Hammel -fest And Christmas in Reute

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - January 20, 1955
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

I cannot leave Reute without telling the reader about a unique local custom, the annual “ Hammel-fest”.   This event took place “ zum Hirschen” (at the Deer tavern) next door to our Reute home.   The young set of the village and surrounding places gather for a benefit dance (for some local charity fund); each paid admission entitles the one who pays the “ Eintritt” (literally, “in step”, an expression still used in some part of Dubois County in lieu of “admission”) to vote for the queen.   The young lady thus honored is awarded the “ hammel” or ram which is kept tied near the orchestra and watches the evening’s proceedings with an occasional “Baa” and a nonchalant look.   The “queen” is also considered the most popular girl in the “ dorf” and most likely to be a bride during the coming year.

The voting power of the attendants is further augmented by participating in a raffle of various commodities, which is calculated also to swell the charity fund.   As the contest for queen waxed hot, the promoter, knowing we were having a get together at the “ backerei”, sent delegation after delegation over to solicit our support, and to bring over whatever trinkets we were “lucky” enough to win.   It is probably from their ancestors in Baden that the people Dubois County inherited their love of “celebrations” and their willingness to “take a chance” when it is for a good cause – “ alles fuer die Kirche”.

We all would have enjoyed staying in Baden for Christmas to see how they celebrate the greatest of all annual events.   Since that was impossible, I shall describe it by proxy – Buzz, who was with us over our first weekend in Reute, again made the trip from Paris, where he is stationed in the U.S. army, for the Christmas weekend; he described the occasion in a lengthy letter to me in detail.  

He left Paris via train on Thursday evening, arriving in Basel ( Switzerland) early in the morning.   He completed the trip to Freiburg and Emmendingen, where he took a taxi to Reute, arriving there about 10 A.M. on Christmas Eve.   The trains were crowded with people going “home” to spend Christmas with their families, or going to winter resorts with skiis and skates.   In the afternoon, he helped trim the Christmas tree (Tannenbaum), putting on tinsel, candy, etc. and old-fashioned candies and sparklers. After a brat- wurst supper (the best he ever tasted), Klara lined up the members of the household, the door was opened to the room with the Christmas tree and the table loaded with the gifts stacked around a large candle, and the place for each member of the family marked with a star cookie.

After the opening of the gifts, (Buzz’s gifts consisted of delicious Suchard chocolates, a pair of long sox, home knit, a leather belt, two books, etc.), the candles and the sparklers on the tree were lit to the tune of Christmas carols ( Stille Nacht, O Tannenbaum, Ihr Kinderlein Kommet, etc.) Buzz was worried about the fire hazard from the candles and sparklers but they reassured him that there was no danger – nothing had ever happened and the candles were closely watched while they were burning.   Paul described the Christmas observance as follows:

“After the distribution of gifts, we had a round-table discussion using sign language and my dictionary; they used whatever English words they knew, and I the meager stock of German words I have accumulated.   Ate a dozen varieties of Christmas cookies – springerle’s lebkuchen, etc. – and sang more Christmas carols.   We listened to Konrad Adenauer’s Christmas message over the radio.   Of course, I did not understand very much of it except an occasional familiar word or expression but he sounded very impressive; he has an excellent radio voice and seemed very sincere.

“We retired early as we were to get up for 6 A.M. mass, a solemn high mass with ten altar boys robed in red and white garb.   The congregation joined the choir in singing Christmas songs, accompanied by the organ and band.   My mind drifted back home to the midnight mass which was just about ready to begin as the second morning mass started here (about 7 A.M.).   The crib erected on the left side altar was really beautiful.   We had an elaborate dinner at noon with an excellent rabbit roast as the main dish.   On Sunday evening Klara and Herr Seger, who speaks English, accompanied me to the station at Freiburg to catch the train for Basel and Paris.   So my wonderful visit to Reute was over; next to being at home it was the most congenial place I could have spent Christmas.”

I also have received a very interesting letter from Bob Kress (a classmate of Buzz and now a theology student at the Canisianum, in Innsbruck, Austria.)   It was also Bob’s first Christmas overseas.   He says:

“My first Christmas away from home was not so bad.   I am sure Buzz also found it so. We Americans here at the Canisianum sang a midnight mass at an army camp just a few miles from Innsbruck.   After the mass the soldiers gave us a big breakfast of ham and eggs, which in Europe is a rare treat; then we sang Christmas carols for them for about an hour and a half before coming back to the ‘Can’.   These festivities helped us not to think too much about ‘home at Christmas’.   It really was a wonderful ‘White Christmas’, about which we sing and dream back home in Indiana, but which we really have here at Innsbruck.”

We had hoped to see Bob at Innsbruck, but when we phoned from Liechtenstein we learned that he was out in the Alps on an all-day hike with the American students.   Unfortunately, we had to be back in Reute the next day.   Bob informs us that Edwin Seng of Jasper was also in Innsbruck for two days, on a conducted tour, but also was unable to see him because of scheduled side trips.   He did connect with Don Habig, who is stationed nearby with a U.S. army in Bavaria.   He is now looking forward to a proposed visit from Buzz.

Excitement In Reute; We Say “Lebe Wohl”

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - January 19, 1955
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

On the night of Saturday, October 16, 1954, the peaceful and law-abiding village of Reute was the scene of a crime.   The village buzzed with the news and the citizens were indignant about it; they gathered in small groups on street corners to discuss and condemn the deed.

During the preceding night some miscreant had cut down an apple tree, still bearing its freight of fruit, in the orchard of one of the citizens.   The ax and saw used in perpetration of the misdeed had been taken from the home of the tree owner and were left lying at the scene.   The man had not known enemy and no motive for the crime could be found.

Burgermeister Birkle called a community council after the church services at which the crime was freely discussed. The ax and saw were carefully wrapped in cloth for submission to finger print experts.   Some conferees suggested importation of blood hounds. All agreed that the guilty party must be found, and regardless of his motive, even if it was merely a prank, he must be punished.  

The incident was the subject of discussion even at the big football game held at the Reute Sportsplatz Sunday afternoon, October 17, 1954.   Up to the time of our departure on Monday, no suspect had been found.   I must keep in touch to see what the outcome of the case was.

Fred and I were the guests of Oma Rumbach and of Werner and Agnes Yentsch at dinner Sunday.   As the hour of the game approached, Werner offered to “carry” us to the Sportplatz, about two miles from the village on his moterbyke.   Fred readily agreed.   He was duly “carried” there, whereupon Werner returned for me.   I could think of no plausible excuse so I mounted the rear seat, with much misgiving. Bump, bump, bump down the narrow street we went, and made a sharp turn into the main road. I hung on for dear life as the byke made a dip in rounding the corner.   Then, on down the rocky, and rather chucky road! I wondered whether my accident, health and hospital insurance would be honored outside the U.S.A.   I wondered whether a broken neck is fatal and how long it would take for a broken leg or arm to mend.

We finally reached the field safely, but I politely declined a seat that was offered me, as I preferred to stand (you know why) on the sidelines.   At the half I informed Werner that I thought it would be a good for my system to go back on foot – I needed the exercise.   So after the game, I started back and soon heard the chuck-chuck of the motorbike with Fred as the rear-seat passenger.   They sped by like a flash and I continued my walk.   I had negotiated about three-fourths of a mile, when the bus carrying the Reute team back to town approached and stopped.   The driver invited me to ride.   My concern about my health vanished and I gladly accepted.  

The bus halted in front of the bakery where I dismounted and joined the group of folks including Alph and Virgil, the Bolschweil Gramelspachers who had come for a last farewell and the Reute relatives and neighbors.   The baker was busy taking pictures of the “ Abschied”.   The entire gang stayed for supper and for a final evening of song and merriment.   A large “ kuchen” beautifully decorated and bearing the inscription in icing “Auf Wiederschen” formed the centerpiece of the table.

On Monday morning ( October 18, 1954), we paid a final visit to the “Gems”, Fred’s birthplace and returned to complete our packing.    It was quite a job to find room for all the accumulated loot, the mementos from the folks and Oma’s “ Birnen” (pears).   After dinner Herr Buehler’s bus was ready, the loot was loaded and, accompanied by Klara and Agnes, we left for Karlsruhe.   We had intended just to stay overnight but after the cordial reception by the Alois Rumbach family and the Goelz family and their absolute veto of our immediate departure, we decided to stay over.    They had completed arrangements to take us to Heidelberg, a favorite American haunt – one of those places one must “ videre et mori”, to Speyer and to the Renaissance Castle Favorita, now a national museum in a state of excellent preservation.

