We only know two things for certain about Traut Enterlein. Where he was between March 25th and April 6th, 1822 and where he wasn’t on December 21st of the same year.
These are the dates when Elisabetha Mehlheimer would have conceived the child she bore on December 21st.
Easter that year fell on April 7th, so maybe they were celebrating the end of Lent, or the beginning of spring, or maybe Traut was moving on and the local people hosted a goodbye party for him with lots of good German beer and wine.
Traut Enterlein may never have known he was a father, at least not to Barbara Mehlheimer who was born to Elisabetha Mehlheimer on December 21, 1822 in Goppmannsbuhl, Germany.
Barbara was given her mother’s surname when she was baptized, because apparently Traut was gone and the couple never married.
Truthfully, it may not have been his fault. He was an apprentice, a journeyman on his requisite walkabout.
No, Traut wasn’t a baker’s apprentice as shown in this medieval print, but apprenticeships began in the middle ages in most trades and crafts. Apprenticeships still exist today in parts of Europe, particularly in Germany.
The Baptismal Record Tells a Story
My friend Chris translated Barbara’s baptismal record from 1822:
Göppmannsbühl number 64 [This must be a lot number in Göppmannsbühl.]
Barbara Melheimerin is born the 21 December 5 o` clock in the morning and was baptized the 26th of the same month.
Father: reportedly Traut Enterlein, clothier apprentice from Klein Schlaßung [?] in Saxony.
Mother: Elisabetha Margaretha Melheimerin, daughter of Johannes Melheimer, master weaver in Göppmannsbühl
Godmother: Barbara Melheimer, unmarried daughter of Johannes Melheimer, master weaver in Göpmannsbühl
Order of birth: the third child
Kind of birth: easy, fast
Midwife: none
Wow, no midwife. The baby must have been delivered by Elisabetha’s mother or maybe even Elisabetha herself.
One interesting note is that Barbara was Elisabetha’s third child, and she had apparently never been married because her surname is that that of her father. When Barbara was born, Elisabetha was 38 years old, which begs the question of Traut’s age.
We know that Traut would have been a minimum of 18, so let’s just use 20, meaning that he was born in 1802 or before. If he was Elisabetha’s age, he would have been born in 1784 which would have made him 38 as well. Typically, one doesn’t think of an apprentice in their late 30s. Apprentices began working at their trade in their teens. The best we can do is to bracket his birth between 1784 and 1802 and his death, sometime after April 7th, 1822. Not very definitive.
So Many Questions
Was Barbara a surprise to Elisabetha after enjoying a few glasses of wine at a festive dinner a few weeks earlier, perhaps? Did Elisabetha hide her pregnancy as long as possible, perhaps even up until the time she delivered? Is that why there was no midwife? In a small village, the midwife would have been easily accessible, living just a few houses away.
Was Traut already working elsewhere in his apprenticeship when Elisabetha discovered that she was pregnant? Would it have mattered, especially if there was a significant age difference between the couple?
Was Traut unable to be found? How would you find a wandering journeyman? Were there perhaps extenuating circumstances that we’ll never know about involved?
Chris wondered about the situation too, and wrote the following:
Why did the young Elisabetha Margaretha Mehlheimer, unmarried mother of your Barbara Mehlheimer born in 1822 not marry the father of Barbara, Traut Enterlein? This is a tough one.
Honestly, we will probably never know. What I can tell you is that Traut Enterlein did not marry or die in Wirbenz. There is a church book register for all baptisms, marriages and burials from 1815 onwards and the name Enterlein or Enderlein is not in there at all. My guess – but mind, only a guess! – is that Traut Enterlein had already moved on to another place when Elisabetha Margaretha Mehlheimer found out she was pregnant.
About Traut Enterlein: I searched for the name and did not find anything at all. I did find some mentionings of the name “Enderlein” (not in Wirbenz) and so assume this may have been the usual writing.
In the 1822 baptism entry, he is called a “Tuchmachergeselle”. I translated this to “clothier apprentice”. But thinking about it again, I wonder if you are familiar with the German term “Geselle”, since I think it is not something common in the US or even the UK: In former times it was required for any craftsmen that after completion of their apprenticeship they had to move through the country and work for other masters. Read more (in English) in this Wikipedia article: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Journeyman_years
These “journeyman years” is what Traut Enterlein obviously was doing when Barbara Mehlheimer was born. So this makes me think that he worked (probably for Johannes Mehlheimer, the father of Elisabetha Margaretha) in 1821/1822 and then moved on. But this is only my hypothesis.
I am not sure at all about the place of origin of Traut Enterlein. It clearly reads “in Sachsen” = “in Saxony”, but the town name is much less clear. I have looked and tried Google searches again and again and have not found the place. It probably is not “Klein Schlaßung” either but rather it is two “e” in the middle and a “z” at the end of the word, which would make it something like “Klein Schleßenz/Schlessenz”. But I cannot find such a place name either. I am sorry, but I think I am lost here and cannot help you further.
What makes it worse: The church book records from Saxony (and the entire Eastern part of Germany) are hard to access and many of them are not even on microfilms yet. So there are less possibilities for searching.
Journeyman Years
The article Chris directed me to elaborated on something I was told in Germany a few years ago. Journeymen wore distinctive clothing as they roamed about the countryside carrying their only belongings, a parcel of clothing, and staying with families.
Given that Traut was a clothier apprentice, he could well have been working for Elisabetha’s father and moved on before he knew that Elisabetha was pregnant. This makes sense, given that Elisabetha’s father was a weaver.
In a certain tradition, the journeyman years (Wanderjahre) are a time of travel for several years after completing apprenticeship as a craftsman. The tradition dates back to medieval times and is still alive in German-speaking countries. Normally three years and one day is the minimum period of journeyman/woman. Crafts include roofing, metalworking, woodcarving, carpentry and joinery, and even millinery and musical instrument making/organ building.
In medieval times, the apprentice was bound to his master for a number of years. He lived with the master as a member of the household, receiving most or all of his compensation in the form of food and lodging; in Germany it was normal that the apprentice had to pay a fee (German: Lehrgeld) for his apprenticeship. After the years of apprenticeship (Lehrjahre) the apprentice was absolved from his obligations (this absolution was known as a Freisprechung). The guilds, however, would not allow a young craftsman without experience to be promoted to master—they could only choose to be employed, but many chose instead to roam about.
Until the craftsman became a master, they would only be paid by the day (the French word journée refers to the time span of a day). In parts of Europe, such as in later medieval Germany, spending time as a journeyman (Geselle), moving from one town to another to gain experience of different workshops, became an important part of the training of an aspirant master. Carpenters in Germany have retained the tradition of travelling journeymen even today, although only a small minority still practice it.
In the Middle Ages, the number of years spent journeying differed by the craft. Only after half of the required journeyman years (Wanderjahre) would the craftsman register with a guild for the right to be an apprentice master. After completing the journeyman years, he would settle in a workshop of the guild and after toughing it out for several more years (Mutjahre), he would be allowed to produce a “masterpiece” (German: Meisterstück) and present it to the guild. With their consent he would be promoted to guild master and as such be allowed to open his own guild workshop in town.
Some wandering years extended much beyond the 3 years and 1 day. This man’s ropemaking apprenticeship lasted for 8 years as the man worked in 112 places in Germany, Switzerland and Austria. It’s a fascinating read, with a corresponding map here. This journeyman who worked 112 places in 8 years averaged 52 days in any one place. Now Traut’s absence makes much more sense. In fact, based on this, it’s very likely that by the time Elisabetha suspected that she was pregnant, Traut was already gone. This next paragraph calls into question what would have happened if Traut has discovered that Elisabetha was pregnant before he left.
The journeyman brotherhoods had established a standard to ensure that wandering journeymen are not mistaken for tramps and vagabonds. The journeyman is required to be unmarried, childless and debt-free—so that the journeyman years will not be taken as a chance to run away from social obligations.
This begs the question of what would have happened to an apprentice that fathered a child during their wandering years. What would have happened to Traut and his apprenticeship? Was it possible that Elisabetha didn’t search for Traut, on purpose?
In modern times the brotherhoods often require a police clearance. Additionally, journeymen are required to wear a specific uniform (Kluft) and to present themselves in a clean and friendly manner in public. This helps them to find shelter for the night and a ride to the next town.
A travelling book (Wanderbuch) was given to the journeyman and in each new town, he would go to the town office asking for a stamp. This qualifies both as a record of his journey and also replaces the residence registration that would otherwise be required. In contemporary brotherhoods the “Walz” is required to last at least three years and one day (sometimes two years and one day). During the journeyman years the wanderer is not allowed to return within a perimeter of 50 km of his home town, except in specific emergency situations, such as the impending death of an immediate relative.
How could apprentices be informed that a relative was ill or even had died before the days of modern technology? How was the wanderer tracked? It seems to me that when you returned at the end of your journey, it’s entirely possible that you could find your entire family deceased or having moved. At least others could tell you where they had gone, but if it was to America, the apprentice would clearly never see them again unless he too emigrated and attempted to find his family. After many years of being on their own, that seems unlikely. Skills they would assuredly have learned are self-reliance and adaptability.
At the beginning of the journey, the wanderer takes only a small, fixed sum of money with him (exactly five Deutschmarks was common, now five Euros); at its end, he should come home with exactly the same sum of money in his pocket. Thus, he is supposed neither to squander money nor to store up any riches during the journey, which should be undertaken only for the experience.
There are secret signs, such as specific, involved handshakes, that German carpenters traditionally use to identify each other. They are taught to the beginning journeyman before he leaves. This is another traditional method to protect the trade against impostors. While less necessary in an age of telephones, identity cards and official diplomas, the signs are still retained as a tradition. Teaching them to anybody who has not successfully completed a carpenter apprenticeship is still considered very wrong, even though it is no longer a punishable crime today.
This traveling book, from 1818 in Bremen would be similar to the book that Traut probably carried with him. That book, if we could find it, probably carries the signature of Elisabetha Mehlheimer’s father, Johannes, vouching that Traut had indeed spent time in his workshop. Johannes was called a “master weaver” in the baptismal record, which also tells us that Johannes likely served an apprenticeship in the same way as well.
Journeymen can be easily recognized on the street by their clothing.
The carpenter’s black hat has a broad brim; some professions use a black stovepipe hat or a cocked hat. The carpenters wear black bell-bottoms and a waistcoat and carry the Stenz, which is a traditional curled hiking pole. Since many professions have since converted to the uniform of the carpenters, many people in Germany believe that only carpenters go journeying, which is untrue – since the carpenter’s uniform is best known and well received, it simply eases the journey.
The uniform is completed with a golden earring and golden bracelets—which could be sold in hard times and in the Middle Ages could be used to pay the gravedigger if any wanderer should die on his journey. The journeyman carries his belongings in a leather backpack called the Felleisen, but some medieval towns banned those (for the fleas in them) so that many journeyman used a coarse cloth to wrap up their belongings.
Clearly many records are missing today in Germany, but it does make me wonder if Traut died. No marriage, later births of children or death is found for anyone with any similar name, anyplace. Or, perhaps the minister in Goppmansbuhl recorded Traut’s surname as it sounded to him, which may not have been how it was recorded elsewhere.
I would think, however, given that his journeyman’s book was issued from a specific place that we would find records of him there, either before or after his apprenticeship, or both.
Or maybe Traut never made it home. A person traveling on foot throughout the country, known to probably be wearing a gold earring and bracelet might be a target for those very items meant to keep them safe.
Perhaps Traut literally did just disappear, paying for his own funeral with his golden jewelry.
Traut’s Story
My own year spent abroad opened my eyes – widely. I can only imagine what many years would do for a young person, teaching them self-reliance, resiliency, resourcefulness and of course a trade.
Oh, the stories that Traut must have had. How I would love to hear those and all about his journey. The good and the bad. Those years surely shaped him. What did he do? Where did he go? Were there a few special relationships, or was there a different girlfriend in every village? How many children does he actually have? Of course, as we’ve demonstrated, maybe Traut didn’t even know the answer to that question. It’s very unlikely that he knew about Barbara.
Even if we did find Traut in the records, unless we also miraculously found an existing journal or at least his travel book, we would never share a glimpse into those years except for this one very important record in which one single word, “Tuchmachergeselle,” revealed so much.
Traut’s Staff?
As I researched for this article, I remembered a “staff” that has descended in my mother’s family and went digging in the umbrella stand to find it.
No one knew where the staff originally came from. It just kept being passed on, generation to generation. Many of the family heirlooms that my mother owned came from the “Kirsch House,” which means they descended through Barbara Drechsel Kirsch.
My mother cherished heirlooms, even if she didn’t know their provenance. The fact that they had been passed down within the family was enough.
In Mom’s later years, she “spruced” this staff up a bit with a new coat of shellac or something similar, and I know she added the rubber foot so she could use it as a cane. She received lots of compliments, questions and comments and when asked about the source, she simply replied that it was a family piece.
Ironically, I think the reason it descended to Mom was that it was deemed “just an old stick” and “not worth anything” to others who were looking for sales value and not family value.
Wouldn’t it be the greatest of ironies that I inherited this “homely” cane because no one else wanted it and it actually was Traut’s stenz used during his journeying? It had to come from someplace and it was clearly treated as an heirloom for generations even though we don’t know why or where it came from today.
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It happened during the opening keynote session at RootsTech 2019 in the cavernous conference hall at the Salt Palace Convention Center in Salt Lake City. The stage lights were shining brightly on Steve Rockwood who was delivering the introductory keynote about connections across generations with our family and ancestors. The rest of the room was movie-theater dark.
Steve was talking about connecting, about how you FEEL, about the extremely strong emotions brought to the surface as we connect with and belong to family, both past and present.
I was but a dot in the massive sea of humanity, huddled side-by-side on plastic chairs in the darkness.
Then I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I ignored it the first couple of times, but when it vibrated a third time, I thought perhaps I should take a look, just in case, with my family so far away.
What I saw was an e-mail from a cousin who I had found a few days earlier. Perhaps “found” isn’t the right word, because I had met Patty some 25 years ago when we had lunch at a local restaurant to discuss our family.
Patty is my second cousin. We didn’t know each other growing up, because our grandmothers lived in different parts of the country – mine in Indiana and hers in Texas. Her grandmother, Mildred was known to me, but I never met Mildred since she lived in Houston, even though she didn’t pass away until 1987.
My own grandmother, Edith, Mildred’s sister, died in 1960, leaving only one other sister, Eloise, the baby who didn’t pass over to join her sisters until 1996 at the age of 92.
My mother was always close to Aunt Eloise, a bond that tightened after my grandmother passed away. Eloise always talked fondly about Mildred who was 4 years her senior, born in 1899.
Back in the 1990s, Patty and I met one time at the local Big Boy Restaurant and exchanged stories. Since then, Patty and I lost touch with each other and we both lost the older generation.
I was quite surprised and pleased to find a DNA match at 23andMe and recognized the person as Patty.
Just before I left for RootsTech, Patty and I exchanged a brief e-mail wherein Patty said she found a letter from Nora, our great-grandmother, to Mildred.
That’s the thing about genealogy, you just never know what might pop up.
Nora
Nora’s life began in 1866, just after the Civil War and long before automobiles. Those were the days of horses and buggies. Nora’s daughters rode in the carriage with their father to check on his race horses, shown in the photo below. Nora’s earthly journey ended just 6 years before the beginning of the space race.
It’s hard to fathom that one person’s life could be bracketed by that much change in only 82 years.
I recently found a few newspaper articles that mentioned Nora.
In 1921 Nora was living in Wabash, Indiana, then Chicago, Illinois later in 1921, 1922 and 1923. She followed where her husband’s job took them.
By 1930, Nora was living in Wabash again, and the 1930 census tells us that her mother, Barbara Drechsel Kirsch was living with her. They rented a house on Sinclair Street and Nora gave her marital status as widowed.
Nora had married her second husband, Thomas Harry McCormack, in 1916 in Rushville, Indiana.
In 1920 they were married and living together, but sometime between 1920 and 1930, they separated.
Eloise or mother told me that Nora believed McCormack was dead, and that could be why she called herself a widow in 1930. It could also have been due to embarrassment. Nora and Tom never divorced, but she also wasn’t exactly married either. He just left and she had no idea where he was.
I recently found a death certificate for Tom indicating that he died on May 1, 1936 in Chicago. Mother mentioned that eventually, someone in his family told Nora that he was dead. She wasn’t notified when his death occurred.
In the 1940 census, Nora was still living in the same location in Wabash, at 123 West Sinclair, with a note that the information was provided by a neighbor. I’ve never seen that type of note before. I wish all census takers made notes like that.
Nora is again listed as a widow, and this time, she actually was widowed. Nora was shown as 65 years old, but she was actually 74. Obviously the neighbors perceived her as younger than she was.
In a September 1940 newspaper article published in Rushville, Indiana, Nora mentioned that she was living in LaFountain, Indiana with her daughter, Mildred, but was thinking about “returning some time to Wabash.” She clearly liked Wabash and lived there longer than she lived anyplace else in her life, except perhaps her childhood home of Aurora, Indiana.
On April 28, 1941, the Warsaw (Indiana) Union mentioned that Mrs. Nora McCormick from Wabash was visiting her daughter, Mrs. John Ferverda and family who lived in Silver Lake, Indiana at that time.
My mother would have been 18 years old and she loved her grandmother.
Based on this information, it appears that Nora began living with her daughters in 1940, but may have returned to live in Wabash for some time. On the other hand, the newspaper article may have been inaccurate or made an assumption, knowing Wabash is where Nora had lived. Wabash and LaFontaine are only 10 miles apart.
Mom had a few photos of Nora and we can piece together a bit of her life between 1941 and her departure for other worlds on September 13, 1949.
This photo of Nora appears to have been taken about 1944, judging from the approximate age of the young man in the photo, Mildred’s son, Jerry Martin. Jerry was born in 1924 and I would guess to be about 20 in the photo, or maybe a couple years older.
Based on this information, it appears that Nora began living with her daughters in 1940.
In the last photos of Nora, she has a somewhat vacant or disconnected look on her face that I’ve come to associate with dementia.
If I recall correctly, Mom said Nora went to live with Eloise in Lockport because she really couldn’t care for herself anymore.
Patty’s Information
Patty found two things – a letter and a tax receipt for the mysterious property in Florida.
We had heard about property in Florida for years. We don’t know where it was, who owned it, or when it was either acquired or disposed of.
There’s a photo taken in Florida when Nora was much younger, with “Aunt Lou Fiske” who married Arthur Wellesley in 1920. It’s possible that this Florida property had been in the family for some time, since the 19-teens.
There is also a much later photo of Eloise and Mildred riding bicycles in Florida that I would guess are from perhaps the 1970s. Eloise looks to be in her 50s or 60s and Mildred perhaps in her 60s or even 70s. Given Eloise’s hair style and Mildred’s birth year of 1899, I’d wager this was taken about 1970-1973. I remember Eloise’s hairstyle being wildly popular when I was in high school and Mildred looks to be about 70, give or take.
The properties behind them look to be inexpensive modular type homes, maybe even double-wide trailers. I can’t tell.
Would it be possible for this same property to have been in the family for that long?
We were in luck. The 1940 tax receipt for Nora McCormick was sent to 123 West Sinclair, Wabash, Indiana – the same address where she had lived in both 1930 and the 1940 census and the location of the Florida property was given as lot 19, block 4 in the city of Okeechobee.
Utilizing the Okeechobee GIS system, I found a property matching that description about 25 or 30 miles from the oceanfront beaches that had been discussed in family stories, but much closer to Lake Okeechobee.
The parcel is bordered in red, with the property description card, below.
Today, this property is a vacant lot.
Clearly, this was a plotted subdivision.
It’s not exactly “in” the city as I expected, but this property is listed with a city address.
Using Google Maps, I was able to take a closer look and found the property.
I was able to “drive” down the street, much to my surprise since it’s clearly a dead-end with no center line.
While this property is vacant today, it doesn’t look like it always was. Notice the gravel patch under the tree.
“Driving” up and down the street, some homes are newer, but there are still many remaining that look similar to the homes in the photo of Mildred and her sister, Eloise.
I wonder how Nora was able to afford this property. Who bought it originally, and who sold it? She was widowed with children and no money when her first husband, Curtis Lore, died in 1909, then abandoned by her second husband sometime before 1930.
Perhaps when Barbara, Nora’s mother died, in 1930, Nora inherited something. Patty said that Nora had paid the taxes since about 1935 and that Nora would always send the tax receipts to Mildred, telling her to be sure to save them, because it’s the only proof she had that the taxes were paid. In 1939, the payment was returned because it was 40 cents short.
Clearly, Mildred did a fine job of saving those receipts. We still have this one today, 79 years later!
Nora’s Letter
The second thing that Patty had was a letter from Nora to Mildred, postmarked February 12, 1949.
The handwriting isn’t bad for a woman who was on the far side of her 82nd birthday.
Amazingly, I can actually read those words that would become the last thing we, her remaining family, have from her. Her handwriting was a little wobbly, but far better than mine ever has been.
By 1949, Nora was living with Eloise in Lockport, New York. Nora had lost one daughter in 1912 to tuberculosis, two and a half years after the same disease took her husband. Nora’s three surviving daughters would have been 61, 50 and 46 that year. Nora had 4 grandchildren, 2 sons by Mildred and a daughter and son by Edith.
Mom was that daughter, Jean, born in 1922.
By 1949, Nora would also have had 5 great-grandchildren, including my brother John born in June of 1943. Unfortunately, Nora’s grandchildren lived no place close to New York so she wouldn’t have been able to see them☹
Nora’s letter reads:
Lockport, New York
Dear Mildred I want to write and thank you for the lovely Tan Kid gloves you sent me for Christmas I sure was so pleased with the gloves they sure were lovely Tan Kid gloves I was so pleased I did need the lovely Kid gloves and I want to thank you for the nice Candy you sent I do love candy and I want to thank you for the lovely candy you sent I do love good candy. But my dear you spent to much on me of course we all enjoy the Candy and I thank you again fore your nice selection of candy and I sure appreciate the nice selection (over) so many thanks to you ? and I sure was surprised by the lovely things and I wish you all a very Happy New Year we are all well and hope you are all well and wish each one of you many more Birthdays. I hope little Johnie is fine and I hope he keeps well I would love to see Him and each one of your family. I do hope Johnie is well and is a fine little fellow and that each and every one is well Wish Jean good health and lots of good Health for little Johnie I Hope he got the little Horse and was so pleased I thought little Johnie would like the little Horse I sent be a good Boy Johnie I hope to see you some time. Hope John and all Keep well we are all well. I’d love to see you all lots of Kisses. Mawmaw. Nora.
I didn’t correct the punctuation or the spelling, because that lends to the authenticity of the letter and the place where Nora was in her life at the moment in time.
I found Nora’s letter heart-wrenching.
Nora clearly did have dementia. There’s no doubt based on this letter which confirmed what I suspected from the photos. We don’t know why she had dementia, of course, but Edith, her daughter was showing signs at 72, although Edith also had undiagnosed heart issues that caused her death. My own mother was having small strokes that probably caused her dementia before her death of a massive stroke at 83.
It took Nora more than 6 weeks to write the thank you letter, although you can clearly tell that she had been excited to receive the gifts and wanted to write the letter. She repeated herself over and over and couldn’t really make conversation about what might have been going on in their lives. If you live just outside of Buffalo, New York in mid-February, you’d likely talk about the snow. But no mention of that or anything else in her world.
Nora seems to be struggling to convey the social niceties, such as saying thank you and wishing everyone well. I so want to hug this woman who died before I was born.
Mildred’s children were Jim and Jerry and neither had a son named John. My mother, Jean, had the only Johnie (Johnny) in the family, and he would have been 5 years old, the perfect age to indeed love a little horse. Nora confused which of her children had daughter Jean, thinking that Mildred would know about Jean and Johnie. Nora’s other daughter, Edith, was Jean’s mother and Johnie’s grandmother.
It’s unclear if Nora had ever seen Johnie who was born in 1943, but one thing is for sure, she never saw him again. By this time, Nora couldn’t travel alone, that’s for sure – although you can feel the aching in her letter to see Johnie – even 70 years after she penned those words.
Eloise never had children, her husband, Warren, having been disabled not long after their marriage in 1929.
In 1949, Eloise was caring for both her mother and her husband, or perhaps her mother and husband were caring for each other while Eloise worked to support the family.
