German Immigrant Gustav Klingelhöffer, Friedrich Gerstäcker's Friend in 19th Century Arkansas

Like hundreds of thousands of Germans, Gustav Klingelhöffer and his family immigrated to the United States during the first half of the 19th century. He was an educated man, a Lutheran pastor, who led the effort of a group of disaffected  Germans in the Rheinhessen region to form an emigration society that planned create a German colony in the Arkansas.

Pastor Klingelhöffer headed this group of 250 to 350 people, called the Mainzer Emigration Society, as they took a boat from Bremen, headed for Little Rock via New Orleans. Apparently, the group had disagreements even before they reached New Orleans, and only about 140, around 60 families, took the steamboat trip from there to Little Rock, arriving in May 1833. The others went in different directions.

Of the sixty families who came to Arkansas, many stayed in the Little Rock area, others moved to different counties in Arkansas, and some left for other states.  Klingelhöffer bought a farm on the Fourche le Fave in Perry County and lived the rest of his life there, dying in 1873.

Unlike most immigrants, who lived and died in obscurity, we know many things about Klingelhöffer because of a German traveler and writer by the name of Friedrich Gerstäcker, who spend many months in Arkansas between 1837 and  1843, staying several nights with Klingelhöffer and his family in Perry County.

At the time, Gerstäcker was a young man on his first trip to the United States, and he traveled extensively in Arkansas and other states, getting special pleasure in killing bears, deer, turkeys, buffalo, and whatever meandered into his path. He visited Little Rock several times, but did not like it. While there, he met several members of the 1833 group who had settled in or near the city.

After he returned to Germany in 1843, Gerstäcker wrote an account of his trip that was published in 1844 as Streif- und Jagdzüge durch die Vereinigten Staaten von Nordamerika (Rambling and Hunting in the United States of North America).  The book was successful, and it was translated and published in English in 1845 as Wild Sport in the Far West. In that book, Gerstäcker wrote this about Klingelhöffer:

He had been accustomed to a quiet comfortable life in his early days, having been a Clergyman in Germany, but he had shaken off the superintendent yoke of his native country, exchanging it for the independent life of a farmer in the American forests, and was happy and contented in his family circle. His young wife was quite an example of household virtue: they had four very fine children. He produced almost everything that he required, and though in his youth unaccustomed to hard work, he cultivated his land alone, and was not behind any American in the use of his axe; his cattle and pigs were among the best in the place. (J.B. Lippencott Company, 1859(?), pp. 228-229)

The rest of Gerstäcker's life was spent traveling in different parts of the world, and writing about his exploits. He returned to Arkansas after the Civil War, in 1867, and he visited his old friend Klingelhöffer, with whom he had remained in contact by mail. The following is an account of what he found:

      Klingelhöffer told him about the difficulties experienced in the backwoods area during the war at the hands of the Bushwhackers and Jayhawkers. Although many friends around him had been killed by the roving bands of outlaws, the losses within Klingelhöffer’s own family had been the most difficult. Gerstäcker wrote, “His only son had gone against the will of this strong Union man and had joined the Confederate army only to meet his death. That broke Klingelhöffer’s heart, and he has never completely recovered.” [This description is adapted from Schuette, Strangers to the Land: The German Presence in Nineteenth Century Arkansas (p. 73), who quotes Anita Bukey and Evan Burr Bukey. “Arkansas After the War: From the Journal of Frederick Gerstaecker.” Arkansas Historical Quarterly XXXIII, no. 3 (Autumn 1973): 255-273.]

(For more about Gerstäcker, see this entry in the Encyclopedia of Arkansas:  http://encyclopediaofarkansas.net/encyclopedia/entry-detail.aspx?entryID=1656)

Klingelhöffer and his second wife, Martha Louise, had brought two small children with them across the ocean and had nine more after they moved to Perry County. Three of those nine died within 24 months of their birth. Their oldest daughter died at the age of 28 in 1858; her husband was killed fighting for the confederacy, leaving two small children to live with their grandparents.

 

Only one of Klingelhöffer's sons survived infancy. Although, as Gerstäcker noted, Gustav was a strong supporter of the Union, his son, listed in  Civil War records as “Gus Klingelhoeffer,” joined the Confederate army. He enlisted as a private on July 29, 1861 at Pocahontas (see http://www.couchgenweb.com/civilwar/3cavD.html). Gus was in Company D of the 3^rd Arkansas Cavalry Regiment at the time of his death on October 4, 1862 at Corinth, Mississippi. See http://history-sites.com/cgi-bin/bbs53x/arcwmb/arch_config.pl?noframes;read=8097

I have written a paper with more about Gustav Klingelhöffer; it is at this site: http://www.scribd.com/doc/69943845/Revisiting-Klingelhoeffer-An-Early-German-Immigrant-in-Arkansas

Also, an article about another family among the 1833 German immigrants to Little Rock, published in the Pulaski County Historical Review, is available at this site: http://www.scribd.com/doc/69940474/Those-Enterprising-Georges-Early-German-Settlers-in-Little-Rock

Thinking Cheap, Buying "Brown" in Austria, 1972

As a student in Vienna during the 1971-1972 academic year, I was always looking for ways to save money. Fortunately, Austrians made it possible for students to live cheaply with subsidized eateries (Mensa); cheap student lodging (Studentenheim); reduced prices for museums, plays, opera and concerts; and reduced fares on public transportation. For most of these discounts, all you needed was proof that you were a university student.

