Chapter VIII of the P. and G. Klopp Story – Part IV

April 12, 2015 / Peter Klopp / Leave a comment

Great Acting, a Chocolate Stand and a Scary Tale

Each year the school organized a concert for the parents and the general public. We students would sing in a choir, recite poetry, and put on plays. In this annual event we had an opportunity to showcase our artistic achievements. As to the drama performance this year, Frau Schroff was especially ambitious. She selected a medieval play, the farcical comedy: The Wandering Scholar from Paradise. The author Hans Sachs gained international fame as the central figure of Richard Wagner’s opera: Die Meisteresinger von Nürnberg. Sachs was a Meistersinger or mastersinger, who plied his trade as a shoemaker in the city of Nurnberg. He was also a creative narrator in the local guild of poets and musicians. ‘The Wandering Scholar from Paradise’ is about a farmer’s gullible wife, who falls victim to a traveling student’s claim that he had seen her beloved first husband in paradise. Frau Schroff decided that I would be the best candidate to play the role of the wandering student. And I did not disappoint her. As it turned out this challenging comedy was such a success on our modest school stage that we three actors received a standing ovation. Needless to say our teacher was beaming with pride over our success. At the end of the concert, she took me aside to tell me that I had earned with my spectacular performance the price of a new ruler. She also promised not to write that ominous letter to my parents. So I did not only bask in the glory of a wonderful performance that evening, but I also felt a great relief from the anxiety caused by my recklessness in the classroom.

Hans Sachs, Author of ‘Travelers from Paradise’ – Image Credit: Wikipedia

It is one thing to do something creative because it is a school function, such as organized and directed by a competent teacher. It is quite another when young children prompted by their own inspiration start an activity strictly for their own enjoyment. This is exactly what happened in a group of seven boys, which we called ‘The Rohrdorf Village Musicians’. Once or twice a week, when the weather was fine and the grass was dry, we would get together on a sunny hillside between the Upper and Lower Village at least two km away from the nearest farmhouse, where nobody could disturb us during band practice. Our immensely talented bandleader was Klaus. His personality radiated confidence and enthusiasm. I remember the energetic movements of his arms, hands and fingers controlling our musical endeavors with the élan worthy of a professional conductor. But what was there to conduct, since we had hardly any musical instruments? There were only two, one was a tin bucket placed upside down, which served in combination with two wooden spoons as the drum section. The other was slightly more complicated and consisted of a large comb with widely spaced teeth and a sheet of wax paper loosely wrapped around it. The musician had to hum and barely touch the wax paper with his lips to create a rasping musical note. Today one can buy a metallic kazoo for as little as two dollars. The boys without instruments would add variety to the sonorous qualities of the kazoo and the tinny clang of the drum by whistling and humming. My friend Günther even managed to complement the drum by clicking his tongue. I for my part added tonal depth to the ensemble by creating a flute-like sound. To do this I clasped both hands, interlocked my fingers and thus created a hollow between my palms. All I had to do was to blow at a certain angle between the thumbs changing the pitch by expanding or contracting the cavity. With each band session our repertoire of the most common German folksongs grew until we were able to play for half an hour without repeating any of the tunes. Even though we never played for others, it was a most enjoyable experience, a definite highlight of my childhood years.

Continue reading →

Chapter VIII of the P. and G. Klopp Story – Part III

April 11, 2015April 11, 2015 / Peter Klopp / 1 Comment

Sledding Accident and Trouble in School

After the first heavy snowfall the boys and girls of the Lower Village took out their sleds to celebrate the beginning of winter on our long and steep hill. The Davos sled named after a Swiss village, where this most popular sled in the world originates, is traditionally fashioned from hardwood and is 80 to 130 cm long accommodating up to three persons in an upright position. Two metal runners in this otherwise all-wood construction ensure a smooth and stable ride. The Klopp children had only one long sled. So we took turns to take on the 1 km run down the street that had next to no traffic in the winter. Gerhard would lie down on the slatted seat and I would sit on top. Safety helmets were unknown in those days. The speed increased with each run, as the snow was packed down and turned into a icy surface. Exhilarating was the experience, when I felt the fresh air in my face and the sensation of being part of the fun in the community of children young and old. Soon someone came up with the idea to form a human train by hitching the sleds together. One simply had to hook the feet into the upward-curved front of the next sled. Up to half a dozen sleds connected this way and expanded into a super long snake-like figure. The pilot alone in the front had to make sure that the trip down the hill would be safe and would not result in broken bones. Often I was allowed to sit on the back of the front man. Being the only one sitting erect, I felt like an admiral in charge of an entire fleet. When I think of having so much fun together with friends and family, very fond memories still linger in the crevices of my mind after all these years.