Nora passed away 7 months after she wrote this letter, on September 13, 1949. I don’t have her death certificate, so I don’t know the official cause of death. Maybe Patty knows or has that document.
I do know that Nora specifically requested that she NOT be buried under the surname of McCormack. Her body was transported back to Rushville, Indiana for burial where she was laid to rest beside her daughter and her first husband, Curtis B. Lore, 40 years, shy 2 months after his death – as Nora Lore, not as Nora McCormack. Thomas McCormack had been nothing more than a bad dream, a flash in the pan, as permanently erased as Nora could make him.
Mawmaw
But the final ache in my heart was seeing Nora’s next to last word. Not her name, Nora, but the word Mawmaw.
As I sat in the inky darkeness of the conference center, with Steve Rockwood’s voice in the background, I looked at Nora’s handwriting on the tiny screen between my knees. I read that word and vividly remembered the pink ribbon banner on my mother’s own casket that said “Mawmaw.”
Tears filled my eyes, blurring everything except memories.
Mawmaw was a tradition. Barbara Drechsel, Nora’s mother was probably Mawmaw too, as my mother was to her grandchildren.
Mother was adamant about that. She was never Grandma or anything other than Mawmaw, as my grandmother was to me.
I realized sitting there as Steve talked about traditions and generations that I had failed to understand the importance of Mawmaw. That the grandmothers for who-knows-how-many generations in my family had called themselves and been called Mawmaw. It was right there in this sad letter in Nora’s own handwriting, in what was probably the last letter she ever wrote. She blew kisses and signed off, calling herself Mawmaw. That, she knew clearly.
Without intending to, I had failed to continue an important tradition. I never chose what my grandchildren call me. I should have been Mawmaw. At least a 4 or 5-generation tradition has been lost forever. I wish I had realized.
My son will never be Pawpaw and my granddaughters will never be Mawmaws themselves now either.
I’m sorry.
I’m so very sorry.
It’s such a little thing that’s a big thing that could have been the umbilical cord linking future generations through that special name to the past. A torch to be passed, a right of passage.
A simple word that provides a connection and immediate comfort to those who have their own Mawmaw.
Salve for the soul aching with loss.
On September 13, 1949, as mother dealt with her own broken marriage, fiancé’s death and tragedy following on the heels of World War II, her Mawmaw slipped away forever through the veil of dementia into the twilight beyond.
My very sad mother beside Nora’s grave, not yet covered with grass, at left, beside C. B. Lore’s stone
I receive a small contribution when you click on some (but not all) of the links to vendors in my articles. This does NOT increase the price you pay but helps me to keep the lights on and this informational blog free for everyone. Please click on the links in the articles or to the vendors below if you are purchasing products or DNA testing.
Just when I thought I was done with the Muller story, as in end-of-the-line done, another wonderful gift arrived for the Miller descendants in the form of a chapter from a book written by Peter Mosimann and his wife, Berti Mosimann-Bhend whose family owned the Muller home in Schwarzenmatt, Switzerland for generations, and still does.
Peter Mosiman very kindly sent this chapter of his out-of-print book to Chris, who sent it to me. I did my best translating it using www.DeepL.com/Translator.
An automated translator can only do so much, even a good one, so I sent the translated text back to Chris, who very patiently reviewed and retranslated over 260 places in this document over the holidays, in spite of having a young family. I feel like I need to apologize to Chris, because this isn’t even his family – although I wish it was.
This may not be your family either, but if you have Swiss or “Alpine” family from Europe, this is probably the story of your family. The goats, the cheese, their hand tools, carvings about God in their barns and…well…just come along. There are amazing photos and it’s never going to get any more “real” than this unless you have a time machine.
Thank You
My humble thanks to Chris and to Peter Mosiman for his permission to use his chapter and his photos to document the beautiful home of our Heinsmann Muller, the grandfather of Johann Michael Muller (Miller) the second who was born in 1692 in Steinwenden, Germany. At least, it’s very likely Heinsmann’s home. We know it was in the Muller family a generation later.
This historic home was built in 1556, according to the date carved into the wall, 100 years before Johann Michael Muller was born, but half a century after we know that a Muller man was living in Schwarzenmatt.
Johann Michael Muller the second, whose father was born in Schwarzenmatt, along with his half-brother, Jacob Stutzman whose family was also from this region and possibly from this village, immigrated to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in 1727, founding both the Stutzman and Miller lineages in the US. Our roots run deep in this valley.
I also want to take this opportunity to thank Peter and his wife, Berti Mosimann-Bhend for preserving and restoring this wonderful historical home for future generations. You can read in the text the extent of their frustrations but were it not for their perseverance, there would be nothing left today.
Before we read Berti’s chapter, lets take a look at the earliest history of Schwarzenmatt, the quaint Swiss alpine village where Johann Michael Muller was born to Heinsmann Muller in 1655.
Come along…
Prehistory of Schwarzenmatt
As we travel further back in time in the human occupation of our planet earth, records become increasingly scarce. Eventually, of course, the only records are archaeological sites found in caves and shelters where our very distant ancestors lived. Pathways faintly threaded through the mountains and forests connecting one location with the next, or shelters with hunting grounds.
During the Middle Ages forts and castles were built along these routes to protect access, although all are in ruins today. Villages were established as waypoints, probably accidentally, beginning with a single hut, and grew slowly over time.
The villages and farms in this region came under Bernese control in 1386 and at that time, several villages were listed, including Boltigen, first mentioned in 1286, and Schwarzenmatt. The Boltigen church, St. Mauritius is first mentioned in 1288, so enough people were living there at that time to warrant the erection of a (then Catholic) church in the community.
Traditionally, villages in this valley imported grain from Bern and raised cattle on the valley floor and in seasonal alpine herding camps. Some trade occurred over the Juan Pass, shown below, crossing the Alps to France as well.
Our Muller family is first found in the records of Schwarzenmatt in the early 1500s, at least by name, but humans inhabited the alpine valley and mountains long before. Who knows, these early settlers could have been our ancestors, or they could have moved on or eventually their lineage might have been wiped out.
The first trace of human habitation is found about a mile and a half as the crow flies, above Schwarzenmatt in the mountains towering over the village.
The Ranggliloch Mesolithic shelter from about 15,000 years ago is a cave above what eventually became a mule path known as the Juan Pass (1509 meters) that connects Boltigen in Switzerland with Jaun in France and passed directly through the tiny village of Schwarzenmatt.
The Letter
Now that we know a bit about the earliest history of the area, let’s turn to Chris who tells us that a letter arrived from Peter Mosimann which included the chapter on the house on the Kreuzgasse in Schwarzenmatt, from the Boltigen book. This chapter was written by Peter’s wife Berti Mosimann-Bhend whose family owned the Muller home.
From Chris:
The second-last paragraph in the letter by Peter Mosimann may be a good summary:
“Heintzman Müller certainly lived in Schwarzenmatt in 1653, but whether he lived in our house hasn’t been proven yet. In former times, young families often spent some time at home, but when there were several children, then they moved out and often lived nearby. It should also be remembered that in some larger houses there were two fireplaces, so that we cannot deduce the exact number of houses from this directory.”
Let me add that there is indeed a Wolfgang Müller on the 1653 house list, so it is hard to tell, if there may in fact have been two Müller families in Schwarzenmatt. Personally, I do not think so, but it remains a possibility.
On the bottom of the letter there is a note that in 1653 (year of Schwarzenmatt house list) a peasant war was taking place in Switzerland. I was not aware of this, you can read about it in English here.
The book chapter itself gives no new genealogical information for you, Roberta, except one notion on page 289 that a Benedikt Müller is on record as a Schwarzenmatt resident as early as 1502. Besides that, I am sure you will like the photos!
On the pages 293 and 294, there is a colored floor plan of the house, “black” being the remains of the original building from 1556 and all further parts added from 1705 onwards That means that if Heintzmann Müller and son Michael indeed lived in this very house, then it was about one third of the size it is today – rather small!
Also, please note that from page 308 onwards additional houses are described, not the house on Kreuzgasse.
I was excited to see that one Benedikt Muller was living in Schwarzenmatt in 1502, 153 years before Johann Michael Muller was born in Schwarzenmatt in 1655 to Heinsmann or Heinzmann Muller, however his name was actually spelled.
If we use the 30-year generation as an average, we can presume that Heinsmann was born in about 1625.
Heinsmann’s father – born about 1595
Heinsmann’s grandfather – born about 1565
Heinsmann’s great-grandfather – born about 1535
Heinsmann’s great-great-grandfather – born about 1500
Benedikt Muller – born about 1470.
Did we just reach back another 5 generations in the Muller family in Schwarzenmatt? It’s certainly possible, but very unlikely that we will ever be able to connect those dots.
The Muller House on Kreuzgasse in Schwarzenmatt
This next section is the chapter itself, translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator and improved by Chris. I have left the translation largely intact, even when it’s stilted, in order not to inadvertently change the meaning.
Page 1 of the pdf that Peter sent, page 289 of the original book, on the bottom right of the page.
In the gable triangle, the year 1556 is at the upper left corner; the house is therefore one of the earliest dated rural residential buildings of the municipality Boltigen and perhaps even of the entire Bernese Oberland; today it forms a rare example of the small rural house type of the 16th century. So that one can imagine the time, in which this house is built, can visualize something better.
I would like to remind you of some important events of that time:
1492 Christopher Columbus discovers America.
1509 Nikolaus Kopernikus explains that the sun is the center of our planetary system.
1515 Battle of Marignano. End of the Swiss great power politics.
1517 Start of the Reformation in Germany by Martin Luther.
1519 Magellanes is the first to sail around the world.
1528 Reformation in the state of Bern.
1531 Kappeier wars. Death of Ulrich Zwingli.
1536 Bern conquers Vaud.
1556 Emperor Charles V of Habsburg abdicates. “In my kingdom the sun never sets.”
In Boltigen the entries in the first church book (Eherodel) begin.
1564 The Geneva reformer Johannes Calvin dies.
1572 Persecutions of Huguenots in France. Bartholomew’s night.
1588 England destroys the Spanish Armada.
1608 Invention of the telescope.
It was the time of the masters, the patricians, Schultheisse and Landvögte, but also the time of the muleteers and rice runners, religious wars, plague trains, witches and Anabaptist persecutions, the Renaissance and the Baroque.
Probably the house on the Kreuzgasse was built on the Allmend built. It stands in a striking, sunny location of the settlement, directly on the old alpine and mule track (IVS: BE 25.1) from Boltigen via Reidigen to Jaun and more into the Gruyère region.
Before 1615 there were in Schwarzenmatt only a few courtyards, only four prove themselves with certainty, which also included our house; next to it there were some individual farmsteads (Tuor 1974: 64).
The house may have always been our ancestors. Documents of the State Archives and archival material the community of Boltigen and the Säuert Schwarzenmatt as well as private purchase contracts suggest this. In Schwarzenmatt are already 1425 Agnes Spilman (BU: 271), 1502 Benedikt Mueller (U 2) and 1558 Peter and Paulj Spylman (K 1: 4) detectable. The Spielmann Families and Mullers have been at least since the 15th century and 16th century settled here. Barbara owned in 1720 Spyllman in the Säuert Schwarzenmatt a “Hauß and Spycherblatz” [house and granary] (SSB: 54). 1741 lent Hans Spillmann Saltigen 179 Kr 6 bz 1 X and gave as a deposit the so called “Lehngut” [feud ?] and the house in Schwarzenmatt including beunden [a piece of land with a fence] and garden (AG: 25).
Andreas Müller married Johanna Horner (died 1768) in 1731.
Barthlome Müller (born 1731) her son, took Anna Zimmermann from Wattenwil (died 1775) as his wife. Since Barthlome had fled for unknown reasons around 1770, Anna and her children had to be supported by the community as in the poor calculations (MA 1:1773 f.). Single mothers were I’m afraid it was very badly placed back then. Jakob, Barthlomes and Anna’s son, married her already in the house on the Margaretha Spielmann living in Kreuzgasse (1742-1819); unfortunately, Jakob died very early (1758-1785). In his widow Margaretha lived with her two children two children Anna (1779-1837) and David (1782-1817) and her sister Magdalena Spielmann (1747-1812). Both women were sentenced in 1786 by the choir court for unauthorized serving of wine without permission, each penalty of 1 lb (C VIII: 31 0). Already their father, the mule skinner Hans Spielmann (died 1784) had to appear before the choir court several times because of unauthorized sale of wine and unauthorized [“Wirtschaft” is an inn, so “Winkelwirtschaft” could be an inn at a street corner, but I am guessing. Alternatively, it could as well be a specific juristic term for unauthorized sale.] at the Schafscheid [a place, where sheep are separated in different groups and directed on different roads] in Schwarzenmatt (C VI: 404, 409, 412). In 1805 Margaretha was (owed?) the Moneylender Johannes Zabli at Brunnehus 33 Kr 1 0 X accrued interest owed (EA: 12).
Kreuzgassen: Magdalena and Margritha Spielmann have all the house rules. 1808. AGM: 18.
Page 2 of pdf, page 290 of document.
The Kauf-Beyle of 1819/1825 states that “the lower half of the house (on Kreuzgasse) belongs to David Müller (1782-1817). Children of thought Schwarzenmatt “I belong to.” These five children were siblings of the seller Anna Spielmann, Johannes’ daughter from Weissenbach. She had inherited from her grandmother Margaretha Müller, née Spielmann, widow of the late Jakob …, half of the house. According to above Purchase and sale of orphans of Boltigen Municipality in Anna’s name her part of the house to old Gerichtsäss Jakob Gobeli zu Weissenbach (1746-1839), husband of Anna Müller (1779-1837).
Anna Müller’s brother David (1782-1817), Jakob’s son, married (Eherodel burned) Magdalena Karlen (1775-1827). He died as a soldier in a hospital in Holland. Their children were David (1803-1878), Magdalena (born 1805), Anna (born 1811), Christian (born 1814, teacher) and Margaretha (1816-1862). Later, Jakob Gobeli must have passed on his half of the house to these five children.
David Müller (1803-1878), known as “the hunter”, married in 1825 with Barbara Reidenbach (1798-1853). Her children were Barbara (born 1825, died in the USA). Caroline (1833-1903). Susanna (born 1834), David (1840-1897 died in Ohio) and Friedrich Wilhelm (born 1842, died in the USA).
In 1837 David acquired his four siblings’ shares in house and real estate, so that he is the sole owner of the in the house on Kreuzgasse. Caroline was my great-grandmother, she took (married) in 1868 in Spiez, Friedrich Bhend (1836-1904), of Jacob blessed, to man; he was cheese maker and Salzer and came from the small town Unterseen, his hometown. In 1872 David Müller sold the whole property for 6’700 Fr. to his daughter Friedrich Bhendin. His children were Louise (1872-1884) and Frederick (1873-1943). He married Susanna in 1903.
Katharina von Allmen (1877-1950); both were my Grandparents. They had three boys: Friedrich (1904-1984), Johannes (1906-2005) and Karl (1909-1973).
Johannes Bhend and Elise Stalder (1911-2008), my parents [the parents of Berti Mosimann-Bhend] held their wedding in 1935 and were gifted with five daughters: Rasmarie (born 1935), Hulda (born 1937), Elise Bertha (born 1940), Therese (born 1943) and Verena (born 1946).
If this chart is accurate, Berti and I are 9th cousins, once removed, or 9C1R. The three people in red immigrated to the US, and we’ll meet David, highlighted in red, later. Back to Berti:
After the move of my parents to the old age center “Bergsonne “the house in Zweisimmen was uninhabited since 2002. In February 2009 I bought it from the community of heirs.
With the “Ferien im Baudenkmal” Foundation FIB”, a sub-organization of the Swiss Heritage Protection, in 2010 an agreement was signed for 30 years completed. For the gentle reconstruction and the conversion into a holiday home was the subject of an architectural competition, won by the architects Bühler AG in Thun.
The house was built on top of it, after a six-month delay due to a neighbor’s building objection, from May to Christmas 2011 by the Foundation; in cooperation with the cantonal authorities. preservation of historical monuments, but mostly disregarding my wishes as owner and financier.
Unfortunately, the work was not done at all gently, as promised before, and without feeling for the historically valuable, interesting house! Thereby especially local craftsmen. On 21 December 2011 took place the inauguration, and on 25 December the first holiday guests moved in.
Image on page 290
The house on the Kreuzgasse in Schwarzenmatt from 1556. Susanna Katharina and Friedrich Bhend-von Allmen [his family name] stand in front of the ring fence.
With their children Friedrich, Karl and Johannes. Little boys used to wear skirts. The rings of the fence were made of green, slender twigs of dance. In front of the house stands a “Scheielizaun”. Photo from 1912, owned by B. Mosimann.
The house property bordered 1872 “above (N) at the Magdalena Eschler Soil, outside (E) and below (S) an the alley and inside 0NJ at Susanne Stocker Erben Bäunde.” To the house belonged a house pasture or five feet right on the Hausweidreidigberg and the ground serving summation or right of pasture to the of summed up Schwarzenmatt grounds. It was the impetus after with the alley maintenance complained [I am guessing again: “Kaufbeile” is probably the archival folder for house purchases] in 1872.
The house possesses an old house right (HV: 18), which the residents are entitled each year to take one of the following forest ranger marked fir tree, called lot wood, for his own use to fell. An old house belonging to the house winter right of way allows them to use the logs in winter with the horn sledge to the western neighboring property to lead it there to firewood, and next door to it in the woodcut. In spring, all the traces of logging on neighboring land removed be. The current owner refuses to know anything about any old rights.
All over the world, people used to use the material which nature has offered on the spot; thereby are the characteristic houses of a region of the country which fit in perfectly with their surroundings. The most important building materials in the Bernese Oberland were wood and stone well into the 20th century; both stood in the immediate vicinity in sufficient quantity and reasonably priced, so also for our house. The walls of the basement, the west wall, the wall between cook and stable as well as the pedestal of the east wall between the house door and the stable door consist of unhewn quarry stones, from boulders and brook debris in all sizes; they all originate from the near environment or even from the pit itself. The stones are made with only little lime mortar connected, plastered and white limed over. The art of masonry was here in the valley at that time still little developed and stands in contrast to the to the remarkable carpentry of this house.
In 2011, we invited the archaeologists of the Service (ADB) for a tour of the old building but unfortunately the offer was not used.
The house underwent various structural changes. 9.11.2009.
The roofs of the residential part and the stable were 1951 only with shingles, later then partly above the shingles covered with bricks, such as those around the new fireplace. Around 1960 the whole western part of the wall above the dwelling covered with bricks. 1977 one laid over the shingles of the apartment – in place the brick – Eternit plates and over the shingles of the stable brick.
(Page 4 of pdf, 292 of original)
During the reconstruction of 2011 the whole, well preserved cement asbestos roof together with the existing shingle roof again for no reason through heavy tiles is replaced. A good shingle roof insulates against summer heat and winter coldness; therefore it was in the Gaden [The “Gaden” must be a specific Swiss German term of a room. I never heard it before and cannot find information about it online.] never unpleasant even in the worst summer heat warm. Since the air here in the mountains in the evening always cooled, we girls in the Gaden could always sleep well. At the part of the stable the wooden roof bricks of the shingle roof, held by wooden hangers, unfortunately unnecessarily discarded. In addition the good roof bricks that had been stored in the hayloft disappeared without a trace.
West wall of the kitchen during reconstruction. 10.07.2011.
Above: Large eaves with typical 16th century ridge console.
Above: Year 1556. 9.11.2009.
Above: Strange holes in the beam above the room door. In the square hole on the upper right was the joist of the former.
“Welbi” (hallway) from 1951. Right: Holes to snap in the rod of the fireplace lid [I cannot offer a better translation than this. Fitting places for a rod used to open/close the fireplace.]. 26.2.20
Page 5 of pdf, page 293 of original.
Construction phases: Plan photographs autumn 2009 by architect Hans-Ruedi Roth. Spiez:.
Black – 1556 Original building. One room wide, two room deep with open smoke house. Later the installation took place of a wooden fireplace. The stove firing with stove plate and boiling stove were located at the western exterior wall of the kitchen.
Blue – 1705 Extension of a barn on the north side. Independent ridge, staggered opposite the main building.
Red – 1903 Widening of the Stuben floor to include the eaves arcade. Two new parlours with three are built on the ground floor, resp. two single windows. The three symmetrically arranged gaden windows were only changed in 1952.
Yellow – Modifications and installations after 1952.
Above: Facade west and east. Below: Front and back of the house.
Page 6 of pdf, page 294 of original
Ground floor plan.
Cuts.
Page 8 of pdf, page 296 of original
The ground floor originally only possessed one single room. Around 1900 the story was renovated and east, so that a small adjoining sleeping room was established. During the renovation of the front of the room, unfortunately only narrow walls were inserted between the windows; but before that, the opened window shutters were in place during the day. This “improvement” was fashion at that time.
Between the parlor and the stable there was originally an open smoke kitchen, where the rising smoke is through the cracks of the roof; and in the process the soot adheres to beams and walls, that’s why the one upstairs is black today. Later the open western half of the kitchen is a large, pyramid-shaped wooden fireplace. After a post-butcher feast, from the middle of the winter onwards, ham, bacon sides and sausages were stored and smoked on wooden rods in the upper half of the upwards tapered room, safe from mice. Through the open chimney also light fell in the kitchen. Today’s small roof window shows about the where once the former fireplace led out into the open air.
In the kitchen, on the right parlor door post old drill holes arranged vertically on top of each other are visible; in it one could see the long rod for adjusting the fireplace lid. On the left side you can see a lot of weird ones all over the beam above the door, 1-2 cm deep square smaller and larger holes. However, they cannot, as is was assumed, be marks caused by halberds that were smashed in there a long time ago, the holes are too small and their cross section would have to be rhombus-shaped, the specialist of the archaeological (A: Wulf; 4.3.2013). Also nail holes are hardly an option, they are too little for that deep. Since the holes end sharply, they could perhaps be marks of flails [“Morgenstern” in German can mean both “morning star” as well as “flail” – I know, that sounds strange…].
Rescued remainder of the original debris from the rubble dump.
Substructure. It is 21.5 cm high, 15.2 cm wide, with a scratch plow pattern characteristic of the time and bore the ceiling up to the wooden fireplace until 1951. It is another confirmation the year 1556 (Rubi 1972: 57). The incisions for this beam is still visible on both kitchen walls.
To the right of the room door stood the wood-burning stove, which was also used to heat the tiled stove in the living room. In front of the cooker and the “Buuchchessi” [I have no idea, again Swiss German specific…] the kitchen floor without any basement below it consisted until 1951 made of large natural stone slabs; otherwise wooden shutters formed the floor the kitchen. With these stone slabs was later below the little garden door. The large, whitewashed wall framed by a small “Buuchchessi” was for cooking laundry. There was no “Schüttelstein” [must be a specific kind of stone for dish washing] yet; we washed the dishes in a basin on the kitchen table and simply poured the dishwater out to the Hostettli [Swiss German…]. We drew hot water with an oval water cup the “Water Ship”, a tin ship, with a copper rectangular container with lid on the side at the wood-burning stove. When in the stove was fired, we also have hot water.
The other households in Schwarzenmatt had to obtain their water at the different wells of the village until their houses built around the middle of the last century got a water connection. But in front of our house entrance has always been a well of our own with water rights for it (purchase records 1819/1825); there the water rights are we fetched the drinking water with a kettle. This kettle stood to the right of the woodcop door [I do not know the term, it describes a specific kind of door] and hung in it a “watergätzi” (ladle). Not until 1951 did the kitchen a connection with cold water and a back then usual [“Schüttelstein” again must be the place for dishwashing, but I do not know the exact meaning of the word] made of white stoneware. At this opportunity, a hole was broken through the west wall and a large window with sash bars, double glazing and shutters was built in. At the same time, the wooden fireplace was torn out as well, a floor was built in at the entire length of the kitchen and the steep, turned-in staircase to the upper floor turning 180 degrees [was built in]. The beautiful old two-part front door with knocker was sold and replaced by a one-piece the upper half of which consists of a window that can be opened. The kitchen has been equipped with the two the new windows is now much brighter. The electric light reached the village of Schwarzenmatt in 1928 (PBS:254), the telephone came into the house in 1956.
