Category Archives: Names

Two Pifko Brothers Came to America

20 Wednesday Dec 2017

Posted by in Family, Genealogy, Jewish immigrants, Kolski, Memory, Names, Pifko-Winawer Circle, Piwko, Winawer

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Two of Babcia’s brothers sailed to America during the first decade of the 20th century. They both established bakeries in Manhattan and Brooklyn, and the younger brother Philip also made a small fortune in real estate. Philip never had any children of his own, but he became the patriarch of the family in the US. For many years, he maintained the family circle that met monthly, and helped to sponsor relatives who came from Poland. At first relatives came to work, often starting out in his bakery. Later, during and after World War II, efforts to bring relatives over from Europe became more urgent. He wanted to save their lives.

The older brother came first. He is listed as “Abram,” on the ship manifest, though some relatives called him Abraham and others used his middle name Jan (the Polish form of John). He arrived in New York on the SS Moltke on January 24, 1906, and was released into the custody of his uncle Samuel Jaretzky, who was probably related to him through his wife Bertha/Blima. There is some confusion whether Bertha’s maiden name was Kolski or Jaretzky. Bertha’s great grandson Bob has heard different stories about this—either the names were used interchangeably or one branch of the family changed their name. As if that weren’t complicated enough, In the US, the Jaretzkys dropped the Slavic ending and became the Jarets.

Bertha joined her husband in May 1907 with their three young children, Nathan, Paulina, and Ewa. Their fourth child, Sarah, was born in 1909.

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The Pifko brothers around 1908, New York. Front from left: Philip, Abraham, Paulina, Ewa, Bertha, Nathan. Back from left: Raphael Kolski, Sam and Max Alexander

The younger brother, Philip/Efraim arrived in December 1907. Philip was twenty-six and still a bachelor. At first, he lived with Abraham and worked as a driver of a bakery wagon. In 1910, Abraham was foreman at a pants manufacturer.

I love this photo of them.

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Philip and Abraham Pifko in the US.

The photo was in my grandmother’s collection, inside the envelope she labeled “do not open,” along with the others in this post. I’m guessing it was taken in New York sometime in the 1910s. They seem to be inside, so maybe the automobile was just a prop of the photographer. I’ve tried to figure out what kind of car it is. It might be some sort of runabout from the earliest years of the 20th century.

Both brothers had dark hair, and usually wore a mustache without a beard. Abraham, as described by his sister Nunia, had “devil eyes;” he “liked girls and girls liked him.” She described Philip as “shy, pockmarked, and sweet.” Nunia described both as tall, but official documents list Philip’s height as 5’ 7”. He had grey eyes and a “light brown” complexion. That’s one reason I think Philip is on the left in this photo; he looks dark, like a gypsy. Also, I imagine Abraham, as the older brother, would have been in the driver’s seat. But then again, Philip was the bakery wagon driver so maybe I have it backwards.

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The youngest sister, Malka/Maria c. 1912 in Poland

Nunia described the youngest sibling Maria/Malka as dark like a gypsy.

In 1911, Philip married Goldie Przedecka, though her name might have been Gertrude Jacobs. In my aunt’s tree, she is listed as the former, but their marriage record says the latter. Names are complicated in my family; Goldie’s sister and mother had the last name Jacobs or Posner. I’m still working on this.

Philip and Goldie never had any children, but his memory lives on, much more strongly than that of his brother. Abraham died at the age of 47 in 1925, and even though he had children and grandchildren, the cousins I have spoken with know very little about him. They have personal memories of his wife Bertha, who lived until 1968.

Census records show that by 1920, Philip had his own bakery. In 1930, his occupation is “employer.” In 1940, he is listed as a manager of real estate.

Philip’s legacy lives on thanks to everything he did for others during his lifetime. The census shows that he opened his home to a niece, sister-in-law, nephew, and mother-in-law. In 1925, his sister Sarah’s son Nathan Winawer, age 22, lived there, as well as Goldie’s much younger sister Sallie Jacobs, who was 21 years old. Around this time, Nathan and Sallie married. In 1930, Nathan and Sallie were no longer living with Philip, but Nathan was working in a bakery which may well have been Philip’s. In 1940, Bertha’s mother Nicha Posner and Abraham’s daughter Pauline lived with Philip and Goldie.

Other relatives also worked in Philip’s bakery, including Nathan’s brother Stanley Winawer. Stanley went on to open his own bakery, which he had for many years in Brooklyn. Philip helped family members in other ways. Joan, Philip’s grand niece, says he was involved in relatives’ schooling, and he was important for opening doors for them. She was just a child at the time, but she remembers anxious discussions about getting the family out of Poland during World War II.

I don’t have to look any further than my immediate family to see Philip’s generosity. When Babcia, my mother, and uncles came the US, Philip helped them, too. I’m not 100% sure whether they stayed with him, or just in an apartment he owned.

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Bertha and Abraham Pifko in the US.

Philip may well have been following in his older brother’s footsteps. After all, Philip was one of several boarders at his brother’s in 1910. Others included the brother of Abraham’s wife, as well as two cousins, all of whom are in the photo from 1908 that’s at the top of this post. In the 1920 census, Abraham is listed as “proprietor” of a “bakerstore,” and a boarder named Charles Jacobs lived with them. Charles, age 35, had come from Poland in 1913 and worked as a bakery clerk. Could he be related to Philip’s wife Goldie, whose maiden name might also have been Jacobs?

I keep trying to fit the pieces together, to tell a story about their  lives.

 

More Jewish Heritage Work in Kutno

26 Wednesday Apr 2017

Posted by in Cemeteries, Heritage work, Jewish Culture, Jewish Ghetto, Kutno, Memory, Names, Polish-Jewish Heritage, Polish-Jewish relations, Synagogues, World War II

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This is part II about heritage work in Kutno. The first is Jewish History of Kutno.

While in Kutno, I visited the Society of Friends of Kutno (Towarzystwo Przyjaciół Ziemi Kutnowski). The organization has been active since the early 1970s, and has put out an annual periodical about local history and customs for about 20 years. Most issues of the publication contain an article about Jews. In 2016, these articles were compiled in a book along with other historical materials about Kutno’s Jews, including Holocaust witness reports and photographs, and a list of people who lived in the Kutno ghetto.

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Outline of the History of Kutno Area Jews, published by the Friends of Kutno

The chairwoman of the Friends of Kutno Bożena Gajewska is an energetic and upbeat woman. She accepted the position because of her interest in local history and her desire to promote that history among local residents. She isn’t paid for this; she volunteers for the organization after getting off work. The Friends of Kutno have their office in a historic wooden villa that was recently renovated by the city. Most of their funding comes from grants. Over the years, they have placed historical markers where the synagogue, Jewish cemetery, and ghetto used to be. Other recent projects related to Jewish culture include field trips for local residents to the Polin Museum in Warsaw, to a production of a Sholem Asch play at the Yiddish Theatre in Warsaw, and to the Chełmno Extermination Camp, where Kutno Jews were transported when the ghetto was liquidated. Kutno was selected as a site where the Museum on Wheels (a traveling branch of the Polin Museum of the History of Polish Jews) would visit; this happened in August 2016.

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Marker reads, “In this place the 18th century synagogue stood. It was destroyed by the Nazis during World War II, evidence of the hatred of one human to another, and to his works.”

