Note: In this post, I present photos of Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s nine children, my great-great-uncle and aunt’s offspring, showing them as young children, adolescents, young adults, middle aged, and elderly. Naturally, there are gaps in the photo sequences for some of the children.
I have often thought to myself that upon one’s birth, one is metaphorically handed an hourglass measuring the sands of time slowly or rapidly draining out. Regular readers may recall that in Post 89, I discussed my great-great-great-grandparents, Wilhelm Wolf Marle and his wife Rosalie (“Reisel”) Marle née Grätzer, whose headstones survive in the former Jewish Cemetery in Pless, Germany [today: Pszczyna, Poland]. (Figures 1-2) Given my musings about the passage of time, I was mildly surprised to see that an hourglass is carved into Rosalie Marle’s headstone signifying how quickly time passes. (Figure 2) Clearly, I can take no credit for the originality of this metaphor.
Josef Pauly (Figure 3) and Rosalie Pauly née Mockrauer (Figures 4-5), my great-great-uncle and aunt, had nine children all born in Posen, Germany [today: Poznan, Poland] between 1871 and 1885. (Figure 6) In perusing my digital collection of photographs, I realized I have photos of all of them capturing how they looked through the years. Not unexpectedly, there are gaps in the photo sequences for some of the children, which my third cousin, Andi Pauly, more closely aligned to this branch of my family, was partially able to fill. I think it is unusual to have a “continuous” sequence of photos for one’s relatives who were born in the 19th century and died in the 20th century, and for this reason I thought I would array these photos for readers to see. I certainly find it to be true that I can recognize photos of some of my ancestors from specific periods in their lives but not necessarily from other intervals in their lives; interestingly, I occasionally even find this to be true of photos of myself.
Below, readers will find a table with the vital statistics of Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s nine children. This is followed by the sequence of photos I have for each of them showing how differently they looked at various stages of their lives. The second-born child, Paula Pincus née Pauly, died youngest at age 49, while the last born, Therese Sandler née Pauly, was the longest lived at age 84. Three of the daughters, Helene Guttentag née Pauly, Elisabeth Herrnstadt née Pauly, and Margarethe Neisser née Pauly, died during the Holocaust, two by their own hands.
VITAL STATISTICS FOR JOSEF & ROSALIE PAULY’S CHILDREN
Note: This post is about the Kantorowicz branch of my family, many of whom originated in Posen, Prussia [today: Poznan, Poland], some of whom made their way to America or South America prior to WWII. It tiers off the previous post and delves into that part of the Kantorowicz family tree I reconstructed using photographs provided by Bettina Basanow née Meyer, discussed in Post 90, and her third cousin to whom she introduced me, Enid Sperber née Kent.
At the risk of immediately disengaging some readers by discussing a branch of my extended family that is of no interest to them, I encourage people to focus less on the specific individuals and more on the process by which I was able to reconstruct a part of the Kantorowicz family tree; these are steps fellow travelers may be able to replicate in researching their own families.
Let me provide some brief orientation. The Kantorowicz family, like the Pauly family I have often written about, both originated in Posen, Prussia [today: Poznan, Poland]. The patriarch of the Pauly family, Dr. Josef Pauly (1843-1916) (Figure 1) was married to Rosalie Mockrauer (1844-1927) (Figure 2), and together they had nine children, all of whom I have also written about. Josef Pauly’s sister was Rosalinde Pauly (1854-1916) (Figure 3), who was married to Max Kantorowicz (1843-1904). (Figure 4) I first came across Max and Rosalinde Kantorowicz in a group picture showing them attending the 1901 marriage of Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s daughter, Maria Pauly. (Figure 5) Using the Pauly Stammbaum, family tree, I was able to visualize connections between their families and my own, all of us related by marriage.
In Post 90, I told readers how my third cousin, Andi Pauly, gave a me copy of a letter his father Klaus had received in 1989 from Porto Alegre, Brazil from a Gertrud “Traute” Meyer née Milch (Figure 6), who was the granddaughter of Max Kantorowicz; attached to this letter were poor quality xerox photos of Max and his extended family. I also explained that through the auspices of my social media-savvy cousin, Danny Alejandro Sandler, I was eventually able to establish contact with Traute Meyer’s daughter, Bettina Basanow née Meyer (Figure 7), who has lived in Denver for the past 50 years.
Upon establishing contact with Bettina, I quickly asked her if she could send me higher quality examples of photos her mother had sent Klaus Pauly in 1989. Bettina graciously obliged and even included supplementary photos. One low resolution photo she sent shows five of Max Kantorowicz’s siblings, each identified by name. (Figure 8) While I made a mental note of the picture, I did not fully appreciate its significance at the time.
Fast forward. As I have mentioned on multiple occasions, I add people to my family tree primarily to orient myself to those I write about in my blog. As I was updating my tree and contemplating writing about the Kantorowicz branch, I checked both ancestry.com, and MyHeritage for Max’s siblings. Imagine my surprise when I came across a very high-resolution copy of the identical picture Bettina Basanow had sent of Max’s five siblings (Figure 9); unlike Bettina’s picture, however, the version on MyHeritage did not identify them by name. With a nice photo in hand and named relatives, I decided to add Max’s siblings to my tree. While I thought this would be the end of things, in fact it turned out to be merely the beginning.
I sent Bettina the better picture of Max Kantorowicz’s siblings, thinking she might be interested. At the same time, I also mentioned having once searched for descendants of Max Kantorowicz’s granddaughter, Vera Peters née Kantorowicz (1907-1994) (Figure 10), in California, to no avail. This prompted Bettina to suggest I contact a lifelong friend of hers, Enid Sperber née Kent, living in Los Angeles, who she thought might have had some contact with this branch of the family. Bettina explained that Enid was the daughter of William “Bill” Kent and Irene Tedrow, neither whose names resonated. In time, this would change, and I would make many more connections, and learn that Bettina and Enid are more than just friends, they are third cousins. But I am getting ahead of myself.
When Bettina suggested I contact Enid Sperber, she mentioned in passing that Enid had been an actress, her most famous role being as Nurse Bigelow in “M*A*S*H” (Figure 11) Her mother, Irene Tedrow, was also a well-known American character actress in stage, film, television, and radio. (Figure 12) Not being a “stargazer,” I merely made a mental note of this interesting fact while vaguely remembering there exists an ancestral program that allows interested genealogists to determine how many degrees of separation exist between them and people of fame. I am uncertain the specifics of how this program works, having never personally used it.
I was easily able to retrieve through a casual Google query a detailed history about the prominent Kantorowicz family from Posen and the liqueur factory established there in 1823 by a 17-year old Hartwig Kantorowicz. I downloaded and shared this history with Enid. Much has been written and can be found on the Kantorowicz family at this link, which it is not my intention to repeat here. What I was able to learn from the in-depth history, however, is that Hartwig Kantorowicz (1806-1871) who established the liqueur factory and his wife, Sophie Asch (1815-1863), supposedly had 13 children, 12 sons, only seven of whom survived. Based on what I have been able to learn, I think eight rather than seven survived into adulthood. More on this below.
Shortly after Enid and I began emailing, she sent pictures of paintings of Hartwig Kantorowicz’s parents, Joachim B. Kantorowicz (1783-1846) (Figure 13) and Rebecca Korach (1783-1873). (Figure 14) I considered myself exceptionally fortunate to obtain images of Jewish ancestors born in the late 18th Century. Given that their son Hartwig established a family business in Posen and was so prominent, surprisingly, I have so far been unable to find a photo of him. I even asked the Archiwum Państwowe w Poznaniu, The State Archives in Poznań, and they too have none.
Enid’s ancestral lineage was not entirely clear to me until she sent more pictures and provided more names. Like many other immigrants, the family’s name was Americanized upon their arrival here. Her father, born “Wilhelm Eduard Kantorowicz” (Figure 15) in Posen, changed his name to “William Edward Kent (1901-1974),” while her uncle, “Peter Curt Kantorowicz” (Figure 16), with his Hollywood good looks, was known as “Peter Curt Kent (1905-1969).” Enid also sent a picture of her grandfather, Hans Kantorowicz (1867-1934), with his two sons, Wilhelm and Peter. (Figure 17)
However, it was a picture Enid sent of her great-grandfather, Wilhelm Kantorowicz (1836-1894), with an unknown man named Siegfried (Figure 18), taken in 1860, that, in combination with a detailed family tree (Figure 19a) she provided, made it possible to ultimately work out her ancestry. It turns out, Siegfried and Wilhelm Kantorowicz were older brothers of the Max Kantorowicz previously discussed. I draw readers attention to the highlighted section of Figure 19a where their three names, along with the names of five other siblings shown in Figure 8 are all listed. (Figure 19b) From various sources, I now have pictures of all eight of Hartwig Kantorowicz and Sophie Asch’s children shown on the family tree.
The tree and pictures also allowed me to work out the ancestral connection between Enid and Bettina. Initially, Enid was under the impression that she and Bettina were not related to one another but had established a bond because both their families had escaped the Nazis. While, Bettina thought they were second cousins once removed. As the following schematic table shows, they are in fact third cousins.
Enid Sperber née Kent (b. 1945)
Bettina Bassanow née Meyer (b. 1940)
Father:
William Edward Kent (1901-1974)
(born Wilhelm Eduard Kantorowicz)
Mother:
Gertrud Meyer née Milch (1911-2010)
Grandfather:
Hans Kantorowicz (1867-1934)
Grandmother:
Else Milch née Kantorowicz (1875-1963)
Great-Grandfather:
Wilhelm Kantorowicz (1836-1894)
Great-Grandfather:
Max Kantorowicz (1843-1904)
Great-Great-Grandfather:
Hartwig Kantorowicz (1806-1871)
I am grateful for some intimate family photos Enid sent that she has given me permission to use, three of which I share with readers in this post. One is a heart-warming picture of Enid and her younger brother Roger Kent (1949-2018) as children standing with her parents in front of the paintings of Enid’s great-great-great-grandparents, Joachim B. Kantorowicz and Rebecca Korach. (Figure 20) And, the other two are throwbacks to a much simpler time that, as a former archaeologist, very much appeal to me. One shows Enid’s uncle Peter Curt Kent standing in front of his gas station, “‘Pete’ Kent,” in Cahuenga Pass (Figure 21a) and, the third, the gas station itself (Figure 21b), where the Hollywood Freeway now runs. In sharing this image, Enid noted that her Uncle Peter was never known to her or her brother as “Pete.”
