Note:  This post is the next chapter in my Aunt Susanne and Uncle Franz’s story, following their departure in late 1935 or early 1936 from Berlin to escape the increasingly repressive National Socialist regime, when they sought refuge in Fiesole, Italy.  There are certain family history stories I look forward to writing and sharing with readers, and this is one such tale, when, albeit briefly, my relatives held out hope they might survive the homicidal madmen threatening Europe in the lead-up to WWII and lead normal lives.  Much about the roughly two-and-a-half years my aunt and uncle spent in Fiesole remains unknown, including why they decided to immigrate here.  Still, some of what I’ve learned as recently as 2016 provides a sound basis to speculate why they may have moved here.

In Post 1, I introduced readers to a quote by the brainy, former executive of the Los Angeles Dodgers, Branch Rickey, who once said that “Luck is the residue of design.”  The story I’m about to relate about my Aunt Susanne and her esteemed husband, Dr. Franz Müller, and the discoveries I made about their years in Fiesole, Italy, speaks volumes to this truth.

Figure 1-Roman amphitheater in Fiesole

I can’t remember exactly when I first learned that my aunt and uncle had lived in Fiesole, a gorgeous Tuscan town, founded by the Etruscans in the 9th-8th centuries B.C., located on the scenic heights to the northeast of Firenze (Florence).  However, I recall when I first visited Fiesole.  It was in the 1990’s, long before I became interested in family history, when I was a mere archaeologist and my aim was simply to visit the Roman ruins that are the town’s main tourist attraction. (Figure 1)  I’ve always imagined the tawny landscape and gently rolling hills of Tuscany as an inviting billowy pillow in which to do a face-plant.  So, it’s easy to comprehend the attraction Tuscany might have held for Jewish immigrants in the face of the malign forces that surrounded them.

The current post organizes chronologically all the information I’ve collected about my aunt and uncle during three visits to Fiesole, in 2014, 2015, and again in 2016.  Before starting my family investigations, I had no idea, for example, when my aunt and uncle departed Berlin, nor when they arrived in Fiesole.  But, as I explained in the previous post, I learned from the Grundbuch, or “real estate register” for the property my uncle owned in Berlin-Charlottenburg, that he sold his house there in November or December 1935, and likely departed with my aunt soon afterwards.  Similarly, in conjunction with what I eventually discovered in Fiesole, I place their arrival there in the first quarter of 1936.

Figure 2-My father with two cousins, Eva Bruck & Eva Goldenring, and his sister Susanne (right) on May 10, 1938 after he arrived in Fiesole

Judging from the dated pictures in my father’s photo albums, he too departed Germany, likely from Berlin, two years later, in early March 1938.  Between March 5th and March 9th, my father spent several days visiting the tourist attractions in Vienna, Austria, seemingly in the company of other Jewish émigrés.  Having lost his profession, and bewildered as to what the future held, he headed for Fiesole.  Along the way, my father stopped to do some skiing and hiking in the Dolomite Mountains and passed through a town in Alto Adige, Italy, named Bolzano or Bozen; this is a place my wife and I have visited on several occasions for reasons having nothing to do with family history, and everything to do with the famed 5,000-year old “Ötzi the Iceman,” discovered in the Tyrolean Alps, who is displayed at the Museum of Archaeology in Bolzano.  Eventually, my father arrived in Fiesole, his pictures never specifying exactly when though I ultimately worked this out. (Figure 2)

Figure 3-1938 Fiesole Emigration Register with my aunt & uncle’s names listed

Knowing of my family’s association with Fiesole, I decided to contact the Municipio,” or City Hall there, and inquire about any documentary evidence they might possess on my aunt and uncle.  When I accessed their website, I was pleasantly surprised to discover a branch of the Municipio called “Archivio Storico Comunale,” the “Municipal Historic Archive.”  I immediately contacted them on March 27, 2014, explained my family’s connection to Fiesole, provided my aunt and uncle’s names, and the street name where they’d lived, Via del Salviatino, and asked for any relevant information.  Amazingly, the very next day the town’s archivist, Ms. Lucia Nadetti, responded by sending me a page from Fiesole’s emigration register from 1938 with my aunt and uncle’s names listed. (Figure 3)  The speed with which I was able to find evidence of my aunt and uncle’s presence in Fiesole left me breathless.

Fiesole’s emigration register placed my aunt and uncle’s arrival in Fiesole as April 30, 1936, and their departure to France as September 16, 1938; the register, among other things, showed they lived at Via del Salviatino 14, a place I only later learned was named the “Villa Primavera” (Figures 4a & 4b), and shared living accommodations with an Austrian woman named Lucia von Jacobi.  For reasons I will get into below, I actually place my aunt and uncle’s arrival in Fiesole a month earlier, on March 31, 1936.  Lucia Nadetti further explained there was no evidence my aunt and uncle paid taxes on their residence, and concluded they were probably renting the house, a question I resolved to answer when I visited Fiesole in 2014. 

Figure 4b-Photo of the Villa Primavera taken in 1938 by my father
Figure 4a-Postcard illustrating the Villa Primavera








After studying the 1938 emigration register (see Figure 3), I followed up with a few questions related to abbreviations and Italian words I could not make out.  Ms. Nadetti explained my aunt was shown as “coniugi,” married to Franz, and identified as “a.c.,” or “Atta a casa,” namely, a housewife.  By contrast, Ms. Jacobi was described as “benestante,” or well-to-do, and registered as a “vedova,” or widow. 

Figure 5-Ms. Lucia Nadetti, our friend and archivist at the “Archivio Storico Comunale”

I told Ms. Nadetti of our plans to vacation in Fiesole later in 2104, and she promised to show me everything she’d found when we came.  My wife and I eventually turned up at the “Archivio Storico Comunale” in Fiesole in June 2014, the year we spent 13 weeks visiting places associated with my family’s diaspora, traveling from Gdansk, Poland to Valencia, Spain.  By the time we showed up, Ms. Nadetti (Figure 5) had collected the registration logs listing all my aunt and uncle’s guests.   During Italy’s Fascist era, all out-of-town visitors were required to appear with their hosts at the Municipio, provide their names, show their identity papers, indicate their anticipated length of stay, and complete what was called a “Soggiorno degli Stranieri in Italia,” or “Stay of Foreigners in Italy.”  I was a bit surprised at the rather large number of guests my aunt and uncle had hosted, but simply attributed this to my relatives offering accommodations to Jews fleeing Germany.

Figure 6- The “Soggiorno degli Stranieri in Italia” for my great-aunt Franziska Bruck who eventually returned to Berlin and committed suicide in January 1942

These registration forms, while highly intrusive, are enormously informative for doing genealogical research, uncovering names of visitors, and establishing timelines for these guests. When completing the “Soggiorno” forms (Figure 6), guests were required to provide the names of both their parents, including the mother’s maiden name, plus their own date and place of birth.  While these forms have not survived for all the guests who stayed with my aunt and uncle, those that remain are particularly useful.  In a future Blog post, I will relate the stories of some guests whose fate I’ve been able to determine.


Figure 7-The immigration log showing my father Otto Bruck’s arrival in Italy on May 10, 1938, and his registration in Fiesole on May 26, 1938

The immigration log recorded my father’s arrival in Italy, following his departure from Vienna, as May 10, 1938 (Figure 7), and his registration at the Comunale in Fiesole as May 26th.  Given that my father had been in Vienna as late as May 9th, I surmise he arrived in Italy by an overnight train.  The immigration register records a second visit by my father in September 1938, which I’ll discuss below.

Initially, I didn’t know whether my uncle ever owned Via del Salvaitino 14, so upon our arrival in Fiesole, Ms. Nadetti directed me to the “Conservatorio Dei Registri Immobiliari” in nearby Firenze to check ownership records.  Here, we learned the descendants of a former obstetrician/gynecologist, named Dr. Gino Frascani, own two houses along Via Del Salviatino, numbered 12 and 14; my uncle, it turns out, never owned the Villa Primavera.  Naturally, I assumed Via del Salviatino 14 was the house where my aunt and uncle had once lived, an erroneous supposition as it turned out.

Figure 8-Our Italian friend Ms. Giuditta Melli

The visit to the Conservatorio turned out to be fortuitous, but not simply for what we learned there.  In 2014, my wife and I were staying at a bed-and-breakfast on the outskirts of Fiesole, and rather than deal with the city traffic to get to the Conservatorio, we took the bus there.  By happenstance, while trying to ascertain where to catch the return bus at the end of the day, a delightful English-speaking Italian woman, Ms. Giuditta Melli (Figure 8), noticed our confusion and confirmed we were in the right place.  She was headed on the same bus, so we exchanged pleasantries on the ride, and she invited us to visit the ceramic shop near the Conservatorio where she teaches.  Two days later we dropped by and mentioned in passing the reason for our visit to Fiesole.  Giuditta was moved to tears because she’d recently learned that her great-uncle was Jewish and had been deported to Buchenwald from Firenze by the Fascists and murdered there.  As we prepared to leave, we exchanged emails and promised to stay in touch.  This turned into an exceptionally productive friendship.

Figure 9-The Fiesole immigration log showing my aunt and uncle were guests of Dr. Gino Frascani beginning on March 31, 1936

After our visit to the Conservatorio, my wife and I paid a return visit to Ms. Nadetti at the Archivio Storico Comunale to update her on our findings.  Reminded of Dr. Frascani’s connection to properties along Via del Salviatino, Ms. Nadetti consulted an immigration register from 1936, similar to ones she’d shown us from 1937 and 1938.  In it, she discovered my aunt and uncle initially were guests of Dr. Frascani at Via del Salviatino 14, the house they ultimately leased from him; this document shows my aunt and uncle arrived in Fiesole on March 31, 1936, and registered at the Municipio on April 7th, in other words, a month earlier than the emigration register that placed their arrival there on April 30, 1936. (Figure 9)

Figure 10-The results of Fiesole’s mayoral election of October 17, 1920 showing Dr. Gino Frascani won by two votes

Having definitively linked my Uncle Franz to Dr. Gino Frascani, Ms. Nadetti found and shared a few documents about the doctor, and, eventually even compiled a summary of Dr. Frascani’s activities as a City Councilman for Fiesole through four legislative terms, 1905, 1910, 1914 and 1920.  We also learned Dr. Frascani had been Mayor of Fiesole (Figure 10) for a time but forced to quit after being threatened by the Fascists on account of his socialist leanings.  Interestingly, the roster of mayors listed on a placard in the Municipio does not even include Dr. Frascani.


Figure 11-Dr. Gino Frascani, right, on the steps of the Istituto di Cura Chirurgica del Salviatino ca. 1909

One document given to us by Ms. Nadetti showed Dr. Frascani (Figure 11) paid for construction of an “Istituto di Cura Chirurgica del Salviatino,” dedicated to his mother, Ersilia Frascani, built in 1908-09 along Via del Salviatino in Firenze. (Figure 12)  The sanatorium was divided into sections for: general and special surgery; gynecology; obstetrics; and medical services.  Dr. Frascani, a truly remarkable man whose life story begs to be told, even maintained free beds in the institute’s common infirmary for “charity.”  The Istituto still stands today, regrettably no longer as a hospital, but rather as exclusive condominiums.


Figure 12-The “Istituto di Cura Chirurgica del Salviatino”

Having for the moment learned as much as we could from the various archives and city offices, my wife and I set out to locate Via del Salviatino 14.  One could almost characterize this search as a comedy of errors.  Prior to visiting Fiesole, I had located the house on Google Earth, so assumed I knew what I was looking for. 

Figure 13-My wife Ann standing in front of Via del Salviatino 14 in Firenze we mistook for the house where my aunt and uncle once lived

Via del Salviatino 14 is situated in an exclusive section of town, and when we finally located the address, the street-facing side of the apartment building did not appear as it had in my father’s pictures. (Figure 13) Coincidentally, the day we first visited, two black SUVs with tinted windows and burly guards, obviously protecting a high-ranking government official, refused to let us access the rear of the building to check.  Confronted with this obstacle, we were forced to strategically retreat.  When we returned the next day, the portly guards were gone, and we were able to access the building’s backside.  Clearly, this was not the house my aunt and uncle had lived in.

Figure 14-Street sign along Via del Salviatino indicating boundary between Fiesole & Firenze

Puzzled, I returned to the street, and discovered my mistake.  Via del Salviatino begins in Firenze (Florence), almost at the point where the “Sanatorio Frascani” is located, BUT, continues into Fiesole; in other words, Via del Salviatino transects both towns, and as fate would have it, the divide between Fiesole and Firenze is directly in front of the Via del Salviatino 14 we were standing at in Firenze. (Figure 14)

Figure 15-Mailboxes along Via del Salviatino, including #14, that also was not the Villa Primavera

Having resolved this issue, we quickly found the Via del Salviatino 14, in Fiesole, a short distance up the street.  On one of three mailboxes at this location with house numbers 12, 14 and 14a (Figure 15), is the name “R. FRASCANI.”  Naturally, we concluded this was a descendant of Dr. Frascani, and that he resides in the house where my aunt and uncle had once lived.  We drove up the dirt road, rang the bell at the gated entrance to his bed-and-breakfast, but no one answered.  However, we ran into a young man riding a Moped, a childhood friend of Mr. Frascani, as it happens; he called Ranieri on his cellphone and we spoke briefly.  However, since neither of us spoke the other’s language well, we agreed I would send him an email with my questions upon my return to the states, which is in fact what I did.  Regardless, it would be another year before we met in person and I got answers to some of my queries.