Pani Bożena says she’s noticed that orientations toward Jews have improved since the Polin Museum has opened. Thanks to the Museum, you can talk about Jews, whereas before, the word “Jew” had negative connotations, and was even used as an insult. This made people unsure what to call practitioners of the Jewish faith. Polin has helped to rehabilitate the term. While this may seem like a manifestation of the particularly fraught relationship between Poles and Jews, Mark Oppenheimer just published an opinion piece in the New York Times (Sunday, April 23, 2017, “Reclaiming ‘Jew’”) in which he notes that it’s the same in the US. “Jew” is almost never used as a noun; rather, the adjective “Jewish” is used, as in “Jewish people” or “I’m Jewish” (never “I’m a Jew”). Oppenheimer quotes the comedian Louis C. K. who called “Jew” a funny word “because ‘Jew’ is the only word that is the polite thing to call a group of people and a slur for the same group.”

The Polin Museum has also contributed to a surge of activity related to Jewish history and culture throughout Poland. This has led some townspeople to complain to the Friends of Kutno, “Why is everything always about Jews?” Bożena says she reminds these people that the Friends are interested in all aspects of regional history, and Jews were a part of that history. They address plenty of other topics, as well. For example, they recently published the biography of a native son who was an ultra nationalist during the period when the majority of Kutno residents were Jews (I can’t remember his name but maybe someone reading this can remind me).

Pani Bożena drove me to see some historical sites around town. The Jewish cemetery is on a hill overlooking a neighborhood of concrete apartment buildings. The hillside is covered with tall grass and wildflowers, and crisscrossed by dirt tracks where people walk their dogs, kids play, and people hang out. Many leave their trash behind. The Friends of Kutno recently put up signs around the cemetery that say “Here is the resting place of Kutno Jews, who settled in the city from the beginning of the 16th century. The cemetery located on this hill was established in 1793. Jews were buried here until March 1943. Please maintain its solemnity.” Below this historical information is the reminder, “Keep in mind as you go into this vast expanse that this is a cemetery; people are buried here, you walk on their graves, even though there are no longer tombstones…” Further, the sign states the cemetery is a registered monument and thus legally protected, and any vandalism is subject to a sentence of imprisonment. Nevertheless, within just a few months, four out of six such signs were vandalized. The metal poles were snapped at ground level. Bożena condemned the destruction, but also minimized it as the work of thoughtless hooligans (as opposed to a deliberately antisemitic act). In September, the poles were replaced and the signs stand once again.

Bożena showing me the new sign at the Jewish cemetery in Kutno
An older monument at the top of the cemetery hill

We passed people with dogs as we walked to the top of the hill to an older monument. It contains the same historical information as the new metal signs in Polish and Hebrew (but not the reminders about proper behavior and legal issues), and is shaped like two adjoining tombstones. Heading back down the hill, past some children playing, we saw the bases of some grave markers peaking out of the grass. Many tombstones were recovered and are stored at the Kutno Museum.

Bożena dreams of building a fence around the cemetery so there will be a more substantial barrier against further vandalism. They have received all the necessary approvals, but are in need of funding.

From the cemetery, we went on to the site of the ghetto, which is outside the center of town on the grounds of a former sugar factory. The factory was used by various industries after the war, but now is closed. The buildings, some dating from the late 19th century, stand behind a high fence and a guard patrols the site. Historic markers tell the story of the ghetto. A granite plaque reads:

Here on the terrain of the former Konstancja Sugar Factory

Germans established a ghetto for the Jewish population of Kutno and the surrounding area.

After its liquidation in 1942, the surviving Jews perished in the camp at Chelmno.

Honoring their memory, the People of Kutno.

Kutno, April 1993

A more recent sign contains a bit more historical information in both Polish and English (if you want to read it, click on the photo below to enlarge it).

Former site of the Kutno ghetto.
Wall plaque at the site of the Kutno ghetto
Historical marker in front of the main gate of the factory where the Kutno ghetto used to be.

Bożena told me that over 8000 people lived in the ghetto from 1940-1942. Those who got there first occupied all the most obvious places, so later arrivals had to build shacks from scrap wood, or find ways of populating balconies and any other inhabitable space throughout the large factory hall. In 1942, they were all transported to the camp at Chełmno by train (the tracks are right across the street from the factory) and by truck.

Thinking about the people I met in Kutno (and elsewhere), one thing I am trying to sort out is why Christian Poles get involved in Jewish heritage projects. Not surprisingly, the reasons are varied. One is interested in historical artifacts; he has no political agenda. Another of my companions tried to place this history into a more pro-Polish framework. He explained that the Nazis forced Christian townspeople to do horrible things as part of a strategy to damage relations between Poles and Jews. “All people really want is to live in peace (Chcą w spokoju żyć)”, he continued, “Poland is in the heart of Europe, a pretty terrain that has historically been attacked from all sides.” Others feel personally drawn to Jewish culture. One of my acquaintances in Kutno believes she has Jewish heritage. She seems to understand my quest for my own family history. “It’s important to know where you’re from,” she told me. She hasn’t found anything as concrete as my family photograph (the one I use at the top of the blog) to confirm her feeling that she has Jewish roots. All she can point to are allusions in family stories she remembers from childhood, and sometimes people have told her she looks Jewish. But anyone she could have asked has passed away.

But what’s clear from my visits to Kutno is that fragments of Jewish history remain, and some have been marked as such thanks to the efforts of a small group of residents who think it is important to include the stories of Kutno’s Jews in the history of their town.

Piwko-Winawer Reunion

22 Sunday Jan 2017

Posted by in Family, Jewish immigrants, Memory, Names, Pifko-Winawer Circle, Piwko, Survival, Winawer

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In the mid-20th century, my grandmother’s relatives in New York established the Pifko-Winawer family circle. At the time, family circles were common among Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe. They met on a regular basis (usually monthly) and provided emotional and financial support to members.

My grandmother’s maiden name was Piwko. The US relatives spelled their last name with an “f” instead of a “w,” perhaps to retain the proper pronunciation (in Polish, the “w” was pronounced “f”). Some relatives who settled in Switzerland spell the name “Piwko” while others use “Pifko.” One in Israel spells it “Pivko.” The name Winawer came from the husbands of two Piwko sisters—Liba married Jacob Winawar and Sarah married Saul Winawer. Aunt Pat says Jacob and Saul were cousins. I’m still looking for historical records that show exactly how they were related.

At the heart of this family circle was Philip Pifko, the youngest of my grandmother’s brothers. He had a bakery in Brooklyn where all the relatives (that is, the male ones) worked when they first came over from Poland. Philip started the bakery with another brother, Abram whom everyone called Jan in Poland and John in the US. They both came over between 1905 and 1907, but they kept in touch with the family in the home country, and Philip returned periodically for a visit. This is what I’ve been told by family members. I have also found ship manifests showing he arrived to the US in 1907 and he was a passenger to Europe in 1931. Philip stands on the right in the photo on the banner of this blog. Almost certainly, the photo was taken shortly after World War I, and it was definitely taken in Poland–evidence of another trip to Poland.

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Pifko-Winawer Dinner-on left: Murray and Hannah Winawer, ? and Sadie Shapiro, ?, ? , Pauline and Fred Rosen. On right: Nathan and Sally Winawer, Sol and Numture Winawer, ? Jacobs, Philip and Goldie Pifko, ?, Max Winawer. Cousin Joan showed me this photo and identified everyone.

My cousin Joan (granddaughter of Liba and Saul) was a child at the time, but she recalls two topics of conversation at family circle gatherings: First, issues related to the family burial plot in New Montefiore Cemetery; and second, conversations about how to get the family out of Poland (this would have been in the 1940s). She also remembers my grandmother, uncle George, and mother when they first arrived in the US. They went to the family circle meetings for a while, but then they stopped.

Philip died tragically in a car accident in 1947. He was returning with his wife and some other relatives from a wedding in Massachusetts. The roads were icy and the car slid off the road, killing Philip. The other passengers survived. Without Philip to hold everyone together, the family circle weakened. Meetings became less frequent. Disputes arose over the division of Philip’s inheritance. He had done well during his lifetime but never had any children of his own.