Let me switch directions now. As previously mentioned, Hartwig Kantorowicz’s wife was Sophie Asch. In sharing her detailed family tree, Enid drew my attention to her great-great-grandmother’s links to a Sephardic Jew named Joseph Kalahora, purportedly born around 1495 in Kalahora, Spain. (Figure 22) A point of clarification. The narrow definition ethnically of a Sephardic Jew is a Jew descended from the Jews who lived in the Iberian Peninsula in the late 15th century, immediately prior to the issuance of the Alhambra Decree of 1492 by order of the Catholic Monarchs in Spain, and the decree of 1496 in Portugal by order of King Manuel I; as students of history know, these orders resulted in the expulsion of most Jews from the region in the late 15th Century.
Curious as to the possible linkage between Sephardic Jews and Eastern Europe, I did a Google query. I landed upon several articles discussing the origins of the Calahor(r)a (Kalahora) Family, including a post by Joel W. Davidi, an independent research historian and genealogist, writing in 2009 on his blog, “The Jewish History Channel (now known as Channeling Jewish History),” about this remarkable family in Poland. Below is a summary of what I learned.
The Calahora-Kalahora were a family of physicians, pharmacists, community leaders and Jewish scholars in Poland from the second half of the 16th Century until the 20th Century. The first known member of the family, Dr. Solomon Kalahora, was purportedly a pupil of the physician Brasavola in Ferrara, Italy, who settled in Kracow, Poland [also written as Kraków or Crakow] in the 16th century. Around 1570, he was appointed the court physician to the Polish King Sygmund August (1520-1572), an appointment that was continued by the subsequent King Stephen Bathory (1533-1586) in 1578. The Kalahora name would undergo many transformations, including Kolhari, Kolchor, Kolchory, Kalifari, Calaforra, Kalvari, Landsberg Posner, Zweigenbaul, Rabowsky, Olschwitz and Milsky. Though the Kalahoras came to Poland from Italy, the name reflects their Iberian roots, the Spanish town of Calahorra, where the family originated.
The patriarch Solomon Kalahora had six sons; one of them, Israel Solomon (1560-1640), the Rabbi of Lenchista, founded the Poznan branch of the family. One of Israel Samuel’s sons was Matityahu Calahora, who according to the contemporary Polish historian, Wespazjan Kochowski (1630-1700), was a “well-known physician with an extensive practice in Christian and even clerical circles.” Matityahu’s life came to a violent end when he became embroiled in a religious dispute with a Dominican friar named Havlin. The Russian-Jewish historian Simon Dubnow describes the event, gruesome in its details:
“The priest invited Calahora to a disputation in the cloister, but the Jew declined, promising to expound his views in writing. A few days later the priest found on his chair in the church a statement written in German and containing a violent arraignment of the cult of the Immaculate Virgin. It is not impossible that the statement was composed and placed in the church by an adherent of the ‘Reformation or the Arian heresy’ both of which were then the object of persecution in Poland. However, the Dominican decided that Calahora was the author, and brought the charge of blasphemy against him. The Court of the Royal Castle cross-examined the defendant under torture, without being able to obtain a confession. Witnesses testified that Calahora was not even able to write German. Being a native of Italy, he used the Italian language in his conversations with the Dominican. Despite all this evidence, the unfortunate Calahora was sentenced to be burned at the stake. The alarmed Jewish community raised a protest, and the case was accordingly transferred to the highest court in Piotrkov. The accused was sent in chains to Piotrkov, together with the plaintiff and the witnesses. But the arch-Catholic tribunal confirmed the verdict of the lower court, ordering that the sentence be executed in the following barbarous sequence: first the lips of the ” blasphemer ” to be cut off ; next his hand that had held the fateful statement to be burned; then the tongue, which had spoken against the Christian religion, to be excised; finally the body to be burned at the stake, and the ashes of the victim to be loaded into a cannon and discharged into the air. This cannibal ceremonial was faithfully carried out on December 13, 1663, on the marketplace of Piotrkov. For two centuries the Jews of Cracow followed the custom of reciting, on the fourteenth of Kislev, in the old synagogue of that city, a memorial prayer for the soul of the martyr Calahora.”
The grandson of Matiyahu’s brother Solomon was Aryeh Leib Kalifari (Figure 22); he was a preacher in Posen and the founder of the Landsberg and Posner families. After the son of a prominent citizen from a village near Posen was murdered around 1735, the Christian population there at once charged Jews with the crime, including Aryeh Leib. He became the second member of his family to be martyred when he was arrested and tortured by Catholic authorities during a blood libel. He died in prison after rebuffing an offer to spare his life if he converted.
While difficult to discern, the above names all appear in the family chart Enid Kent shared with me showing her great-great-great-grandmother’s ancestral links to the Sephardic Kalahora family. (Figure 22)
One final thing of note I came across. There exists a large mural painting by Julius Knorr (1810-1860) that is on permanent display today in Poznan’s Town Hall. Entitled “Marktplatz in Posen,” a section of this mural depicts a Rabbi Akiva Eger who is flanked on his left by Rabbi Yaakov Kalvari (originally Calahora), a member of his Rabbinic court and a descendant of the Calahora Sephardic family, The painting was done during the lifetime of Rabbi Akiva Eger and was first displayed in 1838. (Figure 23)
Davidi, Joel W. “Calahora, a remarkable Sephardic family in Poland.” The Jewish History Channel now known as Channeling Jewish History.15 January 2009. <https://ha-historion.blogspot.com/2009/01/>
Dubnow, Simon Markovich. History of the Jews in Russia and Poland. Pinnacle Press, 2017
Nawrocki, Stanisław. “History of Kantorowicz Family and their Factory.” Chronicle of the City of Poznan. No.4/ 1996
Note: In this brief post, I relate the story of tracking down with the help of a distant cousin the descendants of relatives who immigrated to Brazil in the leadup to WWII.
This story begins in 2016 when I first met my third cousin, Andreas “Andi” Pauly, in Munich. (Figure 1) By this time, I already had a hard copy of the Pauly family tree that his father, Klaus Pauly (Figure 2), had developed. Given the enormous amount of information recorded in this densely packed tree, it would be some time before I would work out and understand all the connections, and augment and make corrections to it.
Klaus Pauly developed the tree before email was widely available and before it was possible to create trees using online computer applications. For family members who had escaped the Holocaust and emigrated from Germany before WWII, Klaus was relegated to exchanging letters with faraway surviving relatives and waiting weeks for a reply. During our initial meeting in 2016, Andi Pauly brought along a letter his father had received in 1989 from a relative living in Porto Alegre, Brazil outlining her lineage and including poor quality xerox photos of her ancestors and descendants. It was only months later that I thought to ask Andi for a copy of the letter. I have my own tree on ancestry.com that I use primarily to visualize connections to people whom I write about in my Blog. When possible, I like to attach photos to people in my tree. Ergo, my request for a copy of the 1989 letter with the embedded photos.
With the correspondence, xerox photos, and family tree in hand, along with the copy of the envelope and mailing address showing where the letter had originated, I determined it had been sent by a woman named Gertrud “Traute” Meyer née Milch (1911-2010). (Figures 3-5) Using Klaus Pauly’s Stammbaum, family tree, I determined she was the granddaughter of Rosalinde Kantorowicz née Pauly, sister of Josef Pauly. Regular readers will recognize the Pauly family name as I have often written about them. Josef Pauly (1843-1916) (Figure 6), the patriarch and Andi’s great-grandfather, was married to Rosalie Pauly née Mockrauer (1844-1927) (Figure 7), and together they had nine children, eight of them daughters.
Because the Pauly and Meyer families had long ago lost contact, I was on my own trying to find Traute Meyer’s descendants. Initially, I sent a letter to the Meyer family at the Porto Alegre, Brazil address appearing on the 1989 letter hoping in vain the home might still be family-owned. After months of no reply, I turned to Facebook using my wife’s little-used account. I came across a few possible descendants but received no replies from any I tried to contact. Neither my wife or I are users of social media, so my efforts were half-hearted and eventually I desisted. My approach to doing forensic genealogy is to take the path of least resistance setting aside gnarly issues for another day in the hopes of ultimately obtaining more information. In earlier posts, I have mentioned to readers the difficulty in learning about Jewish families who relocated to South America since few records from there have been digitized.
Fast forward. In time, I would turn my attention to determining the fates and destinations of Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s nine children. The youngest of them, Therese “Tussy” Sandler née Pauly (1885-1969), was one of the last of their children whose destinies I was able to work out. (Figure 8) After traveling to Buenos Aires, Argentina in August 1937, then returning to Germany in November of that year, Tussy, her husband Ernst, and their two boys departed Germany for good in the nick of time in September 1938, settling in Buenos Aires. This is all I could learn from ancestry and MyHeritage, and Andi Pauly could add nothing to what might have happened to his great-aunt and her family following their arrival in South America.
When I launched my family history Blog in April 2017, I communicated a desire not only to relate tales of some of my Jewish ancestors who lived through interesting or noteworthy times, but also expressed the hope that relatives or descendants of the people I had written about might discover my Blog. In this latter regard, I have been rewarded on several occasions.
In April 2019, I had the good fortune of being contacted by Tussy Sandler’s grandson, Pedro Sandler (Figure 9), and great-grandson, Danny Alejandro Sandler (Figure 10), who had stumbled upon my Blog. Both now live in Florida, having immigrated there years ago. At first, my exchanges with Tussy’s descendants involved learning when and where their relatives lived and died and sharing what I have learned about their family and putting them in touch with Andi Pauly. The relationship quickly evolved into sharing family documents and photos (Figures 11-14) and enlisting my and Andi’s help with identifications. As an aside, of Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s nine children, only Therese Pauly’s descendants practice Judaism today.
