Note: In this post, I discuss a man named Ernst Berliner born in 1878 in Ratibor, Germany to a Hermann Berliner, coincidentally the same name as my great-grandfather. Initially I thought Ernst might be a previously unknown great-uncle, a younger brother of my grandmother, Else Brucknée Berliner.
This story started simply when I queried ancestry.com for the surname “Berliner.” This was my grandmother Else Bruck’s maiden name, who was born on the 3rd of March 1873 in Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland]. I knew her as a child growing up in New York City, although she died when I was only six years old. (Figure 1) Not surprisingly, she never spoke to me about her siblings and ancestors. Had she done so, I would not in any case have remembered since none of my relatives ever reinforced this knowledge.
My search yielded an intriguing result, the name “Ernst Berliner.” This was an unexpected discovery because according to ancestry.com he was born on the 7th of March 1878 in Ratibor, where many of my father’s family were born. Given my familiarity with Berliners living there at around this time, I was uncertain whether or how he might be related to my grandmother. While Ernst Berliner’s birth certificate was not available online, from the records I could locate, it showed he had lived in Frankfurt am Main before WWII; had been a Bank Director there prior to the war; emigrated to England; had his German nationality annulled following his departure from Germany (Figure 2) and was registered in England as a World War II Alien Internee upon his arrival there (Figure 3); was registered as a “German Persecutee” in 1950 (Figure 4); died in Willesden, Middlesex, England on the 15th of February 1956; and according to the “Index of Wills and Administration” from the National Probate Calendar had his estate administered on the 29th of May 1956. (Figure 5) He left his personal effects to a married woman named Barbara Friedlaender, a domestic helper. The England Death Register only shows that Ernst died in the first quarter of 1956 but provides specific information in which English register his death certificate can be found. (Figure 6)
With this data in hand, I turned to the United Kingdom’s (UK) General Register Office online database and ordered Ernst Berliner’s death record in April 2020. Previous UK death certificates I have ordered sometimes name the father, and I was hoping this would again be the case. During these Covid-19 times, it took more than three months for the official document to arrive. But, when it arrived, I realized it included negligible new information and named neither his father nor any next-of-kin. (Figure 7) The person who caused Ernst Berliner’s body to be cremated, identified as Erica Weiss, I later learned was someone who probably worked in his household as a domestic helper.
Realizing there was little to be learned from the “backend” of Ernst’s life, I turned my attention to obtaining his birth certificate. Given Ernst’s year of birth in 1878, I knew the record would be among the civil records found at “Archiwum Państwowe w Katowicach Oddział w Raciborzu,” State Archives in Katowice Branch in Raciborz. I asked my historian friend from Racibórz, Poland, Mr. Paul Newerla, whether he could obtain a copy of Ernst Berliner’s birth certificate. Even though the State Archives is currently shuttered to the public on account of the Covid pandemic, Paul was able to contact their office and quickly obtain a copy of the document in question. (Figures 8a-b) The record identified Ernst’s father as Hermann Berliner, and, initially, I was stunned and excited by the discovery, thinking I had uncovered a previously unknown sibling of my grandmother. This would not have been unprecedented. In Post 34 and the postscripts, I discussed my grandmother’s older sister, Margareth “Grete” Brauer née Berliner, who I learned about from a single picture of her found among my cousin’s collection of family photographs (Figure 9); my great-aunt Grete Brauer was murdered in the Theresienstadt Ghetto on the 24th of November 1942 and was never mentioned to me growing up so I naturally assumed the same might have been true of a previously unknown great-uncle.
My grandmother was born in 1873, her older sister Grete in 1872, and her younger brother Alfred Max Berliner in 1875; the timing of Ernst’s birth in 1878 would not have been illogical. However, upon obtaining a translation of Ernst Berliner’s birth certificate, I discovered that his mother had not been my great-grandmother Olga Berliner née Braun but had instead been a Sara Riesenfeld.
I was next left to contemplate whether my great-grandfather Hermann Berliner (Figure 10) might have divorced his first wife and remarried this Sara. I swiftly concluded based on two pieces of evidence this was unlikely to have occurred. The Hermann Berliner who was married to Sara Riesenfeld was identified on their child’s birth certificate as a “hausierer,” an old-fashioned professional title meaning “street vendor,” or “door-to-door salesman.” I know that my great-grandfather was a “brauereimeister,” a master brewer, although I considered the possibility he might have changed professions after 1878. The more compelling evidence that I was looking at two different Hermann Berliners is that my great-grandparents Hermann and Olga were once interred together in the now destroyed Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor; I have a picture of their former headstone. (Figure 11)
Not entirely satisfied with the evidence I had mustered, I continued to look for further proof I was dealing with two different people by the same name. An 1889 Ratibor Address Book lists only one Hermann Berliner (Figure 12), so this was inconclusive.
I returned my attention to Ernst Berlin, and ultimately found in MyHeritage a “1939 Register of England and Wales,” with his name and the members of his household then residing in London. (Figure 13) His wife “Grete” (i.e., misidentified as “?Rete”) and her date of birth, 6th of June 1880 (i.e., she was actually born in July), were listed. I quickly discovered she was born in Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland] as Grete Moskowicz. Like her husband and many other Jews, she had her German nationality annulled following her departure from Germany (Figure 14) and was registered in the United Kingdom as a World War II Alien Internee upon her arrival there. She died in London on the 7th of April 1940, and her probate hearing was held on the 25th of July 1940 (Figure 15); Ernst, shown to be a retired bank director, inherited. I have found no evidence that Ernst and Grete had any children.
I next turned my attention to family trees on ancestry.com and MyHeritage. With respect to these, I have often expressed my deep-seated concern that because these are not typically based on primary source documents, the data contained within them is often wrong. Compounding the problem is that genealogists developing their own trees often replicate errors from earlier trees. Still, I have begun to apply a principle I have learned from listening to an investment service to which I am subscribed that maintains the statistical data cited for stocks and companies may be “directionally correct but precisely wrong.” Applied to ancestral data, this means that while vital data of people included in trees may not always be precisely accurate, the relationship among the people may be correct.
Having had limited success finding additional information on Hermann Berliner, I turned my attention to his wife Sara Riesenfeld. Indirectly, I found a surprising amount of information on both in one family tree developed by a “Peter Lax,” confirming Ernst’s father was indeed a different Hermann Berliner than my great-grandfather (Figure 16); this tree identifies another of Hermann and Sara’s sons named Hans born on the 17th of February 1891 in Breslau. I also found the 1913 marriage certificate for a third son, Arthur Berliner, born on the 8th of September 1880, also in Breslau. (Figure 17a-b) According to Yad Vashem, both Arthur and Hans were murdered in the Shoah. There is quite a time span between the birth of Hermann and Sara Berliner’s three sons, 1878 to 1891, so the possibility of additional children exists. Still, based on the information in hand, it seems only Ernst survived the Holocaust.
Peter Lax’s tree, with more than 100,000 names in it, allows me to illustrate the point I was alluding to above that even the seemingly best documented trees contain errors. Case in point, Mr. Lax’s tree indicates Sara Riesenfeld was born on the 12th of January 1849 in Biała, Opolskie, Poland [formerly: Zülz, Germany], and identifies her father as “Israel Jacob Riesenfled (181601860).” (Figure 16) Consulting the Family History Library Microfilm Roll No. 1271493, found online at familysearch.org, with Jewish birth records from Zülz, Germany (Figure 18) for January of 1849, I could not initially locate Sara’s birth register listing. However, I eventually found her birth register listing under December of 1849. (Figure 19) Inadvertently, Peter Lax transposed “1/12/1849” (i.e., European designated date of 1st of December 1849) as “12/1/1849” (i.e., English designated date of the 12th of January 1849). This is another cautionary tale of consulting primary source documents where they exist to verify vital data.
One specific piece of information included in Peter Lax’s family tree was the purported place and date of birth of Ernst Berliner’s father, Hermann, on the 1st of June 1852 in Beuthen, Silesia [today: Bytom, Poland]. (Figure 20) I again turned to the Family History Library online microfilms to confirm this, and successfully found and had transcribed and translated Hermann Berliner’s birth register listing. (Figures 21a-b) Hermann’s birth register listing includes the names of his parents, Hirschel Berliner and Jalünder Rohel née Silbermann, both of whom I later found in the “Jewish Records Indexing-Poland” and “JewishGen Worldwide Burial Registry,” “JOWBR.” This allowed me to “push back” their ancestral tree another generation.
Having confirmed that Hermann Berliner, father of Ernst Berliner born on the 7th of March 1878 in Ratibor, was not my grandmother’s father prompted me to trace my great-grandfather’s lineage with reference to primary source documents. In the ensuing post, I will present this information. Regular readers know that without primary source documents in hand, I am most hesitant to accept ancestral and vital data found on other trees. Regarding my ancestral tree, I am much more interested in having well-sourced data and pictures on fewer people than unproven information going back multiple generations. While I assume there exists an ancestral connection between my grandmother Else Bruck née Berliner and Ernst Berliner and his ancestors, I have not yet ferreted out this relationship.
VITAL STATISTICS FOR ERNST BERLINER & HIS IMMEDIATE RELATIVES
NAME
(relationship)
VITAL EVENT
DATE
PLACE
SOURCE OF DATA
Ernst Berliner (self)
Birth
7 March 1878
Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland]
Ancestry.com;
State Archives in Katowice Branch in Raciborz birth certificate
Death
25 February 1956
Willesden, Middlesex, England
UK “Index of Wills and Administration, National Probate Calendar”;
UK General Register Office death certificate
Grete Moskowicz (wife)
Birth
6 July 1880
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Multiple ancestry.com documents
Death
7 April 1940
Willesden, Middlesex, England
UK “Index of Wills and Administration, National Probate Calendar”
Hermann Berliner (father)
Birth
1 June 1852
Beuthen, Germany [today: Bytom, Poland]
Family History Library Microfilm Roll 1335074 (Beuthen, Germany)
Death
Kattowitz, Germany [today: Katowice, Poland]
Peter Lax Family Tree
Sara Riesenfeld (mother)
Birth
1 December 1849
Zülz, Germany [today: Biała, Poland]
Family History Library Microfilm Roll 1271493 (Zülz, Germany)
Note: This post is about the Kantorowicz branch of my family, many of whom originated in Posen, Prussia [today: Poznan, Poland], some of whom made their way to America or South America prior to WWII. It tiers off the previous post and delves into that part of the Kantorowicz family tree I reconstructed using photographs provided by Bettina Basanow née Meyer, discussed in Post 90, and her third cousin to whom she introduced me, Enid Sperber née Kent.
At the risk of immediately disengaging some readers by discussing a branch of my extended family that is of no interest to them, I encourage people to focus less on the specific individuals and more on the process by which I was able to reconstruct a part of the Kantorowicz family tree; these are steps fellow travelers may be able to replicate in researching their own families.
Let me provide some brief orientation. The Kantorowicz family, like the Pauly family I have often written about, both originated in Posen, Prussia [today: Poznan, Poland]. The patriarch of the Pauly family, Dr. Josef Pauly (1843-1916) (Figure 1) was married to Rosalie Mockrauer (1844-1927) (Figure 2), and together they had nine children, all of whom I have also written about. Josef Pauly’s sister was Rosalinde Pauly (1854-1916) (Figure 3), who was married to Max Kantorowicz (1843-1904). (Figure 4) I first came across Max and Rosalinde Kantorowicz in a group picture showing them attending the 1901 marriage of Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s daughter, Maria Pauly. (Figure 5) Using the Pauly Stammbaum, family tree, I was able to visualize connections between their families and my own, all of us related by marriage.
In Post 90, I told readers how my third cousin, Andi Pauly, gave a me copy of a letter his father Klaus had received in 1989 from Porto Alegre, Brazil from a Gertrud “Traute” Meyer née Milch (Figure 6), who was the granddaughter of Max Kantorowicz; attached to this letter were poor quality xerox photos of Max and his extended family. I also explained that through the auspices of my social media-savvy cousin, Danny Alejandro Sandler, I was eventually able to establish contact with Traute Meyer’s daughter, Bettina Basanow née Meyer (Figure 7), who has lived in Denver for the past 50 years.
Upon establishing contact with Bettina, I quickly asked her if she could send me higher quality examples of photos her mother had sent Klaus Pauly in 1989. Bettina graciously obliged and even included supplementary photos. One low resolution photo she sent shows five of Max Kantorowicz’s siblings, each identified by name. (Figure 8) While I made a mental note of the picture, I did not fully appreciate its significance at the time.
Fast forward. As I have mentioned on multiple occasions, I add people to my family tree primarily to orient myself to those I write about in my blog. As I was updating my tree and contemplating writing about the Kantorowicz branch, I checked both ancestry.com, and MyHeritage for Max’s siblings. Imagine my surprise when I came across a very high-resolution copy of the identical picture Bettina Basanow had sent of Max’s five siblings (Figure 9); unlike Bettina’s picture, however, the version on MyHeritage did not identify them by name. With a nice photo in hand and named relatives, I decided to add Max’s siblings to my tree. While I thought this would be the end of things, in fact it turned out to be merely the beginning.
I sent Bettina the better picture of Max Kantorowicz’s siblings, thinking she might be interested. At the same time, I also mentioned having once searched for descendants of Max Kantorowicz’s granddaughter, Vera Peters née Kantorowicz (1907-1994) (Figure 10), in California, to no avail. This prompted Bettina to suggest I contact a lifelong friend of hers, Enid Sperber née Kent, living in Los Angeles, who she thought might have had some contact with this branch of the family. Bettina explained that Enid was the daughter of William “Bill” Kent and Irene Tedrow, neither whose names resonated. In time, this would change, and I would make many more connections, and learn that Bettina and Enid are more than just friends, they are third cousins. But I am getting ahead of myself.
When Bettina suggested I contact Enid Sperber, she mentioned in passing that Enid had been an actress, her most famous role being as Nurse Bigelow in “M*A*S*H” (Figure 11) Her mother, Irene Tedrow, was also a well-known American character actress in stage, film, television, and radio. (Figure 12) Not being a “stargazer,” I merely made a mental note of this interesting fact while vaguely remembering there exists an ancestral program that allows interested genealogists to determine how many degrees of separation exist between them and people of fame. I am uncertain the specifics of how this program works, having never personally used it.
I was easily able to retrieve through a casual Google query a detailed history about the prominent Kantorowicz family from Posen and the liqueur factory established there in 1823 by a 17-year old Hartwig Kantorowicz. I downloaded and shared this history with Enid. Much has been written and can be found on the Kantorowicz family at this link, which it is not my intention to repeat here. What I was able to learn from the in-depth history, however, is that Hartwig Kantorowicz (1806-1871) who established the liqueur factory and his wife, Sophie Asch (1815-1863), supposedly had 13 children, 12 sons, only seven of whom survived. Based on what I have been able to learn, I think eight rather than seven survived into adulthood. More on this below.
Shortly after Enid and I began emailing, she sent pictures of paintings of Hartwig Kantorowicz’s parents, Joachim B. Kantorowicz (1783-1846) (Figure 13) and Rebecca Korach (1783-1873). (Figure 14) I considered myself exceptionally fortunate to obtain images of Jewish ancestors born in the late 18th Century. Given that their son Hartwig established a family business in Posen and was so prominent, surprisingly, I have so far been unable to find a photo of him. I even asked the Archiwum Państwowe w Poznaniu, The State Archives in Poznań, and they too have none.
