Author: richardbrook@bruckfamilyblog.com

POST 3, POSTSCRIPT: DR. OTTO BRUCK & TIEGENHOF: THE “SCHLUMMERMUTTER”

Note:  This article provides an update to my Blog post of August 2017 about “Die Schlummermutter,” the landlady and owner of the building on Markstraße 8 in Tiegenhof where my father had his dental practice and lived.

Figure 1-“Die Schlummermutter” with an unidentified child in Tiegenhof

Readers may recall the frustration I expressed in my original post about being unable to figure out who exactly the Schlummermutter was.  I explained the lengths to which I went to ascertain her identity, and how I eventually learned from three Tiegenhof “old-timers” that her married name had been Ms. Grete Gramatzki, and that she’d been referred to as “Dicke Grete” (“Fat Grete”), because of her size; no one, however, could tell me her maiden name. (Figure 1)

Figure 2-Signet ring with Gramatzki coat of arms given by “Die Schlummermutter” to my father that once belonged to her husband

Upon my father’s departure from Tiegenhof, roughly in mid-1937, Ms. Gramatzki gave my father a signet ring that had once belonged to her husband.  The main element of the coat of arms on the ring shows a sloped battle axe embedded in a shield on what was once a red background, today only very faintly visible. (Figure 2)  The Gramatzki family is Polish aristocracy of the so-called Topór tribe or clan, once living around Preußisch Eylau [today: south of Kaliningrad, Russia].  And, in fact comparing the ring’s coat of arms to that of the Topór tribe shows them to be remarkably similar. (Figure 3)  Thus, in searching for Ms. Gramatzki’s origins, I kept looking for a baronial connection which I was unable to find.  To remind readers what I wrote in my original post:

 

Figure 3-The Topór tribe or clan’s coat of arms, closely resembling that of the Gramatzki family

“I came across a gentleman, named ‘August Archibald von Gramatzki’ born in 1837 who died in May 1913 in Danzig, within the period I am seeking, who coincidentally was married to a ‘Margarethe Clara von Gramatzki, née Mönch’ born January 7, 1871, seemingly about the Schlummermutter’s age.  By all measures, this would have seemed a perfect fit, since this Archibald von Gramatzki was a Baron with long-standing connections to nearby-Danzig, first as the District Administrator (Landrat) for ‘Kreis Danzig-Land’ from 1867 to 1887, and, after it was subdivided, for ‘Kreis Danziger Niederung,’ from 1887-1895.  The only thing that belies this conclusion is that in 1937, the year my father left Tiegenhof for good, a birthday party was held in the Schlummermutter’s honor on the 13th of June.” 

This is where I left off in the original post. 

Figure 4-Grete Gramatzki surrounded by two friends on her birthday, June 13, 1937, in Tiegenhof

I’ve previously mentioned that periodically readers send me documents, photos and/or information related to my Blog posts.  Recently, one reader suggested I register for a German Forum, “Forum.Danzig.de,” discussed in Post 29, which devotes an entire section to Tiegenhof.  In my first post after registering I asked members for their help in learning more about “Die Schlummermutter.”  People were exceptionally helpful, and a few members uncovered a different “Margarete” married to yet another member of the Gramatzki family.  This lady also seemed a possible candidate, but, once again, her date of birth did not match that of Die Schlummermutter, June 13th.  Given my father’s penchant for exactitude, I never contemplated that because my father would soon be leaving Tiegenhof for good that he and Ms. Gramatzki’s friends would move her birthday celebration forward.  If my father wrote June 13th as Grete’s birthday, I knew this was her date of birth. (Figure 4)

Several days passed with no further developments.  Then, Mr. Peter Hanke, the Forum member discussed in Post 29 who has been of enormous help, sent me a very poor copy of a marriage record between a “HANS ERICH GRAMATZKI” and a “MARGARETHA WILHELMINE GLEIXNER” that took place on October 4, 1919; at the time of their marriage, Erich Gramatzki was 40, born around 1879, and Margaretha Gleixner was 34, born around 1885, thus, within the general time-frame I was searching.  Peter uncovered this marriage record in “archion.de,” a web portal of the German Protestant Lutheran Church, to which he’s subscribed.  Without Peter’s help, it’s unlikely I would have stumbled upon this record on my own. 

This Margaretha began to appear like a “viable” candidate.  And, this was confirmed the next day when Peter sent me additional documentation from the registry of baptisms from Tiegenhof’s Protestant Church for the year 1885.  Here, Peter found Margaretha Wilhelmine Gleixner listed, identifying her parents as GUSTAV THEODOR GLEIXNER and his wife AUGUSTA née KINDER, and, most importantly, giving her birthday as the 13th of June, just as my father had asserted; Margaretha was baptized on the 26th of July, with four godparents present, including an uncle named RICHARD GLEIXNER. (Figures 5a, 5b & 5c)

Figure 5a-Margaretha Wilhelmine Gleixner’s (“Die Schlummermutter”) baptism record dated the 26th July 1885 showing her birthday as June 13th

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Figure 5b-Margaretha Wilhelmine Gleixner’s (“Die Schlummermutter”) baptism record dated the 26th July 1885 showing her date of birth as June 13th

 

 

 

 

 

 

Figure 5c-Margaretha Wilhelmine Gleixner’s (“Die Schlummermutter”) baptism record dated the 26th July 1885 showing her date of birth as June 13th

 

 

 

 

 

 

Figure 6-Marriage record between a “Hans Erich Gramatzki” and “Margaretha Wilhelmine Gleixner” dated October 4, 1919

Having finally discovered the Schlummermutter’s maiden name after years of searching was exhilarating.  Next, I turned to ancestry.com and found a surprising number of historic documents related to the Gramatzki and Gleixner families.  I found copies of both documents Peter had sent me, including a more legible copy of the marriage register. (Figure 6)  I learned Margaretha’s father-in-law, KARL ADOLF GRAMATZKI, had been a “kornmeister,” a grain operator dealing in cereals who also kept the books.  Margaretha’s father, Gustav Theodor Gleixner, had been a dye-house owner, and her husband, Hans Erich Gramatzki, a general practitioner.  I located Hans Erich Gramatzki’s birth certificate showing he was born on August 10, 1879. (Figure 7)  For the Gleixner family, I partially reconstructed five generations ranging from the late 18th century to the early 20th century, while for the Gramatzki family I found three generations of relatives.  This included the birth register for Richard Hermann Gleixner, Margaretha’s godfather and uncle, who I learned was born on July 14, 1861.

Figure 7-Hans Erich Gramatzki’s birth certificate showing he was born the 10th of August 1879

 

Figure 8-1910 Tiegenhof Address Book with Dr. Erich Gramatzki’s listing

After confirming the names of Margaretha’s father, uncle, and husband, I searched for them in the various Tiegenhof Address Books (i.e., 1910, 1911, 1925, 1927-28, 1930, and 1943).  An Erich Gramatzki is listed in the 1910 and 1911 directories (Figure 8), then again in the 1930 directory (Figure 9), in all instances identified as a “prakt. Arzt [= praktikumer Arzt],” or general practitioner.  In 1910 and 1911 he is living on Vorhofstraße, and in 1930 at Markstraße 8.  When I wrote the initial post, I was uncertain whether Erich Gramatzki was related to Grete Gramatzki, but he was clearly her future husband.  Finding him living at Markstraße 8 in 1930 confirms their relationship, and suggests he was still alive at the time.  By the time my father arrived in Tiegenhof in 1932, Erich may have been dead, but since there are no known Tiegenhof Address Books between 1930 and 1943, I can’t confirm this.

Figure 9-1930 Tiegenhof Address Book listing Dr. Erich Gramatzki and the “Firma Gramatzki u. Epp”

 

Figure 10-1925 Tiegenhof Address Book showing Margaretha’s father, Gustav Gleixner, living at Markstraße 8

The 1925 and 1930 address books show Margaretha’s father, Gustav Gleixner, living at Markstraße 8 (Figures 10 & 11); this is the building later owned by the Schlummermutter where my father lived and had his dental practice.  Two Richard Gleixners are also listed, one a bäckermeister, a baker, the other a rentier, an archaic German word for “a well-off person or pensioner,” both located at Bahnhofstraße 153.  Initially, I thought they were the same person because of the identical street address, but now think they are nephew and uncle.

 

Figure 11-1930 Tiegenhof Address Book listing various Gleixner family members

Curious as to whether the edifice where the bakery was located still exists, I asked Peter whether a contemporary street map of Tiegenhof with numbered buildings exists.  Peter made an interesting discovery while looking for such a map.  In Günter Jeglin’s book “TIEGENHOF und der Kreis Großes Werder in Bildern,” there is a picture whose caption in German reads as follow:

 “Vor dem Haus Schlenger stehend, ein Blick in die Bahnhofstraße.  Links: Haus Herm. Schulz, Otto Enders, Klizke-Bäcker Gleixner, wie seine Schwester, die Dicke Grete Gramatzki, ihn nannte.  Rechts: der um 1900 erbaute Machandel-Speicher, dahinter Haus Labowski, der hohe Giebel Welnitz/Gertler.”

Translated: “Looking down Bahnhofstraße from the front of the Schlenger house. To the left: House of Herm. Schulz, Otto Enders, Klizke-baker Gleixner, as his sister, fat Grete Gramatzki, referred to him. To the right: The Machandel store, built around 1900, the Labowski House, then the high gable, Welnitz/Gertner”

As explained to me, “klizke” or “klitzke” is a Low German expression for the nowadays better-known words “klitschig” or “klietschig,” meaning “doughy.”  This may imply the baker Gleixner was overweight like his sister, Dicke Grete Gramatzki. 

Figure 12-Richard Gleixner identified as a “Bäckermeister” (baker) and Ida Epp as a “Werderkaffeegeschäft” (coffee shop) in the 1943 Tiegenhof Address Book

Regardless, the caption provided the first revelation that Margaretha had a brother and that he was a baker.   Presumably, this was the Richard Gleixner listed as a “Bäckermeister” in the Tiegenhof address books for 1925, 1927-28, 1930 and 1943 (Figure 12), not to be confused with the uncle Richard Gleixner living at the same address who was by 1925 already a “rentier,” but formerly a baker too according to birth and/or death registers I found for three of his children.

 

 

Figure 13-Baptism register for Grete Gramatzki’s brother, Gustav Adolf Richard Gleixner, showing he was born on 20th June 1880

After learning of Margaretha’s brother, I found the registers for his baptism (Figure 13) and marriage (Figure 14), showing he was born as GUSTAV ADOLF RICHARD GLEIXNER on June 20, 1880, was baptized on August 1, 1880, was married to ELLA EMMA MARIE EICHNER in Berlin on April 5, 1905, and gave birth to URSULA CHARLOTTE GLEIXNER on September 14, 1919, with a different wife, WANDA GLEIXNER née FEDERAU.

 

Figure 14-Gustav Adolf Richard Gleixner & Ella Emma Marie Eichner’s marriage certificate showing they were wed on 5th of April 1905 in Berlin
Figure 15-1930 Tiegenhof Address Book showing that Margaretha Gramatzki owned a lingerie & handicraft business

In the 1930 Tiegenhof Address Book, I made another interesting discovery.  I found the following listing “GRAMATZKI und [=and] EPP, FIRMA MARGARETE.  SUSANNA, WÄSCHE UND HANDARBEITSGESCHÄFT [=Lingerie & handicraft business], MARKSTRAßE 8.” (Figures 9 & 15)  In Post 5, I assumed the two sisters, Idschi & Suse Epp, with whom my father had once been friends, had simply boarded in the same establishment as my dad.  Instead, it seems both had been business partners of the Schlummermutter; in the 1943 directory, only Ida Epp is listed at Adolf Hitler Straße 8, as Markstraße was known during the Nazi era (Figure 12), confirming that Grete Gramatzki was no longer alive (i.e., one informant told me she died in 1939 or 1940, although, to date, I’ve not located her death certificate).

Peter Hanke uncovered a fleeting reference on “Forum.Danzig” that even as a child Grete Gramatzki was overweight and already referred to as “die dicke Grete Gleixner,” the fat Grete Gleixner.

Readers are no doubt overwhelmed with the multitude of names that have been thrown at them.  Suffice it to say, that between the information collected and sent to me by Peter Hanke from “Forum.Danzig.de” and the various address books from Tiegenhof spanning from 1910 to 1943, I was incrementally able to ascertain the Schlummermutter’s maiden name and origin, as well as her family’s connection to Tiegenhof.  I remain optimistic that with more forensic investigation, I may ultimately be able to identify Grete Gramatzki’s family members in my father’s pictures.  This is a long-shot, but not impossible given where I started and what I’ve already learned.

