Note: In this postscript, I discuss the timing and path of construction of the Austrian Ferdinand Northern Railway vis a vis the Wilhelmsbahn Railway, and its likely impact on the family-owned hotel establishment in Ratibor, Prussia, which at least for some time likely benefited from the routing.
Multiple of my earlier posts have discussed the family establishment in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, owned by three generations of my family from roughly 1850 until 1926. Based on the evidence I’ve amassed, I’m convinced that my family owned the hotel from the time it was built sometime between 1846 and 1850, and that its construction was tied to the arrival of the railroad in Ratibor which began service there on the 1st of January 1846.
There are at least two reference points that prove the “Prinz von Preußen” was in existence by 1850. First, the hotel is listed in John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent: Being A Guide Through Holland, Belgium, Prussia, and Northern Germany, and Along the Rhine from Holland to Switzerland” as a place for people to stay in Ratibor while voyaging between Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland] and Vienna, Austria. (Figures 1a-b) Second, a notice published announced a recital by the noted Austrian composer Johann Strauss II (1825-1899) at the Prinz von Preußen on the 17th of October 1850. (Figure 2) The composer performed at the hotel while on his way to Vienna, then again a month later on the 17th of November 1850 on his way back through. (Figure 3)
Following publication of Post 156, I did further research on the Wilhelmsbahn or Upper Silesian railway. Just to remind readers, the Wilhelmsbahn was a private railway company in Prussia. It was founded in 1844 in Ratibor in Upper Silesia to connect the Upper Silesian Railway (Breslau—Oppeln—Kosel—Gleiwitz) (today: Wrocław—Opole—Kozle—Gliwice) with the Austrian Emperor Ferdinand Railway. (Figures 4a-b; 5) Construction of this railway through Ratibor for the first time connected the Austrian railway network with the Prussian one.
During my research, I stumbled on the following mention of the opening of the railroad in Racibórz:
“In 1846, the first section of the Wilhelm Railway ((German: Wilhelmsbahn, currently railway line No. 151) connecting Racibórz with Koźle was opened. In Koźle, the line connected with the Upper Silesian Railway ((German: Oberschlesische Eisenbahn) connecting Upper Silesia with Wrocław. In 1847, Wilhelm’s Railway was extended to Bohumín. In the years 1855–1858 further sections of the Wilhelm Railway connecting Racibórz with Katowice through Rybnik (currently railway line No. 140) were opened.”
This obscure reference comes from a report entitled “Road to Rail Potential shift of transport flows” published by the so-called Central Europe TRANS TRITIA. Suffice it to say, that TRITIA is a “European Grouping of Territorial Cooperation” in which three regions of Poland, Slovakia, and Czech Republic cooperate to improve coordination and planning of freight transport.
This seemingly insignificant mention of the Wilhelmsbahn Railway caused me to reexamine the references I’d consulted earlier related to the Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway and reconsider the timing and route of its construction. In the process, I discovered I’d left readers a bit hanging as to where exactly the Wilhelmsbahn Railway connected with the Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway after it left Ratibor. This, in turn, made me realize the Wilhelmsbahn Railway played a more significant role in the region’s economic development than I’d previously understood and that this no doubt resulted in significantly more business for my family’s hotel in Ratibor. Let me explain.
The Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway was a railway company that existed during the time of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire. The main line of this railway was intended to connect Vienna with the salt mines in Bochnia, east of Krakau [today: Kraków, Poland]. Bochnia is located on the river Raba in southern Poland, and the salt mine there is the oldest functioning one in Europe, built in the 13th century.
The Ferdinand Northern Railway never directly reached Kraków or the salt mines in Bochnia. The first rail connection from Vienna to Krakau took place via Oderberg (Bohumín), Ratibor, Kosel, and Myslowitz, and this was provided by the Wilhelmsbahn and the Oberschlesische Eisenbahn (Upper Silesian Railway). The line from Myslowitz to Krakau was built by the Krakau-Oberschlesische Bahn (Kraków and Upper Silesian Railway). Bearing in mind that the towns that are today in the Czech Republic were once part of the Austrian Empire, an entirely Austrian route from Vienna to Krakau did not exist until 1856, nine years after the Ferdinand Northern Railway reached Oderberg (Bohumín) and a full ten years after the Wilhelmsbahn railroad reached Ratibor.
In reviewing the construction timeline of the Ferdinand Northern Railway what I previously failed to fully comprehend is that the Wilhelmsbahn Railway was completed before the Northern Railway’s segment from Oderberg (Bohumín) to Krakau. The significance is that at least for some period Ratibor was an important transit point for people traveling between Vienna and Krakau, and the Bruck’s Hotel would have provided the then-modern amenities voyagers sought. Following completion of the more direct route from Oderberg (Bohumín) to Krakau would have meant that some business was lost, although Ratibor would have continued as a logical way station for people traveling to Breslau, Berlin, and points west from there.
Coincidentally, on the same page as the Prinz von Preußen is mentioned in John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent,” Oderberg and the Kaiser Ferdinand Nordbahn (i.e., Ferdinand Northern Railway) are also discussed. The train coming from Prague to the west connected to the Ferdinand Northern Railway via Olmütz [today: Olomouc, Czech Republic] in Prerau [today: Přerov, Czech Republic]. (Figure 7)
Note: A page from an 1845 book by Johann Knie translated by one of my cousins discussing trade and commerce in Ratibor (today: Racibórz, Poland) at the time includes a discussion of the regional railway companies involved and the route by which the train arrived in town. The places mentioned provide an opportunity for me to introduce unfamiliar readers to the Meyers Gazetteer, a compilation of German Empire (1871-1918) place names and maps, to better visualize things.
It doesn’t come naturally to me to be curious. My parents were not patient people who would encourage nor answer an endless stream of innocent queries. This line of questioning was quickly squelched. I admire people to whom this trait comes instinctively, who grew up in a more nurturing and cerebral environment. This may explain why I go into more detail on matters of historical context than readers may be interested in knowing. Readers can decide for themselves how much of a topic they want to learn about.
With the above as backdrop, I want to discuss one valuable resource I stumbled upon while doing my ancestral research, the so-called Meyers Gazetteer. Various references to it can be found on the Internet, including links to the database on ancestry.com and familysearch.org. Consequently, I hesitated to write a post about it. However, because I so frequently find myself returning to this compilation of German Empire (1871-1918) place names and maps, it occurred to me it might be valuable for others unfamiliar with this website to be aware of it. In this post I’ve chosen to illustrate using the arrival of the railroad in Ratibor in January 1846 as an example a potential use of the historic maps in the Meyers Gazetteer to better visualize the placement of the railroad; this is done in conjunction with contemporary Google maps.
I’ve previously explained to readers that most of Silesia (Figure 1) where my immediate family hails from is no longer part of Germany. Most of Silesia was given to Poland as compensation after WWII (Figure 2) following Poland’s loss of a much larger swath of land to the USSR in then-eastern Poland, land that is today part of the Ukraine. With Poland’s acquisition of German Silesia, the German town names were all changed to Polish place names that often make it difficult to locate the former German towns on present-day maps. This is where the Meyers Gazetteer is inordinately useful if the former German town name can be found in the database.
The idea for this post came to me recently after asking one of my fourth cousins, Helen Winter, nee Renshaw (Figure 3) from Wolverhampton, England, if she could briefly explain to me the contents of one page from an 1845 book by Johann Knie talking about Ratibor. The text is printed in Fraktur, Black Lettering, that Helen has gained some aptitude reading of late. (Figure 4)
I did not specifically ask for a transcription nor translation. On my own, I figured out the text addressed primarily trade and commerce in Ratibor in around 1845 so felt a summary would be adequate for my purposes. However because Helen took it as an intellectual challenge, an exquisitely done transcription and translation is what I received. And I’m thrilled Helen provided this because unexpectedly part of the text discussed the route by which the railway arrived in Ratibor and the various regional railway companies involved in its construction.
Because multiple German town names were mentioned and I was having trouble visualizing the route, I turned to the Meyers Orts- und Verkehrs-Lexikon des Deutschen Reichs, the “Meyers Geographical and Commercial Gazetteer of the German Empire.” As ancestry.com points out “This gazetteer of the German Empire is the gazetteer to use to locate place names in German research. It was originally compiled in 1912. This gazetteer is the gazetteer to use because it includes all areas that were part of the pre-World War I German Empire. Gazetteers published after WWI may not include parts of the Empire that were lost to bordering countries. Overall, this gazetteer includes more than 210,000 cities, towns, hamlets, villages, etc.”
They further note that “Gazetteers are very important to use when doing family history research. They not only help you pinpoint a specific place and associate them with the jurisdictions to which they belong, but they can also provide interesting facts about the community and help you to know where to look for additional records. For example, from Meyers Orts you may learn about the size of the town, if there was a post office, where the nearest train station was located, and where the civil registration office was located.”
The meyersgaz.org website, the portal I primarily use for searching German Empire town names, further remarks: “This is the most important of all German gazetteers. The goal of the Meyer’s compilers was to list every place name in the German Empire (1871-1918). It gives the location, i.e. the state and other jurisdictions, where the civil registry office was and parishes if that town had them. It also gives lots of other information about each place. The only drawback to Meyer’s is that if a town did not have a parish, it does not tell where the parish was, making reference to other works necessary.”
On the homepage of meyersgaz.org they note you’ll find a search box in which you type the name of your place using the following conventions:
You can use a wildcard * (an asterisk) in your search. For example, “*gheim” will return “Balgheim, Bergheim, Bietigheim, Billigheim” and anything else that ends in “gheim.”
You can type only the beginning of a name and it will return all places that begin with those letters. For example, “Neu” will return “Neu Abbau, Neu Abschwangen, Neuacker, Neuafrika,” etc.
You do not need to include umlauts; “Munchen” and “München” will return “München.” You can type umlauts if you wish, but you should not expand umlauts, e.g. “ü” as “ue,” as that will return no hits.
A list of identically named places will appear within different jurisdictions, allowing you to identify the town you’re interested in.
As meyersgaz.org further notes, on the “Entry” page the following will be found:
You will see the name of your town and a menu that includes the following items: Entry, Map, Ecclesiastical, Related, Email, and Feedback.
You will see the entry as it appears in Meyer’s, the extraction of the entry, the explanation of the extraction, and a map. The extractions include and are primarily limited to jurisdiction and parish information. The explanations are helpful for those who do not speak German or are not familiar with the old jurisdictions. For example, you will learn what Kreis, Bezirkskommando, and Landgericht mean.
By clicking on “View entry on PDF of the original page,” you can see the entire page on which the entry appears in the original gazetteer.
Click on “Show previous and next entry” to see the previous and following entries. If there was a correction in the Meyer’s addendum, this will also be noted.
Meyersgaz.org remarks that by clicking on “Map” in the menu or on the map itself, additional information can be found:
You will now see your town on the old Karte des deutschen Reiches. This set of maps was produced during the time of the German Empire and so corresponds chronologically to Meyer’s.
You can zoom in and out and the maps can be moved around with the mouse, so you can easily extend the search further around the main town.
If you click on the words “Toggle Historical Map” in the upper right-hand corner, you can switch to Google Maps. This is especially helpful if you are searching in Poland or other areas of the former German Empire that are now in other countries. This is because you can get the current, i.e. non-German, name of the town.
If you hover on “Toggle Historical Map,” you will see a menu. If you click on the menu items, you will see pins appear on the map that correspond to what you have chosen, either Jurisdiction (all places where other jurisdictions are given, such as Kreis, Bezirkskommando, and Landgericht that are included in the entry), surrounding Standesämter (civil registry offices), Catholic parishes, Protestant parishes, or Jewish synagogues. This will help you determine the location of the nearest parishes, etc., within a 20-mile radius, should you need to do an area search. You can also click on the pins and the names of corresponding towns will appear.
You may also see a map with a large red circle instead of a pin. This means that the place has not been geocoded yet and a specific place on the map has not been identified, but it falls within the area of the red circle.
Interested readers are encouraged to access meyersgaz.org website and try out the site for themselves. The maps have allowed me to track down the location of German towns now located in Poland I would otherwise have had great difficulty finding. With respect to the ensuing discussion, I will partially illustrate this using the arrival of the railroad in Ratibor in 1846. I would add that my interest in the coming of train service to Ratibor is related to when the family establishment in Ratibor, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, was constructed; I believe the two events are closely interconnected and that the family enterprise opened in 1846 or soon thereafter.
