04 Monday May 2020
Posted in Bereda, Family, Genealogy, Identity, Israel, Kolski, Photographs, Polish-Jewish relations, Post-World War II, Pre-World War II, Warsaw, World War II, Włocławek
Now, the English-language MyHeritage blog has a story about us: Hidden Photo Reveals a Secret Past and Reunites a Family, written by Talya Ladell.
The article also contains cool colorized photos. You can compare the black and white originals with the color copies by dragging the cursor over the image.
Babcia Halina in Florida during the 1950s. Colorized photo
23 Thursday Apr 2020
Posted in Bereda, Family, Genealogy, Israel, Kolski, Photographs, Polish-Jewish relations, Post-World War II, Pre-World War II, Survival, Trauma, Warsaw, World War II, Włocławek
I met my cousin Pini Doron in 2013 when I found his family tree online and wrote to ask if we might be related. He asked for proof, so I sent him the photo in the header of this blog, which he recognized from his own copy. He wrote back “welcome to the family” and ever since I have felt embraced by my extended family in Israel, with Pini at the heart of it. The photo, which includes both of our grandmothers, confirmed that we are cousins.
Last week, we were contacted by Nitay Elboym, who writes for the MyHeritage Hebrew-language blog. He decided to write about our family in commemoration of Holocaust Remembrance Day. It’s a story of connections and separations that span a century.
You can find it in Hebrew at the Internet news service YNet:
and in the MyHeritage blog:
Colorized photo of the family from about 1916. Marysia’s grandmother is sitting on the left and Pini’s grandmother is standing on the right
Thanks to a photo and a family tree: a Holocaust survivor son has found family members who disappeared
By Nitay Elboym
April 21, 2020
74-year-old Pini Doron of Hod Hasharon is a longtime MyHeritage user who built a family tree for many years dating back to 1800. Pini thought he had already finished his search, when he received a message with an old family picture. This time, he realized immediately, it was an extraordinary discovery.
“I get a lot of inquiries from people who think they’re related to me,” Pini says. “I am usually skeptical of my relation to them, so I politely ask everyone to explain how we are connected. In this case too, when I received the message, I responded that I would love to know what our family relationship is,” he recalls.
“Actually, at that time, I was pretty much at the beginning of my family history research,” recalls Marysia Galbraith, a professor of anthropology at the University of Alabama, USA. “I was looking for bits of information wherever possible. But when I saw Pini’s family tree on MyHeritage, I knew it was about me, I just didn’t know how. In short, I had no idea how to prove to him how I was related to his family tree, so I just sent the only picture I had. Besides my grandmother, I didn’t know who the people were. Then he answered me ‘Welcome to family.’ His reply almost made me cry. ”
The Piwko family lived in the town of Wloclawek, Poland. At the outbreak of World War II, Pini’s grandparents – Pinchas Kolski and his wife Rachel (nee Piwko) – and their two children, Mirka and Samek, were left there while Pini’s father was saved because he and his two brothers were sent to Israel before the war to work the family lands in Kfar Ata. “Because their city of residence was close to Warsaw, they were transferred to the Warsaw ghetto right at the beginning of the war, around 1940,” Pini says. “In the ghetto, Samek was murdered, and my grandfather died of illness. So my grandmother and her daughter Mirka were left alone, looking for a way to survive.”
Mirka and Rachel Kolski at Pinchas Kolski’s grave in the Warsaw Ghetto
Meanwhile, Rachel’s sister, Halina, lived in relative safety outside the Warsaw ghetto, because after divorcing her first Jewish husband, she remarried a Christian man named Zygmunt Bereda. “Rachel and Halina’s father were not ready to hear about this relationship. So, when she married a Christian, he sat shiva on her,” said Pini. “Her sisters tried from time to time to keep in touch, but because of their father, the connection got weaker.” Halina and Rachel’s father, who passed away around 1930, could not have imagined that it was precisely the person who, because of his religious identity, he rejected, would save not only his daughters, but also his other descendants.
When Halina told Zygmunt that her sister was in the ghetto alone with her daughter, he decided to come to their aid despite the risk involved. “Zygmunt was a very successful businessman with a lot of property. In addition, he probably had many connections, which opened doors to him that were closed to others,” explains Marysia. “He used these connections to forge documents for Rachel and her sister, which allowed them to escape the ghetto.”