In addition, other bargains, available to everyone, were to be found, including the incredibly cheap "standing room" places for even the best music and dance events. With plenty of time to stand in line, I got excellent standing spots to hear the Wiener Philharmonic, observe Leonard Bernstein conduct Mahler symphonies, and watch Nureyev dance. 

Membership Card for the
Austrian Alpine Club  (front)

With an eye out for such bargains, I was pleased to hear that I could get discounts on train travel if I belonged to a organized travel group. So, one day I was walking near my apartment in the Eighth District  and noticed a sign for the Ősterreichischer Alpenverein (ŐAV), the Austrian Alpine Club. I decided to sign up, figuring the dues would quickly be exceeded by savings on travel using the Austrian national railways.

Later that day, when I mentioned that I had joined the Ősterreichischer Alpenverein to my friend Jörg Wollmann, a Viennese who was a few years older than me, he gave me a funny look, shook his head, and said something like, "Don't you know that is a brown group."

Well, I didn't know, and I was not sure what he meant. However, I was quite aware of the deep political divisions in Austrian society that had created, from the beginnings of the First Republic after WWI, what political scientists had called "Lager," roughly translated as "political camps," into which most people were born and stayed their whole lives.

The two main political camps were the socialists (or social democrats) and the Catholic-conservatives. Membership in the camps was, to a large extent, a matter of geography:  most members were grouped together based on where they lived. For example, a large majority of Viennese (excluding those living in a few districts) were solidly members of the socialist camp, while most rural and small city Austrians were members of the Catholic-conservative camp. In industrial cities, the socialists lived in worker's districts, and the Catholic-conservatives lived elsewhere.

Membership Card for the Austrian Alpine Club (inside)

Also, occupation played a large role in determining to which political camp you belonged. Most laborers ("workers") were in the socialist camp, and most shop owners, farmers, and managers were Catholic conservatives.

After WWII, the two camps were roughly equal in size, each about 45 percent of the population.  The people comprising the other ten percent of the population were independent or were members of smaller political camps, including a German nationalist group and a communist group. The first group was on the far right, and it attracted, some said, people with Nazi sympathies. It typically struggled to get the five percent of the vote needed to be represented in the national parliament. The communist group usually received less than two percent of the vote nationally. 

Being a part of a political camp meant much more than supporting a political party. It also meant that you associated mainly with others of your camp. You lived next to them, went to school with them, went (or didn't go) to church with them, read the same newspapers and magazines, were members of the same social clubs, and were members of the same unions or employer groups or industry associations. In short, you spent your time mostly with people in your political camp from cradle to grave. 

These lager were at odds over many basic issues, economic, social, and religious. The divisions and enmity were so great during the 1920s and 1930s that each created their own militias, and in 1934, the Catholic-conservative militia (Heimwehr) teamed with the Austrian army (commanded by Dollfuss, the Catholic-conservative Chancellor) to crush the social democrats in a brief and decisive civil war. 

Out of the ruins of the 1938 Anschluss and World War II, Austrians found ways to build bridges between the two camps so that future armed strife could be avoided. The mechanisms for managing conflict included a Grand Coalition of the two main political camps that governed the country for decades after the end of the war, plus other mechanisms to insure that the two camps shared power, influence, and positions. Essentially, each political camp had a veto power over government action to address major national issues. 

The grip of the political camps declined slowly as Austrian society became a bit more mobile and people moved to different locations where they regularly encountered people from other political camps. Also, as radio and television became more important sources of information, members of the camps heard differing points of views: the lager lost their near-monopoly on the flow of information to their members. (Radio and television were nationalized after WWII, and their operations were managed jointly by the representatives of the two camps.)

In 1971 and 1972, the political camps still dominated politics, but were weakening. In 1971, Bruno Kreisky's Socialist Party (SPŐ) received 50 percent of the vote in Parliamentary elections, winning a majority of the seats in Parliament. For the first time since WWII, one party governed Austria without a coalition. 

In that election, the German nationalist party, the Freiheitliche Partei Österreichs (FPŐ) received 5.5 percent of the vote, winning 10 seats in the 183-seat Parliament. Its fortunes would improve in coming decades, but in 1971 it still was a fringe party with a suspicious membership, winning support mainly from rural parts of the country.

Book published by the Austrian Alpine Club, October 2011

It was within this 1971-72 political framework that I had meandered unknowingly into a tacit affiliation with the far right political camp by becoming a member of the Ősterreichischer Alpenverein. What I had not known is that ŐAV, the oldest  mountain climbing and hiking group in Austria, had an unsavory history. The club was created in 1862 as an organization for mountain climbers and hikers, and its first sixty years were benevolent: it helped develop trails and built mountain huts in the Alps. But soon after WWI, it entered politics when -- merged with the German Alpine Club (DAV) -- it became a promoter of the "German way of life" and developed anti-Semitic policies. In 1924, it allowed its different sections to prohibit Jews from being members, which most did. After the Anschluss, the ŐAV continued to function as a Nazi-sanctioned organization within the Austrian Gau. 

The ŐAV, now the largest travel group in Austria, acknowledges the unsavory elements of its history (see this web site: http://bit.ly/nzXmvz ). As part of the upcoming celebration of the 150th anniversary of its founding, it is publishing a book that critically examines its history from 1918 to 1945. The book is entitled Berg Heil! Alpenverein und Bergsteigen 1918-1945. 

Despite its present popularity, in 1972, at least some people, including Jörg, viewed the ŐAV, based on its history, as a "brown" (Nazi-associated) or "blue" (FPŐ-associated) club. People who were strongly anti-Nazi and/or were members of other political camps (the reds and blacks) were unlikely to join it.  People who had brown sympathies and/or were members of the German national political camp were more likely to be members of this travel and mountain climbing club than any other one. 

