Note: I recently came upon an alternate use of the term “heritage tourism” that I briefly contrast with the application of the phrase during my working days.
Some readers know I worked as an archaeologist for the largest U.S. federal land-managing agency, the Bureau of Land Management or the “BLM,” which currently administers roughly 245 million acres. I spent the bulk of my career in the headquarters office in Washington, D.C. working in an administrative position rather than as a field archaeologist. Among my responsibilities was developing the annual budget for submission to Congress for what was dubbed the “cultural resource management program,” which has broad authority over prehistoric and historic archaeological resources; paleontological resources; museum collections; Native American tribal coordination; heritage education; and more.
Road signs usually inform travelers they have crossed onto or entered BLM lands. Unlike one of BLM’s sister agencies, the National Park Service, rarely are tourists required to go through a gated park entrance and pay an entrance fee to access BLM’s so-called public lands.
Unfettered access to most of the agency’s lands has clear advantages. An obvious one is that visitors are not usually required to pay to use the BLM lands. Another benefit is they can enjoy a dispersed recreational opportunity in a natural outdoor setting surrounded by fewer tourists. Many of the agency’s cultural and fossil resources are in wilderness areas where motorized vehicles are prohibited; these areas are largely devoid of modern human development and untrammeled by people. This enables outdoor enthusiasts to view these resources in their original setting and imagine the world in which they were created.
From BLM’s standpoint, however, there are also some serious drawbacks from unrestricted access to their lands. Many of the agency’s remote cultural and paleontological resources have been targeted by looters, vandals, and so-called “pothunters.” Archaeological and fossil sites that might have informed scientists and tourists about the recent and distant past have been irreparably damaged. Many of these places are no longer suitable for study and public interpretation. The economic, recreational, and scientific benefits the public might have derived from them is no longer attainable.
Because public lands offer dispersed recreation with few entry points to count visitors, BLM is often unable to estimate their number and quantify the economic impact of tourists. Absent this information it is sometimes difficult to convince Congressional representatives how their constituents benefit from the multiple uses and users of the public lands. Consequently, in the case of cultural resources, it is challenging to make a compelling case for additional funding that could be used to enhance the visitor experience and “harden” archaeological and historic sites so they can be interpreted and better withstand a constant stream of tourists. Supplemental funding could also be used to hire more law enforcement rangers to better protect cultural and paleontological resources from illegal appropriation. Suffice it to say, the BLM’s cultural resource management program is underfunded despite having world-class archaeological and fossil resources that require active rather than passive management.
Public land visitation focused on touring archaeological, historical, and fossil sites, including viewing museum collections derived from scientific study of these resources, is commonly referred to as “heritage tourism.” This is the context that I’m familiar with the phrase.
Recently, I came upon an alternate meaning of heritage tourism, one that coincidentally provided the impetus for this family history blog.
Earlier in my blog, I explained to readers that my father Dr. Otto Bruck (1907-1994) left me with seven photo albums of pictures covering the mid-1910s to the late 1940s. While my father was reasonably good at captioning his pictures and naming people, there were some people he failed to put a name to. In some cases, my father identified them only by their forenames or nicknames. Fortunately, in 2010, at the time I started trying to learn more about my father’s life through his photos, a few of his contemporaries were still alive who were able to fill in some holes. All have since died.
A furious letter-writing campaign in the early 2010s to presumed descendants of people my father had once known led to additional identifications.
Finally, hoping to learn more and connect to some of the places where my father and his family had lived, in 2014 my wife and I went on a thirteen-week driving vacation to Europe that took us everywhere from northeast Poland, near the existing Russian enclave of Kaliningrad, to southern Spain. On this and subsequent vacations, I obtained records, vital documents, letters, photos, maps, etc. from various city halls and archives, as well as private individuals, in Poland, Germany, France, Italy, and Spain; most have not been digitized and are therefore inaccessible to ancestral researchers. This resulted in yet more family identifications and finding cousins I might never have found absent these trips to Europe.
In any case, the vacations and trips my wife and I took to Europe following my family’s diaspora would be considered a different type of “heritage tourism.” A January 2024 article “The Fantasy of Heritage Tourism” in The Atlantic by Gisela Salim-Peyer drew my attention to this type of travel. The author also made me aware of a sociologist named Marcus Lee Hansen who Wikipedia describes as “an important historian of American immigration.” Further quoting what Wikipedia says:
“In a 1938 essay, ‘The Problem of the Third Generation Immigrant,’ he first presented what he called ‘the principle of third generation interest’: ‘What the son wishes to forget the grandson wishes to remember.’ This hypothesis suggests that ethnicity is preserved among immigrants, weakens among their children, and returns with their grandchildren. Children of immigrants tend to reject the foreign ways of their parents, including their religion, and want to join the American mainstream, but the next generation wants to retain the values of their ancestors. The religion of the first-generation immigrant, which the second-generation rejects, may be reaffirmed by the third generation.”
According to Ms. Salim-Peyer, fourth, fifth and sixth generation immigrants visiting places where their ancestors came from has resulted in heritage tourism having grown into its own travel category; people traveling to “trace their roots” and reestablish ancestral connections has apparently increased by 500 percent since 2014. As someone who has engaged in this type of travel, albeit at a much lower cost than packaged tours offered by companies such as Ancestry in collaboration with travel agencies, I can attest to an experience that Ms. Salim-Peyer characterizes as ”. . .much more ‘personal’ and ‘deep’. . .”
An earlier effort, following WWII, to promote this form of heritage tourism as a major component of diplomacy to unite European countries against the Soviet Union, was an abject failure. According to Ms. Salim-Peyer, part of the problem was the exorbitant cost of plane travel at the time. Another factor is that many people in the aftermath of WWII were not then interested in connecting to their homelands. And, yet another element Ms. Salim-Peyer cites is that for a long time, genealogy was considered elitist by people in the United States: “Most European settlers, the historian Russell Bidlack wrote, ‘had escaped from a society where the traditions of inheritance and caste had denied them opportunity for a better life.’ Genealogy was for people obsessed with nobility, or for WASPs living off borrowed glory.”
According to Ms. Salim-Peyer what changed to make genealogy “cool” was the publication of Alex Haley’s 1976 “Roots” novel about a seven-generation lineage that started with a man sold into slavery in Gambia. For readers who recall this book, it topped the New York Times best-seller list for more than five months and inspired TV adaptations and current tracing-your-roots reality shows.
I have several hand-drawn and detailed ancestral trees from various branches of my extended family attesting to the hard work that was once entailed in developing ancestral charts before searchable online genealogical databases became widely available. In combination with DNA testing which became mainstream in the 2010s, tracking down one’s origins and visiting places associated with one’s ancestors has become much easier and more commonplace. This, in turn, has given rise to a different brand of heritage tourism than I was aware of during my working days.
In closing, personally speaking, I would simply say the two types of heritage tourism have played varying roles in my life. It’s not so much that I retired from being an archaeologist as I transitioned to using some of the same skills, particularly those I learned as a field archaeologist, to doing forensic genealogy to track down my own family’s origins and visit some of these places. Thus, I continue to be engaged in heritage tourism, albeit in a different form.
Note: In this post, I introduce readers to the famous German actor and theater director Emil Thomas, the illegitimate son of my second great granduncle Dr. Jonas Bruck. Exceptionally well-known in Germany, he had a more than 50-year long career and was hailed in his New York Times death notice as “one of the most artistic comedians on the German stage.”
My English fourth cousin, Helen, Winter, née Renshaw, recently suggested I write a blog story about a man named Emil Thomas. As the name did not immediately resonate, I checked my ancestral tree and surprisingly discovered I have him there as Emil Bruck. Having obviously come across his name somewhere but with no vital information, I assumed he had died at birth, and was the stillborn fourth son of my second great granduncle and -aunt Jonas Bruck (1813-1883) (Figure 1) and Rosalie Bruck, née Marle (1817-1890). (Figure 2) I was to learn differently, particularly as Helen’s suggestion came accompanied by a picture of the once living and distinguished looking Emil Thomas. (Figure 3)
I quickly discovered that Emil Thomas was a famous German actor and theater director. I suspect a German not knowing Emil Thomas would be tantamount to an American not knowing John Wayne. As Emil was well known, finding out about him was not difficult. Information can be found on German Wikipedia as well as in two German-language books he wrote that, unfortunately, have not been translated into English.
Given my familiarity with Jonas and Rosalie’s other three highly accomplished sons, it struck me as odd that I hadn’t previously come across Emil’s biography. In the ensuing presentation, I will briefly focus on Emil’s private rather than public persona, as my interest is primarily understanding his relationship to his father and family, not in examining his career or his bond to his legion of fans. Let me briefly explore what I’ve uncovered with the help of a German fourth cousin Thomas Koch who summarized some of what Emil himself wrote.
Emil Thomas’ father, Dr. Jonas Bruck, studied medicine and dentistry in Berlin. While there, he had an affair with an Emma Tobias (1810-1878). By all accounts, Jonas marrying Emma would have been a perfectly acceptable match since she was Jewish and of equivalent social rank. For whatever reason, this did not happen.
Rosalie Marle, the Jewish lady Jonas Bruck eventually married, was the daughter of a banker to the Prince of Pless. The Duchy of Pless was one of the Duchies of Silesia with its capital at Pless [today: Pszczyna, Poland]. During the War of the Austrian Succession from 1740 to 1748, most of Silesia including Pless was conquered by the kingdom of Prussia. The dukes, and later Princes, of Pless, however, held on to their territory.
My German fourth cousin’s great-aunt Bertha Bruck (1873-1957) (Figure 4) wrote a memoir in which she remarks that Rosalie Marle was one of the most beautiful dancers in the court of Pless. Jonas Bruck may have been following his family’s wishes when he married Rosalie, or simply his heart, though marrying her could have been a transactional decision based on the greater perceived benefits he might accrue. One may never know.
On ancestry.com, I was able to locate the birth register listing for Emil Thomas, showing he was born on the 24th of December 1836 and was named Ludwig Heinrich Emil Tobias. (Figures 5a-b) Only his mother’s name is given, Emma Tobias; the father is unidentified. Intriguingly, when Emil was baptized the following year on the 20th of April 1837, a Brookzahnarzt, “the dentist Brook,” the surname oddly spelled the Americanized way like my own, was in attendance; the first name is illegible but is no doubt Jonas. This suggests there was no real effort to conceal the identity of the father. And in German Wikipedia, it is explicitly written that Emil was the son of a dentist.
German Wikipedia goes on to say that Emil showed an early interest in the theater, going so far as to do an apprenticeship as a bookbinder thinking this profession would give him access to reading many plays. He had a very varied career, highlights of which can be found in the Jewish Encyclopedia. (Figure 6) He died on the 19th of September 1904 in Berlin, and his death was reported in the New York Times the following day.
Emil Thomas married the soprano singer Betty Damhofer (Figure 7), born Barbara Damhofer, on the 12th of December 1878 in Hamburg, Germany. (Figures 8a-c) Emblematic of what I often rail about is that on the cover page of Emil and Barbara’s marriage certificate in ancestry.com, Barbara’s date of birth is shown as the 14th of December 1837, erroneous information that has been disseminated. I had the good fortune to find Barbara Damhofer’s birth register listing showing she was really born on the 14th of December 1847 in Vienna, Austria, though the birth was only recorded on the 16th of December 1847. (Figures 9a-b) Even reliable sources like ancestry.com can incorrectly decipher or transcribe handwritten texts. Like her future husband, Barbara was born out of wedlock, though her father, Johann Nepomuk Damhofer (b. 1824), eventually wound up marrying her birth mother, Bibiana Winter (b. 1824).
At the registry office both Emil and Barbara claimed they were “Christian.” This is strange because spouses normally indicated they were either “Roman Catholic” or “Evangelical Lutheran.” Barbara came from a Catholic home and Emil was Evangelical Lutheran; Emil’s mother, as previously stated, was Jewish.
Emil Thomas’s first book, “40 jahre schauspieler. Erinnerungen aus meinem leben,” was published in 1895.
On page 240, Emil talks about his mother (translated):
“Unfortunately, a very hard blow hit me this year [EDITOR’S NOTE: 1878] on the 6th of November. My good mother, whose idol and only son I was, who found in me all her happiness and the right to live, was to be taken from this earth. . .At 7 o’clock in the evening I closed my good mother’s eyes forever and at 8:30 my duty called me to the theater. . .”
Then, on page 266, presumably referring to the year 1879, he writes:
“The sole purpose of a guest performance in Breslau {EDITOR’S NOTE: Wrocław, Poland] was not to collect money and laurels, but mainly to introduce my relatives living there (my father, stepmother, and brothers) to my wife. It was a cheerful, sunny time that we spent very intimately in the family circle.”
The important takeaway is that Emil had a cordial relationship with his birth father and his family. And, according to family accounts, like Jonas’ three other sons, he inherited some money upon his father’s death in 1883.
Unbeknownst to most people, German marriage certificates include a second page with the names and signatures of the spouses and witnesses (i.e., most ancestral researchers fail to scroll to the second page). (see Figure 8c) Hoping that Jonas Bruck might have attended his son’s 1878 marriage to Barbara Damhofer, I discovered he had not.
Further proof that Emil Thomas was considered a member of the extended family comes from another memoir, that of Eberhard Friedrich Bruck (1877-1960) (Figure 10), Helen Winter’s grandfather. He writes that he considered his father’s half-brother Emil to be one of his uncles.