The Rhine Falls, and Reute Again

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - January 18, 1955
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

The return trip from Liechtenstein to Reute was made over another route, similar in scenic wonders, skirting the northern boundary of Switzerland past the great lake of Constance (or Bodensee.)

At several places along the way we witnessed the annual autumn parade of cattle, mostly Brown Swiss, being driven down from the mountain tops and slopes where they had fed on the rich meadows since early spring.   They were being transferred to their winter quarters in the villages down in the valleys.   This is a festival occasion for the herders and villages, accompanied by song and dance.

The great German poet, Schiller, immortalized this simple ceremony in the opening scene of his drama “Wilhelm Tell”, in the song of the herdsman coming down the mountain side with his herd:

“ Ihr Matten lebr wohl,
     Ihr Sonnigen Weiden!
Der Senne musz scheiden
     Der Sommer is hin.
Wir gehen vom Berg;
     Wir kommen wieder
Wenn der Kuckuckruft
     Wenn erwachen die Lieder;
Wenn mit blumen die Erde
     Sich kleidet neu;
Wenn die Bruenneiein flieszen
     Im lieblichen mai.”

I have taken the liberty to translate this freely:

“Ye meadows, farewell, ye sunny meadows,
The herdsman must leave you---
Sweet summer is gone!
We leave now the mountains;
We come back again
When the cuckoo calls,
When the song birds awaken.
When the earth garbs herself
With blossoms anew
When the brooklets flow freely,
In the lovely May.”

The sun was riding low near the horizon when we arrived at Schaffhausen on the Swiss side of the Rhine.   Herr Buehler suggested a rest stop, and he knew just where to go.   He halted the buss at an inn with the tables in the open on a large plaza overlooking one of the finest views of the excursion – the great falls of the River Rhine.

We were enchanted by the tumbling waters dashing down over the falls and dashing against the huge boulders below, sending up clouds of fine spray which dissipated itself in the crisp autumn air.   While waiting for service, we took our stand at a strategic spot where the rays of the setting sun were refracted in the fine spray of the falls, creating a beautiful rainbow.   Virgil could not resist taking a movie shot at this natural phenomenon, in spite of the lateness of the hour, and was rewarded with one of the most interesting pictures of our entire trip.

A short distance from Schaffhausen, we were halted by the Swiss customs officials at the bridge over the Rhine, and again by the German officials on the other side.   Passports were checked and we were questioned about tobacco, coffee and chocolate.   One official looked inside the bus to survey our baggage, but seeing only overnight bags, (we were traveling light) he allowed us to proceed without further ado.

We were now back in our familiar Schwarzwald territory; and as darkness drew its curtain over the landscape we abandoned ourselves to the embrace of Morpheus, leaving Herr Buehler at the helm to conduct us safely back to old Reute.   Starting the day early at Einsiedeln and cramming so much Alpine scenery, plus our eventful hours at Liechtenstein, this had been the most strenuous day since we landed at Rotterdam.   But we really relished the “ Abend-essen” which Oma Hettich set on the table soon after we were back “in der Heimat”.

Einsiedeln, Mother of St. Meinrad’s

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - January 15, 1955
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

As the shadows began to lengthen on the Alpine slopes, we took a final look at peaceful Lucerne, returned to our bus and hit the trail for our next destination, the Abbey of Marie Einsiedeln.

At the edge of the city we halted briefly for a view of the Queen Astarde Memorial chapel, erected on the very spot where the beautiful and beloved queen of the Belgians, a favorite of the Swiss as well as of her own people, met her death in a tragic mishap just a few years ago.

As we proceeded along the highland pass, our gaze was fixed upon the Birkenstock, a lofty Alp across the valley, its snow-capped peak responding colorfully to the play of the descending sun and the creeping shadows, showing now pink, now green, now rose, now purple, like the leading lady on a vaudeville stage under the revolving colors of a spotlight.

A memorable two hour ride it was, indeed, with an ever changing panorama of valleys bathed in sunshine as we rose higher on the mountain trail, then flooded with shadows of the twilight as we descended on the east slopes.   Even after comparative darkness settled upon the landscape, it was interesting to watch the flickering lights of a chalet far up on a mountainside or the lamp-posts of a village draped over the foot of an Alp, trailing away into the even meadows below.

At last the twin towers of the Abbey church could be faintly seen like phantom sentries standing guard over the ancient Benedictine abbey, the windows of its broad façade, lighted for the early evening study of monks and students, tracing its outline against the horizon. On the side on a lofty peak facing the abbey stood a large illuminated cross, the emblem of faith and salvation throughout the night.

Herr Buehler, our chauffeur who frequently escorts pilgrims to this favored spot, took us direct to the Hotel Krone.   After obtaining rooms for the night, he advised us to arrange for a late super, as we were just in time for evening devotions and to hear the monks chant compline.

So it was that we joined a group of 165 pilgrims who had arrived from Frankfurt early in the afternoon, in the recitation of the Rosary in the Gnaden-Kapelle (The Chapel of Our Lady of Grace) in the large and beautifully-ornate Abbey church.   This was followed by Compline, the official night prayer of the church.   The monks, assembled in the choir stalls before the altar, sang the impressive Gregorian chant.   The ceremonies closed the solemn Benediction; as the lights were dimmed and the pilgrims filed out, the echoes of the rising crescendos and the waning tones of the decrescendos of the sublime chant still reverberated through the lofty arches of the abbey church.

The dinner was plain but substantial; Ochsenchwanz – suppe, Wiener-schnitzel, chigory salad with vinegar and oil, Swiss cheese and crackers and coffee.   We retired early in order to join the Frankfort group at the early morning service at 6:30.

By a strange coincidence our visit to this one-thousand-year old abbey took place on the very day on which St. Meinrad Archabbey, back home in Indiana, a daughter institution of Einsiedeln, was observing the one-hundredth anniversary of its foundation. In fact, the Rt. Rev. Benno Gut, Prince Abbot of Einsiedeln, was one of the guests of honor at the St. Meinrad event.

It was through the efforts of the Rev. Joseph Kundek, founder and first pastor of St. Joseph’s church in Jasper that the then reigning Abbot, Henry IV of Einsiedeln, was persuaded to send two of his monks, Fathers Bede and Ulrich, both of whom were closely associated with St. Joseph’s to America;   they laid the groundwork of the Southern Indiana institution which has been a great cultural factor in our part of the country for a century and has well-merited its elevation to the dignity of Archabbey under the leadership of the Rt. Rev. Ignatius Esser.

Switzerland, Its Alps, Lakes, Cities

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - January 13, 1955
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

Perhaps I put the cart before the horse when I took you on our last trip to Pfaffenweiler.   I must back-tract to October 13, 1954, when we got up early to be on our way to Switzerland.   We made the trip in a small bus, owned and chauffeured by Herr Buehler of Emmendingen, starting at 8 A. M. sharp.

The morning was clear and crisp; the frosty air congealed the windows of the bus, obscuring the view of the Black Forest hills as we headed for the Swiss border.   At any rate, we have seen most of this scenery on previous trips, and now we had our minds on the big league of the Scenery World, the Alps of Switzerland.   This is no reflection on the Schwarzwald, which can not be beaten for variety of scenery and places of interest.   And after all, more people see and enjoy the minor league, semi-pro and amateur games by far than the big leagues.

At 10 A.M., we were on the outskirts of Basel, gateway to Switzerland, going through customs.   Upon entering Basel, the first thing that attracted our attention was the big muenster.   So we paused to stretch our legs and to view the beautiful church.   Like so many other large cathedrals of Central Europe, this one traces its origin to the eleventh century, going through different stages of construction and rebuilding during the 12th to 15th centuries.   It passed to the control of Evangelical church when Basel was taken over by the Protestants after the Reformation.   It contains many statues, paintings and stained-glass works of art by great artists of the Middle Ages and of modern times.

As we proceeded on our way, the landscape, which at first was rather flat, began to be dominated by rolling hills, the foot hills of the Alps; these grew in frequency and in stature as we went on and on to Lucerne, where the majestic hulk of the Pilatus and the Riggi tower skyward. These mountains seem to rise out of the mirror surface of beautiful Vier-waldstetter see, one of Switzerland’s largest and prettiest lakes, with the gem of Lucerne twining its branches of streets and the foliage of granite buildings around the mirror.