Though Therese’s descendants originally hail from Argentina, one day I asked Pedro Sandler whether he knows anyone in the Jewish community in Brazil. Pedro had mentioned in passing that both his father and uncle had been very involved in Jewish life in Buenos Aires, so I was hoping he might know someone in the Jewish community in Brazil. My question was akin to encountering a visitor in a foreign land, telling them I come from San Diego, and having them ask me whether I know their friend from there. Clearly, there was no logic to my question. But as far-fetched as my query seems, Pedro in fact has a good friend living in Brazil whose wife’s parents knew Traute Meyer! The coincidence was remarkable.
Many months passed, then one day I asked Danny Sandler whether he or his father had ever managed to locate any of Traute Meyer’s offspring, and he told me that he had. I was surprised. Soon thereafter, Danny put me in touch with Bettina Basanow née Meyer (Figure 15), one of Traute Meyer’s four children. (Figure 16) While I had spent my time looking for her family in Brazil, Bettina has lived in the Denver area for more than 50 years, although her three siblings stayed in Brazil. (Figures 17-18) It should be noted that, unlike myself, Danny is active on social media so tracking down Bettina was relatively straight-forward.
I quickly got in touch with Bettina, and we have established a warm rapport. Regular readers know that finding distant relatives brings me pleasure not only for the stories they tell but also for old family photographs they send. Bettina shared some interesting family anecdotes and copies of some of the same pictures her mother had sent Klaus Pauly in 1989, completing a circle so to speak, but also sent new images as well. (Figures 19-20)
In the ensuing post, I will tell readers the story of Bettina’s third cousin to whom she introduced me and to whom I’m also distantly related. Bettina’s cousin also generously shared family photos and pictures of paintings of distant ancestors. This has led to expanding my family tree in most interesting ways, as readers will learn.
In closing I would say that while telling the tale of finding Traute Meyer’s descendants appears rather linear, I would never have located them without numerous intermediate steps and the help of a younger cousin better versed in social media.
Note: This post is inspired by a Polish gentleman who sent me “colorized” photos of members of the Pauly branch of my extended family using an image I included in Post 45.
Given the emotionally taxing subject matter of some of my family history posts, occasionally I like to intersperse stories that are more whimsical or lighthearted in nature. The current post is one such example. It was inspired by a Mr. Marek Bieńkowski from Włocławek, Poland. This gentleman is not subscribed to my Blog, nor, to the best of my knowledge, are we in any way related. Taking a photo inserted in Post 45 showing multiple members of the Pauly branch of my family, Mr. Bieńkowski “colorized” images of 19 of the 31 people in this picture. I estimate the picture was taken in the early 1890’s in Posen, Prussia [Poznan, Poland], and, to date, I’ve been able to identify 23 of the 31 subjects using an incomplete caption on the back of the photo and comparing the individual images to others where the people are identified by name. The original photo with the heads of the figures circled and numbered is included here (Figure 1), and the table below summarizes the vital data of the known people.
** Numbers in the left-hand column correspond with the numbered, circled heads in Figure 1. Names in red refer to people whose images have been colorized.
Mr. Bieńkowski seemingly used the automated feature of an image-editing program to smooth and sharpen the individual photos. All subjects have blue eyes but given that only 8 to 10 percent of the world’s population have eyes this color, clearly this is unrealistic. Some of the colorized images are remarkably real and look like their originals, others are eerie since the proportions are imprecise and imbue the subjects with a wax-museum quality.
As mentioned, based on the estimated age of the younger subjects and their known dates of birth, I gauge the original picture was taken in the early 1890’s. While color photography is almost as old as black-and-white, the process did not become widely available until much later, certainly after the Lippmann color process was unveiled in 1891. The only color photo I have of any of the subjects is of my great-aunt Charlotte Mockrauer née Bruck when she turned 100 in 1965 and her eyes appear to be brown. (Figure 21) Additionally, I have color paintings of two of the 31 subjects in the original photograph, specifically, Julie Neisser née Sabersky (Figure 22) and Wilhelm Pauly (Figure 23). In these paintings, Julie Sabersky clearly has brown eyes, and a much older Wilhelm Pauly has blue eyes.
Regular readers know how I like making connections between seemingly unrelated things. In the previous post, Post 86, Suse Vogel née Neisser’s 1947 letter describing the last days of her father and aunt’s lives in October 1942 in Berlin was sent to her first cousin, Liselotte Dieckmann née Neisser in St. Louis. (Figure 24) Liselotte was an extremely accomplished woman and a Professor of German at St. Louis University. She wrote a short biography in English of her life, which I obtained a copy of from Nicki Stieda, Suse’s Vogel’s granddaughter. On the opening page, Liselotte discussed her grandmother without naming her. Being familiar with the Neisser family tree, I quickly ascertained she was discussing Julie Neisser née Sabersky, who is seated alongside one of her sons, Ernst Neisser, in Figure 1. Liselotte’s description of her grandmother, quoted below, comports with my preconceived notion of the strong matriarch I imagine she was:
“My Father Max Neisser, born in 1869, professor of bacteriology at the University of Frankfurt, came from Silesia which was then a Prussian province and is now part of Poland. By the time I was born in 1902, his mother [editor’s note: Julie Neisser née Sabersky], widowed for many years, lived with her brother [editor’s note: Heinrich Sabersky] whom she had well-tamed in Berlin where we visited her often. She was a fine lady, with beautiful blue eyes, who sat straight as a ruler at the edge of her chair. She was a woman of great vitality—no doubt, almost to her end in 1926, the ruling member of her family. My cousins and I owe to her a sense of family closeness rarely found among cousins. Her sons and one daughter had eight children together, with whom I am still in close touch, insofar as they are still alive.”
Julie’s regal bearing caught my attention well before I knew who she was. Interestingly, Julie’s brother, Heinrich Sabersky, mentioned in the paragraph above who is also in the group picture, similarly caught my attention because of his warm demeanor. Among my third cousin Agnes Stieda née Vogel’s personal photographs is a different one with Julie and Heinrich Sabersky seated amidst a group of ten people; this photo includes three Pauly sisters, Margarethe, Helene and Edith, all three of whom are in the larger group picture that is the subject of this post, two of whose photos are also colorized. (Figures 25-26)
To my mind, the major take away of receiving the unsolicited colorized images of people from 130 years ago is that it personalizes them and makes them seem less abstract. This comports with one of the goals of my Blog to make my ancestors come to life in a tangible way, while conceding it may not be entirely realistic.
Note: In this post, I discuss what I’ve been unable to discover about the fate of Therese “Thussy” Sandler née Pauly, the youngest of my great-great-uncle and aunt Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s children, and how I came upon this information.
In recent posts, I’ve systematically presented what I’ve been able to learn about my great-great-uncle and aunt Dr. Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s nine children, siblings who would effectively be my first cousins twice-removed. The destiny of the last of Dr. Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s children, Therese Charlotte Thusnelda “Thussy” Pauly (Figures 1a-d), would likely have remained shrouded in mystery if not for an email I received through my Blog in April 2019, from Therese’s grandson and great-grandson, Pedro Sandler (Figure 2) and Daniel Alejandro Sandler. This contact opened a portal to uncovering some new and somewhat surprising information.
Andi Pauly, one of Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s great-grandchildren, has been, as I’ve explained in recent posts, the source of much of the information and visual images I’ve obtained on his grandfather Wilhelm “Willy” Pauly and his eight sisters. In many instances, I’ve been able to supplement what Andi’s provided by accessing historic documents and data on ancestry.com; the Yad Vashem Victims’ database; and residential registration cards for Posen, Germany [today: Poznan, Poland], the town where Josef and Rosalie Pauly lived and where all nine of their children were born. Naturally, this is where I began my investigation into Therese Pauly.
In ancestry.com, I discovered a passenger manifest listing Therese’s name and that of her husband, Ernst Sandler, showing that on the 21st of August 1937, they travelled from London on a ship bound for Buenos Aires, Argentina. (Figure 3) Another passenger manifest shows them returning from Argentina bound for London on the 18th of November 1937 (Figure 4), thus, slightly less than three months later. Given the increasingly restrictive environment German Jews were confronted by on account of the Nuremburg Laws, I was surprised they returned to Europe. Initially, I thought they might have stayed in England, but I found Ernst Sandler, a retired judge, listed almost continuously from 1919 through 1937 in Berlin Address books (Figure 5), suggesting they had in fact returned to Berlin.
I found a third passenger manifest for Ernst and Therese Sandler, dated the 24th of September 1938, again departing London by ship bound for Buenos Aires, Argentina (Figure 6), presumably for good this time. This indicated the Sandlers had survived the Holocaust, and a quick check of Yad Vashem, confirmed they indeed were not listed as victims. The discovery of this 1938 passenger manifest is where the trail of the Sandlers ran cold.
I’ve explained in earlier posts I’ve had little success in unearthing ancestral documents for Jews who wound up in South America. As I’ve discovered for some European countries with a history of fascism, this is a function of present-day privacy concerns, though the paucity of ancestral records from South America may also reflect the likelihood this information has not yet been digitized.
The last place I was able to find “hard” evidence related to Ernst and Therese Sandler prior to being contacted by their descendants, Pedro and Daniel Sandler, was in the on-line Posen “Einwohnermeldekarte,” residential registration cards, or “Einwohnermeldezettel,” residential registration forms. To remind readers about these resident cards, in Post 45 I explained that each city historically kept track of their citizens using these forms. With recent changes in European laws, these police records must be digitized for individuals born at least 120 years ago and made available at no cost to all comers. Poznan, Poland, where Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s children were born, happens to be one of the jurisdictions where these police registration records have been automated and are available on-line.
Among the information found on the Einwohnermeldekarte for the Pauly children are their dates of birth; the names, dates and places of birth of their spouses; and the dates and places where they were married. In the previous Post 57 dealing with the sixth-born child of Josef and Rosalie Pauly, Maria Pohlmann née Pauly, I explained to readers it was on her residential registration card where I discovered she was married to Alexander Pohlmann on the 30th of September 1901. Similarly, the registration form revealed that Therese Pauly was married to Ernst Sandler on the 31st of August 1912 (Figure 7), in a place I could not initially read but later learned was Tremessen, located in the former German province of Posen and today known as Trzemeszno, Poland. Thus, the city registration forms are a tremendous source of data on vital statistics if they are available to readers for towns where their European relatives may once have lived.