In the upper floor the large Gaden served on the east side for the storage of supplies and the small Gaden (with stove hole) as bedroom. Both rooms received early light through three small windows, all with one sliding window vision. During the reconstruction of 1951 these windows were replaced by four larger ones, and it was two rooms of the same size, but now brighter.
An antique dealer from Grubenwald convinced our mother to sell the old windows to him for little money and he built them in at his rustic “Restaurant Schlössli”.
The original Gadenwand [“Wand” means “wall”, but since I do not know what a “Gaden” is, I cannot further describe its meaning] would be on the arcade side very well preserved. In the wall, on the outside at different heights thumb thickness, good hand-long wooden nails for hanging tools and clothes, because cupboards were hardly used here until the 18th century known. It is possible that these nails were (page 9 of pdf, page 297 of original) even so-called corn nails and thus relics of the former granary. On one wall-length, arm-thick wooden pole, hanging on ropes at shoulder height, Papa lined up all kinds of agricultural objects like Treicheln, bells, calf and goat bells, chains and ropes. A 150 x 40 cm long and safe from mice needed wooden board mother, to put on tea and aromatic herbs, dried fruit and keep scrawny beans in linen bags. The pergola [arbor] also served as a screed [“floor screed” is the term my dictionary gives me, it is a kind of wooden floor]. During the conversion of our resistance – the wooden nails sawn off short way and the beautiful old wall behind an isolation layer hidden. Due to the excessively thick insulation of the floor, the room lost so much height that you could no longer stand erect.
The window sill with grooved bevels is typical of the 16th century and well preserved in the area of the corner combs. 9.11.2009
Above 9.5.2012.
Above: The grooved bevels in the living room are a feature of the 16th century. 11.4.2011.
Above: Door fitting of the living room door. Around 1760. 15.3.2011.
The typical gaden windowsill of the 16th century with grooved chamfers in the area of the Gwätte harrows (corner combs) still preserved; other embellishments when different grooves didn’t exist back then. It will can hardly be explained unequivocally, why the carpenters of the Oberland around 1600 as on order of the grooved trains cultivated over a century on the cornices and other parts of the building and from then on, for a while, only the Cube as a decorative element. “In the history of the Bernese carpentry, there was never a single change that occurred as quickly as the one around 1600 in the Oberland” (Rubi 1975: 34; Rubi 1980: 27) The still Gothic grooved bevel on the outer wall, above the sitting stove of the living room as well as at the lintel of the door of the house door and the room door confirm the notched year 1556.
The custom of using the year of construction on the building as a jewelry form has only very hesitantly spread in the Alpine region in the course of the 16th century. Before 1550 only isolated numbers; the oldest preserved one comes from 1516 at a house in Hasli near Oey, parish Diemtigen (Fiückiger R.: 129).
Page 10 in pdf, page 298 in original
The parlor used to have a large tread stove from sandstone; it was heated from the stove in the kitchen. The stove stood directly above a walled-in rock in the basement. Above the oven hung the “Ofestängeli”, a finger-thick wooden pole; it was used for hanging up and drying of wet clothes, small clothes, diapers, dads calf bandage etc. ln the corner above the stove can be in the hallway is a wooden lid which can be closed with an oven lid or “gaden” lid can be opened, so that the hot air can ascend into the cold “gaden”. Sometimes we girls slipped up through the hole when we went to sleep. Often we would take a rest on the oven warmed cherry stone baglet with us to bed.
Candle holder made of brass sheet; tallow light, so called “Meijulämpli “with drinking glass insert and suspended tallow bowl, 19. 2 tallow bowls made of brass turned, end of 18th century. House on the Kreuzgasse. 2010.
Wick or light cleaning scissors made of iron. Candles were up to beginning of the 19th century made of animal fat (tallow). The longer the wick, the more sooty and dripping they became. The burned tip of the wick therefore had to be regularly shortened (snuffed) with the wick scissors. To prevent the cut-off wick from falling off, the scissors [had] a box to hold the hot wick. Length: 15 cm. House on the Kreuzgasse. 2010.
The furnace had a “Ofeguggeli”, a niche in which the Mother kept food warm for a late coming home family member. In the autumn we dried in it plums, pear and apple slices. Around the oven ran a low “Ofestüeli”, a small wooden stove bench; Papa liked to sit on it when he tied the shoes or wrapped the calf pads in winter.
In 1972 the old, cozy sandstone stove needed repair and had to give way to a tiled stove; its “Ofeguggeli” now had a metal door. Unfortunately this cozy sitting stove was also torn out during the conversion.
In winter the living room was the only warm one until 1951, well-lit room throughout the house. Here we all ate meals. After we finished dinner Papa sat at the big table in the parlour, writing, mother sewed, knitted or mended dresses, socks and lingerie, we girls did our homework or played. In the cold kitchen was only cooked, washed up and I got the laundry.
The windows and doors are protected against rain and breeze. The pergola on the east side was a kind of winter garden; the morning sun warmed them even on cool days so that my old parents could stay there on their bedside. Such arbours (I do not have a good translation for “hilbe” – again, probably Swiss German) belong to many old Simmentaler houses. The door and some of the windows were unfortunately removed during the conversion, instead of renewed, so that it is now on the pergola with the coziness is over, because it rains in, often an uncomfortable draught prevails and you also feel exposed.
The tiled stove from 1972. 9.11.2009.
Under the pergola was the small chicken yard, in front of the fox protected by wire mesh. This pergola was supported with five poles. Why with the conversion three have been removed, we don’t understand; now the gate to the chicken coop is jammed because of this. When I was a child, my mother owned a dozen chickens, but no rooster. She bought from the chicken dealer Peduzzi, who is on a motorbike with side-mounted (page 11 of pdf, page 299 of original) the so-called “one-day chicks”. We held these until they were bigger, on the always warm room oven in a box with interspersed sawdust; then we brought them for a while in a small Hostettli (Swiss German again…) enclosure. The money from the egg sale was a welcome addition to the household budget for the mother.
Of course cats always lived with us because of the mice, too.
Above: Stove hole closed. 11.4.2011.
Above: stove hole open. 25.11 .2012.
The cellar and wooden doors, the stable door, the door on the upper pergola and the former front door are typical doors of the 16th century. They consist of two wide, up to 6 cm thick boards. Groove and comb connect them at the contact surfaces, and two entirely slightly wedge-shaped burr strips with dovetail profile keep them together. Since these boards can move in damp conditions weather laterally expand, but in drought it will the doors seldom fit exactly in the door frame. Folds of the posts (Rubi 1980: 112).
In 1705, in the extension of the ridge, an economic section on the day. Various holes, grooves, rectangular recesses and other characters on the bars prove that the timber has already been used in another building was used, which at that time was quite customary. Such re-utilization can be seen in our house at other places as well. For example, two former parlor joists with planed profiles serve as posts of the outer wooden door, another beam with profile was used as rafter on the roof of the upper and a former pergola cornice with a 17th century diamond pattern was used as a support for the cellar ceiling.
The part of the barn had a hay stage, a scattered pergola and three small stables for four to six goats and two pigs. Through the two coverable feeding holes in the floor boards, left and right of the gate door, daddy threw hay from the stage directly into the feeding troughs.
(page 12 of pdf, 300 of original)
Above: House before the reconstruction. 24.7.2008.
Above: under the pergola supported by five posts was the chicken yard, behind the Wall of the chicken coop. 27.5.2011.
The stables underneath the economic section shows various interesting details, e.g. over the ridge purlin a stapled rate pair (I have no idea even in German, what “verklammertes Rafenpaar” is supposed to mean, it must be a specific term in carpentry – not my subject…) or the gate door at the north wall with its ingenious wooden lock and the inscription “DMD 1844”; it is to be opened with a wooden key. DM is David Müller (1803-1878), D probably means David’s. On the stable wall of the on the east side is a wooden jug, from which the goats licked their salt – today also a rare object.
The small board, which the wall underneath before the salt was unfortunately thrown away during the conversion.
Above: Door to the wooden mop of wood.
Above: Strip with dovetail profile on the upper half of the barn door. 3.7.2011.
The eaves-side of the building is supported by two posts. The scattering pergola was covered from the hayloft by a small door; this opening existed, as the beam construction and Roth’s plans clearly show, already since 1705 the addition of the economic section of the building took place.
Flax, cereal cows, or also litter (dry leaves, fern, niche) stored, therefore evenly, the scattering hood. It is not comprehensible for us that the monument care this completely intact pergola, which is formerly an important function in everyday farming life as the first action at the beginning of the I’m afraid the reconstruction was cancelled. Double incomprehensible, because it robs the big canopy of its supports. The carpenter warned, if much snow the protruding roof could break.
Such scattered foliage belonged in former times practically to all stable barns. Some of them are used as threshing floors. (Tuor 1974n5: 169) and can still be seen in the valley today (page 13 of pdf, 301 of original) and can be observed at numerous houses. Probably found the many old, tanned boards of our Scatterbugs and others, on stage for decades stored boards with planing profiles on any noble building in Gstaad use. A few windows of our house front we discovered in summer 2012 by chance at a chalet converted into a holiday home in the community Oberwil, the others found elsewhere can be used again.
The stone slabs between the house and stable entrance come from the surrounding area and the reddish plates from the Roteflue Alp.
Directly behind the stable part supports the upper neighboring garden a 1 to 1.5 m high, today cement grouted quarry stone wall. They already existed in 1611, because at that time a “Hanns Spillman vff der mur’ (K 1: 191). This one lived in the neighboring upper house, which will later be my grandsons and my cousin today. Martin Bhend.
Economical part of 1705 with step-down cottage 0/VC). Stables, scattering arbour and hayloft, in front the upper Hostettli. 9.11 .2009.
Above: Wooden castle at the gate of the hayloft. 11.4.2011.
Above: Detail of the corner combing (Gwätt) with Ratennagel (large hardwood nail) for stabilizing the Beam. 3.7.2011.
Above: Salt can for goats. 9.3.2011.
I love this goat salt lick. I can see them standing there yet today!
Above: Between house entrance and stable. Above the spreading hood. 24. 7.2008.
Next to the barn door stood the wooden cottage (outhouse); at whose back wall served as a horizontal board with two round holes for dismounting. The septic tank had to be occasionally with a “Bschüttigoon” (small, wooden scoop on long wooden handle) exhausted will be. With the liquid manure the vegetables in the garden were or she was fertilized with a lockable liquid manure cart on the Maadli flood and distributed it there.
This still completely intact little cottage, which nobody stood in the way, would have stood nevertheless with the change can stay! This would have given the holiday guests the former simple states and to show it as a ski and sledge room or playhouse that kids could use. The house was supposed to be an architectural monument. Give the holidaymakers a little idea how the lives of the former inhabitants of this area could have played!
Old. original kitchen window with sliding window.
Page 14 pdf, 302 of original
The saying “Fear God and keep his commandments” is carved in Gothic script above the stable door. 20.4.2011.
Gothic script dates from the 1500s and 1600s.
Stone slab floor in front of the stable. If the stones are wet, their red color is more visible. 9.3.20 11.
Above 2, cellar wall made of found stones with a ventilation formed by four stone slabs. 10. 7. / 25.9. 2011.
Scattered pergola, two-part barn door and little exit cottage on the covered cesspit. (outhouse) 9.3.2011 .
Right: Departure. 9.9.2011.
Page 15 of pdf, page 303 of original
Wooden mop with exterior wall of “Müselen” (wood chips) and door; brick kitchen wall. 9.11.2009.
Above: Cellar door with bar grille. 9.3.2011.
Above: Cheese tower with rinds and cheese boards. 15.3.2011.
I love this cheese tower! I can see the Muller family making, and then checking the cheese.
On the west side of the farm building is the woodcut; it can be entered directly from the kitchen. A wooden door leads out of the mop of hair. The doorposts consist of old beams, which have planing profiles. Above the lintel donated a window the room brightness. Before the reconstruction wood splinters stacked up to under the roof and branches the outer walls, so that a closed hilber where daddy spent hours and hours in the winter wood sawed and split.
The cellar is half deepened in the ground and possesses a stamped ground. Attention deserves the wooden bar grids of the outer cellar door; with this you can the enclosed room can still be ventilated. In always cool cellar we supplied buckets, tubs, pickling barrels for fruit and the garden tools; but we stored especially potatoes and vegetables, milk and milk products.
Butter. Daddy took care of our alp cheese on the cheese tower. Not only the cheese tower in the cellar, but also others objects stored in the house show that in former times whose inhabitants were alpine shepherds who made cheese:
Cheese vat: 60 cm copper belly cauldron diameter, capacity about 80 litres. In it during cheese making, by heating the milk, the cheese mass won.
Järbe: Wooden ripening for shaping the cheese mass (in cheese cloths), outside around with adjustable pull cord to tighten. They were used for larger hard cheese. Cheese boards: while pressing on the table was the fresh cheese mass between two round boards in the first place.
Cheese tower: three round, staggered trays, through the center of which is a ground level in a large stone and ceiling joists rotatable axis guides. Then the cheese from the alp Reidigen (Rieneschli), where we our cattle summered, salted by their parents, well-groomed and, protected from mice, for personal use and kept it in a safe place. A rarity!
Alp Reidigen is about 2 miles as the crow flies.
Gebsen: cooped, round, low vessels from wood, in which the milk is stored overnight in the cool Milchgadeo or cellar was kept, so that on the surface, the cream was eliminated. This could be skimmed off in the morning with the shallow Nidelkelle and processed into butter.
Vätterli: round, turned or coopered wooden moulds with grooves and little holes in the bottom, through which drained the cheese milk. For the production of Cheese and goat cheese.
Tools stored in the house for various activities and repairs testify to the fact that the former residents knew how to help themselves in everyday life. So shortly before 1950, father Hans and uncle Karl covered the whole roof with shingles. We found when clearing out the house before the conversion of all kinds of tools and equipment for:
Cheese drill to take a cheese sample; wooden ladle.
Carpenters and carpenters carving tools
Chisels, all kinds of saws (e.g. clamping or frame saws), burr saws, large and small drills, various axes and planes, hammers and pliers
Wooden angle and scale (EIIstock), whetstone
Cooper: pulling chair, pulling knife, plane with slightly bent up sole
Roofer: black bucket with string, hammers
Nails, wedge.
Masons: trowels, spatulas, hammers
Wooden rubbing board
Forestry worker: Zappi, sweeper hook, crowbar, iron for debarking, axes, crop!, Guntel. Iron and wooden crossroads, big forest saws, foxtail, iron chains etc.
Shoemaker: Special hammers, shoe last, iron fitting foot, shoe nails
Veterinarian: Trocar (french trocart). Metal instrument for stinging bloated cows (rumen).
Above: Vätterli (cheese mold)
Above: Cheese vat
Page 17 of pdf, 305 of original
Above: All kinds of hand-forged nails with square cross section found in the house.
Above: Hand carved spoon; wooden clothes pegs (“Gäbeli”); milking grease box made of cow horn and inserted wooden floor, which is attached to the milking chair strap with a cord.
Above: 2 artificial chairs and an artificial stick. When spinning, the flax is tied to the top of the stick and put it in the tube of the chair.
Above: Chipboard holder for resinous woods for the lighting.
The house was once used for spinning and weaving, because on stage we found corresponding objects such as breaking, weaving shuttle, spinning wheel, bobbins, three-legged artificial chair with artificial sticks, reel, peg. etc. From former own production are today 200-year-old pillow- and bedding suits still available. You carry partly embroidered monograms, e.g. “DM 1 0”. (David Müller 1 0 pieces). These suits were then in the Simmentalertruhe, which is being restored today in the living room. 1747 learned the daughter of Andreas Müller with her mother Johanna Horner the weaving craft (C VI: 419).
Other items kept in the farm building bear witness to the once arduous life of the mountain farmers:
Horn sledges were used to transport wood,
Branches, straw or hay, wooden bowls for discharge of liquid manure and other substances for the carriage of water, huts for carrying dung, rope cloths for scratching hay and lischnen (sedge grass), hay ropes with truffles to bind the Burdines from hay and Emd; these so-called “Fertli” were on his back from the meadow to the hayloft.
I wonder if this is what is being carried in the photo below.
Also, a wooden dustpan, dung forks, hay forks and wooden hay rakes with long stems are available. A flail points to former threshing (page 18 of pdf, 306 of original) treidebau. The wooden equipment and tools the respective owners and occupants of the house burned well their monograms in order to protect them from confusion. To protect the world.
V.l.t.r.: Water briquette,
Hut with “Brätschel”
Melchter and KalberkübeL
Beautifully woven huts with wooden carrying straps, “called “Brätschel”, were used for entering smaller quantities of hay or grass, but also for transport and food to our agricultural and food processing businesses plots of land or on the mountain; occasionally they even took a toddler with them. On the Räf was carried all sorts of loads, especially wood and cheese; they leaned on the long, decorated puzzles with an iron tip at the bottom. We can today, we can hardly imagine the long distances that are possible and height differences the people in former times had to cover every day and what heavy loads and on their backs in huts and on rafts that we have carried with us.
All sorts of small tools, the use of which today is hardly known anymore, came to light in the house: a ring pliers and open, different large copper and brass rings with pointed ends for pig wrestling. A ringed trunk (nose) hindered the animals to stir up the soil or to damage the edge of the (fence or) to gnaw away at a wooden feeding trough. Since 2008 the Animal Welfare Act prohibits the marking of pigs. (I love that translation, though it is utterly wrong – “pig wrestling”! Indeed what is meant here is a tool to mark pigs with metal rings. “ring” in German is “Ring”, “wrestling” is “Ringen”…)
With a pair of ball pliers you could use lead balls yourself for cast muzzle-loading rifles. Maybe this pliers for making balls with a caliber of 17 mm belonged to my great-great-grandfather David Müller, called “the hunter” who lived in the house. Such pliers were in use until the end of the 19th century.
Above: Ball tongs. Length 14 cm. Right:
Ring pliers with rings. Length 17 cm.
On the ground, directly in front of the whitewashed southern house wall, formed long, thick wooden boards a 1.30 m wide, slightly elevated floor, which can be used for all sorts of ???. Thanks to the large canopy, it rained it seldom on, so we here in summer grass from the “ribbons” (grass ribbons on both sides of the alleyways) and we could have dried it. In autumn we spread out on these boards the harvested onions and dug up (page 19 of pdf, 307 or original) DahIienknoiien to dry out. Also boxes with red Geraniums stood here in late autumn until the first frost. Papa “Baumgretzen” stratified directly at the wall. (lumber) Between the boards and the fence was a small garden. In spring winter follies, snow and March bells blossomed there, crocuses, April bells and daffodils, in summer all kinds of meadow flowers and low along the fence roses. Even medicinal plants like warts grew here and cheese herb. Also an apple tree and in the corner a stick of gooseberries were present. At an old red climbing rose climbed up the edge of the house.
Carved chair back from 1739. House on Kreuzgasse.
In the course of the rebuilding of the house – without us to ask – one day the whole good soil of this garden with all the bulbs, trees and boards was simply lifted up and taken away. As a replacement a boring, splintered one was created, in summer hot forecourt, as it is in the Simmental otherwise is barely visible.
On the small meadow of the upper Hostettli, in spring snowdrops, marchdrops, aprildrops and daffodils; in summer, forget-me-nots followed, mat nails, Küherkäppli, red clover, more meadow flowers and all kinds of grasses. Also, this earth has been taken away; now there is a splintered parking for two cars. This bare house environment hurts us; it must be changed urgently!
The triangular garden in front of the house, “Haltenboden” “called ” (plot with summation to be served on the Schwarzenmatt area), was founded by David Müller in two halves acquired the first 1839 and the second in 1853. The purchase of this plant blossom enabled the inhabitants to grow flax close to the at home and better self-sufficiency with vegetables, potatoes and berries. Remarkable is still that the second half salesgirl, Elisabeth Tänzer. on the Eschiegg, who needed the proceeds to “give birth to her daughter Elisabeth to pay the apprenticeship fee, which the weaving craft learned.” (production certificate 1839; axes of purchase and letter 1853)
Above: Snowdrops and winterlings in Mätteli in front of the house. 14.3.2009.
Above: Kitchen and living room wall with eternit protection and climbing rose. The stone embankment had to give way to the new water pipe. 27.5.2011
Page 20 of pdf, 308 of original
The vegetable garden was protected against the cold Bise by a board wall provided with deck loading, as it is protected by a here in the valley belongs to almost every old garden. The inner wall along grew a rhubarb stick, productive currants and raspberries, also a gooseberry bush. In flower gangs on the upper side fence and next to the garden paths winterlinge, schneeund March bells, tulips, April bells, daffodils, irises, larkspur, lupines, flake flowers, roses, buschelfriesli, big daisies, pansies, asters, flox and fire lilies. They are being converted to buried to a large extent by excavated material or else disappeared.
The “Maadli” also belonged to the operation of my parents, a mat (mat=food, does this mean garden) situated above the Dachebüel. David Müller had the one part 1849 from the Burgergemeinde for the price of 250 Kr and the other part 1864 of the Stocker brothers for 2070.50 Fr. in increases (PG: 133; axes of purchase 1864).
Note, this is where discussion of the other buildings in the village begins, according to Chris, but I am retaining this section because it paints such a vivid picture of the life and times of the people who lived here. Our ancestors saw and were in these buildings too. For all we know, these buildings were built and owned by additional ancestors. Heinsmann had to marry someone and the family surely lived nearby!
On an artificial small terrace on a slope in a very beautiful location the oldest stable barn of the municipality Saltigen stands there, dating from 1688. It is preserved by the monument preservation as worthy of preservation. It is built entirely as a block building, on the upper floor, however, as a loose block construction, so that the hay stick can pass through the “gime” (spaces) is ventilated. Access to the barn is from the valley side, that to the hayloft on the mountain side. The stable floor is in the back deepened in the slope and secured by quarry stone walls. The longitudinal stable contains one store each for grass and small cattle and a feeding walk. On the east side there is the cromes for the litter (foliage, niche, straw).
Above the stable floor, a beam shows the following Inscription (antiqua. notched, unfortunately only partially legible):
The small barn is still used today as a storage room. The building is in a bad condition and should urgently be redeveloped; but the preservation of historical monuments is on our request has not yet occurred. Below the mother moved the old barn on her big planzbiätz beans and autumn vegetables such as cabbage, cabbage and cabbage and palatine turnips.
In 1927, a new and larger plant was built on Maadli land. Barn built, still today called “Nöji Schüür”. They has the following inscription on the top bar: “BI. Fritz Bhend + Katha. v. Allmen. Built in 1927 Z.mstr. SI. Stryffeler.” To the building wood of the broken off old Eggscheune use. It was the Ueltschi brothers, cattle breeders, Boltigen, bought for 800 Fr. (Receipt). To it was agreement of the acid meeting necessary (PBS: 229).
Garden with traditional shop wall as protection against the iron and fence with wire mesh against the street. 30.5.2009.
Page 21 of pdf, 309 of original
The former vegetable garden, bordered at the top by a local “Scheielizaun”, was a flower meadow before the restoration.
18.5.2011.
Under which “Maadli” ran past, uphill of the old path and ending up far behind the new barn, a beautiful, about 300 m long, up to 1 m high dry stone wall. It was mostly covered with hazel herbaceous perennials, hedge roses and Maples stocked and offered small birds and lizards shelter. Directly below the new barn the wall contained a small niche; inside there was an old iron stove. The mother prepared and then we’ll have lunch each time our family in the “Maadli” on the mucky tedding, cherry picking, haying or Emden was.
The old Maadli barn from 1688 with two plum trees; the snow pushed the lower tree down in February 2012. 5.4.2011.
Page 22 of pdf, page 310 of original
Above: Back side with gate to the hayloft.
Above: wooden door hinge of the gate. 5.4.2011.
In 1977 the wall was completely demolished, because they corrected the old way, extended it, asphalted it. and as a rhinestone vision with three loops up to the willow. Our own small spring because of the large earthworks and excavations above the old barn. The old way could possibly a part of the medieval mule track.from Adlemsried to Tubetal and Schwarzenmatt.to Eschi.
The medieval mule track.
New Maadli barn from 1927. 5.4.20 11 .
