Atlantic Crossing in Winter

Friedrich der Grosse. from www.norwayheritage.com

This post was originally published on Jan. 5, 2011.

Crossing the North Atlantic in the heart of winter was a grueling experience, as Josef reports in his diary.

The first and second days were fine, but the other ten days we had very stormy weather so that not a single person remained healthy or found any joy or pleasure on the ship. The ship flew up, then down, and made us completely dizzy. I was only sick the first two days, [perhaps he means the first two days of stormy weather], and then I got used to the ship’s movements. Still, to travel over the water in winter is gruesome. The weather was so stormy that we could only see 80, 100 meters at the most, and the water flew about.

Besides the weather, other unpleasantries accompanied Josef's journey:

Another problem on the ship was eating. As long as I had mother’s bread and wurst, it was ok, but when I had eaten all that, I just stood there and didn’t know how to get something to eat because the cost [of food] is miserable on the ship.

It’s quite possible Josef ate sparsely for the entire trip as he had very little money. We heard that when he first arrived in America, he would buy a loaf of bread and a salami, and portion it out over a week. No wonder he was so skinny.

This is the last that Josef writes in his diary about his journey. I feel a little cheated, but don't want to be greedy either. I would like to have learned more about how he felt seeing the Statue of Liberty, pulling into the port of New York, and enduring more health inspections at Ellis Island. But then I'm grateful to have the records he did make --and that have been amazingly preserved for this past century. It is so much more than I even imagined existed. I hope you readers have felt a kinship with the efforts your ancestors made through Josef's trials and exhilarations as he made his way first across Europe -- and then across the Atlantic.

According to the Ellis Island Ship’s list, Friedrich der Grosse arrived on January 11, 1911. Thanks to Monika Ferrier, I was able to find Josef's name, name and age mis-transcribed, on the ship's manifest.

While Josef continues his journey, the next few posts will share more finds that shed light onto the process of my "archaeological" dig, along with a bit of history thrown in for good measure.

Channeling the Dead to Life

Missler Wallet with Josef's Gärtz's diary inside.

Note: "Missler" was a ticket agent in Bremen, Germany,

but for years people thought it was the name of this

 "ghostship."

Scroll down to the "Missler" link to learn more.

This piece is a repost, originally published on the blog on  December 23, 2010, a day before the 100th anniversary of Josef's departure for America. 

I sometimes feel like a medium--you know--those people able to communicate with the dead. But in my case, they are speaking to me, and I’m channeling them back to life from across the last century.

One of the most astounding discoveries I made just recently was Josef Gärtz’s diary of his trip to America. Several times I had seen the small, brown canvas Missler wallet inside of which my grandmother had written, “Dad’s Pass,” meaning his passport. But inside was no passport--just printed pages in Hungarian and some strange writing in the back. I have so many documents, photos, and artifacts (twenty-five banker boxes full) that even after I’ve gone through them, I can come back to a box later and discover some small detail I had overlooked.

Josef's Diary - page 1

The reason I think I noticed the diary this time around (just a few months ago) was because I was becoming more familiar with the ancient handwriting, able to recognize more letters and words. On this page in the back of the “passport” wallet, I easily picked out “Amerika” and 1910. (see it to the right) That was promising! Looking more closely I realized he had written “Die Fahrt nach Amerika.”

My heart soared. “The Trip to America!” What else could it be but a diary of his journey! Even if I weren’t related to the author, I’d love to read a century-old diary of a young immigrant in order to discover what a he experienced on that risky, bold trip. I sent off a copy to Meta, and within a few weeks, Josef told me about his adventure in his own voice.

Combined with the discovery of a letter and two postcards that he wrote to Lisi along the way, we can hear the fear, sorrow, and excitement that accompanied a twenty-one-year old about to leave behind everything familiar to strike out for an unknown future with only his optimism and confidence to carry him through.