Enid’s ancestral lineage was not entirely clear to me until she sent more pictures and provided more names. Like many other immigrants, the family’s name was Americanized upon their arrival here. Her father, born “Wilhelm Eduard Kantorowicz” (Figure 15) in Posen, changed his name to “William Edward Kent (1901-1974),” while her uncle, “Peter Curt Kantorowicz” (Figure 16), with his Hollywood good looks, was known as “Peter Curt Kent (1905-1969).” Enid also sent a picture of her grandfather, Hans Kantorowicz (1867-1934), with his two sons, Wilhelm and Peter. (Figure 17)
However, it was a picture Enid sent of her great-grandfather, Wilhelm Kantorowicz (1836-1894), with an unknown man named Siegfried (Figure 18), taken in 1860, that, in combination with a detailed family tree (Figure 19a) she provided, made it possible to ultimately work out her ancestry. It turns out, Siegfried and Wilhelm Kantorowicz were older brothers of the Max Kantorowicz previously discussed. I draw readers attention to the highlighted section of Figure 19a where their three names, along with the names of five other siblings shown in Figure 8 are all listed. (Figure 19b) From various sources, I now have pictures of all eight of Hartwig Kantorowicz and Sophie Asch’s children shown on the family tree.
The tree and pictures also allowed me to work out the ancestral connection between Enid and Bettina. Initially, Enid was under the impression that she and Bettina were not related to one another but had established a bond because both their families had escaped the Nazis. While, Bettina thought they were second cousins once removed. As the following schematic table shows, they are in fact third cousins.
Enid Sperber née Kent (b. 1945)
Bettina Bassanow née Meyer (b. 1940)
Father:
William Edward Kent (1901-1974)
(born Wilhelm Eduard Kantorowicz)
Mother:
Gertrud Meyer née Milch (1911-2010)
Grandfather:
Hans Kantorowicz (1867-1934)
Grandmother:
Else Milch née Kantorowicz (1875-1963)
Great-Grandfather:
Wilhelm Kantorowicz (1836-1894)
Great-Grandfather:
Max Kantorowicz (1843-1904)
Great-Great-Grandfather:
Hartwig Kantorowicz (1806-1871)
I am grateful for some intimate family photos Enid sent that she has given me permission to use, three of which I share with readers in this post. One is a heart-warming picture of Enid and her younger brother Roger Kent (1949-2018) as children standing with her parents in front of the paintings of Enid’s great-great-great-grandparents, Joachim B. Kantorowicz and Rebecca Korach. (Figure 20) And, the other two are throwbacks to a much simpler time that, as a former archaeologist, very much appeal to me. One shows Enid’s uncle Peter Curt Kent standing in front of his gas station, “‘Pete’ Kent,” in Cahuenga Pass (Figure 21a) and, the third, the gas station itself (Figure 21b), where the Hollywood Freeway now runs. In sharing this image, Enid noted that her Uncle Peter was never known to her or her brother as “Pete.”
Let me switch directions now. As previously mentioned, Hartwig Kantorowicz’s wife was Sophie Asch. In sharing her detailed family tree, Enid drew my attention to her great-great-grandmother’s links to a Sephardic Jew named Joseph Kalahora, purportedly born around 1495 in Kalahora, Spain. (Figure 22) A point of clarification. The narrow definition ethnically of a Sephardic Jew is a Jew descended from the Jews who lived in the Iberian Peninsula in the late 15th century, immediately prior to the issuance of the Alhambra Decree of 1492 by order of the Catholic Monarchs in Spain, and the decree of 1496 in Portugal by order of King Manuel I; as students of history know, these orders resulted in the expulsion of most Jews from the region in the late 15th Century.
Curious as to the possible linkage between Sephardic Jews and Eastern Europe, I did a Google query. I landed upon several articles discussing the origins of the Calahor(r)a (Kalahora) Family, including a post by Joel W. Davidi, an independent research historian and genealogist, writing in 2009 on his blog, “The Jewish History Channel (now known as Channeling Jewish History),” about this remarkable family in Poland. Below is a summary of what I learned.
The Calahora-Kalahora were a family of physicians, pharmacists, community leaders and Jewish scholars in Poland from the second half of the 16th Century until the 20th Century. The first known member of the family, Dr. Solomon Kalahora, was purportedly a pupil of the physician Brasavola in Ferrara, Italy, who settled in Kracow, Poland [also written as Kraków or Crakow] in the 16th century. Around 1570, he was appointed the court physician to the Polish King Sygmund August (1520-1572), an appointment that was continued by the subsequent King Stephen Bathory (1533-1586) in 1578. The Kalahora name would undergo many transformations, including Kolhari, Kolchor, Kolchory, Kalifari, Calaforra, Kalvari, Landsberg Posner, Zweigenbaul, Rabowsky, Olschwitz and Milsky. Though the Kalahoras came to Poland from Italy, the name reflects their Iberian roots, the Spanish town of Calahorra, where the family originated.
The patriarch Solomon Kalahora had six sons; one of them, Israel Solomon (1560-1640), the Rabbi of Lenchista, founded the Poznan branch of the family. One of Israel Samuel’s sons was Matityahu Calahora, who according to the contemporary Polish historian, Wespazjan Kochowski (1630-1700), was a “well-known physician with an extensive practice in Christian and even clerical circles.” Matityahu’s life came to a violent end when he became embroiled in a religious dispute with a Dominican friar named Havlin. The Russian-Jewish historian Simon Dubnow describes the event, gruesome in its details:
“The priest invited Calahora to a disputation in the cloister, but the Jew declined, promising to expound his views in writing. A few days later the priest found on his chair in the church a statement written in German and containing a violent arraignment of the cult of the Immaculate Virgin. It is not impossible that the statement was composed and placed in the church by an adherent of the ‘Reformation or the Arian heresy’ both of which were then the object of persecution in Poland. However, the Dominican decided that Calahora was the author, and brought the charge of blasphemy against him. The Court of the Royal Castle cross-examined the defendant under torture, without being able to obtain a confession. Witnesses testified that Calahora was not even able to write German. Being a native of Italy, he used the Italian language in his conversations with the Dominican. Despite all this evidence, the unfortunate Calahora was sentenced to be burned at the stake. The alarmed Jewish community raised a protest, and the case was accordingly transferred to the highest court in Piotrkov. The accused was sent in chains to Piotrkov, together with the plaintiff and the witnesses. But the arch-Catholic tribunal confirmed the verdict of the lower court, ordering that the sentence be executed in the following barbarous sequence: first the lips of the ” blasphemer ” to be cut off ; next his hand that had held the fateful statement to be burned; then the tongue, which had spoken against the Christian religion, to be excised; finally the body to be burned at the stake, and the ashes of the victim to be loaded into a cannon and discharged into the air. This cannibal ceremonial was faithfully carried out on December 13, 1663, on the marketplace of Piotrkov. For two centuries the Jews of Cracow followed the custom of reciting, on the fourteenth of Kislev, in the old synagogue of that city, a memorial prayer for the soul of the martyr Calahora.”
The grandson of Matiyahu’s brother Solomon was Aryeh Leib Kalifari (Figure 22); he was a preacher in Posen and the founder of the Landsberg and Posner families. After the son of a prominent citizen from a village near Posen was murdered around 1735, the Christian population there at once charged Jews with the crime, including Aryeh Leib. He became the second member of his family to be martyred when he was arrested and tortured by Catholic authorities during a blood libel. He died in prison after rebuffing an offer to spare his life if he converted.
While difficult to discern, the above names all appear in the family chart Enid Kent shared with me showing her great-great-great-grandmother’s ancestral links to the Sephardic Kalahora family. (Figure 22)
One final thing of note I came across. There exists a large mural painting by Julius Knorr (1810-1860) that is on permanent display today in Poznan’s Town Hall. Entitled “Marktplatz in Posen,” a section of this mural depicts a Rabbi Akiva Eger who is flanked on his left by Rabbi Yaakov Kalvari (originally Calahora), a member of his Rabbinic court and a descendant of the Calahora Sephardic family, The painting was done during the lifetime of Rabbi Akiva Eger and was first displayed in 1838. (Figure 23)
Davidi, Joel W. “Calahora, a remarkable Sephardic family in Poland.” The Jewish History Channel now known as Channeling Jewish History.15 January 2009. <https://ha-historion.blogspot.com/2009/01/>
Dubnow, Simon Markovich. History of the Jews in Russia and Poland. Pinnacle Press, 2017
Nawrocki, Stanisław. “History of Kantorowicz Family and their Factory.” Chronicle of the City of Poznan. No.4/ 1996
Note: In this brief post, I relate the story of tracking down with the help of a distant cousin the descendants of relatives who immigrated to Brazil in the leadup to WWII.
This story begins in 2016 when I first met my third cousin, Andreas “Andi” Pauly, in Munich. (Figure 1) By this time, I already had a hard copy of the Pauly family tree that his father, Klaus Pauly (Figure 2), had developed. Given the enormous amount of information recorded in this densely packed tree, it would be some time before I would work out and understand all the connections, and augment and make corrections to it.
Klaus Pauly developed the tree before email was widely available and before it was possible to create trees using online computer applications. For family members who had escaped the Holocaust and emigrated from Germany before WWII, Klaus was relegated to exchanging letters with faraway surviving relatives and waiting weeks for a reply. During our initial meeting in 2016, Andi Pauly brought along a letter his father had received in 1989 from a relative living in Porto Alegre, Brazil outlining her lineage and including poor quality xerox photos of her ancestors and descendants. It was only months later that I thought to ask Andi for a copy of the letter. I have my own tree on ancestry.com that I use primarily to visualize connections to people whom I write about in my Blog. When possible, I like to attach photos to people in my tree. Ergo, my request for a copy of the 1989 letter with the embedded photos.
With the correspondence, xerox photos, and family tree in hand, along with the copy of the envelope and mailing address showing where the letter had originated, I determined it had been sent by a woman named Gertrud “Traute” Meyer née Milch (1911-2010). (Figures 3-5) Using Klaus Pauly’s Stammbaum, family tree, I determined she was the granddaughter of Rosalinde Kantorowicz née Pauly, sister of Josef Pauly. Regular readers will recognize the Pauly family name as I have often written about them. Josef Pauly (1843-1916) (Figure 6), the patriarch and Andi’s great-grandfather, was married to Rosalie Pauly née Mockrauer (1844-1927) (Figure 7), and together they had nine children, eight of them daughters.
Because the Pauly and Meyer families had long ago lost contact, I was on my own trying to find Traute Meyer’s descendants. Initially, I sent a letter to the Meyer family at the Porto Alegre, Brazil address appearing on the 1989 letter hoping in vain the home might still be family-owned. After months of no reply, I turned to Facebook using my wife’s little-used account. I came across a few possible descendants but received no replies from any I tried to contact. Neither my wife or I are users of social media, so my efforts were half-hearted and eventually I desisted. My approach to doing forensic genealogy is to take the path of least resistance setting aside gnarly issues for another day in the hopes of ultimately obtaining more information. In earlier posts, I have mentioned to readers the difficulty in learning about Jewish families who relocated to South America since few records from there have been digitized.
Fast forward. In time, I would turn my attention to determining the fates and destinations of Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s nine children. The youngest of them, Therese “Tussy” Sandler née Pauly (1885-1969), was one of the last of their children whose destinies I was able to work out. (Figure 8) After traveling to Buenos Aires, Argentina in August 1937, then returning to Germany in November of that year, Tussy, her husband Ernst, and their two boys departed Germany for good in the nick of time in September 1938, settling in Buenos Aires. This is all I could learn from ancestry and MyHeritage, and Andi Pauly could add nothing to what might have happened to his great-aunt and her family following their arrival in South America.
When I launched my family history Blog in April 2017, I communicated a desire not only to relate tales of some of my Jewish ancestors who lived through interesting or noteworthy times, but also expressed the hope that relatives or descendants of the people I had written about might discover my Blog. In this latter regard, I have been rewarded on several occasions.
In April 2019, I had the good fortune of being contacted by Tussy Sandler’s grandson, Pedro Sandler (Figure 9), and great-grandson, Danny Alejandro Sandler (Figure 10), who had stumbled upon my Blog. Both now live in Florida, having immigrated there years ago. At first, my exchanges with Tussy’s descendants involved learning when and where their relatives lived and died and sharing what I have learned about their family and putting them in touch with Andi Pauly. The relationship quickly evolved into sharing family documents and photos (Figures 11-14) and enlisting my and Andi’s help with identifications. As an aside, of Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s nine children, only Therese Pauly’s descendants practice Judaism today.
Though Therese’s descendants originally hail from Argentina, one day I asked Pedro Sandler whether he knows anyone in the Jewish community in Brazil. Pedro had mentioned in passing that both his father and uncle had been very involved in Jewish life in Buenos Aires, so I was hoping he might know someone in the Jewish community in Brazil. My question was akin to encountering a visitor in a foreign land, telling them I come from San Diego, and having them ask me whether I know their friend from there. Clearly, there was no logic to my question. But as far-fetched as my query seems, Pedro in fact has a good friend living in Brazil whose wife’s parents knew Traute Meyer! The coincidence was remarkable.
Many months passed, then one day I asked Danny Sandler whether he or his father had ever managed to locate any of Traute Meyer’s offspring, and he told me that he had. I was surprised. Soon thereafter, Danny put me in touch with Bettina Basanow née Meyer (Figure 15), one of Traute Meyer’s four children. (Figure 16) While I had spent my time looking for her family in Brazil, Bettina has lived in the Denver area for more than 50 years, although her three siblings stayed in Brazil. (Figures 17-18) It should be noted that, unlike myself, Danny is active on social media so tracking down Bettina was relatively straight-forward.
I quickly got in touch with Bettina, and we have established a warm rapport. Regular readers know that finding distant relatives brings me pleasure not only for the stories they tell but also for old family photographs they send. Bettina shared some interesting family anecdotes and copies of some of the same pictures her mother had sent Klaus Pauly in 1989, completing a circle so to speak, but also sent new images as well. (Figures 19-20)
In the ensuing post, I will tell readers the story of Bettina’s third cousin to whom she introduced me and to whom I’m also distantly related. Bettina’s cousin also generously shared family photos and pictures of paintings of distant ancestors. This has led to expanding my family tree in most interesting ways, as readers will learn.
In closing I would say that while telling the tale of finding Traute Meyer’s descendants appears rather linear, I would never have located them without numerous intermediate steps and the help of a younger cousin better versed in social media.
Note: In this post, I discuss evidence of the Marle branch of my extended family from the late 18th Century-early 19th Century, which survives in the “Archiwum Panstwowe Oddzial Pszczyna,” State Archives Pszczyna [Poland] Branch, as well as in the Jewish cemetery that still exists there.
My father, Dr. Otto Bruck (1907-1994) (Figure 1), had an indifferent if not dismissive attitude towards his ancestors and next of kin apart from his beloved sister Susanne Müller née Bruck (1904-1942), murdered in Auschwitz. By contrast, my uncle Dr. Fedor Bruck (1895-1982) (Figure 1), the oldest of my father’s siblings, was deeply interested in his forefathers. Upon my uncle’s death in 1982, my aunt gave me a copy of an abbreviated family “tree” my uncle had developed. (Figure 2) This includes the earliest mention I can recollect of the Marle branch of my family, specifically, “Wilhelm MARLE” who was married to “Reisel G. (=GRAETZER).” My uncle’s schematic tree provided no vital dates for the Marles.
In time, I would learn from a German cousin that Wilhelm and Rosalie Marle’s headstones survive in the extant Jewish Cemetery in Pszczyna, Poland, formerly Pless, Prussia. During my and my wife’s 2014 visit to Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland], our English-speaking Polish friend, Malgosia Ploszaj, took us the to their graves, approximately 35 miles distant. (Figure 3) Malgosia, who hails from nearby Rybnik, Poland, formerly Rybnick, Prussia, is ardently interested in the history of Jews in Silesia and works with local volunteers to restore and raise fallen Jewish headstones throughout the area. In 2014, only Wilhelm Marle’s headstone had been restored and reset, but subsequently, his wife’s headstone has also been raised. I include pictures here of their beautifully rehabilitated tombstones.