In the interim, I maintained contact with Giuditta Melli.  One day, she discovered a fleeting reference in a German article saying my Aunt Susanne Müller-Bruck and her housemate, Lucia von Jacobi, had co-managed a pension.  Given the large number of guests that had stayed at the Villa Primavera, this should have been obvious from the start.

Figure 16-Maria Agata Frascani, Giuditta Melli, myself and Ranieri Frascani, October 2016, Fiesole

In anticipation of our 2015 visit to Fiesole, Giuditta invited my wife and I to stay with her and her family at their large villa in Firenze, only a short distance from Via del Salviatino.  Giuditta also arranged and served as translator for our meeting with Ranieri, the grandson of Dr. Gino Frascani, and his mother, Ms. Maria Agata Frascani, née Mannelli, the daughter-in-law of Dr. Frascani. (Figure 16)  It was

Figure 17-Sign for the Villa Primavera, today numbered Via del Salviatino 16

during this get-together that we finally learned the house where Ranieri lives and has his B&B is not the Villa Primavera.  In fact, as we found out at the Conservatorio the year before, his family owns both Via del Salviatino 12 and 14.  However, sometime after 1940, houses along Via del Salviatino were renumbered, and the Villa Primavera (Figure 17) reassigned the number “16.”  Ranieri showed us the adjacent Villa Primavera from his property and told us the house no longer belongs to his family. 

After our get-together with Ranieri Frascani, his mother invited us to her home (Figure 18) and showed us the thick album with photos and articles related to the construction and opening of the Istituto di Cura Chirurgica del Salviatino in 1908-09. (Figure 19)

Figure 18-The former house of Dr. Frascani, Via del Salviatino 18, where his daughter-in-law currently resides
Figure 19-Copy of letter addressed to Doctor Frascani









Having finally resolved that the Villa Primavera where my aunt and uncle had once resided was now numbered Via del Salviatino 16, I’ve tried on several occasions to contact the current owners, to no avail.

Figure 20-Dr. Irene Below, author of a book on Ms. Lucia von Jacobi, at Parco di Monte Ceceri, Firenze, October 2016

Following our visit to Fiesole in 2015, my wife and I had not anticipated returning in 2016.  However, Giuditta made a surprising discovery while researching Lucia von Jacobi, the Austrian lady with whom my aunt ran the Pension Villa Primavera, and our plans changed.  She learned of a professor, Dr. Irene Below (Figure 20), from Werther, Germany, who’d written a full-length book about Ms. Jacobi.  Giuditta immediately contacted Dr. Below, explained her interest in Lucia, told her of my aunt and uncle, and mentioned she was in touch and assisting Dr. Franz Müller’s nephew.

Dr. Below was surprised to hear from Giuditta and learn of her interest in people Irene had studied and knew about.  Dr. Below related a fascinating tale.  She came to Firenze in 1964 as a student intending to write about the history of art.  While researching this topic, however, she came across magazines and diaries of an unknown person who turned out to be Lucia von Jacobi, a woman with very famous friends (e.g., Heinrich and Thomas Mann, Gustaf Gründgens, etc.), and decided instead to write about her.  Then, amazingly, in 1966, Dr. Below walked into an antiquarian shop in Firenze and discovered the bulk of Ms. Jacobi’s personal papers, which she soon purchased with her parents’ financial assistance.  For those aware of events in Firenze in 1966, great floods along the Arno in November resulted in countless treasures being swept away and destroyed; if not for Dr. Below’s fortuitous discovery, the same would likely have happened to Ms. Jacobi’s papers.

Figure 21-Ms. Lucia von Jacobi at the Villa Primavera in 1936 or 1937 (Photo courtesy of the Akademie der Künste in Berlin & Dr. Below)

Dr. Below explained that beginning in 1936, Lucia von Jacobi (Figure 21), together with my aunt and uncle rented the Villa Primavera, and soon after began to take in guests.  Because Ms. Jacobi arrived in Firenze in December 1934, via Vienna, Prague, Meran, and Ascona, it seems likely she first met my aunt and uncle in Firenze.  Perhaps, Dr. Frascani was responsible for introducing them.

 As to the relationship of my uncle to Dr. Frascani, I’ve been unable to discover how they met.  However, since both were doctors, I assume they worked together professionally before my aunt and uncle moved to Fiesole. While it’s likely Dr. Müller worked in Dr. Frascani’s sanatorium, there’s some uncertainty about this as I discuss below.

Dr. Below sent Giuditta a PowerPoint presentation and scientific paper she delivered in 2009 at the “Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz,” entitled “Florenz 1935-1938: Zuflucht – Treffpunkt – Sehnsuchtsort.  Lucy von Jacobi (1887-1956) und ihre Pension Villa Primavera,” translated roughly as “Florence 1935-1938: Refuge – Meeting – Longing.  Lucy von Jacobi (1887-1956) and Her Pension Villa Primavera.”  Seemingly, for a brief period between 1935 and 1938, German refugees, especially those interested in arts and culture, found refuge in Firenze, and gathered with friends and like-minded people at the Villa Primavera for recreation and conversation, brought together by Ms. Jacobi.  Immigrants and guests mingled with locals to discuss Florentine art, Tuscan cuisine, the landscape, architecture from near and far, and more.  I imagine my aunt and uncle may have been attracted to Fiesole for the same reasons other Jewish émigrés were, the intellectual milieu and attractive setting; in the case of my uncle, the ability to continue working as a doctor may also have been a factor.

Figure 22-Ms. Lucia Nadetti & Dr. Irene Below at the at the “Archivio Storico Comunale”

At Giuditta’s invitation, Dr. Below, as well as my wife and me, all gathered in Firenze in October 2016. (Figure 22)  This gave us an opportunity to discuss other things Dr. Below had learned from Lucia’s papers.  Regarding my aunt and uncle, there were several remarkable items found in Lucia’s belongings.  Dr. Below discovered a photograph of Ms. Jacobi with my Uncle Franz seated on the same chairs as a photo I possess showing my aunt and uncle. (Figures 23 & 24) She also found a card written by my Aunt Susanne to Lucia on July 31, 1938, from Champoluc in the Aosta Valley, Italy, where my aunt and uncle had gone to rest.

Figure 23-Ms. Lucia von Jacobi and my Uncle Franz at the Villa Primavera (Photo courtesy of the Akademie der Künste in Berlin & Dr. Below)
Figure 24-In 1938, my Aunt Susanne & Uncle Franz at the Villa Primavera seated on the same chairs shown in Fig. 23









Perhaps, most interesting is the second page of a letter my Aunt Susanne wrote when Lucia traveled to Palestine for three months in the latter half of 1938.  This trip may have been prompted by Hitler and Mussolini’s visit to Firenze on May 9, 1938, soon after resulting in Mussolini’s embrace of the “Manifesto of the Racial Scientists” on July 14, 1938.  Basically, this Manifesto declared the Italian civilization to be of Aryan origin and claimed the existence of a “pure” Italian race to which Jews did not belong.  Between September 2, 1938 and November 17, 1938, Italy enacted a series of racial laws, including one forbidding foreign Jews from settling in Italy.  Ms. Jacobi had just returned to Firenze, but after passage of the racial laws, she escaped in October 1938 to Switzerland, forced to leave all her possessions behind.  Dr. Below surmises that Lucia’s personal papers remained in the Villa Primavera until Dr. Frascani’s descendants sold the house, likely shortly before they wound up in the antiquarian shop.

Dr. Below explained that following Ms. Jacobi’s return from Palestine, she was constantly being watched and her mail monitored.  Curious as to whether the same might have applied to my uncle, I asked Dr. Below about this and she gave me the name of a German researcher, Mr. Klaus Voigt, who has examined the files at the “Archivio centrale dello Stato” (“Central Archives of the State”) in Rome on people who were monitored during Italy’s Fascist era. 

Mr. Voigt explained that monitoring of people like my uncle would have been done by the local Questura, that’s to say, the police in the province of Firenze, and that he never found a file on my uncle in the archives in Rome.  He further revealed all these local files, stored in the basement of the Uffizi, were destroyed in the 1966 inundations in Firenze, previously mentioned.  Seemingly, the only files that survive at the Archivio centrale dello Stato in Rome were for important opponents of Fascism.

Mr. Voigt shared another interesting fact about my uncle.  Dr. Franz Müller’s name was familiar to Mr. Voigt as a teacher at the Landschulheim Florenz, which was directed by two German-Jewish émigrés.  During his stay in Firenze, my Uncle Franz taught a special course there for medical-technical assistants.  For this reason, I’m uncertain whether he also worked in the “Sanatorio Frascani” during his years in Firenze.


Figure 25-The Fiesole immigration log showing my father registered a second time on September 15, 1938

I began this post with mention of the 1938 emigration log sent to me by Ms. Nadetti, indicating my aunt and uncle departed Firenze on September 16, 1938.  Previously, I also mentioned that my father’s name, Otto Bruck, was recorded in the immigration log a second time.  He registered on September 15, 1938 (Figure 25), for a stay of two weeks, but I surmise he left with my aunt and uncle, and, as it happens, my grandmother the next day. 

Figure 26-Fiesole’s immigration log for May 1938 listing my uncle, grandmother and Lucia von Jacobi

Within two weeks of Hitler and Mussolini’s visit to Firenze on May 9, 1938, Jewish immigrants who’d not previously registered with the Municipio were required to do so.  This included my Uncle Franz, my grandmother Else Bruck, née Berliner, and Lucia von Jacobi, but, oddly, not my Aunt Susanne. (Figure 26)  Their names all appear in the registration logs in May 1938, their length of stays shown as “per sempre,” that’s to say, forever.  Clearly, forever lasted only a few more months.



Below, Irene and Ruth Oelze

2009  Lucy von Jacobi: Jouranlistin: mit Aufsätzen und Kritaken.  Deutsche Kinemathek (Berlin).  München Ed. Text + Kritik.  Film & Schrift, Band 9.

Figure 27-The Tuscan landscape as seen from the Villa Primavera in 1936 (Photo courtesy of the Akademie der Künste in Berlin & Dr. Below)


Figure 1 – Hedwig & Alfred Schlenger on the steps of the Dampfmahlmuhle in Tiegenhof

Among the people my father, Dr. Otto Bruck, was acquainted with in Tiegenhof, and may even once have considered good friends, were the owners of Tiegenhof’s Dampfmahlmuehle (steam-operated flour mill), Hedwig “Hedsch” Schlenger, nee Fenger (b. June 13, 1899, Tiegenhof, Free State of Danzig-d. June 3, 1982, Hannover, Germany) and her husband, Alfred “Dicken” Schlenger (Figure 1).  Using the membership list in the Tiegenhofer Nachrichten, the annual periodical for former German residents of Tiegenhof and their descendants, I had the good fortune to locate Hedsch Schlenger’s grand-daughter, a delightful lady by the name of Beate Lohff, nee Schlenger (Figure 2), living in Meppen, Germany.  Readers will recall from an earlier post that my father had recorded Hedsch Schlenger’s name by June 13th in his 1932 Pocket Calendar, a date Beate would later confirm was when her grandmother was born in 1899 in Tiegenhof.

Figure 2 – Beate Lohff b. Schlenger, grand-daughter of Hedsch Schlenger

Not only was I fortunate enough to locate Hedsch Schlenger’s grand-daughter, but I also had the indisputable “luck” to learn that Beate had inherited some of her grand-parent’s personal papers and surviving pictures, which Beate graciously shared with me.  The pictures, some of which have been discussed and shown in previous posts, included people whom my father had once known, including two personal friends, Kurt Lau and Hans “Mochum” Wagner.  Perhaps even more valuable was a 12-page diary Hedsch Schlenger had written covering the period from roughly September 1944 through August 1947 that I had translated into English; readers will correctly surmise this overlaps with the period when the Russians overran Tiegenhof and East and West Prussia and worked their way westwards towards the heart of Nazi Germany as the German war-machine collapsed.  Hedsch Schlenger’s diary provides a fascinating, albeit limited, look at this period.  The initial entry is dated June 1, 1945, with subsequent entries dated, respectively, June 24, 1945; July 22, 1945; August 29, 1945; May 1947 and August 1947.  According to Beate Lohff (personal communication), a portion of Hedsch Schlenger’s diary has been lost and was likely destroyed.

In this Blog post, I have extracted several sections of Hedsch Schlenger’s diary to highlight contemporary personal and historic events; provided brief commentary on the events or people discussed; depicted some of the individuals mentioned; and, finally, illustrated, using a few of my father’s pictures, the areas through which Hedsch and her entourage likely passed.  Since most of the people mentioned will be of scant interest to the reader, I will focus primarily on the broader contemporary historical events that Hedsch Schlenger touches on that readers may find more entertaining.  The complete translated diary can be found under Historic Documents for anyone interested in reading it, although readers should be prepared to go through it with an Atlas in hand.