One of the sources for Emil Thomas’ Wikipedia entry is an obituary written by a fellow actor and playwright in a 1904 volume of “Die Woche” (Figure 11), an illustrated weekly newspaper published in Berlin from 1899 to 1944. The writer of the piece co-authored a very popular German play from the 1930s entitled “White Horse Inn” (The White Horse Inn – Wikipedia). The obituary contains a disappointing lack of information saying merely that Emil Thomas was famous throughout Germany; that he was very vain; and that he was excellent company and enjoyed a good bottle of wine. I suppose worse could be said of someone upon their death.
Note: This postscript is the result of an unexpected message from a Ms. Kamali Chandler, a lady who hails from the Dominican Republic and whose family were friends with the Brauers when they lived there. In 1947, Herta and her husband were forced to flee the island nation leaving their children behind for a few years. Kamali explains the reason why.
Many of the people I’ve written about left no diaries, journals, letters, or personal accounts that I’ve found, nor were they otherwise renowned so evidence of them might be found on Wikipedia, on the Internet, or in books or articles. Other than proof of their existence or possibly a random obituary or a certificate of a vital event in their lives, which give a sense of where they were at a specific point in time, the motivation for their movements may be unclear. Even where a paper trail of a person’s life exists, often there are unanswered questions. Thus, I’m often left to think about how or why people wound up where they did.
In the case of Herta Brauer, née Stadach (1904-1983) (Figure 1), a relative by marriage and subject of Post 122, the reason why she and she her family came to the Dominican Republic is evident. More is known about Herta Brauer because she was a preeminent figure in dance and ballet in the Dominican Republic and later in Mallorca, Spain.
As I previously discussed at length, the Dominican Republic was one of the few places in the world willing to accept Jews during World War II. In part, the Dominican Republic was willing to take in Jews to have the United States overlook the regime’s mass killing of Haitians living in the Dominican Republic’s northwestern frontier during the so-called “Parsley Massacre” in October 1937. Also, Rafael Trujillo (1891-1961), the island nation’s brutal dictator from 1930 until his assassination in 1961, was known to have been extremely racist so agreed to take in Jews to “whiten” the population.
Even though Herta and Ernst Hanns Brauer (1902-1971) (Figure 2) were Jewish and had gotten married in March 1932 in Berlin, they received a special dispensation from Pope Pius XI to remarry as Catholics when they were living in Rome. It’s possible that the Pope interceded on their behalf to obtain a visa for them to immigrate to the Dominican Republic, a predominantly Catholic country.
Regardless of how and why Herta Brauer arrived in the Dominican Republic, she managed to become very well established in the country by founding a ballet school there. Quoting what I wrote in Post 122:
“While Herta Brauer was not alone in teaching ballet in Ciudad Trujillo [today: Santo Domingo], through circumstances that are unknown, she was fortunate to meet and obtain the financial support of Flor de Oro Trujillo (1915-1978), Rafael Trujillo’s first-born daughter. According to Francis Pou (one of my informants), Flor de Oro Trujillo was very different than the dictator’s other children. She was not a criminal like her siblings and had a very troubled relationship with her father. She was very liberal, well-educated, and a socialite in Europe. She was married an astonishing nine times and spent the last twelve years of her life in New York, dying there in 1978, reliant on friends for financial support; she’d clearly been disinherited by her family.
Soon after Herta relocated to Ciudad Trujillo she started offering ballet classes in the living room of her house, probably beginning in early 1943. Flor de Oro covered the scholarship expenses for Herta’s pupils, while others apparently covered the cost for ballet slippers, costumes, and tights for regular practices. As in other countries, ballet in the Dominican Republic was born as a pastime of the middle and upper classes. Training sessions are known to have lasted between six and seven hours a day.
It’s hard to imagine that Herta was unaware that she had escaped one totalitarian regime only to be taken in by another. Perhaps her ambition forced her to overlook this uncomfortable truth because, clearly, she could not have opened her academy without the help of Flor de Oro Trujillo. When it did eventually open it was named after her benefactor. This could have been out of gratitude or because she was compelled to identify herself with and contribute to the general atmosphere which paid constant homage to Generalissimo Trujillo.”
Given the roots and connections Herta established in the Dominican Republic including with the Trujillo family, I have long wondered why she and her husband suddenly departed for Puerto Rico in 1947. Absent a chronicle of her life, I assumed I would never learn the reason.
Like similar imponderables, the answer came via one of my readers. Towards the end of January, a lady of Dominican Republic descent, Kamali Chandler, contacted me from New York after she stumbled on Post 122. Following the discovery of my post, Kamali told her mother, Francis Brea, who was very elated. Kamali explained that her mother, also now residing in New York, often chats about and has fond memories of Till Brauer (1932-2001) and Oliver “Chichi” Brauer (b. 1942) (Figure 3), Herta and Hanns Brauer’s two sons. It turns out that Francis Brea was friends with the Brauers, and she recalls Hanns was affectionately known as “Le Monsieur.” Such firsthand accounts and memories of people I write about imbue them with a tangibility that my words alone cannot inspire.
But the story takes on a darker twist. Rafael Trujillo was interested in the Brauers, particularly Herta, for the purpose of opening a ballet school in the Dominican Republic. At some point, however, Trujillo’s interest in Herta became romantic, but his amorous intentions were not reciprocated. Trujillo had a reputation of killing women who rebuffed his advances, so feeling they were no longer safe in the Dominican Republic, Herta and Hanns Brauer fled to Puerto Rico. This must have happened quite suddenly because they left their two sons in the care of Kamali’s grandmother, Altagracio Garo, née Brea. (Figure 4) The youngest son, Oliver born in 1942, was the only Brauer born in the Dominican Republic. Francis Brea’s recollection is that the two boys lived with her family until Oliver was about seven years of age, so for roughly two years until 1949. (Figure 5) As an adult, the older son Till and his family (Figures 6-7) periodically returned to Santo Domingo to reconnect with Kamali’s family and her cousins. They spent summers at Kamali’s uncle’s home, Robinson Brea Garo.
To remind readers, the Brauers arrived in the Dominican Republic with Herta’s older daughter, Yutta Maria Münchow (1926-2001) (Figure 8), offspring of an earlier marriage. At the time of her mother’s sudden departure, Yutta was in nursing school so also stayed behind (Figures 9a-b) but would eventually leave the Dominican Republic.
In closing, the answer to seemingly trivial questions sometimes come from unexpected directions. What makes the explanation so intriguing is that it involves a brutal dictator who took a love interest in one of my relatives, placing her in harm’s way and altering the course of her life.
Note: In this postscript, I discuss the timing and path of construction of the Austrian Ferdinand Northern Railway vis a vis the Wilhelmsbahn Railway, and its likely impact on the family-owned hotel establishment in Ratibor, Prussia, which at least for some time likely benefited from the routing.
Multiple of my earlier posts have discussed the family establishment in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, owned by three generations of my family from roughly 1850 until 1926. Based on the evidence I’ve amassed, I’m convinced that my family owned the hotel from the time it was built sometime between 1846 and 1850, and that its construction was tied to the arrival of the railroad in Ratibor which began service there on the 1st of January 1846.
There are at least two reference points that prove the “Prinz von Preußen” was in existence by 1850. First, the hotel is listed in John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent: Being A Guide Through Holland, Belgium, Prussia, and Northern Germany, and Along the Rhine from Holland to Switzerland” as a place for people to stay in Ratibor while voyaging between Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland] and Vienna, Austria. (Figures 1a-b) Second, a notice published announced a recital by the noted Austrian composer Johann Strauss II (1825-1899) at the Prinz von Preußen on the 17th of October 1850. (Figure 2) The composer performed at the hotel while on his way to Vienna, then again a month later on the 17th of November 1850 on his way back through. (Figure 3)
Following publication of Post 156, I did further research on the Wilhelmsbahn or Upper Silesian railway. Just to remind readers, the Wilhelmsbahn was a private railway company in Prussia. It was founded in 1844 in Ratibor in Upper Silesia to connect the Upper Silesian Railway (Breslau—Oppeln—Kosel—Gleiwitz) (today: Wrocław—Opole—Kozle—Gliwice) with the Austrian Emperor Ferdinand Railway. (Figures 4a-b; 5) Construction of this railway through Ratibor for the first time connected the Austrian railway network with the Prussian one.
During my research, I stumbled on the following mention of the opening of the railroad in Racibórz:
“In 1846, the first section of the Wilhelm Railway ((German: Wilhelmsbahn, currently railway line No. 151) connecting Racibórz with Koźle was opened. In Koźle, the line connected with the Upper Silesian Railway ((German: Oberschlesische Eisenbahn) connecting Upper Silesia with Wrocław. In 1847, Wilhelm’s Railway was extended to Bohumín. In the years 1855–1858 further sections of the Wilhelm Railway connecting Racibórz with Katowice through Rybnik (currently railway line No. 140) were opened.”
This obscure reference comes from a report entitled “Road to Rail Potential shift of transport flows” published by the so-called Central Europe TRANS TRITIA. Suffice it to say, that TRITIA is a “European Grouping of Territorial Cooperation” in which three regions of Poland, Slovakia, and Czech Republic cooperate to improve coordination and planning of freight transport.
This seemingly insignificant mention of the Wilhelmsbahn Railway caused me to reexamine the references I’d consulted earlier related to the Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway and reconsider the timing and route of its construction. In the process, I discovered I’d left readers a bit hanging as to where exactly the Wilhelmsbahn Railway connected with the Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway after it left Ratibor. This, in turn, made me realize the Wilhelmsbahn Railway played a more significant role in the region’s economic development than I’d previously understood and that this no doubt resulted in significantly more business for my family’s hotel in Ratibor. Let me explain.
The Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway was a railway company that existed during the time of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire. The main line of this railway was intended to connect Vienna with the salt mines in Bochnia, east of Krakau [today: Kraków, Poland]. Bochnia is located on the river Raba in southern Poland, and the salt mine there is the oldest functioning one in Europe, built in the 13th century.
The Ferdinand Northern Railway never directly reached Kraków or the salt mines in Bochnia. The first rail connection from Vienna to Krakau took place via Oderberg (Bohumín), Ratibor, Kosel, and Myslowitz, and this was provided by the Wilhelmsbahn and the Oberschlesische Eisenbahn (Upper Silesian Railway). The line from Myslowitz to Krakau was built by the Krakau-Oberschlesische Bahn (Kraków and Upper Silesian Railway). Bearing in mind that the towns that are today in the Czech Republic were once part of the Austrian Empire, an entirely Austrian route from Vienna to Krakau did not exist until 1856, nine years after the Ferdinand Northern Railway reached Oderberg (Bohumín) and a full ten years after the Wilhelmsbahn railroad reached Ratibor.
In reviewing the construction timeline of the Ferdinand Northern Railway what I previously failed to fully comprehend is that the Wilhelmsbahn Railway was completed before the Northern Railway’s segment from Oderberg (Bohumín) to Krakau. The significance is that at least for some period Ratibor was an important transit point for people traveling between Vienna and Krakau, and the Bruck’s Hotel would have provided the then-modern amenities voyagers sought. Following completion of the more direct route from Oderberg (Bohumín) to Krakau would have meant that some business was lost, although Ratibor would have continued as a logical way station for people traveling to Breslau, Berlin, and points west from there.
Coincidentally, on the same page as the Prinz von Preußen is mentioned in John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent,” Oderberg and the Kaiser Ferdinand Nordbahn (i.e., Ferdinand Northern Railway) are also discussed. The train coming from Prague to the west connected to the Ferdinand Northern Railway via Olmütz [today: Olomouc, Czech Republic] in Prerau [today: Přerov, Czech Republic]. (Figure 7)
One of my readers questioned whether Wilhelm Prinz von Hessen-Philippsthal-Barchfeld (1905-1942), Reinhard Heydrich’s doppelgänger in the group photo taken at Castle Kamenz in Silesia (today: Kamieniec Ząbkowicki, Poland) in 1936/37, was ever a member of the Schutzstaffel or SS. The implication is that if Wilhelm von Hessen was not a member, he could not have been photographed in an SS uniform at Castle Kamenz, ergo it’s not him. Both the reader who furnished the picture as well as the reader who questioned the identification of Reinhard Heydrich agree that the person is wearing a black SS uniform.
As I very explicitly stated in Post 157, I have no expertise in German military uniforms. Even comparing them to known military outfits of the SS and the Wehrmacht, I’m unable to tell which German military service uniform Wilhelm von Hessen is wearing at the gathering at Castle Kamenz. More on this below.
As to whether Wilhelm von Hessen was a member of the SS, and, if so, when he joined, I turned to two German authorities for help. Let me explain what I’ve learned from them.
At the Berlin State Archives there exists a list of members of the National Socialist German Workers’ Party (German: Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei or NSDAP), the Nazi Party, who were members of the royal houses. Wilhelm Prinz von Hessen-Philippsthal-Barchfeld’s name can be found on this roster. (Figure 1)
The unseen column headings from this list of aristocrats who were members of the Nazi Party and the information specific to Wilhelm von Hessen read as follows:
Separately, my contacts also found “Prinz von Hessen Wilh.,” as he is referred to, listed in the so-called Dienstalterslisten der SS, the SS seniority list. This is proof that he was indeed a member of the SS.