 

POST 29: TIEGENHOF: UNRAVELLING THE “MYSTERY” OF HEINRICH “HEINZ” REGEHR

“The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.”—Oscar Wilde

Note:  This story has me going back to the town in the Free State of Danzig, Tiegenhof, where my father was a dentist between April 1932 and April 1937, to talk about a man whose destiny has remained opaque, a man named Heinrich “Heinz” Regehr.  Though I relate this tale in a linear fashion, the way I learned things did not follow a straight line.

Figure 1-Heinrich “Heinz” Regehr in Königsberg, East Prussia in April 1936, between Hans “Mochum” Wagner on the left and an unknown man on the right

For readers who have regularly followed my Blog, you may recall from Post 2 that my father’s now 94-year-old friend, Juergen “Peter” Lau, whom he first met in Tiegenhof as a young boy, recognized numerous people in my father’s photographs.  This story begins with one such identification, an individual named Heinrich “Heinz” Regehr.  The sole photograph of Heinz Regehr shows him walking across the street in the former East Prussian city of Königsberg (today: Kaliningrad, Russia) in April 1936, in the company of two other friends, one of whom is known to me, Hans “Mochum” Wagner discussed in Post 4. (Figure 1)  When Peter first identified Heinz Regehr, he told me his name, nothing more.

Figure 2-Page in my father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar with “Linchen Regehr’s” name by the date January 13th

In yet another post, Post 6, discussing the names in my father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar, under the date January 13th I mentioned finding a “Linchen Regehr,” who I would later learn was the wife of this Heinz Regehr. (Figure 2) Seemingly, the Regehrs, husband and wife, were friends or acquaintances of my father’s, so I became intrigued about what had happened to them.

Thus, upon my return to the United States in 2013, I turned to the membership index in the back of the “Tiegenhofer Nachrichten,” the now-defunct annual journal for former German residents of Tiegenhof and their descendants.  On multiple occasions over the years, the index of members has been immeasurably useful, in part because the maiden names of women are provided.  I used the index to identify all the people with the surname “Regehr,” and went on a letter-writing campaign in the hopes I could learn Heinz Regehr’s fate. 

One German lady to whom I wrote was a Ms. Anneliese Franzen née Regehr.  Some weeks passed, and eventually I was contacted on her behalf by her daughter living in Atlanta, Georgia, Ms. Meike Guenzerodt.  She explained to me that Heinz Regehr was her mother’s father, that’s to say, her grandfather, who had disappeared in fighting at the end of WWII and was presumed dead.

Ms. Guenzerodt provided a little history about the family’s escape from Tiegenhof towards the end of WWII.  Meike explained that Anneliese’s mother had been involuntarily institutionalized in a psychiatric facility outside Tiegenhof, and this delayed the family’s departure as the Russians were approaching.  Eventually, however, families of institutionalized patients were assured by German authorities their loved ones would be evacuated to Bremen, in the western part of Germany, before the Russians arrived.  With these assurances in hand, Anneliese’s grandfather took Anneliese and her two sisters and fled westward; at the time, Anneliese, the youngest, was six years old (born 1938); the middle sister, Evamarie, was 16 (born 1928); and the oldest, Lore, was 21 (born 1923).  Their father, Heinrich Regehr, was in the German Army at the time and they would eventually learn had gone missing in action in 1945 near Küstrin, 60 miles outside Berlin in the German state of Brandenburg, on the Oder River along the border with Poland.

The promised evacuations of the patients in the psychiatric facility never materialized, and the doctors and nurses decamped, leaving the inmates to fend for themselves.  With no staff to prevent them from wandering off, Anneliese’s mother made her way back to Tiegenhof.  There, a nurse found her wandering the streets and took her in, where she survived a mere three weeks before succumbing to disease in 1945.  After the war, the family was visited by this former nurse and learned of the mother’s fate.

Meike explained that because of the family’s hasty retreat from Tiegenhof, no family photos of Heinz Regehr had survived.  She asked whether I could send her a copy of my father’s picture of him for her mother, an entreaty I was most happy to oblige.

Believing I had resolved the question of Heinz Regehr’s fate, I set the issue aside.  In 2014, when I again visited Peter Lau in Germany, our conversation veered to Heinz, and I mentioned I’d learned he’d gone missing in action during the war and presumably died.  I can practically visualize Peter’s look of disbelief when I told him this.  He recounted that Heinz Regehr had in fact survived WWII, and eventually immigrated to Alberta, Canada.  He’d previously married Lina Regehr, following the death of her first husband, Franz Schlenger, a son of Otto Schlenger, owner of Tiegenhof’s Dampfmahlmuehle (steam-operated flour mill).  I would later learn from a descendant of Hedwig “Hedsch” Schlenger, to which Post 10 was devoted, that Lina and Heinz had had two boys, Henry Regehr, born in 1932, and Martin Regehr, born in 1940.

At this point, I started to wonder whether I’d uncovered the proverbial “skeleton in the family closet.”  I began to question if Heinz Regehr had not had two families, that’s to say, that he had somehow survived WWII.  With one wife, I knew he’d had three daughters born, respectively, in 1923, 1928 and 1938, and with Linchen Regehr, he’d apparently had two sons, born, respectively, in 1932 and 1940; the fact that he’d had his third daughter by his first wife between the time he had his two sons with his second wife troubled me greatly.  As implausible as this may seem, readers must remember that Anneliese had “affirmatively” identified her father, and Peter Lau had confirmed my father’s picture depicted Heinz Regehr.  Nonetheless, I never felt entirely comfortable with my conclusion, so I set the issue aside for future consideration as I continued researching other facets of my family’s history.

Figure 3-Heinrich & Lina Regehr’s older son, Henry Regehr, as a young boy in Tiegenhof in Hans “Mochum” Wagner’s class (Source: Günter Jeglin book “TIEGENHOF und der Kreis Großes Werder in Bildern”)

It wasn’t until I began writing stories for this Blog that I came back to the question of Heinz Regehr.  I turned to ancestry.com, and did a query on him, and, lo and behold, was directed to “Find-A-Grave,” which confirmed that Heinrich Regehr (1898-1965) and his wife, Lina Regehr (1901-1968), were buried in Mountain View Memorial Gardens in Alberta, Canada.  I also uncovered an obituary for the older of Heinrich and Lina Regehr’s sons, Henry Regehr (1932-2012). (Figure 3)  The obituary confirmed that Henry Regehr was born in Tiegenhof on June 11, 1932, and provided names of surviving family members, including a son named Robert Regehr.  Armed with this information, I turned to Alberta’s White Pages, and phoned several Regehrs who seemed promising.  A few days later, Henry’s son, Robert Regehr, returned my call and confirmed he was Heinrich Regehr’s grandson.  We exchanged information, he shared a little of his family’s story, and eventually he would confirm that my father’s picture was indeed his grandfather.  So, it now seemed I had the “proof” that Heinz had survived the war and immigrated to Canada, seemingly abandoning his first family.

Figure 4-Documentation from “Volksbund Deutsche” Kriegsgräberfürsorge e.V.” with information on Heinrich Regehr who went missing on March 1, 1945

Not wanting to leave any stone unturned, I tried to learn more about Anneliese Franzen’s father who’d gone missing in action during WWII, thinking there might be updated information or something to suggest it was a different Heinrich Regehr.  I discovered a German website (https://www.volksbund.de/en/volksbund.html) with data on German war casualties.  This organization describes itself as follows: “Volksbund Deutsche Kriegsgräberfürsorge e.V. is a humanitarian organization charged by the government of the Federal Republic of Germany with recording, maintaining and caring for the graves of German war casualties abroad.”  This website included the name of the Heinrich Regehr I presumed was Anneliese’s father, so I requested a copy of the documentation.  What I received confirmed what Anneliese’s daughter had told me, namely, that her grandfather had gone missing on March 1, 1945. (Figure 4)  An additional piece of information that Volksbund Deutsche provided was the date of birth of Heinrich Regehr, specifically, March 27, 1897.  While not necessarily significant, it differed by a year from what I’d discovered on “Find-A-Grave” for the Heinrich Regehr in Alberta.  Hoping to resolve this discrepancy, I contacted Alberta’s Provincial Government trying to obtain his death certificate but was told, not unexpectedly, only family members could obtain this document.

Figure 5-Page from 1927-28 Tiegenhof Address Book for the “Kreis Großes Werder,” including two listings for Heinrich Regehr

Within the past month, I again queried “Heinrich Regehr” on ancestry.com.  Because “Regehr” is a common Mennonite name, often tens of thousands or even millions of “hits” will appear.  Perhaps, because I’d never previously scrolled through enough of the names, on this particular occasion I was directed to an 1927-28 Address Book for the “Kreis Großes Werder,” the “kreis” or “state” (i.e, the equivalent of a county) in which Tiegenhof was located; I’d never previously come across this directory for Tiegenhof, a comprehensive one 23 pages long.  What I discovered gave me further pause.  It included two listings for Heinrich Regehr, one on Lindenstraße, the second on Schloßgrund. (Figure 5) However, knowing that Heinrich had been a “Bankbeamter,” or “bank official,” at the “Kreissparkaße,” or district savings bank, and knowing this bank had been located on “Schloßgrund,” I considered that the second listing might be his private residence.  By itself, this was still not enough to conclude there were two Heinrich Regehrs. 

A brief digression is necessary.  Occasionally readers will send me photographs or documents related to my Blog posts or provide other useful information.  One such reader recently suggested I register for a forum, entitled “Forum.Danzig.de,” which devotes an entire section to Tiegenhof.  Because this forum is in German and requires painstaking use of Google Translate, which in the case of German yields completely tortured transliterations, it took me time to sign up.  With an English-speaking member’s assistance, I eventually negotiated the process, and uploaded my first question.  While this forum has turned into an absolute boon, results of which will be presented in upcoming posts, in this post I want to focus on Heinrich Regehr.

The gentleman from “Forum. Danzig.de” who assisted me, Mr. Peter Hanke, has been gracious and helpful beyond measure.  In the span of less than two weeks, Peter has helped me solve no fewer than three thorny issues that have confounded me for several years, including the question of Heinrich Regehr.  Uncertain whether the Danzig Forum knew of the 1927-28 Address Book for the Kreis Großes Werder I’d discovered on ancestry.com, I offered to make the Tiegenhof portion of it available to members.  Peter confirmed the Forum’s awareness of this directory, then gave me a link to additional directories for Tiegenhof, which he offered to send.  After looking through the list, I asked him for two address books for landowners in Kreis Großes Werder, one for 1925, the other for 1930.

Figure 6-Page from 1925 Tiegenhof Address Book listing Heinrich Regehr on Lindenstraße

After receiving these address books, I searched for Heinrich Regehr, hoping, once and for all to resolve the question of whether I was dealing with one person or two.  Unlike the 1927-28 address book, the 1925 address book included only the one Heinrich Regehr listed at Lindenstraße, seemingly related to a Hermann Regehr, a “hofbesitzer,” or farm owner, and “getreidehandlung,” someone involved in crop treatment. (Figure 6)  The 1930 address book again included this Hermann Regehr, but also “Lina Regehr” at Vorhofstraße. (Figure 7) While unlikely, I briefly considered Heinrich had first been a farmer, then later gone into banking.  While I had no definitive answer, because Lina Regehr’s address was different, I became more certain there were two different Heinrichs.

