Note: In this post, I publish images of my great-great-grand-uncle Dr. Jonas Bruck (1813-1883) spanning the period from when he was a young man in the 1830s to sketches done of him by his son on his death bed on the 4th-5th of April 1883.
My great-great-great-uncle Dr. Julius Jonas Bruck (1813-1883) is buried in the Stary Cmentarz Żydowski we Wrocławiu, the Old Jewish Cemetery in Wrocław, Poland [German: Breslau], along with his son Dr. Julius Bruck (1840-1902), and their respective wives. Their restored headstones line an inner face of the wall surrounding the cemetery. (Figure 1) Jonas’ son Julius was the famed inventor of the stomatoscope, a water-cooled diaphanoscopic instrument for transillumination of the bladder via the rectum. (Figure 2) For this reason, his biography and photo can be found in Wikipedia, even on US Wikipedia. The Old Jewish Cemetery in Wrocław is one of the few places where graves of any of my Bruck ancestors can be found.
Dr. Jonas Bruck was in his own right an accomplished dentist and is considered one of the founders of scientific dentistry in Germany and the author of one of the first textbooks on dentistry in Germany. Originally published I believe in 1856, it is entitled “Lehrbuch der Zahn-Heilkunde,” which translates as “Textbook of Dental Medicine.” He published another book in 1857 entitled “Die scrofulöse Zahnaffection,” translated as “the scrofulous tooth extraction.” Quoting from AI Interview as to what I think this was about: “Scrofula, or tuberculous cervical lymphadenitis, is a type of tuberculosis infection primarily affecting the lymph nodes in the neck. While it doesn’t directly cause diseases of the teeth, it can manifest in the mouth and jaw area, and the presence of scrofula can complicate dental treatments and increase the risk of dental complications.” Clearly, Jonas was advancing a scientific approach to dental treatment of scrofula specifically as it related to its impact on the mouth and jaw area.
Despite Jonas’ prominence and my access to an extensive collection of images of my Bruck family, for the longest time I had no pictures of him. Relatedly, one of my cousins once gave me a picture arguably of Jonas. I never believed this photo was of him because it bears no resemblance to any members of my ancestral line. (Figure 3) Readers, I think, will agree that the person in question looks foreboding and menacing.
The first image I obtained of Jonas Bruck intriguingly came not from any member of my family but rather from someone I now consider a friend, Dr. Tilo Wahl, who stumbled across my blog. (Figure 4) Besides being a medical doctor in Berlin, he is a phalerist, that’s to say a person who studies and collects orders, fraternities, and award items, such as medals, ribbons, and other decorations. This field of study is known as phaleristics. In former times, the medals and decorations were attached to sashes worn over the recipient’s shoulder, especially as part of a uniform or official dress, or worn on the lapel. Many readers have no doubt seen old photographs of individuals wearing their award items thusly.
In any case, back in 2013, Tilo purchased at auction the medals and awards once belonging to my eminent Bruck ancestor from Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland], Dr. Walther Wolfgang Bruck (1872-1937). (Figure 5) Walther was the subject of Posts 100 and 117. As I explained in those posts, Tilo acquired Walther’s medals and orders from Walther’s grandson, Nicholas Newman (1960-2015), whom he subsequently met in person. During their meeting (Figure 6), Tilo purchased additional items from Nicholas and took detailed digital images of Walther’s photo album. Tilo shared pictures with me of everything he acquired. Buried amidst all this paraphernalia was a high-quality photo of Jonas Bruck (Figure 7), Walther’s grandfather. This is the first picture I obtained of Jonas, but it would not be the last.
Fast forward, a few years ago I was contacted through my blog by an English lady from Wolverhampton, Helen Winter, née Renshaw (1948-living), a lady I eventually determined is my fourth cousin. (Figure 8) Jonas Bruck was her great-great-grandfather, and her great-grandfather was Felix Bruck (1843-1911), brother of the previously discussed Julius Bruck; Felix was another of Jonas’ three legitimate sons.
