Note: In this post, I discuss among other things my recent visit to the small town of Żytna, Poland (German: Zyttna) where an inn once owned by my great-great-granduncle Dr. Jonas Bruck at one time stood. During my recent trip, I had the opportunity to meet some locals who are researching and writing about the history of Żytna and elsewhere in Silesia, including documenting its former Jewish inhabitants.
Related Posts:
POST 7: DR. OTTO BRUCK & TIEGENHOF: THE CLUB RUSCHAU
POST 145: PRIMARY SOURCE DOCUMENTS ABOUT MY GREAT-GREAT GRANDUNCLE, DR. JONAS BRUCK (1813-1883)
POST 145, POSTSCRIPT-OLD PHOTOS OF MY GREAT-GREAT-GRAND-UNCLE DR. JONAS BRUCK’S INN IN ŻYTNA, POLAND
In contemplating a title for the current post, I was reminded of a French proverb my mother used to say to me as a child. The phrase “If Paris were small, we’d put it in a bottle” is an English translation of a well-known French proverb, “Avec des si on mettrait Paris en bouteille” (literally: “With ‘ifs’ one could put Paris in a bottle”). The meaning of the phrase is that it is pointless to speculate about unrealistic or impossible hypothetical situations because “ifs” do not change reality.
Nevertheless, we’re all guilty of senseless conjectures. In my case, I’ve often wondered why my aunt Suzanne and uncle Dr. Franz Müller did not escape to America after Hitler came to power in 1933 and they left Berlin. This would have been a viable option at the time since my uncle and aunt had contacts in America and the financial means to support themselves. Instead, my aunt and uncle went to Fiesole above Florence, then in 1938, after they were forced to leave Italy, they went to the small town of Fayence, France where my uncle’s daughter and son-in-law lived. In August 1942, my aunt Suzanne along with her stepdaughter’s brother-in-law were arrested there by the Vichy French collaborators and deported to and murdered in Auschwitz.
Given the widespread destruction wrought in Europe by the cataclysmic events of the Second World War, including areas of Germany and Poland where much of my Jewish family was concentrated, I’ve often pondered what happened to some of the places associated with my family. While by no means equating the murder of family with the destruction of places connected to them, it was part of the systematic dismantling of the fabric of the community in which they lived and interacted with their neighbors.
The hotel in Ratibor (today: Racibórz, Poland), the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, owned by my family for roughly 75 years, I know survived the war only to see post-war Communist authorities tear it down to “harvest” bricks to reconstruct Warsaw. (Figure 1) And the building in Tiegenhof in the Free City of Danzig (today: Nowy Dwór Gdański, Poland) where my father lived and had his dental clinic was bombed and destroyed during the war by passing Russian bombers after German partisans shot at the planes. (Figure 2)
Readers can thus imagine my interest when I discover a place still exists where I have proof in the form of photos that one of my relatives visited, lived, or worked, such as the home I recently wrote about in Post 188 in Kiesewald (today: Michałowice, Poland). The house in Michałowice is just the second place in Poland I’ve visited where I have photos of my father standing in the same place 90 or more years ago. The first was in Petershagen (today: Zelichowo, Poland), just outside Tiegenhof, where my father had his dental practice between April 1932 and April 1937. I wrote about that visit in Post 7. (Figures 3-4)
For the most part, however, the sites in Europe connected to my Jewish family did not survive the war. The current post is about another location that I learned and wrote about in 2023. It was once owned by one of my esteemed ancestors, Dr. Jonas Bruck (1813-1883). (Figure 5) It was an inn located in the small town of Żytna, Poland about 170km (~105 miles) southeast of Breslau (today: Wrocław, Poland), where Jonas was an eminent dentist.