It is strange how persistent, demanding and punctual the desire for food is in the human body.   We needed no clock to remind us that the noon hour had arrived – our appetite sharpened by the crisp afternoon air and the long ride from Reute, brought enough pressure to bear on our consciousness, obscured partly as it was the magic of the lake, the mountains and the city, to force a halt as we parked the bus at the Bahnhof Parkplatz (depot parking area)

We chose the Bahnhof restaurant, where we had an excellent dinner for about six Swiss francs (about $1.25), which included a stein of real Munencher Bier.   I chose goulash served with steamed rice, a stuffed tomato with baby shrimp, Swiss chard, Swiss cheese and mocca (coffee) ice cream.   Rejuvenated by this excellent fare, we set out on foot to “do the city”.   We took the trail along the lake front, pausing to watch the graceful flight of sea-gulls, swans, geese of various breeds and other waterfowl under the protection of the law.   We three morsels of bread into space and watched the gulls swoop down to catch them with their bills before the bread hit the water.

Our first concern was to change dollars and Deutsche marks into French francs.   We then invaded a grocery store where, at the request of Klara, our ubiquitous guide, each of us purchased two pounds of “ Bohnenkaffee” (bean coffee), the limit allowed each traveler coming from Switzerland into Germany.   (Coffee is much cheaper and more plentiful in Switzerland than it is in Germany.)   After window shopping along the store windows on the boulevard, we crossed the picturesque wooden bridge across the upper end of the lake, looking at the pictures and inscriptions over the archways of each section of the bridge.   

Facts, Dates And Names

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - January 12, 1955
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

The “ Chronik” traces the history of Pfaffenweiler through successive centuries.   The name “ Pfaffenweiler” to designate the village first occurs in a document dated 1094.   It is mentioned in a papal bull issued in 1173 by Pope Alexander III, in which he enumerates the possessions of the Abbey of St. Ulrich.   The first reference to a pastor being assigned to “ Phaphenwiler” is made in a document dated 1267.   The feudal land- herren (overlords) who owned most of the property are traced through 1321, 1379 and 1449.   References to the grape culture, which is still the main crop, go back to the year 1372; and court records through the 15 th and 16 th centuries give evidence of the struggle for ownership of the rich vineyards, forest and meadows of the neighborhood.

An interesting account is given of the ravages of the Peasants’ War, the Thirty Years War and other military activities which surged up and down the country during the 16 th and 17 th centuries.

Witness to the antiquity of the village is the rectory which bears the inscription 1572, one of the oldest buildings. It is followed closely by the Gasthaus (tavern) Zur Stube, erected 1575; both buildings survived the Thirty Years War.

Speaking of this tavern, that is the place where we found the rest of our party, who, thinking we were lost in the maze and tangle of the centuries, had left us to find a place to rest and to refresh themselves.  

The Gasthaus Zur Stube, which boasts of serving its own brand of wine, is conducted by one Alfonse Eckerle, the present host, successor to a long line of other Eckerles since 1575.   Darkness had descended upon Pfaffenweiler (Saturday, October 16, 1954), making further exploration of the town impossible, so we joined the rest at a large oaken table and ordered bratwurst and forelle (pork sausage and trout) where were very palatable with the “ Eckerle” brand of beverage made of home-grown fruit of the vines.

While waiting to be served by Herr Eckerle, we had the first opportunity to look over the booklet given us by the pastor.   It contained a “ Willkommengrusz” from Burgermeister Friedrich Dischinger and a foreword by Karl Spaeth ( Spayd?).   Under the title “ Festausschuss” were the names:   Hans Dick, Gustav Gutzsell; Marzeil Kiefer; under “Honorary Members” we found Emil Gutzsell, Karl Eckert, Karl Scherle, Herman Kiefer, Karl A. Eckert, Franz Eckerle, Franz Werner, and Fredrich Wehrle.

Among the active members are:   Franz Baumann, Paul Eckert, Hyancinth Kiefer, Karl Kiefer, Franz Eckerle, Henry Werner, Hermann Dischinger, Werner Schuble, Heinrich Eckert, Karl Gutgsell, Hermann Haury, Josef Gutgsell, Emil Schlegel, Josef Weibel, Karl and Franz Eckert and Adalbert Schlegel.   Listed as former directors are Karl Friedmann, Hermann Stork and Franz Meier.

From the memorial at the church I copied the following familiar names:   Daeschle, Litschgi, Beck and more of those listed above.

Most of these names are among those listed by George R. Wilson in his “history of Dubois County” as members of the group of immigrants who came to Jasper in 1847 and erected the Votive Cross in the churchyard of St. Joseph’s.    He tells how the group, making the trip across the Atlantic ocean in a sailing vessel, were threatened with death in a severe storm.   They made a solemn vow that they would erect a cross on the premises of the parish church in their new home if there were spared.   They finally landed safely and having settled in Jasper, they fulfilled their promise.   The stone cross and corpus was executed by George Baumann, one of the immigrants who was a sculptor.

Visit to Kirchofen and Pfaffenweiler

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - January 11, 1955
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

As the time drew near for our departure from Reute, we all agreed that it would be impossible to leave the vicinity without a visit to Pfaffenweiler, the ancestral home of so many Dubois County families.

So, after dinner at the home of Lambert and Elsa (Hug) on Saturday, October 16, 1954 (we were scheduled to leave Reute on the 18 th), we set sail aboard Mr. Buehrle’s bus on our last expedition:   Alphonse, Virgil, Fred, and I accompanied by Klara and Lambert.   We stopped first at Bolschweil for a last visit with the Gramelspachers, then proceeded on to Kirchofen, an old town in the shadow of a ruined castle.  

This was the birth place of the late Martin Mueller, a former citizen of Jasper who died recently in West Baden, the father of Mrs. Frank ( Heamer) Sermersheim.   A street cleaner volunteered the information that a Herr Mueller made his home in the castle – “You’ll find him in the first tower,” he told us.   So up the hill to the castle, and to the first turret we proceeded.   The castle had one of the turrets on each of the four corners.   Our knocks at the door finally brought results, and a man who did not have to tell us he was a Mueller, because of his marked resemblance to the late Martin, opened the door.   He was caretaker of the ruin, which is under the jurisdiction of the government.

Yes, he had a brother, Martin, who had immigrated to America many years ago.   For some time he had kept in touch with the old home, but after the death of his parents, he seldom wrote and had not been heard from for quite a long time.   Yes, he was the youngest and the only surviving brother.  

The place had a very romantic atmosphere; Virgil was ready with the movie camera and requested Herr Mueller to pose with us for a few shots.   He demurred at first, because he did not have his Sonntag’s Kielder (Sunday clothes), but finally consented.   He then, offered us the hospitality of his home “ im Turm”, but our time was too limited.

So we proceeded on to Pfaffenweiler, stopping at the entrance to the ancient village to read the inscriptions on the wayside cross and another camera shot.   Without a doubt this was the oldest place we had seen.   The streets were paved with cobblestones and the houses were built of irregular stones and timbers.   A farmer who was doing the customary Saturday ( October 16, 1954) clean-up chores around his house and barn directed us to the village smithy which has for centuries been conducted by the Eckerts.

Fred had visited the place on his first trip to Germany, in 1922, so he led the way.   En route, we passed the village church, a really ancient structure, which intrigued me.   I was studying the tower similar to the tower of the old church at Reute, even more ancient.   I was checking the names on the war memorial when Virgil, who had been shooting other interesting views about town, approached accompanied by the parish priest.

The priest told us the history of the village which chronicles trace back at least 700 years.  The church tower, erected about 1200 A.D., is known to rest on the foundation of an old Roman structure, and was originally built as a watch tower and fort.   The body of the church, which is still in use, was appended to the tower about one hundred years later.

The “ Chronik von Pfaffenweiler”, the history of the community published on “Pentecost of 1954” on the occasion of the 160 th anniversary of the Music- Vereins of Pfaffenweiler, says the village was built on a stone road built by the Romans and that cemeteries unearthed nearby show that the German tribes who drove out the Romans in the year 260 A.D. formed a settlement there and engaged in agricultural pursuits.   Manuscripts in the Abbey of Lorch, in Baden and of St. Gallen in Switzerland, prove the existence of the community as far back as the eighth century.   The pastor gave us a copy of this valuable booklet.