Helen Winter’s German transcription of the page from Johann Knie’s 1845 book about the route by which the railroad arrived in Ratibor is as follows:
Die meist schlechte Beschaffenheit der von hier aus führenden Strassen wirkt hemmend auf den Landhandel, namentlich auf den Transito-Verkehr. Um so wichtiger muss für Ratibor die gelungene Anlegung der gleich anfangs erwänten Wilhelms Eisenbahn werden, da sie die Verbindung bilden wird, zwischen der Oberschlesien, oder Breslau-Krakauer Eisenbahn u[nd] der österreichischen von Wien nach Krakau führenden Ferdinands-Rorhbahn, sodass Ratibor die natürliche Zwischenstation alles Personen- und Güter-Verkehrs auf der Eisenbahnlinie von Breslau nach Wien sein wird. Das Privilegium der Bahn ist in der preuss[ische] Gesetz[es]S[ammlung] für 1844, Seite 127-146 nachzulesen. Ihre Entstehung verdankt dieses Unternehmen den Oberschlesien, welche seit 1840 in den öffentlichen Blättern, dann durch Gründung eines Aktien-Bereins dahin strebten, die oberschlesische oder breslaukrakauer Eisenbahn-Gesellschaft auf der Unrichtigkeit des erst gewählten Traktus von Oppeln über Malapane [?? ic ??] nach der russische Grenze, aufmerksam zu machen u[nd] den Bemühungen des königl[iches] Regierungs-Presidenten Grafen Pückler auch gelungen, die oberschlesische Bahngesellschaft zu dem Entschlusse zu bestimmen, von Oppeln aus in der Richtung von Kandrzin bis Kosel u[nd] erst von da in östlicher Richtung über Gleiwitz nach Krakau zu bauen, dadurch wurde es möglich, Kandrzin bei Kosel auch als Anfangspunkt für die Wilhelms-Eisenbahn zu gewinnen. Die Bahn geht von Kandrzin rechts der Oder aufwärts bis Ratibor u[nd] hier mittelst der Stromǔberbrückung zu den links zwischen der Oder u[nd] der Stadt gelegenen Bahnhofe. Diese erste Bahnstrecke beträgt 3 7/8 M[eilen]; ihre Fortsetzung am linken Ober-Ufer bis zu dem wahrscheinlichebn End[gangspunkte] und berübergangspunkte 3 3/8 M[eilen]. Die Erdarbeiten zwischen Kandrzin u[nd] Ratibor sind beinahe gänzlich [EDITOR’S NOTE: gönzlich is, I think, a misprint], die bis Oderberg zum grossen Theil vollendet. Der Brückenbau wird mit allem Nachdruck betrieben; bereits sind die meisten Kammarbeiten vollendet. Die Schwellen sind sämmtlich an der Bahn 30,000 Ctnr. englische Schienen seit dem 1[rste] September 1844 noch mit niederem Eingangszoll beschafft u[nd] der bei schles[ischen] Hütten bestellte Uebrrest grösstenteils auch schon geliefert; so das bei günstiger Witterung die Bahn bis Oktober 1845 wird befahren werden können. Der Bahnhof ist zwischen Oder u[nd] Stadt auf der, für Entwickelung des Verkehrs günstigsten Stelle errichtet u[nd] eilt seine Vollendung ebenfalls entgegen. Die Stadt gabt dazu 15 Morg[en] u[nd] zur Bahnlinie auf dem 3/8 Meilen langen, stäbtischen Terrain ebenfalls circa 10 Morg[en]- Land[es] , welches ein Opfer von 7000 R[eichs]t[ha]l[er] erheischte. Die Abbrechung eines Hauses u[nd] die Erwerdung des zu mehreren Strassen erforberlichen Terrains, so wie der Ausbau dieser Strassen wird der Stadt eben so viel kosten. Die Stadtverordneten-Bersammlung hat nicht angestanden diese Opfer im wohlerwogenen Interessender Kommune dem Direktorium der W[ilhelm] B[ahn] nicht nur zu bringen, sondern selbst anzubieten, weil nur dadurch die Gesellschaft bewogen worden ist, den Baufond um mehr als 150,000 R[eichs]t[ha]l[er] zu erhöhen, um hier bei der Stadt vom rechten auf das linke Oberufer überzugehen u[nd] den Bahnhof an den Stadtmauern erbauern zu können, wärend derselber sonst rechts der Oder, fast 1/2 Meile von hier, erbaut worden wäre. Der Anschluss an die Nordbahn erfolgt dicht bei Oderberg, für die nächsten Jahre mittelst gewöhnlichen Fuhrwerkes; dann aber mittelst Zweiges der Nordbahn von circa 800 Ruth[e] Das Anlage-Kapital für die ganze Wilhelm [Bahn] beträgt statutenmässig 1,200,000 R[eichs]t[ha]l[er].
Below is the translation of the above text with footnotes about the various railway companies involved in construction of the railroad in and around Ratibor; Prussian units of measure; and Prussian currency:
“The mostly poor condition of the roads leading from here has an inhibiting effect on overland trade, especially on transit traffic. It must be all the more important for Ratibor that the connecting route, projected at the very beginning of the Wilhelms-Eisenbahn [Wilhelmsbahn (A) or William Railway] should be successfully completed, between Upper Silesia, or the Breslau-Krakauer (Wrocław-Kraków) Railway (B), and the Austrian route from Vienna along the Ferdinands-Nordbahn [Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway (C)], so that Ratibor will become the natural connecting station for all passengers and goods traffic on the train lines between Breslau and Vienna. (Figure 5) The grant to the Railway is available to read at pages 127 to 146 of the Prussische Gesetzesammlung [Prussian Law Gazette] for 1844. That Company owes its existence to the above named company, which, firstly in the public newspapers, and then by founding a stock corporation, convinced the Upper Silesian, or Breslau-Krakow Railway Company [EDITOR’S NOTE: Upper Silesian Railway Company], of how wrong the originally chosen route, from Oppeln via Malapane (Figure 6) to the Russian border, would have been; the efforts by the royally appointed President of the government, Count Pückler, also succeeded in persuading the Upper Silesian Railway Company to reach the decision to build the line from Oppeln, in the direction of Kandrzin as far as Kosel (Figure 7) and, only from that point, in an easterly direction via Gleiwitz to Krakow, which would make it possible to use Kandrzin, near Kosel, as a starting point for the William Railway. (Figure 8) The railway route goes from Kandrzin, to the right of the Oder, up to Ratibor [EDITOR’S NOTE: meaning upriver as the Oder River flows generally south to north] and here, by means of a bridge across the river, to the station, which is situated on the left bank, between the Oder and the city. This initial railway track is 2 7/8 miles long (D). Its continuation along the upper left bank, up to the probable end of the track and upper crossing point is 3 3/8 miles. The earth works between Kandrzin and Ratibor are now entirely, and those at Oderberg for the most part, completed. The bridge construction is being pursued vigorously; already most of the work on the crest is complete. The sleepers are all on the track; 30,000 Ctnr. (E) of English rails have been procured since 1st September 1844, at a low rate of import duty and most of the remainder, ordered from the foundries of Silesia, have already been delivered; so that, allowing for reasonable weather, the railway can come into use by October 1845. [EDITOR’S NOTE: Train service commenced on the 1st of January 1846] The station, which was being built between the Oder and the city in a location that would facilitate the development of traffic, is also fast approaching completion. The city gave 15 acres of land for the station, and around 10 acres for the railway line on the 3/8 mile long, flat terrain, all of which required the sacrifice of 7,000 Reichsthaler. The City Council did not hesitate, in the interest of the public good, to take some of the financial burden on themselves, rather than expecting the Directors of the William Railway to bear the whole, as this was the only way in which the company could be persuaded to increase the building fund by more than 150,000 Reichsthaler (F), in order that the site of the station could be changed from the right to the left upper bank and that it could be built over the city walls, whereas it would otherwise have been built to the right of the Oder, more than a mile from here. The connection to the Northern Railway will take place close to Oderberg (G) (Figure 9), for the next few years by means of a conventional carriage, then by means of a branch line of the Northern Railway from circa 800 Rods (H) [EDITOR’S NOTE: there seems to be a bit missing in the copy of the book here]. The capital budget for the whole William Railway is fixed by statute at 1,200,000 Reichsthaler.”
(A) The Wilhelmsbahn or William Railway was a private railway company in Prussia. It was founded in 1844 in Ratibor in Upper Silesia to connect the Upper Silesian Railway (Breslau—Oppeln—Kosel–Gleiwitz (Wroclaw—Opole— Koźle—Gliwice)) with the Austrian Emperor Ferdinand’s Railway. The name referred to Prince Wilhelm of Prussia, later the German Emperor Wilhelm I. For the first time, the railway line connected the Austrian railway network with the Prussian one.
(B) Refers to the Upper Silesian Railway Company. In 1842, the Upper Silesian Railway Company, licensed since 1839, opened the first two sections of its main line: Breslau (Wrocław, Poland) to Ohlau (Oława, Poland) (Figure 10) on the 22nd of May and Ohlau (Oława, Poland) to Brieg (Brzeg, Poland) (Figure 11) in August. These are the oldest railway sections of present-day Poland. Step by step the Upper Silesian Railway (Oberschlesische Eisenbahn, OSE) line was extended, in 1846 connecting Katowice. In 1847 Myslowitz (Mysłowice, Poland) at the border of Austrian Galicia was reached and the connection to Kraków and Upper Silesian Railway complete.
(C) The Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway was a railway company during the time of the Austrian Empire. Its main line was intended to connect Vienna with the salt mines in Bochnia near Kraków. The name is still used today in referring to several railway lines formerly operated by that company.
(D) The distances in miles in the text refer to Prussian miles. One Prussian mile equates to 4.66 U.S. miles or 7.5 kilometers.
(E) “Ctnr.” is the abbreviation for a Prussian “Centner.” A Prussian Centner equates to 113.43 American pounds or 51.448 kilograms. The metric Zentner used today is exactly 50 kilograms or 110.23 American pounds.
(F) Abbreviated “Rtl.,” this refers to a Prussian Reichsthaler. The Reichsthaler was a standard thaler silver coin introduced by the Holy Roman Empire in 1566 for use in all German states, minted in various versions for the next 300 years, and containing 25–26 grams fine silver.
(G) According to Johann Knie, the Wilhelmsbahn connected to the Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway near Oderberg, shown to the southeast of Ratibor in Figure 9.
(H) The Prussian Ruthe or rod was 12 feet or 3.766 meters.
It is clear from Johann Knie’s 1845 book that, absent Count Pückler’s intervention, the Breslau-Krakauer (Wrocław-Kraków) Railway, that’s to say the Upper Silesian Railway Company, intended to bypass Ratibor in its construction of the railway into Poland. The passage refers to an easterly route from Breslau (Wrocław) to Oppeln (Opole) to a place called Malapane (today: Ozimek) toward Russia which Count Pückler was able to dissuade the Upper Silesian Railway Company from taking. He apparently also convinced the Upper Silesian Railway Company to connect Breslau (Wrocław) to Krakau (Kraków) via Oppeln (Opole), Kosel (also written Cosel; Koźle), Gleiwitz (Gliwice), and Katowice. This was critical because at a place called Kandrzin, just outside present-day Koźle, the Wilhelmsbahn or William Railroad was then able to connect their railway line to the Upper Silesian Railway. Thus, railway passengers could save time when traveling between Breslau and Vienna by avoiding Krakau. We also learn that Ratibor’s City Council donated land and money to offset part of the William Railroad’s construction cost. From Kosel to Ratibor, the tracks ran along the right or east bank of the Oder, then crossed the river near Ratibor via a bridge to the railway station located on the west or left bank of the Oder River, interestingly built over the city walls according to Johann Knie’s text.
In closing I would simply say that the maps and plans in Meyers Gazetteer in combination with contemporary Google maps provide the necessary overview for visualizing how important it was for the small town of Ratibor in the mid-1840s to ensure the railroad passed through town. It enabled the town’s economic expansion and led to the construction of the Bruck’s Hotel sometime between 1846 and 1850.
REFERENCES
Knie, Johann G. (1845). Alphabetisch-statistisch-topographische Uebersicht der Dörfer, Flecken, Städte und andern Orte der Königl. Preuß. Provinz Schlesien.
Note: In a post I’ve long wanted to write, using maps and contemporary accounts, I discuss the history of the property where the inn stood that my family owned from ca. 1850 until 1926 in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel. I also make a case for when I think the hotel was likely constructed.
I’ve spilled a lot of ink writing about my next of kin’s business in Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel (Figures 1-2), owned by three generations of my family from roughly 1850 until 1926. My recently departed friend Paul Newerla from Racibórz (Figure 3), a lawyer who found his second calling in retirement researching and writing about the history of Ratibor and Silesia, was very instrumental in furthering my understanding of the hotel’s history and generously sharing multiple historical references and illustrations related to the establishment.
Paul was never able to tell me exactly when the inn was constructed and whether a previous owner had built the structure. For the longest time, I imagined the name “Prinz von Preußen” meant it might have been erected and lived in by a member of the von Preußen family, a royal lineage with longstanding ties to Silesia. Another friend whom I’ve often mentioned to readers, Peter Albrecht von Preußen (Figure 4), a descendant of this illustrious bloodline now living in the United States, explained to me that the “Prinz von Preußen” name was franchised from at least the 19th century. Thus, the Bruck Hotel’s incorporation of the Prinz von Preußen honorific may simply reflect a business arrangement. So far evidence of this has not been found.
One document Paul was unable to track down in theArchiwum Państwowe w Katowicach Oddział w Raciborzu, the State Archives in Katowice, Branch in Racibórz, was the so-called Grundbuch, the land register, for the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel. Grundbuch means the applicable official register held by the Land Registry in which, among other things, the rights of ownership in, and encumbrances on, a plot of land are registered.
In Post 61, I discussed how Paul found the Grundbuch for the Zuckerfabrik, the sugar factory owned by distant family relatives, located in Woinowitz [today: Wojnowice, Poland] outside Ratibor, among the uncatalogued documents in the basement of the Racibórz State Archives. Regular readers know I’ve written multiple posts about the Zuckerfabrik. Had Paul been able to locate the Grundbuch for the Bruck’s Hotel, it might have shed some light on when the building was built and/or exactly when my family purchased the establishment. Whether the file still exists is an unanswered question though I suspect if it did Paul Newerla would have tracked it down.
Another of my Polish friends, Małgosia Ploszaj (Figure 5), from Rybnik, Poland, 15 miles east of Racibórz, was able to find a police file in the Racibórz State Archives related to the Bruck’s Hotel (Figures 6a-b), but this dated to the period that my grandparents, Felix (1864-1927) and Else Bruck (1873-1957), owned the hotel during the first quarter of the 20th century. This file includes reports on periodic inspections conducted by the local police; safety issues my grandparents were compelled to address; authorizations they were required to obtain to operate beyond normal working hours; violations for which they were fined, etc. Nothing in the file related to the history nor tenancy of the hotel prior to my grandparents’ ownership.
