Note: In this postscript, I discuss the timing and path of construction of the Austrian Ferdinand Northern Railway vis a vis the Wilhelmsbahn Railway, and its likely impact on the family-owned hotel establishment in Ratibor, Prussia, which at least for some time likely benefited from the routing.
Multiple of my earlier posts have discussed the family establishment in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, owned by three generations of my family from roughly 1850 until 1926. Based on the evidence I’ve amassed, I’m convinced that my family owned the hotel from the time it was built sometime between 1846 and 1850, and that its construction was tied to the arrival of the railroad in Ratibor which began service there on the 1st of January 1846.
There are at least two reference points that prove the “Prinz von Preußen” was in existence by 1850. First, the hotel is listed in John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent: Being A Guide Through Holland, Belgium, Prussia, and Northern Germany, and Along the Rhine from Holland to Switzerland” as a place for people to stay in Ratibor while voyaging between Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland] and Vienna, Austria. (Figures 1a-b) Second, a notice published announced a recital by the noted Austrian composer Johann Strauss II (1825-1899) at the Prinz von Preußen on the 17th of October 1850. (Figure 2) The composer performed at the hotel while on his way to Vienna, then again a month later on the 17th of November 1850 on his way back through. (Figure 3)
Following publication of Post 156, I did further research on the Wilhelmsbahn or Upper Silesian railway. Just to remind readers, the Wilhelmsbahn was a private railway company in Prussia. It was founded in 1844 in Ratibor in Upper Silesia to connect the Upper Silesian Railway (Breslau—Oppeln—Kosel—Gleiwitz) (today: Wrocław—Opole—Kozle—Gliwice) with the Austrian Emperor Ferdinand Railway. (Figures 4a-b; 5) Construction of this railway through Ratibor for the first time connected the Austrian railway network with the Prussian one.
During my research, I stumbled on the following mention of the opening of the railroad in Racibórz:
“In 1846, the first section of the Wilhelm Railway ((German: Wilhelmsbahn, currently railway line No. 151) connecting Racibórz with Koźle was opened. In Koźle, the line connected with the Upper Silesian Railway ((German: Oberschlesische Eisenbahn) connecting Upper Silesia with Wrocław. In 1847, Wilhelm’s Railway was extended to Bohumín. In the years 1855–1858 further sections of the Wilhelm Railway connecting Racibórz with Katowice through Rybnik (currently railway line No. 140) were opened.”
This obscure reference comes from a report entitled “Road to Rail Potential shift of transport flows” published by the so-called Central Europe TRANS TRITIA. Suffice it to say, that TRITIA is a “European Grouping of Territorial Cooperation” in which three regions of Poland, Slovakia, and Czech Republic cooperate to improve coordination and planning of freight transport.
This seemingly insignificant mention of the Wilhelmsbahn Railway caused me to reexamine the references I’d consulted earlier related to the Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway and reconsider the timing and route of its construction. In the process, I discovered I’d left readers a bit hanging as to where exactly the Wilhelmsbahn Railway connected with the Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway after it left Ratibor. This, in turn, made me realize the Wilhelmsbahn Railway played a more significant role in the region’s economic development than I’d previously understood and that this no doubt resulted in significantly more business for my family’s hotel in Ratibor. Let me explain.
The Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway was a railway company that existed during the time of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire. The main line of this railway was intended to connect Vienna with the salt mines in Bochnia, east of Krakau [today: Kraków, Poland]. Bochnia is located on the river Raba in southern Poland, and the salt mine there is the oldest functioning one in Europe, built in the 13th century.
The Ferdinand Northern Railway never directly reached Kraków or the salt mines in Bochnia. The first rail connection from Vienna to Krakau took place via Oderberg (Bohumín), Ratibor, Kosel, and Myslowitz, and this was provided by the Wilhelmsbahn and the Oberschlesische Eisenbahn (Upper Silesian Railway). The line from Myslowitz to Krakau was built by the Krakau-Oberschlesische Bahn (Kraków and Upper Silesian Railway). Bearing in mind that the towns that are today in the Czech Republic were once part of the Austrian Empire, an entirely Austrian route from Vienna to Krakau did not exist until 1856, nine years after the Ferdinand Northern Railway reached Oderberg (Bohumín) and a full ten years after the Wilhelmsbahn railroad reached Ratibor.
In reviewing the construction timeline of the Ferdinand Northern Railway what I previously failed to fully comprehend is that the Wilhelmsbahn Railway was completed before the Northern Railway’s segment from Oderberg (Bohumín) to Krakau. The significance is that at least for some period Ratibor was an important transit point for people traveling between Vienna and Krakau, and the Bruck’s Hotel would have provided the then-modern amenities voyagers sought. Following completion of the more direct route from Oderberg (Bohumín) to Krakau would have meant that some business was lost, although Ratibor would have continued as a logical way station for people traveling to Breslau, Berlin, and points west from there.
Coincidentally, on the same page as the Prinz von Preußen is mentioned in John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent,” Oderberg and the Kaiser Ferdinand Nordbahn (i.e., Ferdinand Northern Railway) are also discussed. The train coming from Prague to the west connected to the Ferdinand Northern Railway via Olmütz [today: Olomouc, Czech Republic] in Prerau [today: Přerov, Czech Republic]. (Figure 7)
Note: In a post I’ve long wanted to write, using maps and contemporary accounts, I discuss the history of the property where the inn stood that my family owned from ca. 1850 until 1926 in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel. I also make a case for when I think the hotel was likely constructed.
I’ve spilled a lot of ink writing about my next of kin’s business in Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel (Figures 1-2), owned by three generations of my family from roughly 1850 until 1926. My recently departed friend Paul Newerla from Racibórz (Figure 3), a lawyer who found his second calling in retirement researching and writing about the history of Ratibor and Silesia, was very instrumental in furthering my understanding of the hotel’s history and generously sharing multiple historical references and illustrations related to the establishment.
Paul was never able to tell me exactly when the inn was constructed and whether a previous owner had built the structure. For the longest time, I imagined the name “Prinz von Preußen” meant it might have been erected and lived in by a member of the von Preußen family, a royal lineage with longstanding ties to Silesia. Another friend whom I’ve often mentioned to readers, Peter Albrecht von Preußen (Figure 4), a descendant of this illustrious bloodline now living in the United States, explained to me that the “Prinz von Preußen” name was franchised from at least the 19th century. Thus, the Bruck Hotel’s incorporation of the Prinz von Preußen honorific may simply reflect a business arrangement. So far evidence of this has not been found.
One document Paul was unable to track down in theArchiwum Państwowe w Katowicach Oddział w Raciborzu, the State Archives in Katowice, Branch in Racibórz, was the so-called Grundbuch, the land register, for the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel. Grundbuch means the applicable official register held by the Land Registry in which, among other things, the rights of ownership in, and encumbrances on, a plot of land are registered.
In Post 61, I discussed how Paul found the Grundbuch for the Zuckerfabrik, the sugar factory owned by distant family relatives, located in Woinowitz [today: Wojnowice, Poland] outside Ratibor, among the uncatalogued documents in the basement of the Racibórz State Archives. Regular readers know I’ve written multiple posts about the Zuckerfabrik. Had Paul been able to locate the Grundbuch for the Bruck’s Hotel, it might have shed some light on when the building was built and/or exactly when my family purchased the establishment. Whether the file still exists is an unanswered question though I suspect if it did Paul Newerla would have tracked it down.
Another of my Polish friends, Małgosia Ploszaj (Figure 5), from Rybnik, Poland, 15 miles east of Racibórz, was able to find a police file in the Racibórz State Archives related to the Bruck’s Hotel (Figures 6a-b), but this dated to the period that my grandparents, Felix (1864-1927) and Else Bruck (1873-1957), owned the hotel during the first quarter of the 20th century. This file includes reports on periodic inspections conducted by the local police; safety issues my grandparents were compelled to address; authorizations they were required to obtain to operate beyond normal working hours; violations for which they were fined, etc. Nothing in the file related to the history nor tenancy of the hotel prior to my grandparents’ ownership.
My good friend Peter Albrecht von Preußen spent a good deal of time explaining the contents of this police file. Additionally, because of his own family’s connection to Silesia, he spent a lot of time searching publications for mentions of the hotel and the sequential Bruck family members who owned the inn, namely, Samuel Bruck (1808-1863), Fedor Bruck (1834-1892), and Felix Bruck (1864-1927).
One of the most useful public domain sources Peter discovered was a 695-page book entitled “Geschichte der Stadt Ratibor,” “History of the Town of Ratibor,” written by Augustin Weltzel in 1861. (Figure 7) Therein, Peter found mention of a Bruck who was a “gastwirth,” an innkeeper, no doubt Samuel Bruck (1808-1863) the original owner of the Bruck’s Hotel. (Figure 8)
The book is written in Fraktur, which was the subject of Post 154. Unfortunately, the text has not been transcribed into German, nor has it been translated into Polish or English. However, because Peter can read Fraktur, he graciously perused and summarized relevant sections of Weltzel’s book.
This book was commissioned in 1859 by the Protestant Church in Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland], who had searched in the archives and discovered that the history of the entire Upper Silesian region, a principally Catholic area at the time, had not been documented. As a result, Dr. Weltzel, a Catholic Priest, was contracted to write about Ratibor. This seemingly odd arrangement was an indirect outcome of the First Silesian War from 1740 to 1742 which resulted in Prussia seizing most of the region of Silesia (today mostly in southwestern Poland) from Austria but Catholics in Silesia being guaranteed the right to continue practicing their religion.
Based on Peter’s synopsis and analysis, I can reconstruct a partial history of the property where the Bruck’s Hotel was built and theorize when the hotel is likely to have been constructed. Another of my Polish contacts from Racibórz is Magda Wawoczny, an acquaintance in the Jewish Studies program at Jagiellonian University in Krakow, Poland. At my request, she graciously sent me high-resolution plans of Ratibor from 1831 and 1843, as well as a map from 1812 with a birds-eye view of Ratibor and its fortifications, that allow me to clarify using contemporary maps what likely was going on in the area at the time in conjunction with Augustin Weltzel’s description of historic events.
First, a brief digression. I’ve periodically told readers about my “boots on the ground” without whom I would be unable to relate my family stories to the depth I feel is required. As readers can easily tell, I have limited knowledge about many of the subjects I discuss so the assistance of knowledgeable people is crucial. In the case of this post, for example, I felt the need to illustrate with historic maps what Ratibor may have looked like at different points in time to make the case for approximately when the Bruck’s Hotel might have been constructed.
Erroneously recalling there exists a map from 1829 with the Bruck’s Hotel shown, I asked Magda, my student acquaintance from Racibórz, if she could track it down for me. In the process, Magda directed me to a historical portal run by her father, Grzegorz Wawoczny, a historian. The portal includes a post written by a German gentleman, Christoph Sottor, describing the oldest plans of the city of Ratibor. This is how I learned about the 1812, 1831, and 1843 plans of Ratibor mentioned above. This post was very useful and one I encourage readers with an ancestral link to Ratibor to skim:
Historically, Ratibor was a fortified castle-town. The period the Bruck’s Hotel could conceivably have been built is closely related to when the fortifications surrounding Ratibor were dismantled because of the hotel’s proximity to where the protective walls once stood. Let me briefly relate to readers some of the history of the town’s defensive system. The defensive walls have existed in Ratibor since 1299. They were extended in the 14th century, and several fortified towers and three wooden gates were later added. A deep moat was constructed in front of the walls. The curtain walls were reinforced in 1663 in anticipation of a Turkish invasion.
Beginning in the 18th century, the fortifications were gradually eliminated. Between 1764 and 1771 the moat was filled in. According to Weltzel, the wooden gate (Figure 22) of the defensive tower nearest where the Bruck’s Hotel was eventually built was removed in 1825 and relocated to the Ratibor side of the bridge crossing the nearby Oder River; some of the nearby curtain walls were removed but the tower remained.
All that remains of the fortifications today is a Renaissance style tower constructed in 1574 and some remnants of the Gothic curtain walls that abutted this tower. (Figures 9-10) At the apex of the tower, there is an attic with embrasures (sometimes called gun holes) and four turrets. The building provided shelter for the garrison of defenders and was also used as a prison tower.
The removal of the moat, including the gradual elimination of some of the defensive structures, coincides with the end of the Seven Years’ War (1756-1763). Let me say a few words about this conflict.
The Seven Years’ War (1756–1763) was a global conflict involving most of Europe’s great powers that was fought primarily in Europe, the Americas, and Asia-Pacific. Without getting too far into the weeds, suffice it to say the opposing alliances were led by Great Britain and France, each seeking to establish global pre-eminence at the expense of the other. France and Spain fought against England and their ally Prussia in Europe and overseas. Long-standing rivalries pitted these adversaries against one another in North America and the West Indies.
No less a personage than Winston Churchill described the Seven Years War, which went by different names in its respective theaters (e.g., Franch and Indian Wars (1754-1763); War of the Conquest in French-speaking Canada; the Third Silesian Wear (1756-1763) between Prussia and Austria) as the first “world war” because of its global reach.
For purposes of this post, suffice it to say that in Europe, Prussia sought greater influence in the German states (i.e., Prussia and the other German states did not unite to form Germany until 1871) while Austria sought to contain Prussian influence as well as regain Silesia which they’d lost at the end of the First Silesian War in 1742. Austria failed in this regard. Based on Augustin Weltzel’s discussions, it is evident the city’s fortifications suffered heavy damage from cannonball strikes during the conflict.
Perhaps, the end of the war, new economic opportunities, ongoing deterioration of the defensive walls and towers, along with a need to expand the city caused town officials to gradually remove the fortifications and towers.
The address of the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel was Oderstrasse 16. The inn stood on the northwest corner of Oderstrasse where it met Bollwerk Strasse. A 1929 street map of Ratibor includes the hotel’s name and location (Figure 11), while a 1933 plan shows the number “16” on Oderstrasse. (Figure 12) A map from around 1890 indistinctly outlines an area where the Bruck’s Hotel stood that is identified by the number “104,” which may indicate the lot number. (Figure 13) Since I don’t have copies of all Ratibor’s plans, it’s not clear when the hotel was first plotted on a map.
The “Prinz von Preußen” is listed in John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent” as a place for people to stay in Ratibor while voyaging between Breslau and Vienna. (Figures 14a-b) Family ownership of the inn is thought to have begun at around this time.
Next, I’ll discuss a few of the historic maps I had access to, and what they suggest regarding the construction of the Bruck’s Hotel. I’ll also touch on some of Weltzel’s historic accounts for reference.
Let me start by discussing the map that Christoph Sottor dates to 1812 (Figure 15) that I previously described as a birds-eye view of the city with its still-standing fortifications.
“On the newly made plan (in 1812 on the basis of measurements from 1810) the orientation to the west was improved, buildings in towns near Racibórz were described and projections of several buildings in Racibórz itself were marked. The “Situations-Plan von der Stadt Ratibor” covers a smaller area than the 1811 plan and is on a smaller scale, 1 : 7,200. The plan measures 48 cm x 32.3 cm. It was also created by the geometer Andre Wihrheim. The only copy of the plan is in AP Opole, reference number: AP Opole, Rej. Opole. Kart., sign. IX/92. I only have a blurry picture of him.” [EDITOR’S NOTE: “AP Opole” stands for “Archiwum Państwowe Opole,” the State Archives in Opole, Poland]
The main conclusion one can draw from this map is that the defensive towers and curtain walls were mostly still intact in 1812. This means the Bruck’s Hotel, whose approximate location I’ve shown on the map, could not yet have existed at this time since the curtain walls would have impeded its construction.
According to Weltzel, the Bruck’s Hotel was referred to as the “Prinzen von Preußen” (“Princes of Prussia”) rather than “Prinz von Preußen” (“Prince of Prussia”), with no mention of the Bruck surname. He also tells us the property where the hotel was eventually built had previously been owned by the so-called Schützengilde, the shooting club, and sat along Oder Gasse, as Oderstrasse was then known. The Schützengilde had two structures on their property, a Schützenzwinger, or clubhouse, and a Schießstand, or firing range. The clubhouse faced Oder Gasse, while the firing range sat towards the rear of the property closer to the Oder River.
At the time Weltzel was researching his book he had access to the shooting club’s records dating back to 1620. According to these documents the Schützengilde owned the property on Oder Gasse until 1824/25 when they sold it to the city of Ratibor in two transactions; by May 1825 the city had full possession of the entire property. Using the proceeds from the sale of the property, the shooting club purchased another property in town. Seemingly, Weltzel does not discuss how the city used the property following its acquisition.
Peter Albrecht von Preußen uncovered a YouTube video describing the activities of the Schützengilde today featuring none other than my late friend Paul Newerla. While the video is in both German and Polish with subtitles in both these languages, readers can get a general idea of how the shooting club operates today and view some of the antique weapons members fire:
In essence, Paul Newerla says that today the Schützengilde is principally a historical society and functions as a recreational club rather than as a defensive force as it once did. As previously mentioned, the club relocated from Oder Gasse in 1825, but moved again in 1898 to their present location. The existing clubhouse incorporates a tower (Figure 16) that may be a remembrance of the Oder Thor that once stood adjacent to their property on Oder Gasse. According to Paul, the oldest documents the club possesses date to 1925, so he is appealing to anyone that may have older artifacts or memorabilia to contact the club. And finally, we learn the Schützengilde was inoperative from the 8th of May 1945 until 2004, when it was resurrected.
Let me turn now to the two high resolution maps from 1831 and 1843 that Magda sent me and discuss what inferences can be drawn from them. Both plans show two buildings on the property, the 1843 map more distinctly, where the Bruck’s Hotel would eventually be built. On the 1831 map (Figure 17), in the rear structure, that’s to say the shooting range, readers can vaguely make out what Weltzel refers to as a “wall extension” that paralleled the lane where Bollwerk Strasse was ultimately sited. It would appear the firing range incorporated as an extension a fragmentary part of the curtain walls that once surrounded Ratibor.
