Friday, February 20, 2009

Alfred Stöckle


 
Crew Member

Age: 25

Hometown: Friedrichshafen, Germany

Occupation: Engine mechanic

Location at time of fire: Keel stairs leading to bow

Died, either in wreck or in infirmary






Alfred Stöckle was one of the Hindenburg's engine mechanics. Born in Bremen on March 15, 1912, Stöckle moved with his family to Friedrichshafen when he was a child. His father was a foreman at Maybach Motorenbau, where Stöckle eventually served his apprenticeship as a mechanic. On September 1st, 1936, Stöckle was hired by the Deutsche Zeppelin Reederei to serve as an engine mechanic aboard the Hindenburg.

Stöckle was aboard the Hindenburg’s first North American flight of 1937, and was assigned to engine car #2, portside aft, along with August Deutschle and Adolf Fischer. Stöckle's last watch of the flight was from 4:00 to 6:00 on the afternoon of May 6th, and he was relieved by Deutschle.


As the Hindenburg came in to land at Lakehurst on the evening of May 6th, 1937, Stöckle was off-watch and in the crew’s mess. Just before the ship dropped its landing ropes, the captain sent word back to the crew's mess that six men were to go forward to the bow to help bring the tail-heavy ship into trim. Stöckle walked toward the bow with five others (fellow engine mechanic Walter Banholzer, electrician Josef Leibrecht, cooks Alfred Grözinger and Richard Müller, and assistant cook Fritz Flackus), and took a position somewhere along the stairway leading up from the keel to the mooring shelf.


Alfred Stöckle's approximate location at the time of the fire.
(Hindenburg structural diagram courtesy of David Fowler)


 

When the Hindenburg caught fire a few minutes later, Stöckle and most of the others in the bow section suddenly found themselves engulfed in fire and at least 150 feet above the ground, unable to jump to safety. Most of them jumped anyway, in a desperate attempt to escape the flames. Stöckle appears to have done the same, and was likely either knocked unconscious or died on impact, and was buried under the airship's framework when it crashed to earth several seconds later.



A crew member, possibly Alfred Stöckle, drops to the ground from
just aft of the Hindenburg's bow as the hull settles to earth.



Sailors prepare to lift a body, somewhere near the wreckage of the Hindenburg's bow (as indicated by the railroad track in the background at right.) The man on the ground appears to be wearing a grey mechanic's coverall, which would strongly suggest that this is Alfred Stöckle.


Along with all but three of the 12 men stationed in the bow at the time of the fire, Alfred Stöckle died as a result of his injuries. His body was returned to Germany, and he is buried in Friedrichshafen.

 


Special thanks to Herr Manfred Sauter of the Freundeskreis zur Förderung des Zeppelin Museums e.V., whose memorial article on the Hindenburg crew members who lost their lives at Lakehurst (Zeppelin Brief, No. 59, June 2011) provided additional details on Stöckle's career, and to Dr. Cheryl Ganz for providing me with a copy of the article.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Colonel Fritz Erdmann


Passenger

Age: 46

Hometown: Unknown

Occupation: Luftwaffe Colonel

Location at time of fire: Passenger decks, starboard observation lounge

Died in wreck



Colonel Fritz Erdmann was born on January 17th, 1891. He was made Kommandant of the aviation section of the Military Signal Communications School in Halle an der Saale on March 1st, 1935, and was still serving in that capacity when he was assigned as a military observer aboard the Hindenburg's first North American flight of 1937.

Along with fellow Luftwaffe officers Major Hans-Hugo Witt and Lieutenant Claus Hinkelbein, Erdmann was sent along on the flight in order to observe the cutting-edge long-range navigational techniques and weather forecasting practices employed by the Hindenburg's command crew. This required the three Luftwaffe men to make frequent visits to the ship's control car – according to Major Witt, perhaps half a dozen visits per day.

Much has been made over the years of a claim made by author Michael Mooney in his 1972 book The Hindenburg that Erdmann, Witt and Hinkelbein were aboard the ship not as mere observers, but as security officers tasked with finding and stopping a potential saboteur. No evidence has ever surfaced to support this allegation, and in fact no second source has ever come out with a similar claim – all mention of and elaboration on this story (including, perhaps most famously, the use of Colonel Erdmann as the basis for George C. Scott's character in the 1975 movie "The Hindenburg") appears to be based strictly on Mooney's unsupported assertions. All credible evidence suggests that Erdmann and the others were aboard as nothing more than military observers, no different from the German and American military observers who had been aboard virtually every Hindenburg flight the previous year.

The three Luftwaffe men traveled in civilian clothes as passengers, however, as had been customary for military observers during the 1936 season. Fellow passenger Gertrud Adelt later recalled that Erdmann seemed none too happy to be making the flight. Just before takeoff in Frankfurt on May 3rd, Colonel Erdmann had his wife Dorothea paged and escorted onto the ship by a steward for one final goodbye. Mrs. Adelt's husband Leonhard, a veteran of several airship flights, quietly noted to his wife that he had never seen a guest brought onboard the ship this close to takeoff. Frau Erdmann appeared in the doorway of the passenger area and according to Gertrud Adelt she and Colonel Erdmann silently embraced for a minute or more. Frau Erdmann then left the ship without a word.

In all likelihood it was Erdmann's position in the Luftwaffe that made it possible for such a request to be granted. He later confided to Gertud Adelt that a "terrible feeling" had come over him, and that he'd had to see his wife one last time before the ship sailed. Thereafter, when not in the control car or elsewhere in the ship observing flight procedures, Erdmann tended to sit at one of the promenade windows on the passenger decks, staring glumly out at the overcast sky above the North Atlantic.