Regardless, amongst the voluminous family materials she’s inherited are multiple paintings and photographs of Jonas, which I’m reprinting here with Helen’s kind permission. (Figures 9-13) Two even show Jonas on his death bed on the 4th and 5th of April 1883 limned by Helen’s great-grandfather Felix Friedrich Bruck (1843-1911), a gifted sketch artist. (Figures 14-15) In a future post, as a guest writer, Helen will discuss an endearing and detailed birthday card her grandfather Eberhard “Hardy” Bruck (1877-1960) drew for his father Felix’s 50th birthday, identifying all the family members illustrated. It seems that a talent for drawing ran in the family.
Note: This is a brief postscript to a post I published in late 2023 including several images sent to me by Mr. Jan Krajczok, the Polish gentleman from Rybnik, Poland who assisted me in finding primary source documents about the inn once owned by my great-great-grand-uncle in the town of Zyttna, Prussia [today: Żytna, Poland].
Readers should refer to Post 145 for the background on the story of an inn that Dr. Jonas Bruck, my great-great-grand-uncle, owned in Zyttna, Prussia [today: Żytna, Poland], 120 miles away from Breslau, Prussia [today: Wrocław, Poland] where he lived. This was likely an investment property since he was a renowned dentist in Breslau.
Following publication of Post 145, Mr. Jan Krajczok, the Polish gentleman who assisted me in tracking down primary source documents for that post, sent me three images. Two of them show events that took place at the inn; one was the celebration of a national holiday (Figure 1) and the second was a wedding. (Figure 2) The third is an image of an old beer glass from the inn dating from the 19th or 20th century. (Figure 3) Jan estimates the pictures of the inn were taken in the 1920s. Both pictures include advertisements for Tyskie, a Polish brand of beer that originated in Tychy, Poland that has been in continuous production since 1629, making it one of the oldest breweries in the country. Polish flags can also be seen in both images.
In the picture of the national celebration in front of the inn, the deteriorated state of the inn is clearly visible. The contemporary owners of the plot where the inn used to stand purchased it in the 1950s, tore down the dilapidated inn, and built their own house.
PICTURE POSTCARD OF CROWN PRINCE’S WEDDING ADDED ON 4/26/2025
Note: Drawing upon the diary of an Amalie von Koschembahr, née Mockrauer, a relative by marriage, I highlight some observations she recorded between 1897 and 1918 about contemporary events.
Wilhelm Bruck (1849-1907) (Figure 1) was my great-great-grandfather Fedor Bruck’s (1834-1892) younger brother. (Figure 2) As discussed in Post 173, upon his marriage in 1884 to the aristocratic Margarete “Gretchen” von Koschembahr (1860-1946) (Figure 3), Wilhelm adopted her surname in the hyphenated form, Bruck-von Koschembahr. With the family’s arrival in America, the “Bruck” name was forever dropped. I ruefully think I’ve gone from what could have been a very large family to a smaller one on account of this.
Margarete’s parents were Leopold von Koschembahr (1829-1874) (Figure 4) and Amalie von Koschembahr, née Mockrauer (1834-1918). (Figure 5) Curiously, Amalie’s younger sister, Friederike “Fritzel” Mockrauer (1836-1924) (Figure 6) was married to Fedor Bruck; in other words, Amalie’s sister was married to her son-in-law’s older brother. In former times, such cross-generational “hookups” were not altogether uncommon.
Significantly the von Koschembahrs were not Jewish, though this did not prevent Wilhelm and Gretchen’s mischlinge children from being persecuted and forced to flee Germany during the Nazi Era.
Beginning in 1897 and continuing intermittently until roughly a year before her death in 1918, Amalie kept a diary. I became aware of the roughly 50 pages of her journal while researching Post 173. I obtained a typed German transcription of it from my third cousin and subsequently translated it using Google Translate. This resulted in a mostly very readable document.