One thing we can conclude from the 1843 map (Figure 18) is that the Oder Thor, Oder Tower, the tower closest to where the hotel was ultimately built had apparently not yet been demolished, though as previously mentioned the wooden gate had been removed in 1825. The tower is labelled on the map suggesting it was still in place. It’s difficult to know precisely where the Oder Thor was situated relative to the hotel making it hard to know whether it would have impeded construction of the building; however, the defensive curtain walls would assuredly have prevented construction of the inn.
Another thing we can observe from the 1843 ocular map of Ratibor is that if you extend the line that was formerly part of the curtain wall and the extension of the Schießstand, it lines up perfectly with the side of the Oder Thor that was closest to the Oder River.
So, we return to the question of when the Bruck’s Hotel might have been built and what the impetus for doing so would have been. A French travel guide dated 1836 entitled “Manuel du Voyageur en Allemagne” (Handbook for Travelers in Germany), mentions an auberge or inn in Ratibor, “Auberge de Jaeschke.” (Figure 19) Prior to construction of the Bruck’s Hotel this is believed to have been the only guesthouse in Ratibor.
As previously discussed, the “Prinz von Preußen” is mentioned in John Murray’s 1850 publication “A Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent,” and is described as a “very comfortable hotel.” (see Figure 14b) Clearly, by 1850 the “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel was open for business. This is further confirmed by a concert the famed Austrian composer Johann Strauss delivered on the 17th of October 1850 in the hotel’s concert hall. (Figure 20) A similar recital by Dr. Franz Lizst four years earlier on the 29th of May 1846 was performed at the so-called “Jaschke’schen Saale” (Figure 21), presumably part of the “Auberge de Jaeschke,” indirect evidence the newer and larger Prinz von Preußen concert hall was not yet open.
According to Weltzel, the anticipated arrival of the railroad in Ratibor, which began service on the 1st of January 1846, caused a “building boom” between 1842 and 1850. If the 1843 map is accurate, the Oder Thor still stood at this time, so construction of the hotel post-dates its removal. While there is no smoking gun, the indirect evidence points to the Prinz von Preußen having been built sometime between 1845 and 1847, coinciding with the arrival of the railroad. No doubt regular train service and mention of the Prinz von Preußen in an English travel guide would have accelerated the number of visitors and tourists from Germany, Austria, and far-off places who would have expected modern conveniences. It can only be hoped the hotel’s Grundbuch still exists and is eventually found to definitively answer the question of what year the inn was built.
Knie, Johann G. (1845). Alphabetisch-statistisch-topographische Uebersicht der Dörfer, Flecken, Städte und andern Orte der Königl. Preuß. Provinz Schlesien.
Note: In this post, I discuss how I recently came into possession of images of ancestors from a branch of my family that originates mostly from Breslau [today:Wrocław, Poland], and learned about a memoir written by the grandfather of the English lawyer who shared these pictures.
A scant three months ago, on the 29th of September 2023 to be precise, I received an email from a lawyer living in Wolverhampton in the West Midlands of England, Helen Winter, née Renshaw. (Figure 1) I say “scant” because in the short period since we’ve been in touch, we’ve already exchanged several hundred emails.
In Helen’s initial missive, she explained that she is a descendant of the Bruck family and that her maternal grandfather was Professor Eberhard Friedrich Bruck (1877-1960). (Figure 2) He taught law at the University of Bonn until enactment of “The Law for the Restoration of the Professional Civil Service” (German: Gesetz zur Wiederherstellung des Berufsbeamtentums, shortened to Berufsbeamtengesetz) by the Nazis on the 7th of April 1933. The primary objective of this law was to establish a “national” and “professional” civil service by dismissing certain groups of tenured civil servants, including individuals of Jewish descent and non-Aryan origins. Additionally, the law forbade Jews, non-Aryans, and political opponents from holding positions as teachers, professors, judges, or within the government. It also extended to other professions such as lawyers, doctors, tax consultants, musicians, and notaries.
Following Eberhard’s dismissal as university professor and confiscation of his home, he fled to the United States and wound-up teaching at Harvard University. As Helen further explained, her grandfather wrote a memoir for his daughter, Helen’s mother (Figure 3), relating the history of his branch of the Bruck family. As a Christmas gift to her nephews and nieces, Helen has slowly been translating the account. Her grandfather’s chronicle makes mention of the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, the family business in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland] owned by three generations of my family. (Figure 4) While researching the history and fate of the hotel, Helen stumbled on multiple blog posts where I made mention of the establishment.
Helen has promised to share her grandfather’s translated story but has given me a preview of the brief entry her grandfather Eberhard Bruck wrote about his great-grandfather, Jacob Nathan Bruck, my great-great-great-grandfather from Ratibor. Since Jacob arguably died in 1832 or 1836 and Eberhard was born in 1877, he would not have known him personally. Eberhard’s written accounts of Jacob are likely stories he heard about him growing up and may have been clouded by the lens through which childhood memories are often remembered. In an upcoming post, I intend to discuss the meager details I’ve been able to uncover about my earliest known ancestor from Ratibor but suffice it for now to say the particulars caused me to more thoroughly investigate when the Bruck’s Hotel might have been built. These findings will be the basis for yet another post because they give insights on avenues others may want to follow in examining their own family histories.
On various occasions I’ve told readers that my ancestral tree has fewer than 1,500 names, which pales in comparison to multiple trees I’ve come across with more than 100,000 names. I use my tree mostly to orient myself to the people I write about on my blog. That said, I have people in my tree, living and deceased, whose names I’ve come across without knowing anything about them. This was the case with my fourth cousin Thomas “Tom” Friedrich Brook until he contacted me asking if we were related; I wrote about Tom in Post 143. (Figure 5) This was also true of Helen who previously existed only as a wraith. Coincidentally, Tom and Helen Winter are second cousins who’ve never met (i.e., Helen and Tom’s grandfathers were brothers), and like Tom, Helen is my fourth cousin.
In conjunction with translating her grandfather’s memoirs, Helen recently obtained family documents and pictures her older sister was curating. (Figure 6) Scrutinizing these items in combination has caused Helen to become obsessed with ancestral research. I can relate!
It is not my intention to further dwell on this branch of my family. However, as I just mentioned, I have numerous individuals in my tree I know nothing about and have no idea what they looked like. As names only, they are lifeless. Helen has been like the gift that keeps on giving because she has sent me pictures of many of my ancestors, including some of the earliest known ones from Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland]. Acquiring these visuals for my ancestral tree is like filling in my Bingo card!
Among the most beguiling images Helen sent are ones of Jacob Bruck’s son and daughter-in-law, Dr. Jonas Julius Bruck (1813-1883) (Figures 7a & b-10) and Rosalie Bruck, née Marle (1817-1890) (Figures 11-12) and his famous grandson, Dr. Julius Bruck (1840-1902). (Figure 13) Julius is known for having designed in 1867 a water-cooled diaphanoscopic instrument for transillumination of the bladder via the rectum.
Jonas and Julius Bruck and their respective wives are interred in a mausoleum-like structure at the Old Jewish Cemetery in Wrocław, Poland (Figure 14), and are among my only Bruck ancestors whose burial location is known. Because I am friends with the Branch Manager of the Old Jewish Cemetery, Dr. Renata Wilkoszewska-Krakowska (Figure 15), I shared the pictures Helen sent with her and she was thrilled to receive them since some of the people are interred in “her” cemetery.
To close this post, I will share two other images (Figures 16-17) Helen has sent over the last several weeks, like the twelve daily gifts of Christmas! Suffice it to say, my Bingo card is becoming quite full!
Note: Inspired by a reader, in this post I investigate the location of a Polish forced labor camp situated near Kamenz, Germany [today: Kamieniec Ząbkowicki, Poland], a place I’ve discussed in several earlier posts. Determining its location caused me to examine the purpose of the various networks of underground caves and subterranean structures the Nazis constructed in the latter stages of WWII in the mountainous regions of Germany, Austria, and Poland.
A gentleman, Mr. Wayne Lewan, from New South Wales, Australia recently contacted me through my blog regarding his father, Zbigniew Lewandowski. Wayne’s surname is obviously a truncated version of his ancestors’ family name. He happened upon several recent blog posts I wrote about Castle Kamenz [today: Kamieniec Ząbkowicki, Poland] that my friend Peter Albrecht von Preußen’s family owned through several generations.
Wayne sent me two pages (Figures 1a-b) documenting that his father had indeed been a forced laborer in Kamenz in Silesia near Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland] between 1944-1945, when Silesia was part of Germany. I found these and other pages, including Zbigniew Lewandowski’s photograph (Figure 2) on his 1948 “Application for Assistance” requesting help to immigrate to Australia, in the online Arolsen Archives database. This database has the largest collection of information on Nazi victims, including documents on concentration camps, forced labor and displaced persons.
According to Wayne, his father was picked up by the Nazis in a street roundup in Warsaw on the 17th of July 1944. Given the timing of his arrest, it is likely that Zbigniew was arrested during the Warsaw Uprising, the World War II operation by the Polish underground resistance to liberate Warsaw from German occupation. It occurred in the summer of 1944, and it was led by the Polish resistance Home Army. Following Zbigniew’s arrest, he was held in Kamenz between July 1944 and January 1945, then moved to Mühldorf, a subcamp of the Dachau concentration camp located near Mühldorf in Bavaria, where he was liberated in May 1945.
Aware that present-day Kamieniec Ząbkowicki, Poland, located in the Lower Silesian Voivodeship (i.e., an “administrative district”) of south-western Poland, has a population of only about 4,200 people today and is a small community, I became curious as to where exactly in Kamenz the internment camp might have been located.
For geographic reference, Kamieniec Ząbkowicki is approximately 80 miles northwest of Racibórz (Figure 3), where my father was born, and roughly 50 miles south of Wrocław, Poland [formerly: Breslau, Germany]. (Figure 4) Wrocław is a city in southwestern Poland and the largest city in the historical region of Silesia. Kamieniec Ząbkowicki is an important railroad junction, located on the main line which links Wrocław with Kłodzko [Glatz, Germany] and Prague.
The reason the location of a forced laborer camp in Kamenz is so fascinating is that in the numerous discussions I’ve had with Peter Albrecht von Preußen the existence of such a purported camp has never previously come up. And, in fact, the document Wayne Lewan sent me merely indicated his father had been interned in “Kamenz, Schles., near Breslau,” (see Figure 1a) making no allusion to Castle Kamenz proper. Still, while my online research yielded no mention of any forced laborer camp near Kamenz in Silesia, I confusingly discovered there had been a concentration camp in another town by the same name located in Saxony; the latter was a subcamp of the Gross-Rosen concentration camp.
I began to wonder whether an internment camp might have existed underground near Castle Kamenz. While researching this possibility, I learned that the Nazis had begun a secret construction project in the Owl Mountains [Polish: Góry Sowie; German: Eulengebirge] beneath Książ Castle, located only about 43 miles northwest of Castle Kamenz. Książ Castle is a castle in northern Wałbrzych (Figure 5) in Lower Silesian Voivodeship, Poland, and the largest castle in Silesia. It stood to reason that if the Nazis had begun fabrication of massive underground bases beneath a nearby castle in Silesia, they might have done the same beneath Castle Kamenz. Nonetheless, Peter Albrecht confirmed that a similar assembly project had never been built under Castle Kamenz.
The project underneath Książ Castle was code named “Project Riese” and involved the construction between 1943 and 1945 of seven massive underground bases. The purpose of this vast subterranean network project remains uncertain. Some sources suggest that all the structures were part of the Führer Headquarters; according to others, it was a combination of headquarters (HQ) and arms industry, with Książ Castle intended as an HQ or other official residence, and the tunnels in the Owl Mountains planned as a network of underground factories. The tunnels were never finished though thousands of prisoners of war, forced laborers, and concentration camp inmates worked and died during the construction work.
In any event, the revelation of underground bases the Nazis excavated or natural caves or old mines they expanded upon has opened a plethora of topics I’ve either never previously discussed or only touched upon. They relate to the final phase of WWII when their development was widespread throughout the mountainous areas of Germany, Austria, and Poland and widely involved the use of forced laborers, prisoners of war, and concentration camps inmates. Because they often lack documentary evidence, they invite endless speculation as to their true function. I will briefly explore some of these issues.
Let me begin by discussing what I learned from Peter Albrecht as to the presumed location of the forced labor camp in Kamenz vis a vis Castle Kamenz. Some of Peter’s information comes from an informant named Stefan Gnaczy who started the local historical society and the small museum in Kamieniec Ząbkowicki; regrettably, Stefan passed away in 2019, though his son Matthew Gnaczy continues to be involved with the historical society and museum.
Before relating what Peter has learned about the forced labor camp near Castle Kamenz let me review some of what I presented to readers in Post 135 for context. Peter’s great-great-grandfather Friedrich Wilhelm Nikolaus Albrecht von Preußen (1837-1906) was gifted Castle Kamenz by his mother upon his marriage to Princess Marie of Saxe-Altenburg (1854-1898) in 1873. Shortly thereafter he started to build a large steam boiler house (Figure 6); the source of heat for a boiler is typically combustion of any of several fuels, such as wood, coal, oil, or natural gas. It’s unknown to me which of these fuels was used to create the steam, though underground pipes running through a tunnel connecting the boiler house to the castle are known to have carried the steam between the two.
Upon Nikolaus’ death in 1906, Castle Kamenz was inherited by his eldest son, Friedrich Heinrich von Preußen (1874-1940), mentioned in several earlier posts. Beginning around this time, he converted approximately 50 rooms into apartments and outfitted them with baths, telephones, radios, and electricity. By then, the boiler house had an electric generator and the tunnels now carried not only steam but electricity. The significance of this will soon become clearer.
Prior to Friedrich Heinrich’s death in 1940, he sold Castle Kamenz to his second cousin, Waldemar von Preußen (1889-1945), who owned the castle throughout WWII.
According to what Peter has learned from local residents of Kamieniec Ząbkowicki as well as the historical society, there is a tunnel/cave system running below the town that is at least six miles long, perhaps longer depending on who you believe. Purportedly, the system was developed hundreds of years earlier for unknown reasons by monks from the former Kamieniec Abbey, which still stands but was secularized in 1810. The caves and tunnels thus predate Castle Kamenz which was constructed between about 1838 and 1872.
Part of this web of tunnels and caves may have included the adits of the former gold and arsenic mine located in Złoty Stok [German: Reichenstein, Germany] mined in the Middle Ages, located a mere 6.1 miles south of Kamieniec Ząbkowicki. (Figure 7)
Peter was able to discover there was indeed a forced work camp near Kamieniec Ząbkowicki at a place formerly call Reichenau, Germany [today: Topola, Poland], located 3.6 miles southeast of the castle. (Figures 8a-b) Topola is a village in the administrative district of Kamieniec Ząbkowicki.
The source of the information on Topola is a report prepared by the Lux Veritatis Foundation, based in Warsaw, called “The Compilation of Places of Crimes Committed against the Civilian Population by the Nazi Occupant on the Polish Territories in Years 1939–1945.” According to Volume 3 of this compilation entitled “The Report on the Losses Sustained by Poland as a Result of German Aggression and Occupation During the Second World War, 1939–1945” (Figure 9) which includes a “List of Atrocity Sites,” 82 Polish citizens, including Poles, Jews, and Romanis, were murdered in Topola during its existence, likely from the extremely harsh and tortuous working conditions. (Figure 10)
The Lux Veritatis’ “List of Atrocity Sites” was compiled based on the work of the Central Commission for the Investigation of German Crimes Committed in Poland. According to the report, “Each volume contains the records of Nazi German atrocities committed in a particular voivodeship (according to the territorial administrative division of Poland in the 1970s), and presents the facts and figures as known to Polish scholars in the 1980s and up to the early 1990s. This series of volumes does not include data on Nazi German concentration and death camps, POW camps, or atrocity sites on territories now beyond the borders of Poland.”
The report further states the following as to the vast scale Nazi Germany’s efforts to exterminate the people of Poland: “Polish citizens were killed in individual incidents of murder, in mass executions by firing squad, during raids to ‘pacify’ whole villages, butchered while held in German prisons, hanged on the gallows in public executions, or slaughtered in barbaric atrocities of miscellaneous other types. Victims included women and children as well as persons with no connection at all with the circumstances triggering an atrocity, who just had the bad luck to be there when the killing started. The German authorities occupying Poland pursued a policy of collective accountability and executed ‘hostages’.”
Given Topola’s proximity to Castle Kamenz and the estimated extent of the nearby tunnel/cave system beneath Kamieniec Ząbkowicki, Peter knows the Nazis tapped into the electric grid and also siphoned off steam from the castle’s electric generator and boiler house to power whatever activities they were clandestinely pursuing. Naturally, this left the castle with limited electricity and steam.
The boiler house tunnel system is currently undergoing restoration, and Peter sent several photos of the ongoing work. (Figures 11a-f) Clearly, the tunnel system once connected to the larger web of subterranean tunnels and caves that were part of the Topola network, though the photos confirm the juncture was sealed off. Apparently, this was done in 1947 by Poland’s Communist government in a covert operation.
Peter emphasizes, however, that in the time that his ancestor Prince Waldemar owned the castle during WWII no forced laborers were used in the operation of Castle Kamenz’s operations nor were any interned in the boiler house tunnel system since the latter is too narrow.
The absence of documentary materials about Reichenau and, more generally, the question on what purpose the various secretive Nazi bunkers and subterranean bases served, invites further examination and speculation.
According to Peter’s informant, the forced laborers that lived and worked in the underground bunker or cave in Topola (Reichenau) may have been gulaged by the infamous Organization Todt (OT). This organization was a civil and military engineering group in Nazi Germany from 1933 to 1945, named for its founder, Fritz Todt, an engineer, and senior member of the Nazi Party. Incidentally, Todt was responsible for the construction of the German autobahns.
