A Millennium of Germans in Transylvania

This post was originally published on my blog on February 1, 2011

Evangelische (Lutheran) Kirche Neppendorf (near Sibiu)
Historically, the Gärtz family church

TRAVEL TUESDAY
Church as History

On the second day of our 2007 roots-finding trip in Romania, my brother, Bill, and I met up with Renate, church secretary of the Evangelische Kirche Neppendorf, (the Gärtz family church). Her impressive knowledge of the church's, Siebenbürgen, and Gärtz family history opened our eyes to the role Germans had played for nearly 1,000 years Transylvania.

Built in the 14th Century, the Evangelische Kirche was originally Catholic, but as the Reformation swept across Europe (Martin Luther's nailing the ninety-five theses to the church door at Wittenburg in 1517 launched the fight between Protestants and Catholics full force), the residents of Neppendorf, like most Siebenbürgen Germans, chose to become Lutherans.

Pastors of the Church from its

Catholic roots in 1330

That history is on display the moment one steps into the church. Posted at the entrance is this list of pastors (Pfarrer). The first began his tenure about 1330. Further down, it's noted that under Pastor Michael Binder, #13, (serving from 1536-1548), this church of ethnic Germans became protestant.

How the Germans came to Transylvania

How was it the Germans first came to Transylvania, eventually numbering as many as 800,000?  After centuries of invasions by various migrating peoples, Transylvania came under the rule of the  Hungarian crown in the 13th century. The Hungarian king at the time, King Geza II, persuaded Germans, primarily from Luxembourg and the Moselle region (near Alsace) to immigrate to Transylvania. He wanted them to defend the southeastern border of the kingdom from regular and brutal invasions by the Tartars. He also knew that the Germans' industrious nature, mining expertise, and farming know-how could help pump up the economy of his kingdom.

The Germans built cities and churches surrounded by thick walls, behind which locals fled to escape invaders. Hence the region’s German name, Siebenbürgen (Seven Fortresses seems the best translation). The area also became known as “Saxon Land” for its large German population, and is listed so today in tourist guides.

But Renate had more for us than the broad history of the Germans in Transylvania. She presented us with a two-page document of our family's history in the town of Neppendorf, researched by a previous pastor. It was filled with insights into 18th-19th Century Transylvanian life as filtered through the Gärtz family experience. Next up on "Travel Tuesday.”

Can love last 100 years?

This is a repost of a love note from Nov. 18, 1910, sent from my grandfather to my grandmother. It was originally posted exactly 100 years after Josef wrote it.

Funny thing about love. We know it when we feel it. We know it when we see it.  

I can see it in this postcard, mailed one hundred years ago today, November 18, 1910, by Josef Gärtz to his sweetheart, Elisabeth Ebner (ABEner) to celebrate her Name Day. Josef was twenty-one. Elisabeth was twenty-three. Within a year they would marry and eventually become my grandparents.

But I didn't always know about the love expressed in language as flowery as the blue-bedecked bicycle pictured on the front. In fact, before last year, I didn't know this postcard existed.


It was one of scores of missives my grandmother had saved for almost seventy years. "Trash or treasure?" My brothers and I debated, in a frenzy of sorting after my mother's death. We squinted at the illegible writing, written in an ancient German script that most present-day Germans can't read much less a German major like me. We decided to keep them, but I figured they'd languish for years in "Box 14, Gartz Correspondence"  and end up summarily tossed.

Enter fate.

My brothers and I traveled to Transylvania in 2007 on a family roots-finding mission. In Sibiu (called Hermannstadt by the Germans), we met Professor Uli Wien who was researching the history and immigration of Siebenbürgen Germans -- people like our grandparents. Uli asked for our email addresses. 

Serendipity had begun its subtle work.

I forgot all about Uli until the summer of 2009, when he emailed me. “Do you by any chance have any letters to or from your grandparents?”

