Journal

of the American Historical Society of Germans from Russia

Vol. 10, No. 4 Winter 1987

On the cover: Wilhelm Drews, Jr., pictured here with his wife Emma, nee Reinke, and their daughter Linda, was the oldest son of Wilhelm Drews, Sr., one of the founders of the village Juljanow in Polish Volhynia. This photo was taken in Juljanow about 1895.

Published by

American Historical Society of Germans from Russia 631 D Street • Lincoln, Nebraska 68502-1199 • Phone 402-474-3363

Edited by: Ruth M. Amen and Jo Ann Kuhr Copyright ® 1987 by the American Historical Society of Germans From Russia.

All rights reserved.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

MAP OF THE SCHOOL DISTRICT JULJANOW-BORATYN ...………………………………..................... ii

HOMELAND FOR A TIME Josef Weiss Translated by Leona Janke .....……………………………............................................. 1

UNSERE EICHE Josef Weiss Translated by Leona Janke ............………………………………….………..................................... 14

MY FATHER, JOSEPH WEISS Ewald Weiss Translated by Leona Janke ...............…………………………………………................................... 15

TWO APOSTLES TO THE RUSSIAN GERMANS Father Christopher L. Zugger ........................…………………….…………………...................... 17

MAP OF EUROPE IN THE MID-1700s Irmgard Hein Ellingson ..................................…………………………………………................... 20

GERMAN IMMIGRATION TO THE AUSTRIAN EMPIRE IN THE 1770s AND 1780s

Irmgard Hein Ellingson .........................…………………………………………............................ 21

THE GIFT OF HEALING Audre Emma Ganske Patel ........................………………………………………......................... 23

HISTORY OF THE EBENFELD PUBLIC SCHOOL IN MARION COUNTY, KANSAS

Solomon L. Loewen ...............………………………………………….......................................... 27

DAS GROSSE EIN-MAL-EINS ............…………………………………………………….................................... 34

VETTER HANNES Johann George .................……………………………………………........................................... 35

ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE ADVENTISTS IN RUSSIA: A HISTORICAL SURVEY Daniel Heim Translated by Leona Pfeifer .............………………………………………................................... 39

SONG OF THE MEADOWLARK Dallas D. Zimmerman .....................…………………………………………................................. 44

BOOKS AND ARTICLES RECENTLY ADDED TO THE AHSGR ARCHIVES Frances Amen and Mary Lynn Tuck .....…………………………………..................................... 45

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HOMELAND FOR A TIME1

Josef Weiss Translated by Leona Janke2

I. 1875-1913: Founding, Buying Freedom, Flourishing

The following pages are to report on a small piece of earth in Eastern Europe which was a homeland of Germans for a short time, scarcely more than one human lifetime. It is a difficult undertaking to write of a homeland today, in a century which has seen the merciless expulsion of millions. In this report I am not announcing any claim upon a "lost homeland." Instead, by focusing my attention upon the establishment, growth, flourishing, and decline of a school district as occurred in Volhynia during the course of settlement by German colonists, I shall, at the same time, be depicting the fate of a small ethnic group, the Volhynian Germans, about which very little is known—even to other Germans. Only very little information is available on this most recent group of German settlers in Eastern Europe, which numbered 200,000 souls before World War I. The time was too short for them to develop their own accounts. The study presented here attempts to close a gap. The author does not make the claim that he is presenting a scholarly work. He is only relating that which he has learned from his own experiences.

In the years from 1865 to 1875, eight small settlements, also called colonies, came into being in the forests east of the small town of Torczyn on the lands of Polish estates: Mieczyslawow, Juljanow, Pawlow, Czarnelozy, Zablotce, Kurhany, Markmillerszczyzna and Seliszcze. Julianow was situated about in the middle of these communities, to the right of the Torczyn-Rozyszcze road. The distance to Tor-czyn amounted to about 7 kilometers [4.2 miles]; the distance to Rozyszcze, where the rectory of the Evangelical Lutheran Church was located, was about twenty kilometers [12 miles]. The names of the first three colonies are derived from the Polish first names, Mieczyslaw, Juljian and Pawel, who were probably the sons of noble estate owners. Czarnelozy could be translated as "black bushes," Zablotce as "behind the marsh," Seliszcze as "(old) settlement," and Kurhany as "burial mounds" or simply as "hills." The origin of the German-sounding name "Markmillerszczyzna" is still unknown. To be sure, the consonant cluster in the Slavic ending to which German [-speaking] tongues were unaccustomed,

was soon replaced in the colloquial speech of the colonists by "Hassein" (short for hazelnut bushes) so that they did not have difficulty in pronouncing this tongue twister.

Thus, these place names were in part reminders of the primeval forests and bogs that in earlier times had covered broad areas of Volhynia. The names of the surrounding Ukrainian villages remind one of the same things, but some are reminders also of the bloody battles which had raged here between the Ukrainians and the Poles. Examples of Ukrainian place names: Boratyn = bor (coniferous forest); Ozdeniz = the knife (probably as a threat); Bujan = ruffian; Ulaniki = ulej (beehive).

For practical reasons I have elected to use the Polish form of the place names and the Latin alphabet, although at the time of the founding of the German colonies, Volhynia belonged to Russia and formed a governmental administra-tive district. The seat of the governor and the Evangelical Lutheran Church headquarters were in the city of Zytomierz [Zhitomir]. The Germans pronounced it "Schitomir" with the accent on the first syllable. Key to pronunciation: Polish German [English] sz sch [sh] cz tsch [tch] z/ra voiced sch [zhe] c z [tz or ts] (Luck = Luzk) [Lutsk] ie je [ye] Mieczyslawdw = Mjetschyslawow =

[Myetchyslavov] The Polish estate owners, upon whose lands these

settlements arose, had gotten into financial difficulties. These difficulties were partly the result of those Polish uprisings after the third partition of Poland that flared up time and again in the Russian-occupied part and which were supported by the Polish nobility, but they were also partly the result of the costly lifestyles to which the Polish nobles were accustomed. After the forests had been cleared and the entire area was covered only by small trees and bushes and after the Ukrainian population had been released from serfdom by orders of the czar, thereby eliminating a cheap source of labor, the Polish nobles had to find new sources of income.

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Consequently, the German colonists were warmly greeted as helpers in distress. The estate owners leased land to the Germans and thereby had a secure income, for the Germans were honest tenants who paid the rent punctually year after year. Some estate owners also were glad to sell land to the Germans, especially if small leftover pieces of estates were involved. Some of the nobles probably built new lives for themselves in the city with the money; however, others squandered their new wealth in a short time. The story of one such estate owner who had sold the remainder of his property to German settlers has often been told. Shortly after the sale he hanged himself, and after his death a note was found on which the dead man had written, " prefer rotting to living in poverty."

The German settlers were of a different opinion in this respect. They were almost all poor people who were seeking for themselves a new home in Volhynia. They were also industrious and thrifty, as were the settlers in the colonies that are the subject of our report. Mieczyslawow was probably the oldest of the settlements. The first settlers were named Priess, Schmidtke, Gatzke, Strohschein, and Lucht. Together they bought about 165 morgen of land. (A Russian morgen is somewhat more than a Prussian morgen.)3

This picture of the family of the widow Strohschein was taken in 1913. In the back row from left to right are Gotthelf, Albert, Edmund, Daniel, and Julius Strohschein. Seated in the front, left to right, are Gotthelf s wife Lydia, the widow Pauline Strohschein and her second husband Faruin, and Julius's wife Lydia. See the map on page ii for the location of their farms. Photo courtesy of Karen Davis Cox.

The Juljanow settlers were named Drews, Gellert, Doberstein, Uttich, and Fenzel. The lat

ter soon sold his farm to a man called Fehr. Together they leased about 100 Russian morgen. The landlord was a Polish nobleman, Roman Rakowski of Boratyn.

Pawlow also belonged to this estate owner. Here are the names of the first settlers in Pawlow: Rachui, Passut, and Weber. (I was, unfortunately, unable to determine any additional names.) Here, too, we are dealing with leased land with a total area of about 100 Russian morgen.

In contrast, the first settlers in Czarnelozy immediately purchased land, about 144 Russian morgen. The first settlers were two brothers named Doberstein, Gatzke, Abram, and Gellert.

The first settlers in Markmillerszczyzne were Abram and two Weike brothers. Here, too, leased land was involved, totaling about 50 morgen.

Seliszcze developed somewhat later. It was also [on] leased land with about 100 Russian morgen. Before World War I the Friedrich brothers, a man called Passuth, a man called Both, and Emil Fehr lived here. I was unable to determine if they were the original settlers.

All of these settlers were from the region of Nieszawa on the Vistula River. They spoke low German or Kaschubisch,4 as the dialect was called in Volhynia.

The settlers of the colony of Zablotce were Tonn, Nickel, Hanke, Pohl, Brachmann, Hansch, Glasel, and Reschke. The entire area amounted to about 300 Russian morgen. The land belonged to an estate owner in the Ukrainian village of Zablotce. At first, this colony was also [on] leased land, but when the entire estate was to be sold, the colonists bought their parcels. Although these colonists also came from Congress Poland, they spoke High German.

Kurhany belonged to the estate owner in Szepel. Before World War I the families living there were: Weiss, Malasch, Wegner, the Klisch brothers, Schuiz, Kupke, Stephan, Fiedler, Nehrling, and Kleindienst. Kurhany was also [on] leased land. The entire area amounted to about 150 Russian morgen. The settlers spoke High German and likewise came from Congress Poland.

As I have already stated, these people were poor. Just one example of how great the poverty was: In the beginning the neighbors Gellert and Doberstein had only one cow between them, whose milk they had to share. As is everywhere the case, the beginnings were difficult. Fortunately, the drinking water was not too deep; i.e., wells had to be dug at most 60 feet deep. The clearing of the bushes and young trees was also

2

not too difficult. Young, healthy trees, especially oaks, were left standing. Although at first one could bend them with one's hands, nevertheless, in the course of decades, they grew into mighty oaks which enlivened the scenery. Even from afar one could recognize the German settlements by these trees; as one knows, the Ukrainian farmland was without any stands of trees.

After the first clearing years, the economic situation improved slowly but steadily. The arable land, light sandy loam, was fertile and suitable for growing grains of all sorts. Soon the neighbors Gellert and Doberstein, as well as then-neighbors, had several cows apiece. Some of the colonists were even able to put away a small sum, i.e., save it. The people of Juljanow liked to tell a story about one of their neighbors, who was considered to be especially thrifty. According to this story, he had been seen one night on his land, by a steep hill, digging for buried treasure. There were, of course, people who believed such tall tales.

The people of Juljanow had two morgen of school land; those of Mieczyslawow had one morgen. Together both pieces made a rectangle. Therefore, both colonies decided to merge and become one school district, or choir director's district [Kantoratsgemeinde}5, as it was also called. On the Juljanow piece of property, a mutual cemetery was fenced off, and at the crossroads to Zablotce, the school building was erected. The first of a number of school teachers, who also had to hold worship services, was called Friedrich. In later years it was said that he interrupted the sermon in the middle in order to go outside to smoke his pipe. In the meantime, Fenzel, Chairman of the School Council, con-tinued the sermon.

At first, the people of Zablotce had their own cemetery and also their own school. Their first teacher was named Reschke. Kurhany was also independent at first. However, soon both colonies joined Juljanow, and thus a large school district of over 1100 morgen of land was established.

Now financially very strong, this community built jointly with Juljanow a splendid prayer hall, whose interior was decorated with planed planks and painted with white oil paint. The residents put a beautiful fence around the cemetery and planted trees. In the middle of the cemetery stood a high cross. Alongside the prayer hall a bell tower was erected. The bell announced the Sunday worship services and deaths. A brass band was formed to accompany the singing. The Juljanow school building now served as the school for all eight colonies. The

school hall was hardly able to hold all the students. This problem developed, however, only if all the students came to school—which was very seldom the case.

The second teacher was named Reschke. Julius Gellert, who attended school at this time, tells of how he [Reschke] liked to crochet or knit gloves during class time. He always had a riding whip lying on his table, ready to grasp. It was made of tow. If any pupil was naughty ("useless" it was called) or could not do his lessons, the teacher grabbed the whip and said, "I'll show you, you good for nothing!" and the whip made the noise "whack, whack." Sometimes pieces flew from the whip, but it really didn't hurt.

Ernestine Drews Mundt was one of the daughters of Wilhelm Drews, Sr., one of the founders of Juljanow. She is shown here with her twin daughters and son Alfred Mundt. Photo courtesy of Leona Janke.

After Reschke came Klingspon. He immigrated to America. After him followed a certain man named Hendler who transferred to the neighboring school district of Helenow. Then came Wuschke who worked as a cooper on the side. Johann Fenzel said of him that "He could sit in a Viertel," no doubt because he was so small and supple. (A Viertel is a vessel used to measure grain.)

3

Little buildings for that most human of needs [i.e., outhouses] had not yet come into fashion in Volhynia. Even the school had none. Therefore, Teacher Wuschke dug shallow trenches in his garden for these purposes and let the students use them. In the spring he then planted pumpkins there. In the fall the pumpkins were so large that a strong man could carry one pumpkin alone only with great effort.

Wuschke also immigrated to America. After him came Ziemer. At first he was still a bachelor and enjoyed much popularity in the district. But when he married, he was soon blessed with a swarm of children. Therefore, his salary soon no longer sufficed for the support of his family. But the district did not increase it, so he leased a farm in order to have enough food for his children. Because of that he, unfortunately, had to neglect the school. As a result, the district became dissatisfied with him, and he had to leave.

In August 1911 the author of these reminiscences came to Juljanow from the district of Otyka on the other side of Torczyn. He found the school in a neglected state. Half the students, who in some cases had been attending the school for three or four winters, could barely read or write. To be sure, this was not the teacher's fault alone but also the fault of the parents who sent their children to school very irregularly. You see, in Volhynia the whole family worked from early to late. Even the six- and seven-year olds had to take care of the cattle in summer, and the younger children had to rock and play with the very smallest children. The eleven- and twelve-year olds had to contribute their share to the work of the adults. They kept the children home in winter for every conceivable reason; e.g., if the mother had a wash day or had to go to town. In Russia at that time, there was no compulsory school attendance. One really sent the children to school only if they were not needed at home. But then, when the children did not keep up with their school work or had lost all desire to learn, it was the teacher's fault.

One ought not to conclude that the Volhynians were indifferent to their school. About 1909 the people of Juljanow had—without hesitation—torn down the old, dilapidated Kantoratsgebdude and erected a splendid combined dwelling and school building. At that same time they also built a new stable and barn. Then shortly before the war, the bell tower received a new foundation, and beautiful wood paneling was added. The whole property was then en-closed by a fence. The people of Juljanow could now rightfully claim that their school was one of the most beautiful around.

Also in the colony itself, the oldest houses, which dated from the time of founding, were gradually replaced by new ones, Samuel Gellert and Jakob Sauder had even built masonry houses with metal roofs. These were proud evidence of that affluence which they had attained. Samuel Lucht from Mieczyslawow had purchased the remaining property in Zabtotce. The years of the first lease contracts which had been for twelve years had expired and were replaced with new lease contracts, which had thirty-six-year terms. In these contracts both parties were obligated to renew them again and again. That was called an "eternal contract." The lease money amounted to 30 kopecks per morgen. But a bank had granted a mortgage to the estate owner of Pawlow, and since he had not paid it back, the bank offered this land at auction. The bank announced the date months in advance—also to the colonists, but they did not pay any attention. They thought, "We have an eternal contract; nobody can touch us." A rich Ukrainian farmer from Boratyn bought the colony. A dumb "muzhik" in the opinion of the colonists. But now they had to pay this dumb "muzhik" the lease money.

The owner also offered to sell the people of Juljanow their leased land. The sale price was twenty-five rubles, about fifty marks, for a morgen of land. Again the Juljan6wer refused and fell back on their "eternal contracts." The estate owner sold the land to a Ukrainian lawyer who speculated in land. His name was Krutj, a word that is related to krutitj, meaning swindler. The new owner again offered to sell the land to the people of Juljanow, but asked for 75 rubles per morgen. Now the settlers were more opposed to the deal than they had been before. Then one day Krutj appeared with the Russian police chief and the police and placed all the oak trees in the fields under seizure. The colonists had looked after and spared the trees for years, and now the police chief told them that they were not even to touch the trees. It was clear that the lawyer was merely looking for some excuse to bring suit. He would be the winner. He had already bribed the police chief. As everybody knew, the Russian judges could also be bribed. At that point the people of Juljanow did not stop to think the matter over any further; they bought the land—at 75 rubles per morgen. It was no doubt not easy for them to do so; almost all of them had to go into debt. And yet they had taken the proper action, as turned out later.

At first the people of Pawlow were better off. "All they still needed was bird's milk!" one said in such cases. They acted correspondingly. One of them traveled to worship service on Sunday

4

with bells on the harness of his horses. That was the way the Polish estate owners traveled. The other colonists laughed, and one wise guy said, "It's ringing: 'Leased land! Leased land!' " Later, after World War I, the people of Pawlow would learn just how very much things could change.

Before 1914 most farms were still 20 to 45 morgen in size, so there was enough work for a pair of good horses. The colonists still worked the soil as their fathers had. They cut the rye with a scythe and threshed it with a flail, because they needed the straw to cover the roofs of their houses. Wheat was also cut with a sickle, but threshed by machine. The straw served as food for the animals. Summer grains were cut with a scythe and also threshed by machine. Colonists bought mowing and threshing machines, but only the larger farm owners could afford them, because they were expensive. The smaller farmers were able to use the machines in return for payment, i.e., they rented them.

In Juljan6w and the surrounding area, Johann Fehr served those farmers who had no machines. In general, people were very conservative in using machines. For example, old Uttich was very exact and did not want to lose one kernel of his grain harvest. Nevertheless, one time one of his relatives talked him into letting neighbor Fehr cut the wheat field with a machine. Fehr started up the first round of the field. Old Uttich mistrustingly lifted up a layer of wheat straw and saw several kernels of grain scattered underneath. "Stop!" he called, "Get your machine out of here! I only harvest once [i.e, he didn't want to redo the whole job]." And his people had to sickle the grain. It is not easy to cut wheat well with a sickle; nevertheless, as long as Old Uttich lived, a threshing machine never again entered his field.

There were many characters among the colonists. Diligence and thrift were expected as a matter of course. Keeping of the Sabbath was strictly observed. If somebody stood out in any unusual way, he knew that people would not fail to make sport of him. Thus, the colonists like to tell the following stories:

The people of Zablotce had bought a parcel in the Wiczyna Woods and were clearing it. They took turns driving to work. It was Samuel Gellert's turn. It was a dark, wintery, Sunday morning, and Samuel Gellert was sitting with his family at breakfast. The door opened, and Old Glasel entered, loaded down with the tools of the forest work. He put down the heaviest tools and inquired, "Well, Samuel, are you working in the

woods today?" Thereupon, Samuel replied, "Well, Father Glasel, today is, after all, Sunday." Father Glasel had mixed up the day. Embarrassed, he picked up his tools and left without saying a word.

