Oder-Neisse Line Archives - bruckfamilyblog.com

POST 188: WALKING IN MY FATHER AND UNCLE’S FOOTSTEPS, VISITING A HOUSE IN RIESENGEBIRGE (KARKONOSZE, POLAND) THEY STAYED IN 90 YEARS AGO

Note: In this post, I discuss my quest to find and visit a very distinctive house my father and uncle stayed in between Christmas 1934 & New Year’s Eve 1935, located in pre-WWII Germany, now in southwest Poland.

POST 17: SURVIVING IN BERLIN IN THE TIME OF HITLER: MY UNCLE FEDOR’S STORY

Among my father’s surviving photos are a sequence of pictures (Figures 1a-e) he took between Christmas 1934 and New Year’s Eve 1935 when he and his brother stayed at the so- called Haus Gotzmann in Kiesewald, Germany (today: Michałowice, Poland) in Riesengebirge (today: Karkonosze, Poland; Krkonoše, Czech Republic). In English these are often referred to as the Giant Mountains, and they are in what is today southwest Poland, straddling the border with the Czech Republic.

Figure 1a. Page 1 of my father’s photos taken in 1934/35 at the Haus Gotzmann in Kiesewald (today: Michałowice, Poland)

Figure 1b. Page 2 of my father’s photos taken in 1934/35 in Riesengebirge

Figure 1c. Page 3 of my father’s photos taken in 1934/35 in Riesengebirge

Figure 1d. Page 4 of my father’s photos taken in 1934/35 in Riesengebirge

Figure 1e. Page 5 of my father’s photos taken in 1934/35 in Riesengebirge

My father was typically very good at labeling his photos but in this instance, he merely provided the name of the house and its location in Riesengebirge. None of the principals were named, although I obviously recognized my father, Dr. Otto Bruck (1907-1994) (Figure 2), and uncle, Dr. Fedor Bruck (1895-1982). (Figure 3)

Figure 2. My father, Dr. Otto Bruck, as a young dentist

Figure 3. My uncle, Dr. Fedor Bruck, in his dental practice in Liegnitz, Germany (today: Legnica, Poland)

Like my father, my uncle was a dentist, and prior to Hitler’s rise to power in 1933 he had his own dental practice in Liegnitz, Germany (today: Legnica, Poland), a distance as the crow flies of about 100km (62 miles) from Michałowice. (Figure 4) In 1933, the Nazi regime passed the “Law for the Restoration of the Professional Civil Service,” which was the first major piece of legislation to exclude Jews from public life. While not a total ban, this law served as a foundation for hundreds of later decrees designed to systematically marginalize and persecute Jews. Shortly after passing this law, my uncle was forced to shutter his dental practice in Liegnitz.

Figure 4. Map showing the distance between Liegnitz (Legnica) and Kiesewald (Michałowice)

Rightfully assuming he could continue working under the auspices of an Aryan dentist in Berlin, he relocated there hoping to lose himself in the anonymity of the larger city. This subterfuge worked until 1941, when he was told to report to “an old age transport,” which effectively meant deportation to a concentration camp. As I’ve previously written in Post 17, he went underground at this point and miraculously survived hiding in Berlin for the remainder of the war with the help of friends and family, at great personal risk to them. Only about 5,000 Jews in all of Germany survived in this manner.

Let me digress for a moment and talk briefly about Riesengebirge. Years ago, when my uncle’s illegitimate son Wolfgang Lutze (1928-2014) (Figure 5), my first cousin, was still alive, we were discussing our great-aunt, Elsbeth Bruck (1874-1970). Following the Second World War, Elsbeth, who was the subject of Post 15, became a high-ranking apparatchik in the Communist East German government. (Figure 6) Like many of my Bruck family, she was born in Ratibor, Germany (today: Racibórz, Poland), and apparently worked when young in the family hotel-restaurant there, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel. My father who also later briefly worked there as a sommelier told me many of the staff were Polish workers. According to family lore, Elsbeth had an affair with one of the Polish cooks and became pregnant. I’ve seen the small headstone of her son buried in the Weißensee Jewish Cemetery in East Berlin so there is no question Elsbeth had a child who died in infancy in 1908. (Figure 7)

Figure 5. My uncle’s illegitimate son, Wolfgang Lutze, in Hurghada, Egypt in October 2005

Figure 6. My great-aunt, Elsbeth Bruck, a Communist apparatchik, being given an award by a high-ranking official of the former German Democratic Republic in 1965

Figure 7. My wife in 2018 Ann standing by the small, numbered headstone of Elsbeth Bruck’s son, Wolfgang Bruck, buried in the Weißensee Jewish Cemetery in East Berlin

In any case, in talking about our great-aunt, my first cousin Wolfgang used a German proverb which I understood to mean something to the effect that Elsbeth was sent away to Riesengebirge by her family after they discovered she was pregnant for a “change of scenery” or “to clear her head.” Artificial Intelligence notwithstanding I’ve been unable to source the saying. Still, I learned other things about Riesengebirge that provide some colorful background.

During the 18th century the Giant Mountains (Riesengebirge, Krkonoše, Karkonosze) became a favorite destination for tourists from the German states and the Austrian Empire. At the time the mountains were favorably compared with the Alps. I could find no widespread proverbs related to Riesengebirge (Giant Mountains). Rather, the sayings are based on the mountains’ ancient folklore, particularly the legend of the mountain spirit, Rübezahl. The aphorisms are less like traditional proverbs and more like warnings or common wisdom related to the whimsical and powerful mountain spirit (e.g., calling his name is forbidden; beware his unpredictable mood; a “test” for travelers; the origin of weather).

While there is no common German adage about going to Riesengebirge for a change of scenery or to clear one’s head, as was apparently suggested for Elsbeth, the German concept of Fernweh describes a strong yearning for distant places and a desire to travel, and Wanderlust (“wanderlust” is a German loanword) describes a general love of wandering and exploring. These words capture the feeling of wanting to go somewhere new to get away from the familiar. This said there is no evidence to suggest Elsbeth ever spent time or even visited Riesengebirge.

Let me resume my narrative. Knowing my wife and I would be visiting Racibórz and southwestern Poland, we decided to incorporate a visit to the Giant Mountains. I was curious whether the very distinctive house my father and uncle visited in Kiesewald (Michałowice) still exists. I’ve amassed a considerable amount of information looking into this question.

Fatefully, almost immediately after starting my research into Haus Gotzmann, I stumbled on a genealogist named Marta Maćkowiak (Figure 8) living in nearby Jelenia Góra, known in the German era as Hirschberg or Hirschberg im Riesengebirge. Translated as “deer mountain,” Jelenia Góra is only about 18km (11 miles) from Michałowice. (Figure 9) Marta is a professional genealogist who specializes in researching Polish and Polish Jewish genealogy. Knowing I had nothing to lose, I contacted her and explained my interest in finding the house where my father and uncle had stayed in 1934/35. She kindly responded and told me to forward my father’s pictures so that she could investigate.

Figure 8. Marta Maćkowiak, a professional Polish genealogist, who graciously aided me in my search to locate the Haus Gotzmann

Figure 9. Map showing the distance between Jelenia Góra and Michałowice

While waiting for Marta to reply, I asked my teacher/historian friend Jan Krakczok (Figure 10) from Rybnik, Poland, who I also met for the first time during my recent visit to Poland, whether he could track down any additional information on the Haus Gotzmann. In a 1937 Hirschberg Address Book (i.e., “Adressbuch – Einwohnerbuch fur den Landkreis Hirschberg, 1937”) (Figure 11), Jan discovered that by 1937 a lady named Ida Mattner owned or leased the house though the home was still referred to as the “Haus Gotzmann.” By way of clarification, the 1937 Landkreis Hirschberg address book includes listings for nearby Kiesewald-Petersdorf (see explanation below about the physical relationship between these two places). Curiously, the 1937 address book does not provide an address, so the German street name was at this point still unknown to me.

Figure 10. Jan Krajczok from Poland on a viewing tower overlooking the Moravian Gate

Figure 11. Page from the 1937 Hirschberg Address Book showing Ida Mattner living in the Haus Gotzmann

Based on the current owner or lessee in 1937, I erroneously concluded the owner, known to me at this point only as “Gotzmann,” was Jewish. I assumed he had had his home confiscated or been forced to sell by the Nazis. More on this below.