Hedsch Schlenger’s initial diary entry dated “Schwerin, June 1, 1945”:  “By September 1944, we had survived 5 years of war.  My husband [Alfred] passed away in August [1944] after being severely ill for 8 weeks; my 19-year-old son Eberhard was an aircraftsman in Breslau (today: Wroclaw, Poland) and only my second 13-year-old son Juergen was with me in Tiegenhof, where I lived with my mother-in-law in the mill and where my husband used to work as a mill merchant.”

Commentary:  I was able to locate the 1944 Death Certificate for Alfred Schlenger, Hedsch Schlenger’s husband, in the database discussed in previous posts: Östliche preußische Provinzen, Polen, Personenstandsregister 1874-1945 (Eastern Prussian Provinces, Germany [Poland], Selected Civil Vitals, 1874-1945).  Alfred’s Death Certificate is one of the few records in this database which is typewritten.

Throughout her diary, Hedsch Schlenger refers to her mother-in-law as “Omama,” although her given name was “Martha Schlenger, nee Ruhnau.”  More will be said about her fate later.

Hedsch Schlenger’s diary entry:  “The Russians advanced further and further into East and West Prussia and on January 23, 1945, the first tanks appeared in Elbing [today: Elblag, Poland], 20km (ca. 13 miles east-southeast) away from Tiegenhof.  At 8 in the evening we received the first order to evacuate. . . At 11 p.m. it was all cancelled as the danger should have been over, but at 5 in the morning the situation became very serious. . . It was the 24th, my husband’s birthday, when we left the beautiful mill site at 8:30 in the morning.”

On the road, we were soon driving in convoy and moved forward very slowly because of the ice.  We drank hot coffee for the first time at 3 p.m. in Steegen [today: Stegna, Poland] (15km), and all the vehicles gathered at 7 p.m. . .in Nickelswalde [today: Mikoszewo, Poland] (25km).  Our Wanderer (car) soon crossed the river on the ferry. . .”

Commentary:  Steegen was a beach community north of Tiegenhof where my father often recreated (Figures 3 & 4).  Nickelswalde was the major ferry-crossing point across the Weichsel River [today: Vistula], a ferry my father often took on his way to Danzig (Figure 5 & 6).

Figure 3 – My father at the beach in Steegen in June 1932


Figure 4 – The beach at Stegna, Poland, formerly Steegen, as it appears today







Figure 5 – My father aboard the ferry “Schoenberg,” crossing the Weichsel (Vistula), likely the same ferry Hedsch Schlenger and her entourage used to escape
Figure 6 – Current Vistula River barge crossing at Mikoszewo, Poland, formerly Nickelswalde










Hedsch Schlenger’s diary entry:  “In Danzig, I met Ruth van Bergen. . .thanks to her, I went once more to Tiegenhof by car.  Our house was completely occupied by soldiers and plundered. . .The mill was in use, which means new flour and whole grain were produced by means of an electric motor. . . Ruth van Bergen and I spent the night in [Tiegenhof] and one could hear shooting from the front-line, which was 8km away.  The next day we drove back through Burnwalde [on the Weichsel], where another pig was slaughtered and packed for us to take.  The ferry from Rothebude took 10 hours because the roads were full of convoys all the way to Danzig.”

I made it once more to Tiegenhof with Erna Baumfolk. . .That night we stayed with the Regehrs (uncle). . .In the afternoon, we drove back with the Wehrmacht.  I had a feeling then that I will never see my home again.  The cemetery was the only place that remained untouched.  I will never forget that peaceful image amidst the war.  Will I ever see my husband’s grave again?”

Commentary:  The above describe Hedsch Schlenger’s last two visits to Tiegenhof from Danzig.  Following the war, the Communist Government in Poland not only expelled most remaining Germans but also made a concerted effort to remove traces of German occupation, a pattern we see repeated in other cities and towns across the country.  Consequently, while many German-era buildings still stand today in Nowy Dwor Gdanski, the cemetery where Alfred Schlenger and other Germans were once buried in Tiegenhof no longer exists.

Figure 7 – The Grand Hotel in Zoppot as it looked in August 1931

Hedsch Schlenger’s diary entry:  “The situation in Danzig became increasingly dangerous.  The Russians reached Graudenz [today: Grudziądz, Poland], Schneidemühl [today: Piła, Poland] and were close to Dirschau [today: Tczew, Poland] and were close to Stettin [today: Szczecin, Poland].  If we stood a chance to go west by train we had to leave Zoppot [today: Sopot, Poland] (Figure 7) again.  Many of our friends had left by ship but it was very difficult to get tickets; train tickets were hard to get.  Philipsen, my brother-in-law, left on the “Gustloff” as boatman.  The ship was torpedoed at the beginning of February near Leba [today: Łeba, Poland].  Most likely he died in the attack.  My sister [Lisbeth] often went to Gotenhafen/Gdingen [today: Gydnia, Poland] to get some news but always in vain.

All of a sudden, Doempke, my brother-in-law, managed to get me 3 places on a hospital train, and on February 24th, my mother, Jürgen and I set out from Neufahrwasser [today: Nowy Port, Poland] towards an uncertain destination.  There were 15 wounded in the carriage who arrived by boat from Königsberg [today: Kaliningrad, Russia] and were loaded onto the train. . .It was very cold in the compartment and it took us 3 days to get to Stettin [today: Szczecin, Poland] through Pomerania.

 On the 27th we arrived in Bad Kleinen in Mecklenburg, where we got off the train.  Then we travelled through Schwerin, Ludwigslust, Wittenberge and Neustadt (Dosse) to Rathenow. . . [roughly 45 miles northwest of Berlin]”

Commentary:  Here Hedsch Schlenger identifies some places the Russians captured as they were closing in on Pomerania and West Prussia, and touches on one of the lesser known disasters of World War II, specifically, the torpedoing of the former cruise ship known as the Wilhelm Gustloff

Figure 8 – Map of Free State of Danzig

Hedsch Schlenger’s contemporary account details how the Russians were advancing into West Prussia and Pomerania from the South and East.  Other informant accounts I’ve collected suggest the Russians were even backtracking East to capture pockets of German resistance they may have bypassed on their way West.  Some readers may recall from my earlier Blog post dealing with “Idschi and Suse [Epp]” that their brother, Gerhard Epp, did not evacuate from near Stutthof until May 6, 1945, indicating this area east of Danzig was likely one of the last captured by the Russians.  On Figures 8, 9 & 10, I have circled some of the places that Hedsch Schlenger mentions in her narrative as she travels from Danzig to the German State of Mecklenburg.

Figure 9 – Northern portion of Free State of Danzig with places mentioned by Hedsch Schlenger circled






Figure 10 – Map showing relationship of Danzig to Pommern (Pomerania) and German State of Mecklenburg

Elsewhere in her diary, Hedsch Schlenger identifies her sister by name, “Lisbeth,” without providing her married name.  In the section quoted above, Lisbeth’s husband is merely identified as “Philipsen.”  It was initially unclear to me whether this was her husband’s prename or surname.   However, I was eventually able to locate a birth record from the Evangelical Church in Tiegenhof for a “Otto Wilhelm Max Philipsen,” a child that Lisbeth, nee Fenger, had with her husband which confirmed that “Philipsen” was Lisbeth’s married name and that she was married to Otto Philipsen.  I even found Lisbeth Philipsen’s name and address in Bremen on a page in Alfred Schlenger’s Address Book, given to me by Alfred’s grand-daughter (Figure 11).

Figure 11-Page from Alfred Schlenger’s Address Book with his sister-in-law’s name and address in Bremen, Germany

The “Philipsen” mentioned in Hedsch Schlenger’s diary is this Otto Philipsen who died when the Wilhelm Gustloff was sunk in the Baltic Sea by Soviet Navy submarines.  An American scholar by the name of Cathryn J. Prince, has written a riveting account of this little-known disaster in a 2013 book entitled “Death in the Baltic: The World War II Sinking of the Wilhelm Gustloff.”  As the Russians were advancing from the East, Berlin made plans to evacuate upwards of 10,000 German women, children, and the elderly from West and East Prussia aboard a former cruise ship, the Wilhelm Gustloff.  Sailing from Gotenhafen/Gdingen [today: Gydnia, Poland] through the icy waters of the Baltic Sea on January 30, 1945, the ship was soon found and sunk by Russian subs.  An estimated 9,400 people lost their lives, six times the number lost on the Titanic!!

Hedsch Schlenger’s diary entries:  “On April 12th, the Americans were already marching into Stendal [roughly 100 miles northwest of Berlin].  On this occasion, I wanted to leave Rathenow again for I did not wish to fall into the hands of the Russians.  I did not flee from the East for that. . .

In the meantime, the Russians were getting closer and closer to Berlin, the Allied forces kept advancing from the West, and the Russians began new attacks even close to Stettin.  They were now near Mecklenburg, and on May 1st, they were now no more than 20km away from Krakow am See [located in Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania, Germany, and the place where Hedsch, her mother and her son had temporarily taken refuge with friends as she was writing her account].

My mother. . .still wanted to stay there [Krakow am See].  However, in the morning one of the soldiers advised us to get on the truck going in the direction of Schwerin and make our way to Lübeck.  By 9 we had packed everything and set out again to flee from the Russians, who were supposed to reach Krakow by 12.  They were constantly on our heels during our journey.  The streets were lined with tanks again, between them were soldiers, wounded and prisoners—a bleak string of hardened people, who had lost their homes and their country.

 And suddenly the war ended. . .

June 24th: We are still in Schwerin, although every minute there is a rumor that the Russians will occupy this part of Mecklenburg as well.  Many people from Danzig walk around with Danziger coat-of-arms on their clothes, and the rumors are circulating that a Free City shall be established again.  But they lack any foundation.

July 22, 1945:  Since [June] 19th we’ve been in Rostock.  The Russians replaced the English in Schwerin. . .”

Commentary:  In the closing weeks of fighting in Europe, the Allied powers had actually pushed beyond the previously agreed occupation zone boundaries determined at the 1945 Yalta Conference by the “Big Three” (Russia, America, and Britain) on how to split up Germany following WWII.  In the case of the Americans, they had sometimes pushed by as much as 200 miles beyond the agreed boundaries.  So, after about two months of holding certain areas meant to be in the Soviet zone, which was clearly the case with Schwerin, the Allied powers withdrew during July 1945, which corresponds with Hedsch Schlenger’s account.

Clearly, there was an unrealistic expectation among some former residents of Danzig that a Free City would once again be established there, a situation that obviously never came to pass.

Hedsch Schlenger’s diary entry:  August 29, 1945:  “We are still in Rostock.  The refugees from the East keep coming still.  Amongst them was also the Schritt family from Zoppot [today: Sopot, Poland], who knew for sure that Omama [Hedsch Schlenger’s mother-in-law, Martha Schlenger] had died there. . Allegedly the Doempkes tried to take their own lives. . .

 . . .Many have taken their own lives, like my mother-in-law in Zoppot, who [died and]. . .is buried in the garden at Heidebergstraße.  The Doempkes. . .also took poison. . . “

Figure 12-Hedsch Schlenger’s mother-in-law, Martha Schlenger, nee Ruhnau (“Omama”), on July 17, 1934 in Wolitta (Kaliningrad, Russia) (photo courtesy of Dr. Heinrich Schlenger, Kiel, Germany)

Commentary:  Here, Hedsch Schlenger learns that her mother-in-law, Martha Schlenger, nee Ruhnau  (“Omama”) (Figure 12), died in Zoppot as did the Doempkes, her brother-and-sister-in-law. 

Many Germans who decided to stay in West Prussia as the Russians were approaching in the closing days of WWII were either killed or eventually took their own lives; those that survived were later expelled or naturalized as Polish citizens.  In the case of women who stayed, they were the repeated victim of rape by Russian soldiers.  My father’s friend from Tiegenhof, Peter Lau, to whom an earlier post was devoted, told me that his aunt decided to stay in Danzig to protect her property only to eventually arrive in West Germany months later a shattered woman on account of her brutal treatment at the hands of Russian soldiers.  Peter also recounted that German women took refuge in what was once Tiegenhof’s Käsefabrik (cheese factory), and what is today the Muzeum Zulawskie, as the Russians were approaching; after the town was captured, these women were systematically removed from the factory and repeatedly raped.

Hedsch Schlenger’s diary entry:  August 29, 1945:  “Recently I met a Mr. Kurt Schlenger who is a distant relative of ours.  He lives here in Rostock; he’s married and is a distinguished violinist. They live in Massmannstraße 10, have an 18-year-old daughter who wants to become an artist. I even met a sister of this Mr. Schlenger, a widow named Mrs. Seidel, who lives in Tremsenweg 4. They are very nice people, but completely different to us. They are dark, small and not as handsome as our Schlengers.”