There were several Gellerts in the school district. One of them was known as "Brother Slowpoke." His wife, on the other hand, was known as "Fire." She operated the whole farm, but she had to be confined every year because of pregnancy. For that reason, a maid had to be hired. Once, just after Gellert's wheat field had been cut, Mrs. Gellert had to be confined again to give birth. On the next day, when the wheat had to be bound, only the maid went with Gellert to the field. The maid gathered the wheat; the farmer tied the bundle. Normally, one binder could keep up when working behind two gatherers. But that wasn't the case here. Soon the maid was far ahead. She came to a shady oak and looked around. She thought, "Oh, the farmer is still so far behind, it will be quite awhile before he catches up. I'll lie down for a while and rest my arms and legs.. . ." Did she really sleep soundly for a long time until the farmer caught up? At least, that is the way the people liked to tell it.

Many similar anecdotes might be told, but since this is not supposed to be a collection of stories, we must go on with the main report.

(JORt-H

PXISrf VOL^YNIA ^fUf "uwp •-„.,„„ "woLHyy/fiW- OWAAV

'SourK This map showing the boundaries of Polish

Volhynia as of 1921 was drawn by Leona Janke. 5

II. 1914-1940: Deportation, New Beginning, Dissolution

Gradually, more than half of the land of the school district became the property of the colonists. They were loyal citizens. They paid their taxes honestly. They lived according to the words of the Bible: "Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's and to God that which is God's." By at least the second generation all had become Russian citizens, "subjects" was the word used at that time. The sons performed their military service in the Russian Army and at the same time learned reasonably good Russian. They were scarcely interested in politics. They lived in peace with the other peoples who spoke different languages.

Nevertheless, the Germans in Volhynia, and thus those in Juljanow-Boratyn, became aware of the increasing tensions between Germany and Russia. The head of the District Council in Torczyn had the habit of yelling at the Germans, "Go back to [your Kaiser] Wilhelm!" They took it silently, for they knew the proverb: "God is great, and the czar is far." That is, they knew that they had no real legal rights in the situation.

Albertina Drews Schmidt, another daughter of Wilhelm Drews, Sr., immigrated to America with her family in 1911. She is pictured here in Kenosha, Wisconsin, in 1941 with two of her sons, Bill and Sam. Photo courtesy of Leona Janke.

Nonetheless, no one at that time had any real idea to what degree the insanity of chauvinism had taken hold of the world, especially Europe. When World War I broke out in 1914, twelve men from Juljan6w-Boratyn were immediately conscripted. They were Julius Strohschein and Emil Gellert, who both had already served in the Russo-Japanese War, August Gellert, Reinhard Drews, August Glasel, August Nickel, Reinhard Eisbrenner, a man called Friedrich, a man called Fiedler, a man called Winkler, another man called Friedrich, and the author of this report. This district paid the high war taxes, provided teams of horses, supplied animals for slaughter, and donated food to the hospitals; in short, they did just as much as their Ukrainian neighbors. Soon the report came that Reinhard Drews and Reinhard Eisbrenner had been killed in action. By 1919 about five or six men from our school district alone, an incredibly high toll, had died in the European theater of war or in Asia, where later the ethnic Germans were sent into action.

Nevertheless, the Russian authorities considered the German colonists to be a politically unreliable element. The Russian newspapers outdid one another with their inflammatory articles. When then in the summer of 1915 the war front came nearer and nearer in the West, the German population of Volhynia was forced to abandon their colonies.6

The expulsion of the Juljanow school district occurred on a Sunday. Wilhelm Drews, who during the conscription of the teacher [Kantor] read the sermon, was still holding the service in front of a small group of frightened women and children, when suddenly police and Cossacks appeared in the colony. They threatened to hang anybody who did not leave within the hour. Amidst tears, horses were hitched in front of the wagons, which had been packed for days by order of the police. Slowly the trek set off in the direction of Rozyszcze, where they were to cross the bridge over the river Styr. Protected by the tall grain—it was just before harvest time—several women secretly ran back to release the cattle, pigs, and small animals, which they in the haste of leaving had forgotten in the stalls. They also freed the dogs from their chains. Later, amidst tears, they told of the shady characters whom they had run into on the farms and who had, apparently, just been waiting there to plunder the full houses and storage sheds.

On the first day of the trek, about 65 wagons sluggishly reached the village of Ulaniki. Here the supply problems associated with such a wagon train became clear: the small, shallow wells of the Ukrainians scarcely sufficed for sup-

6

A/.

A map showing some of the area through which Germans were deported from Polish Volhynia to Russia. Map drawn by Leona Janke. plying their own cattle, let alone for nearly 150 additional horses and some 60-70 cows. In addition, there was the problem of preparing warm meals. In short, the catastrophe began to become apparent.

On the second day the trek came through the German colony of Bryszcze I, where, to be sure, the people were heartily welcomed; however, not too much could be done for them, for here, too, the population was preparing to leave.

On the third day the trek reached the KowelLuck [Lutsk] gravel road. Here the people heard the thunder of the artillery from the nearby front so loudly that they took new courage. They were hoping that the front would overtake them, and then they would be able to return to their farms. Near Kopacz6wka the trek stopped and held a prayer service under the open sky. But the police, who were escorting the trek and who had been persuaded by money to make this pause, soon urged them to move on again. It was a good thing that the police did not understand German and did not suspect what the men and women were praying for in their despair: "Dear God, let

the Germans come so that we won't have to leave!" In this way the people of the Juljanow [District] finally

came to Kozyszcze. On the right side of the Styr, the sandy and marshy paths of the approaching Polesye now began. Slowly the miserable trek reached the Pripyet near David-Gorodok. Here [the authorities] let the large number of people camp for many weeks under the open sky until an epidemic broke out, and many people died. Finally, in late autumn these poor people were loaded onto boats and transported into the interior of Russia, some even beyond the Urals. To be sure, those families whose men were serving in the army were not supposed to come under the resettlement orders; however, the police chief in Torczyn gave his own order and had such families also expelled. But his colleague in Wladimirec [Vladimir] sent such families back. Several other families slipped through with them. On their way back the steamroller of war overtook them. They found their homeland occupied by Austrian troops. They collected and organized those possessions 7

that they could still find on their plundered farms; they harvested what could still be harvested on their own fields and on the fields of their neighbors. They tilled the fields, too, as best they could, as far as the military authorities allowed time in addition to the many other duties their teams of horses had to perform. It cannot have been an especially peaceful autumn and winter. Later, it could no longer be determined precisely which of the people of Juljandw had returned at that time.

This photo of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Rozyszcze was taken in June 1918. Photo courtesy of Albert Weiman.

Please allow the reporter to report briefly at this point on the fate of his own family. My family had made the miserable trek of the Juljanower only to Rozyszcze. At Rozyszcze, when my wife noticed that the catastrophic situation of the train kept getting worse and worse, she together with the four small children whom we had at that time and my mother, took our team of horses and left the trek. She sold the horses, wagon, and cow at ridiculously low prices and

attached herself to a family in Rozyszcze with whom we were befriended. On an adventuresome journey of several weeks these two families then traveled to Prishib, a large German settlement on the Black Sea. A pastor, who had previously been in Luck and whom my wife knew from our time in 0-fyka, was working in Prishib. He generously assisted my family. He found them an apartment and basic furnishings. My wife found work with prosperous Swabians—and much friendly support. My children were able to attend the excellent private school in Prishib, and there they laid the foundation for their later professional careers.

But now back to events in Volhynia. In the spring a Prussian Emigrant Resettlement Commission came and recruited workers for Germany. Even before the war Volhynian German emigrants had been recruited for Posen and West Prussia. However, only a few Volhynians had heeded the calling at that time. No one from Jul-jan6w had gone. Now they were promised farms after the war. But at first they were supposed to work on the estates. In 1916 all the families from Juljanow who had escaped the deportation to Russia heeded the call, except for the Ziemer family and the old Hiller couple who had found refuge in the Uttich house. They did not possess their own team of horses with which they could travel to the West.

In June 1916 the Russians in the so-called Brussilow Offensive pushed back the Austrian-German front to the upper reaches of the Styr and Stokhod Rivers. Any German families that the Russians still found in this area were deported to the interior of Russia and interned there. This time the families of soldiers were also included.

The writer of these lines, who at that time was serving with an engineering unit in the woods of Sokol north of Rozyszcze, received a three-day pass from his commander to visit his home colony. He still remembers all the details of this visit. Therefore, please permit him from this point on to continue in the first person.

Dead tired after a foot march of almost 50 km [30 miles], I arrived in Juljanow. The school building was empty and completely cleaned out. The old Hillers, parents of a school teacher with whom I was befriended, were living in Uttich's house. Otherwise, there was not another person in the entire school colony. I stayed overnight at Hillers', and they told me that those Juljanower who had returned in the summer of 1915 had gone to Germany in the spring of 1916—out of fear of the Russians. In their loneliness the old people were completely disheartened. I at-

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tempted to cheer them up and told them they had done the right thing in staying. The Hillers also told me that Teacher Beck was in neighboring Helenow and many Helenower were still there. Therefore, I decided to go to Helenow.

Teacher Beck had served as a Russian soldier, lost an arm in the first weeks of the war, and had been released. As I arrived, a military policeman was bringing him the order to evacuate to Russia immediately the next day. Teacher Beck had seven small children, had fought and given his blood for Russia, and now received banishment orders. I simply did not understand the world anymore. In the winter I received a letter from Beck with a postmark from the Omsk, Siberia, District. But the envelope was empty. At that time the old Hillers also had to go into the interior of Russia.

At that time the Russian newspaper Kievan Thought [Kievskaya Mysl'} wrote about the expulsion of the remaining Volhynian Germans: "After driving out the enemy, one found many German colonists in Volhynia. The supreme commander has ordered that those among them who were German citizens were to be interned in the interior of Russia." Well, I knew that neither Beck nor the Hillers were German citizens [they were Russian citizens].

In February 1917 the Russian Revolution broke out, and the czar had to abdicate. The individual parts of the gigantic empire tried to become politically independent. The Ukraine, to which Volhynia belonged, allowed the expelled Germans to return to their homeland. Those who heard it did not need to hear it twice. But sometimes they only heard the news very late, since they were scattered far and wide. Usually the families arrived in their hometown one at a time.

But what a picture of terrible destruction they discovered! How did it look in Juljanow" Boratyn? Almost all the homes were destroyed. In Juljanow itself only two of eight homes were still standing; in Zablotce only three of twelve; in Czarnelozy only one of six. Only in Mieczy-slawow were all the houses still standing. Here a Cossack unit had had its quarters for a rather long time. The two Germans whom the landlord from Kurhany had taken in again also found their houses in good shape, as did Emil Fehr in Seliszcze. The landlord also allowed him to reacquire the land that he had leased before the war. Only now he had to pay a third of the harvest ([every] third sheaf) as his lease payment. Under the same terms Klisch and Kleindienst were again able to reacquire their land in Kurhany. Of the barns and stables, only thirteen buildings

were left standing in the whole school district. All were damaged. Here a door was missing, there the

windows or panes of glass. The planking had been torn out of the wells. The well on the school ground had, therefore, already fallen in. Not a trace was to be seen of the school building, the prayer hall, or bell tower. Samuel Gellert found only a small pile of rubble left from his splendid, masonry house. The soldiers had used the bricks for their shelters. No fence or fence posts remained in the entire community. The horses had gnawed on the beautiful fruit trees, and many were withered. Shortly before the war a beautiful fruit orchard had been planted on the school ground. Of that, not one single, little tree remained.

The few houses still standing were, however, not empty; rather they were crammed full of Ukrainians and Polish refugees returning home from Russia. Because of that, the German settlers who returned had to be content if one pro-vided just a little room for them. Nobody ought to be astonished that many of them took their bundles and continued on to Prussia. Volhynia was at that time still an Austrian occupation territory, and the Emigrant Resettlement Commission was still looking for workers for the estates in the eastern part of the empire. Farms were promised to these returning emigrants after the war. They were told, however, that the Germans had already won the war, but now it was merely a matter of ending it, and then there would be enough room in Kurland [part of Latvia as of 1918] and elsewhere for them to settle.

But the god of war was not true to the Germans. They lost the war, and a revolution likewise broke out in their land. The same thing happened to Kaiser Wilhelm that had happened to the czar. [He had to abdicate.] Germany had divided up the kill before it had killed the bear. The unfortunate Volhynians now had nothing more to hope for. They did not want to remain on the estates as tenants. They were not used to the sound of the bell with which the work time was announced on the estates. Because of that many tried their luck once again and returned to Volhynia—together with those first settlers who had left even before the Brussilow Offensive in 1916. Meanwhile, in 1912 Volhynia had been divided between Poland and Russia. Juljanow-Boratyn now belonged to Poland. The returnees from Germany as well as the other settlers who had waited out the Russian civil war for more than three years were not exactly welcomed by the new political leaders. Yet the right of domicile could not be denied the former Volhynian German owners. However, those who had

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leased land were not allowed to return to their land, even if they had an "eternal contract." To be sure, the people of Pawlow brought suit to gain their rights, but the "dumb muzhik," who had purchased the land before the war, refused to renew the leases and won at all levels of judicial authority. In Kurhany only the two aforementioned families succeeded in resettling. The tenants in the hazel [area] were able to stay only because they had acquired their own land in the fields of Ulaniki before the war. In Seliszcze Emil Fehr eked out an existence for a few years but did not prosper.

I have already previously described the living conditions. Three or four families were crammed together in every house. Samuel Lucht lived for years in a bunker, and Eduard Glasel never got out of his temporary earthen hut. He died there. The Poles, who now governed the land, gave the Germans no war reparations whatsoever or any support. For the Germans the rule was the old proverb: "If you are a son of God, help yourself!" But how was the urgent task of rebuilding to be solved?

An earthen hut north ofRozyszcze. Photo taken from Das Deutschtum in Polen.

Now the oaks which their fathers had once cared for were a gift. Their wood now provided thresholds and boards for new buildings and firewood. At first they built as their fathers and grandfathers had done, constructing earthen huts for themselves and stalls for the animals. Not until years later were real houses built. The lumber often had to be hauled from 20,30, [12-18 miles] and more kilometers away. The hauling was done with teams of little horses, often only as big "as cats," or with old nags. This new beginning was probably more difficult than the original settling of more than forty years earlier had been.

But the Ukrainians said in recognition: "Set a German on a rock, and he will live even there." Yes, they were living, but they were hungry and starving, and even strong, young people died of typhoid (probably caused by malnutrition). That was the case when Emil Nickel and Albert Fehr, two young men from JuIjanow-Boratyn, died.

Let me add here the casualties the Volhynian Germans had suffered in the war years and because of the expulsion. Unfortunately, no exact numbers are available. As I have mentioned earlier, almost half of the military conscripts from Juljandw-Boratyn remained "on the field of honor." However, among the civilian population the casualties were disproportionately higher. The Julius Gellert family returned with only one of their seven children, a son. Of the Uttich family who had lived right next to the school, only the old grandmother and three grandchildren returned. Her son Friedrich, his young wife, and the two youngest grandchildren had died already in Polesye on the way. Unfortunately, this list can no longer be supplemented today. Therefore, let these two families stand for the countless other victims of those wretched years.

In the winter of 1921-22, this reporter returned with his family from southern Russia. I have previously reported on how my wife and children had fled there on their own. They had been allowed to live there in safety until the end of the war. After my discharge from the military, I found a position there as a bookkeeper in a cooperative. However, after the civil war and a complete crop failure, famine prevailed in this rich area. Therefore, I was glad to return to the old homeland, which now belonged to Poland. After an eight-weeks' journey by train and after quarantine in Rowno, the Juljan6wer picked us up in ^uck. In spite of the housing shortage, which I have previously attempted to describe, a dwelling was allocated to us. It was one room witout a stove and entirely empty—only four walls and a door. We carried our bundles inside, laid them on the floor, and were moved in. Then we made straw mattresses, my wife put the bedding on them, and we were "at home."

To be sure, the school district immediately rehired their old teacher, but at first they only supported him with food. No mention was made of a salary. When Pastor Kersten in Rozyszcze learned of my bad situation, he wanted to transfer me immediately to a district which was financially stronger. But I refused. Juljanow was now down and out. The school district again needed a leader in order to rebuild, and I thought that I might be of use.

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Teacher's home, school building, and prayer hall of Juljanow-Boratyn. It was built in 1922 after the return of the German Volhynians from their forced exile during WWI. It was already the third such building for the school district. It was razed in 1934 when a new, larger school building was erected. Note the oak trees. Photo courtesy of the Historischer Verein Wolhynien e.V.

In the fall of 1922, the school district bought a rather large farm house and remodeled it into a home for the teacher, a classroom, and a prayer hall. The estate owner had not renewed the lease for the owner of this house. Therefore, he returned to East Prussia. Admittedly, all the rooms were very small. At first, the living quarters of the teacher, a small room, and a tiny kitchen were furnished, so we were able to move in. Then came the classroom. The benches we nailed together from rough boards, likewise the table. A cabinet maker made only the blackboard. When we were finished, instruction began. The district also set a fixed salary for me. It consisted primarily of goods and amounted to only a little more than half of that which had been paid to me before the war. However, I was satisfied, for most of the members of the district were poor and all had to rebuild.

Of course, the district had become financially weaker through the loss of leased land. It had

lost 300 morgen of land which Polish settlers now occupied.

Soon new economic problems prevailed. Above all, it was a question of overpopulation. Before the war grown-up sons had emigrated, primarily [going] to the U.S.A., Canada, and South America. The U.S.A., which was suffering itself in the 1920s from an economic recession, had set a quite small quota for immigrants from Poland, and it was being filled by the Poles themselves. Only South America remained as an immigrant land. In the years 1922-1939, fifty-five people emigrated from Juljanow-Boratyn alone. Thirty-four went to Argentina, eleven to Canada, and ten to East Prussia. Many reasons accounted for these high numbers. Here are only a few: Since the cities in Volhynia possessed scarcely any industry, there was no room to absorb the excess rural population. To learn a new trade was hopeless. The few blacksmiths and carpenters who were still in the colonies could

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scarcely keep their heads above water and were often without work. The Jews controlled trade. There remained only the two-edged possibility of dividing farms. The sons and daughters as they grew up divided the land. Three families were now settled on the farm of Jakob Drews; two families on Nickel's farm; three families on Gottlieb Hansch's farm, etc. Where earlier one had kept one pair of good horses, one now had two or more teams of inferior quality which, nevertheless, required more food [than one good team had]. To be sure, it appeared that things were improving everywhere in the community, but in reality the economic situation was deteriorating.

Gustav Gellert, who directed the brass choir, was the son of Julius Gellert, also mentioned in this article. He is shown here with his wife, Alvine Drews Gellert (daughter of Wilhelm Drews, Jr.) and their children: Arnold, Aliza, Lina, Edith, Hugo, and Willy. Photo courgesy of Helmut Drews.