[Just a quick footnote. I have variously found Wilhelm Marle’s wife’s forename spelled as “Reisel,” “Roesel,” “Rosel,” “Raizel,” and “Rosalie.” I will primarily use “Rosalie” as this name appears on her tombstone.]
Let me very briefly digress to provide some context. The subject of Post 88 was my third great-aunt, Antonie Pauly née Marle, an illegitimate daughter of the Rosalie Marle née Graetzer buried in Pszczyna; as previously discussed, Antonie was humorously if not sarcastically referred to as the “Queen of Tost,” even though she was born in Pszczyna not Toszek, Poland as Tost is today known.
Because Wilhelm and Rosalie Marle’s headstones are the very earliest known to me of any ancestors and relate to individuals born in the late 18th Century, I was particularly interested in learning more about them. Thus, I recently asked my friend, Ms. Madeleine Isenberg, affiliated as a volunteer with the Jewish Genealogical Society of Los Angeles, whether she could translate the Hebraic text on Wilhelm (Figures 4-6) and Rosalie Marle’s (Figures 7-9) headstones. Madeleine is fluent in Hebrew and is ardently interested in deciphering and interpreting Hebrew texts on headstones. Madeleine provided a beautiful translation and interpretation of the text on both tombstones.
A few points of clarification. “Kohen” is the Hebrew word for “priest,” thus, a member of the priestly class having certain rights and duties in the synagogue.
As to the reference that Wilhelm Marle’s father was a “chaver,” Madeleine explained that in today’s Hebrew, it would simply mean “friend,” but that at one time it was a sort of title. If a person studied at a yeshiva to gain the certification of a rabbi, it was with the intention he might serve a community as a rabbi or teacher. However, Madeleine found another “classification” of chaver in a paper entitled “Regulations of The Synagogue ‘Altneuschule’ In Prague In Their Historic Context” which I quote:
“In 18th Century Germany, there were two degrees of rabbinical ordination: the higher degree, using the title ‘moreinu’—our teacher or guide—given to scholars who devoted all their time to Torah study even after marriage and intended to serve the Rabbinate or as a Yeshiva teacher. The lower degree—chaver—was given to students before marriage who intended to take up a trade other than the Rabbinate.” (Gevaryahu & Sicherman 2010)
The German translation of “chaver” on Wilhelm Marle’s headstone is “Kaufmann,” merchant or businessman, indicating that he did not intend to become a rabbi or teacher.
As mentioned, the translation of Wilhelm and Rosalie Marle’s headstones was recently obtained. However, in December 2017, I was contacted through my family tree on ancestry.com by Professor Sławomir Pastuszka from Jagiellonian University in Kraków looking for information on the Marle family. While I was able to provide Professor Pastuszka with some new material, I was the primary beneficiary of our exchanges.
Professor Pastuszka’s data comes from the Archiwum Panstwowe Oddzial Pszczyna, State Archives Pszczyna Branch, located in Pszczyna proper, which is unavailable online. I will briefly summarize and provide some historic context for the information about Wilhelm and Rosalie Marle. Wilhelm Wolf Marle was born on the 14th of November 1772 in Pless to Isaac (Figure 10) and Magdalena (Figure 11), both of whom died before 1811 and are buried in the Mikołów Jewish Cemetery in Mikołów, Poland [formerly Nikolai, Prussia], a well-preserved Jewish cemetery; Mikołów is located about 19 miles or 30km north of Pszczyna. (Figure 12) The texts on most of the headstones in Mikołów are in Hebrew so without an interpreter it would be difficult for the average visitor to locate Wilhelm Marle’s parents’ headstones. (Figure 13)
The Marle families was one of the oldest Jewish families in Pless. According to censuses in the Pszczyna Archive, respectively from 1811 (Figure 14) and the 24th of March 1812 (Figure 15), Wilhelm Wolf Marle was also referred to as “Wolf Marle Schlesinger.” According to Sławomir, “Schlesinger” is a word in Schläsisch, or Silesian German, referring to “the Silesian.” Silesian German or Lower Silesian is a nearly extinct German dialect spoken in Silesia. It is part of the East Central German language area with some West Slavic and Lechitic influences. In German, Schläsisch is Schlesisch.
Wilhelm Marle married Rosalie Graetzer on the 15th of August 1799. Records show Rosalie was born in Tost, Prussia [today: Toszek, Poland] on the 19th of March 1780, daughter of Meyer and Goldine, both from Tost, Prussia. Her headstone states she was 70 years old when she died in October 1849, suggesting she may actually have been born in 1779 rather than 1780.
Other census records indicate Wilhelm Marle was variously a trader [1813], a shopkeeper [1814], and a merchant [1817,1820, 1821, 1822, 1823, 1839, 1842], and that in 1841, he owned a spice shop, an iron shop, and a money exchange.
On January 28, 1802, Wilhelm Marle took over a plot of land from his father with a tenement house located at Deutsche Vorstadt 4, worth 266 Thalers and 20 silver pennies. He sold the property on November 23, 1833. The house still stands today. (Figure 16) In 1814, Wilhelm bought a house at No. 18 on Market Square for 2500 Thalers from Heinrich Theiner, which his son Isaak Marle inherited upon his death. This house also still stands today. (Figure 17)
The cause of Wilhelm Marle’s death in 1846 was pulmonary edema.
Let me briefly digress to provide some historic context to enable readers to understand when and under what conditions Jews were provided with some civil equality in Prussia. On March 11, 1812, the Prussian King Frederick William III issued an edict that under the first article declared all legally resident Jews of Prussia to be citizens. Article 2 considered Jews to be natives [Einländer] and state citizens of Prussia provided they adopt strictly fixed surnames; that they use German or another living language not only in keeping their commercial records but also in the drawing of contracts and legal declarations of intention; and that they use only German or Latin script for their signatures. Articles 7 and 8 provided that all occupations were open to Jews including academic positions. Article 9, however, postponed the question of Jewish eligibility to state offices. In sum, the Edict provided some civil equality for Jews in exchange for their assumption of fixed surnames, their adoption of German “or another living language” in their professional activities and compliance with other civil duties, including military conscription.
Wilhelm and Rosalie’s dates of birth come from the census record of Pless Jews dated the 24th of March 1812, who, after the emancipation edict, became full citizens of Prussia. Professor Pastuszka emphasized these records contain many errors and dates are not always correct, but this is the only source where complete dates appear.
It was only after the issuance of the Edict of 1812 that Wilhelm Marle could run for office and be elected as one of the first two councilors of the Jewish confession in Pless.
Officially, as implied, Jews in the Kingdom of Prussia had to adopt surnames in 1812, before which they used “nicknames.” The last name “Marle” was originally a nickname used by Wilhelm’s father Isaac. In some documents Sławomir found Wilhelm listed as “Wolf Isaac,” meaning he was “Wolf son of Isaac.” Wilhelm’s mother “Magdalena,” did not have a maiden name. The only Pless census in which her name appears is the one from 1784 at which time she is shown to be 48 years old. (Figure 11)
After the Edict of 1812, women without maiden names typically adopted their father’s first name as a surname. For example, in Pless, a widow listed in the 1811 census named “Pessel Ephraim,” Pessel daughter of Ephraim, was known after her marriage in 1812 to “Abraham Grunthal” as “Pessel Grunthal née Ephraim.” On other occasions women used as their nicknames the nicknames of their fathers, as in the case of Rosalie Marle née Graetzer. Rosalie Graetzer’s mother, “Goldine,” does not appear to have had a surname. While not likely, if I can obtain a picture of her tombstone from the Mikołów Jewish Cemetery, I may be able to confirm this.
Let me move on to the subject of Wilhelm and Rosalie Marle’s children, and the evidence Professor Pastuszka was able to muster about them. Naturally, a few caveats are in order. As previously mentioned, Wilhelm and Rosalie married in 1799. The census of the 24th of March 1812 lists four of their children, namely, Goldine (b. 2nd April 1804), Moritz (b. 12th May 1806), Charlotte (b. 2nd October 1809, and Handel (b. 28th August 1812). (Figure 15) However, because no registers of births and deaths of Jews in Pless exist from before 1813, predating the Edict of 1812, we do not know how many additional children Wilhelm and Rosalie may have had between 1799 and 1812 who died at birth or in infancy.
In Pless censuses postdating the one of 1812, Professor Pastuszka found evidence of five additional children, specifically, Isaac Marle (b. 14th October 1814), Rosel Marle (b. 12th July 1817), Antonie Therese Marle (b. 1st February 1820), Fanny Marle (b. 14th March 1821) and Ernestine Marle (26th October 1822). A family tree archived in the Pinkus Family Collection at the Leo Baeck Institute (Figure 18), available online, coincides almost exactly with the names and number of Wilhelm and Rosalie’s children from the census data, with one exception, Handel Marle, born in 1812 who died a little more than a year later. Not surprisingly, there are notable differences in the years of birth of Wilhelm and Rosalie and their eight surviving children.
The compiled vital data for Wilhelm, his wife, and their nine known children is summarized in the table below, along with the source of the information. Whereas I consider the census records Professor Pastuszka retrieved from the Archiwum Panstwowe Oddzial Pszczyna to be primary source documents, I do not deem the vital data in the family tree from the Pinkus Family Collection to be such. Clearly, the more reliable vital data comes from the Pszczyna Archive.
VITAL STATISTICS FOR WILHELM WOLF MARLE, HIS WIFE & AND THEIR NINE KNOWN CHILDREN
NAME
(relationship)
VITAL EVENT
DATE
PLACE
SOURCE OF DATA
Wilhelm Wolf Marle (self)
[In Pless censuses from 1811 and 24th of March 1812, he was named Wolf Marle Schlesinger]
Birth
14 November 1772
Pless, Prussia [today: Pszczyna, Poland]
Pless Census of 24th of March 1812 (Pszczyna Archives)
Marriage to Rosalie Grätzer
15 August 1799
Tost, Germany [today: Toszek, Poland]
Death
31 October 1846
Pless, Prussia [today: Pszczyna, Poland]
Headstone in the Jewish cemetery in Pszczyna, Poland
Rosalie Graetzer (wife)
(Figure 19)
Birth
19 March 1780
Tost, Germany [today: Toszek, Poland]
Headstone in the Jewish cemetery in Pszczyna, Poland
Marriage to Wilhelm Marle
15 August 1799
Tost, Germany [today: Toszek, Poland]
Death
26 October 1849
Pless, Prussia [today: Pszczyna, Poland]
Headstone in the Jewish cemetery in Pszczyna, Poland
Goldine Marle (daughter)
Birth
2 April 1804
Pless, Prussia [today: Pszczyna, Poland]
Pless Census of 24th of March 1812 (Pszczyna Archives)
Marriage to Simon Pincus Oppler
10 December 1823
Rosenberg, Germany [today: Olesno, Poland]
Jewish Records Indexing-Poland (LDS Microfilm 1184449)
Death
1853
Kreuzburg, Germany [today: Kluczbork, Poland]
Pinkus Family Collection, Marle Family Tree
Moritz (Moses) Marle (son)
Birth
12 May 1806
Pless, Prussia [today: Pszczyna, Poland]
Pless Census of 24th of March 1812 (Pszczyna Archives)
Death
1866
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Pinkus Family Collection, Marle Family Tree
Charlotte Marle (daughter)
(Figure 20)
Birth
2 October 1809
Pless, Prussia [today: Pszczyna, Poland]
Pless Census of 24th of March 1812 (Pszczyna Archives)
Marriage to Samuel Bruck
18 January 1831
Pless, Prussia [today: Pszczyna, Poland]
Death
17 August 1861
Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland]
Handel Marle (son)
Birth
28 August 1812
Pless, Prussia [today: Pszczyna, Poland]
Death
29 November 1813
Pless, Prussia [today: Pszczyna, Poland]
Isaak Marle (son)
Birth
15 October 1814
Pless, Prussia [today: Pszczyna, Poland]
Headstone in the former Jewish cemetery in Ratibor, Germany; Pinkus Family Collection, Marle Family Tree
Marriage to Friederike Traube
11 April 1842
Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland]
LDS Microfilm 1184449
Death
14 May 1884
Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland]
Headstone in the former Jewish cemetery in Ratibor, Germany; Pinkus Family Collection, Marle Family Tree
Rosalie Marle (illegitimate daughter of Rosalie Graetzer) (married to Jonas Bruck)
Birth
12 July 1817
Pless, Prussia [today: Pszczyna, Poland]
Headstone in the Old Jewish Cemetery in Wrocław
Death
6 June 1890
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Headstone in the Old Jewish Cemetery in Wrocław
Antonie Marle (daughter) (married to Zadig Pauly) (Figures 21a-b)
Birth
1 February 1820
Pless, Prussia [today: Pszczyna, Poland]
Pinkus Family Collection, Marle Family Tree
Death
17 September 1893
Posen, Germany [today: Poznan, Poland]
Pinkus Family Collection, Marle Family Tree
Fanny Marle (daughter) (married to Salomon Mühsam)
Note: This short post is about Antonie Pauly née Marle, my third great-aunt or my great-great-great-aunt, regarding whom I made an interesting discovery. This finding touches on a quaint but satirical practice members of the upper class might once have employed to de-stigmatize public disapproval of an illegitimate child.
Regular readers will recall I have often written about my Pauly relatives. In Post 56, I wrote about the paterfamilias Josef Pauly (Figure 1), using his personal memoirs. With his wife Rosalie Pauly née Mockrauer (Figure 2), he bore nine children, eight of whom were daughters and all of whom have been the focus of earlier posts. The subject of this publication is Josef Pauly’s mother, Antonie Pauly née Marle (Figures 3-4), who was born in Pless, Germany [today: Pszczyna, Poland] and married to Zadig Pauly. (Figures 5-6) For most followers, I expect the discussion about my third great-aunt to be of limited interest, thus I encourage readers to focus not so much on who she was but on how and what we learn about the time in which she lived.
One of my younger cousins recently asked me about the notation below Antonie Marle’s name in the Pauly Stammbaum, family tree. (Figure 7) Being unable to decipher the writing and understand the German abbreviations, I turned to two friends who often assist me in interpreting and making sense of German documents and texts. Their translations were roughly identical, but one explication was amusing in its revelation. Let me explain.
The circled section of the Pauly family tree in Figure 7 reads as follows in German:
Antonie MARLE
1850-93, Posen
Unehel. Kd. v. Fürst Pless [=uneheliches Kind von Fürst Pless]
One correction I want to note before delving into the significance of the notation below Antonie Marle’s name in the Pauly family tree. Antonie’s year of birth is incorrectly noted on the Pauly Stammbaum as 1850, when in fact she was born in 1820. The correct information can be found on a Marle family tree in the Pinkus Family Collection archived at the Leo Baeck Institute showing Antonie’s parents and seven surviving siblings. (Figure 9) Further confirmation of Antonie’s date of birth comes from a Polish gentleman who contacted me through my family tree on ancestry and has accessed various census records from the 18th and 19th centuries from the archives in Pless registering births there. And, finally, the third source for Antonie’s year of birth can be found in the on-line Posen “Einwohnermeldezettel,” residential registration form, for Zadig Pauly and Antonie Marle. (Figure 10)
Both friends who transcribed and translated the notation on Antonie Marle agree that the sobriquet, “Queen of Tost,” was meant in jest, for amusement. Tost, known today as Toszek, Poland, is 50 miles or 80km north of Pszczyna, Poland.