Figure 7-Page from 1930 Tiegenhof Address Book listing Heinrich Regehr on Lindenstraße & Lina Regehr on Vorhofstraße

I mentioned in passing my quandary to Peter Hanke, and, unexpectedly, within a day he confirmed two Heinrich Regehrs had lived in Tiegenhof and provided the following information on each:

Heinrich REGEHR I (Figures 8a & 8b)

Business: Merchant

Rank: Unteroffizier (non-commissioned officer)

Date of birth: May 27, 1897

Place of birth: Neukirch [today: Nowa Cerkiew, Poland]

Address in Tiegenhof: Marienburgerstr. 14

Home State: Kreis Großes Werder

During WWII: Ground personnel in Elbing [today: Elbląg, Poland]

Missing in action since May 1, 1945 (somewhere near Küstrin/Reppen/West-Sternberg/Zorndorf)

Relatives: Father Hermann Regehr, born January 29, 1867

Figure 8a-“Heimatortskartei” for Heinrich Regehr I (front)
Figure 8b-“Heimatortskartei” for Heinrich Regehr I (back), listing Anneliese Franzen’s name

 

 

Heinrich REGEHR II (Figures 9a & 9b)

Date of birth: December 18, 1898

Place of birth: Rückenau [today: Rychnowo Żuławskie, Poland]

Address in Tiegenhof: Neue-Reihe 1-3

Business: Director of the Kreissparkaße

Immigrated to Canada after WWII: Calgary, Alberta

Wife: Lina, née ZULAUF widowed SCHLENGER

Children: Heini (Heinrich) (born June 11, 1932); Martin (born June 5, 1940)

Lina’s children by her first marriage: Brigitte SCHLENGER (born August 25, 1922 in Danzig-Langfuhr); Rudolf SCHLENGER (born October 11, 1923 in Neuteich)

Figure 9a-“Heimatortskartei” for Heinrich Regehr II (front)
Figure 9b-“Heimatortskartei” for Heinrich Regehr II (back) with Lina Regehr’s name and date of birth, along with those of her children by her two marriages

 

 

Surprised as to the speed with which Peter had confirmed the existence of two Heinrich Regehrs, born in consecutive years, living in Tiegenhof at the same time, I naturally asked where the data came from.  It was clear it didn’t originate from any Address Books.  Peter gave me a link to a free online catalog on FamilySearch entitled “Heimatortskartei Danzig-Westpreußen, 1939-1963,” a database whose existence was previously unknown to me.  This is a civil register of refugees from the former province of Danzig-Westpreußen, Germany, now Gdańsk and Bydgoszcz provinces in Poland.  Consisting of handwritten and typed index-sized cards, it was developed by the German Red Cross after WWII to help people find their families who’d been expelled from this region.  All the available cards have been photographed and uploaded to FamilySearch.

Figure 10a-“Heimatortskartei” for Hermann Regehr, Anneliese Franzen’s grandfather (front)
Figure 10b-“Heimatortskartei” for Hermann Regehr, Anneliese Franzen’s grandfather, listing the names & dates of birth of Anneliese and her siblings (back)

 

Figure 11-Obituary for Lore Schoel née Regehr, Anneliese Regehr’s oldest sister

I reviewed the index cards on roughly 4,000 former residents of Tiegenhof.  Not only did I relocate the Heimatortskartei for Heinrich Regehr I and II, but I also found a card for a Hermann Regehr (Figures 10 a & 10b); the names and dates of birth of Anneliese and her two siblings are included on the flip side of the card confirming this was the grandfather who fled Tiegenhof with his three grand-daughters. (Figure 11) This Hermann Regehr is found in the 1925, 1927-28 and 1930 Tiegenhof Address Books.  In ancestry.com, I was also able to locate his birth register. (Figure 12)  Additionally, Peter Hanke accessed the Church books of the Mennonites, a paid service, and discovered the family overview for Hermann Regehr’s father, Johann Regehr. (Figure 13)  While not detailed here, the Mennonite books also contain information on Johann Regehr’s parents going back yet another generation

Figure 12-Birth register listing for Hermann Regehr, Heinrich Regehr I’s grandfather, born January 29, 1867
Figure 13-Page from the Church book of the Mennonites for Johann Regehr, Heinrich Regehr I’s grandfather

 

Figure 14-Page from the Church book of the Mennonites for Heinrich Regehr, Heinrich Regehr II’s grandfather

Similarly, for the family of the Heinrich Regehr II who wound up in Alberta, Canada, Peter accessed the Mennonite Church books for his father and grandfather, both also named Heinrich Regehr. (Figure 14)

The Heimatortskartei catalog often provides invaluable clues as to family connections, spouses, vital events, and more.  Beyond the Regehrs, in at least three other instances, I connected names and/or dates on the cards to the corresponding information in my father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar or to pictures in my father’s collection.  These will be the subject of future Blog posts.

I can hear readers saying, “It’s obvious there were two different Heinrich Regehrs!”  And, while I would be inclined to agree, I try to avoid making facts fit a false narrative.  The “fact” is that both Anneliese Franzen and Peter Lau recognized the same Heinrich Regehr.  What I initially failed to consider is that because her father disappeared from her life when she was very young, no older than six years old, Anneliese may have had only vague recollections of what her father looked like and may have jumped to the conclusion, based on the name I provided, that the picture I sent was of her father.  Regardless, taking the time to patiently research Heinrich Regehr has led to a finding that supports what Anneliese and her family have always known and dispels any notion their father “abandoned” them.

 

REFERENCE

Jeglin, Günter

1985  TIEGENHOF und der Kreis Großes Werder in Bildern.

 

 

 

 

POST 28: EMMY GOTZMANN, GERMAN POST-IMPRESSIONIST PAINTER

Note:  This story is about an accomplished German Post-Impressionist painter, Emmy Gotzmann, whom my great-aunt Elsbeth Bruck in East Berlin was asked to help after WWII.

Forays into my family’s history occasionally reveal encounters relatives had with historic or renowned personages.  Following WWII, my Uncle Fedor Bruck took over Hitler’s dentist’s office, recovered valuable historic documents, and was an indirect witness to the Fuhrer’s fate.  My great-aunt, Franziska Bruck, the renowned florist, hosted the last Crown Princess of Prussia, Cecelie, in her shop and counted among her clients the last German Kaiser; she corresponded with the renowned German poet Rainer Maria Rilke, another client, letters of which survive.  Going back to 1850, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel in Ratibor hosted two symphonic performances by the famous Johann Strauss the Younger.  This story is about a much lesser-known but enormously talented individual who crossed paths with one of my ancestors, my great-aunt Elsbeth Bruck, “la Communiste,” as she was referred to when I was growing up.

As readers may recall from Post 15, following my great-aunt Elsbeth’s exile in the United Kingdom during WWII, she returned to East Berlin and became a Communist Party apparatchik in the former German Democratic Republic.  She was ultimately awarded the “Vaterländischer Verdienstorden in Silber,” the “Patriotic Order of Merit in Silver,” for “special services to the state and to the society.” 

This story has to do with my family only insofar as it relates to a letter sent to my great-aunt Elsbeth by the niece of one of my second great-aunts.  A little background is helpful.  In Post 15, I told readers about the Stadtmuseum, located in Spandau, outside Berlin, where the surviving personal papers of two great-aunts, Elsbeth and Franziska Bruck, are archived.  In 2014, my wife and I examined all these papers and took pictures of everything.  After returning home, I sorted through what I’d acquired.  It included hand-written letters sent between 1947 and 1954 by my grandmother, Else Bruck, née Berliner, to my great-aunt Elsbeth in Berlin from both Fayence, France, later from New York City.  Interested in the content of these letters, I asked my distant cousin, Ronny Bruck, if he could translate them; all were written in Sütterlin, which Ronny learned in school.  Mistakenly, I included a letter in Sütterlin also sent from New York by a similarly named woman, Else Milch. (Figures 1a & 1b)

Figure 1a-Side 1 of letter dated February 26, 1948 sent by Else Milch, née Kantorowicz, from New York to my great-aunt Elsbeth Bruck in East Berlin
Figure 1b-Side 2 of letter dated February 26, 1948 sent by Else Milch, née Kantorowicz, from New York to my great-aunt Elsbeth Bruck in East Berlin

 

Once I received the translation, I realized my mistake.  While the letters written by my grandmother were interesting because they mentioned some of my relatives and myself, the letter written by Else Milch on February 26, 1948, was fascinating for altogether different reasons.  For one thing, Else remarked on the superficiality of people she’d met in America; for another, Else referred to people I eventually learned were very accomplished in their fields of endeavor.  I quote the relevant section of a longer letter:

Letter from Else Milch to Elsbeth Bruck, dated 26th of March 1948:

 My Dear Elsbeth,

 . . . People can say about the Germans whatever they want, but they loved and esteemed their character and their individuality.

I had an interesting life with a circle of really “living” people.

The “liveliness” of the people living here is only superficial and does not mean anything.  But I suppose that if you want to become acquainted with somebody, then you must probably look for the most capable ones.

I think you have to live here a couple of years before you understand all of this.  I am here now almost six years and I hope to travel in about four weeks to visit my youngest child in Brazil.

But, now, I come to the reason for this letter.

I don’t know whether you will have the time for this, if the transit system is yet operational, nor whether you’re willing to do this.  But, I have the feeling you are the right person to ask.

I have a girlfriend, one of the last ones from my time living in Berlin. . .she is an artist, the former wife of Ludwig Hardt (long-ago divorced).  Already, when I left in 1941 she was a renowned artist and formerly the Chairwoman of the “Verein Berliner Künstler” (Berlin Artist Association); politically, she has the same views as you.  She could hate (and love), but now she seems to have collapsed. . .at first mentally, but I have heard she now also has heart issues.

I have sent parcels to her but can no longer do so.  The last one I sent to her was in mid-December.  I also sent a letter, but it has not yet arrived.

I asked friends to look in on her and they did so, but it didn’t work out because those friends were not like-minded.  Now, I have the feeling you would be the right person for her.

Of course, she could come visit you if her heart is strong enough.  She lives not too far away, in Berlin-Lichterfelde, in the part of the city that is closer to Berlin-Steglitz.

She is a Christian and has family ties to high-ranking officials and accomplished artists; she had mainly Jewish friends, despised the Nazis, and cared for hidden Jews during the war, but now is very lonely.

For a while, she had so-called “Starvation psychosis” [anorexia] meaning she talked about having to starve; I know this because someone told me.  Unfortunately, she always needed a lot to eat, much more than me (although she was slim and athletic).

She lives in a dilapidated villa that belonged to her mother.  A part of it is rented out.  Absolutely lonely!!  I wish she could get someone suitable in her house.

Well, if you could write to her asking her to visit, perhaps she would come.  I received her last letter at the end of October, and now she doesn’t answer anymore, and that’s why I’m so worried.

And, now the address:

Emmi Gotzmann

22 Devrienzway

Lichterfelde East

Figure 2-Book by Ferdinand Ruigrok van de Werve, entitled “Farbige Kraft in schwierigen Zeiten – Emmy Gotzmann”

Letters such as these are intriguing.  Naturally, I researched both Emmy Gotzmann, and her one-time husband, Ludwig Hardt.  For Emmy Gotzmann, my Search Engine directed me to a website dubbed “Linosaurus,” which touts itself as “A Blog on the Lesser Gods and Goddesses of linoleum and woodblock printing. And all other things worth sharing.”  I contacted the Blog Administrator, explaining I had uncovered an interesting letter mentioning Ms. Gotzmann, including a copy of the original and the translation; I received an enthusiastic reply from Mr. Gerbrand Caspers.  He’d forwarded the items I sent to a Mr. Ferdinand Ruigrok van de Werve, who, coincidentally, had just published a biography on Ms. Gotzmann in November 2015. (Figure 2)

Mr. Caspers is a retired dentist and university teacher, who is currently researching and writing a book on German woman artists (painters) born between 1850 and 1900 who were pioneering with color woodblock printmaking from 1905 to 1940.  And, Mr. Ruigrok van de Werve is a retired art dealer living in Flensburg, Germany, on the German-Danish border, where Ms. Gotzmann trained from around 1905 to 1909.

Ms. Gotzmann’s full name was “Emmy Auguste Elizabeth Gotzmann,” and she was born in Frankfurt am Main on March 19, 1881. (Figure 3)  Emmy may have received her formal art training at the “Verein der Künstlerinnen und Kunstfreundinnen zu Berlin” between 1901 and 1904, although most of her training appears to have come at private schools and artist colonies. (Figure 4) German art historian Ulrich Schulte-Wülwer writes about this: “The triumph of open-air painting at the end of the 19th century was the birth of artists’ colonies.  For painters who were denied access to the art academy, artist colonies offered a welcome opportunity to compete with their male counterparts.  In Ekensund. . .Emmy Gotzmann-Conrad outclassed her contemporaries, painting in the style of van Gogh and French Pointillists.”

