Winnetou II

________________________________________________

This free e-book is a sampler and

contains part of the first chapter from the
bestseller Winnetou II, written in 1893 by
Karl May, translated into English by
Marlies Bugmann in 2006. To purchase the
book, please visit:
http://www.karl-may-friends.net

Cover image
Old Firehands Fortress: Marlies Bugmann
Cover photography: David Irwin
Edited to Australian English standard:
Magaer Lennox
Australian Friends of Karl May;
English Karl May books:
http://www.karl-may-friends.net
All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the
reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in
any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now
known or hereafter invented, is prohibited without the
written permission of the author/translator.
Publishing Date: March, 2006
Copyright 2006 Marlies Bugmann

Winnetou II

Translated by
Marlies Bugmann
From volume 2 of the famous Winnetou Trilogy
Published first in 1893
by Karl May (1842-1912)
A story of the Wild West
________________________________________________
Marlies Bugmann
2006

Contents
Acknowledgments
Foreword by Translator
Chapter 1. Private Investigator
Chapter 2. Ku Klux Klan
Chapter 3. Across the Border
Chapter 4. Through the Mapimi
Chapter 5. Old Firehand
Chapter 6. In the Fortress
Chapter 7. The Pedlar
Translators biography
More Karl May translations
Other Books

[vii]

Acknowledgments
________________________________________________
Thank you to my husband, David, for volunteering his
time to read my translations and being my sounding board;
and for listening to my philosophies about Karl May, and
Karl Mays philosophies.
Thankyou to Karl May for giving us Winnetou, Old
Shatterhand and friends.

[viii]

[ix]

Translators Foreword
________________________________________________
In 1893 the Winnetou trilogy appeared for the first time.
In contrast to other book series, for which the greatest part
was based on complete stories previously published in sequel
form, May had only a limited volume of existing text to
utilise for this trilogy. He, therefore, combined several
unrelated tales and rewrote the framework, or the plot. May
skilfully re-crafted those individual adventures to fit the
storyline. In the second volume, Winnetou II, the following
existing stories were utilised: Der Scout (1888/89) forms
chapter one through to four of Winnetou II; chapters five and
six are based on the story Im fernen Westen that appeared as
a complete story in 1879 in a book publication, which in
itself represented a reworked version of Old Firehand, one of
the earliest creations of the author in 1875. May wrote
chapter seven as a new text whereby he created an immediate
connection to the trilogy plot with the renewed appearance of
the murderer Santer.
By reusing stories older than the newly written first
volume of the trilogy, marked differences within the main
players are apparent, which can at times feel odd, but are
most noticeable when Sam Hawkens makes another
appearance towards the end. Nevertheless, Winnetou II is an

[x]

historically important work, as it demonstrates very

graphically the manner in which Karl May worked and
reworked his materialespecially Der Scout and Old
Firehand are two of the most revealing short stories.
Winnetou II was modified after Karl Mays death in
1912. In the modified editions the original first encounter
between Old Shatterhand and Old Firehandpreceding the
planned railroad attack by the Indianshad been deleted and
replaced by a new version that includes a fierce night-time
duel in complete darkness between the frontiersmen, who
then meet each other the next day, face to face, and with
obvious surprise in Fort Niobrara under Colonel Merrils
command. The new Niobrara version of Shatterhand and
Firehands first meeting is a cuckoos egg, it was not written
by Karl May, but someone else much later (although it was
based upon a passage from the original Der Scout, a nighttime fight between Shatterhand and the Apache chief; the
same passage also contains the first version of Old
Shatterhands knife wound through his jaw, inflicted by
Winnetou, which is re-introduced by May in Winnetou I).
There is no Colonel Merril or Fort Niobrara in Karl Mays
original Winnetou II, and, as a consequence, the entire part
had to be reworked to extinguish all reference to a railroad
attack.
For problematic and obvious flaws in text construction,
such as the time required to cover great distances, and other
related issues that would severely interrupt a readers
pleasure, the translator chose to slightly adjust the Englishlanguage text to minimise the impact of the flaw, but at the
same time maintain the original authors intent of content.
Two examples are these passages: one begins almost before
midday, encompasses two long rides of several hours, and
ends shortly after midday. This faux pas is whats commonly
known as a Fluechtigkeitsfehlera slip in the German realm,
and not attributable to style; the other slip is where the scene
begins with a sharp trot at night for half an hour, then
another significant distance at a similar speed. Then, after the

[xi]

night scene at the train, a group of men walk back the same
distance on foot, through partially undulating, partially flat
prairie. If riders rode at a sharp trot for, say, 40 minutes, men
at night walking fast in that terrain would take around three
times as long to get back to where the sharp trot began
thats already a two-hour delayenough for the adversaries
to become suspicious. As Karl May states in this passage,
they needed to be back before the adversaries became
suspicious because of the trains delay; this scenario doesnt
quite work; as a seasoned horse rider, the translator is
sufficiently qualified to make this observation.
Chapter two, Ku Klux Klan, contains an introductory
explanation for the name of this organisation, and the
organisations purpose and activities, and represents the
understanding of the Klan and its activities at the time of
publication 2 Feb 1889. It has been translated as accurately
as possible, without observing the delineations of todays
cultural sensitivities. No reference to verify cucthe alleged
source for the first vowel of Ku Klux Klanor its meaning
has been found in any dictionary accessible to the translator;
the reader will just have to take Karl Mays word for it.
***
The author and translator wishes to advise that Mays
narrative is of historic value and the text has been translated
as published during Mays lifetime, and does not endorse or
confirm any of the views, terms, interpretations,
representations, opinions, cultural sentiments, religious
expressions, or conjectures of the original author, Karl May,
1842-1912, or those attributed to his fictional characters,
antagonists and protagonists alike, within the translations.
Where an inaccuracy of fact has been identified, slight
adjustments for ease of reading have been effected; but it
was not intended to alter, censor or enhance the work of Karl
May. Terms for ethnic groups commonly used by the culture
of his era were acceptable in those times and, where
appropriate, have been maintained within the narrative

[xii]

translations, because the use of contemporary, twenty-first

century politically correct, and racially or culturally sensitive
terms would seem out of place. We ask the reader not to
judge.
The spelling of some non-English words has been
treated as follows: the German sch has been replaced with
sh or ch or j where appropriate and according to
phonetic preference; the normal English equivalent letter has
been used instead of the occasional foreign language special
characters; for German umlaut the internationally accepted
alternatives of oe, ae, and ue have been applied. Some
German and Spanish expressions and words have been
incorporated into passages where appropriate and where
indicated that dialogue within the plot occurs in the German
or Spanish language. The names and descriptions of some
regions and natural features are fictitious but have not been
indicated as such. Measurements are expressed in metric
system terms, where measurements are expressed in imperial
terms within dialogue they have been maintained as such.
German syntax may at times be evident; Mays excessive use
of punctuation marks, especially the comma, semicolon and
exclamation mark, has been preserved as far as practicable.
Parentheses ( ) contain commentary by Karl May, square
brackets [ ] contain notes or references by the translator.
Marlies Bugmann.

Winnetou I

[1]

1
Private Investigator
________________________________________________
As soon as the first volume of Winnetou was published, I
received from my readers countless questions about the
further course of events. Things turned out quite differently
than I had expected back then.
After a gruelling ride we arrived at the mouth of the Rio
Rojo de Natchitoches, where we anticipated to find an
Apache, posted there by Winnetou to wait for us.
Unfortunately, this hope wasnt fulfilled. Of course we found
tracks made by people that had been there, but what sort! To
be precise, the bodies of the two traders who had given us
the information about the Kiowa village. They had been shot
dead, namely by Santer, as I later learned from Winnetou.
Santers canoe ride had been so fast that he had reached
the mouth of the river at the same time as the traders,
although they had left Tanguas tent camp much earlier.
Santer had been forced to forego Winnetous nuggets and
was therefore penniless; the traders wares must have looked
attractive to him, and to get his hands on the goods, he killed
the two unsuspecting men, most likely in an ambush. He then
took the mules and hurried away. This was what Winnetou
had read from the tracks he found upon his arrival on that
location.

[2]

Marlies Bugmann

The murderer didnt have an easy task, because leading

so many pack animals single-handedly over the savannah
was fraught with great difficulties. In addition, he was forced
to travel at great speed because he was aware of his pursuers.
Unfortunately, rain had set in that lasted for several days
and had wiped out all traces, so that Winnetou was no longer
able to follow a visible trail, but had to rely on his deductive
powers. It was most likely that Santer had visited the closest
settlement to turn his loot into cash, and so the Apache had
no choice but to ride to all settlements, one after the other.
He reconnected only after a series of unsuccessful days
with the lost trail at Gaters Trading Post. Santer had been
there, sold everything and purchased a good horse to go East
on what was then the Red River Road. Winnetou separated
from his Apache warriors, sent them back to their homes and
continued the pursuit on his own. He had enough gold
nuggets to live in the East for a lengthy period of time.
Because of these events he didnt leave behind any
directions for us near the Natchitoches, we didnt know
where he was, couldnt follow him and therefore turned
toward Arkansas to travel to St. Louis on the shortest land
route possible. I was extremely sorry not having been
reunited with my friend, but it wasnt in my power to change
this.
It was evening when, after a long trip, we arrived in St.
Louis. Of course I immediately looked in on my old Mr
Henry. When I entered his workshop, he was operating his
lathe by the light of a lamp and didnt hear me.
Good evening, Mr Henry! I greeted him as if it had
only been yesterday when I had seen him last. How is your
new carbine developing?
With these words I sat down on the corner of the bench,
just like I had always done in earlier times. He jumped up
from his stool with a start, stared at me blankly for an
extended moment, and then shouted for joy:
Youyouits you? You are back? The private
tutorthethe
surveyorthethe
bedevilled
Old
Shatterhand!