With respect to things that affected the church, things were in good shape. Gustav Gellert, a highly musical man, directed a choir and soon established a brass choir. Both choirs were very good. The Mission Celebration {Missions fest), which had existed from pre-war days and was held on Trinity Sunday in the yard of Wilhelm Drews, had become a public festival. Now not only the "Brothers" preached here, as had been the case from the beginning, but the evangelists and pastors as well. Finally the yard could no longer hold all the visitors, and the festival had to be moved to the cemetery. Juljanow-Boratyn now belonged to the newly formed parish district of Torczyn. The first Torczyn pastor, Robert Liersch, a very devout and modest man, was very beloved everywhere in the parish.

Unfortunately, sectarians also settled in

Juljanow-Boratyn. An ambitious, intelligent man collected six families around him. They called themselves the "Congregation of God." But the people called them the "Footwashers." They did not participate in building the school, which, of course, meant a further weakening [of the finances].

The situation of the parochial schools became increasingly more uncertain. At first they were tolerated; however, as the Polish state itself became stronger, it made things increasingly difficult for the private schools. The old teachers, including this writer, were not college-trained teachers. They also did not master the Polish language. For these reasons, the parochial school in Juljanow and all other schools taught by choir directors [Kantoren} were supposed to be closed. In order to get the district to accept willingly a state-run Polish school, the people were threatened with the following plan: The children of Juljanow, Mieczyslawow, and Czarnelozy would be sent to the state school of Boratyn; those from Markmillerszczyzna to Ulaniki, and those from Zabtotce would be sent to school in Szepel. The authorities had already deviously obtained permission for this from several families. But the overwhelming majority of the colonists protested against these plans. The situation was similar in other parochial school districts. Therefore, the Polish school authorities, acting under the School Law of 1932, withdrew the instructional permission of all Kantoren just before the 1932-1933 school year, thereby closing over eighty school districts. Many school districts now accepted the plans of the authorities. But the Juljanower hired a graduate of the teachers' college in Lodz and thus kept their German school for a while. Previously at my own request, I had left my beloved Juljanow-Boratyn, which had been my home since 1911. The school district of Romanow II, in which a state-run school already existed, hired me as its Kantor and teacher of religion. It was here that the outbreak of World War II in 1939 overtook me,

However, our report is supposed to describe the further developments in Juljanow-Boratyn. Here the school issue still had a long way to go. To be sure, the Juljan6wer had a qualified German teacher, but the school authorities now objected to the school building. Admittedly, it did not comply with all the sanitary and educational requirements of a modern school building. Then in 1934 the school district built a new school building—the fourth since the founding of the district—and thought that their school was now safe. The Polish constitution entitled them to it. In 1936 another small church was erected.

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In Juljanow as in all the other German areas, a new political wind was blowing. The Germans had become aware of their ethnic background. Radio had also found enthusiasts here. Admittedly, the colonists preferred to hear German broadcasts, because they understood them better. When the Nazis came to power in Germany, the colonists also heard their inflammatory tirades without being able to see the whole picture. In Juljanow-Boratyn a small local group of the Young German Party was formed under the leadership of Rudolf Nickel, a very intelligent young man. Of course, this local group was registered with the police and their actions were absolutely legal. They only wanted to cultivate their own German culture, language, and customs. The Poles were doing the same thing [with the Polish culture, language, and customs] in Germany. Yet the police had noted all the men who were politically active in any way whatsoever. Even before the war had begun, Teacher Marschner, Fritz Grieger, and Rudolf Nickel were already sitting in prison. Adolf Nickel and Emanuel Krenz were in the concentration camp in Bereza Kartuska. In the first weeks of the war, Adolf Kruschel and Rudolf and Reinhold Uttich were taken away to the labor camp in Sarny. From all of Volhynia, a large number of men, in-cluding all pastors, evangelists, Kantoren, and teachers—anybody the authorities could get their hands on—including me, were arrested. Not one of us was aware of anything of which he was guilty, but the government needed scapegoats. The authorities assembled us—more than 1000 men—in an old Jewish cemetery in-Luck. On the third day the interrogation finally began. From all the men they took military papers, identity cards, and cash, and then they made them run the gauntlet (Spiessruten. laufen). Then they were moved off to an unknown destination. Only a few old men—1 was among them, being 60 years old at the time—were spared. We did not have to run the gauntlet and were released.

Those who stayed at home lived in great fear. The Poles informed on us. We scarcely dared to leave our four walls. Nobody ought to be astonished that we Germans were happy when Poland collapsed after a few weeks and the men came home from prisons and concentration camps. They had been so mistreated and starved there that after even these few weeks many a healthy man could scarcely still walk. That is also what happened to my son-in-law, Reinhold Uttich.

When one morning the first Soviet tanks appeared, we had the feeling that a terrible thunderstorm had ended. Soon the news leaked out that the Volhynian Germans would be reset

tled in Germany. We were overwhelmed with joy when we heard that. Of course, at that time we did not see that we, ultimately politically naive Volhynian Germans, were supposed to be taken to the so-called Warthegau {Warta River District] and thereby would be misused as helpers in robbing Polish property.

When the Resettlement Commission came at the end of October, without exception all the Germans in Juljanow-Boratyn, as in all Volhynia, had themselves registered for resettlement. In 1939 a total of sixty-one families lived in Juljanow-Boratyn; of those, seven families were not landowners. The district had remained entirely German until the very end. Only in the former lease colonies were there some Polish settlers, but they did not belong to the school district. They had associated themselves politically with the surrounding Ukrainian areas.

At the beginning of January 1940, the wives, elderly people, and children departed from £uck by train. An official worship service was not held in Juljanow. One person or another may still have visited the graves in the cemetery. "Everything was too chaotic," the Juljanower reported later. Even at Christmas many had done without the traditional Christmas tree. The men left some days later by wagon train. It contained fifty-six teams from Juljanow. As they came through Torczyn, the Ukrainians stood in the streets and wept. The good—yes, often even friendly-relationship, which had formerly existed between the colonists and the Jews, had become troubled because of the events of the last few months in Germany. The Jews knew that they had nothing good to expect for themselves from Hitler's Germany. Yet, they did not suspect what a great catastrophe would later befall them. It was beyond their—and our—powers of imagination.

In Juljanow-Boratyn there were no longer any Germans. A German school district had ceased to exist after approximately 75 years.

Editor's Notes

1. This article is a translation of "Heimat auf Zeit" in Wolhynische Hefte (Schwabach, West Germany: Historischer Verein Wolhynien e.V., 1982), vol. 2, pp. 34-65. It is used here with the permission of the Historischer Verein Wolhynien e.V, People of German-Volhynian ancestry may be interested in obtaining all four volumes of the Wolhynische Hefte (in German) now available. They may be ordered from Walter Hildebrandt, 85 Pioneer Lane, Woodbridge, Ontario, Canada L4L 2J2.

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2. Mrs, Janke translated this article as partial fulfillment of the requirements for an Independent Study class, German 580, at Western Michigan University. She is indebted to her instructor, Dr. J. Gardiner, Assistant Professor of German at Western Michigan University, for his assistance and advice. The Wilhelm Drews mentioned in this article as one of the founders of the village Juljanow was Mrs. Janke's great-grandfather.

3. A morgen of land was originally the amount of land that could be plowed in a morning (Morgen). As an old Dutch unit now used in southern Africa, it is equal to about 2.116 acres. In Prussia, the amount of land varied from 0.6 to 0.9 acres. In Russia, a morgen was equivalent to a dessiatine, which is equivalent to 2.7 U.S. acres.

4. Kashubian was a West Slavic language closely related to Polish and spoken in the region of Danzig. The German term Kaschubisch gradually came to mean a Low-German dialect also spoken in West Prussia.

5. One could call a. Kantoratsgemeinde a "parochial school system." The translation for the German

term Kantor is "choir director." However, this translation does not begin to give the full meaning of the term. Because there were so few pastors in Volhynia to serve a vast area, they could visit the majority of the villages within their gigantic bishopric only seldom. Thus the representatives of religious authority in the villages were the Kantoren. A Kantor directed the church services on Sunday (at which time he read the sermon from an approved book of sermons), conducted baptisms and funerals, instructed the youth in the doctrines of religion—and was the village school teacher. A Kantor usually had no higher education and came from a farming family. The Kantor was also partially the economical and cultural leader of his community.

6. For additional information about the deportation of Germans from Volhynia to Siberia see "Die Verschleppung und Verbannung der Wolhynien-deutschen wahrend des ersten Weltkrieges" in Heimatbuck der Deutschen aus Russland, Karl Stumpp, ed. (Stuttgart: Landsmannschaft der Deutschen aus Russland, 1962), pp. 34-37.

U n s e r e E i c h e

Vor unserm Haus, der Schul im Ort, stand cine alte Eiche. Die Spatzen suchten Zuflucht dort, wenn Habicht wild sie scheuchte. Auch manches bunte Vogelein flog gern zu unsrer Eiche ein. Darunter war ein Rasenplatz, bedeckt von ihrem Schatten, den Hans und Gret und Hosenmatz als Spielplatz gerne hatten. Zu Huckepack und Hingelreihn fand Jung-Juljanow gern sich ein. Oft nach des Tages Miih und Last, oft auch bei Mittagsschwule hielt ich ein Stiindchen stille Rast in ihrer dunklen Kiihie. Vergessen war manch Sorgenstein, kehrt ich bei unsrer Eiche ein. Nun bin ich fern von jenem Ort, seh ihn wohl niemals wieder. Dock weilt mem Geist so gerne dort, oft hor ich alte Lieder, oft kehr ich dort im Traume ein. Dort mocht ich gern zu House sein.

— Josef Weiss

OUR OAK TREE

In front of our house, the local school, stood an old oak tree. The sparrows sought refuge there, when a hawk wildly frightened them. Also many a colorful little bird liked to fly into our oak.

Underneath was a grassy spot, covered by its shade, which Hans and Gret and little children liked as a place to play. The young of Juljanow liked to come there to play "Piggy-back" and "Ring-around-the-Rosy."

Often after the trials and tribulations of the day, often also in the sultriness of midday I rested quietly for an hour in its shady coolness, Many a heavy care was forgotten when I stopped at our oak tree.

Now I am far from that place I'll probably never see it again. Yet my spirit likes so to tarry there, often I hear the old songs, often I return there in my dreams. There I would like to be at home.

Translated by Leona Janke

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MY FATHER, JOSEPH WEISS Ewald Weiss

Translated by Leona Janke In 1931 my father, who at that time was the teacher

and Kantor in Juljanow-Boratyn, published the history of his school district in the Wolhynischen Boten ["Volhynian Messenger"}. About thirty-five years later, in his old age, he reworked this topic a second time. At that time he was living with my sister in East Germany. After my father's death in 1973, the manuscript of this second study was entrusted to me. It is very interesting and informative to compare the two studies. In the 1931 version one notes the strong feeling of pride in the rebuilding since 1921 and the hope for further tranquil development in peacetime. In the second version—published here—we hear of the tragic events which led to the dissolution of Juljanow-Boratyn and ultimately to the destruction of the Volhynian Germans as an ethnic group.

It is my duty as a son to add to the report at this point that my father, who in 1922 had refused to leave Juljanow-Boratyn because the school district needed "a leader for the rebuilding," really had to call upon all his powers of persuasion to get the school district to let him

Josef Weiss spent the last years of his life with his daughter in Pritzerbe, near Brandenburg, German Democratic Republic, where he wrote a short history of the Volhynian Germans, a history of the school district Juljan6w-Boratyn, and his memoirs. He died here in 1978.

go in 1933 and thereby make his position available for a college-trained teacher.

May I still be allowed to say a few words on the question as to why the Volhynians so unanimously and willingly gave up their farms in 1939-1940 and allowed themselves to be resettled. That they were strongly attached to Volhynia and continued to regard it as their homeland had clearly been proven after their expulsion in World War I. We remind the reader that several families secretly returned in 1915 even during the war activities, and others immediately departed from the Russian and German provinces as soon as the political conditions allowed. Then there were also the lawsuits about the leased lands, which often lasted for years. If then, these same people without opposition abandoned their land in 1939-1940, that can only be called flight. They knew that the situation had become hopeless under the Soviet regime and left—this time voluntarily and forever,

We should also not forget the elderly people who, when they left, were already past their best years. Realistically speaking, they could no longer figure on a new beginning. Volhynia had become their land of fate. With the resettlement they lost their homeland in the true meaning of the word.

My father tried to express his thoughts and feelings in verse. Not that he wanted to be a real poet; he merely found great pleasure when he succeeded strictly as a craftsman in mastering the difficulties of measure and rhyme. May the verses which we have placed at the end of his report be taken this way. Especially in the last verse—or at least I think so—we find something of that tone which we have mentioned above in regard to the elderly: "There I would like to be at home." At that time the elderly lost this "at home."

Finally, we shall attempt to answer the question as to how the Volhynians thought they should be resettled. After all, they were not exactly coming with empty hands. Dr. Jorg Wiesner presents a very accurate account of this subject in his study "The Social and Economic Position of the German Farmers in Volhynia, 1919-1939." He determines "That the total value of the agricultural assets of the Germans from Volhynia and Polesye [Pripet Marshes] (the settlements belonging, historically speaking, to Volhynia: Author's notes) must have amounted

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to 124,193,610.20 zioty." The same writer determines that the entire area of land farmed by the Germans was 85,602.38 hectare, Weisner further determines, "As was to be expected, the results of the estimates of the Soviet representatives of this commission in spite of an increase of about 30 percent were always lower than the actual transitional values and the corrected transitional values." Here also was not taken into account the fact that Volhynians were carrying some millions in cash. Many Volhynians thought, therefore, that in the form of an exchange, those Ukrainian farmers from beyond the demarcation line would be settled on the German farms in Volhynia. The vacated farms of the Ukrainians would then be handed over to the Poles from the eastern provinces of the German Empire. The Germans would receive the farms of the Poles. To be sure, the Germans never received any official information on this matter. They realized later that their views on this matter were erroneous. When the Volhynians were settled in the so-called Warthegau and thereby made into accomplices in Nazi Germany's megalomaniacal and criminal policies, it was impossible for any individual to offer any decisive resistance. The fact that the Volhynians (unfortunately, there

were exceptions) attempted to ease the lot of their Polish neighbors as much as possible, is born witness by the visits in the villages in which they temporarily found refuge during the war, as well as those letters, that are sent there today, and the testimonies of thanks—there are also those—which come from there. May the names of Marske, Krenz, and Uttich stand for all in this respect.

My father also mentioned this tragic chapter in his memoirs. Here are some sentences from them: "We did not suspect that Hitler would degrade Poland to a military district (general government) and settle us politically naive, ethnic Germans in the Warthegau and would misuse us to rob Polish property. Even at that time I did not believe that this would be the end [of the matter). Yet, like everybody else, I kept silent because I was afraid. In the Warthegau I was again a teacher. To my satisfaction I found the teacher's quarters entirely empty, and I did not appropriate any Polish property whatsoever for myself."

May this report of my father be taken as a modest contribution to that direly needed understanding between peoples.

INDEX of the farm owners before W.W.I. Pawfow

1. Bolter 2. Weber

MieczysTawdw 1. Pries Samuel 2. Gellert Emil 3. Sauder Jakob 4. Lach August 5. Gatzke 6. Strohschein Witwe (Widow) 7. Strohschein Julius 8. Gatzke

Kurhany 1. Klisch 2. Weiss 3. Malasch 4. Klisch Eduard 5. Schuiz 6. Kern 7. Fiedler 8. Nehrling 9. Wegner

10. Kleindienst 11. Winkler

Juljanow 1. Drews Wilhelm 2. Doberstein August 3. Gellert Wilhelm 4. Uttich Friedrich 5. Fehr Johann 6. Gellert Julius 7. Drews Jakob Zablotce 1. Hansch Samuel 2. Gellert Samuel 3. Glasel Gottlieb 4. Glasel August 5. Glasel Edmund 6. Hansch Gottlieb 7. Pohl 8. Brachmann 9. Tonn August Czarnelozy 1. Doberstein Friedrich 2. Doberstein Gottlieb 3. Abram Wilhelm 4. Abram Rudolf 5. Gellert Christoph ?

Markmillerszczyzna 1. Abram 2. Kriiger 3. Seide 4. Weike 5. Gellert Rudolf

Seliszcze can no longer be reconstructed

Unfortunately, making up complete lists was no longer possible.

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TWO APOSTLES TO THE RUSSIAN GERMANS Father Christopher L. Zugger

The persecutions of Stalinist times devastated the clergy serving all religious bodies of the U.S.S.R.; the German churches suffered tragically. Arrests, executions, and deportations nearly wiped out the entire body of German clergy, and the mass deportations of all ethnic Germans placed the few survivors and their flocks in regions where either there had never been many Christians or where organized Christian life had been crippled or eliminated.

Both Catholics and Protestants have come to rely on non-German clergy to serve them, because the few German survivors were overwhelmed by the scope of their task. Among those ministering to Catholics were the famous Bishop Alexander Chira (1897-1983) and Father Jozef Swidnicki, currently in internal exile.

Bishop Chira1 was a Ruthenian priest, ordained in Czechoslovakia in 1920 to serve the Byzantine Catholic Diocese of Mukachevo. His homeland and Church came under Soviet occupation in 1944 and under direct Soviet rule in 1945, when Czechoslovakia was forced to cede the strategically located province of Subcarpathian Ruthenia to the U.S.S.R. The Byzantine Catholic Church—or Greek Catholic, as it is known in Europe—was subjected to a slow martyrdom, culminating in two governmental actions which ordered the Church's union with the Russian Orthodox Church—quite literally under the force of the Red Army. The Church in what was formerly Polish Galicia and West Byelorussia was declared dissolved in 1946, and that of Ruthenia in 1949, after the mysterious death of Bishop Theodore Romzha.

Sensing that his time was short, Bishop Romzha had secretly consecrated Father Chira as his successor in a darkened chapel in 1947. When Bishop Romzha died in late 1948, Father Chira worked secretly, only to be arrested and charged with the crime of "propagating Catholicism among the faithful," for which he was sentenced to twenty-five years at forced labor. His secret role as a bishop was discovered, and he was then charged with treason and deported to work in coal mines near Omsk.

Released in the general amnesty of 1956, Bishop Chira returned to his hometown and worked quietly among the Greek Catholics who refused to attend the Orthodox churches. After only three months of freedom, he was rearrested and deported in early 1957 to Kazakhstan's

mines, forbidden ever to return home as a resident. Known as "Father Sasha," Bishop Chira labored in the

mines by day and among Catholic exiles by night. A Russian German who later immigrated to East Germany wrote that already in 1958 Father Sasha was celebrating Mass, baptizing, confessing, and marrying people who came from hundreds of kilometers away—all despite steady harassment by the secret police.

