POST 147: THE GRÜNBERGER FAMILY TIE TO RATIBOR IN THE YEARS 1812-1815

 

Note: In this post, I draw a connection between a query I received from a reader on the process for installing Stolpersteine in Racibórz, Poland to a fleeting reference about one of this reader’s earliest ancestors from the second decade of the 19th century.

Related Post:

POST 142: “STOLPERSTEINE” COMMEMORATING THREE HOLOCAUST VICTIMS FROM RACIBORZ

POST 146: MY GRANDFATHER FELIX BRUCK’S (1864-1927) FINAL MONTHS OWNING THE BRUCK’S HOTEL IN RATIBOR, GERMANY

 

Having previously boasted that blog stories can be found on any street corner, I am discomfited if I don’t have at least 5 to 10 topics in my hip pocket awaiting future exposition. This sets off alarms and makes me think I’m not being sufficiently imaginative.

Sometimes what I think will be one post morphs into two, while other times two or more topics get condensed into one. The current post is an example of the latter.

Chronologically, this story begins with the publication of Post 142. To remind readers that post was about the installation of the very first so-called Stolpersteine in Racibórz, Poland, the town in Silesia where my father was born when the town was named Ratibor and was part of Germany. A Stolperstein is a ten-centimeter (3.9 in.) concrete cube bearing a brass plate inscribed with the name and life dates of victims of Nazi extermination or persecution. In the case of the ones recently installed in Racibórz, they commemorate three members of the Kochen family deported in 1938 to the Łódź Ghetto, namely, Szyja Kochen (1897-1944), Ester Bajla Kochen (1898-1944), and Natan David Kochen (1935-1944). (Figure 1)

 

Figure 1. The Stolpersteine recently installed in Racibórz, Poland for three members of the Kochen family deported to the Łódź Ghetto

 

Following publication of Post 142, I was contacted by a Barrister from Toronto, Canada, Perry H. Gruenberger, asking about the process for obtaining permission to install a Stolperstein. Perry explained that his grandparents had last freely lived in Ratibor and been deported and murdered during the Holocaust. Like the Kochen family, he is interested in commemorating his ancestors at their last place of residency in Racibórz.

Ignorant of the city’s requirements, I contacted Ms. Magda Wawoczny, a student acquaintance of mine from Jagiellonian University in Kraków, Poland who hails from Racibórz and first told me about the Stolpersteine installed there, asking her about the process. She checked with Mr. Nadav Kochen from Israel who’d initiated the installation of the so-called “stumbling stones” in Racibórz for his ancestors.

In brief, Nadav explained that the consent of the Road Department or other administrator or city official of the area where the Stolpersteine are to be installed must be obtained. It goes without saying that the consent of the land owner is required. The “Institute of National Remembrance,” which has apparently been a major impediment to the placement of Stolpersteine in Poland for reasons discussed in Post 142, is seemingly not required. Polish officials Mr. Kochen contacted in Wrocław told him that because Stolpersteine are treated as artistic installations, as the German artist Gunter Demnig intended when he initiated the project in 1992, rather than monuments, the approval of the Institute of National Remembrance is not required.

The person who initiates the installation of the stumbling stone must somehow prove the person(s) lived there and died during the Holocaust and finance the production and installation of the stone. The requirement that the person died may be specific to Poland because based on personal experience in Germany a target of Nazi persecution need not have died to be commemorated by a Stolperstein. If a Stolperstein is proposed in an area designated as a national monument, the consent of the conservator of monuments is also required. And, finally, one must coordinate with the special office in Germany that handles Stolpersteine matters.

Mr. Perry Gruenberger initially contacted me towards the end of September telling me he wants to commission Stolpersteine in honor of his grandparents, Fritz Grünberger (1893-1944) and Henriette Grünberger, née Nesselroth (1897-1944), who had lived and worked in Ratibor. (Figure 2) His grandparents were initially deported to Theresienstadt, then later transported to Auschwitz. Perry explained that his father Günter Grünberger grew up in Ratibor until age 19 (1939) but survived the Holocaust. He escaped to Palestine via Italy.

 

Figure 2. Weidenstrasse, today known as ulica Staszica, the street in Racibórz along which Perry Gruenberg’s grandparents lived before they were deported to Theresienstadt and Auschwitz

 

When readers contact me asking about their ancestors who were victims of the Holocaust or are associated with places where my own relatives may have lived, typically, I check on ancestry.com, MyHeritage, the Arolsen Archives, the Yad Vashem Victims’ Database, as well as in my personal files for documents and images that may make these people’s relatives come to life.

I was quickly able to find Perry’s grandparents in Yad Vashem. (Figures 3a-b; 4a-b) I next checked an Excel database with the names of people formerly interred in the Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor, which no longer exists, for any Grünbergers. Initially, I found four names with pictures of their headstones which I shared with Perry. (Figures 5-8) He was elated.

 

Figure 3a. Page 1 of documentation from the Yad Vashem Victims’ Database for Fritz Grünberger, Perry’s grandfather

 

Figure 3b. Page 2 of documentation from the Yad Vashem Victims’ Database for Fritz Grünberger, Perry’s grandfather

 

Figure 4a. Page 1 of documentation from the Yad Vashem Victims’ Database for Henriette Grünberger, Perry’s grandmother

 

Figure 4b. Page 2 of documentation from the Yad Vashem Victims’ Database for Henriette Grünberger, Perry’s grandmother

 

Figure 5. List of four Grünbergers and one Grünberg from the Excel database listing the names of Jews once buried in the now destroyed Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor

 

Figure 6. Former headstone of Alice Grünberger, née Steiner (1892-1932) from the now destroyed Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor
Figure 7. Former headstone of Karl Grünberger (1865-1920) and his wife Alma Grünberger, née Loebinger (1867-1921), Perry’s great-grandparents, from the now destroyed Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Figure 8. Former headstone of Marie Grünberger (1847-1918) from the now destroyed Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor

 

Later when I reexamined the Excel database, I noticed a “Siegfried Grünberg (1863-1930)” listed (see Figure 5) and figured out this was Perry’s great-grand-uncle. (Figure 9) I also realized in searching the Yad Vashem Victims’ Database for Perry’s family I would need to check not only “Grünberger” and “Gruenberger,” but also “Grünberg” and “Grunberg.”

 

Figure 9. Former headstone of Siegfried Grünberger (1863-1930), Perry’s great-grand-uncle, from the now destroyed Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor

 

Combined, in the Yad Vashem and the Arolsen Archives online databases, I discovered a total of five Grünbergers that had been deported to Theresienstadt or Auschwitz from Ratibor. (Figures 10-13)

 

Figure 10. List of deportees on transport XVIII/2 headed from Oppeln [today: Opole, Poland] to Theresienstadt on the 20th of November 1942 with the names of three Grünbergers from Ratibor (source: Arolsen Archives)
Figure 11. Deportation card for Emma Grünberger, née Herzka, departing Oppeln {Opole, Poland] aboard transport XVIII/2, showing she died on the 17th of December 1942 in Theresienstadt (source: Arolsen Archives)

 

Figure 12. Deportation card for Perry’s grandfather, Fritz Grünberger, deported from Thereseinstadt aboard transport XVIII/6 on the 29th of September 1944 (source: Arolsen Archives)

 

Figure 13. Deportation card for Perry’s grandmother, Henriette Grünberger, deported from Theresienstadt aboard transport XVIII/6 on the 6th of October 1944 (source: Arolsen Archives)

 

Let me briefly digress and share with readers a related discovery I made at about the same time. Long-term followers of my blog know that connections I make between seemingly unrelated documents and contacts most excite me.

In Post 146, I introduced readers to Mr. Kamil Kotas a gentleman formerly from the Racibórz District of Poland, now living in Münster in the German state of Westphalia. Kamil not only directed me to files archived at the State Archives in Wrocław Branch in Kamieniec Ząbkowicki with information on my family’s establishment in Ratibor, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, as previously discussed, but he also sent me links to two articles he’s written about Ratibor. Translated, one is entitled “Preliminary list of Jews from Racibórz deported to death camps,” and the second is “Jews with Prussian citizenship in the Racibórz region in the years 1812-1815.” Serendipitously, both contain information on the Grünbergers.