As the Hindenburg approached its mooring mast at Lakehurst on the evening of May 6th, Colonel Erdmann was in the starboard passenger lounge talking with Major Witt and steward Fritz Deeg. Deeg went to the port side promenade to get a better view of the landing operation and Erdmann stayed in the lounge, standing near the observation windows with Major Witt, Lt. Hinkelbein, and fellow passenger George Hirschfeld.


Colonel Erdmann's location in the starboard lounge at the time of the fire.


When the ship caught fire a few minutes later, Erdmann reportedly leapt from one of the observation windows, landed safely, but was then caught under a section of girders which collapsed on top of him. He never made it out of the wreck alive, and was later identified by his wedding ring.

Fritz Erdmann's body was returned to Germany aboard the steamship Hamburg on May 13th, 1937.

(An excellent history (in German) of the Military Signal Communications School at Halle/Saale can be found HERE.)


Thursday, February 12, 2009

August Deutschle


Crew Member

Age: 28

Hometown: unknown

Occupation: Engine mechanic

Location at time of fire: Engine gondola #2, portside aft

Survived




August Deutschle was one of the Hindenburg's engine mechanics. He had joined the Hindenburg's crew in March of 1936, just in time to participate in the ship's maiden flight on March 4th, and subsequently flew on every flight throughout 1936 and early 1937.


August Deutschle in engine gondola #2. View is aft, looking through the propeller. (photo courtesy of the Luftschiffbau Zeppelin GmBH Archive)


On the Hindenburg's first North American flight of the 1937 season Deutschle, along with fellow mechanics Adolf Fischer and Alfred Stöckle, was stationed in engine gondola #2, the engine furthest aft on the portside of the ship. On the last evening of the flight, May 6th, Deutschle had gone on duty in the engine car at 6:00 P.M., relieving Stöckle. The ship approached the landing field at Lakehurst, NJ about an hour later and when the signal for landing stations was sounded shortly after 7:00 Fischer joined him. At about 7:20, on orders from the control car, they had set the engine to "idle astern" in preparation for the final approach to the mooring mast. The order came through to rev the engine to "full astern" to bring the ship to a stop, which Deutschle and Fischer did. After about 30 seconds or so the engine telegraph showed "idle astern" again, and the mechanics throttled the engine back. Another half a minute or so passed, and another order for "full astern" came through from the control car. Once again the two mechanics ran the engine up to full speed for 25-30 seconds until the engine telegraph showed once more "idle astern." Deutschle then looked out the window of the gondola, watching the landing crew take up the landing lines, when he noticed that the nose seemed a bit high and the ship wasn't descending as fast it normally would. He attributed this to the fact that they were making a high landing as opposed to the usual German-style low landing.


August Deutschle's location at the time of the fire. (Diagram is top view of airship.)


Deutschle turned and glanced back through the opening at the rear of the engine gondola, and through the propeller he suddenly saw a yellowish-red flame several meters wide shooting laterally out of the ship's hull above the equator of the ship, and he simultaneously heard a detonation. Deutschle instinctively grabbed the engine's throttle and shut the engine down, but the ship began to fall he was unable to grab hold of the engine brake. As the stern of the ship dropped, and the engine car tilted aft, Deutschle tried to grab hold of a stanchion to brace himself, but the gondola was shaking so violently that he was unable to do so, and he just grabbed whatever he could to avoid sliding out into the propeller, which was still rotating when the gondola hit the ground.

Once the engine car was on the ground, Deutschle looked around quickly and noticed that there was no fire yet in the gondola, though there was a lot of hissing and cracking. He went to the side window and shouted "Raus!" as grey smoke began to fill the gondola. Deutschle climbed out of the gondola window and began to run from the ship. He was immediately aware of the extreme heat radiating from the fire. He felt like the back of his coverall was on fire, and threw himself to the ground and rolled around to try and put the fire out. It did no good, however. He was still too close to the fire and the heat was too great. Deutschle tried to stand up and run, but he couldn't. He therefore crawled as far as he could from the fire, finally stopping near the rails that led to the mooring circle. One of his hands had been burned and was beginning to hurt badly, so he stuck it into the wet sand to try and cool it off.


August Deutschle (arrow) has just climbed out of engine gondola #2 and is beginning to run from the wreck.


Deutschle then rolled over onto his back and, for the first time, saw what was left of the ship, with thick columns of black smoke rising into the air from the burning fuel oil. He suddenly saw Fischer running past him towards the wreckage. He called out to Fischer, "Where are you going?" Fischer stopped and turned around and came back over to Deutschle, saying "I thought you were still in there." Fischer then got help from some nearby sailors, and Deutschle was put onto a small truck and taken away to the infirmary.


August Deutschle being loaded into an ambulance for transfer to Fitkin Memorial Hospital in New York City, on or about May 8th, 1937.


Deutschle was injured badly enough to spend several weeks in the hospital, having initially been taken to Paul Kimball Hospital in nearby Lakewood, NJ., then transferred over the weekend to Lenox Hill Hospital in New York City. He gave his testimony to the US Commerce Department's Board of Inquiry from his hospital bed on May 25th, 1937. He returned home to Germany via steamship once he'd recuperated. Slightly more than a year later, on September 12, 1938, August Deutschle flew on the maiden flight of the Hindenburg’s new sister ship, the LZ-130 Graf Zeppelin. Once again, Deutschle served as an engine mechanic, this time in the #4 engine, portside forward.

August Deutschle later retired in Stuttgart.

Adolf Fischer



Crew Member

Age: 31

Hometown: Esslingen am Neckar, Germany

Occupation: engine mechanic

Location at time of fire: Engine gondola #2, portside aft

Survived



Adolf Fischer was born on August 6th, 1905 in Esslingen am Neckar, near Stuttgart. After leaving school he went to work for the Daimler-Benz factory in nearby Untertürkheim. He was eventually assigned to the development team for the LOF-6 diesel engines, which were being constructed for the new airship, the LZ129 – later to be christened Hindenburg. Once he'd helped to install the engines on the airship, he was hired by Deutsche Zeppelin Reederei and joined the crew of the Hindenburg. He flew on the ship’s maiden voyage on March 4, 1936, assigned to engine car #4, along with Rafael Schädler and Walter Banholzer. He subsequently flew for the rest of the 1936 season, as well as the earlier flights in 1937.