Also the food south of the “Maadli” with barn, called “Lehn”, 1915 by Friedrich Bhendvon Allmen, and the “Grimattli” belonged until the inheritance from 1951 of the Bhend family, also in Ruere a third of the “war moss” (Lischenland with Heufimmel and forest), the “Untere Stierenweid” (lower bull pasture) (residential house with economy part, 16th or 17th century and 1735th inscription: IM ESM ZM ZM HST HR 1735, antiqua notched) with a freestanding barn, and the “Grabenmatte”; then a third of the Grabenheimwesen” (country and barn); further behind Ruere, below at the old Waldweidgasse, indoors to the “forest pasture”, the “Waldweidli” with a hay house, a bovine pasture, Wiesland and forest; in addition the third part of the Sennhütte on the “forest pasture” (four cow rights, pasture, with and complaints, with forest share). The whole property was taken over by the three Bhend families and jointly farmed.
The “Grimattli” or “Grünmattli”, underneath the “Maadlis”. came on the 3rd Hornung in 1837 in the possession of my ancestors. The barn standing on it was fire insured for 2′ 100 Fr. (Certificate of Inheritance 1951); unfortunately it was torn down in autumn 2011. In of a shopping hatchet reads: “Know and know be thither: That the respectable old court apostle Jacob Gobeli, from and to to Weißenbach, for himself and his heirs: to his beloved cousin, the honourable David Müller, David’s son, from and to Schwarzenmatt, and eat inherit the two property effects listed below
A home being to said Weißenbach, called Schußeli, containing a residential house together with attached barn and stabling.
A piece of land called the Grimmenmatte, in the Bäuert Reidenbach, with a coating standing on it.
The purchase price was 1,000 Kr Berner- or 2,500 f Swiss currency (axes of purchase 1837). Jakob Gobeli’s wife died on 18 Hornung 1837. Anna née Müller; she was the sister of David Müller. Jakob, at that time 91 years old and childless, donated then on 17 June 1837 to his “beloved godchild David Müller” 500 Kr or 1 ‘250 f to the remaining. Purchase remainder (donation 1837). On the vegetable blossom at the “Grimattli” my parents built potatoes every year until the distribution of the inheritance in 1951. The land was planted on this parcel every few years. Shifted.
Maadli. Drawing P. Mosimann.
My great-grandfather Peter von Allmen (1843-1918) and his wife Magdalena (born Boden, 1848-1924) possessed in Ruere many real estates; 1876 Peter was also (page 23 of PDF, page 311 of original) owner of the house on the Unteren Stierenweid and 1878 of the Grabenhaus (LB II: 38, 17). After Magdalenas death, the whole property was taken over the same year. The three heirs Peter (born 1910), son of Peter. (1871-1913), and the daughters Magdalena (born 1872) and Susanna Katharina (1877-1950). Since Susanna Katharina 1903 Friedrich Bhend (1873-1943) had married, came now about a third of the former large Ruere-owned property in his family.
On November 4, 1939, Friedrich Bhend, my grandfather sold to the private docent and medical doctor Max Müller, then director of the of the Psychiatric Clinic Münsingen, the beautiful, large, residential building in Ruere, built around 1700, which is today a protected monument. After the war began, rented also other rich lowlands in the Oberland houses or flats as possible escape accommodation-for their families. The purchase price for the building including 781 m2 of land was exceptionally low. The longer uninhabited house was located in a house with a in quite bad condition and had to be renovated. The unique house sale inspired Werner Juker in 1952 to his novella “The House in Ruhren” (or “Horen”). The house was built by the three current Müller heirs fortunately largely in the original, almost museum-like condition the kitchen furniture, for example, with the the Buuchchessi, the wood fireplace, the windows partly with the bull’s-eye slices, the shingle roof. In the house there are neither Electricity nor water (A: M. Müller, 17.8.2011). In the barn connected with the residential building the current owner Ernst Gobeli still livestock. Already 1734 is from “the sloppy house in the ditch” to read, because there had often been operated Winkelwirtschaft (C VI :32, 116, 173, 176, 180).
Above: The Grimtlischeuer shortly before the dismantling. Photo: Ueli Stryffeler.
Above: Remains of the barn, on the horizon the old Maadli barn. 24.3.2012.
Page 24 of pdf, 312 of original
When Susanna Katharina had died, in 1951 the still considerable possessions among the three Bhend brothers divided.
They received:
– Fritz: The whole “Untere Stierenweid” with farmhouse, the “Grabenmatte”, a third of the “Grabenheimwesens “, a third of the “war moss” and the “Waldweidli”.
– Hans: In Schwarzenmatt the lower, smaller house, called “Auf der Kreuzgasse”; the “Maadli” (as the compensation, because of the relatively new barn); from the “Lehn” the external (front) part, two cow rights on the “forest pasture” and one sixth of the Sennhütte.
– Karl: In Schwarzenmatt the upper, bigger house, bought 1924 (certificate of inheritance 1951). called “Uf the Mur”; the “Grimattli”, from the “Lehn” the inner (rear) part, two cow rights on the “Waldweid” (forest pasture) and one sixth of the hut there (Erbgangsangs- Das Grabenhaus in Ruere. 13.9.2011 . Below: 1 0.8.2011. document 1924). Karl’s son Martin sold the “Grimattli” the farmer Ueli from Schwarzenmatt Stryffeler, who will break off the barn in 2011.
I didn’t.
The Grabenhaus in Ruere. 13.9.2011 .
Above: 1 0.8.2011.
Buuchchessi (covered), fireplace, wooden door in the ditch house. The kitchen in the “Haus auf der Kreuzgasse” was quite similar until 1951. ” looked like. 16.10.2011.
Page 25 in pdf, 313 in original
The house on Unteren Stierenweid dates from the 16th/17th century and was extended in 1735. Recordings around 1970 and 2010. Photo: Preservation of monuments in the Canton of Berne.
A beam above the residential part of the Sennhütte on the “Waldweid” bears the following inscription: “BL PVA 1\ MB. ZM HK 1896”. BL means builders, PVA Peter von Allmen (1843-1918), MB Magdalena Floor (1848-1924), ZM Master carpenter HK(?). The house has on the ground floor stables for young cattle and goats, above a living room, a kitchen and a Milchgaden, behind it a cowshed and a hay stage under the roof.
The “forest pasture” is a Vorsass. The flat stones from the nearby streambed belong to the flysch of the Simmendecke; they were bricked up unprocessed.
After the distribution of the inheritance in 1951 Hans, my father, was compelled, as a supplement to his own business, from Karl Stocker, teacher in Boltigen at that time to rent the steep, arduous “Büelacher” and the even more stubborn “Farnerenrain “. Also, he farmed the northeastern of the Büelachers situated property with name “Schmidsweg, which belonged to Altred Wüest. We were a simple family of mountain farmers, and the parents during the Second World War, always easy to take care of her five girls every day. I had little spare time, because in all the families I had to the children, in keeping with their powers, the parents.help in the operation. Nevertheless or perhaps just because of that I lived in the old house on Kreuzgasse. Happy childhood.
Berti Mosimann-Bhend
Cooperation: Peter Mosimann
Above: The mountain hut on the Waldweid. 7.10.201 0.
Right: The walls consist of unhewn stones from the nearby stream bed.
13.9.20 11.
Page 26 of pdf, 314 or original
The house on Kreuzgasse. Dächenbühl in the background. February 1968.
The house on the Kreuzgasse. Behind the economic part is the upper house, called “Uf der Mur>>. 23.11.2008.
This ends the above translation of the wonderful chapter by Peter Mosimann and his wife, Berti Mosimann-Bhend.
Life in Schwarzenmatt
Some of these translations were a bit rough, but translating their life then for us to understand today is rough, regardless of the language. It truly is another world away, in both geography and the lives these mountain farmers and their families lived.
I found it interesting to note the discussion about the well. It seems this location was the only property to have its own water source, which tells you EXACTLY why this home was build where it was. I’d wager that this was the very first house or hut, at the time, to be built in Schwartzenmatt. Clean water equates to life. Contaminated water means illness and death. The first settler got their choice of where to build their camp and that prime real estate location was clearly adjacent the water source.
I was surprised that they received both electricity and phones as early as they did, considering the terrain. However, the poles for power lines which also carried phone lines would have snaked up the valley right alongside the stream.
The artifacts found and the carvings speak in whispers about the lives of Heinsmann Muller, and probably long before. The earliest people who lived in this half house/half barn hut environment would have guarded their livestock, goats and pigs, closely. Cheese and meat meant life. The growing season was short and the elevation high, which further reduced the time for crops to ripen.
When I lived in the Swiss Alps in 1970, just about 30 miles away and across a few mountains, in July and August, much snow remained on the ground in the ski resorts. In other locations, alpine meadows above the tree line were snow free and literally carpeted in Edelweiss and meadow flowers, exactly as described by Berti.
A wild Alpine garden stretching as far as the eye could see, without end.
Perhaps now I understand my breathless enchantment with this landscape so foreign to my young American eyes, yet so hauntingly familiar. Indeed, I felt that I had returned home and have longed to return since the day I left.
I was surprised to read that three different children of David Miller, “the hunter,” immigrated to and died in America. How would they have even known about America in this remote location? Why would they leave?
It’s also ironic that my own Miller ancestor, great-grandson of Johann Michael Muller/Miller, the immigrant, was named David Miller and his son, John David. David has been a Miller name for generations and I can’t help but wonder if its genesis was in Schwarzenmatt.
David Miller, “the hunter” who lived in Schwarzenmatt had a son, David, who was reported by Berti to have died in Ohio.
As fate would have it, my own Miller ancestor, Daniel, whose brother was David, and who both had sons named David, also lived in Ohio.
I told you the name was popular. Carrying the same names also makes it difficult to sort through the various men.
Could I possibly find the David Muller who was born in 1840 in Schwarzenmatt and died in Ohio?
He probably had absolutely no idea that he was related to any Miller already living in the States. After all, by 1680, Johann Michael Muller had left Schwarzenmatt and his son immigrated in 1727, 160 years before David would be born in Schwarzenmatt.
By the time David immigrated, 150 years more or less would have passed since Johann Michael Muller Jr. would have immigrated.
No, surely David had no idea at all.
The question is, could I find him?
David Muller (1840-1897) Who Died in Ohio
The family members who migrated to America obviously kept in touch, because the family who stayed in Schwarzenmatt had knowledge of the death year of David who moved to Ohio. He probably had no idea whatsoever that his Miller cousins, a few generations removed were also living in Ohio about 200 miles away and in nearby Indiana.
It’s clear that my Ohio clan had lost the oral history of where, in Germany they had originated, and Switzerland was lost entirely to history.
Finding David in Ohio was more difficult than I expected.
David Miller died on January 30, 1897 and was married to Mena Strubel in 1878 according to a later census and the marriage record of one of his children.
According to the 1880 census, they had:
Barbara 4 (born 1876)
Mary C, 2 (born 1878)
David born in May of 1880
In 1900, I find Mena, born Oct 1854, with:
Unnamed child probably born 1880-1882
Carrie (female) (born in April 1884)
Charles (born August 1887)
Obviously I’m missing a child according to the 1900 census that shows Mena with 6 children living. That child was probably born after 1880 but before 1882 so they would be old enough to be gone from the household by 1900. David and Mena also had one child that died.
One very pleasant turn of events is that in 1880, David Miller actually says he was born in Switzerland. He is the only David Miller in the 1880 census anyplace that says he was born in Switzerland, so, I’m pretty confident we found the right David Miller.
Sadly, in 1897, David Miller of Navarre, Stark County, Ohio met his demise in a train accident according to this brief article in the Stark County, Democrat published on February 4, 1897.
Is This the Same Family?
I suspect so, but there is no absolutely proof. We are missing a definitive link between Heinsmann and Berti’s family line that begins in the documentation with Andreas who was born in 1710 or earlier, given that he had a child in 1731. We know that Heinsmann had a son, Johann Michael Muller, in 1655 who could have been his first or last child, or in-between.
Heinsmann could have been Andreas’ father, uncle, grandfather, related more distantly or not related at all. I must say, in a tiny village with only a few farms, that’s probably unlikely, but given the common name of Muller it could certainly happen. I learned long ago to never assume anything.
We’re also missing a definitive link between the David that died in Ohio in 1897 and the Schwarzenmatt line, although that connection seems firmer.
To prove definitively that Berti Mosimann-Bhend’s Muller line is one and the same with the Johann Michael Muller line, a Y DNA test needs to be taken by one of the male children descendants of David Miller who died in Stark County, Ohio in 1897 and a male Muller who is known to descend from the Schwarzenmatt line. The Y DNA, passed from father to son ad infinitum would match, or closely enough to establish the ancestral relationship between:
Johann Michael Muller who immigrated to the US in 1727
Muller family from Schwarzenmatt
David Muller who died in 1897 in Ohio
Maybe someday one of the Schwarzenmatt descendants or David Miller’s descendants will find this article and reach out. I am offering a DNA testing scholarship for a male Miller descendant of both lines. If this is you, just leave a message in the comments.
I sure hope the genealogy bug bites someone in the Miller family!
Last in the Series
This is the last in the long series of Muller/Miller articles. I hear you laughing now, because I know I’ve said that before – but I really think this one is it. We’re now back beyond the reach of records and before even Chris can excavate anything more.
Perhaps one day the next generation will add to this story when, if we’re lucky, new records are found, transcribed, indexed and translated.
It’s been a long journey from Schwarzenmatt in the 1600s to Indiana in the 1900s when Eva Miller married Hiram Ferverda and had my grandfather. The Muller lineage may reach back even further in time, to Benedikt Muller who lived in our quaint alpine village in 1502, more than 500 years and 15 generations ago.
Clearly, the red generations between Heinsmann and Benedikt are speculative, and I don’t want to portray them otherwise. Miller is such a common name.
Berti is probably a 9th cousin once removed, give or take a generation. That’s an amazingly long time – roughly 23 generations counting both lineages.
I would love for Berti to take an autosomal DNA test. There’s a small chance that she would match my mother, especially considering that it’s very likely that Heinsmann Muller’s wife, the mother of Johann Michael Muller was a young lady from the same village, or at least the neighboring farms. There were only a limited number of families living in that area in the early 1600s and every family intermarried into the mix.
Fingers crossed that somehow, someplace, DNA tests or new records surface to prove me wrong once again about this being the “last article!”
In the mean time, a deeply heartfelt thank you to the many people, in particular Chris, Tom and now, Peter and Berti, who have helped compile and reconstruct the stories of the Muller men of Germany and Switzerland, their wives and many descendants who have scattered like alpine meadow seeds on the winds of time throughout the world.
I receive a small contribution when you click on some (but not all) of the links to vendors in my articles. This does NOT increase the price you pay but helps me to keep the lights on and this informational blog free for everyone. Please click on the links in the articles or to the vendors below if you are purchasing products or DNA testing.
The family in Fussgoenheim, Germany said that Margaretha was supposed to have been a twin. Her birth year was given as 1774 by a cousin who lived there.
Her twin was reported to be Anna Elisabeth Koehler who married Johann Matthias Koob. The problem is that I was unable to find a second child, a twin, born in October 1781 when Anna Elisabetha was born. Plus, the years of 1774 and 1781 aren’t exactly twin material.
Furthermore, I could find no record of any twins at all in this family. Twins, especially twins that survived, were extremely rare due to the propensity for twins to be born prematurely.
Of course, every Koehler family in this entire region named their daughters the exact same names, so sometimes it’s very difficult to assemble these records into families unless the records are very precise or you can retrofit using multiple records.
As it turned out, I spent years spinning my wheels about twins when it didn’t matter.
The German relatives were insistent though, and I thought surely, surely, they knew what they were talking about. Marliese, the mother of my corresponding cousin was a pen pal with Kirsch/Koehler family members in the US during the bombings in WWII – not all THAT far removed from when Anna Margaretha died. A little over 100 years. Marliese, then a teenager, lived in the same village and her family knew the family history. Her grandparents were still living, reaching back generationally into the mid-1800s. Who was I, a Johnny-come-lately, to question?
By the time I started asking questions, another half century+ had passed and the cousin’s daughter in Germany was NOT pleased about me asking “Do you know where your Mom found that piece of information?” over and over again. Eventually, I stopped asking for fear of receiving NO information. Not long after, she stopped writing. I think she was experiencing heath issues. I was extremely grateful for what she did provide, because photos and other items she sent would have been impossible for me to discover any other way.
Thankfully the family in Indiana, so grateful for those WWII letters, had saved them and shared them with me. God bless those cousins, in particular Irene Bultman, all now gone to dwell with the ancestors.
I’ve now killed the twin rumor, but what do we have left?
Margaretha Elisabetha’s Son’s Marriage Record
One reason this family was so difficult to unravel was because Margaretha Elisabetha’s name was recorded more than one way. In her son, Philip Jacob Kirsch’s marriage record, her name is given simply as Margaretha.
Typically, using German naming conventions, the first name is never used except formally, with the middle name used as the common name. Given the German naming convention, Margaretha would have applied had she been named Elisabetha Margaretha or Anna Margaretha. In fact, any first name plus Margaretha for a middle name – since German children were called by their middle names.
Except…except…she wasn’t named Elisabetha Margaretha but Margaretha Elisabetha. It also turns out she wasn’t Anna Margaretha, another candidate, either. But getting to this conclusion was a twisty turny mud path with potholes thrown in for good measure.
Sigh.
I was only called by my middle name, in addition to my first name, when I was in one heap of trouble. I wonder if that came from Mom’s German side.
Difficult Puzzle
These records were so difficult to sort through back in the 1980s when I realized I really needed to sort through them and not just take family information as gospel. You might laugh today, but truly, that was quite a surprise revelation to me, and I didn’t come to that realization until I received conflicting information from 3 different cousins, all of whom “should know.”
I still remember that day, realizing that EVERY piece of information I had might be in error, because some of it unquestionably had to be wrong. Three different people for a mother simply could not be accurate.
I had to start from scratch.
I was not happy. I think that was the day I went from a genealogical gatherer to a hunter. Something I never intended to be.
But I had to sort that one question out.
Just that one question….
Yea, right. The moon is made of cheese and the earth is flat too.
Research in the 1980s
Research in the 1980s was challenging in and of itself – the genealogical equivalent of walking uphill in the snow, both ways.
First, I had to visit the local Family History Center and search through the indexes for names of people who might be the person of interest. Some indexes were computerized, some were on fiche and some indexes had to be ordered on microfilm.
After finding the index entry I was interested in, I had to order the photo image of each record from the church at the Family History Center and wait for its arrival. Many of these images are available online today.
I would go back to the FHC (20 miles each way) to retrieve the record when it arrived from Salt Lake City. Then I packaged up the image, along with the church index record that I had ordered from and sent everything to Elke, my German translator.
Elke translated each record by hand and sent the entire document set back, stapled together, thankfully. From these individual records, I assembled families, first on group sheets and then in PAF, Personal Ancestral File, a now-defunct genealogy program that ran on a computer that was physically huge, but much less powerful than our phones today.
Hard to believe we ever accomplished anything, but we did – just V-E-R-Y slowly!
Internet searches are truly a Godsend.
Bread Crumb Trail Builds Family Records
Along the way, as Elke translated each record, I assembled a series of hints. For example, from Margaretha Elisabetha’s children’s marriage records, we discovered that Margaretha Elisabetha was alive in 1821 but dead by 1829. Those records bracketed her death year, but her death record itself was stubbornly elusive.
Andreas Dies
In 1819, Margaretha Elisabetha’s husband, Andreas Kirsch died at the young age of 45, leaving a 47 year old widow with children to raise. I’m suspecting that Margaretha Elisabetha and her surviving children worked in the fields together outside the village of Fussgoenheim. What choice did she have except to do the work of her deceased husband in addition to her own?
In 1819 when Andreas died, Margaretha Elisabetha’s family consisted of at least 3 if not 4 living children.
Child
Birth Date
Age in 1819
Comment
Andreas Kirsch
August 17, 1896
23, if alive
Catharine Barbara Kirsch
Sept. 13, 1798
Died in 1817
☹
Johann Adam Kirsch
Dec. 5, 1798 (clearly there is a year or parent issue – two children cannot be born 3 months apart)
21, died in 1863
May not be her child. No birth record found. Married Maria Katharina Koob.
Three or four children ranging between the ages of 23, if Andreas (Jr.) was alive, and 13 were living when Andreas (Sr.) died. Philip Jacob Kirsch continued his father’s name by naming his youngest son Andreas, or Andrew in the US, but that son died at 4 years of age.
I’m guessing that the family remained together, with everyone living in the same house or with the eldest son as the family morphed. As her family matured, Margaretha Elisabetha gradually changed from being the head-of-household to the matriarch and then, perhaps, to being cared for by others until she passed.
Unfortunately, Margaretha Elisabetha died in 1823, just two weeks shy of her 51st birthday and just prior to the 4th anniversary of Andreas death. Philip Jacob, her youngest child and my ancestor was only 17 at the time.
Daughter Anna Margaretha Kirsch had already married in 1821, so Philip Jacob likely lived with his sister and her husband, Martin Koehler. That probably explains the bond between these two families, because in 1848, both families would immigrate to the US together, settling in Ripley County.
Records Confuse the Issue
OMG, I have no hair left! And I was doing this to relax.
Let’s just say that finding a death record for the person who DID turn out to be Margaretha Elisabetha Koehler under the name of Anna Margaretha Koehler Kirsch really threw me for a loop.
Everything was right – the parents, the husband, AND, there was indeed one Anna Margaretha Koehler born to those parents. But was Anna Margaretha who died in 1823 really the daughter of Peter Koehler and Anna Elisabetha Scherin named Anna Margaretha or was that daughter Margaretha Elisabeth?
“Anna Margaretha” Dies
Sadly, Margaretha Elisabetha or Anna Margaretha, the wife of Andreas Kirsch, whatever her name really was, didn’t have a lengthy life – at least not by today’s standards. She passed away at 50. I always wonder about my ancestors’ causes of death.
Furthermore, her death record, which in essence the only “tombstone” she has today is recorded under the wrong name.
Andreas had already died in 1819. Margaretha died only 4 years later. Tom was kind enough to translate Anna Margaretha’s actual death record from the Fussgönheim, Bavaria Evangelical Church records.
On the 21st of April 1823 died and on the 23rd was buried, Anna Margaretha KIRSCH, widow of the late Andreas KIRSCH, aged 49y11m22d. Her parents: Peter KÖHLER from Ellerstadt and Anna Elisabetha SCHERR.
Dang! Now what?
WHAT IS HER DOGGONE NAME???
I thought, based on that death record, that I had incorrectly identified Anna Margaretha Koehler as Margaretha Elisabetha Koehler, her sister. Documents had been recorded both ways, so I eventually had to make a chart.
First, I checked her children’s birth records.
Name
Birth Date
Death Date
Mother’s Name in Record
Andreas Kirsch
Aug 17, 1796
unknown
Margaretha Elisabetha in birth record
Catharina Barbara Kirsch
Sept. 13, 1798
May 28, 1817
Margaretha Elisabetha in death record. Name not recorded in birth record.
Johann Adam Kirsch
No record translated, may not be her son
Johannes Kirsch
Aug. 6, 1811, age 10 years 1 month
Margaretha Elisabetha in death record
Anna Margaretha Kirsch
Feb 16, 1804
Indiana in the US
Her 1821 marriage record says she is the daughter of deceased Andreas Kirsch and Elisabetha Koehler, present and consenting.
Philip Jacob Kirsch
August 8, 1806
Indiana in the US
1829 Marriage record says he is the son of Andreas Kirsch and Margaretha Koehler. Birth record says Margaretha Elisabetha Koehler
Ok, can we find Margaretha’s own birth record? Maybe THAT will shed some light on the situation.
Birth Date
The birth date of April 30, 1773 was calculated from the death date in the civil death record of Anna Margaretha Koehler Kirsch. We’re fortunate that the death record included her exact age and the names of her parents, including her mother’s birth surname.
Years ago, Elke translated the birth records of the children of Peter Koehler and Anna Elisabetha Scherin who lived in Ellerstadt. Peter was the proprietor of the inn called “The Lion” and they had several children, all born in Ellerstadt.
The problem is that they had other children that preclude Anna Margaretha from having been born in 1773, the death record year, or 1774, the year provided by the German cousin.
In 1772, Margaretha Elisabetha Koehler was born on April 30th.
In 1774, Maria Eva Koehler was born on February 23rd.
Clearly, neither of these daughters are named Anna Margaretha nor are they born in 1773.