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Article about Philip Pifko’s death.

The split in the family was already clear here. Only Philip’s sister Sarah is mentioned in the obituary, not my grandmother Halina or the other living sisters Rachel (who lived in Israel) and Hanna (whom we called Nunia, and who went by the name Maria).

On Sunday, January 8, of this year the Pifko-Winawer circle reconvened at Melodie’s house in Brooklyn. Melodie is the great granddaughter of Liba and Jacob Winawer. Here we are, descendants of five of the Piwko siblings:

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Pifko-Winawer Reunion 2017

Descendants of Liba: Melodie (daughter of Herbert and granddaughter of Max), her wife Susanna, and children Chiara and Leo

Descendants of Abram/John: Bob (son of Abby, grandson of Ewa)

Descendants of Sarah: Hinda (daughter of Nathan) and her son Erik

Descendants of Rachel: Eldad (son of Abrash), his wife Marsha, their children Daniella, Yoni, and Shelly, and Yoni’s wife Charity

Descendants of Halina: Krysia (daughter of George) and her husband Steve; Chris (son of Maria), his husband Shih Han and children Bessie and Charlie; and me (Marysia)

Also: Miriam and her husband Shiah. Miriam’s great grandparents were the brother and sister of my great grandparents.

Because I wasn’t host, I had more time to talk with my cousins than I did at the last reunion. But so many came, I still couldn’t talk with everyone.

Hinda is named after our great grandmother. She remembers my mother and grandmother. She called Babcia a beautiful woman, and described Mama as elegant. She also remembered Mama’s scars. Hinda visited Babcia on a trip to Puerto Rico in the late 1960s. Babcia was in the hospital with a broken hip. Hinda expected her to be feeble, but found her as vibrant as ever.

Bob gave me tablecloths and napkins hand embroidered by his great grandmother Bertha (Abram/John’s wife). She made them for all her female descendants in the early 1960s. Bob found them when he cleaned out his mother’s apartment and wanted them to stay in the family. So he gave them to me.

Eldad and Marsha just moved from a house on Long Island to an apartment in Brooklyn, and they love it. They have an incredible view from their 8th floor picture window, and they’re just a short walk from the Brooklyn Bridge and the Botanical Garden.

Daniella lives in Australia, but spends her summers (our winters) in New York. She and her husband are both professors. They have been living in a friend’s apartment in Manhattan. We barely got a chance to chat at the reunion, but fortunately Daniella and I had a great time together in San Diego last month. We were both there for the Jewish Studies Association Meeting.

Yoni told me about his education start-up that developed a computer program that helps to personalize instruction to students’ learning styles and challenges. The program has been introduced in a number of public school systems around the country. His wife Charity shared her incredible story. She is an opera singer, but pulmonary hypertension led to such a deterioration of her lungs she had to have replacement surgery—twice. She is doing well now, and even singing again. She has written about it in a memoir, The Encore, due to be published in October.

Melodie, who is a medical doctor and a professor, is also about to publish a book. Hers is a historical novel, The Scribe of Siena, due out in May.

Shiah and Miriam are artists. He used to do woodwork but now does fused glass. She has done pottery.

It’s reassuring to know that we are doing okay. Despite the trauma and disruption of the past that brought us from Poland to the US, we’ve found our way. We’re doctors and teachers, ministers and counselors, entrepreneurs and artists. Counting spouses, at least two of us are MDs and four of us have PhDs. At least four of us have written books. And this is just counting the relatives that were at the reunion.

My elusive grandfather Jakob Rotblit

27 Tuesday Sep 2016

Posted by in Family, Gdynia, Memory, Names, Poland, Pre-World War II, Rotblit, Warsaw

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The danger of digging up family skeletons is that you never know what kind of bones you’ll find.

My mom rarely said anything about her biological father. In fact, it wasn’t until I was a teenager that she told me the man she called Papa, the husband of her mother, was not her birth father. As children, she and her older brother felt like orphans. They never saw their birth father, which I’m sure was related to the fact that talking about him would have revealed the family’s secret Jewish roots. Back then, in prewar Poland, Catholics did not divorce and remarry.

When she finally opened up to me about him, Mama said she barely knew her father. She almost never saw him. Then one summer, following a big fight between him and her mother, Babcia (my grandmother) got fed up and told him, “If you want your children you can have them.” She put George (who was 15 at the time) and my mother (who was 13) onto a train to Gdansk, where they joined their father with his second wife and their daughter.

The Baltic Coast was beautiful, but Mama was miserable. Her father didn’t know what to do with them, and his 2nd wife didn’t want them there; perhaps she felt threatened. After two months (that’s what I remember mom said, though some relatives have told me it’s inconceivable Babcia would have left her children for that long), my grandmother came to Gdansk and with effusive tears and passionate apologies, she brought them back with her to Warsaw. That’s the last time Mama saw her father. She told me she did not know what happened to him, but that probably he died during the war. She never told me his name.

Victorian high button shoes. Source: http://antique-gown.com/

Victorian high button shoes. Source: http://antique-gown.com/

One of the stories my mother would tell me from time to time was about the “high button shoes” her father insisted she wear when she was around 13 years old. The bitterness still lingered when she described to me how much she hated those boots; they were old fashioned and ugly, the kind that were commonly worn in the 19th century. Her father contended they were sturdy, and proper for a young girl. They were also expensive because he’d had them custom made for her. I always assumed this was a conflict Mama had with Papa, her stepfather. It’s only now, as I piece together the fragments, it occurs to me this argument might have been with her biological father. The timing fits. Also I imagine he was probably the more conservative of the two.

I only learned my biological grandfather’s name in 2011, when my Aunt Pat (the wife of my mother’s younger brother Sig) showed me a family tree she had made identifying my grandfather as Jacob Rotblit (in a previous post, I’ve written about how names can vary), son of Ignacy and Hanna, and brother of Maurice and Helena. Pat reiterated another fact my mother had mentioned: Jacob was from Warsaw but had moved to the Baltic Coast. Pat also had notes, presumably from conversations with my grandmother’s sister, that Rotblit had been a merchant who sold fine jewelry and luxury cars.

Jakub Rotblit b. 1891

Jakob Rotblit, b. 1891

Then my cousin Krysia remembered that before he died, her father (my mother’s brother George) gave her a photo of his father. Krysia wrote some notes on the back of the photo: “He was a respected Jew. Babcia fell in love with his friend Zygmunt and left him.” Then, with a rectangle around it was the name “Jakup Rotblit” and under that “my father’s father” and a roughly sketched family tree. So not only could I attach a name to my mysterious grandfather. I also had a photograph. And yes, his children resemble him. And so does one of my brothers and a cousin.

From here, the trail went cold. It took another two years before Krysia and I obtained a copy of a birth certificate of a Jacob Rotblit who was born in Warsaw in 1891. The name, city, and date were plausible, but we didn’t know if this was our grandfather, our Jacob Rotblit or some other one. Though not a common name, I have found prewar records of at least three.

This was in 2013, a time when Krysia and I would stay up until early morning searching everything we could think of on Google, and sending tidbits back and forth to try and fill out the story of our grandfather . She contacted several Rotblits she found to inquire if we might be related. I dug up references to Jacob Rotblit’s Ford dealership. This business, car sales, corresponded with my aunt’s notes. Granted, neither now nor then were Fords “luxury cars,” but in the 1930s any car was a luxury.