Several days later Marta wrote telling me she had located the house. She explained that the house is in fact described as Haus Gotzmann and Haus Mattner, so the information Jan had found matched what Marta uncovered. Marta also sent me a link with historic postcards. (Figures 12-14)

Figure 12. Historic postcard of the Haus Gotzmann purportedly taken between 1920 and 1930; these years predate the known construction year of 1933

Figure 13. Historic postcard of the Haus Gotzmann taken between 1935 and 1940

Figure 14. Historic postcard of the Haus Gotzmann taken in 1968

Marta happily reported the house still exists, and that its current address is 16 ulica Sudecka in Piechowice. (Figures 15-16) Marta helpfully explained that before the war Piechowice was called Petersdorf, and that Michałowice or Kiesewald, as it was formerly known, was and is still part of Piechowice. (Figure 17) Marta also reported she was able to match some of my father’s photos with a viewpoint near Michałowice called Złoty Widok, located not far from Haus Gotzmann.

Figure 15. The Haus Gotzmann as it looks today without the summer foliage

Figure 16. Google map showing the current address, 16 ulica Sudecka in Piechowice, and photo of the Haus Gotzmann at it looks today

Figure 17. Map showing the proximity of Michałowice (Kiesewald) to Piechowice (Petersdorf), of which Michałowice is a part

Prompted by the information Marta uncovered, I continued my investigations. I tripped over another database I’d curiously never come across, “Kartenmeister.” This is described as an online gazetteer and genealogy tool for locating towns and places that were historically in eastern Prussia and other German-speaking areas especially, but not exclusively, east of the Oder and Neisse rivers. It helps users find the current name of a place and provides historical details such as alternate names, geographical location, church parish affiliations, and population records from specific names. The database includes over 100,000 entries for towns, villages, and other points of interest like mills, battlefields, and cemeteries.

Helpfully, the Kartenmeister database includes a listing for Petersdorf (Figure 18), which as Marta explained includes Michałowice where the Haus Gotzmann was located. Conveniently, the listing included the names AND emails of six people also researching Petersdorf. (Figure 19) Unabashedly, I started working my way through the list. I struck gold when I reached a German gentleman named Holger Liebig.

Figure 18. Listing for Petersdorf (Piechowice) in the “Kartenmeister” database

Figure 19. List of names and email addresses of people found in the Kartenmeister database also researching Petersdorf

Initially, I was interested in uncovering the German street for modern-day ulica Sudecka. I thought the German street name in conjunction with owner names from contemporary address books might provide clarification on the sequence of owners; this never panned out because I never found the contemporary address books from the 1930s. Regardless, in a so-called “Häuserbuch,” Holger found some very useful information. A Häuserbuch is described as a German-language term for a “house book.” In a genealogical context, it is a historical record that documents the history of properties and the families who have lived in them. A Häuserbuch can be a valuable resource for tracing a family’s lineage.

By way of clarification, a Häuserbuch is to be distinguished from a “Grundbuch,” a land register, something I’ve alluded to in some earlier posts. A Grundbuch is an official public land register with legal authority over property rights, while a Häuserbuch is a historical or informal private record of a household or family. The Grundbuch (land register) is a formal, public register maintained by a special division of the local court (Grundbuchamt) in Germany. I would later learn from Marta Maćkowiak that the Grundbuch for the Haus Gotzmann was destroyed during the war.

In any case, Holger found the Haus Gotzmann listed in the Häuserbuch under Kiesewald (Kw 73; Agnetendorfer Straße; Haus No. 136). (Figure 20) Significantly, the German street name and number are given. The Häuserbuch provides other information. It indicates that the Haus Gotzmann was built in 1933 by a man named Leo Gotzmann, a dentist from Weißwasser, a town in Upper Lusatia in eastern Saxony, Germany. Weißwasser is located about 130km (80 miles) from Piechowice. (Figure 21) Additionally, Holger learned that Dr. Gotzmann sold the house to Ida Mattner in 1940 (she first rented the house, then later bought it). Though ultimately a dead-end, the Häuserbuch further tells us that Ida Mattner was born in 1896 in Wronke (today: Wronki, Poland), about 50km (31 miles), northwest of Posen (today: Poznań, Poland).

Figure 20. Haus Gotzmann listed in the “Häuserbuch” under Kiesewald (Kw 73; Agnetendorfer Straße; Haus No. 136)

Figure 21. Map showing the distance between Weißwasser, Germany and Piechowice, Poland

Holger Liebig sent me a link to an old prospectus of Kiesewald showing the “Landhouse” Gotzmann as lot “Nr. 31b.” (Figure 22a) To be clear, this number is not to be confused with the regular house number but rather corresponds to the number on the prospectus identifying the lot. Note that five of the homes on the list of houses shown in the prospectus were connected to members of Holger Liebig’s family. (Figure 22b)

Figure 22a. Old prospectus of Kiesewald showing the “Landhouse” Gotzmann as lot “Nr. 31b” (circled)

Figure 22b. List of owners from the old brochure of Kiesewald corresponding to lot numbers, including the names of five Liebigs

Having ascertained that Dr. Leo Gotzmann was, like my father and uncle, a dentist, I surmised that perhaps a professional relationship had evolved into a friendship. Having determined that Dr. Gotzmann was from Weißwasser, Saxony, I checked for address books from there from the 1930s, to no avail. I similarly checked address books from Hirschberg-Petersdorf for Dr. Gotzmann from this period, again in vain.

However, I struck gold again when I checked in ancestry.com. I found several German military cards for a Dr. Leo Johannes Gotzmann showing he was killed in action on the 6^th of December 1941 in Russia. (Figure 23) What convinced me this is the same man my father and uncle was friends with is that he was born in Ratibor on the 24^th of December 1892. Additionally, another card in the German military records indicated Leo was from Weißwasser, matching information found in the Kiesewald Häuserbuch. (Figure 24) He was less than three years older than my uncle, born in August 1895, and less than 15 years older than my father born in April 1907. Clearly, my family’s familiarity with Dr. Gotzmann ran through my father’s birthplace.

Figure 23. Card from German military record for Dr. Leo Johannes showing he was born in Ratibor in December 1892 and was killed in Russia in December 1941

Figure 24. Another card from Dr. Gotzmann’s military record indicating he was from Weißwasser

While I was convinced that Leo Gotzmann was Jewish, unlikely given that he died fighting for the Wehrmacht in Russia, I learned from Jan and another friend from Racibórz that even today there are non-Jewish Gotzmanns, possibly of German descent, living nearby. As we speak, I’m working on trying to obtain Leo Gotzmann’s 1892 birth certificate to confirm that he was in fact not Jewish.

I initially had difficulty reading and tracking down the place where Dr. Gotzmann was killed in action, but eventually deciphered he died at Yukhnov, Russia (German: Juchnow) (Figure 25), likely as the Germans were retreating from Russia following their rout at Stalingrad.

Figure 25. Page from Wikimedia Commons about Yukhnov, Russia where Dr. Gotzmann was killed in December 1941

One of the German military cards provided Dr. Gotzmann’s wife’s forename, “Lilly” (Figure 26), but so far, I’ve been unable to track down her surname. She was shown living at Berliner Straße 2 in Weißwasser.

Figure 26. Another page from Dr. Gotzmann’s military record giving “Lilly” as his wife’s forename

After learning all I was able to by resort to historic directories and documents, I tried something I’ve attempted in the past with mixed results. I wrote a “cold” letter addressed to the unknown current owner of the Haus Gotzmann. Knowing the modern-day address of the home, I merely addressed my letter to “Owner,” included my father’s sequence of photos, explained I was going to be in the area in a few weeks and expressed a hope that I could stop by and take a few pictures of the house; I also provided my contact information. More than two weeks passed before I received a gracious email from the current owner, Ms. Wiola Trybalska, telling me how touched she was by my letter and seeing my father’s old photos of her house. Not only were my wife and I invited to visit, but Wiola cordially asked us to come for lunch.