Adolf Fischer in one of the engine gondolas of the LZ-130 Graf Zeppelin, which made its first flights the year after the Hindenburg fire.
(photo courtesy of the Luftschiffbau Zeppelin GmBH Archive)


Fischer was aboard the Hindenburg for its first North American flight of 1937, assigned to engine car #2 along with August Deutschle and Alfred Stöckle. On the evening of May 6th, the Hindenburg approached its landing field at Lakehurst, NJ. Fischer had been on standby watch when the signal for landing stations sounded shortly after 7:00 P.M., and he joined Deutschle in their engine car shortly thereafter, with Deutschle manning the engine throttle, and Fischer keeping watch over the engine telegraph. He and Deutschle carried out an order telegraphed from the control car a few minutes later and brought their engine to "idle astern" in preparation for final positioning of the ship for mooring. Over the next few minutes, they twice received orders to set the engine to "full astern" so as to bring the ship to a halt, and then were ordered to return the engine to idle astern.

Suddenly, Fischer heard "a dull thud." Standing next to the entrance to the engine car, Fischer looked out the doorway at the hull of the ship and saw yellowish flames. No sooner had he seen the fire when the ship began to fall and Fischer was forced to find the nearest handhold. Both men hung on as the stern of the ship dropped quickly to the ground. As their engine gondola landed heavily, Fischer was struck on the head and stunned. He lay there momentarily in the gondola until water from an engine coolant tank in the hull above poured into the engine car and revived him enough that he was able to climb out of the gondola. Then he sat down dazedly in the sand near the wreck, unaware that his clothes were burning, until the heat snapped him out of it again. He patted out the fire on his coverall and ran from the wreck until he couldn't feel the heat anymore.

Fischer gradually began to come back to his senses, turned around, and saw the engine gondola lying on the ground next to the wreck, burning. He suddenly thought of Deutschle and ran back to the engine car to try and find him. Before he got there, he heard Deutschle's voice call out behind him, "Where are you going?" Fischer turned around and saw Deutschle lying on his back some distance from the wreckage. "I thought you were still in there," Fischer replied as he walked over to help his comrade. Seeing that Deutschle was injured, Fischer called to some nearby sailors and together they carried Deutschle to a truck and took him to the infirmary.

Fischer suffered some rather serious injuries himself, and was taken to Paul Kimball Hospital in nearby Lakewood with burns to his head and body, as well as concussion. His sister, Amalie Reich, lived in Maplewood, NJ, where she had worked for a number of years as a maid. She heard about the disaster on the radio and immediately rushed to Lakewood to be at her brother's side. Fischer was so heavily bandaged when she arrived that Ms. Reich was initially only able to recognize him by the wristwatch he wore. She was immediately asked by hospital staff to act as an interpreter, since many of the German survivors spoke no English.



Adolf Fischer and his sister, Amalie Reich, during one of the Hindenburg's visits to Lakehurst in 1936.



Fischer was held at Paul Kimball Hospital for three days until he was in good enough shape to be transferred to Lenox Hill Hospital in New York. He spent 4 weeks in the hospital recovering from his injuries, and testified to the US Commerce Department's Board of Inquiry from his hospital room on May 25th, about 2 ½ weeks after the disaster.




Adolf Fischer, with nurse Martha Zimmer, just prior to Fischer being transferred to Fitkin Memorial Hospital in Neptune, NJ on May 9th, 1937.



After his return to Germany, Fischer was an engine mechanic on the LZ-130 Graf Zeppelin from October 1938 to August 1939 (this despite the fact that he still bore scars from the injuries he sustained at Lakehurst) and served throughout World War II as an aviation mechanic.

Over the course of his career as a Zeppelin mechanic, Fischer flew on 15 round-trip flights to South America and 11 to North America, and in addition to this he also flew on numerous shorter flights within Germany. All in all, he flew roughly 470,000 kilometers by airship.

In his later years, Adolf Fischer worked as a tour guide at the museum in Zeppelinheim, near Frankfurt.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Ludwig Felber



Crew Member

Age: 34

Hometown: Waging am See, Germany

Occupation: Elevatorman

Location at time of fire: Bow mooring shelf

Died in hospital




Ludwig Felber was one of three elevatormen on the Hindenburg's last flight, the others being Kurt Bauer and Ernst Huchel.

Born on September 30, 1903 in Waging am See, a Bavarian lakeside town near the German/Austrian border, Felber was forced to leave his hometown at the age of 22 after fathering an illegitimate daughter. Disowned by his parents, Felber moved to Friedrichshafen, where he married his sweetheart and sought work to support his wife and daughter. He was eventually hired by the Luftshiffbau Zeppelin in 1932 as a riveter, and worked in the ring and framework assembly departments as the company built their new airship, the LZ 129 Hindenburg.

He was eventually hired as a Zeppelin crewman, first serving as a rigger on the LZ 127 Graf Zeppelin under Chief Rigger Ludwig Knorr. When the Hindenburg was put into service in 1936, Felber was assigned to the ship as one of its helmsmen, and he manned the rudder wheel on the Hindenburg's maiden flight on March 4th, 1936.

