Ich bin ein Cowboy

WHEN American GIs poured into Germany in 1945, they were astonished to discover that German children, after 12 years of Nazi rule, could be found decked-out in buckskins and feathers and playing “Indians”. Every spring in Radebeul, a quiet Dresden suburb, tens of thousands of grown-ups do the same. The explanation for both these phenomena is Karl May (1842-1912), a Saxon weaver's son, jailbird, self-described linguist—and the man who single-handedly invented the wild west for generations of Europeans. Long before the Lone Ranger, May was giving unruly cowboys what-for, befriending Winnetou, a great Apache warrior, and generally bringing peace and order to the frontier.