As last Bishop of Mukachevo, Bishop Chira had faculties to serve both the Latin and Byzantine Rites, and he now used his Latin Rite faculties to serve the Germans as well as exiled Greek Catholics. In 1961 he was released from forced labor; he moved into the home of Alfredo Hermann on Chapajev Street in Karaganda.

Dedicated to his ever-growing German flock, Father Sasha expanded his ministry and was well known among the exiles. His humility, pastoral leadership, and great love made him a focal point for the whole population. Despite the fact that he was often interrogated, lived on only a small pension, and often had to minister under cover of darkness. Father Sasha's reputation spread, and the community grew.

Bishop Chira and the German choir. This photo, taken in 1971, is courtesy of Father Athanasius Pekar, OSBM.

In 1977 the 15,000 German Catholics in Karaganda received permission to register as a parish.2 They built their church in record time with their own resources and with "the enthusiasm of the first-century Christians," an enthusiasm that enabled the elderly bishop to

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forget his advanced years and that gave him new strength.

Not until the 1980 consecration of the church did the astounded people learn that their beloved Father Sasha was a bishop. Denied the right to function in his native Byzantine Rite or to serve as legal pastor of the Karaganda church, he continued to celebrate Mass in the Latin Rite, vested publicly as a bishop. His priesthood was so effective that the government communicated its alarm at the number of active children in 1983.

In May 1983 this heroic priest suffered his last illness. His lungs had been weakened by the years in the mines, and on May 17 he again was hospitalized and quickly slipped into a coma. Had he died in the hospital, he would have been denied a church funeral, so the members of the Hermann family carried him home as he was breathing his last; he died in his own bed on May 26.

The funeral of Bishop Chira. One Roman-Hite priest is leading the procession, followed by two exiled Byzantine-Rite priests, ten Roman-Hite priests, the Orthodox Archpriest (in cassock), Father Michael Kohler (in center with a biretta on his head), and FatherJozef Swidnicki. The coffin is being carried by altar boys to the grave at the left of the picture, near the church wall. The crowd was so large that people had to stand during the Mass because there were not enough seats. Photo courtesy of Father Athanasius Pekar, OSBM.

His funeral was concelebrated by two exiled Byzantine Rite priests and thirteen Latin Rite priests in the presence of a huge crowd of all ages. The parish youth carried his body on their shoulders to bury him outside, along the wall of his beloved church. As a final tribute to him, his memorial stone was inscribed in Old Slavonic, the language of his native Rite, and German, the language he used so well in the service of the Lord.

The martyrdom of another apostle to the Germans, Father Jozef Swidnicki, continues today.3 A Pole born in the western U.S.S.R. in 1937, Jozef tried for five years to enter the seminary but was denied permission to do so by the government. He was secretly ordained in 1971 and finally granted government recognition in 1975. (One of the many tragedies of Soviet church life is the amount of control a government of atheists exercises over believers.) Father Jozef was allowed to work in the Polish parish of Zhitomir in the Ukraine, but after exactly one year of service, his license was withdrawn because he was too popular with the youth.

In the autumn of 1976, he met with Father Michael Kohler, last survivor of the Diocese of Tiraspol still in the U.S.S.R. From that time on, Father Jozef has dedicated himself to the Germans.

Beginning on Christmas Eve of 1976, he celebrated Masses in Dushanbe, Tadzhikistan, for the Volga Germans there. Within two years his leadership had inspired the building of two handsome churches in Dushanbe and Kurgan Tyube. Every weekend he celebrated two Masses in Dushanbe, traveled 100 km to celebrate a Mass at Kurgan Tyube, then another 20 km to Vakhsh. In addition, he served four private chapels. This energetic Polish priest heard 2100 confessions at Easter 1979; by 1983 he was spiritual leader of an extensive and dynamic network.

Shortly after Bishop Chira's death, Father Jozef was denied permission to work as a priest in Tadzhikistan and was ordered out of the republic. Now, every two months a priest travels 6000 km from Latvia and is allowed to spend ten days serving the communities.

But Father Jozef did not despair. He traveled north to Novosibirsk, where Black Sea Germans and others had decided to request state recognition as a parish. Novosibirsk lost its Catholic church in the 1920s: a magnificent building, it had stood on a hill overlooking the city, and so had to come down, as it was considered to be too public. Once again Father Jozef devoted himself to the German Catholics. He celebrated two

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Masses every Sunday in the new chapel and then flew three times monthly to Tomsk to celebrate Mass for Germans and other exiles there.

Unexplained robberies and police surveillance meant that his work was too effective; on December 19,1984, the police arrested him in the midst of the 9 a.m. Sunday Mass. Denied legal aid and thrown into an unheated cell when it was -50°C outside, the priest went on a hunger strike and was force-fed. His trial began on April 10, 1985. It was delayed, because Catholics came to the courtroom, and the authorities said "only decent Soviet citizens" could come in. His lawyer was conveniently removed from the case by sud-denly being given permission to receive health care denied her for years. False witnesses known to be police agents testified against Father Jozef without shame. The German Catholics called to testify fell on their knees crying out, "Praised be Jesus Christ!" and asked the priest's blessing, They were dragged away. On May 17, the court passed judgment. For the first time in the history of Novosibirsk, a demonstration was held outside the court by a crowd of five hundred people from all religious groups. Father Jozef was sentenced to three years in prison for instructing children under the age of eighteen, lending religious books, and mocking the Soviet flag. The jailer is recorded as having said that he wished

FatherJosefSwidnicki on the right with Father Michael Kohler. Photo courtesy of Keston College.

his son could be such a man as this priest. Father Swidnicki was released prior to the expiration of

his prison term and is currently in internal exile, i.e., he is registered in a particular village and must report on a regular basis to the local authorities. Upon completion of this term, he will then have to find a place in which to live and work. Where he will go is an open question: there are approximately forty-five newly registered Roman Catholic parishes in Soviet Central Asia and Siberia, many of which presumably would be in need of a priest. However, the question will be whether or not the local authorities will permit a parish to employ a newly released priest. It is there, in the towns and villages, that the effectiveness of glasnost will be realized, since the limits of glasnost in regards to organized religion are vague at the moment,

Neither of these men is an ethnic German. Indeed, Father Jozef Swidnicki comes from a nationality and region that suffered much at the hands of the German Reich officials during World War II. Yet, both devoted themselves absolutely to the long-suffering, Russian-German exiles. The plight of Father Jozef is eloquent testimony to the risks run by believers in the modern U.S.S.R. The Communist party remains determined to wipe out religion, failing to see, as Archbishop Coggan of Canterbury once said, that "You cannot kill the Spirit of the Lord." Christianity remains very much alive, and the Russian Germans continue to adhere faithfully, patiently, and with conviction, trusting in the Lord and praying for relief.

In a more positive note, the church of Krasnoyarsk now (1987) has a priest accepted by the government. Thus, this famous, priestess parish is at last functioning as a full Catholic parish after a thirty-year struggle.

Notes

1. Information on Bishop Chira is from Rev. Athanasius Pekar, OSBM, You Shall Be My Witnesses (Pittsburg: Byzantine Seminary Press, 1985), pp. 41-47, and articles published by Father Pekar in The Byzantine Catholic World, June 13, 1983; June 3,1984; December 29, 1985; and September 7, 1986. Father Pekar also cites Kirchen zerstort, aber die Kirche lebt, published by the West German Bishops' Conference.

2. For additional information about the Roman-Catholic Church in Karaganda see my article "The Roman-Catholic Germans of the U.S.S.R.: 1917-1986" in Journal of the American Historical Society of Germans From Russia, vol. 10, no. 1 (Spring 1987), pp. 41-47.

3. Information on Father Swidnicki is from Keston News Service, May 15, 1986, pp. 14-15.

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20

GERMAN IMMIGRATION TO THE AUSTRIAN EMPIRE IN THE 1770s AND 1780s

Imrgard Hein Ellingson 1987 marks the two hundredth anniversary of German

settlement in Bukovina. This occasion was celebrated at the June 7-8 annual meeting of the Landsmannschaft der Buchen-landdeutschen (Bukowina) e.V., held in Augsburg, West Germany.

1987 marks another anniversary. One hundred years ago the first Swabian Lutherans from Illischestie and Tereblestie, Bukovina, immigrated to the United States and settled in Ellis, Trego, and Rooks Counties, Kansas. They were joined there by Bohemian Catholics from Furstental and Poiana-Mikuli (Buchenhain), Bukovina. Ellis and Trego Counties are familiar to many AHSGR members, as these counties are the homes of many Lutheran- and Catholic-Volga Germans.

In the 1770s the reigning monarchs of Austria, Prussia, and Russia were actively seeking colonists to settle upon the frontiers of their respective empires with the expectations that colonists would assist in developing agricultural economies and in protecting national boundaries in time of invasion or war.

Maria Theresa ruled Austria from 1740-1780 and her successor, Joseph II, from 1780-1790. Their reigns mark the beginning of an end to persecutions, deportations, and suppression of non-Catholics within their empire.1 The em-pire's territory was expanded under Hapsburg rule to include Bachka; the Banat of Temesvar; Galicia, which had been obtained in 1771 in the first partition of Poland; and Upper Moldavia, which Austria occupied in 1774 and which was later renamed Bukovina (''beech-land"). The newly acquired lands were settled by German farmers and others who were encouraged to come to the Austrian empire.

Joseph II issued a Patent of Toleration in 1781. The patent granted to non-Catholics the "private exercise" of their religion without granting true confessional equality .2 Groups of one hundred families or five hundred persons were allowed by this patent to build their own churches and schoolhouses, although these structures were subject to some restrictions, and to call pastors and teachers to serve them with the qualification that all official acts were to be reported and payment made to the Catholic priest of the parish. Thousands of people in the empire announced themselves as being Lutheran when this patent was announced, and German

Protestants thereby felt encouraged to immigrate to Austria. A Patent of Settlement published by Joseph II in 1782

was even more inviting to potential immigrants. Included in its terms were free transportation from Vienna to a point of destination in Bukovina; a house with a garden, field, and draft animals; exemption from taxation for the first ten years and from military service for the eldest sons of the family. Joseph's guarantees of "complete freedom of conscience and of religion" attracted to the Austrian empire settlers who might otherwise have gone to Prussia or Russia.

Many felt that life in the eastern and southern regions of the Austrian empire would be better than that in the war-torn German duchies and principalities, where in some places serfdom continued to exist until the 1790s. A person wishing to emigrate had to pay 10 percent of his assessed worth plus an additional 2 percent to compensate the state for its loss of tax revenues. He had to be able to finance his journey and that of his family from his point of departure to Vienna and be able to pay for incidental expenses throughout the entire two- or three-month trip.4 The obstacles to emigration had begun to be placed in the 1750s, when the depopulation of Germany had became so great that rulers such as Kurfurst Karl Theodor of the Palatinate passed edicts against emigration.5 In spite of further prohibitive edicts, people continued to find ways to leave their homelands. Books of church records prepared in Kaiserslautern during these years repeatedly carry the notation, "Er ist in das neue Land gegangen," or "He has gone to the new land" beside a name. It is estimated that over 29,000 people left Speyer between 1783 and 1785 to colonize eastern Austrian provinces with the encouragement of the Austrian emperor.6

Thousands of people converged on Ulm and Regensburg in southern Germany, and from there they and their possessions were transported on the Danube River on large rafts, which could hold up to five hundred persons, to Vienna.^ The journey by raft took seven days. Emigrants from Germany who preferred an overland route either made their way beside the Danube River to Vienna, or traveled through Frankfurt on the Main and Prague to Mahrisch-Neustadt and thus to Lemberg, bypassing Vienna. Once in Vienna, all who wished to settle on "Austrian land in the east" were required

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to register in order to receive a Hofpass, or passport, for seven to ten more days of travel to Biala by way of Einwanderungsagenturen, or passport check stations, in Olmuetz, Mahrisch-Neustadt, Teschen, and Bielitz. Germans who originated "in das Polland" (Prussian Poland) journeyed either through Jagerndorf and Troppau to Biala or from Warsaw through Zamosc.8

Wherever the immigrants traveled, government officials prepared extensive registration or immigration lists which were forwarded to Lemberg, where some waited for as long as two or three years to be directed to places of settlement.^ So many German colonists came to Galicia that colonization offices in such places as Czernowitz (the capital of Bukovina), Lemberg, and Prague were overwhelmed and unable to process the settlers. A large portion of these settlers had to be housed and fed at government expense in renovated monasteries. In spite of government orders in 1782 that the settlement of a portion of them in Bukovina be expedited during August and September, the military governor of Bukovina oppressed their settlement on the grounds that the province was intended to be a military border land. The colonists therefore spent the winter in Lemberg. Joseph II took a personal interest in the case. He came to Bukovina for the first time in 1783; there he expressed the desire that the region's populace be increased through colonization. Un-fortunately for the would-be immigrants, his wishes were ignored. Three years later he made a second trip to Bukovina and issued an edict on August 6> 1786, that there was to be preparation for an enormous settlement on the land by immigrants who had not been able to obtain farms in Galicia, but who were now to take homes and land which had been abandoned by Moldavians at the time of the Austrian occupation. This settlement of German farmers in Bukovina then began in 1787, after Galicia and Bukovina had been joined for administrative purposes by the government.11

In 1787 the first seventy-five German Swabian families who settled in Bukovina under the sponsorship of the Austrian government arrived in Czernowitz and were directed from there to Kuczurmare and then to Fratautz. They received twelve hectares of land free from any feudal obligations, wooden frame houses, barns, livestock, farm implements, and advances on grain seed.12 They were later joined in Bukovina by other Swabians, by German Bohemians, and by Zipsers (or Saxons) from Upper Hungary.

Government recruitment of settlers from outside the Austrian empire ended in 1787—with

certain exceptions. Even before his death in 1790, Joseph II had rescinded many of his reforms, including his plans for the colonization of Galicia and Bukovina. In the years which followed his death, his successors were too conservative to reinstitute government-financed immigration, and the French Revolutionary Wars were of more pressing concern to them. Any Germans arriving after Joseph II rescinded his programs received no special privileges and had to rely on their own limited resources and ingenuity for survival.13

Notes 1. Julius Bodensieck, ed., The Encyclopedia of the Lutheran Church (Minneapolis, MN; Augsburg Publishing House, 1965), p. 155. 2. Ibid., p. 156. 3. Sophie Welisch, "The Bukovina-Germans During the Hapsburg Period: Settlement, Ethnic Interaction, Contributions," Eastern European Quarterly, vol. 5, no. 1 (London: Frank Cass and Company Ltd., March 1986), p. 76. 4. Ibid., p. 77. 5. Daniel Haberle, Auswanderung und Kolonie-grundungen der Pfalzer {Kaiser slautern: Verlag der kgl. bay. Hofbuchdruckerei H. Kaiser, 1909), p. 7. 6. Ibid. 1. Michael Bresser, The Danube Swabians: Biography of a

People from Inception to Dispersal (Philadelphia, PA: The Danube Swabian Association, n.d.), p. 4.

8. Johann Christian Dressier, Chronik der Bukowiner Landgemeinde Illischestie (Freilass-ing m Bayern: Pannonia-Verlag, 1960), p. 272.

9. The original lists, which give the names and birthplaces of immigrant family members, the dates of their registrations for settlement, places of settlement, and items with which the settlers were furnished by the government, are part of the Hofkammer-Archiv in Vienna. However, m the permanent collection of the AHSGR archives are two books which have organized the data. These are Ludwig Schneider's book Das Kolonisationswerk Josefs II, in Galisien (Leipzig: Verlag von S. Hirzel, 1939) and Dr. Franz Wilhelm and Dr. Josef Kallbrunner's book Quellen zur deutschen Siedlungsgesckichte in Sudeuropa (Munich: Verlag von Ernst Rein-hardt, n.d.). Both are excellent sources for historical and genealogical material concerning ancestors who settled in Galicia, Bukovina, the Banat, Siebenbiirgen, and other former regions in fche Austrian empire, as the books contain alphabetized lists of emigrants, chronological lists, and maps.

10. Johann Christian Dressier, Chronik der Bukowiner Landgemeinde Illischestie, p. 244.

11. Ibid. 12. Welisch, "The Bukovina-Germans During the Hapsburg

Period," p. 77. 13. Ibid.

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THE GIFT OF HEALING Audre Emma Ganske Patel

Emma Gross was born in the western part of Russia, in Volhynia (probably Rozyszcze), on June 7,1888. Her parents were Christ Gross and Wilhelmina, nee Wilde, both descendants of Germans who had left their country many years earlier to establish colonies in Russia. There were six children in the family, four sisters and two brothers. Emma was the second-youngest child. The brothers left home in order to escape conscription into the Russian army. They went either to Brazil or Argentina. They wrote a few letters home, and then the family never heard from them again.

Most of the farm work was done by the girls. Life was hard, but Emma had many happy memories—as well as a few sad ones—of her childhood. She loved animals. She said that in Russia the lambs would come inside and jump around the earthen floor of their one-room mud house. The children always had much fun jumping and playing with the lambs, until their mother got angry and chased both lambs and children back outside. Sometimes they did get mites from the animals; then they had to sleep on the straw in front of the fireplace.

Emma loved the horses most of all. She was the one who had to do most of the field work with the horses, because she had the most knack for it. Years later she would tell her own children that, after the day's work was over and the horses unhitched, she would ride them back to the barn "like the wind." She was never afraid, and the faster they ran, the better she liked it. One time their Hengst [stallion] started to fight with the other horse in harness. Emma tried to stop them. The stallion's razor-sharp hoof cut her thigh open, and she bled a lot. For the rest of her life, she carried a scar more than ten inches long from her knee to her hip.

One of the more frightening memories that Emma had was of the Cossacks riding through their village. She said that if they were in a good mood, they just struck the people with the flat of the sabre; when they were drunk, they used the sharp edge.

For some reason Emma lost her eyesight when she was a very young girl. She was terribly frightened. Eventually, however, everyone became resigned to her blindness. One day a terrible thunderstorm occurred. It was the worst thunderstorm she had ever experienced; when it was over, she had regained her sight.

One of Emma's older sisters, Mina, married a man named Julius Nedjelski. He was an officer in the czar's army and was a very handsome man, with his mustache and his epaulets. He had to have a horse with him at all times so that he was always prepared to go when the call came. In 1904 he and his troops suffered a bitter defeat fighting against the Japanese in Siberia in the middle of winter. When he finally straggled back across Russia and home to Volhynia, dirty and unkempt, he frightened his young wife, who sicced the dogs on him until he called out, "Mina, Mina, it's me."

Later, Nedjelski and Mina immigrated to America and settled first in Milwaukee, then Fond du Lac, and finally in Racine, Wisconsin. The glory of the czar's army was gone; children growing up there saw him as a man who was al-ways smoking his corncob pipe, holding it with a hand crippled from some accident when he worked on the railroad. He was constantly pacing the floor, because he could never just sit still. He was very good with children, and everyone liked him.