My good friend Peter Albrecht von Preußen spent a good deal of time explaining the contents of this police file. Additionally, because of his own family’s connection to Silesia, he spent a lot of time searching publications for mentions of the hotel and the sequential Bruck family members who owned the inn, namely, Samuel Bruck (1808-1863), Fedor Bruck (1834-1892), and Felix Bruck (1864-1927).
One of the most useful public domain sources Peter discovered was a 695-page book entitled “Geschichte der Stadt Ratibor,” “History of the Town of Ratibor,” written by Augustin Weltzel in 1861. (Figure 7) Therein, Peter found mention of a Bruck who was a “gastwirth,” an innkeeper, no doubt Samuel Bruck (1808-1863) the original owner of the Bruck’s Hotel. (Figure 8)
The book is written in Fraktur, which was the subject of Post 154. Unfortunately, the text has not been transcribed into German, nor has it been translated into Polish or English. However, because Peter can read Fraktur, he graciously perused and summarized relevant sections of Weltzel’s book.
This book was commissioned in 1859 by the Protestant Church in Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland], who had searched in the archives and discovered that the history of the entire Upper Silesian region, a principally Catholic area at the time, had not been documented. As a result, Dr. Weltzel, a Catholic Priest, was contracted to write about Ratibor. This seemingly odd arrangement was an indirect outcome of the First Silesian War from 1740 to 1742 which resulted in Prussia seizing most of the region of Silesia (today mostly in southwestern Poland) from Austria but Catholics in Silesia being guaranteed the right to continue practicing their religion.
Based on Peter’s synopsis and analysis, I can reconstruct a partial history of the property where the Bruck’s Hotel was built and theorize when the hotel is likely to have been constructed. Another of my Polish contacts from Racibórz is Magda Wawoczny, an acquaintance in the Jewish Studies program at Jagiellonian University in Krakow, Poland. At my request, she graciously sent me high-resolution plans of Ratibor from 1831 and 1843, as well as a map from 1812 with a birds-eye view of Ratibor and its fortifications, that allow me to clarify using contemporary maps what likely was going on in the area at the time in conjunction with Augustin Weltzel’s description of historic events.
First, a brief digression. I’ve periodically told readers about my “boots on the ground” without whom I would be unable to relate my family stories to the depth I feel is required. As readers can easily tell, I have limited knowledge about many of the subjects I discuss so the assistance of knowledgeable people is crucial. In the case of this post, for example, I felt the need to illustrate with historic maps what Ratibor may have looked like at different points in time to make the case for approximately when the Bruck’s Hotel might have been constructed.
Erroneously recalling there exists a map from 1829 with the Bruck’s Hotel shown, I asked Magda, my student acquaintance from Racibórz, if she could track it down for me. In the process, Magda directed me to a historical portal run by her father, Grzegorz Wawoczny, a historian. The portal includes a post written by a German gentleman, Christoph Sottor, describing the oldest plans of the city of Ratibor. This is how I learned about the 1812, 1831, and 1843 plans of Ratibor mentioned above. This post was very useful and one I encourage readers with an ancestral link to Ratibor to skim:
Historically, Ratibor was a fortified castle-town. The period the Bruck’s Hotel could conceivably have been built is closely related to when the fortifications surrounding Ratibor were dismantled because of the hotel’s proximity to where the protective walls once stood. Let me briefly relate to readers some of the history of the town’s defensive system. The defensive walls have existed in Ratibor since 1299. They were extended in the 14th century, and several fortified towers and three wooden gates were later added. A deep moat was constructed in front of the walls. The curtain walls were reinforced in 1663 in anticipation of a Turkish invasion.
Beginning in the 18th century, the fortifications were gradually eliminated. Between 1764 and 1771 the moat was filled in. According to Weltzel, the wooden gate (Figure 22) of the defensive tower nearest where the Bruck’s Hotel was eventually built was removed in 1825 and relocated to the Ratibor side of the bridge crossing the nearby Oder River; some of the nearby curtain walls were removed but the tower remained.
All that remains of the fortifications today is a Renaissance style tower constructed in 1574 and some remnants of the Gothic curtain walls that abutted this tower. (Figures 9-10) At the apex of the tower, there is an attic with embrasures (sometimes called gun holes) and four turrets. The building provided shelter for the garrison of defenders and was also used as a prison tower.
The removal of the moat, including the gradual elimination of some of the defensive structures, coincides with the end of the Seven Years’ War (1756-1763). Let me say a few words about this conflict.
The Seven Years’ War (1756–1763) was a global conflict involving most of Europe’s great powers that was fought primarily in Europe, the Americas, and Asia-Pacific. Without getting too far into the weeds, suffice it to say the opposing alliances were led by Great Britain and France, each seeking to establish global pre-eminence at the expense of the other. France and Spain fought against England and their ally Prussia in Europe and overseas. Long-standing rivalries pitted these adversaries against one another in North America and the West Indies.
No less a personage than Winston Churchill described the Seven Years War, which went by different names in its respective theaters (e.g., Franch and Indian Wars (1754-1763); War of the Conquest in French-speaking Canada; the Third Silesian Wear (1756-1763) between Prussia and Austria) as the first “world war” because of its global reach.
For purposes of this post, suffice it to say that in Europe, Prussia sought greater influence in the German states (i.e., Prussia and the other German states did not unite to form Germany until 1871) while Austria sought to contain Prussian influence as well as regain Silesia which they’d lost at the end of the First Silesian War in 1742. Austria failed in this regard. Based on Augustin Weltzel’s discussions, it is evident the city’s fortifications suffered heavy damage from cannonball strikes during the conflict.
Perhaps, the end of the war, new economic opportunities, ongoing deterioration of the defensive walls and towers, along with a need to expand the city caused town officials to gradually remove the fortifications and towers.
The address of the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel was Oderstrasse 16. The inn stood on the northwest corner of Oderstrasse where it met Bollwerk Strasse. A 1929 street map of Ratibor includes the hotel’s name and location (Figure 11), while a 1933 plan shows the number “16” on Oderstrasse. (Figure 12) A map from around 1890 indistinctly outlines an area where the Bruck’s Hotel stood that is identified by the number “104,” which may indicate the lot number. (Figure 13) Since I don’t have copies of all Ratibor’s plans, it’s not clear when the hotel was first plotted on a map.
The “Prinz von Preußen” is listed in John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent” as a place for people to stay in Ratibor while voyaging between Breslau and Vienna. (Figures 14a-b) Family ownership of the inn is thought to have begun at around this time.
Next, I’ll discuss a few of the historic maps I had access to, and what they suggest regarding the construction of the Bruck’s Hotel. I’ll also touch on some of Weltzel’s historic accounts for reference.
Let me start by discussing the map that Christoph Sottor dates to 1812 (Figure 15) that I previously described as a birds-eye view of the city with its still-standing fortifications.
“On the newly made plan (in 1812 on the basis of measurements from 1810) the orientation to the west was improved, buildings in towns near Racibórz were described and projections of several buildings in Racibórz itself were marked. The “Situations-Plan von der Stadt Ratibor” covers a smaller area than the 1811 plan and is on a smaller scale, 1 : 7,200. The plan measures 48 cm x 32.3 cm. It was also created by the geometer Andre Wihrheim. The only copy of the plan is in AP Opole, reference number: AP Opole, Rej. Opole. Kart., sign. IX/92. I only have a blurry picture of him.” [EDITOR’S NOTE: “AP Opole” stands for “Archiwum Państwowe Opole,” the State Archives in Opole, Poland]
The main conclusion one can draw from this map is that the defensive towers and curtain walls were mostly still intact in 1812. This means the Bruck’s Hotel, whose approximate location I’ve shown on the map, could not yet have existed at this time since the curtain walls would have impeded its construction.
According to Weltzel, the Bruck’s Hotel was referred to as the “Prinzen von Preußen” (“Princes of Prussia”) rather than “Prinz von Preußen” (“Prince of Prussia”), with no mention of the Bruck surname. He also tells us the property where the hotel was eventually built had previously been owned by the so-called Schützengilde, the shooting club, and sat along Oder Gasse, as Oderstrasse was then known. The Schützengilde had two structures on their property, a Schützenzwinger, or clubhouse, and a Schießstand, or firing range. The clubhouse faced Oder Gasse, while the firing range sat towards the rear of the property closer to the Oder River.
At the time Weltzel was researching his book he had access to the shooting club’s records dating back to 1620. According to these documents the Schützengilde owned the property on Oder Gasse until 1824/25 when they sold it to the city of Ratibor in two transactions; by May 1825 the city had full possession of the entire property. Using the proceeds from the sale of the property, the shooting club purchased another property in town. Seemingly, Weltzel does not discuss how the city used the property following its acquisition.
Peter Albrecht von Preußen uncovered a YouTube video describing the activities of the Schützengilde today featuring none other than my late friend Paul Newerla. While the video is in both German and Polish with subtitles in both these languages, readers can get a general idea of how the shooting club operates today and view some of the antique weapons members fire:
In essence, Paul Newerla says that today the Schützengilde is principally a historical society and functions as a recreational club rather than as a defensive force as it once did. As previously mentioned, the club relocated from Oder Gasse in 1825, but moved again in 1898 to their present location. The existing clubhouse incorporates a tower (Figure 16) that may be a remembrance of the Oder Thor that once stood adjacent to their property on Oder Gasse. According to Paul, the oldest documents the club possesses date to 1925, so he is appealing to anyone that may have older artifacts or memorabilia to contact the club. And finally, we learn the Schützengilde was inoperative from the 8th of May 1945 until 2004, when it was resurrected.
Let me turn now to the two high resolution maps from 1831 and 1843 that Magda sent me and discuss what inferences can be drawn from them. Both plans show two buildings on the property, the 1843 map more distinctly, where the Bruck’s Hotel would eventually be built. On the 1831 map (Figure 17), in the rear structure, that’s to say the shooting range, readers can vaguely make out what Weltzel refers to as a “wall extension” that paralleled the lane where Bollwerk Strasse was ultimately sited. It would appear the firing range incorporated as an extension a fragmentary part of the curtain walls that once surrounded Ratibor.
One thing we can conclude from the 1843 map (Figure 18) is that the Oder Thor, Oder Tower, the tower closest to where the hotel was ultimately built had apparently not yet been demolished, though as previously mentioned the wooden gate had been removed in 1825. The tower is labelled on the map suggesting it was still in place. It’s difficult to know precisely where the Oder Thor was situated relative to the hotel making it hard to know whether it would have impeded construction of the building; however, the defensive curtain walls would assuredly have prevented construction of the inn.
Another thing we can observe from the 1843 ocular map of Ratibor is that if you extend the line that was formerly part of the curtain wall and the extension of the Schießstand, it lines up perfectly with the side of the Oder Thor that was closest to the Oder River.
So, we return to the question of when the Bruck’s Hotel might have been built and what the impetus for doing so would have been. A French travel guide dated 1836 entitled “Manuel du Voyageur en Allemagne” (Handbook for Travelers in Germany), mentions an auberge or inn in Ratibor, “Auberge de Jaeschke.” (Figure 19) Prior to construction of the Bruck’s Hotel this is believed to have been the only guesthouse in Ratibor.
As previously discussed, the “Prinz von Preußen” is mentioned in John Murray’s 1850 publication “A Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent,” and is described as a “very comfortable hotel.” (see Figure 14b) Clearly, by 1850 the “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel was open for business. This is further confirmed by a concert the famed Austrian composer Johann Strauss delivered on the 17th of October 1850 in the hotel’s concert hall. (Figure 20) A similar recital by Dr. Franz Lizst four years earlier on the 29th of May 1846 was performed at the so-called “Jaschke’schen Saale” (Figure 21), presumably part of the “Auberge de Jaeschke,” indirect evidence the newer and larger Prinz von Preußen concert hall was not yet open.
According to Weltzel, the anticipated arrival of the railroad in Ratibor, which began service on the 1st of January 1846, caused a “building boom” between 1842 and 1850. If the 1843 map is accurate, the Oder Thor still stood at this time, so construction of the hotel post-dates its removal. While there is no smoking gun, the indirect evidence points to the Prinz von Preußen having been built sometime between 1845 and 1847, coinciding with the arrival of the railroad. No doubt regular train service and mention of the Prinz von Preußen in an English travel guide would have accelerated the number of visitors and tourists from Germany, Austria, and far-off places who would have expected modern conveniences. It can only be hoped the hotel’s Grundbuch still exists and is eventually found to definitively answer the question of what year the inn was built.
Knie, Johann G. (1845). Alphabetisch-statistisch-topographische Uebersicht der Dörfer, Flecken, Städte und andern Orte der Königl. Preuß. Provinz Schlesien.
Note: Tiering off a few elusive clues I found about my third great-grandfather Jacob Nathan Bruck (1770-1836) from Ratibor [today:Racibórz, Poland], I examine the historic and geographic context in which the events he was involved in played out.
In Post 150 I told readers how I discovered my great-great-great-grandfather Jacob Nathan Bruck’s death register listing among the primary source documents digitized by the Upper Silesian Genealogical Society’s “Silius Radicum” project. The index proves Jacob died in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland] on the 29th of June 1836 at the age of 66. (Figure 1) As the oldest known Bruck from the Ratibor line, I refer to him as the paterfamilias.