Through extensive research Kamil has compiled a comprehensive list of Jews from Ratibor deported to death camps. Quoting as to the method he used to draw up this list:

The list presented below is based on transport lists of people deported from Silesia to the Auschwitz death camp and to the ghetto and Theresienstadt camp. Scans of the lists are publicly available on the German website “Statistik des Holocaust”. Listed below are people whose last place of residence before deportation was Racibórz. In addition to the names and surnames, other information about the victims available on the lists was also seized. The types of information overlap for most of the people included and usually include: first name, last name, for women also maiden name, date and place of birth, occupation before capture, last address of residence. For some people, the dates of death were also written by hand on the typed letters, as well as short markings, the meaning of which could not yet be fully explained (it is assumed that these were identification numbers or transport numbers). As for the people who did not have a date of death inscribed, it does not mean that they survived the capture. It could happen that, for various unknown reasons, information about their deaths was not considered – the war and the Holocaust brought with them many missing and anonymous victims, and even meticulous German keeping of records did not guarantee the creation of gaps in the death register.

The list was prepared according to the order of transports (only brief notes were made about two transports, as there are no specific lists of people for them).

As just mentioned, five of Perry Gruenberger’s ancestors were deported to Theresienstadt on two separate transports per the information Kamil Kotas has assembled, including Perry’s grandparents. Below is the information related to the Grünbergers, some of which replicates or augments information I found in the online Arolsen Archives and Yad Vashem.

Transport XVIII/2 from Opole to Theresienstadt (Terezín, today in the Czech Republic), dated 20 November 1942.

Grünberger Max, born 22.3.1870 in Gniew in Pomerania, merchant, residing in Racibórz at Weidenstr. 15 (Staszica Street), date of death: 15.7.1943.

Grünberger Emma, née Herzka, born 18.12.1876 in Sedlnice (Sedlnitz) in Moravia, no profession, residing in Racibórz at Weidenstr. 15 (Staszica Street), date of death: 17.12.1942.

Grünberger Flora, née Toczek, born 28.4.1867 in Daniec near Opole, no profession, residing in Racibórz at Friedrichstr. 4 (Głowackiego Street), date of death: 27.11.1942.

EDITORS’ NOTE: I’m uncertain how Max and Emma Grünberger are related to Perry but given the years they were born I suspect that they were Siegfried Grünberger’s younger brother and sister-in-law, in other words Perry’s great-great-uncle and -aunt. Flora Grünberger, née Toczek, I know was Siegfried Grünberger’s wife, another of Perry’s great-great-aunts. The three Grünbergers on the November 20, 1942, transport were among 50 Jews deported from Oppeln, Germany [today: Opole, Poland], 38 of whom came from Ratibor. (see Figure 10)

The second transport with Grünbergers from Ratibor that arrived in Theresienstadt on the 3rd of August 1943 included Perry’s grandparents:

On August 3, 1943, two people sent from Racibórz arrived in Theresienstadt outside the transport (XVIII/6 “Ez”):

Grünberger Fritz, born 2.9.1893, accountant, residing in Racibórz at Horst Wessel pl. 11a (Wolności Square), no information about death.

Grünberger Henriette, born 29.6.1897, seamstress, housewife, residing in Racibórz at Horst Wessel pl. 11a (Wolności Square), no information about death.

 

According to the Arolsen Archives deportation cards, Fritz and Henriette Grünberger were deported from Theresienstadt, presumably to Auschwitz, on different transports leaving on two closely separated days, respectively, on the 29th of September 1944 (see Figure 12) and on the 6th of October 1944. (see Figure 13) 

Turning now to the second article Kamil Kotas has written, which as noted above includes the names of Jews with Prussian citizenship living in the Ratibor region in the period between 1812 and 1815. Relying on a website run by the Museum in Gliwice [German: Gleiwitz], Kamil has compiled and published a list of Jews who were citizens of the Silesian part of the Kingdom of Prussia in the years 1812-1815. The census is based on lists that were published in the years 1814-1815 in the official newspapers of the day in Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland].

Some brief history. The lists were a result of the emancipation edict of 1812 affecting Jews in the Kingdom of Prussia, to which most of Silesia belonged to at the time. Under the edict, Jews were granted citizenship on the condition that they use permanent, immutable family names, as the rest of the inhabitants of Prussia had already done. Previously Jews had only used their first names and so-called patronymics, that’s to say, a variation of their fathers’ names. Without permanent surnames, the identification of Jews and administrative and legal proceedings involving them was complicated.

Based on the 1812-1815 censuses, the Museum of Gliwice was able to identify 67 Jews from the area of today’s Racibórz County. Notably, the list included the name of Ascher Grünberger from Annaberg, Kreis Ratibor, Prussia [today: Chałupki, Poland]. Chałupki is located along the current Polish-Czech Republic border about 15.5 miles south-southeast of Racibórz. (Figure 14) Interestingly, as Kamil perceptively notes in his article, only eight of the 67 Jewish citizens residing in the county at the time lived within the city’s limits.

 

Figure 14. Map showing the distance from Racibórz to Chałupki, Poland where Perry’s distant ancestor Ascher Grünberger came from according to censuses from 1812-1815

 

Perry shared his Grünberger family tree with me but regrettably Ascher does not show up on it.

Intriguingly, Kamil has researched and written about an Adolf Grünberger, born in around 1842. He was a Jewish merchant from Ratibor who received Hungarian citizenship on the 10th of October 1886, and emigrated to Timișoara, Romania after he became widowed, eventually remarrying Sharlote Schmidt in 1889 and building a house in Timișoara that still stands. How Adolf is related to Perry Gruenberger is entirely unclear.

As a related aside, my family’s earliest known association with Ratibor dates to 1819 when the names of my great-great-grandfather Samuel Bruck (1808-1863) and his brother Jonas Bruck (1813-1883) are included among the names of students who attended the inaugural class when the city’s gymnasium, or high school, opened. Thus, it was disappointing not to see my family’s surname included among the list of original Jewish inhabitants of Ratibor County. Possibly it’s an omission or my family lived in a different town outside the county’s borders at the time?

In my ensuing post, I will return to the two articles Kamil Kotas sent me, as they not only include members of the Grünberger family, but, astonishingly, also include distant ancestors of a childhood friend from New York. In contrast to Ascher Grünberger to whom Perry cannot draw an unbroken linear connection, in the case of this childhood friend we are able to make a direct connection to his earliest forebear. In collaboration with my friend’s daughter, an avid genealogist, we will briefly explore this connection.

 

REFERENCES

Kotas, Kamil. Casa Adolf Grünberger. www.ziemiaraciborska.pl/wstepna-lista-raciborskich-zydow-deportowanych-do-obozow-zaglady

Kotas, Kamil. (2022, March 2). Żydzi z obywatelstwem pruskim na ziemi raciborskiej w latach 1812-1815. Ziemia Raciborska.pl.

Kotas, Kamil. (2022, March 2). Żydzi z obywatelstwem pruskim na ziemi raciborskiej w latach 1812-1815. Ziemia Raciborska.pl.

 

 

 

 

POST 144: SPURIOUS AND AUTHENTIC HISTORIC DOCUMENTS RELATED TO MY GREAT-GREAT-GRANDFATHER, SAMUEL BRUCK (1808-1863)

 

Note: In this post, which I anticipate will be of limited interest to most readers, I examine primary source documents related to my great-great-grandfather Samuel Bruck (1808-1863) which shed light on his business activities and legacy. The fact that he owned one of the first hotels in Ratibor in Silesia [today: Racibórz, Poland] and had his hand in other commercial ventures made finding information about him easier than it would have been for a less prominent individual.