Winnetou I

[3]

Then he threw his arms around me, pulled me close and

bestowed my cheeks repeatedly either side with the loudest
kisses.
Old Shatterhand! How do you know this name? I asked
after the expression of his joy had abated somewhat.
How? You ask? Everybody is talking about you. Youve
become the very model of a man of the West. Mr White, the
surveyor of the neighbouring section was the first to bring
news; he had nothing but praise for you, I must say. But it
was Winnetou who topped it all.
Why?
Told me everything, he dideverything!
What? How? He was here?
Of course he wasof course!
When?
Three days ago. You had told him about me and that old
hunting rifle of mine, and so he couldnt really pass through
St. Louis without paying me a visit. He told me what sort of
frontiersman you had turned into. Buffalo bull, grizzly and
so on, and so forth! And youve even attained the
distinguished honour of being an Indian chief!
And so it continued for quite some time and not even my
attempts at interrupting him helped. I couldnt stop him. He
embraced me again and again and was delighted that it was
he who had been responsible for giving my life the direction
into the Wild West.
Winnetou had not lost sight of Santers trail again and
followed it hastily right into St. Louis, from where it pointed
toward New Orleans. This urgency had been the reason why
he had arrived in St. Louis much earlier than I. He left word
with Henry that I could follow him to New Orleans, should I
care to, and I had immediately decided to do this.
But first I had to attend to business matters. Early next
morning, together with Hawkens, Stone and Parker, I sat in
the very same office, behind the glass door, where I had been
examined without my suspecting anything. My old Henry
wasnt going to stay away and joined us. We did a lot of
talking, reporting and explaining and, as it turned out, it was

[4]

Marlies Bugmann

our section that had had the most remarkable and dangerous
experiences. But then I was the only surveyor to survive.
Sam tried hard to extract additional remuneration for me,
but he had no success; we received our money immediately
but not one dollar more, and I must honestly admit, that I
handed over the drawings and notes, that I had made and
kept from being destroyed under such arduous
circumstances, with a fair amount of irritation and
disappointment. The gentlemen had employed five
surveyors, paid only one and pocketed the wages of the other
four, although they received the results of the workor
better, the extra work I had done.
Sam launched into an angry speech but was only laughed
at for his pains and gently but firmly pushed out the door
together with Dick and Will. Of course I left with them,
while trying to remain unaffected by this demonstration of
greed. On the whole, the sum I had received was quite
significant, given my circumstances.
And so I wanted to follow Winnetou who had given Mr
Henry the address of a hotel in New Orleans. Out of
politeness, or perhaps affection, I asked Sam and his two
companions, whether they wanted to join me; but they had
intentions of getting a decent rest in St. Louis, and I couldnt
blame them for that. I purchased some underwear and other
necessities, and a new suit that I put on to travel South. I
handed the few items of personal property that I didnt want
to carry along, among them the heavy bear gun, to Henry for
safekeeping. And of course my chestnut mount was also left
behind; I had no use for it. We all were of the opinion that
my absence would only be of a very short duration.
But events soon turned this intention upside down.
America was in the throws of civil war. This had had no
great influence on my previous adventuresuntil now. By
chance, the Mississippi had just been reopened to shipping
after the famous Admiral Farragut had reclaimed it for the
northern states; despite this the journey of the steamer on
which I travelled, was extremely delayed through all sorts of
red tape, no doubt necessary, but when I finally arrived in
New Orleans and asked about Winnetou at the hotel, I was

Winnetou I

[5]

told that he had departed the previous day. He left behind the
advice that he was travelling to Vicksburg in pursuit of
Santer, but advised against following because the South had
become increasingly dangerous. He would attempt to let Mr
Henry know where he could be found.
Now what? I felt that I should return to my homeland and
visit family, help them out; I had the means for it. Return to
St. Louis and wait for Winnetou? No. There was no way of
knowing whether it would at all be possible for him to return
there. I enquired about the departure of the next ship. There
was one, a Yankee boat, the captain of which had decided to
utilise the present calm in this war situation and head for
Cuba, where I was to have opportunity to find passage to
Germany or at least New York. I decided for it and went on
board.
I should have deposited my cash with a bank in exchange
for a promissory note as a matter of caution; but what bank
in New Orleans could be trusted in those circumstances back
then! Besides, there was hardly time for it because I could
only book my passage immediately before the ship left; and
so I carried all my money in cash with me in a bag.
Then the hurricane surprised us. It was overcast, windy
weather, but we had a good trip, and nothing pointed toward
a dangerous storm in the evening. Just like all other
passengers who had taken the opportunity to leave New
Orleans, I went to sleep without the slightest worry. It must
have been after midnight when I was woken by the sudden
onslaught of howling and roaring of the storm and jumped
from my bunk. At that very moment the ship received such a
mighty jolt that I fell and the cabin that I shared with three
other passengers came crashing down on me with all its
contents. There was no thinking of money in such a moment.
My life could depend on a single moment, and in this utter
blackness and confusion it would have taken me a long time
to find my coat and wallet. I worked frantically to get out of
the debris and hurriedno tumbled out onto the deck,
because the ship rolled and lurched and stomped terribly.
I couldnt identify anything outside; it was pitch-black;
the hurricane threw me down immediately, and a wave

[6]

Marlies Bugmann

washed over me. I believed I heard voices, screaming, but

the howling of the storm was louder. Then there was a
succession of flashes that lit up the night for a few moments.
I saw the shoreline breakers and beyond those the land. The
ship was trapped between cliffs and rose and fell with the
surge of the swell. It was lost and could break apart at any
moment. The lifeboats were washed away. Where was I to
find rescue? Only by swimming! Another flash showed me
people desperately clinging to anything so as not to be
washed away. I, on the other hand, was of the opinion that
the only escape was to be found in exactly that sea.
Then a towering wave came crashing toward us,
recognisable despite the darkness by its phosphorescent
glow. It reached the ship; the vessel creaked and cracked so
that I was sure it was being demolished. I had held onto a
steel beam, but then I let go; dear Lord, help and save me! It
seemed as if the sea carried me away, high on its towering
crests; it tossed me around like a ball; hurled me back down
into its depths and then carried me back up. I didnt move a
muscle, because no amount of exertion would have helped,
but as soon as the waves rolled onto land, I had to work hard
not to be pulled back by the sea.
I had been at the mercy of the ocean for less than a
minute, but it seemed to me like hours. Then I was thrown
through the air by a mighty wave. It spat me out and threw
me into relatively calmer water between cliffs. Not to get
caught again! I pushed and heaved with all the strength I
could muster, pushed with arms and legs and swam like I had
never swum before. I had used the term relatively calmer
water, but still, the water surged and fell so that I was tossed
back and forth like a cork in a glass of water that was being
shaken violently. It was lucky that I had seen the stretch of
land before. I knew into which direction I had to swim, and
even though I only made slow progress in this terrible uproar
of the elements, I finally reached the coast, but not in the
way I had wished for. The sea was dark and so was the land;
in this darkness I couldnt discern one from the other and
therefore couldnt choose a convenient spot to land and
crashed against a rock with my head as if someone had given

Winnetou I

[7]

me a knock with an axe. I still had enough presence of mind

to quickly latch onto this rock, and lift myself up onto it.
The hurricane hadnt passed yet. My head hurt, but I
disregarded it. The fact that I didnt know where I was
concerned me more. Was I lying on solid land or on a
protruding reef? I couldnt move from the spot. It was flat
and slippery and I had trouble hanging on because the storm
was strong enough to wipe me away. But after a while I
noticed that it abated, and then, as it often happened with
such storms, it didnt take long and the hurricane disappeared
as quickly as it had appeared. So did the rain, and the stars
appeared in the night sky.
Their faint glow enabled me to orientate myself. I was on
the coast. Behind me the surf raged; before me I saw a few
trees. I managed to get up and walked toward them; they had
withstood the storm; but others had been ripped out of the
ground and thrown, or had been dragged some distance.
Then I saw a few lights that moved; there had to be people,
and I hurried toward them.
They were near buildings that had sustained severe storm
damage; one had lost its entire roof. The people were
astounded to see me! They stared at me as if they had seen a
ghost. The sea still roared so that we had to shout to hear one
another. They were fishermen. The storm had driven our ship
against the Tortugas, specifically toward the island on which
Fort Jefferson was situated.
Detained therein were confederate prisoners of war.
The fishermen took care of me in the most caring manner
and fitted me out with fresh underwear and the most
necessary items of clothing, because I was only dressed in
what one would usually wear going to bed at sea. Then they
raised the alarm, because it was essential that the coast was
searched for other survivors. By morning, sixteen more
people were found. Three were resuscitated successfully; the
others were dead. When day broke, I saw the shore littered
with flotsam; the ship had broken apart; the front half sat on
the reef onto which the hurricane had driven her.
This meant I was a castaway, and that in the truest sense
of the word, because I had nothing, absolutely nothing; the

[8]

Marlies Bugmann

money that was going to spread so much cheer lay on the

bottom of the sea. Of course I bemoaned its loss, but not
without comforting myself; I had been rescued, and three
others with me, that was certainly great luck!
The commander of the fort took us in; we received what
we needed and for me he organised the opportunity to get to
New York by ship. When I got there, I was poorer than when
I had first arrived. I possessed nothing except the courage to
start again.
Why did I choose to go to New York and not to St. Louis
where I had acquaintances and could have been assured of
old Henrys assistance? Because I already owed him a great
deal and didnt want to add to this debt. If only I could have
been certain to meet Winnetou there! But this was by no
means the case. His chase after Santer could go on for
months, or longer, where was he to be found? I had decided
to meet up with him as soon as possible; but I had to travel to
the West, to the pueblo on the Rio Pecos, and to do this, I
had to recover and get myself back onto my own two feet.
Due to my circumstances at the time, this was best achieved,
I was convinced, in New York.
This assumption didnt disappoint me; I was lucky. I
made the acquaintance of the very respectable Mr Josh
Taylor, leader of a famous private investigators corps back
then, and asked to be taken on. When he learned who I was
and what I had been doing in recent times, he declared that
he would give me a try, although I was German. He didnt
think Germans to be very useful in this line of work. But I
succeeded in gaining his trust with the successful completion
of cases he allocated me, although some of them largely
thanks to luck rather than my wit. Gradually this trust
increased so that he finally afforded me his favour and
goodwill and allocated cases to me exclusively that promised
guaranteed success and a generous remuneration.
One day Taylor called me into his chambers to meet an
elderly, anxious-looking gentleman. He was introduced to
me as banker Ohlert who wished to avail himself of our
assistance in a private matter that was as dangerous for his
business as it was personally distressing to him.

