of Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and in the provinces of Alberta and British Columbia. The first two chapters are devoted to life in Russia. The authors begin their story by describing how 27,000 people, primarily from south-western Germany, emigrated to Russia after 1763 in response to the manifesto of Catherine the Great who promised them special privileges such as local self-government and freedom of religion. They established 104 settlements on both sides of the Volga River near Saratov. Colonists faced many difficulties during the early years, but eventually a period of peace and relative prosperity set in. Land was the property of the villages and was periodically re- divided according to the number of male inhabitants. The number of acres per person became increasingly fewer as the population increased, and it was necessary to establish "daughter colonies" particularly on the eastern shores of the Volga. Wheat was the most important crop with rye in second place. As time went on, there was an increasing tide of anti-German feeling on the part of neighboring Russians, It was felt that Germans had no right to the special privileges promised them by Catherine. These privileges were gradually taken away. The final blow came in 1871 when German boys were no longer excused from military service. The first soldiers were drafted in 1874 and from this time on, immigration to North and South America began. The next four chapters describe immigration to, and life in the United States. Many of the first Volga Germans to leave were pietistic colonists who were influenced by the Brotherhood Movement of H.P, Ehlers and Johannes Koch. They usually settled in the state of Kansas. However, during the period of the 70's, crops were often ruined by grasshopper plagues and bad droughts. Consequently a group of Volga Germans from Kansas decided in 1881 to travel to Portland, Oregon, taking the Union Pacific to San Francisco and then going on to Portland by steamship. At first they worked at temporary jobs but many longed to have farms of then- own and soon scouting expeditions were sent to view lands in the Palouse area of eastern Washington. The scouts were favorably impressed with what they saw, and in the fall of 1882 most members of the Portland group left for Whitman County. Meanwhile Volga Germans from the colonies of Kolb and Dietel had arrived in Nebraska in August 1876. Some members of this group acquired land in Culbertson where they were joined by other Volga Germans from Kolb and Frank. A segment of this group also decided to immigrate westward, and early in 1882 a number of families boarded a train in North Platte, Nebraska for Ogden, Utah. Here they formed a train of forty wagons with which they followed the Oregon Trail to Walla Walla, Washington. They arrived in the summer of 1882, Some of them decided to settle here, while others continued on to Portland, Oregon, or established homes in more northern sections of Washington. The authors also discuss the religious life of the Volga Germans telling of their membership in various Lutheran synods and in the German Congregational Church. A review is then given of the Volga Relief Society which was organized in Portland, Oregon and raised money throughout the United States for German famine sufferers along the Volga River from 1921 to 1923. A word must be said about the attractive beige covering of the book which shows a picture of the Jacob Wacker farmstead near Odessa, Washington. The volume contains fifty-nine illustrations, eight maps, and three tables. Some of the pictures may be familiar to readers of AHSGR publications, but well over half, to the best of my knowledge, have never been printed before in any book dealing with Germans from Russia. These include a view of Schotten, Germany in the seventeenth century, a Russian village between Novgorod and Tver, colonists plowing with a Russian "sokha," a page from the passenger list of the S.S. Mosel, advertisements for the Pacific Coast Steamship Company and for the Northern Pacific Railroad lands for sale. There are also illustrations of such Washington towns as Walla Walla, Endicott, Ritzville, Tacoma, and Odessa at the turn of the century. I was particularly interested in the view of Odessa in the year 1900 because my father came to the town as a Congregational pastor in 1901, Typical pioneer families of the Pacific Northwest are also well represented such as the Rosenoff family which participated in the covered wagon treck to Washington, the J, Conrad Frank family of Walla Walla, the Kissler family plowing near Odessa, the Heimbigner family hauling grain, Mr. and Mrs. Kulthau of Portland, Oregon, and the Poffenroth threshing crew near DeWinton, Alberta in 1939. In fact, the illustrations alone make the book well worth its price.

62 ADDITIONS TO THE LOAN COLLECTION

Readings in American Folklore reviewed by Timothy J. Kloberdanz . . .59

The Soviet Germans in the USSR Today reviewed by Adam Giesinger...... 60 The Volga Germans: Pioneers of the Northwest reviewed by Emma Schwabenland Haynes . .62

COVER: Hertha Karasek-Strzygowski's portrait of Julius Wenzler, an eighty-two year old farmer revered as the village elder of Blumental, the Volhynian village near Zhitomir which the artist visited in 1942. An account of Ms. Karasek- Strzygowski's interview with "Father" Wenzler appears in Sally Tieszen Hieb's sensitive translation in this issue of the AHSGR Journal.

End of Volume 4 #1 Spring 1981