Life in a German “Dorf”

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - December 16, 1954
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

It is about time for us to gad about a bit, to see what we can see in and around Reute.   No conveyance large enough to accommodate the gang being available for the first day after our arrival, we decided to make the home territory first, on foot.   This was one of those rare sunshiny, mild days of early October, just right for a hike.

Our first stop was at the old Rumbach home, called the Gems (Antelope) probably the oldest home in Reute, and very picturesque, with its spreading pear tree stretching its arms over the east wall.   This was the house in which Fred was born and where he spent the first six months of his life.   Virgil lined us up in front of the house to record the visit with his movie camera.   Across the narrow street stands the former bicycle work shop of Stephen, deceased husband of Oma Rumbach and father of Klara, Marie, and Agnes.   The bicycle business was sold to Herr Birkle, the present mayor of Reute, after Stephan’s death in 1949, and the building is now occupied as a store – ladies’ and gents’ furnishings – by Marie.

Yes, we had refreshments and an extra large “ kugel-hupf” (a cake baked in an angel-food pan with the hollow center) and coffee.   We then took off across the large, flat meadow, the green of the grass shining under the bright October sun, the “ Glotter” or Muehlebach (mill stream), a rather narrow but rapidly-flowing and crystal-clear stream, winding itself through the meadow.   The stream originates among the high peaks of the Glotter-tal, the highest of which, the Kandel-berg, is plainly visible on the horizon.   The Glotter-tal is a resort area in the Schwarzwald, with the quaint old tavern “ Zum Goldenen Engel” as a showplace.   We visited it some days later upon returning from a long trip to pilgrimage spots in Hoch-Schwarzwald, and enjoyed its specialty of fried “ forellen”   (mountain-brook trout) taken fresh daily from the Flotter as it tumbles down the mountainside, within a stone’s throw from the tavern.

We followed the wide footpath across the meadow from the “Gems” in Over- Reute to Unter-Reute, a distance of about one kilometer.   Our objective was the Old Church dating back over 500 years, which was in use by the Reute parish as a place of worship until about fifty years ago when the new church was built in Over- Reute.   The old church, with its high tower, is preserved as an historic monument and is still used as a chapel in which benediction services are occasionally held.   On top of the tower is a wagon wheel placed there as an invitation to the storks to build their nest.   The return of the storks from wherever storks go to spend the winter is a festive event each spring.

Half-way up on the face of the tower is the large old clock still in operation.   Tradition says that the church is built on the ruins of an old pagan temple.

We paused briefly at the village bakery as Klara stopped to pay her respects to “competitors”; the bakery has been operated for many years by the Kraner family, one of whom migrated to America, came to Jasper and became the wife of Andrew Houf ( Hopf) and mother of a large family.   Her children, most of them living in Jasper, are all highly respected citizens.

Half-way between Ober and Unter Reute is the parish cemetery called the “ Friedhof”, or Court of Peace, where we visited Stephan’s grave.   It is a rather small plot of ground, slightly elevated above the surrounding acres, and is enclosed by a brick and stone wall.   All graves are very well kept; the mounds are covered with blooming plants and some have artificial wreaths.   The names on the tombstones reflect the fact that many Dubois county families originated in Reute.   A few that came to mind are Beck, Birk, Birkle, Fehrenbach, Hettich, Rich, Rumbach Schlegel, Sutter.

It was late in the afternoon when we re-entered the streets of Over- Reute.   Everybody seemed to be busy cleaning up their premises as a final chore of the week, so that all would look neat on Sunday.   As we passed their houses, they would pause a moment to say “ Gruess Gott”, and some who have relatives in America asked about conditions there.

“How do the people in these German villages live?”   That is a question we are often asked.   Well, everyone knows these people to be very industrious.   Most of them own a few acres of land which they farm intensively…that is, they grow at least two crops on them annually.   Much of the work in the fields is done by the women, assisted by the men in their spare time.   Most men have a trade or business which they operate when their services are needed by fellow citizens.   We have already mentioned the bakery and bicycle business.   Then there are carpenters, blacksmiths, locksmiths, tinsmiths, basket makers, weavers, butchers, taverns and other occupations.

There is a cigar factory which employs mostly girls and buys the tobacco grown by local farmers.   Many of the men and youths and young women work at their trade in nearby cities, traveling on bicycles and motorcycles.

The principal crops are wheat, (grown mostly for green fodder), turnips, sugar beets, cabbage, tomatoes, cauliflower, endive and head lettuce.   There are many fruit trees – apples, pears, prunes and cherries.

There are few rich people among them but they are all very hospitable and charitable, being always ready to share their food and clothes with more unfortunate ones, such as the numerous escapees who have left their homes in Russian-controlled East Germany and other Communistic countries to seek freedom and make a living in the western zone.

Receptions, Formal and Informal

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - December 16, 1954
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

I shall not attempt to give a day by day account of our rather protracted stay in Reute.   To do so would be repetitious and somewhat monotonous.   However, I shall touch upon the outstanding incidents and shall try to give a word picture of the numerous very scenic and interesting excursions we made from this base, including almost daily trips into the Schwarzwald and a three-day trip into nearby Switzerland and Liechtenstein.

But first I must tell you about the formal reception accorded us by the citizens of Reute. On Saturday night ( October 2, 1954), while assembled in the family circle, we were informally serenaded over the telephone from the tavern “ Zum Roessle” (The Little Horse) by the lone village musician with an accordion, who “lent to the sound of the music the beauty of his voice”.   After several selections over the “far-speaker instrument”, he asked for permission to appear in person; so Mr. Stoeckle accompanied by his accordion and by neighbor Herren came in, played all the old time selections that came to his mind, singing them loudly and vigorously.

It was on Sunday evening ( October 3, 1954) that the big event occurred.   Feeling that we had time to rest up after our “long journey from America”, the village band and Maenner-chor (men’s choir) accompanied by the buergermeister and several hundred citizens, assembled in front of the Hettich Beckerei and summoned us from the house.   As we stepped out, the band played a lively march and followed up with several other selections.  

Then the mayor delivered his address of welcome to “den vier Herren von America” who had honored the village with a visit.   I was delegated by the gang to respond, and “unaccustomed as I am to public speaking”, especially in the German language, I made the point short but emphatic, that we were “tickled to death” by the reception.    (Let’s see, now, how would one say that one is “tickled to death” in German?   Ich bin zu death geticleled?)   

Under the direction of the “ verein’s” leader from Freiburg, the Maenner-chor sang some really beautiful numbers, after which they adjourned “ Zum Hirschen”, while the band went on.   Eventually, the majority landed in “ der Sonne” where the band furnished the music for a free dance.

 The drinks for the band and “ chor” and the dance were at our expense and cost us about $3.50 or $4 each.   The Badner Zeitung, printed at Emmendingen, reported next day that “a good time was had by all”.   To us it was a unique and unforgettable experience.

A few days later, on one of our trips through the Schwarzwald, we passed through Bolschweil, the ancestral home of the Gramelspachers, where we were most graciously received and especially Onkel Virgil and Onkel Clarence (in absentia) were given many a “ hoch” for the help they had given the family in the difficult post-war days.

It was an early morning visit (about 10 o’clock) and only Oma Gramelspacher, her son, Franz, the village postmaster, and his wife and two children and sister, Mrs. Hilda Schweitzen, whom we decided to call Mary Alice because of her resemblance to the daughter of Claude Gramelspacher, were at home.   Again we were treated to Zwetsgen kuchen, pastetten and white wine, before we proceeded on our way.   And since only a few of the clan were present, arrangements were made to have Onkel Virgil spend the week-end with them.   We learned from Virgil upon his return that there was a great feast in Bolschweil with relatives from Freiburg, and other points in the Breisgau in attendance.

Not far from Bolschweil we came across a saw mill and veneer mill operated by a Gramelspacher, but as far as we could determine, they were not related to the branch of the family that had migrated to American over a century ago (1837).

The Bolschweil folks came to Reute on the last Sunday of our stay in Reute to take part in the farewell ceremonies.