Ad for Jakob Rotblit, Ford Dealer in Gdansk, Sopot, and Gdynia, Gazeta Gdanska 1935

Ad for Jakob Rotblit, Ford Dealer in Gdansk, Sopot, and Gdynia, Gazeta Gdanska 1935

In September 2013, when I was back in Warsaw at the Jewish Historical Institute, Anna Przybyszewska recalled seeing the name in a book, J. Drozd Społeczność Żydowska Gdyni w Okresie Miedzywojennym [Jewish Residents of Gdynia during the Interwar Period]. Indeed, on page 309 is the following (I’ve translated it):

 

On November 20, 1936, a company was registered in Gdynia named “Permanent Automobile Market (Stałe Targi Samochodowe).” It was the initiative of the married couple Jakub and Bronisława Rotblit. The object of the enterprise Stałe Targi Samochodowe was the management of the trade in domestic and international products, specifically mechanized vehicles (new and used) as well as their accessories. In addition, the company offered parts, service, and repairs of vehicles. Jakub Rotblit specialized in the sale of automobiles and accessories of the Ford firm, of which he was an authorized dealer. The specific headquarters of the Rotblit’s company were always located in places beneficial to the interests of the place—first in the BGK building (at #31 10 Lutego [Tenth of February] Street), and from July 1938 in the new office building of the firm “Bananas” (at #24 Kwiatkowskiego Street). The operation of the firm ended suddenly upon the death of Bronisława Rotblit, as a result of which her husband moved to Warsaw.

In the footnote: Jakub Rotblit (born June 25, 1891 in Warsaw), son of Arkadiusz Rotblit and Racheli Prowizor, married, merchant. Arrived in Gdynia from Warsaw June 25 1935. He lived at 25/7 10 Lutego Street and 6 Hetmańskiej Street.

 

It took another year before I got the birth certificate (which was in Russian) translated and could confirm the vital information was consistent with what was written in this book: The birthdate was the same; the parent’s names were similar enough to likely be Hebrew and Polish versions of the same names (Aron/Arkadiusz and Ruchla/Racheli Prowizor). In my Aunt Pat’s notes, Jacob’s second wife was “Blanka” and their daughter’s name “Rosa.” I still couldn’t be sure, but it was looking more likely I had uncovered more traces of my biological grandfather.

I have continued to collect fragments, fleeting references to Jacob Rotblit, never sure if they’re about my grandfather or not. Did his 2nd wife really commit suicide? Was he really arrested for business fraud? Was he shot outside of Warsaw in 1941 by a German officer? I have documents saying these things happened, but I have no way of checking these details and no way of linking them conclusively to my grandfather.

But I have recently learned something truly extraordinary. Last month I was contacted by someone through Ancestry’s DNA matches. Genetically, we appear to be second cousins. And yes. His mother was a Rotblit, daughter of Louis/Leib Rotblit who came from Russia/Poland. Louis arrived in England, married and had three children around the time of World War I. My cousin knows very little about his grandfather because he left his grandmother after several years. His mother never talked about him. But on his grandparent’s marriage certificate, Louis’ father was named Aaron and his brothers Moshe and Ya’akov (all written in Hebrew, so the English or Polish forms could easily be Arkadiusz, Maurice (?), and Jacob).

Enough of these details add up. And DNA is likely to be the most concrete evidence I’ll ever find. Another branch of my family tree is filling out. More relatives survived.

The Polish Shirley Temple and her sister the poet

25 Wednesday May 2016

Posted by in Memory, Names, Poland, Polish-Jewish Heritage, Pre-World War II, World War II

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ReniaEvent1

 

Elizabeth Bellak and my mother met in Poland, when Elizabeth was just a child and mama a teenager. Years later, they reconnected in New York and have been best friends and confidants ever since. Elizabeth, her husband George, and their children Andrew and Alexandra visited us on Long Island more often than our biological relatives did. In fact, I’ve grown up calling her my aunt.

Elizabeth is as outgoing as my mother is shy. She loves to socialize, to tell stories, even to sing and dance. She dresses elegantly in heels and designer clothes, her hair and make up always perfect. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in pants.

But she and my mother share a deep fondness for each other. They also share a hidden Jewish heritage that they kept silent about until recently. Elizabeth was actually Ariana Spiegel, born in eastern Poland in what is now Ukraine. Her talent was recognized at a young age, when she appeared in films like Gehenna, and was called “the Polish Shirley Temple.”

Ariana as the Gypsy girl in Gehenna, 1938.
Review of Ariana Spigiel’s performance in Gehenna. She is called the “Polish Shirley Temple.” In Kurier Filmowy 1938, vol. 12, nr.27.
Ariana Spigiel

Her older sister Renia was equally talented, though as a writer and poet. Renia kept a diary for the last few years of her short life which has just been published along with her poetry (in Polish, though there are plans for it to be published in English as well).

I can’t wait to read it.

 

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Super Kosher Cookies and Sliced Ham

07 Thursday Jan 2016

Posted by in Bereda, Family, Jewish Culture, Jewish immigrants, Kolski, Names, Piwko, Winawer

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My brother Chris and I hosted a cousin reunion on Long Island in mid-December. I extended invitations to my old family—those I grew up with—and my new family—the cousins I have only recently found out about. My (new) cousin Eldad made sure to encourage the cousins on his mother’s side to attend. He also said he would bring “super kosher cookies” for the guests who are very religious and who might not eat otherwise.

I wanted to provide kosher food also, so Chris suggested we get everything at the Bagel Boss, a nearby kosher deli. But still, I don’t know how to serve a kosher meal in a non-kosher kitchen. So I did what most people do when they want to learn something. I got on the Internet and did a search for “how to feed kosher guests.” Several sites confirmed some things we had already thought about, like using paper plates and plastic ware. But I also learned some new things. There are many different degrees of kosher, but it’s best to keep the kosher food separate from the non-kosher food, and in its original packaging so guests can read the labels and know what kind of kosher everything is.

Trying to make my guests comfortable was important to me. Religious differences were at the heart of what divided our family, and the whole point of the reunion was to forge new links where old ones were severed.

Chris and I had fun selecting the bagels, cream cheese, fish, and salads at the deli. We talked with the owners, who assured us everything they have is kosher. They didn’t have a brochure we could take, so we photographed their kosher certification just in case. Even though we weren’t raised Jewish, we grew up on this kind of food. When I was eight years old, a bagel bakery moved in next to the local King Kullen supermarket. Mom loved bagels—we all did—and would pick some up every time she went grocery shopping. They’re one of the main things I look forward to when I visit Long Island—there are no good bagels in Tuscaloosa.

In addition to lox we got sable, which needs to be hand sliced to order. This takes special skill and only one particular clerk knows how to do it. I think we made his day. He rhapsodized about how supple and symmetrical the sable was, and held it up for us to admire. He gave us a slice to sample.

At the party store, we found a plastic knife sturdy enough to slice bagels, plastic serving spoons for the salads, and matching blue plates, cups, napkins, and tablecloth. Chris decided a large plastic bowl molded to look like cabbage leaves would be perfect for holding the bagels, and the ideal kitschy accessory to add to his serving ware. We set everything up on the side counter, separate from the non-kosher food in ceramic bowls on the kitchen table.

And then the pace of everything accelerated. We got a call from Aunt Pat that her son Marc was sick and they wouldn’t be able to come after all. The baby was fussy. Chris and others drove off on last minute errands. My first cousin Krysia and my husband Jeremy helped with final preparations. Before I knew it, guests were arriving. I never even had a chance to change into my party dress.

