Year after year, it was the most important event: Kiel Week at the end of June. With his duffel bag, grey raincoat, white cap and blue blazer with the Royal Ocean Racing Club buttons, my father set off from Rinkenis on the north side of the Flensburg Fjord for Kiel. In his luggage he carried his large watercolour set, a considerable number of precious brushes, several watercolour pads and his tin can. It had a piece of string which he used to hang the water-filled tin round his neck. It had to be possible to rinse out his brushes anywhere, even on the regatta courses. And, as he painted with ‘watercolours’, the brushes had to be wet. That was back in the 1950s and 1960s.
You might also find the following interesting on this topic:
We heard nothing from my father for ten days, until he turned up again, tanned, his haul tucked under his arm. On support boats in the Kiel Fjord, he’d been painting non-stop in watercolours or working in black ink. People were happy to take him along, even though he occasionally got on their nerves with his painting kit. He didn’t mind people looking over his shoulder, and quite a few of his paintings were sold straight away, whilst still wet.
He worked for *YACHT* on the regatta courses. My father reported on the regattas ‘live’, so to speak, even though the articles weren’t printed until later. As a sailor himself, he captured the action on the water; he knew what was going to happen and worked extremely quickly. The scenes he sketched onto paper with a light touch had a casualness that his works, created at his desk, lacked. Even the numerous yacht portraits that owners commissioned from him lacked that brilliant touch that emerged directly on the water – although, of course, everything was accurate: the hull, the position of the sails, and the yacht’s position in the water.
How Nissen helped shape the early days of YACHT
His work for *YACHT* began even before the war, when the editorial team was based in Berlin. My father had studied at the School of Applied Arts and was living in the capital as an artist and graphic designer. The commissions from *YACHT* were tailor-made for him: he was a sailor and an artist – the perfect combination. For years, his illustrations graced the pages of *YACHT*.
My father worked closely with the editor-in-chief, Günter Grell. Grell wrote, and my father illustrated. In 1943, *YACHT* was suspended due to the war. My father returned to his childhood home in Rinkenis, Denmark, whilst Grell moved to Schleswig. As early as 1949, the two of them produced the first post-war issue of *YACHT*, printed on modest-quality paper, with just a few pages and a print run of 3,000 copies. The two of them carried on in this way into the 1960s, working through long nights fuelled by plenty of coffee and tobacco. When *YACHT* moved to Hamburg, the editorial team expanded and the pages were illustrated with photographs, that era came to an end for my father.
He was born in 1907 in Rinkenis on the Flensburg Fjord; his parents, Maria and Anton Nissen, were both artists. Even as a child, my father used to paint sailing ships. He learnt to sail at the Flensburg Sailing Club.
Between the German minority and ocean sailing
He was born in 1907 in Rinkenis on the Flensburg Fjord; his parents, Maria and Anton Nissen, were both artists. Even as a child, my father used to paint sailing ships. He learnt to sail at the Flensburg Sailing Club. Arndt Georg Nissen – known as A. G. or Age for short – was born a German. Following the 1920 referendum, North Schleswig became part of Denmark, and the Nissens were issued with Danish passports. However, this did not make the family Danish. They were part of the newly formed German minority and remained consciously German.
I suspect that this is why my father took part in a training course in 1925 – at the age of 18 – at the newly founded Hanseatic Yacht School of the German Offshore Sailing Association ‘Hansa’ (DHH) in Neustadt. It was a paramilitary institution where young men were taught the rigours of sailing. They were trained by former naval officers – discipline, morning roll calls and loud commands included.
In 1932, the yachting school sent the 24.60-metre-long ketch ‘Hamburg’ on a voyage to the Mediterranean. The stated aim was to fly the German flag abroad. My father applied to join the crew, but was accepted only with reservations because he had stipulated that he be allowed to paint on board. “I do not approve of your request to be granted a special status on board from the outset, out of consideration for your artistic activities,” wrote the managing director of the DHH.
My father documented the journey – which was stormy at times – in great detail, including in the book with the lovely title *‘We’ll Sail the Devil an Ear Off!’*, written by fellow sailor Ludwig Dinklage. In it, he describes how my father decorated a tree in the mess hall at Christmas and strode across the deck dressed as Knecht Ruprecht, his beard plucked from manila rope.
The *Hamburg* set sail from Cuxhaven in December; after 226 days, 990 nautical miles and visits to eight countries, she returned to her home port of Neustadt in July 1933.
Ever since that much-talked-about voyage, my father had been part of the elite circle of ocean-going sailors who, strangely enough, had the time to spend weeks at sea. My father was the only artist amongst them and always held a special position on board as the ‘painter’, as he was known. That said, like everyone else, he stood watch; despite his slight build, he tied reefing lines into leaden sails in heavy seas, rowed whilst lashed down in soaked oilskins, and was never seasick. The other experienced sailors in this network were entrepreneurs, academics, doctors and also journalists.
Atlantic regattas, watercolours and a scene with links to power
In the summer of 1936, the Olympic regatta from Bermuda to Cuxhaven presented a challenge that was right up this clique’s street. For the first time since 1905, German yachts were once again taking part in a transatlantic regatta – eight in total. My father signed on to the ‘Aschanti II’, owned by shipyard owner Ernst Burmester.
The Transatlantic Regatta was preceded by the famous Bermuda Race. Before the start, final adjustments were being made in this sailing mecca on the US East Coast, and my father brought home delicate watercolours depicting this unique setting with its large schooners owned by US tycoons.