I discovered that other travel and mountain climbing clubs existed for members of the main political camps. If you were a member of the SPŐ ("red") camp, you would likely join Die Naturfreunde Ősterreichs (the Friends of Nature of Austria), created in 1895 to assist workers to enjoy travel and nature.  As a member of the Catholic conservative ("black") camp, with the Ősterreichische Volkspartei (ŐVP) at its center, you would likely join the Ősterreichische Touristenverein (ŐTV), the Austrian Tourist Club, founded in 1908 and affiliated then with the Christian Socialist Party. 

When I figured out that I had joined a group that some people considered "brown" or "blue," I was chagrined. I had simply wanted a discount on rail travel and had stopped by the office of the nearest travel organization that would get me that discount. By joining this Club, inadvertently aligning myself with  repugnant political views, I learned a lesson about how simple private acts in Austria could convey a regrettable political message. 

Bill's Trip to the Market: Pioneer Tales of Arkansas' German Immigrants

Arkansas Echo
January 19, 1894

As is well known, the immigrant upon his arrival in America was surprised more than anything else by the fact that here he had to pay 5¢ for a sip of beer or a cigar. That was usually above his means. He was used, over there, to getting his glass of beer (and, at that, twice as big) for a groschen and a cigar for 3 - 4 pfennigs.  But people get used to anything, especially Germans, and after he is in this land for awhile, he sees it all as entirely understandable.  Yea, yea, drinking and smoking cigars is a rather expensive thing here in America, and whoever wishes to do so must be well supplied with change.  Newcomers often are in the beginning, but they quickly halt such activities as beer and whiskey drink and cigar smoking.

Railroad Advertisement for Routes to 
Little Rock  and St. Joseph's Colony 
(a German settlement near Conway) 

Months are rare when a person does not think about these things, though they may permit themselves such luxuries only on special occasions. Then a person is not used to the stuff, and if he happens to accidently obtain some, he quickly feels the effects. Who really wants to throw a stone at such a poor Devil because of this? Not I, and not any reasonable person.

So one year, Bill with his wife skillfully managed their fruit and had dried a huge amount apples and peaches. One day, Bill loaded about 25 bushels of these on his wagon and traveled with them, and with his two boys, to the city in order to sell the fruit. The city was about 12 miles from his place. There, he soon had sold his wares, certainly at a better price than he had hoped. Then he bought all kinds of things: porcelain and earthen pots and bowls, coffee, beans, peas, and a hodge-podge of other things.

As he completed his business, Bill thought, it would not be a sin if he went to the inn and had a small one, which he then immediately did.  Here he met a few friends and acquaintances, and as it is the style here in America, they were treated several times to a drink, and so on.

Yes, that was a pleasurable time for Bill and because he, naturally, was not used to the stuff, he was soon tipsy.  But as soon as he sensed that, he stopped, harnessed up, climbed up with his boys and traveled away. Above all, it was time to go because he had a long journey and the sun was not still standing high in the sky.

As he came outside in the air, his head spun around like a wheel of a mill, but Bill pulled himself together, recovered his legs, and took off up the mountain. Outside of the town, there was a hill that was steep going up and coming down. Luckily he made it to the top, but on the way down, he forgot to apply the chain. He had, of course, an old fashioned wagon with a chain rather than brakes. Bill saw what he had done as the wagon was in full flight, and it naturally was too late to lock it.

Then the situation became critical, what everyone who has been in such a situation would understand.  At a racing speed, the wagon went down the mountain but everything would have been o.k. if down on the level ground, in the middle of the path, there had not stood a brazen tree stump that did not get out of the way. And the horses raced right at it despite the desperate effort by Bill to steer them away. All of a sudden, a crash; the box flew out with all of its contents, and the horses stood still, panting and trembling. And poor Bill with the small kids and all the stuff lay under the box. since it had immediately turned upside down.

In an instant, Bill is sober, as sober as a new born calf. With truly extraordinary strength, he raised up into the sky and threw the box down. And, Thank God, at least nothing had happened to his kids and himself. They were coming away with only a scare. And also the horses.

But it was all the worse that it appeared that nothing could be saved from the wagon and the beautiful things that Bill had bought. They all lay scattered about, and the dishes were in bits and pieces.

Bill had to scratch behind his ears; he did not know what he should do at that moment. Then he suddenly realizes that he would not be able to make it home with the busted wagon, at least not that day. As he now stands there and makes plans, he hears next to him a voice and sees a man who wants to take a look at the situation. "Bad thing," says he and offers to let him spend the night at his place. The man was a Frenchman and lived nearby on the path.

But Bill wanted nothing to do with it; he wanted only to get home, even if he had to ride. Luckily Bill knew a little broken French from school and the military, plus some English, and he made it understandable to the man that he wanted to ride on and return at dawn the next morning to fix his things.

All arguments from the man were of no use. Bill unhooked the horses. On one, he packed his kids and various other materials such as a pair of barrels and a few small packages; he sat on the other horse and went forth into the night.

Soon it grew dark. Fortunately, he could trust the horses. They would soon find their way home. He then had the time and leisure to think over his troubles in order to come up with a believable story that he would be able to present to his wife. He was, of course, entirely innocent in the story. The dumb, small Spitz (Pomeranian dog?) was  entirely to blame.