Finding definitive proof of my long-ago ancestor’s death is particularly satisfying as ancestral trees on ancestry.com and MyHeritage, often cloning erroneous information from one another, indeterminately placed his death as 1832. Having never been able to independently verify Jacob’s vital data, it was always an open question of when exactly he died.
In the last several months, I’ve uncovered a smattering of clues from a range of sources that give me a limited sense of Jacob’s life. Before delving into these, I want to touch on a few intriguing finds I’ve made in the process.
First, a little background. According to a memoir written by Bertha Bruck (Figure 2), the grandmother of one of my recently deceased cousins, Jacob Nathan Bruck and his wife Marianne Bruck, née Aufrecht had 12 children. Most of my cousins, whom I consider highly accomplished genealogists, can account for seven or eight of them. I think I can provide corroboration of nine of Jacob and Marianne’s purported 12 children. Presenting the underlying proof relying on evidence-based primary source documents will be the subject of an upcoming post.
While researching one of Jacob and Marianne’s offspring, Marcus Moritz Bruck, I stumbled upon a Bruck Family Tree on Geneanet Community Tree Index. Geneanet is a collaborative website with ancestral data added by participants and intended for all genealogists.
I sound my usual admonishment about the accuracy of any ancestral tree particularly if source documents are not attached and/or identified. Nonetheless, Geneanet corroborates Jacob Nathan Bruck’s date of death as the 29th of June 1836, as I’ve independently discovered; having learned that Jacob was 66 upon his death obviously means that he was born in 1770. Geneanet not only confirms that Jacob was born in 1770, but also provides his exact date and place of birth, the 18th of February 1770 in Pschow [Pszów, Poland]. (Figure 3) Notwithstanding my usual doubts about the accuracy of ancestral trees, the specificity of Jacob’s place and date of death suggests it could be accurately drawn from an entry in some unknown birth register. For the moment, I reserve judgement.
Another intriguing find I made on the Bruck Family Tree in Geneanet is the name and dates of birth and death of Jacob’s father, Nathan Bruck, purportedly born in Upper Silesia in Poland in 1735 who died there in 1825 at age 90. (Figure 4) Again, absent more background information, I remain skeptical as to the veracity of this data.
Some brief historical geography. The historical region of Silesia is now in southwestern Poland. Silesia was originally a Polish province, which became a possession of the Bohemian crown in 1335, passed with that crown to the Austrian Hapsburgs in 1526, and was taken by Prussia in 1742. In 1945, at the end of World War II, Silesia was one of the regions of German territory that was granted to Poland by the Soviet Union in compensation for land in eastern Poland that was incorporated into the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, land that is today part of the Ukraine.
For the purposes of this discussion, in 1735 when Nathan Bruck was born Upper Silesia would have been part of the Hapsburg empire. (Figure 5) Where ancestral records from this period are archived and even whether they still exist are unknown. If Nathan did indeed survive until 1825, his death would likely have been recorded in the death register in the Prussian town where he died; it’s possible the register noting his age when he died survives while the Austrian Hapsburg empire birth register no longer exists. At present Nathan’s place of death is unconfirmed.
I would like to briefly touch on a fascinating possibility stemming from the discovery that Nathan Bruck lived until age 90. Because of her ancestral connection to Jacob Nathan Bruck and Nathan Bruck, in passing I told Helen Winter, nee Renshaw, my fourth cousin from Wolverhampton, England, about my discovery, namely, about Jacob’s date of birth and the possibility that his father lived into his 10th decade. In response, Helen casually mentioned an unframed painting that she and her sister once saw 30 or more years ago of a diminished, toothless old man. The unnerving effect it had on young children means the picture remained secreted. Given her family’s ancestral connection to Nathan Bruck, could it be that this painting is a rendering of Nathan Bruck? The search is now on by Helen and her sister to try and relocate this potential “treasure.” Stay tuned!
Jacob Nathan Bruck is my and Helen Winter’s last common Bruck relative, being the third great-grandfather to both of us. Helen’s paternal grandfather, Eberhard Friedrich Bruck (1877-1960) (Figure 6) wrote a memoir for his daughter Margot Renshaw, nee Bruck, Helen’s mother, in which he briefly mentioned Jacob.
The original German passage and the English translation read as follows:
ORIGINAL PASSAGE
Mein Urgrossvater Jacob Bruck, 1762-1832, war Hotelbesitzer. Ihm gehörte das erste Hotel in Ratibor an der Oder ( Oberschlesien ). Das Hotel hiess “Prinz von Preussen”. Es wurde von Jacob Bruck um 1800 erbaut und bestand noch, wie ich aus einer Zeitungsnotis entnahm, 1933. Jacob Bruck war ein unternehmender Mann. Er besass auch eine Werft an der Oder, wo grössere Schiffe ( sog. “Oderkähne”) gebaut wurden. Um das nötige Holz zu erhalten, pachtete er Walder in Osterreichisch- Schlesien.
TRANSLATION
My great grandfather, Jacob Bruck, 1762 -1832 [EDITOR’S NOTE: INCORRECT DATES], was a hotelier. He owned the first hotel in Ratibor on Oder in Upper Silesia. The hotel was called the “Prince of Prussia.” He had it built in around 1800 and it was still standing in 1933, according to a newspaper item I saw. Jacob Bruck was an enterprising man. He also owned a shipyard on the Oder, where large craft (the so called ‘Oder Barges’) were built. To obtain the timber needed for these, he leased forests in Austrian Silesia.
A few observations and comments concerning what Eberhard Bruck wrote about Jacob and his occupational endeavors. As previously discussed, Jacob was born in 1770, not in 1762, and passed away in 1836, not in 1832. Eberhard was born in 1877 so would not personally have known his great-grandfather. Likely, his “memories” of Jacob would be recollections he’d heard of him as a child and would be distorted by the prism through which childhood memories are often processed and remembered.
I have tried to confirm whether what Eberhard wrote vis a vis Jacob Bruck is true, and in the process crafted what I consider to be a more accurate scenario of what likely happened. I will relate this is a future blog post where I recount when the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preussen” Hotel was probably built based on documented accounts of when the walls and towers surrounding and historically protecting Ratibor were torn down. I invite readers to stay tuned for this upcoming post but suffice it for now to say that it’s unlikely that Jacob had the Bruck’s Hotel constructed prior to his death nor that he was its first owner. This does not mean that Jacob did not operate the town’s first hotel as he is known to have owned several parcels of land in Ratibor. More on this below.
As I’ve discussed in earlier posts, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preussen” Hotel survived WWII mostly intact but was dismantled by the Communist authorities to harvest the hotel’s bricks to rebuild Warsaw.
Prior to his passing, I asked my friend Paul Newerla whether Oderkähne, or Oder River barges, had ever been constructed in Ratibor, and he confirmed there had once been a shipyard there along the Oder River. He sent a postcard showing a large craft, possibly of the type Jacob manufactured. (Figure 7) Given that Jacob Bruck was fabricating these before he died in 1836 and that 1839 is the generally accepted date as the birth year of practical photography, no photographs of the barges Jacob manufactured are known.
I also discussed this matter with another good friend, Peter Albrecht von Preußen. As he was reading an 1861 book on Ratibor entitled “Geschichte der Stadt Ratibor und deren Stadtteile” (“History of the Town of Ratibor and Its Districts”) by Augustin Weltzel, I asked him to be on the lookout for any mention of Oder River barges or ship building activities in Ratibor but neither subject was broached.
A quick note about Augustin Weltzel’s 1861 book. Regrettably it is written in Fraktur font, a calligraphic hand of the Latin alphabet and any of several blackletter typefaces derived from this hand; Fraktur was commonly used to write German and other European languages from the 16th to the 20th century. Regrettably, this invaluable book has not been transcribed into modern-day German script, nor translated into Polish or English. On my behalf, Peter read through and synopsized relevant sections for me. Suffice it to say this book is full of valuable historical insights about the history of Ratibor that will serve as the foundation for my theory as to when the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preussen” Hotel could realistically have been constructed.
Returning briefly to the issue of Oder River barges, Peter discovered that on average an Oderkahne was 130 feet long, 13 to 15 feet wide, and 3 to 4 feet deep, so by no means a small boat. Assuming these were assembled on land, the factory or shop would have had to have been very close to the river. Possibly the shipyard was located outside Ratibor’s city limits, and therefore not mentioned in Weltzel’s book.
Intriguingly, Peter sent me a photograph of the type of barge I initially imagined Jacob Bruck was constructing. (Figure 8) The reason it seems more representative of barges Jacob Bruck was building is that they were mostly used to transport agricultural products from Ratibor to Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland], which this one appears to have been suited for. According to Weltzel, the three primary industries at the time wrote his book were weaving, grain production, and limestone manufacturing.
The pole on the barge in Figure 8 would have been attached to a rope which in turn would have been fastened and pulled upstream by a horse from the banks of the Oder. Once unloaded, it could basically float empty downriver. The “newer” type of barge illustrated in Figure 7, which began to appear between around 1850 to 1860, would have been steam-powered. According to Weltzel, the Oder River was not well suited for larger barges between Ratibor and Breslau, even during the rainy seasons in the spring when high waters would have made navigating larger craft easier.
A constant concern for the city were the bridges spanning the Oder River which collapsed or were destroyed no fewer than a dozen times historically because of fires, wars, flooding, ice buildup, and strong currents undermining the structures. The bridges were constantly rebuilt in different locations but because of the sandy sediment of the Oder they rarely survived for long until advanced building techniques were devised.
Eberhard Bruck’s fleeting reference to the fact that Jacob obtained his wood to build barges from Austrian Silesia sent me on a search to find maps delineating this area. In the attached figure, readers can see where “Oster Schlesien,” Austrian Silesia, was situated. (Figure 9) According to Paul Newerla, later shipyards apparently obtained their wood from Slovakia and Hungary, perhaps cheaper alternatives. Regardless, all three areas would have been logical places from which to obtain wood given their proximity to Ratibor.
Other fleeting references to Jacob Bruck can be found in a 1995 book by Thomas Wardenga entitled “Häuserbuch der Stadt Ratibor” (“House register of the town of Ratibor”). This book includes an 1812 map of Ratibor showing the town’s lots at the time, identifying property owners. Jacob is shown as the co-owner of three lots. (Figure 10)
Jacob is identified as a so-called “arrendator.” Not recognizing or being able to obtain a clear translation of this obscure and obsolete occupation, I turned to Paul Newerla, my recently deceased friend, for clarification. Translated, this is what Paul explained about Jacob’s line of work:
Arendator [EDITOR’S NOTE: ALSO SPELLED AS “ARRENDATOR”] is known to be a tenant of a pub, for example. During my research, I came across several instances where a tavern was leased by the noble owner of the village, for example. The right to produce spirits (distiller) was sometimes associated with the bar. However, the tenant had to buy the beer from the owner’s brewery. Sometimes it was the other way round: the right to brew beer was linked to the arrende, but the brandy had to be bought from the “lord”. In such cases, it can be said that a person could have been both “arrendator” and “distiller” and/or beer tenant (brewer).
Recently, while doing further research I discovered an excellent article by Alan Weiser entitled “The Arenda System: A Boon or Bane for Jews.” According to the author, “The arenda has been defined by the University of Virginia in its course on European Jewry as a system of leasing property in early modern Poland in which in exchange for a predetermined rent the lessor agreed to transfer to the lessee control over property or rights; thus, enabling the lessee to pocket any income produced from the leased property or rights. The arenda provided a livelihood for a significant proportion of Polish Jewish families.” Jacob as the lessee in an arenda contract would have been called an “arendar” or “arrendator.”
It has been suggested that because of the pressure the Jewish arendars were under to make payments to magnates and kings who owned the leased properties this resulted in large scale Jewish community debt causing the arendars to apply harsh measures to their serfs to ensure high productivity as soon as possible. According to Alan Weiser, “There was considerable anti-Semitic backlash resulting from this interaction.”
I encourage readers interested in learning more about the Arenda system to read Alan Weiser’s article and review his bibliographic references.
Thanks to another of my Polish acquaintances, Mr. Kamil Kotas from Chałupki, Poland, known in Prussian times as Annaberg, I was made aware of another very obscure reference to Jacob Bruck I would never have found on my own. On the Leo Baeck Institute’s website, in a file entitled the “Ratibor Community Collection,” Kamil found a typed German report translated as “The Jewish Community of Ratibor and its Cemetery” by C. Baendel. According to this document Jacob Bruck was one of the members of the Jewish community in Ratibor authorized to carry out the transaction of purchasing the land for the Jewish cemetery in 1814; according to C. Baendel, the deed is dated the 4th of October 1814.
Interestingly, the deed was signed by all those authorized on the Jewish side authorized to negotiate the purchase, while on the selling side, the three heirs of a man named Johann Huttny had to use the help of a witness to confirm their signatures (they were probably illiterate) and a translator (they were probably from the Slavic-speaking local population). C. Bandel notes the cemetery was once used to mine brown coal, the prospects of which do not appear to have been lucrative. He also mentions the centennial celebration of the cemetery was set for the 26th of November 1913. The link to C. Baendel’s document can be found among the references.
The Polish website, Cmentarz Żydowski w Polsce, List of Jewish Cemeteries in Poland, provides additional historical background on the Ratibor Jewish cemetery. Prior to its acquisition in 1814, Jews from Ratibor were buried in nearby Zülz [today: Biała Prudnicka, Poland], Nikolai [today: Mikołów, Poland], Langendorf [today: Hlučín, Czech Republic], or Hotzenplotz [today: Osoblaha, Czech Republic], or further afield in Bodzanów in central Poland. Purportedly, burials did not begin until 1817, though the oldest documented headstone dated from 1821. The last burials took place, respectively, in March 1940 and February 1941.