Leopold von Koschembahr died at 45 years of age, but not before he and Amalie had 11 children born between 1855 and 1873. Amalie never remarried and reverted to her Mockrauer maiden name following her husband’s death. The children Amalie acknowledges in her diary are Hans (1858-1874); Stanislaus (1859-1914); Margarete (1860-1946); Leopold (1862-1908); Adolf (1863-1895); Elisabeth (1865-1865); Mathilde (1866-1931) (Figure 7); Max (1868-1890); Susanna (1869-1903); Erich (1871-1938) (Figure 8); and Friedrich Wilhelm (1873-1873). A 12th child I’ve documented elsewhere, Alexandra Mathilde Isidore von Koschembahr (1 June 1855-14 July 1855), died in infancy; this is a child I reckon was born before Amalie and Leopold were married. Two other children, Elisabeth and Friedrich Wilhelm, also died in infancy. Of the other children, Hans, Adolf, Susanna, Max, Leopold, and Stanislaus predeceased Amalie, with only Margarete, Mathilde, and Erich outliving her.
Select observations and noteworthy events from Amalie’s memoir will be discussed in this post.
A few comments before I launch into this presentation. In writing my posts, I’m ever mindful of the fact that I’m writing about my distant ancestors who are unknown to most readers. For this reason, unless the people’s stories are compelling, I’ll focus on the social and political context in which they lived and on noteworthy events or global developments they may have witnessed or written about that may be familiar and possibly of greater interest to readers. For example, Amalie’s observations on Germany’s expansionist aspirations are intriguing because they speak to Europe’s colonial past.
Another balancing act I have to tightrope is how much of the family “skeletons” to reveal. It is significant that Amalie self-censored her journal so that she removed some pages considering them in retrospect too inflammatory or disparaging. An example of pages she removed relate to the dissolution of her son Leo’s brief first engagement in 1901. Enough survives elsewhere, however, so that even more than 100 years after the journal was written, living descendants may retain some of the same sensibilities. I prefer to think that I’m not whitewashing my ancestors’ stories as much as soft-pedaling uncomfortable truths. I concede this may be a distinction without a discernible difference.
Many of Amalie’s observations speak to the weather, her belief in God, her health, and her relationships and visits across Germany to see her children and family; she also touches on the connection among her children. I consider these to be of limited interest to readers. Except where Amalie’s reflections relate to my great-great-uncle Wilhelm Bruck and his family, I won’t dwell on them.
Amalie appears to have been particularly fond and close to Wilhelm and Gretchen, and their five children, Gerhard (1885-1961) (Figure 9), Charlotte (1886-1974) (Figure 10), Marianne (1888-1975) (Figure 11), Friedrich 1889-1963) (Figure 12), and Heinz (1892-1915). Her brief vignettes of family gatherings with them are particularly memorable since so few written accounts survive of my Bruck ancestors. Wilhelm appears to have been very much adored by his family and mother-in-law. This reinforces the impression I have of some of my Bruck ancestors, namely, that they were charismatic, warm, funny, and extroverted.
At the time Amalie started to record her memoirs in 1897 she was already 63 years old. Until she moved from Berlin to Dresden in April 1902 to live with her unmarried daughter Mathilde “Tilchen,” her entries were recorded in Berlin. Her oldest son was Hans von Koschembahr (1858-1874) who died at sixteen and whom she lovingly remembered in an 1898 entry on what would have been his 40th birthday. Following his father Leopold’s death some months earlier in the same year, Hans would ordinarily have inherited the mantle as patriarch of the family. Instead this role was assumed by the next oldest son, Stanislaus “Stasch” von Koschembahr (1859-1914).
Notably, Stanislaus von Koschembahr was permanently transferred on the 1st of April 1898 to the German General Staff, also known as the Great General Staff [German: Großen-Generalstab]. This was a very big deal, as this was the full-time body responsible for military planning and strategy, initially for the Prussian Army and later for the German Army. Stanislaus was killed in Mulhouse in Alsace-Lorraine on the 9th of August 1914. At the time, General von Koschembahr was commanding the 84th Infantry Brigade.