However, the fact that the actual month and date of the Margaretha Elisabetha maps correctly to April 30th in the civil death record suggests that the death date year calculation used in the death record was off by a year.
Furthermore, Anna Margaretha in the death record is actually Margaretha Elisabetha who was 50 when she died, not 49, based on two pieces of evidence; the day/month match and the consistent use of the name Margaretha and often Margaretha Elisabetha in additional records.
It’s also helpful to know that when deaths were recorded in church records, generally the minister would go back and look up the birth record if the person was born in the same location. However, civil registrations had to take the word for the birth date/year from the people reporting the death who were clearly upset. Registrars recorded the name as they heard it, possibly not knowing the deceased as the local minister would.
Whew!
That was a lot of heavy lifting.
Margaretha Elisabetha’s Birth Record
Margaretha Elisabetha was born in the village of Ellerstadt, not far from Fussgoenheim where she would live with Andreas Kirsch. Ellerstadt was literally the next village over, 2.6 km or a mile and a half, and the fields tended by the residents of the two villages would have intersected.
I wonder if the young people flirted while tending the fields, or if they met at church, or if the families had simply known each other for generations. Perhaps they “met” as toddlers playing while their parents worked and perhaps tended grape vines in the vineyards.
Today this region is wine country, probably much as it was when Margaretha Elisabetha was born there in the spring of 1772.
The page in the church book recording Margaretha Elisabetha’s birth was titled in Latin, a remnant of Catholicism and the Holy Roman Empire. This made me wonder if the church was Catholic, but it was Protestant.
Translation:
On the 30th of April, at noon, about 11 or 12 o’clock, was born here a little daughter and due to weakness, as baptized the 1st of May. The father is Peter Koehler, proprietor of “The Lion,” from here and the mother was Anna Elisabetha. Godparents were Johann Jacob Muller, master miller from Heuchelheim and his wife, Anna Margaretha who have her in Holy Baptism the name Margaretha Elisabetha.
Aha, so maybe they met at The Lion as the families intermingled.
Heuchelheim could be another hint as to family members. If they weren’t related, why would a couple from 10 miles away travel to Fussgoenheim to stand up as godparents, especially on quick notice, for a weak child, who they would be obligated to raise if something happened to her parents?
It’s humbling to realize that Margaretha Elisabetha almost didn’t live. This may be the first record I’ve ever seen where a child was baptized “quickly” because the child was felt to be at risk of death actually survived.
Lucky for me that she did.
But this record also served to add to the confusion because I originally suspected that this child had, in fact, perished and perhaps there really had been another child born in 1773, a year later, perhaps with the same name. Reusing a name after a child had died was a typical German custom, although I’ve always wondered how they knew which child they were referencing.
What evidence could I accumulate as to the name and identity of the wife of Andreas Kirsch? Is she really Margaretha Elisabetha born in 1772, an unrecorded child by the same name born in 1773, or Anna Margaretha born in 1765 to the same parents?
Why do these people have to name multiple children with the same names? Were Margaretha Elisabetha and Anna Elisabetha both called Margaretha? No wonder someone thought there were twins. Maybe German Mom’s just named everyone the same thing so when they yelled out the back door and called their kids, they just had to shout one name for each gender and everyone showed up!
“Margaretha, Johann, time to eat!” and poof, all 10 kids plus the husband ran inside! Of course in a German village, using that logic, half the town would have arrived.
How sure am I that my ancestor, Andreas’ wife, really is this weak child? Or is she the older sister, Anna Margaretha, as stated in the death record, 9 years older than Andreas who was born in 1774?
Something is wrong, but which something and how, exactly, is it wrong?
Is this question really settled?
Evidence
In date order, I created a summary of the pieces of evidence that we have for both names.
Type of Evidence
Date
Anna Margaretha
Margaretha Elisabetha
Anna Margaretha Koehler
March 10, 1765
X
Birth of Margaretha Elisabetha Koehler
April 30, 1772
X
Birth of Andreas
Aug 17, 1796
X
Birth of Catharina Barbara
Sept 13, 1798
X
Birth of Johann Adam (may not be their child)
Dec. 5, 1798
?
?
Birth of Johannes
Aug 11, 1801 (1811 death record might show more)
X
Birth of Anna Margaretha
Feb. 16, 1804
?
?
Birth of Philip Jacob
August 8, 1806
X
Death of Catharina Barbara
May 28, 1817
X
Death of Andreas Kirsch
May 20, 1819
X
Death of Anna Margaretha Koehler, wife of Andreas Kirsch
April 23, 1823
Calculated birth date as April 30, 1773
Marriage of Anna Margaretha
Sept 30, 1821
Margaretha
Elisabetha and Margaretha, separately
Marriage of Philip Jacob
Dec. 22, 1829
Margaretha
Margaretha
Margaretha alone, without any other name, could be either person.
However, the correlation between the calculated birth month/day and Margaretha Elisabetha’s birth, plus the fact that the only record in which the name Anna Margaretha appears is her death record, except for the 1765 birth record with a different month/day, pretty much confirms that Andreas’s wife’s true name was indeed Margaretha Elisabetha and that she was the daughter born in 1772.
In other words, it’s her death record that has the wrong name. Kind of like putting the wrong name on the tombstone, for eternity.
And that, I surely hope, is the final (and correct) answer!
The Kirsch and Koehler Houses
I am incredibly grateful to Marliese, my cousin who was raised in Fussgoenheim. She and her daughter blessed me with some photos that are nothing short of amazing.
Marliese labeled this first photo as the “Old Kirsch home in Fussgoenheim” where she grew up. The man at left looks like he’s wearing a long white butcher’s apron.
The entrance door appears to be in the black portion of the house which I took to be either a barn or garden area. That may be incorrect. I wonder the purpose of the architecture of the black area with the small door. In the photos below, some other houses seem to have similar structures.
The second photo, above, is labeled by Marliese as the Koehler house with an X and the Kirsch house with an O, although according to the first photo above, the houses would have been switched. Which house is which doesn’t really matter, because we descend from both families.
Update – the house to the left, with the X is unquestionably the Kirsch home, as determined by the return address on Marliese’s letters and a visit in 2019.
The close proximity of the houses surely explains the generations of intermarriage, although the early Kirsch records are in Fussgoenheim and the early Koehler records are in Ellerstadt. Based on this photo, at some point both the Kirsch and Koehler families lived in Fussgoenheim as neighbors.
This last photo is of a Fussgoenheim street, and I’m presuming the X marks the same location, just viewed from further away. You can see that other homes have a similar “barn door” like structure, with an embedded house type door.
Could this photo be of some sort of parade?
I don’t know enough about vintage automobiles to determine the model of the black vehicle. VW Beetles all look the same.
The Volkswagen was invented in 1938, but not put into significant production until in 1945, after WWII. This photo was probably taken after that but note the horse-drawn wagons as well.
One final photo shows people on the street in front of these homes, probably family members.
I surely want to know if these buildings still exist – and where they were. Unfortunately, Google Street View that provides actual “driving experiences” isn’t available in Europe.
I discovered that if you move sideway on Google maps, even though you can’t actually drive up and down the streets with Street View, you can still see and view the structure of the homes at least somewhat.
The building at left above is unique because it has the house, then the large black area which looks to enclose a garden or barn area, then another piece of the house on the other side before the next house with the 2 upper and 3 lower windows.
There’s no way to verify, at least not that I know of, that this was the original Kirsch/Koehler home. It’s a very good possibility due to the small, what appears to be flat roofed building, to the right that seems to match the style of the Kirsch home.
The house directly to the right of the truck which would have been the other Kirsch/Koehler house has clearly been torn down and replaced with a modern building.
Yes, I really did “drive” up and down the streets as best I could looking for a similarly shaped structure. It’s interesting how actually long and skinny these homes were with the fields to the rear. In one of Marliese’s letters, she stated that in the early 1900s, a field of 8-12 acres was sufficient to support a family.
Marliese, the German cousin, is related through both the Kirsch and Koehler families as well. The families intermarried significantly. Looking at the proximity of the houses, you can certainly see why.
People married their neighbors. Young people courted the people they knew.
The Oldest Known Photo
One last photo was passed down years ago through Joyce Heiss, another cousin, providing enough information that I could determine how this woman fits into the family tree and how I’m related to her.
I initially thought, based on the comment that she came to America with her children after her husband’s death that this was Anna Margaretha Kirsch, the daughter of Andreas Kirsch and Margaretha Elisabetha Koehler, born in 1821 who married Johann Martin Koehler. Anna Margaretha Kirsch immigrated to the US after her husband died, so this seemed to be a perfect descriptive fit – well, except for the name. We already know how confusing names can be.
However, this photo is of a different woman entirely. I had no idea this woman, the daughter-in-law of our Margaretha Elisabetha Koehler, immigrated too.
This photo is of Anna Elisabetha Kirsch born Dec 14, 1828 in Fussgoenheim to Johannes Kirsch and Maria Catharina Koob, probably in the Kirsch house in Fussgoenheim shown in the house photos. She married Philipp Jacob Koehler (1821-1873), the grandson of Andreas Kirsch and Margaretha Elisabetha Koehler through daughter Anna Margaretha who married Johann Martin Koehler.
Confused? Me too.
This is like extracting tentacles of an invasive vine wrapped around a tree – MY family tree in this case.
It’s Complicated
Yes, it’s complex – and complicated further by the fact that her husband, Philip Jacob Koehler, died in Indiana in 1873, not in Germany as reported on the photo.
In the pedigree chart above of Anna Elisabeth’s husband, Philip Jacob Koehler, the people with the upper-case names are my direct line ancestors. I’m related to Anna Elisabetha Kirsch and Philip Jacob Koehler, individually, several times over.
Anna Elisabetha Kirsch and Philip Jacob Koehler had 5 children, one of whom died for sure as a child in Germany, one who probably died in Germany and three who immigrated and settled in Lawrenceburg, Indiana.
Martin Koehler born July 16, 1848 in Germany died on January 3, 1913 in Lawrenceburg, Indiana and married Henrietta Doerner.
Margaretha Koehler born October 14, 1849 in Germany died on June 19, 1903 in Lawrenceburg, Indiana and married Johann Freidrich Stuber (1847-1934). They had 7 children, 4 of whom lived to adulthood.
Jacob Koehler born May 28, 1859 in Germany, married Wilhelmina Heckhauser.
This family settled close to my Kirsch family who lived in both Ripley County and Aurora in neighboring Dearborn County, just downriver from Lawrenceburg.
Anna Elisabetha Kirsch died in 1876 of tuberculosis in Dearborn County and is buried in the Riverview Cemetery just outside Aurora. The two Kirsch families knew they were related, although, to the best of my knowledge they weren’t sure exactly how. Or, perhaps they knew exactly and that knowledge was lost over the next hundred years.
Anna Elisabetha Kirsch is related to me on several lines on her maternal side. If I could reconstruct the Johannes Kirsch and Anna Margaretha Koob line, I’m sure I’d share even more ancestors with Anna Elisabetha.
Anna Elisabetha Kirsch shared several ancestors with her husband too. I’m betting they lived in the Kirsch and Koehler homes in Fussgoenheim and grew up as children, neighbors, playing outside together. This pedigree is what endogamy looks like. Some great-great-grandparents appear three times, and probably more if I had information on the missing generations.
Given that Anna Elisabetha is the oldest known photo of any Kirsch/Koehler/Koob ancestor, and I’m related to her through so many lines, I’m betting that my ancestors bore some physical resemblance to her. I look at her photo and wonder which of her features my ancestors shared and passed on down. Are some of her features my mother’s and mine as well?
DNA Anyone?
I’m betting that I would share a LOT of DNA with Anna Elizabeth and perhaps with her descendants if they were to DNA test as well. There’s a lot of common DNA between Elizabeth’s children and the children of my ancestor, Philip Jacob Kirsch. Anna was Philip Jacob’s first cousin, once removed on her mother’s side and also related to him on her father’s side as well. Perhaps it’s a good thing they immigrated to a location where there were unrelated people to choose from as spouses.
Anna’s husband was Philip Jacob Kirsch’s nephew on his mother’s side and his first cousin once removed on his father’s side.
Anna was Philip Jacob Kirsch’s 1st cousin once removed on his mother’s side, and his second cousin once removed, as well as his first cousin once removed and second cousin, both, on his father’s side.
If you’re thinking that this isn’t a family tree, but a vine, you’re right.
Even though Anna Elisabetha Kirsch Koehler is not my ancestor, given how many ancestral lines we share in common, her descendants may match genetically as closely as if she was a direct ancestor. We share that many ancestors and there is only so much DNA in an ancestral population to pass around!
This is the perfect example of why endogamy can be confusing, both in the records, pedigree charts and when looking at DNA results where endogamous relations appear to be closer in time based on how much DNA is shared than they actually are.
Perhaps one day another Kirsch or Koehler cousin from the Lawrenceburg lines will DNA test and we’ll know how much ancestral Kirsch/Koehler/Koob DNA we share. Fingers crossed!
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Elias Kirsch and his family lived in Fussgoenheim – that much we know for sure. Unfortunately, the Fussgoenheim records are in sorry shape.
Fussgoenheim records include the following:
Baptisms: 1726-1798 and 1816-1839
Marriages: 1727-1768 and 1816-1839
Deaths: 1733-1775 and 1816-1839
Those books are not complete, with pages missing and significant water damage. In the words of Tom, my trusty cousin and retired German genealogist, “these are some of the worst German records content-wise I’ve ever perused,” followed by, “your gang is never easy.”
Isn’t that the truth!
Given the situation, we’ll just have to piece Elias’s life together as best we can from what records do exist.
Keep in mind that my collaborators, Chris and Tom, did not transcribe every single church record. They have looked at most of the Kirsch records, and Thomas graciously completed a spreadsheet of what he found.
However, if the records are ever entirely transcribed, we may find significant missing information in the baptisms and other notes in records not found under the Kirsch surname. Godparent notes sometimes describe the relationships between various people, including the godparents and the child being baptized, or the godparents and the child’s parents, or even the godparents’ relationship to each other – any of which might serve as either outright confirmation or breadcrumbs.
So, hopefully, over time, we will discover more than we know today. We’ve been able to piece quite an interesting story together from the breadcrumbs we do have.
Elias Kirsch was Born in 1733
Elias Kirsch May 6 1733 baptism Taufen 1726-1798
“6ten May Ist Joh. Michael Kirsch und seiner Haußfrau Anna Margaretha Ein Söhnlein getauft worden noie [abbreviation for Latin “nomine”] Elias Nicolaus … gett [? cannot read this, but it must mean: witnesses] waren Elias Nicolaus Schnell und seine Haußfrau von Dürckheim”
Translation:
“On 6 May was baptized a son of Johann Michael Kirsch and his wife Anna Margaretha by the name of Elias Nicolaus. Witnesses have been Elias Nicolaus Schnell and his wife from Dürckheim.”
From this record, we know that Elias Nicholas was named after Elias Nicholaus Schnell who lived in Durckheim, now Bad Dürkheim.
It’s likely, but not a given, that Elias Nicolaus Schnell or his wife are related to either Johann Michael Kirsch or his wife, Anna Margaretha, whose last name we don’t know. Otherwise, there’s no reason for them to know each other or travel from Dürkheim to Fussgoenheim for a baptism. I was not able to find any records for Elias Nicholaus Schnell, unfortunately.
On the map above, we see that Bad Dürkheim is about 11 km or 6.7 miles from Fussgoenheim. Other locations relevant to this family are Ellerstadt and Mutterstadt where the Kirsch and Koehler families would both live when they migrated to America in the mid-1800s. Mutterstadt is about 5 miles via road from Fussgoenheim. In essence, this is all one big community.
All of these villages are located in the Rhine Valley plain, but Bad Dürkheim borders the beginning of the low-mountain region known as the Palatinate Forest, shown in green at left on the map above and in the photo below.
We don’t know exactly when Elias married, but it was sometime before his first child was born in 1763. The available marriage records list dates from 1727-1768, but clearly Elias’s marriage record is missing. What we do know, though, through the subsequent baptism records of his children, is that Elias married Susanna Elisabetha Koob.
Children of Elias Kirsch
Tom found the baptism records for four children of Elias Kirsch and Susanna Elisabeth Koob born in 1763, 1766, 1772 and 1774.
The records go strangely mute after that.
Are there any other clues?
Multiple Men Named Andreas
Andreas seems to be a popular name in the Kirsch family.
Chris says:
For your information: There are burial entries for an Andreas Kirsch in 1762 (“Andreas Kirsch, the Elder”) and 1774 as well. So there have been several Andreas Kirschs in Fußgönheim at the same time.
This is potentially relevant because Elias named a son Andreas Kirsch in 1774.
There is a gap in the burial entries from January 1743 to 1762. (The burial in January 1743 for Johann Michael Kirsch the elder is the last one for a long time!). There is another gap from 1776 up to 1816. I found no burial entry for Elias Kirsch or his wife in the years from 1762-1775.
In summary, I am afraid there is not much more I can search for.
So, the entire family disappeared from the records? However, given the evidence that I’m alive and descended from Andreas, they clearly didn’t disappear in fact. It’s just that I can’t find them.
Did Elias Die in 1804?
I frustrate myself incredibly when it comes to the Kirsch family, in part because I began this research 40+ years ago which I simply wrote down what people told me and gave no though to recording sources, or asking them how they knew a given piece of information. It seemed rude to ask, like I was questioning their truthfulness when they were trying to do me a favor. Besides, it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t remember.
I was very young and very naïve. I know, right?!!
And I’m paying the price now. At least I was bright enough to WRITE THINGS DOWN!
In my genealogy software, I showed a death date for Elias Kirsch of May 2, 1804. A date that specific is too detailed not to have been found someplace. It’s not an approximation based on a child’s birth or marriage record, for example. But where did I come up with that date, and how?
I began searching relentlessly. Finally, I found a note from a German cousin decades ago where Elias’ death date was shown and the location was noted as Fussgoenheim, the village where Elias and my cousin both lived. This led me, of course, to presume (cousin word to assume) that the cousin had access to local records.
I had no idea at that point in time that the local Fussgoenheim records had been destroyed or were otherwise absent. Besides, absent at the local Family History Center might only have meant that the records weren’t (yet) filmed, not that they didn’t exist. I had already copied the Fussgoenheim church record images. I later copied the Fussgoenheim Civil Records as well, trying to fill in blanks, but all for naught.
Where did this death date come from? Not the church records and not the Civil Records. Not a family Bible because there wasn’t one. Believe me, I asked about a Bible AND I would have remembered that for sure.
Found It!
I had searched (again) some time ago when I started this article, but I searched one more time – this time with different search criteria. That old adage, “cast the net wider,” might work. I searched for any Kirsch who died in 1804 in Germany, with no first name or location.
What popped up was a shock.
A death record alright, but a FRENCH death record.
That’s not possible. Elias was very clearly German. Besides, he lived and died in Fussgoenheim, not Ludwigshafen, right?
These Ludwigshafen records show a death date of February 4, 1804 in Ruchheim for Elias Kirsch, but is this the same Elias Kirsch? The cousin’s original note said May 2nd, 1804 in Fussgoenheim.
Ruchheim is approximately 2.2 miles from Fussgoenheim, so it’s certainly possible. As we know, there were several Kirsch men in this area, so I was very cautious.
Tom originally translated the death record thus:
Elias KIRSCH
Date of the Act: 16 Pluviose in 12th year of the French Republic or 6 February 1804.
Death Act No. 36
The 16th day of the month of Pluviose in the year 12 of the Republic, the Death Act of Elias KIRSCH…..the 15th Pluviose in the morning between 4 a.m. and 5 a.m. at the age of 71 years son of the late Michael KIRSCH and Margaretha his rightful? wife from the declaration made by Andreas KIRSCH, ? and farmer here……and Kristoph Braun…farmer …..
Klingenburger, mayor and civil registrar. Mayor’s signature as well as signatures of Christoph Braun and Andreas Kirsch.
We asked Chris, a native German speaker to help fill in some of the blanks, and he very kindly did so, in the midst a whirlwind time in his life. (Thanks so much Chris!)
Death Act No. 36
The 16th day of the month of Pluviose in the year 12 of the Republic, the Death Act of Elias KIRSCH died [verschieden] the 15th Pluviose in the morning between 4 a.m. and 5 a.m. at the age of 71 years, son of the late Michael KIRSCH and Margaretha his rightful [yes! recht=mäßige] wife from the declaration made by Andreas KIRSCH, citizen [Br. = short for: Bürger] and farmer here, who declared that he had been a son of the deceased [als welcher gesagt hat er seie ein Sohn des Verstorbenen] and Kristoph Braun, citizen and farmer here, who declared that he had been a neighbour of the deceased and who signed this document. [Br. und Ackersmann allda [?] als welcher gesagt hat er seie ein Nachbar des Verstorbenen, und haben unterschrieben.]
Klingenburger, mayor and civil registrar. Mayor’s signature as well as signatures of Christoph Braun and Andreas Kirsch.
The parents’ names match Elias’s church birth record and the birth year too. Not only that, but Andreas is confirmed in this death record as the son of Elias. Everything aligns – same family. The discrepancy in the death month and year, in part, might be explained by a difference in date conventions in the US and in Europe. In the US, the abbreviation 2-4-1804 would be February 4, 1804 and in Germany, it would be April 2, 1804.
This sure make me wonder how many of my ancestors’ dates are incorrectly interpreted by me.
The death record is signed by Andreas Kirsch, and Andreas was Elias’s youngest child and one of three sons.
It looks like we found Elias’s death record alright, but how did Elias suddenly become French?
French Occupation!
The answer lies in the French occupation of the German left bank, the area between the Rhine River and France.
In the 1700s, Germany was still ruled by the Holy Roman Empire and was divided into sections ruled by Princes and royal families. The map below shows the Holy Roman Empire in 1789.
Wikimedia commons map by Robert Alfers
You can see the Pfalz region in the closeup, below.
The Rhine had for centuries been the road into the heartland of Germanic Europe facilitating transportation and trade. Of course, along that road marched and floated armies and invaders as well.
Wars in this part of Europe had been occurring regularly for hundreds of years by this time, and probably as long as humanity occupied this part of the earth.
The German people were weary. They had been displaced over and over again since before the 30 Years War which laid waste to and depopulated this part of Germany.
By the late 1700s, the German princes feared a Revolution, while the intellectuals hoped that the French would defeat royal absolutism. The common people, my families, were caught in the middle and could only deal with the outcome – whatever that happened to be.
When the French Revolution began in 1789, it was just one more in a succession of conflicts that dragged on until France officially occupied the German lands west of the Rhine.
In 1792, a conflict broke out, initially over the rights of German Princes with holdings in France, but it quickly expanded. The hostilities revealed that the civic ideals and French military were more than a match for the Germanic princes, vestiges of the Holy Roman Empire with no coordination among their fiefdoms, concerned about their own turf and not any consolidated whole.
The German lands saw armies marching back and forth, bringing devastation (albeit on a far lower scale than the Thirty Years’ War, almost two centuries before), but also ushering in new ideas of liberty and civil rights for the people.
Europe was racked by two decades of war revolving around France’s efforts to spread its revolutionary ideals, as well as to annex Belgium and the Rhine’s Left Bank to France and establish puppet regimes in the Netherlands, Germany and Italy. The French revolutionaries’ open and strident republicanism led to the conclusion of a defensive alliance between Austria and Prussia on February 7, 1792. The alliance also declared that any violation of the borders of the Empire by France would be a cause for war.
Prussia and Austria ended their failed wars with France but (with Russia) partitioned Poland among themselves in 1793 and 1795. The French took control of the Rhineland, imposed French-style reforms, abolished feudalism, established constitutions, promoted freedom of religion, emancipated Jews, opened the bureaucracy to ordinary citizens of talent, and forced the nobility to share power with the rising middle class.
Feudalism was a social system wherein the nobility held land from the crown in exchange for military service. Vassals were in turn tenants of the nobles and peasants, villeins or serfs were obligated to live on their lord’s land and give him homage, labor and a share of the produce in exchange for military protection.
In other words, no one other than the crown or nobility actually owned land. Freedom was restricted and military duty was mandatory. It wasn’t quite slavery, but it certainly restricted freedoms in many ways. In essence, it was economic slavery with no way to free oneself. Even emigration required permission.