As I discussed in Post 13 and Post 13, Postscript, the Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor was demolished during Poland’s Communist Era in 1973. Quoting from an anonymous resident of Racibórz, who sent a letter to the Polish website Cmentarz Żydowski w Polsce, described the events as follows: “One day gentlemen appeared, described all the tombstones with colored paint, then arranged them according to some key. The most beautiful ones were taken to the reconstruction of the Royal Castle in Warsaw. The less attractive ones were sold to stonemasons. The remains of the stones were still lying around for a long time. It looked terrible; the real devastation of the cemetery, demolished, felled, dug up stones. What was left was chaos, rubble, and so the bushes were overgrown. I think that the destruction was undertaken due to the necessity of delivering the marbles to Warsaw.”
A plaque was placed at the cemetery by a Pawel Głogowski in April 2014 (Figure 11), and more recently on 19th of December 2023, a ceremony was held there with representatives from Warsaw’s Muzeum Historii Żydów Polskich Polin, the Museum of the History of Polish Jews; Director of the Museum in Racibórz; and several Jewish attendees including a Rabbi who offered a prayer. (Figure 12) Fragmentary pieces of headstones were collected. (Figure 13)
In closing, I would note that while the historical references to my third great-grandfather are elusive, they’ve provided me the opportunity to discuss a wide number of topics including the geopolitical landscape at the time; ship building in Ratibor; the source of wood used in barge construction; the Arenda System; and the purchase of land for the construction of the Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor and its ultimate destruction.
Note: This post is primarily a tribute to my recently deceased friend from Racibórz, Poland, Paul Newerla, who generously and selflessly assisted me in innumerable ways over the years while I was researching and writing about my Bruck family. I am deeply saddened by his passing, but honored to have known him and appreciative he deemed my efforts worthy of his time.
Typically, I get up every morning at 4am and head to the gym. On Sundays when I’m done and am driving home my local National Public Radio station is broadcasting a show called “A Way with Words,” co-hosted by Martha Barnette and Grant Barrett. They talk with callers from around the world about slang, grammar, old sayings, word origins, regional dialects, family expressions, and speaking and writing well.
In one recent episode, an African-American gentleman from the South called to tell of his use of the word “conversate,” an expression I was unfamiliar with. Use of “conversating” instead of “conversing” is considered non-standard or informal in many English-speaking communities; as readers will surmise, it means to engage in conversation. Since my blog posts are an informal method of telling stories about my ancestors and extended family and the people and the sometimes-tragic events that surrounded their lives, conversating strikes an appropriate balance, like having a fireside chat. It’s been quite a few years since I’ve casually conversated with readers, so the moment seems right.
In the last several months I’ve acquired an astonishing amount of new information, some of it related to my earliest relatives from Ratibor, Prussia [Racibórz, Poland] and other details connected to various family and acquaintances I’ve written about over the years. The particulars will form the basis for some upcoming posts and postscripts to earlier articles.
There is a limit to how much I can reconstruct using only ancestry.com or MyHeritage, so the contributions, interpretations, and observations drawn from family memoirs and diaries, books, websites, and knowledgeable researchers and historians enhance my understanding of how, when, and where my forefathers were active in Ratibor, Prussia, Silesia, and elsewhere the Jewish diaspora took them.
Longtime readers of my blog have periodically heard me refer to my cadre of helpers as my “boots on the ground.” They are an eclectic group consisting of friends and acquaintances, professionals and amateurs, near and distant relatives, and, of course, readers.
Sadly, in the past few days, I’ve heard from no fewer than four Polish acquaintances telling me of the passing of my dear friend from Racibórz, Mr. Paul Newerla, a 91-year-old gentleman and elder statesman, who found a second calling, following his retirement as a lawyer, researching and writing about the history of Ratibor and Silesia. (Figure 1)
Like many of the people who’ve provided color commentary, history, and context for my posts, Paul found me through my blog. Our initial conversations revolved around the business enterprise, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preussen” Hotel (Figure 2), my family owned and operated from around 1850 until 1926 in Ratibor. Our discussions quickly expanded beyond this topic as I was trying to track down primary source documents related to extended family members connected with Ratibor and trying to figure out how long my Bruck family had been associated with the town.
I clearly remember in 2019 when Paul was doing research for an article he was writing about the 200th anniversary of Ratibor’s gymnasium, high school. (Figure 3) He miraculously managed to track down the original roster of students who attended the high school from its founding in 1819 through 1849. (Figure 4) What made this discovery so astonishing is that he found this document not in the Archiwum Państwowe w Katowicach Oddział w Raciborzu, the State Archives in Katowice, Branch in Racibórz, or in the Muzeum w Raciborzu, or Racibórz Museum, but rather among the old files of the gymnasium, now an economic middle school. It goes without saying, on my own I probably could not have accessed this invaluable document with the names of multiple of my early Bruck ancestors even had I been aware of its existence.
Naturally, upon discovering the roster’s whereabouts and making special arrangements to photograph it, Paul sent me copies of the individual pages. Opening each of the roughly 100 pages reminded me of my days as a dirt archaeologist never knowing what the next shovelful or trowel scrapping would reveal. For those of you who’ve never gone through seemingly “dry” documents may not appreciate how enthralling this can sometimes be.
On another occasion, Paul again tracked down and photographed a 73-page document I could assuredly not have accessed on my own. It was the Grundbuch, the land register, for the Zuckerfabrik, the sugar factory, in Woinowitz [today: Wojnowice, Poland] (Figure 5), outside Racibórz. (Figure 6) Grundbuch means the applicable official register held by the Land Registry in which, among other things, the rights of ownership in, and encumbrances on, a plot of land are registered. Long-time readers know that I have written extensively about the Zuckerfabrik because of my family’s ancestral connection to the original co-owners of the factory, Adolph Schück and Sigmund Hirsch.
Paul knew the German land registers are archived at the State Archives in Katowice, Branch in Racibórz; he also knew that because these land registers have not yet been archived, they are currently inaccessible to researchers. Nonetheless, Paul convinced the head of the State Archives in Racibórz to let him into the basement to rummage through the uncatalogued documents to search for the land register for the sugar factory. (Figure 7) He found it in a file entitled “Woinowitz Blatt 161,” Woinowitz Sheet 161. Readers can easily imagine how improbable my gaining access to the basement of the State Archives to search for the Grundbuch would have been.
I could always count on Paul to patiently answer my endless stream of questions, no matter how mundane, and send me references, records, illustrative materials, maps, photos, postcards, etc. to better understand the history of people, places, and events in Ratibor and Silesia. Paul was helpful in multiple other ways, including on several occasions when he visited the State Archives at my request to track down a primary source document I was convinced existed.
I have little doubt a small part of why Paul was so willing to help me is that I am a direct descendant of the original owner of the Bruck’s Hotel in Ratibor and bear the Americanized version of the surname. That said, I’m positive he would have been equally helpful to anyone having an interest in the history of Ratibor and Silesia. That’s the type of man Paul was.
I consider it an extreme honor to have personally met Paul, to have had him show me some of modern Racibórz, and for his patient and professional assistance over the years. Like many others, he provided affirmation that my family history blog fulfills a service which I would not be able to provide absent the contributions and exhortations of dedicated folks like Paul and other readers. I’m deeply thankful for Paul’s help over the years, as well as the assistance provided by other followers of my blog.
Note: In this post, I discuss how I recently came into possession of images of ancestors from a branch of my family that originates mostly from Breslau [today:Wrocław, Poland], and learned about a memoir written by the grandfather of the English lawyer who shared these pictures.
A scant three months ago, on the 29th of September 2023 to be precise, I received an email from a lawyer living in Wolverhampton in the West Midlands of England, Helen Winter, née Renshaw. (Figure 1) I say “scant” because in the short period since we’ve been in touch, we’ve already exchanged several hundred emails.
In Helen’s initial missive, she explained that she is a descendant of the Bruck family and that her maternal grandfather was Professor Eberhard Friedrich Bruck (1877-1960). (Figure 2) He taught law at the University of Bonn until enactment of “The Law for the Restoration of the Professional Civil Service” (German: Gesetz zur Wiederherstellung des Berufsbeamtentums, shortened to Berufsbeamtengesetz) by the Nazis on the 7th of April 1933. The primary objective of this law was to establish a “national” and “professional” civil service by dismissing certain groups of tenured civil servants, including individuals of Jewish descent and non-Aryan origins. Additionally, the law forbade Jews, non-Aryans, and political opponents from holding positions as teachers, professors, judges, or within the government. It also extended to other professions such as lawyers, doctors, tax consultants, musicians, and notaries.
Following Eberhard’s dismissal as university professor and confiscation of his home, he fled to the United States and wound-up teaching at Harvard University. As Helen further explained, her grandfather wrote a memoir for his daughter, Helen’s mother (Figure 3), relating the history of his branch of the Bruck family. As a Christmas gift to her nephews and nieces, Helen has slowly been translating the account. Her grandfather’s chronicle makes mention of the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, the family business in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland] owned by three generations of my family. (Figure 4) While researching the history and fate of the hotel, Helen stumbled on multiple blog posts where I made mention of the establishment.
Helen has promised to share her grandfather’s translated story but has given me a preview of the brief entry her grandfather Eberhard Bruck wrote about his great-grandfather, Jacob Nathan Bruck, my great-great-great-grandfather from Ratibor. Since Jacob arguably died in 1832 or 1836 and Eberhard was born in 1877, he would not have known him personally. Eberhard’s written accounts of Jacob are likely stories he heard about him growing up and may have been clouded by the lens through which childhood memories are often remembered. In an upcoming post, I intend to discuss the meager details I’ve been able to uncover about my earliest known ancestor from Ratibor but suffice it for now to say the particulars caused me to more thoroughly investigate when the Bruck’s Hotel might have been built. These findings will be the basis for yet another post because they give insights on avenues others may want to follow in examining their own family histories.
On various occasions I’ve told readers that my ancestral tree has fewer than 1,500 names, which pales in comparison to multiple trees I’ve come across with more than 100,000 names. I use my tree mostly to orient myself to the people I write about on my blog. That said, I have people in my tree, living and deceased, whose names I’ve come across without knowing anything about them. This was the case with my fourth cousin Thomas “Tom” Friedrich Brook until he contacted me asking if we were related; I wrote about Tom in Post 143. (Figure 5) This was also true of Helen who previously existed only as a wraith. Coincidentally, Tom and Helen Winter are second cousins who’ve never met (i.e., Helen and Tom’s grandfathers were brothers), and like Tom, Helen is my fourth cousin.
In conjunction with translating her grandfather’s memoirs, Helen recently obtained family documents and pictures her older sister was curating. (Figure 6) Scrutinizing these items in combination has caused Helen to become obsessed with ancestral research. I can relate!
It is not my intention to further dwell on this branch of my family. However, as I just mentioned, I have numerous individuals in my tree I know nothing about and have no idea what they looked like. As names only, they are lifeless. Helen has been like the gift that keeps on giving because she has sent me pictures of many of my ancestors, including some of the earliest known ones from Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland]. Acquiring these visuals for my ancestral tree is like filling in my Bingo card!
Among the most beguiling images Helen sent are ones of Jacob Bruck’s son and daughter-in-law, Dr. Jonas Julius Bruck (1813-1883) (Figures 7a & b-10) and Rosalie Bruck, née Marle (1817-1890) (Figures 11-12) and his famous grandson, Dr. Julius Bruck (1840-1902). (Figure 13) Julius is known for having designed in 1867 a water-cooled diaphanoscopic instrument for transillumination of the bladder via the rectum.
Jonas and Julius Bruck and their respective wives are interred in a mausoleum-like structure at the Old Jewish Cemetery in Wrocław, Poland (Figure 14), and are among my only Bruck ancestors whose burial location is known. Because I am friends with the Branch Manager of the Old Jewish Cemetery, Dr. Renata Wilkoszewska-Krakowska (Figure 15), I shared the pictures Helen sent with her and she was thrilled to receive them since some of the people are interred in “her” cemetery.
To close this post, I will share two other images (Figures 16-17) Helen has sent over the last several weeks, like the twelve daily gifts of Christmas! Suffice it to say, my Bingo card is becoming quite full!
Note: In this post, which I anticipate will be of limited interest to most readers, I examine primary source documents related to my great-great-grandfather Samuel Bruck (1808-1863) which shed light on his business activities and legacy. The fact that he owned one of the first hotels in Ratibor in Silesia [today: Racibórz, Poland] and had his hand in other commercial ventures made finding information about him easier than it would have been for a less prominent individual.
Thanks to the assistance of readers, friends, and distant relatives, over the last few months I’ve acquired primary source documents that shed light on the activities of a few of my earliest Bruck relatives from Silesia (Figure 1) when it was a part of Prussia before Germany became a unified state in 1871. Primary source documents including contemporary registers of vital events, such as births, marriages, and deaths; records certifying these occurrences; contemporary handbooks and address directories; and concurrent historical accounts or diaries, are my “gold standard” for verifying the age and context of ancestral events. While these records are not infallible, they come as close as possible to confirming the timing of vital events.
In this post, I will discuss some evidentiary materials that my dear friend Peter Albrecht von Preußen and others have unearthed related to my great-great-grandfather Samuel Bruck (1808-1863). (Figure 2) Samuel is thought to be the original owner of the family establishment in Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel (Figure 3), believed to have been purchased in around 1850. However, a recently uncovered memoir penned by Eberhard Friedrich Bruck (1877-1960), one of Samuel’s grandnephews, currently being translated by his granddaughter, Helen Winter née Renshaw (b. 1948), now suggests Samuel’s father, Jacob Bruck (1770-1836), may originally have conceived the idea of building the hotel. As we speak, I am trying to run to ground other primary source documents that can not only confirm which Bruck ancestor first owned the hotel but possibly when the hotel might have been constructed.
