Hilton Head’s Klaus Jackel, like our own Elvis Presley, was ambassador for an era | Opinion

They came to Hilton Head Island from Germany, Austria and France.

They drove Porsches, played soccer on the beach in Speedos, and in the late 1960s, ushered in a new culture to the Lowcountry — an eating culture.

They opened a number of fine-dining restaurants in a fried-meat-and-three world, offering European attention to detail, sophisticated menus, ice sculptures and tableside flambés.

As Arnold Palmer did for golf, they put Hilton Head on the map. Better yet, they stayed, with a personal stake in seeing a nascent hospitality industry in an out-of-the-way place succeed.

Today, a local restaurant group, the SERG Group, is the largest employer on an island with more than 250 restaurants and a $3 billion annual take from tourism.

The dashing era of European influence began in 1966 when Sea Pines founder Charles Fraser brought in German Franz Meier to fuel real estate sales with the panache of fine dining at his Plantation Club and William Hilton Inn.

But it was maître d’ Klaus Jackel who became the gregarious face of the scene. His life, which began in Berlin 80 years ago and ended July 20 in Bluffton, was celebrated last week in an event that was held, of course, at an island restaurant.

Jackel became an island legend best known for the Treasure Cove and Captain’s Table restaurants he and partners Franz Auer and Max Wolfe opened in the mid-1970s at the Sea Crest, the island’s first hostelry.

But he also worked at the Hofbrauhaus, the Gaslight, Alexander’s, the Old Oyster Factory and other restaurants.

At work and at home, Jackel was always an entertainer.

Peter Kenneweg, who opened the Hofbrauhaus and is a partner in the island’s other large local restaurant group, Coastal Restaurants and Bars (CRAB), put it this way, “He was the center of many stories.”

When Chris Jurgensen was hired to start the food and beverage service at Palmetto Dunes Resort in 1968, his first call for help was to Jackel, a friend from childhood.

Jurgensen’s home on Myrtle Lane became the landing spot for a long string of European restaurateurs to follow.

The Europeans came with credentials and worldwide experience. Several of them met while working at the German pavilion at Expo 67 in Montreal.

Jackel apprenticed three years to become a waiter. He had to pass written tests, and prove his ability to filet Dover sole, duck and goose tableside.

He never married and his home in Shipyard was party central.

“The later it got, the livelier he got,” Jurgensen said.

Jackel had a jukebox filled with the rocking tunes of Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Gene Vincent and his Blue Caps (“Be-Bop-A-Lula”). Elvis was his favorite, a love sparked over the airways of Berlin from the American Forces Network’s daily “Frolic at 5” show .

In 1989, Jackel, Jurgensen, Kenneweg and Ewe Mueller (of The Cookery and Alexander’s restaurants) flew to Germany one day after the Berlin Wall was opened.

The freedom to seek their fortune on Hilton Head hit them harder than the 30 pounds of the Berlin Wall they brought home.

America could learn a lot from Hilton Head’s invasion today — in all professions, and all of life.

Waiting on others was a profession, not a job. It was a source of pride. Quantity was not meant to overpower personal attention. Life was best when savored, not gulped.

Jurgensen and Kenneweg were with Jackel to the end, when health issues overwhelmed him.

Jurgensen hosted the celebration of a bigger-than-life life at Ric Peterson’s Red Fish restaurant. Jackel had asked that they play Elvis music and serve quiche Lorraine.

Jurgenson has spread a small vase of Jackel’s ashes at his childhood home in Berlin, and the rest will flow this week on an outgoing tide in Calibogue Sound.

“We helped establish a certain culture here,” Jurgensen said. “Klaus was one of the central parts of the whole movement. But I’m old school, and time waits for no one. Times have changed. It dies out. It just dies out.”