Figure 3-Emmy Auguste Elizabeth Gotzmann’s birth certificate indicating she was born on March 19, 1881 in Hessen
Figure 4-Portrait of Emmy Gotzmann painted by Eva Kusch around 1920

 

Gotzmann’s first marriage in 1905 to the lawyer Walter Conrad (Figure 5) lasted until 1913, but it is her second marriage (Figure 6) to the Jewish actor and “declamator” (i.e., one who declaims or speaks in a rhetorical manner), Ludwig Hardt (Figure 7), that is briefly mentioned in Else Milch’s letter.  This marriage lasted until about 1928 and brought Emmy into contact with “literary expressionism” and its actors and moved her increasingly into Jewish circles.  As Else Milch noted, Ms. Gotzmann was the Chairwoman of “Verein Berliner Künstler,” from 1928 to 1930.  During the time of National Socialism, because her Post-Impressionist paintings were deemed “degenerate art,” she was cut off from the art business and became increasingly impoverished.  Most of Emmy’s paintings were destroyed during WWII, and only those in her parents’ home and stored with relatives survived.  The few paintings that survive speak to Ms. Gotzmann’s tremendous talent. (Figure 8)

Figure 5-Certificate showing marriage of Emmy Gotzmann and the lawyer Walter Conrad on February 28, 1905
Figure 6-Certificate showing marriage of Emmy Gotzmann and the actor Ludwig Hardt on April 11, 1913

 

Figure 7-Emmy Gotzmann’s second husband, the actor Ludwig Hardt (1886-1947)
Figure 8-One of Emmy Gotzmann’s surviving paintings, “An der Flensburger Förde” (At the Flensburg Fjord) from 1905

 

Emmy passed away in Berlin on September 27, 1950, so almost 2 ½ years to the day after Else Milch wrote to my great-aunt.  It is unclear whether Elsbeth Bruck and Emmy Gotzmann ever actually met, though I like to believe so.

Emmy Gotzmann’s second husband, the actor Ludwig “Leo” Hardt was born on January 16, 1886 in Neustadt, Upper Silesia, Germany (today: Prudnik, Opolskie, Poland); he immigrated to America, and passed away in New York City in 1947.  Interestingly, he is interred in Mount Hebron Cemetery in Flushing, Queens, only a short distance from where I grew up.

The author of the letter to my great-aunt, Else Milch, née Kantorowicz, was born in Posen, Prussia (today: Poznan, Poland) on May 2, 1875, and died in Queens, New York on February 16, 1963.  In February 1948, earlier the same year that Else Milch wrote to my great-aunt in East Berlin, she traveled to Brazil to visit her children.  Attached to her Immigration Card from this visit to Brazil is her photograph. (Figure 9)  In a story that will be related to readers in a future post, one of my German third cousins gave me a copy of a letter written to his father by one of Else Milch’s daughters from Porto Allegre, Brazil in 1989.  Included in this letter were a few poor-quality images of a much older Else Milch. (Figure 10)

Figure 9-Else Milch’s Immigration Card & photo from her March 1948 travel to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Figure 10-Else Milch in about 1950 in the Catskills

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

REFERENCES 

Ruigrok van de Werve, Ferdinand

2015    Farbige Kraft in schwierigen Zeiten – Emmy Gotzmann.  Verlag Ludwig, Kiel. 

Schulte-Wülwer, Ulrich

2000    Künstlerkolonie Ekensund am Nordufer der Flensburger Förde (German).  Boyens Buchverlag.

 

POST 27: JEWISH DEPORTATIONS FROM GURS, FRANCE IN 1942

Note:  This story consists of extracts from a first-hand account describing deportation of Jews from the notorious WWII French detention center of Gurs beginning in August 1942.  It was written in French by one of my father’s first cousins, Eva Zernik, née Goldenring, sister of Fritz Goldenring, who perished in the Shanghai Ghetto in 1943, as detailed in Post 25.

Figure 1-My father, Dr. Otto Bruck, with his first cousin, Eva Goldenring, in Fiesole, Italy in June, 1938

When we last encountered Eva Goldenring, she was a guest at the “Villa Primavera,” in Fiesole, Italy, outside Firenze (Florence), between May and June of 1938, overlapping my father’s stay there. (Figure 1)  After leaving the Villa Primavera, Eva may have joined her mother in Rome, where Helene Goldenring was known to have gone after leaving the Villa Primavera in 1937 (Figure 2), or she may have quit Italy.  As readers will recall from Post 21, between September 2, 1938 and November 17, 1938, Italy enacted a series of racial laws, including one forbidding foreign Jews from settling in Italy.  It seems certain that by September 1938, Eva Goldenring had left for France, and her brother, Fritz Goldenring, for Shanghai.  Their mother, Helene Goldenring, may have returned to Berlin for a while because, surprisingly, her name continues to appear in Berlin Address Books in both 1939 and 1940. (Figure 3)  Regardless, the path and timing of Helene’s escape from Europe is unknown. 

Figure 2-Helene Goldenring’s “Soggiorno degli Stranieri in Italia” from Fiesole, Italy indicating she left for Rome on June 29, 1937
Figure 3-Berlin Address Book from 1940 with Helene Goldenring’s name suggesting she returned to Berlin after her stay in Fiesole, Italy in 1937

 

The reason we know Eva Goldenring went to France is that she wrote a lengthy account of the deportation of Jews beginning in August 1942 from the French detention center of Gurs, where she was interned.  Eighteen pages of a much longer chronicle, written in French, along with a series of anti-Nazi poems, written in German from Madrid following Eva’s release from Gurs, survive.  They were donated to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum by Eva’s stepson, Alfred Zernik, following Eva’s death.

The circumstances and details of Eva’s immigration to France are lost to us, but, like my Aunt Susanne and Uncle Franz Müller, she may have been able to live there openly as a Jewish refugee for several years.  What is known is that Eva spoke and wrote impeccable French, judging from her account of Gurs, and this no doubt was helpful. 

The Gurs camp was located at the base of the Pyrenees in southwestern France and was originally established by the French government in April 1939 to intern political refugees and members of the International Brigade fleeing Spain after the Spanish Civil War.  It was one of the first and largest detention camps before WWII in France.  Early in 1940, the French government interned about 4,000 German Jewish refugees in Gurs as “enemy aliens,” along with French leftist leaders who opposed the war with Germany.  There seems little doubt this mass arrest of Jews swept up Eva Goldenring, wherever she was holed up.

The French armistice with Germany, which was signed in June 1940, placed Gurs under the administrative authority of the treasonous French government, the Vichy regime, the supposed “free zone.”  Conditions at the camp were appalling, overcrowded with a perpetual shortage of water, food, and clothing.  Internees were crammed into dark filthy barracks with sealed windows, rats, lice, and fleas.  During rainstorms, the roofs leaked, and the swampy land turned to mud so thick that, incredibly, prisoners couldn’t walk to the latrines for fear they might drown.  Eight-hundred internees are known to have perished in Gurs between 1940-41 from contagious diseases, including typhoid fever and dysentery, although more than 1,100 prisoners in all are known to have died in the camp.

Compounding the crowded conditions, in October 1940, Germans deported roughly 6,500 Jews from southwestern Germany (Baden-Pfalz-Saar) into the unoccupied part of France, most of whom wound up in Gurs.  This deportation, named for the two Nazi administrators who engineered it, was referred to as the “Wagner-Bürckel-Aktion.”  The day after the deportations, Wagner proudly proclaimed his area of Germany to be the first to be “Judenrein,” free of Jews, in accordance with Hitler’s desire.

Between August 6, 1942 and March 3, 1943, Vichy officials handed over 3,907 Jewish prisoners from Gurs to the Germans, the majority of whom were sent to the Drancy transit camp outside Paris.  From Drancy, they were deported in six convoys to concentration camps in German-occupied Poland, primarily Auschwitz.   Drancy is the same assembly point my Aunt Susanne was deported from on September 7, 1942, also destined for Auschwitz, although she had transited through Camp des Milles.

Much of Eva Goldenring’s account of Gurs details events surrounding the selection process related to three convoys that departed Gurs after August 1942.  Because of her language skills, this may have provided Eva a measure of personal protection.  Werner L. Frank, author of a book entitled “The Curse of Gurs: Way Station to Auschwitz,” touches on the benefit of speaking French: “Barrack and îlot chiefs were appointed to represent the interests of their constituency to the camp’s management as well as to maintain order with their jurisdictions.  Individuals having French language facility were especially valuable in assuming leadership roles.” (p. 246)

Select passages of Eva’s account of the Jewish deportations from Gurs are presented below under general categories; the complete translation of Eva’s 18-page account is attached for interested readers.

Roundups

At the beginning of the summer of 1942, the camp saw an influx of foreign Jews—mostly Polish and Czech—coming from the occupied zone, especially Paris. The newcomers told us in detail about the hunts for Jews, people being arrested in the streets, arrested while they slept in their beds at night.

This time, they [German authorities] helped themselves to men, women, youths, and even children. Families were separated. . .People told stories of a train waiting in a station outside Paris, full of little children crying, calling their mothers who were gone. A line of guards surrounded them, prohibiting anyone from approaching them or bringing them something to eat or drink.

Destroying Children’s Cultural Identity

Traces that would have allowed the children to one day be identified—even reunited with their parents, if their parents were still alive—had been destroyed. The system had been applied even to babies in the cradle.

“Illusions”

Among ourselves, we were still clinging to the illusion of the “border” that was the demarcation line [between the occupied part of France and the free zone].  The noontime new reports were always optimistic. The war could not last much longer now—we would spend the last winter at Gurs—afterwards would come the end, liberation, peace.

French Collaboration

At the end of June 1942, the camp received an almost unnoticed visit from a small commission of three or four tall, blond young men. They glanced inside a block, inspected the infirmary, the central hospital, the C.C.A.’s [Comité Central d’Assistance] office. They asked this or that prisoner their place of birth. If the response was “Germany”—they simply said “Ah—hm.” Later we learned that it was a commission of the Gestapo.

Establishing Deportation Lists

One fine evening, one of the first days of July one of the block leaders informed his colleagues on behalf of the Director that the next day the blocks would be “consigned”, which meant total prohibition from entering or leaving. This would be in order to establish lists.

Unfortunately, there was not a single directive—neither for the inmates nor for those who were making the list. No one realized how mortally important it was.

But as it was, little by little the ones making the list got tired, and we had to finish the whole thing that afternoon—it was a hot sunny day—so decisions about the lives and welfare of thousands and thousands were made without knowing why, with a levity free of qualms.

“Quotas”

 From that day on, a certain jitteriness developed in the camp. . . But, … the night of July 30-31, the English radio reported that Hitler had asked Mr. Laval to hand over to him the foreign Jews in the free zone. This piece of news was naturally not divulged in the noontime news report.

On July 31, the Camp received a visit from Mr. Lowry, President of the Nimes Coordination Committee which brought together the Red Cross, the Quakers, the YMCA, the American Joint [Distribution Committee], the Children’s Aid Society (the OSE, “Oeuvre de Secours aux Enfants”) and others. As usual, the representatives of social institutions in the Camp had a meeting, at the end of which the author [I] asked Mr. Lowry if the bit of news from the English radio was in line with the truth. “Since you already know it,” he replied, “I must tell you that it is true—unfortunately.”

In exchange for the release of the French prisoners, Mr. Laval had offered Mr. Hitler the foreign Jews in the free zone. The figure was fixed at 10,000 individuals. Later, under the pretext that the 10,000 had not been delivered by the agreed-upon deadline, the Germans demanded 15,000, then 20,000; finally, it became a general measure. The Quakers offered to take the 10,000 into their care—Mr. Laval refused.

Faustian Bargain

In the camp, fears took shape more and more. . .

. . .rumors and news continued to circulate. People talked about a long train of livestock cars at the station in Oloron, about the arrival of a whole posse of trucks and buses; people reported that at Gurs a hundred or more of the new State Police had arrived.

That afternoon, sure enough, two young officers in black uniforms —modeled after the German S.S. uniforms—walked in.  At the same time, the Director went from block to block, calling many people over to ask them whether they would want to stay if their parents, children, spouses left the camp or whether they would rather go with them. They were given one minute to make their decision and sign the paper saying that they would be leaving of their own will.

 Kafkaesque Nightmare

The Director worked all night. . .making the lists.

The next morning, the blocks were consigned. The camp was surrounded by rows of “black-coats.” Even the block leaders were not allowed to go out. Through an almost unbearable silence, we heard the lists from the Directory come in. They came in around 9:30am. The barrack leaders were assembled in the block secretary’s office—the crowds waited outside. The block leader read off the names. They fell from his mouth one by one, like death sentences.

The first thing we noticed was that the list contained, in alphabetical order, almost all the people of German or Austrian nationality.

. . . Since the whole thing had been a complete secret up to the very last minute, we were so distraught, so in the dark as to the criteria for the deportation, that when this first convoy was taken away, there were practically no attempts to intervene to help this or that person affected; no one tried to hide or risk trying to escape.

We had one last meal, then the call to go to the blocks, luggage in hand—in the men’s blocks almost everyone was ready—the names were called one after another—people said goodbye to each other—the person who was called went out into the road—little by little the groups assembled. As the last one was put in order, the caravan slowly started out towards the entrance of the Camp, towards the two large train sheds—those who were left stood along the wire fences waving goodbye with their hands or handkerchiefs—many of the ones leaving tried to keep a good face on—even to smile.