Before launching into the documents that Peter Albrecht (Figure 4) and others have found and what I learned about Samuel, I would like to share with readers something I discovered in the process. I mistakenly believed that because the Bruck’s Hotel was in Ratibor, relevant archival materials would be restricted to the “Archiwum Państwowe w Katowicach Oddział w Raciborzu,” that’s to say the “State Archives in Katowice Branch in Racibórz.” Such is not the case. While I’ve assuredly found records about the Bruck’s Hotel in Racibórz’s archives, thanks to one of my readers I recently learned about and obtained archival materials related to the hotel from the State Archives in Wrocław, Branch in Kamieniec Ząbkowicki [formerly Kamenz, Prussia]. These latter materials will be the subject of a future post as they speak to the subject of the last days of my family’s ownership of the hotel in 1926-1927. My point to readers is that even if your family originates from one specific town in Silesia, you should keep an open mind as to which archives you search for ancestral information.
Because Peter’s surname is contained within the name of the former family establishment in Ratibor, Bruck’s Hotel “Prinz von Preußen,” and the fact that both of our families have deep ties to Silesia, caused Peter to take an interest in finding Bruck-related documents. Among other things, his discoveries shed light on my great-great-grandfather Samuel Bruck’s business activities.
Materials uncovered about Samuel Bruck provide a cautionary tale of the lens through which primary source documents should be examined. Just because historical files are related to an individual with the same name as one’s ancestor does not guarantee they are relevant, particularly if the surname is reasonably common in a geographic area.
In the online extracts of files archived at the Archiwum Państwowe w Opolu, State Archives in Opole [formerly Oppeln, Prussia], Peter found the following two files related to a Samuel Bruck from the former Prussian town of Zülz [today: Biała, informally Biała Prudnicka, Poland]:
“Die letzwillige Bestimmung des Breltesten und Handelsmannes Samuel Bruck Zülz: 1820-1835” (Figure 5)
(“The last will and testament of the brethren and merchant Samuel Bruck Zülz: 1820-1835”)
“Die gerichtliche Annahme und Niederlegung das von dem Kaufmann Samuel Bruck am 13 Januar 1832 verschlossen übergebene Testaments: 1832-1839” (Figure 6)
(“The judicial acceptance and filing of the will handed over by the merchant Samuel Bruck on 13 January 1832 in sealed form: 1832-1839”)
Though the wills relate to a Samuel Bruck who filed testaments in the town of Zülz [today: Biała, informally Biała Prudnicka, Poland], this alone was not enough to convince me they related to someone other than my ancestor. As I just mentioned, I’ve found documents on the Bruck’s Hotel in Ratibor in archives other than Racibórz. For geographic reference, Opole is roughly 26 miles north-northeast of Biała. (Figure 7)
Let me briefly digress. Readers cannot fail to notice that the two wills filed with the court in Zülz date from when Samuel Bruck, born in 1808, would respectively have been only 12 and 24 years of age. However unlikely writing wills at such a young age might appear to us, I try and imagine how different things might have been almost 200 years ago. I considered the possibility that Samuel had been extremely precocious and might have felt obligated to write a will as improbable as this seems.
Persuaded both files might relate to my ancestor, I ordered them. (Figures 8-9) Upon their arrival, I asked my fourth cousin Thomas Koch if he could help me make sense of the 39 pages of records I’d been sent; Thomas is the great-great-grandnephew of Samuel Bruck, thus he has an interest in the Bruck’s Hotel and Samuel Bruck.
There were some immediate clues the wills from Zülz related to someone other than my Samuel Bruck. The Samuel Bruck in question was apparently the owner of a local pawnshop and an ironmonger (i.e., a dealer in iron and hardware), as well as a money lender, trades I’ve never heard associated with the Samuel Bruck from Ratibor. The Zülz wills also refer to Samuel as a parish or community elder, terms unlikely to have been applied to a 12 or 24-year old person. For the most part, the files document what court officials said, the actions of Samuel Bruck, and the fees to be paid by Samuel. Something notably absent that would affirmatively have allowed me to determine the testator are named heirs, none of whom are identified.
Convinced the Samuel Bruck from Zülz, though likely related to my Bruck family from Ratibor (Biała and Racibórz are only about 38 miles apart (Figure 10)) in some unknown way, was not the former owner of the Bruck’s Hotel, I investigated other possibilities. I examined the Church of Latter-Day Saints Family Historic Center Microfilm 1271493 for Zülz, and discovered a Samuel Bruck born there on the 10th of September 1761. (Figure 11) It seems likely this Samuel Bruck is the person whose 1820 and 1832 wills were filed locally.
One document, however, that unequivocally relates to the Samuel Bruck from Zülz is a notice about a bankruptcy auction that took place on the 23rd of June 1837 in Zülz (Figures 12a-b), presumably following this Samuel Bruck’s death in 1836 or 1837. The reason for this certainty is that this Samuel Bruck is identified in the notice as a “Eisenhändlert,” an iron trader, just as his wills identify him. According to Peter, while it is unusual for the estate of a deceased person to wind up in bankruptcy, this is possible when there are no heirs and/or no will. We know two testaments existed, so likely there were no heirs.
There is another document in my possession that should have clued me in to the fact that Samuel Bruck from Zülz was not my great-great-grandfather. In connection with his research, my retired lawyer friend from Racibórz, Paul Newerla, who has written extensively about Ratibor and Silesia found a historic publication from 1820 about the grand opening of the Royal Evangelical High School in Ratibor on the 2nd of June 1819. (Figures 13a-c) It lists the names of the enrolled students, including both Samuel Bruck and his younger brother, Jonas Bruck (1813-1883). It is more reasonable to surmise that at the age of 11, Samuel Bruck would have been in school in Ratibor rather than writing wills.
Samuel Bruck is listed in an 1843 merchant member book, entitled “Grosses Adressbuch der Kaufleute, Fabrikanten und handelnden Gewerbsleute von Europa und der hauptplazen der fremden Weltheile: Brandenburg, Preussen, Posen, Pommern, Schlesien,” “Large address book of the merchants, manufacturers, and trading professionals from Europe and the main square of the foreign world salvation: Brandenburg, Prussia, Posen, Pomerania, Silesia.” (Figures 14a-b) Interestingly, 1843 corresponds with the year that a city map of Ratibor shows the location where the Bruck’s Hotel once stood having a building on the lot. (Paul Newerla, personal communication) Samuel Bruck’s listing in the 1843 merchant member guide, however, may or may not have anything to do with his ownership of the Hotel “Prinz von Preußen” at this time. Samuel is known to have been involved in other businesses.
As a related aside, Ratibor was once a walled city. It was not until 1828 that the Oder gate, the tower nearest where the Bruck’s Hotel was eventually built, was demolished; the removal of this gate made it possible to extend Oderstraße, the street on which the Bruck’s Hotel stood (Paul Newerla, personal communication). It’s safe to assume that it was only after 1828 that the Hotel “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel could have been built.
As readers can generally make out from the photo of the hotel (see Figure 3), it was a reasonably large building known to have had 32 guest rooms. How long the hotel took to build, who paid for the construction, and the date of the grand opening are yet unknown. Whether I will be able to work out the answers to these questions is a big unknown.
The famous Austrian composer, Johann Strauss II, is known to have performed twice at the Hotel “Prinz von Preußen” once on the 17th of October 1850, then again, a month later, on the 17th of November 1850. Neither advertisement makes mention of the “Bruck’s Hotel,” only “Prinz von Preußen.” Possibly at the time Samuel Bruck did not yet own the hotel.
By the middle of 1852, Samuel Bruck assuredly owned the establishment because he signed a contract on the 14th of October 1852 permitting the so-called Liedertafel to hold meetings in the hotel’s ballroom beginning in January 1853. (Figures 15a-c) Page 20 (Figure 15c) mentions the “Hotelbesitzer Bruck,” that’s to say, the hotel owner Bruck. This citation occurs in a 1909 publication, entitled “Festschrift zum 75 jährigen Jubelfest der Liedertafel,” “The commemorative publication for the 75th anniversary of the Liedertafel,” in Ratibor. It was released on the 25th and 26th of September 1909 in conjunction with the unveiling of the Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorf monument in Ratibor. (Figure 15d)
The Liedertafel translates literally to “song board.” It was a co-ed musical society or amateur choir, which in the case of the Ratibor group consisted of about 88 members. They met in the large ballroom of the Bruck’s Hotel every Thursday and Friday evening for an à la carte dinner with plenty of alcohol, followed by a sing-along to music played by a pianist, often accompanied by a bassist, cellist, and violinist. Their contract with the hotel suggests Samuel Bruck was a well-regarded and integrated member of the community.
Another mundane document tracked down by Peter Albrecht shows that Samuel Bruck was allowed to operate as an inn keeper by the police after obtaining fire insurance for the hotel through a company in Stettin [today Szczecin, Poland] called “Pommerania.” (Figure 16) Although the announcement published in Oppeln, Prussia [today: Opole, Poland] on the 4th of March 1856 makes no specific mention of fire insurance, to secure police permission to operate the inn, it is implicit that fire insurance was obtained.
An advertisement Samuel Bruck posted in April 1858 indicates that he was involved in more than running an inn and being a lumber wholesaler. According to this ad he also sold lump lime (Figure 17):
Von meinem in Moerau gelegenen Kalkoefen verkaufe ich besten Stueckkalk, den Waggon von 33 Tonnen mit 27 Rthlr. (Reichstahler) frei hier. Gefaellige Auftraege werden prompt und bestens ausgefuehrt.
Ratibor, im April 1858
S. Bruck
im Hotel “Prinz von Preußen”
Translated:
Lime Ad
From my lime kiln located in Moerau I am selling the best lump lime, the wagon of 33 tons with 27 Rthlr. (Reichstahler) free here. Appropriate orders are executed promptly and in the best possible way.
Ratibor, April 1858
S. Bruck
in the hotel “Prince of Prussia”
Let me offer a few comments about this ad. The spelling of many place names in Prussia changed between 1890 and 1900, so “Moerau” became known as “Mohrau,” (Figure 18) and is now known as Morów, Poland. It is about 57 miles northwest of Racibórz. (Figure 19)
From 1855 onwards, a Prussian ton was equivalent to 200 kilos or almost 441 pounds. Thirty-three Prussian tons was equivalent to 6,600 kilos, 6.6 metric tons, or 14,551 pounds. Presumably this was the maximum weight an ox cart could handle.
Samuel Bruck passed away in July 1863. In June 1864, an official notice was placed in the Ratibor paper stating that Samuel Bruck’s handelsgesellschaft, holding company, which had been inherited by Samuel’s seven children, was ceded by the co-heirs to Samuel’s oldest child, Oskar Bruck, making him the sole owner of the S. Bruck Handelsgesellschaft. (Figure 20)
Bei der sub Nr. 69 unseres Firmen-Register fūr den Kaufmann Samuel Bruck eingetragen Firma S. Bruck ist zufolge Verfügung vom 2ten Juni 1864 der Vermerk:
Die Firma ist durch Erbgang auf die Geschwister Oskar, Fedor, Jenny, Emilie, Julius, Helene und Wilhelm Bruck übergangen und die Miterben haben dieselbe dem Kaufmann Oskar Bruck abgetreten, und sub Nr. 189 unseres Firmen-Registers der Kaufmann Oskar Bruck hierselbst als Inhaber der hiesigen Firma S. Bruck zufolge Verfügung von dem selben Tage eingetragen worden.
Ratibor, den 2. Juni 1864
Königliches Kreisgericht, 1. Abtheilung
Translation:
Announcement
According to the decree of June 2, 1864, the company S. Bruck, registered under No. 69 of our register of companies for the merchant Samuel Bruck, is marked:
The company has passed by inheritance to the siblings Oskar, Fedor, Jenny, Emilie, Julius, Helene and Wilhelm Bruck and the co-heirs have ceded the same to the merchant Oskar Bruck, and sub No. 189 of our company register the merchant Oskar Bruck has been registered here as the owner of the local company S. Bruck according to the decree of the same day.
Ratibor, June 2, 1864
Royal District Court, 1st Department
We learn a few unexciting things from this announcement. First, Oskar Bruck was a kaufmann, a merchant, which would have required a four-year apprenticeship. Had I not already known the names of Samuel’s children, this announcement would have provided this information. Samuel Bruck’s Handelsgesellschaft was registered as Number 69 in the District Court, while Oskar Bruck’s Handelsgesellschaft is registered as Number 189. As we speak, I’m trying to determine whether these files still exist in the Racibórz archives.
The final document related to Samuel Bruck involves a landmark Prussian case that his eldest son Oskar Bruck got involved in following his father’s death. The case is discussed at length in a book on Prussian case law published in 1867, entitled “Central-Organ fur die deutsche handels- und Wechselrecht,” “Central Organ for German Commercial and Exchange Law.” (Figure 21)
While the following will be of limited interest to most readers, let me briefly outline and summarize the salient points of this very involved case for readers.
In addition to being an inn owner, Samuel Bruck was a lumber wholesaler, and may have made his money here which enabled him to construct and/or purchase the Bruck’s Hotel. Shortly before his death in 1863, Samuel entered into a contract with a Dutch merchant, David Schwedter, agreeing to sell him 260 pieces of 4” x 4” structural lumber, possibly the equivalent of four ox carts of finished product. The Dutchman lived in the vicinity of Berlin, and had requested Samuel deliver the milled lumber there, which he’d agreed to.