Emma's youngest sister, Bertha, married Julius Netz; they also immigrated to America and settled in Milwaukee. When she was twenty-three, Emma married Johann Jaeger, who was two years younger than she. Johann was also born in Volhynia (probably Rozyszcze), on October 2,1890. Nobody seems to know who his parents were, possibly because he was orphaned at the age of three or four. At a tender age he was put out to work as a herdsman for the livestock of the whole village. Different villagers took turns feeding him as he cared for their animals. Johann loved animals just as much as Emma did. His life, however, was probably somewhat harder than hers. Due to not having a family, he never received any education. Emma had learned to read and write in German. Johann could do neither, and he always signed his name by making an "X." He did have a great ability for learning to speak different languages. He spoke Polish as fluently as German—also Russian, Latvian, Lithuanian, Yiddish, and several others.

The only thing anyone ever heard about Johann's family is that he had a brother who was so jealous of him, that on Johann's wedding day he cut all the buttons off his wedding coat. The poor bride, Emma, had to sew them all back on before the wedding. Emma always spoke of her

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brother-in-law with contempt. This was very unusual for her, because she had a loving nature. The wedding took place on October 19, 1911.

In the autumn of the following year, Emma was expecting their first child. They had moved to a "duplex," where they had one room; the room on the other side was occupied by two young men. Johann now worked as a farmhand miles from where they lived, and he was often gone days at a time. Emma was worried that he would not be home for the birth of their child. As her time drew near, she would spend hours in front of the window watching and waiting for him. Finally, she heard dogs barking and knew he had arrived. Their first daughter, Wanda, was born on November 4, 1912.

Emma's father Christ died when Wanda was very small. He was not yet very old, and everyone remembered him as a kind and gentle man. Emma loved her father very much.

Some time after that, Johann and Emma began to talk about going to America. They made their decision quickly; in fact, they decided everything in less than a month. Emma said it was a big chance to take, but they didn't want to miss taking it. Johann went first. Emma and Wanda had moved back to the farm. A contractor named John Tudor sponsored Johann and sent him the money to make the trip. Johann went to Milwaukee and worked very hard to make enough money to send back to Russia so that his wife and daughter could join him in the new land. They didn't come and didn't come, and Johann was worried. It seems that Emma's mother and the one sister still in Russia didn't want her and little Wanda to go. They made some excuses about needing the money for other things, and kindhearted Emma let them take it. Then Emma had to find another way of getting the money. Finally, she sold some of the live-stock, Johann had sent them enough money for first-class tickets. However, Emma couldn't make that much, so they finally had to go second class.

There is a story told in the family that Wanda almost fell overboard on the way to New York. They were on the S.S, Kronprinzessin Cecilie. Emma felt very sick on the ship, partly from all her vaccinations and partly from the sea. Wanda was a very cute little girl with long, blonde hair; other women on the ship enjoyed taking turns caring for her and giving her little things to eat. They finally arrived in the United States in July 1914. [This ship arrived in New York on both July 2 and July 22, 1914.1

Emma was still weak from her illness and was having a hard time keeping her few possessions

and her child together. As she struggled with her bulky featherbed, some young men came along and picked up both the featherbed and the girl. Emma feared she would never see Wanda or the featherbed again. She soon realized, however, that the men were trying to help her, and she was very grateful to them. Johann, Emma, and Wanda were soon together in their new home in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. When winter came Emma was glad that she had brought her featherbed and also her big, woolen shawl, which she wore for many years.

Emma Gross Jaeger is seated and holding the baby, Albert, on her lap. Johann Jaeger is standing behind their two daughters: Elsie is on the left and Wanda on the right. This photo was taken about 1917.

Life was also somewhat difficult in Milwaukee, and they had to work hard to support their growing family. Over the years six more children were born to them. They were named Elsie, Albert, Rudolph, Oswald Frederick—who prefers to be called Fritz—Walter, and Helen. Emma did whatever she could to improve things, including

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doing housework for the wealthier friends. In later life she worked at the A&P Store and even sewed cocoa mats for porches and, doorways. She missed the country and all the animals, but she always said she'd rather be here, because the poor in America could live better than the high middle class over there. Even during the Depression she was able to say, "In America, we live like royalty." They lived in several different houses in Milwaukee, but wherever they went, they were always helping others, just as others sometimes helped them in special ways. They were especially impressed by the kindness of their Jewish landlord, a man named Rotter, who gave them a whole month rent free as a Christmas present. Johann loved to garden, and he could often be found with his hands in the soil. He seemed an expert at "making things grow"; at most of his homes, he raised vegetables, a hops vine, and flowers that everyone stopped to admire. His ability with languages came to good use many times. Whenever non-German-speaking immigrants arrived, they were brought to him for help.

Johann was a strict disciplinarian with his children, and he was known to lose his temper at times. He was also very congenial and outgoing and a great socializer, and he had many friends. It is said he knew everyone from 21st to 27th Street. His great love and concern for animals continued, although he no longer had any to care for in the "big city." The vendors, ragmen, and others with horse-drawn wagons, soon learned that they couldn't come into the Jaeger neighborhood unless their horses were in good shape. Johann would scold them (in just about any language except English) if he thought they weren't feeding or treating their horses properly. He really gave it in Yiddish to a certain Jewish man who didn't show up again for a long time. When the man finally did come back, his horse seemed 150 pounds heavier.

Johann also enjoyed fishing in Estebrook Park and often took one of his sons with him. It was not only fun but also provided some food for the family. Rudy remembers being scared as they cut through the cemetery before dawn to reach the Blue Hole. Later, they would bring home a wet gunnysack of twenty-five or thirty fish. Emma would bread and bake them for supper, and some of the boys looked forward to eating the leftovers for breakfast. Johann felt it was cruel to use a live worm for bait, so he always smacked them on the ground to stun them before putting them on the hook. This, he thought, was more humane.

His third son, Fritz, remembers the days they

didn't catch anything. Johann would get so angry, "He would start swearing and throw the poles in the water. Then we had to buy new poles the next time." But when they did catch fish, they would feast on carp, bluegill, red horse, silver bass, rock bass, suckers, shiners, and bullheads. They also used to buy bags of day-old bakery for 15 cents a pound from a baker on Vliet Street, Thus, with day-old bakery bread, fresh fish, and vegetables from the garden, they were able to make a good life for themselves.

Emma. too, felt great concern for all the horses that came into the neighborhood. In spite of having so much to keep her busy, she was often seen carrying a bucket of water from the house to refresh one of the poor animals she had seen on the street. Although she did not scold like Johann, she also made people think about treating all God's creatures with kindness.

Emma was the religious influence in the family. Although her eyes were quite bad, she would read the German Bible every Sunday by putting her finger under every word. She probably would have liked to do more reading during the week, but tending to seven children, carrying out all her other duties, and then giving assistance to whoever needed it, left very little time. Sunday, however, was sacred. Emma and the family were Lutheran, but Emma had a great respect for all religions, and she especially admired the Jews and the Catholics. She even observed the Sabbath "in a Hebrew manner" by beginning her observance of it at sundown on Saturday. On many nights, when the children were awakened by storms, they found her already awake. Emma never went to bed during bad weather. She always sat in the kitchen with her Bible, reading and praying.

She soon had a reputation in her Milwaukee neighborhood as a healer. This was something she had started doing in Russia. People—mostly German—came to her with all kinds of pains and problems. Many were friends and acquaintances, but some were strangers, who had been told about her by others. She would pray silently, make a sign over the head of the suffering person, and then move her hands over the areas that needed healing. Her children remember particularly those who had boils or carbuncles when they arrived and left within an hour without a mark on them. She helped many people but was unable to help her own family members when they were ill. It was something she had to do for others, not her own.

Even though Emma could have used some extra money for her family, she never took a cent for all the healings she did. This was partly

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because of her kind, generous nature and her desire to help; it was also due to her belief that the healing power was a special gift from God which would be lost if she ever accepted money for it. This special gift was supposed to be handed down to one of her children, preferably the eldest. Emma said she could not pass it on to a female, she had to pass it to a male, or it wouldn't work. Her two older children were Wanda and Elsie, so they could not have it. The oldest boy was Albert, but Albert was not interested in learning how to heal people. Albert wanted to fight against Evil. He was interested in guns; he loved playing war and dreamed of becoming a soldier when he grew up.

Albert Jaeger, the oldest son of Johann and Emma Gross Jaeger, who had a chance to acquire the gift of healing.

Johann had a variety of jobs during his life in Milwaukee. He worked in the foundry for some time. Due to a lung condition he had already developed in Russia, he was advised to do outside work. This caused some employment problems, because so much of the work was seasonal. The outside work was also not that healthy. He

spent much time loading and unloading bricks in a brickyard. He used tongs to move many heavy bricks at one time. His hands became very calloused and leathery. On January 26,1935, at the age of 44, Johann Jaeger died of bronchial pneumonia. One of the things he was most proud of at the time of his death was that he had finally learned to sign his name; his good wife Emma had patiently taught him.

Emma became ill with cancer but suffered quietly. She told everyone that a Christian doesn't look for a quick death; rather a long, slow one gives ample time to gather the family about oneself and to make sure everything is in order. Perhaps she thought some more about passing the healing gift to one of her sons. Albert was definitely not interested, however; Rudy liked to spend time listening to her stories of Russia, but when the subject turned to healing, he, too, seemed to have more important things to do. Fritz was a busy fourteen-year-old, and Wally was an equally busy boy of eleven. Anyway, the pastor of their church had disapproved of her healings. He said it was wrong, and she shouldn't do it. That hadn't stopped her though, because she believed so strongly that God wanted her to do it. The pastor just didn't understand where it was coming from.

On March 9, 1938, Emma died without ever passing on her gift. Later, her children said that even if they had been interested, it could not have come to them. They believed it could only come to someone very special, someone pure in heart, someone like their kind and loving mother or her gentle father, Christ Gross, who had taught it to her in Russia many years ago.

At the time of Emma's death, only the two older girls were married. On December 29,1934, Wanda had married Rudolf Ganske, a Canadian from Manitoba, whose family were also Germans from Russia. Elsie had married Robert Grunert on June 1,1935. These two young couples would have to help care for the younger Jaeger children. Helen was only seven years old at the time of her mother's death.

Albert, the boy who liked guns, was twenty-one when Emma died. He later married Florence Keene and had three children. However, he never saw his youngest child, a son named Randy. Albert had achieved his dream of being a soldier just in time for World War II. He was killed in France on June 17, 1944, a few days after the invasion of Normandy. The young man who could have had the gift of healing, chose instead to take up weapons and fight as his way of giving help to a troubled world.

26

HISTORY OF THE EBENFELD PUBLIC SCHOOL IN MARION COUNTY, KANSAS

Solomon L. Loewen Ebenfeld is one of the first public schools that played an

important role in Americanizing the Russian-German-Mennonite immigrants right from the beginning of their arrival in the 1870s and 1880s. When the Mennonites settled in this district, the school board members and the teachers were English-speaking Americans. Within ten years the entire school board was made up of German-speaking Mennonites; the last English-speaking member to serve on the board completed his term in 1894, twenty years from the time the first Russian-German Mennonites came to America. For sixty-five years after this, only Russian-German immigrants or their descendants were elected to the Ebenfeld school board. Within thirteen years the first Russian-German immigrant served as teacher (teaching in English), and the last non-German-speaking teacher taught 1908-09. For the next— and last—fifty years of the school, only Mennonite teachers were hired—with one exception.

When people migrate from one country to another, they take with them much of the culture that has become a part of them in the old country. Most of the German emigrants from South Russia were agriculturists. Their first priority in the new country was to become established on farms. They also had a strong religious heritage; the Bible and the school played important roles in their daily lives. When the Mennonites came to this country, most of the adults and older children could read and write the German language.

In Russia the Mennonite villages had their own schools, which were at first totally controlled and operated by the church. At first, physical facilities for formal education were very meager, as were the curriculum, teacher training, and financial support. Kroeker says schools were "austere places into which pupils were put at the mercy of the teacher.'11 He further states, "There was little demand for much learning," and "A schoolroom was always a noisy place with a drone of voices that went all day." The prevailing philosophy was "Spare the rod and spoil the child," and any success of pupils learning something was often more "in spite of" than "because of" the teacher. Teachers were often men who had no other job, were poorly paid, and had had no training beyond what they •learned when they were in the village school. This was more of a supervisory job than a teaching

position. Toews points out that the community and the teacher determined the character of the school.2 Neither the state nor any Mennonite colony in Russia established a school system until near the end of the first half of the nine-teenth century. It was in 1834 that Johann Cornies organized the Society for Christian Edu-cation.3 He developed six school districts in the Molochna colony that had as their aim: 1) improved school buildings; 2) dismissal of incompetent teachers; and 3) regular attendance. He wrote and distributed a paper entitled "General Rules Concerning Instruction and Treatment of Children." The curriculum at first consisted of teaching the catechism and New and Old Testaments—determined by the age of the pupil—and writing German and Latin script. Boys had arithmetic, which was considered useless for girls. Reading was very mechanical and done in a monotone, two to three minutes per day. Towards the end of the premigratory period (mid-seventies) and later, there appeared some well-trained teachers, well motivated and innovative. Teeuwen describes the type of education in German villages in Russia as well as the parochial schools in America. He says that public education in Russia was primitive when compared with the one-room elementary education in frontier America.4

The Mennonite Villages of Gnadenau, Hoffnungstal, and Alexanderfeld in Marion County, Kansas, were settled in the manner of the villages in Russia. The settlers developed their own village schools, as had been the custom in the old country; they did not send their children to the free public schools that had already been established. The first winter after the immigrants arrived (1874), Gnadenau built a sod schoolhouse.5 This lasted less than two years; then the dirt walls caved in, and classes had to be moved to a private home for a year or two. A few years later two schools were built of lumber. One was at the east end and one at the west end of the village. Several good teachers were available among the immigrants, men who had had schoolroom experience in Russia. Classes were conducted in a similar manner to those in Russia. By 1898, forty-two privately supported elementary schools were operated in the Kansas Mennonite settlements. After a few years some of the Gnadenauers began to send their children to the public school. At first, the

27

immigrants had been somewhat suspicious of the "English" public schools here in America. German was used in the private village school, as well as in church, and the Bible was the main textbook. The Kansas school statutes per-mitted this at that time. The Gnadenau School later became School District #11 in Marion County.

Some Mennonite families, who came about the same time as the Gnadenau people but on a different ship, bought land and settled outside the village confines. Farms were purchased from earlier settlers, mostly Civil War veterans who had homesteaded in the area, or from the Santa Fe Railroad. This land was a few miles southeast of the Gnadenau village. Their children attended the English-language public school right from the beginning, either in district #18 or #20. These districts had been organized in 1871 and 1872, respectively, and later came to be known as the Finch and Ebenfeld Schools. The latter was also called the Fairview School at one time. During the first year classes in district #20 were held in John Risley's home on section 12; Isaac Risley was the teacher. He received $25 per month plus $5 for rent. The school term was three months, and the total for operating expenses for the year amounted to $100. For the second year, 1873, a small schoolhouse, 18 by 24 feet, was built near the center of the district on the northeast corner of section 26, Liberty Township. This district consisted at that time of sections 23, 24, 25, 26, 35, and 36. This new location was two and a half miles south of where the Gnadenau village was established near the Risley residence in 1874. The 1885 Marion County atlas shows the school on the northwest corner of section 25. This is in error, for the Ebenfeld Mennonite Brethren Church was built on this corner in 1883. The school was just across the road from the church.

My grandparents bought a farm in Wilson Township one mile east and a half mile south of the Gnadenau village, in Finch School District #18, where father's younger brother and sister attended. Father enrolled also as a teenager of nineteen, but attended only one month, think-ing he could learn the language by himself. He must have found elementary school very frustrating and unchallenging, inasmuch as he had had a good basic education in Russia—even though it was in German. In addition to Low German and High German, he spoke some Russian. He did learn English quite well, as testified by the written reports as school board clerk, an office he filled for a number of years. However, he never spoke English fluently. Shortly after he got married, he bought a farm a mile east and

a half mile north of Ebenfeld School District #20. Here all of his children went to school; here he served on the board for a number of years.

During the first decade or two after the first Mennonite settlers from Russia had bought their farms in this community, a number of their countrymen followed, including my other grandparents, Heinrich and Justina Leppke. They came with ten children in 1875; six of the children were fifteen years or younger and attended the Ebenfeld School. They homesteaded an eighty-acre farm in section 24, Liberty Township, just across the road from the farm father bought a few years later. My mother was older; she never learned to speak or read English and understood it poorly. Her youngest brother, Jacob H. Leppke, only three when they arrived, was the first Ebenfeld School product who later received a teacher's certificate. He came back to teach in his home school twenty-five years later. The adjustment and adaptation of these new German immigrants to the new American school system and language was rapid and complete. By 1880 two of the new immigrants were elected to the school board; since 1894 only Russian-German immigrants or their descendants served on the school board until the school closed in 1960. The first two elected were Abraham Cornelsen, a minister-farmer as clerk, and Peter Loewen, my uncle, as treasurer. By 1885 all three board members were Mennonite immigrants. Later, Francis M. Gard, a Civil War veteran and our neighbor, served his last term from 1892 to 1894. He was the last of the English-speaking Americans to serve. An Anderson family was the only other "English" family residing in the district at that time.

The first schoolhouse built in 1873 cost approximately $300 and measured 18 by 24 feet. In order to accommodate the tremendous increase of pupil population, this was replaced in 1888 by a building 24 by 36 feet. The initial cost of this building was $790; it was the one in which I attended school. This building was moved from the premises in 1927, a year after a new brick building was erected at a cost of a little over $5,800. It provided some modern and more adequate facilities. This building served the district until 1960, when the school was consolidated with district #410 of Hillsboro. The school property was sold to the Ebenfeld Mennonite Brethren Church across the road for $1.00. It is used by the church for Sunday School, youth activities, family gatherings, and other social activities.

The school operated for eighty-eight years, from 1872 when it had eleven pupils to the end

28

This wooden schoolhouse was constructed in 1888. The exact date of this picture is not known, but it is prior to 1927, when this building was removed from the premises. The "school mascot" pictured here brought the Gaede children to school. of the 1959-60 school year with fifteen pupils. The first year had the lowest enrollment. The largest enrollment came only twenty-one years later, when a total of seventy-one pupils registered. By the 1949-50 school year, ten years before it closed, the enrollment had dropped to twelve pupils, one more than the first year. Up to the year 1906-07, the average daily attendance for each year was only 63 percent of the enrollment; after that date daily attendance came much closer to the total enrollment and was 88 percent. All these years there was only one teacher for each school year, regardless of the total pupil enrollment.