Steve (Krysia’s husband) and Eldad (descendant of Pouli Piwko and Abrash Kolski)
Anna, Miriam, and Susi (descendants of Abram, son of Jankel and Tema).
Elizabeth, who I grew up calling aunt, and Marsha (Eldad’s wife)
Arline, Joan (descendant of Liba Piwko and Jacob Winawer), Krysia (descendant of Halina Piwko Bereday), and Jodi (Joan’s daughter)
Sal (descendant of Abram Piwko) and wife Mira, Daniella, (Eldad’s daughter and descendant of Pouli Piwko and Abrash Kolski)
Jeremy and Bob (descendant of Abraham/John Piwko and Bertha/Blima Kolska)

I have only two regrets. First, that Aunt Pat couldn’t be there. She is the one who set me on the path that led to my first connections with lost relatives. Pat is a professional genealogist who collected information about the family in the 1970s. At the time she knew or contacted many cousins. Her charts, records, and memories have been tremendous resources. My second regret is that I didn’t have the opportunity to talk as much as I wanted with everyone who did come.

The first to arrive were the Bellaks. Even though we are not related by blood, these are the people I grew up with. Elizabeth and Mama knew each other in Poland and found each other by chance years later while registering for classes at Teacher’s College in Manhattan. Elizabeth and George, with their children Andrew and Alexandra would visit more often than our biological kin. Elizabeth loves good food, and always comes with a bag full of goodies. This time, she whispered something to me about a ham. I didn’t think anything of it.

Krysia, who has been with me on this journey from the beginning, guided most of the guests downstairs to see the family tree I had printed and posted to the wall. We’re related (by descent or marriage) to two brothers—Jechiel/Hiel (1854-1929) and Jankel (d. 1887) Piwko—who married two sisters—Hinda (1854-1933) and Tema (1858-1925) Walfisz.

The Piwkos lived in Skierniewice. According to Aunt Pat’s notes, Jozef Piwko (1824-1912) was a successful businessman who ran a tannery that had been in the family for generations. And he had four wives. I’ve only been able to find vital records for two of them. Cywia Rajch (1828-1862) was the mother of Jechiel, Jankel, and Dawid (1862-1865). She died within months of giving birth to Dawid. Jozef then married Sura Burgerman (b. 1842) and they had a son Nusen Dawid in 1866 and a daughter Chawa in 1871. Sura was already deceased when Chawa married in 1891.

Nusen Walfisz (b. 1817), originally from Wyszogród, lived in Żychlin with his wife Pesa Losman (b. 1831) and daughters Hinda, Tema, and Łaya (b. 1864). Nusen was a belfer, a religious education teacher.

Żychlin book of residents, Walfisz family first half. Hinda, third from the top, was crossed out when she married and moved to Skierniewice.
Żychlin Book of Residents, Walfisz family second half.

Most of the cousins who came to the reunion descend from Jankel and Tema through their son Abram who moved to Zurich before World War II. Eldad (who came with his wife and daughter) is related to them through his mother Pouli. He’s also related to Jechiel and Hinda, my great grandparents, through his father, another Abram (though he’s often called Abrash). In other words, Eldad’s parents were second cousins.

Avraham Piwko & Family in Switzerland

Abram Piwko and family in Switzerland 1947

There is a lot of intertwining like this in the family tree—among the Piwkos, Winawers, and Kolskis especially. Two of my grandmother’s sisters married Winawers (Jacob and Liba’s granddaughter Joan came to the reunion with her daughter Jodi); another sister, Sarah married Sol (their granddaughters were supposed to come but had to cancel at the last minute), and her brother Abraham Jan/John married a Kolska (their great grandson Bob came to the reunion). Two other sisters married the Pinkus/Pinchas Kolski (after Regina died in childbirth, Rachel married him and had four more children). I’m still trying to trace how all the various Piwkos, Kolskis, and Winawers are related.

Morris Winawer and Hannah Gelman’s wedding 1935 in New York. Also pictured: brothers Sol and Max and mother Liba Winawer, nee Piwko.
Rachel (nee Piwko) and Pinkus Kolski in Poland with their children

Some of the guests at the reunion are very religious. Susie (a great granddaughter of Jankel and Tema) called the day before to ask if there is an orthodox synagogue nearby. I didn’t understand at first, but she explained she needed to go before sunset. I gave her the phone number of a Chabad house that referred her to a synagogue just two miles away. She stayed in regular contact with them throughout the afternoon, and recruited several men from the party to make sure there would be a minyan for sunset prayers. It turned out there were already 10 men there when they arrived. Standing in the living room, another cousin remarked this is the closest she’s ever been to a Christmas tree.

Several cousins are artists—Miriam (Susie’s sister) used to do ceramics but now she prefers enamels, her husband Shiah does woodwork and fused glass. Arline is a painter. We’re also a well-educated bunch. Daniella is a historian and professor; Bob is a musicologist, curator, and librarian; my brother Chris has a PhD in economics; Sal’s wife Mira is a professor of political theory.

Arline is a straight talking 91 year old. She remains spry—going up and down stairs without assistance—and mentally acute. We tried but failed to work out how we are related. She believes that her husband (Harry Jacobi) was related to Tema Walfisz, while she descends from another Walfisz sister (maybe Łaya?). I looked on Ancestry and found a reference to Leah Walfisz. Could that be the link? Arline’s grandfather came to the US but her grandmother refused because she didn’t think it would be kosher enough.

Arline remembers my mother’s brother Philip, who ran the bakery that most relatives worked in when they first came over from Europe. She met Mama and Babcia at Philip’s when they first arrived in the US. Mama was withdrawn, maybe even anti-Semitic. Arline remembers Mama comparing blacks in the US to Jews in Poland. Babcia babysat for Arline’s children, and also sold handkerchiefs to all the relatives. That’s how she earned money when she first got to the US.

DSC07428

Arline talks with Mama

I went with Arline when she visited Mama who was in bed in her room. At first Mama did not remember her, which is not surprising considering seventy years have passed, and Mama sometimes doesn’t recognize me anymore. Only later, after Arline talked for a while, Mama recognized Arline’s voice. Arline was explaining that her parents (or was it her husband’s parents?) were with Philip when he died. They had attended a wedding in Massachusetts together, and were on their way home when the car ran off the road.

I had hoped that this reunion would be an opportunity for my old family (the one I grew up knowing) to meet my new family (the relatives I have only recently learned about). The super kosher cookies and the sliced ham represent some of the challenges of making that a reality.

I never got around to eating so I didn’t see the ham on the table until after everyone had left. At first I was upset. I had worked so hard to make our kosher guests comfortable and I didn’t want to offend anyone. It struck me as so stereotypical and even mean spirited to serve the food that symbolizes the opposite of kosher. But it turns out no one deliberately meant the ham to represent anything. Elizabeth handed it to my husband, who found a plate and set it on the table without a thought about what it might mean to anybody. And in retrospect, it was probably just as well. Intent aside, maybe some of my old family felt more comfortable because the ham was there. Just as some needed the kosher cookies, maybe eating the ham was for others a normal part of not being Jewish, or of no longer being Jewish, or of not keeping kosher. I don’t know for sure, because I didn’t ask anyone, nor did I pay much attention to what people ate. And, as a friend remarked later, with ham on the table no one had to wonder what food wasn’t kosher.

Bridging the divides forged by my grandmother’s conversion will not always be easy. It’s complicated. But we’re family so we’ll figure it out.

Bogdan was Daniel

16 Sunday Aug 2015

Posted by in Family, Israel, Kolski, Names, Warsaw

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A photo from my grandmother's papers of Mirka (Rachel's daughter), Rachel (Babcia's sister), Czesław Mochorowski, and Nelly. The boy who is standing is Bogdan, Rachel's grandson, the son of Samek and Nelly. I don't know who the man on the right or the boy at the very bottom are.

A photo from my grandmother’s papers of Mirka (Rachel’s daughter), Rachel (Babcia’s sister), Czesław Mochorowski, and Nelly. The boy who is standing is Danek, Rachel’s grandson, the son of Samek and Nelly. I don’t know who the man on the right or the boy at the very bottom are.