The French-imposed reforms beginning in 1793 proved largely permanent and modernized the western parts of Germany. However, despite these welcome reforms, when the French tried to impose the French language, German opposition grew in intensity. The French had crossed an emotional line in the sand.
A Second Coalition of Britain, Russia, and Austria then attacked France but failed. Napoleon established direct or indirect control over most of western Europe, including the German states.
Clearly, based upon these civil records, the mandate of the French language was implemented and upheld, at least officially. Knowing the tenacious nature of the German people, I’m sure not one word of French was spoken when they had any choice.
After 1793 French revolutionary troops occupied the German lands on the left bank of the Rhine known as the Palatine Region, and for the next 20 years their inhabitants were governed from Paris. Yet there is no evidence that the Germans were dissatisfied with French rule or at least no evidence that they strongly opposed it. Devoid of a sense of national identity and accustomed to submission to authority, they accepted their new status with the same equanimity with which they had regarded a succession to the throne or a change in the dynasty.
Wikipedia tell us that:
Following the Peace of Basel in 1795 with Prussia, the west bank of the Rhine was ceded to France.
Napoleon I of France relaunched the war against the Empire. In 1803 he abolished almost all the ecclesiastical and the smaller secular states and most of the imperial free cities. New medium-sized states were established in south-western Germany.
The Holy Roman Empire was formally dissolved on 6 August 1806 when the last Holy Roman Emperor Francis II (from 1804, Emperor Francis I of Austria) resigned.
By ziegelbrenner – own drawing/Source of Information: Putzger – Historischer Weltatlas, 89. Auflage, 1965; Westermanns Großer Atlas zur Weltgeschichte, 1969; Haacks geographischer Atlas. VEB Hermann Haack Geographisch-Kartographische Anstalt, Gotha/Leipzig, 1. Auflage, 1979., CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9024294
The Confederation of the Rhine, a confederation of client states of the First French Empire, existed from 1806 to 1813.
With the defeat of Napoleon’s France in 1814, Bavaria was compensated for some of its losses, and received new territories such as the Grand Duchy of Würzburg, the Archbishopric of Mainz (Aschaffenburg) and parts of the Grand Duchy of Hesse. Finally in 1816, the Rhenish Palatinate was taken from France in exchange for most of Salzburg which was then ceded to Austria in the Treaty of Munich (1816).
It’s no coincidence that we see the church records recording births, deaths, and marriages resume, in German, in Fussgoenheim in 1816.
The French rule was over. The official language returned to German, although I’m willing to bet that while the upper-class society spoke French, the peasants and farmers in the villages never did.
They simply waited.
Some, of course, like Elias, died waiting – but his grandson Philip Jacob Kirsch, born in 1806, two years after Elias’ death, tired of constant turmoil in the Palatinate, would take his German-speaking family to Indiana in 1848 where they still spoke primarily or at least occasional German for another 100+ years.
Some of that strong German bloodline is discernible in his descendants today.
Kirsch Autosomal DNA
Because the Kirsch family didn’t immigrate until the mid-1800s, we don’t have as many descendants in the US today to DNA test as lines that have been in the states since colonial times.
Thankfully, another Kirsch descendant and his family are also interested in the Kirsch genealogy and agreed to DNA test.
It’s particularly interesting, because while Mr. Kirsch’s daughter and I don’t have an autosomal DNA match, he and my mother have a significant match, on six substantial segments, shown in red below. In fact, other than immediate family, my Mom is his closest match.
On the chromosomes above, Mr. Kirsch is the background person with mother being the red segments matching Mr. Kirsch. For purposes of comparison, I’m the light blue that matches with Mr. Kirsch and my mother on chromosomes 8 and 11. Notice the huge red piece of DNA that I didn’t receive from Mom on chromosomes 3 and 14, the first half of chromosome 11 and the smaller segment on chromosome 4. In these locations, I received my mother’s father’s DNA, because I certainly didn’t receive her DNA from her mother’s Kirsch lineage.
The largest segment that Mr Kirsch and mother share is 42.67 cM and the smallest segment larger than 5 cM is 10.27 cM. Four other people also match both Mr. Kirsch and mother, above, as well. Two matches don’t have trees, one lives in Germany and one in the Netherlands.
Of course, Mom and Mr. Kirsch share both the Kirsch and Drechsel DNA, given that Elias’s great-grandson, Jacob Kirsch, married Barbara Drechsel in Aurora, Indiana. We could be seeing a combination of segments descended from both Barbara and Jacob.
I inherited very little of this specific Kirsch/Drechsel DNA, and my children inherited even less. Obviously, Mr. Kirsch’s daughter didn’t inherit the segments from her father that I share with him, given that she and I don’t match. It’s amazing just how quickly descendants can go from 163 cM of shared DNA in one generation between two people on 6 segments greater than 10 cM, to no match between their children. Genetic roll of the dice.
I do wonder if any of these segments descended from Elias or if they were introduced by a wife’s line in the 4 generations (inclusive) between Elias Kirsch/Susanna Elisabetha Koob and Jacob Kirsch/Barbara Drechsel where the line splits into sibling lines in the late 1800s.
Of course, every segment has its own unique history, so these segments could descend from multiple ancestors in the pedigree chart, above – Kirsch, Koob, Koehler, Lemmert and/or Drechsel.
We won’t know unless some Kirsch and Drechsel descendants who descend from ancestors upstream of Jacob and Barbara test and match some of these segments. One thing is for sure, one way or another, this DNA originated with our ancestors someplace in modern day Germany, a place then known as the Holy Roman Empire.
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The Kirsch family is German. My mother knew they spoke German. She heard them. They stopped speaking German during WWI and WWII when speaking German meant inviting trouble. The Kirsch family had never been anything but German.
So now, they’re suddenly…French???
My head is spinning.
This causes me to close my eyes and shake my head slowly to see if when I open my eyes, this dream has dissipated yet.
Nope, they’re still there, with records in French.
At least that key word is there, record! But French?
Is this really my Kirsch family?
How did this happen?
The Baguette Trail
I thought those were rye breadcrumbs I was following, but these turned out to be baguette crusts.
I’ve already written two articles about Andreas Kirsch of Fussgoenheim, Germany – and not intentionally, mind you. I wrote the first article, thinking I had sorted the Kirsch family correctly, only to discover that I hadn’t, so in the second article Andreas acquired a new set of parents.
Andreas’s correct father was Elias Kirsch who I’m trying desperately to write an article about. He’s resisting. Like, you know, this French thing.
Why is this family so unruly?
Elias’s birth record has already been documented. I had a date for his death from a German cousin decades ago, but I could not find Elias’s actual death record anyplace. It clearly existed someplace, because no one remembers an exact date more than 200 years later. But where was that missing record?
Andreas’s son, Philip Jacob Kirsch, was born on August 8, 1806 based on calculations from his death date inscribed on his tombstone in Indiana, here in the US. Many different pieces of evidence during his lifetime point to his Germanness.
When I wrote Philip Jacob’s article, I had hoped to find a birth/baptism record in Germany, given that I knew he had been born in the little village of Fussgoenheim, but that record was not found.
About the Fussgoenheim Church Records
Unfortunately, the Fussgoenheim church records are in sorry shape, fragmentary at best.
Fussgoenheim records include the following:
Baptisms: 1726-1798 and 1816-1839
Marriages: 1727-1768 and 1816-1839
Deaths: 1733-1775 and 1816-1839
Those books are not complete, with pages missing and significant water damage. In the words of Tom, my cousin and trusty German retired genealogist, “these are some of the worst German records content-wise I’ve ever perused,” followed by, “your gang is never easy.”
Isn’t that the truth! Tom is always so elegantly understated:)
Fortunately, we were able to find at least some records for each person, so we haven’t skipped a generation completely.
Here’s what I have for these three generations of Kirsch men along with what’s missing.
Gen #
Name
Birth Record
Marriage Record
Death Record
Comment
#1
Elias Kirsch
Yes – 1733 Fussgoenheim
No – married to Susanna Elisabetha Koob
No – date of May 2, 1804 provided by German relative
He was married before the birth of his first child recorded in 1763
#2
Andreas Kirsch
Yes – 1774 Fussgoenheim
No – married to Margaretha Elisabetha Koehler
1819 – yes, Fussgoenheim
Would have been married about 1795 before birth of child in 1796
#3
Philip Jacob Kirsch
No, but born in 1806
Yes, Mutterstadt, to Katharina Barbara Lemmert
Yes, died in US
Birth date calculated from death date on tombstone
1819
We know Andreas Kirsch was married to Margaretha Elisabeth Koehler from their children’s birth and baptismal records, the same way we know the identity of Andreas’s mother.
Sure enough, we find Andreas’s death record in 1819, in Fussgoenheim, in German, just like we expect. He was born and died there, so surely his son, Philip Jacob was born there as well.
It’s nice that we have 1819 taken care of, but what about that missing 1804 death record for his father, Elias Kirsch? If Andreas was born and died in Fussgoenheim, it’s likely that his father died there too.
The Source of the 1804 Record?
Since the Fussgoenheim records are absent for 1804, I couldn’t help but wonder where my German cousin who still lived in the region found that 1804 date. It wasn’t just an approximation, but an actual day, month and year. Those detailed dates, even if wrong, generally came from a specific source.
I searched in my records and filing cabinets and found nothing. And I mean I deep searched, like deep cleaning your house. Still, nothing.
Driving Me Batty
That missing 1804 source was driving me batty. I KNEW I had seen something, but what, where and when. I didn’t just make that death date up and it did not magically appear in my computer from the death-date-fairy one night while I slept.
Two days later, I found notes attached to a letter sent from that German cousin, Marliese in 2002 indicating that she had obtained at least some information from a retired cousin, Walter Schnebel in Fussgoenheim who was working on some related surnames. Walter, according to Marliese was a neighbor boy when she grew up in Fussgoenheim and his grandmother was a Koob. Hmmm, I wonder if Walter is still living…
Additionally, Marliese mentioned that a man named Friedrich Kirsch was writing a book but that he couldn’t help her. Another cousin, Hazel, mentioned in another letter in passing that she thought that Friedrich lived in California. I’d surely love to know who Friedrich is and if he finished that book.
Finally, my curiosity was satisfied – I knew why I recorded that date, but I still didn’t know the source, meaning where Marliese found it. I was trying to decide what to do with that date when I decided to search one more time online. New records do become available occasionally.
I searched at Ancestry for any Kirsch who died in 1804 and found a record not in Fussgoenheim, but in the Ludwigshafen records for Ruchheim. That’s odd.
I decided to take a look.
What? This can’t be right. These are French records. My French is rusty, but this definitely French.
Here’s the record. Tom wasn’t able to translate every word, but the gist is as follows:
Elias KIRSCH
Date of the Act: 16 Pluviose in 12th year of the French Republic or 6 February 1804.
Death Act No. 36
The 16th day of the month of Pluviose in the year 12 of the Republic, the Death Act of Elias KIRSCH…..the 15th Pluviose in the morning between 4 a.m. and 5 a.m. at the age of 71 years son of the late Michael KIRSCH and Margaretha his rightful? wife from the declaration made by Andreas KIRSCH, ? and farmer here……and Kristoph Braun…farmer …..
Klingenburger, mayor and civil registrar. Mayor’s signature as well as signatures of Christoph Braun and Andreas Kirsch.
I can’t believe that Tom can read this at all, especially in a third foreign language. He’s amazing! Even after he translated the contents, I had to ask him which signature was Andreas Kirsch’s.
How cool is this! What was surely a sad day for Andreas as he signed his father, Elias’s death record is a boon for me today because I now have Andreas’ signature. Something very personal left by him 215 years ago at a turning point in his life.
But French? How is a death record for a German man in Germany written in French? Can this be right?
Is this the correct Elias and Andreas Kirsch?
French?
Finding this record triggered a very vague memory from about 30 years ago.
When Elke, my translator at that time, was translating records from this family group – we found a page of script in the Lutheran Reformed church book, I believe from Mutterstadt, a neighboring village.
That cover page didn’t resemble the format of any of the other pages, and it may have been in the front of the book.
At that time, I was copying the pages from the Family History Center and sending them snail mail to Elke, about 20 pages at a time or so.
She would then read and translate any records with my family surnames in them, generally printing the translation by hand and attaching her translated page to the copied page I had sent her. Then she would return the entire packet with a letter which was like a Christmas gift with every arrival.
I don’t remember if Elke actually translated that cover page, or if she told me what it said when we were talking on the phone, but I remember that she thought it was interesting. The essence of what I remember about that church-book entry was jaw dropping at the time.
The old handwritten letter, in German script of course, addressed to no one in particular and everyone in the future said that the people (residents, parishioners) had crossed over the Rhine “once again” and were scattered. The few people left behind had been admonished to seek comfort where they could and to have their children baptized and their dead buried, even by the Catholics, if they could find any, because that was better in the eyes of God than nothing. Then, the letter said that, God willing, they would one day return to their village and farms and take their church book home with them to rebuild – not knowing if there would be anything left at all.
From this, I understood that the church book went with the minister, in his possession, and was not left behind in the church. Clearly, that book was significant to the minister as well as the church members – probably representing one thing preserved from the past and hope for the future. It may have been the only item from their village that survived. Invading armies were brutal and burned almost everything, leveling the landscape.
The words “once again” peaked my curiosity. Looking at the history of this region, the Rhine River acted as a road, bringing trade, but also foreign armies. Warfare was a fact of life.
In other records that Elke translated, I did notice some German, then French, then German again – but at that time, it didn’t really affect me, or at least I didn’t think it did.
I figured it was like any people living close to a border. Many people are multi-lingual. All of Europe is close to a border, so I didn’t think much more about it.
The real reason was much more alarming.
War
In essence, the left (west) bank of the Rhine was controlled by France from 1792 to 1815. During this time, the French introduced the concept of Civil Registration, as opposed to the church records being defacto civil records.
Given that Elias died in 1804, he had been caught up in the middle of the French/German drama and occupation in his elder years. Clearly, he hadn’t left, because he died on the French side of the Rhine, which is why his death record is in French.
This also explains why so many church records from the late 1700s to 1816 are missing as well. Not to mention that any church books taken across the Rhine may have never found their way back home.
French Names
The French record keepers did us the “favor” of translating the names from German names to French names. For example, Philip Jacob became Philippe Jacques. Johannes became Joan in French and other similar changes.
In other words, those records could have been hiding right there in plain sight – but I never paid any attention because the name and associated record was French, not German and the location wasn’t Fussgoenheim. I had no idea that the French had imposed a different type of civil registration and redistricted governmental administration in a more typical French manner. Ludwigshafen’s administrative district included Ruchheim which includes Fussgoenheim records.
Understanding the history of the region where our ancestors lived is so important to understanding the lives of our ancestors – and their records.
Hmmm, if Elias’ death record was in these “misplaced” records, which other missing records might we find here as well?
Philip Jacob Was Born Philipp(e) Jacques
Once I began searching differently and thinking in French, I found a treasure trove of records.
As you can see, there are lots of Kirsch records in Ruchheim.
On August 8, 1806, we find Philip Jacob masquerading as Philipp Jacques Kirsch born to Andre, which is really Andreas and Marguerithe Elisabethe who is really Margaretha Elisabetha. It seems odd to see those German names under the influence of the French – like kids playing dressup.
Of course, the Germans were probably very displeased by this turn of events and their new French names just rubbed salt in the wound. I’m sure they couldn’t wait until they could shed their new Frenchness like so many dirty clothes.
The Ruchheim records do include Fussgoenheim, so this Philipp Jacques in Ludwigshafen/Ruchheim is actually Philip Jacob from Fussgoenheim.
In his birth record, Fussgoenheim is even underlined in red in the original book.
Here’s the translation, again, courtesy of Tom:
No. 96
The year 1806, the 8th of August at 10 A.m. came before me the mayor and civil registrar of the community of Fussgonheim, mayor of Sougheim? and declared: Andre KIRSCH, laborer, age 35 years, resident of the said Fussgonheim and presented an infant of the male sex born today at 3 a.m. of the said Marguerithe Elisabethe KOEHLER, his wife and given the names of Philippe Jacques (Philip Jacob). The declaration was made in the presence of Francois Joel, laborer, age 26 and Andre Stein, Jr., 28, both residents of Fussgonheim, who signed the document below and it was read alound.
Klingeberger, Mayor
Franz Jehl
Andreas Stein, Junger
Glory be, Philip Jacob Kirsch was actually born as Philippe Jacques. That’s one secret he never told!
I love the detail included in this record. We don’t have godparents listed like we did in church records, but we know that Philippe Jacques was born at 3AM. The ages of other people involved are provided too, which may help other genealogists, although Andreas’s age is only approximate. He was actually 32 at that time.
The missing marriage records weren’t found. The mother’s birth surnames were provided through the children’s baptisms, so we filled in those blanks another way.
However, discovering two of four missing records is wonderful.
Surprise
Just when I thought I’d already been surprised by every trick move possible! I don’t quite know how to prepare for unexpected events like when your rye bread crumbs transform into baguettes. One thing is for sure, my ancestors never fail to disappoint.
I sometimes wonder if the ancestors are having a boring day, sitting on some clouds together in the hereafter, and plotting.
“Hmmm, what curve ball haven’t we thrown her yet?”
“I’ve got it – let’s just change languages to something different, for no apparent reason.”
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Sometimes, when you’re researching your family, you discover something that just doesn’t seem right.
Just doesn’t make sense.
Over time, things begin to feel odd.
Pieces that don’t fit.
Or pieces that are missing…that shouldn’t be missing
That’s what happened with Hendrik Ferwerda, born to Bauke Hendrick Ferwerda and Geertje Harmens de Jong on October 5, 1857 in Eernewoude,Tietjerksteradeel, Friesland, Netherlands. Continue reading →
Steps up to microphone at the podium, alone, on stage (in this case, a blog article.)
The press corps is gathered (readers) and the lights are bright, white hot and glaring. (Who turned the heat up anyway?)
Shuffles nervously.
“Ahem.” <clears throat>
From offstage someplace, “We’re live in 4, 3, 2, 1…”
“I’d like to take this opportunity to update the birth announcement of Andreas Kirsch with new and improved parents.”
Cough. Choke. Sputter.
Every genealogists nightmare, right?
Who is Andreas Kirsch?
As new records become available, of course genealogists want copies, and that sometimes means that we have to revisit previous conclusions based on earlier information. All genealogists know that a new piece of information can turn a previous conclusion up-side-down – or at least complicate things or cast serious doubt.
No one wants to be wrong, but I’m oh so grateful when someone finds something new or that was previously unknown or missed and points it out to me. I do admit, I always have a “well, drat” moment, but I really think these are teachable events for myself and others as well. At least, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it!
I wrote about Andreas Kirsch of Fussgoenheim, Germany and in that article, I had stated that I could not find his actual baptismal record, but we did have his purported birth date from other indexed records.
Church records in Fussgoenheim, such as marriage records of Andreas’ children showed that Andreas was indeed the father of our immigrant, Philip Jacob Kirsch and his sister, Anna Margaretha Kirsch who married Johann Martin Koehler who immigrated as well. In Anna Magaretha’s 1821 marriage record, it states that she is the daughter of “the deceased Andreas Kirsch and his surviving wife Elisabeth Koehler, present and consenting.” Of course, this not only tells us who her parents are, but that her father has died and her mother is still living.
Later, Philip Jacob Kirsch’s own marriage record provided his parents’ names:
Philip Jacob Kirsch, the legitimate unmarried son of the deceased couple, Andreas Kirsch and Margaretha Koehler and Katharina Barbara Lemerth, the legitimate unmarried daughter of the deceased local citizen Jacob Lemmerth and his surviving wife Gertrude Steiger, both of protestant religion.
We’re home free, right? Yes, as far as who the parents of Philip Jacob Kirsch are, but maybe not relative to the identity of Andreas’s parents. We really do need that missing baptismal record.
New Information
My introduction to my German friend Chris was when he pointed out that additional records had become available and there was more than one Andreas Kirsch in Fussgoenheim. Not only that, but the Andreas born in 1772 might not actually be an Andreas at all!
Who was this Chris guy I’d never heard of before anyway? Was he right? Were there really two Kirsch men whose records were intermingled? I didn’t want to believe that. I didn’t even want to consider that. Do you know how many ancestors I’d have to chop off my tree if the wrong man was attached?
And yes, you’ve guessed it, I had identified the “wrong” Kirsch birth record back in the 1980s when my translator was reading and translating these records page by page. Many Fussgoenheim records are missing, and not all remaining records had been microfilmed at that time. Many had been terribly water damaged or torn and the microfilm image quality itself was poor. These factors combined prove very challenging and cause errors to occur.
Chris discovered the mistake and had the misfortune of getting to tell me. I took it pretty well, all things considered. Chris is such a nice person, but I was upset because I’d fallen in love with those families that I fully believed were mine over the past 30 years. But Chris’s information was compelling, and there was simply no ignoring his research – no consigning it to the sidelines. It was in-your-face front and center and had to be dealt with.
I was very unhappy – but not with Chris. With myself. With the genealogical “condition” in general which of course periodically includes discoveries of errors past, and with the bad fortune of the combination of missing/damaged and confusing records.
It’s like I had written my ancestors obituary some 198 years after his death with the wrong parents and now, I had to somehow straighten it out and correct the error.
Crumb! Crumb! Crumb!
Chris Unravels the Mess
I’m providing Chris’s commentary here to illustrate his meticulous (successful) search methodology. Please note that Chris was working from much better record copies obtained from Archion.de, but Archion doesn’t allow their images to be published. The one image I’ve included is from the original Fussgoenheim church book obtained many years ago from the Family History Center.
From Chris (edited slightly for readability and clarity):
For some reason today, I thought back about your post on the Kirsch family from Fussgoenheim. So, being the curious person I am, I went back to the records, with some surprise to wait for me. I think you will like it!
I planned to have a look at the baptism record of your Andreas Kirsch on 10 August 1772. I found a baptism record for a Kirsch relative at the right date, but it was not an Andreas, but a Johannes that was baptized this day! The parents of this Johannes, however, were the ones you have listed in your article as the parents of Andreas; Johann Valentin Kirsch and Anna Margaretha Kirsch.
I was a bit puzzled, why a child named “Johann Andreas” or even only “Andreas” later on should not be written as such in the baptism entry. As you point out yourself in your article, Johann was such a common name at this time, that I thought they definitely would have written the second name “Andreas” as well. So I went on.
Further down in your article you mentioned that “your” Andreas Kirsch was buried in 1819. So I checked the burial entry.
“Am 20. May starb und am 22. ejusdem ward begraben der hiesige Bürger Andreas Kirsch, Ehemann von Margaretha Elisabetha Köhler, in einem Alter von 45 J., 3 Mon. und 14 Tag.”
My translation: “On the 20th of May died and on the 22nd of the same month was buried the local citizen Andreas Kirsch, husband of Margaretha Elisabetha Köhler, at age 45 years, 3 months and 14 days.”
Again, the listed wife of this Andreas Kirsch is the one you note in your post as well, but if you calculate back from the death date 20 May 1819 with the age at death, you do not end up in 1772, but rather on 6 February 1774.
So, again I went back to the baptism records and find one on this very day for an Andreas Kirsch. Please note that the parents (in the first column) are not the ones you have in your post, but an Elias Kirsch and his wife and Anna Elisabetha. The second column notes the child`s name Andreas, the third column the witnesses Andreas Kirsch and Maria Katharina, third column: birth date 6 February 1774, fourth column date of baptism 8 February.
In summary, I think that your cousin Walter was right to link the Johannes Kirsch born in 1772 with a wife Maria Catharina Koob, while you were right linking the Andreas Kirsch born in 1774 with the wife Margaretha Elisabetha Köhler.
However, these men, Johannes and Andreas, were not one and the same. I had selected the wrong one as my ancestor, mistaking Johannes for Andreas. No, I really don’t know how, but it happened.
Andreas’ wife is confirmed as Margaretha Elisabetha Koehler but his father, based on Andreas’ death record, followed by Chris finding Andreas’ actual baptismal record, shown above, was Elias Kirsch, wife Anna Elisabetha who had no birth surname listed.
Who was Andreas’ mother?
Identifying Andreas’ Mother
My friend and cousin Tom discovered more about Andreas’ mother. Her name wasn’t exactly Anna Elisabetha.