Ludwig Felber (right, in leather coat) at the Hindenburg's rudder wheel in 1936. (photo courtesy of the Luftschiffbau Zeppelin GmBH Archive)


During the Hindenburg's first North American flight of the 1937 season, Felber was standing watch as an elevatorman trainee, having recently been promoted to that position. On his last standby watch, between 4:00 and 6:00 in the late afternoon of May 6th, 1937, Felber made ready the landing tackle on the mooring shelf in the Hindenburg's bow. He went on watch at 6:00, and was at the elevator wheel in the control car as the ship approached the landing field at Lakehurst, NJ an hour later. However, since the crew was going to have to bring the ship in to land in inclement weather, Captain Albert Sammt, the watch officer on duty, ordered navigator Eduard Boetius, a more experienced elevatorman who was on watch in the control car, to take over for Felber. Sammt sent Felber forward to the mooring shelf in the bow to take a landing station there alongside Ernst Huchel, who was the senior elevatorman aboard. Felber relieved fellow elevatorman Kurt Bauer, who in turn took a landing station along the keel just ahead of the control car.


Ludwig Felber's approximate location at the time of the fire.
(Hindenburg structural diagram courtesy of David Fowler)



When the Hindenburg caught fire a short time later Felber, standing on the mooring shelf and probably assisting with the lowering of the main mooring cable, was right in line with the huge tongue of flame which shot up through the ship's axial walkway and out the bow. Astonishingly, Felber was pulled from the wreck alive, albeit very badly burned. He was taken to nearby Paul Kimball Hospital, where he lasted into the night, and died early in the morning on Friday, May 7th, 1937. His body, along with those of his comrades who died in the fire, was returned to Germany onboard the steamship Hamburg, which sailed from New York a week later on May 13th.





Two photos of a badly burned crew survivor, very likely Ludwig Felber, being led from the bow of the Hindenburg.


Ludwig Felber, despite having left his hometown in disgrace over a decade before, was buried in the cemetery in Waging am See, laid to rest with full military honors as a hero of the German Reich.



Ludwig Felber's grave in Waging am See.


Thanks also to Herr Manfred Sauter of the Freundeskreis zur Förderung des Zeppelin Museums e.V., whose memorial article on the Hindenburg crew members who lost their lives at Lakehurst (Zeppelin Brief, No. 59, June 2011) provided additional details on Felber's career, and to Dr. Cheryl Ganz for providing me with a copy of the article.

Severin Klein


Severin Klein portrait 3   Crew Member

   Age: 24

   Hometown: Friedrichshafen, Germany

   Occupation: Steward

   Location at time of fire: Passenger decks, portside
   dining room.


   Survived





Severin Klein was born on January 14, 1913 in Konstanz. He was named after his grandfather, Severin Keller, a successful businessman from the town of Lindenberg im Allgäu. Keller had founded Hutfabrik Keller in 1882, which produced hand-made straw hats. By the time his grandson and namesake was born in 1913, Keller's business had grown to the point where he had built a new factory, which continued to produce hats until the company finally closed at the end of 1978.

Severin Klein was the oldest of three brothers. His youngest brother, Josef, born October 4, 1917, went on to take over Hutfabrik Keller from their grandfather. However Severin and his brother Adolf followed their father into the hotel business. Josef Klein was a hotel manager, and despite the rampant unemployment that crippled Germany throughout the 1920s and early 1930s, he was able to get his two eldest sons hired on as waiters at the Park Hotel in Friedrichshafen.

Since the Park Hotel was so closely tied with the Zeppelin Company, which still flew its airships out of Friedrichshafen, Severin Klein visited the local offices of the Deutsche Zeppelin-Reederei to inquire about a position as an airship steward. Klein was advised to first learn French and English, and he traveled to both countries to immerse himself in their respective languages. 

 

Klein in DZR uniformSeverin Klein in his official DZR uniform, circa 1936


Upon returning to Friedrichshafen, Klein was hired by the DZR in early 1936, shortly after their new airship, the Hindenburg, was commissioned. He joined the Hindenburg's team of stewards, led by Chief Steward Heinrich Kubis, on the ship's first flight across the North Atlantic to Lakehurst, NJ, May 6-9, 1936. Klein then made every subsequent Hindenburg flight that year, as well as a round-trip flight to Switzerland aboard the Hindenburg's older sister, the LZ 127 Graf Zeppelin.

During this time, Klein also met his future wife, Maria, whom he would later marry in 1944.


Klein in dining roomSeverin Klein (white jacket, far right) serves passengers in the Hindenburg's dining
room during a flight in 1936.
(photo courtesy of the Luftschiffbau Zeppelin GmBH Archive)



Klein was aboard for the Hindenburg's first North American flight of 1937. The trip was mostly uneventful for him, and he performed his usual duties as a steward. On the last day of the voyage, May 6th, Klein went off-duty around noon and was asleep in his bunk as the ship flew over New York and circled the city. As the Hindenburg made its way south, Klein awoke and went back out to the dining room.

As the ship came in to land at Lakehurst later that evening, shortly after 7:00 PM, Klein was standing at a window in the aft portion of the portside dining salon in the passenger decks, not far from fellow steward Fritz Deeg. Mrs. Matilde Doehner, one of the passengers, was there with her three children, and Klein was talking with them as they watched the landing operations out the window. As he talked with the children, explaining what the ground crew was doing down below, Klein suddenly noticed a reddish reflection on the ground, and simultaneously heard a detonation.


Klein locationSeverin Klein's location on the port side of the Hindenburg's passenger decks at the time of the fire.


As the ship's stern dropped to the ground and the passenger deck tilted, Klein was thrown to the aft wall of the compartment and several other people fell on top of him. He managed to get back to his feet, made his way back over to the window, and called to the passengers nearby to jump with him. They were all too shocked to move, so Klein waited for Deeg (who went out the window just ahead of him) and then jumped from a height of about 20-25 feet as the ship neared the ground. Klein escaped from the wreck relatively uninjured, ran clear of the fire, and then returned to help rescue the passengers who had stayed behind in the ship. He arrived just in time to help Mrs. Doehner away from the wreck after she jumped.