An entry that Amalie records on the 6th of May 1898 speaks indirectly to Stanislaus’ negative attitude towards some of his sibling’s partners. When his younger sister Susanna Friederike von Koschembahr (1869-1903) got engaged to her future husband Friedrich “Fritz” Otto Freiherr von Ripperda (1864-1922), Amalie remarked that happily this marriage would not cause any conflict among her children because Susanna and Fritz would behave as relatives to Wilhelm and Gretchen Bruck. The implication is that contrary to the marriage of the latter, which Stanislaus opposed, he favored Susanna’s marriage. There are two ostensible reasons he did not approve of Gretchen’s alliance. First, Stanislaus considered Wilhelm to be non-aristocratic and second, he disapproved because Wilhelm was Jewish.
Stanislaus apparently held the same negative views towards his younger brother Leo’s selection of the “commoner” Alice Auerbach as his spouse; she too was Jewish. Here is what Amalie writes: “Since Stanislaus did not agree to this marriage, he behaved with reserve and, unfortunately, not in a friendly manner towards Alice. It was certainly painful for Leo to bring about a rift, but he had no choice, as he had to remain loyal and steadfast to his Alice. So there was another rift between the siblings, and it hurt me immensely. Of course, there was nothing we could do about it—we had to bear it and wait to see whether time and insight would help bring about a reconciliation.” Amalie later notes that Stanislaus and Leo eventually reconciled.
It is also noteworthy that Stanislaus (Figure 13) attended the wedding of Wilhelm and Margarete Bruck’s eldest son, Gerhard Bruck, when he married Hilda von Zedlitz und Neukirch (Figure 14a-c) on the 21st of March 1914. This suggests Stanislaus may also eventually have reached an “accommodation” with his sister and her husband, possibly because his nephew married an aristocrat.
As previously noted, Gretchen and Wilhelm Bruck had five children. Amalie remarks on Wilhelm’s appointment to the Justizrat, Judicial Council, on the 17th of December 1897. Gretchen and Wilhelm appeared to have had a warm relationship. On his 48th birthday in 1898, and on subsequent birthdays, Gretchen wrote short plays for the children to perform that were the source of great merriment. The scenes are so intimate they are easily imagined.
Amalie’s diary, written as it was in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, reflects societal approval of Germany’s colonial expansionism. She remarks very favorably on Germany’s 1897 takeover of Jiaozhou Bay [German: Kiautschou Bucht] in China. In 1898, a formal lease agreement was reached between the Germans and the imperial Chinese government. The Kiautschou Bay Leased Territory was a German leased territory in Imperial and Early Republican China from 1898 to 1914. It covered 213 square miles and was centered on Jiaozhou Bay on the southern coast of the Shandong Peninsula. The Russian Empire resented the German move as an infringement on their ambitions in the region.
Germany was a latecomer to the imperialistic scramble for colonies. Germany had two primary objectives, using the German colony to support a global naval presence and to support the economy of the mother country. Densely populated China was viewed as a potential market to be exploited with expansionist thinkers demanding an active colonial policy from the government. China was made a high priority because it was deemed to be the most important non-European market in the world.
Amalie remarked on how she was closely following the Spanish-American War of 1898, which had not yet been decided at the time she wrote. She may have oversimplified the cause of the war attributing it to “Spain’s poor economics.” The mysterious explosion of the USS Maine in Havana harbor, which killed 266 American sailors, was the major catalyst for war. While the cause of the explosion has never been fully determined, many Americans blamed Spain. Sensationalized news coverage by American newspapers, referred to as “yellow journalism,” exaggerated Spanish atrocities in Cuba and inflamed public opinion, pushing for intervention. American business interests, particularly in the sugar industry, may also have played a part in intervention by America, prodded by businessmen who sought stability and continued profits.
Another contemporary conflict Amalie followed and remarked disapprovingly upon was the Second Boer War (1899-1902), also known as the Boer War, Transvaal War, Anglo-Boer War, or South African War. This was a conflict fought between the British Empire and the two Boer republics, the South African Republic and the Orange Free State, over the Empire’s influence in Southern Africa. The Boers were descendants of Dutch colonists, along with French Huguenots and other European settlers, who established a colony at the Cape of Good Hope in 1652. The descendants of the Dutch colonists are known as Afrikaners.