Related Posts:

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

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

POST 11, POSTSCRIPT 2: RATIBOR & BRUCK’S “PRINZ VON PREUßEN” HOTEL

POST 60: 200 YEARS OF THE ROYAL EVANGELICAL HIGH SCHOOL IN RATIBOR & A CLUE TO THE BRUCK FAMILY

POST 132: FATE OF THE BRUCK’S “PRINZ VON PREUßEN“ FAMILY HOTEL IN RATIBOR (RACIBÓRZ): GEOPOLITICAL FACTORS

 

Thanks to the assistance of readers, friends, and distant relatives, over the last few months I’ve acquired primary source documents that shed light on the activities of a few of my earliest Bruck relatives from Silesia (Figure 1) when it was a part of Prussia before Germany became a unified state in 1871. Primary source documents including contemporary registers of vital events, such as births, marriages, and deaths; records certifying these occurrences; contemporary handbooks and address directories; and concurrent historical accounts or diaries, are my “gold standard” for verifying the age and context of ancestral events. While these records are not infallible, they come as close as possible to confirming the timing of vital events.

 

Figure 1. General map of Silesia when it was part of the state of Prussia

 

In this post, I will discuss some evidentiary materials that my dear friend Peter Albrecht von Preußen and others have unearthed related to my great-great-grandfather Samuel Bruck (1808-1863). (Figure 2) Samuel is thought to be the original owner of the family establishment in Ratibor, Prussia [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel (Figure 3), believed to have been purchased in around 1850. However, a recently uncovered memoir penned by Eberhard Friedrich Bruck (1877-1960), one of Samuel’s grandnephews, currently being translated by his granddaughter, Helen Winter née Renshaw (b. 1948), now suggests Samuel’s father, Jacob Bruck (1770-1836), may originally have conceived the idea of building the hotel. As we speak, I am trying to run to ground other primary source documents that can not only confirm which Bruck ancestor first owned the hotel but possibly when the hotel might have been constructed.

 

Figure 2. Samuel Bruck (1808-1863)

 

 

Figure 3. Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel

 

Before launching into the documents that Peter Albrecht (Figure 4) and others have found and what I learned about Samuel, I would like to share with readers something I discovered in the process. I mistakenly believed that because the Bruck’s Hotel was in Ratibor, relevant archival materials would be restricted to the “Archiwum Państwowe w Katowicach Oddział w Raciborzu,” that’s to say the “State Archives in Katowice Branch in Racibórz.” Such is not the case. While I’ve assuredly found records about the Bruck’s Hotel in Racibórz’s archives, thanks to one of my readers I recently learned about and obtained archival materials related to the hotel from the State Archives in Wrocław, Branch in Kamieniec Ząbkowicki [formerly Kamenz, Prussia]. These latter materials will be the subject of a future post as they speak to the subject of the last days of my family’s ownership of the hotel in 1926-1927. My point to readers is that even if your family originates from one specific town in Silesia, you should keep an open mind as to which archives you search for ancestral information.

 

Figure 4. My good friend Peter Albrecht von Preußen

 

Because Peter’s surname is contained within the name of the former family establishment in Ratibor, Bruck’s Hotel “Prinz von Preußen,” and the fact that both of our families have deep ties to Silesia, caused Peter to take an interest in finding Bruck-related documents. Among other things, his discoveries shed light on my great-great-grandfather Samuel Bruck’s business activities.

Materials uncovered about Samuel Bruck provide a cautionary tale of the lens through which primary source documents should be examined. Just because historical files are related to an individual with the same name as one’s ancestor does not guarantee they are relevant, particularly if the surname is reasonably common in a geographic area.

In the online extracts of files archived at the Archiwum Państwowe w Opolu, State Archives in Opole [formerly Oppeln, Prussia], Peter found the following two files related to a Samuel Bruck from the former Prussian town of Zülz [today: Biała, informally Biała Prudnicka, Poland]:

Die letzwillige Bestimmung des Breltesten und Handelsmannes Samuel Bruck Zülz: 1820-1835” (Figure 5)

(“The last will and testament of the brethren and merchant Samuel Bruck Zülz: 1820-1835”)

Die gerichtliche Annahme und Niederlegung das von dem Kaufmann Samuel Bruck am 13 Januar 1832 verschlossen übergebene Testaments: 1832-1839” (Figure 6)

(“The judicial acceptance and filing of the will handed over by the merchant Samuel Bruck on 13 January 1832 in sealed form: 1832-1839”)

 

Figure 5. Index in the State Archives in Opolo to the file containing “The last will and testament of the brethren and merchant Samuel Bruck Zülz: 1820-1835”
Figure 6. Index in the State Archives in Opolo to the file containing “The judicial acceptance and filing of the will handed over by the merchant Samuel Bruck on 13 January 1832 in sealed form: 1832-1839”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Though the wills relate to a Samuel Bruck who filed testaments in the town of Zülz [today: Biała, informally Biała Prudnicka, Poland], this alone was not enough to convince me they related to someone other than my ancestor. As I just mentioned, I’ve found documents on the Bruck’s Hotel in Ratibor in archives other than Racibórz. For geographic reference, Opole is roughly 26 miles north-northeast of Biała. (Figure 7)

 

Figure 7. Map showing the distance between Biała (German: Zülz) and Opole (German: Oppeln)

 

Let me briefly digress. Readers cannot fail to notice that the two wills filed with the court in Zülz date from when Samuel Bruck, born in 1808, would respectively have been only 12 and 24 years of age. However unlikely writing wills at such a young age might appear to us, I try and imagine how different things might have been almost 200 years ago. I considered the possibility that Samuel had been extremely precocious and might have felt obligated to write a will as improbable as this seems.

Persuaded both files might relate to my ancestor, I ordered them. (Figures 8-9) Upon their arrival, I asked my fourth cousin Thomas Koch if he could help me make sense of the 39 pages of records I’d been sent; Thomas is the great-great-grandnephew of Samuel Bruck, thus he has an interest in the Bruck’s Hotel and Samuel Bruck.

 

Figure 8. Cover page of the 1820 file for the merchant Samuel Bruck from Zülz
Figure 9. Cover page of the 1832 file for the merchant Samuel Bruck from Zülz

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There were some immediate clues the wills from Zülz related to someone other than my Samuel Bruck. The Samuel Bruck in question was apparently the owner of a local pawnshop and an ironmonger (i.e., a dealer in iron and hardware), as well as a money lender, trades I’ve never heard associated with the Samuel Bruck from Ratibor. The Zülz wills also refer to Samuel as a parish or community elder, terms unlikely to have been applied to a 12 or 24-year old person. For the most part, the files document what court officials said, the actions of Samuel Bruck, and the fees to be paid by Samuel. Something notably absent that would affirmatively have allowed me  to determine the testator are named heirs, none of whom are identified.

Convinced the Samuel Bruck from Zülz, though likely related to my Bruck family from Ratibor (Biała and Racibórz are only about 38 miles apart (Figure 10)) in some unknown way, was not the former owner of the Bruck’s Hotel, I investigated other possibilities. I examined the Church of Latter-Day Saints Family Historic Center Microfilm 1271493 for Zülz, and discovered a Samuel Bruck born there on the 10th of September 1761. (Figure 11) It seems likely this Samuel Bruck is the person whose 1820 and 1832 wills were filed locally.

 

Figure 10. Map showing the distance between Biała (German: Zülz) to Racibórz (German: Ratibor)

 

Figure 11. Record from LDS Family Historic Center Microfilm 1271493 for Zülz listing a Samuel Bruck born there on the 10th of September 1761

 

One document, however, that unequivocally relates to the Samuel Bruck from Zülz is a notice about a bankruptcy auction that took place on the 23rd of June 1837 in Zülz (Figures 12a-b), presumably following this Samuel Bruck’s death in 1836 or 1837. The reason for this certainty is that this Samuel Bruck is identified in the notice as a “Eisenhändlert,” an iron trader, just as his wills identify him. According to Peter, while it is unusual for the estate of a deceased person to wind up in bankruptcy, this is possible when there are no heirs and/or no will. We know two testaments existed, so likely there were no heirs.