Klein escape 1Severin Klein (arrow) swings out of the aft-most portside observation window as the Hindenburg's hull nears the ground. Chief Steward Heinrich Kubis' legs can be seen hanging out the window just forward of Klein as he sits on the windowsill waiting to jump. Further forward, steward Max Henneberg hangs from a window, preparing to drop to the ground.


Klein escape 2Klein hangs momentarily from the window frame...


Klein escape 3...and then drops approximately 20 feet into the sand below.


Severin Klein remained in the United States long enough to testify (in English) before the Commerce Department's Board of Inquiry on May 13th, exactly a week after the disaster. He returned to Germany two days later aboard the steamship Europa along with the surviving members of the steward and kitchen staff, arriving back in Germany on May 22nd. 

Following the disaster at Lakehurst, the old Graf Zeppelin was immediately grounded and the nearly completed LZ 130 (which would also be christened Graf Zeppelin) never carried a single paying passenger.  With no more passenger Zeppelins on which he could serve, Severin Klein went back into the hotel business. However, with war on the horizon, along with the virtual certainty that he would soon be called up for military service, Klein was reluctant to commit to a permanent position, preferring to work short-term waiting positions here and there throughout Germany, and to then find a permanent position after his military service was completed.

With the onset of World War II, Klein was indeed called up into the German military. He was stationed first in Yugoslavia, and then was later transferred to German-occupied Crete. When Germany finally surrendered to the Allies on May 7, 1945, eight years almost to the day following Klein's miraculous escape from the Hindenburg, his unit was ordered to return to Germany. Two weeks after the war had ended, Maria and the rest of the family had received word from him that they would have to stop in Yugoslavia before proceeding home. They never heard from him again.

Given the fact that Yugoslavia had been liberated by the Soviets in late 1944, and that the Yugoslavians were dealing harshly with both German POWs and German civilians residing in Yugoslavia, it is likely that Klein was either executed on the spot or else died in forced labor sometime afterward.

Severin Klein was simply listed "missing" in the official post-war tallies, and remained so for over 60 years. His family never did learn what became of him.

Klein's wife, Maria, never remarried. She became a druggist and ran her own shop in Heimenkirch in Allgäu, a few miles from Lindenberg. Maria Klein passed away in 2006.

Severin Klein's brother Josef, who had continued to manage Hutfabrik Keller until his retirement in 1975. Shortly after Maria’s death, he finally initiated the process to have his brother officially declared dead by the German government, since even after all these years Severin was still listed in war records merely as "missing". This brought at least some measure of closure to the family.

 

Special thanks to Herr Jürgen Föhl, who interviewed Josef Klein (Severin’s brother) on my behalf and provided virtually all of the information in this article, aside from that which covers Severin Klein’s experiences as a Hindenburg steward. Herr Föhl , his sister and his mother, who were displaced from their own home in Innsbruck, Austria after WWII, ended up in Heimenkirch where they met Maria Klein. Frau Klein welcomed the Föhls into her home, where they lived for many years, looking on Frau Klein (“Tante Maria”, as the Föhl children called her) as though she were a member of their own family.

I also wish to express my heartfelt thanks to Josef Klein for sharing information and photos (including the two portraits shown here) with Jürgen Föhl for inclusion in this article. Without his kind assistance, this article would have remained as I originally wrote it – limited almost entirely to what I was able to find in the transcripts of Severin Klein’s testimony to the US Commerce Department’s investigation into the Hindenburg disaster.



 

Friday, February 6, 2009

The Doehner Family




Passengers

Ages: Hermann – 49
Matilde – 41
Irene – 14
Walter – 10
Werner – 8

Residence: Mexico City, Mexico

Mr. Doehner's Occupation: General Manager of Beick, Felix y Compania

Location at time of fire: Passenger decks, portside dining room

Hermann – died in wreck
Matilde – survived
Irene – died in hospital
Walter – survived
Werner – survived


Hermann Doehner was general manager of Beick, Felix y Compania, a prominent German wholesale drug company headquartered in Mexico City, Mexico. Born in Erfurt, Prussia, on September 22, 1887, Doehner emigrated to Mexico in 1908 or 1909 when he was approximately 21 years old. He eventually became a naturalized Mexican citizen.

In December of 1936, Hermann Doehner traveled to Germany to reorganize a Beick, Felix y Compania affiliate in Hamburg, bringing with him his wife Matilde (born Matilde Schiele in Pergamino, Buenos Aires, Argentina on August 20, 1895), their 14 year-old daughter Irene, and two of their sons – Walter, age 10, and Werner, age 8. 17 year-old Hermann Jr. stayed behind in Mexico City, and their eldest son, Kurt, 21, was already in Germany working toward his doctorate in chemistry at Darmstadt Technical University.

Mr. Doehner had flown to Europe from South America via Akron, OH on the Graf Zeppelin four years earlier in 1933, on the Graf Zeppelin's so-called "Triangle Flight". Now, he thought that it would be a treat for his family to travel by airship on their homeward journey, and bought tickets for his family to fly to the United States on the Hindenburg.

Mrs. Doehner, however, was apprehensive about the flight and did not particularly want the family to travel by air. But Mr. Doehner insisted that it was the best, most comfortable way to cross the Atlantic, and that it would get them home a full two days faster than the normal steamship route would. So it was that the five Doehners boarded the
Hindenburg on the evening of May 3rd, 1937 for the airship's first North American flight of the 1937 season. Hermann and Matilde had wanted Kurt to join them for the flight, but he was too busy with his studies and couldn't take the time off from school to make the trip.

The Doehners got a chance to take a closer look at the airship before they boarded, and Werner would later recall being amazed by the immense size of everything, particularly the large tires under the control car and the lower tail fin, as well as the massive propellers mounted at the rear of the four engine gondolas.