OT had oversight for a huge number of engineering projects both in Nazi Germany and in occupied territories from France to the Soviet Union during WWII. The organization became notorious for using forced labor. From 1943 until 1945 during the late phase of the Third Reich, OT administered all constructions of concentration camps to supply forced labor to industry.
Todt was killed in February 1942 near Rastenburg when his aircraft crashed shortly after take-off. He was succeeded as Reichsminister and head of the OT by Albert Speer. This coincided with the absorption of the organization into the renamed and expanded Reich Ministry of Armaments and War Production. Approximately 1.4 million laborers were in the service of the organization. About one percent were Germans excused from military service, another 1.5 percent were concentration camp inmates, and the remainder were prisoners of war and forced laborers from occupied countries. Many of the laborers did not survive the arduous work which they were condemned to.
Suffice it to say, that according to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum website, “Between 1933 and 1945, Nazi Germany and its allies established more than 44,000 camps and other incarceration sites (including ghettos). The perpetrators used these locations for a range of purposes, including forced labor, detention of people deemed to be ‘enemies of the state,’ and mass murder.”
It is possible, and indeed likely, that if forced laborers were used for whatever activities were being undertaken in the tunnel and cave system at Topola, the OT might have brought the needed workers from concentration camp Gusen (Figure 12), located three miles from Mauthausen concentration camp, and 280 miles south-southwest of Kamieniec Ząbkowicki. Recall that Kamenz was a major railway hub to Breslau and Prague, the latter 153 miles directly north of Gusen.
A possible clue as to what clandestine activities may have been going on beneath Topola is the presence of a high-ranking Nazi official named Hans Kammler who is reputed to have maintained a residence in Kamieniec Ząbkowicki after 1943. Hans Kammler was an SS-Obergruppenführer (translated as “senior group leader,” the highest commissioned SS rank after only Reichsführer-SS) responsible for Nazi civil engineering projects and its top V-weapons program. He oversaw the construction of various Nazi concentration camps before being put in charge of the V-2 rocket and Emergency Fighter Programs towards the end of WWII.
V-weapons formed part of the range of the so-called Wunderwaffen (superweapons, or “wonderweapons”) of Nazi Germany, and were intended to be used in a military campaign against Britain, although only the V-1 and V-2 were ever used against them. The V-2 and other German guided missiles and rockets were developed by the Peenemünde Army Research Center (German: Heeresversuchsanstalt Peenemünde, HVP).
Britain’s RAF successfully bombed the Nazi’s rocket production facilities at Peenemünde in August 1943 in Operation Crossbow. Following this successful raid, Albert Speer recommended transferring the V-2 rocket production underground. Hitler immediately agreed, and he and Speer decided that the SS, with its access to a massive supply of slave labor, was best suited to undertake this task.
As the SS construction chief, Hans Kammler was selected to oversee the project. The secret weapons projects for which Kammler was given responsibility included manufacturing both the Messerschmitt Me 262, the first operational jet fighter, and the V-2, which Kammler—in a construction effort of ruthless brutality and speed—had in production before the end of 1943.
The first below-ground project began at a huge fuel storage facility in the German state of Thuringia. By late August 1943, Kammler had a sizable detachment of concentration camp inmates from Buchenwald working at the new underground installation. There were so many slave laborers by the end of 1943 that the subcamp of Mittlebau-Dora was established. The latter supplied slave labor from many Eastern countries occupied by Germany (including evacuated survivors of eastern extermination camps), for extending the nearby tunnels in the Kohnstein and for manufacturing the V-2 rocket and the V-1 flying bomb. Gypsum mining in the hills in the Kohnstein had created tunnels that were ideally suited as a fuel/chemical depot and for Nazi Germany factories, including the V-2 rocket factory.
Regular readers may recall Post 114 and Post 114, Postscript where I discussed one of my distant cousins, Edward Hans Lindenberger, who was compelled to work in the underground tunnels near Buchenwald and Mittlebau-Dora and was never heard from again, no doubt a victim of the Nazis policy of working concentration camp inmates to death.
Assuming the accounts of Hans Kammler’s presence in Kamieniec Ząbkowicki after around 1943 are credible, given the responsibilities he was assigned by Hitler and Speer, it is reasonable to assume that he was engaged in preparing the caves around Topola to produce secret weapons. The mounting pressure on the Nazis from the Allies as the war proceeded suggests that most of the planned underground bunkers and caves were never completed. Pictures of the unfinished bunkers that were part of Project Riese, for example, show old winches, abandoned munitions carts, and primitive railway tracks leading into the tunnels, but not enough to conclusively determine what activities were planned.
In the absence of documentary evidence, one can only surmise what the network of caves, tunnels, bunkers, and subterranean structures scattered throughout Germany, Poland, Austria, and elsewhere were developed for. Likely, they were intended for a range of different purposes, including production of munitions, planes, and missiles; headquarters from which to direct troop movements; places to house batteries of cannons; safe havens from which to make a last stand; and even locations to stash war plunder. What I find mystifying is that among the myriad Nazi documents that survived WWII, seemingly few related to the purpose of the underground caves exist. Either they were never produced, which seems unlikely, destroyed before the Allies could get their hands on them, or carted off by the Allies and are still classified.
Fascinatingly, treasure hunters have expended a lot of time, money, and effort exploring and radar scanning from above searching for underground cavities where a “Nazi gold train” rumored to contain 300 tons of gold, diamonds, other gems, and industrial equipment may have been hidden. According to legend, the train was loaded by the Nazis and entered a tunnel in the mountainous Lower Silesian region before Soviet Army Forces closed in, but the train was never seen again. There are periodic reports in the media about treasure seekers claiming to have found evidence of this train. According to Peter, the tunnels connecting Castle Kamenz to the boiler house are periodically broken into by fortune hunters seeking this chimera.
There is another factor complicating understanding the purpose of the various subterranean structures, namely inaccessibility and/or flooding of the chambers. In the case of Reichenau, the Neisse River runs through it. To the southwest of the site there was once a quarry. According to Stefan Gnaczy, Peter’s informant, in 1947 the Polish government sealed off the entrance to the caves and tunnels and flooded the quarry including the sealed entrance diverting water from the Neisse River. Stefan further claims to have found an unpublished Polish government report from the 1960s stating that only half of the underground tunnel is accessible for exploration, with the remainder flooded.
Coming full circle back to Wayne Lewan’s father. According to his father’s records, he was stationed in Kamenz for only about six months. It’s not clear why he was moved from Kamenz to Dachau concentration camp in January 1945. His pre-war occupation was telephone lineman mechanic, and perhaps he was considered a skilled worker whose abilities were better utilized in Dachau. (Figure 13) Regardless, alerted to the fact that Zbigniew Lewandowski had once been interned in Kamenz led me to track down the camp where he was likely held and to investigate Nazi underground bases and tunnels, the purpose of which remain shrouded in mystery.
Hall, John. “Inside the Nazi’s abandoned military shelters in Poland.” DailyMail.com, 12 August 2015. https://www.dailymail.co.uk
Ilsley, Natalie. “Top 5 Nazi Discoveries.” Newsweek, 31 August 2015.
Lux Veritatas Foundation. “The Report on the Losses Sustained by Poland as a Result of German Aggression and Occupation During the Second World War, 1939–1945: List of Atrocity Sites.”
Sulzer, Andreas. “The two lives of Hans Kammler/Hitler’s Secret Weapons Manager.” YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EkKFX9HLAxc
“10 Nazi bunkers and subterranean bases.” Heritage Daily. https://www.heritagedaily.com/
United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. “Forced Labor.” https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/forced-labor
United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. “Gusen.” https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/gusen
Note: A query from a reader about my ancestor Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck’s first marriage led me to obtaining Walter’s marriage certificate to his first wife, which in turn guided me to several Polish databases readers may find useful when researching their own Prussian ancestors. It is worth noting the data from some BUT not all these sources may also pop up when using ancestry.com. In the interest of thoroughness, readers may also want to check the ones cited in this post. I explain some of the challenges of using these sources.
In January of this year, I received an email through my Blog’s Webmail from a gentleman named Stephen Falk from Point Roberts, Washington. Mr. Falk contacted me after reading Blog Post 99 about my accomplished relative from Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland], Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck, subject of multiple earlier posts, wondering whether I was aware of Walter’s first wife, Margarethe “Grete” Skutsch (1872-1942). I confirmed that I knew about her. Stephen, it so happens, has the same relationship to Margarethe Skutsch, second cousin twice removed, as I do to Walter. In passing, Stephen mentioned that he was unaware that Walter had remarried and had fathered two children with his second wife.
Regular readers may recall that in Post 100 I discussed how I discovered Dr. Bruck had previously been married. Quoting what I wrote earlier:
“In researching when and where Walter’s older sister, Margarethe Prausnitz née Bruck, was born and died, I found an ancestral tree showing Walter had been married before he married Johanna Bruck née Gräbsch, the mother of his two children. This came as quite a surprise to me. According to this source, the name of Walter’s first wife was purportedly Margarethe STUTSCH.
I have repeatedly told readers that unless I can locate primary source documents, I am hesitant to believe what I find in other people’s trees. Case in point. While I was eventually able to confirm Walter had indeed previously been married, I learned his first wife’s maiden name was SKUTSCH not Stutsch, complicating my search. Sadly, I found that Margarethe Skutsch, born the same month and year as Walter, March 1872, was murdered in Theresienstadt in 1942.
I unearthed two primary source documents confirming Margarethe’s connection to Walter Bruck. The first was her Theresienstadt death certificate, very rarely completed post-mortem for Jews who died there, giving her married name. The second was the 1907 death certificate for Margarethe’s mother, Berta Skutsch née Grosser, at which Walter was a witness. A picture from around 1917 shows Margarethe and Walter seated at an outside picnic table with the Grand Duke of Oldenburg and his wife, indicating they were still married at the time. Walter’s biography which abruptly ends around 1894-95 gives no indication he was married before he left for America to attend the Baltimore College of Dental Surgery, so the duration of his first marriage is unknown.”
In Part I of Post 109, I also made mention of a seemingly ongoing connection between Walter Bruck’s first and second wives following Walter’s death in 1937. Again quoting:
“Personally intriguing is the mention made on March 30, 1940, that Renate [Dr. Bruck’s surviving child by his second wife] went to visit ‘Tante Margarethe’ to wish her a happy birthday. The quotation marks indicate that while she was not a relative, she was still referred to as an aunt. There is no doubt this is Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck’s first wife who was Jewish, Margarethe Bruck née Skutsch. She was born on March 30, 1872, in Breslau [Wrocław, Poland], and murdered in the Theresienstadt Ghetto on the 22nd of September 1942. It is surprising that Johanna and Renate were in touch with Walter’s first wife, although, as this was certainly the case, it’s astonishing that Johanna made no mention in the diary when Margarethe was deported. Perhaps Johanna had already distanced herself from this Jewish ‘aunt’ by then?”
Soon after establishing contact with Stephen Falk, he informed me that he has a copy of Walter Bruck and Margarethe Skutsch’s marriage certificate (Figures 1a-d), which he graciously shared. From the certificate, which my good German friend Peter Hanke transcribed and translated for me, I learned several interesting things. (Figures 2a-b)
As I correctly surmised from Walter’s biography which I discussed in Post 100, he was not yet married to his first wife when he departed for America in around 1894-95 to attend the Baltimore College of Dental Surgery. According to his marriage document Walter and Margarethe married on the 20th of October 1896 in Breslau, Germany. The certificate confirmed that by the time of their marriage in 1896, Walter had already converted to the Protestant religion. For a long time, I thought his conversion might have coincided with the death of Walter’s mother in around 1917, but clearly Walter anticipated the benefits professionally of being Protestant. As he and other Jews who converted would later learn, according to Nazi ideology he would always be considered “racially” Jewish. Walter died in 1937, perhaps by his own hand, so did not live long enough to have “Israel” added to his name, but as readers can see, Margarethe had the name “Sara” added to hers identifying her as Jewish (Figure 1c); sadly, as previously mentioned, she was deported to and murdered in Theresienstadt in 1942.
It is not uncommon for German marriage certificates to include the date of a divorce decree should a marriage be dissolved. As readers will note, a handwritten entry was added to Walter and Margarethe’s 1896 marriage document on the 8th of January 1924 affirming they had been divorced since the 21st of December 1923. (Figure 1a) The timing of the divorce is intriguing. In Post 102, I included a copy of Dr. Walter Bruck and Johanna Graebsch’s wedding announcement dated the 13th of December 1923 (Figure 3), thus, eight days before Walter’s first marriage officially ended.
Judging from the entry to Johanna and Renate Bruck’s Tagebuch cited above, it appears that Walter’s second wife had a cordial relationship with his first wife at least until it became too dangerous for Johanna and Renate to associate with the Jewish-born Margarethe Bruck née Skutsch during the Nazi era. While the reasons for the dissolution of Walter and Margarethe’s marriage will likely never be known, perhaps their inability to have children may have been the cause? To date, I have found no evidence they ever had any together.
The marriage certificate contains additional ancestral information about Walter and Margarethe’s parents, information previously known to me, though for readers in a similar situation, such documents can often yield new ancestral data.
Stephen gave me a direct link to Walter and Margarethe’s 1896 wedding document. The source is the “Archiwum Państwowe we Wrocławiu,” the State Archives in Wrocław, which has free, online genealogy collections as well as onsite family history collections. Prior to being contacted by Stephen, I had never accessed the Breslau online records, so will spend a little time broadly explaining to interested followers how to navigate the database. Readers should be forewarned that based on my limited exploration of the website I find it extremely user-unfriendly. Beyond the obvious challenge of negotiating a Polish website, even with the translator automatically turned on, there appear to be specific sequential steps to be followed to access the desired files.
Relatedly, my good friend Peter Hanke provided a link to a website entitled “Ahnenforschung in Schlesien—Liegnitz, Breslau, Lauban, Hirschberg,” Genealogy in Silesia—Liegnitz, Wroclaw, Lauban, Hirschberg that includes a portal page for specifically accessing the documents of the State Archives in Wroclaw (the Standesamt or the German civil registration offices for Breslau I, II, III, IV which were responsible for recording births, marriages, and deaths). (Figure 4) For ease, it helps to begin with the link to “Genealogy in Silesia” just mentioned.
Before briefly explaining how to access the Wroclaw records, some background about the city of Breslau is helpful. By the end of the Middle Ages in around 1500, the city had already more than 25,000 inhabitants, something few of the more than 4,000 places in Silesia had reached by the end of WWII. By 1840, 100,000 people were already living in Breslau. From then on, a tremendous growth spurt ensued because of the construction of the railway and the beginning of industrialization. In 1900 the population had quadrupled to 400,000 as outlying areas were incorporated into the city. By 1939 there were 630,000 inhabitants in Breslau. Most readers with an ancestral link to Prussia likely have relatives with a connection to Breslau simply because it was the largest city in Silesia.
I was able to track down a map of Breslau as it looked in 1863 hoping I could locate the streets where Walter and Margarethe lived before they got married 33 years later. The marriage certificate tells us Walter resided at Schweidnitzerstraße 27 (Figure 5), and Margarethe at Zwingerplatz 2. Both locales are found on the 1863 map (Figure 6) although Hindenburgplatz, where Walter later owned a sumptuous home, was then an outlying area known only as “nach Kleinburg.” Peter Hanke also gave me a link to a website containing many high-resolution historic maps of Breslau, including Kaiser Wilhelm Strasse which bisected Hindenburgplatz (Figure 7); for readers interested in understanding the city’s layout through time, I include the link: http://igrek.amzp.pl/result.php?cmd=pt&locsys=1&uni=-706307&box=0.0001&hideempty=on
Moving on, let me describe how to access Breslau’s birth, marriage, and death records from the “Ahnenforschung in Schlesien—Liegnitz, Breslau, Lauban, Hirschberg” website. As previously mentioned, Breslau had four Standesämter, or civil registration offices, referred to as “Standesamt BRESLAU I-IV” on the site’s portal page. The responsible registry office was based on one’s street address. Determining the responsible Breslau Standesamt for one’s ancestors without an address and address book is nigh near impossible.
That said, I like a challenge, and attempted to determine the civil registry office for Dr. Walter Bruck for the last year he was alive, specifically, 1937. Living on a street that was in the late 19th century and early 20th century known as Kaiser Wilhelm Strasse, during the Nazi era it was called “Straße der S.A.” “S.A.” stands for Sturmabteilung (SA) which was the paramilitary combat organization of the Nazi Party. The precise address of Dr. Bruck’s residence in 1937 was Hindenburgplatz 17 (Figure 8), bisected initially by Kaiser Wilhelm Strasse, and later by the renamed Straße der S.A. (Figure 9)
The next step in determining the responsible civil registry office requires having an address book for the year in question, in this example, 1937. The following website (Category:Wroclaw Address Book – GenWiki (genealogy.net) has 104 Breslau Address Books intermittently spanning parts of two centuries and includes the year 1937. The fourth part of this Address Book shows the all-important street directory, which lists the relevant civil registry office under one of the columns. In the case of Hindenburgplatz 17 the responsible Standesamt was “4,” the responsible Evangelical parish was “10,” and the responsible Catholic parish under the column titled “parochia,” was “III.” (Figures 10a-b)
Readers will rightly wonder which Evangelical and Catholic churches the parish numbers relate to. This information is also found in the fourth part of the address books, in subsection five entitled “V. Abschnitt. Kirchen und Friedhöfe,” Section V. Churches and Cemeteries. (Figure 11) So, in the above example, the Evangelical parish 10 refers to St. John’s Church, while the Catholic parish III would have been St. Carolus-Kapelle. Knowing that Dr. Bruck was a Protestant, I searched for the surviving church registers for the St. John’s Church, none of which are known to have survived WWII.
Later, I will briefly discuss one Breslau parish record of personal interest I surprisingly found amongst surviving records for a different Evangelical parish, the church of St. Elisabeth’s.