Did I have letters!  My heart leapt at what this meant. Perhaps Uli could help me decipher the inscrutable writing!  That put me on a mission to look at the letters closely for the first time in the fifteen years since Mom's death -- and I began to tease out some authors' names.

The address on this postcard was clear:

F[räulein]Elise Ebner 
Reisper Gasse [Street]
c/o Mr. Ji[c]keli [the family for whom my grandmother worked]
Hermannstadt
Nagyszeben

(yet another name for Hermannstadt / Sibiu. Nagyszeben is the Hungarian name)

I recognized my grandfather's signature: "Josef Gärtz," and I knew I had a treasure.

Printed under the bicycle on the front:

Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Namenstag. “Heartfelt Good Wishes for your Name Day."

I sent a xerox of the writing to Uli, and he deciphered into modern German those words written one hundred years ago today. I translated Josef's sincere, flowery note into English, its tinges of 19th century formality not diminishing its sweetness:

I wish you much happiness and best of health on your cherished Name Day, so you can keep this happy day blooming for many years into the future. A joyful “Hail! and Cheers!” rings out on this day of the flower. [He may be comparing Lisi to a flower]. Long live the pretty girl and faithful Lischen [an endearment for  Lisi -- like  sweet Lisi]. 

With greetings and kisses
Yours faithfully,
J[osef] G[ärtz]
Neppendorf, November 18. 1910

[Neppendorf was my grandfather's home town]

Celebrating one's Name Day has been a European tradition for centuries -- and was a bigger event than a birthday. Parties, gifts, candy, and cards like this one, all were part of the day. Josef and Lisi were Lutherans, and on the Lutheran calendar, Elisabeth's Name Day is November 19th. Josef mailed this postcard a day ahead, his loving words now reaching us across the span of 100 years.

I know love when I see it.

Swindlers through the ages

Samuel Ebner, Lisi Gartz's dad

The best defense is an offense, and that was as true in the past as it is today. A century ago, a deceitful notary took advantage of my grandfather’s absence to wrongfully sell his property. My grandmother's father, Samuel Ebner, (left) wrote her and her new husband, Josef, a letter dated May 11, 1913. He was clearly in great distress over the illegal sale. It’s a long letter, so I’ll summarize the facts and include only the best quotes from the letter. 

Hof courtyard in Grosspold, Romania Lisi's home town.
House is at right; Pig pen with 2 huge pigs in the back
Owner pictured

Josef owned a Hof (home and small parcel of land surrounding it) in his hometown of Neppendorf, Hungary (today Romania). Here’s a photo of a typical Hof that I visited a few years ago, probably not much changed over the last century. Josef's may not have been as large.

The town notary sold the Hof without Josef’s authorization. Samuel and Josef’s mother complained about the illegal sale 
to the notary, whose response was to heap abuse onto the two parents. Samuel wrote:

May 11, 1913

Dear Children,

Katarina Gärtz, Josef's mother. 

I went with Josef’s mother to the notary. I have to tell you, he is an abusive boor, insulting both me and your mother. He even said that if Sepp (Josef) were here, he’d cuff him about the ears! 

I told him that the Hof should not have been sold without Josef’s authorization and now additions have been built [onto the property.]

[The notary] called me a crooked Saxon and claimed that I only wanted to swindle him. I told him I am no Saxon. I am an honest German. I demanded the truth from him...and said I would not sign anything before I heard from [Josef and Lisi] what I should do.”

I did everything that was possible, but too much has already been built on your Hof: a well, an anteroom, a back room, a stall of cement, a pigpen also with cement, very nicely constructed and filled with sand. The new owner wouldn’t talk to me.

I inquired about going to court, but your mother will have to pay all the expenses. So I don’t know what I should do. 

In other words, the person who had bought Josef’s property had already invested so much of his own money into the hof, it would be hard to get the property back. As is so common even today in America, the expense of a lawsuit precluded getting justice.  Samuel wanted to know if he should buy another home for Josef and Lisi as several were for sale in a nearby area. 