My knowledge of Ernst and Therese Sandler’s fates might well have ended here had her great-grandson Daniel Alejandro Sandler not stumbled upon my Blog while doing research on multiple branches of his family tree and reached out to me in April 2019. In one of my posts, Danny found the same picture of his great-great-grandfather Dr. Josef Pauly that his father Pedro has a copy of. Danny and Pedro told me the family left Argentina in 1999 and relocated to Florida, although Pedro’s brother Enrique “Tito” Miguel moved to Israel in 1970.
It came as a surprise to learn that Ernst and Therese Sandler were practicing Jews. Regular readers may recall that in Post 56 I discussed Dr. Josef Pauly’s recollections of his life as he recorded them in 1894 on his 25th wedding anniversary. While open to interpretation, Josef’s memoirs seem to indicate he was a practicing Protestant though he may have been raised Jewish and converted at some point; direct evidence of Jewish conversions is extremely hard to come by as I explained in Post 38 with regard to my own father. There’s nothing in the memoir to indicate Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s household was Jewish, nor that any of their children practiced Jewish traditions. Nonetheless, as discussed in earlier posts, Josef and Rosalie’s descendants were considered “racially Jewish” in the eyes of the Nazis and many were thus murdered in the Holocaust. And, the fact remains that Therese and her husband were devout Jews who were forced to flee Germany in the 1930’s.
Armed with new names and dates following my discussions with Danny and Pedro Sandler, I returned to ancestry.com to track down a few more ancestral documents related to Therese’s descendants. (Figure 8) In recent weeks I’ve also updated my family tree, as well as obtained some vital statistics about the Sandler family and clarified some facts for this current Blog post.
According to Pedro Sandler, Ernst and Therese Sandler’s two sons, Alfred and Heinz Sandler quit Berlin in 1933 and 1934, respectively, in favor of Holland. By 1937, the sons were in Argentina where, as previously mentioned, passenger manifests show their parents spent three months between August and November before returning to Germany; by then, the situation in Germany had so dramatically deteriorated for Jews, they decided to leave for good.
Pedro sent me a copy of his grandmother’s Reisepass, essentially a German travel passport, issued on the 29th of August 1938 in Berlin (Figures 9a-b), indicating that Ernst and Therese Sandler were still in Berlin at the time. Again, as previously mentioned, a passenger manifest I discovered in ancestry.com confirms that Ernst and Therese Sandler departed London for Argentina less than a month later the 24th of September 1938. Their departure came none too soon, as Kristallnacht or the Night of Broken Glass, the Nazi pogrom against Jews, took place on the 9th and 10th of November 1938.
I notice one interesting thing on Therese Sandler’s Reisepass. According to historical information found on the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum’s website, the Nazis’ Reich Ministry of the Interior invalidated all German passports held by Jews on October 5, 1938. Jews were required to surrender their old passports, which became valid again only after the letter “J” (for Jude or Jew) had been stamped on them. Readers will notice that on the cover of Therese’s passport, in the upper left-hand corner, is handwritten the red letter “J” with the date of 9th of January 1939. (Figure 9a) Presumably, this change in policy with respect to the invalidation and reissuance of passports to Jews with a stamped “J” was already anticipated at the time that Therese’s passport was issued in late August. The Sandlers escape from Germany came in the nick of time.
Pedro and Daniel Sandler shared one group picture of Ernst and Therese Sandler, taken in Germany, likely in the 1910’s. (Figures 10a-c) They also sent a photo montage that had once included individual pictures of all nine of Josef and Rosalie’s Pauly’s children as adolescents (Figure 11a-b); the images of Therese’s oldest sisters Anna and Paula have been lost.
In updating my family tree, I asked Pedro for the dates and location of his grandparents’ deaths, which he graciously provided. Ernst Sandler passed away in Buenos Aires on the 20th of October 1945, while Therese died on the 25th of November 1969. Pedro mentioned in passing they are buried in the Jewish cemetery in Buenos Aires called “Cementerio Israelita de la Tablada.” Thinking I might find a photo of their headstone online, I Googled the cemetery’s website; while I was unsuccessful finding such a photo, I stumbled upon a database of names listing people interred in the various cemeteries across Argentina (Figures 12a-b), often including birth and death dates. As regular readers know, I frequently bemoan the lack of ancestral data available for South American countries, so it came as a pleasant surprise to come across this index specifically for Argentina, a frequent destination for Jews escaping Nazi Germany. With respect to the Sandlers interred in Argentina that Pedro had told me about, I was able to locate five of his relatives, including Ernst and Therese Sandler. (Figures 13a-b) A brief footnote. In Argentina, unlike many other South American and Spanish-speaking countries, individuals are given only one surname, that of their father.
This post concludes my detailed examination of Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s nine children, although I likely will return to this branch of the family if or when I uncover more information about them.
REMARK: My apologies to readers who may have thought I too disappeared. I’ve spent the last few weeks updating my family tree on ancestry.com to better visualize my connection to people I’ve researched and written about. My tree is by no means comprehensive in terms of all the relatives I could conceivably include. The greatest pleasure I derive in having a tree, which numbers a modest 750 individuals, is attaching pictures or portraits of family, although it’s also a place where I can consolidate for easy retrieval all historic documents, information, stories and photographs related to those kinsmen. The tree also provides a visual cue on which branches of the family I’ve explored and where other intriguing stories may emanate from.
Note: This brief post is about Maria Pohlmann née Pauly, my great-great uncle and aunt Dr. Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s sixth-born daughter, and my frustration in being able to discover her fate even though she was married to a very public figure.
Regular readers are now reasonably well-versed in the fact that my great-great-uncle and aunt, Dr. Josef Pauly (Figure 1) and his wife Rosalie Pauly née Mockrauer (Figure 2), had nine children born between 1870 and 1885, eight of whom were daughters. I’ve systematically told their stories, sometimes in their own words, including relating the sad fate that befell some daughters, husbands and grandchildren at the hands of the National Socialists on account of their Jewish heritage. I’ve stressed the irony of this given that the paterfamilias Dr. Josef Pauly was brought up as a Protestant. Still, as students of history know only too well, Dr. Pauly’s surviving family members were deemed “racially Jewish” and targeted for extermination by the Nazis.
With the grateful assistance of one of Dr. Pauly’s great-grandchildren, the oft-mentioned Andi Pauly (Figure 3), I’ve worked out the fate of eight of Josef’s children. The only daughter whose destiny remains unknown is that of his sixth-born daughter, Maria Ulrike Pauly, born in 1877. (Figure 4) In this post I will share with readers the little I’ve been able to uncover about her, although most of what I’ve learned relates to her husband, Alexander “Axel” Pohlmann, a very public figure. As followers will read in the next post regarding Josef and Rosalie’s youngest daughter, Therese “Tussy” Pauly, I hope publication of this current post may provoke a response from a casual visitor that may shed light on Maria’s fate.
Among the family photos given to me by Andi Pauly are several of his great-aunt Maria where I judge she was between 17 and 24 years of age, pictured either at a large family gathering (Figure 5) or in the company of her parents and some of her siblings (Figures 6-7); from another source, I obtained the picture of Maria as a young girl. (Figure 4) Included among the pictures of Maria is one with her husband Alexander Pohlmann taken at their marriage, surrounded by the entire wedding party (Figure 8a-c); the marriage is incorrectly identified as having taken place in 1902, although I determined from the “Posen Einwohnermeldekarte,” Posen residential registration cards, they were actually wed on the 30th September 1901. (Figure 9) Along the margins of the wedding picture, many attendees were identified by name by Klaus Pauly, Andi Pauly’s father. The identifications, I later discovered, were provided by one of Maria Pohlmann née Pauly’s nieces, Susanne Vogel née Neisser. Given my intimate familiarity with the Pauly family tree, I was able to identify additional people by cross-referencing other photos given to me by Andi where some of the same people had been named.
In contrast to all of Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s other children, Andi was unable to provide any insights on what happened to his great-aunt Maria nor where she might have wound up. I was unable to discover a single reference to her on ancestry.com. I also checked the Yad Vashem Victims Database but, fortunately, there is no suggestion she was murdered in the Holocaust, unlike other members of her family.
Having failed to uncover direct evidence of Maria’s fate, I researched her husband. I knew his name from their wedding picture, as well as from information provided by Andi. I found German Address Book listings for Alexander Pohlmann when he lived both in Magdeburg (Figure 10) and Freiburg im Breisgau (Figure 11), and what I initially thought were listings for him in Berlin, but later discovered were a false trail. I did a Google query, and nothing materialized. In such instances, I often turn to Wikipedia.de, the German version, since many of the people I’m researching are of German origin. Information on Maria’s husband immediately surfaced.
Alexander Pohlmann, I learned had been a very public figure. He was born on the 10th September 1865 in the town of Graudenz, Prussia [today: Grudziądz, Poland], son of the Lord Mayor of that town. After graduating from school in Freiburg in Breisgau, he studied law and administrative sciences in Breslau, Leipzig, and Berlin. From 1896 until 1898 he worked in the city administration of Frankfurt on the Main, and then until 1903 as a full-time city councilman in Posen [today: Poznan, Poland], where he likely met Maria Pauly. Between 1903 and 1920, Alexander Pohlmann was the Oberbürgermeister, the Lord Mayor of Kattowitz, Prussia [today: Katowice, Poland], thus beginning shortly after his marriage to Maria in 1901.
From 1904 until about 1912, Pohlmann was a member of the Oberschlesischen Provinziallandtages, the Upper Silesian Provincial Assembly, then between 1912 and 1918, belonged to the Preußischen Abgeordnetenhaus, the Prussian Chamber of Deputies.
In November 1918, Alexander Pohlmann participated in the founding of the Deutsche Demokratische Partei (DDP) (Figures 12-13), the German Democratic Party, along with former leaders of the Progressive People’s Party to whom he’d belonged. The DDP was committed to maintaining a democratic republican form of government. Its base consisted of middle-class entrepreneurs, civil servants, teachers, scientists and craftsmen. It considered itself a decidedly nationalistic party that opposed the Treaty of Versailles, yet, understood the need for international collaboration and protection of ethnic minorities. The party was the one voted for by most Jews, and was, therefore, referred to as the “party of Jews and professors.”