Our much-anticipated meeting took place on the 30^th of August 2025. Along with Wiola, two of her three daughters, Ania and Alexandra, and a family friend Marek were present. (Figure 27) Since all our email exchanges had taken place in English, I mistakenly assumed Wiola was fluent in English. It was Ania, however, who is most fluent in English and translated.

Figure 27. Sisters Alexandra & Ania Trybalska, family friend Marek, Wiola Trybalska, and me

The history of ownership of Haus Gotzmann following Ida Mattner’s proprietorship is unclear. I presume that Ms. Mattner was forced to flee once the Russians occupied Poland, as most Germans did. Possibly a Communist apparatchik occupied the house until the fall of the Soviet Union in 1989, at which point perhaps the home reverted to private ownership. What is clear is that Wiola’s husband inherited the house from his father, a noted Polish painter, Paweł Trybalski (1937-2023). His studio and some of the props and souvenirs brought back by Pawel’s friends on their travels used by him in some of his paintings are intact.

Wiola showed me a few old photos of people taken at the Haus Gotzmann, and in one of them I recognized a few of the same people my father photographed, presumably Leo Gotzmann and his wife Lilly. (Figure 28) The unknown person could be Ida Mattner, though this is conjecture since I’m uncertain what her relationship was to the Gotzmanns and how she came to lease and eventually own Leo and Lilly Gotzmann’s house.

Figure 28. Historic photo shown to me by Wiola Trybalska believed to show Lilly Gotzmann (left), Leo Gotzmann (middle), and possibly Ida Mattner

One thing I had the opportunity to do during my visit with Wiola and her family at the Haus Gotzmann was to recreate photos my father took in 1934/35. Remarkably, those parts of the house inside and outside that my father pictured have hardly changed. The very distinctive alternating brown and white horizontal stripes painted on the outside still exist. I sat on the same steps where my father stood (Figures 29a-b), and in the same place he and his brother once stood. (Figures 30a-b) I also sat on the interior steps where partying guests participated in a masked ball on New Year’s Eve 1935. (Figures 31a-b) Given that Michałowice is 9300km (5,780 miles) from where I now live, I find this haunting. On only one previous occasion have I stood in the same spot I knew my father to have stood thousands of kilometers away and many years ago.

Figure 29a. 1934/35 picture from top to bottom: unidentified man, Lilly Gotzmann, Leo Gotzmann, my father

Figure 29b. 2025 picture of me sitting on the same steps where my father stood in his 1934/35 picture

Figure 30a. 1934/35 picture of my father (left) arm-in-arm with his brother in front of the Haus Gotzmann

Figure 30b. 2025 picture of me with Alexandra and Ania Trybalska standing where my father and uncle stood in 1934/35

Figure 31a. From New Year’s Eve 1935 revelers sitting on steps leading upstairs

Figure 31b. 2025 picture from top to bottom of Marek, Alexandra & Ania Trybalska, Wiola Trybalska, and my wife Ann seated on the same steps as the revelers in 1934/35

A few final thoughts. (Figure 32) While Wiola and I could not directly communicate with one another save for the intervention of her daughter, we made an immediate connection. I think it’s fair to say we both had this odd sense of having previously “met” and it being “fated” that we should meet again in this life. Wiola and other thoughtful and intelligent people I’ve encountered in my years of doing forensic genealogy convince me that my work transcends my own family history. Given the existential danger that the divisions in our current body politic pose to democracies around the world, a quote attributed to Cicero comes to mind, “To be ignorant of what occurred before you were born is to remain always a child.” My recent trip to Europe, particularly the time spent in Poland, made it clear how real and worrisome the ghosts and horrors of the past are for people living in the shadow of the war in the Ukraine and the dangers posed by an aggressive neighbor.

Figure 32. Saying our goodbyes to Wiola and her friend and family

Readers will rightly perceive that my search to relocate a house my father and uncle visited 90 years has yielded some productive and unexpected discoveries. For readers who may find themselves in similar circumstances, I encourage persistence. I do not pretend this is exclusive to my forensic searches because I’ve occasionally come across others who’ve achieved far more impressive results using old films, photos, diaries and ancestral accounts, and documents related to places their Jewish ancestors lived.

POST 185: SILVERWARE FROM THE HISTORIC FAMILY ESTABLISHMENT IN RATIBOR [TODAY: RACIBÓRZ, POLAND], THE BRUCK’S “PRINZ VON PREUßEN” HOTEL

Note: This post though of limited interest is broadly speaking about “metadata,” data about data. Essentially, it’s structured information that acts as a “catalog” or “index” for other data, making it easier for me to find, understand, and use that information. Given that I plan to donate the silverware from the Bruck’s Hotel to the Muzeum w Racibórz (Museum in Racibórz), the town where my father was born, I want a record of this donation. While I hope my posts will be of use and interest to readers, I often refer to earlier articles to remind myself how and what I learned during my ancestral investigations.

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

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

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

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

POST 155: HISTORY OF THE PROPERTY WHERE THE BRUCK’S “PRINZ VON PREUßEN” HOTEL IN RATIBOR CAME TO BE BUILT

The Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel (Figures 1-2), the family establishment my family owned in Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland] for about 75 years between roughly 1850 and 1925, has been the subject of multiple earlier articles. In these prior posts, I’ve discussed its location (Post 11), historically when the hotel was likely to have been built (Post 155), the family members linked to it (Post 11, Post 11, Postscript, & Post 11, Postscript 2), the layout of the building (Post 11), the police oversight of the business (Post 11, Postscript), various events hosted and dignitaries who stayed there (Post 11, Postscript), the final months of the family’s ownership of the hotel (Post 146), the various owners of the business after it left family hands (Post 11), its condition following WWII (Post 11), and its ultimate fate (Post 132).

Figure 1. The Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel

Figure 2. Entrance of the former Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel

Much of what I learned, and the associated documents and contemporary advertisements came from my dearly departed friend, Mr. Paul Newerla (Figure 3), who took a keen interest in researching the history of the hotel. Another Polish friend from Rybnik, Poland, Ms. Malgosia Ploszaj (Figure 4), was also instrumental in unearthing a historic portfolio on the Bruck’s Hotel at the Archiwum Państwowe w Katowicach Oddział w Raciborzu, The Polish State Archives in Racibórz.

Figure 3. My wife Ann and I with Mr. Paul Newerla in Racibórz in 2018

Figure 4. My Polish friend Malgosia Ploszaj in 2014

Through Paul, I learned the hotel was largely intact at the end of WWII save for the bombed-out roof. (Figure 5) However, occupying Russian forces allowed it to burn to the ground after it was “accidentally” set on fire by drunken soldiers who prevented the local firefighters from extinguishing the flames. The reason the building was allowed to burn is rooted in geopolitics. Following the end of WWII, the ruling and occupying Communists expected that the border between Poland and Germany would be established along the Oder-Neisse River. Situated as the hotel was on the west bank of the Oder River, the Communists fully expected that Ratibor would remain in German hands. The Communists had no interest in turning over to the Germans anything useable or salvageable.

Figure 5. A worker’s demonstration on Racibórz’s main square in the late 1940s-early 1950s with a view in the background of the still-standing Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel

One telling historical document dated March 1950 Paul found in the archives and shared with me was a letter written to local authorities setting out a “quota” of 5 million bricks the town was expected to provide for Warsaw for its reconstruction. (Figure 6) The Bruck’s Hotel built constructed as it was out of bricks was an obvious and plentiful source of this material, particularly since it was expected to remain part of Germany. Sadly, the hotel which could easily and would likely have been restored was instead dismantled.

Figure 6. A letter dated March 1950 from Racibórz’s city administration establishing a “quota” of 5 million bricks the city was expected to provide for the reconstruction of Warsaw

Given the reality that the hotel no longer exists, which could have been a fixture for a vibrant and historic downtown Racibórz, all that remains are scattered artifacts in my possession, specifically, some hotel silverware. As I am preparing to donate these heirlooms to the Muzeum w Racibórz in the coming months, I thought I would write a brief post about them and link them to the specific Bruck ancestors to whom I think they’re connected. Some of the markings on the silverware are monograms specific to the owners, others name the hotel. Hallmarks can be found on some pieces which are official stamps or marks that indicate the purity, manufacturer, and origin of the precious silver metal. They are too difficult to decipher, however.