Following Samuel’s death, Oskar Bruck acted on an interim basis on behalf of the the S. Bruck Handelsgesselchaft, which the probate court only officially granted him authority to do in his own name on the 2nd of June 1864 (see Figure 20). Regardless, following his father’s death, he notified Schwedter by mail that the transaction would go forward as planned and that he would run the S. Bruck Handelsgesselchaft.
Either Samuel before his death or Oskar contracted with an agent named Atzpodim who had a warehouse in Brieskow (Figure 22), near Frankfurt an der Oder. Schwedter had agree that Atzpodim would be the pickup point for the lumber. Oskar Bruck shipped the lumber to Atzpodim who acknowledged receipt of the materials. Oskar then notified Schwedter the lumber was ready for pickup at Atzpodim’s warehouse, and invoiced him, as agreed upon.
Three or four days later, Schwedter filed for bankruptcy. Atzpodim had not yet shipped the lumber to Stramer for reasons that are not entirely clear, although possibly Atzpodim through word-of-mouth had learned of Schwedter’s financial woes and sought to protect the young Oskar Bruck. I surmise Atzpodim had been one of Samuel’s trusted business associates over the years.
At this point, the trustee for the Bankruptcy Court in Frankfurt an der Oder sued Atzpodim for release of the lumber. Had the lumber already been delivered, the Bankruptcy Court would have carried it on their books and could then have sold it at a bankruptcy auction; Oskar, as creditor, would have been paid pennies on the dollar. Atzpodim, by not delivering the lumber to Stramer, saved Oskar from a steep financial loss.
Prussian law dealt with merchandise in bankruptcy proceedings where the debtor had taken possession of the merchandise three days or less before the debtor filed for bankruptcy and had paid not in cash but with credit.
In the case at hand, Atzpodim didn’t receive instructions from Oskar Bruck until the 26th of November 1863. Schwedter filed for bankruptcy on the 30th of November 1863. The Supreme Court in Berlin upheld the lower court’s ruling that the lumber shipment fell under the 3-day rule. If the lumber had been delivered to Schwedter, which it obviously wasn’t, he would have been required to return it because he hadn’t paid in cash but by credit, with a so-called Wechsel.
Let me say a few brief words about a Wechsel. According to German law, even today, transactions based on Wechsels can only be transacted by full merchants, meaning those who have completed a 4-year apprenticeship and received a kaufmann’s certificate. Upon certification, the kaufmann is registered either as a sole proprietor or as a Handelsgesellschaft, a trading company, like those Samuel and Oskar Bruck had recorded, in the Handelsregister, commercial register, of the city where the business is licensed.
The Wechsel allows the parties to do several things. It can be used as collateral for a bank loan. It can also be used as a futures contract; thus, with a Wechsel in hand, Schwedter could have sold the lumber at a higher price for a profit. Similarly, Samuel or Oskar could have sold his obligation to produce the lumber to a different sawmill (other than the one they originally contracted with) or another lumber merchant for a profit.
In closing, let me say a few things. The specifics of the information contained in some of the primary source documents cited above are less important than the fact they still exist. For researchers seeking comparable information about their ancestors who may have owned or operated businesses, an awareness that such documents may still exist can be useful. Often, it’s a question of knowing where to look and what to ask for. On a personal level, the fact that my family was involved in a legal case that was deemed of sufficient importance to merit inclusion in a book about Prussian commercial and trade law is fascinating.
Cobbling together one’s family history invites a clichéd comparison to the saying that “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
Note: In this post, I discuss a fourth cousin, familiarly known to his BBC News followers as Tom Brook, who was one of the first British journalists to report live outside John Lennon’s home on New York’s Upper West Side following his murder on December 8, 1980. Serendipitously, I was recently contacted by Tom’s second cousin, a lady from Wolverhampton, England, who is currently translating her grandfather’s memoir which happens to contain references to my earliest known Bruck relatives from Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland]. In upcoming posts I will begin to discuss documents I’ve recently uncovered related to some of these early family ancestors.
An application on Geni World Family Tree allows you to enter the name of two people and have it tell you how these people are linked, often a convoluted and rather uninteresting connection. Since we’re all ultimately related, I’ve never personally availed myself of this Geni function though others whom I converse with through my blog have on occasion sent me graphics illustrating our “kinship.” I’m aware of but again have never used a different application available elsewhere that allows someone to determine how they are related to famous people. Since I’m decidedly not a “stargazer,” this is of no interest to me.
At various times, I’ve mentioned that I have a family tree on ancestry.com’s platform with between 1200 and 1300 names. While this may seem like a large number, I’ve seen trees with more than 100,000 names. As I’ve periodically told readers, I use my tree mostly to orient myself to the people about whom I write. However, regular readers know that over time I’ve started writing about much more than my own family in the interest of retaining and expanding my readership.
At the risk of offending distant relatives, I tend to lose interest in next of kin beyond fourth cousins. That said, whenever someone contacts me asking whether we might be related or telling me they think we are related, as an intellectual exercise, I will take pencil and paper to try and work out our ancestral relationship. Occasionally, this leads to hearing from people with a captivating pedigree or making engaging connections. This post is about just such a person, plus a more recent contact from a different individual who I discovered is the second cousin of the person who originally reached out to me. Long-term followers of my blog know that uncovering connections between seemingly unrelated people and events is something I find particularly engrossing about doing ancestral research.
Around Thanksgiving of 2022, I received an email from a genial journalist named Thomas Friedrich Brook (b. 1953) (Figure 1), more familiarly known as Tom, who’s lived in New York for 40 years. After stumbling on my blog, Tom wondered whether we might be related. Given our identical surnames, this makes sense. He briefly explained his lineage, telling me his father was born Caspar Friedrich Bruck (1920-1983) in Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland], and that his grandfather was Werner Friedrich Bruck (1880-1945) (Figure 2), a university professor in Münster, Germany until 1933 when Hitler came to power. Werner’s brother, Eberhard Friedrich Bruck (1877-1960) (Figure 3) was a prominent lawyer, whom Tom told me he’d met a few times growing up.
Tom’s family settled in London in 1948, and like my family when they came to America, changed their surname to “Brook.” Following his grandfather’s divorce, Werner ended up teaching at the New School in New York until his death in 1945.
Since all of Tom’s family are in my tree, including Tom whose name I had stumbled across during my research, I was quickly able to establish that he and I are fourth cousins.
Tom Brook’s mention that he is a journalist caused me to Google his name, and I learned he is a New York-based journalist working primarily for BBC News and is seen primarily on BBC World News and BBC News Channel. He is the main presenter of its flagship cinema program “Talking Movies,” and has presented every episode since it was first broadcast in February 1999.
In a subsequent email Tom mentioned that he has a large photo album with pictures of his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather, plus a drawing of a visit from Kaiser Wilhelm II, Germany’s last Kaiser. The existence of this drawing reaffirms my family’s connection to Kaiser Wilhelm. It’s my great hope that despite Tom’s dreadfully busy schedule, we might eventually connect so I can view his family heirlooms.
Fast forward to late September of this year when I was contacted by an English lady named Helen Winter née Renshaw (b. 1948) (Figure 4) from Wolverhampton, West Midlands, in the central part of England. Like most of my contacts these days, Helen stumbled on my blog while researching the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland], the hotel my family owned there for three generations. She told me her grandfather Eberhard Friedrich Bruck had mentioned the family hotel in a memoir he wrote for his daughter, Margot Renshaw née Bruck (1917-1985), that’s to say, Helen’s mother. This is when I realized that Eberhard happens to have been Werner Friedrich Bruck’s older brother, making Helen Winter and Tom Brook second cousins.
Becuase Tom and I have lost touch since our initial contact in 2022, I asked Helen whether she knew of her second cousin and, if so, how to contact him. She explained that while she was aware of him, they’d never met though her older sister had met Tom when she was younger. Intriguingly, she mentioned something I overlooked when initially reading Tom’s Wikipedia entry, namely, that he had been the first British journalist to report live from outside John Lennon’s home in the famed Dakota Apartment building (The Dakota – Wikipedia) on New York’s Upper West Side, following the murder of the former Beatle.
I must briefly digress. Long-term watchers of the CBS News Hour may recall Steve Hartman’s regular award-winning program “Everybody Has a Story.” For those unfamiliar with this series, Hartman would throw a dart at a map and then randomly choose an interview subject from the local phone book. Steve would uncover something alluring or unusual that had happened to that person, and fashion a human-interest story based on their conversation. Running for seven years beginning in 1998, Hartman produced more than 120 pieces in this series. While Tom Brook will better be remembered for his career as a BBC journalist and his long-running entertainment show, I couldn’t help but think that if Steve Hartman had randomly selected his name from a local phone book, Tom’s reportage of John Lennon’s murder outside his apartment building in New York City would have stood out as an unusual occurrence in his life.
On the 40th anniversary of John Lennon’s murder, which took place on the 8th of December 1980, Tom penned an article in which he basically conceded the point I’m making. Quoting: “Lennon continues to define my career. I have been a broadcast journalist for more than 40 years. In that time, I have filed more than 3,000 stores for BBC outlets and have interviewed most of the big names in the movie industry.
But all people want to know when they meet me is what it was like to cover John Lennon’s death.”
As we speak, Helen Winter is in the process of translating her grandfather Eberhard’s memoir. While he was a lawyer in Bonn, Germany, and like his brother Werner lost his position in 1933 when Hitler ascended to power, his memoir also discusses his early Bruck ancestors from Ratibor. Helen has teased me with some of the facsinating things Eberhard wrote about them that may reveal more about my family’s earliest connection to this town. Stay tuned.
REFERENCE
Brook, Tom (8 December 2020). “John Lennon: I Was There the Day He Died.” BBC News. London. Archived from the original on 8 December 2020.
The following is a guest post written by Ms. Magda Wawoczny, a student in Jewish studies at Jagiellonian University in Krakow, Poland, who hails from Racibórz, Poland. Magda first contacted me in 2021 when she was working on her bachelor’s degree and interviewed me about my family’s connection to Ratibor (today: Racibórz, Poland), when the city was part of Germany. Regular readers know that my family owned the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel in Ratibor from around 1850 through the mid-1920s. Knowing I had visited Racibórz on a few occasions, Magda was also interested in my impressions of the city.
In May 2023, Magda reached out to me again in connection with her ongoing master’s degree work in Jewish studies, still centered around her hometown. Surprisingly, she asked if I could help her get in touch with Monica Lewinsky’s father, Dr. Bernard Lewinsky, who is a Radiation Oncologist in Los Angeles. Unbeknownst to me, Monica’s immediate ancestors come from Ratibor and her great-grandfather, Salo Lewinsky, was once buried in the former Jewish cemetery in Ratibor.
More recently Magda has been researching a Jewish woman by the name of Minna Linzer, née Guttmann (1873-1928) whose body had been exhumed in 1972 from the former Jewish cemetery in Ratibor prior to its destruction in 1973 and reburied in the town’s Catholic cemetery. The reason for this is explained in the current post. Magda’s interest in contacting Dr. Lewinsky stems from the fact that the Lewinsky and Linzer families were friends. Whereas the Lewinsky family emigrated to El Salvador during the 1920s and thereby survived the Holocaust, most of Minna Linzer’s family stayed in Ratibor and therefore perished.
Separately, but at around the same time as I was trying to reach Dr. Bernard Lewinsky, a German lady by the name of Ms. Jessica Nastos contacted me through my blog’s webmail. Jessica had stumbled upon Post 72 where I discussed so-called cabinet cards. One studio I’d specifically mentioned that produced these cards in Ratibor was the Helios Photo Studio, which was the subject of my previous post. Jessica told me her mother had once worked in the studio and offered to send me contemporary photos of the studio including a picture of an old envelope with the studio’s name and logo. Upon receiving the pictures, I realized they included images of the Linzer’s that Magda has been researching, including most family members from Ratibor who died in the Holocaust; astonishingly, there was even a picture of Minna Linzer, née Guttmann with her oldest son Jan (Germans: Hans). Minna’s husband, Hermann Linzer (1874-1944), carried this photo with him throughout World War I, and a bullet hole through the photo attests to a wound he suffered during the war. (Figure A)
When so many Jews were murdered by the Nazis in their effort to obliterate proof of their existence, it is bitter satisfaction to uncover photos of some of these people to emphasize the fact that the Nazis ultimately failed.
With the above as backdrop, I now turn the lectern over to Magda.
POST 139: THE STORY OF A JEWISH WOMAN BURIED IN RACIBÓRZ’S CATHOLIC CEMETERY
BY
MAGDA WAWOCZNY
JAGIELLONIAN UNIVERSITY
The most important places related to the Jewish heritage of Racibórz that survived the end of World War II were the synagogue and the cemetery. While the synagogue was destroyed by a fire on the 9th of November 1938 on Kristallnacht (Figure 1), it endured as a ruin until it was demolished, the exact date of which is still being investigated. By contrast, the cemetery survived basically intact. Unfortunately, the Jewish inhabitants of Racibórz disappeared from the city’s landscape during the war—those who managed to escape after Kristallnacht survived outside Germany, those who remained died in concentration camps. As a result, the Jewish cemetery in Racibórz was eventually razed since the community which it had served no longer existed to take care of it. Or so it seemed until now. . .