For readers in fact interested in tracking down the responsible civil registry office as well as the parish for ancestors listed in the various Breslau address books, the following link provides a “how-to” guide on doing so: http://www.christoph-www.de/breslau%201.html; this how-to guide is entitled “Breslau für Familienforscher,” “Wrocław for Genealogists.” (Figure 12) Bear in mind that not all Breslau directories include a table in the fourth part of the book cross-referencing street addresses with civil registry offices and responsible parishes. In this case, readers should examine directories a year or more before or after the target year.
Continuing. I will use “Standesamt BRESLAU IV” to illustrate how to access the Breslau birth, marriage, and death records. Once you’ve selected a specific civil registry office, you’ll be taken to another page where readers will find the following listings in Polish on the left side (Figure 13): Zespół1428-0 – Urząd Stanu Cywilnego (Zespół1428-0 – Registry Office); Seria1 – Księgi urodzeń (Birth records) (Figure 14); Seria2 – Księgi małżeństw (Marriage registers); and Seria3 – Księgi zgonów (Death books). You can either select birth, marriage, or death records, or “Show All the Listings” in the center part of the screen (i.e., at the time of this writing, there were “233 Results” available). Next, scroll down and select the specific year and records you’re interested in which will take you to another page; scroll down on this page, and select the hyperlinked URL. Images of the vital documents will show up which you can then scroll through systematically; if you know the specific month and/or day you’re looking for you can short-circuit the process. If you attempt to access the vital records from a place other than “Show All the Listings,” which it is possible to do, the hyperlinked URL won’t appear.
I want to draw readers attention to another source of information that will take you to maps and plans of the city of Breslau. By selecting “Standesamt Breslau I,” you’ll come to a page entitled “Team 1425-0—Civil Registry Office in Wrocław I” (Figure 15) Click where it says “430 Results,” and on the center of the next page select the box “Civil Registry Office in Wrocław.” (Figure 16) The next page yields “5504 Results” (Figure 17); on the left side you can select “Files of the city of Wrocław” which takes you to a different page with “489 Results” with the icons of Breslau maps through time. (Figure 18)
Suffice it to say with all the digital information available through the “Archiwum Państwowe we Wrocławiu,” one could spend many days studying the offerings; I’ve barely touched on what can be accessed but for interested genealogists the more narrowly you can focus your research with vital dates and addresses of one’s ancestors, obviously the easier things will go.
Before personally acquainting myself with the digital records available at the Wrocław Archives, I asked Stephen to check on specific vital documents where I knew the approximate date or year of the event. Initially, I had hoped to obtain the birth certificates for Walter and Johanna Bruck’s two daughters, Hermine born in 1924, who lived only a few months, and Renate born in 1926. Unfortunately, in Poland as in Germany there is a “protection period” before vital documents can be released to the general public. While the births of both Hermine and Renate took place when Breslau was part of Germany, the protection period is governed by Poland; Poland won’t release Hermine and Renate’s birth certificates, respectively, until 2024 and 2026, so 100 years after their births. In Germany, the protection period for birth certificates is 110 years. In the case of death records, Germany releases them after 30 years but in Poland one must wait 80 years.
Having learned that the protection period for marriage records in both Germany and Poland is 80 years, I had hoped I could uncover Walter Bruck and Johanna Gräbsch’s 1923 or 1924 marriage certificate, to no avail. Perplexingly, the marriage records for this period are not yet digitized. I’ll return to my search for information on Walter and Johanna’s marriage momentarily in discussing another Polish database readers can search for information on Prussian ancestors.
To remind readers, Walter and Johanna’s daughter Renate was married three times. Her first husband, whom I’ve previously wrote about in Post 101 was Matthias Eugen Walter Mehne; according to his daughter Bettina Mehne he was born in 1908 in Breslau. While many birth records from this year exist in the Wrocław Archives, Stephen could not find M.E.W. Mehne’s birth certificate so one can only assume it was among those destroyed during WWII.
Matthias Mehne’s address, Tauenzienplatz 1, means the responsible Standesamt was 4. The responsible Evangelical parish for this address was “2,” while the responsible Catholic parish was “VI.” In the case of the address associated with Matthias Mehne, the Evangelical parish would have been St. Mary Magdalene, while the corresponding Catholic parish would have been St. Dorothea (=Minoritenkirche). It’s unknown to me whether Matthias was an Evangelical or a Catholic, and while church records survive for both parishes, I was unable to find a baptismal or birth record for him amongst these records.
In the aforementioned how-to guide “Wrocław for Genealogists,” the surviving Evangelical and Catholic parish records are identified, and a hyperlink provided to some of them. Uncertain whether any would have relevant records for my ancestors, I started by examining the Evangelical records for the first Evangelical church, St. Elisabeth parish church (Elisabeth-Kirche zu Breslau | Breslau/Wroclaw, Staatsarchiv | Polen | Matricula Online (matricula-online.eu). Miraculously, I stumbled upon the marriage register listing for Johanna Gräbsch to her first husband, Dr. Alfred Renner, confirming they were married on the 6th of May 1905. (Figure 19) While I had previously located their marriage certificate in ancestry.com, it fails to indicate they were married in St. Elisabeth’s Evangelical Church. Armed with this new information, I naively hoped that Johanna Gräbsch’s marriage to Walter Bruck in late 1923 or early 1924 might also have taken place in the same Evangelical Church, so I carefully scrolled through the rest of marriage register for St. Elisabeth’s, to no avail.
Given Dr. Bruck’s prominence in the city of Breslau during his lifetime, Stephen Falk made an excellent recommendation. He suggested I try and track down a contemporary newspaper that might have included an announcement of Dr. Bruck’s second marriage. I was quickly able to determine the largest Breslau newspaper of the time was the “Breslauer Zeitung” (i.e., “zeitung”=newspaper) but was uncertain whether historic copies of the tabloid can be found online. Consequently, I contacted my friend from Wrocław, Ms. Renata Wilkoszewska-Krakowska, Branch Manager, Museum of Cemetery Art (Old Jewish Cemetery), Branch of the City Museum of Wrocław. Renata graciously provided a link to another Polish database (https://www.dbc.wroc.pl/dlibra?language=en), the Lower Silesian Digital Library. (Figure 20)
The site includes some back issues of the Breslauer Zeitung, although none for the year Dr. Bruck remarried in either 1923 or 1924. As readers can see, in the very center of the Lower Silesian Digital Library portal page there is a search bar. Beyond looking for old Breslau newspapers, out of curiosity I also searched my family surname, and happened upon references related to three other eminent Bruck ancestors from Breslau, Dr. Julius Bruck (Dr. Walter Bruck’s father), Dr. Eberhard Bruck, and Dr. Felix Bruck. Readers with ancestral connections to Breslau can do similar searches. Occasionally, genealogists may even be rewarded by finding historic pictures of one’s predecessors.
I can’t conclude this Blog post without conceding the obstacles and challenges genealogists face in searching and finding information for ancestors who may hail from Silesia. The language barrier turns out to be the easiest to overcome. Readers should be able to figure out how to access the civil records from the Wrocław Archives, although the process of scrolling through all of them can be tedious, particularly when one does not have dates for any vital events in an ancestor’s life. Figuring out which Protestant or Catholic parish relatives may have lived in, and then hoping the church records for that parish still exist can also be exasperating. Knowing that the protection period for vital events has expired, and then being unable to find digitized copies of those records can be vexing. The list of challenges goes on, but my advice to genealogists is to persist. Experimenting by following some of the steps I’ve outlined should be helpful. Bear in mind that doing ancestral searches can at times involve a steep learning curve.
Note: This is the first of a two-part story about the wartime “journal” or “diary” written by Johanna and Renate Bruck, the widow and daughter of my esteemed ancestor from Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland], Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck (1872-1937), a second cousin twice removed. The German word “Tagebuch” strictly speaking translates as a diary or journal but in effect is more of a record or log of the extensive daily activities Johanna and Renate were engaged in between January 1940 and December 1944. What could have been an extremely absorbing account of the daily lives of an Aryan woman and her “mischling” daughter during WWII, within the context of global events and the impact of National Socialism on Jews, half-Jews, Germans, and others in Europe, instead turns into a mundane and drab account of their rather “ordinary” existences. The Tagebuch is often more remarkable for what it omits than what it says about the ongoing events of the tragic period in which it was written. It is difficult to make sense of many of the entries, which would in any case be of little or no interest to readers. For this reason I explain some of the war-related references and discuss a few specific people I’ve been able to identify.
Regular followers of my Blog are aware of the multiple posts I have recently written about Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck (1872-1937) and his extended family. This sequence of posts was prompted by a contact earlier this year from a Berlin doctor, Dr. Tilo Wahl, who in around 2013 purchased at auction the commemorative medals, personal effects, private papers, and photos that once belonged to Dr. Bruck. The seller of these items was Nicholas Newman, Dr. Bruck’s grandson, who sadly committed suicide in 2015 in London.
As Ms. Madeleine Isenberg, my friend affiliated with the Jewish Genealogical Society of Los Angeles, has been wont to tell me, there is no such thing as coincidence but rather as her uncle impressed upon her, its “beshert,” fate or predestination. Not only was it providential Dr. Wahl would stumble upon my Blog and contact me, but that he would also share copies of Dr. Bruck’s personal papers and photos. This was magnified when Nicholas Newman’s twin sisters from Sydney, Australia, similarly chanced upon my Blog while researching their deceased brother and contacted me.
Nicholas’s twin siblings, Francesca and Michele Newman (Figure 1), are the offspring of Renate Bruck’s third marriage. Since our initial encounter, we have developed a warm relationship and have had several Zoom calls. The twins have been able to fill in a few holes in my understanding of their mother and grandmother’s lives following their grandfather’s death in 1937, but most astoundingly, while examining their family memorabilia, they happened upon a so-called “Tagebuch,” written between January 1940 and December 1944 by their grandmother and mother, Johanna and Renate Bruck. (Figure 2) Technically a diary or journal, it can more accurately be characterized as a record or log of daily events the writers were engaged in.
Knowing the numerous questions I had about Dr. Bruck’s wife and daughter following his death, they offered to send me the original Tagebuch. While hesitant to risk losing this valuable document, I accepted their gracious offer and fortunately it arrived safely. The twins have since generously donated their mother and grandmother’s diary to the Museum of Cemetery Art (Old Jewish Cemetery), a Branch of the City Museum of Wroclaw, where their great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather are interred. Since Dr. Walter Bruck is well-known to staff of the museum, they were thrilled beyond measure to receive this donation.
Briefly, let me explain to readers how I was able to learn the contents of the Tagebuch. For much longer than I have been in contact with Francesca and Michele Newman, I have known one of their cousins from the Berlin neighborhood of Köpenick, Dr. Frank Thomas Koch (Figure 3); as another instance of serendipity, Dr. Tilo Wahl is a practicing dentist in this same district of Berlin. In any case, whereas Thomas and I are fourth cousins, Thomas and the twins are third cousins, so a generation more closely related. Over the years, Thomas and I have collaborated in tracking Johanna and Renate Bruck to England following their emigration from Germany, without specifically uncovering the intermediate steps that led to them arriving there.
Given Thomas’ interest in this branch of our family, upon learning of the existence of the Tagebuch, he offered to transcribe it. I sent Thomas a high-quality PDF of the journal, which he systematically transcribed over a roughly two-month period. Then, using the best of the known online translators, DeepL, he translated the log. But Thomas went beyond a cursory perusal of the “journal.” He provided some context for events taking place in Nazi Germany that ought to have been touched on by Johanna Bruck but were not. As one additional step, I put Thomas in touch with Renate Bruck’s lifelong still-living 95-year-old friend, Ina Schaesberg (Figure 4), who was able to recall specific people named in the Tagebuch and identify their role in Johanna and Renate’s lives. Since Ina speaks little English, Thomas was more effectively able to extract information about these people from her than I could. Finally, yet another source of information was Bettina Mehne (Figure 5), daughter of Renate Bruck’s first husband, Matthias Eugen Walter Mehne, by Matthias’ second wife; Bettina was able to recognize the diminutive names of some of her ancestors.
Briefly, let me give readers an impression of the Tagebuch. It is a five-year diary, of a type that still exists today, with some peculiarities. It covers the span from January 1, 1940, through December 24, 1944, although not chronologically. That’s to say, January 31, 1940, is not followed by February 1, 1940, but rather by January 1, 1941, then January 1, 1942, etc. While this may make sense, it prevents the reader from following the flow of events. Thus, Thomas, in transcribing and translating the diary, did so chronologically.
The diary has two authors, Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck’s widow, Johanna Bruck née Gräbsch, and his daughter, Renate Bruck. (Figure 6) Most of the entries are recorded by Johanna, whose writing is Old German Script in vogue around the 1900’s (known as “die Kurrentschrift” or “Kurrent”for short in German); Renate’s handwriting is more typical of today’s German cursive.
The Tagebuch is written in a telegraphic style, meaning in a clipped way of writing that abbreviates words and packs as much information into the fewest number of words or characters. At times, this means that certain terms or turns of phrases are not well understood or are indecipherable.
Rarely is the Tagebuch introspective or self-analyzing. Comparatively intimate, confidential, or personal messages are rarely recorded. The diary does not give us a sense of the broader events going on in the war during the Nazi era. For Johanna and Renate life seems to go on as normal, notwithstanding the fact that as a half-Jew Renate was considered a mischling of the first degree.
The war, the aftermath of its destruction, hunger, and repression are rarely mentioned. If Renate as a mischling or her mother were ever under observation by the Nazis and their informants is never made clear. However, as the author James F. Tent asserts in his seminal book about German mischlinge, “In the Shadow of the Holocaust: Persecution of Jewish-Christian Germans,” the intensity of persecution, discrimination, and harassment of mischlinge in the Third Reich varied greatly. Tent reports that in certain areas and regions, there was little distinction between “Jews” and “Mischlinge” in terms of persecution, while in other parts of the Reich virtually nothing happened to them, and they were not treated as outsiders.
There were at least two areas where Renate’s status as a mischling affected her life. Until 1938, Renate attended the “Oberlyzeum von Zawadzky,” the Upper Lyceum in the Zawadskie district of Breslau, which was a private school for daughters from upper class families. After 1938, all “non-Aryan” girls were forced to leave. Following her expulsion from the Lyceum, until Renate relocated with her mother to Berlin in February-March of 1942, she attended the “Kloster-Schule der Ursulinen,” the Ursuline Convent School. Then, beginning in 1942 upon her arrival in Berlin, she attended the “Kunstgewerbeschule,” the School of Arts and Crafts.
The second area where Renate’s life was affected by her status as a mischling of the first degree was in her desire to be a fully recognized member of the “deutschen Volksgemeinschaft,” wanting “to belong” and not be an outsider; the Volksgemeinschaft is a German expression meaning “people’s community” that originally became popular during WWI as Germans rallied in support of the war. It appealed to the idea of breaking down elitism, and uniting people across class divides to achieve a national purpose. During the Nazi era, the wanting “to belong” among children and young people was expressed, among other ways, in their membership in the Hitlerjugend (HJ), Hitler Youth, or the Bund Deutscher Mädel (BDM), League of German Girls or Band of German Maidens. However, anyone who was “non-Aryan” could not become a member of the Hitler Youth or BDM.
Ina Schaesberg, Renate’s lifelong friend, relates an uncomfortable situation Renate put her in on account of her desire to belong to the BDM. So the story goes that Renate forced Ina to get her a BDM uniform so they could play together as “German Maidens” privately at home wearing their outfits. Jumping ahead to January 1942 which will be discussed in Part 2 of this post, Renate was denounced for this act by an informer that required Johanna to report to the police, although the incident appears to have had no serious consequences.
Johanna resolved to address the matter of Renate’s exclusion from the BDM. She makes the following entry on January 29, 1941. “I received first a call from Norbert Pohl about BDM application to Hess.” Let me attempt to put this in context for readers and tell readers about the players, acknowledging that I do not have a copy of Renate’s BDM application so can only surmise what it may have included.
Johanna Bruck seemingly appealed the issue of Renate’s application to join the BDM to a high, if not the highest, authority, namely to Hitler’s deputy in the Nazi Party, Rudolf Hess (1874-1987). The quote above makes this evident. Hess had been the highest-ranking member after Hitler of the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei (NSDAP), National Socialist German Workers’ Party, and Reich Minister without portfolio since 1933 when the Nazis seized power.
Johanna could have justified her request that Renate be accepted into the BDM in one of two ways. Purely hypothetically, Johanna could have argued that Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck was not the biological father of Renate and that she was the daughter of an affair Johanna had had with an “Aryan.” It’s conceivable Johanna was aware of a similar argument that had been made in the case of the German field marshal general Erhard Milch (Figure 7) by his mother, distant relatives of both Renate and me.
To remind readers, I wrote about Erhard Milch (1892-1972) in a post entitled “I Decide Who is a Jew” (Post 54), a saying widely attributed to Hermann Wilhelm Göring, one of the most powerful figures in the Nazi Party between 1933 to 1945. Erhard Milch was a German field marshal general (Generalfeldmarschall) who oversaw the development of the German air force (Luftwaffe) as part of the re-armament of Nazi Germany following WWI. He was State Secretary in the Reich Ministry of Aviation and Inspector General of the Air Force. During most of WWII, he oversaw all aircraft production and supply. In other words, Milch was important to the Nazis. Based on his mother’s disclosure that Erhard was not the son of her Jewish husband but supposedly born of an incestuous relationship with her uncle, an “Aryan,” he was declared a so-called “Honorary Aryan” (i.e., a person with Jewish roots who was appointed an honorary Aryan).