In the process of determining whether Wilhelm von Hessen belonged to the SS, I learned a trivial but astonishing fact. Of the total 648 high-ranking SS officers (i.e., from Standartenführer (colonel) upwards) in 1938, 58 of them or 8.95% were of aristocratic origin. (A Standartenführer was a Nazi Party paramilitary rank used by the SS and other Nazi paramilitary organizations who commanded a unit equivalent to an army battalion consisting of between 300 and 500 men.) This could explain why several high-ranking Nazis were photographed at Castle Kamenz in 1936/37.
Below, I attach the relevant excerpts from the Dienstalterslisten for the four years, 1934-1937, in which his name appears, and discuss and explain as best I can the information that can be gleaned, including the SS service units he served in.
Prinz von Hessen Wilhelm’s party number “1 187 621” is again shown on the SS seniority list, but in a separate column his SS member number, “52 711,” is now indicated. Wilhelm von Hessen joined the SS as a SS-Sturmführer on the 20th of April 1934. Sturmführer was a paramilitary rank of the Nazi Party which began as a title used by the Sturmabteilung (SA) in 1925 and became an actual SA rank in 1928. Translated as “storm leader or assault leader,” the origins of the rank dated to the World War I when the title of Sturmführer came to be used.
In 1934 Prinz von Hessen Wilhelm was a member of the service unit abbreviated as “F. Mo. II/27.” “F.” is short for Führer, while “Mo. Sta.” stands for “Motorstaffel,” or motorized squadron. Thus, it appears that in 1934 he was head of the motor assault team of “II Sturmbann of Standarte 27.” Let me try and explain what this means. Bear in mind I know virtually nothing about the organization of the SS.
The number of soldiers in a motorized squadron is unknown but was possibly only a few men. Standarte was a regimental sized unit of the SS. (more on this below) Sturmbann (Sturmbann – Wikipedia) refers to an “assault unit,” and was a paramilitary unit within the Nazi Party. As previously mentioned, the term originated from German shock troop units used during World War I who were characterized by their aggressive tactics and were often at the forefront of assaults. Putting this together suggests Wilhelm von Hessen was the motorized squadron leader of the second assault unit of Standarte 27.
The 1934 Dienstaltersliste is one source of the information in German Wikipedia on Wilhelm von Hessen’s service unit.
The number of column headings in the 1935 Dienstaltersliste was expanded to two side-by-side pages. The previously referred to rank of Sturmführer was now referred to as an Untersturmführer. A SS-Untersturmführer was the first commissioned SS officer rank, equivalent to a second lieutenant in other military organizations.
Translated, the left-hand page columns included the following information:
“Consecutive number”
“Surname & first name”
“Epee”
“Ring”
“SA sports badge”
“Reich sports badge”
“Service”
“Nazi Party Number 1-1,800,000”
“Nazi Party Number over 1,800,000”
“SS Number”
“Date of birth”
Several of the columns above refer to orders and decorations awarded during World War I by the German Empire, then later by the Nazis.
The right-hand page columns included the expanded list of SS paramilitary ranks, under which the date the soldier attained that rank is shown:
From the 1935 Dienstaltersliste, we learn that Wilhelm von Hessen was promoted to an SS-Obersturmführer on the 9th of November 1934. A SS-Obersturmführer was typically a junior company commander in charge of fifty to a hundred men.
Then on the 20th of April 1935 he was promoted to an SS-Hauptsturmführer. This rank was a mid-level commander who had equal seniority to a captain (Hauptmann) in the German Army and the equivalency of captain in foreign armies. (Figure 4)
By 1935 Wilhelm von Hessen was now attached to the “6 Mo. Sta.,” believed to mean that he was then part of the “6 Motor-Standarte.” Again, the number of soldiers in this motorized squadron is unknown. Also unclear is whether the “6 Motor-Standarte” equates to the 6th SS-Standarte.
According to the Dienstalterslisten, Wilhelm von Hessen was assigned to new units in both 1936 and 1937. In 1936, he had a position in the “Stammabt. Bez. 14.” “Stammabt.” stands for “Stammabteilung,” which was a unit of the so-called Allgemeine SS (more on this below) in which men older than 45 years of age or SS members no longer fit for service were grouped together. These “Stammabteilung” were in turn divided into “Bezirke” or districts. Wilhelm von Hessen’s assignment to this organizational unit is puzzling since in 1936 he was only 31 years old and had no known physical disabilities. Perhaps he served in an administrative capacity in this service?
By 1937 Wilhelm von Hessen was no longer with the Stammabt. Bez. 14. but had been reassigned to the SS Abschnitt XXVII. This unit had originally been established in November 1933, but by October 1936 had been reorganized. SS-Abschnitt XXVII was primarily an administrative and organizational unit within the Allgemeine SS. It did not directly engage in major military campaigns or operations, but instead was focused on overseeing SS activities, recruitment, and coordination within its designated area. While the unit was not involved in combat, SS Abschnitt XXVII played an essential role in supporting the Nazi regime and its ideology.
Let me explain two things I mentioned above, namely, the Allgemeine SS and the Standarte.
Both of my informants explained something that has been a source of confusion for me, namely, Wilhelm von Hessen’s membership in the SS while also serving as an officer in the Wehrmacht, the unified armed forces of Nazi Germany from 1935 to 1945. Wilhelm was a member of the so-called “General SS,” or Allgemeine SS which was the administrative and the non-combative part of the SS. This is not to be confused with the Waffen-SS which was the combat branch of the Nazi Party’s paramilitary Schutzstaffel organization.
Additionally, Wilhelm von Hessen apparently joined the Wehrmacht as an officer candidate in 1935 (i.e., “Krad 2” in Eisenach, Germany). Thus, he also embarked on a military career. According to one authority, until the outbreak of war in 1939, it was possible for a German to belong to both the SS and the Wehrmacht.
Supporting this, in Wikipedia, under the discussion about the Allgemeine SS the following sentence is tucked in: “SS members could also hold reserve commissions in the regular military as well as a Nazi Party-political rank.” Thus, as it relates to Wilhelm von Hessen, he could have been a member of the non-combative part of the SS, the Allgemeine SS, and worn an SS uniform, but also had a commission in the Wehrmacht, thus separately worn their outfit. And this seems to be supported by the fact that in the photo of him at Castle Kamenz he is in his black SS uniform but in another photo from the same period he is wearing his Wehrmacht uniform. (Figure 7)
Relatedly, another reference in German Wikipedia under Allgemeine SS states the following: “In 1939, the Allgemeine SS reached is pre-war peak with more than 260,000 members. During the second World War (1939-1945), around 60 percent of their members (around 160,000) served in the Wehrmacht (Army, Air Force, Navy) and around 36,000 in the ranks of the Waffen-SS.”
Putting this in context is another quote from Wikipedia under the discussion for the 6th SS-Standarte: “When World War II began in 1939, the Berlin SS regiment slowly began losing its members to regular military service, since mustering Allgemeine-SS personnel were not exempt from conscription.” Quite simply, then, as the war began and as Germany’s fortunes changed, members of the Allgemeine-SS began to be conscripted into the Waffen-SS and the Wehrmacht.
As discussed in Post 157, in the 1936/37 group photo Wilhelm von Hessen is wearing the letter “M” on his collar tab. This is the badge of the Motor-Standarten of the SS. As previously mentioned, according to the Dienstaltersliste der SS for 1935, he was a member of the 6.Motor-Standarte. The SS-Standarte was the primary regimental-sized unit of the Allgemeine-SS. There were 127 SS-Standarten although by 1945 most existed only on paper never reaching their prescribed strength.
The Standarten regiments each had their own number, but were also referred to by other names, such as location, a popular name, or an honorary title. After Hitler became Chancellor of Germany in 1933, the 6th SS-Standarte, for example, adopted the honor title of “Charlottenburg” and often participated in several major Nazi Party rallies held in the German capitol.
From German Wikipedia, I know that Wilhelm fought in WWII as a tank officer (i.e., Captain of the Reserve) and deployed with the 2nd SS Panzer Division in Poland and France, including at Dunkirk; he then fought in Greece and Romania before being killed in the spring of 1942 in Russia. Since the 2nd SS Panzer Division was an armored division of the Waffen-SS, this suggests Wilhelm transitioned to the combat branch of the SS at some point and presumably was a member of the Waffen-SS when he was killed.
In closing, I was able to determine through primary source documents that Wilhelm von Hessen joined the Nazi Party in 1932, the SS in 1934, and was part of the non-combative arm of the SS, the Allgemeine SS, for some period. Simultaneously in 1935, Wilhelm apparently joined the Wehrmacht. However, by the time WWII started in 1939, he was a member of the 2nd SS Panzer Division, one of the armored divisions of the Waffen-SS, suggesting he died fighting for the SS.
None of the new information I obtained and discussed changes my assessment that Wilhelm Prinz von Hessen-Philippsthal-Barchfeld (1905-1942) is the individual pictured in the group photo taken at Castle Kamenz in 1936/37.
Note: In this post, I discuss the process I went through to confirm that I’d incorrectly identified the sinister Nazi Reinhard Heydrich in a group photo taken in 1936/1937 at Castle Kamenz (Kamieniec Ząbkowicki, Poland). To prove this to my satisfaction, I made use of an AI-powered tool.
An astute reader recently informed me the person I had identified in Posts 133, Parts I & II, as Reinhard Heydrich (Figure 1), the Nazi’s notorious “Butcher of Prague,” in a group photo taken at Castle Kamenz in Silesia (today: Kamieniec Ząbkowicki, Poland) in 1936/37 (Figure 2) is not him. The picture in question was originally sent to me by a very reliable informant claiming a noted scholar had recognized Reinhard.
The German gentleman who questioned the identification is a physics teacher in Dresden with an avid interest in history, particularly German military history up to 1918. The man grew up in Gotha in the former German Democratic Republic or East Germany. According to the reader, Reinhard Heydrich’s doppelgänger is Wilhelm Prinz von Hessen-Philippsthal-Barchfeld (1905-1942), and he sent me a link to a photo of him in his military ensemble as well as his bio. (Figure 3) He claims that in the group picture Wilhelm von Hessen, who was head of a “Motor-Sturmbann” of the SS-Standarte 27, is seen wearing his military uniform with the collar tabs “M” for Motor-Sturmbann; even on the highest resolution picture of this gathering, I have difficulty distinguishing the collar tabs.
Since this is my blog the responsibility for fact checking the accuracy of the information I publish in my posts ultimately rests on my shoulders. Given the lengths I’ve gone to caution readers about cloning vital data from other people’s ancestral trees without sourcing the primary documents and verifying their accuracy, I decided I needed to take a similarly rigorous approach in determining whether the amateur historian is accurate.
Let me explain to readers who Wilhelm von Hessen was and whether it is even conceivable he could have been photographed at Castle Kamenz at the time the picture was taken. In 1936/37 Castle Kamenz was owned by Friedrich Heinrich von Preußen (1874-1940) (Figure 4) shown elegantly attired and seated in the front row of the group picture, second from the left. His younger brother was Friedrich Wilhelm von Preussen (1880-1925) (Figure 5) who obviously was not in attendance since he had died prematurely about a dozen years earlier.
Friedrich Wilhelm was a member of the House of Hohenzollern and a great-grandson of King Frederick William III of Prussia. He was married to Princess Agatha of Hohenlohe-Schillingsfürst from Ratibor & Corvey (1888-1960) (Figure 6), seated as a widow in the center of the front row (Figure 7); together they had four daughters. (Figure 8) The third daughter, Princess Marianne von Preußen (1913-1983) was married to Wilhelm von Hessen. Thus, based on family connections, it is entirely plausible that he attended the family gathering at Castle Kamenz in 1936/37.
Obviously, the individuals in attendance at the gathering at Castle Kamenz are unidentified though some are familiar to the reader who furnished the group picture. I’m not entirely positive but think Princess Marianne von Preußen is standing in the second row, the third person from the left dressed in white. Though Friedrich Wilhelm and Princess Agatha’s four daughters were born between 1911 and 1919, as young women they are often difficult to tell apart.
The reader who shared the original photo included side-by-side photos of Reinhard Heydrich and the man purported to be him in the group picture. (Figure 9) Given that Heydrich’s identity had putatively been confirmed, I did not compare the images as carefully as I should have when writing Posts 133, Parts I & II. Had I done so initially, I might have observed a few things that later triggered some doubts. First, I noticed in the picture that is assuredly of Heydrich that he had a narrower face, longer nose, and bigger ears than the individual on the right. Second, and this is much more impressionistic, the person in the group picture is broadly smiling, an attribute I would hardly associate with as sadistic an individual as Heydrich.
Trained as an archaeologist steeped in the scientific method, I was still not convinced the person in the group picture was Wilhelm von Hessen. Because the link sent to me by the amateur historian depicting Wilhelm in his military uniform was not conclusive (see Figure 3), I went in search of other pictures of him. Because Wilhelm came from a royal family and married into another royal family, I had the good fortune to find several of them on the Internet and in my own collection of photos.
The first high quality picture I found of Wilhelm von Hessen was taken at the marriage of one of his wife’s sisters, Princess Luise von Preußen (1912-1973) to Moritz Richard Bruno Wilhelm Schmaltz (1901-1983) on the 30th of November 1936, possibly at Castle Kamenz. (Figure 10) It shows Princess Agatha, her four daughters, three sons-in-law, and one grandson. On the very far right in this picture can be seen Princess Marianne von Preußen (1913-1983) and her husband Wilhelm von Hessen. Regrettably, comparing this image of Wilhelm von Hessen to the group photo again yields no definitive answer to the naked eye as to whether it was Wilhelm.