Amalie remarked the following: “It is the most unjust war that nations have ever waged, and the English are losing respect and prestige. How outrageous is their cruelty against a peaceful people who, through toil and tireless work, have created a flourishing empire.” Seen through a modern-day prism, the mistreatment and subjugation of the native population would render a more negative assessment of the Afrikaners.
Of scant interest to readers but of personal curiosity was that Gretchen and Wilhelm’s eldest son Gerhard was allowed to take a vacation to Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland] during Easter 1900. Ratibor in Upper Silesia, as regular readers may recall, is where my father was born and where my family had a presence that lasted more than 100 years. Gerhard visited his widowed great-aunt Friederike “Fritzel” Mockrauer (i.e., Amalie’s sister married to Fedor Bruck, already deceased at the time Gerhard visited) while his father and sister relaxed in Krummhübel [today: Karpacz, Poland] near today’s Karkonosze National Park, which straddles the Polish-Czech border. This is a popular ski resort, and near where my father went skiing with friends many years later. (Figure 15) Given this is a place various members of my family vacationed over the years, my wife and I have decided to include it as a destination during our upcoming holiday in Poland and the Czech Republic.
I’m interested in this for two reasons. My famed ancestor Dr. Walther Wolfgang Bruck (1872-1937) from Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland] was the personal dentist to Kaiser Wilhelm’s second wife Princess Hermine Reuss of Greiz (Figure 16), possibly the Kaiser himself, and other members of the Prussian aristocracy. More directly, the German Crown Prince’s wife, Duchess Cecilie of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, visited the flower shop and school owned by my great-aunt Franziska Bruck in Berlin. Official postcards and photographs exist of this visit, one I guess took place in the early to mid-1910s. (Figure 17)
Amalie describes the Berlin scene preceding the Crown Prince’s marriage (Figures 18 & 21): “Even though, at my advanced age, I couldn’t see much due to the associated exertion, the general enthusiasm filled me with joyful participation, especially when my grandchildren returned home from their outings and spoke with delight about all the splendors they had seen. But at least I was able to admire the Unter der Linden boulevard, as Gretchen took a carriage for a ride. The street was transformed into a rose garden, and Pariser Platz, with its tall masts adorned with rich rose tufts in the sun, looked like something out of a fairytale. And the Opera House was beautifully decorated above all else. Long, yellow-tinted garlands of rhododendrons hung from top to bottom, and large bushes on balconies, windows, and corners, as well as the Crown Prince’s Palace, were framed with pink roses and greenery, even all the window frames. One can imagine there was no way there could have been such an abundance of natural, precious roses at the beginning of June, so everything was decorated with artificial ones. Despite the tremendous heat that had prevailed here for days, masses of people gathered in the streets and squares, participating in the event in our Imperial Palace with astonishing stamina and such sincere, enthusiastic joy that every heart had to rejoice. The young bride was immensely popular. The young couple, in general, won the full sympathy of the crowd through their friendliness they gratefully extended to the enthusiastic people. Our Emperor was also very pleased by his people’s joyful participation in the joy that moved his father’s heart. He expressed it in a wonderful speech at the wedding banquet; few can speak like this ruler with his great understanding, spirit, and kind heart.”
In an entry Amalie recorded on the 13th of October 1906 she reflects on her life. In part she writes:
“My upbringing was such that I lacked any practical experience, and this became particularly detrimental to me now that, at the age of 21, when I married, I found myself in circumstances of which I had no idea. My upbringing at home was, in terms of education and the formation of the heart, the best imaginable and even astonishing for that time in the early 19th century, in a simple middle-class home. . .My parents valued decency and morals, raised us very modestly and unpretentiously, but never discussed in depth our future and our destiny in the event of marriage [Editor’s note: this is a criticism of the complete lack of knowledge in sexual matters]. Such matters were strictly kept at arm’s length, as was business knowledge, which must be important to a woman.”