The horses trotted briskly onward and soon it was so dark that one could not see his hand in front of his face. The horses had to find their way about. After riding about 6 miles, there was a side path going left that he had to take.  And it seemed to Bill an eternity before this path would appear.

Then suddenly the horses make a turn, but not onto a path, but into the woods through a thick thicket.  Oho, says Bill, this isn't right, and his hat falls off. He jumps down and looks for it, but to no avail. He cannot find it. He climbs back on the horse, turns the horse around in order to get it back on the open path. But what is that?  He is sitting in the middle of shrubs and doesn't know right from left anymore.  After a long search, he locates the path again.

The horses don't want to go any further. But they must, and now Bill thinks to himself, I will be home in an hour.  An hour passes! Two pass, but still his fence doesn't come. Bill finally concludes that he is on the wrong track, and that it was no longer reasonable to think that he will make it home that night.

Now, Bill thinks, at the first opportunity I'll knock at the next house and stay there for the night. To the devil with this situation! (Der Kukuk soll die Wirthschaft holen).  And, at last, he sees in front of him in an opening what appeared to be a light. This is the place to stop, says Bill, and rides toward it. At the fence, he calls "halloh," at which a man comes out and asks him what he wants.

Remarkably, he recognizes the voice! And as he is able to see the man, Bill doesn't want to believe his eyes. It truly is the Frenchman by whose house the accident occurred.

"Sacre di blue," shouts Bill. I will not repeat what else he said. The Frenchman laughs and immediately recognizes him. How did his all happen? Bill doesn't know himself. The main thing is that he has to have a roof tonight for his poor small kids. More troubles: His hat is gone; he has lost a couple barrels and other packages, probably in the thicket.

It doesn't make any difference, Bill thinks. Tomorrow I have to look for all the stuff. He puts the horses in the stall, and in the meanwhile the wife has made a fire and put together a good supper. Afterwards, before anything else, the kids are put to bed. Then the well-living host gets a bottle of wine, and Bill soon feels alright again and thinks, tomorrow everything will be fine.

But Bill couldn't sleep much that night. He could not get out of his thoughts the expected punishing sermon that awaited him at home, even if he had to agree that he richly deserved it.

The next morning as soon as he could see, he was outside by his wagon. Oh misery! The shaft was broken as were several spokes and other small things. And his wares? None were still whole. Coffee, sugar, beans, peas mixed together in a heap. 

First Bill repaired the wagon with the help of the Frenchman. It went so well that he even hoped to get home with it. He borrowed a sack and put the whole mess in it. Then, after he ate breakfast, he harnessed up and traveled homeward with a heavy heart. On the way, he looked for his hat and the other things. Where are they? He couldn't find them.

So at last he made it home. How he was welcomed there, he has not told me. Things were so bad that it took him 14 days to sort the stuff in his sack. And later if Bill again went to sell apples or peaches, he was not alone. His wife accompanied him. 

******************************************************

Introduction to the Pioneer Tales

This pioneer tale is one in a series published in 1893 and 1894 by the Arkansas Echo, a German-language newspaper in Little Rock. The stories are intended to show the challenges and adventures facing German immigrants when they came to settle in Arkansas. So far, the following posts have introduced the Pioneer Tales and provided translations of several of them:

Pioneer Tales of Arkansas' German Immigrants (background of the newspaper series)

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/05/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german.html

Arkansas Echo, November 3, 1893

THE GOOD OLD DAYS?

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/05/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german_17.html

Arkansas Echo, November 10, 1893

MERRY MÄT, OR A TRIP TO THE BATHS, Part 1

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/05/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german_21.html

Arkansas Echo, November 17, 1893

MERRY MÄT, OR A TRIP TO THE BATHS, Part 2

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/05/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german_31.html

Arkansas Echo, December 1, 1893

A JUICY ROAST--OR--WHO WANTS TO EAT WITH ME?

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/06/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german.html

Arkansas Echo, December 8, 1893

ANOTHER PIECE ABOUT "AUGUST"  --OR -- LONG FENCE RAILS

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/06/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german_08.html

Arkansas Echo, December 22, 1893

HOW FRANK, WITHOUT POWDER AND LEAD, ONCE SLEW A MAGNIFICENT DEER

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/06/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german_10.html

Arkansas Echo, December 29, 1893

ERNST'S BAD LUCK
http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/06/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german_17.html

Arkansas Echo, January 5, 1894

THAT'S THE WAY ITS DONE IN HUNGARY -or- A PERSON WHO WILL NOT ACCEPT ADVICE CANNOT BE HELPED

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/07/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german.html

Arkansas Echo, January 14, 1894
HOW ONE CAN LOSE ONE'S WAY IN THE PRIMEVAL FOREST
http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/09/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german.html

A Death in the Ozarks, March 1928

This picture is a deeply sad one. It shows my grandmother and grandfather burying a son, John Lewis Durning, who died at the age of 17 on March 22, 1928.  

The picture is taken at the Cass cemetery, which is located in the Boston Mountains of rural Franklin County. This cemetery is on the slope of a hill across the highway from an old sawmill. You can see it from the highway; its on the right as you head south and trade the twists and turns of a steep mountain for a flat road. An old Baptist Church used to be nearby -- I don't know if it is still there. Most recently, a Job Corps camp was located near it. And, of course, the mischievous Mulberry River is not too far away, nor is Turner Bend.

This location is usually a beautiful setting, framed by hills covered with thick stands of trees and bordered by a stream feeding into the Mulberry. But it was not beautiful on this day in 1928. The picture shows it was overcast; the hill in the background seems bleak. The nearby bare trees add to the desolation you can see in my grandmother's face and to the stoic grimness of my grandfather. The casket is leaning a bit because the grave was dug on sloping ground.