Halina Bereda, Marysia’s grandmother. She and her Christian husband saved the family
Zygmunt Bereda. A Polish Christian who saved the family of his Jewish wife
But the matter did not end here. Zygmunt and Halina protected the two after they left the ghetto and hid them in buildings they owned throughout the war. At the same time, they were able to forge additional documents that allowed them to leave Poland to Switzerland, and from there, in 1949, the two immigrated to Israel.
“Years of disconnection ended thanks to a surviving photo and family tree on the MyHeritage website. Ever since we started chatting, I have found that Marysia isn’t only a wonderful person, she is also a thoughtful researcher,” says Pini. “She has set up a blog where she writes personally and collects her interesting findings. Everything she does is well organized, backed up by documents, and she knows how to find almost everything. She even studied Polish, which probably helps her a lot in genealogical research.”
At the end of the war, Warsaw was devastated by the bombings. The many businesses and houses that Zygmunt owned were also destroyed. He and Halina lost their property and had no place to live. The rescuers now needed help, and the one who came to their aid was the former wife of Samek, Rachel’s son who died in the Holocaust. After the war Halina and her daughter Maria, Marysia’s mother, immigrated to the United States and settled there.
“The truth was kept from us,” says Marysia, who has grown up as a Christian all her life. “For years, family members have been whispering about being Jewish, but never really getting into it. I have spent a long time trying to figure out why my mother and grandmother hid their Jewish heritage and why they were not in contact with Rachel. I think the trauma of the Holocaust left a deep scar on my grandmother. She thought, “If they don’t know, then it won’t hurt them.” That’s probably why they didn’t keep in touch with Rachel and her descendants in Israel.”
Since the family tree has linked Pini to Marysia the two speak regularly, and they have also met in Israel and in Poland with other family members. “When we went to the graves of our families, the sight was unusual. On one side of the cemetery wall are Jews with a rabbi, and on the other side are Christians with a priest,” Pini recalls. “But what is important? In the end, we are human beings and destiny connected us together.”
During the roots journey to Poland. Pini stands to the left and beside him Marysia
Pini’s Tree showing the family connection between Pini and Marysia
The image that led to the discovery – now in color
To revive the old image that made the exciting discovery, the company’s investigators used the MyHeritage In Color ™ auto-coloring tool and sent the result to Pini and Marysia. “It’s wonderful,” says Marysia. “I’m going to share the colorized picture with my family, including my 90-year-old aunt who will be especially happy.”
Colorized photo of the family from about 1916
09 Thursday Jan 2020
Posted in Bereda, Family, Photographs, Pre-World War II
Tags
George Z. F. Bereday/Jerzy Bereda, Halina Piwko Bereda, Maria Bereda(y) Galbraith, Maria Weglinska/Hana Piwko
I was happy to receive a package from Poland yesterday–a surprise post-holiday gift? In fact, it was a book by Justyna Wojniak titled Szkoła – Polityka – Prawo: George Zygmunt Fijałkowsky-Bereday i Jego Wizja Edukacji (School, Politics, Law: George Z. F. Bereday and His Vision of Education).
School, Politics, Law: George Z. F. Bereday and His Vision of Education by Justyna Wojniak
The author contacted me a year ago to talk about my mother and her brother for her doctoral dissertation about my uncle George Bereday, who was instrumental in establishing the discipline of Comparative Education. Most of the book focuses on Bereday’s scholarly work on the idea of equal education for all, methods for comparing educational systems in different countries, as well as his concerns about equal rights and social justice generally. I will read the whole book eventually, but the first chapter is most relevant to my search for family heritage. Wojniak cites this blog in the chapter about my uncle’s childhood and early life in Poland, and even discusses my mom’s service in the Polish Underground Army during World War II. It’s great to see my work being put to use, and translated into Polish for Polish speakers to read.
I was also amazed to find a photo on page 28 of my babcia with a young George/Jurek on one side and a young Maria/my Mama on the other. They are all smiling, and Babcia holds both children by the hand. It’s winter–they are wrapped up in warm coats, hats, gloves, and boots, walking along a gravel road with barren trees in the background. I would guess my mom is about six years old and Uncle George about eight, which would make it around 1928 or 1929. Based on the time and rural setting, my guess is it was taken at Dębinki, the estate outside of Warsaw where they lived from about 1928-1934. Mama always said those were the happiest years of her life.
George/Jerzy, Halina/my Babcia, and Maria/my Mama Bereda in Poland around 1928 or 1929.
I have never seen this photo before. In fact, I don’t recall ever seeing a photo of my mother as a child. And even more surprisingly, the source of the photo is my own cousin Krysia! We’ve been in touch, and I’m counting on her to send me a better copy than this one.