House across from the Ös Farm 2003 – Photo Credit: Stefan Klopp

When I was a little older, perhaps 10 or 11, I was allowed to use the family sled to go sledding with my friends on a nearby hill. Cattle would be grazing there in spring, summer and fall. It was completely fenced in except for a gate just wide enough to allow a hay wagon to pass through. When cows were on the pasture, the farmer simply closed the gate by sliding two poles through the horseshoes that were hammered into both end posts of the fence.

The frost in the night before had turned the snow into a crusty surface strong enough that we could with some care walk on it without breaking through. As we were climbing up to the top, an idea suddenly occurred to me,

“Hey, guys, how about making a single pair of tracks with our sleds on the first run. Then we don’t have to plow through deep snow on the following runs and we will go faster, faster, and FASTER.”

“Plus”, I added, “guess what? We don’t have to steer anymore. We will be zipping down the track like a speeding freight train!”

The plan found instant approval with loud cheers. In less than three trial runs we created the double track. And indeed, as I had predicted, our speed increased, because with each trip down the hill the sleds’ runners packed down the snow more and more into a hard and slippery surface. It was about the tenth time that I had climbed to the starting point.

As before I shouted, “Clear the gate opening! I’m coming”, and in one jump I landed belly-down on the slatted seat.

Now I zipped down the track reaching top speed about half way down the hillside. Looking up for the first I noticed that my friends had ignored my warning and were still blocking the gate. Even if they moved out of the way now, it would be too late. Fear of crashing into them gripped and paralyzed me. I was less than twenty meters away. I could have rolled off the sled and let it continue to speed toward the human target, but I didn’t. The collision seemed inevitable within just a few more seconds. Suddenly another force took control over my mind, a force that ignores all danger to oneself and only cares about the welfare of one’s fellow human beings.

My left foot dug deep into the snow. It exerted enough force to make the sled jump out the tracks and veer to the left and away from where my buddies were still idly standing. But now I had to think of myself, as the barbed wire fence and its posts appeared to rush toward me. In a desperate attempt to reduce speed I used both feet now and pushed my boots as far down into the icy crust as possible. I slowed down a bit. But it was too late. The post, worse the iron horseshoe on the post, was less than a meter away. An automatic reflex made me raise my right hand and cover my forehead, before everything around me submerged into complete darkness. When I came to, only a few of my friends were standing around me. Some had run home to get help, but others had left the gory scene of the accident, because they had never seen so much blood before. I was bleeding profusely. Eventually I was able to get up. Completely dazed I took my sled and stumbled home with injuries to the hand and forehead, which the visiting doctor later determined as a severe concussion. The scar under my right index finger reminds me to this day how my hand covering my forehead had softened the potentially fatal impact.

Continue reading →

Günther Kegler, Chief of the Kegler-Clan (Part IV)

April 10, 2015 / Peter Klopp / 1 Comment

Günther Kegler Struggling Through the Postwar Era

From June 1946 to April 1975

Charts II a & b – II

In June 1946 former Lieutenant-Colonel Günther Kegler had the humiliating experience of two long years of unemployment, which in all likelihood was forced upon him by the new Soviet rulers of East Germany. On rare occasions he was able to hire himself out privately as a common laborer or as a helper in all kinds of pest control in and around Erfurt. During this time, as reported in Chapter 6 in the P. and G. Klopp Story, his nephews Karl and Adolf and later his niece Eka (Lavana) quite unexpectedly arrived at his doorstep. The Klopp children had no idea of the whereabouts of their parents. It was a miracle that the entire Ernst Klopp family was reunited in 1948 in the small village Rohrdorf in Southern Germany.

Erfurt Cathedral and Severi Church – Photo Credit: Wikipedia.org

Finally in March 1947 Günther Kegler found employment at his son-in-law’s beverage plant in Erfurt and in 1950 within the same company became its bookkeeper. Thus, he could make use of his skills in accounting, which he had practiced between the two World Wars. On April 28, 1955 he fled with his wife Lucie to West Germany leaving behind all his furniture and other bulky belongings. Fortunately, he found immediate employment at the newly established beverage company that was owned by his son-in-law A. Lotz, who also had fled from East Germany. In 1956 his status as a refugee from the GDR was officially recognized. In the same year he was able to retire with a pension that at last provided a comfortable standard of living for the rest of his life.