Oberkirch and Reute

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - December 15, 1954
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

Still accompanied by Mrs. Mechtilde Goelz, we set out in our family bus for Oberkirch, where her sisters Mrs. Marie Meier and Miss Adelheide Lang live.   (The three sisters are nieces of the late A. J. Berger.)   We were cordially received at the large Meier home, the family home of the Langs.   It was a very old house, but was in the process of being renovated, so with many excuses about the condition in which the carpenters had left the house we were put up for the night at the home of Adelheide, who occupied a large, two-bedroom apartment just opposite the French military station.   The two rooms were turned over to us in spite of our insisting that we stay at a hotel, while Adelheide stayed in the Meier home for the night.  

We had a nice dinner at Meiers’ before taking possession of the apartment, the entire family accompanying us there, where we were served a late evening snack and learned much about the history of Oberkirch, its old castle which overlooks the town from its perch on the highest Schwarzwald peak, and the old church on a large plaza in the center of Oberkirch.   We attended services there early the next morning, it being the First Friday ( October 1, 1954), then returned for breakfast.   A visit to a local art shop and wood-carving establishment resulted in the purchase of some samples of the wood-carver’s art, dinner plates with the word “ Oberkirch” carved in the rim, salad bowls with knife and fork, all of wood.   The artist showed us some of his masterpieces-large madonnas and crucifixes and other religious articles that would have made excellent gifts, but were too large to carry along on the rest of the trip.  

In passing, I must mention that we passed through Aachen, en route from Karlsruhe to Wagshurst.   I have learned since returning home that the family of Mrs. A. A. Schuetter of Ireland came from this city.   It is the market and trading center of Wagshurst.

Our schedule called for an early departure for Reute, but the three sisters insisted on our staying for dinner, at which they introduced us to a brand new (to us) but typical Schwarzwald Friday dinner – Pfifferling with Spaetzle; dried mushrooms steamed and served over dumplings (better known to us a “ knoepfle”).

In the meantime, Mr. Meier, a truck driver, had arranged for us to make the trip to Reute via auto.   Mechtilde returned to her home in Karlsruhe with the little bus that brought us here.   So about 1 pm, we, like the bird in the old saying, wiped our “bills” and flew away from our gracious hosts to arrive via Emmerdingen, in late afternoon at our destination and our “home” for the next eighteen days, “ Reute-an-der-Glotter.”

To say we were royally received is putting it mildly.   Our hostess and cousin, Klara Hettich (nee Rumbach) and family had been patiently awaiting our arrival, and her son, Hans, and daughter, Anna Luise, met us at the edge of the village, at the Field Cross, on their bicycles and led us to their quaint, typically – South German home, where the rest of the family, the two Annas (grandmother), and our hostess and her sister and children greeted us most heartily.   Over the door was hung a wreath with the inscription “ Herzlich Wilkommen” (a hearty welcome).   We moved in with bag and baggage to our two rooms, very comfortably fitted out, with twin beds, and were soon seated at the festive board for supper.

I do not recall leaving the table, as one after another, the rest of the relatives and numerous neighbors, stopped in to greet us, and stayed to discuss their favorite subject, the wonderland which is America, and “Die Alte Heimat” – Baden.   To them, we were the four Onkels von America – Onkel Fred, Onkel Albert, Onkel Virgil und Onkel Alphonse.   Later in the evening, we were served “ wechen” (hard rolls) made from half-and-half (wheat and rye flour) and pastetten and kuchen, all baked in the Hettich bakery which adjoins the house in the rear, and the excellent product of the nearby vineyards, plus coffee.  

“ Onkel” Alphonse, who had been shivering from the cold, damp atmosphere we encountered in Holland, Belgium and Germany since our arrival, in spite of the flannel longies he bought in Karlsruhe, thawed out for the first time on the bench adjoining the glazed-tile heater, and found the thick feather bed, which was a part of each of the twin beds much to his “comfort”.  

It was a memorable day, marred only by the fact that Buzz, who was to meet us in Reute from Paris, failed to show up, and there was no mail from home.   However, while we were at breakfast the next morning, Klara came in, proudly exhibiting a sheaf of air mail letters in which we all shared.   While we were reading and passing around the batch of clippings from the Daily Herald, we heard a commotion out in the street, and looking we saw a taxicab from Emmerdingen draw up at the front door.   Buzz emerged with his trusty basketball kit containing his comb and tooth brush (etc).   He was ushered in with great ceremony and was soon seated with us at breakfast.   He had arrived at Freiburg the evening before, and our hosts were very indigent to learn that he was unable to find a cab driver who knew where Reute is.    So he spent the night in Freiburg, took an early train to Emmerdingen, where the first cabbie he approached knew immediately where he was headed for.

Wagshurst, Ancestral Home, And Strassbourg

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - December 10, 1954
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

Robert and Mechtilde ( Goelz) had a farewell lunch for us after our return from Stuttgart, and with all our Karlsruhe friends, we sang “Auf Wiedersehn” for we were leaving the next morning for Wagshurst, the ancestral home of more Dubois County citizens than any other single community.   Mechtilde’s folks came from there also, so she accompanied us in the little bus which a Mr. Buehler furnished for the trip.   We had a Dubois County telephone directory which was of great interest to Alois and the Goelz’s.   They undertook to check the names against the names of Wagshurst, Oberkirch and Rente communities; the result left few names unchecked.

On the way we passed a convent for which the late Arnold J. Berger had a collection and where a requiem mass was sung when news of his death reached them.   We paused briefly at the convent and parish church in memory of Mr. Berger.

We reached Wagshurst just as the inhabitants were leaving for their fields after the noon lunch and siesta.   We were fortunate in reaching the Berger homestead before they had taken off.   Here again we received a warm welcome.   Their home, which was very ancient, had stone steps well rounded at the treads from centuries of entries and exists by the Berger generations and their friends.   We were all asked to sit at the oaken kitchen table which was soon covered with a checkered table cloth and a large crisp loaf of rye bread and a pitcher of sweet cider was place on it for our benefit.   It tasted very good.

The house was occupied by Landolin Berger (brother of A.J.) until his death a few years ago, when it became property of Bernhard and his wife (nee Lampert, a direct descendant of Melchoir Lampert who served in Napoleon’s army as a young man later lead the migration of Wagshurst families to the States, settling in Indiana, Jasper to be exact.)   Mrs. Berger was familiar with the Berger and Lampert family trees, reaching back several generations and down to the present generation in Wagshurst and Jasper.   The Lampert family in Jasper included the son of Melchoir, Felix, who died here in 1925 at the age of 90.   William, his son, who died here in 1946, was the father of Godfrey and Cletus Lampert of Jasper. We have previously mentioned the descendants of the Berger line in Jasper.  

Wagshurst is also the place of origin of the Sermersheim and Hurst families, from which our travel companion, Alphonse is a direct descendant.   We saw the Sermersheim home, one of the newest homes in the village, but the family was not at home.

It is only a skip and a jump from Wagshurst to Strassbourg, the metropolis of Alsace, France – a skip to the Rhine and a jump across it.   We had no difficulty making the skip, but it took us quite a while to make the jump across the Rhine because the way was barred   by the custom station of Germany and France and quite a few vehicles were in line waiting to cross over the border.

It was worth waiting for, however, Strassbourg, being an ancient and picturesque city, the setting for one of the finest cathedrals in Europe.   The steeple on one side of the front reaches high into the sky and is to be seen on a clear day from the Black Forest hills in Baden as well as the Vosges mountains on the Alsacian side; a wide expanse of level land on both sides of the Rhine stretches between the two ridges.   The tower on the other side ends in a stub; the steeple, intended to match the other side, has never been and probably never will be built.

We entered the cathedral at 2:45 pm after viewing the very ornate exterior, and just in time to hear a recital on the large and melodious organ.   At 3 o’clock the canons assigned to the cathedral filed into the choir stall in the sanctuary to chant Vespers.   We then took a close-up view at the altars and painting and at the big mechanical clock in the south transope, which shows not only the time of day but also the day of the week, and of the month, the season of the year and the signs of the zodiac.  

I shall describe the wonderful clock tomorrow, before taking you to Oberkirch, the destination of the day’s journey.

We Say “Auf Wiedersehen”

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - November 16, 1954
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

It was on a Sunday afternoon, September 5, 1954, that our quartet, armed with United States passports and accompanied by a group of rooters representing three generations of Gramelspachers, Sermersheims, and Rumbachs, took off via autos of various makes and vintages from Jasper to Washington, Indiana, where, among many farewells and auf wiedersehens we boarded the National Limited on the first leg of our Journey as Good Will Ambassadors to Europe.   We were not on the payroll, nor did we have a portfolio or official standing or instructions, except a booklet entitled “Information for Bearers of Passports”.