My great-great-grandparents Samuel Bruck (1808-1863) (Figure 7) and his wife Charlotte Bruck, née Marle (1811-1861) (Figure 8) were the original family owners of the Prinz von Preußen. Arguably I have one piece of silverware that belonged to Samuel Bruck. It simply has the initial “S.” so may have been from his time. (Figure 9)

Figure 7. My great-great-grandfather Samuel Bruck (1808-1863), first owner of the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel

Figure 8. My great-great-grandmother Charlotte Bruck, née Marle (1811-1861), Samuel’s wife

Figure 9. Silver soup spoon bearing the letter “S,“ possibly Samuel Bruck’s monogram

Silverware from the next two generation of owners are more clearly identifiable. Fedor Bruck (1834-1892) (Figure 10) and his wife Friederike Bruck, née Mockrauer (1836-1924) (Figure 11) were the second-generation owners. Silverware from this generation is marked by “Fe. Bruck’s Hôtel” (Figure 12) or “F. Bruck’s Hôtel.” (Figure 13) And, finally, my grandparents Felix (1864-1927) (Figure 14) and Else Bruck, née Berliner (1873-1957) (Figure 15) owned the hotel following Fedor Bruck’s death in 1892. Their beautiful interwoven monogram, while intricate, is clearly identifiable by the initials “EFB,” Else & Felix Bruck. (Figure 16)

Figure 10. My great-grandfather Fedor Bruck (1834-1892), second-generation owner of the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel

Figure 11. My great-grandmother Friederike Bruck, née Mockrauer (1836-1924), Fedor’s wife

Figure 12. Silverware marked “Fe. Bruck’s Hôtel”

Figure 13. Silverware with the monogram “F. Bruck’s Hôtel”

Figure 14. Last generation family owner of the Bruck’s Hotel, my grandfather Felix Bruck (1864-1927)

Figure 15. My grandmother Else Bruck, née Berliner (1873-1957), Felix’s wife

Figure 16. The beautiful interwoven monogram “EFB,” my grandparents Else & Felix Bruck

Other silverware that cannot positively be connected to any specific generation is labeled simply as “Prinz von Preussen” (Figure 17), “Br. (for Bruck)” (Figure 18), or “Bankowsky Ratibor.” (Figure 19) Bankowsky, for which I can find no reference, is likely the local silversmith that produced the hotel’s silverware.

Figure 17. Bruck’s Hotel knife handle stamped “Prinz von Preussen”

Figure 18. Bruck’s Hotel spoon handle stamped “Br. (for Bruck)”

Figure 19. Bruck’s Hotel knife blade stamped “Bankowsky Ratibor,” likely local silverware manufacturer

The monogram on a set of forks I’ll be donating is particularly intriguing. (Figure 20) Thinking I had possibly misread the letters in the monogram on this silverware as “SUB,” possibly for Samuel Bruck, I asked my German friend Peter Hanke, the “Wizard of Wolfsburg,” to confirm or refute my interpretation.

Figure 20. Matching Bruck’s Hotel forks I’ll be donating to the Muzeum w Racibórz with a very intricate “Bruck’s Prinz von Preußen” monogram

According to Peter, the monogram has the letters “B,” “P,” “V,” and another “P,” which obviously stands for “Bruck’s Prinz von Preussen.” Even with Peter’s explanation, I had great difficulty visualizing the letters, so he highlighted them using his grandchildren’s colored pens.

Comparing the forks side-by-side, here is what readers should look for. The monogram is written in a script font called “Kunstler Script.” On Figure 20, readers can see the letter “v” (what really looks like a large “U”) which is marked in red. Then, in red AND blue, there are two “Ps,” the left one facing backwards and the right one facing forwards. Finally, in brown the letter “B” is evident.

The monogram on a large soup spoon of the same vintage appears to read “T.B.” I know of no Bruck ancestor with these initials. (Figure 21)

Figure 21. Large soup spoon possibly from the Bruck’s Hotel bearing the unidentified monogram “TB”

Another unique coffee spoon that I initially mistook as silverware from the Bruck’s Hotel reads “O.B.,” which clearly stands for my father Otto Bruck. (Figure 22) This is the only example of this style of spoon. My father came from a secular Jewish family, so may have been christened or baptized upon birth. I surmise my father was given this silver spoon on this occasion. The tradition of gifting silver, particularly spoons, dates back as early as the Middle Ages. Initially, silver was seen as an investment in the child’s future, a financial asset to help cover costs or contribute towards significant life events. Interestingly, the phrase “born with a silver spoon in your mouth” originates from this period, referencing those born into wealthy families who could afford silvery cutlery.

Figure 22. Silver spoon bearing the monogram “OB,” likely given to my father Otto Bruck upon his birth

In the Middle Ages, silver was believed to have protective properties against evil spirits. Its antibacterial qualities were also recognized, and it was thought that using silver utensils could reduce infections and promote better health, especially for babies.

POST 135: PICTORIAL ESSAY OF THE VON PREUßEN CASTLE IN KAMENZ, GERMANY [TODAY: KAMIENIEC ZĄBKOWICKI, POLAND]

Note: In this post I provide a short historical overview and visual sketch of Schloss Kamenz [Kamieniec Ząbkowicki Palace], the estate in Silesia where my third cousin’s father, Dr. Hans Vogel, worked for the von Preußen family during the Nazi Era. I also briefly touch on geopolitical factors that make it improbable the family will ever be able to reclaim the castle.

POST 133: “THE BUTCHER OF PRAGUE,” THE STORY BEHIND A UNIQUE PHOTO OF REINHARD HEYDRICH (PART I)

POST 133—THE BUTCHER OF PRAGUE, THE STORY BEHIND A UNIQUE PHOTO OF REINHARD HEYDRICH (PART II)

POST 134: SUSE VOGEL’S CHANCE ENCOUNTER WITH THE “BUTCHER OF PRAGUE’S” SON, HEIDER HEYDRICH

The von Preußen and Bruck families are not related in any but an “Adam and Evish” sort of way though both have affiliations with Silesia, now mostly located in Poland. The filament of a familial connection passes through my third cousin Agnes Stieda née Vogel whose father Dr. Hans Vogel (Figure 1) was employed by Friedrich Heinrich von Preußen (1874-1940) (Figure 2) and his second cousin Waldemar von Preußen (1889-1945) (Figure 3) following Friedrich’s death in 1940. While employed by the von Preußen family, Dr. Vogel was tasked with archiving the vast collection of art and historical treasures stored at the castle in Kamenz. (Figure 4) Not only did the family employ Hans, but they also provided a measure of protection for his Jewish wife Suse and mischling half-Jewish daughter Agnes during the Nazi Era. For this reason, to this day the family is held in high esteem by the Stiedas.

Figure 1. Dr. Hans Vogel in 1955 with the paintings he retrieved from Vienna, Austria that had been stored there for safekeeping during WWII

Figure 2. Friedrich Heinrich Prinz von Preußen (1874-1940) during the 1930’s

Figure 3. Waldemar von Preußen (1889-1945), Friedrich Heinrich Prinz von Preußen’s second cousin

Figure 4. Schloss Kamenz [Kamieniec Ząbkowicki Palace]

After a series of blog posts dealing with Reinhard Heydrich, one of the evilest characters in a Nazi panoply full of them, I need to step away from this emotionally draining subject to tackle a lighthearted topic. Ergo, this pictorial essay and a brief history on Schloss Kamenz [Kamieniec Ząbkowicki Palace] that Peter Albrecht von Preußen’s ancestors once owned in Kamenz, Germany [today: Kamieniec Ząbkowicki, Poland].

One side comment before I proceed. Peter Albrecht has been exceptionally gracious and helpful in tracking down and sending me an enormous amount of illustrative and research matter, related not only to his von Preußen ancestors but also to my Bruck family. For example, as it relates to my antecedents, Peter uncovered two wills archived in Opole, Poland that I ordered that may possibly be related to my great-great-grandfather, Samuel Bruck (1808-1863), the first-generation owner of the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel in Ratibor [today: Raciborz, Poland]. Though I’ve had them translated and interpreted by my fourth cousin, they are challenging in the extreme to make sense of because they are handwritten in Fraktur calligraphy and never give a precise date of birth of the testator, a man named Samuel Bruck but likely not my ancestor. That said, Peter has uncovered other materials that are definitively related to “my” Samuel Bruck, and, though somewhat dry, will form the basis of a future blog post as I discuss recent intriguing findings about him.