My Internet search continued. I found an undated group photo of Wilhelm von Hessen including him and his four siblings. (Figure 11) He is pictured fourth from the left but once more the evidence is not clear cut that he is the person in the group picture.
Finally, I had the good fortune to find in Geni a high-quality picture of Marianne von Preußen and Wilhelm von Hessen, possibly from around the time they were married on the 30th of January 1933 (Figure 13); at the time, Marianne would have been 20 years old and Wilhelm 28 years, the approximate ages they appear to be in the picture. A simple visual comparison of this image of Wilhelm to the person in the group photo left me fairly convinced they were the same person. I asked several friends who I know from previous experience are adept with visual comparisons, and they agree. Unfortunately, the reader who originally sent me the group photo disagrees.
While I have no expertise in this area, both readers agree the man in the 1936/37 group picture is wearing a Schutzstaffel or SS uniform. However, the informant who sent the group photo claims that Wilhelm von Hessen did not switch from the Wehrmacht to the SS (i.e., German soldiers could not be members of both units simultaneously) until right before the Nazi invasion of France on the 10th of May 1940. Unfortunately, I can’t independently verify when von Hessen joined the SS. On his 30th of November 1936 photo, Wilhelm von Hessen is supposedly wearing a Wehrmacht uniform. (Figure 14) Based on this apparent discrepancy, I theorize the group photo was taken in late 1936 or in 1937 after the November 1936 marriage, by which time Wilhelm von Hessen was then a member of the SS.
Having convinced myself that the amateur historian is correct that the person in the 1936/37 group picture is not Reinhard Heydrich but Wilhelm von Hessen, as a lark I decided to see whether I could find an artificial intelligence (AI) application which could strengthen my case. I found an AI-powered tool which allows me to do precisely what I was looking to do, namely, compare two faces to measure similarity. It is called “FaceShape” and below is the link to this tool:
I’m admittedly not adept at using new technology, so the attraction of FaceShape is that it’s supremely easy to use.
Juxtaposing the images of Reinhard Heydrich and that of the person in the group photo originally sent by the first reader yields a low probability of only 27.04% that they are the same individual. (Figure 15) By comparison when I compare the known image of Wilhelm von Hessen from his sister-in-law Princess Luise’s 1936 marriage to the person in the group photo, FaceShape claims a 100% probability they are the same person. (Figure 16) Another comparison that yielded a 100% match was Wilhelm von Hessen’s photo from his sister-in-law’s marriage to one of him in his military uniform. (Figure 17) Readers can see the results of the various other images I contrasted. (Figures 18-20)
Comparing the photos I found of Wilhelm von Hessen to one another, then to the person in the group picture from 1936/37, sets my mind at ease that it is indeed Wilhelm von Hessen. However, I want to be very clear with readers that FaceShape is not perfect. Based on some of the images I juxtaposed, the application obviously does not work well with poor resolution images; where the person in question is partially blocked by another individual; where siblings are involved that resemble one another or are of similar age; when known pictures of the same person are from earlier in life vs. later in life; or in distinguishing gender.
In closing, I would merely say that I consider FaceShape or similar AI-powered applications to be one tool in an arsenal that genealogists can use to further one’s research and possibly resolve thorny identification questions. It clearly requires human interpretation after the tool is applied to consider the question of whether the results are logical and make sense. While I may not have convinced the original reader that Reinhard Heydrich is not in the group photo taken at Castle Kamenz, I have proven to my satisfaction the person in question is Wilhelm von Hessen, not Heydrich.
Note: A page from an 1845 book by Johann Knie translated by one of my cousins discussing trade and commerce in Ratibor (today: Racibórz, Poland) at the time includes a discussion of the regional railway companies involved and the route by which the train arrived in town. The places mentioned provide an opportunity for me to introduce unfamiliar readers to the Meyers Gazetteer, a compilation of German Empire (1871-1918) place names and maps, to better visualize things.
It doesn’t come naturally to me to be curious. My parents were not patient people who would encourage nor answer an endless stream of innocent queries. This line of questioning was quickly squelched. I admire people to whom this trait comes instinctively, who grew up in a more nurturing and cerebral environment. This may explain why I go into more detail on matters of historical context than readers may be interested in knowing. Readers can decide for themselves how much of a topic they want to learn about.
With the above as backdrop, I want to discuss one valuable resource I stumbled upon while doing my ancestral research, the so-called Meyers Gazetteer. Various references to it can be found on the Internet, including links to the database on ancestry.com and familysearch.org. Consequently, I hesitated to write a post about it. However, because I so frequently find myself returning to this compilation of German Empire (1871-1918) place names and maps, it occurred to me it might be valuable for others unfamiliar with this website to be aware of it. In this post I’ve chosen to illustrate using the arrival of the railroad in Ratibor in January 1846 as an example a potential use of the historic maps in the Meyers Gazetteer to better visualize the placement of the railroad; this is done in conjunction with contemporary Google maps.
I’ve previously explained to readers that most of Silesia (Figure 1) where my immediate family hails from is no longer part of Germany. Most of Silesia was given to Poland as compensation after WWII (Figure 2) following Poland’s loss of a much larger swath of land to the USSR in then-eastern Poland, land that is today part of the Ukraine. With Poland’s acquisition of German Silesia, the German town names were all changed to Polish place names that often make it difficult to locate the former German towns on present-day maps. This is where the Meyers Gazetteer is inordinately useful if the former German town name can be found in the database.
The idea for this post came to me recently after asking one of my fourth cousins, Helen Winter, nee Renshaw (Figure 3) from Wolverhampton, England, if she could briefly explain to me the contents of one page from an 1845 book by Johann Knie talking about Ratibor. The text is printed in Fraktur, Black Lettering, that Helen has gained some aptitude reading of late. (Figure 4)
I did not specifically ask for a transcription nor translation. On my own, I figured out the text addressed primarily trade and commerce in Ratibor in around 1845 so felt a summary would be adequate for my purposes. However because Helen took it as an intellectual challenge, an exquisitely done transcription and translation is what I received. And I’m thrilled Helen provided this because unexpectedly part of the text discussed the route by which the railway arrived in Ratibor and the various regional railway companies involved in its construction.
Because multiple German town names were mentioned and I was having trouble visualizing the route, I turned to the Meyers Orts- und Verkehrs-Lexikon des Deutschen Reichs, the “Meyers Geographical and Commercial Gazetteer of the German Empire.” As ancestry.com points out “This gazetteer of the German Empire is the gazetteer to use to locate place names in German research. It was originally compiled in 1912. This gazetteer is the gazetteer to use because it includes all areas that were part of the pre-World War I German Empire. Gazetteers published after WWI may not include parts of the Empire that were lost to bordering countries. Overall, this gazetteer includes more than 210,000 cities, towns, hamlets, villages, etc.”
They further note that “Gazetteers are very important to use when doing family history research. They not only help you pinpoint a specific place and associate them with the jurisdictions to which they belong, but they can also provide interesting facts about the community and help you to know where to look for additional records. For example, from Meyers Orts you may learn about the size of the town, if there was a post office, where the nearest train station was located, and where the civil registration office was located.”
The meyersgaz.org website, the portal I primarily use for searching German Empire town names, further remarks: “This is the most important of all German gazetteers. The goal of the Meyer’s compilers was to list every place name in the German Empire (1871-1918). It gives the location, i.e. the state and other jurisdictions, where the civil registry office was and parishes if that town had them. It also gives lots of other information about each place. The only drawback to Meyer’s is that if a town did not have a parish, it does not tell where the parish was, making reference to other works necessary.”
On the homepage of meyersgaz.org they note you’ll find a search box in which you type the name of your place using the following conventions:
You can use a wildcard * (an asterisk) in your search. For example, “*gheim” will return “Balgheim, Bergheim, Bietigheim, Billigheim” and anything else that ends in “gheim.”
You can type only the beginning of a name and it will return all places that begin with those letters. For example, “Neu” will return “Neu Abbau, Neu Abschwangen, Neuacker, Neuafrika,” etc.
You do not need to include umlauts; “Munchen” and “München” will return “München.” You can type umlauts if you wish, but you should not expand umlauts, e.g. “ü” as “ue,” as that will return no hits.
A list of identically named places will appear within different jurisdictions, allowing you to identify the town you’re interested in.
As meyersgaz.org further notes, on the “Entry” page the following will be found:
You will see the name of your town and a menu that includes the following items: Entry, Map, Ecclesiastical, Related, Email, and Feedback.
You will see the entry as it appears in Meyer’s, the extraction of the entry, the explanation of the extraction, and a map. The extractions include and are primarily limited to jurisdiction and parish information. The explanations are helpful for those who do not speak German or are not familiar with the old jurisdictions. For example, you will learn what Kreis, Bezirkskommando, and Landgericht mean.
By clicking on “View entry on PDF of the original page,” you can see the entire page on which the entry appears in the original gazetteer.
Click on “Show previous and next entry” to see the previous and following entries. If there was a correction in the Meyer’s addendum, this will also be noted.
Meyersgaz.org remarks that by clicking on “Map” in the menu or on the map itself, additional information can be found:
You will now see your town on the old Karte des deutschen Reiches. This set of maps was produced during the time of the German Empire and so corresponds chronologically to Meyer’s.
You can zoom in and out and the maps can be moved around with the mouse, so you can easily extend the search further around the main town.
If you click on the words “Toggle Historical Map” in the upper right-hand corner, you can switch to Google Maps. This is especially helpful if you are searching in Poland or other areas of the former German Empire that are now in other countries. This is because you can get the current, i.e. non-German, name of the town.
If you hover on “Toggle Historical Map,” you will see a menu. If you click on the menu items, you will see pins appear on the map that correspond to what you have chosen, either Jurisdiction (all places where other jurisdictions are given, such as Kreis, Bezirkskommando, and Landgericht that are included in the entry), surrounding Standesämter (civil registry offices), Catholic parishes, Protestant parishes, or Jewish synagogues. This will help you determine the location of the nearest parishes, etc., within a 20-mile radius, should you need to do an area search. You can also click on the pins and the names of corresponding towns will appear.
You may also see a map with a large red circle instead of a pin. This means that the place has not been geocoded yet and a specific place on the map has not been identified, but it falls within the area of the red circle.
Interested readers are encouraged to access meyersgaz.org website and try out the site for themselves. The maps have allowed me to track down the location of German towns now located in Poland I would otherwise have had great difficulty finding. With respect to the ensuing discussion, I will partially illustrate this using the arrival of the railroad in Ratibor in 1846. I would add that my interest in the coming of train service to Ratibor is related to when the family establishment in Ratibor, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, was constructed; I believe the two events are closely interconnected and that the family enterprise opened in 1846 or soon thereafter.
Helen Winter’s German transcription of the page from Johann Knie’s 1845 book about the route by which the railroad arrived in Ratibor is as follows:
Die meist schlechte Beschaffenheit der von hier aus führenden Strassen wirkt hemmend auf den Landhandel, namentlich auf den Transito-Verkehr. Um so wichtiger muss für Ratibor die gelungene Anlegung der gleich anfangs erwänten Wilhelms Eisenbahn werden, da sie die Verbindung bilden wird, zwischen der Oberschlesien, oder Breslau-Krakauer Eisenbahn u[nd] der österreichischen von Wien nach Krakau führenden Ferdinands-Rorhbahn, sodass Ratibor die natürliche Zwischenstation alles Personen- und Güter-Verkehrs auf der Eisenbahnlinie von Breslau nach Wien sein wird. Das Privilegium der Bahn ist in der preuss[ische] Gesetz[es]S[ammlung] für 1844, Seite 127-146 nachzulesen. Ihre Entstehung verdankt dieses Unternehmen den Oberschlesien, welche seit 1840 in den öffentlichen Blättern, dann durch Gründung eines Aktien-Bereins dahin strebten, die oberschlesische oder breslaukrakauer Eisenbahn-Gesellschaft auf der Unrichtigkeit des erst gewählten Traktus von Oppeln über Malapane [?? ic ??] nach der russische Grenze, aufmerksam zu machen u[nd] den Bemühungen des königl[iches] Regierungs-Presidenten Grafen Pückler auch gelungen, die oberschlesische Bahngesellschaft zu dem Entschlusse zu bestimmen, von Oppeln aus in der Richtung von Kandrzin bis Kosel u[nd] erst von da in östlicher Richtung über Gleiwitz nach Krakau zu bauen, dadurch wurde es möglich, Kandrzin bei Kosel auch als Anfangspunkt für die Wilhelms-Eisenbahn zu gewinnen. Die Bahn geht von Kandrzin rechts der Oder aufwärts bis Ratibor u[nd] hier mittelst der Stromǔberbrückung zu den links zwischen der Oder u[nd] der Stadt gelegenen Bahnhofe. Diese erste Bahnstrecke beträgt 3 7/8 M[eilen]; ihre Fortsetzung am linken Ober-Ufer bis zu dem wahrscheinlichebn End[gangspunkte] und berübergangspunkte 3 3/8 M[eilen]. Die Erdarbeiten zwischen Kandrzin u[nd] Ratibor sind beinahe gänzlich [EDITOR’S NOTE: gönzlich is, I think, a misprint], die bis Oderberg zum grossen Theil vollendet. Der Brückenbau wird mit allem Nachdruck betrieben; bereits sind die meisten Kammarbeiten vollendet. Die Schwellen sind sämmtlich an der Bahn 30,000 Ctnr. englische Schienen seit dem 1[rste] September 1844 noch mit niederem Eingangszoll beschafft u[nd] der bei schles[ischen] Hütten bestellte Uebrrest grösstenteils auch schon geliefert; so das bei günstiger Witterung die Bahn bis Oktober 1845 wird befahren werden können. Der Bahnhof ist zwischen Oder u[nd] Stadt auf der, für Entwickelung des Verkehrs günstigsten Stelle errichtet u[nd] eilt seine Vollendung ebenfalls entgegen. Die Stadt gabt dazu 15 Morg[en] u[nd] zur Bahnlinie auf dem 3/8 Meilen langen, stäbtischen Terrain ebenfalls circa 10 Morg[en]- Land[es] , welches ein Opfer von 7000 R[eichs]t[ha]l[er] erheischte. Die Abbrechung eines Hauses u[nd] die Erwerdung des zu mehreren Strassen erforberlichen Terrains, so wie der Ausbau dieser Strassen wird der Stadt eben so viel kosten. Die Stadtverordneten-Bersammlung hat nicht angestanden diese Opfer im wohlerwogenen Interessender Kommune dem Direktorium der W[ilhelm] B[ahn] nicht nur zu bringen, sondern selbst anzubieten, weil nur dadurch die Gesellschaft bewogen worden ist, den Baufond um mehr als 150,000 R[eichs]t[ha]l[er] zu erhöhen, um hier bei der Stadt vom rechten auf das linke Oberufer überzugehen u[nd] den Bahnhof an den Stadtmauern erbauern zu können, wärend derselber sonst rechts der Oder, fast 1/2 Meile von hier, erbaut worden wäre. Der Anschluss an die Nordbahn erfolgt dicht bei Oderberg, für die nächsten Jahre mittelst gewöhnlichen Fuhrwerkes; dann aber mittelst Zweiges der Nordbahn von circa 800 Ruth[e] Das Anlage-Kapital für die ganze Wilhelm [Bahn] beträgt statutenmässig 1,200,000 R[eichs]t[ha]l[er].