The first article in this booklet is an excerpt from a speech made by President Eisenhower on October 17, 1953 at New Orleans, with the admonition that all Americans endeavor to carry out the fine spirit of his statement in their travels abroad.   The President’s statement said:   “There has been for a century and a half a stream of visitors flowing in both directions, from other countries to this, and from this to other countries.   Through the knowledge and mutual understanding gained and spread by these people, there has been built up friendships based on mutual need.   Such friendships are many.

“But there must be more. They must be stronger.   They must be deeper.   I think that almost any American traveling abroad these days experiences occasionally a sense of shock when he recalls an opinion about Americans in general held abroad that seems to that American visitor to be so far from the truth.

“He finds Americans considered immature diplomatically, impulsive, too proud of their strength, ready to fight, wanting war.   He is shocked.

“He is considered rude; even his deportment is not admired because of unfortunate incidents on the part of individuals.   These friendships of which I speak, my friends, are so vital that no American, no matter how exalted or lowly his station may be, can afford to ignore them.

“Each of us, whether bearing a commission from his government or traveling by himself for pleasure or for business, is a representative of the United States of America, and must try to portray America as he believes it in his heart to be:   a peace loving nation living in the fear of God, but in the fear of God only, trying to be partners with our friends. And we accept for a friend anyone who genuinely holds out the hand of friendship to us as we do to them.”

A passport, therefore, is an official document granted by Uncle Sam to his citizens, assuring them of his protection wherever they may go, as long as they conduct themselves in a manner worthy of him.   It is, therefore, incumbent on every American visitor abroad to try to spread this message of good will, rather than to try to impress his hosts with a sense of superiority, generally expressed by the term “we are from God’s country”.

While we may be further advanced is some respects, especially in modern conveniences, the countries of Europe with centuries of civilization and culture behind them , even before America was discovered, have many things to offer the American traveler which he can not get anywhere else. It is, therefore, only fair that we accept conditions as we find them there, and to learn from them; as they do from us, and approach them on a basis of mutual respect.  

So, after almost twenty-four hours on the B. & O., we arrived in the great American metropolis, New York about noon on a great national holiday, Labor Day ( Monday, September 6, 1954).   To our great surprise, we were met in the lobby of the National hotel by a delegation of Jasperites, Mr. and Mrs. Ted Dudine and daughter, Mary Ann, who were vacationing there, and enjoying the many attractions offered by the big city.

Let’s Take A Trip To Europe

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - November 15, 1954
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

Ever since the Great Adventure of 1950, an extended trip through Europe, which I had the pleasure of sharing with the readers of this column, I had been wondering whether there would ever be a repeat performance of that experience.

That many of the readers were thinking of the same thing, I was convinced by frequent inquiries throughout the intervening years until I considered it a mandate on their part to risk an encore. When I divulged my intentions to my brother, Fred, who was my traveling companion on the previous trip, he also succumbed to the urge to relive those pleasant days.   We started negotiations at once with our travel agent, Howard Yenowine, representative of the American Express Co.

In the meantime, that veteran globe-trotter, Virgil Gramelspacher, who had planned a trip earlier in the year, but had cancelled his arrangement due to unforeseen circumstances, decided to cast his lot with us to make it a threesome, just the right number for a cabin on the good ship Nieuw Amsterdam of the Holland-American line on which we had decided to make the journey.   When the rumor of the proposed jaunt reached the ears of Alphonse A. Sermersheim, he too was fired with a desire, long suppressed, to make a voyage to the home of our ancestors, in Baden, Germany; so we made it a foursome when a single cabin just next to ours was found available on the September 7, 1954 (Tuesday) sailing of the Nieuw Amsterdam.

Since we had a common purpose, to visit the homes of our ancestors and that of a large portion of Dubois County citizens, we decided to make our own itinerary, rather than to go in a standard conducted tour.   Many spare hours during the intervening months were spent in poring over old records and over maps, and interviews with many local people who requested us to look up the home towns of their grandfathers or great-grandfathers, and in laying out a convenient and economical route to enable us to visit as many places as possible.

The reader may get some idea about how heavy the transatlantic travel was during the past summer from the fact that we applied early in June (1954) for accommodations, and had to accept the September (1954) sailing date as the first one available on an eastbound ship.   The earliest westbound opening was on the same ship scheduled to leave Rotterdam, Holland on October 29, 1954, (Friday) with a November 6, 1954 (Saturday) landing dated in New York harbor.   I would therefore, advise anyone intending to go on a trip to Europe, to make arrangements at least four months in advance of the contemplated sail date.

Since our return, we have been frequently asked about conditions in Europe.   I speak for myself, and I dare to say for my companions, that we do not make any pretense to be experts on the European situation as the result of our brief sojourn there.   We frequently discussed the things we saw and heard.   It will be my earnest endeavor during the next days, perhaps weeks, to give you a true picture of our experience in the lands beyond the sea and the peoples whose future, hopes and aspirations are so intimately connected with our own.  

I hope it will afford you as much pleasure reading as it gives me in writing about our adventure.   We shall begin our journey tomorrow.   You are invited to join us on the first leg of our trip – Washington, Indiana via B & O to New York.

We Say “Auf-Wiedersehn”

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - January 4, 1951
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

The days in the environs of the magic Black Forest pursued each other into history with the speed of lightening.   A glance at our itinerary reminded us that we had only two days to make the long journey to London where we were to rejoin the “B” tour for the return voyage to New York and the good old U.S.A.   By leaving Freiburg at 10 p.m., we were due to arrive in London via Muelhouse, Strasburg, Metz, Lille, Calais and Dover by mid-afternoon of the following day, allowing us a little time to give jolly, little, old London at least a casual inspection.

So, gathered around the hospitable dining table of our Reute home, we had a farewell dinner with the entire tribe of relatives and neighbors and newly-acquired friends dropping in for a cup of coffee, a “wecken” and a hearty Auf Wiedersehn.   “Der Beck” (master baker) had made a special trip to Freiburg the preceding day to get a flashlight attachment for his camera in order to be able to record this historic moment in pictures.   After a little experimenting, he set to work with excellent results.  

Loaded down with a lunch packed by our hostess and our pockets full of Oma’s pears, we taxed the capacity of Klara’s Mercedes with our baggage and our bulging pockets, headed for the Bahnhoff at Freiburg and a last “Adieu” and “Vergelts Gott” to our hostess as the train slowly left the station.

We had little time to relax, for the double ordeal of checking out of Germany and into France awaited us on the banks of the Rhine at Muelhouse.  

The Living and The Dead

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - December 28, 1950
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

One of our first missions upon arrival in Reute was visit to the parish cemetery, appropriately named The Friedhof, or “Court of Peace,” for during the many troubled years in Germany, especially since the first world war and during the Hitler regime, it was truly the only place where one might expect to find peace.   We had visited first the grave of Stephan Rumbach, the father of our hostess, a nephew of our father, whom he resembled greatly in stature and general appearance.

Stephan had been Fred’s host on his previous visit to Reute, and he had looked forward eagerly to this second visit.   Be death mercifully released him from his suffering (cancer) just about a year ago (1949).   In fact, the pastor, the Rev. Wolfang Burger, suggested that his anniversary memorial mass be postponed until our arrival.   The large attendance at this service bore testimony of the high esteem in which he was held in his community.

The cemetery is a small plot of ground slightly higher than the adjacent land, and is completely surrounded with a stone fence.   It is completely filled with graves except a single row, and I learned that as more space is needed, the next oldest row is made available by removal of the tomb stones, only the bronze plagues with the inscription fastened to the front of the tombstones are preserved.   The eldest grave dates back about fifty years.

These markers, not only in Reute, but in other villages “Friedhofe” throughout southern Baden, reminded one of Dubois county cemeteries.   Here besides Rumbachs and Hettichs, are the Fehribachs, Birks, Birkles, Richs, Becks, Wuchners, and numerous other family names found in our southern Indiana community.   Among others is the grave of Karl Sutter, who will be remembered by many of the elder Jasperites as the miller employed by the Eckert Mill here for quite a longtime.   In fact, he was my godfather, but he returned to Reute where he married and raised a family of seven children.   We met his widow and several of the children, including a daughter, who gave me his photo and two sons, the village green gardener and the other one of the town’s best football players.