Currently, for the purposes of my master’s thesis, I am researching the Jewish cemetery which was ultimately demolished in 1973. Based on the available sources, it is known that before the liquidation, photo documentation of all the burials and headstones was made by Mr. Kazimierz Świtliński (Figure 2) at the request of the city authorities. The documentation is on file at the Museum of Racibórz, and illustrates impressive tombstones made of marble, granite, and sandstone. In this post I will focus on one belonging to Minna Linzer, née Guttmann. (Figure 3)
During my archival investigations, my attention was drawn to an application by a woman from Racibórz who requested permission from the city authorities to exhume the body of her grandmother Minna Linzer from Ratibor’s former Jewish cemetery and transfer it together with the tombstone to the Catholic cemetery in the Ostróg district on Rudzka street. The woman emphasized that in the face of the anticipated liquidation of the cemetery, she felt an obligation to save the grave of her grandmother that she had taken care of and maintained for many years. The granddaughter was Elizabeth (Elzbieta) “Lilly” Slawik, née Grzonka. Her application to the city authorities was accompanied by a card with the inscription “eternal memory of those lost in the Auschwitz camp: Hermann Linzer, Jan Linzer, Małgorzata and Henryk Schiftan, Lota and Maks Tichauer.” (Figure 4)
Knowing only Elizabeth’s name and address, I started searching for her relatives. Fortunately, I managed to reach Elizabeth’s son, Minna’s great-grandson currently living in Germany. He explained that Elizabeth was the daughter of a Jewish man and a Catholic woman, and that the above-mentioned names are inscribed on the relocated grave in the Catholic cemetery. Elizabeth’s son mentioned that his mother took care of his great-grandmother’s tomb, and when she learned it was about to be destroyed, asked permission for the grave to be exhumed. Fascinatingly, he also mentioned that his mother had looked after the grave of Monica Lewinsky’s great-grandfather, Salo Lewinsky. (Figure 5) Despite directions from Elisabeth’s son to Minna’s grave in the Catholic cemetery, it was not easy to find.
Having been given the name of Salo Lewinsky’s still living grandson, Bernard Lewinsky, by Lilly’s son, I decided to try and contact him. For this purpose, I asked Richard Brook, author of this blog, for help. Dr. Lewinsky is an oncologist in Los Angeles, so he was quickly able to get in touch with him. Upon establishing contact, Dr. Lewinsky confirmed that his father George Lewinsky (1903-1989) had remained in contact with Elisabeth who took care of his father’s grave. Until the death of Bernard’s father, the families remained in contact. Unfortunately, the grave of Bernard’s grandfather, Salo, could not be saved when the Jewish cemetery was dismantled.
Thanks also to Richard’s help, I was able to obtain some information on the names inscribed on Minna Guttmann’s headstone and found on the card accompanying Elizabeth’s request to exhume her grave, such as their former place of residence, their occupations, and the date of the deportations to the Theresienstadt concentration camp.
A breakthrough in my research came when Richard coincidentally received an email from Elizabeth’s great-granddaughter, Jessica Nastos, about the Helios Photo Studio which was the subject of Richard’s blog Post 138; it turns out “Lilly” had worked there. Thanks to Jessica, I learned that Elizabeth was the child of a Jew, Jan Linzer (mentioned on the card accompanying Elizabeth’s application to the city authorities), and a Catholic, Paulina Grzonka, who could not be together due to the Nazi rule and the specter of war. (Figure 6) To protect themselves and Elizabeth, Paulina and Jan decided not to get married, although they symbolically exchanged rings as keepsakes, with each other’s initials engraved on them. Paulina (1895-1971) and Elizabeth (1926-2016) survived, while Jan (1901-1945) died in the Auschwitz concentration camp.
Thanks to Jessica’s information, it was possible to establish the identities of the people on the card. Minna Linzer (1873-1928) was the first wife of Hermann Linzer (1874-1944). She died in 1928, and after her death Hermann got remarried to a woman named Amalie Nebenzahl (1884-1944). Both died in 1944 in Theresienstadt. Hermann and Minna had four children: Jan (German: Hans), Małgorzata (German: Margaret), Lota, and Leo. Leo, the youngest son, was the only one who survived the war. (Figure 7) Małgorzata and Lota together with their husbands also died in Theresienstadt.
Thanks to Jessica, based on photos from the 1990s, which show a relocated grave in the Catholic cemetery, I was able to find it. It is still there and in very good condition. (Figure 8) When it seemed that only archival documents and stories remained of the city’s Jewish heritage, it turns out that there is a preserved remnant of Jews in Racibórz, and Minna’s grave is proof of that.
Note: In this post I provide a short historical overview and visual sketch of Schloss Kamenz [Kamieniec Ząbkowicki Palace], the estate in Silesia where my third cousin’s father, Dr. Hans Vogel, worked for the von Preußen family during the Nazi Era. I also briefly touch on geopolitical factors that make it improbable the family will ever be able to reclaim the castle.
The von Preußen and Bruck families are not related in any but an “Adam and Evish” sort of way though both have affiliations with Silesia, now mostly located in Poland. The filament of a familial connection passes through my third cousin Agnes Stieda née Vogel whose father Dr. Hans Vogel (Figure 1) was employed by Friedrich Heinrich von Preußen (1874-1940) (Figure 2) and his second cousin Waldemar von Preußen (1889-1945) (Figure 3) following Friedrich’s death in 1940. While employed by the von Preußen family, Dr. Vogel was tasked with archiving the vast collection of art and historical treasures stored at the castle in Kamenz. (Figure 4) Not only did the family employ Hans, but they also provided a measure of protection for his Jewish wife Suse and mischling half-Jewish daughter Agnes during the Nazi Era. For this reason, to this day the family is held in high esteem by the Stiedas.
After a series of blog posts dealing with Reinhard Heydrich, one of the evilest characters in a Nazi panoply full of them, I need to step away from this emotionally draining subject to tackle a lighthearted topic. Ergo, this pictorial essay and a brief history on Schloss Kamenz [Kamieniec Ząbkowicki Palace] that Peter Albrecht von Preußen’s ancestors once owned in Kamenz, Germany [today: Kamieniec Ząbkowicki, Poland].
One side comment before I proceed. Peter Albrecht has been exceptionally gracious and helpful in tracking down and sending me an enormous amount of illustrative and research matter, related not only to his von Preußen ancestors but also to my Bruck family. For example, as it relates to my antecedents, Peter uncovered two wills archived in Opole, Poland that I ordered that may possibly be related to my great-great-grandfather, Samuel Bruck (1808-1863), the first-generation owner of the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel in Ratibor [today: Raciborz, Poland]. Though I’ve had them translated and interpreted by my fourth cousin, they are challenging in the extreme to make sense of because they are handwritten in Fraktur calligraphy and never give a precise date of birth of the testator, a man named Samuel Bruck but likely not my ancestor. That said, Peter has uncovered other materials that are definitively related to “my” Samuel Bruck, and, though somewhat dry, will form the basis of a future blog post as I discuss recent intriguing findings about him.
As I proceed to give readers a pictorial sketch of Schloss Kamenz [Kamieniec Ząbkowicki Palace], let me start by providing an historical overview of the castle. The first owner was Princess Marianne of the Netherlands (1810-1883) (Figure 5) who in 1838 commissioned the most prominent German architect of the time, Karl Friedrich Schinkel, to design the structure. Noted for his neo-Classical and neo-Gothic buildings, most famously found in and around Berlin, Schinkel created a monumental palace in the form of a medieval castle.
Aware that he was dying of stomach cancer and having no surviving siblings and no children of his own, FH sold castle Kamenz along with the nearby “castle” in Seitenberg [today: Stronie Śląskie, Poland] (Figure 10), and all its belongings to his second cousin, Waldemar von Preußen (1889-1945), nephew of Germany’s last Emperor, Kaiser Wilhelm II. (Figure 11) Upon FH’s death, Prince Waldemar transferred the cash to FH’s trust to be divided equally in five parts to FH’s nephew, Friedrich Karl Erich Albrecht (EA) von Preußen (1901-1976) (Figure 12), and four nieces, the daughters of FH’s youngest brother, Friedrich Wilhelm (FW) von Preußen (1880-1925). (Figure 13)
Prince Waldemar fled castle Kamenz as the Red Army was approaching in 1945, dying in Tutzing, Bavaria on May 2nd, six days before the official end of World War II in Europe. Obviously, the castle was abandoned along with all the artworks and belongings. Relocated Poles looted the castle and Russians burned and pillaged it. According to Peter Albrecht, however, Polish citizens report that 14 to 17 railroad cargo trains worth of movables were taken by the Russians and shipped to an unknown destination. The marble used for exterior construction was salvaged to construct the Congress Hall at the Palace of Culture and Science in Warsaw.
Following Prince Waldemar’s death, rights to the castle that he obviously no longer had physical control over passed to his younger brother, Sigismund von Preußen (1896-1978) (Figure 14), then in turn to his son Alfred Friedrich Ernst Heinrich Conrad von Preußen (1924–2013), “Uncle Alfred” (Figure 15) as he is known to Peter Albrecht. Shortly before Prince Alfred’s death in 2013, he transferred all rights to the estate to Peter including the contents of the 14 to 17 railroad cargo trains, should they materialize.
A brief word on an intriguing aside. Schloss Kamenz or Kamieniec Ząbkowicki Palace, as it is currently known, is situated within Poland. In a minor way, it figured into the negotiations leading to the eventual reunification of Germany in 1989. The “Treaty on the Final Settlement with Respect to Germany,” or the “Two Plus Four Agreement,” is the international agreement that allowed for the reunification of Germany in the 1990s. The reference to “Two Plus Four” means that the agreement was negotiated between the Federal Republic of Germany and the Germany Democratic Republic (GDR), along with the Four Powers which had occupied Germany at the end of World War II, namely, France, the Soviet Union, the United Kingdom, and the United States. This treaty replaced the Potsdam Agreement, and involved the Four Powers renouncing all rights they held in Germany, allowing Germany to become fully sovereign the following year.
As I discussed in Post 132, the “provisional border” between Poland and Germany following World War II was known as the Oder-Neisse line. This partition meant that most of Germany’s former eastern provinces, including East Prussia and most of Silesia as well as the eastern parts of Brandenburg and Pomerania, including Danzig, were awarded to Poland and the Soviet Union. (Figure 16) The German populations of these areas either fled, as in the case of Peter Albrecht’s ancestors, or were expelled. The GDR accepted the border in 1950, but the Federal Republic of Germany always demurred considering it as provisional, pending a finalized peace settlement. However, as a condition of the Final Settlement, East and West Germany agreed to the existing border with Poland, with the renunciation and exclusion of any other territorial claims, in other words Germany’s former eastern provinces.
The biggest issue for the Soviet Union at the time the “Two Plus Four Agreement” was being negotiated was Germany’s former territory of East Prussia, which today includes the Kaliningrad Oblast, the westernmost part of Russia. The other indirect issue for the Soviets was Poland which was regarded as a satellite state in the Soviet sphere of influence but was never part of the Soviet Union. Because the Oder-Neisse line was ultimately upheld as the border between the reunified Germany and Poland, any possibility that Peter’s family could make clams on Schloss Kamenz was obviated.
This was true at least until Poland joined the European Union (EU) in 2004. Peter’s family could now potentially make a claim for return of the castle. However, because of the exorbitant cost for the reconstruction of the castle, estimated at well north of $300 million, they have not yet done so. To date, the EU has already provided the city of Kamieniec Ząbkowicki €750,000 (more than $800,000) to restore the mausoleum and €5 million ($5,362,000) to fix the roof and the small copper clad spires atop the four corner towers. If the Polish government were to return the castle, they would do so in “as is” condition and the family would be compelled to reimburse the EU for all the work done to date.
The possibility exists, nonetheless, that Peter could make a claim for any of the castle’s goods secreted in the Soviet Union should they ever resurface.
Much of the information on castle Kamenz presented below is derived from personal communication with Peter. While there are multiple features that are part of the castle or grace the gardens surrounding Schloss Kamenz, I will discuss only two, the boiler house and the mausoleum. As previously mentioned, Nicholas Albrecht received the castle from his mother in 1873 upon his marriage, and in 1883 he started to build a large steam boiler house. (Figure 17) The conversion from coal to steam heat took place at this time, although the castle still had no sanitary installations.
Upon the arrival of relocated Poles to the area of Schloss Kamenz the bodies in the mausoleum were disinterred and defiled, and reportedly hung from trees. (Figure 22) Before they could be set ablaze, however, some virtuous Polish citizen calmed the rioters and reburied the bodies, carefully marking their locations on a map. Before this concerned citizen died, he gave his map to the President of the local historical society, and in 2017, the City of Kamenz and the Catholic Church of Poland exhumed the graves and held a funeral service at the reconsecrated mausoleum. (Figures 23-24)
According to what Peter reports, the European Union has provided funding for the eventual restoration of Castle Kamenz to its full glory. To date only the mausoleum and part of the main hall of the castle proper have been renovated. (Figures 25-32)
In closing, I understand if readers are overwhelmed by the von Preußen family tree. My personal interest is trying to understand how the Bruck’s Hotel in Ratibor [today: Racibórz. Poland] owned by three generations of my family, obtained a “franchise” to use the “Prinz von Preußen” surname. This entails nailing down exactly when the building that eventually became the Bruck’s Hotel was built, whether its construction preceded or coincided with my family’s acquisition of the establishment, and, if it preceded it, when exactly my family purchased it. I’m uncertain whether historic documents survive to answer these questions. And, finally, because of our collaboration, Peter (Figure 33) has now found some not-so-distant ancestors that hail from Ratibor, suggesting our families may have had business dealings long ago. So, while this post may be of limited interest to many readers, I am pursuing it to better understand my family’s deep-seated connection to Ratibor and Silesia.