The casket looks to be a fancy one that had to be carried from Ozark or Fayetteville; neither was an easy trip. Likely the cost of such a nice casket was a burden on the family finances of a hill country farmer.

The grieving woman in the picture had a beautiful name, Lillie Samantha. She was born in Johnson County, Arkansas on January 31, 1889 or 1890 (her tombstone says 1889, her social security record says 1890).  Her parents were Gains Harris and Narcissa Belle [Bowman] Harris.

The Durning picture archives (a big shoe box) has one picture of my grandmother as a young woman.  She looks pretty and sophisticated in it; more like a city girl than a hill farmer's daughter. I have to wonder about the story of the hat.

Lillie Samantha [Harris] Durning was a Baptist during the first part of her life, as were the Durnings and lots of folks in the Ozarks. Many years ago, I found some papers in the Franklin County Court House showing that the Durning family -- which had arrived in Cass from Tennessee in the late 1840s -- had donated the land for the Baptist Church located near the cemetery where John Lewis was buried.

My grandmother later became a Jehovah's Witness. An aunt told me that she had left the Baptist Church soon after the death of John Lewis because of her feelings about the unfair loss of her young son. When I knew her -- I thought she was the nicest and kindest person I had ever known -- she was active as a Jehovah's Witness, and the church was an important part of her latter life.

The man in the picture, Elias Nathaniel Durning, was born on April 21, 1882, in Franklin County, Arkansas. He is wearing the hat and overalls of a farmer, plus a nice shirt. He was still wearing the hat, or one like it, and overalls during the 1950s when I visited him. Gruff but playful, my grandfather seemed to be a quiet man; he was not in good health for some time before his death.

How did Lillie Samantha Harris, born in Johnson County, meet Elias Nathaniel Durning of Cass? It likely came about because she moved with her parents to Franklin County sometime after the turn of the century. The 1900 census showed them living in Newton County; the 1910 showed her parents were living in Wallace Township of Franklin County; it also showed Lillie S., aged 20, was married to Elias N. and they had two small children and an infant. They married on November 25, 1905.

In 1920, Lillie and Elias Durning were still living in Cass and had seven children; the youngest was one year old. In 1930, they had five sons and five daughters living with them in Hogan Township of Franklin County (near Denning and Altus). Plus one son in the Cass cemetery. By then, the family had moved away from Cass to the southern part of the county.

Both of my grandparents lived into their 70s, with the later years of their life spent in Fayetteville. My grandfather died in February 1960.  My grandmother died in May 1964.  Both are buried in the Cass Cemetery where they left their son on a sad March day in 1928.

Finding M. W. Fodor: Fulbright, Vienna, and Me

The Road to M. W. Fodor

You have probably never heard of M.W. Fodor, a foreign correspondent in Vienna from about 1919 until the Anschluss in 1938, who wrote for the Manchester Guardian and several papers in the United States. Until about three years ago, I certainly did not know who he was. I found out about him in a roundabout way.

One day in 2008, I remembered that in late 1968 I had sent a letter to Sen. J.W. Fulbright about my experiences in Vienna. In 1967 I had received the J.W. Fulbright Scholarship for Undergraduate Studies to attend the Institute of European Studies (IES) in Vienna, and I wanted to show my appreciation with the letter. Of course, Fulbright had neither funded the scholarship nor selected its recipient, but it was created for one student in Arkansas in his honor after he had traveled to Vienna in 1965 for an honorary doctorate, and while there, had met with IES students.

In the response to my letter, Fulbright, as I recalled, had written a note at the bottom of the typed page saying something like, "I had a similar experience while I was in Vienna."  In fact, here is the actual letter, which I finally found hidden in a box:

Recalling that letter, it struck me that it would be interesting to know what Fulbright did while he was in Vienna. So, I consulted four of his biographies, which gave a similar account of his stay there from late summer 1928 to early summer 1929.  His biographers told how he had had hung out at the Café Louve, a cafe frequented by American and British journalists, and had made friends with a journalist by the name of M.W. Fodor, a Hungarian, who then was a correspondent for the Philadelphia Public Ledger, the New York Evening Post, and, I think, the Manchester Guardian. 

According to the biographies, Fodor had invited Fulbright to make a trip with him through the Balkan states in Spring 1929 to interview diplomats and government leaders, and they had made the trip, getting to Athens, where Fulbright fell ill and had to break off the trip to return to Arkansas. Then, the story continues that Fulbright and Fodor frequently corresponded during the 1940s and 1950s.

Picture from Ken Cuthbertson. 1992.
 Inside: The Biography of John Gunther

Then I stumbled on an essay about Fulbright and Vienna by Walter Grünzweig, University of Dortmund, in a publication Fulbright at Fifty: Austrian-American Education Exchange, 1950-2000. In it, he recounts Fulbright visit to Vienna and his relationship with Fodor. He argues "the Vienna experience was formative for the later foreign policy specialist and the creator of the most important venue of international exchange the world has known." His arguments for this assertion can be found on pages 4 to 13 in this document:
http://www.fulbright.at/fileadmin/user_upload/news/festschrift.pdf .

Finding Out More About Fodor's Years in Vienna

Reading Fulbright's biographies and the Grünzweig paper, I began to wonder who this Fodor person was. On-line searches yielded some bibliographical information, but little about him and his life. Since Fodor's death in 1977, this once well-known journalist has faded from sight and his accomplishments are largely unremembered. For example, Fodor still does not have a Wikipedia entry.