But his greatest trepidation may have been that he was leaving his Lisi behind, hoping she would eventually come to meet him in America. This postcard he sent her doesn’t have a specific date, but its Christmas wishes and melancholy tone place it at the time of his departure. 

A small "2" in the upper left indicates that it must be the second page of a longer missive, the first part of which is missing. The romantic image of two hands clasping under the flowery good luck horseshoe seems to reach out to Lisi with longing. I imagine it was sent near the beginning of his trip. It’s a little hard to translate, but it's about like this:

I wish you much happiness and Merry Christmas on this sad day and say many thanks for the farewell gift. And I certainly will take my little heartfelt remembrance of you and will carefully protect it.

Josef's Diary - page 1

Please excuse me because it is now only as it is and not otherwise. [Perhaps he means, he just has to go, and it can’t be otherwise]. God be with you until we see each other again. Adieu, Adieu. Forget me not.

Next week I'll post the beginning of his diary, originally posted on Christmas Eve, 2010, the centennial of its writing.

I never thought anything so wonderful could happen to me!

Friday, August 22, 1941

Well, my Friedrich phoned me again on Tuesday, and wanted to go swimming with me Wed. But I couldn’t make it till Friday so we made our date for tonite.

I picked him up at his office, Locust and Franklin Streets, and we went to the beach - North Avenue. It was a perfect evening for swimming, warm, the water was calm, and I couldn’t go. My visitor came 1 week and 1 day early (Wed.) due, no doubt to my having gone swimming at a beach near Louise’s house in Michigan last month on my 4th day.

So I just said to him, “I no can go,” and let it go at that. He’s a wonderful swimmer -- in fact there were many people watching him from the shore, amazed at the distance he swam.

"It was a perfect evening for swimming..."

We sang German songs and when he came out, and he was explaining some chemistry to me -- and I’m just crazy about him. After another dip, we went to the Vine Gardens and had some barbequed beef and 5 beers. We danced every number they played and he said I was so loose in his arms and followed so well. He dances very well. We had so much fun again.

Then we drove back to our beach. The wind was blowing furiously and whipped my hair about my face. We were all alone on our “Question Mark Pier” and danced a polka to our own tune. We kissed there, with the waves rolling violently below us.

Said my darling, “It’s wonderful to be alive.” And I, of course, agreed wholeheartedly. We also criss-crossed our hands and went around fast in a circle as we did once before. We sat down on a bench there, the whole place deserted, and I sat on his lap and we kissed again. He evidently is very fond of me, and I am positive I love him.



I never thought anything so wonderful could happen to me. It seems that we have known each other so long. It hardly seems possible we have been on only two dates. I hope this goes on and on.

We have a date to go swimming next Wednesday and then out to Hapsburg for dinner. Oh heavenly days! I just haven’t lived before. Also, he’s so solicitous of me.This is the kind of romance I have always dreamed about but never thought would happen.

The 70th anniversary year of Lil's and Fred's glorious dates continue next Tuesday with solo dancing and dinner.

Comments welcome. Just click below on the red words, "Post a Comment." Thanks!


To read all of Lil's diary entries from her first 1941 encounter with Fred, click here and keep scrolling forward in time to catch up.

Dear God, please let it come true!

We're following the budding romance of my parents 70 years ago. (Click on Falling in Love and Betcha he won't call to see the first diary entries) 


My mom, then Lillian Koroschetz, had a fabulous evening of dancing and chatting away  with Fred Gartz on May 11, 1941, but was convinced that he wouldn't follow up: "I'll just betcha he won't call!" she wrote. Well, things were looking more promising about a week later.

