BLOOD, IRON, AND FAITH: The Long History of the Germans In South Carolina
We Continue Our Series On South Carolina History By Exploring The Long and Rich History of German Migrants Who Came To and Helped Forge The Palmetto State.
South Carolina’s history bears the not-so-subtle footprints of centuries of German influence. From colonial townships to modern public life, Germans helped shape the Palmetto State in ways that often go unnoticed to everyone but their descendants. Their influence lingers in town names, Lutheran sanctuaries, iron gates, beer festivals, civic life, and in our Southern dialect. This is the story of a people who arrived as immigrants and over generations became Americans. Their legacy is one of quiet contribution and lasting integration, threaded through the story of South Carolina. This is the story of the Germans of South Carolina.
Germans began arriving in small numbers as early as the 1670s, with the first major influx arriving in the 1730s and 1740s, when the British sought to settle South Carolina’s backcountry. Lured by promises of land, hundreds of German families carved out settlements in places like Saxe-Gotha, now called Lexington. These were frontier communities—tight-knit, devoutly Lutheran, and fiercely self-reliant. The region between the Broad and Saluda Rivers became known as the “Dutch Fork,” a misunderstanding of “Deutsche”. These German-speaking farmers turned dense pine forests into productive agricultural fields with their bare hands.
Charleston became home to a distinct German enclave. German craftsmen, shopkeepers, and professionals established themselves in the city, founding St. John’s Lutheran Church in 1759 and forming the German Friendly Society in 1766. In 1775, Charleston’s Germans formed the first all-German military unit in America, the German Fusiliers, who fought in the Patriot cause. Their backcountry cousins in the Midlands and Upstate were more divided during the Revolution, with more recent arrivals siding with the British out of caution and respect for those who gave them their new home. While they shared language, heritage, and faith, South Carolina’s Germans were far from a monolith.
These communities gradually shifted their language from German to English. Lutheran churches remained central to them, and in places like the Dutch Fork, German dialects were still heard well into the 19th century. New immigration slowed after 1800, but Charleston experienced a modest German revival under the leadership of Johann A. Wagener. Wagener founded a German-language newspaper, social clubs, a rifle company, and launched a bold colonization project: the founding of Walhalla, South Carolina. Walhalla is a planned German town in the Blue Ridge foothills, settled by German immigrants beginning in 1850. Walhalla embodied the dream of preserving German identity in the new world—complete with German street names, a Lutheran church, and Germanic traditions.
German settlers established on-farm pork processing in South Carolina, introducing fresh sausages like bratwurst, liverwurst, and blood sausages, varieties less familiar to English colonists. Charleston became home to lager beer gardens thanks to brewmasters like John Doscher, who opened The Palmetto Brewery. Musical societies, choral groups, and rifle clubs hosted concerts and festivals rooted in German culture. Among the most colorful was the Schützenfest, a Bavarian-style sharpshooting festival that became a fixture of the Charleston social calendar.
When the Civil War broke out, most German South Carolinians found themselves divided again. Johann A. Wagener led an artillery unit in the Confederate Army and German Lutheran Reverand John Bachman ministered to the Charleston black population and penned some of the first scientific papers arguing that Whites and Blacks are the same species. After the war, Germans walked a cultural tightrope. They were white, but foreign enough to draw suspicion in the recently humiliated South wary of carpetbaggers and outsiders. Yet their civic presence endured, as demonstrated by Johann A. Wagener’s election as mayor of Charleston in 1871.
By the 20th century, full assimilation had taken place in South Carolina. During World Wars I and II, anti-German sentiment swept the country, but South Carolina’s German-Americans embraced it. German-language newspapers closed shop, Luthran churches dropped German from their services, and groups like the German Friendly Society temporarily removed “German” from their name. German-descended South Carolinians demonstrated patriotism in spades. Men with names like Schmidt, Reicher, and Bessinger served in the U.S. armed forces, including future governor Fritz Hollings who fought in Germany to defeat the nation his ancestors had called home.
In the postwar years, German heritage reemerged, woven seamlessly into the state’s culture. Walhalla launched its annual Oktoberfest in 1979, now one of the most beloved fall traditions in the Upstate. In Newberry and Lexington Counties, communities began reclaiming and celebrating their Lutheran and German roots. The German Friendly Society restored its name in 1965 and continues its charitable work today, more than 250 years after its founding. Historical markers across the state honor German figures like blacksmith Christopher Werner, whose wrought iron gates still adorn Charleston streets and who crafted beautiful bronze Palmetto Regiment Monument standing on the State House grounds. Even though few South Carolinians speak German today, echoes of Germany remain—in steeples, surnames, and the German word for Boys “Jungen” which became the South Carolina backcountry term for children, “Yung’un”.
The story of South Carolina’s Germans is one of quiet endurance. They were seldom headline-makers or firebrands. They were steady, industrious, and deeply committed to building better lives in their new home. Over generations, they blended into the broader population—yet carried with them a quiet pride in where they came from. Through war and peace, migration and assimilation, their presence helped make South Carolina more productive, more musical, and a bit more fun. In a state where identity is often wrapped in symbols and traditions, the German legacy lingers like a steady undertone—unassuming, but unmistakable. And while few may brag about it, those with German roots in South Carolina know who they are.
I am a descendant on my fathers side of Austrian immigrants who came here in 1753. They were Anabaptists fleeing persecution in Germany. My sixth great-grandfather received a land grant from King George and settled in the area around Columbia.