It could be said that the police presence was unnecessary. Sometimes it even seemed that they disappeared, in the face of the peaceful and disciplined attitude of the prisoners. Especially during the night hours when the departures happened, when they put their helmets on, rifles in hand—really, we were surprised if we paid any attention to it at all. It was as if people’s glances landed beside them, or over their heads.

This air of silent dignity was, it is true, partly a result of the fact that some of these poor people were too weary to really realize what was happening. They had seen their fate approaching, they had trembled, fought against it—now it was decided—there was nothing more to do.

“God Did Not Hear Them”

The next day rumors circulated that the train had not left; then, that it was traveling with the doors open at a very reduced speed. Later, that the Germans had not accepted them, that they had been expecting laborers, and would send them back. In those days, such floods of prayers went up to heaven, prayers from the heart, —but God did not want to hear them.

Deportation Criteria

We knew that a second convoy was supposed to follow it two days behind. On Thursday, the block leaders and the charities’ efforts to learn the criteria governing the deportation measures were met with success. We learned that, essentially, the measures concerned all Jews of German, Austrian, Polish, and Czech origin who had entered France after 1936. It was expected that there would be exceptions for: persons over 60 years of age (later 65); members of the clergy; children under 16 without family; husbands of pregnant women; parents of French children; those who were “Aryan” (in the camp this was interpreted to mean individuals who had a non-Jewish parent or spouse); parents of children less than two years old; and individuals who had rendered some kind of service to the France nation: those who had belonged to a combat unit for at least three months, or were particularly valuable to the French government or economy.

“Matter of the Interventions”

For those who were conscientious of what was going on realized the real issue in the matter of the interventions [relative to names on the official list of deportees]: They had to hand over a fixed number. To save one meant condemning someone else in their place—and did they have that right? 

The outcome of all the brouhaha with the lists was that in the end, there were so many exceptions that it was necessary to find “new material.” The wretches in the blocks kept waking up to the sound of cars flying down the road. How many of those poor souls who thought that they had been forgotten, exempt, rescued, suddenly saw a guard next their bed: “Quick, quick, get up, get your luggage”—hearing those heavy footsteps approach already made everyone in the barracks tremble—is he going to pass by—is he going to come in here? Many stopped sleeping in their barracks.

“Errors”

In the first convoy, there being no directives—at least not that the charities or internees were aware of—a great number of people were deported who should not have been. This time the interventions tried to fix some of the errors. Not all.

A man named Max Sternmeiler left despite his Romanian papers which he had in his possession and had shown to the Director. Later, when his wife, who had been brought to the Rivesaltes camp, telegrammed to ask for a paper from the Gurs camp confirming her husband’s Romanian nationality, and thus hers as well, the husband had already left with his papers in his pocket. The woman was condemned, too.

“The best ones”

In general, we noticed that it was the best ones who had left. Among those from the old crowd who had stayed, besides the true exceptions, there were many clever types, with a lot of information and sometimes a lot of money, in a word people with connections and street girls.

“Nothing was sacred”

Nor could anyone forget the case of the Gutmann children, not that it was an isolated case. The father, being “untransportable”, had stayed in the village. The poor mother had come with her three children between 3 and 6 years old. These people could not have been rich—their clothes made that plain enough. But each one of the children was properly dressed, clean, hair neatly brushed; each one wore their little piece of ribbon in their hair. They slept all three together on a cushion on the ground, with their arms around each other’s necks—that night the mother did not leave them out of her sight for one second. What was going through her mind? Later, we saw the children again—without their mother. Nothing was sacred for them anymore, not even a mother. —-

Eva was eventually released or escaped from Gurs.  Quoting again from Werner L. Frank on the issue of camp security:  “Gurs security was somewhat loose, allowing for visits by the prisoners to nearby areas in order to conduct trade and even for off-site work.  Outsiders were permitted access to the campgrounds, including children who had been separated from their interned parents and were now living at remote safe houses.  Such laxity would suggest that an escape could be managed quite easily.  However, there were deterrents to unauthorized departures including lack of official identity documents, apprehension about leaving loved ones behind, lack of French language skills and general fear of the unknown.  Nevertheless, there were escapes. . .”  (p. 276)

Certainly, Eva’s language skills would have allowed her to blend in with the local populace had she escaped.  However, it is more likely her fluency in French made her useful to one of the aid groups operating in the internment camp, and they may have helped her procure safe conduct documents or false papers.  In any case, Eva eventually made her way to way to Madrid, Spain, where she lived until 1947 when she immigrated to America (Figure 4) and rejoined her mother, who’d emigrated from Valparaiso, Chile that same year. (Figures 5 & 6)  Eva got married in 1952 to Curt Zernik. (Figure 7).  She passed away in 1969 (Figure 8), a year after her mother. (Figure 9)

Figure 4-Eva Goldenring’s “Passenger Arrival” form indicating she arrived in New York City on May 14, 1947 from Madrid, Spain
Figure 5-“Manifest of Alien Passengers” showing Eva’s mother sailed from Valparaiso, Chile on July 3, 1947 for the United States

 

Figure 6-Mother and daughter, Helene & Eva Goldenring, Easter 1960, after they reunited in America
Figure 7-Eva Goldenring with her husband, Curt Zernik, in Wilmington, Delaware in 1958

 

Figure 8-Curt Zernik & Eva Zernik, nee Goldenring’s headstone
Figure 9-Helene Goldenring’s headstone

 

 

 

 

 

 

REFERENCE

Frank, Werner L.

2012    The Curse of Gurs: Way Station to Auschwitz. Copyright 2012 by Werner L. Frank, v.2e.

POST 14, POSTSCRIPT: RATIBOR & THE BRAUER (BREWER) M. BRAUN “LINK” TO AMERICA

Note:  Since publication of Post 14 in October 2017, three different readers sent me information related to the M. Braun Brauerei.  All three have graciously allowed me to update the original post using visuals they provided.

Figure 1-Postcard written in 1912 showing the M. Braun Brauerei

In the original Blog post, I included a postcard showing the M. Braun Brauerei in the early 20th Century. (Figure 1)  The postcard was written on July 28, 1912 from Ratibor, by my great-grandmother Olga Berliner, née Braun, and addressed to my great-aunt Franziska Bruck in Berlin.  Within the past week, my third cousin, once-removed, Larry Leyser, sent me a different postcard of the front of the same brewery. (Figure 2)  While this image is rather less clear, what makes it so informative is that it names the square on which the M. Braun Brauerei was located, namely, “Neu Markt.”

Figure 2-Undated postcard showing the same M. Braun Brauerei located on “Neu Markt” square
Figure 3-1891 plan map of Ratibor showing where “Neu Markt” and “M. Braun Brauerei” were located

Combined with an 1891 map of Ratibor (today: Racibórz, Poland) that a different reader, Mr. Paul Newerla, sent me, showing Neu Markt, I now know precisely where the M. Braun Brauerei was situated.  This 1891 map even pinpoints the location of the brewery on the square, while a 1927-28 plan map of Ratibor shows the square. (Figures 3 & 4)  Mr. Newerla, has written a book on Raciborz, entitled “Ratibor einst und jetzt,” translated roughly as “Ratibor, then and now.” (Figure 5).  In addition to the map from 1891, Paul also sent me a treasure trove of information on the Bruck family hotel in Ratibor, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, which will be the subject of an upcoming postscript.

Figure 4-1927-28 plan map of Ratibor showing location of “Neu Markt” square
Figure 5-Cover of Paul Newerla’s book entitled “Ratibor einst und jetzt” (“Ratibor, then and now”)

 

A different Polish gentleman, Mr. Grzegorz Miczek, contacted me after seeing my original post.  He asked whether I had any additional documents related to the brewery as reference for a book he’s writing on the “Raciborskie Brewery.”  He mentioned he possesses a few bottles from the brewery, and graciously sent me images of them that he’s allowing me to share with readers.  These elegant old beer bottles speak for themselves.  (Figures 6-9)

Figure 6
Figure 7
Figure 8
Figure 9

 

My cousin Larry Leyser made another interesting discovery.  The brewer Markus Braun, after having a dozen children by his first wife, Caroline Spiegel, remarried a Johanna Goldstein and had two additional children, a daughter Wanda Eugenia Braun (Figure 10; Translation) born in 1869, followed a year later by a son Markus Braun. (Figure 11; Translation)  It appears the elder Markus passed away in 1870 at the age of 53 before his youngest son was born some months later.

Figure 10-Death certificate for Markus Braun’s daughter, Wanda Eugenia Braun, by his second wife
Figure 11-Marriage certificate for Markus Braun’s son, also named Markus, by his second wife

 

 

 

 

 

POST 11, POSTSCRIPT: RATIBOR & BRUCK’S “PRINZ VON PREUßEN” HOTEL

Note:  This postscript discusses additional information obtained about the Bruck’s “Prinz Von Preußen” Hotel from a Polish gentleman who has written a book on the history of Ratibor.

Figure 1-Cover of Paul Newerla’s book entitled “Ratibor einst und jetzt”

 

Following publication of Post 11, Mr. Paul Newerla from Raciborz, Poland, author of a book on Ratibor, entitled “Ratibor einst und jetzt” (“Ratibor, then and now”) (Figure 1), contacted me.  He shared a lot of information and visuals from his book and other sources, including historic maps, to round out my understanding of the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, the inn owned by my family for three generations.  Mr. Newerla also made me aware that my family’s connection to Ratibor extends a generation earlier.  According to land registers from the city of Ratibor, Jacob Bruck (1770-1832), father of the original owner of the Prinz von Preußen, Samuel Bruck, was an arrendator, a lease-holder, on two properties within Ratibor.  Jacob owned properties on Jungfernstrasse and Stockhaus-Gasse prior to construction of the family hotel; interestingly, an 1812 city map sent to me by Mr. Newerla shows the exact parcels owned by Jacob. (Figure 2)

Figure 2-1812 map of Ratibor showing location of parcels owned by Jacob Bruck along Jungfernstrasse & Stockhaus-Gasse, and location of “Odertor,” the city gate atop which Bruck’s Hotel was built
Figure 3-The only preserved tower of Ratibor’s fortifications, along with a fragment of Gothic defensive wall

Ratibor’s city walls, towers (Figure 3) and gates, surrounding the town, were only demolished in 1828, after which the Prinz von Preußen was constructed at the corner of Oderstraße and Bollwerkstraße. (Figures 4, 5, & 6) The same 1812 map just alluded to shows the city walls and gates.  Approximating the position of the family hotel, it appears it was built almost atop where one Odertor, city gate, once stood.

 

Figure 4-1933 plan map of Ratibor showing location of Bruck’s Hotel at the intersection of Oderstraße & Bollwerkstraße

 

Figure 5-The Bruck’s Hotel at the time it was owned by Ernst Exner, located at the intersection of Oderstraße & Bollwerkstraße

 

Figure 6-View up Oderstraße looking at the Bruck’s Hotel

 

A historian, Ms. Katrin Griebel from Zittau, Saxony, who has studied the surviving personal papers of two of my great-aunts, Franziska Bruck and Elsbeth Bruck, archived at the Stadtmuseum in Berlin, has gleaned some anecdotes about the family hotel.  According to Ms. Griebel, the building occupied by the Bruck’s Hotel was the former palace of a marquis.  Upon the nobleman’s death, the palace became known as the “Prinz von Preußen.” 

Figure 7-Advertisement for Johann Strauss the Junior’s orchestral performance at the “Prinz von Preußen” on October 17, 1850

By 1850, the marquis’s palace was assuredly a hotel.  Mr. Newerla sent me notices related to two orchestral performances given by Johann Strauss the Younger at the “Prinz von Preußen.”  In October 1850, Johann Strauss had plans to perform in front of the Russian Czar, and on his way to Russia he performed at the hotel the evening of October 17, 1850, spending the night. (Figure 7)  On his return from Warsaw, he again stopped in Ratibor, giving an orchestral performance “im Saale des Prinzen von Preußen,” the “Hall of the Prince of Prussia,” on the afternoon of November 17, 1850 (Figure 8), leaving that same evening for Vienna.

 

Figure 8-Advertisement for Johann Strauss the Junior’s encore performance at the “Prinz von Preußen” on November 17, 1850

The Bruck’s Hotel’s “Saale des Prinzen von Preußen” (Figure 9) served other community functions.  Mr. Newerla has found records indicating that on October 31, 1859, Ratibor’s fire department held a large carnival ball there; the fire department also organized a theatrical performance, the proceeds of which were earmarked for the assistance of an injured fire brigade colleague.