As I proceed to give readers a pictorial sketch of Schloss Kamenz [Kamieniec Ząbkowicki Palace], let me start by providing an historical overview of the castle. The first owner was Princess Marianne of the Netherlands (1810-1883) (Figure 5) who in 1838 commissioned the most prominent German architect of the time, Karl Friedrich Schinkel, to design the structure. Noted for his neo-Classical and neo-Gothic buildings, most famously found in and around Berlin, Schinkel created a monumental palace in the form of a medieval castle.

Figure 5. Princess Marianne of the Netherlands (1810-1883) the first owner of Schloss Kamenz who commissioned its construction in 1838 (Photo courtesy of Peter Albrecht von Preußen through the Koninklijk van Oranje-Nassau)

Princess Marianne married Peter Albrecht’s great-great-great-grandfather, Friedrich Heinrich Albrecht (FHA) von Preußen (1809-1872) (Figure 6) in 1830 (Figure 7), but by 1848 the couple were in the process of getting divorced, so construction on the castle was halted until 1853 and not completed until 1872, the year FHA died. The following year their eldest son, Friedrich Wilhelm Nicholas Albrecht (NA) von Preußen (1837-1906) (Figure 8), got married to Princess Marie of Saxe-Altenburg (1854-1898) (Figure 9), so Princess Marianne gifted them the castle. Upon NA’s death, the castle was inherited by the eldest son, Friedrich Heinrich (FH) von Preußen (1874-1940), the homosexual scion who has been mentioned multiple times in the previous three posts.

Figure 6. Friedrich Heinrich Albrecht von Preußen (1809-1872) in 1850 or 1852, Peter Albrecht’s great-great-great-grandfather

Figure 7. Lithograph of Princess Marianne of the Netherlands and Friedrich Heinrich Albrecht von Preußen’s 1830 wedding (Photo courtesy of Peter Albrecht von Preußen through the Koninklijk van Oranje-Nassau)

Figure 8. Friedrich Wilhelm Nicholas Albrecht von Preußen (1837-1906)

Figure 9. Nicholas Albrecht’s wife, Princess Marie of Saxe-Altenburg (1854-1898)

Aware that he was dying of stomach cancer and having no surviving siblings and no children of his own, FH sold castle Kamenz along with the nearby “castle” in Seitenberg [today: Stronie Śląskie, Poland] (Figure 10), and all its belongings to his second cousin, Waldemar von Preußen (1889-1945), nephew of Germany’s last Emperor, Kaiser Wilhelm II. (Figure 11) Upon FH’s death, Prince Waldemar transferred the cash to FH’s trust to be divided equally in five parts to FH’s nephew, Friedrich Karl Erich Albrecht (EA) von Preußen (1901-1976) (Figure 12), and four nieces, the daughters of FH’s youngest brother, Friedrich Wilhelm (FW) von Preußen (1880-1925). (Figure 13)

Figure 10. The former von Preußen castle in Seitenberg [today: Stronie Śląskie, Poland}, located approximately 20 miles north of Schloss Kamenz, that is today the city’s town hall

Figure 11. A rare and unique photograph showing Friedrich Heinrich’s second cousin, Prinz Waldemar von Preußen (second from the right), with family members including his uncle, the last German Emperor, Kaiser Wilhelm II (in the center) (photo courtesy of Peter Albrecht)

Figure 12. (v. 2) Peter Albrecht at Christmas 1975 as a toddler with his grandfather, Friedrich Karl Erich Albrecht von Preußen (1901-1976); Erich Albrecht was one of Friedrich Heinrich’s five heirs

Figure 13. Friedrich Heinrich’s younger brother, Friedrich Wilhelm (FW) von Preußen (1880-1925), with his wife and four daughters between 1916 and 1920; the four daughters were Friedrich Heinrich’s other four heirs

Prince Waldemar fled castle Kamenz as the Red Army was approaching in 1945, dying in Tutzing, Bavaria on May 2^nd, six days before the official end of World War II in Europe. Obviously, the castle was abandoned along with all the artworks and belongings. Relocated Poles looted the castle and Russians burned and pillaged it. According to Peter Albrecht, however, Polish citizens report that 14 to 17 railroad cargo trains worth of movables were taken by the Russians and shipped to an unknown destination. The marble used for exterior construction was salvaged to construct the Congress Hall at the Palace of Culture and Science in Warsaw.

Following Prince Waldemar’s death, rights to the castle that he obviously no longer had physical control over passed to his younger brother, Sigismund von Preußen (1896-1978) (Figure 14), then in turn to his son Alfred Friedrich Ernst Heinrich Conrad von Preußen (1924–2013), “Uncle Alfred” (Figure 15) as he is known to Peter Albrecht. Shortly before Prince Alfred’s death in 2013, he transferred all rights to the estate to Peter including the contents of the 14 to 17 railroad cargo trains, should they materialize.

Figure 14. Sigismund von Preußen (1896-1978), younger brother of Waldemar von Preußen (1889-1945)

Figure 15. Peter Albrecht’s “Uncle Alfred,” Alfred Friedrich Ernst Heinrich Conrad von Preußen (1924–2013), last heir of Schloss Kamenz

A brief word on an intriguing aside. Schloss Kamenz or Kamieniec Ząbkowicki Palace, as it is currently known, is situated within Poland. In a minor way, it figured into the negotiations leading to the eventual reunification of Germany in 1989. The “Treaty on the Final Settlement with Respect to Germany,” or the “Two Plus Four Agreement,” is the international agreement that allowed for the reunification of Germany in the 1990s. The reference to “Two Plus Four” means that the agreement was negotiated between the Federal Republic of Germany and the Germany Democratic Republic (GDR), along with the Four Powers which had occupied Germany at the end of World War II, namely, France, the Soviet Union, the United Kingdom, and the United States. This treaty replaced the Potsdam Agreement, and involved the Four Powers renouncing all rights they held in Germany, allowing Germany to become fully sovereign the following year.

As I discussed in Post 132, the “provisional border” between Poland and Germany following World War II was known as the Oder-Neisse line. This partition meant that most of Germany’s former eastern provinces, including East Prussia and most of Silesia as well as the eastern parts of Brandenburg and Pomerania, including Danzig, were awarded to Poland and the Soviet Union. (Figure 16) The German populations of these areas either fled, as in the case of Peter Albrecht’s ancestors, or were expelled. The GDR accepted the border in 1950, but the Federal Republic of Germany always demurred considering it as provisional, pending a finalized peace settlement. However, as a condition of the Final Settlement, East and West Germany agreed to the existing border with Poland, with the renunciation and exclusion of any other territorial claims, in other words Germany’s former eastern provinces.

Figure 16. Map of the Oder-Neisse Line and Germany’s postwar territorial losses

The biggest issue for the Soviet Union at the time the “Two Plus Four Agreement” was being negotiated was Germany’s former territory of East Prussia, which today includes the Kaliningrad Oblast, the westernmost part of Russia. The other indirect issue for the Soviets was Poland which was regarded as a satellite state in the Soviet sphere of influence but was never part of the Soviet Union. Because the Oder-Neisse line was ultimately upheld as the border between the reunified Germany and Poland, any possibility that Peter’s family could make clams on Schloss Kamenz was obviated.

This was true at least until Poland joined the European Union (EU) in 2004. Peter’s family could now potentially make a claim for return of the castle. However, because of the exorbitant cost for the reconstruction of the castle, estimated at well north of $300 million, they have not yet done so. To date, the EU has already provided the city of Kamieniec Ząbkowicki €750,000 (more than $800,000) to restore the mausoleum and €5 million ($5,362,000) to fix the roof and the small copper clad spires atop the four corner towers. If the Polish government were to return the castle, they would do so in “as is” condition and the family would be compelled to reimburse the EU for all the work done to date.