In 1919-20, Pohlmann was a member of the Weimarer Nationalversammlung, the Weimar National Assembly, and from 1920 to 1922, a member of the Reichstagsabgeordneter, the Reichstag. After Upper Silesia was separated from Germany, Pohlmann lost his position in the Reichstag. Following his tenure as Lord Mayor of Kattowitz, until his retirement in 1930, Pohlmann was the Regierungspräsident des Regierungsbezirks Magdeburg, the President of the Government of Magdeburg in the German state of Saxony. Pohlmann passed away in 1952 in Freiburg im Breisgau (German state of Baden-Württemberg).
The only point in detailing Alexander Pohlmann’s governmental positions is to highlight the lengthy and very public nature of his career. For this reason, it seems odd no trace of his wife’s fate has so far come to light. Hoping to learn something about Maria via her husband, I contacted the Muzeum Historii Katowic, the Museum of History of Katowice, to inquire about her but the Museum could add nothing to what I already know. I await responses from both the State Archives in Katowice (Poland) and the State Archive Magdeburg (Germany) regarding any additional information they may have on Alexander Pohlmann, respectively his wife. Watch this space for future updates.
Note: In this post, I present some of my great-great-uncle Dr. Josef Pauly’s observations on his life and family. I also discuss the challenges of relating an ancestor’s story even when their written words are available.
Some years ago, my third cousin Andi Pauly sent me a 17-page memoir by Dr. Josef Pauly (Figure 1), his great-grandfather, written by his ancestor on his 25th wedding anniversary, the 8th of June 1894. Dr. Pauly’s reflections were neatly handwritten in German Kurrent (Figures 2a-b), an old form of German-language handwriting based on late medieval cursive writing, also known as Kurrentschrift. Given the fact that many modern-day Germans can’t even read this old script, I had scant hope I would learn what Dr. Pauly had to say about his life and family.
Still, as regular readers know, I’ve learned never to say “never” as, occasionally, an unexpected opportunity presents itself to further my ancestral research. In previous posts, I’ve mentioned Mr. Paul Newerla, my elderly Polish friend from Racibórz, Poland, the town where my father was born when Upper Silesia was still German (Figure 3); Paul first contacted me through my Blog and has been enormously generous in sharing documents, maps, and photographs and educating me about the history of Silesia, a topic on which he’s an expert. Knowing Paul is fluent in German, I became curious whether Dr. Pauly’s handwriting was even legible, so I sent him the first two pages of the document asking whether he could decipher them. Paul returned a German transcription of these pages, telling me the text was quite readable but was deeply philosophical and not easily translated (Paul does not speak English). With great hesitancy, I asked Paul whether he’d be willing to transcribe the entire 17 pages of Dr. Pauly’s memoirs, and he graciously agreed to do this. I will readily admit to readers that, at times, I’m unabashedly shameless when it comes to requesting help with transcriptions or translations. The result was a neatly typed German transcription. Notwithstanding Paul’s admonition that the memoirs were profound, I naively assumed I could get the gist of them using Google Translate; suffice it to say, this was not the case.
Realizing I was part way to understanding what Dr. Pauly had written, I next brazenly approached my distant cousin, Ronny Bruck (Figure 4), asking whether he could translate the typed transcription into English. Much to his regret, he agreed to my request and some weeks later, after many late evenings and much agonizing, Ronny produced the translation I present below, promising never again to undertake such a difficult translation.
It goes without saying that without Paul and Ronny’s gracious and generous assistance, this post would not be possible. I was interested in a translation of Dr. Pauly’s memoirs for what he might have to say about his family. While the memoir told me told me less about Dr. Pauly’s kin than I’d hoped, it revealed a lot about his personal character and human values he esteemed.
I’ve tightened up the English reading of my cousin Ronny’s translation; my friend Paul’s transcription is included here for any German readers who wish to determine whether I’ve done justice to Dr. Pauly’s original remarks. I’ve taken some liberties conveying what Dr. Pauly may have been trying to communicate; I acknowledge I may have misinterpreted the meaning of certain colloquialisms.
Given my familiarity with Dr. Pauly’s lineage, I was not only able to identify all the family members he mentioned by name, but I was also able to find pictures or portraits of all of them. Dr. Pauly’s words are included in their entirety below in Italics, with some capitalized identifications in brackets. There are a few breaks in the italicized text where I provide some brief commentary, although for the most part Dr. Pauly’s words speak for themselves.
On Dr. Josef Pauly’s 25th wedding anniversary on 8th June 1894, he delivered prepared remarks to his gathered friends and family. In 1916, one of his daughters, Helene Guttentag née Pauly (Figure 5), resurrected his comments from 22 years earlier for the first Christmas family gathering following Josef Pauly’s death the previous month.
Memories of our father Dr. Josef Pauly Born: 10th August 1843 in Tost, Germany [today: Toszek, Poland] Died: 7th November 1916 in Posen, Germany [today: Poznan, Poland]
a sisterly greeting Christmas 1916 from Helene Guttentag née Pauly
Written by Josef Pauly
On our silver wedding anniversary on the 8th of June 1894
Festive days in the family, especially those we celebrate in the autumn of our lives, give reason for backward contemplation, and then you thankfully wonder how everything began. I am thinking of my parents’ home in the little Upper Silesian village [TOST, GERMANY, Figure 3]. There life was given to me, there I saw the father [DR. ZADIG PAULY, Figure 6] whom I am similar to in disposition, even though I consider him morally superior to me. There was also the temperamental and undemanding and imaginative mother [ANTONIE MARLE, Figure 7]. Both were in truth assiduous in nature. From there, from the house of my step-great aunt [THERESE GRÄTZER NÉE MOCKRAUER, Figures 8a-b], separated at an early age from my good father, I got my wife. Religious feelings, sympathy for Catholicism, poetry and romance, and finally for the monarchy, all come from the family home and the Upper Silesian village.
Dr. Pauly was clearly raised Catholic, so the irony that multiple of his “racially Jewish” daughters, sons-in-law, and grandchildren, whom I’ve written about in earlier Blog posts, were murdered or committed suicide during the Nazi era is not lost on me. Josef’s reference to Therese Grätzer née Mockrauer as his “step-great aunt” is puzzling since my knowledge of the Pauly lineage suggests she was a full-fledged great-aunt.
I left my parents’ home at the age of 9 ½, too early for such an impressionable one. After an unhappy, unmonitored youth and high school days, I also came too early to the University of Breslau, and, later, after a few semesters, to the military academy in Berlin. The latter, however, was my luck. It was an encouragement for my fantastic nature. Thankfully I remember my teachers, especially Traubes. The bedside, not science, healed me of confusion. I lacked the peace, rules and concentration to be truly scientific in nature. Fresh from my exams, I went to war via Glatz [GLATZ, GERMANY, Figure 3]. A certain demeanor, brashness, and good nature made me useful in the various circumstances of life; but irritable to the point of exaltation, I did not find mental and physical security until I got married. This was luck again. I have three persons to thank besides God: my wife [ROSALIE PAULY NÉE MOCKRAUER, Figure 9]; her guardian and uncle Geheimrat Grätzer [PRIVY COUNCILLOR DR. MED. JONAS GRÄTZER, Figure 10], whose personality seems more and more respectable to me the older I get, because he has always proven himself wise and honorable; and, professor W.A. Freund [DR. WILHELM ALEXANDER FREUND, Figure 11] from Strassburg [STRASBOURG, FRANCE], who was intellectually far superior to me, the doctor of my body and soul, the latter more valuable.
Josef Pauly left home as a lad and attended the University of Breslau when he was still young, suggesting he was very precocious. He ultimately turned what he characterized as unhappy days to his advantage after his time in a Berlin military academy and the army.
Josef identifies the three most influential people in his life, including his wife and her uncle, whom he refers to only as “Geheimrat Grätzer.” I discovered I had his portrait before learning his full name, Privy Councillor Dr. Med. Jonas Grätzer. Use of the term “Geheimrat” was confusing. I was initially under the impression that it referred to a trusted advisor, perhaps in a governmental position, until Andi Pauly explained that it is an abbreviation for “Geheimer Sanitätsrat,” a honorary title for merited doctors in Prussia.
One of Josef’s professors and mentors was a well-known German gynecologist, Dr. Wilhelm Alexander Freund (1833-1917), who earned his degree at the University of Breslau, and afterwards practiced gynecology in the same city. In 1879 he relocated to Strasbourg, France, where he served as a professor of gynecology and obstetrics.
In 1868, I came to Posen, and in 1869 I got married. All the other things you know already, partly from us, partly from uncle Max [MAX KANTOROWICZ, Figure 12] and aunt Rosa [ROSALINDE PAULY, Figure 13], and partly because you have experienced it. You will agree, if I confess gratefully, that until now the good has prevailed, luck was not lacking. Illness and errors have been overcome as far as possible, good will better than one dared hope for. Distress has never knocked on our door, and, so, I would like to say the following as my confession today:
I believe in God as the creative force of the universe, in an immanent consciousness, in a moral world order; to the invisible God of the world, as first revealed by the Jewish religion, whose goodness is identical with the eternal laws.
I believe that human nature has a propensity for evil and an instinct for good, that it is up to education and the family to lead the latter to victory over the former, so the conscience prevails.
I consider the family to be the natural group in the necessary struggle for existence, which must co-exist however different their civic designs are.
I think parents are the first officials of the family. Everything that man possesses is entrusted to him for administration.
Death is a necessity; suicide is a mortal sin, more seldomly a disease.
I don´t think the earth is a vale of tears but a workplace with occasional and not too abundant leisure, and I don´t think people are angels, however, amongst a few there is no good to be found. A statistic of the good qualities of men would give salvation. I firmly believe, given the enormous capacity of human nature to develop and adapt, that good can be developed through favorable influences. Distress, illness and misery can democratize people. I think it is my duty and that of every wealthy person that they help alleviate these social difficulties, which have been exacerbated by modern conditions, and I measure my respect for rich people according to how much of their wealth they give away to others.
