I’ve been at this mad study of “where did my family come from”
for over three years now. As a genealogist, I’d be considered
a definite “newbie” although I feel as if I have been studying
and searching my whole life.
It all started
when I discovered some documents tucked away in the
basement. I knew we were
Hungarian – the likes of the Gabor sisters, I guess – the only
other Hungarians I knew of. I knew we were also
Czechoslovakian – Bohemian to be exact. Or as grandma would
playfully say “Bohunk”. As for the Hungarian side, there was a
ghoulish twist too – we were from Transylvania, the land of the
vampires. I remember seeing the word Transylvania on one of
the documents but have lost track of that document.
My first clue
was the town of Glogovat, stamped on the document -- the town
where my father’s birth and baptism took place and were
registered. The scotch tape holding the fragile paper together
had turned brown but the black script written over 90 years ago
was still as beautiful as the day it was written. I wonder
sometimes if the priest or deacon who had such beautiful
handwriting ever dreamed I would be gazing at this document
dreaming of what life was like so many years ago. As he
carefully kept the records at the church, did he ever dream of
who might be reading these books. Probably not – he was doing
his job, fulfilling his obligation to keep the records for his
parishioners the same way we sit at our word processors today.
If we publish a book we hope that people will read it for years
to come; but our ordinary day-to-day activities – no, we never
expect anyone else to be interested, once the job is over.
Sometime in
1999 I trekked off to the library determined to discover exactly
where this little town was on a map of Hungary. I quickly
discovered my local library did not have any books old enough –
through the years, through the wars, little towns in Hungary
seemed to skip from map to map - while the town stayed anchored
in the same place, it was the country’s borders that changed as
it shifted from Hungarian to Rumanian rule. The little town
of Glogovat was known as Glogovat – Glogowatz – Othalom –
Octfhaloni – and is now known as Vladimirescu, Romania. More
changes have occurred than just the name – but the little town
of Glogowatz is remembered tenderly by thousands of people
living in Germany, South America, Canada, the United States to
name a few.
I put my quest
aside for awhile. Months later I was learning how “to surf the
internet” – and to my surprise I found I was not the only one
interested in this little town of Glogowatz. The Google search
engine quickly found Peter Schmidt’s Village of Glogowatz
website. Skipping around the site, I found references to church
records, baptisms, christenings, voting records. Then I found a
link to Dave Dreyer’s website of Master Ship Extraction Database
of the Banat – I clicked onto the town of Glogowatz – a page
opened up and to my amazement the first name on the list was
someone who had traveled to College Point, New York – my home
town! Scrolling through the list I decided I had to print my
own copy of this wonderful list! Click on File: Double click
on Print: One copy please – I was on my way to possessing this
list! My printer started buzzing – clicking and clattering –
about fifteen minutes later my printer came to a halt – I had
run out of ink long before this list was completely printed! I
still have that printout – in fact, I have not gone back to
attempt the printout again. I refer to the website several
times a month as I learn more about the people of Glogowatz.
I will print the list someday – when I’m sure the list is as
complete as it can be.
Since that day
I have read church records magnifying glass in hand, passenger
lists, census records, microfilms of birth, death and marriage
records, and history books in an attempt to put together my own
story. I’ve collected pictures of my ancestors – yes, now they
are no longer just names and dates – they have faces – I know
their occupations and I know a little of there day-to-day lives
and something of their struggles. I want to know what life
was like in Hungary and Czechoslovakia. What brought my family
to America – what gave them the drive to make that important yet
possibly dangerous decision.
This brings me
to the title of this piece – Why? – Why am I doing this? I know
I’m not alone. Thousands of people like me are searching for
their roots. There are days when I can hardly contain my
excitement when I find a name or an address that has been
eluding me. And there are days when I ask myself why is the
past so important to me. Am I forgetting that I live in the
present – and have a future to reach? Am I in danger of
slipping through the portals of time – and seeing for myself
exactly what life was like. I admit I have entertained that
intriguing thought. Could I be like one of the characters in
the book by Jack Finney Time and Again who possess that curious
ability of being able to walk back and forth in time. A young
man steps into an apartment in the famed apartment building, The
Dakota, in New York City in 1970 - and days later steps out of
the apartment, down the stairs and walks onto the streets of New
York City --- in the year 1868. He is free to search out his
great grandfather, meet him face-to-face ….yet he has the
explicit directions that he cannot under any circumstances
interfere with or change the events of the past. Interference
could alter his very existence, his own future.
What if I
stepped back in time and met my great grandmother Antoinette?
What if I contracted the malaria that took the life of my baby
great aunt? If my family was strong enough to live through
these times, would I be strong enough to make it back to my own
future?
We know that we
cannot change the past. But thoughts of times long ago can
alter the future. I started my quest because it was
entertaining just to see how far back I could trace my family.
I never expected to locate anyone connected to me today. But I
did just that and much more. When family members came to the
United States and Canada, they managed as well as they could to
maintain contact with friends and family left behind. They set
up new communities mimicking their towns of origin. They
encouraged others to follow in their foot steps sometimes paying
their transportation expenses and opening their homes to
them. But they also wanted their children to be citizens of
their adopted countries . In many cases, German language
skills were lost and with that old connections were broken.
I am happy to
say that my genealogy research has helped to mend a number of
those broken connections.
About two years
ago I surfed onto a website where people were researching some
of my family names – Schlee, Reichert and Weisenburger. I
had recently learned about my Schlee and Weisenburger cousins.
After corresponding through the surname list a few times, my
friend and I decided to e-mail directly.