Thus, one way Johanna hypothetically could have argued that Renate be accepted into the BDM was by professing she was not the child of a Jew. Alternatively, Johanna could have argued that while Renate was regrettably a “mischling of the first degree,” her enthusiasm for the Nazis, their movement, and their ideals more than made up for this “flaw.” Which option Johanna chose is unknown to us. Probably her request was not supported by Hess or was delayed and put on the backburner. Regardless, several months after Johanna’s request, Hess flew to England in May 1941, ostensibly to make peace with the Allies. He was interned in England, and following Germany’s defeat, at Nuremberg he was sentenced to many years in prison as a Nazi and war criminal.
Who then was the Norbert Pohl who called Johanna Bruck on January 29, 1941? According to my cousin Thomas Koch, Norbert Pohl (1910-1968) was probably already a big shot in the SS (Schutzstaffel, or Protection Squads) at the time of Johanna’s BDM request. He was the chief judge of the SS at the Police Court VI in Krakow from July 1940 until March 1942. Johanna makes a remarkable entry on February 12, 1941, recording that she received a call from Frau Pohl, presumably the wife of the SS grandee Norbert Pohl, urging haste with the written request. On February 20th, Johanna delivered the application to the Obergau, a division of the National Socialist state, specifically to the “Obergau 4, Obergaubehörde Niederschlesien der Nazipartei NSDAP,” which was headquartered in Breslau. Pohl may subsequently have forwarded Johanna’s letter and documentation to Rudolf Hess and kept her informed about developments.
Because of the clipped style in which the Tagebuch is written, we are left to wonder about some of the brief entries recorded by Johanna that may have been related to the application submission. For example, on February 28, 1941, so eight days after submitting the petition to the NSDAP, Johanna writes that she sent a letter to Mackensen. This is undoubtedly Anton Ludwig Friedrich August Mackensen (1949-1945), Generalfeldmarschall, Field Marshall General, Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck’s military superior during WWI (Figure 8) and someone who stood up for him in 1933 after he was dismissed from his academic position. (Figure 9) Could the letter have had anything to do with Renate’s application to the NSDAP and a request for his support? It seems likely, but we may never know.
As it relates to the formal written request Johanna submitted for Renate to the Nazi authorities on February 20, 1941, Thomas figured out the German designation for this application was called “Gesuch über die Gleichstellung mit Deutschblütigen,” an “application for equality with German-blooded people.” The relevant literature indicates about 10,000 such applications were presented, but that only about 500 of them were ever approved. Of particular interest is that Hitler himself approved or denied these requests. Hitler’s allies were apparently more lenient in ratifying them.
What is clear from the journal and what we now know was an “application for equality with German-blooded people” submitted by Johanna is that she knew many people, including influential Nazis.
Unfortunately, the Tagebuch contains no mention as to what transpired after Renate’s application was submitted. However, based on an entry recorded on the 16th of September 1941, apparently Johanna suspects that her “request” for Renate to be treated “as an equal to German-blooded people” has been or will be rejected.
Let me turn now to log entries having to do with the Nazi regime and wartime events that may be of interest to readers.
On February 23, 1940, schools other than Renate’s were closed on account of a so-called “coal vacation,” days schools were closed during severe winters to save coal and heating oil to be used in support of the war effort.
On February 25, 1940, Johanna records that “Klaus,”one of Renate’s friends, had his National Socialist youth initiation ceremony as school graduation ceremonies and initiation rituals into the Hitler Youth and BDM were referred to at the time.
May 1st was a National Holiday, “Tag der Arbeit,” Labor Day, interestingly appropriating a tradition from the Labor movement.
On June 2nd, 1940, Johanna mentions listening to the radio, without specifically indicating that the broadcast presumably celebrated the Wehrmacht’s victory over France. Then, on June 25th, there was a school vacation because of “the acceptance of the peace terms imposed on the French.”
Interestingly, on November 23, 1940, the day of Hitler’s failed “Beer Hall Putsch” in 1923, in Munich, the Führer delivered a radio broadcast.
In several places, Johanna merely records “Führer speech,” so we are left to peruse the history books to identify what major speech Hitler delivered on these dates. The first instance is on February 24, 1941, which corresponds with a celebration at the Münchener Hofbräuhaus on the announcement of the NSDAP platform when Hitler declared an intensification of submarine warfare.
On April 9, 1941, Johanna remarks on the “great political events in the Balkans,” which coincided with the Wehrmacht’s campaign against then-Yugoslavia and Greece, resulting in Salonika’s capture on that date.
On May 4, 1941, Johanna again merely records, “Führer speech.” This coincides with an address Hitler made before the German Reichstag, in which he invoked the alleged desire for peace on the part of Nazi Germany, which had always been thwarted and now led once again to the defeat of then-Yugoslavia and Greece in the Balkans.
Relatedly, jumping ahead to January 3, 1942, Johanna makes another clipped entry that requires explanation: “. . .sweater and jacket donated for the soldiers.” Operation Barbarossa, the German invasion plan, called for the capture of Moscow within four months of the Axis forces invasion of the Soviet Union on the 22nd of June 1941. Hitler and his generals were convinced they would defeat the Soviet Union before the onset of winter 1941. Therefore, the German soldiers were ill-equipped for the severe winter when the Red Army counter-attacked during the Battle of Moscow, and they were largely without winter clothes. The donations of clothing from the German population were intended to compensate for this lack of winter equipment; Johanna was among the donors.
Let me turn now to some entries in the Tagebuch that give us insight into aspects of Johanna and Renate’s personal lives and their circle of friends and acquaintances. While of lesser interest than the terse war-related notes, they are still noteworthy.
According to a note recorded on the 24th of March 1940, Johanna and Renate were members of the “Christengemeinschaft.” The “Christengemeinschaft, Movement for Religious Renewal” is a Christian church that is close to anthroposophy but is regarded as an independent cult community. It was founded in Switzerland in 1922 following the suggestions of Rudolf Steiner and had followers in Breslau. Today, there are 140 congregations in Germany though the church exists worldwide. From the point of view of the mainstream churches, it represents, among other things, a different understanding of baptism.
It was through the Christengemeinschaft that Johanna sought to have Renate accepted for confirmation classes. Judging from the somewhat vague notes in the Tagebuch, there were discussions and a dispute with Church Pastor Müller about this, but Johanna eventually prevailed seemingly with the help of other members of the congregation. In any case, Renate was eventually confirmed on the 17th of March 1941.
Relatedly, on June 19, 1941, Johanna makes a point of mentioning the ban of eurythmy in schools, and the great joy it elicited; whether this was personal joy or more widespread elation is unclear. Eurythmy is an expressive movement art originated by Rudolf Steiner in conjunction with Marie von Sivers in the early 20th century. Primarily a performance art, it was also used in education, especially in Waldorf schools, and – as part of anthroposophic medicine – for claimed therapeutic purposes. The ban of eurythmy was probably connected with the flight of Rudolf Hess, Hitler’s Deputy, to England on May 10, 1941. With his departure, anthroposophy lost its most important promoter among the Nazi hierarchy. Ten days prior to the ban on eurythmy, the Christengemeinschaft to which Johanna and Renate belonged had been banned, and its priests and leading community members jailed. While Johanna makes mention of the eurythmy ban, she is silent on the ban of the church. What effect the ban had on Johanna and Renate is unknown, but, regardless, by this time Renate had already been confirmed.
A brief entry from July10, 1941, “letter to . . .Lettehaus” was explained to me by my cousin. “Letteverein” and “Lettehaus” were institutions founded in 1866 to “promote the gainful employment of women.” Johanna was faced with the problem that her daughter was basically barred from higher education and university studies in Nazi Germany for “racial” reasons. But even though higher education was not attainable for Renate, economic independence was a goal for Johanna, who had to remember she would not live forever and that her assets might not be transferable to Renate. Therefore, these institutions offered options. In clarifying this entry, Thomas explained that his mother, also a mischling of the first degree, availed herself of the Letteverein and Lettehaus.
As to Johanna and Renate’s financial situation, let me say a few words. As I have alluded to and discussed in earlier posts, Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck was an eminent dentist. He was the personal dentist to the last German Kaiser’s family and other members of the nobility. Judging from the lavish social events he hosted and the lifestyle he led, it can be assumed he was well-to-do.
According to Breslau address books of the time, during the late 1920’s and the early 1930’s Dr. Bruck and his family lived in a luxurious home at Reichspräsidentenplatz 17 (Figure 10), with the owner of record at the time being Walter Bruck. Following the death of Paul von Hindenburg, the German general and statesman who led the Imperial German Army during World War I and later became President of Germany from 1925 until his death in 1934, Reichspräsidentenplatz was renamed by the Nazis to Hindenburgplatz. The renaming of the square was reflected in Breslau address books only in 1935. By 1937, however, his wife Johanna Bruck was now shown as the owner of record even though Walter continued to live at Hindenburgplatz 17. The change in ownership from Walter to Johanna Bruck was a measure to avoid expropriation of the estate by the Nazis as Walter was considered “Jewish,” whereas his wife was deemed to be “Aryan.” We know from elsewhere that Walter converted from Judaism in about 1917, around the time his mother died, and that, unlike his accomplished father and grandfather, respectively Dr. Julius Bruck and Dr. Jonas Julius Bruck, he was not interred in Breslau’s Jewish Cemetery. Obviously, as far as the Nazis were concerned, Walter’s conversion from Judaism was of no consequence and he was still deemed Jewish. On multiple occasions, Johanna mentions that she and Renate visited her deceased husband’s grave, regrettably never mentioning which cemetery he was interred in. This is a mystery to be resolved.
Dr. Walter Bruck died in Breslau on the 31st of March 1937, whether by his own hand or not is unknown. Following Walter’s death, Johanna is presumed to have sold the house around that time because when in 1939, the “racial” census takes place (Figure 11), the widow Johanna Bruck and her daughter Renate Bruck are no longer living at Hindenburgplatz 17, but at Oranienstrasse 4. (Figure 12) The latter house does not belong to Johanna but to a retired banker by the name of “E. Bucher.” Johanna and Renate apparently lived there in a large stately apartment, from which they sublet rooms. Apart from the income this generated, Johanna undoubtedly received a significant sum of money from the sale of the house at Hindenburgplatz 17 as well as an inheritance from her husband. At various points in the Tagebuch, Johanna bemoans the expenditure of money on certain things, but rarely do we get the impression that she is lacking for money, nor does her active social life or the multiple activities she and Renate are enrolled in suggest otherwise.
There are scores upon scores of names mentioned in the journal. An unusually large number of them are referred to as “Tante,” aunt, or “Onkel,” uncle, with most presumed to be close friends rather than blood relatives. Several, however, “Tante Leni,” “Tante Irene” or “Tante I.,” and “Onkel Willy” are known to the writer and are unquestionably Johanna and Renate’s kin. In some instances mention is made of celebrating this or that person’s birthday on a particular day or week; given my familiarity with the dates of birth of family members, I was able to work out how some of the people were referred to. Thus “Tante I.” was Johanna’s sister-in-law, Irene Elisabeth Gräbsch née Klar who was married to Johanna’s brother, Paul Karl Hermann Gräbsch. Tante Irene was often accompanied by her son “Ebi,” a cousin and frequent playmate of Renate’s. (Figure 13) “Tante Leni” was Johanna’s sister, Helene Emma Clara Steinberg née Gräbsch. (Figure 14) “Onkel Willy” was Willy Gräbsch, a merchant from Breslau, probably unmarried or widowed, whose relationship to Johanna is unclear.
Personally intriguing is the mention made on March 30, 1940, that Renate went to visit “Tante Margarethe” to wish her a happy birthday. The quotation marks indicate that while she was not a relative, she was still referred to as an aunt. There is no doubt this is Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck’s first wife who was Jewish, Margarethe Bruck née Skutsch. (Figure 15) She was born on March 30, 1872, in Breslau [Wrocław, Poland], and murdered in the Theresienstadt Ghetto on the 22nd of September 1942. (Figure 16) It is surprising that Johanna and Renate were in touch with Walter’s first wife, although, as this was certainly the case, it’s astonishing that Johanna made no mention in the diary when Margarethe was deported. Perhaps Johanna had already distanced herself from this Jewish “aunt” by then?
Among the names mentioned are a coterie I surmise are people who provided professional services to Johanna, such as housecleaners, cooks, seamstresses, teachers, clergy, etc. This includes “Fräulein Anna,” Miss Anna. According to Ina Schaesberg, she was the cook in the Bruck household for many years, during Dr. Bruck’s lifetime and after his death. She was considered “Aryan.” According to the 1935 “Law for the Protection of German Blood and German Honor,” Jews were forbidden to employ “Aryan maids” under the age of 45. However, since Anna exceeded this age limit, she could remain employed in the house of Walter Bruck even after 1935. Following the death of Walter in 1937, she continued to work for Johanna and even followed her to Berlin (more on this in Part 2 of the post).
Johanna’s and Renate’s beloved long-haired dachshund, “Resi,” is often mentioned, though it took me some time to figure out that this was a dog and not a person. (Figure 17)
Because Renate was an exceptionally cute young girl who blossomed into a very attractive young woman, she had droves of admirers whom she frequently saw and skillfully manipulated. The fate of most are unknown, but in at least two instances Johanna tells us precisely the dates they were killed while serving in the Wehrmacht. The death of “Hans Roth,” often mentioned in the diary, is noted on October 26, 1941, though he was killed on the 21st of September 1941 on the Eastern Front as his death certificate confirms. (Figures 18a-b) Similarly, an even closer friend of Renate’s, “Christoph von Kospoth,” was killed-in-action on the 4th of April 1944 near Dresden, Germany. (Figures 19a-b)
Other names and deaths are recorded by Johanna, but I’ve been unable to match them with historic documents which might have been able to tell me more about them.
Many names in the Tagebuch include only forenames or surnames, so it’s impossible to precisely identify these individuals. However, in several instances, with surnames and professions given I was able with certainty to discover the identities or people. While these rarely add much to the narrative of Johanna’s and Renate’s lives, I will discuss a few only because I was able to learn something about them.
A name that frequently appears in Johanna’s entries is called “Hella Goossens.” She appears to have been a friend. This represents the sole instance where I was able to find a picture of someone named in Johanna’s and Renate’s diary who was not a family member. A vivacious looking woman born on the 21st of May 1884 in Hagen, North Rhine-Westphalia, a Rio de Janeiro Immigration Card shows she immigrated to Brazil in 1950 (Figure 20); she is identified as a domestic worker. Seemingly, she was joining her son, Herbert Goossens, who had immigrated there in 1939. (Figure 21)
As I alluded to earlier when talking about Johanna and Renate’s financial situation, both were involved in numerous extracurricular activities, particularly Renate. For her part, Johanna was taking Italian lessons with a Frau Koesel at the home of a Frau Conberti. Mrs. Conberti is listed in Breslau Address Books between 1934 and 1941 and shows she was an interpreter and language teacher. (Figures 22a-b) One is left to wonder whether Johanna was merely taking Italian for self-improvement, or envisioned emigrating to Italy? In the case of Renate, she was taking piano lessons, violin classes, tap classes, confirmation classes, and more. She would meet her future first husband, Matthias Mehne, in late 1941 in Breslau at his luthier shop, and immediately be “smitten” by him, but there is no indication they got involved romantically until they met again in Berlin in 1942.
Readers may wonder, as I did, whether any of Johanna’s and Renate’s acquaintances and friends are directly or indirectly acknowledged as Jewish. In one instance the name “Grete Stomberg or Sternberg” is noted, who can be presumed to have been Jewish because her apartment was confiscated by the Nazis. Another named individual was “Ferdinand Abramczyk,” later identified through a Breslau Address Book as a Justizrat, a member of the Judicial Council, who’d had “Israel” added as his middle name by the Nazis to mark him as Jewish.
Johanna frequently mentions bouts of “biliary pain,” most frequently caused by obstruction of the common bile duct or the cystic duct by a gallstone. This would eventually lead to hospitalization.
There is one final topic I want to discuss before ending the rather lengthy first part of Post 109. As previously mentioned, it appears that by September of 1941, Johanna is aware that Renate’s application for her to be treated “as an equal to German-blooded people” has been or will be rejected. This may have been the impetus for Johanna to relocate to Berlin. However, rather than simply move there, Johanna sought to swap apartments with someone from Berlin. She hosted a couple, the Günthers, with whom she would eventually exchange apartments. In February-March 1942, Johanna and Renate would move to Xantener Straße 24, in the Berlin district of Charlottenburg-Wilmersdorf. More will be said on this in Part 2 of Post 109.
Among the more popular posts I have published in my Blog are veritable wartime diaries I have managed to get a hold of from various branches of my Jewish family. In all these instances, there is clearly an effort on the part of the author to write names in code or designate Jewish or “righteous” individuals by single letters or initials to conceal their identities. At no time do I detect a similar intent by Johanna or Renate.
Literally, with the hundreds of entries in Johanna’s and Renate’s Tagebuch, it is difficult to do justice to the diary. However, as I’ve indicated multiple times, the clipped style of writing associated with a telegraphic style makes it unlikely I would have been able to decipher the names of most of their acquaintances and friends nor the role they played in their lives. More importantly, it’s improbable this would have added much to the narrative since so many of the entries focused not on the political and current events of the time but rather on the social and amorous activities of the writers.
In closing I will quote from Ms. Renata Wilkoszewska-Krakowska’s observations of Johanna and Renate’s diary. Renate is my friend and Branch Manager, Museum of Cemetery Art (Old Jewish Cemetery) which is a Branch of the City Museum of Wroclaw, the institute where the Tagebuch was donated. Sadly, Renata’s thoughts mirror my own: “I am amazed that in the era of mass deportations of Breslau and Silesian Jews from 1941 to 1944, there is nothing in the diary on this subject. On November 21, 1941, over a thousand people were arrested, held for four days at the Odertorbahnhof train station, then deported to Kaunas, Lithuania, and shot on November 29th. Among them were many famous and influential inhabitants of Breslau, including Willy Cohn and his family, author of the famous diary/journal entitled “Kein Recht. Nirgends” (“No Law. Nowhere.”), published in German and Polish. In the context of the war, the everyday life of Johanna and Renate seems quite banal and normal. It’s hard for me to believe it, because as early as 1942, mischlinge were also deported to the occupied part of Poland and East.”