May 20, 1941 Tuesday 11 pm 

Quite a thrill awaited me when I came home tonite. Fred had sent me a card from Turkey Run, Marshall, Indiana, reading, 

“Hy-ya Lil - Have substituted hiking and horsing for the rhumba for the time being. This place is grand, especially the food. Nun, auf wiedersehen. Fritz” 

I can remember distinctly only two other occasions when I got such a thrill out of something. (and she relates two other boy-related incidents) I must be in love with the guy and haven’t even gone out with him. Somehow I now have a glimmer of hope he’ll phone. Here’s hoping! Sat.,  

July 12, 1941 

Just did my nails - Cutex Butterscotch - and having had a most complete week, am so tired I must go to bed without putting down what I intended [in the diary]. “Lil-no-romances-in-the-summer-Koroschetz” -- that’s me! I don’t even have time in the summer and that’s no alibi, believe me!  

Thursday Aug 14 

Finally - I heard from Fred Gartz. He wanted me to go to some German movie with him tonite. However, I had a date to go to Hapsburg for dinner and teach Ruth how to drive. So changed the date to tomorrow night. Am I glad! Now I have it to look forward to instead of having it all over by now (11:00 pm) I hope and pray this will lead to more and frequent dates!

Friday August 15, 1941 

The evening I have been waiting for a long, long time has now been realized. Fritz and I went to a little German theatre on Lincoln near Fullerton, then walked in Lincoln Park on this beautiful night, arm in arm - held hands in the show. Then to Sieben's [a Chicago outdoor brewery with great ham sandwiches] where we had some beer. Then back to the park and I think we both knew why we went back. We sat on a bench hearing the lions roar and the quacking of a duck. Oh it was heavenly! He knows all the little innuendoes of kissing and I ain’t so bad m’self, if I do say so.
[She switches to writing with indecipherable Pitman shorthand for a few lines, clearly wanting to keep this part censored! Then goes back to regular writing] 
And he enjoyed it too, I’ll say. We kissed for about an hour and a half. I hope and pray he will phone me again. I can’t really believe it happened!! Tonight was like a page from a story book and he definitely is the man I want to marry. Dear God, please let it come true!!  


Please click on "post a comment" (red, small print) at the bottom of this entry. I'd love to hear your thoughts! And please let me know if you have any difficulty commenting. lindagartz@gmail.com

Falling in Love - 70 years ago

Lillian Koroschetz, December, 1941

1941 was a watershed year in America. War was raging in Europe. Prior to Pearl Harbor, America was embroiled in debate about entering the war.  But something else was brewing seventy years ago that didn't make headlines—yet rocked the world of the young man and woman who became my parents.

Just as I've learned about the great love between my grandparents through their century-old letters, I've once again become privy to the workings of the heart in the next generation--this time through the words of my mother recorded in her diary as she experienced the topsy-turviness of falling for a guy—hard!

I only recently uncovered five more of my mother's diaries, and what a find they are!  Lillian seems to "talk" to her diary. It's like listening to a favorite girlfriend confiding to just you about her new-found love. What fun is that! 2011 marks the 70th anniversary of these engaging, sweet, vivid entries, full of hope and promise. So I decided to celebrate this Seven Decade Anniversary by letting her words speak across the years.

As a young woman, Mom had no dearth of boyfriends, and she seemed to be forever looking for "Mr. Right." Her entries are fresh and honest, a romantic's confidence that true love is found at last. The excitement and joy she relates as she falls deeper and deeper in love will take you for a ride you won't forget.

Fred Gartz and Lillian Koroschetz had first met in November of 1940, and Lil was still thinking about Fred three months later:

From the diary of Lillian Koroschetz:

February 25, 1941

How very quickly time does fly! As I just looked over the preceding pages, it hardly seems possible that an entire year has gone into the closed book of the past. All my problems of last year seem unimportant now. I may as well review the major events of 1940 since I last took time to write in this little book. 

After reviewing various boyfriends who have come and gone, her best friend's marriage and its apparent failure, she writes: 

My chief concern at the moment is, “Will Fred Gartz phone to take me out?” P.S. I think he will, and I hope this hunch is as correct as my more pessimistic ones.

Will her hunch turn out correct? Tune in next time to see how it plays out.