Intrigued, I decided to do some research on M. W. Fodor to see what I could learn about him. And I have spent many hours during the past three years accumulating information about him, his life, and his times. First, to learn more about Fodor, I read his two main books, Plot and Counter-Plot in Central Europe (1938) [also published in a slightly revised version as South of Hitler] and The Revolution is On (1940).  Then I tracked down most of the magazine articles that he wrote for magazines such as Nation, Atlantic, and The New Republic. After that, I found dozens of his newspaper articles that he had written for the Washington Post in the years immediately following the end of WWII. I am still searching for some of the more elusive of his published articles. 

One of the first things I learned about Fodor is that he kept very interesting company and had some famous  friends. Two of them were particularly important in the first half of his life: Dorothy Thompson and John Gunther. Fodor was  a mentor to both Thompson, a journalistic dynamo, and Gunther, an exuberant, ambitious man, who clearly greatly admired Fodor. Both Thompson and Gunther were immensely successful journalists, and Fodor shows up prominently in their biographies. Also, Fodor and his wife are sympathetic characters in Gunther's roman à clef (about British and American reporters in Vienna in the first part of the 1930s). In the novel, Fodor is a journalist named "Sandor."

Another of Fodor's friends was William Shirer, who seems in his many books to be a self-absorbed man. Of course Shirer's fame came primarily from two books:  Berlin Diary, mostly about his reporting from Berlin in the '30s and the massive Rise and Fall of the Third Reich.  From his many autobiographical books, it is clear that he considered Fodor to be a friend, and he gives the best account of what was happening to Fodor and his family in Vienna in March 1938 just before the arrival of German troops in Vienna. However, Shirer was confusing when giving some details about Fodor. He wrote the Fodor was Jewish, but from all other accounts he was a practicing Quaker when in Vienna. Also, he refers to Fodor's wife as "the beautiful Slovak," but better sources say she was from Hungary.

This picture was on the back dust jacket of Fodor's book,
Plot and Counter-Plot in Central Europe

Other friends and acquaintances included Vincent (Jimmy) Sheean and G.E.R. Gedye, both fabulous writers who were colleagues at times of Fodor, but were not close to him. He appears briefly in one or more of their books. Also, Friedrich Scheu, an Austrian who wrote for a British paper in the 1930s and seemed to know Fodor fairly well.

In their books, these journalists provided more information about Fodor and his work and life in Vienna. In addition to them, Fodor appears briefly in the memoirs of at least a dozen other journalists or political figures who were in Vienna in the 1930s. Without exception, Fodor is presented as the man who knows the most about what is going on in Central Europe and the Balkans and is willing to share his information.

The Later Fodor Years:  The Fulbright Connection

While it is possible to get a good sense of Fodor and his life from about 1920 to 1940, information on the later years is sparser.  We know from the Thompson and Gunther biographies about what happened soon after his arrival in the United States and how he made a living while here. Also, we can find newspaper articles about him speaking in different cities throughout the country.  But, details are missing. For example, Fodor's entry in the Hungarians in America, 1963, says that he studied at Olivet College in Michigan in 1942 and that he received an "Hon. LL.B Sheffield, England." However, I found nothing that corroborates this information or provides details. The University of Sheffield law school, which I contacted, says it have no record of awarding such a degree to Fodor, so it may be from another college in the area.

Part of the problem is that Fodor's books and articles have very little autobiographical information, and little that he wrote after 1947 is easily obtained. After becoming editor of the Berlin edition of Die Neue Zeitung, he wrote -- I am sure -- editorials and other materials for the paper, but copies of the newspaper are in just a few archives in the U.S. and Germany.

Fortunately, some biographical material is available through his private correspondence with J. William Fulbright.  Sen. Fulbright was among the famous people Fodor knew, the two reconnected in 1940 when Fodor came to the University of Arkansas to give a public lecture. Fulbright was then president of the UA and introduced Fodor to the assembly.

Picture from Ken Cuthbertson. 1992.
 Inside: The Biography of John Gunther

Then, later in the 1940s, when Fodor had taken on a new job with the U.S. occupation forces in Germany, he began sending Fulbright information, insights, and views of events in Germany, Central Europe, the Soviet Union, and other world hot spots.  From 1948 to 1957, he sent 65 to 70 memos, plus about 100 letters (some with information, some with personal communications) to Fulbright.  It is clear that Fulbright valued these memos and letters -- he sent copies of many of them to colleagues and to the CIA -- and had high regard for Fodor.

The letters exchanged by Fulbright and Fodor, plus his memos, are in the J. William Fulbright Papers at the University of Arkansas Special Collections Library.  From the memos and letters, we can track where Fodor was living and what he was doing from 1948 to 1957.

Reading Fodor's memo and letters showed the vast extent and reach of his knowledge of world events, and the people making them.  Also it showed that by 1948, Fodor had become a staunch anti-communist crusader, something not wholly compatible with his liberal views and outlook in Vienna. The war and its aftermath changed people; for example, compare Shirer's Berlin Diary, written before the war, with his book, End of a Berlin Diary, published in 1947, which has a nasty, revenge-laden tone. Clearly, the war and its aftermath had affected Shirer, and it affected Fodor. 

Streetcar Advertising in Gienow-Hecht,
Transmission Impossible

Fodor's memos to Fulbright stopped in 1958 when Fodor and his wife, Martha, moved back to the United States, where he worked for the United States Information Agency (USIA) in Washington D.C.  Martha died shortly after their return, in January 1959.  Fulbright and Fodor exchanged a few letters after that about personal matters.