REFERENCES
Schwarzmüller, Theo. Zwischen Kaiser und Führer: Generalfeldmarschall August von Mackensen. Paderborn, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh, 1995.
Tent, James F. In the Shadow of the Holocaust: Persecution of Jewish-Christian Germans. Lawrence, University Press of Kansas, 2003.
Note: This post is about Renate Bruck, my third cousin once removed, and her long-distance marriage to her first husband, Matthias Eugen Walter Mehne. In my years of doing ancestral research, I have only ever once come across such an arrangement in the case of good friends of my father. Given the uncommonness of such marriage covenants, I became curious about them. I learned as with many social and cultural “protocols” involving the Nazis, there were very specific provisions in law that governed not only long-distance marriages, but also posthumous marriages (i.e., “marriages of convenience”), and even post-mortem divorces.
The inspiration for this post came from my 95-year-old friend, Ms. Ina Gräfin von Schaesberg née Weinert (b. 19 March 1926, Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland]). (Figure 1) Ms. Schaesberg, whom I’ve mentioned to readers in previous posts, was best friends with my third cousin once removed, Renate Bruck (1926-2013), their entire lives. (Figure 2) Over the course of many email exchanges, Ina, with whom I’ve now become friends, mentioned in passing that she had attended Renate’s wedding to her first husband, Matthias Eugen Walter Mehne (1908-1991) (Figure 3), hereafter Matthias Mehne, in around 1943 in Wiesbaden, Germany. Ina emphasized that Matthias had not physically been present at his own wedding, so I became quite curious about this situation.
As I alluded to in the introduction to this post, I have only once previously come across such an arrangement involving two of my father’s very close and staunchly anti-Nazi friends, Peter and Lolo Lau. (Figure 4) In their instance, however, Peter’s brother, Rudi Lau, had been his stand-in when he got married to Lolo. While Peter would eventually be captured and held for several years as a prisoner-of-war in Virginia, at the time of his marriage he was still an active German soldier in the Wehrmacht stationed in then-Yugoslavia. Rudi Lau himself would never marry as he later died of injuries sustained during WWII.
To the best of Ms. Schaesberg’s recollection, in the case of Renate and Matthias’ marriage, Matthias had no stand-in.
As I began to contemplate the circumstances of Renate and Matthias’s marriage, I surmised that as Germany’s fortunes changed as the war progressed, it was not inconceivable that Matthias had been drafted in 1943 into the German Army even though he would have been 35 at the time.
Let me briefly digress. Anticipating what will be the subject of an upcoming Blog post, I am in possession of a copy of Renate and her mother Johanna Bruck’s five-year wartime Tagebuch, in essence a diary. (Figure 5) In early 1943, Renate and Johanna Bruck had relocated to Berlin from Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland], likely as a precautionary measure; since Renate was a mischling of the first degree according to the Nuremberg Race Laws (i.e., her father’s parents were Jewish making her half-Jewish), and in danger of being deported and murdered, the anonymity of a larger city may have afforded her more protection. Suffice it for now to say Renate’s diary entries make numerous mention of her future first husband Matthias during the months of March through April 1943, thereafter which he is rarely mentioned. As a brief aside, Renate and Matthias were both originally from Breslau and likely knew one another from there, but only became involved romantically after they separately moved to Berlin. Matthias was not Jewish so the reason why he moved to Berlin is unknown.
I already knew from the German newspaper article I had found among Renate’s father’s personal papers that Matthias was a prisoner-of-war in England in the latter stages of WWII. (Figures 6a-c) Curious as to how and when he was captured by the British, I turned to Ms. Bettina Mehne (Figure 7), Matthias Mehne’s daughter by his second marriage. I presented my theory to Bettina that Germany’s declining fortunes during the war caused them to draft older men. The actual story is more involved.
I refer readers to Post 101 in which I discussed at length Matthias Mehne’s courage on Kristallnacht, November 9-10, 1938, and the role he played protecting a Jewish man named Alfons Lasker that night. The fearlessness Matthias showed that night extended throughout the war, and has, to this day, connected the Mehne and Lasker families. Alfons Lasker’s daughter, Ms. Anita Lasker-Wallfisch, was arrested in Breslau, shipped to Auschwitz, and miraculously survived. Anita, who is a world-renowned cellist, wrote a biography in 2000 entitled “Inherit the Truth,” detailing her wartime experiences. In this book she documents Matthias Mehne’s role in protecting her father on Kristallnacht, the passage of which is quoted in Post 101.
According to Bettina Mehne, there is one story Anita does not relate in her biography which explains why Matthias Mehne was forced to join the German Army. After Anita Lasker and her sister were arrested in Breslau and held there in a Sammellager, a collection camp for Jewish deportees, they attempted to escape with Matthias Mehne’s rucksack in hand; why this came to be in their possession is not clear. After they were recaptured, the Nazis found Matthias’s name in the rucksack, and he too was arrested and brought before a judge. Already subject to weekly questioning by the Gestapo because Matthias and his father refused to fly the swastika outside their luthier business on various “flag days” and hang a photo of Hitler inside their shop, they wanted him sentenced to death. The judge, however, was a friend of Matthias from the riding stables, and instead forced him to join the army as punishment, telling the Gestapo to let the Italians do their dirty work and kill him. So Matthias was soon sent off to war, though he made prompt work of being captured by the Americans, thereafter which he was handed off to the British.
With the benefit of Bettina Mehne’s firsthand account, I now understand the circumstances that lead to her father’s incarceration as a prisoner-of-war. Given Matthias’s status as a POW, I was curious how his marriage could be arranged across enemy lines, so to speak. I turned to Ms. Regina Stein (Figure 8), a provenance researcher, who’d previously and graciously researched at no cost to me address information for Matthias for the years 1943-1990. Regina sent me an interesting article from German Wikipedia on so-called “Ferntrauungen,” long-distance marriages (https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deutsches_Eherecht_im_Zweiten_Weltkrieg#Ferntrauung_im_Zweiten_Weltkrieg). Let me highlight some relevant information.
It is clear from this article that German marriages during WWII with an absent groom were not uncommon. Beginning in 1939, various special regulations were enacted by the German Reich. This made it possible for distance marriages, posthumous marriages (“marriages of convenience”), and even death divorces. Post-mortem marriages had already taken place in France during the First World War.
Beginning with the enactment of the Nuremberg Laws on the 15th of September 1935, marriages between “Deutschblütigen,” German-blooded people, and Jews was prohibited, and “extramarital sexual intercourse” between Jews and other Germans barred. Different regulations applied to mischlinge, a pejorative term often applied to Jews meaning “hybrid, mongrel or half-breed.” From 1942 onward, however, their applications for marriage permits were no longer processed for the duration of the war. I’ll briefly return to this below, specifically as it relates to Matthias and Renate.
The possibility of a remote marriage existed according to “§§ 13 ff. der Dritten Verordnung zur Ausführung des Personenstandsgesetzes (Personenstandsverordnung der Wehrmacht) vom 4. November 1939,” (Third Ordinance for the Implementation of the Personal Status Act (Personal Status Ordinance of the Wehrmacht) of November 4, 1939. Such marriages were possible for Wehrmacht members (i.e., the Wehrmacht was the unified armed forces of Nazi Germany from 1935 to 1945) who “took part in a war, a war-like enterprise or a special mission” and left their location, presumably were deployed. For such a remote marriage to take place, the Wehrmacht soldier had to declare his intent to the battalion commander who recorded it; had to provide an affidavit documenting “Aryan descent”; and the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht, the High Command of the Armed forces, had to submit a marriage license to the bride’s registry office. According to Ina Schaesberg, Matthias Mehne and Renate Bruck‘s remote marriage took place in Wiesbaden, Germany in 1943 or 1944.
As I’ve discussed, we know that at the time of Matthias and Renate’s marriage, he was already a POW in England, likely in late 1943 or possibly early 1944. The German regulations accounted for such an eventuality. For POWs, the battalion commander to whom a Wehrmacht soldier declared his intent to marry was replaced by a steward appointed according to the agreement of the treatment of POWs or by the most senior captured officer of the highest rank. The marriage ceremony in the local registry office, as in Renate and Matthias‘ case, had to take place within two months, though this timeline changed at various times during the war.
Colloquially, the long-distance marraige was referred to as a “Stahlhelmtrauung,” a “steel helmet wedding,” or as a “Trauung mit dem Stahlhelm,” or “steel helmet wedding ceremony,” because a steel helmet was positioned in the place where the groom would otherwise have stood during the ceremony in the Standesamt, the registry office. The marriage took effect when the woman declared her intent to marry before the registrar, even if the groom had already died by this time. In the latter event, the marriage was deemed to have taken place on the day when the groom had declared his intent to marry. While the free copy of the marriage certificate sent to the Wehrmacht soldier did not indicate it had been a long-distance marriage, the marriage register in the registrar’s office showed the marriage had been concluded in the absence of the husband.
The possibility of long-distance marriage excluded those soldiers who had not written down their intent to marry, but in whom it could be proved that they had been willing to marry. However, it seems that on November 6, 1941, Adolf Hitler had signed a secret decree together with Hans Heinrich Lammers, the head of the Reich Chancellery, and Wilhelm Keitel, the head of the Wehrmacht High Command, in which the Interior Minister Wilhelm Frick was empowered to “order the subsequent marriage of women to soldiers who have fallen or died in the field, if it can be proven that there was a serious intention to marry and there are no indications that the intention was given up before death.” For professional soldiers, the approval of the High Command of the Wehrmacht had to be obtained. It was only on the 15th of June 1943 that the Reich Minister of the Interior notified the registry offices “confidentially” of Hitler’s decree and established guidelines for processing posthumous marriage applications.
In the case of such “Leichentrauung,” “funeral marriage,” or “Totenehe,” or “death marriage,” it was up to the woman alone to testify to the authorities of the last will of the dead person. The woman who entered such a marriage with a dead man did not become a wife through marriage, but rather a widow. As a war widow, she was eligible to obtain financial benefits and claim an inheritance, and any common children were not considered out-of-wedlock. Parents often objected since they were typically excluded from the inheritance, and claimed the bride was only concerned with obtaining economic advantages, sometimes justifiably. The possibility of abuse, such as legitimizing children conceived by men other than the deceased husband, was another issue. Because of well-founded concerns, in around 1944, the right to inheritance was limited to the children conceived by the fallen bridegroom. In total, there were about 25,000 such marriages with fallen soldiers.
In connection with the discussion about entering into marriage with a deceased, the Reich Ministry of Justice discussed whether a marriage that had had already been dissolved due to death could still be divorced. This is referred to as a “Totenscheidung,” “divorce from a deceased.” The impetus here was that supposed “hero widows” were free to lead “dishonorable, carefree lives” and get involved with other men following the deaths of their fallen bridegrooms. To address this concern, the Reich Ministry of Justice issued confidential guidelines which made “war adultery” punishable; the possibility of a “death divorce” was created for women who broke their marriage vows while their husbands were on the front lines or acted “offensively” following their husband’s deaths. Legal proceedings could be initiated, and, if “proven” the wife committed adultery, the divorce was effective retroactive from the day before the husband’s death. A wife culpably divorced lost the right of inheritance and the survivor’s pension.
Considering Renate and Matthias’s distance marriage, I became curious whether I could obtain a copy of their marriage certificate from the civil registry office in Wiesbaden where their marriage had supposedly taken place; I wanted to know whether the certificate made any mention of the distance marriage, and who might have been a witness to the ceremony besides Ina Schaesberg. I contacted the Rathaus, City Hall, but they responded I was not closely enough related to obtain the document in question.
As an aside, Germany has a period of “privacy” for vital records. Unless you are immediate family, you cannot access birth records until 110 years following the birth of the individual, marriage records for 80 years, and death records for 30 years. Assuming Renate and Matthias married in 1943, their marriage record will not publicly be available until 2023. Consequently, I asked Renate’s twin daughters by her third marriage, Francesca and Michele Newman (Figure 9), to inquire about their mother’s marriage license. The Wiesbaden Rathaus checked marriage records between 1941 and 1946 but regrettably could not find any trace of Renate and Matthias’s wedding certificate. What to make of this is unclear.
One final point I would like to make about Renate and Matthias’ distance wedding. As previously mentioned, according to the Nuremberg Laws, Renate was a mischling of the first degree because she was half Jewish. By 1943, the presumed year of her marriage, the Nazi regulations prohibited marriages between German-blooded people and mischlinge. While Matthias could clearly prove he was of “Aryan descent,” is it possible Renate did not have to submit such documentation to the registry office? If so, this seems highly unusual given the Nazis penchant for strictly enforcing discriminatory measures against Jews and mischlinge. Without a copy of Renate and Matthias’ marriage certificate the question remains unanswered.
Note: In this post, I discuss the proof I have found for conversions from Judaism for German family members, some of which unavoidably consists of indirect evidence. This topic naturally involves touching on the political, economic, and social context under which such conversions took place.
There is a long history of Jewish conversion to Christianity, both voluntary and forced conversion. Forced conversions of Jews go back to Late Antiquity, the boundaries of which are a continuing matter of debate, but the period between roughly the 3rd and 8th centuries A.D. Royal persecutions of Jews from the 11th century onward typically took the form of expulsions with exceptions. Jews were forced to convert to Christianity before and during the First Crusade (1096-1099) including in parts of what are today France, Germany, and the Czech Republic.
The mass conversion event which took place on the Iberian Peninsula in A.D. 1391 when tens of thousands of Spain’s Jews converted to Christianity because of pogroms is the one readers will be most familiar with. Practicing Jews who refused to convert were expelled by the Catholic monarchs Ferdinand and Isabella in the Alhambra Decree of 1492, following the Christian Reconquest of Spain. The net effect of the Alhambra Decree and persecutions carried out in earlier periods is that over 200,000 Jews converted to Catholicism and between 40,000 and 100,000 were expelled. In adjoining Portugal, by contrast, where an edict for Jewish expulsions was also ordered four years later in A.D. 1496, most Jews were not allowed to leave but were forced to convert.
Though conversions continued over time across many other parts of Eastern, Central, and Western Europe, forced conversions were apparently less common in the 20th century and were later more often the result of Jews choosing to convert to integrate into secular society. In Germany, which is the focus of this Blog post as it relates to my family, conversions occurred in three main periods. The first began during the Mendelssohnian era, named after Moses Mendelssohn (1729-1786), the German Jewish philosopher to whose ideas the Haskalah, the “Jewish Enlightenment” of the 18th and 19th centuries, is attributed. A second wave occurred during the first half of the 19th century. And the third and longest period of conversions was a result of antisemitism and began roughly in 1880.
Conversion among German Jews was not an uncommon phenomenon in the 19th century owing to the myriad restrictions and myths that confronted them, and stymied their hopes, ambitions, dreams, and careers. In a sense, conversion to Christianity was the easy way out. Heinrich Heine (1797-1856), the noted German poet, writer, and literary critic, who himself converted, was reputed to have said conversion was his “ticket of admission into European culture.” Across most of the German states that united to create “modern” Germany in 1871, dominated by the state of Prussia, Jews were often rewarded for renouncing Judaism by being given influential positions and financial incentives. Whereas, during the 17th century, most converts were poor, by the middle of the 18th century, the converts were richer. The departure of the wealthier converts deprived the Jewish community of part of its operating budget. In any event, it is estimated that by the 20th century, close to one million Christians in Germany were of Jewish origin. According to Deborah Hertz’s book, “How Jews Became Germans: The History of Conversion and Assimilation in Berlin,” the majority of converts were infants whose parents wanted to spare them “conflicts” as adults. She notes that 60 percent of converts between 1800 and 1874 were under five years of age.
Adolf Hitler came to power in January 1933. The Law for the Restoration of the Professional Civil Service (Gesetz zur Wiederherstellung des Berufsbeamtentums), which excluded Jews and other political opponents of the Nazis from all civil service positions, was one of the first anti-Semitic and racist laws to be passed by the Third Reich, enacted on the 7th of April 1933. The law initially exempted those who had worked in the civil service since August 1, 1914, those who were veterans of World War I, or those with a father or son killed in action in World War I. The Civil Service immediately impacted the education system because university professors, for example, were classified as civil servants.
With the seizure of power by the Nazis, the new government enacted laws that required all citizens to document their genealogy in full. The regime sought to identify Jews who had converted to Christianity over the preceding centuries. With the help of church officials, a vast system of conversion and intermarriage records was created in Berlin, the country’s foremost Jewish city. These records, the Judenkartei, the Jewish Register or File, begin in 1645. Work on creating this file had started before the Nazis even came to power under a private initiative which sought to uncover proof of the Jewish ancestry of university and college professors and judges. By 1932, this file had already collected 400,000 genealogical records of Jews in Germany. The constantly expanding file was taken over and expanded in 1933 by the Reichsstelle für Sippenforschung (RfS), renamed Reichssippenamt on the 12th of November 1940, the Reich Office for Clan Research.
Readers who have accessed ancestral records for their German Jewish relatives may have noticed notations in the upper left- or right-hand corners or along the margins of vital documents. Beginning August 17, 1938, Jews had to add “Israel” (males) (Figure 1) or “Sara” (females) (Figure 2) as their middle name. Similarly, on passports, which allowed German Jews to leave Germany, when they still could, but not return, a large “J” was imprinted. (Figure 3) These and other measures instituted by the Nazis were intended to officially separate Jews from the German populace. While German Jews still converted after the Nazis seized power, as I will illustrate in the case of my uncle Dr. Fedor Bruck, readers can easily surmise this was futile.