 

Figure 12a. Bankruptcy auction notice for the estate of the iron trader Samuel Bruck placed in a newspaper from Zülz dated the 23rd of June 1837

 

Figure 12b. Transcribed bankruptcy auction notice for Samuel Bruck identifying him as a “Eisenhändlert,” an iron trader

 

There is another document in my possession that should have clued me in to the fact that Samuel Bruck from Zülz was not my great-great-grandfather. In connection with his research, my retired lawyer friend from Racibórz, Paul Newerla, who has written extensively about Ratibor and Silesia found a historic publication from 1820 about the grand opening of the Royal Evangelical High School in Ratibor on the 2nd of June 1819. (Figures 13a-c) It lists the names of the enrolled students, including both Samuel Bruck and his younger brother, Jonas Bruck (1813-1883). It is more reasonable to surmise that at the age of 11, Samuel Bruck would have been in school in Ratibor rather than writing wills.

 

Figure 13a. Cover of 1820 publication about the grand opening of the Royal Evangelical High School in Ratibor on the 2nd of June 1819
Figure 13b. Inside cover of 1820 publication about the grand opening of the Royal Evangelical High School in Ratibor on the 2nd of June 1819

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Figure 13c. Page 70 of the 1820 publication listing the names of enrolled students, including Samuel Bruck and Jonas Bruck who attended the inaugural class at the Royal Evangelical High School in Ratibor on the 2nd of June 1819

 

 

Samuel Bruck is listed in an 1843 merchant member book, entitled “Grosses Adressbuch der Kaufleute, Fabrikanten und handelnden Gewerbsleute von Europa und der hauptplazen der fremden Weltheile: Brandenburg, Preussen, Posen, Pommern, Schlesien,” “Large address book of the merchants, manufacturers, and trading professionals from Europe and the main square of the foreign world salvation: Brandenburg, Prussia, Posen, Pomerania, Silesia.” (Figures 14a-b) Interestingly, 1843 corresponds with the year that a city map of Ratibor shows the location where the Bruck’s Hotel once stood having a building on the lot. (Paul Newerla, personal communication) Samuel Bruck’s listing in the 1843 merchant member guide, however, may or may not have anything to do with his ownership of the Hotel “Prinz von Preußen” at this time. Samuel is known to have been involved in other businesses.

Figure 14a. Cover of 1843 merchant guide, entitled “Grosses Adressbuch der Kaufleute, Fabrikanten und handelnden Gewerbsleute von Europa und der hauptplazen der fremden Weltheile: Brandenburg, Preussen, Posen, Pommern, Schlesien,” listing Samuel Bruck from Ratibor

 

Figure 14b. Page from 1843 merchant guide listing Samuel Bruck from Ratibor

 

As a related aside, Ratibor was once a walled city. It was not until 1828 that the Oder gate, the tower nearest where the Bruck’s Hotel was eventually built, was demolished; the removal of this gate made it possible to extend Oderstraße, the street on which the Bruck’s Hotel stood (Paul Newerla, personal communication). It’s safe to assume that it was only after 1828 that the Hotel “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel could have been built.

As readers can generally make out from the photo of the hotel (see Figure 3), it was a reasonably large building known to have had 32 guest rooms. How long the hotel took to build, who paid for the construction, and the date of the grand opening are yet unknown. Whether I will be able to work out the answers to these questions is a big unknown.

The famous Austrian composer, Johann Strauss II, is known to have performed twice at the Hotel “Prinz von Preußen” once on the 17th of October 1850, then again, a month later, on the 17th of November 1850. Neither advertisement makes mention of the “Bruck’s Hotel,” only “Prinz von Preußen.” Possibly at the time Samuel Bruck did not yet own the hotel.

By the middle of 1852, Samuel Bruck assuredly owned the establishment because he signed a contract on the 14th of October 1852 permitting the so-called Liedertafel to hold meetings in the hotel’s ballroom beginning in January 1853. (Figures 15a-c) Page 20 (Figure 15c) mentions the “Hotelbesitzer Bruck,” that’s to say, the hotel owner Bruck. This citation occurs in a 1909 publication, entitled “Festschrift zum 75 jährigen Jubelfest der Liedertafel,” “The commemorative publication for the 75th anniversary of the Liedertafel,” in Ratibor. It was released on the 25th and 26th of September 1909 in conjunction with the unveiling of the Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorf monument in Ratibor. (Figure 15d)

 

Figure 15a. Page 20 of book about the Liedertafel mentioning the Bruck’s Hotel
Figure 15b. Page 21 of book about the Liedertafel mentioning the Bruck’s Hotel

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Figure 15c. Page 20 of Liedertafel book with Bruck’s Hotel citation circled

 

Figure 15d. Cover page of the book marking the 75th anniversary of the “Liedertafel” in Ratibor, released in conjunction with the unveiling of the Eichendorff monument

 

 

The Liedertafel translates literally to “song board.” It was a co-ed musical society or amateur choir, which in the case of the Ratibor group consisted of about 88 members. They met in the large ballroom of the Bruck’s Hotel every Thursday and Friday evening for an à la carte dinner with plenty of alcohol, followed by a sing-along to music played by a pianist, often accompanied by a bassist, cellist, and violinist. Their contract with the hotel suggests Samuel Bruck was a well-regarded and integrated member of the community.

Another mundane document tracked down by Peter Albrecht shows that Samuel Bruck was allowed to operate as an inn keeper by the police after obtaining fire insurance for the hotel through a company in Stettin [today Szczecin, Poland] called “Pommerania.” (Figure 16) Although the announcement published in Oppeln, Prussia [today: Opole, Poland] on the 4th of March 1856 makes no specific mention of fire insurance, to secure police permission to operate the inn, it is implicit that fire insurance was obtained.

 

Figure 16. March 4, 1856, announcement in Oppeln paper proving Samuel Bruck had obtained police approval to operate his inn after obtaining insurance from a company called “Pommerania,” located in Stettin [today: Szczecin, Poland]
 

An advertisement Samuel Bruck posted in April 1858 indicates that he was involved in more than running an inn and being a lumber wholesaler. According to this ad he also sold lump lime (Figure 17):

Figure 17. April 1858 advertisement by Samuel Bruck offering lump lime for sale from his lime kiln in Moerau [German: Mohrau; Polish: Morów]

 

Transcribed: 

Kalk-Anzeige

Von meinem in Moerau gelegenen Kalkoefen verkaufe ich besten Stueckkalk, den Waggon von 33 Tonnen mit 27 Rthlr. (Reichstahler) frei hier. Gefaellige Auftraege werden prompt und bestens ausgefuehrt.

Ratibor, im April 1858

 S. Bruck 

im Hotel “ Prinz von Preußen”

 

Translated: 

Lime Ad

From my lime kiln located in Moerau I am selling the best lump lime, the wagon of 33 tons with 27 Rthlr. (Reichstahler) free here. Appropriate orders are executed promptly and in the best possible way.

Ratibor, April 1858

S. Bruck

in the hotel “Prince of Prussia”

 

Let me offer a few comments about this ad. The spelling of many place names in Prussia changed between 1890 and 1900, so “Moerau” became known as “Mohrau,” (Figure 18) and is now known as Morów, Poland. It is about 57 miles northwest of Racibórz. (Figure 19)

 

Figure 18. Old map from Meyers Gazetteer showing location of Mohrau, Prussia

 

Figure 19. Map showing the distance between Racibórz and Morów

 

From 1855 onwards, a Prussian ton was equivalent to 200 kilos or almost 441 pounds. Thirty-three Prussian tons was equivalent to 6,600 kilos, 6.6 metric tons, or 14,551 pounds. Presumably this was the maximum weight an ox cart could handle.