When the passengers were brought aboard the Hindenburg, the Doehners were shown to their room. Unlike most of the cabins assigned to the various passengers, double-occupancy cabins upstairs on A-deck, the Doehners' cabin was one of the new ones down on B-deck aft of the smoking room. Added during the previous winter, it was a family-sized room with four bunks (the only such cabin on the ship) and a small row of windows built into the floor at the far end of the room.

Oddly enough, two of the Doehners' fellow passengers on this flight had direct familial connections to passengers who had flown with Mr. Doehner back to Germany on the Graf Zeppelin in 1933. Marie Kleemann of Hamburg was the mother of Mrs. John Bolten, who had flown with her husband on the final leg of the Graf Zeppelin's 1933 "Triangle Flight". Now, Mrs. Kleemann was flying to the United States to help her daughter recuperate after an operation, and her son-in-law, John Bolten, would be meeting her at Lakehurst. Otto Reichhold of Vienna was making the trip in order to meet with his brother, Henry Reichhold, about their family business. Henry Reichhold had also made the 1933 Graf Zeppelin flight with Mr. Doehner, and like John Bolton he would be at Lakehurst to meet his brother. And as if that weren't enough, one of the passengers booked for the Hindenburg's return flight, George Willens of Detroit, had also been a passenger on the same 1933 Graf Zeppelin flight as Mr. Doehner, the Boltens, and Henry Reichhold.

The Doehner family's Hindenburg flight was to be, however, rather uneventful, without much to see outside the passenger decks' long rows of observation windows for most of the voyage besides the grey clouds through which the Hindenburg was flying. Mr. Doehner passed some of the time filming his family and the interior of the ship, using the home movie camera he'd brought. Mrs. Doehner spent much of her time during the flight sitting in the lounge knitting while Walter and Werner played nearby. One of the playthings they'd brought along was a little toy tank, given to Werner by his great-aunt before they left Germany. However, it made sparks when the boys ran it across the carpeted floor of the lounge, and Chief Steward Heinrich Kubis had to confiscate it for the remainder of the flight, explaining to the boys that the sparks could be very dangerous on a hydrogen-filled airship.
Doehners2
Werner, Walter, and Irene Doehner pose for their father's movie camera during the Hindenburg's last flight.


At about 2:00 PM on the last day of the trip, May 6th, the children watched excitedly as they flew over New York, which was bustling with mid-afternoon activity. They were particularly thrilled by the massive Empire State Building, and also by the fact that the ships in the harbor below all began blowing their steam whistles as the Hindenburg flew overhead. They were too high up to hear the sound of the whistles, as Werner would later recall, but they could easily see the steam blowing up into the air.
Nearby, their parents were also enjoying the broad aerial view of New York. Mr. Doehner turned to his wife and asked, “Now aren’t you glad we took the Hindenburg and saved two days? We might still be at sea.”

Mrs. Doehner, still very uneasy about flying, replied, “I’ll be glad when we’re on the ground.”
She would still have to wait awhile yet. The Hindenburg was already running almost half a day behind schedule due to excessive head winds, and the original 6:00 AM landing at the Naval Air Station at Lakehurst, NJ was now scheduled for 6:00 PM, more than three hours away.
The ship flew over the airfield at 4:00 that afternoon, but the ground crew would not be assembled and ready to moor the Hindenburg for at least another two hours. Of the 240-man landing crew, 138 of them were local civilian workers from the Lakehurst area, hired by the Zeppelin Company. Most of them would not be free to report to the airfield until their regular work days ended, and the air station’s steam whistle would not summon them until 5:00 PM.
Unfortunately for Mrs. Doehner and her anxiousness for her family to be safely landed and off the ship, heavy thunderstorms approaching Lakehurst from the west would further delay the landing. 6:00 came and went, with the Hindenburg cruising along the Jersey shore waiting for the bad weather at the airfield to clear.

Finally, at about 7:00, the Hindenburg returned to Lakehurst. The thunderstorms had passed, and the ship had been cleared to land. The Doehners gathered with other passengers in the portside dining room to watch the landing maneuver through the big observation windows. As the ship approached the mooring mast and dropped its landing ropes, Mr. Doehner went downstairs to their cabin on B-deck to get another roll of film for his movie camera. Mrs. Doehner and the three children were sitting at a table near the aft-most windows. Steward Severin Klein stood nearby, answering the boys' questions as they watched the landing crew connecting the ship's landing lines to the mooring tackle on the ground below.

Mrs. Doehner would later recall that as the ship drew closer to the mooring area and the moment approached when she could stand once again with her family on solid ground, the fear that she had suppressed throughout the voyage began to return.



Mrs Doehner and Children location
The location of Mrs. Doehner and the children in the portside dining room at the time of the fire.



Hermann Doehner location
Hermann Doehner's possible location on the starboard side of B deck at the time of the fire.


Suddenly the Hindenburg shook and the floor begain to tilt aft as the ship began to fall to the ground . The Doehners and Klein were thrown to the rear wall of the dining room, along with quite a few of the other passengers standing ahead of them. As the ship began to settle to the earth and the floor began to level back out, Mrs. Doehner saw Klein and another steward, Fritz Deeg, drop through the window they'd just been looking through moments before. Her husband was nowhere to be found, still somewhere on the other side of the passenger deck. She gathered her children together as a few more people nearby leaped to the ground ahead of them, then she made her way to the window as the fire began burning its way into the dining room.

The ship's hull was now on the ground, but had landed in such a way that the portside observation windows were still about 15-20 feet in the air. Mrs. Doehner saw Deeg standing on the ground below, calling to them. She picked up Walter and dropped him out of the window. As Deeg caught him and tossed him clear of the wreckage, she tried to drop Werner through the same window, but he bounced off of the window frame and she had to grab him a second time and try again. The boy's hair and face were burning by the time she got him out the window, but Deeg caught him, patted out the fire, and quickly carried him to safety.