One friend suggested Antonie’s father might have been Henry, Duke of Anhalt-Köthen (30 July 1778, Schloss Pless-23 November 1847, Köthen), who would have been only 42 years of age when Antonie was born, thus a theoretical possibility; Henry was a German prince in the House of Ascania, ruler of the non-sovereign principality of Anhalt-Pless.
My second friend suggested something I am more inclined to believe because of its mischievous implications. This gentleman is an experienced genealogist and in his years of doing ancestral research he has on multiple occasions come across family claims that a child was the illegitimate son or daughter of a Prince or noble; upon further investigations my friend found all these declarations to be fiction, complete fabrications. While there seems no reason to doubt that Antonie Marle might have been the result of an illicit affair, it is more plausible to believe it was the outcome of a tryst with a commoner or person of equal social standing. What I find so quaint is that her family could so easily thumb their nose at society’s mores by claiming Antonie was the illegitimate child of an affair with a monarch or sovereign, thus enveloping her in a mantle of respectability and superiority. No doubt, this fiction was an option only available to members of the upper classes.
Why Antonie Marle’s moniker was the “Queen of Tost” rather than the “Queen of Pless,” where she hailed from, is unclear, though possibly her biological father was from there. This is mere conjecture, and something we will likely never know.
Note: This post is inspired by a Polish gentleman who sent me “colorized” photos of members of the Pauly branch of my extended family using an image I included in Post 45.
Given the emotionally taxing subject matter of some of my family history posts, occasionally I like to intersperse stories that are more whimsical or lighthearted in nature. The current post is one such example. It was inspired by a Mr. Marek Bieńkowski from Włocławek, Poland. This gentleman is not subscribed to my Blog, nor, to the best of my knowledge, are we in any way related. Taking a photo inserted in Post 45 showing multiple members of the Pauly branch of my family, Mr. Bieńkowski “colorized” images of 19 of the 31 people in this picture. I estimate the picture was taken in the early 1890’s in Posen, Prussia [Poznan, Poland], and, to date, I’ve been able to identify 23 of the 31 subjects using an incomplete caption on the back of the photo and comparing the individual images to others where the people are identified by name. The original photo with the heads of the figures circled and numbered is included here (Figure 1), and the table below summarizes the vital data of the known people.
** Numbers in the left-hand column correspond with the numbered, circled heads in Figure 1. Names in red refer to people whose images have been colorized.
Mr. Bieńkowski seemingly used the automated feature of an image-editing program to smooth and sharpen the individual photos. All subjects have blue eyes but given that only 8 to 10 percent of the world’s population have eyes this color, clearly this is unrealistic. Some of the colorized images are remarkably real and look like their originals, others are eerie since the proportions are imprecise and imbue the subjects with a wax-museum quality.
As mentioned, based on the estimated age of the younger subjects and their known dates of birth, I gauge the original picture was taken in the early 1890’s. While color photography is almost as old as black-and-white, the process did not become widely available until much later, certainly after the Lippmann color process was unveiled in 1891. The only color photo I have of any of the subjects is of my great-aunt Charlotte Mockrauer née Bruck when she turned 100 in 1965 and her eyes appear to be brown. (Figure 21) Additionally, I have color paintings of two of the 31 subjects in the original photograph, specifically, Julie Neisser née Sabersky (Figure 22) and Wilhelm Pauly (Figure 23). In these paintings, Julie Sabersky clearly has brown eyes, and a much older Wilhelm Pauly has blue eyes.
Regular readers know how I like making connections between seemingly unrelated things. In the previous post, Post 86, Suse Vogel née Neisser’s 1947 letter describing the last days of her father and aunt’s lives in October 1942 in Berlin was sent to her first cousin, Liselotte Dieckmann née Neisser in St. Louis. (Figure 24) Liselotte was an extremely accomplished woman and a Professor of German at St. Louis University. She wrote a short biography in English of her life, which I obtained a copy of from Nicki Stieda, Suse’s Vogel’s granddaughter. On the opening page, Liselotte discussed her grandmother without naming her. Being familiar with the Neisser family tree, I quickly ascertained she was discussing Julie Neisser née Sabersky, who is seated alongside one of her sons, Ernst Neisser, in Figure 1. Liselotte’s description of her grandmother, quoted below, comports with my preconceived notion of the strong matriarch I imagine she was:
“My Father Max Neisser, born in 1869, professor of bacteriology at the University of Frankfurt, came from Silesia which was then a Prussian province and is now part of Poland. By the time I was born in 1902, his mother [editor’s note: Julie Neisser née Sabersky], widowed for many years, lived with her brother [editor’s note: Heinrich Sabersky] whom she had well-tamed in Berlin where we visited her often. She was a fine lady, with beautiful blue eyes, who sat straight as a ruler at the edge of her chair. She was a woman of great vitality—no doubt, almost to her end in 1926, the ruling member of her family. My cousins and I owe to her a sense of family closeness rarely found among cousins. Her sons and one daughter had eight children together, with whom I am still in close touch, insofar as they are still alive.”
Julie’s regal bearing caught my attention well before I knew who she was. Interestingly, Julie’s brother, Heinrich Sabersky, mentioned in the paragraph above who is also in the group picture, similarly caught my attention because of his warm demeanor. Among my third cousin Agnes Stieda née Vogel’s personal photographs is a different one with Julie and Heinrich Sabersky seated amidst a group of ten people; this photo includes three Pauly sisters, Margarethe, Helene and Edith, all three of whom are in the larger group picture that is the subject of this post, two of whose photos are also colorized. (Figures 25-26)
To my mind, the major take away of receiving the unsolicited colorized images of people from 130 years ago is that it personalizes them and makes them seem less abstract. This comports with one of the goals of my Blog to make my ancestors come to life in a tangible way, while conceding it may not be entirely realistic.
“I am terribly afraid, but nevertheless I will go with them. Possibly God actually needs me now for the first time in my life.”—an elderly Jewish lady on the eve of her deportation to a concentration camp
(The above was said to Martin Niemöller (1892-1984), a German theologian and Lutheran Pastor, one of the founders of the Confessing Church, which opposed the Nazification of German Protestant churches. For his opposition to the Nazis’ state control of the churches, Niemöller was imprisoned in Sachsenhausen and Dachau concentration camps from 1938 to 1945. He is best known for his opposition to the Nazi regime during the late 1930s and for his widely quoted poem “First they came …” The poem has many different versions, one of which begins “First they came for the Communists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Communist,” and concludes, “Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.”)
Note: In this post I discuss first-hand wartime accounts written by my distant cousin Susanne “Suse” Vogel née Neisser (Figure 1), mother of my third cousin Agnes Stieda née Vogel, that I unveiled in earlier chronicles. I detail how I was able to get these German narratives transcribed and translated, and further elaborate on some of Suse’s tragic narrative.
Following publication of Post 64 on Dr. Hans Martin Erasmus Vogel (1897-1973) (Figure 2), my third cousin Agnes Stieda née Vogel’s father, my friend Ms. Madeleine Isenberg, affiliated with the Jewish Genealogical Society of Los Angeles, forwarded the post to Ms. Julie Drinnenberg from Hofgeismar, Germany. Julie is the educational director of the Jewish department at the museum there which, as it so happens, is 45 minutes away from Kassel, Germany, where Dr. Vogel was the director of the art museum from 1946 to 1961. Prior to reading my article, Julie was unaware of Dr. Vogel’s importance to the Kasseler Museumlandschaft and conceded in an email that his contributions to the museum have not been appropriately acknowledged and promised to research this.
This was the beginning of a very lively and productive email exchange. At the time Julie first contacted me in October 2019, my wife and I had just returned from a cruise to Alaska that originated in Vancouver, Canada, where we had the pleasure of meeting Dr. Vogel’s daughter and granddaughter, Agnes (Figure 3) and Nicki Stieda. (Figure 4) Agnes’s personal papers and family photographs are in Nicki’s possession, who organized and graciously allowed me to peruse and take pictures of all of them. Among Agnes’s family documents is her mother, Suse Vogel née Neisser’s diary (Figure 5), which I would later learn was written roughly between the start of 1944 and April 20, 1945. The handwriting is crabbed in German, and for this reason I only photographed the first few pages of what amounts to perhaps 35 full-length sheets of paper, never anticipating I could get it transcribed and translated.
Prior to connecting with Julie Drinnenberg, and ever meeting Agnes and Nicki Stieda, I had stumbled upon a 34-page letter archived in the “John Henry Richter Collection” at the Leo Baeck Institute written by Agnes’s mother. This letter was written as a tribute to her father, Dr. Ernst Neisser, who committed suicide in 1942 after being told by the Nazis to report to an “old age transport,” a euphemism for being deported to a concentration camp, tantamount to being murdered. The letter, typed in German on the 28th of March 1947 (Figures 6a-b), was sent from Kassel, Germany to Suse Vogel’s first cousin in St. Louis, Missouri, Liselotte “Lilo” Dieckmann née Neisser. (Figure 7)
Fast forward. After establishing contact with Julie Drinnenberg, I mentioned Suse Vogel’s 1947 letter, telling her she might be interested in it to obtain more background on Dr. Vogel’s family. It was at this moment that Julie offered to translate the letter into English for me, an offer I immediately and unabashedly accepted. Below, I will quote some of the more poignant passages from this letter, so readers can get a sense of what a dreadful and horrific time people of Jewish background experienced during WWII.
As an afterthought, after Julie had translated Suse Vogel’s letter, I mentioned I had photographed the first few pages of her diary and sent her the images. Julie passed them along to one of her colleagues, Gabriele Hafermaas, who astonishingly reported she could decipher much of the crabbed handwriting. Julie again offered to help, by having her workmate transcribe Suse’s journal. I forwarded this proposal to Agnes and Nicki, who accepted it and soon sent Julie a PDF of the entire memoir. Gabriele provided a remarkable transcription. Inevitably, some words and sentences in the diary are illegible. Often, when specific people were mentioned, Suse used nicknames or letter abbreviations in the event her diary fell into the wrong hands; thus, not all people are identified by name. Using an online application, entitled “DeepL,” I translated the text; this sometimes resulted in awkward sentences that were nonetheless generally comprehendible. I highlight some passages below having taken some liberties in rewording phrases to capture what I think Suse may have been trying to say, while fully conceding I may be off the mark.
While Suse Vogel’s 1947 letter to her first cousin postdates her 1944-1945 diary, chronologically, it deals with events that took place in September-October 1942, so I begin with the more recent document.
COMMENTS ON SECTION BELOW: Suse Vogel’s parents were Dr. Ernst Neisser (1863-1942) and Margarethe Neisser née Pauly (1876-1941). (Figure 8) Margarethe was institutionalized in a sanatorium for the last few years of her life and committed suicide there in 1941. Prior to her father’s suicide in 1942, Suse Vogel was attempting to obtain exit visas for her father and aunt, ergo the reference to Sweden.
“My father who would never give up in his life, whose whole character was insistence and steadfastness, who loathed any kind of running away, who perceived life anyhow as good as he was good himself – he did not throw it away, although he was consumed by the longing for my mother. But the old doctor who of course assessed his fast progressing heart disease, knew that should he be ripped out of tender and loving care, he would not survive in the hangmen’s hands. He saw clearly that it would not only be an agonizing and awkward death for himself but would be also for me a poisoned memory forever if I had been forced to let him die in the hands of those murderers. Indeed, I accepted it, as I was under no illusion. Also, I had far too much respect for his decision. Still, deep inside, I did not accept anything at all, did not think seriously of such a terrible option. I believed in Sweden, his rescue, and his recovery there. Discussions about suicide—what a horrible word for the forced act in desperate misery—had been the daily fare in those times.”
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COMMENTS ON SECTION BELOW: “Aunt Lise” was Dr. Ernst Neisser’s cousin, although to date I have been unable to determine how many degrees of separation existed between them. At the time of their suicide, they resided together. Dr. Ernst Neisser had multiple nicknames, including “Ernstle.”
“In a confidential talk Aunt Lise had advised me of her resolution. ‘I am going with Ernstle,’ she told me in a determined and conclusive tone. And, almost off-handedly, she had added, ‘I should like to be buried in German soil. Berlin is my home.’ And once Aunt Lise who always had disliked heroics told me unexpectedly: ‘Whatever will happen, you can always say to yourself one thing, that you did everything possible that a human being can do for another, remember that!’ At that moment I was almost embarrassed by those exaggerated words—but how much I was comforted by these loving words later, when second thoughts and misgivings, which never abandons survivors, tortured me.”
COMMENTS ON SECTION BELOW: Dr. Ernst Neisser and his cousin Luise “Lise” Neisser lived together at Eichenallee 25 in the Charlottenburg District of Berlin. (Figure 9) Suse and her husband Hans Vogel lived in the Berlin suburb of Potsdam. Two other nicknames for Dr. Ernst Neisser were “Väterchen,” affectionate term for father, and “Bärchen,” or “little bear.” The “honorable privy councilor” referred to below was a principled lawyer, Mr. Karl von Lewinsky (1872-1951), who worked tirelessly on behalf of his Jewish clients to help them obtain exit visas to leave Germany before and during WWII. As followers can read, Ernst and Lise Neisser were ordered to report for deportation at 8 a.m. on the 1st of October 1942, and both likely attempted suicide in the early morning hours on that day. “Mundi” is Ernst Neisser’s granddaughter (Figure 10) and Suse Vogel’s daughter, Agnes Stieda née Vogel, my 93-year old third cousin.
Suse alludes to what can only be referred to as “mob or herd mentality,” when otherwise “rational” Germans spotted Jews on the street during Nazi rallies and heaped abuse or worse on them.
“I told myself, I would go home [the 30th of September 1942] and only the following day go to Eichenallee. The unrest surely was an understandable reaction of my nerves. But I heard this voice – not any voice, but ‘that’ voice, the mysterious companion of my life. I heard it very rarely, but if I heard it, it was distinct, irresistible—’I had to obey!’ I jumped off the tram and went to Eichenallee.
Despite the inner instruction I was in a good mood, full of hope, like I hadn’t been for a long time. Now everything had to go well. The honorable privy councilor surely was the sign from heaven that everything would go well. My beloved Väterchen would be happy, too. Oh, I was looking forward to finding him working at his writing table, to seeing his meaningful dark eyes shining towards me. The usual thoughts of worries touched me only hazily. . . I walked through the cellar entrance, passed the flat of the friendly caretaker-family, and went upstairs to the flat. No need to ring the bell, the good deaf aunt never heard it anyway. Strange, she was not in the kitchen—though it was time for the evening meal. And, there was no light in the living room—though it was already dusk.
I knocked at the door and entered. In the room was silence, the two old ones were sitting next to the window, their silver-white heads leaned towards each other. My heart grew frozen—something had happened. ‘What happened?’ I whispered. Only then did they notice me. Quickly my father came towards me, serious, changed and without the tenderness that had connected us our entire lives. ‘You, my child, where are you coming from at this time? I have no use for you now!’ he said firmly, with the authority that he surely had used with other people often enough but never with me. I didn’t answer but only said startled: ‘Aunt Lise, what’s the matter?’ Silently she pointed to the table. There was laying the order of deportation. I don’t know what was written on it, I never read it. Only the words were burnt into my mind. . . transport to Terezín tomorrow October 1st, 1942. Tomorrow at 8 o’clock in the morning, not in three weeks or eight days, or at least three days, like it used to be with other people. No, tomorrow morning at 8 o’clock. This could only be a mistake. It had never happened before, only perhaps as revenge—I was thinking ‘it must, it had to be a mistake!’ It was the only moment that I remember when I implored my father not to act immediately. Indeed, I knew why he was so serious, so determined. We did not talk much, ‘Please. Please, wait! For your sake, yes!’