I believe everything has its history, and that being aware that one is living in a certain time is important. I believe that nothing is lost in this world, and that humanity progresses slowly in a zigzagging way. I strive out of war and storm to hear the sounds of peace and recovery from sickness and madness. I try to understand the tasks of the present time with my weak power of insight, and understand it as follows: the current education is real, you must protect the body and the soul. One directs the child’s gaze towards nature; one teaches not only beauty but also lawfulness; one must fill children’s souls with the joy that in toto there exists a body of goodness for everybody. But because everything that a man does is buried in the tablets of his brain, and because one’s own ego only feels at ease in the coexistence of another man’s ego, one must exercise the power of self-control and the power to forget oneself. For that is and remains the greatest glory for man: respect for the connection with the whole. Therefore, the highest pleasure of serving the whole is forgetting oneself.
Whether you conceive of man as a single entity or view body and mind separately is immaterial to me. The individual is the soulful body with natural necessity and happiness. One must differentiate between higher and lower impulses; culture is based on controlling baser impulses to have them serve the greater good.
Between the individual’s own ego and the other’s ego, the individual man steers his frail boat; even though the urge may be dark, man is always conscious of the right path.
I consider work to be the most important part of oneself. Self-knowledge and self-criticism are paramount. Every person can learn it, it does not help to lie to yourself.
It’s wrong to accept one’s innate temperament. Just as a sculptor chisels the hard marble, everyone must form his own temperament. This is not the realm of education but rather religion. It can be awakened in every human being. Within the family dissolves the contrast between one’s necessary selfishness and the necessary sublimation of one’s interest. Just as a mother’s love is the highest revelation (epiphany) of nature so is the love between relatives the highest of culture. When I personally experience the good that happens to my brother or sister, that sensation satisfies me, so I am a happy and fulfilled person.
The parents, whose children have such a prevailing attitude, don´t believe this is rare. You know about the three sisters who renounced their own ambitions for the sake of their brother’s study [WILHELM PAULY, Figure 14]. The beautiful fire of such a sacrifice raises the hearth of the family like an inviolable sanctuary. Such an attitude can be educational, if one is honest. How terrible it would be if every intemperate remark uttered within the family went unpunished, so that instead of contributing to the greater good, personal considerations and selfishness prevailed, rather than striving to do right by one’s blood relatives in material and non-material ways.
Here, Dr. Josef Pauly highlights the sacrifice that three of his unnamed daughters made for the benefit of the only one of his nine children who was a male, namely, Wilhelm Pauly. For Josef, renouncing personal aspirations for the benefit of family exemplified the most high-minded ideal.
In a thoughtful bourgeois family, the older sister who raises her brother seeks to influence the younger sibling spiritually as a matter of course. This duty, which is not difficult to practice and understand, creates the most beautiful and secure relationship.
“What you have inherited from your fathers, acquire it to own it.”
Ennoble the blood relationship by making a sacrifice for the other, strive for spiritual influence on one another, then you will be closer together and you will permanently ally yourselves.
I hear only partially this sentiment at this social event which you have dedicated to us today. With gratitude to the Almighty, I see you all gathered here, blood relatives by birth and by fortune; many but not excellently talented, but all sufficiently gifted for the good and simple.
And so I should like to hear, above all else, a quiet vow from this event, of humor and casual mood, that you want to be mindful not only of the vicissitudes of life, but also in everyday life by the commitment placed on you by God and nature which the dying Johannis and his great interpreter Gotthold Ephraim Lessing [Figure 15] summed up in the words:
“Children, love each other with that pure love which is a ray of God´s love”
Given the moral turpitude I see among some of my contemporaries, I find great comfort in reminding myself this was not always so. Many of Dr. Josef Pauly’s words and beliefs resonate with me though I recognize his values are not always congruent with my own nor relevant to the modern age. Despite the steps involved in bringing Dr. Josef’s words to light, first transcribing the German text, then translating them into English, and finally rewriting his words to try and capture their “true” meaning, highlights the challenge a biographer faces even when the subject’s own words are available to them. Still, where a subject’s words are available, it is preferable to presenting them to readers even if in a slightly distorted manner and even if the meaning is not always entirely obvious.
Note: In this post, I discuss Wilhelm Pauly, the only son of Josef and Rosalie Pauly. The account of his survival during WWII provides some insight into the relationship between Germans of Jewish heritage and the German nation.
I’ve recently been writing about the fate of some of my great-great-uncle and aunt Josef Pauly and Rosalie Pauly née Mockrauer’s nine children, several of whom were victims of the Holocaust. Their only son, Wilhelm “Willy” Pauly (Figure 1), eighth born, survived the war and I became curious how he managed this. I asked one of his grandchildren, Andi Pauly, whose name readers may recall, and his response led in an unexpected direction.
Willy Pauly (Figure 2) was a trained agronomist, and a veteran of WWI. Apparently, when it became clear his Jewish ancestry might eventually lead to his deportation to a concentration camp, he sought the help of his military comrades from WWI; they were instrumental in having him assigned to an agricultural research facility near the small town of Felgentreu, 34 miles SW of Berlin, that for inexplicable reasons was off-limits to the Gestapo.
Felgentreu (Figure 3) is only a short distance northwest of the military training ground once located at Jüterbog, referred to in German as Truppenübungsplatz Jüterborg. Beginning in the 1860’s, the German military began acquiring property around Jüterbog so that by the 1930’s this was the largest military training facility in Germany, more than 27,000 acres in size. By 1936, most inhabitants of Felgentreu had been displaced by the military facility and forced to relinquish their homes. Following the reunification of Germany in 1989, this military training ground, which had been used by the Soviet and German militaries after WWII, was converted to civilian use. Today, it is a nature reserve, although contaminated remains abound.
Whether the intercession of Willy Pauly’s military colleagues was enough to have him stationed in Felgentreu is unclear. It was suggested that a man named Erhard Milch may also have played a role in protecting Willy Pauly. Suffice it for now to say the Pauly and Milch families are related by marriage, a topic I’ll return to below. However, the mention of Erhard Milch’s name is where this story takes an unexpected twist.
Erhard Milch (Figure 4), I learned, was a German field marshal who oversaw the development of the Luftwaffe as part of the re-armament of Nazi Germany following WWI. He was supposedly the son of Anton Milch, a Jewish pharmacist, and a Clara Milch née Vetter, and was investigated in 1935 by the Gestapo on account of his Jewish heritage. When Hermann Wilhelm Göring, who was Erhard Milch’s mentor and personal friend, got wind of this ongoing investigation, he put a halt to it; Göring produced a signed affidavit he’d apparently forced Milch’s mother to sign stating that his actual father was her uncle, making her guilty of adultery and incest.
Regardless, with the signed affidavit in hand Hitler then issued Milch a “German Blood Certificate” (German: Deutschblütigkeitserklärung). Basically, this was a document provided by Hitler to people with partial Jewish heritage, termed Mischlinge, declaring them deutschblütig, of German blood, and exempting them from most of Germany’s racial laws. Such events were apparently the backdrop for Göring’s cynical claim, “I decide who is a Jew.” Though widely attributed to him, the statement apparently originated with Karl Lueger (Figure 5), Mayor of Vienna, Austria from 1897 until his death in 1910. Karl Lueger, founder of Austria’s Christian Social Party, exploited prevalent antisemitic and nationalistic currents for political gain. This is particularly interesting because Hitler moved to Vienna in 1908 when Lueger was at the apex of his power there; Hitler clearly approved of Lueger’s methods and praised his charisma and popular appeal in Mein Kampf and elsewhere. Some claim the populist and antisemitic politics of Lueger’s Christian Social Party were the model for Adolf Hitler’s Nazism, though their brands of anti-Semitism differed.
In any case, the issue of Jews serving in the German military during the Nazi era is what I found intriguing. I discovered a 2002 book on the subject by Cambridge University researcher Bryan Mark Rigg, entitled “Hitler’s Jewish Soldiers, the Untold Story of Nazi Racial Laws and Men of Jewish Descent in the German Military.” Rigg’s book was the first study of its kind to document the history of Jews and Mischlinge who fought in the German armed forces during WWII, a number estimated to have been as high as 150,000 that included more than 1,200 officers; the author provides demonstrable evidence that Hitler played a central role in allowing Mischlinge to serve in the armed forces. The “half-Jew” Field Marshall Erhard Milch was the highest-ranking officer found to be of Jewish parentage.
Willy Pauly may also have wanted his two sons, Klaus and Peter (Figure 6), to pursue a military career to increase their odds of survival and facilitate upward mobility. According to a story Andi’s father told him, Willy enrolled his two sons in an elite military training school in Potsdam, a town bordering Berlin. When Hitler came to power, the school was transformed into a “NaPolA,” Nationalpolitische Erziehungsanstalten, officially abbreviated NPEA, or a National Political Institute of Education, a secondary boarding school for the elite in Nazi Germany. Students were required to provide proof of their Aryan descent, something Willy could not provide for his sons, so both were forced to leave the academy. Interestingly, they ended up in a boarding school in Niesky, Germany, which was run by the Herrnhuter Brüdergemeinde, a Christian fraternity.
Some brief history. The Nuremberg Laws of 1935 were the anti-Semitic laws introduced in Germany following the takeover of power by Hitler in 1933. It defined a “Jew” not as someone with specific religious beliefs but, instead, as anyone with three or four Jewish grandparents regardless of whether the person self-identified as a Jew or belonged to the Jewish religious community. Germans who had long ago given up practicing Judaism or converted, or even those whose grandparents had converted to Christianity, were nonetheless “racially” categorized as Jewish and victimized by the Nazis. Two additional “racial” categories were created with the passage of the Nuremberg Laws: the “half-Jew” (Jewish Mischling first degree), and the “quarter-Jew” (Jewish Mischling second degree); a half-Jew had two Jewish grandparents, and a quarter-Jew one.