Winnetou I

[9]

Ohlert was of German descent, had an only child, a son

by the name of William, twenty-five years old and
unmarried. The son had equal standing in the business next
to his father, but instead of ledgers, he occupied himself with
books of metaphysical content, and daydreamed about
scientific and belletristic topics. He not only thought himself
to be an important scholar, but a poet extraordinaire. This
conviction was only enforced by the acceptance of some of
his poems into a German newspaper in New York. Somehow
he had got the idea in his head to write a tragedy in which his
hero was to be a maniac poet. To successfully pull it off, he
had undertaken to study insanity and obtained a number of
relevant writings. The terrible outcome of it was that he had
begun to identify with the maniac poet and finally believed
to be insane himself. A short time ago, his father had made
the acquaintance of a doctor who allegedly intended to
establish a private clinic for the insane. The man had
purported to have been the long-term assistant of famous
psychiatrists and had managed to gain the bankers trust to
such an extent that Ohlert had asked him to meet his son to
ascertain whether this would be of benefit to William.
From that day onward a deep friendship developed
between the so-called doctor and young Ohlert with the
unexpected result that both suddenlydisappeared. Only
then did the banker conduct research into the doctor and
learned that this man was one of the thousands of quacks
who dished out their unsavoury trickery in the United States,
undisturbed.
Taylor asked for the name of this alleged psychiatrist and
when the name Gibson and the corresponding address was
mentioned, it turned out that this person was an old
acquaintance whom I had had under surveillance in another
matter. I was even in the possession of a photograph of him.
It was filed away in the office and when I showed it to
Ohlert, he immediately identified the dubious friend and
doctor of his son.
This Gibson was a swindler in the first degree and had
for a long time roamed around the States and Mexico in
many different guises. Yesterday the banker had paid the

[10]

Marlies Bugmann

mans landlord a visit and learned that he had cleared his

debts and had then departed, but where to he couldnt say.
The son of the banker had taken a substantial sum in cash
with him, and today the telegraphic news arrived from an
associated banking house in Cincinnati that William had
withdrawn five thousand dollars and then continued on his
travels to Louisville to pick up his bride. The latter was a
blatant lie, of course.
All indications pointed toward the assumption that the
doctor had abducted his patient to avail himself of large sums
of money. William was personally known to the most
outstanding money-men in the world of high finance and was
able to obtain whatever he desired. Therefore it was of
utmost urgency to apprehend Gibson and his victim and
bring the ailing young man home. I was entrusted with the
execution of this task. I received all necessary powers and
authorisations, and a photograph of William Ohlert, and
before long steamed toward Cincinnati. Because Gibson
knew me, I took along a few items to disguise myself should
the situation ask for it.
I immediately visited the banker in question and learned
that, indeed, Gibson had accompanied William Ohlert. From
there, the road pointed to Louisville where I found out that
both had acquired tickets to St. Louis. Of course I followed,
but only found their trail after a long and exhaustive search.
My old Mr Henry was very helpful in my quest; I went to see
him as soon as Id arrived. It was a bit of a surprise for him
to see me in the role of a private investigator and took my
loss as a result of the shipwreck quite badly. When we
parted, he made me promise that I would quit my job upon
its successful completion and go West again. I was to trial
his new repetition gun; and he was also going to hold onto
the bear killer for me.
Ohlert and Gibson had travelled to New Orleans on a
Mississippi steamer and I followed them there. Ohlert senior
had given me a list of establishments with which he was in
contact. In Louisville and also in St. Louis I had met with the
relevant people and learned that William had indeed been
there and withdrawn money. The same repeated in New

Winnetou I

[11]

Orleans with two of Ohlerts business acquaintances; I

warned the others and asked them to send for me as soon as
he made contact.
That was all I could discover, and then I found myself in
the midst of a sea of people that flooded the streets of New
Orleans. Of course I had turned to the police and couldnt do
any more than wait and see what result the assistance of
these people would bring. So as not to be entirely idle I
drifted along with the throng, searching. Perhaps there would
be a lucky coincidence.
New Orleans had a decidedly southern character,
especially in its older parts. There were dirty, narrow streets
between houses with wooden arcades and balconies. That
was the territory to which certain life retreated that needed to
avoid the light of day. All manner of skin colour was
represented, from the sickly yellowish-white to the deepest
Negro black. Organ grinders, wandering singers and guitar
players produced their ear-piercing achievements. Men
shouted, women cried; a seaman pulled a cussing chinaman
by his long plat; amongst the cheering onlookers, two
Negroes were engaged in fisticuffs. Two baggage carriers
collided on one corner, immediately tossed their load and
hammered into each other with their fists. A third arrived,
tried to mediate between them and instead became the focus
of their jabs.
The many small suburbs that consisted of nice country
houses made a better impression. They were surrounded by
clean gardens in which roses, palms, oleander, pear, fig,
peach, orange, and lemon trees grew. Thats where the
inhabitants found the necessary peace and quiet after the
noisy hustle and bustle of the city.
The harbour was the busiest area. It bristled with ships
and vessels of all types and sizes. Huge stacks of wool bales
and barrels were apparent between which hundreds of
workers moved. One could have been forgiven for thinking
that this was one of the cotton markets of the East Indies.
And so I ambled through the city and kept my eyes
peeledin vain. It was noon and very hot. I found myself in
beautiful, broad Common Street, when the business plaque

[12]

Marlies Bugmann

of a German beer lounge caught my attention. A sip of

Pilsener would go down well in this heat. I entered.
The large number of patrons showed me how well this
beer had already been received back then. I only managed to
find a single empty chair after a lengthy survey of the
establishment, at the very far end in a corner. There was a
small table with only two chairs, one of them occupied by a
man whose appearance had obviously repelled anyone from
sitting down. I approached nonetheless and asked for
permission to drink my beer in his company.
An almost pitiful smile appeared on his face. He
scrutinised me condescendingly and asked:
Do you have money on you, mister?
Of course! I replied, curious about the question.
Then you can pay for the beer and also the seat you
wish to take?
I think so.
Well, then why do you ask my permission to sit down
next to me? I figger, youre a Dutchman, a greenhorn in
these parts of the world. The devil shall take anyone who
would dare to keep me from sitting down where I please! Sit
down already; put your feet where you want to put them and
box anyone who wants to prevent you from doing so behind
the ears!
I was impressed by the manners of this man. I blushed.
Strictly speaking, his words had been insulting for me, and I
had the vague feeling that I shouldnt take them lying down
without at least the attempt of a retort. And so I replied while
I took my seat:
Should you think me a German, then youre on the right
track, sir; but I wont permit the term Dutchman, else I
would be forced to prove to you that Im not a greenhorn.
One can be polite and a clever old fox at the same time.
Pshaw! He remarked quietly. You just didnt look so
clever to me. Dont work yourself up; it wouldnt bring you
anything. I meant nothing by it and couldnt possibly think
how you would get restitution out of me. Old Death isnt a
man whos fazed by a mere threat.

Winnetou I

[13]

Old Death! Ah, this man was Old Death! I had heard
about this well-known, or better, famous frontiersman on
many occasions. His reputation had spread throughout the
campfires on the other side of the Mississippi, and had even
advanced into the cities of the East. Should only a tenth or
less of what had been told about him be based on truth, then
he was a trapper and scout deserving of the highest respect.
He had spent an entire lifetime roaming the West and despite
all the dangers had never sustained an injury. Thats why
those with superstitious tendencies believed he was bulletproof.
His real name was unknown. Old Death was his nom de
guerre; he had received this on account of his extraordinarily
thin appearance.
He was very tall and his stooped figure seemed really
only to consist of skin and bone. The leather pants flapped
emptily about his legs. The leather shirt had shrunk in time
so much that its sleeves only reached to about the middle of
his forearms where, just like on a skeleton, both the ulna and
radius were clearly discernible. The bones in his hands, too,
showed up just as clearly.
Out of the shirt collar poked a long dead-mans neck,
from which the Adams apple dangled in its small leathery
pouch. And the head! It didnt contain fifty grams of meat.
The eyes lay deep in their hollows, and there wasnt a single
hair on the skull.
The terribly sunken cheeks, the sharply defined
jawbones, the extremely protruding cheekbones, the withered
snub nose with the large open nostrilsit truly was deaths
head that could terrify anyone if they met him face to face
unexpectedly. The appearance of this head even influenced
my own nose; I believed that I could detect the odours of
decomposition, hydrogen sulphide and ammonia. One could
possibly have lost ones appetite for both eating and
drinking.
His long, desiccated feet terminated in boot-like covers
that had each been cut from one single piece of horse leather.
The spurs that were tied over them featured wheels made
from Mexican silver Pesos pieces.

[14]

Marlies Bugmann

Next to him on the ground was a saddle complete with

headgear, and one of those extra-long Kentucky rifles leant
against it. Front-loaders became increasingly rare because
they had to make way for the breech-loaders.
The mans other weaponry consisted of a bowie knife
and two large revolvers the grips of which protruded from
his belt. This was fashioned to form a money pouch, and
studded all the way around with scalps the size of the palm
of a human hand. It was to be assumed that these scalps had
been separated from their previous wearers by the present
owner himself.
The barkeeper served the beer I had ordered. Just when I
put the glass to my lips, the scout held up his own and said:
Stop! Not so hasty, boy! Lets raise a toast first. I heard
that this is tradition back in your home country.
Yes, but only among acquaintances, I replied,
hesitating to follow his request.
Dont fuss! Were sitting together now and have no
need, if only in thought, to break each others neck. So toast
me! Im not a spy or con-man, and you may trust my
company for a quarter of an hour.
That sounded a little different; I touched his glass with
mine and said:
Im aware of what I ought to take you for, sir. If you
really are Old Death, I dont need to worry about being in
bad company.
So you know me? Well, I wont have to talk about
myself, then. Lets talk about you! Why did you come to the
States?
For the same reasons everyone else is led hereto try
my luck.
I believe you! Over there in old Europe people believe
that you only have to open your pockets to watch the shiny
dollars virtually fly into them. Should anyone be so lucky, all
newspapers write about him; but nobody speaks about the
thousands that drown in the flood of life and disappear
without a trace. Have you found your luck, or are you at least
on its trail?