In a memorial park in a nearby town we saw the names of Buehler, Berger, Eckerle, Fritch, Gramelspacher, Bohnert and numerous other familiar names.   But the town of Wagshurst wins the prize for duplication of local names:   a history of World War 1 of that village lists men with the following names:   Berger, Beck, Bohnert, Baumert, Danhauer, Dupps, Eckenfels, Eckstein, Ell, Fritsch, Haas, Huber, Hurst, Lampert, Meier, Mueller, Schneider, Schuetz, Sermersheim, Spaeth (Spayd), Vollmer, Becher, Oser, Heitz, Buehler, Baer, Doll and Koch.   Other familiar names encountered were Winterhalter, Siegel, Kempf, Goest, Eckert, Scherle, Stenftenagel, etc.

The cemeteries are very well kept, especially the one at Reute.   The graves are rectangular mounts, outlined with white shells or small white stones, the tops covered with flowering plants, many of the bleeding heart variety.   It lies about midway between Over-Reute and Unter-Reute, which are less than a kilometer apart.   The former contains the new parish church, the latter the old one, still preserved as a chapel, and ancient in appearance.

In the B.H. era (Before Hitler) the Angelus was run at both places at 6:00, 12:00 and 18:00 o’clock ( 6 P.M.) and the villagers working in the fields or at home paused and uncovered piously reciting the Angelic Salutation and the Ave.   During the Hitler regime the bells were relieved of their mission of Peace, and removed to be melted over and molded into bullets, grenades and bombs.   Through the generosity of several American friends, a fund will soon be completed to replace the bells to announce the Glory of God and His Blessed Mother.   Pastor Burger has announced that the generosity of the donors will be memorialized in the inscription of the new bells and commemorated at their dedication.

Triberg Im Schwarzwald

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - December 28, 1950
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

After breathing the invigorating air of the pine-clad Schwarzwald hills all morning, our first thought upon arrival at Triberg was about food. Triberg being a resort town, there are plenty places to eat, hotels, restaurants, taverns, gift and novelty shops abound.

So it was mostly a question of whom we want to favor with our patronage.   We were not long in deciding, for just a block ahead of us was the large sign;   Parkhotel Wehrle, with the coast-of-arms emblazoned upon the shield, plus the number 1707.   Whether that is the street number of the hotel or the year of its origin, we were unable to learn, but well-kept as it is, it showed signs of great antiquity.   We chose this place for sentimental reasons, reminding us as it did of Wehrle’s “Chicken-in-the-Rough” restaurant back home in Jasper, Indiana.

The menu of the day, also adorned with the Wehrle coat-of-arms and name in full, plus the following appetizing choices of food, listed, partly in German, partly in French and some English:   Kerbel-Suppe, Omelette mit Gefluegelleber, Roast Beef English styles, pommes frites, Wirsinggemuese, Schokoloden-Crème.   The price D.M. 5.00 or about $1.25.   The dinner or abendessen menu was more elaborate but the price about the same:   Ochenschwanz – Suppe; Steinbutt, gekocht, Petersilien-butter; Salzkartoffeln; Eierhoernchen mit schinken gratiniert, oder kalte – bratten, schinken und wurst; Reiche salatplatte, schokoladen crème oder verschieden kaese.

Hearing the people at the table next to us speaking English (of the American variety) we identified ourselves as fellow Americans.   There were a family of father, mother, son, daughter and maid, hailed from New York and residents in Triberg over a year.   They love the Schwarzwald but the little boy yearned for home where he would be able to play baseball and football.

The city of Triberg is built on the lower slope of a three-peaked hill (from which it derives its name) similar to French Lick and West Baden, only much larger.

The Dorfbach, a mountain stream which dashes rapidly through the center of the town, has its origin high above, cascading down from the top of the mountain in a series of beautiful waterfalls, said to be the highest and largest in Germany.   The rest of our party admired the falls from below, while I started to climb the mountainside by way of the path alongside the falls with a bridge over the stream at strategic places.   Climbing from one leap of the water to the next one above was a fascinating experience, and I kept on going higher and higher until I reached the top where the stream flows serenely in the “back” on the plateau above it starts its descent in easy stages down the cliffs.

Fred was still resting peacefully on a stone bench at the foot of the falls, thinking, no doubt, if his darn-fool brother wants to break his neck there’s nothing he could do about it.   Klara, perhaps feeling some responsibility as hostess, finally induced Herr Wassmer to make the climb with her, but I met them half-way down, none the worse for the experience except that I was a little damp from the spray of the cascades.

I found, in climbing, that there are hotels hidden all along the mountainside, one with a beautiful, large swimming pool, tennis courts, etc.   The well-known pilgrimage spot, the Chapel of Our Lady of Triberg, is also well up towards the top of one of the three peaks.

We then visited a museum specializing in clocks of all periods of time, and the costumes of the peasantry and nobility over a series of centuries.   In one of the largest souvenir stores there was also a display of every variety of cuckoo clocks made by the Schwarzwalders, and also a great variety of other novelties whittled from blocks of wood of various sizes.   They are very interesting and ingenious.

After a lunch of assorted cheeses, fruits and excellent “pastetten” (pastries) with choice of beer, wine, or schoholade, we started for Reute as the tall pines cast lengthening shadows across the “tal” and the sun suddenly plunged below the horizon as we descended from “the high road to the low road.”

A Drive Through The Schwarzwald

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - December 27, 1950
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

On the Saturday morning of our week’s visit in Reute, Herr Wassmer, a tobacconist from Emmendingen, the county seat, who supplies our hostess with Dame Nicotine’s wares for her store, made his weekly call and had his order all neatly written up in time to join us a breakfast.   That function having been completed, he regimented us – Brother Fred, Klara and me, into his brand new Mercedes midget, and headed for the hills of the Schwarzwald, with the famous resort, Triberg, as the objective.  

Over excellent black-top roads, we drifted between thicknesses of evergreen trees of considerable size, climbing ever upward and upward with an occasional dip down into a green valley or “tal” or “au” usually the site of a picturesque village, reminiscent of the toy houses under our Christmas tree.

We are now entering the “Glotter-tal-now the Immental – and here is the Todenau.”   And many others with more or less familiar names.   Herr Wassmer was in his element – he knew every hill and vale, every village and tavern along the route, most of them his customers.   As our volunteer guide and host, he pointed them out and called them by name, Das Roesli, Der Loewe, Zum Engel, Die Gemsen (the pony, lion, angel, chamois) and many others, and the shield suspended over the door invariably verified his statement, both by picture and in fancy German letters.  

Along the way there were saw-mills and neatly piled stacks of lumber, or incredibly long poles of creosoted timbers, like the tall posts on Recreation Field back home bearing the electric lights for night baseball.   All along the way also, were hundreds of apples trees with limbs propped up to keep them from breaking under the weight of their fruit, and plum trees laden with their purple freight (prunes).   From there the famous Schwarzwalder Obstwasser and Zwetschgenwasser are distilled to warm the hearts of natives and tourists during the long, cold winter months when skiing, coasting and skating are the principal attractions for the visitors.   The cherry trees, which yield the fruit for the equally famous Kirschwasser, are generally in bloom, we were told, so early in spring, that they shed the snow-white petals in the cherry groves in the valley while the tops still covered with real snow.   The cherries usually mature to a bright red around “Christi-Himmelfahrt,” the feast of the Ascension of Christ into Heaven, forty days after Easter.

The day being one of bright, early autumn sunshine, and rather warm, the dense shadows cast by the thick, bushy branches of the evergreens in the hillside forest were the tip-off to its name, “ Black Forest.”   The ground below the branches was as clean as the floor of our gymnasium just before the start of a basketball game.   There was not a twig on the ground, or a loose limb on a tree, or a top of a recently cut tree cluttering up the forest, for the forest is patrolled daily and every twig, loose branch or tree top is picked up as were the sheaves of wheat by the gleaners in the olden days tied into bundles or faggots and sold for fire wood.

The clean paths through the forest, winding through the thick growths of evergreens, and up the hillside, generally sloping gently and occasionally precipitously, invited the passerby to a hike.   But, aside from stopping shortly from time to time to enjoy a particularly fine view, we pressed on, in order to reach our destination, Triberg, before noon.