The main reason for a low average daily attendance during the early years was the fact that the new settlers needed the older children on the farm in late fall and early spring in order to become established economically in this new land. The boys and girls would go to school to a much older age, when they had time, in order to learn the new language, but their attendance was irregular. It was not uncommon to have -pupils eighteen to twenty or twenty-one years old in school. They would go to school during the

winter months when farm work was not so pressing and when there was not much else to do at home. Another reason for the high irregularity in school was the large turnover of settlers in the community. New immigrants would arrive anytime during the year, and this brought about a saturation point of settlers in the community; some then soon looked for other areas of settlement. Thus some pupils would start anytime during the school year or leave when the parents relocated. In the early 1890s, when Oklahoma opened up for homesteaders, many left Kansas for such places as Weatherford, Fairview, and Enid, Oklahoma. In these areas are now well-established Mennonite Brethren congregations, many of whose early members had a brief sojourn in the Ebenfeld community. Ebenfeld was a stepping stone for many of the Mennonite Brethren who were among the eight thousand or more Russian-German-Mennonite immigrants who came by way of the Santa Fe and landed in Peabody, Kansas. The children of these transient settlers had an interrupted school attendance.

The early Mennonite immigrants often had large families, from eight to fifteen children. I

29

Ebenfeld School District #20, Marion County, Kansas, 1914-1915

1. Jake Hagen 2. Harry Eitzen 3. Leslie Nikkel 4. John WaU 5. Albert Wall 6. Don Foth 7. Leo Nikkel 8. Tom Eitzen 9. Henry Foth

10. Arnold Leppke 11. Martha Gaede (Mrs. Oliver Lingo) 12. Agnes Seibel (Mrs. Pete Just) 13. Clara Leppke (Mrs. Frank C. Bass) 14. Anna Suderman (Mrs. Herman Siemens) 16. Esther Gaede (Mrs. Henry Lepp) 16. Alma Suderman (Mrs. Alfred Jost) 17. Sarah Seibel (Mrs. Herb Friesen) 18. Margaret WaU (Mrs, Albert Klein) 19. Edna Gaede (Mrs. Henry Penner) 20. Leona Gaede (Mrs, Dan L, Loewen) 21. Louise Seibel (Mrs. Ernest Suderman)

22. Juatina Leppke (Mrs. Sam Vogt) 23. Bertha Leppke (Mrs. Herb Leidahl) 24. Helen Foth (Mrs. Herman Reddig) 26. Edna Foth (Mrs. Harry Goossen) 26. Esther Leppke (Mrs. Ben Funk) 27. Helen Eitzen (Mrs. Sam Seibel) 28. A. C. Eitzen (teacher) 29. Abe B. Eitzen 30. Solomon L. Loewen 31. Menno S. Gaede 32. Adolph Foth 33. Sam Seibel 34. Tom Hagen 35. Albert Leppke 36. Mrs. Isaac Leppke 37. Mrs. Abr. Gaede 38. Mrs. Jacob Loewen 39. Andrew Foth 40. Isaac Leppke 41. Abraham Gaede 42. Jacob Loewen

30

came from a family of fourteen and was the youngest. Some years our family supplied up to ten percent or more of the total Ebenfeld school population, even in the years when the enrollments were high. As many as seven or eight were in school at one time. However, when work on the farm was pressing, someone had to stay home and work. I can remember my earlier years when some of the older boys in school, who were in their upper teens, got permission to cut the row of hedge apple trees (osage orange) that surrounded the school yard. They did this during recess instead of playing ball. This gave them good exercise, and the school got a new open view of the surroundings. The school benefited by getting a good pile of firewood for the winter and some money from the fence posts, which they had cut and sold for a good price. The money was used to purchase some much-needed playground equipment for the school.

The total number of pupils for the seventy-seven years for which records are available is 3001, 1699 boys and 1302 girls. The preponderance of boys over girls, 56.6 percent to 43.4 percent, was in some years almost three to one. In the years when there were more girls than boys, the difference was never great. Teachers during the first several years were, of course, English-speaking Americans. The pupils all had to learn to speak English right from the start. The first Russian-German-Mennonite teacher was D. E. Janzen in 1887-88, thirteen years after the first Mennonites had arrived. He had received his training and some teaching experience in the old country. When he came to America he learned the English language, applied for the teaching job, and got it. The next year another immigrant, Peter Daike, taught at Ebenfeld School. From 1893 on most of the teachers were of Russian-German descent. Floy Tharp, 1908-09, was the last non-German-speaking teacher in the district until 1952-53, when James Moody was hired. As mentioned above, Jakob H. Leppke was the first Ebenfeld pupil to come back and teach (1900-02). In 1927-28 a grandniece of Mr. Leppke, Anna Daisy Suderman, also a former pupil, taught for a year. She had taught in another district, but her father wanted her at home for a year before she got married. Having two siblings and eight cousins as pupils had made her apprehensive, but with a lot of diplomacy she was able to "sail an even ship." The school produced many good farmers, homemakers, doctors, musicians, professors, ministers, businessmen, carpenters, auctioneers, and other successful vocational and pro-fessional people. The influence for good has gone out far and wide from this rural community of

foreign immigrants, who came to a strange land of new customs and a new language. They adapted well and became good American citizens in a land that has been good to them and that they have learned to love.

The length of the school term was somewhat irregular during the first few decades. In 1874 the Kansas Legislature enacted a law requiring attendance of all children between five and fourteen, with some exceptions, for a period of six consecutive weeks and a total of twelve weeks per year.8 The first year of its existence, Ebenfeld School was in session for three months, as it was in 1882-83. For 1877-78 the record shows a nine-month term, which was rather unusual for that time period. Between 1878 and 1902 the sessions lasted for four months, two years, then five months, and then six months. In 1902-03 school was in session only about two and a half months, with two teachers listed for the year. Apparently one took ill and another one followed, each teaching only five or six weeks. From 1903 to 1915 school sessions were five months; the next three years they were six months, then for four years, seven months; from 1922 to the end of the school's existence in 1960, the term was eight months.

A private German school supported by certain families in the district operated concurrently with the public school 1880-81. Where they met or who the teacher was has not been recorded. Between eight and fourteen pupils were taken out of the public school for three months and then returned to the public school for the balance of the year. A German school operated in the spring after the English-speaking public school had closed. The length of the German school term was not recorded, but it is known that from 1900 until at least 1915 it was two months long. In 1915 the state legislature passed a law requiring a minimum of six months of regular school, at which time the German term was cut back to six weeks. After World War I the public school term was increased to seven months and in 1922 to eight months; the German school term was reduced to four weeks only and terminated in about 1935. At this time the transition of the church services from German to English had been completed, and the need to understand the sermons which formerly had been given in German ceased to exist. This transition had been gradual and covered several years,

The German school operated in the public school facilities up to World War I, after which the German classes were held in the social hall of the church across the road. This had been a wing of the first church building constructed in

31

1883 and was detached from the new sanctuary, which was constructed in 1904. After the war the German school was again switched back to public school facilities. No tax money was ever used to operate the private school. Each family with children was taxed according to the budget and the number of pupils from that family. The teacher's salary was the main item of expense. At times the teacher of the English term would also teach the German term, but more often another person would be engaged to teach the additional term. Some adjoining districts where there was also a strong Mennonite majority would also operate a German session. Church families living in a district without a German school would have their children commute to the district where they could get this service. Families too remote would board their children with a family in the district. My parents would board such children, for they had a big house, a big family, and big hearts. The German school term ended usually with a public program on the last day in order to show the parents how well the pupils had learned the language. German was an essential language for the community in those years, for it was the language used in all church services. In a sense the German school was an adjunct of the church. The transition from German to English was traumatic, especially for the older people. I remember well a Tabor College professor telling the older people in the church, "Mit euch begraben wir die deutsche Sprache" ("With you we will bury the German language.")

Dropping the German language in the community has been a great loss. The door to a rich heritage has been closed to the members of the younger generation, as practically their entire ethnic history has been written in German. Some of it has been translated, it is true, but much remains untranslated, and they cannot read it. Not only is the High German lost, which was the written and church language, but also the Low German, the language of the home, the real mother tongue. Most of the Mennonites who settled in Marion County used Low German, the mother tongue of their ancestors dating back for four and a half centuries to the time they lived in northern Germany and Holland, the "low country." Pupils in the public school at Ebenfeld would almost always speak Low German on the school ground during recess. It has many unique expressions that are not translatable with the same punch or emphasis as it has in the original. When a people loses a language which has been a part of it for centuries, it becomes a poorer people. Many families now regret very much that they did not keep up with High and Low Ger-man, at least at home in the family circle.

What happened in the schoolroom in the early years has not been recorded. Did the teacher start the day with singing a song or two, reading of Scripture and prayer? How did he conduct the classes, and were the pupils divided into grades? When the Mennonite teachers were hired, the day was always started with reading the Scrip-ture, prayer, and some singing. During my school days we always sang the national anthem, some good folk songs, and religious songs. Pupils would often suggest a favorite, which might be a round or some other popular song. Some teachers had good musical ability and could lead well; others could hardly start a song and would depend on the leadership of some of the pupils. No musical instrument was available until much later. School started at 9 o'clock when the school bell in the bell tower was rung. Some pupils were always eager to do this for the teacher. The lower classes were usually taught in the morning. The pupils would sit at a long bench near the teacher's desk while they recited. At 10:30 classes were dismissed for a fifteen-minute recess. This was always too short for the children, especially when the weather was good. The timing of classes and the order of the grades reciting would depend much on the teacher. The noon recess would last an hour, and another fifteen-minute recess was held at 2:30. Pupils usually had to march out in order, which frustrated some of the older boys, for they were anxious to get out and play ball. Various special events were put on by the teacher to keep the interest of the pupils and break the monotony of the class routine. Special events such as Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Valentine's Day called for decorations to be made by the pupils; recitations, dialogues, and songs were learned for the programs to be given for the patrons. Some schools also held a fall fair day or week. We looked forward to Friday afternoons when we enjoyed a spelling bee. The Christmas program was the highlight of the year. The birth of the Christ Child received the most emphasis, and a Christmas tree was usually part of the decoration for the occasion. Gifts were exchanged or distributed by the teacher for the pupils. In spring, shortly before the close of the school term, there might be a picnic on a Friday afternoon or an exchange sports day with an adjoining district. One day when I was in my upper-grade years, a neighbor lady, Mrs. Lichthaler, came rushing into the school saying she needed help. She had burned some trash, and the fire got out of hand and started a prairie fire in her pasture. The teacher had us older children grab gunnysacks out of the coal shed, soak them with water by the pump, and put out the fire. A week

32

later was payday, when she arrived with sacks of candy, which we appreciated very much.9

Some teachers were very strict about whispering and other noises, while others were more lenient. Generally the schoolroom was quiet except for the class reciting in front. At first, a large, potbelly stove stood in the middle of the room. The big boys usually wanted to sit behind the stove so that the teacher could not observe them when they were noisy. In 1913 the school board put in a new stove in back of the room with a heat-shield around it. This spoiled it for the boys, for no one could sit in back of the stove anymore. The benches were long enough for two small children. The desks had a shelf underneath for a tablet and books; there were an inkwell and a pencil groove on top. Girls sometimes got their long hair tinted when a mischievous fellow would sit behind them. The school was equipped with blackboards between the windows on both sides and in front on either side of the teacher's desk. A Webster's dictionary was available on a stand near the teacher's desk, and a rack with wall maps and other charts was in back of the room. A bookcase containing some reference books available to the pupils also stood in back. The school was a center for some community activities, such as township meetings and elections.

In the early years I never heard of anyone writing the eighth-grade county examination until 1914, when Alvin Gaede, who later became a medical doctor, wrote his exam. The following year we were a class of four who wrote the eighth-grade examination in Marion, the county seat, under the direction of County School Superintendent James A. Ray. This was on a Saturday at the end of the school year. The following Saturday was graduation or promotion day. This was continued until the end of the rural public schools and their consolidation with the city schools. It was always a great event pupils looked forward to. With the closing of the rural schools, the county school superintendent's office was also terminated. Marion County had at one time 130 rural school districts.10 Mrs. Viola Jost, who had been a teacher for many years, was the last county school superintendent in Marion County.

Sixty-four different teachers taught in Ebenfeld School during its eighty-eight years of operation. Forty-two taught one year or less, while sixteen taught two years, five three years, and one taught four years. Salaries ranged from $25 to $462.50 per month. The lowest-paid teachers had from eleven to forty-two pupils, while the highest-paid one had only fourteen pupils. Salary certainly was not determined by the number of pupils in school.

This brick schoolhouse replaced the wooden one in 1926. It is now used by the Mennonite Brethren Church across the road for Sunday School and other youth-related activities.

School in district ^20 was terminated with the school year of 1959-60. At a meeting of the patrons on March 6, 1959, John Eitzen made a motion, seconded by Dan J. Foth, to close the school at the end of the following year. The mo-tion carried twenty to zero. There had been a very strong agitation during the last few years to consolidate with two or three adjoining districts. A date was set to vote officially on this issue, but on that date a prominent farmer in the community was killed in a tractor accident. The people were so shook up, that nobody came that evening to cast their ballot, even though two persons in charge waited all evening. The proposition very likely would have passed, for at an earlier meeting a straw vote had been taken with ten voting "yea" and six "nay." The motion was made by Eli J. Suderman, and seconded by Sam Seibel, that this was contingent on the valuation of the district being one and a half million. The result was that the district later consolidated with Hillsboro USD N10, which in the long run was a much better situation. The district has been represented on the Hillsboro school board by several persons.

The Ebenfeld School has been a good example of how effective a rural public school can be in Americanizing an immigrant people. They were somewhat hesitant to accept the new language in their church services, but that is understandable. In other community affairs, however, the patrons in the district demonstrated their willingness and ability to adjust and fit into the affairs of their new country. It was a new life-style and a new language, but they made the most of it. They were good American

33

citizens and proud to be in a free country with its ample opportunities. And they were proud of their rich heritage, their Russian-German ancestry.

Notes

1. N. J. Kroeker, First Mennonite Villages in Russia (British Columbia, Canada: self published, 1981), p. 7.

2. John B. Toews, "The Mennonite Village School in Nineteenth-Century Russia," Journal of the American Historical Society of Germans From Russia, vol. 7, no. 1 (Spring 1984), pp. 27-36.

3. Mennonite Encyclopedia, vol. 1, pp. 716-718. 4. Randall C. Teeuwen, "The Immigration and Early

Education of Germans From Russia," Journal of the American Historical Society of Germans From Russia, vol. 8, no. 2 (Summer 1985), pp. 52-67.

5. David V. Wiebe, Grace Meadow (Hillsboro, KS; Mennonite Brethren Publishing House, 1967), p. 69.

6. Sandra Van Meter, Marion County, Kansas, Past and Present (Hillsboro, KS: Mennonite Brethren Publishing House, 1972), p. 96. 7. Samuel Seibel, unpublished manuscript on the history

of the Ebenfeld School prepared for and read at the Ebenfeld School reunion, August 13, 1960. Much of the statistical material in this report has been taken from Seibel's manuscript and from the school records in the office of the Marion County Register of Deeds. 8. School records stored in the office of the Register of

Deeds, Marion Courthouse, Marion, KS. 9. Much of this information comes from the author's own

knowledge and experience. I also had brief interviews with former Ebenfeld pupils Dan J. Pofch, Anna Daisy Siemens, Eli J. Suderman, and Les Suderman. 10. Sandra Van Meter, pp. 97-99.

Slag Qvo^e @<n«9KaI-@iit^

91 2 S 4 fi 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 10 20 21

"•*- 42 68 84 105 126 147 168 189 210 281 252 278 264 815 SSg S57 S78 SB9 421) 44100 2 & 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 1' 12 13 14 15 18 17 18 18 20 21 22 ^fi 44 66 88110182 161 176 188 220 242 284 288 808 880 352 374 889 418 440 482 484

A multiplication table—the bane of elementary students everywhere. This one is from the Friedensbote Kalender 1900, published in Beideck, Volga Region, .Russia. 34

VETTER HANNES Johann George

I suppose it is only natural to put an old neighbor out of one's mind after being separated by twenty-five years and thousands of miles, and so it was with me. I really never gave much thought to an old neighbor we called "Vetter Hannes" after I got older. He wasn't a relative, but he was a very good friend with whom my family became acquainted after they had been in this country for about six years. He was a close neighbor for about thirteen years. Like the other neighbors, I had formed my opinions about him, his life-style, and his daily activities from almost daily contact with him or from neighbors' comments. I know he was completely different from the rest of our neighbors, but I believed this to be due to the fact that he was disabled and housebound. I, like others, had formed the opinion that he was just an unbeliever, or "antichrist." This was probably the one thing that made him stand out or even be remembered by anyone living in our area during his lifetime. All these feelings about a person or his life-style can be completely forgotten, unless by a quirk one meets someone or discovers something which sheds new light on the matter. This happened to me during the 1987 AHSGR Convention. Now I can understand Vetter Hannes a lot better, appreciate him more than I did before, and even feel some of life's frustrations he encountered that probably made him the person we knew but didn't fully understand. It is amazing how one goes through life thinking someone's life is uneventful and maybe even dull, only because one never had to walk in the other person's shoes. We generally know more about a friend's personal life. Vetter Hannes probably preferred to keep his past his secret.

My feelings about Vetter Hannes as I grew up were rather mixed-up. I regarded him as a wiser person than most of our neighbors, who were almost all Volga Germans. He spoke about four languages, read daily papers, and had several magazines delivered monthly. I considered him to be more financially stable than most of our neighbors. The papers, magazines, and the fact that he owed nobody and always paid cash for everything he bought created this assumption. In later years I realized that his ability to obtain credit was probably limited because he was an invalid doing business out of his home. His wife was considered the breadwinner of the household. During those days of my youth, she worked for about 14 cents per

hour. Even with the defense contracts in the 1940s, the wages at her place of employment were about 50 cents per hour. I can now look back and realize that her wages were perhaps even greater than what Vetter Hannes could earn at home. This explains why she was the dominating person of the household and why they raised their children differently than were the other youngsters in our blocks. She probably never earned more than $1.30 per hour by retirement time. The fact that they still used an outhouse when I left for the service was my first inclination that Vetter Hannes was probably in worse financial straits than most. But to my knowledge he never once asked for charity.