The sudden grouping of Mischlinge with Jews, seemingly, should have created a bond and mutual sympathy. It did not. Most Mischlinge did not consider themselves to be Jewish, and many had grown up as baptized Christians. And, in some cases, the Mischlinge were themselves deeply anti-Semitic. Ethnically, Mischlinge thought of themselves as Germans based on their language, their culture, and their schooling which had all been in German. Speaking to this issue, Bryan Rigg quotes from a letter written in 1940 by the “half-Jew,” Unteroffizier (Sergeant or Staff Sergeant) W. Dieter Bergman (Figure 7), to his Jewish grandmother, Elly Landsberg née Mockrauer, interestingly one of my relatives:
“Don’t you realize how much I’m with my whole being rooted in Germany. My life would be very sad without my homeland, without the wonderful German art, without the belief in Germany’s powerful past and the powerful future that awaits Germany. Do you think that I can tear that all out of my heart?. . .Don’t I also have an obligation to my parents, to my brother who showed his love to our Fatherland by dying a hero’s death on the battlefield. . .Someday, I want to be a German amongst Germans and no longer a second-class citizen only because my wonderful mother is Jewish.” (Rigg, p. 28)
To remind readers, Elly Landsberg née Mockrauer (Figure 8) was the niece of Rosalie Pauly née Mockrauer; Elly Landsberg’s father was Josef Mockrauer (Figure 9), brother of Rosalie Pauly née Mockrauer. (Figure 10)
Historically, one way for Jews to prove themselves to be good, loyal Germans was to fight for their country. Many Jews served in the German army during WWI, as this provided a way for them to gain greater acceptance and opportunity and prove their loyalty to the Vaterland. With Germany’s rearmament following Hitler’s ascension to power, Mischlinge faced a paradox, join the military to regain some of their lost pride and protect their families with the realization they would be serving Hitler. For those who were able to join, knowing they were trying to convince their comrades, officers and Nazi overlords to accept them as “normal” Germans, many fought with unparalleled bravery. The last thing a Mischling wanted was to be considered a “feiger Jude,” a cowardly Jew.
Because Mischlinge status obviously impeded upward mobility in German society and the army, such individuals sought to be recognized as German; one method was to obtain a legal waiver, Genehmigung, an official toleration of their standing as Mischling on account of their service and benefit to the Reich. The most sought-after designation was the one conferred on Field Marshall Erhard Milch, Deutschblütigkeitserklärung, a determination of pure German blood. Contrary to Göring’s assertion that he decided who was a Jew or not, in reality, this decision could only be granted by Hitler. Germany’s defeat was a fortunate outcome for Mischlinge because Hitler had planned to exterminate them all had Germany prevailed, completely cleansing the German blood line.
Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s only son, Willy Pauly, was born in 1883, and, as mentioned, served in the German army during WWI. Erhard Milch, born nine years later in 1892, also fought for Germany during the first world war. While I was able to find Erhard Milch’s WWI Personnel Register (Figure 11) on ancestry.com, I was unable to track down a similar document for Willy Pauly. Though both Willy and Erhard fought for Germany in WWI, likely on the Eastern Front, I can’t place them in the same theater during the war proving they met then.
Knowing that Pauly and Milch family members are related by marriage, I turned to ancestry.com to try and ascertain the possible relationship between Willy Pauly and Erhard Milch. Unfortunately, none of the ancestral documents nor family trees I located there contained enough detail to establish a connection.
Then, I remembered a Stammbaum, a family tree, for the Milch family Andi Pauly had found among his father’s surviving papers and sent me. Given the enormous detail in the Pauly Stammbaum, it was clear Klaus Pauly, Andi’s father, had communicated with an extensive network of near and distant relatives to create his tree. One such person was Dr. H.P. Kent from Saskatoon, Canada, who’d asked himself the same question developing his family tree in 1990 I was now asking myself, namely, “how exactly is Erhard Milch related to the Pauly family?” I found the answer in Dr. Kent’s tree (Figures 12a-b)—Erhard Milch is the second cousin once removed of a Ludwig Milch (Figure 13), the husband of one of Rosalie Pauly’s nieces. Theoretically, Erhard and Willy could have known or been aware of one another and their ancestral ties. Whether this would have been reason enough for Erhard to intercede on Willy’s behalf to shield him during WWII may never be known.
In addition to Erhard Milch’s WWI Personnel Register, I was also able to find in ancestry.com a copy of his certificate of marriage to Käthe Patschke (Figures 14a-b), showing they were married on the 8th March 1917 in Berlin-Grunewald. The significance of these documents is that both specifically name Erhard Milch’s “racially” Jewish father, Anton Milch; obviously, at the time there was no anticipating the coming of Hitler barely 15 years later that would require “masking” one’s Jewish ancestry. The major takeaway is that because of the existence of such historic documents, the only sure way Göring could conceal his protégé’s “half-Jewish” status, make it go away that is, was to force Erhard’s mother to “claim” that his true father was her Aryan uncle, even if that made her guilty of incest and adultery.
One final note of interest. While I’ve been unable to uncover the specific name of the agricultural research station in Felgentreu to which Willy Pauly was assigned during WWII, Andi provided a copy of one letter sent to his grandfather dated the 6th October 1945 (Figure 15); Felgentreu would eventually become part of the German Democratic Republic, but at the time was administered by the Soviet Military Administration. The Soviets approved the action outlined in this letter. It ordered Willy Pauly to hand over control of the research station to a Dr. Reinhold von Sengbusch, who was being transferred from the Kaiser Wilhelm Society for the Advancement of Science, later the Max Planck Society, to take over Willy’s responsibilities.
Following his dismissal, Willy turned to a man he knew, Mr. Rudolf Ersterer, who was the Director of the Bayerischen Verwaltung der staatlichen Schlösser, Bavarian Administration of State Castles; Mr Ersterer would eventually play an important role in rebuilding Munich after WWII. Following the war, it was difficult to find able German administrators who had not been members of the Nazi Party, but because Willy had not Ersterer appointed him to manage the world-renowned castle of Ludwig II, Herrenchiemsee (Figure 16), located on Herreninsel, the largest island in the Chiemsee lake, in southern Bavaria.
During Willy’s time on Herreninsel, the Constitutional Convention at Herrenchiemsee (German: Verfassungskonvent auf Herrenchiemsee) convened there. This was a meeting of constitutional experts nominated by the minister-presidents of the Western States of Germany, held in August 1948, as part of the process of drafting and adopting the current German constitution.
Ms. Anita Bunyan, a fellow at Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge, referencing Bryan Rigg’s book “Hitler’s Jewish Soldiers,” concludes that a significant number of Mischlinge appear to have been protected by fellow soldiers and superiors. While Rigg found many Aryan officers clearly motivated by racist ideology and ambition to turn them in, “. . .the discovery of a significant number of ‘sympathetic’ soldiers in the German army casts an interesting light on the relationship between ‘ordinary Germans’ and the Third Reich.” And, the apparent large number of Mischlinge and Jews in the German army would seem to support the notion the military may have afforded them some level of protection. Perhaps, this was the German army’s version of “Don’t ask, don’t tell”?
REFERENCES
Bergman, W. Dieter 1995 Between Two Benches. California Publishing Co., San Francisco
Bunyan, Anita 2003 Half-Shadows of the Reich, Hitler’s Jewish Soldiers. Queen’s University, Belfast
Klinger, Jerry 2011 Hitler’s Jewish Soldiers. The Jewish Magazine, September 2011
Rigg, Bryan Mark 2002 Hitler’s Jewish Soldiers, the Untold Story of Nazi Racial Laws and Men of Jewish Descent in the German Military. U. of Kansas, Lawrence, KS
Note: In this brief post, I continue to explore the lives and fates of Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s nine children and their spouses, in this instance, Dr. Walter Riezler and his second wife, Edith Riezler née Pauly.
In 2012, I was invited to deliver a talk by the Muzeum Zulawskie in Nowy Dwór Gdański, Poland, formerly known as Tiegenhof, Free State of Danzig, where my Jewish-born father, Dr. Otto Bruck, was a dentist between 1932 and 1937. Following my presentation, discussing my father’s association with Tiegenhof and the photos he took there and in surrounding areas, copies of which I’ve donated to the museum, I was interviewed by a journalist from Pomerania, Mr. Andrzej Kasperek. (Figure 1) Ever since, Andrzej and I have periodically stayed in touch. Andrzej had once expressed an interest in writing about my father and his two siblings and their disparate fates during the Nazi era. (Figure 2) Thus, it came as no surprise when in 2018, Andrzej requested permission to use some of my father’s photos for an upcoming book. Naturally, I agreed to his entreaty.
Recently, I received a copy of Andrzej’s book, entitled “Mój Płaski Kraj Żuławy” (My Flat Zulawy Country). An entire chapter of the book is devoted to my father and his two siblings. While I neither read nor speak Polish, I can tell Andrzej’s chapter is based on stories I’ve posted to my Blog. In perusing the rest of the book, a photo of one of Vincent van Gogh’s famous landscapes painted in 1888 in Arles, France, entitled “Langlois Bridge at Arles” (Figure 3), caught my attention. I presume the author included this image in his book because it is reminiscent of the drawbridges one sees in Żuławy, the nearly flat delta area of the Vistula River in northern Poland.
The van Gogh painting in Andrzej Kasperek’s book is remarkably like a van Gogh landscape Edith Pauly’s husband, Dr. Walter Riezler, acquired on behalf of the Muzeum Narodowe w Szczecinie, the National Museum, Szczecin [formerly Stettin, Germany], as its first director there between 1910 and 1933. (Figure 4) To remind readers, Edith Pauly was the seventh of my great-great-uncle and aunt Josef and Rosalie Pauly’s nine children (Figure 5), and the second of Dr. Riezler’s wives. She was a singing teacher, a mezzo-soprano. (Figure 6)
Edith’s husband, Dr. Walter Riezler (Figure 7), was an eminent classical archaeologist, art historian, design theoretician, museologist, and musicologist. As a student in Munich, he tutored the precocious son of his archaeology professor Dr. Adolf Furtwängler, Wilhelm, who would go on to become one of the greatest symphonic and operatic conductors of the 20th Century. It is not my intention to relate the biography of this accomplished man, but merely to focus on a few things about his life that touch on subjects of broader historical interest or family history; readers can learn more about Dr. Riezler by going to German Wikipedia (Wikipedia.de), entering Riezler’s name, and translating the text.