Below is the translation of the above text with footnotes about the various railway companies involved in construction of the railroad in and around Ratibor; Prussian units of measure; and Prussian currency:
“The mostly poor condition of the roads leading from here has an inhibiting effect on overland trade, especially on transit traffic. It must be all the more important for Ratibor that the connecting route, projected at the very beginning of the Wilhelms-Eisenbahn [Wilhelmsbahn (A) or William Railway] should be successfully completed, between Upper Silesia, or the Breslau-Krakauer (Wrocław-Kraków) Railway (B), and the Austrian route from Vienna along the Ferdinands-Nordbahn [Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway (C)], so that Ratibor will become the natural connecting station for all passengers and goods traffic on the train lines between Breslau and Vienna. (Figure 5) The grant to the Railway is available to read at pages 127 to 146 of the Prussische Gesetzesammlung [Prussian Law Gazette] for 1844. That Company owes its existence to the above named company, which, firstly in the public newspapers, and then by founding a stock corporation, convinced the Upper Silesian, or Breslau-Krakow Railway Company [EDITOR’S NOTE: Upper Silesian Railway Company], of how wrong the originally chosen route, from Oppeln via Malapane (Figure 6) to the Russian border, would have been; the efforts by the royally appointed President of the government, Count Pückler, also succeeded in persuading the Upper Silesian Railway Company to reach the decision to build the line from Oppeln, in the direction of Kandrzin as far as Kosel (Figure 7) and, only from that point, in an easterly direction via Gleiwitz to Krakow, which would make it possible to use Kandrzin, near Kosel, as a starting point for the William Railway. (Figure 8) The railway route goes from Kandrzin, to the right of the Oder, up to Ratibor [EDITOR’S NOTE: meaning upriver as the Oder River flows generally south to north] and here, by means of a bridge across the river, to the station, which is situated on the left bank, between the Oder and the city. This initial railway track is 2 7/8 miles long (D). Its continuation along the upper left bank, up to the probable end of the track and upper crossing point is 3 3/8 miles. The earth works between Kandrzin and Ratibor are now entirely, and those at Oderberg for the most part, completed. The bridge construction is being pursued vigorously; already most of the work on the crest is complete. The sleepers are all on the track; 30,000 Ctnr. (E) of English rails have been procured since 1st September 1844, at a low rate of import duty and most of the remainder, ordered from the foundries of Silesia, have already been delivered; so that, allowing for reasonable weather, the railway can come into use by October 1845. [EDITOR’S NOTE: Train service commenced on the 1st of January 1846] The station, which was being built between the Oder and the city in a location that would facilitate the development of traffic, is also fast approaching completion. The city gave 15 acres of land for the station, and around 10 acres for the railway line on the 3/8 mile long, flat terrain, all of which required the sacrifice of 7,000 Reichsthaler. The City Council did not hesitate, in the interest of the public good, to take some of the financial burden on themselves, rather than expecting the Directors of the William Railway to bear the whole, as this was the only way in which the company could be persuaded to increase the building fund by more than 150,000 Reichsthaler (F), in order that the site of the station could be changed from the right to the left upper bank and that it could be built over the city walls, whereas it would otherwise have been built to the right of the Oder, more than a mile from here. The connection to the Northern Railway will take place close to Oderberg (G) (Figure 9), for the next few years by means of a conventional carriage, then by means of a branch line of the Northern Railway from circa 800 Rods (H) [EDITOR’S NOTE: there seems to be a bit missing in the copy of the book here]. The capital budget for the whole William Railway is fixed by statute at 1,200,000 Reichsthaler.”
(A) The Wilhelmsbahn or William Railway was a private railway company in Prussia. It was founded in 1844 in Ratibor in Upper Silesia to connect the Upper Silesian Railway (Breslau—Oppeln—Kosel–Gleiwitz (Wroclaw—Opole— Koźle—Gliwice)) with the Austrian Emperor Ferdinand’s Railway. The name referred to Prince Wilhelm of Prussia, later the German Emperor Wilhelm I. For the first time, the railway line connected the Austrian railway network with the Prussian one.
(B) Refers to the Upper Silesian Railway Company. In 1842, the Upper Silesian Railway Company, licensed since 1839, opened the first two sections of its main line: Breslau (Wrocław, Poland) to Ohlau (Oława, Poland) (Figure 10) on the 22nd of May and Ohlau (Oława, Poland) to Brieg (Brzeg, Poland) (Figure 11) in August. These are the oldest railway sections of present-day Poland. Step by step the Upper Silesian Railway (Oberschlesische Eisenbahn, OSE) line was extended, in 1846 connecting Katowice. In 1847 Myslowitz (Mysłowice, Poland) at the border of Austrian Galicia was reached and the connection to Kraków and Upper Silesian Railway complete.
(C) The Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway was a railway company during the time of the Austrian Empire. Its main line was intended to connect Vienna with the salt mines in Bochnia near Kraków. The name is still used today in referring to several railway lines formerly operated by that company.
(D) The distances in miles in the text refer to Prussian miles. One Prussian mile equates to 4.66 U.S. miles or 7.5 kilometers.
(E) “Ctnr.” is the abbreviation for a Prussian “Centner.” A Prussian Centner equates to 113.43 American pounds or 51.448 kilograms. The metric Zentner used today is exactly 50 kilograms or 110.23 American pounds.
(F) Abbreviated “Rtl.,” this refers to a Prussian Reichsthaler. The Reichsthaler was a standard thaler silver coin introduced by the Holy Roman Empire in 1566 for use in all German states, minted in various versions for the next 300 years, and containing 25–26 grams fine silver.
(G) According to Johann Knie, the Wilhelmsbahn connected to the Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway near Oderberg, shown to the southeast of Ratibor in Figure 9.
(H) The Prussian Ruthe or rod was 12 feet or 3.766 meters.
It is clear from Johann Knie’s 1845 book that, absent Count Pückler’s intervention, the Breslau-Krakauer (Wrocław-Kraków) Railway, that’s to say the Upper Silesian Railway Company, intended to bypass Ratibor in its construction of the railway into Poland. The passage refers to an easterly route from Breslau (Wrocław) to Oppeln (Opole) to a place called Malapane (today: Ozimek) toward Russia which Count Pückler was able to dissuade the Upper Silesian Railway Company from taking. He apparently also convinced the Upper Silesian Railway Company to connect Breslau (Wrocław) to Krakau (Kraków) via Oppeln (Opole), Kosel (also written Cosel; Koźle), Gleiwitz (Gliwice), and Katowice. This was critical because at a place called Kandrzin, just outside present-day Koźle, the Wilhelmsbahn or William Railroad was then able to connect their railway line to the Upper Silesian Railway. Thus, railway passengers could save time when traveling between Breslau and Vienna by avoiding Krakau. We also learn that Ratibor’s City Council donated land and money to offset part of the William Railroad’s construction cost. From Kosel to Ratibor, the tracks ran along the right or east bank of the Oder, then crossed the river near Ratibor via a bridge to the railway station located on the west or left bank of the Oder River, interestingly built over the city walls according to Johann Knie’s text.
In closing I would simply say that the maps and plans in Meyers Gazetteer in combination with contemporary Google maps provide the necessary overview for visualizing how important it was for the small town of Ratibor in the mid-1840s to ensure the railroad passed through town. It enabled the town’s economic expansion and led to the construction of the Bruck’s Hotel sometime between 1846 and 1850.
REFERENCES
Knie, Johann G. (1845). Alphabetisch-statistisch-topographische Uebersicht der Dörfer, Flecken, Städte und andern Orte der Königl. Preuß. Provinz Schlesien.
Note: In a post I’ve long wanted to write, using maps and contemporary accounts, I discuss the history of the property where the inn stood that my family owned from ca. 1850 until 1926 in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel. I also make a case for when I think the hotel was likely constructed.
I’ve spilled a lot of ink writing about my next of kin’s business in Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel (Figures 1-2), owned by three generations of my family from roughly 1850 until 1926. My recently departed friend Paul Newerla from Racibórz (Figure 3), a lawyer who found his second calling in retirement researching and writing about the history of Ratibor and Silesia, was very instrumental in furthering my understanding of the hotel’s history and generously sharing multiple historical references and illustrations related to the establishment.
Paul was never able to tell me exactly when the inn was constructed and whether a previous owner had built the structure. For the longest time, I imagined the name “Prinz von Preußen” meant it might have been erected and lived in by a member of the von Preußen family, a royal lineage with longstanding ties to Silesia. Another friend whom I’ve often mentioned to readers, Peter Albrecht von Preußen (Figure 4), a descendant of this illustrious bloodline now living in the United States, explained to me that the “Prinz von Preußen” name was franchised from at least the 19th century. Thus, the Bruck Hotel’s incorporation of the Prinz von Preußen honorific may simply reflect a business arrangement. So far evidence of this has not been found.
One document Paul was unable to track down in theArchiwum Państwowe w Katowicach Oddział w Raciborzu, the State Archives in Katowice, Branch in Racibórz, was the so-called Grundbuch, the land register, for the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel. Grundbuch means the applicable official register held by the Land Registry in which, among other things, the rights of ownership in, and encumbrances on, a plot of land are registered.
In Post 61, I discussed how Paul found the Grundbuch for the Zuckerfabrik, the sugar factory owned by distant family relatives, located in Woinowitz [today: Wojnowice, Poland] outside Ratibor, among the uncatalogued documents in the basement of the Racibórz State Archives. Regular readers know I’ve written multiple posts about the Zuckerfabrik. Had Paul been able to locate the Grundbuch for the Bruck’s Hotel, it might have shed some light on when the building was built and/or exactly when my family purchased the establishment. Whether the file still exists is an unanswered question though I suspect if it did Paul Newerla would have tracked it down.
Another of my Polish friends, Małgosia Ploszaj (Figure 5), from Rybnik, Poland, 15 miles east of Racibórz, was able to find a police file in the Racibórz State Archives related to the Bruck’s Hotel (Figures 6a-b), but this dated to the period that my grandparents, Felix (1864-1927) and Else Bruck (1873-1957), owned the hotel during the first quarter of the 20th century. This file includes reports on periodic inspections conducted by the local police; safety issues my grandparents were compelled to address; authorizations they were required to obtain to operate beyond normal working hours; violations for which they were fined, etc. Nothing in the file related to the history nor tenancy of the hotel prior to my grandparents’ ownership.
My good friend Peter Albrecht von Preußen spent a good deal of time explaining the contents of this police file. Additionally, because of his own family’s connection to Silesia, he spent a lot of time searching publications for mentions of the hotel and the sequential Bruck family members who owned the inn, namely, Samuel Bruck (1808-1863), Fedor Bruck (1834-1892), and Felix Bruck (1864-1927).