I hastened away. The phone box was empty. It was like in a nightmare, only much worse. I said to myself, ‘Lord help me that I get the connection to Potsdam, hope that Hans is at home, hope that he hears the ringing.’ He answered, terrified—we had always anticipated something bad happening. We had a conversation most taciturn: ‘You have to come immediately!’ ‘Something bad?’ he asked. ‘Yes!’ ‘I am coming!’ ‘But please eat something first!’ ‘Yes!’ Reading these words, you might think, ‘How can someone think of eating in a situation like this?’ I thought like this in former times, but by now I know. You can think of eating even in the hour of death, you can think about drinking, a warm blanket, a piece of bread during a bitter farewell.
By now I know that simple people were way ahead in this regard and in many other respects. They are connected to the simple truths of life in a deep and confident way, without those superficial feelings, the over-refined sensibilities, the cluttered idealisms that the sophisticated citizen dwells on for a long time. All this, the daily bread, a shroud, money to pay with, a roof above one’s head and a warm room. . .if it is also blessed with love, it is enough.
After my call to Potsdam I wanted to call the director of the sanatorium where my mother had been for many years and died. My father, too, had been living there, where we believed him to be secure and safe. And now the number—I could’t remember the telephone number! I had used it a thousand times, believed it to be etched in my mind – and now I’d forgotten it! The phone box was in darkness—I have no matches, and time was racing, racing—I had to get hold of the professor on the phone—’help heavenly host!’ And on its own my hand dialed the right number. ‘Herr Professor, it is life-endangering! Do you think, you could help once again?’ He understood at once. Paused. In a suppressed voice he said, ‘Please come immediately, I am waiting here for you!’
I returned to my father. ‘Poor beloved Bärchen—please wait!’ He was nodding: ‘But child—tomorrow morning at 8:00—there’s not much time—look, what’s the use of it?!’
At the sanatorium, there was the professor and his employee. It was the same one who went to bat for us exactly one year and a day before. It was when they even wanted to tear my mother out of the coffin for testing to see if a suicide ‘was in doubt.’ The professor and his employee—they also had been angels in the valley of the shadow of death. When at that time my mother should have been buried without a pastor in an unknown grave, they offered us their morgue cellar where we were able to celebrate a small catacomb obsequy with some friends. Of course, this was absolutely forbidden. The staff was believed to be reliable, but of course, you never knew. What if someone had denounced us? But nobody did so. People toddled into the cellar and wanted to have a look at my mother. She had been in a psychiatric sanatorium where there was so much anguish and awfulness. A beautiful dead like a Gothic image of saints. They all stood in front of her in silence and whispered to each other, shook our hands shyly. If there had been need for proof of immortality, looking at this beautiful, consummate face it became clear: such a conversion after three years of an awful soul-wrecking illness and bitter end—God was creating something new where we saw only death and destruction.
The professor and Ms. Sch. were talking to me, but I only heard their voices from afar. I thought to myself, ‘Does it make any sense to take my father back to the sanatorium? The henchmen will come tomorrow at 8:00—they will not find my father—then what? And what will become of Aunt Lise?’ Also, in former times she did not go outside with us: ‘It’s impossible, I look too Jewish’—and we kept silent or said in a dry manner, ‘you are right.’ The consequences for looking Jewish were the usual hysteric inferno, typically when many people congregated officially. Privately, the same people were helpful and attentive, be it on the street or in a shop. The ‘fission of the souls’ was incredible and scary. But that also belonged to the dreadful humiliation, the vulgar unworthy grotesque dissimulating. Only the superior and dignified smile of the Jewish-looking ones, their smiles of subtle irony, comforted the less Jewish-looking ones or even the Aryan-looking ones for their shameful and pitiful misery.
Everybody in our house and in the neighborhood knew where the trail would lead; everybody knew the nearby sanatorium as well as our address in Potsdam. Therefore, a flight to there or to us made no sense. And, it made no sense and could not be, to rob my father’s time—his only freedom—to dissipate it by powerless rescue attempts for the hundredth time.
I thought to myself, ‘Why not call the Jewish community again one last time? All the orders of the Gestapo were going through it. Possibly my young friend [Hanni] would know what to do?’ The professor agreed—just this was a courageous act. Hanni herself was on the phone. ‘Hanni, what can be done?!’ I understood how she was feeling. ‘What is it?’—I kept silent as an answer. She said, ‘When?’ ‘Tomorrow morning at 8 o’clock.’ ‘What is he about to do?’ ‘Go.’—She paused, then in a stifled whisper said, ‘I can do nothing more. Please let him!’ ‘Hanni. . .’ Loudly and coldly and nearly threateningly a voice repeated: ‘I beg you, let him. It will be better for him!’ Then, a pleading helpless voice whispered my name, ‘Please let him—it will be better—do you understand?!’ And the receiver was put down. This had been my last hope.
I came to myself when the professor called me. There was no time to lose. It was the time to have my wits about me. ‘I’ll take you along in my car. Has your father everything he needs?’ ‘Not enough for both of them.’ ‘I’ll take everything with me. May I come with you?’ A short silent ride. I don’t remember anything about it. But I remember the professor taking my hands firmly in his good warm hands—a doctor’s hands—like those of Bärchen.
My father came up to meet us, earnest and somehow disconnected from reality, but calm and friendly, as always. The room was full of people. My husband pale and perturbed, my beloved heart. I didn’t dare touch him—I didn’t want to lose my composure then. Hildegard v. W. was present, the young doctor, she had been in my father’s home as a child. She had wished to visit my father. She was crying in silence. Another friend from the house was there. Accidentally? No, not accidentally. She too had felt anxious for him. She was Otto Hahn’s wife, the world-famous nuclear scientist. She and her husband always had belonged to the ‘good angels’—fearless, faithful, loving. Aunt Lise was scurrying about, whipping away her tears furtively. She smiled, prepared some food, packed things up for us, ‘You have to save these things, you may need them!’ We were not able to deter her from it.
I drew Hans aside. ‘I am going to the Gestapo now. I am aware that everything could be bungled—even for us—you know it!’ He didn’t need a second to think about it, ‘That’s nothing to think about at a moment like this!’ Suddenly Bärchen was standing by our side, ‘What are you going to do? How can you do such a thing to me at the end of my life—to ruin yourselves? Susel, Susel I forbid it!’ Beloved Bärchen. He never in my whole life had forbidden me something in such a severe tone. And I obeyed. And for years I blamed myself for having done so, that I did not go trusting in God’s help. I know, I know it would have been madness—yet still it was and remains against my conscience and against God’s commandment!
Bärchen said almost gaily, ‘Dear children, we don’t want to mope about. I am happy that so many dear friends are here just now. Let’s drink a good bottle of wine as a farewell.’ A ‘harmless’ drop [i.e., an ordinary wine] was standing in the corner ‘illegally’ [i.e., during the Nazi era, Jews were prohibited from buying alcohol, which was moot since they were not issued ration cards for purchases of liquor]. We all drank. We were all in a state of lethargy and paralysis, but my father was stronger than us. He thanked the professor for bringing along the poison. ‘This was a friendly turn, dear colleague. You are taking a huge risk for me.’ We were talking in our normal voices; the women were smiling with tear-stained eyes. I, too, was smiling, holding Bärchen’s hand all the time. ‘I have had a good life, I heard him say. Only my husband was silent and deathly pale. He reached for my free hand. ‘Do not move, do not loose lose self-control!’ ‘I had it good—undeservedly,’ my father says, ‘at first my mother cared for me, then I had my Gretel and, in the end, my faithful children and you, dear Lise. Come and sit with us!’ But she didn’t want to, she was writing a couple of letters. She gave this and that to me, contemplating everything, though tears were running down her face relentlessly. Oh, don’t believe that such a voluntary dying was easy! Perhaps, for someone who does not love anything in this world anymore. Maybe for my mother’s darkened heart, especially as she did it under the delusion of sheltering my father from the Nazis, because she believed he would follow her at once. Such a dying is possibly—I don’t know—easy. But for someone, though being old and sick, who was full of life and love, it remained hard to die voluntarily—without the Grim Reaper present.
Whoever has stood next to a deathbed knows that death really ‘enters the room.’ I saw how my young brother sank towards him from one second to the other. But here death was not among us—nothing in this room, in our being together had been touched by him! Yes, my father was right. It was against nature. And woe to anyone who brings to his fellow men such terrible hardship to be forced to die! But in my father’s heart there was nothing like woe or bitterness, hate or malediction. Later when we three were alone and the friends were gone, Aunt Lise was writing next door, he answered to my cry: ‘I don’t believe it! It is impossible! It is really unbelievable’—and for a moment the fire of youth flashed in his eyes. And immediately he added, ‘You must see it like this. I kind of succumb to the enemy.’ And when I was going to lose my composure, he said tenderly but firmly, ‘Susel, don’t begrudge me going to my Gretel—I want so much to do so, I am so sick, sicker than you may know.’ From then on, his will was stronger than my pain. It was like him holding us all with his strong will. Once we even joked and laughed all three of us. Then my father talked about Mundi full of love and care, ‘Take your time with her. She is developing slowly but safely.’ We could not overload her small heart with the manner of his death. Not before she was old enough to understand and accept his motivations would she know about it.
Then, he said I should not worry about his funeral. As nice as my mother’s funeral was last year it wouldn’t be possible this time. He pleaded with me not to worry about his funeral. My husband later freed me from my promise. Bärchen himself would have allowed me to find my peace by looking at his wonderful and glorified expression.
We sensed that we had to go now. There were no more words, no tears—a short farewell from Aunt Lise—she smiled, stroked my hair, I kissed her hand, and we departed the residence. And at the front door in darkness only one embrace, a kiss on his hand. And I went away, left him. . . I never will forgive myself for it! Though it was him who compelled us to do so, his will was above ours that night, but not God’s will, I felt it. That must be said. God left me alone. And perhaps I did not call out loudly enough for Christ who had performed so many miracles within my life.”
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COMMENTS ON SECTION BELOW: Ernst Neisser and Lise Neisser poisoned themselves, likely in the early morning hours of October 1, 1942. Lise Neisser died immediately, but Ernst Neisser lingered for several days. He was taken to the Jewish Hospital in the Wedding District of Berlin where he succumbed on October 4, 1942. Suse Vogel’s worry was that he would be resuscitated.
“. . .when Hans and I came to the Jewish hospital to hear how my father was doing, my only prayer was, ‘Dear God don’t let him come back to life again.’ But the young and tender nurse did not give me a terrified look when I said objectively that hopefully no attempt at resuscitation would be made, and hopefully there was no danger of a return to consciousness. In response, she comforted us by saying ‘he would sleep towards death.’ She spoke briefly and soberly like me, but her eyes told me something entirely different. This is what I experienced many times. . .a dry harshness of conversation without any obligation in the tone, but a glance in the eyes and a pressing of the hand, this had a deeper meaning. And, from this sign I drew comfort. After Hans had looked in on my father where he lay with other sleeping persons, we had to leave quickly. At that time, each night old and sick people who had gotten the order for deportation took their own lives. The number of them was frighteningly high.”
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COMMENTS ON SECTION BELOW: “Kafkaesque” is suggestive of Franz Kafka, or his writings, and is defined as “having a nightmarishly complex, bizarre, or illogical quality.” In reading Suse Vogel’s description of meeting the Nazi inspector at her father’s apartment in Eichenallee following his suicide, the unreal characterization of events reminded me of Kafka’s writings. I’ll let the readers draw their own conclusions, but the narrow-minded, vulturous and rapacious nature of the Nazi overlords boggles the mind.
“Now I had to go to the detective squad. For my husband it was awful to await again without being able to help and stand by me. We separated in a Café. There everything was business as usual. It was not advisable to catch somebody’s attention by perturbed behavior or whispering. We even did not even shake hands. ‘Farewell! I will pick you up here.’ The short way to the police station seemed endless. I felt petrified from complete exhaustion. At the same time, I felt that anxious wakefulness and cold determination that had helped me time and again. An officer received my report. ‘Oh. I see, it’s because of the Jew in the Eichenallee?’ he said leisurely. I did not answer. He looked at me and suddenly nodded to me. ‘A good sign.’ Then he came nearer and said in a low voice: ‘Just go to the Eichenallee, Madame, the inspector will be there too,’ and again he nodded to me encouragingly and alarmingly all at once—oh, I understood. I nodded back in silence and disappeared as shadowy as I had come. Thank God, no interrogation before a Nazi-commissar. They sent an inspector to the Eichenallee, possibly well-intentioned, ‘perhaps everything would go well.’
I waited in front of the sealed door of my father’s apartment until the inspector came. A small blond man, middle-aged, a vacuous face, sharp and wary light blue eyes. A pinched hard ass, not quite likeable. I stepped towards him without offering my hand (Jews were not allowed to shake hands). And I came to the point immediately, ‘Mr. Inspector, I am so grateful that you came here. You know how hard the situation is for me.’ He looked at me wonderingly. A shadow of condolence flashed over his unreadable face. ‘The concierge shall come.’ He questioned her in my presence. She behaved gorgeously, told him without timidity how much she had loved and admired the ‘Herr Professor’ (I was thinking, ‘How could she say, “Herr Professor!” That was strictly forbidden!’) and how she had loved ‘Fräulein Lise.’
The inspector unlocked the door. I entered the room that I had left last night—not 24 hours ago. No time for feelings, he was observing me sharply. A broken off morphine syringe was on the table. ‘Why was it broken off?’ My heart was tensing up. Very quickly he turned to me, ‘With what did your father poison himself?’ My answer came calmly, ‘I don’t know.’ ‘When were you here last?’ ‘The day before yesterday in the evening.’ ‘There it was the lie!’ And now I anticipated he would ask me who else had been here and I would have to mention Hans. I looked at him and he looked at me. I was sure he did not believe me, but he wanted to help me. Therefore, he was no Nazi, I was skilled at that! He was only a ‘dog in service’ (expression for somebody who only pretended to be a Nazi).
It looked desolate in my father’s room. The henchmen had rioted here—not a stone was left unturned. The bed was rumpled, the books were pulled out, the desk’s content spread all over the ground. Thank God they could not find any addresses of friends and acquaintances, nothing that would have incriminated others. We had destroyed everything. In a strained voice the inspector said, ‘Where is your father’s identity card? We were not able to find it. The relevant department was upset. He must have an identity card. Otherwise you will not get the corpse for burial. And there will be endless trouble for you and me. You must have it!’ ‘I don’t have it. I don’t know what my father has done with it.’ ‘Why have all the papers disappeared? I cannot understand. I do not understand your father! Unfortunately, I must deal with things like this every day. One at least leaves behind his papers in an orderly state. Nothing was to be found. He did not even have a watch with him—strange!!’
‘Aha, that was the reason for the rage of the relevant department.’ My father wanted so much that my husband got back his watch. It was Hans’ watch, a gift from his confirmation. Years ago, he had given it to my father because we did not want to leave his golden watch to the robbers—a gift from his grandfather. So, we hid it. None of us had thought of the covetousness and rapacity of the pursuers. But despite the threatening ‘strange!’ the inspector did not continue asking. I felt he didn’t want to know, didn’t want to be the hangman. Yet still he had protocols to follow. ‘You seem to be rather harassed by the occurrences,’ he grunted and looked at me meaningfully. And I seized the rescuing hint. And he wrote on his paper confused, impossible, stupid answers of a flustered wife. ‘How smart of him!’ I was aware of the Nazi’s obstinacy—if they ever got something official, a document, they were often content with it.