The van Gogh painting acquired by Dr. Riezler as Director of the National Museum in Szczecin is contemporaneous with a series of landscapes rendered by van Gogh between 1888-1889 when the artist lived in Arles, in the southern part of France. The title of the painting acquired by Riezler is entitled “A Lane Near Arles.” It depicts a lane surrounded by trees running between the fields outside Arles, with a yellow house at the side of the lane. (Figure 8)
Riezler’s acquisition of van Gogh’s painting comported with his view of a modern art collection. From the time of his arrival in Szczecin in April 1910, Riezler was involved in the development of a collection of modern art, especially 19th century paintings and contemporary artistic trends, such as expressionism and New Objectivity. Riezler felt it necessary to focus on the acquisition of works of art that were a representative collection of the latest trends that would unite the present with the past; he felt this approach would result in one of the best collections nationally and would attract art lovers and researchers from around the globe. Riezler even orchestrated the sale of one of the museum’s most valuable works, the painting of a man by the Dutch painter Frans Hals, because the painting did not fit into the museum’s scope of collections; he compensated for it by purchasing other works of great importance. Knowing the adverse reaction this painting’s sale would provoke in opposition circles, he kept it confidential at the time. It seems clear that throughout his tenure as museum director, Riezler was opposed by conservative German artists who, among other things, critiqued his allegedly anti-patriotic love of French art. Ultimately, all this would lead to his downfall when the Nazis rose to power, even though he was not Jewish. He was accused by the Nazis of “cultural Bolshevism” (German: Kulturbolschewismus) which led to his leave of absence in April 1933.
I confess, I’d never previously heard this term. I’ve come to learn it is sometimes specifically referred to as “art Bolshevism” or “music Bolshevism,” and “was a term widely used by critics in Nazi Germany to denounce modernist movements in the arts.” What makes this issue so fascinating is that the Nazis successfully linked the expansion of modern art, which had roots going back to the 1860’s, to the October 1917 Revolution in Russia. Though these events occurred at around the same time, the connection between modernism and Bolshevism was tenuous at best. What they appear to have had in common is that both existed at the same unsettled time in European history, and the fact that some artists drew inspiration from revolutionary ideals. In Mein Kampf, Hitler devotes a chapter to the association of modernism and Bolshevism. With Hitler’s ascension to power, the Nazis denounced several contemporary styles, including abstract art and impressionism.
While Riezler’s supporters maintained the accusation he was a cultural Bolshevist was completely groundless, citing the diversified acquisitions during his tenure as museum Director, the Nazis deprived him of his roles as editor and museum director, so he retired. He settled outside Munich, studying musicology, and, in 1936, published a book on the works of Ludwig von Beethoven, and left an unfinished manuscript on Schubert upon his death.
One family-related matter of interest is that Dr. Walter Riezler was good friends with Klaus Pauly, whom I’ve discussed in previous posts. Readers will recall that Klaus developed the detailed Pauly family tree I’ve often referred to. Both Dr. Riezler and Klaus were lovers of music and would often attend musical performances together in Munich. Returning from a performance one evening, a car struck the vehicle they were riding in, and Dr. Riezler was killed on impact. He died on 22nd January 1965.
As to the van Gogh painting Dr. Walter Riezler acquired on behalf of the National Museum, Szczecin during his tenure as director there, it is now owned by the Pomeranian State Museum in Greifswald (Mecklenburg, West Pomerania), Germany, 105 miles distant. Likely, the painting was moved to this quiet civil servant town during the war on account of Allied bombing of the shipyards located in Szczecin, and there it’s remained. Apparently, the Polish authorities feared that by requesting its return after the war from the government of the German Democratic Republic, of which Greifswald was a part, this might in turn prompt a request by the Germans for the return of works of art relocated to Poland from places like Berlin, Dresden, and Leipzig during the war. (Personal communication: Paul Newerla)
REFERENCE
Kubiak, Szymon Piotr and Dariusz Kacprzak (editors)
2013 Katalog Der Ausstellung, Zum Hundertjährigen Eröffnungsjubiläum, Des Hauptgebäudes Des Nationalmuseums Stettin. Szczecin.
Note: This post is about a fascinating man originally named Isaak Edward Schnitzer, born into a middle-class German Jewish family from Silesia, who adopted a Turkish mode of living and took the Turkish name, Mehmed Emin Pascha. I discovered he is related by marriage to the Pauly family about whom I’ve recently been writing.
Several of my recent Blog posts have dealt with the tragic circumstances surrounding the fate of several descendants of my great-great-uncle and aunt, Josef and Rosalie Pauly, during the Nazi Era. This post deals not with their descendants but rather with one of Josef’s ancestors by marriage, an exotic individual who turns out to have been rather well-known.
An elaborate hand-drawn Stammbaum, family tree, developed by one of Josef and Rosalie’s grandsons, Klaus Pauly (Figure 1), was given to me in 2015 by Peter Pauly (Figure 2) and Andi Pauly (Figure 3), two of Klaus’ sons; this tree provides an enormous amount of detailed information that’s allowed me to better understand the relationship between different branches of my extended family, and is a resource I repeatedly consult. Re-examining this tree, I found a name Klaus Pauly had jotted down that was assuredly not Jewish, “Emin Pascha,” including a notation of the name “Eduard Schnitzer” (Figure 4); Emin Pascha was merely identified as the brother of the second wife of one of Josef Pauly’s (Figure 5) uncles, Jakob Pauly, the wife’s only identifier being her maiden name, Schnitzer. The notation seemed out-of-place in the Stammbaum, so I did a Google query on Emin Pascha (Figure 6), and was rewarded with a flurry of information about this fascinating character, part of which provided the inspiration for the title of this Blog post.
According to what I found on the Internet, Emin was born Isaak Eduard Schnitzer in Oppeln, Silesia, Germany [today: Opole, Poland] on March 28, 1840, into a middle-class German Jewish family; they moved when Emin was about 2 to the not-to-distant town of Neisse, Germany [today: Nysa, Poland]. (Figure 7) His father died in Neisse in 1845, whereupon his mother remarried a Christian, and she and her offspring were baptized Lutherans.
Neither Emin’s father nor mother’s names were mentioned in any of the sources I examined. But, with specific dates and places in hand, I turned to ancestry.com to see whether I could find their names, and, if possible, confirm Emin’s biography; there I unearthed a family tree identifying Louis Schnitzer and Pauline Schnitzer née Schweitzer as Emin’s parents, along with the name of a younger sister, Melanie Schnitzer (Figure 8), born a year after Emin. While not specifically named in the Pauly family tree, Melanie is clearly the second wife of Jakob Pauly, one of Josef Pauly’s uncles. (Figures 9-10)
Not satisfied with merely confirming the names and relationships of Emin’s next-of-kin, I became curious whether I could find any of their names in on-line Jewish records, so I turned to famlysearch.org, the website of the Mormon Church. For those unfamiliar with this database, it is possible to search for Jewish records by place starting on the portal page by selecting “Catalog,” entering the name of the town (Figure 11), hitting “Search,” selecting “Jewish Records,” if any, and finally clicking on “Matrikel” (“register”) for whatever time period you’re interested in; the next screen will list any microfilm available for the place you’ve selected. Any microfilm with a camera icon on the far right can be viewed from home, and pages downloaded.
I was able to locate Jewish records on microfilm for the two Silesian towns related to Emin, Oppeln and Neisse. Astonishingly, I found the register pages for Oppeln showing that Emin’s father, Louis Schnitzer, had one child born on March 29, 1840 (Figure 12), obviously Emin (Eduard), then another a year later March 28, 1841 (Figure 13), obviously Melanie. In the Jewish records for Neisse, the nearby town where Emin’s family moved when he was two years old, I discovered that Louis and Pauline Schnitzer were married on June 26, 1839 (Figure 14), and that Louis died on February 24, 1845 (Figure 15); because the Neisse marriage register also mentions Oppeln, it’s not entirely clear in which town the parents were married. Regular readers of my Blog will know I’m never entirely satisfied until I run-to-ground any source documents I’m able to find, ergo my exhaustive search.
Readers can click on the hyperlinks related to Emin to find out more about his exceptional life and career but let me briefly summarize. Emin was educated at universities in Breslau, Königsberg, and Berlin, qualifying as a physician in 1864; for reasons that are unclear, he was disqualified from practice, and left Germany for Istanbul with the intention of entering the Ottoman service. In 1865 he became a medical officer in the Turkish army. He was linguistically talented, and while in the service added Turkish, Albanian and Greek to his repertoire of European languages.
After joining the staff of the Ottoman governor of northern Albania, around 1870, Emin adopted a Turkish way of living and took a Turkish name. In 1876, Emin became a medical officer in Khartoum, as a staff member of the British governor-general of the Sudan, Gen. Charles Gordon. In 1878, Gordon appointed him governor of Equatoria in the southern Sudan, today South Sudan, operating out of Lado. He was an enlightened administrator and brought an end to slavery in the region he administered.
In 1881, Emin was forced to withdraw southwards from Lado on account of a revolt led by Muhammad Ahmad, a mystical religious leader who tapped into widespread resentment among the Sudanese population towards the oppressive policies of the Turko-Egyptian rulers of Equatoria. The “Emin Pascha Relief Expedition,” led by Henry Morton Stanley, of Stanley and Livingstone fame, was forced to come to Emin’s rescue in April 1888 (Figure 16); Emin Pascha and Stanley spent many uneasy months together in argument and indecision, and ultimately Stanley left without being able to bring Emin home in triumph. Following Stanley’s departure, Emin entered the service of the German East Africa Company and was murdered on the 23rd October 1892, in the Congo Free State [today: Democratic Republic of the Congo] by Arab slave traders, among whom he’d made many enemies for his views on slavery, while on an expedition to lakes in the interior of that country. (Figure 17)
Clearly, Emin Pascha, was not a blood relative of mine, but as I research and write about my own family, I occasionally come across compelling characters who’ve left their trace in the historical record such as Emin. As a former archaeologist, I find brushes with people of renown the inspiration for Blog stories, and I’m drawn to chronicle such encounters. And, in the process, I sometimes find myself learning about historical events or places of which I know little, but which still find their way into today’s news, such as the South Sudan and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, for reasons that may partially have their origins in the Colonial period. As an example, the introduction of sleeping sickness into Uganda is attributed by scholars to the movement of Emin and his followers; prior to the 1890’s, sleeping sickness was unknown in Uganda, but it is theorized that the tsetse fly was probably brought by Emin from the Congo territory.