Winnetou I

[15]

I think I can reply in the affirmative to the last half of

your question.
Then keep a sharp lookout, and never let the trail get
cold! I know only too well how hard it is to hold onto such a
lead. Maybe youve heard that Im a scout comparable to the
best frontiersmen in the West, and yet Ive run after my luck
in vain. A hundred times I thought that I only had to reach
for it, but as soon as I stretched out my hand, it disappeared
like a castle in the air that existed only in my imagination.
He spoke with a sad tone in his voice and then quietly
looked down. When I didnt reply, he looked up again after a
while and remarked:
You cannot know my reasons for such talk. The
explanation is simple. Each time I see a young German who
could possibly be one of those who will also drown, my heart
gets a little heavy. You must know that my mother was also
German. She taught me her native language, and if you like,
we can converse in German. When she died, she left me at a
point in my life when I saw my luck before me. But I thought
I was going to be clever and ran in the wrong direction.
Mister, be smarter than me! Its written all over you that the
same could quite easily happen to you.
Truly? Why?
You are too refined; you have a pleasant smell about
you. If an Indian saw your haircut, he would die of fright.
Theres not a single trace of dust and not a single stain
evident. Thats not appropriate for trying to find ones luck
in the West.
I have not the slightest intention of seeking it right
here.
Ah! Would you be so kind and inform me which
profession you follow?
Ive studied.
I said this with a certain pride. But he looked at me with
a mild smilewhich appeared like a sneering grimace on his
dead-man skullshook his head and said:
Studied! Oh dear! And you no doubt think a lot of it?
Yet, people of your sort are the least capable of making their
luck. I have seen it time and again. Do you have a job?

[16]

Marlies Bugmann

Yes, in New York.

What sort?
It was an entirely strange tone in which he posed his
questions, and it was almost impossible to refuse an answer.
Because I couldnt tell him the truth, I explained:
Im here on behalf of a banker.
Banker? Ah! That of course makes your road a lot
smoother than I first thought. Keep this post, sir! Not every
scholar finds employment with an American money man.
And in New York at that? You must enjoy his extraordinary
trust, despite your youth. Only someone trustworthy would
be sent from New York into the deep South. Im pleased that
Ive been mistaken, sir! So, its money matters you have to
take care of?
Something like that.
So! Hm!
Again he scrutinised me, smiled like before and
continued:
But I believe to have guessed your real reason for being
here.
I doubt that.
Thats alright, but Ill give you my advice regardless. If
you dont want anyone to know that youre here to find
someone, keep your eyes in better check. Youve checked
over everyone present in this locale, and your gaze
continually strays over to the windows to observe those
walking past outside. You are looking for someone. Have I
guessed correctly?
Yes, sir. I intend to meet someone whose address I dont
know.
Then consult the hotels!
That was in vain, and so was the effort of the police.
The same smile, meant to be friendly, appeared on his
face again; he chuckled, snapped his fingers and said:
Mister, youre still a greenhorn, a true, veritable
greenhorn. Dont take it the wrong way; but it is so.
Thats when I realised that I had said too much. He
confirmed this when he continued:

Winnetou I

[17]

You travel here on business that has something to do

with money or something like it, as you explained. The man
who is involved in this matter is wanted by the police on
your behalf. You walk around the streets and beer houses to
find himI wouldnt be Old Death if I didnt know whom
Ive got before me.
Well, who, sir?
A detective, a private policeman who has to solve a
problem that is more of a personal than a criminal nature.
This man was a model of astuteness. Should I admit that
hed guessed right? No. Hence I replied:
Your deductive powers are admirable, sir; but this time
you havent figured quite correctly.
Dont believe so!
But yes!
Well! Its your business, whether you want to admit to it
or not. I cannot and will not force you. But if you dont want
to be caught out, you mustnt behave in such a transparent
manner. Its about a money matter. The case has been
entrusted to a greenhorn; it has to be handled as discreetly as
possible; it only follows that the person in question is an
acquaintance or even a member of the family of the injured
party. It is even possible that the person is in the company of
an abductor who is intent on abusing the victim. Yes, yes,
keep looking, sir! Youre curious about my imagination?
Well, a good frontiersman can construct an entire highway
from here to Canada on account of two singular footprints,
and it would be rare indeed if hed be mistaken.
You have developed an extraordinary imagination, sir.
Pshaw! Stick to your story as much as you like! It wont
hurt me. Im known around here and could have given you a
bit of beneficial advice. But if you are of the opinion that
youll reach your goal faster on your own, then this is
admirable, but I doubt whether it is smart.
He rose and pulled an old leather pouch from his pockets
to pay for his beer. I believed to have hurt his pride with my
mistrust and attempted to mend it by saying:

[18]

Marlies Bugmann

There are the kinds of matters that cant be entrusted to

others, least of all strangers. I never meant to insult you and
think
Ay, ay! He interrupted, while he placed a coin on the
table. There is no talk of insult. I meant well, because
theres something about you that stirred my benevolence.
Perhaps well meet again!
Hardly. I will cross into Texas today and then head for
Mexico. I dont assume that your sojourn would have the
same direction as my trip, thereforefarewell, sir! And
every now and then, remember that Ive called you a
greenhorn! You can take this from Old Death, because he
doesnt combine it with the intent of an insult, and it wont
be to a newcomers detriment if he thinks in more humble
terms of himself.
He placed the broad-rimmed sombrero, that had hung on
the wall behind him until now, on his head, heaved saddle
and headgear onto his back, grabbed his gun and left. When
hed taken three steps, he quickly turned back and hushed:
No hard feelings, sir! But Ivestudied as well and still
think back with great pleasure, about what a smug fool I was
back then. Goodbye!
He turned and left without another look back. My gaze
followed him until his conspicuous figure, gawked at
condescendingly by the passers-by, disappeared in the
crowd. I would have liked to be angry with him. I tried very
hard to be outraged, but I wasnt successful. His exterior had
evoked a type of empathy within me; his words had been
harsh, but the sound of his voice had a calm, but well-meant
urgency. Despite his ugliness I had taken a liking to him, but
to let him into the secrecy of my planned undertakings would
have been not only careless but downright silly. Although I
would have expected to receive a useful hint or two. I also
didnt take exception to the label greenhorn; thanks to Sam
Hawkens I had grown so used to it that it couldnt insult me
anyway. Neither did I feel that it was called for to tell him
that I had been to the West before.
I put my elbow on the table and my head into my hand,
stared into thin air contemplating things, when the door

Winnetou I

[19]

opened. And the man who entered was no other

thanGibson.
He paused in the doorway and inspected those present.
When I had to assume that his gaze would fall on me, I
turned around with my back to the door. There was no other
empty seat than the one vacated by Old Death. Gibson had to
join me. I quietly rejoiced at the shock he would receive
upon seeing me.
But he didnt come. I heard the door rotate on its hinges
and quickly turned around. As a matter of fact he had
recognised me; he fled. I saw him leave and hurry away.
Putting my hat on, throwing the barkeeper the payment, and
dashing after Gibson was the work of a mere moment. There,
to my right he ran, evidently mindful to disappear behind a
dense crowd. He turned around, saw me and doubled his
steps. I followed with the same speed. When I passed the
same group of people, I spotted him enter a side alley. I got
there just when he had reached the other end of it and was
about to round the corner. But before he did, he looked back
and tipped his hat in my direction. That infuriated me, of
course, and without paying attention to onlookers, I fell into
a speedy trot. There were no police around. To ask a
bystander for assistance would have been for nought; nobody
would have assisted me.
When I reached the corner, I had before me a small plaza.
To either side stood closed rows of small houses; opposite I
noticed villas in splendid gardens. There were plenty of
people on the plaza; but I couldnt spot Gibson. He had
disappeared.
A Negro leant against the door of a barbershop. He
seemed to have been standing there for some time; he had to
have noticed the fugitive. I approached him, politely took my
hat off and asked him whether hed seen a white gentleman
rush from the alley. He flashed his long yellow teeth in a
broad smile and replied:
Yes, sir! Have seen him. Ran fast, very. Went in there.
He pointed to one of the small villas. I thanked him and
hurried toward the house. The wrought-iron gate was locked,
and I rang the bell for well on five minutes, before someone,

[20]

Marlies Bugmann

another Negro, opened the door. I stated my business; he

slammed the door shut after he informed me:
First ask massa. Without permission from massa, I
wont open.
He retreated and I was left standing there, as if on hot
coals, for at least ten minutes. Finally he returned with the
advice:
Not open. Massa forbid. No man has come today. Door
always locked. You go away quickly, if you jump over
fence, massa will shoot revolver.
I just stood there! Now what? I couldnt enter with force;
I was convinced that I would be shot at by the owner
immediately; because the American enters no argument
when it concerns his home. I had no other option but to go to
the police.
Utterly infuriated, I walked back through the plaza, when
a boy approached me. He held a note in his hand.
Sir, sir! He called. Wait! You must give me ten cents
for this note.
Who is it from?
From a gentleman who came out of the house there. He
nodded in the opposite direction to the villa. He pointed to
you and wrote something. Pay the money and you can have
it!
I gave him the money and received the note. The boy
hurried away. On the cursed piece of paper that had been
torn from a notebook, I read:
My dear mister Dutchman.
Have you travelled to New Orleans because of me? I
assume so because you are following me. I have always
thought you were silly, but not dumb enough to try and
catch me. Anyone with only half an ounce of brain
wouldnt attempt this. Return to New York and give my
best to Mr Ohlert. I have made sure that hell never
forget me, and hope that you, too, will remember our
encounter today, which, naturally, didnt turn out very
pleasing for you.
Gibson.