Of course, my father didn’t get the transparent dome on the deck of the ‘Aschanti II’ that he had asked for so that he could paint in peace. The ‘Aschanti II’ came third. All the crews taking part in the race were received by Adolf Hitler at the Reich Chancellery in Berlin. The sun-tanned sailors were exactly the sort of people who thrilled the Führer.
My father used to talk about it from time to time; he was impressed by the atmosphere and by the Führer, who mingled with the sailors. Wolfgang Frank described the race and the reception with Hitler in the style of the time in the book *Die Jagd über den großen Teich*; my father illustrated it.
In 1938, the winner of the Transatlantic Regatta, the ‘Roland von Bremen’, was sold to the USA. The handover took place in New York. Hans von Lottner, who had been the navigator on the ‘Roland’ in 1936, took charge of the voyage from east to west. My father was among the seven crew members.
It turned out to be a legendary stormy voyage; on four occasions the yacht was left adrift for days on end. My father painted anyway. From Cowes, the last port before crossing the Atlantic, the ‘Roland’ took a good 28 days to reach Bristol. The yacht was delivered without incident and handed over safely to its new owner.
The journey on the ‘Kyloe’ remains the most delicate episode
Partly because he was available as a freelance artist, my father ended up as part of the crew on the ‘Kyloe’ in 1941 – one of the yachts deployed on the orders of Admiral Canaris, the head of the Abwehr, to sail overseas as so-called ‘ghost ships’ carrying spies.
The plan was to use the ‘Kyloe’ to drop off two men at sea just off the coast north of Cape Town. Christian Nissen, a namesake of my father, was the contact in Berlin. The sailors were to be disguised as eccentric American yachtsmen who were pursuing their hobby at sea despite the war.
It was a top-secret mission; Skipper ‘Hein Mück’ – as Christian Nissen was known – needed an experienced crew. My father had sailed the Transatlantic Regatta with him on the ‘Aschanti II’ – they trusted and valued one another; it was, after all, a close-knit circle.
It didn’t take much persuading for my father. Although he was newly married, he was naturally available – partly because, as a Danish citizen, he wasn’t conscripted into the Wehrmacht, unlike many of the German ocean-going sailors. Only his wife, my mother, was in the know; not even his own mother knew where he was or why he was away for months on end.
The ‘Kyloe’ was a 22.10-metre-long cutter-rigged yacht that was seized in Paimpol, Brittany. The six-strong crew fitted out water tanks and stuffed them full of provisions right up to the deck beams. Money was no object. The adventure began on 1 April 1941. The ‘Kyloe’ sailed far off the South American coast on the trade winds before heading east to set ashore one of the two ‘guests’, Robey Leibbrandt. The second man remained on board following a falling-out between him and Leibbrandt – the latter had threatened to shoot him as soon as they were ashore.
The “Kyloe” then set course for home, and on 22 July, after 14,400 nautical miles and 111 days of non-stop sailing, the voyage came to an end at Villa Cisneros – now Dakhla – in the Spanish Western Sahara. Returning to France seemed too dangerous given the escalating naval conflict.
In Berlin, the crew were awarded the ‘Blockade-Breaker’ badge. My father left no drawings or watercolours of this extraordinary voyage, even though he had his art supplies on board. He did, however, draw up a certificate for each of us to mark our equatorial baptism and put together a cheerful weekly on-board magazine. What’s more, he kept a diary whilst on board, which was strictly forbidden. My father was simply not cut out for the German Abwehr.
A review with unanswered questions
Today I ask myself: what sort of voyage was that? Sailing meant everything to my father. But what cause was he sailing for? Was there such a thing as freedom at sea without the reality on land? Unfortunately, I failed to ask my father whether he was aware of what had been happening in Germany since 1933. Looking back on how I knew him, he was apolitical and naïve. For him, it was simply about sailing. And about painting at sea.
When things got going again after the war, my father sailed in various Round Skagen and long-distance regattas to Kiel Week. In 1953, he was a crew member on Ernst Burmester’s 12-metre yacht ‘Aschanti III’ during races off the US east coast. His last major voyage was in 1963: a 2,100-nautical-mile cruise round Scotland as watch leader on the DHH yacht ‘Nordsee’, formerly ‘Germania V’. As was often the case, “Rasmus played the piano with great vigour, mostly at forte”, as one cruise report puts it. After that, my father sailed more leisurely in the Danish South Sea. He died in 1979.
About Marianne Nissen
After completing her A-levels in Apenrade and an internship at NDR Flensburg, the artist’s daughter joined the publishing house Delius Klasing, where she founded the magazine BOOTE EXCLUSIV. She grew up sailing on the Flensburg Fjord, where she sailed her own dinghy; later, she became a regular crew member on the ‘Kong Bele’.
Book recommendations on this topic
“Yacht Design – The Great Designers”, edited by Lasse Johannsen, traces the history of sailing through the people who have shaped its boats. Anyone interested in the aesthetics, development and historical context of classic sailing yachts will find the broader historical perspective on sailing here.
“Wilfried Erdmann – from the outside in” Johannes Erdmann’s contribution complements the biographical focus of this article by highlighting a key figure in German sailing. The focus here is on the life of a sailor, his experiences and his outlook.
More classics in YACHT classic
Are you interested in the world of classic yachts, traditional boatbuilding and the history of sailing? Then read more about it in our special edition, YACHT classic.