From The Dubois County Daily Herald
December 14, 1950
HARK THE HERALD
Swiss Alps, Chalets and Dialect
By A. T. Rumbach
The ride of 103 Kilometers from the St. Gotthard tunnel to Lucerne was all too short for the passengers who were getting their first view of the Swiss Alps. They took up every available inch of space at the windows of the train to watch the jagged mountains in their garb of dark greens pines and cap of lamb-wool snow, glistening in the bright moonlight.
Adding the human touch to the panorama were the solitary chalets and the chummy villages which dotted the mountain-sides and valleys. And so, all too soon, the train came to a halt in the station of Lucerne.
The process of clearing the station from train to busses interrupted, but did not end the evening’s viewing of strange and beautiful sights. For enroute to our hotels, the buses skirted the well-illuminated shores of Lake Lucerne, which for sheer beauty is not surpassed by any lake in the world.
We arrived at our hotel, the Carlton-Tivoli about ten o’clock tired and ready for a good night’s rest in the very attractive, spic and span rooms with twin beds, covers invitingly tucked back; and a feather-light but bulky feather-bed doubled up at the foot end to protect one against the crisp autumn mountain air. So after a snack and a glass of brown beer, cellar-cold, we took to the covers to rest up for a full day of Alpine sight-seeing tomorrow.
The crossing over from Italy to Switzerland was, in a way, like a home-coming, for here, on every side, instead of an unfamiliar language, the Italian, or the forced tourist English, one heard spoken, that is, Swiss German which greatly resembles the dialect of Baden spoken by so many of the older citizens of Dubois county about a generation ago, and a trace of which is still to be found in what German is still spoken here.
I was surprised to hear this variety of German “slang” spoken not only by peasants and servants, but also by trades people and businessmen, in fact by people in general, as long as they were speaking among themselves. But the moment they are approached by a “foreigner” addressing them in German, or by a government official or a clergyman, they invariably answered in “High-German,” or “schriftliches Deutsch” (German as it is written). Needless to say they were surprised when we talked to them in their own Swiss dialect.
From The Dubois County Daily Herald
December 19, 1950
HARK THE HERALD
Freiburg and Reute 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.
From The Dubois County Daily Herald
December 20, 1950
HARK THE HERALD
The Other Side of Germany 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.
From The Dubois County Daily Herald
December 21, 1950
HARK THE HERALD
Christmas in September 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.
From The Dubois County Daily Herald
December 27, 1950
HARK THE HERALD
A Drive Through The Schwarzwald 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.
From The Dubois County Daily Herald
December 28, 1950
HARK THE HERALD
Triberg Im Schwarzwald 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.”
From The Dubois County Daily Herald
Wednesday, January 3, 1951
HARK THE HERALD
The Living and The Dead 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.
From The Dubois County Daily Herald
Thursday, January 4, 1951
HARK THE HERALD
We Say “Auf-Wiedersehn” 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.
From The Dubois County Daily Herald
Monday, November 15, 1954
HARK THE HERALD
Let’s Take A Trip To Europe 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.