Figure 12 – Dr. Kurt Schlenger, ca. 1935 (photo courtesy of Dr. Heinrich Schlenger, Kiel, Germany)

Commentary:  This entry took some time to unravel.  Hedsch’s husband Alfred had a brother by the same name, Dr. Kurt Schlenger, who coincidentally was also a musician (Figure 12).  Readers may recall from an earlier post that this Dr. Kurt Schlenger, born on April 20, 1909, was mentioned in my father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar.  I spent a considerable amount of time searching for a Kurt Schlenger from Rostock, Germany on who could be the “distant relative” to whom Hedsch was referring.  Eventually, I found one Kurt Schlenger in Rostock, Germany, born on June 11, 1893, who is likely the relative in question; his marriage certificate is attached and shows he was born in Preußisch Holland (Prussian Holland) [today: Pasłęk, Poland], 46km or less than 30 miles from Tiegenhof.

From German refugees continuing to arrive from the East, Hedsch Schlenger was either able to re-encounter people she knew from West Prussia and Tiegenhof, including people my father also knew, or learn about people who’d decided to stay behind.  The fate of those who stayed behind, however, is often unclear.


Figure 1 – Office building at Marktstrasse 8 in Tiegenhof in 1934 where my father had his dental office & living quarters festooned with Nazi flags

My father, Dr. Otto Bruck, was a witness to the rise of National Socialism from the window of his dental office in Tiegenhof, located at Markstrasse 8, later renamed “Adolf Hitler Strasse 8.” Readers will recall my father’s 1934 picture of the office building where be lived and worked, festooned with Nazi bunting and flagging. (Figure 1)  But, already, the previous year, specifically, on May 1, 1933, my father photographed a regiment of “Brownshirts,” marching down Schlosserstrasse, carrying Nazi flags, framed by the “Kreishaus” (courthouse) on one side, the previously discussed Dutch-style timbered home on the other, and buildings draped with Nazi flags. (Figure 2)

Figure 2 – On May 1, 1933, Brownshirts marching down Schlosserstrasse framed by the Kreishaus on the left and the Dutch-styled timbered house on the right







Figure 3 – On May 1, 1934, veterans and Brownshirts parading down Schlosserstrasse lead by “Stahlhalm”

Again, a year later to the day, on May 1, 1934, my father documented a parade of veterans and Brownshirts following the same path down Schlosserstrasse led by Stahlhalm (“Steel Helmet”) members, a veterans organization that arose after the German defeat of WWI. It was eventually in 1934 that members of the Stahlhalm were incorporated into the Sturmabteilung or “SA,” the original paramilitary wing of the Nazi Party. Interestingly, the march this particular year had an almost “festive” atmosphere to it as a carriage with an oversized Stobbe Machandel bottle was paraded down the street; Machandel or elderberry whiskey was originally produced in Tiegenhof by the firm of Peter Stobbe. (Figure 3)

Figure 4 – On April 5, 1935, Field Marshall Hermann Göring parading through Tiegenhof

The following year, on April 5, 1935, Field Marshall Hermann Göring visited and participated in the march through Tiegenhof. (Figure 4)  Once again, my father was a witness to a historic event that ultimately would lead to a cataclysmic genocide. The day prior, on April 4, 1935, Hermann Göring had visited Danzig in an attempt to influence the April 7th parliamentary elections in favor of Nazi candidates. The visit to Tiegenhof the next day was merely an extension of this campaign to influence the Free State’s parliamentary elections. In the photos that my father took on April 5th there can be seen a banner which in German reads “Danzig ist Deutsch wenn es nationalsozialistisch ist,” translated as “Danzig is German when it is National Socialist.” It appears that along with everyday citizens of Tiegenhof and surrounding communities, members of the Hitler Youth, known in German as Hitler-Jugend, also lined the street in large number. (Figure 5)

Figure 5 – Members of the Hitler Youth watching Field Marshall Hermann Göring parade through Tiegenhof on April 5, 1935


Throughout his life, my father, Otto Bruck, was an active sportsman, with his greatest passion being tennis. He played actively as a youth in Ratibor, and, after moving to Berlin, to begin his dental studies, he joined the “E. V. B. Schwarz-Weiss” tennis club in Berlin-Schoeneberg (a future Blog post will deal with an interesting piece of tennis memorabilia my father saved from his time as a member of this club). After receiving his dental diploma in 1930, my father moved to Danzig where he apprenticed as a dentist in Danzig and a few other places in the Free State of Danzig. Finally, in April 1932, my father moved to Tiegenhof to establish his own dental practice. Throughout this period, until his departure from Tiegenhof in mid-1937, my father played tennis competitively. My father’s remaining personal effects include newspaper clippings and trophies attesting to his accomplishments on the tennis court.

Figure 1 – My father’s membership papers to the “V.F.B., Tiegenhof, Baltischer Sportverband”

By November 1932, my father had applied for and met the physical qualifications for acceptance to the “V.F.B. Tiegenhof, Baltischer Sportverband (Baltic Sports Federation).” (Figure 1)  It appears the members socialized, recreated, and met regularly at a place called the “Club Ruschau” in Petershagen (today: Zelichowo, Poland), just outside Tiegenhof (today: Nowy Dwor Gdanski, Poland); my father took numerous photos there. (Figures 2, 3) Judging from the pictures, it was located along the Tiege River (today: Tuga).

Figure 2 – My father recreating at the Club Ruschau
Figure 3 – My father (second from left) with three regular members of the Club Ruschau, Dr. H. Holst, Herr Nuchberlein, unknown gentleman







Since I can personally attest to the fact that many buildings from the German period still exist today in Nowy Dwor Gdanski, one day I asked Marek Opitz, Director of the “Muzeum Zulawskie” and President of the “Klub Nowodworski,” whether he knew about the Club Ruschau and the buildings that once formed the Club. Whereas Marek knew what purpose and which buildings remained from the German period, until he examined my father’s photos of the Club Ruschau, he had not known of its existence. It was logical to conclude, given the widespread destruction that was wrought on Tiegenhof and Petershagen towards the end of WWII, that all remaining traces of the Club Ruschau had been erased. Therefore, I expected nothing more to come from this avenue of investigation.

Figure 4 – Me at the entrance to one of the buildings of the Club Ruschau with my hand on the original doorknob

Several weeks passed, when much to my surprise, Marek contacted me to tell me he had re-located one of the buildings that had comprised the Club Ruschau, now privately-owned; he included aerial and ground-level pictures of the property and structure as it appears today, and sure-enough, its location was along the Tiege River. Marek indicated his intention to take my wife and me to visit the location during our upcoming visit. And, indeed, in May 2012, Marek arranged with the current property-owner to give us a tour of the structure and land that had once made up the Club Ruschau. Given all the time my father spent here, augmented by the fact that my father’s days in Tiegenhof were unquestionably the happiest in his life, it thrilled me beyond measure to walk, if only for a short time, in the same place he’d trodden and enter the same door and touch the same doorknob he’d handled 75 years earlier. (Figure 4) This was literally like traveling by time-machine.

Figure 5 – My father standing amidst regular members of the Club Ruschau

Members of the Club Ruschau included some of my father’s closest network of friends, specifically, the President, Dr. Schumanski, and Vice-President, Dr. H. Holst, as well as companions recognizable in various photos as Herbert Kloss and Kastret Romanowski. (Figure 5)  Again, using the membership list in the “Tiegenhofer Nachrichten,” I attempted to contact people with similar surnames, but, unlike the success I garnered with descendants of Idschi and Suse Epp, I have to date been unable to learn the fate of any of these people. Peter and Lolo Lau confirmed that Dr. Holst moved to Danzig from Tiegenhof, and was a teacher in Lolo’s gymnasium. Given the political realities of the 1930’s and what little my father told me about his social circle of friends from Tiegenhof, it is safe to assume that those friends that were not themselves Jewish gradually or abruptly distanced themselves from my father in the interest of self-preservation.


Figure 1-Father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar

I have already informed the reader that one particularly useful item among my father’s remaining personal effects is his “1932 Pocket Calendar” in which he recorded the anniversaries and birthdays associated with family, friends and acquaintances, and in a few instances even noted the names and phone numbers of business associates. The Pocket Calendar itself was for a business called “Rudolf Witt,” located in Danzig on what was then “Langgasse 48-49,” which sold fine paper and gift articles. (Figure 1)

Almost all the names are written in Sutterlin, the bizarre saw-tooth script previously discussed that was widely used in Prussia between 1915 and 1941; towards the front of the Pocket Calendar there are even a few lines of “shorthand,” or “stenography,” which I am still trying to decode. With the help of German relatives, I was able to decipher all the names, although in a few instances these reveal only given names. I became interested in learning about my father’s circle of friends and acquaintances and determining whether I could match up photos with each of the names, or find other evidence of how they might have interacted with my father. I was remarkably successful in this endeavor.

In his 1932 Pocket Calendar, my father recorded names and names by specific dates, along with the names and phone numbers of a few friends and business associates. Below are scans of the pages with the names and events shown, my interpretation as to who or what is recorded, and pictures, where available of the people in question.


Figure 2-Pocket Calendar page with name of Linchen Regehr

January 13th, “Linchen Regehr” (Figure 2).  Linchen Regehr was the wife of Heinrich “Heinz” Regehr, Director of the Deutsches Bank in Tiegenhof.






February 17th, “Gerhard Hoppe Geb.(=Geburtstag (birthday))” (Figure 3).  February 17th was the birthday of Gerhard Hoppe, dentist and good friend of my father living in Neuteich, Free State of Danzig. (Figure 4)

Figure 3-Father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar with names of Gerhard Hoppe & Kurt Lau
Figure 4-Gerhard Hoppe









Figure 5-Kurt Lau, father of Juergen “Peter” Lau

February 19th, “Kurt Lau Geb.” (Figure 3)  February 19, 1892 was the birthday of Kurt Lau, my father’s good friend and father of Juergen “Peter” Lau to which an entire Blog post has already been devoted. (Figure 5)





March 3rd, “Mutter Geb. (mother’s birthday)” (Figure 6)  Else Bruck, née Berliner was my father’s mother born on March 3, 1873 in Ratibor, Germany. (Figure 7)

Figure 6-Father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar with the birthdays of his mother and cousin indicated
Figure 7-My father’s mother, Else Bruck née Berliner









Figure 8-Father’s first cousin, Heinz Loewenstein

March 8th, “Heinz Geb.” (Figure 6) March 8, 1905 was the birthday of one of my father’s first cousins, Heinz Loewenstein, born in Danzig and living there while my father lived in Tiegenhof. (Figure 8)






March 28th, “Vater (father)” (Figure 9)  Felix Bruck, born on March 28, 1864 in Ratibor, Germany, was my father’s father. (Figure 10)

Figure 9-Father’s 1932 Pocket Planner with his father’s birthday noted
Figure 10-My father as a baby in the arms of his father, Felix Bruck









Figure 11-Father’s Day Planner with the date he drove to Tiegenhof to begin his dental career and his own birthday indicated

April 9th, “nach Tiegenhof gekommen” (Figure 11)  April 9, 1932 is the day my father first drove to Tiegenhof to begin his career there as a dentist.

April 16th, “Geburstag” (Figure 11)  My father himself was born on April 16, 1907 in Ratibor, Germany.





April 20th, “Dr. Kurt Schlenger” (Figure 12)  April 20, 1909 was the birthday of Dr. Kurt Schlenger, one of the sons of Otto Schlenger, owner & operator of Tiegenhof’s “Dampfmahlmuhle.” Dr. Schlenger was a musician & musicologist who professionally arranged many classical pieces of music, mostly for wind instruments.  Otto Schlenger’s grand-daughter scanned a page from her grandfather’s address book (Figure 13), showing that Kurt lived in Koenigsberg, East Prussia (today: Kaliningrad, Russia).  My third cousin uncovered Kurt Schlenger’s Ph.D. dissertation which included a curriculum vitae (Figure 14), translated as: “I, Kurt Hans Otto Schlenger, was born in Tiegenhof on 20 April 1909 as son of the mill owners Otto Schlenger and his wife Martha born Ruhnau.”  A member of the Schlenger family even provided me a picture of Dr. Kurt Schlenger (Figure 15).

Figure 12-Father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar with the birthdays of both Dr. Kurt Schlenger & his sister Susanne noted
Figure 13-Page from Alfred Schlenger’s Address Book showing where his brother, Dr. Kurt Schlenger, lived in Koenigsberg, East Prussia









Figure 14 – Curriculum vitae from Dr. Kurt Schlenger’s Ph.D. dissertation giving his date and place of birth and names of his parents
Figure 15-Dr. Kurt Schlenger, ca. 1935 (photo courtesy of Dr. Heinrich Schlenger, Kiel, Germany)









Figure 16-Susanne Mueller née Bruck

April 20th, “Susanne” (Figure 12)  My father’s sister, Susanne Mueller, née Bruck, was born on April 20, 1904 in Ratibor, Germany and perished in Auschwitz in 1942. (Figure 16)  An entire blog post will be devoted to her in the future.