The concierge, a silent shadow and witness, was looking at me stunned, so well was I ‘playing’ my role. Oh, if she only knew what this was all about! He did not even ask for my address. The watch and the identity card that was all he was harping on about. ‘Could you at least procure the identity card?’ ‘No, I am sure I don’t know.’ I never confessed that my father gave it to us. That would have been the greatest foolishness! My father had hoped that the card, this ‘piece of evidence,’ could be useful. That perhaps this could save his small residual assets for Mundi. This meant a lot to him.
Before me I saw several photographs showing my parents, my late brother, pictures of our voyages. My father’s favorite books were still there. ‘Oh, if I only could take some with me.’ I begged the inspector. He refused. I tried once again. He clasped his hands together. ‘Please don’t!’ he said harshly, ‘I cannot allow it, do you understand! People ask me daily to do this. I am not allowed!’ And he looked at me angrily. Then suddenly he became rude, snapped at the concierge and me, finally laughed and sent the concierge away, snapped at me once again and said, ‘You will accompany me!’ My heart sank. ‘Was it all comedy?’ But as soon as we were alone, he took his bicycle, and shouted loudly, ‘As soon as your father is dead, you will report!’ And simultaneously his left hand reached for mine, pressing it firmly as he muttered, ‘Don’t worry. We’ll get you father under the soil even without his identity card.’ And, with that he departed, leaving me feeling released.
I thought, ‘Oh, it had come to that! Anxiety and every day’s horrors had become so commonplace that stupid and falsely contrived situations got weight and importance. On the other side hand, wasn’t this like reality, when this narrow-minded clerk who combined Prussian blind obedience with his personal honor, who had at least freedom of choice, chose lies and foolishness rather than word-for-word-accuracy?’ He himself knew better than me what would have happened if he had had examined everything exactly and if he had found the identity card and the watch. Only the connivance of a ‘forbidden’ suicide would have been to blame. There would have been interrogations about the origin of the poison, our statements would have been scrutinized for deviations from each other, possibly under the Nazis’ infamous interrogation methods. Once again, the ‘moral inferiority of the Jews and their comrades’ would have been affirmed. It would have resulted in deportation to a labor camp in Poland as a natural consequence. Moreover, friends and enemies would have shaken their heads about our incomprehensible stupidity and our lack of consideration, and that’s what the inspector knew definitively, and I knew it as well. Now you possibly understand why I met the grey face of my husband with a beaming smile. You understand that we went home by tram arm-in-arm and became human beings for a short while.”
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SECTIONS FROM SUSE VOGEL’S 1944-1945 DIARY
Suse Vogel’s diary includes numerous literary and religious references. I quote a few of these along with short passages from Suse’s diary to round out what I related above or in earlier posts.
COMMENTS ON SECTION BELOW: Suse Vogel had multiple nicknames for her relatives. She alternately referred to her husband, Dr. Hans Vogel, as “Hase” (=rabbit), Fiddie, Eukuku, Schieperle, Kuchenmännchen (= “cake mate”), Hanschen. Among their daughter Agnes’s surviving papers are numerous pencil drawings Hans did. He typically depicted himself as a rabbit, Suse as a dachshund, and Agnes as a bunny. (Figure 11)
“On Christmas I got a pencil drawing from Fiddie showing his little castle room in Seitenberg; in the background sits ‘Hase.’ Hanschen, smoking his pipe. The expression of his somewhat sublime, clever bunny face is collected, serious and as ‘bright’ as I had hoped ever to see again after those infernal years.”
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COMMENTS ON SECTION BELOW: Suse Vogel had multiple nicknames for her father, Dr. Ernst Neisser, including Bär, Bärchen and Igilchen (=hedgehog). Among her father’s personal items she had salvaged was his armchair, which retained his contour, enveloped her when she sat in it, and gave her a sense of comfort and well-being.
4th January 1944
“In Igelchen’s armchair I believed I felt it like a gentle closeness.”
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COMMENT ON SECTION BELOW: In multiple passages in her diary, Suse recalls visits with her father and aunt in Berlin before they were summoned for deportation and opted to commit suicide together.
12th January 1944.
“Often, I am attacked by images of the past when Hans and I lived in Potsdam, outside Berlin—up early around 6am, breakfast heated, tidied up, dinner pre-cooked, everything prepared, nothing forgotten—11am already! Getting out of the Westend, rushing up the stairs, is the 54 and 154 coming straight (train numbers)? Of course not straight. Waited. Rushed up Kastanienallee, Branitzer Platz, around the corner from Eichenallee—is everything still standing? Is there nobody in front of the door—can I still find everything? Waited outside the door for hours, no one hears–then finally Aunt Lise’s touching but exhausting welcoming speech past the door; there he sits at his desk, so small and wilted, old, angry, with signs of pain, but the black eyes shine towards me, oh, what I would give to see his old hedgehog face shining like that again!—‘Hush, my soul, it’s over.’- And the walks, small and grey by my side—and always fear—and always fear—but that sat only in the innermost depths of his heart and in his eternally watchful gaze—but only loving and benevolent eyes looked from father to daughter and back, and we smiled so clearly at the resemblance, and we had so much to tell each other—never did we run out of material to tell one another.”
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COMMENT ON SECTION BELOW: As previously mentioned, “Mundi” was an affectionate name for Suse and Hans Vogel’s daughter, Agnes Stieda née Vogel. In 1944, when Suse humorously remarked the following, Agnes was 17 years old and already had strong opinions about what type of a husband she wanted.
“Mundi says she’d rather marry a pussy, ‘I want the upper hand with my husband!’”
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COMMENTS ON SECTION BELOW: In her writings, Suse made frequent exaltations to God, alternating between feeling He had answered her prayers and forsaken her. Clearly, while Suse and both her parents were of Jewish descent, in the past, their ancestors had converted to Protestantism; nonetheless, in the eyes of the Nazis, they were Jewish. In the later stages of the WWII, Hans Vogel was hounded by the Gestapo for his “mixed marriage” status to a Jew.
Regarding the Prince’s palace in Seitenberg [today: Stronie Śląskie, Poland], for a time castles were deemed “off-limits” to bombing by the Allies.
6th January 1944
“Fiddie writes [he received] news from Berlin that the castle is now secured as a place to stay! Thank God.”
31st August 1944
“Tomorrow begins the 6th year of the war. ‘Keeper, is the night almost over?’”
30th November 1944
“‘My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken us!’. . . at the moment I don’t even have a longing to die—just fear and pain and fear and need and fear, fear, fear—and God is silent!”
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COMMENTS ON SECTION BELOW: “Schieperle,” as mentioned above, was another affectionate name Suse had for her husband. Suse, Hans and Agnes lived in a small town in Silesia called Baitzen, which was just outside of Kamenz [today: Kamieniec, Poland]. Hans worked for Friedrich Heinrich Prinz von Preußen at his estate in Seitenberg [today: Stronie Śląskie, Poland]. While Kamenz and Seitenberg are only 22 miles or 35km apart (Figures 13a-b), Hans had his own room at the castle where he lived during the work week.
Hans Vogel had been seriously injured during WWI, making him unfit for service during WWII. The term in German for badly wounded is “schwer verwundet.” His status as a seriously injured veteran of WWI afforded his Jewish wife Suse and his “mischling“ daughter Agnes a measure of protection, at least until the later stages of the war, when the Nazi noose began to tighten around any people of Jewish descent. For Suse and Agnes, it never came down to a decision to take their own lives as it had with Suse’s parents and Aunt. While Agnes was no longer permitted to attend school within a year of her grandfather’s death, ironically, she was for a time a member of the “Bund Deutscher Mädel (B.D.M.),” the female section of the Hitler Youth.
In the passage below, Suse is voicing her consternation at the fact that her husband was shanghaied into shoveling snow for Kamenz.
18th September 1944
“My Schieperle is gone! They took him for snow shoveling—oh, it’s like a bad dream—oh, he will come back—he can’t shovel at all! And in the Seitenberg employment office they had promised him that he would work in an office. But Kamenz took him.”
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COMMENT ON SECTION BELOW: Suse Vogel made frequent mention of her debilitating menstrual periods, referring to them by the initials “EW”; interestingly, this stands for “das Ewig-Weibliche,” the concept of the “eternal feminine” from Goethe’s “Faust.” For Goethe, “women” symbolized pure contemplation, in contrast to masculine action, parallel to the eastern Daoist descriptions of Yin and Yang.
“But I am also particularly disparaged by EW.”
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COMMENT ON SECTION BELOW: “Wafi” is a reference to Suse Vogel’s mother, Margarethe Neisser née Pauly, who was confined to a sanatorium for the last several years of her life and eventually committed suicide there in 1941, a year before Ernst and Luise Neisser took their lives. At moments, Suse Vogel felt she too was slipping away like her mother had.
“I think I’m already mentally ill like Wafi!”
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COMMENTS ON SECTION BELOW: Suse and Agnes Vogel left Silesia as the Russians were approaching and made their way to Potsdam, bordering Berlin, arriving there around the 11th of April 1945. In February, possibly earlier, Hans Vogel, while handicapped from an injury he sustained during WWI, was nonetheless conscripted to a military unit and assigned responsibility for taking the unit’s mail to the train. When he noticed one train was headed to Berlin, he jumped aboard and went AWOL, making his way to Potsdam, where he miraculously reunited with Suse and Agnes. The family barely survived a massive bombing of Berlin in the waning days of the war in an underground bunker.
20th April 1945, written in a basement in Potsdam under the terrible thunder of gunfire
“. . .the eve of the battle, after the horrible attack on Berlin two days after our arrival here[Potsdam]. I cannot write much, only that we decided to go to him very quickly on the 11th of April. Everything worked out. After a 26-hour drive, we managed to arrive behind the Front. The longed-for, longed-for reunion was given to us! So wonderfully sweet, so wonderfully lovely, but amid rising hell and fear. . .”
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In conclusion, while I fail to do justice and adequately capture the depth and nuance of Suse Vogel’s words, I hope I have conveyed at least a small part of her wrenching story and the constant misgivings and survivors’ guilt she felt for not having saved her father from the Nazis.
Note: In this post I relate the story of how in the process of helping a reader whose grandmother died in 1940 in Ratibor, the birthplace of my father, I improbably discovered information on some of my own ancestors.
Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland] (Figure 1), the town in the Prussian province of Upper Silesia where my father, Dr. Otto Bruck, was born in 1907 was one of the largest municipalities in the region. Periodically, readers who are descended from former inhabitants of Ratibor will contact me through my Blog asking for information I have or may have come across related to their ancestors. Often, their relatives are entirely unknown to me but seeing what, if anything, I can uncover about them becomes an extension of my own forensic genealogical endeavors. And, the pleasure I derive in helping others is sometimes magnified when I learn something about my own ancestors in the process. The inspiration for the current post stems from precisely such a situation.
One reader, Dan Ward, recently contacted me after perusing Post 13 and Post 13, Postscript, and learning the “Muzeum w Raciborzu” in Racibórz had given me an Excel spreadsheet with the names of the Jews that had once been interred in the former Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor, requesting a copy of this database. This cemetery was demolished in the 1960’s during Poland’s Communist era to further expunge evidence of German residency in the area. Fortunately, before the stout headstones were torn down and sold off locally, a Polish gentleman whom I wrote about in Post 13, Postscript, Mr. Kazimierz Świetliński (Figure 2), had the foresight to photograph all the gravestones; these images served as the basis for the creation of the Excel database, with the Racibórz Museum staff gleaning as much vital information as possible from the high-quality snapshots. Despite the sharp and fine details on the photos, not all the data is discernible. More on this below.
Dan Ward contacted me seeking information on the tombstone and burial location of his grandmother, Rosa Wartenberger née Perl, who according to records he found was buried on the 29th of March 1940 in the Jüdischer Friedhof Ratibor, Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor, in Plot 153; she died or committed suicide before she was scheduled to be deported to a concentration camp. As a quick aside, the “Ward” surname is clearly the Anglicized version of the “Wartenberger” family name. Dan sent me screen shots with the source of this information, Jewish Gen. As readers can see, Rosa Wartenberger’s name was misspelled as “Risa Wortenberger,” although the transcriber obviously had trouble deciphering the script. (Figure 3)
Armed with the information Dan sent me, I immediately began my own research. The first thing I checked was the Excel spreadsheet with the names of Jews formerly buried in the Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor, and Rosa Wartenberg is not listed. Dan would later tell me his grandmother’s maiden name was “Perl,” and I found four individuals with this surname once interred in the Jewish graveyard, but being unfamiliar with Dan’s family tree, I am not sure how they might have been related to her.
Next, I checked address books and phone directories for Ratibor. I have previously told readers about a database on ancestry.com, entitled “Germany and Surrounding Areas, Address Books, 1815-1974 (Adressbücher aus Deutschland und Umgebung, 1815-1974),” with address books for Germany, Poland, and other neighboring countries. In the only address book in this database for Ratibor for the year 1938, I found a single “Wartenberger.” It was for a man named “Kurt Wartenberger,” identified as a “gastwirt,” innkeeper, shown living at “Breite Straße 54.” (Figure 4)
I asked my friend Mr. Paul Newerla from Racibórz, a retired lawyer whom regular readers have often heard me mention, who now researches and writes about the history of Silesia, whether the surname “Wartenberger” is familiar to him. It is not, but in a 1926 Ratibor Address Book not included among the “Germany and Surrounding Areas” directories, he too found “Kurt Wartenberger” listed, identified then as a “destillateur,” distiller, living at “Brunken 54.” (Figure 5) Other than finding Kurt Wartenberger’s name in the 1926 Ratibor directory, Paul could add nothing more.
I found it odd the address number “54” was identical in 1926 and 1938 but that the street names were different. Paul Newerla explained that “Brunken” was a connecting street to what is referred to as the Altendorf district, that’s to say, a little “outside” of Ratibor along the main road towards Oppeln [today: Opole, Poland] and Leobschutz [today: Głubczyce, Poland]. I located this street, respectively, on plan maps of Ratibor from 1927-28 (Figure 6) and 1933 (Figure 7), although a plan map from 1914 names it “Große-Vorstadt.” (Figure 8) In tiny print on all three plan maps, readers can see the number “54,” confirming it was the same corner lot with different street names over time.
I passed along what Paul and I had found to Dan Ward. He confirmed that Kurt had owned a tavern and that family papers in his possession place Kurt’s business at “Große-Vorstadt 54,” papers which must clearly pre-date 1927-28, by which time the street was known as “Brunken.” By 1938, the street had been renamed yet again because it was then called “Breite Straße.” According to Dan, Kurt Wartenberger was murdered in the Shoah in Buchenwald, and, indeed, Yad Vashem lists him as a victim of the Holocaust. (Figure 9)
Next, I retraced Dan Ward’s steps to track down the source of the information on his grandmother, misspelled as mentioned above as “Risa Wortenberger.” The data, as I previously also said, originates from JewishGen, and relocating it was straight-forward. Here, however, is where things took an interesting turn. The source documentation for the data in JewishGen comes from elsewhere, namely, from the Church of Latter-Day Saints’ (LDS) “Family History Library International Film 1184447, Item 2” (Figure 10), which is one of three microfilm rolls with data on the former Jewish inhabitants of Ratibor. While I had last examined this microfilm many years ago, when it was still necessary to order films from the LDS Church in Salt Lake City and have hard copies sent to a local Family History Library for viewing, I clearly remembered this roll as having limited or, at least, confusing information. Now that the Ratibor records are accessible online through familysearch.org, I decided to reexamine film 1184447.