One of the most useful public domain sources Peter discovered was a 695-page book entitled “Geschichte der Stadt Ratibor,” “History of the Town of Ratibor,” written by Augustin Weltzel in 1861. (Figure 7) Therein, Peter found mention of a Bruck who was a “gastwirth,” an innkeeper, no doubt Samuel Bruck (1808-1863) the original owner of the Bruck’s Hotel. (Figure 8)
The book is written in Fraktur, which was the subject of Post 154. Unfortunately, the text has not been transcribed into German, nor has it been translated into Polish or English. However, because Peter can read Fraktur, he graciously perused and summarized relevant sections of Weltzel’s book.
This book was commissioned in 1859 by the Protestant Church in Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland], who had searched in the archives and discovered that the history of the entire Upper Silesian region, a principally Catholic area at the time, had not been documented. As a result, Dr. Weltzel, a Catholic Priest, was contracted to write about Ratibor. This seemingly odd arrangement was an indirect outcome of the First Silesian War from 1740 to 1742 which resulted in Prussia seizing most of the region of Silesia (today mostly in southwestern Poland) from Austria but Catholics in Silesia being guaranteed the right to continue practicing their religion.
Based on Peter’s synopsis and analysis, I can reconstruct a partial history of the property where the Bruck’s Hotel was built and theorize when the hotel is likely to have been constructed. Another of my Polish contacts from Racibórz is Magda Wawoczny, an acquaintance in the Jewish Studies program at Jagiellonian University in Krakow, Poland. At my request, she graciously sent me high-resolution plans of Ratibor from 1831 and 1843, as well as a map from 1812 with a birds-eye view of Ratibor and its fortifications, that allow me to clarify using contemporary maps what likely was going on in the area at the time in conjunction with Augustin Weltzel’s description of historic events.
First, a brief digression. I’ve periodically told readers about my “boots on the ground” without whom I would be unable to relate my family stories to the depth I feel is required. As readers can easily tell, I have limited knowledge about many of the subjects I discuss so the assistance of knowledgeable people is crucial. In the case of this post, for example, I felt the need to illustrate with historic maps what Ratibor may have looked like at different points in time to make the case for approximately when the Bruck’s Hotel might have been constructed.
Erroneously recalling there exists a map from 1829 with the Bruck’s Hotel shown, I asked Magda, my student acquaintance from Racibórz, if she could track it down for me. In the process, Magda directed me to a historical portal run by her father, Grzegorz Wawoczny, a historian. The portal includes a post written by a German gentleman, Christoph Sottor, describing the oldest plans of the city of Ratibor. This is how I learned about the 1812, 1831, and 1843 plans of Ratibor mentioned above. This post was very useful and one I encourage readers with an ancestral link to Ratibor to skim:
Historically, Ratibor was a fortified castle-town. The period the Bruck’s Hotel could conceivably have been built is closely related to when the fortifications surrounding Ratibor were dismantled because of the hotel’s proximity to where the protective walls once stood. Let me briefly relate to readers some of the history of the town’s defensive system. The defensive walls have existed in Ratibor since 1299. They were extended in the 14th century, and several fortified towers and three wooden gates were later added. A deep moat was constructed in front of the walls. The curtain walls were reinforced in 1663 in anticipation of a Turkish invasion.
Beginning in the 18th century, the fortifications were gradually eliminated. Between 1764 and 1771 the moat was filled in. According to Weltzel, the wooden gate (Figure 22) of the defensive tower nearest where the Bruck’s Hotel was eventually built was removed in 1825 and relocated to the Ratibor side of the bridge crossing the nearby Oder River; some of the nearby curtain walls were removed but the tower remained.
All that remains of the fortifications today is a Renaissance style tower constructed in 1574 and some remnants of the Gothic curtain walls that abutted this tower. (Figures 9-10) At the apex of the tower, there is an attic with embrasures (sometimes called gun holes) and four turrets. The building provided shelter for the garrison of defenders and was also used as a prison tower.
The removal of the moat, including the gradual elimination of some of the defensive structures, coincides with the end of the Seven Years’ War (1756-1763). Let me say a few words about this conflict.
The Seven Years’ War (1756–1763) was a global conflict involving most of Europe’s great powers that was fought primarily in Europe, the Americas, and Asia-Pacific. Without getting too far into the weeds, suffice it to say the opposing alliances were led by Great Britain and France, each seeking to establish global pre-eminence at the expense of the other. France and Spain fought against England and their ally Prussia in Europe and overseas. Long-standing rivalries pitted these adversaries against one another in North America and the West Indies.
No less a personage than Winston Churchill described the Seven Years War, which went by different names in its respective theaters (e.g., Franch and Indian Wars (1754-1763); War of the Conquest in French-speaking Canada; the Third Silesian Wear (1756-1763) between Prussia and Austria) as the first “world war” because of its global reach.
For purposes of this post, suffice it to say that in Europe, Prussia sought greater influence in the German states (i.e., Prussia and the other German states did not unite to form Germany until 1871) while Austria sought to contain Prussian influence as well as regain Silesia which they’d lost at the end of the First Silesian War in 1742. Austria failed in this regard. Based on Augustin Weltzel’s discussions, it is evident the city’s fortifications suffered heavy damage from cannonball strikes during the conflict.
Perhaps, the end of the war, new economic opportunities, ongoing deterioration of the defensive walls and towers, along with a need to expand the city caused town officials to gradually remove the fortifications and towers.
The address of the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel was Oderstrasse 16. The inn stood on the northwest corner of Oderstrasse where it met Bollwerk Strasse. A 1929 street map of Ratibor includes the hotel’s name and location (Figure 11), while a 1933 plan shows the number “16” on Oderstrasse. (Figure 12) A map from around 1890 indistinctly outlines an area where the Bruck’s Hotel stood that is identified by the number “104,” which may indicate the lot number. (Figure 13) Since I don’t have copies of all Ratibor’s plans, it’s not clear when the hotel was first plotted on a map.
The “Prinz von Preußen” is listed in John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent” as a place for people to stay in Ratibor while voyaging between Breslau and Vienna. (Figures 14a-b) Family ownership of the inn is thought to have begun at around this time.
Next, I’ll discuss a few of the historic maps I had access to, and what they suggest regarding the construction of the Bruck’s Hotel. I’ll also touch on some of Weltzel’s historic accounts for reference.
Let me start by discussing the map that Christoph Sottor dates to 1812 (Figure 15) that I previously described as a birds-eye view of the city with its still-standing fortifications.
“On the newly made plan (in 1812 on the basis of measurements from 1810) the orientation to the west was improved, buildings in towns near Racibórz were described and projections of several buildings in Racibórz itself were marked. The “Situations-Plan von der Stadt Ratibor” covers a smaller area than the 1811 plan and is on a smaller scale, 1 : 7,200. The plan measures 48 cm x 32.3 cm. It was also created by the geometer Andre Wihrheim. The only copy of the plan is in AP Opole, reference number: AP Opole, Rej. Opole. Kart., sign. IX/92. I only have a blurry picture of him.” [EDITOR’S NOTE: “AP Opole” stands for “Archiwum Państwowe Opole,” the State Archives in Opole, Poland]
The main conclusion one can draw from this map is that the defensive towers and curtain walls were mostly still intact in 1812. This means the Bruck’s Hotel, whose approximate location I’ve shown on the map, could not yet have existed at this time since the curtain walls would have impeded its construction.
According to Weltzel, the Bruck’s Hotel was referred to as the “Prinzen von Preußen” (“Princes of Prussia”) rather than “Prinz von Preußen” (“Prince of Prussia”), with no mention of the Bruck surname. He also tells us the property where the hotel was eventually built had previously been owned by the so-called Schützengilde, the shooting club, and sat along Oder Gasse, as Oderstrasse was then known. The Schützengilde had two structures on their property, a Schützenzwinger, or clubhouse, and a Schießstand, or firing range. The clubhouse faced Oder Gasse, while the firing range sat towards the rear of the property closer to the Oder River.
At the time Weltzel was researching his book he had access to the shooting club’s records dating back to 1620. According to these documents the Schützengilde owned the property on Oder Gasse until 1824/25 when they sold it to the city of Ratibor in two transactions; by May 1825 the city had full possession of the entire property. Using the proceeds from the sale of the property, the shooting club purchased another property in town. Seemingly, Weltzel does not discuss how the city used the property following its acquisition.
Peter Albrecht von Preußen uncovered a YouTube video describing the activities of the Schützengilde today featuring none other than my late friend Paul Newerla. While the video is in both German and Polish with subtitles in both these languages, readers can get a general idea of how the shooting club operates today and view some of the antique weapons members fire:
In essence, Paul Newerla says that today the Schützengilde is principally a historical society and functions as a recreational club rather than as a defensive force as it once did. As previously mentioned, the club relocated from Oder Gasse in 1825, but moved again in 1898 to their present location. The existing clubhouse incorporates a tower (Figure 16) that may be a remembrance of the Oder Thor that once stood adjacent to their property on Oder Gasse. According to Paul, the oldest documents the club possesses date to 1925, so he is appealing to anyone that may have older artifacts or memorabilia to contact the club. And finally, we learn the Schützengilde was inoperative from the 8th of May 1945 until 2004, when it was resurrected.
Let me turn now to the two high resolution maps from 1831 and 1843 that Magda sent me and discuss what inferences can be drawn from them. Both plans show two buildings on the property, the 1843 map more distinctly, where the Bruck’s Hotel would eventually be built. On the 1831 map (Figure 17), in the rear structure, that’s to say the shooting range, readers can vaguely make out what Weltzel refers to as a “wall extension” that paralleled the lane where Bollwerk Strasse was ultimately sited. It would appear the firing range incorporated as an extension a fragmentary part of the curtain walls that once surrounded Ratibor.
One thing we can conclude from the 1843 map (Figure 18) is that the Oder Thor, Oder Tower, the tower closest to where the hotel was ultimately built had apparently not yet been demolished, though as previously mentioned the wooden gate had been removed in 1825. The tower is labelled on the map suggesting it was still in place. It’s difficult to know precisely where the Oder Thor was situated relative to the hotel making it hard to know whether it would have impeded construction of the building; however, the defensive curtain walls would assuredly have prevented construction of the inn.
Another thing we can observe from the 1843 ocular map of Ratibor is that if you extend the line that was formerly part of the curtain wall and the extension of the Schießstand, it lines up perfectly with the side of the Oder Thor that was closest to the Oder River.
So, we return to the question of when the Bruck’s Hotel might have been built and what the impetus for doing so would have been. A French travel guide dated 1836 entitled “Manuel du Voyageur en Allemagne” (Handbook for Travelers in Germany), mentions an auberge or inn in Ratibor, “Auberge de Jaeschke.” (Figure 19) Prior to construction of the Bruck’s Hotel this is believed to have been the only guesthouse in Ratibor.
As previously discussed, the “Prinz von Preußen” is mentioned in John Murray’s 1850 publication “A Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent,” and is described as a “very comfortable hotel.” (see Figure 14b) Clearly, by 1850 the “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel was open for business. This is further confirmed by a concert the famed Austrian composer Johann Strauss delivered on the 17th of October 1850 in the hotel’s concert hall. (Figure 20) A similar recital by Dr. Franz Lizst four years earlier on the 29th of May 1846 was performed at the so-called “Jaschke’schen Saale” (Figure 21), presumably part of the “Auberge de Jaeschke,” indirect evidence the newer and larger Prinz von Preußen concert hall was not yet open.
According to Weltzel, the anticipated arrival of the railroad in Ratibor, which began service on the 1st of January 1846, caused a “building boom” between 1842 and 1850. If the 1843 map is accurate, the Oder Thor still stood at this time, so construction of the hotel post-dates its removal. While there is no smoking gun, the indirect evidence points to the Prinz von Preußen having been built sometime between 1845 and 1847, coinciding with the arrival of the railroad. No doubt regular train service and mention of the Prinz von Preußen in an English travel guide would have accelerated the number of visitors and tourists from Germany, Austria, and far-off places who would have expected modern conveniences. It can only be hoped the hotel’s Grundbuch still exists and is eventually found to definitively answer the question of what year the inn was built.
Knie, Johann G. (1845). Alphabetisch-statistisch-topographische Uebersicht der Dörfer, Flecken, Städte und andern Orte der Königl. Preuß. Provinz Schlesien.
Note: In this post, I discuss the Fraktur typeface, a blackletter script known among other names as Gothic script. It originated in the early 16th century during the Holy Roman Empire and was widely used in Europe until the early 1940s. An 1820 publication typeset in Fraktur bears the names of two of my Bruck ancestors who attended the inaugural gymnasium class in Ratibor in 1819. In working out the name of one of these ancestors, I came to learn that two upper-case Fraktur letters of the early 19th century are indistinguishable.
First, let me briefly describe Fraktur’s characteristics and provide some brief background on its origin and history. Fraktur is defined “as a calligraphic hand of the Latin alphabet and any of several blackletter typefaces derived from this hand.” Letters are designed so that the individual strokes are broken apart, in contrast with typefaces where the letters are connected and flow together in an unbroken fashion, setting them apart from the flowing curves of more common Antiqua typefaces. The word “Fraktur” derives from the Latin word frāctūra (“a break”), which is also the root of the English word “fracture.” The nomenclature is appropriate given that Fraktur letters are spaced apart, not continuous. Fraktur is a notable type of so-called blackletter script, known among other names as Gothic script, with sometimes the entire group of blackletter faces being referred to as Fraktur.