May 31st, “Idschi Epp Geb.” (Figure 17)  May 31, 1893 was the birthday of my father’s good friend, Idschi Epp. (Figure 18)

Figure 17-Father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar with Idschi Epp’s birthday recorded
Figure 18-Idschi Epp in Stutthof at the house of her brother, Gerhard Epp










Figure 19-Father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar the names of multiple friends & acquaintances recorded

June 10th, “Suschen” (Figure 19)  Suse Epp, sister of Idschi Epp, was born on June 10, 1877, and was also a friend of my father. (Figure 20)

June 10th, “Werner Meifert” (Figure 19)  According to Danzig Address Books, Werner was a “Gerichtsreferent” (Court Speaker), later a “Gerichtsassessor” (Court Assessor), although after 1936 he is no longer listed. Likely a Jewish friend of my father who fled or was killed.

June 12th, “Hanni” (Figure 19)  Hanni Wagner was the sister or possible wife of father’s once-good friend, Hans “Mochum” Wagner, and June 12th was likely her birthday. (Figure 21)

Figure 20-Suschen Epp, oldest sister of Idschi Epp
Figure 21-Hanni Wagner seated between her brother Hans “Mochum” Wagner and Alfred Schlenger








Figure 22-Hedsch & Alfred Schlenger standing on the steps of Tiegenhof’s Dampfmahlmuehle

June 13th, “Dicken und Hedsch Schlenger” (Figure 19)  Alfred & Hedwig “Hedsch” Schlenger were owners of Tiegenhof’s “Dampfmahlmuehle,” and June 13th was Hedsch’s birthday. (Figure 22)






June 23rd, “Todestag v. Vater (death of father)” (Figure 23)  My father’s father, Felix Bruck, died on June 23, 1927 in Berlin (Felix Bruck’s Death Certificate). (Figure 24)

Figure 23-Father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar indicating the day his father died
Figure 24-Death Certificate of Felix Bruck









July 26th, “Heinz Stumer” (Figure 25)  According to 1931 & 1933 Danzig Address Books, Herr Stumer was a “Zahnarzt” or dentist, and likely a colleague and/or friend of my father. (Figure 26)

Figure 25-Father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar with Heinz Stumer’s name recorded
Figure 26-1931 Danzig Address Book listing Heinz Stumer’s profession as Zahnarzt









Figure 27- Father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar with the names of various friends & acquaintances

August 3rd, “Fr. Jeglin” (Figure 27)  Possibly the wife of Oscar Jeglin, owner of a drugstore in Tiegenhof with whom my father may have had professional dealings.

August 9th, “Herr Wiebe” (Figure 27)  Unclear who this refers to.

August 10th, “Erwin Wann” (Figure 27)  Unclear who this refers to.



August 17th, “Fedor” (Figure 28)  Fedor Bruck was my father’s oldest brother, born on August 17, 1895 in Leobschutze, Germany (today: Głubczyce, Poland). (Figure 29) (Fedor Bruck Birth Certificate)

Figure 28-Father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar listing his brother’s birthday
Figure 29-Fedor Bruck standing next to his automobile, a DKW, one of the ancestor companies of modern-day Audi









September 15th, “Dr. Behrendt” (Figure 30)  This person, who appears in a 1943 Tiegenhof Address Book, was likely one of my father’s professional colleagues. (Figure 31)

Figure 30-Father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar with Dr. Behrendt’s name
Figure 31-Page from 1943 Tiegenhof Phonebook listing Dr. Behrendt









Figure 32-Father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar listing Rolfi Steinbach

September 26th, “Rolfi Steinbach” (Figure 32)  Unclear who this refers to.







November 18th, “Erika Geb.” (Figure 33)  The birthday of one of my father’s girlfriends. (Figure 34)

Figure 33-Father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar listing his girlfriend Erika’s birthday
Figure 34-My father’s girlfriend Erika in Florence, Italy on June 29, 1938, when she visited my father there after he’d left Tiegenhof









December 9th, “Truden!” (Figure 35)  Likely the birthday of Trudchen Wagner, one of father’s girlfriends and sister of Hans Wagner. (Figure 36)

Figure 35-Father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar identifying his girlfriend Truden’s birthday
Figure 36-My father with his arm around his girlfriend Trudchen Wagner









December 23rd, “Kathi Lau Geb.” (Figure 37)  December 23, 1892 was the birthday of Kathi Lau, wife of Kurt Lau and mother of Peter Lau. (Figure 38)

Figure 37-Father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar listing Kathi Lau’s birthday
Figure 38-Kathi Lau, Juergen “Peter” Lau’s mother









ADDRESSES AND PHONE NUMBERS (“Anchriften und Fernsprecher”)

Figure 39-Father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar listing addresses & phone numbers of business associates

“Fa. M. Broh 22636”  (Figure 39) Business was a “Eisengrosshandlung,” a firm involved in selling wholesale goods for the manufacture of homes. Unclear what type of relationship father had to this firm. (Figure 40)

“Bertram 27408”  (Figure 39) Danzig Phone Directories from the 1930’s list an individual by the name of “Fritz Bertram,” identified as a “Zahnarzt” or dentist who manufactured bridges and dentures. (Figures 41-42)

“Hoppe-Neuteich 47”  (Figure 39) Dr. Gerhard Hoppe was a good friend of my father and a dentist in Neuteich, Free State of Danzig, located SSW of Tiegenhof. (Figures 4 & 43)


Figure 40-Danzig Address Book listing for Firma Broh
Figure 41-Danzig Address Book listing for Fritz Bertram








Figure 42-Fritz Bertram sailing on the Bay of Danzig with friends
Figure 43-1934 Danzig Address Book listing Gerhard Hoppe as a dentist in Neuteich









As is evident from the above, I’ve successfully been able to decipher most of the people and events recorded by my father in his Pocket Calendar. Being a visual person, I also set out to find pictures of as many of these people as possible, using either my father’s photos or ones sent to me by descendants of my father’s friends and acquaintances; additionally, using Danzig Address Books and Phone Directories from the 1930’s, I was able to identify business colleagues with whom my father dealt and, in one instance, even correlate a picture with one of these people. It goes without saying that without my father’s surviving pictures, as well as the network of former Tiegenhof residents and descendants who subscribed to the “Tiegenhofer Nachrichten,” very little of this type of reconstruction would have been possible. The network of people with whom my father interacted, however, ranged beyond Tiegenhof to include Danzig, and included many business people in both communities.


In one of my previous Blog posts, I discussed “the Schlummermutter,” a woman my father talked about in an almost reverential and maternal tone whenever her name came up. I explained to the reader that while I was eventually able to learn her true identity, “Frau Grete Gramatzki,” I have been stymied in learning more about her life before moving to Tiegenhof, although I find telltale traces that may relate to her and someone who may have been her husband. Two other women my father often mentioned from his time in Tiegenhof were only ever known to me by their first names, “Idschi” and “Suse.” They too were close friends and seemingly rented accommodations in the same building where my father had his apartment and dental practice, but were otherwise enigmatic figures. My reliable “go-to” source, Peter Lau, could not provide clarification as to who these ladies were, although both were known to Peter. I came to believe they were merely neighbors my father had befriended.

Confronted with this dilemma, I set myself to again carefully studying my father’s few remaining documents. Recognizing that most of the writing in my father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar was in Sütterlin, the bizarre saw-tooth script taught in Prussian schools from roughly 1915 until 1941, I nonetheless was eventually able to recognize that Idschi’s surname was “Epp,” and that her birthday fell on May 31st. Similarly, I found in my father’s Pocket Calendar a listing for a “Suschen” under June 10th, although no surname was provided in this instance.

Figure 1 – My father with “Suse,” Frau Grete Gramatzki, and “Idschi”

As in my previous attempts to learn more about the persons with whom my father may have interacted during his five years in Tiegenhof, I again consulted the index in the “Tiegenhofer Nachrichten,” this time looking for people with the surname “Epp.” I came across four individuals, one living in Canada and three in Germany. I wrote to all four individuals, enclosing relevant copies of my father’s photos and asking whether they recognized anyone. Typically, this included a photo of the office building where my father had had his dental practice, and a group picture of the Schlummermutter, “Idschi,” “Suse,” and my father. (Figure 1)

Figure 2 – Rita Schuetze, née Epp as a young woman

The first three responses were negative, so I began to wonder whether I would ever learn more about Idschi Epp and Suse. But, finally, a response to the last of my letters arrived on November 27, 2012, from Angelika Schuetze, living in Lubeck, Germany. Angelika responded on behalf of her mother, Ms. Rita Schuetze, née Epp (born June 1, 1920), in words that will forever resonate with me, “. . .we think we are the people you’ve been looking for.” She revealed that “Suse (Susanna)” and “Ida (Idschi)” were her great-aunts, sisters who’d never married, and, respectively, the oldest and youngest sisters born 16 years apart; Suse was born in 1877, coincidentally, on June 10th as noted in my father’s Pocket Calendar, and Idschi in 1893, on May 31st, again as indicated in my father’s Pocket Calendar. The difference in age and appearance explains why it never occurred to me they might be sisters. Ms. Rita Schuetze (Figure 2), to whom I’d initially written, is the daughter of Suse and Idschi’s brother, Gerhard Epp, about whom much more will be said below.

Figure 3 – Hans Joachim “Hajo” Wiebe

Angelika informed me that, sadly, her mother suffers from dementia, and could provide no historical information. The information she did include in her correspondence came from Rita Schuetze’s half-brother, Hans Joachim (“Hajo”) Wiebe (Figure 3), twelve years her junior who is blessed with an excellent memory.

Hajo explained to Angelika Schuetze that the coffee & confectionary shop seen in my father’s 1934 photograph, named “Johannes Wiebe,” was actually owned and managed by Idschi Epp and, possibly, also her sister Suse; the Wiebe and Epp families are related by marriage. The sisters eventually purchased the building once owned by Frau Grete Gramatzki where the business was located. In the 1943 Tiegenhof phone directory, discussed earlier, there is a listing for “Ida Epp” at “Adolf Hitler Strasse 8,” formerly Marktstrasse 8, where my father’s office and residence were located. Also, in the book entitled “Tiegenhof und der Kreis Grosses Werder in Bildern” by Gunter Jeglin, businesses in existence ca. 1935 are indexed, and there is a listing for a “Kaffee und Teehandlung” owned by Ida Epp. It appears that Idschi not only ran a coffee and tea shop, but also sold liqueur and other groceries from this location.

Angelika went on to say that her uncle, Hajo Wiebe, remembered that one of the neighbors of the confectionary store owned by Idschi and Suse Epp was a “dentist,” and that perhaps my father had been his assistant or friend. Peter Lau had also once mentioned that my father had apprenticed with a “dentist” by the name of Dr. Gillmann, when he first arrived in Tiegenhof.  Curious as to this convergence in memories, I again turned to the 1943 Tiegenhof Phone Directory looking for a nearby “dentist” by this name, and, indeed, at Adolf Hitler Strasse 9, that’s to say, in the building adjacent where my father’s practice was located, there worked a Dr. Georg Gillman.

It’s worth noting that in Germany, until 1952, “dentist” was an expression for a non-academic technician, what is today referred to as “Zahntechniker.” Historically, the technician has its origins in the Middle Ages and developed from the position of “barber-surgeon”; in former times, “dentists” primarily extracted abscessed teeth after administering alcohol to a patient. But, because so many patients died due to bleeding, there arose a need for academically-trained physicians, i.e., “Zahnarzt.” In contrast to Dr. Gillmann, my father was a “Zahnarzt.” Nowadays, the “Zahntechniker” produces bridges and dentures.

Angelika Schuetze went on to relate that as the Russians were approaching Tiegenhof in 1945, Idschi and Suse escaped by ship to Denmark along with thousands of other people. They lived there in prison-like conditions, and that’s where Suse eventually passed away in 1948, at the age of 71. Idschi eventually went to live in Munich with her nephew, Rupprecht Braun, and died there in 1975. Angelika barely remembers her great-aunt but was told by her mother Rita that Idschi was a woman of extraordinary charm.

Figure 4 – Idschi Epp with her niece in Munich in the early 1960’s; on the wall above the radio hangs a picture of Angelika Schuetze’s great-aunt, Susanna Klaassen

Among the photos of Idschi I had initially sent to Angelika’s mother was one Idschi sent my father after they had reunited in Munich in the early 1960’s (Figure 4).  Interestingly, Angelika recognized her great-grandmother in a framed photo hanging behind her great-aunt, a woman I eventually learned was Susanna Klaassen. Angelika asked me several questions about some of the pictures I had sent, so this provided an opportunity to continue our dialogue. Following receipt of the initial letter from Angelika, I sent her copies of all my father’s snapshots showing Idschi and Suse, along with any identifying information.