Winnetou I

[21]

Understandably, I felt less than delighted when I read this

charming epistle. I scrunched up the piece of paper, stuffed it
into my pocket and was on my way. It was possible that I
was being watched, and I didnt want to give these people
the satisfaction of seeing me embarrassed.
I looked over the plaza. Gibson was nowhere to be seen.
The Negro had disappeared from the front of the barbershop;
so had the boy and I couldnt ask him any further details
about Gibson. No doubt, he would have received instructions
to get away as soon as possible.
While I had mulled over and capitulated about the refusal
of entry into the villa, Gibson had found time to calmly write
a lengthy letter. The Negro had fooled me; Gibson
doubtlessly laughed at me, and the boy had made a face from
which I had to conclude, that he knew I was being duped.
I was immensely annoyed because I was greatly
humiliated, and couldnt even mention to the police that I
had encountered Gibson. I quietly left.
Without setting foot onto the plaza again, I searched
through the lanes that led from it, naturally without so much
as a glimmer of success, because Gibson would have left this
dangerous city quarter immediately. I had to assume that he
would take the first opportunity to leave New Orleans
altogether.
Despite my brain weighing only half an ounce, I
managed to think about the latter, and I headed for the
harbour where ships were made ready to depart that day.
Two plain-clothed policemen supported mein vain. The
anger about having been deceived in such a manner didnt
afford me much rest and I wandered the streets until far into
the advancing night, looking into all sorts of restaurants and
tavernas. Then, when I was too tired, I returned to my
lodging house and went to bed.
Dreams transported me into an insane asylum. Hundreds
of insane people who thought they were poets held their
manuscripts up to me, expecting me to read them. Of course
they were all tragedies that featured a mad poet as the main
character. I was forced to read and read, because Gibson

[22]

Marlies Bugmann

stood over me with the revolver at the ready, and threatened

to shoot me immediately should I only pause for one minute.
I read and read, sweat trickled from my forehead. I pulled out
my handkerchief to dab it dry, stopped for one second and
was shot dead by Gibson!
The cracking of the shot awoke me, because it wasnt just
a perceived but a real crack. I had tossed and turned and
thrashed about trying to disarm Gibson, and had accidentally
wiped the small lamp from the bedside table. The sum of
eight dollars was added to my account the next day.
I was completely drenched in sweat when I woke in the
morning. I drank my tea and then drove out to the beautiful
Lake Pontchartrain, where I went for a swim, which
refreshed me. Then I resumed my search. During the course
of it, I came past the German beer lounge where I had met
Old Death the day before. I entered, without even thinking
about finding a trail here. The establishment wasnt as
packed out as it had been on my first visit. There were no
newspapers available the day before; on my second visit a
day later there were several on the tables, unread, and I
grabbed the first one. It was the Deutsche Zeitung, produced
right here in New Orleans.
I opened the rag without really meaning to read through
it and the first thing that caught my attention was a poem.
When I perused a newspaper I usually read poems last, or
preferably never. The title resembled the headlines of a
horror novel. It repulsed me. It read: The Night Most
Terrible.
I was just about to turn the page when I noticed the
initials below the poem: WO.
These were the initials of William Ohlert! The name had
been engraved onto my brain without interruption and for
such a lengthy period, that I immediately associated the two.
Ohlert junior deemed himself to be a poet. Could he have
used his stay in New Orleans to bring his poetry before the
public? Perhaps the publication had been effected so swiftly
because he had paid for its inclusion. If I could verify my
assumption, then this would enable me to get back onto the
trail of Gibson and Ohlert. I read:

Winnetou I

[23]

The Night Most Terrible.

Know you the night, which is on Earth descending,
When hollow winds and rains do fall,
A night, when not a single star is twinkling,
When no eye penetrates the weathers opaque wall?
But gloomy as this night may be, another morn will
dawn;
So go to rest, and sleep without a care.
Know you the night, which settles onto life,
When death will put you to your final rest
And closing in on you, eternity comes calling,
And terror pulses through your veins and chest?
But gloomy as this night may be, another morn will
dawn,
So go to rest, and sleep without concern!
Know you the night, which on your spirit is descending,
That for Redemption, does it scream in vain,
Around your soul it twists in snake-like windings,
And spits a thousand devils in your brain?
Oh, keep from it awake and caring,
For this night only does not have a morn!
I had to admit that the content of the poem moved me
deeply. Even though it was worthless in a literary sense, it
nevertheless was the cry for help of a talented person who
desperately fought against the dark forces of insanity, and
felt that he would utterly and helplessly succumb to them. I
overcame my emotions quickly, because I had to act. I was
convinced that William Ohlert had penned this poem and
looked up the address of the newspaper publishers in the
directory, then went to see them.
Distribution and editors office were in the same
building. First I bought my own copy, then I introduced
myself to the editor who confirmed my suspicion. A certain
William Ohlert had personally delivered the poem the day

[24]

Marlies Bugmann

before. The editor had at first declined the offer, but the poet
then paid ten dollars and requested that it be published in the
following days edition, and that a copy of it would be posted
to him. His demeanour had been polite, but he seemed a little
disturbed and explained repeatedly that this poem had been
written with the blood of his heart. Because of the posted
copy, he had to advise his address and of course I was
informed of it. He had rented private rooms in a street within
the newer city parts that was well known for its fine and
expensive lodgings.
I returned to my rooms first to apply my disguise, and
then headed for that part of town. On my way there, I fetched
two policemen who were to guard the front door of the
suspected house while I went inside.
I was convinced that I would be able to apprehend the
scoundrel and his victim, and with a fairly elevated mood I
rang the house bell. Above it there was a brass shield that
read:
First-class accommodation for ladies and gentlemen. I
was at the right spot. House and business were owned by a
lady. The porter opened, asked about my desire and received
the appropriate directive, to announce me to the lady of the
house; I also handed him my business card that contained a
different name and not my real one. I was shown to the
parlour and didnt have to wait long for the lady.
She was a well-dressed, portly looking woman, about
fifty years of age. It seemed she had a small remnant of black
blood in her veins, judging by her curly hair and the slight
colouration of her fingernails. The polite welcome I received
gave me the impression of her being a kind-hearted woman.
I introduced myself as the feature editor of the German
Newspaper, showed her the paper in question and inferred
that I had to speak to the author of the poem; it had received
such great acclaim, that I was offering him more honoraries
and new commissions.
She quietly listened to me, looked at me attentively and
then said:

Winnetou I

[25]

So, the gentleman had published a poem with you? How

nice! Pity that I dont understand German, otherwise I would
ask you to read it to me. Is it good?
Excellent! As I had the honour to point out, it was very
well received.
This is of great interest to me. He had appeared refined
and well educated to me, a true gentleman. Unfortunately he
didnt speak much and never socialised with anyone. He only
ever went out the one time, probably to take the poem to
you.
Truly? I gleaned from our discussion, that he withdrew
money here. He had to have left the house a number of
times.
It must have happened while I wasnt here, perhaps his
secretary carried out these business transactions.
He has a secretary? He never spoke of it. He must be a
well-to-do gentleman.
Certainly! He paid well and only dined on the best. His
secretary, Mr Clinton, was in charge of the finances.
Clinton! Ah, if this secretarys name is Clinton, then I
must have met him in the club. Hes from New York and is
excellent company. We met during lunch yesterday
Thats correct, she interrupted. Thats when he went
out.
And found, I continued, each others company so
pleasing that he gave me his photograph. I never had one of
mine with me, but I had to promise to give him one when we
met again today. Here it is.
And I showed her Gibsons picture that I always carried
with me.
Right, thats the secretary, she said as soon as she saw
it. Unfortunately, you wont see him soon, and you also
wont receive a poem from Mr Ohlert; both departed
yesterday.
I was aghast, but quickly checked myself and said:
Im very sorry to hear that. This must have come
unexpectedly?
You could say that. Its a very moving story; Mr Ohlert
never spoke of it, of course, because nobody wants to keep

[26]

Marlies Bugmann

opening their own wounds, but his secretary has told me in

strictest confidence. You must know that I enjoy a special
trust of those who stay in my establishment.
I believe you. Your refined manners, your graceful
deportment seem to naturally engender this quite matter-offactly, I fibbed unashamedly.
Oh, please! She seemed flattered despite my clumsy
delivery. The story nearly moved me to tears and I am
pleased that the unhappy young man succeeded to escape at
the last minute.
Escape? That seems as if he were being pursued!
It really is the case.
Ah! How interesting! Such a highly talented poet, and
being pursued! In my capacity as editor, practically being a
colleague of the unhappy young man, I have the burning
desire to know more. The newspaper has quite a significant
influence. Perhaps it will be possible to help him with an
article. How unfortunate that he has told you this in
confidence!
She blushed. She pulled out a not quite clean
handkerchief, just to have it ready for any eventuality, and
said:
Where this confidence is concerned, sir, I dont feel
bound by it any longer since the gentlemen have departed. I
know that the newspapers are known to be an immense
power, and would be quite happy, if you could help this poor
poet to his justice.
If I knew the exact circumstances I would gladly do
everything within my power.
Truth be told, I had to muster all my will to conceal my
excitement.
You will, because my heart commands me to tell you
everything. You see, its about one of the most devoted, yet
at the same time unhappy love stories.
Thats what I thought, because an unhappy love affair is
the largest, heart-rending, overpowering suffering, that I
know of.
Of course, I made it up.