Following up on yesterday’s post, cousin Nelly Kolski Kampf who is the granddaughter and namesake of Nelly Kolska Mochorowska and daughter of the standing boy in the photo, wrote:

The child in the picture named Bogdan is my father. He was born as Danek Kolski and during the war his name was changed to Bogdan to help him to hide and when he came to Israel he changed his name again to Daniel (Danek) Kolski.

He was with my grandfather Samek my grandmother Nelly, Babcha Rachel and Mirka together in the Ghetto.

The name Bereda was mentioned by my father (who was a child during the war) that help them to escape from the Ghetto.

So Bogdan was Daniel; he was also Danek. Some cousins call him Dani.

Daniel/Bogdan/Danek/Dani Kolski c. 1939

Daniel/Bogdan/Danek/Dani Kolski c. 1949

Back of Danek's photo. The first word was corrected, but probably meant to be something like

Back of Danek’s photo. The first word was corrected, but probably was intended to be “Najkochańszej” which means “most beloved.” The printer stamp shows the photo was from Poland.

This is a photo of young Danek. Written in Polish on the back in a child’s hand is: “To my most beloved grandmother, Bogdan.” I can’t make out the word on the front though it clearly begins with a “D” and is in an adult’s hand. He was born in 1937, so he would have been around 7 when the war ended. Danek looks here like he is about the age of my almost-twelve-year-old son, so this was after the war–around 1949?

I asked Nelly (Kampf) if they used the term “Babcia” at home. She said yes; her parents spoke Polish to each other, so Danek’s grandmother Rachel was called  “Babcia.”

Samek and Nelly (Służewska) Kolski's wedding photo.

Samek and Nelly (Służewska) Kolski’s wedding photo.

I met Nelly (the granddaughter of Samek and Nelly), her husband, and two younger children at Pini (another grandchild of Rachel’s) and Pnina’s house in Israel. I felt an immediate strong connection with her. She brought her father’s family album, as well as pages from a book about the Jewish history of Włocławek. I’ve been going through old photos and notes, but creating a narrative out of everything is taking too much time. Better to post this update now and get to the rest of the story in a later post.

Nelly and her husband Nir, February 2015

Nelly and her husband Nir, February 2015

Cousins--my son Ian on the left and Nelly's son Asaf on the right. I see a resemblance between Asaf and his grandfather Danek.

Cousins–my son Ian on the left and Nelly’s son Asaf on the right. I see a resemblance between Asaf and his grandfather Danek.

The photo: some reassembled stories

10 Friday Jul 2015

Posted by in Family, Names, Piwko, Polish-Jewish Heritage, Włocławek

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When I first saw this photo in the summer of 2011, I knew almost nothing— I didn’t know who was in it, nor even my grandmother’s maiden name. I figured the older couple was my grandmother’s parents. Were the others their children? Could one of them be my grandmother? And who was the boy in the front row?

JechielHindaAndChildren

My brother Chris and cousin Krysia almost immediately recognized the woman on the bottom left, as our grandmother. With her coquettishly tilted head, her stylish clothes, and her hand resting on her mother’s wrist, it seemed likely to me, too. But I wanted to be sure.

This photo has proven to be an essential clue in my search for family history. Many of the cousins I have met are familiar with the photo and helped me identify everyone in it. In fact, it has helped me establish connections with cousins, and served as proof that we are actually related. When I contacted Pini in Israel, he was skeptical at first that we were cousins. But when I sent him this photo, he responded, “Welcome back to the family.” And he meant it. I feel embraced by the large clan of descendants of my great grandparents, the elderly couple in the photo whom I now know are Hinda (nee Walfisz) and Hil Majer Piwko.

Hil Majer Piwko

Hil Majer Piwko

Hinda Piwko

Hinda Piwko

And it is indeed my grandmother Halina in the bottom left corner.

Halka Piwko

Halka Piwko, my grandmother

This photo has led me to living relatives, and back to the time depicted in the image. It helps me see and feel what family life was like back then, and adds depth to my understanding of the dry genealogical facts I have gathered.

Even my uncle Stanley Winawar has spoken to me from the grave in the form of a letter he wrote to Pini in 2002 (just two years before his death) in which he identifies everyone in this photo, and lists many of their descendants as well. One of my regrets is not having started this search sooner so I could have talked with Stanley and others before they died. At least through the letters, I’ve had a taste of the conversations we might have had.

So let me introduce my family:

Sarah Winawer

Sarah Winawer

Starting at the top left, most people identify the elegantly dressed woman as Sara (Piwko) Winawer, Uncle Stanley’s mother. Born in 1880, she was the second daughter of my great grandparents. On a list compiled by my Aunt Pat (probably based on a conversation with my grandmother’s sister Hanna/Nunia), she is described as having “beautiful hair.” She married Saul Winawer in 1899, and they had four children (Nathan, Milton, Stanley, and Paulina). My mom stayed in touch with her aunt Sara in the United States, though she was known in my family as Lusia (apparently no one besides our branch of the family called her that). She died in 1964 when I was 6 months old. She was too sick to visit me, but told my Mom on the phone that she would watch over me from heaven. I only heard this story once or twice when I was a child, but it left an impression on me. I liked the idea of having a guardian angel of sorts. Who knows? Maybe it foreshadowed this search for deeper connections with my mother’s extended family.

Jakub Piwko

Jakub Piwko

Next in the top row is Jakub, the oldest son born around 1874. Aunt Pat says he had four wives, including Helen Esther Kirsten, Genia Ellinberg, and Rozalia Kirsten. She (Nunia?) describes him as blond, delicate, of medium height, resembling his maternal grandfather Natan Walfisz. He was a Zionist and member of the governing board of the Jewish Community of Włocławek from December 1917 until resigning on March 3, 1922. He was also a representative on the City Council from 1917-19 (see virtual sztetl). Jakub died in 1942; by one cousin’s account he owned a small hotel in Otwock and was shot by Nazis for being out on the street after curfew. He had a son Natan who emigrated to Israel and a daughter, Pola.

In a letter to Pini, Stanley (Sara’s son) wrote, “The space missing between Jacob and Liba was obviously reserved for Yona…” Abraham/Abram, the second-born son, was called by his middle name John/Yona/Janas. Born around 1876, Pat (Nunia?) describes him “devil eyes, tall, brunette, liked girls and girls liked him, 6’ 2”-6’ 4”.” He was the first in the family to come to the United States, arriving in New York in January 1906. His wife Bertha/Blima (they married in 1901) followed in May 1907 with their children Nathan, Paula/Pauline, and Ewa. A fourth child, Sarah, was born in New York. Abraham owned a bakery in Brooklyn until his death in 1925.

Liba Winawer

Liba Winawer

In the middle of the top row is the oldest child Liba, born around 1872. Aunt Pat’s list (Nunia’s description?) says she was tall, blond, and beautiful. At the age of 17 or 18 she married Jakob/Jankiel Winawer. I don’t know how he was related to Saul Winawer (Sarah’s husband), but some say they were cousins. Liba and Jakob had four sons—Nusen, Sol/Saloman, Max, and Morris. In 1928, Liba and Jakob came to the US, where their three younger sons were living. Jakob died there in 1932, but I haven’t found a record of Liba’s death. Did she die in the US? If so, why isn’t it documented? Could she have returned to Poland, where her oldest son still lived? Could she have died in the death camp at Treblinka in 1942, as some say Natan did?