Figure 5 – Hajo Wiebe surrounded from left to right by his great-niece Paula Schuetze, his partner Gunda Nickel, and his niece Angelika Schuetze

Eventually, I mentioned that I was planning on traveling to Germany in 2013, and wondered whether it might be possible to visit her in Lubeck and meet and talk with her uncle Hajo about his memories of Tiegenhof. Angelika responded that she and her uncle were very amenable to this idea. So, eventually, in early June 2013, I visited Angelika Schuetze in Lubeck, Germany, and met her along her mother Rita Schuetze, her uncle Hajo Wiebe and his partner, and Angelika’s daughter, Paula. (Figure 5)



Figure 6 – Margaretha Epp, nee Klaassen and her husband Gerhard Epp with their Great Dane “Ajax”

In anticipation of this meeting, I had made copies of all my father’s pictures of Tiegenhof and East and West Prussia for easy viewing. Because of his outstanding memory, Hajo Wiebe recognized many of the people and places my father had photographed. He recognized his step-father, Gerhard Epp, and Gerhard’s first wife, Margarete Epp, née Klaassen, the parents of Rita Schuetze. (Figure 6)




Figure 7 – Suse Epp, her nephew Rupprecht Braun, Frau Grete Grammatzki & Idschi Epp

Naturally, he also recognized Suse and Idschi Epp, siblings of Gerhard Epp, as well as another of their sisters, Johanna Margaretha (“Grete”) and her husband, Johannes Harder. I mentioned earlier that after their escape from Tiegenhof, Suse and Idschi went to Denmark, where Suse died in 1948; after WWII, Idschi went to live with her sister Anna’s son, Rupprecht Braun. Notably, Hajo even recognized this Rupprecht in a picture that included him with Suse, Idschi, and Grete Gramatzki. (Figure 7)

A few of my father’s pictures showed a very large Great Dane, an apparently iconic animal in family history that was named “Ajax,” seen in Figure 6.  During our visit, Angelika showed me some of her mother’s photo albums, and, remarkably, they include copies of the very same photos my father had taken in Stutthof, (today: Sztutowo, Poland), a place more notoriously known as the site of a Nazi concentration camp from which no prisoners ever escaped because marshy conditions prevented tunneling out. In any case, I can only surmise my father was invited to a family gathering at Gerhard Epp’s home, and shared pictures he had taken with Idschi and Suse following the event.

As an aside, Hajo Wiebe was the third person to recognize and confirm that the “Schlummermutter’s” real name was indeed “Frau Grete Gramatzki.” As with others, she was a very recognizable personage in Tiegenhof. Hajo too thinks that Frau Gramatzki died between 1938 and 1940, as Hans Erich Mueller had remembered.

While not specifically relevant to my father’s family history, Hajo Wiebe shared some recollections of his step-father, Gerhard Epp, and half-sister, Rita Schuetze. Gerhard met his first wife Margarete Epp, née Klaassen, in Russia prior to the 1917 Revolution. At the time, Gerhard sold Mercedes cars to Russians, but after 1917, this became too dangerous, so the family moved to Stutthof. There, he founded and operated an engineering workshop, where among other things, he provided electricity for the village and serviced agricultural equipment; interestingly, Gerhard was reputed to also have been a major smuggler of goods between the Free State of Danzig and Germany. Hajo told me that while the Epp family home no longer exists, some of the outlying buildings associated with Gerhard’s business survive to this day.

Gerhard Epp’s first wife died in 1939 at age 44, and Rita was their only child. As Rita’s mother was dying, she wanted her daughter close to her, so Rita attended the “gymnasium,” or high school, in Tiegenhof, and passed her “abitur” or university-qualifying examination there. Hajo Wiebe started high school in Tiegenhof in 1941, but lived in Stutthof, so his daily trip took more than an hour-and-a-half each way.

Of particular historical interest is the role that Gerhard and Rita played in helping Prussian citizens and German soldiers escape towards the end of WWII as the Russians were encircling Stutthof. Danzig to the west and Elbing (today: Elblag, Poland) to the south had already been cutoff, so the only way Germans could still flee the area was to make their way across the frozen “Frisches Haff,” or Vistula Lagoon, to a narrow, sandy spit (Vistula Spit); here, they could be picked up by German boats cruising the Baltic Sea looking for fleeing Germans, then taken first to the Hel Peninsula and eventually to Germany. Using Gerhard’s mechanical expertise, he and Rita drove all around the area south of Stutthof destroying the flood control dams to inundate the naturally marshy area and slow the advance of the Russians, allowing Germans an opportunity to take flight. However, even with the area flooded, travel across the Vistula Lagoon was fraught with danger as Russian bombers were always strafing escaping Germans who stood out against the frozen landscape. The exact date of Gerhard and Rita’s own get-away on one of the last German ships leaving from the Vistula Spit is recorded in family annals as May 6, 1945.

As the reader can easily conclude for themselves, I went from knowing almost nothing about “Suse” and “Idschi” to understanding their family connection, meeting their descendants, learning their fates, and hearing about how their brother played a role, albeit a relatively minor one, in the events that played out in East Prussia towards the end of WWII. Readers will recall the following database discussed in a previous post: Östliche preußische Provinzen, Polen, Personenstandsregister 1874-1945 (Eastern Prussian Provinces, Germany [Poland], Selected Civil Vitals, 1874-1945). I was very pleasantly surprised to find Suschen Epp’s original birth register record (Susanna Epp Birth Register) in this database, so in a sense I’ve come full circle to knowing where and when Suse was born to when and where she died.



Figure 1 – My father, Dr. Otto Bruck, with his once-close friend, Hans “Mochum” Wagner

Among the photos included in my father’s albums from his time living in Tiegenhof are many of an unnamed man who at one time was clearly a dear friend of my father (Figure 1).  As opposed to the frequent mentions of the revered Schlummermutter (discussed in my previous Blog post) when I was growing up, there was nary a mention of this once-close friend.  However, my father often mentioned that by the time he left Tiegenhof in 1937, most of his former friends and acquaintances no longer spoke to him nor frequented his dental practice.  In retrospect, I can only conclude that this former friend fell into the category of people who no longer acknowledged my father’s existence during the era of the National Socialists.

Clearly, my father felt no need to caption the numerous pictures with this friend, so I had absolutely no clues to go on when I began to investigate this man’s identity.  Again, my initial “go-to” source was Peter Lau, who as I’ve previously discussed grew up in Tiegenhof between roughly age 5 and age 15.  He immediately recognized my father’s friend as “Mochum Wagner.”  Interestingly, I eventually came to find or was given photographs of Mochum Wagner that spanned almost his entire life from childhood to soldier in the German Army.

Peter Lau was able to tell me a few things about Mochum Wagner and his family, some of which I’ve independently been able to confirm.  Peter told me that Mochum was the son a chimney sweep.  In German, a chimney sweep is called “Schornsteinfeger.”  In my first Blog post, I mentioned a book on Tiegenhof, entitled “Tiegenhof und der Kreis Grosses Werder in Bildern” by Gunter Jeglin, where a listing of businesses in existence ca. 1935 can be found.  Under the listings for “Schornsteinfegermeister,” there is indeed one for a “J. Wagner.”

Figure 2 – From left to right: Langer Hannemann, Gunter Jeglin, unknown man & Hans “Mochum” Wagner

Peter also mentioned that Mochum Wagner had been inseparable friends with Langer Hannemann, son of the lawyer who readers may recall occupied office space in the same building where my father had his dental practice.  Peter also conveniently shared one of the few remaining photos from his father’s collection of Tiegenhof showing this Langer Hannemann, a man reputed to be 1.95m. tall (6’4”); Gunter Jeglin; an unknown man; and, finally, Mochum Wagner (Figure 2).

In my father’s photos of Mochum Wagner, he is clearly seen to be extremely fit.  Peter told me that his father, Kurt Lau, traveled to Berlin with Mochum Wagner and a few other young people from Tiegenhof to see Jesse Owens participate in the 1936 Olympics.  Peter recalled that his father took pictures of this trip using his Leica camera, photos which regrettably have not survived.

Figure 3 – My father with his girlfriend and sister of Mochum Wagner, Trudchen Wagner

Peter remembered that one of my father’s many girlfriends was Mochum Wagner’s sister, Trudchen Wagner (Figure 3), and, indeed, in my father’s “1932 Pocket Calendar,” previously discussed, next to date December 5th my father wrote “Truden!”  While not specifically captioned, there are several photos of Mochum Wagner and my father with their respective girlfriends, and one is clearly a woman seen in other photographs who appears to be Mochum’s sister.

Peter recalled that Mochum Wagner was a Lieutenant in an infantry division of the German Army, and was killed early on during WWII.  Ironically, Langer Hannemann, Mochum Wagner’s good friend who was a banker in Berlin, went MIA during WWII and was presumed also to have died during the war.

Figure 4 – Mochum Wagner in a 1922 class picture as a young lad

I mentioned at the outset that I was able to locate photographs of Mochum Wagner from his time as a young boy to his time in the German Army, and it is worth explaining to the reader how this came to happen.  In the aforementioned Gunter Jeglin book, I had the good fortune to find two photographs of “Hans ‘Mochum’ Wagner,” as he was in fact known.  A 1922 class photo shows him as a lad of perhaps 10 to 12 years of age (Figure 4).

Figure 5 – A 1938 photo of Mochum Wagner as a compulsory education teacher

Then, in a 1938 photo, after my father had already left Tiegenhof, Mochum Wagner is standing among a group of children born between 1931-32 and identified as a compulsory education (i.e., “Volksschule”) teacher (Figure 5).

As in prior posts, I must again digress to set the stage for explaining how I obtained photos of Mochum Wagner in his German Army uniform.  I’ve previously mentioned that my father’s 1932 Pocket Calendar contained a list of names of family, friends and acquaintances next to dates that in most cases appear to coincide with anniversaries and birthdays.  Among the surnames that were listed were “Schlenger”; “Dr. Kurt Schlenger” was noted by date April 20th, and “Dicken & Hedsch Schlenger” were recorded by date June 13th.  Curious as to whether the dates were significant, I again pulled out the “Tiegenhofer Nachrichten” and wrote to various people in the index whose maiden or surname was “Schlenger.”  One lady I wrote to on September 13, 2013 was Ms. Beate Lohff, née Schlenger, who responded a short ten days later.  As with many people to whom I have written “cold” letters over the years, Ms. Lohff was exceptionally surprised to receive my correspondence.  Thus began an extremely productive exchange of information.

Figure 6 – Hedwig & Alfred Schlenger on the steps of the “Dampfmahlmuehle” in Tiegenhof

Ms. Lohff explained the June 13th date noted in my father’s Pocket Calendar for “Hedsch Schlenger” corresponded with the day that her grandmother, Hedwig Schlenger, née Fenger, was born; she was married to Alfred Schlenger, son of Otto “Opa” Schlenger, owner of the “Dampfmahlmuehle Tiegenhof” (i.e., steam-operated flour mill).   Incidentally, Rudi Schlenger, Peter Lau’s good friend, was Alfred Schlenger’s nephew, son of Alfred’s brother Franz Schlenger.  And, the aforementioned Kurt Schlenger was the third of Otto Schlenger’s three sons, a musician and musicologist.  In any case, in her initial email, Ms. Lohff included a picture of Alfred and Hedsch Schlenger standing on the steps of the flour mill (Figure 6).

Figure 7 – Mochum Wagner is his Army uniform, likely seated next to his sister Hanni Wagner, and Alfred Schlenger

Eventually, Ms. Lohff would go through her grandmother’s collection of photos, and send me two unexpected pictures.  The first, taken in 1943, showed Peter Lau’s father, Kurt Lau, with Hedsch Schlenger, and two other named but unknown men, “Wilfried” and “Alfred Koenig.”  The second, taken in 1942 in Steegen, part of Danzig, was of Mochum Wagner, in his German Army uniform, likely with his sister Hanni Wagner, and, again, Alfred Schlenger (Figure 7). Here was the actual proof of Peter Lau’s recollection that Mochum Wagner, not surprisingly, was in the German Army during WWII.  More remarkable is that through a careful step-by-step process, I was able to trace Mochum Wagner’s life in Tiegenhof from his time in grade school to his eventual life in the German Army that led to his untimely death.

In the next Blog post, I will trace two more of my father’s friends from his time in Tiegenhof.


There was a twenty-two year age difference between my parents, and, on account of this generational divide, my father spoke only infrequently about his life before World War II.  For all practical purposes, my father’s time before the war was, for him, another lifetime—a shadow of the distant past—particularly in light of the tragic events that had intervened.  Still, during my childhood, on those rare occasions when the topic came up and my father pulled out his photo albums, he spoke both fondly and wistfully of his time living in Tiegenhof in the Free State of Danzig (Polish: Gdansk).  One individual he spoke about in a particularly reverential tone was a very large woman he only ever referred to as “the Schlummermutter” (Figure 1).  For most of my life, I didn’t know her real name, nor the significance of her sobriquet; as a child, I never thought to ask.

Figure 1 – The Schlummermutter in Spring 1933 in TIegenhof

Given the particularly close bond “the Schlummermutter” and my father shared, as evidenced in my father’s pictures, I was anxious to learn her true identity.  I asked Peter Lau about “the Schlummermutter.”  Naturally, he remembered her, as she was a larger-than-life figure in Tiegenhof, literally and figuratively.  He explained that she owned the building where my father had his dental practice.  Whereas I initially thought the Schlummermutter’s nickname might be a pejorative reference to her girth, perhaps a tendency to nod off during the day, when I eventually learned she was the proprietor of the building, the translation I’d fleetingly come across of “landlady” seemed apt.