Mary told me
her main interest was the Schlee family but she had a friend,
Erika, who was very interested in the Weisenburger family.
Erika’s grandmother was a Weisenburger from Glogowatz. Two
siblings traveled to America, raising their families, keeping in
contact with Glogowatz and then later with the family after they
moved to Germany. Mary’s family was one of those families
although Mary had no knowledge of it. Erika’s family was
very poor – her American cousins frequently sent packages to
Germany – Erika remembered just how important these packages
were to the family. As an adult she had moved to the United
States; her desire to reconnect with this family was strong.
She wanted to let them know how important their help was – she
wanted to thank them herself but she had no idea where to
start. Mary connected me to Erika. I read her story but
nothing sounded familiar. I forwarded the story to my cousin,
Roberta, because she and her mother kept in contact with the
Weisenburger’s in our family. My grandmother’s half-sister,
Catherine married Franz Weisenburger in Glogowatz and moved to
College Point, NY in 1910. Descendants of this family lived in
New York and Florida. Roberta forwarded the story to
Catherine’s granddaughter, Arlene. Well, the story found a
home. Arlene read that forwarded e-mail and realized – it was
her family who sent those packages – and she remembered helping
her grandmother prepare the packages, washing and carefully
folding the clothing and fabric that would be shipped to
Germany. Erika was her cousin! Hoorah for both of them! A
broken link was mended. Hoorah for genealogy! A beautiful
friendship was started and Erika continues to help me
communicate with relatives I have found in Germany.
As I read Dave
Dreyer’s Manifest Records, I made the realization that a
childhood friend of mine was actually my third cousin. I read
where George Reichert’s grandfather, Paul Reichert had come to
College Point as a 16 year old boy, accompanied by his father,
Ferencs Reichert in 1914. They were sponsored by his cousin, my
grandfather, Michael Szander. A letter and many e-mails
re-introduced me to my newly-found cousin.
About a year
later, I was reading the HOG Glogowatz page and scanning through
their photographs. I found a family photograph labeled Reichert
Family 1910. I left a message in the guest book asking if
anyone knew the name of the individuals in the Reichert. The
next morning I received an e-mail from Erwin Kilzheimer giving
me the names of the people. Because I had already spent hours
compiling family records from the Glogowatz church records, I
recognized the names as those of my grandmother’s aunt and
uncle, Franz Reichert and Magdalena Dumelle and their
children. Another connection! – I quickly e-mailed George – he
had never seen a picture of his great grandparents. Another
picture for my collection and I was a step closer to having an
idea of what my great grandfather looked like. I had a picture
of his brother!
The story
doesn’t end here. In the next few weeks, Erwin connected with
the owner of the picture and I exchanged information with
them. Unfortunately, they didn’t speak English and I speak no
German. It was going to be up to the grandchildren of the
family to continue any contact. A week or so later, I heard
from another member of the family. Happily for me, she speaks
and writes English fluently. Her name is Birgit and her
grandmother Elisabeth was delighted to be hearing from family in
the United States. We exchanged pictures and family
information and learned that a good friend of Elisabeth’s lives
in College Point today. But the happiest news is yet to
come. Elisabeth wrote me a letter in German (Erika had helped
me write to Elisabeth in German; now she translated Elisabeth’s
letter to me). Elisabeth agreed with me if our ancestors
could know of our contact – “they would be dancing in heaven”.
Elisabeth went
on to tell me how her father, Franz, suffered because he had
lost contact with his brother, Paul. His older brother was
sixteen years old when he left for the United States. They
wrote to each other until the late 1970’s and then that contact
was broken. Unbeknownst to him, his brother, Paul, had died.
All he knew was that the mail stopped coming. The mending of
that broken link was starting with me – when Elisabeth hears
from Paul’s grandson, the link that was broken so long ago will
be complete once more.
One more link
to Glogowatz. I recently discovered that the brother of my
great grandfather Paul Reichert also traveled across the ocean;
his first stop was Kentucky but later moved to College Point
with the help of my grandmother Sophie Sander nee Reichert.
His name was Johann Reichert. Johann and Anna Reichert settled
in College Point and raised ten children. One of his grandsons
is Deacon Jack Reichert of St. Fidelis Church, College Point,
NY.
The Bohemian
side of my family tree is beginning to sprout branches too.
One branch grew
out to Ohio years ago when Jedlicka cousins ( Herb and Catherine
Smith) followed their children. A branch of the Hala’s settled
in Miami, FL (Barbara Seykora nee Schoen, granddaughter of Anton
Hala) following various moved around the country. The
Jindela’s related through a marriage into the Jedlicka line now
live in various parts of New Jersey. So filling out the
branches is bound to take a few more years.
Now I know why
I study my genealogy. I want the reality of capturing the
history of my own family and I can dream about traveling back
into time. But genealogy is not just about the past. It is a
way of connecting the past, the present and the future. Our
lives here are the fulfillment of the dreams of our grandparents
and great grandparents. We are who we are today because of our
past. Who we will be in the future may depend on what we learn
today and how it influences us. I know I am connected to many
people I have not even learned about yet. As I have heard
stories of them, perhaps they have heard stories about me and my
grandparents. They may be dreaming and wondering about their
cousins too. Genealogy and the internet has made me realize
just how small the world is – it’s only a matter of time before
we complete the circle of past, present and future – it may seem
like a straight line but it’s not. I have a past and eventually
my present and future will become my past. And maybe someday,
someone will be reading this story and wondering just what my
life and my family was like.
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