30 Monday Apr 2018
Posted in Family, Photographs, Piwko
Gazing at old photos, I imagine having conversations with my ancestors. Photos are deceptive that way. They appear so immediate, so full of meaning. And yet, these are relatives I never met. I don’t even know who they are. Take a look at this handsome fellow:
Mama called him “przystojniak,” “handsome guy.” But who is he?
When I showed this photograph to my mother in 2011, when she could only communicate in single words, she exclaimed, “przystojniak!” In Polish that means “handsome fellow,” or if I want to believe Google Translate, “hunk.” Mom would never have called someone a “hunk,” so I’m sticking with “handsome fellow.”
When I asked mom who the handsome guy was, though, she didn’t know.
I wonder if it might be one of her mother’s brothers, perhaps Abraham/Jon Piwko who came to the US long before mama was born. It would help if I could pinpoint the year in which the photo was taken. His clothes provide some hints–the short, wide tie, the jacket pocket, and the cuffed pants. Still, I don’t know enough about historical fashion to figure it out.
If this is Abraham, it was taken when he was young, maybe even before he left Poland in 1906. The carved stone bench looks more European than American, but who knows? It’s also striking that his feet are not on the ground, but rather on a round pillow. By 1908, when this photo was taken Abraham wore a mustache without a beard:
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
Looking back and forth between the two photographs, I can’t tell if it’s the same person or not.
These photos were in the envelope my grandmother labelled “Do Not Open.” She didn’t want us to know about our family history because she didn’t want us to know our ancestors were Jewish.
One other photo in that envelope depicts a young girl. She stares at the camera with assurance, a charming smile revealing her dimples. Long curled locks reach down to her waist. She holds a telephone to her ear, tilting her head down toward the hand-held earpiece. A cousin has identified her as Abraham’s daughter Paulina Piwko, the older girl in the group photo above.
Again, clues to the date of the photo should be in the clothing–the white lace-up boots worn with knee-high stockings held up with garters, the pleated white dress reaching just above the knee, with a frilled collar and pleated short sleeves. Again, I don’t know enough to be able to read these clues and pinpoint the date the photo was taken. If this is Paulina, she would have been a little older than in the group photo. If she is 10 in this photo, it was taken around 1913.
My cousin Krysia has remarked on how much this looks like our grandmother. And I agree. Babcia also had dimples, thick, long hair, and the kind of charm that seems to radiate from the girl in the picture. If it were Babcia, that would mean this photo was taken around 1904. Candlestick phones like this were in use from around 1890-1940, so that clue doesn’t narrow things down enough to confirm or rule out either possibility.
Still, my cousin, a descendant of Abraham, knows this photo and recognized it as his great aunt Paulina. Why would he have seen a picture of my grandmother? Why would it have been among the photos that were passed down in his line?
Here’s a fantasy explanation–one I have no evidence for outside of the photographs themselves. Could the photos of the handsome fellow and the charming girl have been taken at the same time? Might the siblings have wanted photos of each other when the older brother went away the America, never to return? It’s a long shot, but it would make a good story.
18 Thursday Jan 2018
Posted in Cemeteries, Family, Genealogy, Jewish Culture, Jewish immigrants, Photographs, Pifko-Winawer Circle, Piwko
I was shocked to learn that the family burial plot is just 20 minutes from where I grew up. No one had ever told me about it.
Gravestone of Abraham and Bertha Pifko, Washington Cemetery. Photo credit: B Kosovsky
I met my 2nd cousin Bob right around the same time my 1st cousin Krysia found his photo of Abraham and Bertha Pifko’s gravestone. Abraham and Bertha were Bob’s great-grandparents, and Krysia’s and my great-uncle and aunt. Poking around some more on the Internet, I figured out that this photograph comes from Bob’s Flickr account, in a folder containing photos of all the tombstones in the Pifko-Winawer Circle in New Montefiore Jewish Cemetery.
Since I was on Long Island for a visit, I decided to see the Family Circle for myself. I went with my friend Krystyna, who is Polish, on our way to Copiague, a town on the south shore of Long Island with a large Polish community and several Polish delis. I’ve driven that route many times to get black current jam, kasha, makowiec, white cheese, and other foods I miss so much from Poland, as well as my son’s favorites: kielbasa and ptasie mleczko, rectangles of marshmallow covered in chocolate. I’ve tried buying kielbasa from the grocery store, but Ian won’t eat it; he insists only the real stuff from Poland is any good.