Peter Lau could not initially remember the Schlummermutter’s true identity but thought it was “Dicke Grete,” a name I mistakenly transposed as “Grete Dicke.”  Given that the surname “Dicke” and its variants (i.e., Dyck, Dick, Dueck) are fairly common surnames for German Mennonites formerly living in the Zulawy region, perhaps my transposition was not so far-fetched.  Fortuitously, this error lead me to eventually uncovering the Schlummermutter’s actual identity.

Using the index of names in the “Tiegenhofer Nachrichten,” the annual periodical written for former German residents of Tiegenhof and their descendants, in September 2012, I wrote letters to all people with the surname “Dicke” and its variants.  None of the people who responded recognized the Schlummermutter, or “Grete Dicke” as I’d begun to refer to her.  However, one person I had written to was a Marianne Harder, née Dyck.  About two weeks went by before her son, Thomas Harder, emailed me to tell me that his mother had passed away in April 2011, and that her brother, Hans-Joachim Dyck, was also no longer alive.  However, Thomas Harder’s aunt, Helga Dyck, who had gone to school in Tiegenhof and was still alive, suggested I contact Mr. Hans Erich Mueller, a gentleman almost 90 years of age at the time with roots in Tiegenhof, with my questions about the Schlummermutter.

So, in early October 2012, I contacted Mr. Mueller, living in an old-age home in Jesteberg, Germany.  Towards the end of that same month, Mr. Mueller eloquently responded in his long unused English.  He clearly recalled the Schlummermutter and said she had been well-known in Tiegenhof.  He patiently explained my error, that I had interpreted “Dicke Grete” as a transposition of the name “Grete Dicke.”  As German readers will realize, “dicke” translates to “fat,” and “Dicke Grete” (i.e., “fat Grete”) obviously described the Schlummermutter’s physique.  Mr. Mueller told me her real name was “Grete Gramatzki.”.  He mentioned that she was reputed to have weighed more than 200 kilos, that’s to say over 400 pounds, a situation that caused her to have the doors and stairs of her home widened.  Mr. Mueller confirmed that she leased rooms in a house on Marktstrasse.  He thought she had passed away in either 1939 or 1940.  One of the last pictures of Grete Gramatzki, perhaps mailed to my father after he had already left Tiegenhof in 1937, appears to show the after-effects of a stroke she suffered, so the timing of her death seems plausible.

Figure 2 – Signet ring given to my father by Grete Gramatzki, supposedly once belonging to her husband, which appears to confirm that her husband was indeed a Baron

In discussing with my still-living mother what I had learned about “the Schlummermutter,” as she will always affectionately be known to both of us, my mother showed me a ring that Grete Gramatzki had given to my father when he left Tiegenhof in 1937, that had apparently once belonged to her husband (Figure 2).  The accompanying story passed down is that the Schlummermutter’s husband had been a Baron, suggesting her name might actually have been “Grete von Gramatzki.”  The signet ring given to my father would seem to corroborate the likelihood that Grete Gramatzki’s husband was indeed a Baron.

Let me briefly digress to provide background as I bring the reader up to speed on recent discoveries related to Grete Gramatzki.  In connection with other branches of my family I’m currently researching, I recently had the good fortune to learn about the following database: Östliche preußische Provinzen, Polen, Personenstandsregister 1874-1945 (Eastern Prussian Provinces, Germany [Poland], Selected Civil Vitals, 1874-1945)This has recently been added to the collections has available on-line, and is a collection that was brought to my attention by a German archivist from Wertheim, Germany.

Since this database includes birth, marriage and death records from a large swath of Prussia, including the nearby German cities formerly known as Danzig and Koenisgberg, I did a search for “von Gramatzki.”  I came across a gentleman, named “August Archibald von Gramatzki” born in 1837 who died in May 1913 in Danzig (August Archibald von Gramatzki Death Certificate (May 23, 1913)), within the time period I am seeking, who coincidentally was married to a “Margarethe (presumably Grete) Clara von Gramatzki, née Mönch” born January 7, 1871 (August Archibald von Gramatzki Marriage Certificate (April 28, 1897)), seemingly about the Schlummermutter’s age.  By all measures, this would have seemed a perfect fit, since this Archibald von Gramtzki was a Baron with long-standing connections to nearby-Danzig, first as the District Administrator (“Landrat“) for “Kreis Danzig-Land” from 1867 to 1887, and, after it was subdivided, for “Kreis Danziger Niederung,” from 1887-1895.  The only thing that belies this conclusion is that in 1937, the year my father left Tiegenhof for good, on June 13th specifically, a birthday party was held in the Schlummermutter’s honor.  So what to make of this disconnect remains open to debate, but exemplifies the frustrations one sometimes encounters in doing forensic genealogy.

There are other telltale signs of Gramatzki in Tiegenhof and Allenstein (today: Olsztyn, Poland) that may relate to Ms. Grete Gramatzki but the verdict on this also remains open.  Marek Opitz, Director of the Muzeum Zulawskie, sent me a digital copy of a 1910 Address Book from Tiegenhof, that includes a listing for a Dr. Erich Gramatzki, located at Vorhofstrasse 43, today ulica Sikorskiego.  What ancestral relationship this doctor may have had with Grete Gramatzki, if any, remains lost in time.  A broader search of the name “Grete Gramatzki” on revealed someone of that name, living in Allenstein, listed in a 1938 Phone Directory.  The distance between Tiegenhof and Allenstein was only 130 km, roughly 80 miles.  It does not seem unreasonable given the Schlummermutter’s large size that she would have experienced health issues, as previously mentioned, a situation which may better have been treated in Allenstein.  Still, all of this is mere speculation, and I have no way to know whether the Grete Gramatzki living in Allenstein in 1938 is the Schlummermutter.

In the following blog post, I will discuss what I have been able to learn about a man who at one time was clearly a close friend of my father’s.


After my wife and I returned from our first visit to Nowy Dwor Gdanski (NDG) in September 2011, I was recounting the highlights of our trip to my now 87-year old mother.  She was particularly curious how Tiegenhof, and the town where my father was born, Ratibor (today: Raciborz, Poland), which we’d also visited, look today, and whether I had been able to recognize any of the places my father had photographed; as with me, my father had spoken fondly to my mother of his years in Tiegenhof.

It was during this conversation that my mother reminded me that my father’s good friends, Juergen “Peter” Lau and his wife Hannelore “Lolo” Lau, were still alive, then-living in Oberhausen, Germany; my mother explained that Peter Lau had spent part of his childhood in Tiegenhof.  Having by this time scanned my father’s entire photo collection and having thoroughly studied them for any identifiable landmarks or captions, I was extremely curious to speak with someone who might recognize some of the unidentified people in the pictures, particularly those from Tiegenhof.  Reminded of Peter Lau’s childhood connection to this place, I immediately contacted him, first by phone and, subsequently, by mail.  I asked him what he remembered of Tiegenhof, about my father, about some of the people and places that featured prominently in my father’s photos, as well as his own family’s connection to the town.  In passing, I mentioned that my wife and I were planning another trip to NDG in 2012 at the Muzeum Zulawskie’s invitation.

Some weeks later, I received a very gracious reply from Peter and his wife, detailing his family’s association with East Prussia and identifying on an enclosed map various towns he talked about.  Peter briefly explained how his parents had wound up in Tiegenhof and how they became life-long friends with my father, and told me he had lived in Tiegenhof from about age 5 to age 15.  Since I’d mentioned my interest in having Peter look through my father’s pictures, he suggested my wife and I incorporate a visit to Oberhausen the following year on our way to NDG so we could meet in person, he could peruse my father’s photos, and we could discuss his memories of Tiegenhof.  Given Peter’s advanced age, he was 88 at the time, we eagerly agreed to this suggestion.  In the interim, I had also asked the Director of the Muzeum Zulawskie, Mr. Marek Opitz, if he could send Peter a copy of his book on Tiegenhof, so that we would have additional visual prompts to work from when we met.

Figure 1 – Lolo & Peter Lau at their home in Oberhausen, Germany in 2012

Finally, in May 2012, my wife and I drove to Oberhausen for the first time to meet Peter and Lolo Lau (Figure 1).  Peter has an excellent memory of many of the people and places that figure in my father’s pictures.  During our visit, he explained that his father, Kurt Lau, and his mother, Kathe, married in 1919 and moved to Danzig that same year.  Kurt Lau worked there for the Deutsches Bank.  Jurgen Lau was born in Danzig on August 23, 1923.  Around 1927 or 1928, when Peter was four or five years old, the Deutsches Bank, which owned shares in the rapeseed oil mill factory in Tiegenhof, needed a manager to run operations, so they tapped Kurt Lau for the position of Managing Director of the “Tieghenhofer Oelmühle.”  To this day, rape or rapeseed, grown for its seeds which yield canola or rapeseed oil, is widespread in the Zulawy region.   In any case, during his time in Tiegenhof, Kurt Lau slowly began acquiring shares in the oil mill, so by the time he returned to Danzig in about 1936, he owned the oil mill.  Peter attended elementary and high school in Tiegenhof.  It was there that my father, Kurt, and Kurt’s wife Kathi became close friends, a friendship that lasted throughout their lives.  Towards the end of the war, as the Russians were closing in on Tiegenhof, Kurt Lau convinced the German authorities that the oil mill was critical to the war effort so they agreed to dismantle it and ship it to the Hamburg area.  While newer technology eventually rendered the old mill obsolete, the replacement technology formed the basis for Kurt Lau’s future rapeseed oil business in Deggendorf, Germany.

My hope that Peter Lau would recognize some of the people in my father’s photographs was partially borne out, although his equally important contribution was in providing some historical and geographic context for Tiegenhof, as well as Danzig.  Not surprisingly, Peter picked out his parents in a few of my father’s photos, identified some of his own father’s business associates, gave names to a few of my father’s friends and acquaintances, and even told me the eventual fate of some of my father’s associates.

Figure 2 – Peter Lau in his 1937 high school graduation picture in Tiegenhof

Given the rather hasty and chaotic departure from Danzig of Peter’s parents and Lolo Lau as the Russians were approaching in 1945, not surprisingly, few pictures survive of their lives in Tiegenhof and Danzig, making the survival of my father’s collection of photos that much more remarkable.  One photo that did survive was given to Peter by one of his dear friends from his days in Tiegenhof, Rudi Schlenger, and shows Peter and Rudi’s graduation class around 1937 (Figure 2).  Another, post-dating Peter’s time in Tiegenhof, shows Rudi’s widow, Hedwig or “Hedsch,” and Peter’s mother, Kathi Lau, when she visited the Laus in Deggendorf, Germany.

In subsequent Blog posts, I will focus on several people identified by Peter Lau who formed part of my father’s circle of friends and acquaintances, what and how I was able to learn about some of them, and, in one instance, how I even met the descendants of a few of my father’s friends.

It was during our initial visit with Peter and Lolo Lau in May 2012 that Peter showed me his copy of the “Tiegenhofer Nachrichten,” an annual periodical for former German residents of Tiegenhof and their descendants that ceased being published in December 2014.  Naturally written in German, it reported on annual trips to the former German town, interviewed former residents, their current whereabouts, people who’d passed away, the history of still-standing historic structures in NDG, and more.  As a non-speaker, however, the most intriguing part of the periodical was the list of member’s names, addresses, and, in the case of women, maiden names, found in the back of the publication.  This proved to be a real treasure trove of information, and provided the basis for the next phase of research into my father’s life in Tiegenhof. Following my return to the States after our vacation in 2012, I focused on writing letters to various people with variants on the surname “Dicke,” having mistakenly, but amusingly, misunderstood that the name of one of my father’s friends was “Grete Dicke.”  The people to whom I wrote to with this surname were names I found in the “Tiegenhofer Nachrichten.”  My next post will focus on this “Grete Dicke,” and how I was eventually able to discover her true identity.


NOTE: Because the stories I will relate in this family blog pertaining specifically to my father cover the period before he immigrated to America in 1948, I will use his birth name, Otto Bruck, rather than the name he took upon becoming an American citizen, Gary Otto Brook. When discussing towns and places in modern-day Poland associated with events and friends from my father’s time, I will use the former German town names, with contemporary Polish town names provided in parentheses. When the stories relate to contemporary events connected with my own visits to Poland, I will use the modern place names, with former German town names indicated in parentheses.

Figure 1 – Office building at Marktstrasse 8 in Tiegenhof in 1934 where my father had his dental office & living quarters

It seems appropriate to start this blog with the five-year period between 1932 and 1937 when my father, Dr. Otto Bruck, lived and worked as a dentist in Tiegenhof (today: Nowy Dwor Gdanski, Poland) in the Free State of Danzig . Because my father was just a week shy of his 25th birthday when he first moved to Tiegenhof, and was only beginning his all-too brief professional life as a dentist, it provides a convenient launching point for relating his story. Also, given the traumatic events that would haunt my father following his departure from Tiegenhof, this period constituted what I would characterize as the halcyon days of his life and a period he always reminisced fondly about. And, for me, telling the stories of my many discoveries, in effect, also begins in Tiegenhof with the rather ordinary picture, shown above (Figure 1), of the building my father photographed there in 1934.