For anyone interested in seeking similar information from familysearch.org for towns they are researching, they can replicate these steps:
1) Go to familysearch.org (you can create a free account);
2) Under the “Search” button, scroll down to “Catalog,” click enter, and go to the following page;
3) Next, type in “Raciborz” under “Place,” or whatever town you are seeking records for (i.e., different spellings yield different results, so for towns that are now located in different countries than they once were, you may need to try alternate spellings);
4) Scroll down to “Poland, Opole, Racibórz (Racibórz),” then hit “Search”;
5) Select “Poland, Opole, Racibórz (Racibórz) – Jewish records (1),” hit enter;
6) Next select “Matrikel, 1814-1940”;
7) On the next screen select “1184447, Item 2” (select the camera icon all the way to the right; if there is a key above a camera icon, the microfilm is unavailable online).
There are 342 pages on Microfilm 1184447 but only pages 220 through 338, referred to as “Item 2,” specifically deal with Ratibor. The film contains “Friedhofsurkunden 1888-1940” for Ratibor, which Peter Hanke, my German friend who helps me with translations and making sense of German records, tells me is more aptly referred to as “Friedhofsdokumente,” or cemetery documents. The cemetery administration would use these files to see which tombs were unused; which ones could be reused after 25 or 30 years if descendants stopped paying to keep their ancestors interred; which tombs were reserved in perpetuity for so-called “family graves”; or simply to help visitors locate specific graves. These files often contain useful information for genealogists, as I illustrate below.
Let me digress for a moment. Given the disparate sources of ancestral information I have accessed over the years, including in this current post, I am often reminded of the American television game show “Concentration” that aired from 1958 until 1991. Basically, the game was based on the children’s memory game of the same name. Players had to match cards which represented prizes they could win. As matching pairs of cards were gradually removed from the board, it would slowly reveal a rebus puzzle that contestants had to solve to win a match. The similarity I see with genealogical research is not so much solving the rebus, but matching pairs of cards. Often years pass before a “genealogical card” I newly discover can be “matched” to one or more I found earlier in my investigations. The challenge, particularly as I get older, is retrieving the earlier “card” from my memory. Such is the case with connections to Microfilm 1184447, Item 2.
I downloaded, saved, and studied all 119 pages from this film, and made several interesting discoveries and connections. Of immediate interest, I found Rosa Wartenberger’s name in an index (Figure 11); as readers can discern from what I have circled in Figure 11, the number “46” appears to the right of Rosa’s name; this refers to the page number in the “Friedhofsdokumente,” on which Rosa’s name and interment date appear. Initially, I found only one page 46, not realizing there was a left page-right page pair.
Let me briefly explain. When the LDS Church originally photographed vital records for Ratibor and other places, they typically started by photographing the left-side pages from the front to the back of the register, then in reverse order from the back to the front photographed the right-side pages; thus, the left page-right page pairs, either identically numbered or consecutively numbered, from any register will not be found on consecutive microfilm images. Thus, while Rosa’s name does not appear on the left-hand page 46, it is found on the right-hand page 46; for reader’s ease, I have “grafted” the two pages in one (Figure 12), and translated, using a different grafted left-right pair of pages, the headers for each column. (Figure 13)
As readers can see, by “Grabnummer,” grave number, 153, the date of Rosa’s interment is shown, the 29th of March 1940, which matches the information in JewishGen. The column titled “Belegt” translates to “occupied,” and signifies when a person was interred, rather than when they died.
Once a researcher understands the organizational “structure” of microfilms with cemetery documents, they are easy though tedious to use. On one left-right pair of pages, I was able to find both sets of great-grandparents on my father’s side. (Figure 14) Oddly, the names of Fedor Bruck (Figure 15) and his wife, Friederike Bruck née Mockrauer (Figure 16), are not found in the Excel spreadsheet at the Muzeum w Raciborzu, meaning no photo of their headstone was taken. However, Hermann Berliner (Figure 17) and Olga Berliner née Braun’s names do appear in the Excel spreadsheet indicating a picture of their gravestone exists. (Figure 18)
I know from a family tree in the Pinkus Family Collection at the Leo Baeck Institute that my great-grandmother Friederike Bruck née Mockrauer died in Berlin on the 29th of February 1924 (Figure 19), though she was not buried there. From Microfilm 1184447, I learned she was instead interred on the 11th of May 1924 in Ratibor, almost 10 weeks later, presumably alongside her husband. Jews are typically interred within two to three days after they die, so a 10-week delay is very unusual. (Figure 20)
On Microfilm 1184447, I also found a single page mentioning one of my father’s older brothers who died in infancy, Walter Bruck. (Figure 21) His name is found on a page entitled “Kleiner Kinderfriedhof,” small children’s cemetery. This is further proof of his existence. A brief explanation. After I began immersing myself in family history and creating a family tree years ago, I started to wonder why there was a nine-year age difference between my father’s oldest brother, Fedor Bruck, born in 1895, and my father’s older sister, Susanne Bruck, born in 1904, in an era where families were large. I eventually learned in 2014 when I visited the “Archiwum Państwowe w Katowicach Oddział w Raciborzu” (“State Archives in Katowice Branch in Raciborz”) that another sibling had been born in 1900 (Figure 22) who died in infancy the next year (Figure 23), named Walter Bruck. I was able to retrieve both his birth and death certificates among the civil records archived at the Archiwum Państwowe. Thus, the discovery of Walter Bruck’s name on Microfilm 1184447 was confirmation he was once buried in the Jüdischer Friedhof Ratibor.
Among the photos that Mr. Kazimierz Świetliński took at the former Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor before it was demolished is one showing the “Kindergräber,” children’s graves. (Figure 24) As readers can see, the children’s names on some of the headstones can be made out, though most are indecipherable. Interestingly, there is a separate index on Microfilm 1184447, entitled “Großer kinderfriedhof,” big children’s cemetery (Figure 25), with the names of older children buried in the Jewish Cemetery. Infants may have been interred in graves identified only by number, as I discovered in the Weißensee Jewish Cemetery in Berlin.
As a tedious exercise for another day, which I started while researching and writing this post, is cross-checking the names on Microfilm 1184447 with those on the Excel spreadsheet. Some names on Microfilm 1184447 are not in the Excel database, while others are found in both. Preliminarily, I was able to amend death dates or years in the Excel directory, which, as previously mentioned, was compiled from photos, some of which are indistinct.
In closing, I would say one final thing. Based on the Excel index I obtained years ago, I mistakenly concluded then that none of my Bruck relatives had ever been interred in the Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor, even though I knew some died there when the cemetery was still in use. However, with the benefit of the information I recently acquired from the Jewish records on Microfilm 1184447, I am certain that at least three relatives with the Bruck surname were once buried there. And, this discovery was spurred by helping a reader learn about one of his relatives, a case of helping yourself by aiding others, a most satisfying outcome!
Note: In this post, I discuss a German Baron my uncle Dr. Fedor Bruck befriended in a displaced persons camp in West Berlin while awaiting passage to America in 1947, a gentleman with whom my uncle had much in common and who went on to parlay a small investment in the stock market into more than $500,000 by the time he died. I also review the circumstances that led my uncle to immigrate to the United States after spending 30 months in hiding in Berlin eluding the Nazis, then being permitted to take over Hitler’s dentist’s office following WWII.
My uncle Dr. Fedor Bruck has been the subject of multiple earlier posts which are among my most popular chronicles. I encourage interested readers to peruse these earlier written accounts to familiarize themselves with the broad outlines of my uncle’s life. For the purposes of this post, however, let me provide a brief review.
My uncle owned his own dental practice in Liegnitz, Germany [today: Legnica, Poland] (Figure 1), in the Prussian province of Silesia, until April 1936, when he was forced to shutter his business by the Nazis. He relocated to Berlin, where he was able to resume work for a time, initially working for himself (Figures 2a-b), then later working under the auspices of a non-Jewish dentist. In October 1942, my uncle was ordered by the Nazi authorities to report to an age transport; realizing this meant deportation to a concentration camp and eventual death, he went into hiding. With the help of non-Jewish relatives and acquaintances, “silent heroes,” my uncle survived underground for 30 months until the fall of Berlin in early May 1945. It is estimated that fewer than 5,000 Jews survived concealment in Germany during WWII.
When my uncle had his own dental practice in Liegnitz, one of his dental assistants was Käthe Heusermann née Reiss (Figure 3), a woman of some later recognition; after my uncle Fedor was forced to close his business, she too relocated to Berlin and wound up obtaining a similar position as dental assistant for Adolf Hitler’s American-trained dentist, Dr. Hugo Blaschke (Figure 4), an early member of the National Socialist party. As Dr. Blaschke’s assistant, Käthe Heusermann was always in attendance when der Führer had very distinctive yet outdated dental work performed on him at a special private office Dr. Blaschke was assigned in the Reich Chancellery; Dr. Blaschke’s private business office was located at Kurfürstendamm 213 in the district of Charlottenburg, the boulevard considered the Champs-Élysées of Berlin; this building still stands today. (Figure 5)
As I explained to readers in Post 31, there is very clear evidence that because of their previous relationship and friendship Käthe Heusermann sheltered and hid my uncle for brief periods during his 30 months underground during WWII; she also gave him special rations and extra food vouchers she received as a member of the Führer’s extended staff, at great personal danger. Thus, throughout my uncle’s time in hiding during the war, he was periodically in touch with Käthe. This becomes relevant after the Russians occupied Berlin, and, by my uncle’s own account, he made his way to her apartment at Pariserstrasse 39-40 (Figures 6a-b):
“On April 26, 1945, Steglitz, in the southwestern part of the city [Berlin], was occupied by the Russians. Behind the advancing troops, I arrived, on May 4th, in the apartment of my former assistant Käthe Heusermann. This apartment was situated at Pariserstrasse 39-40 near Kurfürstendamm. A friendship of twenty years tied my person and the family of Käthe Heusermann. Käthe was alone in the bomb-damaged apartment and was very upset and confused. She had only returned to her apartment the day before, May 3rd, having spent the time before that in the Air Shelter in the Reich Chancellery.“
Käthe Heusermann related the events to my uncle of what had occurred at the Reich Chancellery as the Allies encircled Berlin in the waning days of the war, and how Adolf Hitler and Eva Braun had committed suicide (see Post 31 for the complete account in my uncle’s words). Following the fall of Berlin, Käthe Heusermann advised my uncle to obtain permission from the pertinent authorities to take over Dr. Blaschke’s dental practice. His dental office was intact, and Dr. Blaschke had already fled to Obersalzburg, so was unlikely to return. As a person persecuted by the Nazis, my uncle had a right to make this claim. The authorities did in fact grant my uncle permission to take over Dr. Blaschke’s apartment and practice at Kurfürstendamm 213 in Charlottenburg; as discussed in Post 17, post-WWII Address Directories from 1946 (Figure 7), 1947, and 1948 locate my uncle at this address. My uncle’s knowledge of the events surrounding Hitler’s fate stem primarily from his friendship with Käthe Heusermann, but also from his occupancy of Dr. Blaschke’s dental office following WWII.
According to my uncle’s account, following his tenancy of Dr. Blaschke’s dental premises, he was visited on a few occasions by Russian counter-intelligence agents:
“. . .On Wednesday, May 9th, 1945, I met a Russian Lieutenant Colonel in the building, as well as woman in uniform and a gentleman in mufti, as they inquired from the Superintendent as to the whereabouts of Blaschke. As I learned later, they were the deputy military governor of Berlin, a female agent of the Russian secret police, and a certain Doctor Arnaudow, who had been assistant at the Berlin Charité with “Geheimrat Sauerbruch” [“Geheimrat Sauerbruch” is a successful and respected physician]. The latter was a Bulgarian and had brought the Russians who were looking for Hitler’s dentist . . .; furthermore, he acted as interpreter, although the agent of the Russian Secret Police, who called herself “Lola,” spoke a little German.”
As I eventually learned, “Lola,” was a 26-year-old Jewish woman named Yelena Rzhevskaya (Figure 8), born Elena Moiseyevna Kagan in Belarus in 1919, who was travelling with the Soviet vanguard when they entered the center of Berlin on April 29, 1945. She was a military interpreter for SMERSH, the Soviet counter-intelligence agency. Like my uncle, she was a witness to events and findings about Hitler’s fate, corroborating much of what my uncle knew and later reported. As the Soviet forces advanced through Berlin, Rzhevskaya’s unit was tasked with finding people who could provide information on Hitler’s whereabouts. It is only in 2018 that an English version of Yelena Rzhevskaya’s memoir, “Memoirs of a Wartime Interpreter: From the Battle for Moscow to Hitler’s Bunker,” was published and that mention of her role in helping identify Hitler’s teeth was made.
Thus, in 1945, what led “Lola,” Yelena Rzhevskaya, to visit my uncle Fedor at Dr. Blaschke’s former dental offices was her search for information about Hitler’s fate. While questioning my uncle, Elena and the Russian authorities would learn about and eventually interrogate Käthe Heusermann and Fritz Echtmann, Blaschke’s dental technician, about their respective roles during Hitler’s dental procedures and their knowledge of his whereabouts; Käthe identified Hitler’s dental bridge for the Russians confirming his death, a fact the Soviets kept hidden for many years. Käthe and Fritz’s familiarity with Hitler’s fate would eventually result in both being abducted by the Russians and imprisoned in Russia until around 1955, a few years after Stalin died in March 1953. It served Stalin’s expansionist goals to have the world believe that Hitler had survived WWII and was an existential danger to the world, thus the need to remove from the scene anyone who could refute his narrative. It is precisely for this same reason that my uncle was in danger of being spirited away by the Russians, namely, because of his indirect knowledge of Hitler’s fate.
My uncle was alerted by the American post-war occupation forces who now controlled Charlottenburg, the Berlin district where Dr. Blaschke had once had his dental practice and where my uncle now lived and worked, that he was in danger of being snatched by the Russian intelligence services. Realizing they would eventually track him down wherever he hid and having already received a visa for the United States, my uncle abandoned his profession. Like my father, he would never again practice dentistry. Thus, began the next phase in my uncle’s life.
The precise date on which my uncle left Berlin is unknown to me. However, he wrote an affidavit in November 1966 in the matter of a probate hearing on behalf of the estate of Wolfram E. von Pannwitz, a German Baron he met in June 1947 in West Berlin, providing a general timeframe for when he departed Germany. My uncle and Mr. von Pannwitz befriended one another that month in a displaced persons camp where they had been assembled awaiting passage to the United States. Both left for America on the 8th of July 1947 aboard the “Marine Marlin” from Bremen, Germany, and arrived in New York City on the 17th of July 1947 (Figures 9-10a-b); the two would remain friends until von Pannwitz died in New York City in 1966. (Figure 11)
Wolfram E. von Pannwitz was born on the 7th of July 1889 in Botzanowitz, Prussia [today: Bodzanowice, Poland], approximately 84 miles northeast of Leobschutz, Prussia [today:Głubczyce, Poland], where my uncle was born in 1895. Beyond both having been born in Upper Silesia, my uncle and von Pannwitz shared other things in common; they were close in age, only six years separated them; both were from the upper class; both were veterans of WW; both were victims of the Nazis; and both were anti-fascist.
Von Pannwitz was a Lutheran member of the Prussian nobility, who had been a captain in the German Army during WWI. In the early 1930’s, von Pannwitz operated a large garage business and dealt in fuel in Berlin. Not wishing to join the Nazi party, he went to Paris to live between 1937 and 1939. He was forced to return to Berlin, having been declared an “enemy alien” by the French, although he was able to use family influence to return to Paris. Once returned, he became involved with the movement that attempted to assassinate Hitler on July 20, 1944, an ultimately unsuccessful effort that forced him to go into hiding.