Parents: Joh. Theobald KOOB and his wife, Maria Catharina, a daughter was baptized and named:
Susanna Elisabeth
Godparents: Johann Andreas Kirsch & Anna Elisabeth, widow of the late mayor (village elder), Koob.
Fussgönheim Evangelical Church Records
Susanna Elisabetha had been shortened to Anna Elisabetha during her lifetime.
Now I’m paranoid. Are we sure this is the right person?
Tom found more records that suggest strongly that yes, indeed, it was. The records of Elias Kirsch and his wife baptizing their children hold clues in terms of who the godparents were, especially the record where Emanual Koob is noted as the mother’s brother.
A daughter was baptized and named: Maria Catharina
Godparents: Johann Theobald Koob, the juror and wife, Maria Catharina
Born: the 30th of September 1772 Baptized: the 30th of the same
Clearly, Elias and Anna Elisabetha were very close to the Koob family members.
Sawed Off Branch
It was painful, but I did it – sawed that rotten branch right off the tree and grafted the correct information. The grafting felt therapeutic after the removal.
Andreas Kirsch was born on February 6, 1774 and baptized two days later in Fussgoenheim to Elias Kirsch (1733-1804) and Susanna Elisabetha Koob (born June 1731). It feels good (now) to know I have the right ancestor. Andreas died on May 20, 1819, also in Fussgoenheim, but I don’t have a death date for Susanna.
I removed the erroneous conclusions from the first Andreas Kirsch article and will post a link to this article there as well.
A huge thank you and debt of gratitude to both Chris and Tom. I’m sure Andreas’ is resting easier now that he’s connected to the right parents.
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Edith Barbara Lore Ferverda with son Harold Lore Ferverda about 1920 or 1921 with the crossroads “downtown” of Silver Lake, Indiana that consisted of a building on each of the 4 corners in the background.
My grandmother, Edith Barbara Lore was born on August 2, 1888 and died on January 4, 1960. Today, I’m celebrating what I feel is a landmark aspect of her life on this, the 59th anniversary of her passing over.
John and Edith Lore Ferverda, 1959
Life in Northern Indiana in 1920
The Presidential election of November 1920 marked the first time that women were provided with the right to vote (nationally) in the US. My grandmother, Edith, would celebrate her 12th wedding anniversary to John Ferverda on November 17th that year. She would have been 32 years old at the time, with a son who would turn 5 on November 24th.
Her husband, John Ferverda, owned the local hardware store in Silver Lake, Indiana, F&F, short for Ferverda and Frye. Edith and John were members of the local Methodist Church. John’s parents who lived a few miles up the road were Brethren, although apparently much less conservative than most Brethren of the time, judging by the fact that three of their sons served in WWI. Edith’s father had passed away, but her mother by 1920 had remarried and had moved to Chicago with her husband.
All in all, Edith seemed to blend in to the conservative heartland of Indiana “near-the-farm” life. While John and Edith did not own a farm, aside from chickens, they lived in a crossroads town that consisted of only 452 people in 165 households according to the 1920 census (yes, I counted), which meant that they were surrounded on all sides by farms and farm culture – which clearly flavored the atmosphere of tiny Silver Lake.
It was then and remains now a small, sleepy community where the local drive-in root-beer stand, the lake and the neighbors provided the only entertainment, outside of church of course.
At that time the B&K rootbeer stand, the drive-in on State Road 15 on the north side of town across from the Marathon Gas Station still remains. The cemetery, where virtually everyone in Silver Lake, including Edith, is buried is a block or so behind the gas station, towards the lake. I remember stopping at the rootbeer stand after visiting my grandparents’ graves. You also passed the cemetery and said a “drive-by” hello to any relatives reposing there on the way to swim at Silver Lake.
At that time, the cottages around the lake were separated from the town itself by the cemetery and a few farms which have been developed at least somewhat now. After all, the population of Silver Lake has doubled and the people have to live someplace.
It was into this community that Edith had moved from Rushville, Indiana after marrying John Ferverda. Rushville was significantly larger, with trips often to both Indianapolis and Cincinnati, vibrant centers of commerce and culture compared to Silver Lake.
Edith’s mother, Nora Kirsch Lore, started and owned a tailoring business after Edith’s father passed away, and Edith’s grandmother, Barbara Drechsel Kirsch, in 1920, hadn’t yet retired as the proprietor of the Kirsch House in Aurora, Indiana.
I’ve often wondered how Edith actually felt about settling in a small, extremely conservative town in the midst of a Brethren/Mennonite community.
Anabaptist Conservative Culture
Mennonite and Brethren wives didn’t work outside the home. They were identified with their husbands. When their names were mentioned, it was almost always as “Mrs. John Doe,” not as Jane Doe. They joined women’s church clubs of like-minded women and birthed lots of children to help with farm chores. These women worked hard on the farms, plus cooked, cleaned and took care of the ill.
I don’t know whether they liked or were happy with their lives or not. It’s doubtful that they gave that much consideration because it’s not like there were any other options, and their conservative church/family life is what they had been raised to revere. The words “obey’ were still in all wedding vows and were taken literally by both genders.
But not Edith. She had been raised in a culture of strong women, brazenly independent for their time, and had married into the Brethren culture.
I don’t know if Edith’s husband was “dismissed” from the Brethren Church for marrying an outsider, but regardless, he and Edith joined the Methodist Church in Silver Lake where they were life members.
The Methodists were somewhat less restrictive than the Brethren, but the conservative culture ran strong throughout the region.
Few women “worked,” at least outside the home, and for the most part, it was the perception and possibly the reality that the only women who worked were those who “had to,” implying that somehow their husbands weren’t manly enough or successful enough to support their families. If your wife worked, it was a slap in your face and implied some very “un-nice” things about you as a man.
In addition to their jobs, working women still had the same responsibilities at home, just much less time in which to accomplish everything. They generally didn’t garner the compassion of other women, who somehow felt that they “deserved” their fate and looked down upon them for working.
Edith worked anyway, as a bookkeeper, beginning in 1925, if not before. She literally worked from then, through the depression when there was no other family income, until just a few days before her death in 1960. Edith did what she needed to do for her family and God help anyone who got in her way.
Women’s Suffrage
This is the backdrop against which I’ve wondered how Edith felt about Women’s Suffrage. Women obtained the right to vote in August of 1920.
Did Edith vote in the 1920 Presidential election in which Republican Warren Harding won? If so, did she vote Republican or Democratic? Given how strongly Republican Kosciusko County was at that time, along with her husband’s strong political leaning, I’m guessing that I know which way she voted, assuming she voted.
I’ve speculated that indeed, she probably did vote because she was always a woman with an opinion and not afraid to speak her mind, in SPITE of where she lived and regardless of who approved, or not.
I’m not sure I’ve ever really appreciated Edith’s bravery under the circumstances. Social ostracization is a powerful deterrent, especially in a small town where it’s easy to become a minority of 1. Reading the local Indiana newspapers over the past several days as I’ve been sidelined by the winter crud has made me appreciate the life she led and the woman she chose to be.
The Election
It was in the Warsaw Union Newspaper, serving the 12,000 residents of Kosciusko County that I found clear evidence of Edith’s involvement in the election process – and the fact that she was indeed working at least episodically before 1925.
As it turns out, Edith was appointed to serve as clerk for Lake Township’s second precinct for the Special Election to be held on September 6, 1921.
Not only was Edith selected to serve on the Special Election board as Clerk, but Edith was NOT addressed as Mrs. John Ferverda, using her own first name. In later editions of the paper referring to the election and beyond, she was (generally) listed as Edith L. Ferverda.
When she married, Edith replaced her middle name of Barbara with her maiden name of Lore. For 1908, that was a radical way to preserve your birth surname and make a subtle statement. I think she would be proud of her granddaughter who retains her birth surname as well.
One of the ballot issues, as you might have guessed, had to do with women’s rights to vote.
On JStor, the Journal Article “Amendments to State Constitutions 1919-21”, pages 251 and 252, provides the following information about the special Indiana Constitutional Election:
And lastly, this…
Indiana ratified the 19th Amendment to the US Constitution, giving women the right to vote on January 16, 1920, following the proposal for the 19th Amendment proposed in Congress on June 4, 1919. The amendment didn’t become federal law until August 18, 1920 with Tennessee being the deciding state to ratify the constitutional amendment.
So, how did the 1921 Indiana Special Election go?
Early returns on September 6th weren’t very positive.
At 2:30 on election day, it seemed that few voted. Women seemed indifferent, but perhaps those who didn’t want to vote, wouldn’t regardless of the Constitution, and those who did care had already gained that right.
Certainly, in Kosciusko County, there were very few non-naturalized females, if any. The topic probably wasn’t terribly relevant. The legislation was apparently in response to the recent war – or perhaps it was an attempt to limit the number of women voters. It would be interesting to understand why a separate amendment would be required if the law regarding citizenship was already in place for men. In 1851, in Indiana, section 2 of the Indiana Constitution read:
Section 2. In all elections, not otherwise provided for by this Constitution, every white male citizen of the United States, of the age of twenty-one years and upwards, who shall have resided in the State during the six months immediately preceding such election; and every white male, of foreign birth, of the age of twenty-one years and upwards, who shall have resided in the United States one year, and shall have resided in the State during the six months immediately preceding such election, and shall have declared his intention to become a citizen of the United States, conformably to the laws of the United States on the subject of naturalization; shall be entitled to vote, in the township or precinct where he may reside.
Regardless of disparity, if any in 1921, between males and females, the amendment was passed, but county-wide interest seemed light, according to the Sept. 7th paper.
Only about 2.5% of the county population voted. The “tax amendment” was the least popular of any.
On a national level, today, noncitizens cannot vote in federal elections, but states control who can vote in state and local elections. Back in the 1700s and 1800s, vast tracts of land were available for homesteading and voting rights had been extended to immigrants who had filed their intention to become citizens in order to attract people by letting them know they could have a hand in deciding their own future. Territories needed to attract people to settle those lands in order to have sufficient population to become states, and states needed to have their land settled and cultivated as well, producing taxable revenue.
Edith, Leadership by Example
We will never know how Edith voted in the privacy of the voting booth, but her involvement in 1921, so soon after women obtained the right to vote tells me one thing positively. Edith was no wall-flower.
I imagine Edith walking up to the voting booth on that first election day in November of 1920, perhaps amid disproving stares, maybe with her child in tow, among all men, and voting anyway. A small but tiny act of protest. Then deciding that SHE would be the woman there to welcome future women and sealing the legitimacy of women in the polling place. Edith perhaps knew that the best was to effect permanent and positive change was through encouragement – that old honey versus vinegar adage.
Edith’s immediate involvement in the electoral process almost assures us that she DID vote, and DID care, and DID what she could in the time and place she lived to make a difference. Her name was in the newspaper, so EVERYBODY knew. She was the face of women in the polling place, the silent, or maybe not-so-silent, example for others. Encouraging participation. Encouraging involvement. Encouraging women to step out and step up to the polling booth – and to vote. They knew at least one woman, Edith Lore Ferverda, would be there to greet them with a warm reassuring smile and show them what to do – how to exercise their constitutional right to vote.
Women setting examples and encouraging other women was critically important, with the small steps of thousands paving the way 98 years later for the swearing in this week of the 116th class of Congress, the most diverse we’ve ever seen as a country.
I like to think that in some small way, in the tiny community of Silver Lake, where Edith was front and center in Indiana’s 1921 Special Constitutional Election, willing to be present in the polling location, and the voting booth, seen and heard, that she in some way helped with the forward, positive momentum that set the stage for the day when women didn’t just serve as clerks, but in elected positions. Currently, 23.7% of the members of Congress are women, with 25% in the Senate and 23.4% of the House of Representatives.
Nearly a century is a long time, but I think Edith would be proud to watch the swearing in ceremony that just occurred. What a wonderful way to celebrate her passing-over anniversary. I’m incredibly proud to be her granddaughter and thankful for those old newspapers that revealed a previously unknown chapter in my grandmother’s life.
The journey of 1000 miles (or a hundred years) begins with a single step.
Edith, your small steps and public example were not in vain. Thank you!
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Hiram (Harmen Bauke) Ferverda (Ferwerda) at left, Henry (Hendrik) Ferverda at right, assuming the Ferverda booklet is labeled correctly.
Hiram Bauke Ferverda was my mother’s grandfather. Since today would be my mother’s 96th birthday if she were still with us, I’ll let her introduce you – just like she introduced me.
Mother and I were visiting on the blustery spring morning of March 3, 2002, while drinking coffee or tea at her kitchen table, plotting our genealogy adventures for the upcoming months. Those were the days, and I miss them!
Mom said, “Grandfather Ferverda came over with his brother from Holland. They had a disagreement and the brother went up by Nappanee near or among the Amish. Mawmaw and Pawpaw [Hiram and Eva Miller Ferverda] weren’t Amish, but she did wear the hat on her head. She wasn’t among the real strict sect.”
That’s the first I had heard of any of this.
Mom was right. According to immigration records, Hiram, along with his parents and brother, Hendrick, known as Henry, immigrated from the Netherlands.
But Amish? Mennonite? Hat on her head? What was that all about?
And so began the Ferverda quest.
Meet Yvette Hoitink
Before I go any further with this story, I have to take a minute and introduce Yvette Hoitink, a Dutch professional genealogist. The Dutch records for this family are available because of her diligent research. I love her reports as well. Oh, how I love those reports!! They are concise and chocked full of information, complete with images of the document, a translation and source information. Even if I could find the records myself, I can’t read them.
If it’s a Dutch ancestor in my family, I absolutely guarantee you that Yvette is involved as a research partner. And no, this is not a paid announcement, it’s my unending gratitude for an amazing friend (that I met thanks to a blog article) and a job well done.
Let’s dive right in!
Neither Hiram nor Ferverda
Ferverda family records in Indiana provided Hiram’s birth date, which was verified by Yvette. But that’s it, all we had about Holland. No location, nothing else. We didn’t even know Hiram’s mother’s name, or, as it turns out, his real name.
Hiram was born, according to Dutch records, on September 21, 1854 in Hiaure, Westdongeradeel, The Netherlands, to Bauke Hendrick(s) Ferverda (known as Henry in the US) and Geertje Harmens de Jong.
The original birth record is shown below, and the first thing that pops out at me is that the surname is spelled Ferwerda in Holland. In the US, Hiram’s line spelled their surname Ferverda and his brother, Henry’s line spelled it Fervida. No one on this side of the pond spelled it Ferwerda! In fact, I initially thought those records were misinterpreted (meaning the handwriting), but they aren’t. The surname probably changed to the phonetic pronunciation here in the US.
Birth record of Harmen Ferwerda, born Westdongeradeel September 21, 1854
Yvette provided the following translation:
In the year one thousand eight hundred fifty-four, the twenty-third of the month of September appeared before us, Zijtse Sijbouts de Haan, mayor, clerk of the civil registration of the municipality of Westdongeradeel province Friesland:
Bauke Hendriks Ferwerda aged twenty-four years, head teacher, living in Hiaure, who declared to us that on the twenty-first of this month of September, at half past ten in the evening, in Hiaure, was born a child of the male sex from him declarer and his wife Geertje Harmens de Jong, aged twenty-five years, without occupation living with him which child he declares to give the first name of Harmen.
Said statement occurred in the presence of Oene Klazes Hofman, aged fifty-four years, cow milker living in Hiaure and of Egbert Oebeles Kijlstra, aged thirty-nine years, clerk at the “secretarie” [municipal administration] living in Ternaard.
Of which we have created this record, that, after having been read aloud, was signed by us, the declarer and the witnesses.
[signed]
B H Ferwerda
O: K Hofman
E O Kijlstra
ZS de Haan
Source: “Netherlands, Civil Registration, 1792-1952”, Familysearch (https://familysearch.org : accessed 29 August 2012), digital image, “Geboorten 1851-1856” [Births 1851-1856], Westdongeradeel (Friesland, The Netherlands), p. 66 reverse; Birth record of Harmen Ferwerda.
Look at Bauke’s beautiful signature!
Not only do we discover that the surname is spelled differently, we also discover that Hiram’s name was originally given as Harmen, his mother’s middle name which was her paternal grandmother’s birth surname. Harmen’s parent’s names are provided, along with their ages and his father’s occupation. Not only that, but he was born at half past 10 in the evening. How many of us know what time we were born today?
I decided right on the spot when I saw these records that I loved Dutch record-keeping.
Visiting my Dutch Homeland
In 2014, both as a result of Yvette’s work, and with Yvette, I was fortunate enough to visit many of my ancestral Dutch locations in what amounted to a whirlwind tour.
Additionally, my Ferverda cousin, Cheryl and my husband, Jim, rounded out our foursome and did we EVER have a good time. We also worked with the wonderful staff at the Friesland branch of the Dutch National Archives in Leeuwarden, named Tresoar. If that name sounds a lot like treasure to you, there’s a reason and yes, it is indeed full of treasure – both in terms of their records and wonderful employees who we now count among our friends.
Ummm….maybe I should explain…
The Dutch really go all out celebrating King’s Day on his birthday, April 27th. Everything shuts down, all public offices are closed and a huge nationwide party takes place. We were accidentally present for the first King’s Day, which changed from the previous Queen’s Day when the Queen’s eldest son, William Alexander became King. The King is a member of the “House of Orange” and let’s just say we wanted to fit in with the locals – and we did. After all, we’re Dutch, right? Yes, there’s obviously a story behind this and yes, eventually, I’ll tell – but not today😉
I’ll be sharing lots photos of the locations where my Dutch family lived and relevant history in this and several upcoming articles.
Hamlet and Record Confusion
Many locations in the Netherlands are very small hamlets. Often records indicate ancestors living in the larger region but don’t give the name of the tiny village. It’s a bonus to find the village name and Yvette is persistent.
For example, Hiaure is a small hamlet in the larger, now extinct, region of Westdongeradeel, now Dongeradeel, which is an administrative district that includes several hamlets, villages and towns.
Additionally, there may be several places in the Netherlands, even in Friesland with the same name. For example, there are about 5 different towns, hamlets and villages with the name of Oudega. In my case, the Oudega I would have assumed, just about 3 miles from another location the family lived, is not at all the Oudega where they moved. All I can say is thank goodness for Yvette or I would have fallen directly into that tar pit.
Another complication for my family is that they didn’t do what families are supposed to do. (Now there’s a surprise – NOT.)
Ancestors are supposed to marry in the town where they were raised. Stay there. Have children there. Marry someone of their own religion. Have their children baptized in the same church with the baptism witnessed by other family members. Don’t move around, and don’t marry across the country from where their first wife died. And don’t, absolutely DO NOT, no matter what else, marry someone of a religion that does NOT KEEP RECORDS.
Oh, and don’t change your name either, first or last and certainly not both. Just sayin’…
Yep, Hiram Ferverda’s father did ‘em all.
Hiaure
Welcome to Hiaure!
You can see a short video clip of Hiaure in this YouTube video.
As with all Dutch towns and villages, the church is located on the highest point of land, a small mound called a terp, because the cemetery lies in the churchyard and the Netherlands is an extremely low, meaning wet, country.
Compared to the countryside of the US, Europe is a very small place with limited land. There’s an old saying that the US has land, but Europe has history. In every square foot, I might add.
It’s quite common to be standing in one village and be able to see the church steeple of several churches by turning and looking in various directions. Those churches are the center of yet another village. This is true even in very small villages. Today, Hiaure has about 65 residents and that probably hasn’t changed much since Hiram was born there.
Because the Netherlands is so low, much of the country is reclaimed either from the sea or extreme lowlands. Windmills furnish wind-power to pumps and are commonplace scenes across the landscape.
This photo, taken close to Hiaure as we drove through the Dutch countryside is a typical Dutch scene. Today, it’s also not unusual to see wind turbines generating electricity in addition and sometimes side by side with older traditional windmills. Note the windmill in the clearing to the right of the house.
Village life centered around the church. Children were baptized there, families attended services, marriages took place, as did funerals. After the funeral service, parishioners walked outside and buried the person in close proximity to the church – sometimes in a grave the family owned, used and reused for generations.
As you can see, the Hiaure church is located on a small “terp” or raised area, the highest location in the village. One does not want to strike water when digging graves.
Hiram’s father was a school teacher. A house was typically provided to the teacher as part of their salary and research suggests strongly that this small house is indeed where Hiram was born.
The current resident was very generous to allow us to visit the backyard as well.
Was this where Hiram played as a child? Possibly, but he probably wouldn’t have remembered because by the time his brother was born in October of 1857, when Hiram had just turned 3, they were living in Eernewoude.
The traditional barns, like the one shown above at right, would have been similar to what Hiram saw when he lived in Hiaure or elsewhere in the countryside.
The Dutch love gardens, and tulips, of course. Such old-world beauty and charm.
Sometime between Hiram’s birth and the birth of his brother, 3 years later, the family moved from Hiaure to Eernewoude, Tietjerksteradeel, Friesland, about 20 miles away, probably so that Bauke could accept a different teaching position.
However, in Eernewoude, Hiram’s young life would change forever.
Hiram and Hendrick Ferwerda
Hiram had a brother Hendrick, later known as Henry in the US, born in 1857 in the village of Eernewoude, Tietjerksteradeel, Friesland, and a sister Lysbertus, born November 12, 1859, probably in the same location.
You may notice location spelling disparities, which I find quite confusing. There is a difference between the languages of Dutch and Frisian, the common language spoken in Friesland, the northwesternmost province of the Netherlands. Most people living in Friesland understand and speak Dutch perfectly well, but not all Dutch people speak or understand Frisian, a west Germanic language.
The original spelling is shown as Eernewoude (Dutch) and the current spelling is Earnewald (Frisian), at least I think I have those right.
Eernewoude, as is recorded in the Ferwerda records, was then and remains today a small low-lying village with a 2017 population of around 409 people.
Hiram’s sister died on July 23, 1860 at 8 months of age, not quite 3 months before her mother perished on October 3rd, leaving Bauke with 6 year old Hiram (Harmen) and 3 year old Hendrick to raise alone.
Young Hiram would just have turned 6 years old less than two weeks before his mother died. He would surely have been old enough to remember both his sister’s and his mother’s deaths and funerals.
We don’t know why Geertje died, but the death notice placed in the newspaper by Bauke Ferwerda on October 12th and translated by Yvette reveals a lot:
Tonight at 9 ¼ hours died, after a very long but patient suffering, my beloved wife Geertje Harmens de Jong, in the yet youthful age of 31 years and 6 months, leaving me, after a comfortable union of almost 7½ years, two sons.
Eernewoude, 3 October 1860
Did their daughter die of something related to her mother’s death? Was her mother so ill that the child died? What malady related to the birth could have caused Geertje to suffer for nearly 11 months, killing her and the child both. I would think that infections or issues related to childbirth would be terminal much sooner than that. Whatever Geertje’s affliction, it clearly wasn’t contagious, because no other family members died.
Sadly, young Hiram would have seen his mother’s suffering.
We don’t know positively where Hiram’s mother, Geertje, is buried, but given that the family had been living in Eernwoude for several years, it’s very probable that both she and her daughter are buried in the churchyard there.
The church in Eernewoude was built in 1794, so this would have been where Hiram’s sister and mother’s funerals were both held and probably where they would have been buried as well unless there was a separate Mennonite cemetery which is unlikely.
Graves are reused in European countries after a few years, so the stones, if any ever existed for Geertje and the baby would no longer be preserved today. Perhaps the church records themselves record the location of the plots where they were buried, but that too is rare. It will have to be enough to know they are there someplace.
I would love to have been able to decorate Geertje and her daughter’s grave like this beautifully decorated Dutch grave on a little terp all its own. I so wanted to tell Geertje that her son did just fine. That I’m living proof and that she is my great-great-grandmother. To whisper that her little boy, Harmen, would become Hiram. That he sailed to America and became a leader in his community. That he too married an Anabaptist woman, just like she was. That we came back to find her. That she is not lost to us.
I was not able to visit this village, and I would not have been able to find her grave today, but she is there and I honor her none-the-less.
Rauwerderhem, Friesland, Netherlands
The Dutch population registers show that Hiram lived in Rauwerderhem between January 1, 1861 and Dec. 31, 1881. Another population register says that he lived here between 1854 and 1941. That’s surely true, just only a fraction of that time – and we don’t know exactly which fraction.
