Shedding light on a strange chapter of American history, this small spiral-bound notebook contains pasted-in, unpublished photographs of the Mountain Park Hotel in Hot Springs, North Carolina, when it was repurposed as an internment camp for over 2000 German citizens during World War One. There are photographs of the grounds with its Bavarian Village-like structures (erected by the internees), individual and group portraits, the latter showing the “Englisch Klasse” and the “Lager Comite,” shots of the notable brass band which played for the citizens of Hot Springs every Saturday night, production photos from a performance of “Die Spanische Fliege” (“The Spanish Fly”) featuring men in drag, and other deadpan photos of the surreal place and time.

Printed on photo-postcard paper, the images were most likely taken by Adolph Thierbach, an interned photographer whose depictions of life in the camp are some of the only visual records of its existence. However, given that none of the present views match known images of Thierbach’s, it is possible these were done by a guard, a local resident, or fellow shutterbug-internee.

The Mountain Park Hotel in Hot Springs, North Carolina was already a storied property by the time owner Col. James Henry Rumbough agreed to lease the property to the government in 1914, following the outbreak of World War I. The War Department needed someplace to keep approximately 2,200-2,500 Germans, largely civilians, and the luxury hotel with its extensive grounds seemed like the perfect place. Col. Rumbough’s motives were not entirely patriotic. Tourism had sharply declined since the war began.

The Germans brought to Hot Springs were officers, crew members, and passengers from several German vessels that sought refuge in American ports once Great Britain declared war, as well as a small group of immigrants who had been held on Ellis Island. Among their number were carpenters, dressmakers, and a full brass band. Being civilians, they couldn’t be called “prisoners of war,” and instead received the designation of “enemy aliens.”

Officers were housed in the hotel proper, while everyone else was set up in barracks on the grounds. Some sources suggest that the barracks were built by the Germans themselves, employing the considerable skills of the carpenters who had worked aboard the ships. Whether they were involved in the initial construction or not, the Germans quickly went about making the place their own.

Scrap lumber, driftwood, tin cans, and just about anything else people could find were employed in constructing a facsimile German village. Adolph Thierbach, a photographer among the detainees, documented the experience and is most likely the creator of the photographs in the present collection. The houses, though small and riddled with gaps in their walls, bear striking resemblance to the sorts of structures you would see in any small German village. Each was unique, and clearly built with great pride and attention to detail.

The “enemy aliens” made quick friends with the small population of Hot Springs, and guards often brought prisoners home for dinner. While men stayed in the camp, German women were housed in spare rooms, and they quickly went about teaching their hosts various crafts.

The Great Flood of 1916 washed the barracks and the German village away, though everyone escaped to higher ground. The hotel too was damaged, and the Germans assisted in repairs. The 1918 flu pandemic struck before the end of the war. Some Germans died as a result, and were buried in the nearby Oddfellows Cemetery. Their graves could be seen there until 1933, when they were moved to Riverside Cemetery in Asheville.

When the war ended, the brass band played all night. The Germans were moved to Fort Oglethorpe in Georgia before repatriating, but many returned to visit Hot Springs with their families in the years that followed.