Wolfram von Pannwitz had a younger sister, “Else Petrea, Magda, Ernestine, Ottilie, Leonie, Gertrud,” born on the 19th of February 1893, also in Botzanowitz, Prussia. (Figure 12) He married Clara Virginia Rohde on the 18th of October 1920 in Berlin, a short-lived marriage that ended on the 28th of February 1922 and produced no children. (Figures 13a-b) He remarried Frida Mueller in 1931, who died of cancer in 1934, another childless marriage.
Let me briefly digress. During this Covid-19 pandemic we are currently living through that requires most of us to self-quarantine, I have spent countless hours listening to webinars on an investment service to which I am subscribed. In this context, an interesting fact about Mr. von Pannwitz caught my attention. Investing largely in aircraft stocks, he parlayed $15,000 he saved in 1948 and 1949 into $500,000 by the time he died in 1966. I find this interesting on multiple levels. He was heavily invested in the stock market long before this was commonplace, and seemingly followed a path to building his wealth by buying and holding stocks, a strategy the investment service I follow also subscribes to. He was also invested in a segment of the market, airlines, which have largely fallen out of favor, for obvious reasons, during the current pandemic.
Wolfram von Pannwitz died on the 28th of January 1966 in St. Vincent’s Hospital. At the time he lived modestly in a $23-a-week 9-by 12-foot room in the Hotel Seville on Madison Avenue (Figure 14), known today as the “James New York-NoMad.” His death made the news (Figure 15), including the New York Times, because he left his $500,000 estate equally to Cardinal Spellman of St. Patrick’s Cathedral and the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, “HIAS.” While Mr. Pannwitz was not Jewish, his bestowal to HIAS was his way of showing gratitude to his Jewish friends for their professional and personal help during his life. His bequest to the St. Patrick’s Cathedral was, in his own words, to thank them for the “. . .strength and power [they gave him] to accomplish the hard struggle for this life.”
Interestingly, Mr. von Pannwitz typed his will, dated the 4th of September 1958, on a conventional printed form. In the will, he stated “all my relatives, near or remote, shall be excluded from my inheritance, there being special reasons for this direction.” While none of the contemporary newspaper accounts discuss these “special reasons,” I know from my uncle’s November 1966 affidavit that upon Mr. von Pannwitz’s mother’s death, Gertrud von Pannwitz née Scholz in 1957, he was cheated out of his inheritance by his younger sister.
Based on surviving correspondence in my possession, sadly, Cardinal Spellman and the Catholic Church reached an out-of-court settlement with Wolfram’s sister, Elsa Petrea Reymann née von Pannwitz, after she contested the will. In the back-and-forth correspondence between my uncle Fedor and one of Mr. von Pannwitz’s friends in California, both expressed outrage that she managed to obtain any part of her brother’s estate.
This would likely have been particularly galling to Mr. von Pannwitz given that he was estranged from his sister and because of his family’s connections to the Nazi regime. A certain Helmuth von Pannwitz (14th October 1898-16th January 1947) (Figure 16), also born in Botzwanowitz, Prussia and likely one of Wolfram’s cousins, was a German general; he fought in both world wars. In WWII, he was in command of a battle group assigned to cover the southern flank in the battle of Stalingrad, where he wiped out a Soviet cavalry brigade, a Soviet cavalry division, and an enemy infantry division. Later, Helmuth von Pannwitz established a Cossack volunteer force, the 1st Cossack Division, which fought against freedom fighters in the Ukraine and Belorussia, before eventually fighting partisans commanded by Tito in Yugoslavia. During punitive operations in Serbia and Croatia, the Cossack regiments under Pannwitz’s command committed several atrocities against the civilian population, including mass rapes and routine summary executions. In 1947, the same year that Wolfram immigrated to America, Helmuth was executed by the Russians for these war crimes.
REFERENCE
Rzhevskaya, Yelena. “Memoirs of a Wartime Interpreter: From the Battle for Moscow to Hitler’s Bunker.” 2018. Greenhill Books. London.
Note: In this post, I walk readers through the steps they can follow for using the United Kingdom’s “General Register Office” database to locate some of their ancestors who may have immigrated to the UK either during the Nazi era or before. I provide as a case example people from my own Jewish family I was able to track down, and vital documents I was able to obtain for some of them.
The dispersion of my Jewish relatives following the 1933 Nazi takeover in Germany has led me to search for evidence of my ancestors and their descendants in multiple countries around the world, obviously, Germany and Poland, but also Italy, France, Czech Republic, Spain, Switzerland, Greece, United Kingdom, China (Shanghai), Australia, Brazil, Bolivia, Chile, Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic, Canada, and the United States. I have no doubt, as I expand my ancestral inquiries, this list will grow.
Much of what I will discuss below has generally been covered in Post 68 and the postscript to that installment. Still, I thought that for those readers who can trace some of their Jewish, as well as non-Jewish, ancestors to the United Kingdom, they may find some value in having the information consolidated in one post. Readers may find themselves in the same position I initially found myself where their ancestral searches begin and end with what they can locate on ancestry.com or MyHeritage. Often, however, this is merely the first step in obtaining copies of vital documents if you recognize these might be available from what you discover on these platforms.
In Post 68, I discussed Dr. Julius Bruck (1840-1902), my first cousin thrice removed from Breslau, Germany: [today: Wrocław, Poland], a dentist renowned for his influence on modern endoscopy. During my investigations into his family, I became interested in tracking down the descendants of the four children he had with his wife, Bertha Bruck née Vogelsdorf (1843-1917), particularly those of his youngest child, Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck (1872-1937). (Figure 1)
The remainder of this post will be focused primarily on explaining to readers how my involved search into Walter Wolfgang Bruck’s family unfolded. I began by searching for “Walter Bruck” in ancestry.com’s “Eastern Prussian Provinces, Germany [Poland], Selected Civil Vitals, 1874-1945 (Östliche preußische Provinzen, Polen, Personenstandsregister 1874-1945)” database. Here I located Walter Wolfgang Bruck’s death certificate indicating he had died on the 31st of March 1937 in Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]; his wife, Johanna Elisabeth Margarete Graebsch, is named on Walter’s death certificate. (Figure 2)
My membership to the Jewish Genealogical Society of Los Angeles (JGSLA) gives me access to the ancestral search platform MyHeritage, so in the context of writing Post 68 on Dr. Julius Bruck, I searched there for Johanna Bruck née Graebsch. I came across a “German Minority Census, 1939” form (Figure 3), which, oddly, is only found on MyHeritage, not on ancestry.com. This form indicated that “Johanna Bruck (born Graebsch)” was born on the 10th of April 1884 in Wrocław, Poland; resided there in May 1939; and lived with her daughter, Renate Bruck, who was 12 years of age at the time. Given that Johanna and Renate Bruck were still in Germany at a precarious time, I became curious what might have happened to them. Naturally, the first place I checked was Yad Vashem’s “Central Database of Shoah Victim’s Names”; while I was very relieved not to find their names there, initially I could find no evidence of what may have happened to them or where they may have wound up.
I then began to search family trees on ancestry.com for both Johanna and Renate Bruck, and, coincidentally, found them on Dr. Frank Thomas Koch’s tree (Figures 4a-b), one of my German fourth cousins who is more closely related to this branch of the Bruck family; it included not only Johanna and Renate’s names, but the name of another of Walter and Johanna Bruck’s daughters, Hermine Johanna Elisabeth Bruck, who died in infancy in 1924. Interestingly, my cousin’s tree indicated that Renate Bruck may have died in 1948. Curious as to the source of all this information, I contacted Thomas. He explained this comes from the Charlotte Cramer-Sachs Family Collection archived at the Leo Baeck Institute (LBI); I was easily able to track down the source of this data from the LBI’s website and confirmed that Renate Bruck’s death is indeed noted as 1948. (Figure 5) As readers will learn, this is an error.
Thomas explained that in 1939 the Nazi regime conducted a census of German citizens to segregate Aryan versus non-Aryan citizens; this census recorded names, dates of birth, places of birth, racial descent or extraction, and addresses. People were designated as 100% Aryan, 100% Jewish, or “mixed,” 50% Jewish. This census recorded Johanna Bruck née Graebsch as 100% Aryan and her daughter as 50% Jewish, thus subject to discrimination.
By 1944, people of “mixed” descent were forced to do hard labor. To avoid this, according to Thomas, there is evidence that Johanna and Renate Bruck relocated to Erfurt, Germany from Breslau by 1944 or earlier. Thomas told me there is further evidence that in 1948, a woman, possibly a neighbor, by the name of Ms. Edith Czeczatka, initiated a search with the German Red Cross, giving Johanna and Renate’s last known address in Erfurt, Dammweg 9 (Figure 6), trying to learn what happened to them. By then, Johanna and Renate no longer lived in Erfurt, and the German Red Cross could provide no further clues as to their fates. This is where things stood when I began to search for them.
Thomas provided one obscure clue that was ultimately instrumental in unraveling where Johanna and Renate wound up, namely, that they may have immigrated to England. I did a query for “Renate Bruck” on ancestry and came upon a marriage register listing for a “Renate S. G. Bruck” and a “Harry E. Graham” in Willesden, Middlesex, United Kingdom in October 1948. (Figures 7a-b) “Bruck” or “Brook” are not uncommon names in England, so I had no way to know whether this was the elusive Bruck relative I was searching for. As readers can confirm, this register only lists the names and years persons married with no other vital data.
Having never previously needed to access vital records from the United Kingdom, I turned to my friend Ms. Madeleine Isenberg who volunteers with JGSLA for assistance. Madeleine told me to check the United Kingdom’s “General Register Office (GRO)” database. Registering as a user is straight-forward. Go to their website and click on “Register as an Individual.” (Figure 8)
Once you are logged in, you have multiple options. (Figure 9) For Renate Bruck and Harry Graham, I was interested in ordering their marriage certificate so selected “Place an Order.” The following screen allowed me to select where the event was registered, thus for Renate and Harry, in “England or Wales” as a marriage in 1948 (Figure 10); I filled in the appropriate information, checked the “I know the GRO reference number” (i.e., readers will observe from the October 1948 register that I have circled the District, Volume, and Page number on which the original marriage record for Renate S. G. Bruck and Harry E. Graham can be found). Then, on the next screen, “Application for an England and Wales marriage registration record,” I entered this information and the names of the spouses. I filled in the “Service Options,” provided payment information and submitted my request. Certificates cost between 11- and 14-Pounds Sterling (i.e., ~$13.75 to 14.50), and typically arrive within three to four weeks.
The marriage certificate for Renate S.G. Bruck and Harry E. Graham corroborated what I suspected, namely, that Renate was indeed the daughter of Dr. Walter Bruck, identified as a Doctor and Professor of Dentistry. (Figure 11) The certificate provided a wealth of additional information and names I was able to follow up on. Renate’s full name was “Renate Stephanie Gertrude Bruck,” and her husband was “Henry Ernst Graham.” Henry’s father was Hermann Gradenwitz (1876-1940), showing Henry had anglicized his surname to “Graham.” Both Renate and her husband had previously been married, Renate to a man named Eugen Walter Mehne, and Harry to a woman named Ruth Philipsborn (1914-2003); Henry and his first wife Ruth, I later discovered, married in 1935 in London indicating Henry had already emigrated from Germany by this time. Renate and Henry were married in the presence of a Marie Luise Gradenwitz (1881-1955), whom I later confirmed was Henry’s mother, née Mugdan. Curiously, Hermann Gradenwitz is buried with a Leo Mugdan, possibly his brother-in-law, as readers may be able to detect from their headstone. (Figure 12)
From ancestry.com and MyHeritage, I learned more about Renate and her family. Renate’s first husband, Eugen Walter Mehne, is initially listed in a 1908 Breslau Address Book showing he was an instrumentenmacher, an instrument maker; he is listed in a Breslau Address Book as late as 1939, and by then is a geigenbauer, violin maker. I recently found a fleeting but unattributed reference on a family tree that Renate and this Eugen Mehne married in 1945, place unspecified.
I have been unable to learn when or where Eugen was born or died, although the fact that he was already in business in 1908, 18 years before Renate was even born, proves she married an older man. Similarly, her second husband, Harry Ernst Graham (aka Heinrich Gradenwitz), was significantly older when they married in 1948, he was 43 and she only 22. Harry, I discovered, was born on the 8th of November 1904 in Berlin, and died on the 7th of March 1959 in London.
Having confirmed that Renate Bruck was in fact the daughter of Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck, I next turned my attention to Renate’s mother. Assuming she had survived the war, I surmised she too may have immigrated to England. In MyHeritage, I found a “Johanna M.E. Bruck” living in Barnet, Hertfordshire, England, born around 1885, who died between January and March 1963, at the age of 78 (Figures 13a-b); I already knew that the Johanna Bruck was born on the 10th of April 1884, so the difference by one year I deemed insignificant. I checked the distance between Willesden, where Renate Bruck married in 1948, and Barnet, where this Johanna Bruck died, and found it was only 44 km apart, or 27 miles, so it was reasonable to assume these people might be related.
By this time, I was virtually positive that Johanna M. E. Bruck was Renate’s mother. I returned to the GRO database and searched for her among the death records for the first quarter of 1963. I found her listed and ordered her death certificate. It arrived a few weeks later and confirmed that Johanna was indeed the widow of Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck; she died of ovarian cancer that resulted in early cardiac failure. (Figure 14)
Next, I tried to figure out when Renate Bruck might have died. In ancestry.com, I uncovered evidence of yet a third individual she had wed, a man named Gary Newman whom she married in 1956. (Figures 15a-b) A family tree in ancestry indicated Renate Newman had died in England on the 3rd of March 2013. With an actual year of death, I was able to locate a death certificate in the GRO database corresponding to this lady. I ordered a copy of this document, as well. Any doubt I might have had that this was Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck’s daughter was dispelled when I saw the maiden name “Bruck” on the certificate with her known date of birth, the 16th of June 1926. (Figure 16) Her cause of death was specified as esophageal cancer. She had been an interior designer during her working years, while her husband had been a commodity broker.
At the time of Renate’s death in 2013, her son, Nicholas Francis David Newman, was attendant. Thinking I might finally have found a living descendant of the esteemed Dr. Julius Bruck from Breslau, I first tried looking for him in the GRO database but discovered the index of historic births ends in 1916. The database includes death records until 1957, and, then again between 1984 to the present; oddly, death records between 1957 and 1991 are not available. Regardless, knowing Nicholas Newman was still alive when his mother passed away in 2013, I searched death records for the few years postdating this year. Not expecting to find anything, I was astonished to discover he died in 2015 (registered in February 2016) at only 55 years of age. Sadly, Nicholas Newman’s death certificate stated he committed suicide and no next-of-kin were named (Figure 17), so any hopes I had of possibly finding a living descendant of the esteemed Dr. Julius Bruck have been dashed, at least temporarily. I am still trying to ascertain whether Renate Bruck might have had additional children with her third husband, or possibly children by her second husband, Harry Graham.
There is one additional search engine I want to bring to readers attention that I stumbled upon. It is entitled “FreeBMD” (Figure 18), which is an ongoing project, the aim of which is to transcribe the Civil Registration index of births, marriages and deaths for England and Wales using the GRO database, and to provide free Internet access to the transcribed records. It is a part of the “Free UK Genealogy family,” which also includes “FreeCEN” (Census data) and “FreeREG” (Parish Registers). My suggestion when using FreeBMD is to only enter a surname and check “All” under “Type” of vital records being sought; this will result in the broadest possible list of names. I have used FreeBMD to search for other family members who wound up in England and found it to be useful when I only have a name and no dates or GRO reference number to work with.