The possibility exists, nonetheless, that Peter could make a claim for any of the castle’s goods secreted in the Soviet Union should they ever resurface.

Much of the information on castle Kamenz presented below is derived from personal communication with Peter. While there are multiple features that are part of the castle or grace the gardens surrounding Schloss Kamenz, I will discuss only two, the boiler house and the mausoleum. As previously mentioned, Nicholas Albrecht received the castle from his mother in 1873 upon his marriage, and in 1883 he started to build a large steam boiler house. (Figure 17) The conversion from coal to steam heat took place at this time, although the castle still had no sanitary installations.

Figure 17. The steam boiler house as it looks today; one of the towers of the castle can be seen in the background through the trees

Princess Marie of Saxe-Altenburg, married to Nicholas Albrecht, passed away unexpectedly in 1898 at the age of 44. Peter thinks the mausoleum on the grounds of Schloss Kamenz was built soon after her death; the photo of the mausoleum dates to 1899. (Figure 18) By the time the castle was abandoned at the end of World War II (Figures 19), five members of the von Preußen family had been entombed. (Figure 20) These included Princess Marie, Nicholas Albrecht, and their three sons, Friedrich Heinrich (1874-1940), Joachim Albrecht (1876-1939) (Figure 21), and Friedrich Wilhelm (1880-1925).

Figure 18. 1899 postcard of the mausoleum on the grounds of Schloss Kamenz

Figure 19. Exterior view of the restored mausoleum

Figure 20. View of the original interior of the mausoleum

Figure 21. 1920 photo of Peter Albrecht’s great-grandfather, Joachim Albrecht von Preußen (1876-1939)

Upon the arrival of relocated Poles to the area of Schloss Kamenz the bodies in the mausoleum were disinterred and defiled, and reportedly hung from trees. (Figure 22) Before they could be set ablaze, however, some virtuous Polish citizen calmed the rioters and reburied the bodies, carefully marking their locations on a map. Before this concerned citizen died, he gave his map to the President of the local historical society, and in 2017, the City of Kamenz and the Catholic Church of Poland exhumed the graves and held a funeral service at the reconsecrated mausoleum. (Figures 23-24)

Figure 22. Post-WWII photo of destroyed mausoleum

Figure 23. Location of desecrated bodies from the mausoleum relocated in 2017 using ground-penetrating radar

Figure 24. Photos of the five members of the von Preussen family reburied in the reconsecrated mausoleum following its restoration

According to what Peter reports, the European Union has provided funding for the eventual restoration of Castle Kamenz to its full glory. To date only the mausoleum and part of the main hall of the castle proper have been renovated. (Figures 25-32)

Figure 25. Burned out shell of Schloss Kamenz

Figure 26. Contemporary aerial view of Schloss Kamenz

Figure 27. One of the four corner towers of Schloss Kamenz

Figure 28. Aerial view of the gutted cloistered courtyard

Figure 29. Main hall of Schloss Kamenz in former times

Figure 30. Main stairwell as it looks today

Figure 31. Inside a main hall as it looks today

Figure 32. Peter Albrecht’s great-grandfather Joachim Albrecht (1876-1939) (left) with an unidentified man in one of the castle’s upstairs living rooms

In closing, I understand if readers are overwhelmed by the von Preußen family tree. My personal interest is trying to understand how the Bruck’s Hotel in Ratibor [today: Racibórz. Poland] owned by three generations of my family, obtained a “franchise” to use the “Prinz von Preußen” surname. This entails nailing down exactly when the building that eventually became the Bruck’s Hotel was built, whether its construction preceded or coincided with my family’s acquisition of the establishment, and, if it preceded it, when exactly my family purchased it. I’m uncertain whether historic documents survive to answer these questions. And, finally, because of our collaboration, Peter (Figure 33) has now found some not-so-distant ancestors that hail from Ratibor, suggesting our families may have had business dealings long ago. So, while this post may be of limited interest to many readers, I am pursuing it to better understand my family’s deep-seated connection to Ratibor and Silesia.

Figure 33. Peter Albrecht as a teenager with his recently deceased father, Horst Albrecht von Preußen (1934-2023)

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

Note: In this post, I discuss the fate of the hotel my family owned for three generations in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland]. Largely intact following the cessation of hostilities after WWII, it appears to have been demolished for a combination of reasons, including geopolitical ones and the Soviet Union’s desire to remove historical traces of German connections to Silesia.

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

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

Regular readers know I periodically revisit topics or people I’ve talked about to amplify new findings. Since the process of learning rarely follows a linear path, one is often left to reevaluate previous findings or conclusions considering more recently uncovered evidence.

The family establishment in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz Von Preußen” Hotel, was owned for what I estimate are roughly three generations, from the early 1850s to around the mid-1920s. (Figures 1-2) A historic police file found at the “State Archives in Katowice Branch in Racibórz” indicates the business was sold in around 1926, and subsequently went through a series of owners. (Figure 3)

Figure 1. The Bruck’s “Prinz Von Preußen” Hotel formerly located at the corner of Oderstraße and Bollwerkstraße

Figure 2. The former entrance to the Bruck’s “Prinz Von Preußen” Hotel

Figure 3. The cover of the historic police file on the Bruck’s “Prinz Von Preußen” Hotel found at the “State Archives in Katowice Branch in Racibórz”

I thought I had previously laid to rest the issue of why the building does not stand today. It would be reasonable to assume the structure was destroyed during World War II, by Allied bombing of the city prior to its capture or in the waning days of the war when the Soviets encircled and seized the city. However, a post-WWII photo given to me by a curator at the Muzeum w Raciborzu proves the structure was largely intact possibly apart from the roof; the photo, while of high resolution, is taken at too great a distance to ascertain how badly the roof was damaged. (Figure 4)

Figure 4. Post-World War II photo taken from Racibórz’s Market Square looking east towards the largely intact Bruck’s “Prinz Von Preußen” Hotel

Realizing the Bruck’s “Prinz Von Preußen” Hotel, which oddly retained its name throughout its existence despite its Jewish origins, outlasted the cataclysmic events of WWII, I sought another explanation for why it might not have survived. This was provided, so I thought, by Mr. Paul Newerla (Figure 5), my friend from Racibórz, a retired lawyer who now researches and writes extensively about the history of Silesia and Ratibor. Paul sent me a copy of a letter he found in the Racibórz Archives dated the 27^th of March 1950 from the so-called Racibórz Municipal Board to the Municipal National Council in Racibórz (Figure 6); in essence, the letter states that damaged buildings in the town had been evaluated for their “historic character” and found lacking, so that parts of or all a structure could be dismantled to provide 5,000,000 bricks needed for the reconstruction of Warsaw.

Figure 5. Racibórz historian, Paul Newerla, and me in 2018 standing by the statue of John of Nepomuk currently located in middle of a parking lot

Figure 6. Letter dated the 27th of March 1950 retrieved from the State Archives in Racibórz by Paul Newerla establishing a quota of 5,000,000 bricks to be provided by the city for the post-WWII reconstruction of Warsaw

Indicative of the method used to clear burned and destroyed houses and buildings in Racibórz, Paul found another letter dated the 12^th of January 1948 sent from the Konservator of the Voivodeship, essentially the province, to the Technical Department of Racibórz’s Municipal Department. (Figure 7) The province was reminding the Municipal Board that the use of explosives to clear these damaged structures in the vicinity of historic edifices such as the Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Racibórz was prohibited. It is safe to assume that explosives were similarly used to take down the Bruck’s Hotel.

Figure 7. Letter dated the 12th of January 1948 from the Province’s Konservator to Racibórz’s Municipal Board telling them that the use of explosives to tear down damaged buildings near historic structures is prohibited

Why the city of Racibórz would have agreed to or recommended the dismantling of perfectly functional structures like the former family hotel probably requiring only minor reconstruction at a time when housing was likely in short supply seems to defy logic. Paul jumped to my assistance to explain broader geopolitical factors that apparently dictated why the former family establishment was torn down. I will attempt to explain this to readers.