Essentially, Fraktur is characterized by the 26 letters of the basic Latin alphabet, along with additional characters: the Eszett ⟨ß⟩ in the ⟨ſʒ⟩ form; vowels with umlauts, ä, ö, and ü; a long S (ſ), a unique character found in Fraktur; and a variant form of the letter r known as the r rotunda featured in some Fraktur typefaces. It is worth noting that not all blackface typefaces exhibit these specific Fraktur characteristics.
The first Fraktur typeface originated in the early 16th century, when Maximilian I, the Holy Roman Emperor from 1508 until his death in 1519, commissioned the design of the “Triumphal Arch” wood cut by Albrecht Durer and had a new typeface created specifically for this purpose. The Triumphal Arch was a composite image printed on 36 large sheets of paper from 195 separate wood blocks; as one of the largest prints ever produced it was intended to be pasted to walls in city halls or the palaces of princes, basically as propaganda.
From the late 18th century to the late 19th century, in most countries that had previously used Fraktur it was gradually replaced by Antiqua (Figure 2), as a symbol of the admiration for and emulation of the classical artistic and literary heritage of Greece and Rome. This transition was vigorously debated in Germany, where it was referred to as the “Antiqua-Fraktur dispute.” The shift affected mostly scientific writing, whereas most literature and newspapers continued to be printed in Fraktur.
Until the early 20th century, typesetting in Fraktur was still quite common in all German-speaking countries and regions, as well as in Norway, Estonia, and Latvia, and to a lesser extent in Sweden, Finland, and Denmark.
Fraktur remained popular in Germany and much of Eastern Europe far longer than elsewhere in Europe so is often referred to as “the German typeface.” Prior to 1941 Hiter viewed Fraktur as a German script that was widely used in Third Reich propaganda publications. While official Nazi documents and letterheads employed the font, in fact the most popular fonts in Nazi Germany were more modernized versions of blackletter typefaces that had been designed in the early 20th century, mainly in the 1930s.
The shift to using these more modernized fonts was controversial, with the press at times admonished for using “Roman characters” under “Jewish influence.” On the 3rd of January 1941, the Nazi Party ended the controversy by switching to international scripts such as Antiqua. With this declaration, the Nazis prohibited the use of Fraktur and the Sütterlin-based handwriting, declaring them to be Judenlettern, Jewish letters. The irony cannot be lost on readers that the Nazis did a complete turnabout from decreeing Fraktur, in which many earlier Nazi propaganda publications had been written, to be Jewish letters, after previously having characterized the fonts to which they shifted to also be under “Jewish influence.”
A few European newspapers, such as the German Frankfurter Allgemeine (Figure 3) as well as the Norwegian Aftenpoſten, still print their name in Fraktur on the masthead, which today is used mostly for decorative typesetting.
So much for the background. The genesis of this post begins in 2019 when Paul Newerla, my recently deceased friend from Racibórz, Poland, the town formerly in Germany to which my family had a three-generation connection, was writing about the 200th anniversary of Ratibor’s gymnasium, high school. While researching the topic, Paul happened upon a publication dated the 2nd of June 1820 entitled “Denkschrift über die feierliche Eröffnung des Königl. Evangel. Gymnasium zu Ratibor am 2. Juni 1819. . .,” “Memorandum on the solemn opening of the Royal Evangelical High School in Ratibor on June 2, 1819. . .” (Figures 4a-b) archived at the British Museum. It is noteworthy that this document was typeset in Fraktur. More on this below.
Knowing that several of my relatives had attended Ratibor’s high school, Paul sent me a copy of the report. Along with illustrations and maps Paul sent me, this formed the backbone for Post 60. The 1820 publication was written by Dr. Carl Linge, who I would later learn was the school’s first director from the 11th of May 1819 until Easter 1828. Along with an introduction, the publication contained five pages of names of male students, the only enrollees at the time, who attended the inaugural class, including two Bruck siblings. (Figure 4c) Their surnames were listed along with their first initials, what I thought were “J” and “S.”
For reasons that in retrospect seem completely illogical, I assumed that “J” stood for Jonas Bruck and that “S” referred to Samuel Bruck. These siblings, sons of Jacob Nathan Bruck (1770-1836) and Marianne Bruck, née Aufrecht, have been mentioned in multiple earlier posts, most recently in Post 153. Their birth and death years are well known to me. Jonas lived from 1813 to 1883, and Samuel from 1808 until 1863. Knowing Jonas was born in 1813, his attendance in the gymnasium’s inaugural class in 1819 at six years of age should immediately have raised a red flag; instead, I blissfully assumed he was very precocious.
As Paul was continuing his research related to the 200th anniversary of Ratibor’s gymnasium, he managed to track down the original handwritten roster of students who’d attended the school from the 11th of May 1819 until the 13th of April 1849. Astonishingly, he found this roster among the old files of the gymnasium, which today is a technical trade school. The fact that these originals survive given the turmoil during World War II is miraculous.
Among the roster of students who attended the school between 1819 and 1849, I discovered the following Bruck ancestors:
SUMMARY OF FAMILY NAMES FROM RATIBOR GYMNASIUM ALBUM, 1819-1849
Year/
Date of Admission
Line Number/Name
Where From
Father’s Profession
(German & English)
Age or Date of Birth of Student
1819
74. Isaac Bruck
74. Samuel Bruck
Ratibor
“Arrendator”
Leaseholder
13
10
4 April 1823
402. Heimann Bruck
Ratibor
“Destillateur”
Distiller
11
21 April 1824
440. Jonas Bruck
Ratibor
“Destillateur”
Distiller
10 ½
19 May 1829
1829. Marcus Braun
Ratibor
“Wirth”
Innkeeper
12 ½
22 May 1845
1752. Oscar Bruck
Ratibor
“Kaufmann”
Merchant
8 October 1832
3 January 1846
1772. Heimann Bruck
Ratibor
“Sattlermeister”
Saddler
26 December 1833
27 April 1848
1961. Fedor Bruck
Ratibor
“Kaufmann”
Merchant
30 September 1834
While it seems obvious in retrospect, I did not immediately make the connection between the names in the handwritten roster and Carl Linge’s published list of students who attended the gymnasium in its inaugural year in 1819. Regrettably, Paul sent me the page with Isaac and Samuel Bruck’s names separately, cutting off the year they attended the school, initially confounding me. (Figure 5)
Recall that in the published list, only the first letter of the students’ forenames is listed. Wanting to confirm whether the Fraktur letter in Carl Linge’s book was an “I” or a “J,” in other words whether the student was Isaac Bruck or Jonas Bruck, I turned to my friend Peter Hanke. As a trivial matter to most readers, but as a curious fact to me, Peter explained that in Fraktur typefaces of the early 19th century, the “I” and “J” fonts are indistinguishable. I found a few examples of early 19th century Fraktur typefaces that confirm this. (Figures 6a-b)
Additionally, the Wikipedia discussion of Fraktur speaks to this exact point. I quote: “Most older Fraktur typefaces make no distinction between the majuscules ⟨I⟩ and ⟨J⟩ (where the common shape is more suggestive of a ⟨J⟩), even though the minuscules ⟨i⟩ and ⟨j⟩ are differentiated.” Linge’s roster list uses majuscules, or upper-case letters, for the forenames of students meaning that absent the handwritten list found by Paul Newerla, I might never have been certain which Bruck sibling attended the gymnasium in 1819 with Samuel Bruck.
At the time I wrote my earlier posts about Ratibor’s student rosters, I had not yet ascertained when Isaac was born. I’m still not certain though it’s likely in 1805 or 1806. In the 1819 handwritten roster, it’s written that Isaac was 13 years old, a much less precocious age to be attending the gymnasium than at six years which would have been his younger brother Jonas’s age at the time.
REFERENCE
Linge, Carl (1820). “Denkschrift über die feierliche Eröffnung des Königl. Evangel. Gymnasium zu Ratibor am 2. Juni 1819. . .”
Note: In this post, I present and synthesize some primary source documents I’ve collected proving the existence of my third great-grandparents’ children. A family memoir states they had twelve unnamed children though I can definitively account for only nine of them. I am not surprised given that large families often had children who died at birth or in childhood. I strongly suspect a tenth offspring, the oldest girl, who shows up on several ancestral trees, may have lived to adulthood though I cannot independently prove this. The point of this post is to illustrate the standard to which I hold myself accountable in verifying ancestral data, not simply tell another family story to which readers may not relate.
A distant Bruck relative, Bertha Jacobson, née Bruck (1873-1957) wrote a memoir for her granddaughter, Maria Jacobson (1933-2022). In this memoir, which Maria donated to the Leo Baeck Institute in New York before her death, Bertha notes that my third great-grandparents Jacob Nathan Bruck (1770-1836) and Marianne Bruck, née Aufrecht (b. 1776) had twelve children, though she doesn’t name them. As a challenge to myself, I set out to determine how many of these purported children’s existence I could find proof of in the form of primary source documents, my gold standard. I’ve summarized this data including the source in a table readers will find at the end of this post.
I’ve often admonished followers about cloning ancestral data that one finds on other people’s ancestral trees, especially if source documents are not identified. That said, ancestral trees are sometimes specific enough to direct researchers to other sources that can be independently checked to confirm the veracity of the information in a tree. Below I will give readers an example of how I was able to confirm the burial place of one of Jacob and Marianne’s children in Berlin through data found on an ancestral tree in MyHeritage.
Before delving into the evidence I’ve tracked down for Jacob and Marianne’s children, let me review the vital data I’ve found out about them. In Post 150 I told readers how I discovered my third great-grandfather Jacob Nathan Bruck’s death register listing for Ratibor among the primary source documents digitized by the Upper Silesian Genealogical Society’s “Silius Radicum” project. (Figure 1) The index proved Jacob died in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland] on the 29th of June 1836 at the age of 66, meaning he was born in 1770. While I’ve been unable to uncover the exact date he was born, the Geneanet Community Tree Index claims Jacob was born on the 18th of February 1770. (Figure 2) Notwithstanding that the source of this data is Michael Bruck, my fourth cousin once removed, I’ve yet to see the source document from which Michael drew this information.
A related aside. Another one of my distant Bruck relatives, Marianne Polborn, née Bruck (1888-1975) developed a family tree which includes some vital information for Jacob and Marianne Bruck. (Figure 3) Jacob’s date of birth matches that found on the Geneanet Community Tree Index. While I’m inclined to believe the 18th of February 1770 was indeed Jacob’s birth, the skeptic in me asks whether Michael Bruck had access to Marianne Polborn’s ancestral tree, so that everyone is copying the same unverified information from a record that is not a primary source document? This is likely a rhetorical question.
I draw readers’ attention to another date on Marianne Polborn’s ancestral tree, namely Jacob and Marianne’s marriage date, specifically, the 16th of May 1793. Given the confirmed dates of birth for some of Jacob and Marianne’s children towards the end of the 18th century and the beginning of the 19th century, this seems like a plausible marriage year. While this tree is the sole unconfirmed source of their wedding, even if Marianne was already pregnant when she and Jacob married, a not uncommon occurrence I’ve learned, their oldest child would likely not have been born much before 1794. The earliest confirmed birth year for any of their children, as I will discuss, is 1796.
Another date I draw readers’ attention to is the purported date of birth of Marianne Aufrecht, the 21st of August 1776.
Marianne Polborn does not specify when Marianne Bruck died, although the Geneanet Community Tree Index claims she died on the 3rd of August 1835. (Figure 4) I believe this is a case of “false precision.” Let me explain. By chance, when scrolling through the Church of Latter-Day Saints (LDS) Family History Library Microfilm Roll Number 7990058 with the names of Jews who died between 1832 and 1838 in Neisse [today: Nysa, Poland], located 54 miles northwest of Racibórz, I stumbled on the death register listing of the “witwe Marianne Bruck” who died at 70 years of age on the 3rd of August 1835; “witwe” means widow. (Figure 5) As discussed above, I know for sure Jacob Bruck died in 1836 so obviously in 1835 Marianne would not yet have been a widow. Also, if Marianne’s birth year was 1776, which I’m inclined to believe, had she died in 1835 she would only have been several weeks short of her 59th birthday. Finally, unless Marianne was visiting Neisse, her death there rather than in Ratibor seems odd.
Often the oldest of Jacob and Marianne’s offspring listed on ancestral trees is Helene Bruck shown married to an Itzig Mendel Guttmann Aufrecht. As I discussed in Post 150, I located Marianne’s death register listing in the Upper Silesian Genealogical Society’s database proving she died on the 20th of May 1838 at the age of 68 (Figure 6), identical to the year Jacob Bruck was born, 1770. Thus, the Helene Bruck married to Itzig Aufrecht was not one of Jacob and Marianne’s children, but more likely Jacob’s cousin. It’s conceivable Jacob and Marianne named their first-born daughter Helene, but I cannot independently verify this nor prove she existed.
Wilhelmine Bruck’s existence is incontrovertible. Proof of her marriage to Wilhelm Friedenstein is found on LDS Microfilm 1184449 showing they got married on the 7th of November 1814 in Ratibor, identifying her father as Jakob Nathan Bruck. (Figure 7) Find-A-Grave shows she was born in 1796 and died in 1864, and is interred in the Stary Cmentarz Żydowski we Wrocławiu, the Old Jewish Cemetery, in Wrocław, Poland. (Figure 8) My friend, Dr. Renata Wilkoszewska-Krakowska, is the Branch Manager of this cemetery and sent me a picture of her headstone giving her precise birth and death dates. (Figure 9) Her husband is not buried alongside her.