Samuel Bruck passed away in July 1863. In June 1864, an official notice was placed in the Ratibor paper stating that Samuel Bruck’s handelsgesellschaft, holding company, which had been inherited by Samuel’s seven children, was ceded by the co-heirs to Samuel’s oldest child, Oskar Bruck, making him the sole owner of the S. Bruck Handelsgesellschaft. (Figure 20)

 

Figure 20. June 2, 1864 notice from Ratibor paper announcing Samuel Bruck’s “handelsgesellschaft,” holding company, which had been inherited by Samuel’s seven children, was ceded by the co-heirs to Samuel’s oldest child, Oskar Bruck

 

Transcription: 

Bekanntmachung

Bei der sub Nr. 69 unseres Firmen-Register fūr den Kaufmann Samuel Bruck eingetragen Firma S. Bruck ist zufolge Verfügung vom 2ten Juni 1864 der Vermerk:

Die Firma ist durch Erbgang auf die Geschwister Oskar, Fedor, Jenny, Emilie, Julius, Helene und Wilhelm Bruck übergangen und die Miterben haben dieselbe dem Kaufmann Oskar Bruck abgetreten, und sub Nr. 189 unseres Firmen-Registers der Kaufmann Oskar Bruck hierselbst als Inhaber der hiesigen Firma S. Bruck zufolge Verfügung von dem selben Tage eingetragen worden.

Ratibor, den 2. Juni 1864

Königliches Kreisgericht, 1. Abtheilung

 Translation: 

Announcement

According to the decree of June 2, 1864, the company S. Bruck, registered under No. 69 of our register of companies for the merchant Samuel Bruck, is marked:

The company has passed by inheritance to the siblings Oskar, Fedor, Jenny, Emilie, Julius, Helene and Wilhelm Bruck and the co-heirs have ceded the same to the merchant Oskar Bruck, and sub No. 189 of our company register the merchant Oskar Bruck has been registered here as the owner of the local company S. Bruck according to the decree of the same day.

Ratibor, June 2, 1864

Royal District Court, 1st Department

 

We learn a few unexciting things from this announcement. First, Oskar Bruck was a kaufmann, a merchant, which would have required a four-year apprenticeship. Had I not already known the names of Samuel’s children, this announcement would have provided this information. Samuel Bruck’s Handelsgesellschaft was registered as Number 69 in the District Court, while Oskar Bruck’s Handelsgesellschaft is registered as Number 189. As we speak, I’m trying to determine whether these files still exist in the Racibórz archives.

The final document related to Samuel Bruck involves a landmark Prussian case that his eldest son Oskar Bruck got involved in following his father’s death. The  case is discussed at length in a book on Prussian case law published in 1867, entitled “Central-Organ fur die deutsche handels- und Wechselrecht,” “Central Organ for German Commercial and Exchange Law.” (Figure 21)

 

Figure 21. Cover of Prussian case law book published in 1867, entitled “Central-Organ fur die deutsche handels- und Wechselrecht,” “Central Organ for German Commercial and Exchange Law,” providing a detailed description of the landmark case involving Samuel and Oskar Bruck’s estate

 

While the following will be of limited interest to most readers, let me briefly outline and summarize the salient points of this very involved case for readers.

In addition to being an inn owner, Samuel Bruck was a lumber wholesaler, and may have made his money here which enabled him to construct and/or purchase the Bruck’s Hotel. Shortly before his death in 1863, Samuel entered into a contract with a Dutch merchant, David Schwedter, agreeing to sell him 260 pieces of 4” x 4” structural lumber, possibly the equivalent of four ox carts of finished product. The Dutchman lived in the vicinity of Berlin, and had requested Samuel deliver the milled lumber there, which he’d agreed to.

Following Samuel’s death, Oskar Bruck acted on an interim basis on behalf of the the S. Bruck Handelsgesselchaft, which the probate court only officially granted him authority to do in his own name on the 2nd of June 1864 (see Figure 20). Regardless, following his father’s death, he notified Schwedter by mail that the transaction would go forward as planned and that he would run the S. Bruck Handelsgesselchaft.

Either Samuel before his death or Oskar contracted with an agent named Atzpodim who had a warehouse in Brieskow (Figure 22), near Frankfurt an der Oder. Schwedter had agree that Atzpodim would be the pickup point for the lumber. Oskar Bruck shipped the lumber to Atzpodim who acknowledged receipt of the materials. Oskar then notified Schwedter the lumber was ready for pickup at Atzpodim’s warehouse, and invoiced him, as agreed upon.

 

Figure 22. Old map from Meyers Gazetteer showing location of Brieskow, near Frankfurt an der Oder

Schwedter then mailed a letter to Oskar requesting him to instruct Atzpodim to transport the lumber to J.J. Stramer’s warehouse located in Stralow [today: Stralau in the Friedrichshain district of Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg in Berlin, Germany]. (Figure 23) The distance between the two towns is about 64 miles. (Figure 24)

Figure 23. Old map from Meyers Gazetteer showing location of Stralow [today: Stralau]
Figure 24. Map showing the distance between Brieskow and Stralau

 

Three or four days later, Schwedter filed for bankruptcy. Atzpodim had not yet shipped the lumber to Stramer for reasons that are not entirely clear, although possibly Atzpodim through word-of-mouth had learned of Schwedter’s financial woes and sought to protect the young Oskar Bruck. I surmise Atzpodim had been one of Samuel’s trusted business associates over the years.

At this point, the trustee for the Bankruptcy Court in Frankfurt an der Oder sued Atzpodim for release of the lumber. Had the lumber already been delivered, the Bankruptcy Court would have carried it on their books and could then have sold it at a bankruptcy auction; Oskar, as creditor, would have been paid pennies on the dollar. Atzpodim, by not delivering the lumber to Stramer, saved Oskar from a steep financial loss.

Prussian law dealt with merchandise in bankruptcy proceedings where the debtor had taken possession of the merchandise three days or less before the debtor filed for bankruptcy and had paid not in cash but with credit.

In the case at hand, Atzpodim didn’t receive instructions from Oskar Bruck until the 26th of November 1863. Schwedter filed for bankruptcy on the 30th of November 1863. The Supreme Court in Berlin upheld the lower court’s ruling that the lumber shipment fell under the 3-day rule. If the lumber had been delivered to Schwedter, which it obviously wasn’t, he would have been required to return it because he hadn’t paid in cash but by credit, with a so-called Wechsel.

Let me say a few brief words about a Wechsel. According to German law, even today, transactions based on Wechsels can only be transacted by full merchants, meaning those who have completed a 4-year apprenticeship and received a kaufmann’s certificate. Upon certification, the kaufmann is registered either as a sole proprietor or as a Handelsgesellschaft, a trading company, like those Samuel and Oskar Bruck had recorded, in the Handelsregister, commercial register, of the city where the business is licensed.

The Wechsel allows the parties to do several things. It can be used as collateral for a bank loan. It can also be used as a futures contract; thus, with a Wechsel in hand, Schwedter could have sold the lumber at a higher price for a profit. Similarly, Samuel or Oskar could have sold his obligation to produce the lumber to a different sawmill (other than the one they originally contracted with) or another lumber merchant for a profit.

In closing, let me say a few things. The specifics of the information contained in some of the primary source documents cited above are less important than the fact they still exist. For researchers seeking comparable information about their ancestors who may have owned or operated businesses, an awareness that such documents may still exist can be useful. Often, it’s a question of knowing where to look and what to ask for. On a personal level, the fact that my family was involved in a legal case that was deemed of sufficient importance to merit inclusion in a book about Prussian commercial and trade law is fascinating.

Cobbling together one’s family history invites a clichéd comparison to the saying that “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

POST 121-MY FATHER’S ENCOUNTERS WITH HITLER’S MENNONITE SUPPORTERS

 

NOTE: In this post I examine the history of the Mennonites in the Vistula River delta in northern Poland, and my father’s interactions with them when he was a dentist in Tiegenhof which at the time was part of the Free City of Danzig. I also discuss why the historically pacifistic Mennonites went from fleeing the Netherlands, Flanders, and modern-day northern Germany in the mid-16th century to avoid religious persecution to becoming among Hitler’s staunchest supporters four centuries later.