The address for the Bruck’s “Prinz Von Preußen” Hotel was Oderstraße 16 (Figure 8); the hotel was located on an east-west street that terminated along the west bank of the Oder River [Polish: Odra]. (Figure 9) The historic walled city of Ratibor lay along the west side of the Oder River, as does much of the current central part of Racibórz. The location of the hotel along the west side of the Oder River is significant, as I will demonstrate. Spoiler alert. The destruction of the Bruck’s Hotel may be partially related to the anticipated location of the German-Polish frontier following the end of WWII.

Figure 8. View towards the west up Oderstraße with the Bruck’s “Prinz Von Preußen” Hotel on the right side

Figure 9. 1903 view of the Oderbrücke, the bridge crossing the Oder River, looking towards the east

The subject of Poland’s western frontier was brought up by the Soviet leader Joseph Stalin as early as late 1943 at the Tehrān Conference; this was a meeting between U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, and Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin held in Tehrān between November 28–December 1, 1943. The chief discussion centered on the opening of a “second front” in western Europe. Stalin agreed to an eastern offensive to coincide with the forthcoming Western Front. On the Polish question, the western Allies and the Soviet Union were at sharp odds. While the Americans were not interested in discussing any border changes during the Tehrān Conference, Roosevelt agreed in principle that Poland’s western border should be extended west to the Oder River.

At the Yalta Conference, during the second of the Big Three conferences between Roosevelt, Churchill, and Stalin held in February 1945, American and British officials agreed on the basics of Poland’s future borders. In the east, the British agreed to the Curzon line, the proposed demarcation line between the Second Polish Republic and the Soviet Union, two new states emerging after World War I; this line was first proposed in 1919. The British acknowledged that the Americans might push for Lwów, current-day Lviv in western Ukraine, to be included in post-war Poland. It was generally agreed that Poland should receive part of East Prussia, Danzig, the eastern part of Pomerania, and Upper Silesia; for reference Ratibor, present-day Racibórz, was in Upper Silesia.

In terms of this blog post, the following observation in Wikipedia is relevant: “With respect to Poland’s western frontiers, Stalin noted that the Polish Prime Minister in exile, Stanisław Mikołajczyk, had been pleased when Stalin had told him Poland would be granted Stettin/Szczecin and the German territories east of the Western Neisse [River]. Yalta was the first time the Soviets openly declared support for a German-Polish frontier on the Western as opposed to the Eastern Neisse. Churchill objected to the Western Neisse frontier, saying ‘it would be a pity to stuff the Polish goose so full of German food that it got indigestion.’ He added that many Germans would be shocked if such large numbers of Germans were driven out of these areas, to which Stalin responded that ‘many Germans’ had ‘already fled before the Red Army.’” The question of Poland’s western border was ultimately left to be decided at the Potsdam Conference.

Let me digress briefly to give readers a sense of geography regarding the whereabouts of the Western and Eastern Neisse Rivers in relationship to the location of Racibórz. The Neisse River, in Polish Nysa, is two rivers in present-day southwestern Poland. The better-known Nysa Łużycka, or Lusatian Neisse, is the more westerly and longer of the two rivers running 157 miles or 252 km; the Nysa Kłodzka, or Glatzer Leisse or Neisse of the city of Kłodzko (Glatz), is the shorter is 113 miles or 182 km and lies entirely within Poland. Both rivers rise in the Sudeten Mountains, flow northward, and empty into the Oder River. (Figure 10) Near the village of Ratzdorf, the Lusatian Neisse discharges into the Oder River.

Figure 10. Map showing the Western and Eastern Neisse Rivers, the Oder River, and the Bober River; Racibórz is located approximately midway between Opole (Oppeln) and Ostrava (Ostrau)

Görlitz, located on the more westerly Lusatian Neisse River, is the easternmost town in Germany (easternmost village is Zentendorf), and lies opposite the Polish town of Zgorzelec. Görlitz is slightly less than 200 miles west-northwest of Racibórz (Figure 11), while Kłodzko along the Eastern Neisse is only about 90 miles to the west-northwest of Racibórz. (Figure 12)

Figure 11. Map showing the distance between Racibórz, Poland, located on the Oder River, and Görlitz, Germany, located on the Western Neisse River (Nysa Łużycka or Lusatian Neisse)

Figure 12. Map showing the distance between Racibórz, Poland, located on the Oder River, and Kłodzko, located on the Eastern Neisse River (Nysa Kłodzka)

As readers can easily discern for themselves, the Soviet proposal to establish Poland’s western frontier along either the Western Neisse or Eastern Neisse would have resulted and did ultimately result in considerably more land being included within Poland. However, at the time of the Yalta Conference, the precise location of Poland’s western border was still an open question. The western Allies accepted in general that the Oder River into which both the eastern and western Neisse rivers emptied would be the western border of Poland in that area. Still in doubt at the time was whether the border would follow the eastern or western Neisse. The western Allies sought to place the border on the eastern Neisse closer to Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland]. Suggestions of a border on the Bóbr River (Bober) were also supposedly rejected by the Soviets.

At the latitude at which Racibórz is located, the eastern and western Neisse are situated much further to the west of the Oder River. In none of the materials I’ve read have I seen any mention that the Allies were seriously considering establishing the border between Germany and Poland along the Oder at this latitude; as mentioned above, the discussion always revolved around establishing the western frontier along the Neisse rivers or conceivably along the Bober River. (see Figure 10) While this may be true, as far as the local authorities in Racibórz may have been concerned, there may have been sufficient uncertainty as to where the final frontier would be established. Thus, to hedge their bets, the Communist authorities may have decided to dismantle the Bruck’s Hotel and salvage the bricks fearing it would remain on the German side of the border.

A recent citation sent to me by Paul Newerla sheds additional light on how the Bruck’s Hotel was destroyed. On page 69 of a book entitled in Polish “Od Joannitow Do Ratownikow–Czyli Dzieje Strazakow Ziemi Raciborskiej,” translated roughly as “From the Joanites to the rescuers or the history of firefighters of the Racibórz Land,” there is an eyewitness account by a former firefighter who worked for the fire brigade in Racibórz. (Figures 13a-c)

Figure 13a. Cover of the book “From the Joanites to the rescuers or the history of firefighters of the Racibórz Land,” with an eyewitness account by a former firefighter who worked for the fire brigade in Racibórz

Figure 13b. Polish account on page 69 by Racibórz firefighter of what happened to the Bruck’s Hotel when it caught fire after WWII

Figure 13c. Polish and German accounts by Racibórz firefighter of what happened to the Bruck’s Hotel when it caught fire after WWII

Below is the translation of what he wrote:

“One day (it was 1945, without further date) the fire brigade was alerted and ordered to the fire of the Hotel Bruck on the corner of Oderstraße and Bollwerkstraße (now Reymonta-Straße). The hotel was in unusually good condition after the war. When the firefighters appeared with their firefighting trailer in front of the burning hotel, they met Russian soldiers equipped with weapons. They refused to have the hotel deleted [sic]. The Polish administration was also powerless. So the beautiful hotel burned.”

It would appear, based on this account, that perhaps an evening of drunken debauchery by occupying Russian soldiers “accidentally” led to the Bruck’s Hotel being set on fire and to the establishment’s ultimate destruction; clearly, the soldiers had no interest in seeing the fire extinguished when the firefighters showed up. Depending on the intensity of the fire, it’s likely the bricks would still have been usable and likely salvaged.

Time and again through history, we have seen foreign invaders attempting to destroy traces of earlier history and culture in places they occupy, to rewrite the past, so to speak. The Nazis sought to eradicate Jewish culture. Currently, we are witnessing in the Ukraine Russians plundering museums in places like Kherson and Mariupol, because, above all, according to Putin’s propaganda, “Ukraine as a country doesn’t exist, it’s part of Russia—so they can grab anything they want.” Thus, like today, it’s probable the orders to wipe out evidence of earlier cultures in Racibórz following WWII were coming from someone high in the Kremlin, likely Stalin himself. Later, during the Communist Era, the headstones in the former Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor were removed and sold off because again, after all, Jews were never considered a part of the cultural fabric of the city.