Winnetou I

[27]

Youre becoming even more to my liking with this

statement, sir! Have you also suffered this pain?
Not yet.
Then youre a happy man. I have suffered it almost to
the point of death. My mother was mulatto. I got engaged to
a son of a French plantation owner, a Creole. Our happiness
was torn asunder because his father couldnt accept a
coloured lady into his family. Now you see how much I can
empathise with the poor poet, because he is destined to
become unhappy for the same reasons!
He is in love with a coloured lady?
Yes, a mulatto. His father forbade this union and had
obtained a declaration, signed by the lady, that she would
forego the happy union with William Ohlert.
What an uncaring father! I exclaimed bitterly, which
earned me a benevolent look from the woman.
The tall story Gibson had told her obviously tugged on
her heartstrings. Of course the communicative lady had told
him about her own unhappy love affair, and he had played
into her hands with a ready-made fairy-tale to wake her
empathy and explain the sudden departure. The fact that he
presently called himself Clinton was of utmost importance to
me.
Yes, a truly uncaring father! She agreed. But William
remained loyal and fled with her as far as New Orleans,
where he had hidden her in separately rented rooms.
But I still cant comprehend why he has left town so
unexpectedly.
Because the pursuing investigator has turned up here.
His father has him followed?
Yes, by a German. Oh, these Germans! I dislike them
so. Ive heard them being called the nation of thinkers, but
they know nothing about love. This miserable German
chased them from city to city with the declaration in his
hand.
Quietly, and inwardly, I couldnt help but be amused
about the indignation of this lady against a chap with whom
she was engaged in a friendly chat.

[28]

Marlies Bugmann

He is a policeman, you must know. He is to apprehend

William and take him back to New York.
Did the secretary describe this ruthless man? I asked,
curious about any further information about myself.
Yes, and precisely because it is to be assumed that this
barbarian will discover Williams rooms and call on me. But
I will give him some reception! Ive memorised every word
that I will say to him. He mustnt know where William
headed off to. I will send him in the exact opposite
direction.
She described this barbarian and named his namemy
nameand the description was pretty accurate, even if it was
done in a less than flattering manner.
I expect him at any moment, she continued. When
you were announced, I believed you to be him. But luckily I
was mistaken. Youre not this persecutor of lovers, this
robber of the sweetest happiness, this abyss of injustice and
betrayal. I can see in your kind eyes that youll publish an
article in your newspaper to thwart the German and protect
those hes chasing.
If Im going to do this, which I would only be too glad
to do, it is, of course, necessary to find out where William
Ohlert is. I must write to him. I hope you know his present
whereabouts?
I sure know where he went; but I cant say whether or
not hell still be there when your letter arrives. I would have
sent this German north-west. But I tell you that he went
south, to Texas. He intends to cross into Mexico and travel to
Vera Cruz. But there was no boat available. Because of the
danger they were forced to great haste, and so they boarded
the Dolphin which headed in that direction.
Do you know this for sure?
Of course. Speed was of the essence. There was just
enough time to stow the luggage. My porter organised this
and went on board. He spoke to the sailors and learned that
the Dolphin only travels to Matagorda actually, but before
that stops in Galveston, and in Quintana where the gentlemen
will disembark. My porter waited for the ship to depart to
make sure that Mr Ohlert really left.

Winnetou I

[29]

And his secretary and the young miss have accompanied

him?
Naturally. My porter didnt see the lady because she had
withdrawn to her cabin. He didnt ask about her because my
employees are trained to be discreet to the highest degree and
considerate; but it goes without saying that William wouldnt
have left his bride behind for this German barbarian to
apprehend. Actually Im looking forward to his visit. There
will be a very interesting exchange of words. First Ill try and
appeal to his heart, and should I not succeed, I will hurl a few
of my thunder expressions into his face and talk to him in a
manner that will make him cringe before me.
The good lady had worked herself into quite an agitated
state. Shed taken the whole affair to heart. Shed risen from
her seat, swung her small, fleshy fists toward the door and
threatened:
Yes, come on, you diabolical Dutchman. My gazes will
drill holes into you and my words will smash you to the
ground!
I had heard enough and went to leave. Everyone else
would have done exactly that and left the lady in her
erroneous belief. But I told myself that it was my duty to
clear things up. She shouldnt believe a thug to be an honest
person. There would be no benefit to me. And so I said:
I dont believe you will have the opportunity to throw
your gazes and words at him in such a destructive way.
Why?
Because hell conduct his business differently to what
you are expecting. You will also not be successful to send
him into the north-west. He will, instead, travel to Quintana
directly to catch William and his so-called secretary.
He doesnt know their whereabouts at all!
Oh, yes, he does, because you have just told him.
Me? Impossible! I would know this! When was this
supposed to have happened?
Just now.
Sir, I dont understand! The lady was completely
confused.

[30]

Marlies Bugmann

I will help you to understand me. Allow me to effect a

small change to my appearance.
With these words I took off the dark wig, the beard and
also the spectacles. The lady stepped back in shock.
For Gods sake! She cried. You are no editor, but that
German! You have deceived me!
I had no choice, because youve been duped already.
The love story is a lie from the beginning to the end. Youve
been taken advantage of because of your good heart. Clinton
isnt Williams secretary. His real name is Gibson and he is a
dangerous con-man, and Ive been contracted to render him
harmless.
She sank back onto her seat, nearly unconscious, and
cried:
No, no! Thats impossible! This kind, friendly, beautiful
man cannot be a con-man. I dont believe you.
You will believe me, just as soon as youve listened to
me. Let me tell you everything!
I informed her about the real state of affairs and was
successful in getting her to change her mind about the nice,
friendly, beautiful secretary, and her liking turned into the
most vehement anger. She recognised that she had been lied
to most ignominiously, and even expressed her satisfaction
about my turning up in this disguise.
Had you not done this, she confirmed, you would
have never learned the truth from me and would have taken
my directions and travelled north to Nebraska or Dakota. The
conduct of this Gibson-Clinton demands the harshest
punishment. I hope that you go after them immediately and,
please, write to me from Quintana, to let me know of his
apprehension. And you must bring him here on your way to
New York so that I can tell him in no uncertain terms how
much I detest him.
This will hardly be possible. It isnt easy to apprehend
someone in Texas and then take them to New York. I would
be extraordinarily pleased if I only succeeded in freeing
William Ohlert from the grasp of his abductor, and at least
save some of the money that both of them will have
withdrawn along the way. For the moment it would please

Winnetou I

[31]

me greatly, though, to hear you say that you no longer think

Germans are barbarians who dont have the ability to love. It
hurt me very much to hear this mistaken verdict about my
fellow countrymen, especially from you.
She replied with an apology and her assurance that she
had been cured of her erroneous belief. We parted most
cordially, and I informed the two waiting policemen that the
matter had been resolved. I paid each a tip and hurried on my
way.
Naturally I had to get to Quintana as fast as possible and
first tried to find a boat bound in that direction. But luck
wasnt on my side. One steamer made ready to sail for
Tampico, but wasnt going to stop-over anywhere along the
voyage. Ships that would have taken me to Quintana were
scheduled for departure in a few days only. Finally I found a
fast clipper that carried a load destined for Galveston. It was
to depart after lunch and I managed to get on. I hoped to find
fast means to Quintana from Galveston. Quickly I settled my
affairs in New Orleans and went aboard.
Unfortunately, my expectations of finding a ship to
Quintana didnt come to fruition. I had the opportunity to get
past Quintana to Matagorda, situated at the mouth of the
Colorado River. I was assured that it would be easy for me to
double back from there to Quintana, so I took this
opportunity, and the consequences proved that I didnt have
to regret it.
During those times the attention of the Senate in
Washington was focused toward the south, to Mexico, a land
that still suffered from the turmoil of the war between the
republic and the empire.
Benito Juarez had been acknowledged as the president of
the Republic of Mexico by the United States of America, and
they refused to recognise emperor Maximilian. The States
regarded the emperor as usurpator and pressured Napoleon to
withdraw his troops from Mexico. This sealed Maximilians
downfall.
Texas had aligned itself with the slavery states by its
declaration in favour of the secession when the Civil War
broke. The defeat of the southern states by no means meant

[32]

Marlies Bugmann

that the populace was quickly pacified. Bitter sentiments

arose against the North that resulted in hostility toward its
politics. In actuality the population of Texas entertained
strong pro-republic sentiments. Juarez was the Indian hero
who had had the guts to take on Napoleon, and an offspring
of the mighty house of Habsburg. But because the
government in Washington supported this hero, a quiet
conspiracy against him grew. This caused a deep division in
the population of Texas. Some declared their support for
him, others opposed him, not out of conviction, but simply to
exercise their right to opposition. As a result, it wasnt easy
to travel through the country. Any and all precautions to hide
ones political persuasion came to naught under the pressure
to show ones colours.
Germans living in Texas were divided amongst
themselves. As Germans they sympathised with Maximilan,
but it went against their patriotism that he had entered
Mexico under the aegis of Napoleon. They had breathed
enough republican air to believe that the invasion of the
French in Montezumas land was an injustice and only
designed to divert the gaze of their people away from their
own shortcomings by way of a revival of the French gloire.
For this reason the Germans kept quiet and away from any
and all political demonstration, especially since they had held
with the northern states and against the slave barons during
the secession war.
Thus was the situation when we sighted the flat, longstretched spit that separated Matagorda Bay from the Gulf of
Mexico. We sailed through the Paso Caballo, were then
forced to quickly lay anchor because the bight was so
shallow that deep-draughted vessels would have been in
danger of running aground.
Smaller boats anchored behind the spit and several larger
vessels, three-masters and a steamer, anchored outside the
spit, offshore. I transferred to Matagorda immediately by
rowing boat, where I made enquiries about the earliest
opportunity to travel to Quintana. Unfortunately, there was
nothing available until two days later when a schooner was
going to travel there. Therefore I was stuck and frustrated,