RELATED POSTS:

POST 5: OTTO BRUCK & TIEGENHOF-IDSCHI & SUSE

POST 112, POSTSCRIPT: WOLFRAM E. VON PANNWITZ’S BEQUEST TO HIAS

The Dutch and Flemish Mennonites have lived in the Żuławy Wiślane, the alluvial delta area of the Vistula River in the northern part of Poland (Figure 1), for over 400 years. They came to Poland in the 16th century as refugees fleeing religious persecution in the Netherland, Flanders, and modern-day northern Germany.

 

Figure 1. Map of Poland showing Żuławy Wiślane, the alluvial delta area of the Vistula River in the northern part of the country

 

Mennonites are a branch of the Christian church, with roots in the radical wing of the 16th century Protestant Reformation. Mennonites are part of the group known as Anabaptists who took their name from Menno Simons, a Roman Catholic priest who left the Church in 1536 and became a leader within the Anabaptism movement. Anabaptism is the doctrine that baptism should only be administered to believing adults, held by a radical Protestant sect that emerged during the 1520s and 1530s.

The first Mennonites came mainly from Swiss and German roots, with many of the important martyrs of the early church coming from the area around Zurich. The Low Countries regions of Friesland (i.e., province of the Netherlands located in the country’s northern part) and Flanders (i.e., the Flemish-speaking northern portion of Belgium), as well as Eastern Frisia (i.e., a historic region in the northwest of Lower Saxony, Germany) and Holstein (i.e., the southern half of Schleswig-Holstein, the northernmost state of Germany) became the center of the Mennonites. Religious persecution in the Low Countries under Fernando Álvarez de Toledo, 3rd Duke of Alba (1507-1582) forced many Mennonites to leave in the 16th century.

Historically, Mennonites have been known as one of the peace churches due to their commitment to pacifism. The majority of the early Mennonite followers, rather than fighting, fled to neighboring states where the ruling families were tolerant of their beliefs. In the 16th century Poland was among the most tolerant kingdoms in Europe.

The Mennonites, like the Amish who separated from them in the late 1600’s, represent the strictest branches of Protestantism. The Amish are widely known for their plain dress and rejection of modern technology and conveniences. Unlike the Mennonites, they form an exclusive and tight-knit community. Mennonites generally are not culturally separatist.

Żuławy Wiślane, the region in now-northern Poland where the Mennonites settled, covers about 386 square miles or 1000 square km. Historically the area was an estuary of the Vistula (Figure 2), Poland’s longest river which empties into the Baltic Sea. The arduous process of reclaiming the land from the sea began in the 14th century. This involved building hundreds of canals, miles of dikes, and networks of pumps and locks which allowed for the removal of water and the gradual drainage of the Żuławy territory. A good deal of this work was accomplished by the Mennonites who then built thriving communities across the Vistula delta.

 

Figure 2. Photo taken by my father in July 1934 of flooding along the Vistula River

 

According to an article in Wikipedia, entitled the “Vistula delta Mennonites,” the first Anabaptist reported in the area was in 1526 in Marienburg [today: Malbork, Poland] (Figure 3), a mere 15.6 miles south of Tiegenhof [today: Nowy Dwor Gdanski, Poland]. The first Mennonites from the Netherlands and Flanders arrived in Danzig [today: Gdansk, Poland] in the 1530’s. (Figure 4) As Poland’s principal seaport, Danzig played an important role in the grain trade with the Low Countries.

 

Figure 3. Picture taken by my father in the mid-1930’s of the fortress Ordensburg Marienberg [today: Malbork, Poland], founded in 1274 on the east bank of the river Nogat by the Teutonic Knights

Figure 4. Langgasse, the main street of Danzig [today: Gdansk, Poland] as it looked during the 1930’s, known today as “Ulica Długa”
 

Menno Simons, founder of the Mennonites, is reported to have visited Danzig in 1549, and by 1569 the first Mennonite Church was founded in the city. Soon about 1,000 Mennonites lived in the city. While Mennonites were allowed to freely practice their faith, the Danzig city council refused to grant them the status of citizens; this situation remained unchanged until the city itself was annexed by the Kingdom of Prussia in 1793 in the Second Partition of Poland. The Vistula delta and the Danzig suburbs had already become part of the Kingdom of Prussia in 1772 after the First Partition of Poland, at which time more than 12,000 Mennonites lived in Prussian territory.

Only men who had served in the Prussian Army were allowed to purchase land; as conscientious objectors, Mennonites were subject to special charges, limiting their economic prospects. As a result, when Russian colonization agents sought to recruit settlers for the regions recently conquered from the Ottoman Empire following the Russo-Turkish War of 1768-1774, about 6,000 Mennonites, mostly from the Vistula delta, left for Russian Ukraine. These people formed the roots of the Russian Mennonites. The first Mennonite settlement in Russia, the Chortitza Colony, was founded by these emigrees in 1789; I touched on this topic in Post 112. The Mennonites who remained in the Vistula delta, however, became more and more assimilated, with some even willing to bear arms.

I will return briefly to the story of the Mennonites in the Vistula delta but let me provide some insight to readers for why I decided to go into such depth into this Protestant religion. I wrote in Post 5 that during the time that my father lived and worked in Tiegenhof he was friends with two women who lived in the same apartment building where he also rented an apartment and had his dental practice. The captions on his pictures identified the women as “Idschi” and “Suse” (Figure 5), and it was only when I found both their names in my father’s 1932 Day Planner with their surname and birthdays that I realized they were related and that their family name was “Epp.”  In 2013, I would eventually track down their niece and grandniece in Lubeck, Germany, and learn they were respectively the youngest and oldest sisters of a large Mennonite family who were originally from Żuławy. While the sisters had a passing resemblance to one another, their age difference made it difficult to determine whether they were related.

 

Figure 5. My father, Dr. Otto Bruck, in Tiegenhof during the 1930’s with three friends, Suse Epp, Frau Grete Gramatzki (the “Schlummermutter”), and Idschi Epp; I would learn that Suse and Idschi were respectively the oldest and youngest sisters of a large Mennonite family

 

Among my father’s pictures, there are multiple images of him shown socializing with Idschi and Suse Epp. A particularly interesting sequence of photographs (Figure 6) was taken in Stutthof, then part of the Free City of Danzig [today: Sztutowo, Poland], when my father had clearly been invited to an Epp family get-together. From Idschi and Suse’s grandniece, I learned that one of their brothers was also pictured. His name was Gerhard Epp. Much more on him later.

 

Figure 6. A sequence of photos taken by my father in Stutthof during a social get-together at Gerhard Epp’s home; Gerhard Epp was one of Suse and Idschi Epp’s middle siblings

 

In researching the history of the Mennonites in the Vistula delta for this Blog post, I happened upon a series of articles written by a Dr. Ben Goossen, a Harvard University professor who has written extensively about Hitler’s Mennonite supporters. I was particularly intrigued in learning why people who were traditionally pacifists would be attracted to Hitler. In an article from October 2021 entitled “Hitler’s Mennonite Voters,” Dr. Goossen explains:

“Two factors made Danzig’s Mennonites particularly susceptible to Hitler’s project. First, members saw themselves as part of a global religious denomination they viewed as vulnerable to atheist communism. Since the eighteenth century, thousands of Mennonites had emigrated from the Danzig area to Imperial Russia. Although nationalist pressure convinced Danzig’s Mennonites to abandon pacifist teachings, they retained ties to pacifist coreligionists abroad. After the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917. Mennonites in the Soviet Union faced hardships. Their relatives in Danzig welcomed Hitler’s anti-Bolshevism and his antisemitism. The Führer blamed Soviet atrocities on a fictional cabal he labeled as ‘Judeo-Bolshevism.’”