She continues, characterizing her husband’s equal level of idealism and inexperience, and the detrimental effects:
“The great inclination and enthusiasm of youth prevailed. My husband, at 26, was just as idealistic and inexperienced as I was, and we lived like children in fairy tales. The awakening was very bitter, and since my husband never explained or confided in me the financial situation we were living in, I only learned in outline about the situation, which had already been poor when I married. The estate of Mittel-Sohra near Görlitz was too large for the means available to my husband, and since I received only a very small dowry, it was too difficult to maintain myself there. The estate was beautiful and, as I imagined, a profitable property, but it required a great deal of diligence, energy, and enthusiasm to make progress, even with extreme frugality. My husband lacked all of this, and I was far too inexperienced to support and encourage him as a loyal companion.”
Ultimately, notwithstanding the fact that Leopold von Koschembahr’s mother gave him money to pay the usurious rates to which he was subjected, creditors repossessed their home in 1856-57. Having saved the capital the couple had received from Leopold’s mother, they began to search for a house in Amalie’s hometown of Tost [today: Toszek, Poland] in Upper Silesia. While waiting for the proper opportunity to buy another estate, Amalie ruefully notes Leopold was led “. . .to the incredible idea of investing the money in speculative securities. At the time, the Union War was raging in America, and American securities were being traded. My husband speculated with these securities and lost all his money. That was a terrible blow—for we were not only penniless, but there were also differences to be paid, for which we didn’t have the money. Now, the courts were still at risk of seizing all our belongings.” Friends and relatives, fortunately, pooled money to help the couple pay their debts and lease a property near Posen [today: Poznań, Poland]. However, because of Leopold’s character, as Amalie describes it, “. . .a serious, steady mind was out of the question. He was composed of kindness and great weakness, an invincible stubbornness and idealism.” Because of Leopold’s failings, the couple eventually also lost the lease on the estate near Posen. Suffice it to say that while Leopold may have been an entitled member of the aristocracy, he was imbued with a terrible business sense.
Given her fondness for her son-in-law, my great-great-uncle Wilhelm Bruck, expectedly Amalie remarks on his sudden death on the 15th of February 1907, then again in 1909 on the anniversary of his death. Naturally, she records the deaths of her daughter Susanna in 1903 and her son Leo in 1908, bemoaning the fact she’s outlived them.
Interestingly, Amalie remarks on the celebration of Kaiser Wilhelm II’s birthday on the 27th of January 1909, a fact that will seem curious to an American audience. Unlike our American President, the German Kaiser was seen as the embodiment of German national identity and the leader who would guide the nation towards greatness. Initially, the Kaiser was seen as a symbol of national unity and strength, but his personality and policies, particularly as they impacted the First World War, led to a shift in perception.
Among Amalie Mockrauer’s siblings was a younger sister named Rosalie Mockrauer (1844-1927) (Figure 19) who was married to Dr. Josef Pauly (1843-1916) (Figure 20), the subject of Post 56. Rosalie and Josef lived in Posen [today: Poznań, Poland] and had nine children, eight of whom were girls. Suffice it to say, that many of the distant cousins whom I’ve found and am presently in contact with, are related to me directly or indirectly through the Mockrauers or their in-laws (e.g., Pauly, Kantorowicz).
Amalie died in August 1918, shortly before World War I ended in November 1918. Surprisingly, she makes no mention in her diary of the war, only a passing reference in 1909 of the unrest among Serbian nationalists against Austro-Hungarian rule. World War I was later sparked by the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary in Sarajevo on June 28, 1914.
There is so much more I could extract from Amalie’s memoir, but I’ve simply highlighted a few items to discuss that transcend my own family, hoping this might be of slightly greater interest to readers.
Note: This post is yet another example of a reader supplementing what’s known about some person, event, or place I’ve written about. In this case, the reader directed me to the website of the Bureau of Aircraft Accidents Archives (B3A) where he astonishingly found contemporary plane crash photos of the aircraft my great-uncle Rudolf Löwenstein was traveling on when he was killed on the 22nd of August 1930 in then-Czechoslovakia.
In the recently published Post 174, I discussed the Rudolf Mosse “Annoncen-Expedition-Reklame-Büro,” the advertising expedition/agency for which my great-uncle Rudolf Löwenstein was the General Agent. I think he worked for Rudolf Mosse & Co. in Danzig [today: Gdańsk, Poland] from around 1905 until his untimely death in a plane crash on the 22nd of August 1930 in what is today the Czech Republic.