In 1961, President Kennedy appointed Edward R. Murrow, the famous journalist, to head the USIA. In Fall, 1953, Murrow had filmed a "See It Now" program in Berlin; during it, he interviewed Fodor, calling him "one of the greatest reporters I have ever known."

You can see Murrow's interview of Fodor, beginning at minute 29:40 of this 58 minute program, at this link:
http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=4041790n   (This is a fascinating video of Murrow's news program, with the great journalists of the early 1950s, such as Howard K. Smith, reporting from this besieged city.)

I read somewhere that Murrow appointed Fodor to an important USIA post, but have found no confirmation of that.  Fodor retired in 1964, and lived until 1977.

Finding A Part of Fodor

I do not claim to have gained great insight into M.W. Fodor, but have formed some impressions about him.  For example, I think that although Fodor lacked the flamboyance of Thompson, the ego of Shirer, the grand vision of Gunther, and the powerful prose of Sheean and Gedyes, he had one gift that made him their equal:  an amazing memory that helped him accumulate knowledge about his subjects that far surpassed the knowledge that others had.  

Also,while some of his famous journalist friends wrote from the heart, some to make money, and others because they were born reporters who had to tell their stories, it seems to me that Fodor wrote because he found out things, and made connections between them, and wanted people to know about them.

The good news for me when searching Fodor was that the subject of this research was, from all the accounts, a very likable man: Quiet, unassuming, a bit shy, generous, a good friend. Fodor was widely praised for his generosity and collegiality. And he led a most interesting life, meeting some of the leading political and diplomatic figures of his day.

The Biographical Sketch

Finally, after three years of accumulating a huge amount of material on Fodor, I have written a short biographical sketch of him. In writing it, the goal was to boil down the massive amount of information I have accumulated to the basic facts about his life, and to fill it in with a little of texture. The biographical sketch is much like a slightly long encyclopedia entry.

Much more could and should be written about Fodor's life, simply because it was so interesting and varied. Hopefully, the biographical sketch can be expanded over time to capture more details of his work as a correspondent in Vienna and as the editor of Die Neue Zeitung in Berlin.  

My research has many gaps. I found little about his ancestors, parents, and early life in Budapest. Many details are fuzzy: where exactly did he study engineering? Where did he work in England? What really happened in England during WWI? What was he doing from 1958 until his retirement in 1964?

At present, another researcher -- a graduate student in Budapest -- is starting research on Fodor, and perhaps she will be able to answer these and other questions.  No doubt that her work add much more information about Fodor's life and times, and will allow a more complete story to be told.. 

In the meanwhile, I have posted the biographical sketch on Scribd, and it can be accessed at this link:      

http://www.scribd.com/doc/65502558/Marcel-W-Fodor-Foreign-Correspondent

If you read the biographical sketch and find mistakes and omissions, please let me know. I intend to update it as I get more information. 

The Five Best Things about Birch Bay, Washington

Living in a small resort community in the extreme northwest of the U.S., I like to think about the good things that come with life here. After more than four years in the area, I have found the following are the five things (plus some bonuses) I like best about Birch Bay, Washington.  

Above-Average Sunset in Birch Bay

1.  Spectacular sunsets.  Birch Bay gets many different types of cloud formations, some with rain, others just blowing through for our enjoyment. At sunset, these ever-changing clouds over the Pacific Ocean create brilliantly original sky colors that reflect on the water to make unusual ocean hues.  Add a floating flock of ducks, gliding sea gulls, feeding herons, and boats, islands, and snow capped mountains in the distance, and the sunsets are often memorable.


2.  Birch Bay State Park.  The park stretches almost a mile along the ocean, and offers a great place to picnic or play. It has open space for Frisbee and football, a basketball court, and lots of picnic tables. It provides a great vantage point from which to view the unfolding sunsets. With the park, access to the ocean is always available.

Shoreline of Birch Bay State Park

3.  Wildlife on Terrell Creek.  Terrell is a small creek connected to the ocean. At one time, salmon migrated up the stream, and efforts are underway to restore it for salmon. It lies a few feet from my deck(s) and window(s), so I get a good view of all the action going on in and around it. The creek ebbs and flows with the ocean, attracting a wide variety of wildlife. Heron regularly come to spear little fish. Sometimes river otters swim in to catch fish and munch on them on the creek bank. All types of ducks float on the creek, efficiently diving for their prey.  A kingfisher is usually sitting on a telephone line that crosses the creek, waiting to drop life a rock to scoop up a small meal. Eagles and hawks regularly fly by. You know they are around when you hear the sea gulls screaming their heads off. In the spring and summer, the sweeps and bats are busy darting about, feeding on bugs in the evening.

River Otter in Terrell Creek (photo by Jim Kundell)

4. Fresh Berries. Birch Bay is a short drive from the overflowing berry fields near Lynden. In the later part of June, July, and early August, piles of fresh raspberries, blue berries, and straw berries are a short drive away -- either pick’em yourself or get berries that were picked and put in a box that day. In September, blackberry bushes are ubiquitous for free picking, if you can put up with the thorns.

5.  Lots of other things. I have to cheat and have more than one fifth favorite thing about Birch Bay. These rank about the same:

The C Shop (Great neighbors; the best chocolate and bread.)

Clean Air/Cool Summers (After living most of my life in the south, my sweat glands were pumped up; they have now atrophied after a few years here. The temperature very rarely reaches 80, and when it does, the ocean breeze makes it tolerable. The oxygen-rich air from the ocean is energizing.)