Winnetou I

[33]

because Gibson had received a head start of four days, which

he could use to disappear without a trace. I had only one
consolation, to have done everything in my power under the
given circumstances.
Because there was nothing else for me to do except wait
patiently, I located a suitable guesthouse and had my luggage
picked up from the boat.
Matagorda was a small place back then. It was situated
on the eastern part of the bay and of much lesser importance
as a trading port than, for example, Galveston. As in other
parts of Texas, the coast here consisted of a very unhealthy
depression that, although not exactly a quagmire, still formed
extreme wetlands. It was easy to contract a fever in such
conditions and I didnt favour having to spend such a long
time here.
My hotel resembled a German inn of third or fourth rank,
my room a ships berth; the bed was so short that either my
head hung out over the top end or my feet jutted out over the
other.
After my things had been stowed, I went to investigate
the place. When I left my chamber, I had to pass an open
door on my way to the stairway. I cast a quick glance inside
and noticed that it was furnished identically to mine. There
was a saddle on the floor near the wall and above it hung the
headgear. In the corner, close to the window leant a long
Kentucky rifle. I couldnt help but think of Old Death, but
these items could just as well belong to someone else.
I went out and slowly ambled down the alley. When I
was about to turn the corner, a man who had obviously
approached from the other direction, and not seen me,
collided with me.
Thunderstorm! He shouted at me. Take care, sir,
before you rush around corners this-a-way!
If you mistake my snails pace for a rush, then you
might as well call a rowboat a Mississippi steamer, I
laughed.
He jumped back a step, looked at me and exclaimed:

[34]

Marlies Bugmann

Thats the German greenfish who didnt want to admit

that he is a detective! What are you looking for in Texas,
more precisely in Matagorda, sir?
Not you, Mr Death!
I believe that! You seem to belong to those people who
never find what they seek, but keep running into people with
whom they have no business. You must be hungry and
thirsty. Come on, well weigh anchor somewhere we can get
a good beer. Your German Lager seems to be everywhere.
Its even available in this miserable nest, and I figger that
this beer is the best that you have to offer. Do you have
accommodation?
Yes, at Uncle Sam.
Very good! Ive pitched my wigwam there too.
Possibly in the chamber that contains the saddle and the
rifle I noticed, up one flight of stairs?
Yes. You must know that I cannot be separated from
those things. Ive grown fond of them. A horse is easily
obtained, but a good saddle is hard to find. But come, sir!
Ive just left a den where they serve a cool beer, a true
refreshment on this June day. Im ready to drink another one
or several.
He led the way to a pub where bottled beer was served at
very exaggerated prices. We were the only guests. I offered
him a cigar; he declined. Instead he pulled a block of
chewing tobacco from his pocket and cut off a piece that
would have been sufficient for five sailors. He shoved it into
his mouth, stowed it lovingly in his cheek and then said:
Now, I am at your service. I am eager to hear what sort
of wind has driven you after me so swiftly. Was it a
favourable one?
On the contrary, a very adverse one.
Then you didnt really want to end up here?
No, but in Quintana, instead. But since there was no fast
means to get there, I came here because I was told that I
would easily find a boat that could take me there.
Unfortunately I have to wait two full days.
Be patient, sir, and take comfort in the sweet certainty
that you simply are unlucky!

Winnetou I

[35]

Some comfort! Am I supposed to be grateful for it?

Please, Old Death laughed. I never expect payment
for handing out my advice. Besides, Im in the same boat as
you; Im stranded here as well, because I was too slow. I
wanted to head up to Austin and then on across the Rio
Grande del Norte. The season is favourable. It rained and
therefore the Colorado carries plenty of water to allow flat
steamboats to Austin. For most of the year, the river lacks
enough water.
I heard that a sandbank prevents boat traffic.
Not a sandbank, but a raft, a huge mass of driftwood
that forces the water to split into a number of arms several
kilometres up the river from here. Behind this raft the water
is unobstructed to Austin and further. Because this blockage
interrupts the shipping route, passengers must walk up there
and then get on board. That was my intention; but your
German Lager got the better of me. I drank and drank,
whiled away a bit too much time in Matagorda and when I
got to the raft, the steamboat had just steamed away. So I
carried my saddle back and now have to wait until early
tomorrow morning when the next boat will depart.
In this case were fellow sufferers and you can calm
yourself with just the same comfort you handed out to me
before. You are just as unlucky.
That I am not. I am not pursuing anyone, and its the
same to me whether I arrive in Austin today or in a week
from now. But it is frustrating nevertheless, especially since
another young greenfrog laughed at me. He was faster than
me and whistled back at me from the deck when I was left
behind ashore with my saddle. Should I ever meet this fellow
again, hell receive a different knuckle sandwich to the one
aboard our steamer.
Have you been involved in a brawl, sir?
Brawl? Whatever do you mean, sir? Old Death never
engages in brawls. But there was this chap on the Dolphin,
the boat on which I arrived here, who mocked my figure and
sniggered every time he looked at me. So I asked him what
exactly he thought was so funny, and when he said that my
skeleton amused him, he got his ears boxed so hard he sat

[36]

Marlies Bugmann

right back down. Then he wanted to draw the revolver on

me, but the captain intervened and ordered him to be on his
way; he deserved it because hed insulted me. Thats why the
crook laughed at me when I got to the raft too late. Pity about
his companion! Seemed to be a veritable gentleman, but
always sad and glum; always staring into thin air like a
mentally disturbed person.
Those last words jolted me to pay attention.
A mentally disturbed person? I asked. Did you by
chance hear his name?
The captain called him Mr Ohlert.
I felt as if Id been slapped in the face. Hastily I
continued:
Ah! And his companion?
Called himself Clinton, if I remember correctly.
Is it possible, is it possible? I shouted, and jumped up
from my chair. Youve met those two on board?
Are you experiencing a rapture, sir? Youre ascending
like a rocket! Do you have business with these two men?
Much, very much! It is them I am trying to catch!
That friendly grin repeated on his face.
Nice, nice! He nodded. You finally admit that you are
after two men? And those two above all? Hm! You really are
a greenhorn, sir! Youve done yourself out of a nice catch.
How so?
By not being honest with me in New Orleans.
I wasnt at liberty to discuss it.
Man is at liberty to do everything that will enable him to
reach his target. Had you opened up to me, those two would
be in your hands by now. I would have recognised them the
moment they boarded the steamer and sent for you, or even
fetched you myself. Dont you see?
How was I to know that you would encounter them! By
the way, they didnt want to go to Matagorda, but to
Quintana.
They only pretended. They never disembarked there. If
you want to be smart tell me the whole story. Perhaps I can
be of assistance to you in catching these chaps.

Winnetou I

[37]

The man was honest and I knew he had my best interests

at heart. He wouldnt think of insulting me, yet I still felt
embarrassed. Yesterday I refused to give him any
information and today circumstances forced me to divulge
everything. My self-esteem whispered not to tell him
anything; but my common sense prevailed. I pulled out both
photographs, and handed them to him:
Before I tell you anything, please look at these pictures.
Are these the persons you described?
Yes, yes, thats them, he nodded after hed looked at
the photographs. Theres no mistake.
I told him everything about this situation. He listened
attentively, shook his head after I had concluded and
ponderingly said:
What youve just told me is quite straight forward and
clear-cut. But theres one thing that I cant fathom. Is this
William Ohlert completely insane?
No. Although I dont know much about the mentally ill,
I would only talk of monomania. Except for the one point, he
has his mental faculties together.
The more incomprehensible it is to me that he allows
this Gibson to exert such unlimited influence upon him. He
seems to follow this person obediently. Gibson cunningly
panders to the mania of his victim and abuses him to his
advantage. Well, hopefully we can foil his tricks a little.
So youre convinced that they are on their way to
Austin? Or would they have the intention to disembark
somewhere along the route?
No. Ohlert told the captain of the steamer that he wanted
to go to Austin.
That would surprise me. He wouldnt just say where he
intends to travel.
Why not? Ohlert may not even know that hes being
followed, that hes on a road to nowhere. Hes probably in
the happy belief of doing the right thing, lives only for his
idea and everything else is Gibsons affair. The poor devil
never thought it unwise to declare Austin as his destination.
The captain told me a couple of times. What do you think
youll do?

[38]

Marlies Bugmann

Of course I have to go after them and quickly.

In spite of your impatience, youll have to wait until
early tomorrow morning; no ship leaves earlier.
And when will we arrive in Austin?
With the present water situation only the day after
tomorrow.
What a long, long time!
You must take into consideration that they will also
arrive late because of the low water level of the river. It is
unavoidable that the ship will run aground occasionally and
then it takes some time to free it again.
If I only knew what Gibson has in mind, and where he
intends to drag Ohlert!
Yes, that, of course, is a riddle. He must have one
guiding objective. The money that has been withdrawn thus
far, would be sufficient to make a rich man out of him. He
only has to take it and leave Ohlert behind. The fact that he
doesnt do this is a sure sign that he intends to exploit him
further. This affair has aroused my interest quite a bit and
since we have the same road to travel, at least for the time
being, I am at your service. If you need me, Im available.
Your offer is accepted with great thanks, sir. You instil
a sincere trust in me; your benevolence is comforting to me,
and I think that your help will be to my advantage.
We shook hands and emptied our glasses. If only I had
trusted this man a day earlier!
Just when our glasses were refilled, an ugly racket arose
outside. Hollering people, and howling dogs approached.
The door flung open and six men entered, every one of them
obviously having drunk already more than their fill; none of
them could be considered sober any longer. Raw figures and
faces, light southern clothing and flashy weapons
immediately drew attention. Every one of them was fitted out
with a gun, knife, revolver or pistol, and in addition a
massive nigger whip, hanging from their sides, and each of
them led a dog. All of those dogs were of incredible size and
of a certain, special breed that was used in the southern states
to catch fugitive Negroes. They were bloodhounds.