Another researcher, Alicia Good, in an article entitled “Unanswered Questions: Mennonite Participation in the Holocaust,” reinforces what Goossen tells us in this regard:

“Rempel makes the argument that the destruction of Mennonite church and community life in the Soviet Republic under Stalin was so destructive that not only did Mennonites abandon their peace theology, but they perceived Hitler’s invading forces as their liberators, thereby setting the stage for them to actively aid the Nazi agenda. Rempel describes the turbulence of the Russian Revolution: ‘Driven by fear and the predation of violent anarchists, many Mennonites in South Russia set aside their pacifist tradition and formed self-defense units to protect their homes and families against bandits and even the Red Army’ It was during this period that many Mennonites chose to leave behind their beliefs in nonviolence in order to fight a losing battle against the communists, who were perceived as a threat both because of their atheistic stance and their desire to abolish private ownership of property. Rempel infers that it was these initial violent actions which set a tragic precedent laying the foundations for the next generation of Mennonites to take up arms alongside the Nazis.”

According to Goossen, the second reason Danzig Mennonites were attracted to Nazism is that it appealed to their sense of aggrieved nationalism:

“Those who had given up pacifism and chosen not to emigrate adopted a strong German identity. They lamented Germany’s defeat in the First World War, and they reviled the 1919 Versailles Treaty, which became a nationalist punching bag. This treaty assigned guilt for World War I to Germany. It required steep reparations. And it split Danzig from Germany. The nineteen Mennonite congregations in eastern Germany, with 13,000 attendees, had once formed a united group. Versailles divided them between Germany, Poland, and the Free City (where 6,000 lived). Mennonite farmers further resented Danzig’s customs union with Poland.” (Goossen, 2021)

According to Dr. Goossen, during the 1930’s Mennonites became involved at every level of the Nazi Party in Danzig. For example, the second highest-ranking Nazi in Danzig, Otto Anders, was a Mennonite. Mennonite men joined the paramilitary Sturmabteilung (SA) and the Schutzstaffel (SS), while Mennonite women joined Nazi women’s organizations. While Mennonite men who became officers in the Nazi army typically left the church, rank-and-file members normally retained their church affiliation. Faith leaders in the church also became deeply Nazified, and according to Goossens, leaders from five of the seven Mennonite churches in the Free City of Danzig were party members.

Mennonites, who numbered only 1.5 percent of Danzig’s population, had an outsized effect in the Free City of Danzig. According to Dr. Goossen, in May 1933, Mennonites helped deliver Hitler the only country-wide majority he achieved in a free election; in the Free City of Danzig their ballots pushed the Nazis over the 50 percent threshold in the popular vote.

As Goossen further notes, “The historically pacifist Christian church disproportionately influenced Nazi rule in the Free City. During World War II, members became enmeshed in the Holocaust, staffing concentration camps, and using slave labor on their farms and in their factories. Prominent Nazis believed most Mennonites were ‘Aryan.’”

As to how Menno Simons, the founder of the Mennonites, might have felt about the alliance future generations of his followers made with Nazism, Goossen observes the following: “Four hundred years later, the Mennonites who helped to bring Nazism to Danzig were a theologically transformed group. Prior to the 1933 election, one preacher praised National Socialism to a ministerial assembly as ‘the only party which we as Mennonites can support.’ This viewpoint would have been anathema to this preacher’s own ancestors. Church historian C. Henry Smith, observing from across the Atlantic, rightly assessed that Danzig’s Mennonites strayed from their roots. ‘Menno Simons would find himself ill at ease, today, among his namesakes,’ Smith wrote, ‘were he to return to his familiar haunts around the Baltic.’ A time-travelling Menno Smith would soon be ‘in all likelihood, in a concentration camp.’”

Dr. Goossen has explained why Mennonites become Nazi collaborators. However, readers may wonder, as I did, what attracted or impressed the Nazis about Mennonites? It was certainly not the faith’s historic pacifism which the Nazis surely would not have emphasized. Turning again to Goossen, “The main strategy church officials deployed to ingratiate themselves with top Nazis involved claiming racial purity. Mennonites had supposedly kept their bloodlines ‘Aryan’ through centuries of intermarriage. German racial scientists had tested Mennonite populations in Danzig and agreed with this assessment. Faith leaders further sought to prove heritage by harvesting centuries-old data from church record books.” Simply put, the Nazis considered Mennonites to be unusually pure specimens of Aryanism.

Mennonites elevated racial status ultimately drew them into the Nazi’s orbit of crimes against humanity, as Goossen explains: “Hitler waged World War II as a race war. His soldiers conquered vast swaths of Eastern Europe to provide expanded ‘living space’ for the German people, whom the Nazis considered a ‘master race.’ The invaders and local collaborators seized property from Poles, Jews, and others. They distributed this plunder to members of the German racial elite and forced non-Germans into subservient positions. In Danzig, many Mennonites benefitted from robbery and slavery. For instance, SS officers at the Stutthof concentration camp, built in 1939, formed an entire labor commando with 500 inmates to serve a Mennonite arms manufacturer, Gerhard Epp.”

So, we come full circle to the first mention of Gerhard Epp (Figure 7), the brother of my father’s friends, the Mennonite sisters Suse and Idschi Epp. But it would not be the last as he was among the most prominent Mennonite collaborators.

 

Figure 7. Gerhard Epp with his first wife Margaretha Epp née Klaassen and their Great Dane “Ajax”

 

Let me digress and briefly tell readers a little about the Stutthof concentration camp, located 21 miles (34 km) east of Danzig in the German-annexed Free City of Danzig. Opened in September of 1939, it was under the command of Heinrich Himmler’s SS and was at the time situated near the world’s largest Mennonite population. Stutthof was the first German concentration camp set up outside German borders in World War II, and was the last camp liberated by the Allies on the 9th of May 1945. It was originally set up as a concentration camp but was later utilized as a death camp equipped with a gas chamber and crematoria. Initially it housed Polish and Russian political prisoners, but soon became the destination for thousands of deported Jews.  It is estimated that between 63,000 and 65,000 prisoners of Stutthof concentration camp and its subcamps died because of murder, starvation, epidemics, extreme labor conditions, brutal and forced evacuations, and a lack of medical attention. Some 28,000 of those who died were Jews. In total, as many as 110,000 people were deported to the camp during its existence, working under what were often brutal conditions.

Quoting again from Alicia Good as to how the Mennonites in the Żuławy region benefited from the proximity of the Stutthof concentration camp: “The Mennonite farmers and business owners in the Danzig region were not only aware of the existence of the concentration camp but they derived personal profit from its operations. Mennonite farms paid the camps to receive field laborers without payment for their labor and often for longer than the allotted 8-hour shifts to maximize profits. Mennonites who owned factories, such as Gerhard Epp (Figure 8), utilized the low-cost labor from concentration camps; Epp’s factory actually manufactured firearms for the Nazi war effort. Other Mennonite businesses profited by building and supplying the camps themselves. Since Mennonite attempts to show more sympathetic treatment of the workers was prohibited by the Nazis on the threat of the sympathizer being imprisoned in the camps, Mennonite arguments that their usage was to show mercy to the prisoners was unsustainable. Likewise, it cannot be reasonably claimed that the large Mennonite community did not know about the camps since they were actively profiting from this activity. Neither the presence of tens of thousands of people subjected to horrific conditions, nor the billowing smoke and ashes of the crematoria could have been denied by any Mennonites at Danzig or Stutthof who wanted to know the truth of what was happening in their backyard. Moreover, the presence of ethnically Mennonite names on the list of prison guards who were later convicted for their work at Stutthof demonstrates that at least some members of the Mennonite community themselves committed atrocities within the camp.”

 

Figure 8. Leadership of the Mennonite-owned Gerhard Epp firm

 

In another article written by Dr. Ben Goossen in 2020 entitled “The Real History of the Mennonites and the Holocaust,” there is further mention of Gerhard Epp. From this article, we learn more about him through Goossen’s story of Mennonite war refugee Heinrich Hamm’s antisemitic and anti-Bolshevik involvement with Nazism. Some background about Hamm provides the framework for a further discussion of Gerhard Epp.