Figure 9-Location of the “Saale des Prinzen von Preußen”

Several pages from Mr. Newerla’s book discuss the founding in Ratibor of the “Peace Lodge XVII No. 361” of the “Independent Order B’nai B’rith” on May 9, 1886, which met at the “Prinz von Preußen.”  B’nai B’rith was originally founded in 1843 in New York, and became established in Berlin, Germany in 1882.  My great-grandfather, Fedor Bruck, was a member of Ratibor’s Lodge.  Even though the statute of the Lodge specifically excluded politics from its field of activities, they were under police surveillance.  While the Lodge continued to meet at the Bruck’s Hotel until at least April 1934 and steered clear of political matters, they appear to have been under pressure to disband.

Figure 10-Cover of Ratibor’s 1889 Address & Business Book

Page 39 from Ratibor’s 1889 Address & Business Book (Figure 10), sent to me by Mr. Newerla, lists residents along Oderstraße, including number 16.  Both my great-grandfather, Fedor Bruck, and grandfather, Felix Bruck, are listed at this address.  Fedor is the “Besitzer,” or owner, and Felix Bruck the “Geschäftsführer,” the Managing Director (Figure 11); by 1892 Fedor Bruck was deceased.  Under business listings, there are none for hotels, but Fedor Bruck is listed under “Gasthöfe 1 Classe,” first-class inns, and, oddly, under “Bade-Anstalten,” or bathing establishments. (Figure 12)

 

Figure 11-My great-grandfather, Fedor Bruck, and grandfather, Felix Bruck, listed in Ratibor’s 1889 Address Book at Oderstraße 16
Figure 12-Listing for Fedor Bruck under “Gasthöfe 1 Clasße,” first-class inns, and under “Bade-Anstalten,” or bathing establishments

 

Mr. Newerla sent me a series of advertisements for the Bruck’s Hotel. (Figures 13-19)  They appear to extend from the time the hotel was owned by my great-grandfather, Fedor Bruck, possibly through the 1930’s and later.  Throughout its existence, it was known as the “Bruck’s ‘Prinz von Preußen’ Hotel,” even though it was no longer owned by my family.

Figure 13-Advertisement for Fedor Bruck’s Hotel
Figure 14-Advertisement for the “Prinz v. Preußen” when my great-grandfather, Fedor Bruck, owned the establishment

 

Figure 15-Advertisement for the Bruck’s Hotel when it was owned by Max Kunzer
Figure 16-Advertisement for the Bruck’s Hotel was it owned by Hugo Eulenstein

 

Figure 17-Another advertisement for the Bruck’s Hotel when it was owned by Hugo Eulenstein

 

Figure 18-Advertisement for the Bruck’s Hotel when it was owned by Ernst Exner

 

Figure 19-Advertisement for the Bruck’s Hotel when it was owned by H. Koeppe

 

 

 

 

POST 26: “APATRIDE” (STATELESS)

Note:  This story relates to the brief time between 1946 and 1948 when my father, Dr. Otto Bruck, worked illegally as a dentist in Nice, France.

The Nazi’s “Reich Citizen Law,” one of two Nuremberg Laws passed by the Reichstag on September 15, 1935, declared that only those of German or related blood were eligible to be Reich citizens; the remainder were classed as state subjects, without citizenship rights.  From this point forward, my father was “stateless.”

Figure 1-Vieux Nice is the city’s old town, characterized by narrow cobblestone streets and pastel-hued buildings

For me, this story begins more than 60 years ago in Nice, France, along la Côte d’Azur, when as a young boy I was in the company of my maternal grandmother and we were walking through Vieux Nice. (Figure 1)  I’m unsure what tricks time plays with memories, but I clearly remember my grandmother stopping along a street I would recognize many years later as Boulevard Jean Jaurès (Figure 2), pointing to a building on the windward side, and telling me my father had had his dental office there.  My grandmother knew this because my father had done extensive work on her teeth.  This may also have been when I first learned my father was Jewish.  It would be many years, in all honesty, before I would absorb the full significance of these facts.

Figure 2-Light rail running along Boulevard Jean Jaurès, much changed from when I was a young boy

In previous posts, I’ve mentioned having visited on multiple occasions Ratibor (today: Racibórz, Poland), where my father was born in 1907.  On my second visit there, in 2012, I met a gentleman at the Tourist Bureau, who, like myself, is a retired archaeologist.  He currently edits a journal, entitled the Almanach Prowincjonalny, and upon learning of my family’s connection to Ratibor, wondered whether I’d be interested in writing an article for this periodical.  I eagerly agreed, and in April 2013, my article was published. 

Figure 3-My father, Dr. Otto Bruck, in 1946 along Nice’s Promenade des Anglais

In writing this essay, I’d learned from my mother that my father had worked for a woman dentist by the name of Mme. Lotter between 1946 and 1948 in Nice.  Recall, this is the city where my parents first met, and where my dad settled after his release from the English Army in June 1946 because he had an aunt and cousins living there. (Figure 3)  Because Mme. Lotter was entirely disinterested in dentistry, my father essentially managed her dental practice.  This was an illegal arrangement because he was stateless, in French, “apatride,” and therefore not authorized to work in France. (Figures 4a & 4b)  The authorities eventually caught him in flagrante in 1948 and charged him with practicing dentistry illegally.  By this time, my father had obtained a visa for the United States which was predicated on not having a criminal record.  Rather than risk being denied entry into the States, my father absconded before his trial.

Figure 4a-My father’s French “Titre D’identité et De Voyage”

 

Figure 4b-My father’s French “Titre D’identité et De Voyage,” identifying him as “apatride,” or stateless

 

Fast forward now to 2014 when my wife and I visited l’Hôtel de Ville in Nice in search of information on my father’s aunt and cousins.  This was discussed in Post 16.  While waiting for assistance, I was left alone for some moments and encouraged to peruse the books containing les certificats de décès, the death certificates, so took the opportunity to check for deceased Lotters.  Having only this surname to work with, I systematically set myself to looking through the death certificates for the years starting with 1948, the year my father left France and Mme. Lotter was assuredly still alive. 

Figure 5a-Henri Lotter’s name listed in the Nice death register, alongside that of his wife, Simone Lotter-Jaubert (registration date does not correspond with the death date)

In the spirit of Branch Rickey’s mantra that “luck is the residue of design,” I quickly discovered a gentleman by the name of HENRI LOTTER who died on May 28, 1970.  Fortunately, there were only a handful of deceased Lotters, all men, but this individual caught my attention because it gave his divorced wife’s name, SIMONE JAUBERT. (Figures 5a & 5b)  I discovered she died on November 1, 1964. (Figure 6)   I requested copies of both of their death certificates, uncertain whether this Mme. Lotter-Jaubert was even a dentist. 

Figure 5b-Simone Lotter, née Jaubert, death register listing

 

Figure 6-Simone Lotter, née Jaubert, death certificate

 

 

Armed with these death certificates, I asked where the various people were buried.  I was directed to a different nearby office of l’Hôtel de Ville in Nice, Service De L’administration Funéraire, essentially the “Bureau of Cemeteries.”  Here we would make the acquaintance of Mme. Joelle Saramito, who, like other French bureaucrats I’ve met, was intrigued by an American who speaks fluent French; Mme. Saramito has helped me multiple times over the years including on one of my most spectacular discoveries, which will be the subject of a future post.  As fortune would have it, Mme. Lotter-Jaubert is buried alongside her husband in Cimitiere De Caucade (Figure 7), the same cemetery where my Aunt Hedwig Loewenstein, née Bruck, and her son, Fedor Löwenstein’s headstones are located.  While our visit to Cimitiere De Caucade allowed us to view all the tombstones simultaneously, it did not conclusively answer the question of whether this was the correct Mme. Lotter.

Figure 7-The graves of Simone Lotter, née Jaubert, buried alongside her divorced husband, Henri Lotter in Cimetière De Caucade

To answer this question, I revisited Mme. Saramito, and asked her where I might find Yellow Pages for Nice for the late 1940’s.  She directed us to the “Archives municipales de Nice” (Figure 8), on the western outskirts of Nice.  So, on July 4, 2014, we presented ourselves there to the “Président de salle” (Figure 9), literally, “President of the Hall.”  Unquestionably, this must be one of the most highfalutin titles I’ve ever come across.  Regardless, upon our arrival, I explained what I was looking for, and “Le Président” brought out several annuaires téléphoniques, telephone directories, for the period in question.  Much to my delight, in the 1947-48 annuaire, under the listing for “Dentistes,” I found “Lotter-Jaubert, Simone, place Saint-Francois 2” (Figures 10a & 10b), confirming that Mme. Simone Lotter had indeed been a dentist.  Simone’s ex-husband, Henry Lotter, I discovered had been un pharmacien, a pharmacist.

Figure 8-Entrance to “Ville De Nice Archives Communales”

 

Figure 9-The highfalutin title of “Président de salle”

 

Figure 10a-Listing in 1947-48 Nice telephone directory for “Dentistes”

 

 

Figure 10b-Listing in 1947-48 Nice telephone directory for “Lotter-Jaubert, Simone, place Saint-Francois 2” under the category of “Dentistes”

 

Figure 11-Entrance sign to “Vieux Nice”

There remained but one final thing for me to confirm, whether in fact a distant memory that the office building my grandmother had pointed to was indeed located in Vieux Nice. (Figure 11)  And, in fact, I was able to locate the still standing building at Place Saint-Francois 2, in the old section of Nice (Figures 12, 13 & 14).  This story proves that occasionally with only scant information to begin with, in my case just a surname and a 60-year old childhood memory, one can sometimes make extraordinary discoveries about one’s family.

Figure 12-The office building at “Place Saint-Francois 2” where my father worked for Mme. Simone Lotter
Figure 13-Street sign for “Place Saint Francois”

 

 

Figure 14-Entrance to “Place Saint-Francois 2”

POST 25: DEATH IN THE SHANGHAI GHETTO

Note:  This tale is about another of my father’s first cousins, Mr. Fritz Goldenring.  This post provides an opportunity to explore the fate of a Jewish émigré, who, while he did not perish in a concentration camp or ghetto in Europe, is every bit as much a victim of Nazi persecution as those individuals who were murdered in these places.  How I learned about Fritz does not follow a linear path, although I’ll strive to relate my discoveries in a somewhat chronological fashion.  Like the stories of many of my relatives, there are glaring gaps in what I’ve pieced together.

Figure 1-My father, Dr. Otto Bruck, with two first cousins, Eva Bruck and Eva Goldenring and his sister (right), Susanne Müller, née Bruck, at the Villa Primavera in Fiesole on May 10, 1938

Two of my father’s photos taken in May 1938 in Fiesole, Italy, following his arrival there after fleeing Germany, show a woman identified as Eva Goldenring. (Figures 1 & 2)  I later learned she was another of my father’s first cousins.  Like most of his relatives, Eva and her mother Helene Goldenring, née Hirsch, were rarely mentioned when I was growing up, although I knew they’d survived the war and eventually immigrated to America.  Both daughter and mother stayed at the Pension “Villa Primavera” in Fiesole, Italy, co-managed by my Aunt Susanne Müller, Helene twice in 1937-38 (Figures 3 & 4) and Eva in 1938.

Figure 2-My father with one of his first cousins, Eva Goldenring, after their last tennis match together in Firenze (Florence)
Figure 3-Helene Goldenring’s “Soggiorno degli Stranieri in Italia” (Stay of Foreigners in Italy) form indicating her stay at the Villa Primavera between May 24, 1937 until June 29, 1937, when she left for Rome

 

Figure 4-Fiesole’s registration log showing Helene Goldenring’s second stay at the Villa Primavera between December 1937 and January 1938

 

Figure 5-Larry Leyser, my third cousin, once-removed

In Post 14, I discussed the Tenant Brewer, Markus Braun, from Ratibor, the town where my father was born.  Markus had a dozen children by his first wife, Caroline Spiegel, then two more by his second wife, Johanna Goldstein.  I’m distantly related to most of my American cousins through Markus Braun.  My third cousin, once-removed, Larry Leyser (Figure 5), is one such relative, and, like myself, an active genealogist.  Several years ago, Larry shared a two-page summary written by his grandmother, Katerina Leyser, née Rosenthal (Figure 6), detailing some of Larry’s ancestors.  This document provided the first mention of Fritz Goldenring and identified him as the brother of Eva Goldenring and son of Helene Goldenring; no other information was given.