Mrs. Doehner then turned to Irene, who was screaming for her father and refusing to jump. She tried to pick Irene up and toss her through the window, as she'd done with the boys, but Irene was too heavy for her to lift. The girl ran toward the central cabin area where she'd last seen her father, and Mrs. Doehner had no choice but to follow her sons out the window. She tried to keep her feet underneath her, but she landed badly and injured her pelvis. Severin Klein had just run back to the ship as Mrs. Doehner landed, and he helped Chief Steward Kubis to carry her away from the wreck as she called out for her daughter.

At about this time, rescuers began entering the wreckage of the passenger decks to lead the remaining passengers to safety. Emil Hoff, a tanker truck driver for Veedol/Esso who was onhand to help to land and refuel the ship, had just returned to the wreck after leading Chief Electrician Philipp Lenz to safety from the ruins of the ship's electrical center. Hoff entered the wreckage through a broken window downstairs on B-deck, and climbed up the gangway stairs to the dining room.

There, he found Irene Doehner sitting in a daze at one of the tables. She was badly burned and in shock, and Hoff evidently decided that lowering her down the gangway stairs and out through the bottom of the ship (as was being done with other passenger survivors) would take too long and might risk injuring her further. So he led her to one of the dining room windows and tried to get her to jump. The window was still about 15 feet above the ground, and rescuers were still on the ground below.

One of these rescuers, steward Eugen Nunnenmacher, had just made his way back to the wreckage and looked up to see Irene standing in the window, her hair and clothes afire, hesitating as Emil Hoff tried to get her to jump. Nunnenmacher called to her from down below, and she finally leapt from the window. Nunnenmacher tried to catch her. She landed in his arms and the two of them tumbled to the ground. Nunnenmacher frantically tried to extinguish the fire on her back and in her hair, burning his own hands in the process. Captain Heinrich Bauer, who had escaped from the control car, came running up to help, and the two men put out the fire and dragged Irene away from the wreck.
clip_image002One of the Hindenburg’s female passengers, most likely Matilde Doehner, is carried away from the scene on a stretcher.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Doehner and her two sons were taken to one of the limousines that had been onhand to shuttle the passengers to the hangar. She was asking about her husband and daughter, but Hermann had never made it out of the wreck, and Irene was burned so badly that Kubis and the others didn't want her mother to see her.

Matilde Doehner, her two sons, Walter and Werner, and her daughter Irene were taken to Point Pleasant Hospital that night. Irene was still alive when they brought her in, but was burned badly enough that one of the attending nurses actually fainted at the sight of her injuries. Irene Doehner died during the night.
Hermann Doehner was still listed in the newspapers as “missing” the following morning. His body was recovered that day, and he was later identified by his wedding ring.

Mrs. Doehner's pelvis was broken in three places, and she had suffered a number of burns while trying to save her children. Walter sustained minor injuries, but was mainly in shock. Werner was more badly injured, his face and head having burned while his mother was trying to get him through the window. His eyes were swollen shut, and his mother was afraid that perhaps he'd lost his sight (or even his eyes) until the swelling went down four days later. The boy's eyes were fine, but between his burns and Mrs. Doehner's injuries, the three of them would have to stay in hospital for some time.

Gustav Schiele, Mrs. Doehner's brother, flew in from Chicago immediately after he heard that she and the boys had been saved. He later wrote a letter to the US Commerce Department's Board of Inquiry on behalf of his sister, who had received a request from the Board asking her for her impressions of what had happened during the Hindenburg fire. But as she had no knowledge of what might have started the fire, she mainly just told Gustav to write a brief note to the Board and tell them where she had been at the time of the fire, and that she'd dropped her children out of a window and jumped after them.

Kurt Doehner sailed from Germany two days following the disaster on Saturday, May 8th, aboard the steamship Europa. His studies would have to wait while he traveled to the United States to be with his mother and brothers, and it occurred to him that his busy school schedule, which had precluded his ability to join his family on their voyage, may very well have saved his life.

The press, meanwhile, was taking great interest in telling the stories of the Hindenburg’s survivors. Perhaps even more than the others, it was the Doehners with whom they most wanted to speak. Reporters (and at least one photographer, whose hastily-snapped photos of Mrs. Doehner, Walter, Werner and Irene lying in their hospital beds were subsequently – and rather tastelessly – published that weekend in the New York Daily News) located the family at Point Pleasant Hospital within hours of the disaster.

Despite the fact that Matilde and her children were badly injured and in shock, the newspapermen tried to get quotes and photographs, Mrs. Doehner responded with a brief description of their escape, but she had soon had enough. Though reporters would continue to turn up at the hospital for the rest of the family’s stay there, Mrs. Doehner dismissed most of their questions, telling one New York Times writer wearily, “I don’t want to go through that. I have been through too much to go through that.”

Reporters, undaunted by this, began interviewing doctors and nurses at the hospital about the Doehners, and continued to piece together newspaper stories from these second-hand accounts into the summer. To be fair, their admiration of Mrs. Doehner and her role in not only saving her sons from the fire but also in keeping their spirits up as their injuries slowly healed. One New York Times reporter called it “as heroic a story as a mother has ever written.”

Perhaps somewhat less hyperbolically, Mary Shannon, one of the attending nurses throughout the Doehners’ stay at Point Pleasant Hospital, would recall for Joel Siegel on ABC’s “Good Morning America” 50 years later how strong Mrs. Doehner remained for the sake of her two sons. "She was a wonderful woman. And she just kept those two children's morale right up and you would never know from speaking to her during the day that she was mourning the loss of her husband and her only daughter."