Although no birth or death information has so far been uncovered for another of Jacob and Marianne’s daughters, her existence again is irrefutable. According to LDS Microfilm 1184449, Dorothea married Salomon Freund on the 25th of February 1817 in Ratbor, and her father is listed as Jakob Nathan Bruck. (see Figure 7)
Moritz Bruck (1800-1863)
A German book published in 1845 entitled “Gelehrtes Berlin in Jahre 1845,” roughly translated as “Scholarly Berlin in 1845,” includes a biography of Moritz Bruck stating he was born on the 24th of December 1800 in Ratibor and that his father was Jacob Bruck. (Figure 10) He was a respected doctor and was actively involved in researching and writing about cholera. Unlike his older brothers, Moritz attended the gymnasium, high school, in Brieg, [today: Brzeg, Poland], 80 miles northwest of Racibórz. His 1824 dissertation written in Latin was entitled “De myrmeciasi,” and was about ants popularly known as bulldog ants, bull ants, or jack jumper ants due to their ferocity; his dissertation includes a dedication page for his father. (Figures 11a-b)
On MyHeritage, I discovered the “Tuchler Family Tree,” which correctly indicates Moritz died on the 25th of October 1863 in Berlin and is buried in the Jüdische Friedhof in der Schönhauser Allee, a fact I confirmed by having one of my German cousins call the cemetery. At a future date, I will include a photo of his headstone. This is one of the few occasions I found vital information on a family tree that I was independently able to verify.
Fanny Bruck (1804-1879)
LDS Microfilm 1184449 indicates that like her sisters Wilhelmine and Dorothea, Fanny got married in Ratibor on the 26th of November 1822 to Isaac Seliger. (Figure 12) Kurt Polborn, my fourth cousin from Germany, shows she died on the 29th of August 1879 in Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland]. Given the exactitude of her death, I asked Kurt about it, and he sent me a copy of a letter Fanny wrote on the 19th of February 1873 informing authorities in Breslau her husband Isaac had passed away on the 13th of February 1873. (Figure 13) The Julian and Hebrew calendar dates of death for both Isaac and Fanny are written at the bottom of this correspondence; the source of this letter is the online archives of the Centralna Biblioteka Judaistyczna, Central Jewish Library. I was able to locate Isaac Seliger’s death register listing on LDS Microfilm 7990011 confirming he died on the 13th of February 1873. (Figure 14)
Because the LDS Church does not have the Breslau death register covering the years between 1874 and 1910, I asked my friend Renata from the Old Jewish Cemetery in Wrocław if she could help track down Fanny Seliger’s death register information. Coincidentally, Fanny is buried in the Old Jewish Cemetery. Renata confirmed she was born on the 8th of November 1804 and died on the 29th of August 1879. A photo of her matzevah, headstone, will soon follow. (Figure 15-COMING SOON)
Isaac Bruck (~1805-?)
Isaac Bruck is estimated to have been born in 1805 or 1806. Along with his Samuel Bruck, both of their names show up on the roster of students who attended the inaugural class when Ratibor’s gymnasium, high school, opened in June 1819. (Figure 16) The roster indicates Isaac was 13 years old at the time, while his brother Samuel was 10 years of age. Isaac and Samuel’s unnamed father is listed as an “arendator,” beer tenant or distiller, which Jacob Bruck was known to have been. I discussed this topic in Post 152.
A particularly intriguing document I located mentioning Isaac Bruck was in a gazette entitled “Amtsblatt für den Regierungsbezirk Marienwerder,” dated the 26th of May 1828. The Marienwerder gazette printed a notice to be on the lookout for the deserter Isaac Bruck from Ratibor, who in 1828 was said to be 22 years old. (Figure 17)
The Marienwerder Region (German: Regierungsbezirk Marienwerder) was a government region (Regierungsbezirk) of Prussia from 1815 until 1920 and again 1939-1945. It was a part of the Province of West Prussia from 1815 to 1829, and again 1878–1920, belonging to the Province of Prussia in the intervening years, and to the Reichsgau Danzig-West Prussia in the years 1939-1945. The regional capital was Marienwerder in West Prussia [today: Kwidzyn, Poland].
According to LDS Microfilms 1194054 and 1194055 for Gleiwitz [today: Gliwice, Poland], Isaac and his wife Caroline Bruck, née Stolz, are known to have separated on the 19th of July 1835. (Figure 18)
Isaac Bruck is my cousin Michael Bruck’s 4th great-grandfather who he estimates died in 1856 or 1857.
Samuel Bruck (1808-1863)
Samuel was my third-great-grandfather, and the original owner of the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preussen” Hotel in Ratibor. His existence is beyond doubt. I discussed Samuel in Post 144, so direct readers to that installment.
Heimann Bruck (~1812)
Heimann Bruck first attended Ratibor’s gymnasium, high school, in April 1823 when he was 11 years old. (Figure 19) Heimann’s unnamed father is said to be a “Destillateur,” distiller, which Jacob Bruck is known to have been.
Heimann married Rosalie “Rosa” Bruck on the 21st of August 1832 in Neisse, Prussia [today: Nysa, Poland]. Heimann’s father is identified as “Jacob B.” and Rosa’s father as “David B.” (Figure 20) Jacob and David were likely cousins.
In an 1826 Ratibor publication entitled “Einladungsschrift der Offentlichen Prufung der Schuler des Konigs. Gymnasium in Ratibor am 5, 6, und 7 April,” “Invitation to the Public Examination of the Pupils of the Royal Grammar School in Ratibor on April 5, 6 and 7, 1826,” Heimann Bruck’s name appears as having graduated from fourth class Latin. This may correspond with Heimann’s graduation from the gymnasium. (Figure 21)
Various ancestral trees indicate Heimann died in 1875 but this information is unconfirmed.
Jonas Bruck (1813-1883)
Jonas Bruck’s history is well-known. Primary source documents related to my 2nd great granduncle were discussed in Post 145. Jonas first attended Ratibor’s gymnasium in 1824 at 10 ½ years of age (Figure 22) and is shown in an annual Ratibor yearbook to have graduated in 1828.
Jacob and Marianne last known child is Rebecka Bruck and is their only child whose birth was recorded on LDS Microfilm 1184449 for Ratibor. (Figure 23) Her fate was unknown until I found her death register listing in the Upper Silesian Genealogical Society’s Signature Book 1699 indicating she died in Ratibor on the 16th of September 1819 at 4 years 8 months of age. (Figure 24)
In closing, let me make a few remarks. As readers can tell, I hold myself to a very high standard when documenting vital statistics for individuals I’m researching. On rare occasions, ancestral trees with vital data will direct me to information I can verify. Thanks to German and Polish friends and family, while compiling source documents for this post, I was able to uncover vital information for three additional children of Jacob and Marianne, namely, Wilhelmine Bruck, Moritz Bruck, and Fanny Bruck. While there are likely limits to what more can be uncovered, particularly for their children who died at birth or in infancy, I remain convinced additional primary source documents exist and that I may eventually find them. As things now stand, I’m confident I’ve proven the existence of nine of Jacob and Marianne’s children and confirmed the birth and death dates of six of them.
REFERENCES
Amtsblatt für den Regierungsbezirk Marienwerder. (1828)
VITAL DATA & SOURCE OF INFORMATION ON JACOB NATHAN BRUCK & MARIANNE BRUCK, NÉE AUFRECHT’S CHILDREN
NOTE: My frustration with ancestral data in other people’s family trees is that they are often unsourced. In the table below, I’ve noted whether the data is “confirmed” or “unconfirmed.” I do not generally consider hand drawn family trees to be irrefutable proof of accuracy, nor do I consider the Geneanet Community Tree Index a primary source document. Even among contemporary records, I’ve occasionally found errors though generally consider the information in these registers and certificates to be the best available. I welcome corrections and additions from readers that have a personal interest in the information provided below.
NAME
(relationship)
EVENT
DATE
PLACE
SOURCE
Jacob Nathan Bruck (self)
Birth
18 February 1770 (unconfirmed)
Pschow, Prussia [today: Pszów, Poland]
Marianne Polborn, née Bruck family tree; Geneanet Community Tree Index
Marriage
16 May 1793 (unconfirmed)
Marianne Polborn, née Bruck family tree
Death
29 June 1836 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
Upper Silesia Genealogical Society, Ratibor Signature Book 1698_0078; Geneanet Community Tree Index
Marianne Aufrecht (wife)
Birth
21 August 1776 (unconfirmed)
Teschen, Prussia [today: Cieszyn, Poland]
Marianne Polborn, née Bruck family tree; Geneanet Community Tree Index
Marriage
16 May 1793
(unconfirmed)
Marianne Polborn, née Bruck family tree
Death
1835 (unconfirmed)
Geneanet Community Tree Index
Wilhelmine Bruck (daughter)
Birth
24 April 1796 (confirmed)
Headstone at the Stary Cmentarz Żydowski we Wrocławiu (Museum of Cemetery Art, Old Jewish Cemetery), Wroclaw, Poland
Marriage (to Wilhelm Friedenstein)
7 November 1814 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
LDS Family History Center Microfilm 1184449; Upper Silesia Genealogical Society, Ratibor Signature Book 1699_0053
Death
21 December 1864 (confirmed)
Headstone at the Stary Cmentarz Żydowski we Wrocławiu (Museum of Cemetery Art, Old Jewish Cemetery), Wroclaw, Poland
Dorothea Babbett Bruck (daughter)
Birth
Marriage (to Salomon Freund)
25 February 1817 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
LDS Family History Center Microfilm 1184449
Death
Marcus Moritz Bruck (son)
Birth
24 December 1800 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
1845 biography entitled “Gelehrtes Berlin in Jahre 1845”
Marriage (to Nannette v. Aldersthal)
16 October 1836 (confirmed)
Berlin, Germany
Berlin Marriage Certificate
Death
25 October 1863 (confirmed)
Berlin, Germany
Tuchler Family Tree on MyHeritage; buried in the Jüdische Friedhof in der Schönhauser Allee in Gräberfeld J, Erbbegräbnis 170 (Grave Field J, Hereditary Burial 170)
Fanny Bruck (daughter)
Birth
8 November 1804 (confirmed)
Headstone at the Stary Cmentarz Żydowski we Wrocławiu (Museum of Cemetery Art, Old Jewish Cemetery), Wroclaw, Poland
Marriage (to Isaac Seliger)
26 November 1822 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
LDS Family History Center Microfilm 1184449; Upper Silesia Genealogical Society, Ratibor Signature Book 1699_0055
Death
29 August 1879 (confirmed)
Breslau, Prussia [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Headstone at the Stary Cmentarz Żydowski we Wrocławiu (Museum of Cemetery Art, Old Jewish Cemetery), Wroclaw, Poland; Letter written & signed by Fanny Seliger dated 19 February 1873 in the online archives of the Central Jewish Library (https://cbj.jhi.pl/documents/375623/8/)
Isaac Bruck (son)
Birth
~1805 (unconfirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
Königl. Evangel. Gymnasium zu Ratibor am 2. Juni 1819, roster of students (Isaac said to be 13 years old in June 1819); Amtsblatt für den Regierungsbezirk Marienwerder, Vol. 18, 26 May 1828, p. 213 (Isaac said to be 22 years old in May 1828)
Marriage (to Caroline Stolz)
Separated
14 July 1835 (confirmed)
Gleiwitz, Prussia [Gliwice, Poland]
LDS Family History Center Microfilms 1195054 & 1194055 for Gleiwitz [Gliwice, Poland]
Death
Samuel Bruck (son)
Birth
11 March 1808 (confirmed)
Pschow, Prussia [today: Pszów, Poland]
Caption on family photo; Pinkus Family Collection, Leo Baeck Institute
Marriage (to Charlotte Marle)
18 January 1831 (unconfirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
Marianne Polborn, née Bruck family tree
Death
3 July 1863 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
Caption on family photo
Heimann Heinrich Bruck (son)
Birth
~1812 (unconfirmed)
Königl. Evangel. Gymnasium zu Ratibor, 1819-1849 roster of students (Heimann said to be 11 years old in April 1823); MyHeritage family tree
Marriage (to Rosalie “Rosa” Bruck)
21 August 1832 (confirmed)
Neisse, Prussia [today: Nysa, Poland]
LDS Family History Center Microfilm 00799058, page 17 of 596 & 68 of 596;
Death
1875 (unconfirmed)
Breslau, Prussia [today: Wrocław, Poland]
MyHeritage family tree
Jonas Bruck (son)
Birth
5 March 1813 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
Headstone at the Stary Cmentarz Żydowski we Wrocławiu (Museum of Cemetery Art, Old Jewish Cemetery), Wroclaw, Poland; Königl. Evangel. Gymnasium zu Ratibor am 2. Juni 1819, roster of students (Jonas said to be 10.5 years old on April 1824)
Marriage (to Rosalie Marle)
Death
5 April 1883 (unconfirmed)
Breslau, Prussia [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Headstone at the Stary Cmentarz Żydowski we Wrocławiu (Museum of Cemetery Art, Old Jewish Cemetery), Wroclaw, Poland
Rebecka Bruck (daughter)
Birth
10 January 1815 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
LDS Family History Center Microfilm 1184449
Death
16 September 1819 (confirmed)
Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland]
Upper Silesia Genealogical Society, Ratibor Signature Book 1699_0067