Heinrich Hamm was born in czarist Russia in 1894. During WWI he was a medic, though abandoned pacifism and took up arms against the communists during the Russian Revolution. Following the Bolshevik victory, Hamm lost his farm near the Ukrainian city of Zaporozhe, famous these days for the site of fighting between the Russians and the Ukrainians around Europe’s largest nuclear power plant. Following Stalin’s rise to power, Hamm moved to Dnepropetrovsk, and remained there following the Nazi invasion of 1941. However, with Germany’s reversal of fortunes on the Eastern Front, by early 1944 Hamm and his family abandoned the Ukraine and eventually settled in Stutthof, which as previously mentioned had a large and long-standing Mennonite population. Hamm and his family were among the first Mennonite refugees relocated from the Ukraine to Nazi-occupied Poland.

As Goossen notes, it was in Stutthof that Hamm met Gerhard Epp: “In Stutthof, Hamm became friendly with a prominent Mennonite businessman named Gerhard Epp. Prior to the First World War, Epp had worked in Russia, and he remained greatly interested in Mennonite coreligionists from the Soviet Union. Epp offered Hamm a job in a large machine factory he owned and operated—the same establishment that Hamm would later mention in the memo he wrote for MCC [i.e., Mennonite Central Committee] (see below), claiming he was coerced into providing cheap labor for greedy German war profiteers.” (Figures 9a-b)

 

Figure 9a. The administrative office of Gerhard Epp’s factory in Stutthof where Heinrich Hamm worked from 1944 to early 1945; hundreds of inmates from the nearby Stutthof concentration camp performed slave labor for this Mennonite-owned establishment, which produced munitions for the war

 

Figure 9b. Gerhard Epp’s factory in Stutthof where munitions for the war effort were produced using hundreds of Jewish inmates form the nearby Stutthof concentration camp

 

Goossen later goes on to add, “Gerhard Epp served as a general contractor for camp [i.e., Stutthof], from which he leased hundreds of prisoners to produce armaments in his factory. Jews and other inmates were the true cheap labor. Hamm helped oversee their slavery and murder.”

Following the end of World War II, Mennonite leaders in Europe and North America sought to craft a narrative that emphasized how brutally and oppressively their denomination had been treated by the Nazis. The Mennonite Central Committee (MCC), the denomination’s premier aid organization of which Heinrich Hamm was an employee and spokesperson, reported in various memos to bodies like the United Nations that faith leaders were unaware of Nazi collaboration of refugees including the involvement of Heinrich Hamm. The following is drawn from a version of Hamm’s wartime experiences: “It is quite an erroneous idea to think that all Mennonites were brought to Poland to be settled on farms. I and my family came to a camp in Preussisch-Stargard in the Danzig area. Immediately representatives of various works and concerns came to fetch cheap labour. I had to work in a machine factory where I remained until the end of the war. Besides the four Mennonite families many Ukrainians, Frenchmen, and Poles worked there also. There was no difference in the way these various national groups were treated.” (Goossen 2020)

As Goossen goes on to note, “The efforts by Mennonite Central Committee to portray refugees like Heinrich Hamm as victims of Nazism were largely successful.”  Declarations by the MCC officers as well as by the migrants themselves convinced agents of the United Nations that most Mennonites had not wound up in Germany of their own accord. As a result, the MCC succeeded in relocating most of their refugees under its care with United Nations assistance to places in West Germany or overseas, mostly in Canada and Paraguay.

Goossen has laboriously sifted through thousands of pages of historic documents scattered across half a dozen archives in four countries to piece together Hamm’s past and debunk his story; readers are referred to Dr. Goossen’s article for more details but suffice it to say that Hamm as an MCC employee and spokesperson knew very well how and why Mennonites had collaborated with the Nazis and how complicit they were in the murder of Jewish concentration camp detainees. As Goossen notes: “What is clear is that the Mennonite-owned factory in Stutthof was a place of terror. For hundreds of prisoners enslaved there, the factory’s Mennonite managers were responsible for much of that terror. It is also clear that after the war, Hamm tried to distance himself from this responsibility. He instead emphasized the suffering of his own family, which fled Stutthof in April 1945. As they crossed the Baltic under cover of night, a Soviet submarine torpedoed their ship. Hamm praised God for allowing the damaged vessel to make it to Denmark. The family remained in Denmark for the next eighteen months. Hamm emphasized his gratitude for the comfort he found during these lean times through worshipping with fellow Mennonite refugees and other Christians.” (Goossen 2020)

As I related in Post 5, my father’s friends, Idschi and Suse Epp, also escaped to Denmark as the Russians were approaching Tiegenhof. According to Gerhard Epp’s descendants whom I met in 2013 in Lubeck, Germany, Suse Epp died in Denmark in 1941 at the age of 71. Gerhard Epp’s daughter by his first wife who died in 1939 at the age of 44 was Rita Schuetze née Epp (Figure 10); at the time I met her in 2013 she was already suffering from severe dementia. However, Rita’s half-brother and Gerhard Epp’s stepson, Hans Joachim “Hajo” Wiebe (Figures 11-12), is twelve years younger than his sister and has a splendid memory; he shared some compelling family stories.

 

Figure 10. Gerhard Epp’s daughter, Rita Schuetze née Epp, by his marriage to his first wife Margaretha Epp née Klaassen

 

Figure 11. Gerhard Epp’s stepson and Rite Schuetze’s half-brother, Hans Joachim “Hajo” Wiebe, in 2013, source of identifications and Epp family stories

 

Figure 12. Hajo Wiebe in 2013 surrounded from left to right by his great-niece Paula Schuetze, his partner Gunda Nickel, and his niece Angelika Schuetze

 

Of particular interest is the story Hajo Wiebe related of the role that Gerhard and Rita Epp 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 captured by the Russians, so the only way Germans could still flee the area was to make their way across the frozen “Frisches Haff,” or Vistula Lagoon (Figure 13), 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 in his Mercedes all around the area south of Stutthof destroying the flood control dams previous generations of Mennonites had built and inundated the naturally marshy area to 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.

 

Figure 13. Photo taken by my father during the 1930’s of a sleigh ride party in Tolkemit, Prussia [today: Tolkmicko, Poland], located on the Vistula Lagoon
 

In closing I would merely say that thanks to the recent work of scholars like Ben Goossen revelations are finally coming to light of the role Mennonites played in the crimes of National Socialism. These crimes run counter to the common belief about this Christian denomination that they are historically pacifists. What led me to uncovering the truth was my father’s friendship with two of Gerhard Epp’s sisters and a casual encounter my father had with Gerhard prior to the war.

 

REFERENCES

 

Good, Alicia. “Unanswered Questions: Mennonite Participation in the Holocaust.”

Goossen, Ben. “How to Catch a Mennonite Nazi.” Anabaptist Historians, 29 October 2020, https://anabaptisthistorians.org/2020/10/29/how-to-catch-a-mennonite-nazi/.

Goossen, Ben. “The Real History of the Mennonites and the Holocaust.” Tablet, 16 November 2020, https://www.tabletmag.com/sections/history/articles/heinrich-hamm-mennonite-holocaust.

Goossen, Ben. “How A Nazi Death Squad Viewed Mennonites.” Anabaptist Historians, 16 January 2021, https://anabaptisthistorians.org/2021/01/16/how-a-nazi-death-squad-viewed-mennonites/

Goossen, Ben. “Hitler’s Mennonite Voters.” Anabaptist Historians, 7 October 2021, https://anabaptisthistorians.org/2021/10/07/hitlers-mennonite-voters/

“Mennonites.” Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mennonites.

Neff, Christian and Richard D. Thiessen. “Wladyslaw IV Vasa, King of Poland (1595-1648).” Global Anabaptist Mennonite Encyclopedia Online. March 2015. Web. 11 Aug 2022. https://gameo.org/index.php?title=Wladyslaw_IV_Vasa,_King_of_Poland_(1595-1648)&oldid=140874.

“The History of Polish Mennonites.” Gdanski Trips, https://www.gdansktrips.com/the-history-of-polish-mennonites/.

“Vistula delta Mennonites.” Wikipedia, https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vistula_delta_Mennonites.