Matilde Doehner and her two youngest sons remained at Point Pleasant Hospital for 92 days before leaving on August 7th and returning by train to Mexico City. Kurt Doehner, meanwhile, returned to Germany to finish his studies. However, as Germany moved closer and closer to war over the next couple of years, Kurt became concerned that his German name and ancestry would end up getting him drafted into the German military. He finished his doctorate as quickly as he could, and then left Germany via Switzerland and then made his way to Sweden, later crossing the Atlantic to New York before finally returning to Mexico City.

According to his daughter, Mariana Doehner Pecanins, Walter Doehner died of cancer 20 years after the Hindenburg crash, at the age of 30. Matilde Doehner passed away in Mexico on August 16, 1981, four days before her 86th birthday.

Matilde Doehner 1963Matilde Doehner - 1963

Werner Doehner went on to have a career with the Comision Federal de Electricidad in Mexico. During a skiing trip in Germany in the late 1960s, Werner met his future wife and in 1972 Werner and Elin Doehner’s son Bernd was born. In the early 1980s, Werner left the CFE and moved his family to the United States, where he took a job with General Electric in the Philadelphia area. He continued to work in the energy industry until his retirement in 2000. Until about the age of 80 he continued to travel regularly in pursuit of his avid interest in Native American archaeology as well as to indulge his love of downhill skiing.

As of September, 2014, Werner Doehner is the last living Hindenburg survivor, after the passing in mid-August of  the Hindenburg's cabin boy, Werner Franz. However, it was many years before Doehner was finally able to bring himself to talk publicly about the disaster that had claimed the lives of his father and sister. He subsequently paid a visit to Lakehurst and gave interviews for several documentaries on the Hindenburg disaster. For the most part, however, he still prefers to avoid the subject altogether.


Special thanks to Karen Doehner for sharing information with me about her family history.

Carl Close for researching and providing the 1963 photo and additional biographical information on Matilde Doehner.

Monday, February 2, 2009

Hans Vinholt



Passenger

Age: 64

Residence: Copenhagen, Denmark

Occupation: Retired businessman

Location at time of fire: Passenger decks - portside dining saloon

Survived



Hans Karl Vinholt, born August 16th, 1872 in Randers, Denmark, was a retired businessman who lived in Copenhagen. He had a son, Karl, who also lived in Copenhagen. He is usually listed on Hindenburg passenger lists as a retired banker, though customs records from an earlier sailing voyage to the United States (aboard the steamship Empress of Britain), in June of 1935, list him as a manufacturer and similar records from a later flight to the States (aboard the Pan Am flying boat Dixie Clipper), in August of 1939, indicate that he was a "mechanican."

Vinholt sailed on the Hindenburg's last flight, planning to visit friends in New York. During the flight, Vinholt struck up friendships with a number of his fellow passengers, including Swedish newspaper reporter Birger Brinck. Vinholt was struck by how relaxed and friendly the atmosphere among the passengers was.


Hans Vinholt's location in the portside dining room at the time of the fire.


As the Hindenburg approached the air station at Lakehurst, NJ at the end of the flight, Vinholt was at the aft end of the portside dining salon watching the ground crew take up the ship's landing ropes. Suddenly, he and the other passengers felt a shudder run through the ship. The ship began to tilt down by the stern, and as the passengers began to panic Vinholt heard a sound that disturbed him far more deeply: the growing roar of fire burning its way closer to the passenger decks. As the tail of the ship hit the ground far below, Vinholt was thrown to the floor. As he struggled to climb to his feet, Vinholt noticed about ten other passengers nearby trying frantically to find a way out as flames burnt their way through into the dining room. Vinholt's jacket began to burn, and the flames quickly singed off most of his hair.

Vinholt finally made his way to a nearby observation window and decided to jump. He later told reporters, "A woman who was panicking from hysteria tried to go through the same window and for a few seconds we were both stuck there. I managed to get a grip on one of the red hot iron bars on the outside of the airship and that was how I was able to pull myself out. I hung outside for a few seconds before jumping to the ground."

The woman of which Vinholt spoke was probably Matilde Doehner, who was also in the rear part of the dining room and had just thrown her two sons out of the aft observation window before going to jump herself. Vinholt was about 15-20 feet above the ground when he jumped, landing in the sandy soil below. He tried to pick himself up to get away from the wreck, but was unable to do so. "I couldn't support myself on my legs, but fell on my hip and laid moaning and half unconscious when three men drew me away from the burning airship."

Hans Vinholt managed to escape the fire with burns to his hands, forearms, and the back of his head. He was taken to nearby Paul Kimball Hospital in Lakewood and transferred the next day to Lenox Hill Hospital in Manhattan. He returned to Denmark onboard the steamship Europa on May 16th, 1937, his head and arms still heavily bandaged.


Hans Vinholt being transferred from Paul Kimball Hospital in Lakewood, NJ to Lenox Hill Hospital in Manhattan on May 7th, 1937.


Hans Vinholt recovering from his injuries, May 1937. Note burns to his head and the protective sleeves over his injured forearms.


Hans Vinholt was later compensated 28,000 Danish kroner by the Zeppelin Company for the injuries he suffered in the fire. Once back home in Copenhagen, Vinholt began collecting newspaper clippings about the Hindenburg disaster, many of which were from Danish newspapers which included articles about his own escape. He also found and included a photo of his fellow passenger Birger Brinck whom, Vinholt learned from his doctors in New York, had been killed in the fire.

("The Airship Is Coming", a book published by the Danish Post and Tele Museum, provided a great deal of detail concerning Hans Vinholt's Hindenburg experiences. Though it is aimed at younger readers, the book provides some excellent information on Zeppelin history (particularly the development of the radio systems the airships used) as well as numerous rare photographs. The book can be purchased HERE in both Danish and English versions.)