Winnetou I

[39]

The tramps insolently stared at us, without greeting,

threw themselves into the chairs so that they creaked under
the strain, and drummed the tabletops with their heels to
summon the landlord with their own brand of courtesy.
Man, do you have beer? one of them screamed at him.
German beer? The scared landlord answered in the
affirmative. Thats what we want to drink. But are you
German?
No.
Thats your luck. We drink their beer; they should burn
in hell, those abolitionists. They helped the North and its
their fault that we lost our jobs!
The landlord withdrew immediately to serve his noble
guests as soon as possible. I had turned around automatically
to view the speaker. He noticed. I knew that there was
nothing insulting in my gaze; but he didnt feel like being
looked at, or perhaps he just wanted to tackle someone, and
so he shouted at me:
What are you staring at! Havent I spoken the truth?
I turned around and didnt answer.
Watch yourself! Old Death whispered. These are
thugs of the worst kind. Dismissed slave drivers whose
employers went into bankruptcy when slavery was abolished.
They have banded together to create havoc. Its better we
ignore them. Lets finish our drinks and then leave.
The man took exception to the whispering and shouted:
Whats the secrecy you old bag-o-bones? If you talk
about us, do so loudly, else well open your mouth for you!
Old Death put the glass to his lips and drank, but didnt
reply. The people received their beer and tasted it. The brew
was quite good; the guests, however, in their vandalous
mood poured theirs out onto the floor. The big mouth still
held his full glass in his fist and called out:
Not on the floor! It seems to agree with those two
especially well. They shall have it.
He took aim and splashed his beer across the table onto
both of us. Old Death calmly wiped his wet face with his
sleeve; but I didnt manage to take such a demeaning insult
as quietly as he did. My hat, collar, coat, everything I wore

[40]

Marlies Bugmann

dripped because the main jet of beer had hit me. I turned
around and warned:
Sir, would you please not do this a second time! Have
your fun with your friends; we have no objection; but kindly
leave us in peace.
So! What would you do should I feel like dousing you
once more?
Well see.
See? Well, well have to find out what well see then,
wont we. Landlord, new glasses!
The others laughed and hollered cheers at their matador.
It was evident that hed repeat his impertinence.
For Gods sake dont tackle these louts! Old Death
warned me.
Are you scared? I asked him.
In your dreams! But they have their weapons at the
ready, and there is nothing courage can do against a bullet
out of nowhere. Consider the dogs, too!
The hoodlums had tied their dogs to the tables. So as not
to be hit from behind again, I changed seats so that I turned
my right-hand side toward the hooligans.
Ah! Hes taken up position! The bigmouth laughed.
He wants to defend himself, but as soon as he moves, Ill
set Pluto onto him. The dog is trained for humans.
He untied the animal and held it on a short rope. The
landlord hadnt served the second round of beer yet; there
was still time for us to put a coin onto the table and leave,
but I didnt believe that the gang would allow us to do so,
and besides, it went against my grain to take flight before
these repugnant people. Braggarts such as these were
cowards at their core.
I put my hand into the pocket and cocked my revolver. I
knew Id get the upper hand in a brawl; but I was doubtful
about overpowering the dogs. I had fought animals that had
been trained to attack people before, and at the least wasnt
worried about a single dog.
The landlord appeared. He put the glasses on the table
and asked in a pleading tone of voice:

Winnetou I

[41]

Gentlemen, your visit is very welcome; but would you

please leave those two men in peace. They are also my
guests.
Scoundrel! One of them shouted. Are you trying to
teach us a lesson? Well cool your zeal this moment. And
the contents of two or three glasses splashed over him,
whereby he thought it best to leave the bar immediately.
And now for the loudmouth over there! My adversary
turned to me. Hell get his share!
While he held the dog with his left hand, he threw the
contents of his glass with the other in my direction. I leapt
from my chair and to the side so that I wouldnt be hit. Then
I raised my fist to charge at him and punish him. But he was
quicker.
Pluto, get him! He shouted, pointed toward me and let
the dog go
***
visit: http://www.karl-may-friends.net
to purchase the book Winnetou II and read on

[42]

Marlies Bugmann

Winnetou I

[43]

About The Translator

_________________________________________________
Marlies Bugmann was born in Klingnau, Switzerland in
1955. After completing school and a four-year
apprenticeship as an architectural draftsperson, she
immigrated to New Zealand. She chose to acquire New
Zealand citizenship and is proud to call herself a Kiwi. In
1988, together with her Australian husband, David, she
moved to Tasmania and has lived on Australias island state
ever since. She calls a small seven-acre farm home. It is
located close to picturesque Marion Bay beach where she
takes long walks and finds inspiration for writing her books
and capture the islands beauties with brush on canvas.
Marlies has translated several Karl May novels and
continues to research and translate this enigmatic author of
the eighteen hundreds. Her website, Australian Friends of
Karl May, http://www.karl-may-friends.net is a gateway to
the world of Karl May in English.
She is passionate about the rare and threatened
Tasmanian fauna and flora, and has created a series of
illustrated childrens adventure novels set in picturesque
Tasmanian wilderness, titled The Green Heart Series,
published by Zumaya publications.

[44]

Marlies Bugmann

Winnetou I

[45]

More Karl May Translations

By Marlies Bugmann
_________________________________________________
Savage to Saint, The Karl May Story
including:
Winnetou (1878)
A Blizzard
The Rose Of Shiraz
The Fable Of Sitara
As sole translator
Winnetou I
Winnetou III
Holy Night!
Old Surehand I
Old Surehand Quest II
Inn-Nu-Woh to Merhameh
As co-translator
Black Mustang
For an up-to-date listing of available translations
please visit: http://www.karl-may-friends.net

[46]

Marlies Bugmann

Winnetou I

[47]

Other Books
By Marlies Bugmann
_________________________________________________
Swiss Tradition in Black and White, Zumaya
Publications
(History and breed information about the Bernese
Mountain Dog)
***
The Green Heart Series
(The adventures of the children at Sassafras Valley and
their unique Tasmanian animals):
Kangaroo Dog, Zumaya Publications
Bluegum Christmas, Zumaya Publications
Tazzie Devil Double Trouble, Zumaya Publications
Quoll Quandary, Zumaya Publications
Golden Wings, Zumaya Publications
Bat Whispers, Zumaya Publications

[48]

Marlies Bugmann

Winnetou I

[49]

Karl May Museum

Karl May Strasse 5, Radebeul, Germany
_________________________________________________
http://www.karl-may-stiftung.de/museum/engl/index.html
The concept of the Karl May Museum can be traced back
to Karl Mays own plans. After May moved into Villa
Shatterhand (1895) he furnished his home with all manner
of exotic travel memorabilia, weapons and hunting trophies.
During his North America trip in 1908 he added further
Amerindian cultural and everyday objects to his collection
and then suitably housed and presented the artifacts in the
villa.
Dr. Euchar A. Schmid (1884-1951) took up the idea of an
independent museum again around 1922 and won the support
of Mays widow, Klara May (1864-1944). A stroke of luck
greatly advanced their plans: the well travelled circus artist
Patty Frank (1876-1959) offered his extensive Amerindian
collection to Klara May. The Karl May Foundation (est.
1913) agreed but inflation woes between 1922 and 1924
delayed the task. May and Frank were able to work out
details during 1925 and on 30 January 1926 sign the contract
for the handing over of around 450 to 500 artifacts and the
construction of a Wild West blockhouse on the estate. Patty
Frank lived in the museum building for the rest of his life,
free of charge and was paid a monthly pension of 300

[50]

Marlies Bugmann

deutschmark. A few days earlier, Klara May had also drawn

up a new testament to reflect the acquisition of the collection
and to make the foundation the heir not only to the real estate
and inventory but also to her personal fortune with the
condition that: the Villa Shatterhand, all real estate and
collections, were to be developed as a museum according to
the intent of Karl Mays literary work.
The museum, Villa Baerenfett, was officially opened on 1
December 1928 amid great public interest. In 1936 the
museum had to be extended by two rooms and by doing so
space for the display of the Silver Rifle, Henry Rifle, Bear
Killer and Mays various costumes was created. After 1945
the place remained an attraction although Karl May was
persona non grata and his books were banned in the GDR
for many years. In 1956 the museum was renamed Red
Indian Museum of the Karl May Foundation. In 1962, two
years after the separation of the publisher, who moved a
large share of the estate west to Bamberg, the museum took
stock of the remaining assets and, at the same time,
rearranged the exhibition scientifically. During the cultural
heritage re-evaluation in the following decades, Mays work
received more recognition, so expressed by a new edition of
his books (starting 1982), and by the renaming of the
museum to Karl May Museum, which coincided with the
opening of the new ethnological exhibition Red Indians of
North America on 9 February 1985. On 235 sqm, the
blockhouse exhibits represent the largest and most
comprehensive collection of this kind in Europe. It has
remained open since its inception in 1928 on a continuous
basis and only keeps its doors locked during a few major
public holidays.
The Foundation renovated Villa Shatterhand and on the
same day in February 1985 opened part of the building to the
public as an extension of the museum. It now houses Karl
MayLife and Work, an exhibition that depicts the
personality of the novelist. Since 1995 visitors can also view
Mays study, library and salon (the Sascha Schneider
room) after most of the villas contents had been bought
back from the publishing company.

Winnetou I

[51]

On 2 September 1988 an Association of Friends and

Sponsors of the Karl May Museum was created and since
then a growing number of members from western and eastern
Europe and as far afield as USA and Australia form an
important support network for the care and upkeep of some
of Europes most important Amerindian exhibits, as well as
the staging of events.
Opposite Villa Shatterhand, across Karl May Street, the
4200 sqm Karl May Grove is part of the estate. Karl May
bought the parcel of land to keep his view over the hills
unobstructed. After Klara Mays death the grove became part
of her own Klara May Foundation until that was dissolved
in 1957, like so many other foundations in the former GDR.
Karl Mays erstwhile orchard now features the Karl May
Findling a huge boulder with a jagged, pointy apex, seventy
Douglas fir trees (the number reflects the novelists age) and
an artificial watercourse that feeds the Silver Lake. The
grove, together with Karl and Klara Mays mausoleum
(constructed to resemble the Nike temple in Athens) in the
Radebeul-East cemetery, as well as Patty Franks grave
nearby, are maintained by the Karl May Foundation.
Rene Wagner, Director, Karl May Museum
Thomas Grafenberg, Board, Karl May Foundation