Christmas in September

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - December 21, 1950
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

After dinner, the master baker, clad in white from head to foot, came bearing a large square cake of three layers covered with icing and bearing the inscription in chocolate “Willkommen In Die Alte Heimat” (Welcome to the Old Home).   We had noticed the same greeting on a placard edged with laurel over the door as we entered the house.

The cake was served with coffee and a “spot” of the Schwarzwalder Kirschwasser, as in pairs, trios and quartettes, all the relatives dropped in and joined in the after-dinner snack.   A very pleasant evening was thus spent discussing the old folk, living and departed, on both sides of the Atlantic.   This gathering at the home of one or another of the families was a nightly ritual during our stay in Reute, varied only on the Sunday night public reception, when we were serenaded by the band and male chorus, at the Hirschen Tavern.

At one of the evening gatherings, we drifted into the realm of song, all joining in the singing of the old folk songs:   “Der Gute Kamrad,” “Morgenroth,” “Im Wald und Auf Der Heide,” “Wem Gott Will Rechte Gunst Erwersen,” “Fuchs Du Hach Die Gan Gestolen,” “Alle Voegel Sind Schon Da,” “Strasburg,” “Grambambuli” and many others.   By mere chance, someone intoned “Stille Nacht,” whereupon another hailed it as being out of season on a rather warm night in September.

The leader, however, was persistent: “When it is the Holy Season,” he said, “our guests will be thousands of miles away and then we can only have this night as a memory.”   He had his way, and not only “Stille Nacht, Heilege Nacht,” but numerous other Christmas hymns, German, Latin, English, and even one in French, “Noel,” completed the program of the evening – Christmas Eve in September.   Among them were the well-known “Adeste Fideles,” “Ihr Kinderlein Kommet,” “Schoenstes Kindlein,” “Es Kam Ein Engel” and many others, almost forgotten but well-remembered as one or another of the assembled groups of adults and children intoned it.

To make the occasion even more realistic, Oma (grandmother) took the cue to serve coffee, cider and cookies; also apples, pears, grapes and nuts, with which a bountiful Nature had blessed Reute this year with great abundance.

It was a night long to be remembered, especially on this and on future Christmas eves.   May the Infant Jesus, the Prince of Peace, bless these folks with the true and enduring peace which they so ardently desire, so greatly need and so richly deserve.

The Other Side of Germany

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - December 20, 1950
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

First impressions, however, are often mistaken ones.   That time had not stood still even in this quaint German village, we were soon to learn upon entering our pro tempore home.   We entered through the shop, well-stocked with bread, rolls and pastries, and an assortment of canned goods and staple groceries and sweets.   We were escorted thence to our room above the shop.   It was as neatly and comfortably furnished as the one we occupied in the Carlton-Tivoli in Lucerne, or any other hotel on our tour – twin beds, box spring mattresses, fluffy featherbeds, nice night tables with electric lamps and comfortable chairs. A bathroom with flowing hot and cold water was adjacent.  

The large cozy living quarters boasted a radio which was giving out dinner-music provided by a good orchestra in Stuttgart as we sat down to a substantial meal.   The bake oven in the bakery which we inspected after the evening repast, is thoroughly modern.   One can see from this that the way of life in Germany and America are not too much at variance.

When one considers that the “old countries” have seven or eight centuries of living and traditions behind them, it is easier to see, perhaps, they are slower in adopting new customs and abandoning old and familiar habits.

In fact, in many things such as hydro-electric power development, prevention of soil erosion and methods of conservation and many other scientific and technical departments, they are ahead of us.   During our stay, we made numerous pictures, indoor as well as out, with a fine German camera.  

I would not for one moment want to be guilty of discourtesy of making our hosts feel that we lay claim to any sense of superiority.   That, probably, is the all-prevailing sin of us Americans, abroad as well as at home.   Because our country has made phenomenal strides in some fields and is the wealthiest in the world, we often conclude that this superiority is all-inclusive.   No intelligent person would make such a claim.   We have so many things of which we can justly be proud, and they have so many things which we must admire, that there is no sense in boasting or exaggerated claims.

The old adage prescribing a rule of conduct with one’s neighbors applies here perfectly:

There’s so much bad in the best of us,

There’s so much good in the worst of us,

That it behooves none of us.

To speak ill of the rest of us.

There was a strong tendency in America especially during World War I to condemn and diparage everybody and everything in and pertaining to Germany.   Even the study of the German language and literature was banned in our schools.   German opera and music was banned.   Some went so far as to omit German foods from their menus, and German customs in general were taboo.   This tendency was much less prevalent during World War II.

In spite of this, many of the soldiers of both wars who were over there bearing the brunt of the war and later were in Germany in the army of occupation – men who had the opportunity to observe the industry, thrift and real character of the German people – returned with the conviction that Germany of all the countries of Europe, is more worthy of assistance, because its people, even after the calamity of two world wars, were doing their utmost to help themselves.

Freiburg and Reute

From The Dubois County Daily Herald - December 19, 1950
HARK THE HERALD | By A. T. Rumbach

At last we were approaching Freiburg.   Although I have never been there and had never seen any of the people whom we were to meet there, I had somewhat of the feeling I have already described – when we steamed into the harbor at New York.   (Fred Rumbach had visited here in the summer of 1922.)

At least here we were to be met and greeted by someone who had more than a commercial interest in our arrival.   So, when we stepped from the train platform we were greeted heartily by our cousin (she called us “uncle”) Frau Klara Hettich (nee Rumbach).   The fact that she was there alone was soon accounted for.   Her auto, which stood nearby was a Mercedes of the midget variety so common in Europe, which barely accommodated me and our four pieces of baggage in the back seat, and Fred and our hostess in front.

The prevalence of the midget car is due, of course, to the scarcity and high price of gasoline and tires in Europe – purely an economy measure and aside from the limited room they afford, they give excellent service.

Here, for the first time, we saw the first evidence of pattern bombing.   Although Freiburg was hit only once by airmen, and then only for a period of about twenty minutes, the destruction to a considerable part of the city, was terrific.   The ruins were still quite apparent, although the industrious and thrifty burghers have availed themselves both of time since the end of the hostilities and of Marshall-plan dollars to rebuild and repair much of the damage.

The greatest progress was noted in the reconstruction of the great Freiburg hospital and clinic, a part of the Freiburg University School of Medicine, which was completely destroyed in the air-blitz.   The original hospital consisted of seven units.   Our first stop in Freiburg was at one of the four reconstructed units, where a cousin, George Rumbach, was presently a patient.   George is one of the best known men around the hospital, being attached to it as a professional blood donor.

George is the possessor of an abundance of a rare type of blood, adaptable to almost any need in transfusions.   When he told us the number of times he has given blood, we thought he was grossly exaggerating, but he later produced the records authenticated by hospital officials showing that he had shared the life-giving fluid 925 times.   He is now well advanced in years but expects to run his grand total over one thousand.   His case has been the subject of articles in medical journals and has frequently been written up in the public press.

After a snack of excellent cheese and brown beer (cellar cold) at the “Paradies” we left Freiburg for our final destination, Reute, about eight miles to the north.   As we glided over the well-paved highway, we viewed with interest the evergreen clad hills of the Black Forest (the Schwarzwald) which girds the city on three sides.   Our hostess pointed out to us the well known peaks of the Schwarzwald, visible for miles and miles – the Feldberg, the Kendel, the Kaiserstuhl and others, landmarks for the surrounding countryside.

As so engrossed, we spun past the state forest and the Reute Sport Platz and the way-side crucifix into the old home-town of Reute itself with its quaint, red tile roofed houses that have accumulated seams of moss through the ages.   Here and there four-wheeled carts loaded with sacks of potatoes and a sheaf of green fodder for the cows which drew the vehicles, were returning from the nearby “acres” as the sun was sinking towards the horizon. The men and women, walking alongside the carts, waved a friendly greeting as we passed them.   A flock of geese fluttered out of the Dorfbach (the village stream) and single-filed with proud heads held high to their respective homes.

Just as we drew up in front of the picturesque home of our hostess, which also houses her bakery and store, the Dorf-Bote (town-crier) stepped from his bicycle, rang a hand-bell and read an announcement issued by the Burger-meister (mayor).   Here, indeed, time had stood still for three-quarters of a century – for everything seemed to be just as it was graphically described by the colony of Reuters who left their homes in the early eighties to make their home in far-away Indiana.