Figure 6-Larry Leyser’s grandmother, Kate Leyser, née Rosenthal, whose family summary makes mention of Fritz Goldenring
Figure 7-The April 19, 1946 edition of the “Aufbau” newspaper showing Fritz Goldenring died in Shanghai on December 15, 1943

To try and learn more, I turned to ancestry.com, and happened on a tantalizing mention of Fritz Goldenring originating from Aufbau Newspaper, saying he had died in Shanghai; Fritz’s name was listed in the April 19, 1946 edition of Aufbau. (Figure 7)  Aufbau (German for “building up, construction”), I discovered, is a journal targeted at German-speaking Jews around the globe founded in 1934.  From September 1, 1944 through September 27, 1946, Aufbau printed numerous lists of Jewish Holocaust survivors located in Europe, as well as a few lists of victims.  These lists, which have been digitized, contain 33,557 names that are searchable via “JewishGen’s Holocaust Database,” “JewishGen Germany Database,” and the U. S. Holocaust Memorial Museum’s “Holocaust Survivors and Victims Database.”  According to JewishGen, the extent of the information available on any individual varies widely. 

For Fritz Goldenring, I learned he was born on September 11, 1902 and died on December 15, 1943; intriguingly, it gave his last residence simply as “Nizza.”  Coincidentally, Nizza is the Italian name for Nice, France, a place with which my family has connections, as readers may recall.  Mistakenly believing that Fritz may last have resided here before immigrating to Shanghai, I asked an acquaintance at Nice’s l’Hôtel de Ville whether she could find any trace of Fritz Goldenring there, to no avail.  Knowing of the Goldenring family’s travels to Genoa, Italy in July 1926, I looked for a “Nizza” nearby, and discovered a place named “Nizza Monferrato” only 65 miles away; I sent the Comune there an email, received a very gracious reply saying Fritz Goldenring similarly had no connection to this place.

Realizing I was grasping at straws, I resolved to renew my search for Fritz Goldenring from the place he’d assuredly lived, namely, Shanghai.  I turned to my friend, Ms. Madeleine Isenberg, from the Los Angeles Jewish Genealogical Society, who assists fellow “travelers.”  I asked whether she could refer me to someone in the Jewish community in Shanghai, and she suggested I contact “Chabad” centers in Shanghai; Chabad is one of the largest Hasidic groups and Jewish religious organizations in the world.  I emailed three such centers in Shanghai, asking who I should contact about obtaining a copy of Mr. Goldenring’s death certificate, and almost immediately received an email from Rabbi Shalom Greenberg.  He’d forwarded my request to Mr. Dvir Bar-Gal, who leads “Tours of Jewish Shanghai.”

Mr. Bar-Gal, it turns out, is an Israeli photojournalist whose mission of tracking down traces of Shanghai’s Jewish past began by accident, when he discovered a Hebrew tombstone in a Shanghai antique shop in 2001.  He’s become known as Shanghai’s “gravestone sleuth,” tracking down Jewish tombstones scattered around the city’s outlying villages, tombstones used for everything from building beams to washboards.  Between the mid-19th and mid-20th centuries, Shanghai transformed from a small fishing village to China’s largest city and become known as the “Pearl of the East.” 

The Jewish tombstones that Mr. Bar-Gal is racing the clock to save are remnants of Shanghai’s Jewish community that once numbered no fewer than 30,000 Jews.  Jews first arrived in Shanghai in 1845, built their fortunes, and quickly occupied key positions in the city, making significant social and economic contributions.  Russian Jews escaping the pogroms of the early 1900’s represented the next wave of immigrants.  They were followed by the last major group of Jewish immigrants, the most well-known of three waves, European refugees escaping Nazi terror.  At the time, China was the only country in the world where Jews did not require an entry visa, and this is certainly the reason my father’s cousin, Fritz Goldenring, sought refuge here.

Many of the Jewish refugees who arrived in Shanghai were penniless but were assisted by the wealthier and established Sephardic Jews.  After the Japanese occupied Shanghai in 1937, the Nazis applied pressure on them to deport or murder the city’s Jews, an order they refused.  Instead, they confined the roughly 20,000 stateless Jewish refugees to the Shanghai Ghetto, formally known as the “Restricted Sector for Stateless Refugees,” an area roughly one square mile in the Hongkou district.  About 23,000 of the city’s Jewish refugees were restricted or relocated to the area between 1941 and 1945 by the “Proclamation Concerning Restriction of Residence and Business of Stateless Refugees.”  The Shanghai Ghetto was never walled, and Jews were housed alongside local Chinese, who lived in equally deplorable conditions.

The first Jewish cemetery was established in 1862, and by the 1950’s four Jewish cemeteries existed in Shanghai containing 3,700 graves.  As the city expanded, in 1958, it was decided to systematically transfer the graves to a newly constructed international cemetery to the west of the city.  The few Jews who remained after the Communists came to power were supposed to assist in these transfers, but during Mao Zedong’s “Cultural Revolution,” the international cemetery was instead destroyed, and the gravestones scattered.  These uprooted tombstones are the traces of Shanghai’s Jewish past that Mr. Bar-Gal is striving to relocate and preserve.

So, as readers can clearly conclude, referral to Mr. Bar-Gal was fortuitous.  While unable to provide a death certificate for Mr. Goldenring, Mr. Bar-Gal provided two valuable clues.  He told me that before being expelled from Germany, Fritz had last worked in Darmstadt, Germany as a journalist.  He recommended I contact Darmstadt to obtain his death certificate, so I sent the Rathaus (City Hall) there an email.  My request was eventually forwarded to the Stadtarchiv, or City Archive, in Darmstadt, and finally, in October 2017, they responded.  They could find no evidence that Fritz Goldenring had lived in Darmstadt, but they did find a reference to him in on-line directory at the Hessisches Hauptstaatsarchiv, the Hesse Central State Archive, in Wiesbaden.  They added one additional clue, namely, that Fritz was born in Berlin.

Figure 8-A letter from the International Committee of the Red Cross, dated November 30, 1961, included in Helene Goldenring’s compensation file, confirming the date and cause of her son’s death in Shanghai

With this new information, I next contacted the Hessisches Hauptstaatsarchiv.  They eventually responded telling me there exists an Entschädigungsakte, a claim for compensation file, submitted by Helene Goldenring, née Hirsch, as the heir of her son Fritz Goldenring. (Figure 8)  After paying a fee, I was able to obtain a copy of this 160-page file, a document that ultimately filled in some holes.

This file includes typed and handwritten pages, all in German, so I convinced one of my cousins to review and summarize the highlights.  The compensation file, while leaving many facets of Fritz’s life in doubt, did answer some questions.  It confirmed Fritz had been born in Berlin; attended grammar and high school there; apprenticed as an office worker in Nordhausen; and worked in Hamburg for Schenker & Co., a transport and logistics company dealing with planes, ships and trucks.  He eventually became a journalist, as I’d learned from Shanghai.  As his situation in Germany became increasingly tenuous, he hoped to parlay his possession of perfect pitch and musical talents into a ticket elsewhere, so in 1938 he went to Berlin.  While there, he was apparently arrested for jay-walking and jailed for three days.  In a classic example of a “Catch-22,” upon his release, he was deemed to have been “previously convicted” and forced to leave Germany.

Knowing Fritz’s sister and mother had both stayed at the “Villa Primavera” in Fiesole, I re-examined the Pension’s guest logs, and discovered Fritz had also stayed there, registering for a month-long visit on May 16, 1938. (Figure 9)  I surmise after he was deported from Germany, Fritz first went to Fiesole before eventually making his way to Shanghai.  While in Fiesole, he even played in a men’s tennis tournament because, among my father’s personal papers, I discovered a newspaper clipping showing my father and Fritz’s results. (Figure 10)

Figure 9-Fiesole’s registration log showing Fritz Goldenring registered for a month-long stay at the Villa Primavera on May 16, 1938
Figure 10-My father and Fritz Goldenring’s tennis results at a tournament both played in Firenze

 

It’s not clear how long Fritz Goldenring stayed in Italy, but like my aunt and uncle, he likely left no later than September of 1938, probably from Genoa aboard a luxurious Italian or Japanese cruise ship headed to Shanghai.  I became curious whether Mr. Bar-Gal could tell me when Fritz arrived there, so I again contacted him.  There exists an Emigranten Adressbuch for Shanghai, dated November 1939, listing Fritz Goldenring, which Mr. Bar-Gal sent me a scan of, proving Fritz was there no later than late 1939. (Figures 11a & 11b)

Figure 11a-Shanghai’s November 1939 “Emigranten Adressbuch” (Emigrant Address Book) listing Fritz Goldenring’s name, occupation, place of origin in Germany and address in Shanghai

 

Figure 11b-Shanghai’s November 1939 “Emigranten Adressbuch” (Emigrant Address Book) listing Fritz Goldenring’s name, occupation, place of origin in Germany and address in Shanghai

 

The Japanese designated the Shanghai Ghetto on February 18, 1943 and compelled those who’d arrived after 1937 to move there by May 18, 1943; many relocated Jews lived in group homes called “Heime,” including Fritz, who lived at “Alcockheim 66,” along with 60 other men.  Helene Goldenring’s compensation file explained Fritz’s cause of death, namely, Sprue and Avitaminose.  Avitaminosis is a disease cause by a deficiency of vitamins, and is closely associated with sprue, a chiefly tropical disease characterized by diarrhea, emaciation, and anemia.  Fritz is recorded as having died on December 15, 1943 at the Ward Road Hospital in Shanghai; apparently, the winter of 1943 in Shanghai was severe, and hunger was widespread.

Figure 12-Passenger list from the S.S. Maipo showing Helene Goldenring sailed from Valparaiso, Chile on July 3, 1947

Fritz’s mother’s compensation file, together with immigration records available from ancestry.com for his family, illustrate how widely the Goldenring family was dispersed during WWII.  Fritz’s sister, Eva Goldenring, for reasons I’m striving to understand, survived incarceration in the notorious French detention center of Gurs at the base of the Pyrenees in southwestern France; Eva would eventually live in Madrid before immigrating to America in 1947.  Fritz’s mother, Helene, made her way to Valparaiso, Chile, where her brother, Robert Hirsch, an engineer, had immigrated in 1939 from Bilbao, Spain.  Robert died in 1943 in Chile, and on July 3, 1947, Helene immigrated to New York (Figure 12), where she was reunited with her daughter. (Figure 13)

Figure 13-Mother and daughter, Helene & Eva Goldenring, Easter 1960, after they reunited in America

 

 

 

POST 24: A FEW WORDS WITH READERS

Note:  Occasionally, I will take a brief pause in my story-telling to engage with readers.  These conversations may relate to the approach I take in writing my Blog; entail new discoveries that readers have brought to my attention; offer promising avenues for doing “forensic genealogy”; or discuss new features or elements I’ve added to my Blog.  Feedback is welcome.

I feel compelled to take hold of the narrative as it relates to the telling of my family’s stories.  Were better writers than me inclined to tell this tale, they could likely do it with greater pathos and originality but perhaps it would lack some of the authenticity I’m striving for.  Beyond this, I concede family histories are mostly of interest to blood relatives familiar with the individuals discussed, either personally known to them or to whom they can link to on a family tree.  For this reason, I consider it vitally important to couch as many of my family stories in a broader historic context that a larger audience can relate to and find interesting.  And, personally, researching the history in which some of the events played out has been endlessly fascinating.

Other than my family Blog, I have no direct footprint in social media, and this is a conscious decision.  During my second visit to Tiegenhof, the town in the Free State of Danzig where my father was once a dentist, I was interviewed by a reporter from a Pomeranian newspaper after my translated talk.  Some days later, I Googled the event.  The reporter had accurately portrayed the interview.   However, I was stunned by the vile and odious nature of some reader comments believing I’d only come to Poland for financial gain or to reclaim confiscated property.  Loathe as I am to say this, I attribute some of these attitudes to anti-Semitism.  For this reason, I intentionally opt to keep a low profile on the Internet even if it means that people who might be interested in my Blog only discover it by accident or never find it.

One of my stated goals when I launched my Blog was the hope some readers would provide additional information related to my posts, and in two instances I’m delighted to say this has happened.  Post 14 deals with the Braun & Berliner Brewery in Ratibor.  A Polish gentleman, Mr. Grzegorz Miczek, shared with me pictures of two historic bottles from this brewery which he graciously has allowed me to upload as a “Postscript” to this post.  Similarly, another Polish gentleman, Mr. Paul Newerla, shared with me some photos and advertisements of the hotel owned by my family in Ratibor through three generations, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel; these too will soon be added as a Postscript to Post 11.  In the case of these gentlemen and a few other individuals who’ve contacted me through my Blog, I’ve turned them on to resources they were previously unaware of, so the exchange has hopefully been mutually beneficial.