As I contemplated the question of conversion from Judaism among my immediate and extended ancestors, I began to wonder what evidence I could find in the ancestral records proving my relatives’ “alienation” from their Jewish roots. In my limited experience, finding such documents is not easy. In the case of some of my ancestors but not all of them, conversion was a “pragmatic” decision, as I’ve alluded to. Again, citing the poet Heinrich Heine, he declared that he was “merely baptized, not converted.” Quoting from a letter he once wrote:
“From my way of thinking you can well imagine that baptism is an indifferent affair. I do not regard it as important even symbolically, and I shall devote myself all the more to the emancipation of the unhappy members of our race. Still I hold it as a disgrace and a stain upon my honor that in order to obtain an office in Prussia—in beloved Prussia—I should allow myself to be baptized.”
In re-reading the memoirs of Dr. Josef Pauly (Figure 4), husband of my great-great-aunt, who had likely been baptized Catholic as a child and whose recollections I discussed in Post 56, I wonder whether he may not have been implying the same sentiment when he wrote:
“I believe in God as the creative force of the universe, to an immanent [NOTE: (of God) permanently pervading or sustaining the universe] consciousness, to a moral world order, to the invisible God of the world as the Jewish religion has revealed it first, whose goodness is identical with the eternal laws.”
As I began to search through my files and recollect what evidence for conversion I had found for my ancestors, I initially concluded that most of the “proof” was indirect, such as in the case of my father which I discussed in Post 38. However, upon further consideration, I realize I have found considerably more direct validation than I initially thought. Beyond the obvious instances where the graves or burial records of my forefathers interred in existing and destroyed Jewish cemeteries survive, proving they did not convert, I found corroboration for several ancestors confirming they were baptized.
The earliest instance is the case of my great-great-aunt Amalie Mockrauer (1834-1918). (Figure 5) On ancestry, I uncovered a record showing she was baptized in Dresden, Germany, 21 years after her birth, on the 13th of April 1855. (Figure 6) This was undoubtedly in anticipation of her marriage to Leopold Julius Wolf von Koschembahr (Figure 7) later that year on the 26th of September 1855 in Saint Clement Danes, Westminster, London, England, an Anglican church. (Figure 8)
Initially, I thought Leopold von Koschembahr was also of Jewish origin because his grandson, Gerhard Bruck von Koschembahr (i.e., Gerhard’s father, Wilhelm Bruck, took his baroness wife’s surname) (Figure 9), departed Germany for the United States via Switzerland in 1938 with his 12 children. However, I learned from a New York Times article dated the 2nd of October 1938 that Gerhard departed Germany NOT on account of his grandfather’s Jewish roots but because his great-grandmother, on his mother’s side, was non-Aryan. (Figure 10) This gives credence to the concern descendants of Jews whose ancestors had long ago converted or had never converted felt when the Nazis started tracing their ancestral origins. In the case of Leopold von Koschembahr, I found his baptismal record showing he was baptized on the 5th of December 1829 (Figures 11a-b), proving he was not Jewish at birth. As readers can discern from this example, confirming or refuting the Jewish origins of one’s ancestors can be like solving a complex puzzle.
Moving on to other family members, let me briefly discuss the evidence for conversion for my uncle by marriage Dr. Franz Müller, my uncle by blood Dr. Fedor Bruck, my father Dr. Otto Bruck, and Dr. Adalbert Bruck, the great-grandfather of a fourth cousin.
The Centrum Judaicum Foundation is housed in the New Synagogue Berlin which was consecrated on the Jewish New Year in 1866, at which time it became the largest Jewish house of worship with its 3,200 seats. While the synagogue was spared major damage on “Kristallnacht,” it was severely damaged by Allied bombing during WWII. In 1958, the main room of the synagogue was demolished, so that today only the parts of the building closest to the street remain structurally intact.
Documents addressing the history of Jews in and around Berlin are archived there, including surviving records on conversions that took place in the city. In the case of my uncle by marriage Dr. Franz Müller, married to my aunt Susanne Müller née Bruck murdered in Auschwitz, the Centrum Judaicum has an index card on file indicating he converted on the 25th of November 1901. This did not prevent him being dismissed from his position as Humboldt University professor when the Nazis came to power in 1933 in accordance with their Law for the Restoration of the Professional Civil Service.
In the instance of my fourth cousin’s great-grandfather, Dr. Adalbert Bruck, the Centrum Judaicum could find nothing in their archives about him, so referred my cousin to the Evangelische Zentralarchiv in Berlin, the Protestant Central Archive in Berlin. In principle records of all Jewish conversions to Christianity in Berlin are kept here, though many did not survive WWII. According to a letter sent to my cousin, Dr. Adalabert Bruck’s record survives indicating he converted on the 27th of November 1890; however, his wife Anna Bruck née Flatow’s information survives only indirectly in the form of a 1930 document showing she supposedly converted on the 17th of February 1900. (Figures 12a-b)
The conversion of my uncle Dr. Fedor Bruck, who has been the subject of several Blog posts because of his incredible tale of survival in Berlin during the entirety of WWII thanks to family and “silent heroes,” adds another element to my uncle’s compelling story. The register documenting his conversion survives and indicates he was baptized in Berlin on the 11th of June 1939 at the Messias Kapelle, a Lutheran Church. (Figures 13a-b, 14) Two godparents are named in the register, a “Herr Engelbert Helwig” and a “Herr Roderich von Roy.” Ancestry shows Englebert Helwig to have been a Holocaust survivor, and Roderich von Roy to have been born on the 3rd of August 1895, exactly two weeks before my uncle. Did my uncle know these people beforehand, or were they just random parishioners who attended the Messias Kappelle selected to be his godparents? We may never know.
Lutheran is a denomination among the Protestant, in fact it is the oldest of the denominations to break away from Catholicism and is traced to the founder of the movement, Martin Luther of Germany. (Figure 15)
Hoping to find a picture of the Messias Kapelle, I did a Google query and stumbled upon a fascinating article written by Christiane Jurik, Editor-in-Chief of Ariel Ministries, discussing the origins of the Messias Kapelle and its role in German Jewish baptisms. I quote:
“Historically, most baptized Jews in Germany joined the Lutheran Church. There, even those who were true believers in Yeshua were mostly met with indifference; sometimes with suspicion; or worst, with anti-Semitism. In order to avoid this treatment, some Jewish believers started looking for places of worship where they could stay among themselves. In 1901, the Berlin Society purchased a property in one of the most urban boroughs of the city, called Prenzlauer Berg. The ministry not only moved its headquarters to the building but soon started construction work of what became known as the Messias Kapelle (‘Messiah Chapel’). Three days before Christmas of 1902, the chapel opened its doors to the Jewish believers of Berlin.
While the goal of the Berlin Society had been to offer a haven for Jewish believers, its work was closely affiliated with the Lutheran Church. In fact, the chapel officially belonged to the union of Protestant churches that also included the Confessing Church, whose most famous member was Dietrich Bonhoeffer. However, in 1930, the Lutheran Church revoked its support of the work of the Berlin Society and withdrew its pastors from the chapel. From then on, the Messias Kapelle was run by laymen.
In 1935, the Lutheran Synod forbade the baptizing of Jewish people. One of the pastors in Berlin expressed the general sentiment: ‘I am convinced that the family who told me it would be a horrible thought for them that the hand that baptized a Jew would touch their child is not alone.’
Yet not everyone obeyed the new directives of the Synod. The Messias Kapelle at this point separated itself completely from any state-run institution and in turn became the most important place of Messianic baptism in Berlin. According to the baptismal records of the time, over 700 German Jews got baptized there in the years between 1933 and 1940.
On November 11, 1938, during the Kristallnacht, the Messias Kapelle and the seat of the Berlin Society were trashed by the Nazis. Still, it would take until January of 1941 for the ministry and the chapel to be officially closed permanently. Ten months later, the first deportation of Jewish people began in Berlin. Records prove that of the 700 Jewish believers who had been baptized in the Messias Kapelle after 1933, 86 were hauled off to the ghettos of Lodz, Riga, Minsk, and Warsaw. Only two of them survived the Holocaust. It is unknown what happened to the rest of the congregation.”
A few observations. Among the survivors baptized in the Messias Kapelle was my uncle who lived until 1982. Beyond the obvious interest in self-preservation for the 700 or so Jews who got baptized in the Messias Kapelle during the Nazi era, the fact they could be baptized here as late as 1939, worship among other Jewish converts, and be told about the Jewish Messiah may have had appeal. While it’s unclear whether the chapel has been deconsecrated, the author of the above quote tells us that a marketing and public relations firm now owns it and that the worship hall, altar, and a marble relief resembling a Temple survive. It’s sad this is not a recognized historic monument.
Growing up my father never spoke about religion and religion was never part of my upbringing. In fact, I was baptized as a Catholic by my grandparents at six years of age in Lyon, France, at the request of my parents almost as an afterthought, hoping it might protect me in the event of another Holocaust. However, as most readers will surmise, as a half-Jew, I would have been considered a mischlinge of the first degree according to the Nuremberg Laws. Not good enough to survive being murdered.
Aware my father had attended dental school in Berlin, I checked with the Centrum Judaicum in Berlin to ascertain whether they might have a record of my father’s conversion, but they do not. Knowing my father’s penchant for procrastinating, I have always suspected my father never placed a high priority on getting baptized and converting until it became an absolute necessity. And, in my opinion, that only became necessary after he moved to the town of Tiegenhof [today: Nowy Dwór Gdański, Poland] in the Free State of Danzig where he opened his dental practice in 1932. As I discussed in Post 38, the evidence for my father’s conversion comes in the form of a receipt for payment of quarterly church taxes to the Evangelische Kirche in Tiegenhof. (Figure 16)
My second cousin twice-removed, Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck (1872-1937) (Figure 17), subject of several recent Blog posts is thought to have converted in Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland]. Dr. Barbara Bruziewicz-Mikłaszewska, professor of dentistry at the University of Wrocław, who has written about Dr. Bruck, cites a file from the University’s archives saying he converted in 1916 (i.e., University file: sygn. S99, s. 62, nr sprawy AU – 481/46/2001). As we speak, I am working with one of Dr. Bruziewicz-Mikłaszewska’s colleagues to obtain verification of the date of Dr. Bruck’s baptism. Unlike his father and grandfather, who are buried in the Old Jewish Cemetery in Wrocław, Walter’s place of internment in Wrocław is unknown but was undoubtedly in a Christian cemetery that likely no longer exists.
As I mentioned above, in principle all surviving records of Jewish conversions to Christianity in Berlin are archived at the Evangelische Zentralarchiv. For conversions that took place outside of Berlin, however, there is no central repository of this information that I am aware of. Thus, the only possibility of tracking down comparable information for one’s Jewish ancestors is to know the town and parish church where the baptism occurred, and then hope the registers have survived.
REFERENCES
Bruziewicz Mikłaszewska, Barbara. Outline of the history of university dentistry in Breslau/Wrocław. [Polish: Zarys dziejów uniwersyteckiej stomatologii we Wrocławiu]. 2010, University of Wrocław, PhD.
Note: In this Blog post, I discuss Renate Bruck’s two prominent godmothers, images of whom exist among Dr. Walter Bruck’s surviving papers and photographs.
The Nuremberg Laws consisted of two race-based measures which deprived Jews of their rights. They were designed by Adolf Hitler and approved by the Nazi Party at a convention in Nuremberg on September 15, 1935. The first of these measures, termed the “Reichsbürgergesetz,” the “Reich Citizenship Law,” declared that only those of “German or kindred blood” were eligible to be Reich citizens; the remainder were designated as “subjects of the state” without any citizenship rights. The second provision, the “Gesetz zum Schutze des Deutschen Blutes und der Deutschen Ehre,” the “Law for the Protection of German Blood and German Honour,” usually simply called the “Blutschutzgesetz” or “Blood Protection Law,” forbade marriage or extramarital intercourse between Jews and Germans. These measures were among the first of the racist Nazi laws that culminated in the Holocaust.
Under the Nuremberg laws, Jews could not fly the German flag and were forbidden to employ in domestic service female subjects of German or kindred blood who were under the age of 45 years.
The first supplementary decree elaborating upon the Nuremberg Laws was passed on November 14, 1935. It defined Jews as persons with at least one Jewish grandparent and explicitly declared they could not be citizens of the Reich; it further decreed that Jews could not exercise the right to vote nor occupy public office. This was ultimately one of 13 ordinances that completed the process of Jewish segregation.
One enactment, passed on November 26, 1935, expanded the provisions of the law to include Roma (Gypsies) and Black people. While exact figures cannot be ascertained, historians estimate that the Germans and their allies killed between 250,000 and 500,000 European Roma during World War II. Although the Nazis did not have an organized program to exterminate African Germans, many of them were persecuted, as were other people of African descent. Black people in Germany and German-occupied territories were often isolated, and an unknown number were sterilized, incarcerated, or murdered.
It is important to emphasize that the racial definition of Jews under the Nuremberg Laws meant that Jews were persecuted NOT for their religious beliefs but for their so-called racial identity that was irrevocably transmitted through the blood of their ancestors.
Because the Nuremberg Laws did not define a “Jew” nor the phrase “German or kindred blood,” the critical task of defining their meaning fell to bureaucrats because of the criminal provisions for noncompliance contained within the law. Two basic categories of Jews were recognized. A full Jew referred to anyone with three Jewish grandparents, a rather straight-forward definition. Defining part-Jews, who were referred to as “Mischlinge,” a pejorative term meaning “hybrids, mongrels, or half-breeds,” was more challenging. Eventually they were divided into two classes. First-degree Mischlinge were defined as people who had two Jewish grandparents but did not practice Judaism and did not have a Jewish spouse. Second-degree Mischlinge were those who had only one Jewish grandparent.
Students of history may find it interesting to learn that out of foreign policy concerns, persecutions under the Nuremberg Laws did not begin until after the conclusion of the 1936 Summer Olympics, held in Berlin that year.
Also worth noting is one of the effects of the Nuremberg Laws. It gave rise to a horde of purportedly “licensed family researchers” who offered their services to concerned Germans afraid the Nazis would discover Jewish relatives among their ancestors. The Health Ministry as well as church offices were involved in providing birth and baptismal certificates as proof of Aryan origin.
I introduce the Nuremberg Laws in the context of talking about Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck and his wife Johanna Bruck née Gräbsch’s daughter, Renate Bruck. (Figure 1) While Renate’s mother was Protestant, Dr. Bruck’s parents were Jewish, so according to the Nuremberg Laws, Renate was considered a first-degree Mischling. Evidence suggests Walter converted to Protestantism around 1917, confirmation of which I am still trying to track down. The timing of his conversion may have corresponded with the death of Walter’s mother, Bertha Bruck née Vogelsdorf (1843-1917), in 1917 (Figure 2); Walter may have been reluctant to convert from Judaism until his mother passed away. Unlike his parents and paternal grandparents who are buried in the Old Jewish Cemetery in Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland], the place of Walter’s burial or cremation is unknown. (Figure 3) What is clear is that Walter was not interred in a Jewish cemetery.
As for Renate Bruck, there is no indication she ever set foot in a synagogue or was taught about the Jewish religion, which makes sense if her father converted from Judaism nine years before Renate was even born. On the contrary, a preliminary examination of the five-year Tagebuch, diary, belonging to Renate and her mother covering a critical period from January 1940 through December 1944, makes it clear Renate was attending Confirmation classes throughout 1940 and early 1941, and was confirmed at age 14 in Breslau on the 17th of March 1941. (Figure 4) As far as the Nazis were concerned, however, this would not have altered Renate’s status as a first-degree Mischling. And, in fact, Renate’s lifelong friend Ina Schaesberg (Figure 5) confirms that Renate and the other Jews and half-Jews were expelled from the private school they all attended in Breslau. More will be said in a future Blog post about the contents of Johanna and Renate Bruck’s diary including their attitude towards the Nazis.
Among the pictures in Walter Bruck’s photo album are two showing people Renate identified as her godmothers. I was curious that Renate had two godmothers but learned that traditionally Christian children can have three godparents in total, though they can have as many as the parents want. Usually, girls have two godmothers and one godfather while boys gave two godfathers and one godmother, although there is no hard and fast rule about this. Without access to Renate’s baptismal record, it is unclear whether both godmothers were listed on it at the time of her baptism. There is no indication as to who Renate’s godfather may have been.
Renate provided information on the captions about each of her godmothers which allowed me to make some interesting connections.
Renate’s first godmother was named “Tante ‘Steffa’ Stephanie” (Figure 6); as readers can make out from the caption, her father was identified as “Geheimrat Prof. Erhlich,” and her husband was the “Commerzienrat Schwerin.” There was also a cryptic parenthetical notation after Stephanie’s father’s name, “Salvasan,” the significance of which only become apparent to me later. (Figure 7)
A “Geheimrat” is a Privy Counselor, a member of the government or cabinet minister; in the current context, however, “Geheimrat” refers to an honorary title used in Prussia that was bestowed upon Dr. Erhlich as an accomplished doctor (see below). A “Kommerzienrat,” a Commercial Counselor, also called a commercial attaché, is a commercial expert on the diplomatic staff of a country´s embassy or large consulate.
Based on Renate’s captions, I correctly concluded that Tante Steffa was Stephanie Schwerin née Erhlich. I discovered a substantial amount of information about her on ancestry.com, including her birth certificate. Her birth name was August Josephine Stephanie Erhlich, and she was born on the 19th of October 1884 in Berlin. Her parents’ names are listed on her birth certificate as Paul Simon Erhlich and Hedwig Erhlich née Pinkus. (Figures 8a-b)
I very quickly realized that Tante Steffa’s father was none other than Dr. Paul Erhlich (1854-1915) (Figure 9), the Nobel Prize-winning German Jewish physician and scientist who worked in the fields of hematology, immunology, and antimicrobial chemotherapy. In 1908, Dr. Paul Erhlich was awarded the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine for his contributions to immunology. His foremost achievements were discovering a cure for syphilis in 1909 (The First Syphilis Cure Was the First ‘Magic Bullet’ | Smart News | Smithsonian Magazine) and inventing the precursor to Gram staining bacteria. The techniques Dr. Erhlich developed for staining tissues made it possible to distinguish between different types of blood cells, which in turn made it possible to diagnose various blood disorders.
