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By William Kent Brunette
All of my life I’ve heard stories about the German settlers in New Baden, Texas – how they picked up their belongings, kissed their loved ones goodbye, and left Germany in the hope of finding better lives in the United States. After they settled in Robertson County, much of their German heritage remained.
My grandmother, Emma Dieckmann Sauer Brunette, taught me how to count to ten in German. My sister and I marveled at her Old World Christmas trees. Cookies, candy, popcorn and cranberry strings hung from the branches alongside old ornaments. Real candles placed in little holders affixed to the branches illuminated the tree. The four-poster mahogany bed, massive chifforobe, regulator clock, and other pieces of furniture in her house had all come over on the boat from Germany. Whatever the occasion, there was always food galore at neighboring Aunt Elsie Hanhart’s house.
The route taken by my great grandparents, Jakob Dieckmann and Marrie Catharina Luedemann Dieckmann, was typical of how many of the early settlers got to New Baden. Both Jakob and Marrie were from the small farming village of Heisterende. It’s in the Schleswig-Holstein region of Germany, a little northwest of Hamburg toward the Denmark border. Most of their ancestors had lived within a 20-mile radius of Heisterende since the mid-1660s. But, 30-year old Jakob, his 26-year old wife Marrie, their 6-month old daughter Annie, and Marrie’s 20-year old sister Auguste, boarded the Hamburg-America line steamer Rhaetia in Hamburg on November 26th, 1884. Seventeen grueling days later, on December 13th, they arrived in New York. After being processed through Castle Garden (the immigration depot in New York before Ellis Island opened), they boarded a train for Texas.
On November 26th, 1998 – 114 years later – Bill Brunette (my 78-year old dad) and I cruised the waters of Hamburg’s harbor as a way of paying homage to our pioneering ancestors. Before arriving in Hamburg, we spent a couple of days in Baden-Baden to see what New Baden’s namesake is like today. Baden-Baden is a spa resort that’s internationally known for its therapeutic mineral waters. Mark Twain once wrote that he’d left his rheumatism in Baden-Baden after taking the waters.
On a trip like this, you can’t help but dream of being able to visit a quaint, picturesque, little village that’s been untouched by time. This hope for Heisterende all but vanished with the discovery that some of our roots have been paved over. An Autobahn runs through it! When Germany upgraded its highway system in the 1970s, a state-of-the-art, high-speed thoroughfare was built right through Heisterende. Imagine a multi-lane superhighway cutting New Baden in half! Though much of the original ambiance of the area remains, it’s hard not to the notice the cars zooming past at 100+ miles per hour.
An even bigger surprise was yet to come. Heinz Harbeck, an archivist at the Lutheran Church in Elmshorn, Germany (a town near Heisterende), had been searching through old church records and was routinely sending me stacks of ancestral materials. When he learned of our trip to Heisterende, Heinz insisted on serving as our host, meeting us at the train station, showing us around, and walking what’s left of the land our ancestors once farmed.
As plans for the trip progressed, I voiced an interest in learning what life in Heisterende had been like during World War II. Dad is a World War II veteran who was stationed at a U.S. Air Force base in Mendlesham, England. We’d always wondered how our German relatives and their area of the country fared during the war.
As it turns out, Heinz is a 72-year old retired primary school principal. He’s also a World War II veteran – who fought for Germany during the war! In fact, Heinz lost one of his legs during the war and walks with a cane.
On a cold and icy winter day, Heinz, his wife Irmgard, Dad, and I jumped into a Mercedes taxicab driven by a kid who looked like he had a snow day off from school. Slipping and sliding at every turn, we spent the day touring the area our ancestors farmed, drove down the streets where they lived, and looked at the cemeteries where they are buried. At the end of the day, we enjoyed some hearty German food in front of a roaring fireplace at a local restaurant with our new-found German friends.
In spite of a huge language barrier (they spoke very little English and we spoke even less German), we thoroughly enjoyed the day we spent in search of our German roots.
Auf Wiedersehen!