Mrs. Jickeli's precise handwriting

The family even called upon Mrs. Jickeli, Lisi’s former employer, (read her chastising letter to Lisi here) to see if she could get get any satisfaction, but even a woman with her great influence couldn’t help. Mrs. Jickeli had the situation checked out and wrote to Lisi and Josef her opinion.

I quote from Berta Jickeli's letter of March 16, 1913:

Josef’s mother can certainly file a lawsuit. However, she will not get any justice in any court, and will have to pay many Kronen [money]. To pursue such a hopeless lawsuit would be to throw money into the air. [It would be better] to save the expenses and buy a new piece of land if you would someday want to come home.

Certainly the folks of the older generation were shaking their heads in dismay at Josef and Lisi’s rash emigration a year a half earlier. Josef having left without fulfilling his military obligation, Lisi leaving to join him in an impetuous marriage, -- and now this, Josef losing his house. 

Of course, those back in the old country couldn’t have known in 1913 how much would change in just a year, how their country would be wracked and ruined by war, and how dependent they would all become over the next decades on the loving generosity and care of these foolish youths.

The Roma in Grosspold

Travel Tuesday

It was getting later into the afternoon by the time we left Frau Sonnleitner, her pigs, and her dog named Linda. (See Going to the Dogs) with no luck in finding the Ebner Hof, my great-grandfather, Samuel Ebner’s, home in Grosspold, Romania.

Pastor Meitert said he would make further inquiries on his own, and we could check with him the next day. Right now, he wanted to show us the “Zigeuner” (gypsy) part of town. Today “gypsies” prefer being called Roma. Many Roma consider “gypsy” derogatory and want to avoid the stereotypes associated with the word.

After we had passed through the main section of Grosspold, we ascended into the upper, Roma, part of town. At one of the first intersections, we saw a shirtless man hand-shoveling what appeared to be the lumbered remnants of some structure, cluttering the street. Nearby a woman was burning refuse of indeterminate origin in a fenced-in, barren, expanse of land.

Once we passed the burning rubbish, the air cleared, and we turned down the last street with small homes on either side. It was a lovely September day and groups of people were walking or sitting outside.

Everyone was unfailingly friendly, often asking to pose with us for photos. I promised I would send them all copies, which I did, through Pastor Meitert, to be sure they would get them. We were clearly an oddity. My brothers are both over six feet tall, and we three women (cousin Maria, my brother Bill’s wife, and I) range from 5’6”-5’10”, two of us very blond. Our towering height and sturdy western clothes must have made us look like gigantic aliens to the much shorter and dark-haired, dark-eyed Roma.

Roma posing with brother, Bill,  and his wife, Robin

Although young parents and kids also dressed in western styles, the older folks, especially the women, were layered in a grab-bag of colorful clothing. House slippers with socks were the most common form of footwear for everyone.



It appeared that running water was not universally available. We saw a young woman drawing water from a centrally-located well, pouring it into her own bucket, and then carrying it home, listing left with the weight.


At the far end of the last street, we came to the highest part of town, where we saw a young boy and girl sitting on a wall. I thought they were quite beautiful with the setting sun lighting up their faces, and gestured to ask if I could take their picture. They agreed and looked right into the lens, with no need to “smile for the camera.”

Roma children in Grosspold

A few steps further and we had a magnificent view of the town from whence we had climbed. As twilight drew near, we looked down on the highway and my grandmother’s church in the German part of town below. Just as in my grandmother’s time, the Roma still lived separately from, and more poorly than, the mainstream population. While we had come searching for touchstones to my grandmother’s past, we had unexpectedly met up with another ethnic group whose history has also been intertwined with Grosspold, and our visit was richer because of it.

As we turned to head back down, Pastor Meitert promised us he’d make further inquiries into the whereabouts of the Ebner Hof. When we called him the next day, he had indeed made some amazing discoveries--beyond what we expected. Coming soon.

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