In closing, let me make a few observations about the frontier between Germany and Poland, and the territorial losses that both suffered because of WWII. The Potsdam Agreement between the United States, the United Kingdom, and the Soviet Union concluded on the 2^nd of August 1945, in anticipation of a final peace treaty, placed the German territories east of the Oder-Neisse line under Polish administration. All Germans remaining in the old and new Poland, it was decided, should be expelled. The Oder-Neisse line marked the border between the former East Germany and Poland from 1950 to 1990. The then-two Communist governments agreed to the border in 1950, while then-West Germany, after a period of refusal, conceded with reservations in 1970. Notwithstanding West Germany’s misgivings about this frontier, with the reunification of Germany, they eventually agreed to it when the German-Polish Border Treaty was signed on the 14^th of November 1990.

Ultimately, Poland for its loss to the Soviet Union of 72,000 sq. miles (187,000 sq. km.) of lands east of the Curzon line was compensated with 43,000 sq. miles (112,000 sq. km.) of former German territory. The final borders resulted in Germany’s loss to Poland of most of Silesia, half of Pomerania, the eastern portion of Brandenburg, a small part of Saxony, and part of East Prussia. The northern part of East Prussia, including Königsberg [today: Kaliningrad, Russia], was annexed by the Soviet Union, while Memelland became part of the Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic, today Lithuania. (Figure 14)

Figure 14. Map of the Oder-Neisse Line and Germany’s postwar territorial losses

Thus, while we may wish to believe frontiers and borders are immutable, as we’ve seen in just the past nine years since Russia annexed the Crimean Peninsula, they are ever-changing and much more fluid than we would expect.

REFERENCES

Dafoe, Taylor. “Before Retreating from Kherson, Russian Troops Emptied One of Ukraine’s Top Museum of Nearly 15,000 Objects.” Artnet News, 14 Nov. 2022, https://news.artnet.com/art-world/russian-troops-loot-kherson-museum-2209777

Geanous, Jacob. “Russian art curators have reportedly helped loot dozens of Ukraine museums.” New York Post, 4 Feb. 2023, https://flipboard.com/article/russian-art-curators-have-reportedly-helped-loot-dozens-of-ukraine-museums/f-1f12bf14a5%2Fnypost.com

Grutchot, Katarzyna (ed.) “Od Joannitow Do Ratownikow—Czyli Dzieje Strazakow Ziemi Raciborskiej.” (“From the Joanites to the rescuers or the history of firefighters of the Racibórz Land”). Nowiny Publishing House.

“Neisse River.” Encylopaedia Britannica, https://www.britannica.com/place/Neisse-River-Europe

“Oder-Neisse line.” Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oder%E2%80%93Neisse_line

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

Note: This short postscript provides additional historic context about the events that ultimately led to the demolition of the Bruck’s “Prinz Von Preußen” Hotel in Ratibor, Germany, information obtained from Mr. Paul Newerla, retired lawyer and Racibórz historian.

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

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

Unlike Tiegenhof, in the former Free State of Danzig (today: Nowy Dwor Gdanski, Poland), where my father practiced dentistry between 1932 and 1937, where many elegant buildings from the German era still stand, in Ratibor (today: Racibórz, Poland), where my father was born, few of the classic German structures still exist in the city center. I touched on the reason for this in my original post, as well as in the first postscript.

Figure 1. In June 2018, my wife & me with Mr. Paul Newerla, historian in Racibórz, town where my father was born

As too often happens, when one is not a student of European history or when one relies too heavily on Wikipedia or other superficial Internet sources, the nuances of history are lost or distorted. Such is the case with the explanation of why the Bruck’s “Prinz Von Preußen” Hotel, owned by three generations of my family, was torn down after WWII. In the interest of setting the record straight and of adhering to my principle of being as historically accurate as possible, I’m adding another postscript. I owe clarification of the actual historic events to Racibórz historian, Mr. Paul Newerla (Figure 1), although I assume full responsibility for any mischaracterization or inaccuracy surrounding the exact circumstances that sealed the hotel’s fate.

Figure 2. Worker’s demonstration on Racibórz’s main square in the late 1940’s-early 1950’s showing the Bruck’s Hotel still standing with only the roof missing

Readers will recall a post-WWII picture of the Bruck’s Hotel included in the original post capturing at a distance a view of the still standing hotel. (Figure 2) To the untrained eye, it appears the hotel was largely intact, and could easily have been rebuilt. This was confirmed by Mr. Newerla, who observed that only the roof had been burned but that the walls and the vaults between the floors seemed to be in good condition, and that the building could have been restored. Mr. Newerla explained why this never occurred, which gets to the crux of why one sometimes needs to probe more deeply into the explanation of historic events.

Figure 3. 1949 map of Ratibor’s city center showing burned & damaged structures in red and destroyed buildings in yellow. Sixty to 80 percent of the city center is estimated to have been destroyed

Ratibor was “conquered” by the Soviets on March 31, 1945. Naturally, some sections of the city had been destroyed by air raids and street-by-street fighting in the final stages of WWII. Nonetheless, during April and even into May, following German capitulation, Soviet soldiers continued to routinely destroy parts of Ratibor, systematically burning houses. Mr. Newerla sent me a 1949 map of Ratibor’s city center, showing in red buildings that were burned or damaged, and in yellow structures that had been demolished. (Figure 3)

According to the findings of Polish authorities, Ratibor’s city center had been 80 percent destroyed, although Mr. Newerla estimates the actual percentage was closer to 60 percent. Following WWII, however, no construction work was carried out, and one building after another was torn down. The goal was to obtain bricks for the reconstruction of Warsaw. Even houses that had suffered only minimal damage that could have been rebuilt with limited financial resources were torn down. In the Racibórz Archives, Mr. Newerla discovered a letter dated 1950 from the city administration justifying their plan; in a section entitled “Demolition,” city administrators established a “quota” of 5,000,000 bricks Ratibor was expected to provide for the reconstruction of Warsaw. A poor reproduction of this letter written in Polish is included. (Figure 4) Mr. Newerla told me it took the city several years to amass this number of bricks.

Figure 4. Copy of 1950 letter found by Paul Newerla in the Racibórz Archive establishing a quota of 5,000,000 bricks the city was expected to provide for the reconstruction of Warsaw

The question of why Ratibor was expected to ante up 5,000,000 bricks, however, requires further examination.

Racibórz, administratively once part of Upper Silesia, Germany and now in the southwestern part of Poland, is located on the western banks of the Oder River. In the post-WWII period, Polish authorities were still not certain where the German-Polish border would be established. It was assumed the line would be set along the Oder River, so that Ratibor would remain a part of the “new” Germany. Operating under this assumption, the Poles probably felt it was their “due” to retrieve what they could from Germany, the country that had been largely responsible for widespread destruction throughout Poland during WWII. Ironically, though, the boundary with Germany in southwestern Poland was established not along the Oder River, but further to the west along the Neisse River (Oder-Neisse Line); Polish authorities never dreamed the border would be established this far west. Thus, towns in what became Poland were needlessly destroyed, idiomatically-speaking, a case of “cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face”; this included not only Ratibor, but also Oppeln (today: Opole, Poland), Breslau (today: Wrocław, Poland), etc. By contrast, Mr. Newerla explained that former German towns on the right bank or east of the Oder River, such as Gleiwitz (today: Gliwice, Poland), Beuthen (today: Bytom, Poland) Hindenburg (today: Zabrze, Poland), etc. that authorities knew would remain Polish, were never dismantled.

Figure 5. Historic postcard of Neumarkt, the square on which the Berliner Brauerei was once located, and where the statue of John of Nepomuk stood

Figure 6. Neumarkt as it appeared in 1946, with the statue of John of Nepomuk, in the foreground, and the burned-out Berliner Brauerei, in the background

The impact of the wholesale demolition of Ratibor’s city center in the early 1950’s is visible even today. Most of the city center is not built up, and there are green spaces or concrete squares where German buildings once stood. The systematic demolition of German-era buildings impacted yet another structure associated with my family’s connection to Ratibor, specifically the Berliner Brauerei, subject of Post 14. This brewery was located on Neumarkt, and in historic photographs and postcards of this square, one can see the monument to John of Nepomuk in the foreground. (Figures 5 & 6) Interestingly, this column still stands today, in the middle of a parking lot, while the family brewery is long gone. (Figures 7 & 8)