You can practically see the cemetery from the road, but I never knew it was there. Nor did I know that my relatives were buried there. This is what family silence does. Because we weren’t supposed to know about our Jewish heritage, I had never been there, not even to visit the graves of Stanley and Stella Winawer or Pauline Kanal, relatives whom I remember so fondly.
It’s a large cemetery. Krystyna and I had to figure out how the sectors, blocks, and rows are organized, but eventually we found the Pifko-Winawer Family Circle. The size of the plot is astonishing. It contains dozens of graves. A hexagonal pillar toward the front is labelled “Pifko Winawer Family Circle Organized 1938.” Other faces of the hexagon include the last names Pifko, Lewis, Davis, Kanal, Shapiro, Winawer, Jaret, Jacoby, Jacobs, and Portny. Written on the back face is “In Memorium; Abraham J. Pifko; Max Winawer Rosen.” I had only begun my genealogical research and only recognized a few of those last names. Even today, after six years of genealogical research, I’m still not sure how I’m related to the Davises, Jacobys, and Portnys.
We wandered through the rows of gravestones—raised blocks with blunted front corners, backed by low evergreen hedgerows. Among them, I found Babcia’s sister Sarah Winawer, “beloved mother, grandmother, great grandmother, March 16, 1880-Feb. 16, 1964.” This is the sister my immediate relatives called Lusia, the one who died a few months after I was born and who said before her death that she would look down on me from heaven. She rests beside her husband Saul, and near their children Nathan, Stanley, and Pauline. Another son, Milton, is not there; much later, I learned he chose a different cemetery because his wife Nettie, who was not Jewish, couldn’t be buried in New Montefiore. I recognized names of other relatives Aunt Pat has told me about—Abraham Pifko’s daughters: Eva Lewis and Sarah Lewis who share a last name because they married brothers; and Pauline who was there with her husband Fred Rosen.
I found Babcia’s brother Philip with his wife Goldie, whose graves are on the side of the family plot, facing perpendicular to the others. Their stones have Hebrew lettering on top and English on the side. The others either have both languages on top, or English on top and Hebrew on the sides. Could this signal something? Perhaps Goldie felt a closer affinity with the Hebrew/Yiddish language?
I did not find Abraham and Bertha’s grave. When I asked Bob about it, he explained that they are buried in Washington Cemetery in Brooklyn. Abraham died before the family circle was established, and even though his great-grandmother wanted to be buried with the rest of the family, her spot was waiting for her with her husband. Another sister, Liba’s grave is not there, either, though she and her husband are remembered on a memorial bench with the inscription, “In memory of Jacob and Libe Winawer.”
Walking among my extended family, I felt the joy of finding them, and simultaneously the sense of loss that I never got to know, or even know anything about, most of them.
Is it odd that I spoke in Polish the first time I visited family graves in a Jewish cemetery? I don’t think so because Babcia’s family prided themselves in their ability to speak the language well. In some ways my ancestors straddled the boundary between Polish and Jewish culture. But the gulf was wide, and when my grandmother converted, she closed the door on her Jewish heritage, just as her father expelled her from the Jewish world in which she had been raised.
22 Friday Dec 2017
Posted in Family, Genealogy, Jewish immigrants, Kolski, Memory, Photographs, Piwko, Włocławek
This blog started with a photograph. A family portrait of adult siblings with their parents. The photo also instigated my search for my hidden Jewish ancestors.
The Photo that started it all
Here, in my great grandfather’s long beard, head covering, and black robe, I saw for the first time visible proof that I descend from Jews. It took a long time, but I managed to identify everyone in the photo, including my grandmother (Babcia) who appears in the bottom left, her hand resting proprietarily on her mother’s wrist.
Based on their clothing and ages, I have guessed this photo was taken sometime around World War I. But I just came across some new information about my grand uncle Philip, the man standing to the right, that throws this date into question. Let me walk through what I have figured out.
Two Pifko brothers came to America, Abraham in 1906 and Philip in 1907. Here they are with Abraham’s wife and children and some other relatives:
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
This photo is easy to date; everything fits together. It must have been taken after Bertha and the children arrived in New York in May 1907, and Philip arrived in December 1907, but before Abraham and Bertha had their fourth child in October 1909. The style of Bertha’s dress is also consistent with this time period. Census records add another piece of supporting evidence; in 1910, all the people in the photo lived in the same household in Manhattan. So the photo was taken sometime between 1908 and the middle of 1909.
Philip and Abraham Pifko in the US.