Dr. Erhlich’s laboratory discovered Arsphenamine, the drug introduced in the early 1910s as the first effective treatment against syphilis and African sleeping sickness. Renate Bruck’s cryptic parenthetical reference to “Salvasan” was the mistakenly spelled name for “Salvarsan,” the name under which Arsphenamine was marketed, also known as “compound 606.”
A biographical sketch on Dr. Erhlich to which I link here (Paul Ehrlich – Biographical – NobelPrize.org) makes mention of his two daughters, including Stephanie (Mrs. Ernst Schwerin) and Marianne (Mrs. Edmund Landau). Both were the result of his marriage in 1883 to Hedwig Pinkus (1864-1948). According to their marriage certificate, Stephanie and Ernst Schwerin got married in Frankfurt, Germany on the 20th of February 1904.
Along with the picture of Stephanie Schwerin née Erhlich among Dr. Walter Bruck’s papers are two showing the elegant homes she and her husband, Ernst Schwerin, owned, a large estate in Breslau, as well as a mountain retreat probably located in the Riesengebirge [today: Krkonoše, Karkonosze, or Giant Mountains in northern Czech Republic and south-west Poland]. (see Figure 7) There can be little doubt Stephanie and Ernst were wealthy, and, likely, lost much of their fortune when they fled Germany after the ascendancy of the Nazis. Primary source documents prove that in accordance with the Nuremberg Laws, both Ernst and Stephanie Schwerin had their German nationalities annulled sometime between 1935 and 1944. (Figures 10-11) Other primary source documents show that Stephanie and her husband made their way to New York City via Switzerland. They emigrated from Switzerland in October 1938. (Figures 12-13)
The Social Security Death Index indicated Stephanie died in New York in June 1966 (Figure 14) and her husband Ernst passed away on the 25th of November 1946. (Figure 15) I asked a friend with a subscription to Newspapers.com and GenealogyBank if he could track down their obituaries, hoping I might find a living descendant. My friend was unable to locate an obituary for Ernst Schwerin, but his wife’s obituary shows she died a most gruesome death on the 7th of June 1966 at the age of 81 by plunging from her 10th floor apartment at the Hotel Croydon. (Figure 16) According to the obituary, she left two notes in German, confirming she committed suicide. Likely, these notes were intended for her two sons, Hans Wolfgang Schwerin (1906-1987) and Guenther Karl-Joseph Schwerin (1910-1997), neither of whom ever appears to have ever been married. Hans Schwerin, who was an author, lawyer, and psychoanalyst, was a regular fixture on the Society pages during the 1950s. (Figure 17)
The second of Renate Bruck’s godmothers, Elfriede Reichelt, turns out to have been another prominent personage. As readers can make out for themselves, Renate Bruck identified her second godmother as a photographer. (Figure 18) Operating under the assumption she was well-known, a Google query confirmed this. She was born Elfriede Klara Emma Reichelt on the 30th of January 1883 in Breslau, and died of bladder cancer on the 22nd of August 1953 in Grünwald , outside Munich. She was a German art photographer, who in her time was one of the best-known professional photographers in Germany.
The photograph of Elfriede Reichelt appears to have been taken in April 1927 in Brioni, Yugoslavia [today: Brijuni, Croatia], when Elfriede and her unidentified husband were vacationing there with Walter and Johanna Bruck. Her unnamed husband I was later able to determine was Hans Wieland, an industrialist from Ulm, Germany, whom Elfriede married in 1927 and separated from in 1936.
In the Deutsche Fotothek 743 of Elfriede Reichelt’s portrait photos are inventoried (Deutsche Fotothek), including multiple self-portraits. Because of copyright issues, I cannot illustrate these images here, but readers are encouraged to peruse them. Allow me to make a few observations about her photos. Reichelt had unprecedented access to Germany’s last Kaiser, Wilhelm II, and his family while they lived in exile in Doorn, Netherlands following WWI, and often photographed them. It is possible that Elfriede also photographed the Kaiser’s wife, Hermine Reuß, when she visited Dr. Walter Bruck in Breslau for dental treatments. It is even conceivable Dr. Bruck introduced the Kaiserin to Elfriede. Not surprisingly, given the friendship that existed between Walter Bruck and Elfriede Reichelt, her images include one of my renowned ancestor. Oddly, the photograph is incorrectly captioned. It is most curious that Walter Bruck’s picture is labeled as Dr. Fedor Bruck, which happens to have been my uncle’s name who was also a Breslau-trained dentist. Could Elfriede have known my uncle? The period my Uncle Fedor Bruck (1895-1982) spent in Breslau following WWI suggests this is possible. (Figure 19)
Regular readers may remember I have written multiple Blog posts about the Neisser branch of my extended family. Among Elfriede’s pictures are a few she took of Dr. Albert Neisser (1855-1916) (Figure 20) and his wife, Toni Neisser, a patron of the arts. Dr. Neisser was a German physician who discovered the pathogen that caused gonorrhea, a strain of bacteria that was named in his honor (Neisseria gonorrhoeae).
Part of the pleasure I derive in doing forensic genealogy are finding connections among the people I research and write about even when the people are not blood relatives. Often these connections are trivial but nonetheless interesting. Case in point. After elementary school, Dr. Paul Erhlich attended the secondary school Maria-Magdalenen-Gymnasium (high school) in Breslau where he became friends with Dr. Alfred Neisser, who would later become a professional colleague. Coincidentally, Dr. Albert Neisser is a remote “link” between both of Renate Bruck’s two godmothers, though there is no evidence to suggest either knew Dr. Neisser. Since Elfriede Reichelt and Stephanie Erhlich were born, respectively, in 1883 and 1884, and Renate’s mother was born in 1884, it seems more likely all were schoolmates and friends growing up.
Note: In this post, I discuss and present a series of photos of Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck’s second wife, Johanna Elisabeth Margarethe Brucknée Gräbsch, and some of her immediate family. While Johanna Bruck was identifiable in most photos, I was aided at times by captions provided by Johanna and Walter’s daughter, Renate Bruck. In a few instances, I arrived at the conclusion of who some of Johanna’s family members were by logical deduction.
The seven photo albums left to me by my father, Dr. Otto Bruck (1907-1994), covering the period from his early childhood during the 1910’s until he came to America in 1948, were the inspiration for researching my family and ultimately developing this family history Blog. I distinctly remember a comment from a Jewish audience member when I gave my first translated talk in Tiegenhof, today Nowy Dwór Gdański, Poland, the town in the Free State of Danzig where my father had his dental practice between 1932 and 1937, remarking on how fortunate I was to have my father’s collection of photos; he remarked he had only three surviving images of his Jewish ancestors, a not uncommon circumstance among descendants of Holocaust victims. For this reason, I consider it quite fortuitous that Dr. Tilo Wahl, the German doctor who purchased the medals that once belonged to my esteemed ancestor, Dr. Walter Wolfgang Bruck, chanced upon my Blog and shared pictures of Walter’s personal effects. I have experienced the same thrill and used the same forensic techniques in examining Walter’s pictures and documents as I have in studying my father’s papers, often with comparable success. In the ensuing post, I will discuss one such enthralling find involving Walter and Johanna’s daughter.
There are only a few pictures among Walter Bruck’s surviving photos showing Johanna Gräbsch prior to his marriage to her (Figures 1-2), and none, insofar as I can tell, that show her as a child or young girl. Prior to obtaining copies of Walter’s papers and photos, I had found Johanna’s marriage certificate to her first husband, Dr. Med. Alfred Friedrich Karl Kurt Renner, showing they had gotten married on the 6th of May 1905 in Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]. The certificate listed her date and place of birth, the 10th of April 1884 in Breslau. As sometimes occurs on marriage certificates, a notation was added later showing they divorced on the 8th of March 1917. (Figures 3a-c; 4)
There is one particularly joyful picture in Walter Bruck’s photo album that Renate Bruck, who later captioned some photos, rather vaguely titled. (Figure 5) The subjects were identified according to how they were related to her three children rather than herself, which initially confused me. Regardless, while only five people were identified I was eventually able to work out who all six of the people in the photo are likely to have been through logical deduction. (Figures 6a-f) I am convinced the photo was taken at the marriage or celebration of Johanna’s wedding to Dr. Alfred Renner in 1905. Renate Bruck who was the offspring of Johanna’s second marriage in 1923 to Dr. Bruck was born in 1926 and probably never met her mother’s first husband, thus would have been unlikely to recognize him; she in fact has a question mark above his picture. There appears to be a level of intimacy between the unidentified subject and Johanna which suggests to me this was her first husband, Dr. Renner.
As to the other subjects in this photo, on Johanna’s 1905 marriage certificate her parents, misidentified on the caption as great-grandfather and great-grandmother, are named as Paul Gräbsch and Emma Gräbsch née Nerche. I found their marriage certificate on ancestry.com indicating they got married on the 26th of July 1873 in Dresden, Germany. The “Tante Leni” in the photo was Johanna’s older sister, Helene Emma Clara Gräbsch, born on the 7th of March 1876, and “Onkel Willy” was her husband, Alfred Wilhelm Kurt Steinberg. I found his death certificate showing he was only 43 years old when he died on the 12th of February 1909 in Berlin.
As an aside, I mentioned to readers in Post 99 the existence of old annual periodicals that Dr. Tilo Wahl told me about (e.g., “Handbuch für den Preußischen Hof und Staat” (a printed guide of the Royal Prussian court and administration); “Ranglisten der Königlich Preußischen Armee” (rank lists of the Prussian Army)) that were once published for persons in official positions and/or of higher rank listing the decorations they were awarded. For personalized medal groups Tilo purchases that come without attribution, these handbooks are most useful in identifying the person to whom the medals were awarded. Coincidentally, Tilo found a listing for Alfred Steinberg, Johanna’s brother-in-law, in a 1908 Prussian Ranklist showing he had been given the “Roter Adler Orden Kreuz 4.Klasse (1861-1918) (ehrenzeichen-orden.de)” (Red Eagle Order Cross 4th Class (1861-1918)) that year. (Figures 7a-b) The Order of the Red Eagle was a Prussian order of merit, the second highest Prussian award. It is providential that my research into Johanna’s family members also wound up overlapping with Tilo’s interest in phaleristics.
In studying the picture of Johanna Gräbsch and her immediate family, I realized there appeared to be other pictures in the same folio Dr. Tilo Wahl had not photographed. Knowing Dr. Walter Bruck’s personal papers and photos are now in the possession of his twin granddaughters, Francesca and Michele Newman, following the death of their brother in 2015, I asked them if they could scan and send me the accompanying images. They graciously agreed. While most people in the group pictures they sent are unknown to me, even though several are named (Figure 8), Johanna’s older brother Paul Gräbsch is identified on a separate picture (Figure 9); though not labeled, I think his wife Irene Elisabeth Klar née Gräbsch may be standing next to him in two of the group photos. In all, I now have images of Johanna Gräbsch, her parents, her siblings, and her brother- and sister-in-law. Finding images of people I discuss in my Blog posts is always enormously satisfying as it brings these people to life in some small way.
Another thing that completes the circle, so to speak, is finding primary source documents that substantiate events that may have taken place in the lives of the people I write about. In the case of Johanna Gräbsch, who is the primary subject of this post, I found her listed in a 1919 Breslau Address Book under the name “Johanna Renner née Gräbsch” (Figure 10); clearly, following her divorce from her first husband in 1917, she retained her married name until she remarried my esteemed ancestor.
Included in Dr. Walter Bruck’s surviving personal effects is a business card sized document dated the 13th of December 1923 announcing his upcoming marriage to Johanna Gräbsch. (Figure 11) Regular readers know I constantly harp about relying on primary source documents in support of dating vital events but even these are not infallible. Case in point. Included among Dr. Bruck’s surviving papers are two hand-drawn family trees I believe were developed by someone other than Dr. Bruck; one tree states Walter and Johanna got married on the 22nd of December 1922, NOT 1923 as the wedding announcement clearly indicates; obviously, the family tree is in error. (Figure 12) The date of their marriage is interesting for another reason. Walter and Johanna’s first child, Hermine, who died at less than two months of age, was born on the 18th of January 1924, less than a month after her parents got married.
The Breslau address books following the death of her second husband, Dr. Walter Bruck, in 1937, continue to list Johanna Bruck until 1941 (Figure 18), whereupon her name disappears from the directory. Until I tracked Johanna and Renate Bruck to England relying on documents I obtained through the United Kingdom’s General Register Office, I was uncertain whether they had survived WWII or where they may have landed. I have detailed the results of my forensic investigations in Posts 68 and 68 Postscript so will not repeat them here.
Once I determined that Johanna and Renate Bruck survived WWII, I next wondered whether Johanna and Renate had made their way to England before or after the war. This question was eventually answered by Renate Bruck’s lifelong friend, Ms. Ina Schaesberg (Figure 19), born the same year as Renate in 1926, and still alive today.
Inadvertently, I never thought to ask Ina this question until Walter and Johanna Bruck’s twin granddaughters, Michele and Francesca Newman, recently told me they had found their grandmother and mother’s Tagebuch, the journal or diary. It was at this moment Ina confirmed that Renate and her mother lived in Berlin after they left Breslau in an apartment building that survived Allied bombing during WWII. Following the war, the Berlin sector they lived in came under British occupation, which is likely how Renate met the Berlin-born British officer, Henry Ernest Graham (1904-1959) (Figure 20), who became her second husband in 1948. Several photos exist of Johanna in England following her immigration there. (Figures 21-23)
The twins have shown great faith in sending and entrusting me with the original of their mother and grandmother’s journal, which I have since converted into a PDF and sent off to one of my cousins for transcription. (Figure 24) The journal covers the five-year period between the 1st of January 1940 and the 24th of December 1944. The memoir confirms that Johanna and Renate Bruck moved from Breslau to Berlin in February 1942. Transcription of the diary is ongoing as we speak and the major contents and findings will be the subject of a future Blog post.
Absent the transcription of Johanna and Renate’s years in Berlin, I was still able to learn a little bit about their time there from Ms. Bettina Mehne who I introduced to readers in Post 101. To remind readers, Renate’s first husband was Matthias Eugen Walter Mehne to whom she was only briefly married. Bettina is Matthias Mehne’s daughter by his second marriage. Knowing Matthias had been a “Geigenbauer,” a violin maker, in Berlin and aware Renate and Matthias had met or become reacquainted with him there (i.e., Matthias and Renate may have known one another from Breslau) after her arrival in February 1942, I wondered whether Renate and her mother had lived with his family when Matthias was a British prisoner-of-war during WWII. (It is still not entirely clear to me which year Renate and Matthias got married.) Bettina explained that her Mehne family had no relatives living in Berlin at the time, so as Ina Schaesberg explained, Johanna and Renate lived independently. It was only after Matthias was released that all three briefly lived together. According to Bettina, Johanna was a major drain on her father’s financial resources because of her love of chocolate, which was enormously expensive in the post-war period!
VITAL STATISTICS OF JOHANNA BRUCK NÉE GRÄBSCH & SOME IMMEDIATE RELATIVES
NAME
EVENT
DATE
PLACE
SOURCE
Johanna Elisabeth Margarethe Gräbsch (self)
Birth
10 April 1884
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Breslau marriage certificate
Marriage (to Dr. Alfred Renner)
6 May 1905
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Breslau marriage certificate
Divorce (from Dr. Alfred Renner)
8 March 1917
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Notation on 1905 Breslau marriage certificate
Marriage announcement (to Walter Wolfgang Bruck)
13 December 1923
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Wedding announcement among Walter Bruck’s personal effects
Marriage (to Walter Wolfgang Bruck)
22 December 1923
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Family tree among Walter Bruck’s personal papers
Death
5 March 1963
Elstree, Hertfordshire, England
United Kingdom death certificate
Alfred Friedrich Karl Kurt Renner (first husband)
Birth
20 June 1873
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Breslau 1905 marriage certificate
Marriage (to Johanna Gräbsch)
6 May 1905
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Breslau marriage certificate
Divorce (from Johanna Elisabeth Margarethe Gräbsch)
8 March 1917
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Notation on 1905 Breslau marriage certificate
Death
Unknown
Walter Wolfgang Bruck (second husband)
Birth
4 March 1872
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Walter Bruck’s personal biography
Marriage announcement (to Johanna Gräbsch)
13 December 1923
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Wedding announcement among Walter Bruck’s personal effects
Marriage (to Johanna Gräbsch)
22 December 1923
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Family tree among Walter Bruck’s personal papers
Death
31 March 1937
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Walter Bruck’s Breslau death certificate
Hermine Bruck (daughter)
Birth
18 January 1924
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Family tree among Walter Bruck’s personal papers
Death
10 March 1924
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Family tree among Walter Bruck’s personal papers
Renate Stephanie Gertrude Bruck (daughter)
Birth
16 June 1926
Breslau, Germany [today: Wrocław, Poland]
Family tree among Walter Bruck’s personal papers
Death
3 March 2013
Ramsholt, Suffolk, England
United Kingdom death certificate
Karl Paul Otto Reinhold Gräbsch (father)
Birth
UNKNOWN
Marriage
26 July 1873
Dresden, Germany
Dresden, Germany, Weekly Church Reports of Births, Marriages, and Deaths, 1685-1879
Death
UNKNOWN
Friederike Emma Nerche (mother)
Birth
2 June 1854
Dresden, Germany
Dresden, Germany, Weekly Church Reports of Births, Marriages, and Deaths, 1685-1879
Baptism
18 June 1854
Dresden, Germany
Dresden, Germany, Weekly Church Reports of Births, Marriages, and Deaths, 1685-1879
Marriage
26 July 1873
Dresden, Germany
Dresden, Germany, Weekly Church Reports of Births, Marriages, and Deaths, 1685-1879