Ice Cream at the C Shop, a Birch Bay Hub

July 4th Celebration (Crazy anarchy rules the day; uncoordinated mayhem in the skies over the Bay)

Moderate Politics (If I had a choice, I would to be surrounded by people who think as I do -- sort of like living in San Francisco. The second best option is to have competitive politics in which the winner is often the person closest to the reasonable middle.)

Squirting Clams  (When the tide is way out, you can walk out several hundred yards on the tide lands and find the squirting clams. They can be identified by the holes in the sand, often with the ends of their small "tubes" they send up to … I don’t know, breath or eat or something. If you stick your toe in the hole,  touch the “tube” with a stick, or stomp hard by the hole, the clam usually will squirt out some water. The best ones with have a mighty squirt, with water falling on your head, or at least, on a leg.  A competitive sport with a kid is to go out and see who can get the other person the wettest from clam squirts.)

Waiting for the Fireworks on July 4th

Spectacular Mountains  (Glance beyond the bay and, on a clear day, you will see snow covered mountains. To the north are the Canadian Cascades that surround Vancouver; to the west is Mt. Baker, the second highest peak in Washington and a slumbering volcano. You can drive to the small city of Glacier, just before the vertical drive up to the National Park, in about 45 minutes. In 90 minutes you can be in the snow, even in August.)

Birch Bay with Canadian Cascades in the Background

I have a shorter list of things that I dislike about Birch Bay (hint: frequent rainy and overcast days is among them), but I will save that for later.  When the sun is shining here and we are, at last, enjoying summer, it does not seem right to gripe about anything.

Pauline Davis Steele, Fayetteville (Arkansas) Educator and Evangelist

Pauline Steele, or Mrs. Steele as we knew her, was my favorite teacher at Jefferson elementary school, barely edging out Mr. Trahin (third grade). Among the reasons I thought she was a great teacher: she appointed me to be the projectionist for her fifth grade class, and I gained great vocational experience threading the movie projector with the endlessly fascinating films that we watched to augment our education. Who can forget such epics as "Amazing life of a proton", "Appreciating your parents," and "The solar system."

Mrs. Steele in 1961 with Skip Carney

Beyond her excellent judgement in selecting students for key positions in her class, Mrs. Steele was a generous grader. My report card shows that I got E for every subject in her class for the entire year. And not only was she obviously a brilliant grader, she was a truly nice person. I liked her so much that I stayed after class several times a week to help her clean the blackboards and beat the chalk out of the erasers.  The year with Mrs. Steele was very pleasant. She was a very good teacher who took a deep interest in her students.

A couple of years after my cohort graduated from Jefferson elementary and moved on to junior high school, Mrs. Steele also departed, becoming the counselor at Woodland Junior High School.

Aside from some chance encounters with her while I was in junior high school, I do not recall ever seeing or talking to her after I left Jefferson. However, I did run across a small book she wrote that was published locally in the late 1970s, titled "Hill Country Sayings and Ozark Folklore."

1962 Woodland Roundup; Mrs. Steele as Indian

Thinking back about Mrs. Steele, I thought I would rummage around the internet to see what I could find out about her.  I did not find much, but what I did find rounded out my memory of her a bit.  Here it is.

Pauline Davis was born on July 5, 1908, the daughter of L.V. and Eliza Davis. She grew up in a big family in West Fork. The 1920 census shows that she was living there with her parents and four siblings (Lafayette C[laude], age 27; Floyd V., 21; Gregg M., 18; and Paul C., 15).  According to the 1930 census, she living in Kansas City, Missouri.

I remember thinking that Mrs. Steele had some Indian, or Native American, background. Apparently others also thought so, and may have some evidence (see picture from 1962 Woodland Roundup). However, I found nothing indicating that she had such a background.

Pauline Davis became Mrs. Pauline Steele when she married a man named Cooper Steele on July 17, 1935. I could find no record of what became of him.

Mrs. Steele worked for a while in the 1930s as a local telephone operate in Fayetteville, and she attended the University of Arkansas in the later years of the 1930s, earning her teaching certificate.

She was a teacher in the Fayetteville school system for decades.  A newspaper article in the Northwest Arkansas Times on August 23, 1947, lists her as a teacher at Jefferson Elementary school.  I think she taught there until 1959 or 1960, when she moved to Woodland to become a counselor.  According to the Northwest Arkansas Times, she was elected president of the Fayetteville Faculty Club in 1962. (I think the Fayetteville Faculty Club was an organization whose members were teachers in the Fayetteville school system.)

Northwest Arkansas Times, Dec 11, 1964

Mrs. Steele had an interesting life outside of teaching. In 1952, an article in the Northwest Arkansas Times mentioned that she was an Assembly of God minister in West Fork (July 22, 1952). In 1961, the paper noted that she was co-minister (with Mary Ruth Branham) of the Northside Assembly of God Church (June 20, 1961). In 1964, the NWAT reported that she had became an evangelist (Oct 24, 1964, p. 8)

According to a memorial web page for Mary Ruth Branham, Mrs. Steele and Mrs. Branham from 1964 to 1976 "crisscrossed the country from Virginia to California as evangelists." 
http://www.nelsonberna.com/sitemaker/sites/Nelson2/obit.cgi?user=1128_MBranham1086

She continued her work as an evangelist and minister until her death on September 29, 1979. According to her obituary, she was at the time minister of the Evangel Assembly of God Church in Springdale.

She is buried at the Baptist Ford Cemetary, south of Greenland, north of West Fork, on old Hwy 71.