In Post 145, I discussed primary source documents found and sent to me by a reader, a teacher/historian Mr. Jan Krajczok from Rybnik, Poland, located a mere 17.5km (~11 miles) east of Żytna. Originally uncertain whether the reference in the records to a Jonas Bruck related to my great-great-granduncle, I asked my German friend Peter Hanke for help translating the relevant land registers. As I explained in Post 145, Peter was able to confirm the involvement by the “dentist Dr. Jonas Bruck” in the ownership of the inn in Żytna. Based on Peter’s translation, it is clear my ancestor owned the inn from roughly 1846 to 1859. This was a most unexpected finding. Because of the distance between Breslau and Żytna and because the establishment was an inn, I assume it was an investment property, not a second home.
Jan is a subscriber to my blog and we have periodically corresponded regarding questions mostly related to the history of Silesia. Knowing I would be visiting Racibórz this past August, I asked Jan whether we could meet and perhaps visit the place in Żytna where the inn owned by Jonas once stood. Its precise location is known because contemporary postcards survive; I discussed and illustrated these in Post 145, Postscript.
Jan was most pleased to give my wife and me a tour, and this turned into a highly entertaining get-together. Jan picked us up in Racibórz, and took us to the home of Iwona Witt, née Hadam (Figure 6) and her husband Aurel Witt, residents of Żytna, a town of only about 600 people. Iwona is currently in the final throes of writing a book about the history of her village. Having grown up in the area and knowing most of the locals has given her unprecedented access to people’s homes and their collective memories and stories. Despite Iwona’s local connections, some residents have refused to even let her inside their homes or talk to her about what must be ugly wartime history. Readers can only imagine how difficult it would be for an outsider like me with no facility in Polish to draw out any of the stories Iwona is writing about.
Postcards of the inn once owned by Jonas Bruck along with a beer mug (Figures 7-8) believed to have come from the inn’s restaurant, some illustrated in Post 145, Postscript, were given to Iwona by old time residents along with other local memorabilia. Iwona took us to the site where the inn formerly stood (Figure 9) and explained the circumstances that ultimately led to the inn’s destruction. As the Russians were encircling the area in the final days of the war, the skirmish line between the Russian and German troops was along the main road in front of the inn. (Figure 10) Believing they were being shot at from the upper floors of the inn, the Russians used flamethrowers to fend off the German soldiers and set the structure aflame. While the fire was apparently doused before the inn was destroyed, it was not salvageable and was eventually torn down during the 1950s. Thus, the inn was dismantled long after Dr. Jonas Bruck had sold it.
While the inn did not endure, other contemporary structures such as a building and church tower across the street from the inn have survived. (Figure 11) They can be seen on a historic picture Iwona shared with me during our visit. (Figure 12) The structure to the left of the two women standing in Figure 12 is the inn formerly owned by my great-great-granduncle.
Apropos of the French proverb and its relevance to unrealistic hypotheticals, there are nonetheless occasions when places connected to my family have survived. As mentioned, I’ve visited two of them in Poland, but am aware of another in Fiesole, Italy where, as mentioned above, my aunt and uncle lived after they decamped from Berlin in 1935. It was called the Villa Primavera (Figure 13-14b), and my aunt ran it with another Jewish woman as a bed-and-breakfast until 1938. I’ve tried on three occasions to visit the villa, to no avail. Being the generally persistent sort, I intend to give it another try in February 2026.
In conclusion, I would remind readers that many places in Poland associated with one’s Jewish ancestors, particularly places that are today largely devoid of Jews, have locals who are interested in researching and rediscovering their town’s Jewish history. Such is the case with Iwona who was thrilled to learn of the Jewish connection to her hometown in the personage of my ancestor Jonas Bruck. It is also true of another friend from Rybnik, Małgorzata Płoszaj (Figure 15), who has written two books about its former Jewish inhabitants. And it is also true in my father’s birthplace of Racibórz where yet another friend, Magda Wawoczny, who is enrolled in the Jewish Studies program at Jagiellonian University in Kraków, is researching and writing extensively about the town’s former Jewish families and history. It behooves readers to seek out these local contacts to develop a more rounded view of available resources and historical events.