The Rental House in Watzenborn-Steinberg (now Pohlheim)

However, his plan was not to live out the remaining years in meaningless idleness. On the contrary, he helped many people with advice on legal issues, accounting problems, and above all he gave assistance in their struggle with the notoriously slow bureaucracy of the West German government offices. In 1962 he invited his sisters Marie and Erika to join him and share a beautiful rental house in Pohlheim (former Watzenborn-Steinberg). That’s where his wife Lucie after a lengthy illness passed away in 1968. My uncle spent the next decade with his second wife Elfriede in their seniors’ apartment in Kassel-Wilhelmshöhe. I will write about Elfriede in another post.

New Year’s Eve Party 1963 – Helga Kegler, Uncle Günther, and Eka (Lavana)

I remember Uncle Günther as a dear friend, who was also a fun loving individual. He enjoyed a good beer and passionately played the German card game ‘Doppelkopf’. In our correspondence we exchanged all kinds of humorous tales, while I was a soldier in the West German Armed Forces. He held the family together in a spirit of giving and outstanding hospitality. He truly deserved the prestigious title ‘Chief of the Kegler-Clan. Long after I emigrated to Canada, he sent me in keeping with his admirable Prussian sense of duty documents, which he had carefully arranged by date and importance. With the help of these papers I was able to draw some forty years later a small pension for my military service in Germany. Every month I buy two cases of beer with that money. And when I drink the refreshing brew, I often think of my dear old uncle in Germany.

Like-Minded People of Applegrove Road – Part I

April 9, 2015 / Peter Klopp / 1 Comment

LIKE-MINDED PEOPLE

A BRIEF HISTORY OF APPLEGROVE ROAD

By late Bill Laux

Applegrove Road takes its name from an early real estate development at the mouth of Taite Creek. Sometime before 1912, real estate promoters, probably from Edmonton, bought lot 6904 and had that thin slice of lakefront north and south of Taite Creek cleared and apple trees planted on it. One street, Edmonton Avenue, was laid out running north and south and crossing Taite Creek on a bridge. Lots on the lake shore side of the street were one acre in size. On the other side larger lots were available.

Start of Applegrove Road

A trail was slashed through from the development to Fauquier. This was not intended to be a road but rather a trail down which Fauquier farmers could bring their teams to clear and log the company’s land. This trail established the route now followed by Applegrove Road.

Continue reading →

The Klopp Grandparents VII

April 8, 2015April 8, 2015 / Peter Klopp / Leave a comment

The Meddling of a Troublesome Mother-in-law

Chart I – I & II

Adapted from Eberhard Klopp’s Family Chronicle

When Emma’s eldest son Friedrich married Auguste Weihe of Zielitz, he could not foresee how much trouble the new connection would bring to the entire Klopp family. The cause was not so much his young wife, whom he loved dearly, but rather his mother-in-law Luise Weihe, who had her own ideas about the way the couple should conduct their life and business. She insisted that her daughter should share with no one her new nest in Wolmirstedt. She was not exactly excited over Auguste’s choice of her son-in-law. So her daughter should at least be spared from Friedrich’s siblings and relatives. She viciously described them as the ‘vagabond and fugitive children of Cain’ with reference to the Bible verse in Genesis 4, 14.

Behold, thou hast driven me out this day from the face of the earth; and from thy face shall I be hid; and I shall be a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth; and it shall come to pass, that every one that findeth me shall slay me. King James Bible

With this remark Luise Weihe not only poisoned the climate of the newly established household, but also brought on the estrangement of Emma and her younger children with the family of her eldest son.

Emma’s grandfather Johann Christian Bauer (1792-183) was of Jewish ancestry. It would go beyond the set limits of this blog to report in detail the colorful and eventful life of Johann Bauer. However, it is important to note here that his parents had already converted to the Christian faith and that their 14-year old son had been confirmed in Sudenburg-St. Ambrosius and also got married as a protestant groom on October 29, 1843 in the same place.

At the turn of the 20th century antisemitism was already a malignant phenomenon and spread like an epidemic throughout Germany. So far Friedrich’s mother-in-law had only hinted at her antisemitic sentiments against the Klopp family. But now she went too far with her unconcealed, racially driven diatribes, which she shamelessly showered on Emma and the rest of the ‘children of Cain’. The result was that even the young wife, her very own daughter, could not take it any more. She was by nature and temperament a resolute and energetic woman. In the end she too distanced herself from all connections to her parental home in Zielitz.

Her father Friedrich Weihe (1854-1944) suffered a great deal from his wife’s convoluted thoughts and attacks against the Klopp clan. But he was unable or unwilling to do anything about it except to contemptuously break wind on each step of the staircase he climbed to withdraw himself from the incessant and repetitive tirades in the living room below. This was in a sense his running commentary on his wife’s annoying and irksome prattle, which seemed to have no end.

To be continued …