We know positively that Hiram had sailed to America long before 1881. In fact, we know that in May of 1863, the family had moved to Oudega.
Rauwerderhem as a region ceased to exist in 1984 and became Boarnsterhim which ceased to exist in 2014. Rauwerderhem includes several municipalities including Irnsum which is probably our clue as to when he lived there.
Oudega and a Step-Mother
Hiram’s father, Bauke, remarried on October 30, 1863, three years after his wife’s death, to Minke “Minnie” Gerb ens Van der Kooi. We know that Bauke moved to Oudega on May 6, 1863, several months before he married Minke. A year later, in 1864 when their first child was born, the family was still living in Oudega (Hemelumer Oldeferd), near the coast.
In 1866, Hiram’s father, Bauke, was listed as the head teacher there.
I wonder who cared for Hiram and Hendrick for the 3 years that Bauke Hendricks Ferwerda was a widower and teaching school. His older son, Hiram who had just turned 6 when his mother died was probably attending school, but assuredly the younger child was not.
A newspaper ad that Yvette discovered answers that question:
A few weeks after Geertje’s death, Bauke advertised for a housekeeper. Their first known housekeeper was Romkje Rintjes Dooijema, a 69-year-old widow who joined the family in July 1861. It is possible that they had a housekeeper before her, that did not live with the family. Romkje was in the household for two years, probably until Bauke’s second marriage in October 1863 to Minke Gerbens van der Kooi.
Hiram moved to Oudega with his father in May 1863 when he would have been 9 years old and lived there for the next four years.
We drove from Leeuwarden to Oudega which took about an hour. The Netherlands is connected by roads today, but in the 1860s and before, the Netherlands was a riverine country – connected by natural waterways and canals constructed strategically to drain the land. Boats tied loosely in canals are equivalent to second cars in the driveway here. You may well be able to get to town more quickly by water than by land.
While it appears that the residents of the Netherlands are in a constant battle with water, in reality, for the most part, they’ve learned to adapt and co-exist. In some cases, they have to tame the water, generally the sea, and they have to find ways to retain what little land they have.
Regardless of what they do, the Dutch are always innovative.
The church in Oudega was constructed in 1850, so would have been relatively new at the time that Hiram started attending with his father.
When they first arrived, Bauke, being the schoolteacher, would have been introduced around. He probably entered the church for the first time, holding his sons’ small hands in each of his larger ones as they made their way to a pew where they boys would have sat on either side of their father, probably fidgeting and squirming. A routine they likely repeated every Sunday.
Bauke was single and available, so any widows near the same age would have taken notice and maybe sat strategically nearby. Perhaps Minke Ger bens Van der Kooi sat nearby as well, exchanging furtive glances with the handsome schoolteacher widower.
Given that Bauke was a music teacher, perhaps he took a more active role in the church.
Bauke and both of his sons were listed on their emigration paperwork as Dutch Reformed, but both of Bauke’s wives were Mennonite. So maybe Minke wasn’t sitting in this church after all.
As with most Dutch churches, the cemetery surrounds the church.
Next to the church is the school and parsonage. Bauke would have likely lived in one of these buildings. It’s unclear from historical records which building was which at the time.
The building immediately next door looks like it might well have been the school, and the schoolmaster might well have lived here too.
It’s also possible that another structure stood at that time that does not remain today, in the part of the churchyard where Jim is standing, between the church and that brick building.
There is definitely space for another structure, but no physical evidence that one existed.
Regardless, this is where Hiram lived, attended church and played as a child, probably in the cemetery among the gravestones.
During the time the family lived in Oudega, Minnie and Bauke presented Hiram with 2 sisters, Lysbeth born August 21, 1864 and Geertje born May 15, 1867. Lysbeth died at sea during the August 1868 crossing. That must have been a heartbreaking, terrifying day, watching your child, or your 4-year-old sibling, slip beneath the waves – especially after having lost your mother and sister just a few years before. Did Hiram ever feel safe from death?
Minnie and Bauke would give Hiram two more sisters and a brother in the US.
When Did Hiram Emigrate?
On August 1, 1868, the Ferwerda family sailed for America, but Hiram may not have been with them. Did he arrive with his parents, or did he join the family later? He wouldn’t have been quite 14, but children then were trusted to travel alone at much younger ages than today.
Yvette provides the following information:
Lists of Overseas Emigrants:
Since 1848, the Dutch national government required each province to compile lists of emigrants each year. The government wanted to understand who was leaving and for what reasons. The lists were usually compiled by requesting lists of emigrants from each municipality. The municipality often based these lists on information in their population registers. If people failed to register their departure, their emigration may go unnoticed for some time and sometimes shows up in the lists years after the emigration took place.
1. Harmen Ferwerda
Information in the source:
The list of emigrants shows that Harmen Ferwerda emigrated from Wijmbritseradeel, Friesland in 1869. He was a 14-year-old baker’s apprentice and listed “geluk te zoeken” [finding happiness/luck] as his reason for departure. His destination was listed as North-America, precise location unknown. He was less well-to-do and had not paid poll tax the previous year.
Source: “Staten van Landverhuizers overzee” [Lists of overseas emigrants], Wijmbritseradeel, Friesland, Netherlands, 1869, p. 88-89; microfiche, Centraal Bureau voor Genealogie, The Hague; citing Nationaal Archief, Ministerie van Binnenlandse Zaken [Department of the Interior], afdeling Statistieken [Statistics department], record group 2.04.23.02, call number 26V
Analysis: The other emigrants from Wijmbritseradeel listed ‘to make a fortune’ or ‘amelioration of circumstances’ as reason to emigrate. To find “geluk” (happiness/luck) is an uncommon reason that is not mentioned elsewhere in the list. It may be that this reflects Harmen’s own choice of words.
2. Bauke Hendriks Ferwerda
Information from the source:
The list of emigrants shows that Bauke Hendriks Ferwerda emigrated from Hemelumer Oldephaert en Noordwolde, Friesland in 1868 with 1 wife and 4 children. His destination is listed as Minnesota. The record shows he was less well-to-do, with an annual income of fl.425 the previous year. The notes column states that he was married to a sister of Bergstra. This refers to the first emigrant named in the list of emigrants from Hemelumer Oldephaert en Noordwolde, Rimmer Johannes Bergstra. Several other emigrants in the list of emigrants from that municipality were also related to Rimmer Johannes Bergstra.
Source: “Staten van Landverhuizers overzee” [Lists of overseas emigrants], Hemelumer Oldephaert en Noordwolde, 1868, p. 69-70; microfiche, Centraal Bureau voor Genealogie, The Hague; citing Nationaal Archief, Ministerie van Binnenlandse Zaken [Department of the Interior], afdeling Statistieken [Statistics department], record group 2.04.23.02, call number 26V
Yvette’s note: No relationship between Bauke Hendriks Ferwerda’s second wife, Minke Gerbens van der Kooi, and Rimmer Johannes Bergstra is known at this stage. We could investigate this as this might lead to a better understanding of their reasons for emigrating. The way that the list mentions different relationships suggests that they traveled as a group.
The fact that Bauke and his wife have 4 children with them strongly suggests that Hiram was with them and did not make the trip, alone, later. There were only 4 children in total, including the child who died en route.
I wonder why Bauke and family decided to settle in Indiana. It looks like their original destination was Minnesota. Maybe they met someone en route who provided information that changed their minds.
The Elkhart County history book states that there was a group of Dutch that settled in this area, so the Ferwerda family was not the only family in the settlement group. I wonder how they selected Elkhart County, and why.
Checking others in the immigration group with Rimmer Johannes Bergstra (age 67) we find Dirk Peekes Hoogeboom who died in 1887 in Nappanee, Indiana, and is buried in the Union Cemetery where Hendrick Fervida and family are buried. The Union Cemetery is across the road from the Brethren Church. According to Find-A-Grave, a G. R. Bergstra was married to Kirk Hoogeboom, and the emigration record states that Hoogeboom is married to the daughter of Bergstra. Gerben Willems DeBoer was married to Anna (died 1911), a sister of Bergstra, and died in 1874. They are also buried in Union Cemetery. These people lived in the area where Bauke Ferwerda and family settled and provided tenuous ties to the old country.
A second group that was traveling with the Bergstra group from the same location in Holland settled in Grand Rapids, Michigan by 1870 and remained. Gosse Jans Molenaar, age 35, whose wife was the sister of Durk Jeremias Quarre, age 32.
More from Yvette:
Population registers
Population registers were retrieved for Bauke Hendriks Ferwerda and his son Harmen Ferwerda for the period covering their emigration.
Population registers were kept in the Netherlands since 1850, with some earlier local attempts. Population registers show who lived where in the municipality.
In the 19th century, a population register typically covered a period of 10 to 20 years, depending on the size of the municipality and the mobility of its inhabitants. This register was kept up to date, whenever somebody moved, died or was born their addition or removal from the household was noted. People were required to register whenever they moved into a municipality or moved out of a municipality.
Some population registers were arranged by address. In this case, when people moved, they were struck from the page of their previous address and added to the page of their new address. Other municipalities quickly changed to a system that arranged the population registers by household. In this case, addresses were struck and corrected every time a family moved.
Struck through names in the population register usually indicate one of two things:
The person died during the time period covered by the register
The person moved away.
All people not stricken through were apparently still living there at the end of the period covered by the register.
Populations give a very good insight in the composition of a household. However, because a population register covers a period of several years, not all people listed on the page may have lived there at the same time. Some people may have died or moved away before other people were born or moved in. Careful analysis of the dates is needed to draw conclusions about the composition of a household.
Hemelumer Oldeferd en Noordwolde 1860-1869
This population record shows the household of Bauke Hendriks Ferwerda. It covers the period 1860-1869 and shows that Bauke Hendriks Ferwerda arrived in Oudega in the municipality of Hemelumer Oldephaert en Noordwolde on 6 May 1863 together with his two sons Harmen and Hendrik. They had come from the municipality of Tietjerksteradeel. The record lists that Bauke married Minke Gerbens van der Kooi on 30 October 1863. She is listed as number 4. Subsequently, two children are born in 1864 (Lijsbert) and 1867 (Geertje).
Son Harmen Baukes Ferwerda leaves the parental home on 22 July 1867 to go to Rauwerdehem. He is also shown as incoming from Wijmbritseradeel on 17 July 1867, when he is added as nr. 8 to the household.
Source: Hemelumer Oldeferd en Noordwolde, Friesland, Netherlands, Bevolkingsregister [Population Register] 1860-1869, p. 88, household of Bauke Hendriks Ferwerda; microfiche, Centraal Bureau voor Genealogie, Den Haag, Netherlands
Analysis: the dates of Harmen Baukes Ferwerda’s departure and return do not add up, as he arrived back home 10 days before leaving it. Since his listing as number 8 is below that of his sister Geertje b. 18 May 1867, we can be sure he arrived back home after 18 May 1867. More analysis is needed in comparison with the Wymbritseradeel population register.
I wonder why Hiram left and went to Rauwerdehem and then Wijmbritseradeel. Yvette wondered too – and she found the answer!
Wymbritseradeel 1862-1880
The population register of Wolsum shows Harmen Baukes Ferwerda as living in the household of Johannes Jousma in Wolsum in the municipality of Wymbritseradeel. He arrived there from Irnsum on 20 November 1867.
Now that’s quite interesting. If Hiram left home of July 22, 1867 and stayed in Irnsum until November 20th of that year, where was he in Irnsum during that time? He was only 12 years old when he left and turned 13 that September. He certainly was living with a family, perhaps someone from his mother’s side of the family who was Mennonite?
Irnsum, today Jrnsum, was a Mennonite stronghold, known to be a center of Mennonite activity before 1600. Two Mennonite congregations originally existed, but one died out relatively early. The second joined the Mennonite conference in Friesland in 1695. In 1684, that congregation had a meeting house with stained glass windows, quite the exception to the traditional “very plain” lifestyle. In 1838 the membership was 83 and in 1871, 160.
This would have been the Mennonite church that Hiram probably attended in Irnsum during his 4 months living there.
A Baker’s Apprenticeship in Wolsum
We may not know who Hiram was living with and what he was doing in Irnsum for 4 months, but we do know more about the time he spent in Wolsum living with Johannes Jousma.
From Yvette:
Johannes Jousma was a baker and Harmen Baukes a “bakkersknecht” [baker’s hand]. The term ‘knecht’ was also used for apprentices, which translation would fit with his age (13). By comparing the arrival and departure dates of the other people in the household, Johannes Jousma is shown to have at most one apprentice at the time, sometimes none.
So, Hiram was apprenticing to be a baker. Fortunately, Wolsum was on our itinerary. It’s such a small “place” that we almost missed it, literally.
Our visit to Wolsum was just amazing, for several reasons. In fact, this was one of the highlights of the trip. Ironic that we nearly abandoned this stop because we couldn’t find this hamlet amid the maze of canals and waterways. I’m so glad my friends didn’t give up.
The Wolsum church on the raised terp. While Hiram would probably have attended this church regularly, none of our ancestors or family members are buried here. Or are they?
Yvette came up with a surprise and tells us that:
In the population register Harmen lived with baker Johannes Jousma (Anabaptist) and Pierkje de Jong (Dutch Reformed). I only now realize that Pierkje was his aunt! She was the daughter of Harmen Gerrits de Jong and Angenietje Wijtzes Houtsma and sister to Geertje Harmens de Jong. Therefore, given that Pierkje was Dutch Reformed, she would have attended this church and is likely buried here as well.
Amazing what is hidden away in the details of these records. Anabaptist connections keep popping up. Hiram would cross the ocean and eventually marry an Anabaptist women himself.
In the back of every church, we find a small unobtrusive building like the one shown below.
I thought these were sheds for the groundskeepers holding lawnmowers or perhaps supplies for digging graves, but that’s not at all the purpose for these generally nondescript structures. They are ossuaries for the bones encountered when the grave is dug for the next occupant. Any bones remaining are put into the ossuary and stacked with all of the other bones where the “ashes to ashes, dust to dust” process continues.
Now, I must admit, in locations where I know my ancestors or their family members are buried, I look longingly at these buildings. I know that their DNA is just laying there, but unavailable to me☹
In fact, I’m probably related to everyone in many small villages. No point crying over split-milk, or bone-dust, so let’s walk through this lovely village.
Flowers bloom everyplace in Holland in the spring, peeking through small spaces, seeking the sun.
Beautiful moss-covered walkway beside the church. I love these little peek-a-boo Dutch gardens. So inviting!
Looking across the fields. The next hamlet is always within view. The fence below isn’t between fields, but across a canal or waterway. We fence roads here, the Dutch fence canals.
Some hamlets are too small to even have a church.
One such place is named Fiifhus translated as “Five Houses,” for obvious reasons, within sight of Wolsum.
A one lane road reaches across the fields and canals in the direction of the tiny Five Houses where we were told the Wolsum baker once lived. Of course, we’re going!
A one car bridge and quaint, beautiful cottages greeted us.
It was here, in 5 Houses, officially a part of Wolsum because the two hamlets shared the church, that Hiram served his apprenticeship with Johannes Jousma.
Five Houses was located at the end of the little dead end one-vehicle-wide “road” that ended beyond the 5th house. The street looked more like a walkway and we weren’t sure we were supposed to drive there, or could turn around, so we parked at the end and walked.
The people in Wolsum told us that the “old baker” had lived in Fiifhus. There were literally 5 houses originally and only one more today, all lined up in a row across from the canal. The “road” in the 1860s to 5 Houses was the canal by boat.
Wood decays quickly in the Netherlands which is why most structures are built of brick. Stone is scarce in this lowland country. Note the moss growing on the fence. It grows everyplace.
Cheryl, always shy (humor), began talking to people and asking questions. Fortunately, Yvette and some of the Frisian-speaking archives staff were along to help with translation, although most Dutch people speak at least some English.
The residents were amazingly friendly and as interested in us as we were in their little village. In the Netherlands, many residences were both a house and a barn, combined. This one was built, remodeled or at least roofed in 1871. The house portion for the people is much smaller than the barn portion, which is typical.
We continued walking along the canal, on the left, below.
It was absolutely amazing to stand where we knew Hiram had stood, in his footsteps, and I mean exactly, daily, 146 years earlier. This boy who would become a man and have the sons who would be Cheryl’s father and my grandfather. And here we were, standing where he stood, looking at the same scenes he saw.
I’m sure Hiram never imagined such a thing, just as I could never have imaged anything like standing here when I was a young teen. When Hiram was living in Five Houses, he couldn’t possibly have imagined that he would sail to America just a year later. He planned to be a baker, perhaps right here, for the rest of his life. But life had something very different in store for young Harmen who would soon become Hiram.
If mother could only have been with us that day. My heart both rejoiced and broke. I’m incredibly glad that Cheryl and I were together, representing our family lines. I wish this could have happened a decade earlier when Mom could have joined us. I’m sure she was with us in spirit.
At the very end of the red brick road, we found the baker’s house where the driveway was wider than the road. The garage portion in front is new, but the rear is older and original. The current resident told us that when he bought the property, some 30+ years ago, he had to tear out the old ovens and haul them away, so we knew unquestionably that we were in the right place and had indeed found the baker’s house where Hiram lived.
My heart broke again.
Hauled. Them. Away.
Lead in a genealogist’s heart. Wasn’t there even one brick left? Someplace?
Nope. The Dutch are fanatically neat and tidy – a trait which I did NOT inherit.
The homeowner graciously invited us to walk on his property and here we found the old barn and building where Hiram likely lived.
Another small building at the rear of this property, below.
The Dutch seldom tear a building down. They simply refurbish, again and again, and the old building isn’t so old. Old in European terms is measured in hundreds of years. The perspective is very different from the US.
Hiram would have walked on these bricks or on this path if bricks weren’t yet laid, and perhaps gone to the supply building for what he needed for the day’s baking.
Structures are mostly made of stone because the almost constant moisture causes wood to rot quickly.
Each property along the small dead-end street also had a “location” for their boat or boats to be tied up on the canal, right across from the house.
Hiram probably rose early, before dawn, to bake bread, then loaded the boat with the baked good to deliver to Wolsum, visible across the field from where we stood, in front of the baker’s house where Hiram would have boarded the boat. It was as if he was standing with us, had guided us back in time to this very place to stand in his footprints.
Was this young man, barely a teen, homesick? Did he miss his father, step-mother and siblings? Did he think about them and wonder what they were doing in the misty or rainy mornings on the boat to Wolsum?
If you cry in the rain, no one knows.
Emigration
Yvette tells us that:
The emigration record shows that Harmen Baukes Ferwerda emigrated with his father, step-mother and siblings on October 15, 1868 to North America.
Source: Wolsum, Wymbritseradeel, Friesland, Netherlands, Bevolkingsregister [Population Register] 1862-1880, p. 30, household of Johannes Jousma; microfiche, Centraal Bureau voor Genealogie, Den Haag, Netherlands
So, Harmen, known to us as Hiram, did immigrate in 1868, not later, but I still wonder if he traveled separately since the rest of the family is recorded as leaving on August 1st.
We’ll catch up with Hiram on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean in part 2 of his story, but first, we have a DNA riddle to solve.
The DNA Twist
This story would not be complete without something about DNA, and the DNA aspect of this story is quite unexpected.
One day, I received an e-mail from Yvette whose mother had recently taken an autosomal DNA test. The results were nothing short of amazing!
Yvette’s mother and my mother matched on 5 chromosomes. They matched at Family Tree DNA, although it was easier to compare them at Gedmatch since my cousin, Cheryl and her brother had both tested at 23andMe their results were transferred to GedMatch.
While the matches on chromosomes 6, 11 and 15 between our mothers are too small to be meaningful, the matches on chromosomes 18 and 22 are large enough to potentially be relevant, meaning identical by descent, not identical by chance.
This is exciting not just because Yvette is a friend, but because it might help both of us unravel our respective genealogy. Plus, how cool would that be – to meet through genealogy and then discover we are related.
GedMatch predicted 6.6 generations to a common ancestor between our mothers, but both Yvette and I think that a common ancestor would be further back in time. Obviously, Yvette knows both her and my Dutch ancestry quite well.
Yvette took a look at both of our pedigree charts and identified 4 different potential lines where one or both of us had holes in our tree where we could potentially intersect. That sounded hopeful.
Had my mother not tested before her death, and had Yvette not tested her mother, we would never have known of this match, because it does not extend to matches between us daughters.
The Rest of the Story
This match originally occurred about 5 years ago. I recorded it at that time, excited that someplace, Yvette and I probably shared an ancestor.
However, things have evolved, developed and changed over time.
While writing this article, it occurred to me that I should recheck our DNA matches and see if we could discern anything new.
Was I ever surprised.
Our mothers are no longer matches to each other at Family Tree DNA. At GedMatch, their matching algorithm has apparently changed too, because now they are shown only as matching on chromosome 18. The match on 22 is entirely gone. I didn’t recheck the smaller segments.
This is confounding.
Checking Yvette’s mother to see if she matches either Cheryl or her brother shows no match on this segment.
That’s not terribly unusual, because Mother could have inherited a different piece of DNA from her ancestors that Cheryl and Don did not. Nothing unusual about that for first cousins. Mom and Cheryl/Don share grandparents, so each would be expected to only share about 12.5% of their DNA with mother – and not entirely the same 12.5%.
I could have checked at that time to see if Mom and Cheryl matched on that same segment, given that Cheryl did not match Yvette’s mother, but I was waiting for Don’s results to come back and never got back to checking. Plus, I wanted to retest Cheryl and Don on a fully compatible chip at Family Tree DNA.
The next thing I knew, 5 years had passed and here we are.
However, today we have a much easier visual tool in DNAPainter.
Mom, Cheryl and Don are related in the following fashion.
Mom, Don, Cheryl and another Ferverda line cousin named Mike all match on this same segment, telling me that this is indeed either a Ferverda or a Miller segment, given that Hiram Ferverda married Eva Miller, a Brethren woman.
If Mom matches Yvette’s Mom on this segment and if the segment is a valid IBD (identical by descent) match, then Yvette’s mother will match all three of the Ferverda cousins on the same segment where she matches mother. The only way that mother can match both Cheryl and Don (on very large segments, 17 and 35 cM respectively) is through their common grandparents. Their respective mothers are not related to each other or the Ferverda line. Mike, another Ferverda descendant also matches Mom, on 27 cM that includes Yvette’s Mom’s blue segment and overlaps with both Cheryl and Don.
The perfect triangulation scenario – except they don’t.
Yvette’s mother does not match Cheryl, Don or Mike. Therefore, because mother does match all 3 of her Ferverda cousins, and they all match each other as well on this same segment, that means that the match between Yvette’s mother and my mother is not identical by descent, but identical by chance. Rats!
Better to know than not.
I’m glad we have enough people tested that we can now make this determination.
I’m very grateful for the visual DNAPainter tool which makes the comparison easy.
I’m disappointed that Yvette and I don’t share a common ancestor someplace in the relatively recent past, but I’m glad that we can prove this conclusively one way or another. Yea, I’m trying to make lemonade.
The Moral of the DNA Story
Stay away from segments under 7cM. They are more likely to be IBC than IBD and we have enough larger segment matches today that we don’t have to fish in the weeds.
Write match results down when you do the initial comparison. Tools change over time.
Recheck matches, because the vendor’s algorithms change over time. GedMatch is going through a major retool right now.
Understand that matches over the match threshold can still be IBC. Mom and Yvette’s Mom lost one 7.8 cM segment match, and the 7.5 match was reduced to 7.1, which was subsequently proven to be IBC. Generally, matches above 10 cM are relatively safe, 15 cM or above quite safe and I’ve never seen a 20 cM or higher match that turned out to be IBC.
Don’t fall in love with results until (minimally) they are actually proven to triangulate with known cousins.
Do the basic triangulation steps at the time when you discover the match. I could have solved this riddle long ago had I simply run the comparison between Yvette’s Mom and Cheryl. Better late than never.
But most of all, test those cousins and older family members because often their DNA is every bit as important to genealogy, if not more so, than yours.
Acknowledgements:
A huge thank you to the Tresoar staff as well as Yvette Hoitink.
Initially, Tresoar was planning to offer “Back to Your Roots” genealogical tourism packages, although the project never emerged in quite the way it was initially imagined. If you have Dutch ancestry, please contact either Tresoar in Friesland or Yvette for assistance anyplace in the Netherlands.
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