Hanna Cytryn

Hanna Cytryn

Next to Liba is Hanna (born around 1886), though everyone in the family called her Nunia. I’ve already written about her, but briefly, she married Stanisław/Samson Cytryn and had one daughter, Teresa. She and Samson lived in Warsaw where they ran a shop that has variously been described as a pharmacy or a supplier of lotions and toiletries. Maybe she was an herbalist and so offered products that crossed the boundary between health and beauty? She took over the shop after her husband’s death in 1927. Nunia spent World War II in Warsaw under the false identity of Maria Weglinska (the name she kept until her death in 1984) After the war, she lived in Paris, and then in 1951 she moved to the US.

Philip Piwko

Philip Piwko

Next is Philip/Efraim, described by Pat (Nunia?) as “six foot, blond, pock marked, shy, sweet.” Born around 1882, he came to the US a couple of years after his brother, at the end of 1907. He, too, owned a bakery though I don’t know if it was the same one as his brother or a different one. Philip married Goldie. They never had any children of their own, but they took care of siblings, nieces, and nephews as they immigrated to the US. Many of the cousins remember him as the glue that held the family together in the US. Philip died tragically in an auto accident in 1947 on his way home from Boston.

Rachel Kolska

Rachel Kolska

At the far right of the top row is Rachel, who was born around 1890 between Hanna and Halina (my grandmother). Pat (Nunia?) describes her as shorter than her sisters, with thick thick hair. She married Pinkus/Pinchas Kolski, the widow of her older sister Regina who died giving birth to a son, Natan. Rachel raised Natan, and had four more children with Pinkus—Samek, Abram, Naftali/Maniek, and Mirka. They settled in Włocławek, where they had a store right in the center of town. After the war broke out, Rachel, Pinkus, and Mirka (who was just a teenager—she was ten years younger than her youngest brother) were moved to the ghetto in Warsaw. Pinkus, who was in ill health, died there in 1940, and Rachel and Mirka escaped and lived on the Aryan side under false papers. After the war ended, they joined Natan, Abram, and Maniek who were living in Israel. Rachel died in 1969.

Natan Kolski

Natan Kolski

On the bottom left, as I have already said, is my grandmother Haja/Halina, born in 1894. Seated beside her is her mother, Hinda (Walfisz) Piwko, while her father Hil Majer Piwko is on the far right. The young boy is Natan, the son of Regina and Pinkus Kolski. Perhaps he was there in his mother’s place, just like a gap was left for Abraham/John? Natan is said to have spent a lot of time with his grandparents. His position between them suggests they were very fond of each other. And I almost forgot one more member of the family—the dog under the couch behind Natan’s feet. Could this have been Natan’s dog? Another sign of the favor of his grandparents? I don’t know but I like to think of it that way.

So that’s my grandmother’s family, excluding only Małka who died as a teenager and two other siblings who died as infants.

Considering Natan was born in October 1905, I would guess this photo was taken near the end of the 1910s, maybe in 1919. Natan looks like he’s about 12, like my son is now, or maybe a little older. It seems unlikely the photo would have been taken during World War I, especially because of Philip’s presence. Philip was living in the US already (he is listed in both the 1910 and 1920 US census) and I don’t think he would have made the journey during the war. I don’t know enough about the history of fashion to be sure, but Halina’s dress seems scandalously short for the period, and even Rachel’s hemline is a few inches above her ankles. Still, I read that hemlines started to rise in Europe in 1915. I wonder, as well, whether Hanna’s comparatively simple dress was because she was less well off than her sisters, or perhaps was rather due to a more practical nature (which fits with how I remember her).

The photo is a window into the past. In it, I see a large, affluent, close family, but one in which social and cultural divisions were growing through the generations. While father Hil’s thick beard, black cap and long coat were characteristic of a conservative, religious Jew, his older son (the Zionist) had a shorter, more trimmed beard, and his younger son, by now an American citizen, sported only a moustache. The twenty-two-year gap between Liba, the oldest sibling, and Halina, the youngest, also seems apparent in the way they carried themselves and dressed.

I’ve learned a lot since I pulled this photo out of the envelope my grandmother had marked “Do Not Open.” And yet it all remains fragmentary. Most of the richer details are tentative, based on stories I try to piece together into something more substantial. But the fragments stand stubbornly apart from each other, and sometimes even in opposition to each other. Did Rachel accept her sister’s son Natan as one of her own, or did he spend much of his time with his grandparents? Perhaps it was both, since Hinda and Hil also lived in Włocławek later in life. Why does Liba seem to be retreating into the background? Is it just an accident of the lighting or a reflection of her character? Why was my grandmother holding her mother’s hand like that? Was it a sign of affection or perhaps an assertion of autonomy? The more I sit with this photo, the stronger I feel a connection with these people. And still, how distant they remain from me.

The Piwko Saga, Vital Records Version

10 Tuesday Mar 2015

Posted by in Archives, Brześć Kujawski, Family, Names, Piwko, Pre-World War II, Skierniewice, Sobota, Włocławek, Żychlin

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I’ve found records connecting my great grandparents’ lives to five different towns in central Poland.

Hiel Mayer Piwko's birth certificate, 1854

Hiel Mayer Piwko’s birth certificate, 1854

A birth certificate in the Łódź archive states that Josek Piwko, a thirty-year-old tanner appeared with two witnesses to report that his wife Cywia nee Raych, age 26, gave birth to a son Hil Majer on October 26/ November 7, 1854[1] at eight in the evening in the city of Skierniewice.

Żychlin book of residents, Walfisz family first half. Hinda, third from the top, was crossed out when she married and moved to Skierniewice.

Żychlin book of residents, Walfisz family first half. Hinda, third from the top, was crossed out when she married and moved to Skierniewice.

In the Kutno archive, the book of Żychlin residents includes Hinda Walfisz, born August 14, 1854 (making her two months older than her future husband). Others in the household include her parents and two younger sisters. Her father Nusen was born June 14, 1817 in Wyszogród. His profession is listed as belfer, (According to JewishGen this means an assistant melamed in cheder [religious teacher]). His parents were Jamoch and Hinda nee Pigel. Her mother Pesa was born February 5, 1831 in Żychlin to Dawid Losman and Tema nee Majerek. The two other girls were Tema, born March 28, 1858 and Łaja, born May 2, 1861.

Żychlin Book of Residents, Walfisz family second half.

Żychlin Book of Residents, Walfisz family second half.

Hinda’s name is crossed out and a note is added on June 22, 1873 that she moved to Skierniwice to live with her husband Hil Majer Piwko. Hinda’s sister Tema eventually married Hil Majer’s younger brother Jankel Wolf, from whom the Zurich Piwkos descended.

The next document, found in the Łowicz archive, is the marriage certificate of Hil and Hinda’s oldest daughter, Liba Cywja, and Jankel Winawer in 1891. She was 18 and he was 20. His family was from Warsaw, while her family was living in Sobota, a village outside of Łowicz and not far from Żychlin. So at some point, Hil and Hinda moved from Skierniewice to Sobota. I wonder why? I’m told it was common to move from smaller to larger settlements, so why move from a town to a village?

Liba Piwko and Jankel Winawer's marriage record, 1891

Liba Piwko and Jankel Winawer’s marriage record, 1891

DSC03689

By 1901, when a son, Abram Janas (born in 1877) married Blima Kolska, the Piwko family was listed as living in Brześć Kujawski. Abram and Blima were married in Blima’s hometown of Kłodawa. I found this marriage certificate online; the Poznań archive has digitized these records.

Abram Piwko and Blima Kolska married in Kłodawa in 1901

Abram Piwko and Blima Kolska married in Kłodawa in 1901

PiwkoAbramKolskaBlimaAktMalzenstwa1901_2

In the Włocławek archive, I found the Piwkos in the book of residents of Brześć Kujawski. This is my Holy Grail—the thing I’ve been looking for—a document that includes my grandmother. My guide for the day, Tomasz Kawski, a historian who has written about Jews of the area, said, “It’s a miracle [cuda]” I found it. I agree.

