Schlaraffia, A Beacon of Laughter in Nazi Germany

After I wrote my three-part article about Jewish life in Nazi Germany, I began to wonder if there was any way for an assimilated German-Jewish man in the 1930s, a man like my grandfather, Hugo Lang, to escape his worries and concerns for an evening. A way to inject some fun into his serious life. Walking about his hometown was getting increasingly difficult with Jew-hating thugs roaming the streets. The disapproving glances sent his way when he attended his beloved theater cut his heart.

It turns out that, even in Germany, there was one place that still welcomed Hugo—his local Schlaraffia club.

When I was researching for my book, Ashes and Ruins, Andrea Tischer, my contact from the City of Meiningen Historical Archives, sent me an old photo of Hugo wearing a strange paper cap. Ms. Tischer said that during the Nazi era, Jews were not allowed in the local lodges, so she thought the cap was probably a “carnival hat.” But I was sure the photo had a connection to the club to which my grandfather belonged. In the photo, Hugo is caught with his eyes closed as if he were falling asleep after one too many steins of beer. At the time, I didn’t know the name of the club, but I recently learned my younger sister remembered. This led me down a Google rabbit hole.

Schlaraffia, it turns out, was started back in 1859 in Prague (now the capital of the Czech Republic, but then a part of the Austrian Empire). The organization began as a protest against the exclusivity of a German arts club. A group of independent artists and actors created a new, more inclusive club. They gave it the nonsense name Schlaraffia, declared its motto to be “In Arte Voluptas” (translated as “Pleasure lies in Art”), and pledged their devotion to art, humor, and friendship. In less than ten years, the group established chapters in Germany, and by 1914, the first American chapter was functioning in San Francisco. Soon there were chapters throughout Europe and the Americas, wherever there were German-speaking communities.

Even today, there is much about Schlaraffia that is odd. It began as, and remains, a totally male organization, and all meetings, whether in Leipzig or Milwaukee, are still conducted in the German language. They poke fun at modern life, using archaic-style constructions such as calling a car a “gasoline horse” or a mother-in-law a “castle monster.”

In many ways, Schlaraffia resembles a modern live-action role-play club, not unlike a Dungeons & Dragons club or a Renaissance Faire re-enactment group.

Meetings, called Sippungen, are held in a hall decorated to look like a knight’s castle. The walls are usually adorned with shields and banners, perhaps even wooden swords and lances. There are sure to be images or sculptures of the great eagle-owl, the revered mascot of the group. At meetings, members (Sassen) dress in garments reminiscent of the Middle Ages and wear cloth hats that resemble knights’ helmets or crowns. Their funny costumes are all in the colors of the local chapter. The chapters are known as Reychs. Despite the different spelling, I couldn’t help but notice the similarity to “Reich,” which translates into English as simply “realm” or “empire.”

To this day, Schlaraffia members, their business suits and everyday cares cast aside, wear funny hats and colorful robes or medal-encrusted ribbons across their chests at their meetings. For a few evening hours, they relax in the cozy atmosphere of masculine camaraderie. The club’s bylaws forbid talk of religion, politics, business, or any other subject that might cause divisiveness. Meetings begin with a welcoming ceremony, then move on to the fun. Members participate, offering performances of songs, music, rhyme, and skits of a rollicking and humorous nature. The presentations often include satirical lyrics or dialogue that mocks daily life and human frailty, especially their own. Lingering cares are washed down with wine or beer.

This all reminds me of my father’s sense of humor, his affection for puns, and his love of Edward Lear’s nonsense songs and funny limericks. As a child, I enjoyed hearing him talk about my grandfather’s lightened mood when he returned home from his Schlaraffia meetings. Hugo would be slightly inebriated and eager to share some funny song or skit. My father remembered how, at Octoberfest, my grandfather and his club friends sang hilarious songs as a group on the stage in the city square. Learning about Schlaraffia, I belatedly understand that Hugo was more than the strict, autocratic father of my novels.

The Schlaraffia club, firmly based on tolerance, free thought, and friendship, must have brought my grandfather respite from deeper concerns. Naturally, the lodge’s ideas were not compatible with Nazi doctrine. In 1935, Hitler ordered all German chapters to expel their Jewish members. Most groups, though they did not overtly refuse this directive, essentially ignored it. They continued to associate with Jewish members and allowed them to secretly attend meetings. I think now that Doctor Weiss, Hugo’s friend in Ashes and Ruins, must also have been a member of Schlaraffia. My grandfather’s club friends were surely a great comfort to him.

Schlaraffia traditionally meets only in the winter months, in the northern hemisphere from October to April. Over the summer, Hugo must have deeply missed the club meetings and the levity of his friends. In the summer of 1935, as Nazi persecution escalated, the lack of time with supportive Aryan friends must have been especially difficult for him. Could this have been yet another factor that pushed my grandfather into the depression that ended in his death that July?

Two years later, in 1937, the Nazi government forced the dissolution of all Schlaraffia lodges. Authorities trashed and looted the club’s meeting halls and burned their documents. It would be the end of the club in Germany until after the war.

Until it was outlawed, Schlarraffia, with its nonsense, gaiety, and friendship, stood as a beacon of acceptance in Nazi Germany. Though it died for a while there, the club continued in the Americas and a few other places.

After the war, like a phoenix, German chapters of Sclarraffia rose from the ashes and again spread their strange brand of humor around the fatherland.

Due to suppression, the club was slow to revive in the DDR, East Germany. There, chapters were forced to suspend all public activities and meet secretly in members’ homes. Following the reunification of Germany in 1990, Schlaraffia made a rapid comeback in the areas formerly under Communist domination. In Thuringia, once part of East Germany and the region where my father grew up, there are now six active Reychs, including one in Eisenach, the first chapter worldwide to admit women as members. And the club is back again in Meiningen, Hugo’s hometown, where it meets, quite appropriately, on Burggasee (“Castle Street”).

With its commitment to the principles of tolerance, friendship, love of art, and devotion to humor, and despite the limitations of remaining almost totally a men-only club that conducts its meetings in conversational German, there are now approximately 260 chapters of Schlaraffia around the world.

It makes me wish that this peculiar club was open to English-speaking women somewhere closer than Eisenach, Germany! If it were, I would surely follow in my grandfather Hugo’s footsteps and join.