Figure 2 – Nameplate of “O. Bruck, Zahnarzt” on the right side of entrance, & “Hannemann, Rechtsanwalt” on the left side

While I was initially uncertain as to the significance of this building, I assumed it was the building where my father had his dental practice. This was borne out when I enlarged the picture, and discovered his nameplate on the right side of the building’s entrance, “O. Bruck, Zahnarzt” (Figure 2).  It is this precise picture that began my quest to learn more about my father’s life in Tiegenhof, including his circle of friends and acquaintances there, and, ultimately, lead me to want to know more about my father’s extended family. When I began my crusade, I never imagined all the places, literally and figuratively, it would take me.

In the “About” section, I mentioned that in addition to the photographs my father left me there was also a bread-box size of papers, documents, and artifacts from his life before he came to America. One particularly useful item was his “1932 Pocket Calendar,” an item I will often refer back to in my Blog posts. Suffice it to say this Pocket Calendar recorded significant dates, including birthdays of close friends and other important occasions, as well as phone numbers and addresses of friends, acquaintances, and professional colleagues. Most relevant for purposes of this blog post is that my father recorded the exact date on which, as he wrote in German, “nach Tiegenhof gekommen,” he drove to Tiegenhof. This calendar places my father’s arrival in Tiegenhof as April 9, 1932. In a separate document found among my father’s papers is a handwritten letter he wrote to the German authorities on September 9, 1980, justifying his request for compensation for the loss of his dental practice in the era of the National Socialists; in this correspondence, he noted that he practiced as a dentist in Tiegenhof from April 1932 through April 1937, so altogether five years.

Once I confirmed the building my father photographed in 1934 in Tiegenhof was where he worked, I immediately became curious as to whether the structure still exists. I was unable to ascertain this using Google Earth. My wife, Ann Finan-Brook, and I were already planning on visiting Poland for the first time in 2011, so we decided to incorporate a side-trip to Nowy Dwor Gdanski (NDG) to see for ourselves. Before our visit, though, I carefully studied all my father’s photographs and documents related to his time in Tiegenhof, hoping to learn as much as I could beforehand.

Starting with the actual picture of the office building, I noticed another nameplate on the left side of the entrance with the name Hannemann (Figure 2); he was a “Rechtsanwalt” or lawyer. A coffee & tea shop, named “Johannes Wiebe” (Figure 3), clearly occupied the street-level retail location of the building; the goods sold were posted on either side of the storefront, and included, biscuits, chocolate, confectionaries, canned goods, coffee, tea, cacao, and “Kolonialwaren,” that’s to say, other wares.

Figure 3- Coffee & tea shop, along with an advertising sign pointing to an automotive shop seen along the right edge of the picture

The signs posted in the storefront’s window indicate that “Weichselgold” and “Mühlen Franck” could also be purchased here. Weichselgold, I later learned, is a liqueur, similar to the more famous “Danziger Goldwasser”; Weichsel refers to the Vistula River which runs through this region. “Mühlen Franck,” founded by a man named Johann Heinrich Franck, produced a coffee made from chicory, ersatz coffee, that’s to say, that was particularly detested by coffee drinkers during the Nazi era.

Very noticeable in the 1934 photograph is the capstone with the date 1920 and the monogram initials “H.E.G.” It was pointed out to me the building could have been built in 1920, or just as easily be of a style dating to around 1890 and have been renovated in 1920; H.E.G. are likely the initials of the builder, whose identity could only be learned from the “Grundbuch,” or real estate register, if it still exists. Another thing I clearly noticed in the photo were the Nazi buntings and flags covering the edifice, which would certainly have imparted a sense of foreboding to my father as a Jew.

Finally, in the lower right-hand section of my father’s 1934 picture, along the edge of the building itself, on an advertising sign that can only partially be read, is an arrow pointing to an automotive shop (Figure 3); the services provided included car rentals, auto repair, garage, sale of tires and wheels, and refueling. The first two numbers of the phone number can clearly be read as “32_”; a 1943 Tiegenhof phone directory confirms the only auto shop that existed in Tiegenhof at the time was owned by Aloys Lewanzik, whose phone number, coincidentally, was “321”; this shop not only sold and serviced cars and motorcycles, but, interestingly, also provided driving lessons.

The actual address of my father’s office building was found on his membership papers to the local sports club, the “V.F.B. Tiegenhof, Baltischer Sportverband,” to which he was accepted on November 12, 1932. The address was “Marktstrasse 8,” although by July 10, 1935, when my father’s Driver’s License from the Free State of Danzig was issued, Marktstrasse had been renamed “Adolf Hitler Strasse,” as had the most important streets in virtually all towns and cities across Germany during the Nazi period. For a time I puzzled as to why his driver’s license, as well as his sports club membership, displayed what I knew to be his work address rather than his place of residence; it became obvious this building was both my father’s residence and place of work.

Figure 4 – 1934 Danzig Address Book listing a Dr. Heinz Bruck at Markstrasse 8 in Tiegenhof, a clear reference to my father

In just the last few weeks, one of my German cousins discovered another interesting thing. Danzig Address Books can be accessed on-line.  “Teil III”  (Part III) in the back of the directory is like our Yellow Pages, listing people by occupation. In the 1934 Danzig Address Book, there is a separate listing of dentists that includes Tiegenhof and the other towns in the Free State of Danzig. Two are listed, a woman by the name of Dr. Ziesemer, for which no address is provided, and a DR. HEINZ BRUCK, located at Markstrasse 8, the address corresponding exactly to my father’s dental office even listing his office hours (Figure 4). Clearly, this is a reference to my father, although why his first name is incorrectly shown is not clear. Unfortunately, no separate listing of dentists in the Danzig Address Books exists for before or after 1934 that specifically includes Tiegenhof and the towns surrounding Danzig, so it is not possible to further track my father.

Separately, I have corresponded with the “Archiwum Panstwowe w Gdansku” (State Archives in Gdansk) asking if they have any record of my father in either Danzig or Tiegenhof between 1930 and 1937. They responded telling me they can find no evidence of his time in either Danzig (today: Gdansk, Poland) or Tiegenhof. Why my father decided to relocate to the Free State of Danzig after he obtained his dental degree in Berlin is unclear; I know that one of his aunts and her three children, with whom he was close, lived in Danzig at the time, so he may temporarily have lodged with them while he apprenticed in Danzig after receiving his diploma from the University of Berlin. This could explain why no separate listing for my father in the Danzig Address Books of the time can be found.

Pictures my father took of the structures surrounding his office building provided additional clues as I attempted to learn whether the building where my father had lived and worked had survived the war. While I was never able to conclusively determine this before my first visit, I did locate historic pictures of Tiegenhof on-line showing the identical structures my father had photographed from his office. One was the “Kreishaus,” or courthouse, located at the very end of Markstrasse; others showed businesses along the adjoining street, Schlosserstrasse.

Figure 5 – Dutch-style timbered home in 1933 with WWI veterans parading in front

A very distinctive home, located opposite my father’s office, is a Dutch-style timbered home, possibly dating from the 16th Century (Figure 5).  Dr. Jerzy Domino, an expert on vernacular architecture of the Zulawy region, characterized the timbered home as a corrugated frame structure. The form of the building was universal, and it could be either a noble manor house or the home of a wealthy peasant, and was found in both rural and urban areas. Mennonites, Germans, Jews, Tatars and Ukrainians would have lived in such homes, with the style being very widespread.

Figure 6 – “Paul H__” business sign later determined to be hair salon of “Paul Harnisch”

The pictures my father took along Markstrasse and Schlosserstrasse suggest an area consisting primarily of small retail shops in a downtown setting. The signs for two other businesses can partially be made out in two other photographs. Directly across the street from his office building was a sign that read “PAUL H___,” with the last letters cut off (Figure 6).  I recently discovered the name of the owner and business in a book entitled “Tiegenhof und der Kreis Grosses Werder in Bildern” by Gunter Jeglin, where a listing of businesses in existence in Tiegenhof ca. 1935 can be found. The store was a “friseur” or hair salon located on Markstrasse, and the owner’s name was “PAUL HARNISCH.” Another business, also located on Markstrasse, that appears in my father’s photos was a “buchhandlung” or bookstore/paper goods seller named “HUGO PANTEL.” I was certain that if my father’s office building still stood, I would easily be able to recognize it based on my father’s pictures of the surrounding structures.


My wife and I initially visited NDG in September 2011. At the time, we were staying in Sopot, Poland (German: Zoppot), a seaside town in Eastern Pomerania on the southern coast of the Baltic Sea 11 miles west of Gdansk, and a place where my father had often recreated. Thus, it was only a short drive to NDG from Sopot. As fortune would have it, when we arrived in NDG it was lightly raining. We briefly took refuge in a stationary store that sold postcards and books. While waiting, we came upon a book on Tiegenhof, written in both German and Polish, containing many historic photographs and various maps of the town. I immediately purchased this book, simply entitled “Tiegenhof & Nowy Dwor Gdanski,” written by Marek Opitz and Grzegorz Gola. In the back was an index that cross-referenced the former German street names with their contemporary Polish equivalents. I quickly determined that Markstrasse, the street on which my father’s office building had been located, was now known as ulica Wejhera. Armed with this information and a local street map, I quickly located this thoroughfare and ascertained that my father’s former office building no longer existed. Even though the neighborhood has changed significantly over the years, the Dutch-style timbered home seen in my father’s photos still stands; this structure provided a frame of reference for comparing the past and present layout of what was once the junction of Marktstrasse and Schlosserstrasse.

Near the site where I reckoned my father’s office building had once stood now stands the administrative offices for the town of NDG. Upon encountering the building receptionist, I realized that our language barrier would prevent me from making myself fully understood. Instead, I simply asked whether the town had a museum, hoping to learn more of the town’s history. As it turns out, the Muzeum Zulawskie is located in the former Emil Krieg family cheese factory, a few short steps away on ulica Kopernica, in German times known as Rosgarten. On the day of our visit, the museum was staffed, fortuitously as it happens, by Paulina Strzalkowska who speaks English well. Paulina initially mistook me for one of the numerous Mennonite visitors who come to explore their ancestral roots in NDG. I quickly explained I had come to learn more about the town’s history during the 1930’s, and that my father had been a Jewish dentist in Tiegenhof during that time. Paulina was immediately intrigued because the museum rarely receives descendants of former Jewish residents, probably because the historic Jewish community had always been fairly small.

Paulina directed me to a scale model of Tiegenhof housed at the museum. It shows the town as it looked in the 1930’s during the exact period my father lived there. The model was donated by the family of a German woman who lived in Tiegenhof before WWII, and whose husband built her this very realistic model as a remembrance of her former hometown. I took close-up pictures of the table-size model, which includes former German street names, and later learned the precise location where my father’s office building had once stood. Paulina took an even greater interest when I mentioned my father’s old photographs of Tiegenhof. As we prepared to leave the museum, we exchanged email addresses, and I promised I would be in touch.

The first thing I did upon my return to the States was to carefully study the book on Tiegenhof. The editor, Marek Opitz, had conveniently provided his email address, so I sent him a message, explaining who I am and describing my father’s association with the former German town. Naturally, I mentioned my father’s photos. By the next morning, Mr. Opitz had responded and, like Ms. Strzalkowska, indicated a great interest in seeing these photos. As it turned out, Mr. Opitz is also the Director of the “Muzeum Zulawskie” that my wife and I had visited in NDG, as well as the President of the local historical society, the “Klub Nowodworski.”  I uploaded all my father’s pictures of Tiegenhof and the surrounding area on a CD and mailed them to Mr. Opitz.

After Mr. Opitz received the CD, he and I had a lively exchange of emails. He emailed me historic and contemporary aerial and street-level photos of Tiegenhof and NDG, approximating the position of my father’s office building. Marek also pointed out on the Muzeum Zulawskie’s scale model of 1930’s Tiegenhof the precise location. It is worth noting my father’s 1934 picture is the only known street-level, front-on photo of this edifice. Marek later explained to me the office building had been destroyed in the latter stages of WWII by Russian planes headed to bomb Danzig who dropped their payloads after being shot at from below by Nazi sympathizers. The prevailing winds on that day resulted in most buildings along Markstrasse catching fire, although, miraculously, the Dutch-style wooden structure and the historic structures along Schlosserstrasse survived relatively unscathed.

In the course of our email exchanges, Marek mentioned the Muzeum Zulawskie was planning an exhibit the following year on the Jews of the Vistula (Polish: Wisla) region, and asked whether he could include some of my father’s pictures. Naturally, I agreed. Marek further expressed an interest in having my wife and me attend the exhibit’s opening and deliver a translated presentation. We agreed to this, as well. In anticipation of our next trip to NDG, I sent copies of all seven volumes of my father’s pictures to the Muzeum Zulawskie. Thus, began the next phase of the journey to better understand my father’s life.