Piwkos in the Brześć Kujawski Book of Residents

Piwkos in the Brześć Kujawski Book of Residents

DSC03393

The document lists Hil Majer, son of Icek and Cywja nee Rajch, born October 26/ November 7, 1854 in Skierniewice, married, townsman, Jewish faith, trader (handlarz), and Hinda Piwko nee Wolfisz, daughter of Nusen and Pesa nee Losman, born August 2/14, 1854 in Żychlin, married, townswoman, Jewish faith, [supported] by her husband. In addition, five daughters are listed: Liba Cywja (b. January 27/February 2, 1874), Ryfka (b. December 20, 1884/ January1, 1885), Hana (b. October 11/23, 1886), Małka (b. December 10, 1895), and Haja (b. January 21/ February 2, 1894). Haja is Halina, my babcia. So I finally know her Jewish name.

The document confirms several details that have been passed down in the family; it also raises new questions:

  • All the sisters are listed as having been born in Żychlin. Perhaps Hinda returned to her native home to give birth? Or maybe it was just customary to list girls as being born in their mother’s hometown?
  • There is a note from July 16, 1906 that Ryfka (called Regina on Pat and Pini’s family trees) married Pinkus Kolski and moved to Piątek. The dates don’t correspond exactly to information from other sources which say Pinkus and Ryfka had a son Natan already in 1905. It might just be that the note was added a while after the wedding. Still, why then wasn’t it also noted that Ryfka died giving birth?
  • According to another note on the page, Małka died in Włocławek on June 7/20, 1912. This fits the story Mom told me about Babcia’s younger sister who committed suicide at age 17. No one knew why, but they suspected it was related to unhappiness in love. My mom was fascinated with her story. Maybe it is because she was named after her (the Christianized family tree lists Małka as Maria Renata). Maybe it is because of my mom’s interest in psychology. She wondered what would have compelled Małka to take her own life. Was her love unrequited? Did her father forbid it? Mom told me that Małka was beautiful, with dark hair and a dark complexion unlike the other girls in the family who were fair. In 2011, when I found Babcia’s family photos in the envelope labeled “Do Not Open,” and showed them to Mama, one of the few ones she recognized was Małka’s (though of course mom called her Maria).
  • Hana is my auntie Nunia. The document confirms her birth name and birth year, but the birthdate is different—her US records list her birthday as July 21. Similarly, my grandmother’s birthday is different on her US records—July 16. They also changed her birth years, claiming to be four years younger than they actually were, but this was a known secret in the family.

It is not clear from this document when the family moved to Brześć Kujawski. A note by the first three names states they were registered as residents of Skierniewice; it’s dated April 3, 1903. So where were they living at the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th centuries? In Skierniewice, Sobota, or Brześć Kujawski? Or could they have been in Włocławek already? Hil Majer is on the Włocławek voters list in 1907, and his obituary says he died there in 1929. Aunt Pat lists Hinda’s place of death as Włocławek in 1933. All these places are within one hundred miles of each other, more or less in a line headed northwest from Warsaw.

And why aren’t some of the other siblings listed? Jakób, the oldest boy may well have been living on his own already. But what about Sarah who supposedly married Saul Winawer in Brześć Kujawski in 1899? Or Efraim (who changed his name to Philip in the US) who was two years younger than Sarah? Why is there no mention of Rachel? She was born around 1890, between Hana and Haja who are listed. Rachel married Pinchas Kolski after the death of her sister Ryfka, so she should still have been living at home when this record was made. Conversely, why is Liba listed as single and living with her parents? Wasn’t she with her husband, Jankel (Jakub) Winawer, whom she married in 1891 in Sobota?

Of course, I wonder about the records I can’t find. The vital records for Jews of Żychlin and Brześć Kujawski no longer exist. My new Holy Grail would be to find Babcia’s marriage certificates and the birth certificates of my mom and her brothers. Vital records are made public only after 100 years, so some of these might be available through the Civil Registration Office (Urząd Stanu Cywilnego). But do they even exist? Were they destroyed by war, or somehow expunged when Babcia broke ties with her old (Jewish) life and took on her new Christian identity?

[1] According to JewishGen, when two dates appear on vital records, the first refers to the Julian calendar used by the Russians while the second refers to the Gregorian calendar, used in most of Europe.

Archives and Ancestors

31 Saturday Jan 2015

Posted by in Archives, Family, Names, Piwko, Skierniewice

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I went to Łódź in search of my great grandfather’s birth certificate. It was my first time there. I had heard Łódź is an ugly, dying industrial center, but I was pleasantly surprised to see it is full of attractive 19th century brownstones. Many are in disrepair, some are in ruins, but others have been renovated and recall the former prosperity of the city. I need to reread Reymont’s Ziemia Obiecana, a novel involving relations among Polish, German, and Jewish cloth manufacturers; as I recall, it provided a snapshot of the business relationships as well as the prejudices among them.

Plac Wolnośći, archive on the right.

Plac Wolnośći, archive on the right.

The archive is in an old building in Plac Wolności, a circular intersection which, depending where you look, evokes either socialist monumentalism or the bourgeois elegance of the century before. Archives are odd places, and archivists generally seem more comfortable around paper and books than around people. In Łódź the documents I wanted are on microfilm. In other places, I have been fortunate enough to leaf through the original record books. They are large ledgers with thick yellowish paper. Some of the hardbound covers are riddled with insect holes. The handwritten entries can be hard to read—some scribes were neater than others; some added their own unique flourishes.

Still, I hit the jackpot—records from Skierniewice dating from the 1840s-60s. I found Hiel Piwko’s birth certificate and traced his line back two or three more generations. I found out that his father and mother came from smaller towns near Skierniewice, Rawa Mazowiecka and Bolimów. These older records are in Polish, though the handwriting can still be hard to decipher. I learned that my great-great grandfather Josek was a tanner (garbarz). This is consistent with what Aunt Pat has in her notes, but Hiel’s mother is listed with a different name—instead of Lucyna King, she’s Cywia Rajch. I traced back further after getting home, and found reference on JRI (Jewish Records Indexing) to her birth certificate, which lists her as Lieba Cywia Raich. Pat also lists Babcia’s sister Libe Piwko as Lucyna, so that likely explains the first name. Lucyna, Libe, Lieba can easily be versions of the same name. Could King and Rajch be related, too?

The birth records follow a standard pattern. They identify the father, the date he came to the record office, his age, town, and sometimes profession. Next, two witnesses’ names, ages, towns, and sometimes professions are listed. Then comes the name of the mother, her age and town, and finally the sex, birthdate, and name of the child. The witnesses and father sign, along with the clerk. I’ve been paying particular attention to signatures, which are occasionally in Hebrew, but are mostly in Polish.

The language used in these record books mark the political transformations of the 19th century. After the Uprising in the early 1860s, records in the Russian partition switched to Russian instead of Polish. In Lęczyca (where I went the next day to trace the ancestry of Pinkus Kolski, who married Babcia’s sister), although the records were in Russian, peoples’ names were listed in both Russian and Polish.

I also was able to trace other historical facts about the Piwko line. Great-great grandmother Cywia, Josek Piwko’s first wife, died in 1862 at age 32, just a month after giving birth to a son Dawid. According to Aunt Pat’s records, Cywia (Lucyna) died of cholera (but at age 27). Hiel would have been just 7 years old in 1862. Three years later, Dawid died. Within a year, Josek had another son, Nusen Dawid with a new wife, Sura Burgierman. She was 24 and he was 42.

According to Aunt Pat’s notes, Josek had four wives. I am still looking for mention of the other two. Maybe I’ll find something when I get the Russian language records I collected in Grodzisk Mazowiecki translated.