His parents came to the United States from Russia with their children in 1902 or thereabouts. He was the oldest living child of about nine children; four or five had died in Russia before the family came over. He was thirteen years old when they left Russia and had fought the move to come. He adored his grandparents, who were too old to make the trip. He had even cried and fought to be left behind with the grandparents when the family decided to move. Their first work, as in most cases when large families arrived in America, was working sugar beets in the Midwest. They worked in Wisconsin, Minnesota, Illinois, and Michigan. When Vetter Hannes was about nineteen, he had accumulated enough money to make the trip back to Russia, where he intended to live with his grandparents. He had come over at an awkward age of thirteen and didn't get hardly any education in American schools. I must state at this time, however, that he probably owned more books than did the average immigrant and was the only Volga German I came into contact with in the late 1920s who had magazines come to the house monthly. He educated himself, so to speak, and was probably the most knowledgeable neighbor on stocks, bonds, and the world of finance. All was due to his love of reading and the fact that, when we first met him, he was too disabled to walk very well and was practically a shut-in. I couldn't begin to remember how many people had business dealings with him, usually on credit, which he extended to most countrymen. Although most considered him to be a nonbelieving complainer in those years, they would deal with him on credit and go elsewhere when they had cash in their pockets. I can't remember him ever refusing service to anyone and know several people

35

who never repaid him. When Vetter Hannes arrived back in Russia, things

didn't seem as great as he had remembered them being when he was a lad of thirteen, His grandparents and other friends and relatives were astounded that he should come back from the "land of milk and honey" when everyone else was setting their sights on getting to America. Within a year or so, Vetter Hannes met and married a girl from there. They decided to make the move to the United States and be with his family. Hopefully, they could get funds together here to help some of her family come over in a short time. He, his wife, his brothers and sisters are all dead now, so there are only children and grandchildren of the original family to supply any information. As in most cases, the finances of these trips were usually made by way of loans from family members or friends and repaid later. Nobody now living knows about the arrangements. In later years the repayment of the expenses seems to have been responsible for a squabble between Vetter Hannes and his brothers and sisters. However, when the newly-weds landed in New York, she wasn't allowed into the country because of trachoma; she was ordered back to Russia.

He decided that he wouldn't let her return to Russia while he stayed here, so they both returned to Russia. In a matter of a year or so, the grandparents had died over there. The Russians were going to draft more Germans his age, so reluctantly he decided to come back to the U.S. a third time, even though she wouldn't come along fearing she wouldn't be allowed to enter this country. By this time he had experienced enough bitterness to make him sour on life in general. When he returned to the U.S., he worked sugar beets and then moved west with three companions. They worked on cattle ranches and learned to herd cows and break wild horses that the ranchers sold to the army just before World War I. His hip and leg injuries occurred at this time and made him the disabled man we first met. (I was in grade school in the twenties when my parents moved into the area.) He probably never held out any hope of ever being reunited with his wife in Russia. Sometime in the period of his travels from working the sugar beets and being a cowboy, he became acquainted with another lady, and they had a child out of wedlock. These facts were rumored in our neighborhood when I was a boy but disregarded by most folk. No lady or her family ever made an appearance seeking financial aid for this child, so most folk disregarded it as gossip. A few suggested that the lady's parents weren't about to

have their daughter married to a crippled cowhand. Vetter Hannes decided he had better settle down

near his parents, brothers, and sisters. He married a lady who was now the third lady of his life. To our family and neighbors, however, she was the one and only as far as we knew. The facts about the child born out of wedlock never surfaced until after WWII, when the child, fully grown, came to locate the biological father. To this day no one knows if Vetter Hannes and the wife he had to leave behind in Russia ever had any children. He and his wife had a son about my age when we happened to move into the neighborhood and lived about three houses away. As with most people with disabilities in those days, Vetter Hannes had to try to do something at home, while his wife got a job. This way they could make ends meet. Many of our Volga-German men made furniture or clothes baskets of reeds, which they sold to their fellow coun-trymen. Some did barbering, shoe repairing, sewing machine repair, or just about anything to make a dollar or two.

From the very beginning I knew that their home life was different from the rest of us "damned Roosians," as our English neighbors referred to us. I can count over ninety youngsters of German-Russian families in about a four-block-long area on both sides of the street. This doesn't include any of those on the next street north or the one south of our street. Most of the neighbors turned the children out to play, and it was taken for granted that the older ones, fourteen or so, would look out for the younger ones. It wasn't unusual for a neighbor from a block or two away to sneak up and give Fritz or John, or someone who wasn't conducting himself properly, a good Votch (cuff) on the ear. I can truthfully say that there were only about a half dozen nice lawns in our neighborhood. These belonged to longtime English residents, who strung cables or fences around their lawns and told us "Hunkies" to keep off their lawn. They sometimes even called the police about the bigger boys getting into their fruit trees.

Vetter Hannes and his wife never allowed their son out on the street with the rest of us neighborhood youth. In fact, when I got better acquainted and went over to socialize with the boy, we were allowed to play only in their yard or the one next door where three English boys lived. This is when I discovered that Vetter Hannes was educating his son at home and later would teach a daughter too. They had regular hours of reading, writing, and arithmetic, and the father learned as eagerly as he wanted his chil-

36

dren to learn. He was probably the most knowledgeable Volga German in our end of the city, except for our pastor, whom I considered to be the most learned person with whom I ever came into contact. The pastor and this nonbeliever had children that were considered some of the best students to go through our school. This shows me now that while we were out working sugar beets or caddying at the golf course to make a little spending money, these two sets of parents kept their children home and insisted they get a proper education. All of their children are successful in their chosen field of endeavor.

Vetter Hannes had attended church and even Versammlung (meeting) in his early days in the U.S. I can recall that several of the prayer brothers used to tell of an incident that occurred in front of the church one Sunday after services. A brother was taking the preacher to task be-cause there was a lightning rod on the roof of the church. This brother thought putting a lightning rod on the roof of the church showed a breach of faith in God on the pastor's part. God was supposed to protect his house. Vetter Hannes came to the pastor's rescue, when he spoke up and suggested that God had provided us with brains so that we would have the foresight to install implements such as this lightning rod to protect ourselves and our properties. My mother thought it would be nice if I would invite the son of Vetter Hannes to go to Sunday School with me, which I did. I was politely told that making appearances in church or Sunday School didn't make a Christian, and they could raise their son and get him into heaven without his attending Sunday School with the rest of our neighborhood youth. Evidently others had gone through the same ex-perience before we moved into the area and had given up; thus it was easier to call this a family of antichristians and let it go at that.

As the years passed and I grew older and wiser, I could enter into adult conversations with Vetter Hannes, and he never uttered a word against religion in my presence. Often he would call attention to someone's hypocritical behavior pertaining to things occurring at church or Versammlung. It bothered him greatly that his brother-in-law belonged to the Versammlung, which was having internal disputes. A dozen or so members were withdrawing and starting a new Brotherhood. This had occurred several times in some of our churches too. This infuriated him, and he never failed to bring it up when someone talked religion to him. I suppose I could .safely say that he came into contact with fewer people outside of just neighbors than any per

son I have known in my lifetime. However, his hours of reading newspapers, magazines, and history books made him as knowledgeable as any teacher I had in school. He always encouraged me to read to better myself, live by the Golden Rule, and not worry too much about whether I made it to church or Sunday School regularly, and above all, try to work at a job with a future. In those earlier days the labor unions were being organized like never before, and although he was an outsider without a job, he never failed to encourage everyone with whom he came into contact to get involved in the battle to collect a decent wage for their labor. There were many members of the Brotherhood that visited Vetter Hannes in regard to the business he ran from his home. They even sought advice from him, because he was considered an authority on business matters and world affairs. Some were amazed at his knowledge of the Bible for a man whom they never saw in church. I think it would be fair to say that many neighbors asked for legal advice from time to time, because he was well read and up on such matters.

I went into the service in the early 1940s, as did most other boys, so I visited Vetter Hannes and his wife to tell them goodbye. He appreciated my stopping by, and even his wife, who hardly ever partook of conversations between Vetter Hannes and his customers, was elated that I took the time to visit with them. He asked me to write to him and promised he would answer my letters. I wrote to him for three years on occasion and even sent him little souvenirs I picked up in my travels through France and Germany. He always wrote and thanked me. After the war I married and resettled in another state. I didn't come into contact with Vetter Hannes again until 1950. He was very elated that I would visit him while on a tightly scheduled vacation. He told me that at least six other young men who had been away to war had come to visit him either while home on furlough or after the war ended. They came to thank him for the credit he had extended to the young men or their parents over the years. They also told him how they remembered kindly pieces of advice he had rendered them over the years. These they remembered and appreciated when they were far from home in a foreign country. That was the type of person he was: gentle and full of good advice but frowned on by many people because of his seemingly bitterness towards the church. Yet, he never argued against religion itself, only the way that so many of his neighbors were practicing it.

When one marries and has children, one travels less frequently or confines his time to

37

more immediate family on vacations. I was able to visit Vetter Hannes and his wife only about two more times. One day we got a letter from a relative who enclosed a newspaper obituary stating that he had died. We devoted a few hours discussing this departed friend amongst our family members old enough to remember him. We all felt the grief of losing a friend, as one does even when the miles and years have lessened contacts. Until his widow died, too, we exchanged Christmas cards. In my mind I had Vetter Hannes tucked away in a grave, resting in peace after a small funeral. He had been a friendly man who gave me good advice, treated me more as an equal than did the devoutly religious neighbor men, and always seemed elated to see me after I grew out of my teens.

I never knew about the first two women in his life nor the numerous trips from and to Russia. Upon hearing of the events surrounding his last few years of life and his death, I have had to revise my thoughts. I can fully understand some of the events that caused his being considered a loner and even excuse him for his atheistical feelings. Before we became acquainted with him, he no doubt had suffered many embarrassing comments from both family and friends due to his first two women, which caused him to separate himself and his new wife from the former friends and his family members. When his child born out of wedlock came to seek him out after WWII, it created problems too severe for the old gentleman to handle. Not having a close friend available to discuss this with,

left him almost helpless in a constant battle with his wife, who either knew nothing of this child or was resentful over the child's appearance, although the child was middle-aged by now. It seems that a close relative, after years of ignoring Vetter Hannes, was responsible for getting the child to visit. The wife was resentful and forbad the child to come to the house to visit. The old gentleman was a shut-in, so he couldn't get out to meet the child. I was told that, in sheer desperation, Vetter Hannes took his own life.

I suppose it would have been easier for me to have never learned of the end he had, but then again I had looked upon his life as a mediocre affair and uneventful. Now I realize that his life was probably more action-packed than what we assumed when we were growing up. In fact, he had probably seen more of the world than did the average immigrant who came over and settled down to the rigors of raising a family in the strange, new country. Maybe, had I resettled in the area, Vetter Hannes would have phoned me and taken me into his confidence, and I could have driven him to meet his child. That, like other suppositions, is idle wishing. I only hope that, if there is a spot in heaven for deserving people, Vetter Hannes will make it. His reputation as an antichrist wouldn't be enough reason, in my eyes, to keep him out. I only remember a man who was kind, friendly, and extended a helping hand to his fellowman, even though he himself was a partially disabled shut-in. These are but a few kind thoughts of an old friend.

SPRUCHE

Gott die Ehre, dem Nachbar Hilfe,

und dem Freunde das Herz.

To God, honor; To the neighbor, help;

And to the friend, your heart. Wenn man auch sonst

nichts geben kann, Liebe kann man immer geben.

When one otherwise can't give anything,

One can always give love.

38

ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE ADVENTISTS IN RUSSIA* A Historical Survey

Daniel Heinz

Translated by Leona Pfeifer The Seventh-Day Adventists can presently look

back on one hundred years of existence in Russia. The intolerant treatment of the Russian-Orthodox Church toward other religious denominations during the reign of the czar as well as the atheistic propaganda of the Soviet dictatorship could not impede the rapid diffusion of the Adventists in this country. Like the Baptists, the Seventh-Day Adventists were successful in firmly establishing themselves here from the very beginning.1

Today the Adventists, with roughly 30,000 officially registered members, are among the best known of the independent churches in Russia.2

Articles about their active missionary efforts can be found repeatedly in the public media as well as in underground literature.

The following report is an attempt to point out and clarify in a factual and objective manner the most important developments of the Russian Adventists from their origin to the present, as much as this is possible in a survey.

The Beginning (1882-1886)

The Adventist community in Russia began as a movement of lay brothers. During the early 1880s Germans who had emigrated from Russia to North America, where they became acquainted with the Adventists, began to inform their friends and relatives at home of this new religion through magazines and pamphlets. Through these letter exchanges some small, isolated groups of German settlers in southern Russia could be converted to the Adventist community even before the arrival of an Adventist preacher or missionary in that country. Not until 1886 did the Adventist preacher and director of missions, L. R. Conradi,3 visit those groups that were observing the Sabbath and that had by this time officially declared themselves as

^This article appeared under the title "Entstehung und Fortschritt der Adventgemeinde in Russland" in: STUFEN: Mitteilungsblatt des Adventistischen Wissenschaft-lichen Arbeitskreises e.V,, 27/1, March 1983. It has been translated and is herewith published by permission of the author and the publishers of STUFEN.

part of the Adventist community. On July 31, 1886, he organized the first community of Adventists at Berdy-Bulat on the Crimean Peninsula.4 He was immediately arrested by the authorities and j ailed for spreading Jewish heresies. Only after the American representative in Petersburg convinced the Russian authorities that the Adventists were a Christian and not a Jewish religious organization was Conradi released from prison. Working out of Germany as one of the most successful Adventist missionaries ever, he was entrusted with the organization and guidance of the Adventist communities in Russia. At first, the Adventists were often suspected by the Russian authorities of being Jewish sects and were banned by the government.

The Development up to the Beginning of the October Revolution (1886-1917)

In the years following 1886, the Adventists gradually converted some Russians in the Caucasus and the Ukraine. The missionary work among the German settlers in Russia, especially those along the Volga, was successfully continued. Thus, it was possible to hold the first mission conference in the German settlement of Eigenheim in the Caucasus in 1890. More than one hundred representatives from the various congregations attended, even though the membership at that time was still very limited.5

The missionary work was carried on mainly by trained door-to-door salesmen who, through the sale of Adventist literature, were able to provide for their livelihood. Occasionally these salesmen were also utilized as roving ministers. Proper training for the ministry was not possible until 1899 when the Friedensau Theological Seminary near Magdeburg opened a special department for the theology students from Russia.

During these first ten years (1886-1896), the Adventists confined their missionary work almost entirely to the rural population. Consequently, the first Russian Adventists came from the peasants and lower middle class. Toward the end of the 1890s and at the turn of the century, the Adventists began their missionary activities in the large cities (Petersburg, Riga, Kiev,

39

Moscow, Saratov),6 resulting in significant sociological changes within the congregational structure.7 The Adventists dissociated themselves from the rural ghetto and attempted to establish a firm footing among the workers and middle class of the large cities. There the missionary work was carried on by well-educated preachers and, in some cases, by foreign-born preachers.

When the voluntary transition from the orthodox church to a nonorthodox religious community was permitted by the government in 1905, the leaders of the Russian Adventists composed a document of gratitude to Czar Nicholas II. In it the leadership declares its faith and loyalty to the czarist government and expresses special gratitude for the legalization of the long-sought-after freedom of religious expression for all Christian denominations.8 Several months later on November 5, 1906, an edict was issued by the Ministry of Internal Affairs, which legally gave the Adventists equality with the Baptists.9 The Baptists had, as early as 1879, acquired religious freedom. This privilege was now also afforded the Adventists, whose dogma, in the opinion of the authorities, was similar to that of the Baptists, and they could, therefore, be regarded as a branch of that religion.10

In 1907 the Adventists, under the leadership of the German minister, J. T. Boettcher, was elevated to an independent Adventist union. At this time the 41 congregations in Russia with their 2566 members were served by 31 preachers and congregation leaders. It was not long before the Russian Adventists became financially independent from the European leadership in Hamburg and were able to finance their own missionary activities (1911).11

In order to be more effective with their missionary work, the Adventists published more and more literature in the native languages of the country. The books and pamphlets were published mostly in Riga, Helsinki, Hamburg, and Petersburg, and later also in Saratov and Kiev. The outbreak of World War I posed great problems for the young congregation of Russian Adventists. The close association of the Russian Adventists with Germany, the presence of preachers of German nationality, as well as the anti-militaristic attitude of the Adventists in general, led to more and more conflicts with the czarist regime. The dissemination of Adventist literature had to be discontinued. Through special edicts the Adventists were also forbidden to gather for church services and missionary conferences. Occasionally, here and there, Adventist preachers and congregation leaders were

persecuted. A number of them were arrested, and some were deported to labor camps in Siberia. Threatened by the government and occasionally persecuted, the Russian Adventists saw themselves facing even greater internal problems. The so-called Adventist "reform movement," which arose in 1915 in Germany and which today, however, has lost its significance, led to a split of the Adventist community in Germany and also succeeded in acquiring followers in Russia, especially in the Ukraine. A different answer to the question of how an Adventist would deal with compulsory military service provided the reason for the division within the community.12 Not until after World War I were the Adventists slowly able to recover from this external and internal crisis.

The Expansion and Strengthening of the Russian Adventist Congregation Between the

World Wars (1918-1945)

The years immediately following World War I (1919-1924) were the most favorable and successful years for the Adventist missionary work in the Soviet Union. Within a few years the Russian Adventists were able to double their membership from 6,085 to 12,697 (1926). The still-young Soviet government was relatively friendly toward the Protestant Free Churches, because it recognized that those churches assumed an important social responsibility through their active charitable activities.13 Moreover, their oppositional stance to the state church was appreciated. The affairs of church and state were now sharply separated, religious propaganda was tolerated," and some other form of military service was substituted for those who, because of religious beliefs, objected to bearing arms.15 On the basis of these and other governmental favors, it is not surprising that Russian Adventists still hold Lenin in high esteem today.

Under the dynamic leadership of the German preacher, H. J. Lobsack,16 who was appointed the administrator of the entire Russian mission field in 1920, a new organization of the Adventist congregation was implemented. The 430 con-gregations and groups were organized into 24 associations, 5 district unions, and an All-Council Union with its headquarters in Moscow, according to the government-supported federative guidelines. An All-Council Convention, which was attended by representatives from all of the congregations, convened in Moscow almost every year.17 New missionary programs were developed, lay evangelism and youth activities were promoted, and congregational leaders were

40

encouraged to become socially and politically active. Through new governmental regulations this positive

development came to an abrupt end in 1929. The increased industrialization and nationalization of the economy also brought about changes in the religious sphere. Laws were passed which strictly prohibited all forms of religious propaganda. Religious gatherings were permitted only on private property or on specially designated premises with correspondingly high rent. All Adventists were required to register with the police and were regularly subjected to governmental controls. The publication of Adventist literature had to come to an immediate end. Many Adventist preachers and congregational leaders were imprisoned for "counterrevolutionary activities" and died in exile.18 The community unions and associations were partially dissolved, and contact with the leadership of the general conference was completely broken off. World War II represents the really low point in the deprivation of the Adventists. Congregational members died in the war,19

while others, because of their German origin, were suspected of collaborating with the enemy and were forced to spend many years in prison or in a labor camp. The problem of bearing arms and military service brought many members face-to-face with a moral dilemma. In spite of this it can be assumed, in retrospect, that these years of deprivation led to a general revival of religion in the Soviet Union. Governmental restrictions, war, and starvation could, in the end, not halt the continual growth of the Russian Adventist community.

The Situation After World War II (1945-1982)

The 1950s saw a change, admittedly a somewhat insignificant one, in the attitude of the Soviet government toward Christian religions. The Communist Party publicly admitted that the Adventists and other religious denominations had been persecuted unjustly during the Stalinist Era.20 The membership of registered congregations increased to 26,000, primarily because of the newly acquired regions of East Prussia and the Baltic area, which at that time could be counted among the heartlands of Adventist missionary work in Europe.