Figure 1-With Ms. Madeleine Isenberg, my friend at the Los Angeles Jewish Genealogical Society who assists members in their genealogical research

I’ve mentioned the Jewish diaspora in several Blog posts.  In working on my family history, I occasionally discover fleeting references to a few of my father’s cousins or relatives that dispersed to places in South America or even China in the era of the National Socialists.  Thereupon, I usually call upon a friend and long-standing affiliate of the Los Angeles Jewish Genealogical Society, of which I’m a member, to ask if she has any contacts in the Jewish community in those countries.  This friend has been beyond gracious and of enormous help. (Figure 1)  In an upcoming post, I will share the results of one such investigation instigated by information obtained from a man organizing tours of Jewish Shanghai.

Finally, I want to alert readers to two new pages I’ve added to my Blog in a section retitled “Resources.”  Readers will now find a “Glossary” of foreign words I’ve used in my posts, as well as a list of the “Archives and Databases” I’ve accessed and made use of in uncovering historic documents related to my posts.  For genealogists researching in some of the countries listed, I hope they may find these resources useful.

POST 23: MY AUNT SUSANNE’S FINAL JOURNEY

 

Susanne Müller, née Bruck (1904-1942)

Note:  This is the last in the series of articles discussing my Aunt Susanne Müller, née Bruck, spanning from 1936, when she left Berlin with her husband Dr. Franz Müller, to the moment she was arrested in Fayence by the Vichy French in August 1942.  It describes the final two-and-a-half to three weeks of her life and that of Ernst Mombert, her step-daughter’s brother-in-law.  Surviving documents in my father’s personal papers, along with records publicly available, allow me to track the precise route my Aunt Susanne and Ernst took to their deaths in Auschwitz.

My Aunt Susanne and her step-daughter’s brother-in-law, Ernst Mombert, were arrested by the Vichy French in Fayence, France, probably around the third week of August 1942.    Their arrests were the result of the implementation of the so-called “Final Solution to the Jewish Question.”  On January 20, 1942, Nazi officials had convened in the Berlin suburb of Wannsee to discuss the implementation of the Final Solution, whereby most of the Jews of German-occupied Europe would be deported to Poland and murdered.  Following the Wannsee Conference, the deportation of Jews throughout Nazi-occupied areas to extermination camps increased in momentum.   In France, the deportations, which had begun in March 1942, reached their peak in the summer of 1942, overlapping with the arrest of my relatives.  Involvement of French authorities intensified during this period.

Arrests of individual Jews in the occupied zone of France had begun around 1940, and general round up in 1941.  By March 1941, the Vichy State created the Commissariat General aux Questions juives (“Commissariat-General for Jewish Affairs”), which managed the seizure of Jewish assets and organized anti-Jewish propaganda.  Around this same time, the German began compiling registers of Jews living in the occupied zone.  The Second Statut des Juifs of June 2, 1941 systematized registrations across all of France, including the unoccupied parts of France controlled by the Vichy government where Fayence was located.  Because Jews in the unoccupied zone were not required to wear the yellow star-of-David badge, these records would provide the basis for future rounds-ups and deportations.  No doubt, my relatives’ names were on these registers.

In Post 22, I told readers seven members of my family once lived at the fruit farm in Fayence, although only two were ever arrested by the French collaborators.  It remains unclear why the other five were never seized.  While I’m disinclined for various reasons to credit local French authorities for having played a role in protecting my family during WWII, supposedly 75% of the roughly 330,000 Jews in metropolitan France in 1939 survived the Holocaust, which is one of the highest survival rates in Europe.  This story, however, is about Aunt Susanne and Ernst Mombert, my relatives who did not survive.

Figure 1-From Fayence, my aunt and Ernst Mombert were taken to Draguignan, Aix-en-Provence and Avignon, before being transported to Drancy, outside Paris
Figure 2-A headstone with the Star of David in the American Cemetery in Draguignan

 

Soon after my Aunt Susanne was arrested, she and Ernst Mombert were transported approximately 20 miles to the nearby town of Draguignan. (Figures 1 & 2)  Whether they were taken there by train or other conveyance is unknown.  The priority that the Nazis and their henchmen placed on the extermination of Jews following the Wannsee Conference suggests arrested Jews were brought to major transit centers in a matter of weeks for deportation to concentration camps.  Susanne and Ernst wrote an undated postal card to the Mombert family in Fayence from Draguignan, postmarked August 26, 1942, that survives in my father’s personal papers; their stay in Draguignan was brief, only half-an-hour. (Figure 3)  An acquaintance from the Simon Wiesenthal Center in Los Angeles tells me Jewish detainees were encouraged to write postal cards so Nazis could identify and root out surviving family members.

Figure 3-Postal card mailed by my aunt and Ernst from Draguignan

My dear ones,  We have just arrived in Draguignan and will leave in half-an-hour for aux Milles. Once again, I remind you to ask David to come for the pump, at any price, even if you must pick him up by car.  Vegetables, be careful with the string-beans, water every other day—cabbage twice weekly.  Cucumbers every other day—pick the corn—chase the birds, as directed by Marius.  Tomatoes water once a week.  Special attention: Carrots!  bugs on cabbage.  Take care of the old and the young.  Don’t worry.  Before sending the certificates, wait until our address has arrived.  Love to all, Susanne, Ernst

Figure 4-Camp des Milles Detention Camp in Aix-en-Provence, now a museum, where my aunt and Ernst were briefly interned in August 1942
Figure 5-The holding area inside the former tile factory at Camp des Milles in Aix-en-Provence where Jewish internees were held during WWII

 

From Draguignan, Susanne and Ernst were then transported approximately 76 miles to the notorious French detention center at Camp des Milles in Aix-en-Provence, a place that is today a museum. (Figure 4)  While it was never an extermination camp, unlike Auschwitz where Susanne and Ernst were murdered, it is extremely foreboding because it survives virtually intact and gives one a real sense of what awaited the Jewish internees. (Figure 5)  Susanne and Ernst wrote a second postal card from here, dated August 24, 1942, postmarked five days later. (Figure 6)

Figure 6-The postal card mailed by my aunt and Ernst from Camp des Milles

August 24, 1942  Dearest Peterle, How are you?  Did the doctor come?  Take care of yourself and don’t lose courage—me, I am well—I have met some acquaintances from Hyères, a woman doctor from Berlin who knows you—well, we will see what happens to us.  Ernst has also met some people he knows—we talk quite often.  Mummi, how are you?  And Margit and the rest of the family?  Don’t work too hard—for the five of you there will be enough from the property.  Go to Sénégnier and explain our situation to him.  My thanks to all of you as well as to our friends for their kindness.  My love to all of you.  Thousand kisses, Papstein!  Susanne

 

Next, Susanne and Ernst were taken 56 miles to Avignon, whose bridge is the subject of a children’s well-known French nursery rhyme, Sur le pont d’Avignon, although most certainly this was not on their minds.  The last words my Uncle Franz and the Mombert family heard from Susanne and Ernst came from the third and final postal card mailed from there.  The card is dated September 2, 1942 and postmarked the same day. (Figures 7 & 8)

Figure 7-The last words ever written by my aunt to my Uncle Franz following her arrest in August 1942, sent from Avignon

September 2, 1942

Dearest Franzl,  Up to now, the trip has not been too bad.  I stayed together with some very nice ladies.  We are well fed, too well for my taste.  I am so sad that I cannot send you anything (chocolates, sardines, cookies).  All these things come from the Quakers and from the Union of the Israelites of France. . . but what does it mean to us?  In any case, I have decided to hold on to be reunited with all of you.  Do not lose your patience and courage.  They have loaded all and everyone in wagon trains—old people, children, the sick, etc.  Kisses, embraces for all of you and good wishes. Susanne

P.S.  Maybe I will be able to send you something else.

Figure 8-Dr. Franz Müller in Fayence, after my aunt’s arrest, sadness seeping from every pore

In this last postal card, my Aunt Susanne mentions the Union Générale des Israélites de France (UGIF), along with the Quakers, as the providers of charitable donations.  The Germans created the UGIF on November 29, 1941 to more closely control the Jewish community.  Through this organization, the Germans were thus able to learn where local Jews lived.  Many of the leaders of the UGIF were themselves ultimately deported to concentration camps. 

Figure 9-Cattle car on railroad siding at Camp des Milles seen today

In this final postal card, my Aunt Susanne also mentions that by the time Jewish detainees had arrived in Avignon, they had been loaded into cattle cars, likely in Camp des Milles.  The Société Nationale des Chemins de Fer Français (SNCF), the state-owned railroad system of France, was an active participant in the transport of Jewish detainees to the extermination camps, and evidence of their complicity can be seen even today in railroad sidings at Camp des Milles. (Figure 9)

My relatives never again wrote words that have been handed down to the present.  The three postal cards, all written in French, selflessly remind the surviving family to carefully water and tend to the fruits and vegetables on the farm on which their survival clearly depended.  The mundane nature of Susanne and Ernst’s final words is a poignant reminder of how ordinary Jews were trying to lead normal lives when their everyday existence was so tragically interrupted by the Nazis.

Figure 10a-Serge Klarsfeld’s report containing names of Jewish deportees aboard Convoy 29 from Drancy to Auschwitz-Birkenau

 

Figure 10b-Page from Serge Klarsfeld’s report with my Aunt Susanne & Ernst Mombert’s names

 

From Avignon, my relatives were taken more than 430 miles to Drancy, a suburb outside Paris, which was an assembly point for Jews being deported to concentration camps.  My Aunt Susanne and Ernst Mombert are known to have survived until at least September 7, 1942.  Both of their names appear, coincidentally on the same page (Figures 10a & 10b), on a list of 1000 Jewish prisoner deported from Drancy, a suburb of Paris, destined for Auschwitz, aboard Convoy 29, which departed Drancy at 8:55am and arrived in Auschwitz two days later. (Figures 11a & 11b)  My aunt, correctly identified as a German national, is incorrectly shown having been born in “Ratisbonne” rather than Ratibor, Germany.

Figure 11a-Route that Convoy 29, holding my Aunt Susanne & Ernst Mombert, took between Drancy and Auschwitz from September 7 to September 9, 1942 (SOURCE: Yad Vashem)
Figure 11b-Stops that Convoy 29 made between Drancy and Auschwitz from September 7 to September 9, 1942

 

Figure 12-Cattle car at Auschwitz-Birkenau of the type that transported Jews to their death

Serge Klarsfeld, a Romanian-born French activist and Nazi hunter known for documenting the Holocaust to enable the prosecution of war criminals, compiled the lists using surviving German documents.  The nationality of only 893 deportees was recorded from Convoy 29, possibly because some arrived from the unoccupied zone only a few hours before the convoy was slated to leave for Auschwitz.  The German record of deportees was divided into seven sub-lists, and while both Susanne and Ernst originated from the unoccupied zone, they were likely identified as coming from Camp des Milles.  The convoy contained 435 women and 565 men.  Upon arrival in Auschwitz (Figure 12), except for 59 men and 52 women, the remaining deportees were immediately gassed to death. (Figures 13 & 14) According to my father, his sister always carried a poison pill in a locket, and I choose to believe she took her own life before the convoy arrived in Auschwitz.

Figure 13-Expended Zyklon B canisters once containing pellets used to gas Jews at Auschwitz-Birkenau
Figure 14-Crematoria at Auschwitz-Birkenau

 

 

It is impossible to pinpoint the actual date my relatives were arrested in Fayence.  Cancellation dates on the postal cards and Susanne and Ernst’s arrival in Drancy no later than September 7th suggest it cannot have taken more than three weeks before they were murdered, no later than September 9th.  The ultimate irony is that my aunt moved to Fayence, almost 1000 miles away from where she was born in Ratibor, Germany, only to be hauled back and murdered less than 70 miles from her hometown.  Stolpersteins, the small, brass memorials commemorating individual victims of Nazism, have been placed, respectively, at the last residences in Berlin and Giessen, Germany where my Aunt Susanne and Ernst Mombert and his family lived.  (Figures 15 & 16)

Figure 15-Stolperstein for my Aunt Susanne located in front of her last residence in Berlin-Charlottenburg, Kastanienallee 39
Figure 16-Stolpersteins for four Mombert family members, including Ernst Mombert, in front of their last residence in Giessen, Germany