Following publication of Post 174, my friend Peter Albrecht von Preußen, sent an email with some positive words. He included a link to information about the accident. Several years ago, my “other” Peter friend, Peter Hanke, the “Wizard of Wolfsberg,” had previously found and sent me and translated news clippings from several contemporary German newspapers with accounts of the August 1930 plane accident. I erroneously assumed the new link was merely to another article. It turned out to be something much more engrossing.
This is a good moment for a brief digression to give another “shout out” to the readers of my blog. It has happened on more occasions than I can recall that readers have found and/or brought to my attention information, websites, visuals, artifacts, etc. related to people, events, and places I’ve written about. In many instances I would never have found these on my own nor knew they exist.
In the current instance, Peter Albrecht included the link to the website of the so-called Bureau of Aircraft Accidents Archives (B3A), which according to the founder of the website, Mr. Ronan Hubert, was established in 1990 for the purpose of dealing with all information related to aviation accidentology. Mr. Ronan self describes as a “Historian in aircraft accidents. Aviation accidentologist. Specialized in psychological preparedness for mass disaster and human factor.” He further writes that “The primary goal of the B3A is to collect, manage and archive all information relating to aviation accidents worldwide since 1918 till [sic] today. Therefore, its records is [sic] currently composed of thousands of documents, reports, photos, etc. representing to date more than 34,400 events.”
Astonishingly, the B3A website includes one photo of the Ford 5 aircraft (Figure 1) on which my great-uncle Rudolf was traveling on the fateful day he died, plus six contemporary photos of the crash. (Figures 2-7) The plane crashed near Jihlava, Czech Republic [German: Iglau]. Details of the plane, the year it was made, the operator of the airline, the number of crew and passengers, the number/of fatalities among the crew and passengers, the captain’s hours of flying experience, the itinerary, etc. are provided. (Figure 8)
The circumstances surrounding the plane accident are also described:
“The aircraft departed Prague-Kbely Airport at 1505LT on a flight to Bratislava with an intermediate stop in Brno. While cruising at a height of 700 metres, weather conditions worsened, and the captain decided first to reduce his altitude. Shortly later, he realized the weather conditions were becoming worse and worse with thunderstorm activity. Due to low visibility, he decided to make a 180 turn to go back to Prague. While flying at a height estimated between 15 and 20 metres in limited visibility, he saw the chimney of a brickwork and made a sharp turn to the left to avoid the collision. Doing so, the aircraft stalled and hit the roof of a farmhouse then crashed half in a garden. While a passenger (Professor Vojtěch Kraus) was seriously injured, all 12 other occupants were killed. Up to date, this accident was considered as the worst involving CSA Czech Airlines since its creation in 1923.”
The names of the crew and passengers are given.
Crew: Josef Sedlář, pilot, Josef Trafina, mechanic.
Passengers: Ing. Mirko Káš, Ing. Vojtěch Jokl, Anton Müller, Vladislaw Müller, Rudolf Vonka, Boh. Jarolímek, Ing. Bernard Eimann, Judr. Anton Hamrle, Prof. Vojtěch Kraus, Marie Rybníčková, Mr. Lowenstein.
As readers can see, my great-uncle “Mr. Lowenstein” was among the passenger fatalities.
According to the contemporary newspaper accounts, translated in Post 71, of the aircraft accident which killed Rudolf and the other passengers and crews, the impact of the plane drilling into the ground was so violent that the petrol tank exploded. The plane was enveloped in a sea of flames. Even though it was raining heavily at the time, the roof of the house into which the plane crashed also caught fire. While the fire brigade extinguished the fire, help came too late. Of the 13 passenger and crew on board, 12 were killed. While the plane’s fuselage appears to have been largely intact, the engine was completely destroyed.
Most people are not apt to have had relatives, friends, or acquaintances killed in a plane crash, but for those rare readers who have lost someone in this manner, it’s intriguing to realize that a website exists which tracks this information.