In the 1960s Khrushchev again exerted enormous pressure upon the churches and religious denominations. As a result, the supra-regional organization of the All-Council Union (All-Rate Bundesunion) of the Adventists was dissolved in 1960. The Adventists then had to organize,

more or less, according to an independent congregational structure.21 Religious services of those congregations which were officially registered could, up to this time and without much more difficulty, be conducted in those areas and buildings which had been designated for that purpose, while, at the same time, religious proselytizing is still strictly forbidden. The publication of literature is narrowly restricted to literature for internal, congregational use.22 The training of student preachers presents a problem. In most cases they receive their theological training by being actively and practically involved in Bible and missionary work.23 This is accomplished by working together with an experienced and proven teacher. The Adventists in the Soviet Union do not have a theological seminary of their own at their disposal.

In recent years official contacts of the Russian Adventists with the leadership of the general conference have increased.24 Conversely, several leaders from the general conference were able to visit the congregations in the Soviet Union. These visits quite obviously led to a significant strengthening of Adventist community life in Russia.25

Notes

1. This could be accounted for by the fact that important Adventist teachings were already known in Russia through indigenous, fringe religious groups. This opinion is expressed by W. Kolarz, mReligion in the Soviet Union (New York, 1961)> p. 324. For example, as early as the fifteenth century, there were denominations in Russia which sympathized with Judaism, and, along with the health rules as prescribed in the Old Testament, also kept holy the Sabbath as commanded by God. Later they were called. "Subbotniki" (People of the Sabbath). See L. R. Conradi, Die Geschichte des Sabbats (Hamburg, 1912), p. 569-576; 633-636.

2. Kolarz, op. cit,, p. 325: "According to all Soviet accounts the Seventh-Day Adventists are among the most thriving sects and one of the few which have gained ground under Communist rule."

3. Conradi provides a detailed account of this first missionary trip to Russia in Historical Sketches of Foreign Missions of the Seventh-Day Adventists (Basel, 1886), pp. 250-271. Some of these isolated groups were visited earlier by Adven-tists from North America, but no congregations had previously been organized as a result of those visits. Those first Adventists m Russia were recruited almost exclusively from German settlers who shared a common language, culture, and legal conditions.

4. See A. V, Belov, Adventizm (Moskow, 1968), p. 46. G. Perk, the first Seventh-Day Adventist in

41

Russia known to us, accompanied Conradi as interpreter.

5. Seventh-day Adventist Encyclopedia (Washington, D.C., 1976), vol. 10, p. 1523. It is estimated to be 356.

6. Ibid, pp, 1525-1526. 7. Some interesting religious and sociological aspects

which crystallized in the course of the development of Russian Adventism and today are quite typical of the congregations in that country are mentioned by C. Lane, Christian Religion in the Soviet Union (Albany, New York, 1978), pp. 167-174 and K. Murray, "Soviet Seventh-Day Adventists" in Religion in Communist Lands (RCL), 5/2, 1977, pp 88-93.

8. The "document of gratitude" is printed in its entirety in Zions-Wachter, 12/2, June 18, 1906, pp. 215-216.

9. This in no way simplified the missionary work of the Adventists, See Seventh-day Adventist Encyclopedia (Washington, D.C., 1976), vol. 10, p. 1526: "... [T]his did not significantly improve the climate in which the work had to be done. .. . After the revolution of 1905 martial law was proclaimed in the land and not lifted for a number of years. This law was made an excuse for requiring permits for holding even regular Protestant church services, for prohibiting the circulation of SDA publications, for proscribing general meetings of workers, and for making im-possible the missionary travels of ministers."

10. The edict is reprinted in Deutscher Arbeiter, 7/8, April 18, 1907, p. 59.

11. In 1911 the Adventists received considerable recognition and significance when S. D. Bondar, an official of the Ministry of the Interior in Petersburg, published an official report about their work. The report, which gave a very positive impression of the Adventists, was sent to every appropriate office in the country. The Adventists, who, up to this time, had remained more or less unnoticed by both the government and the church, were now, with one stroke, introduced to the public, J. T. Boettcher expressed his opinion about this remarkable report as follows: "It is one of the finest documents that ever was published on the work of Seventh-day Adventists by an outsider.... Whereas a few years ago we were practically unknown, we are now spoken of in all official circles. This book is a splendid recommendation to the cause of God." General Conference Bulletin, 7/6, (1913), p. 87.

12. One of those reformed groups still exists in the U.S.S.R. today under the name of "Ware und Freie Gemeinschaft der Siebenten-Tags Adventisten" (True and Free Association of Seventh-Day Adventists) and recently aroused much sensation through the spectacular "Case of Shelkov" (see footnote 17) and the extensive samizdat literature. Also see: M. Sapiets, "V. A. Shelkov and the True and Free Seventh-Day Adventists of the USSR," Religion in Communist Lands (RCL), 8/3. (1980). p. 201-207. (This

article was also published among others in Spectrum, 11/4, 1980, p. 24-32.) Religion in Communist Dominated Areas (RCDA), 18/4-6, (1979), p. 85-91; Christianity Today, 23/14, April 20, 1979, p. 53; Ibid., 24/15, Sept. 5,1980, p. 70; New York Times, Oct. 16, 1977, p. 8; Revue Adventiste, July-August 1978, p. 7; Student Movement (Andrews University), 65/4, (1980), p. 1.

13. Sapiets, op. cit., p. 202: "The period looked on most favourably by all Adventists is that time between 1918 and 1924, when the Soviet government was still allowing evangelization by non-Orthodox sects and in some cases encouraging the concept of 'Christian socialism.'" Also see L. W. Roth, "Soviet Russia and Religion since 1917" (unpublished master's thesis, Andrews University, Berrien Springs, Michigan, 1951), p. 144-128 [sic}.

14. Adventist literature could be published again. Adults (18 years old) had the opportunity to further their theological training in parochial schools, if such were available, but the Adven-fcists did not have any such schools at their disposal. Religious instruction for children, however, was forbidden.

15. L. W. Roth, op. cit, p. 115. In 1919 Lenin ordered compulsory military service. The possibility of exemption from this military obligation remained in effect only until 1926.

16. See D. Heinz, "Heinricht J. Lob sack—Pionier der Adventgemeinde in Russland," in: Adventecho, 80/17, Sept. 1, 1981, p. 10-11.

17. At the fifth All-Council Convention in Moscow in 1924, a declaration was drafted, which established the general principles and organization of the Adventist community as well as defined its relationship to the new Soviet regime. In this document the loyalty and faithfulness to the new government is clearly expressed as follows: "Immediately after the appearance of the Soviet Government in the territory of Czarist Russia, the Seventh-Day Adventists who resided in the Socialist Soviet Republic never doubted that the slogans of the Soviet Government, such as *the transition from capitalism to socialism,' 'all government in the hands of the Workers' Councils,' 'land for the working farmer,' 'equal rights and self-administration for all ethnic groups,' 'religious and antireligious propaganda,' 'the Soviet Republic—a shelter for the victims of religious persecution,' 'separation of church and state,' are a magnet which unites all serious-thinking people into a strong Soviet republic. Based on the principle of divine assistance to governments, we are convinced that God in his providence guided the heart of our unforgettable W. J. Lenin and gave him as well as his immediate followers the wisdom to create the only progressive, up-to-date form of government existing in the world today." Cited in Die Wahrheit ueiber die Reformationsbewegung in der Adventisten-kirche (Hannover-Buchholz, 1926), pp. 23-24. This pro-Soviet compromise position of the

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Adventist leaders led to great tension within the Adventist community. Many members saw this declaration as a betrayal of the Gospel and began to dissociate themselves from the official leadership. At this time, as in World War I, separate splinter groups existed. Later they also dissociated themselves organizationally from the mother church and, up to the present, continue to exist underground as, for example, one that has already been mentioned, "Gemeinschaft der Wahren und Freien Siebenten-Tags-Aventisten," with their legendary leader Shelkov, who, at an advanced age, perished in 1980 in a Siberian labor camp. For information about the split among the Adventists in the U.S.S.R. consult, The Sabbath Sentinel, 31/11, (1979), pp. 17-19 and the Adventecho, 80/21, Nov. 1, 1981, p. 8. The question of how a Christian and especially an Adventist is supposed to live under Communism has not been and probably cannot be clarified. The basic concern of the leaders of the General Conference is that the Adventists in the U.S.S.R. build a friendly relationship with the government. It also endeavors to unite all the Adventist splinter groups, but leaves further specifics to the conscience of the individual members. For information about the condition of the Adventisfcs during this time consult the Seventh-day Adventist Encyclopedia (Washington, D.C., 1976), vol. 10, pp. 1530-1531; "Report of a Russian Trip" (unpublished manuscript) by C. P. Crager to I. H. Evans, R. G. 11/1934-C, General

Conference Archives, Washington, D.C. 19. We do not have exact numbers. Sources about the

condition of the Adventists during this time are very scanty. Some figures can be found in Roth, op. cit., pp. 122-127.

20. Seventh-day Adventist encyclopedia (Washington, D.C., 1976), vol. 10, p. 1531. K. Murray, op. cit., p. 89: "The post-war period of reconstruction was a time of comparative freedom for the Adventists."

21. In reality, this form of community organization has been in existence since the 1930s. Now, because of the final dissolution of the General Council, it had to be officially introduced, while some local associations and unions seem to continue to exist.

22. M. P. Kulakov, "Les Adventistes du 7ejour" in: Conscience et Uberte, 20/2, (1980), p. 121.

23. Recently a few prospective preachers were able to complete their theological studies at an Adventist seminary abroad (Seminar Frie-densau, Newbold College).

24. Therefore, in 1975, for the first time in decades, the representatives of the Adventist community in the U.S.S.R. could participate in the General Conference in Vienna. Consult: Adventist Review, 125/38, August 7-14, 1975, p. 23.

25. Adventist Review, 155/42, October 19, 1978, p. 4-7; Ibid., 155/43, October 26, 1978. p. 6-8; Adventecho, 77/23, Dec. 1. 1978, p. 11-12; Ibid., 81/12, June 15. 1982. p. 12; Ibid., 80/21, November 1, 1981, p. 8-10.

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SONG OF THE MEADOWLARK

From a land called Russia the Germans came, A hundred years ago; To settle a new land was their aim, Across the sea so wide; To homestead the prairies of Mid-America Where the grass grew long, And the meadowlark vibrantly sang his song. They broke the sod of a new land, But kept the ways of the old; Traditions—centuries old—they kept in hand In grassy islands of culture; They labored hard, prayed, and sometimes played, In the Old German way, And the larks of the meadows echoed their song. Now we—their children and grandchildren-have

migrated anew, Away from the prairies; Away to settle in places where "Our People" are few, And the cultures many; To cities of concrete walls and manicured lawns Where the All-American robin is king, And the meadowlark is seldom heard to sing. How oft we yearn to return to the prairie fold, Our few remaining kin; To witness again that song of old, The traditions of the settlers; But when we return we with sadness hear A much weaker song; A song more distant, less clear, Ever competing and blending with modern tunes. And we lament over what the prairie has lost. But should we stop on the prairie At dusk And inwardly reflect, We may with greater sadness find That the song within us Is weaker too; Less clear, Changed from the days of our youth, And changing still. May we not stop And silently pray That the song Will not Fade Away. May the larks of the meadows sing on and on.

— Dallas D. Zimmerman

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BOOKS AND ARTICLES RECENTLY ADDED TO THE AHSGR ARCHIVES

Frances Amen and Mary Lynn Tuck

PLEASE NOTE: When a number has an R before it, that indicates that the item does not circulate. This means that patrons may use the item in the AHSGR library itself, but they may not check it out for use elsewhere. The items mentioned below and other library materials may be borrowed from AHSGR Archives through the interlibrary loan services of your local public or college library via an interlibrary loan request form or the OCLC computer system. Most of the items below are not for sale by AHSGR. Please consult your current Order Form to see what is available for purchase. DK170 .A573x Anthony, Katherine Susan. Catherine the Great (New York: Garden City Publishing Co., 1925), 331 pp. Photos.

"Primarily a story," this biography was compiled from Catherine's own diaries and letters. The author presents her in her true proportions as a real woman involved in the perplexing pattern of eighteenth-century politics and as a jealous mistress of men.

BX8143 .B33x Baerg, Anna. Diary of Anna Baerg, 1916-1924. Trans. and ed. by Gerald Peters (Winnipeg. MB: CMBC Publications, 1985), 158 pp. Courtesy of Mennonite Heritage Centre.

Anna Baerg lived near the Molochna Mennonite colony and began recording at age eighteen her perceptions of the Russian Revolution and Civil War. She describes the complete change of life in the village under the new regime and the eventual migration of Mennonites to Canada.

F644 .M66M66x The Banner City (Monango, ND: Monango Centennial History Committee, 1985), 440 pp. Photos, maps. Donated by J. Albert Oster.

A profusely illustrated volume depicting the history of two towns: Keystone, Dakota Territory, which died with the advent of the Chicago, Milwaukee, and St. Paul Railroad, and Monango, North Dakota, which flourished as an agricultural community. The first Lutherans from South Russia settled here in the 1890s. Besides family histories and name index, the volume contains numerous feature stories, one of which is "Those German-Russians" by Rev. Richard Schwartz.

BR1608 .R8B66 Bourdeaux, Michael. Faith on Trial in Russia (Toronto, ON: Hodder and Stoughton. 1971), 192 pp.

Since his student days in Moscow, the author has dedicated himself to a study of the Soviet

Union's religious situation. The book begins with a demonstration in Moscow May 16, 1966, by Baptist delegates who represented congregations throughout the Soviet Union. The book has a detailed account of Georgi Vins, whose German father Peter became a missionary in Siberia. Here Georgi was born. His experiences as a Reform Movement leader and eventual imprisonment for his faith and testimonies are very moving.

F674 .C35A46 1986x Campbell Centennial Book Committee, compiler. Along and Beyond the Little Blue (Campbell, NE: Campbell Centennial Book Committee, 1986), 406 pp. Illustrations. Donated by Norman and Pauline Dudek.

Centennial history of Campbell, Nebraska. The town was platted in May 1886 and incorporated January 1890. The influence of the railroad, the schools, farming, and the churches is emphasized. Germans from Russia were among the settlers of the area.

CS71 .C521 1975x Claassen, Ernest Gerhard. Abraham Claassen: Vistula to Plum Grove (n.p., 1975), 149 pp. Photos. Donated by Mrs. W. E. Hieb.

The Abraham Claassens were Mennonites from Simonsdorf, West Prussia. They immigrated to Rosenort, Molochna, in 1859. When the military service exemption ended in Russia for Mennonites, the families began to immigrate to and settle in Kansas. Included are the genealogies of five families and an index.

DK508.7 D78x Druzhinina, E. I. luzhnaia Ukraina v 1800-1825 gg. (Moscow: "Nauka," 1970), 381 pp. In Russian. Donated by Alexander Dupper.

Based on extensive research of documents in the archives of Moscow, Leningrad, Odessa, Kishinev, and other cities, as well as published materials (domestic and foreign), this book gives an interpretation of the socioeconomic develop-

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ment of the least-known part of the Ukraine-Novorossiya (New Russia) and South Bessarabia. The reasons why this area, which joined Russia relatively late, became a region of the most rapid capitalistic development are revealed. The book is a continuation of the previous books by the author (Kiuchuk-Kainardzhiishii Mir 1774, Moscow, 1955, Severnoe Prichernomor'e, Moscow, 1959). Prime consideration is given to the problem of populating the southern steppes, organizing regional administration, economic life on Crown and private land. and developing domestic and foreign (Black Sea) trade. MucR attention is also given to cooperation among the settlers belonging to different ethnic groups in the process of cultivating virgin land and their fight against feudal serfdom. (Annotation provided by Dr. Dupper).

F702 .R6E93x Evett, Leila F., compiler. Kiowa Cemetery (n.p., 1983), 123 pp. Maps. Donated by compiler.

This cemetery is located three miles south and three miles west of Hammon, Oklahoma. This book includes the cemetery history, grave listings, obituaries, and biographies, plus a name index.

CS71 .G474 1981x Fischer. Jeanette, Charlene Mason, and Jo Ann Doetzel, compilers. Gette Family Book (Unity, SK: Northwest Publishers Ltd., 1981) 72 pp. Photos. Donated by George Gette.

Family record of Albert and Maria Gette, who migrated from the Volga area to Saskatchewan in the early 1900s. Included are family charts and a collection of family recipes.

GR 1090 (perm.) Flaming, Helen Maier. Herein Is Hope. Teachings From the Life of a, Shepherdess (Clovis, CA: published by author, 1983), 180 pp. Anonymous donor.

A collection of poems, meditations, and devotions, including some guidelines for those who are leaders in business, church, and civic groups. The author was the wife of the late Rev. Carl J. Maier.

CS71 .F732 1986x Freehling. Ruth. Our Kith and Kin (n.p., 1986), 112 pp. Photos, maps, documents. Donated by author.

Kukkus in the Volga Region was the homeland of the Freehling and Herzog families. Vol-hynia was the ancestral home of the Richert,

Raboldt, Schneider, and Peter families. Historical accounts and biographies are presented for each family.

F659 ,B6B68x Goetz, Connie, compiler. Bowdle Centennial 1886-1986 (n.p., 1986), 642 pp. Photos. Donated by Irene M. Rader.

This South Dakota town was established on an empty prairie. The mill started operating in 1892 and produced flour that was shipped all over the world. Many of the early settlers came from South Russia. Included in this volume are many family histories and lists of 1912-1985 high school graduates.

F672 .A2H57x Historical News (Hastings, NE: Adams County Historical Society, bimonthly).

AHSGR has incomplete holdings of 1973-1982 and the July 1986 issue, which has an article by Rebecca Kimminau, "The Germans from Russia in Hastings."

CS71 .K382 1980zx Kauk, Kenneth D. Descendants of Johann Jacob Kauk and Susanna Ochsner. Typewritten. 79 pp. Photos. Donated by author.

Worms, Russia, was the home of the Kauks. One by one their sons began to immigrate to America, settling in Nebraska and Oklahoma in the 1880s. Includes many interesting accounts of their experiences and lists the generations.

DD901 .U33K62 1911x Kocher, August, ed. Das Uffriedt (Herlisheim, Alsace, France: Self-published, 1911), 81 pp. Photocopy. Maps, illu-strations. Donated by Gregory R. Dockter.

Historical description of all the inhabited areas between Drusenheim and Selz [Seltz] in Alsace. Some German-speaking people emigrated from this area into Russia.

PF3625 .M36 1901x Mann, Friedrich, ed. Kurzes Worterbuch der Deutscken Sprache. 5th ed. (Langensalza [Saxony], Germany: Hermann Beyer & Sohne, 1901), 332 pp.

This dictionary pays particular attention to correct spelling according to the recently established rules [late 1800s] and word stems, sometimes not including compound words and meanings. Generally, there is no mention of regional meanings, and colloquialisms are not included.

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