In another photo of Philip and Abraham (on the right), they look a bit older, and Philip has grown a mustache. In my last post, I said that Philip is on the left, but my cousin Joan, who knew Philip when he was older, says she’s pretty sure he is on the right, driving the car. She also has no idea why his complexion was labeled “light brown” on an official document I found. His skin was not dark.
The photo that started this blog, and my search for ancestors, would seem to have been taken next, sometime around 1914-1918. Except it seems strange that Philip visited Poland during World War I.
Then, while looking through Philip’s documents on Ancestry.com, I clicked on a passport application from 1920. It was for both him and his wife Goldie, to go to England and France. According to what is written, Philip became a US citizen in January 1916, and resided in the US uninterruptedly since arriving in 1907. In response to a question about where he has lived outside of the US since his naturalization, the space is stamped, “I have never resided outside of the U.S.” Below, in response to a question about previous passports, it’s stamped “I have never had a passport.”
So this got me wondering. If Philip didn’t leave the country between 1907 and 1920, could the photo have been made later than I thought, in 1920? Could it have been when he traveled on this passport?
Goldie and Philip Pifko 1920, passport application photo
I found this passport application a while ago, but it didn’t occur to me until now that it might have a back. Sure enough, when I clicked to the next page in the database, there it was. The back of the form includes a place where a lawyer verified the truth of everything on it. There is also a handwritten note, “Applicant says he will not go to Russia or Poland. Instruct Amer consul [American Consulate] at France and England.” And even more convincingly, Philip and Goldie’s photo is attached at the bottom.
At age 37, Philip clearly seems older than in any of the other photos. His hair is receding (and, by the way, his skin does not look particularly dark).
It seems unlikely, after all, that the photo was taken in 1920. Could it have been taken before Philip’s departure in 1907? I went back to the photo itself, to reconsider all the details. First, I checked everyone’s ages. In 1907, my grandmother would have only been 13, but clearly she is older in the photo. The boy in front, sitting between his grandparents is Nathan Kolski, whose mother Regina died when he was born; several of my cousins have confirmed his identity. But Nathan was born in 1905, and he is definitely not a toddler in the photo. He almost certainly isn’t 15 either, making it unlikely the photo was taken in 1920. Also, the oldest sister Liba was 20 years older than Babcia. It’s really hard to tell for sure, but I would say that none of the women who are standing in the photo look as old as 48. Perhaps a couple are around 40. So again, considering everyone’s ages, it seems most likely the photo was taken around 1915, when Babcia was 21, Nathan was 10, Liba was 42, and Philip was 32.
It is also worth noting that the youngest child in the family, Malka, is missing, making me think the photo was taken after she died in 1913. Otherwise she would have been in it.
Next, I looked at the way everyone is dressed. Clearly, there is a great deal of variation between my great grandmother’s conservative dress and my grandmother’s short hemline and high heels. The dresses of the younger women flow; they are not fitted and buttoned up like Bertha’s in the photo from 1908. Fashion catalogs from the period show that during World War I, fashions changed markedly. Hemlines went up, waistlines became higher, and clothes used less fabric to conserve resources for the war. Other characteristics from the period include the “V” neckline with a lace inset, as well as attractive high heeled shoes, like Babcia and her sisters wear. The clothes date this photo back at my original estimate, 1914-1918.
I even considered whether I could be mistaken about the identity of the man standing to the right. Could it be the spouse of one of the sisters beside him? But several relatives have identified him as Philip, and he looks like Philip based on the other photos. Rachel’s husband Pinkus Kolski looked completely different. I don’t have a photo of Nunia’s husband, so I can’t compare.
But if the photo was taken around 1914-1918, how can Philip have been there? Occam’s razor says when there are multiple explanations, the simplest is probably the best one. The simplest explanation in this case is that Philip was indeed in Poland at some point during World War I. Maybe the photo was taken in celebration of his visit. Maybe a space was left between Jacob and Nunia to symbolically mark where Abraham, the brother who stayed in the US, would have stood. Maybe it was taken for Abraham, so he would have a memento of his kin back in Poland. That would explain why the photo was passed down in Abraham’s family. Many years later, his grandson made copies for my grandmother and other branches of the family.
Does that mean Philip lied on his passport application? Maybe not. If he traveled to Poland before he became a US citizen in 1916, maybe he didn’t need to report it on the form. And if that’s what happened, maybe I can pinpoint the photo more specifically to 1914-1916, before his hair had receded quite so much, and before the US entered the war. That seems like the simplest solution, even though it still doesn’t explain why Philip went back to Europe in the middle of a war.
Uncovering Jewish Heritage 