Mystery of Missing Manifest: Solved

First page of Josef Gärtz's diary
on right; lower left he wrote
"Kronprinz Wilhelm" see detail

Even handwritten documentation from our ancestors can lead us astray as we search for the details of their pasts. In my case, it was my grandfather’s diary, a primary document, in which he had written the name of a ship on the first page. At the bottom, under a list of three “Kaiser ships” he had handwritten, “Kronprinz Wilhelm.”

This seemed a pretty good clue that this was the ship that brought him to America, as he had not noted a different ship's name anywhere else in his diary. However, as I had originally posted, I could not find his name on the manifest (list of passengers) for the Kronprinz Wilhelm, which had arrived on January 12, 1911, a logical arrival date for a ship that had left, according to his diary, on December 31, 1910. I also tried searching any ship around that time, thinking perhaps we had the wrong ship. I tried entering just the “sounds like” for his name, but included his birthdate as 1889, give or take a few years. No luck.

Friedrich der Grosse-Josef Gärtz's
name found on this ship's manifest.

Recently, through the German contact that helped me decipher my grandfather's diary from the old “Gotisch” German, I was put in touch with Monika, a woman whose specialty is researching immigrants from the Siebenbürgen area to North America. She has looked for hundreds of names on ships‘ manifests, and knew the pitfalls. She said she also prefers the Steven Morse site (vs. the Ellis Island site) to search for ship manifests.

When she noticed I couldn’t find my grandfather’s manifest, she searched and found it! As she said, “The problem is that the transcribers [of the original handwritten documents] came up with the most outlandish spellings in the indices at Ellis Island (and at any of the ports). It took more imagination to come up with what they did than to read what was in front of them.” Of course we are searching what the transcribers for the data base thought they read--not what was actually written.

Manifest for "Friedrich der Grosse, sailing from Bremen"
Line #8 Gärtz, Josef  (misspelled Görtz by transcriber)

In my grandfather’s case a couple of errors. First, his name was transcribed as “Gortz,” a misreading of the name that is understandable--it could be “o” or “a” as handwritten.
But the real goof-up came with his age. The manifest had originally noted his was “29,” but then sloppily corrected his age, rightly, to “21.” The transcriber missed the confusing correction and miswrote his age as eight years older than he was. I didn’t search for that wide of an age difference.

detail #8: Gärtz -- Josef -- age 21 (mis-recorded "29") carpenter, German, from Kistorony (Hungarian for Neppendorf)

Looking at the manifest for the ship, Friedrich der Grosse, which arrived in New York on January 11, 1911,  I’m able to find my grandfather’s name on line #8. Why this ship did not come up in my original search for any name sounds like “Gartz” (and even when I searched for "Gortz" the program didn't find him) is not clear. What is clear is that #8 on this manifest is my grandfather, Josef Gärtz: Age: 21 (corrected); occupation: carpenter; Nationality “German” Last permanent residence: “Kistorony” (the Hungarian name for Neppendorf); destination: Cleveland, including the address there of the friend who was to meet him, Gottfried Nuss.

I’m very grateful to Monika for her expertise and help in solving the mystery of the missing manifest, and to know now which ship Josef travelled on. I’ve corrected my previous posts to reflect the accurate information.

Atlantic Crossing in Winter

Friedrich der Grosse. from www.norwayheritage.com

Crossing the North Atlantic in the heart of winter was a grueling experience, as Josef reports in his diary.

The first and second days were fine, but the other ten days we had very stormy weather so that not a single person remained healthy or found any joy or pleasure on the ship. The ship flew up, then down, and made us completely dizzy. I was only sick the first two days, [perhaps he means the first two days of stormy weather], and then I got used to the ship’s movements. Still, to travel over the water in winter is gruesome. The weather was so stormy that we could only see 80, 100 meters at the most, and the water flew about.

Besides the weather, other unpleasantries accompanied Josef's journey:

Another problem on the ship was eating. As long as I had mother’s bread and wurst, it was ok, but when I had eaten all that, I just stood there and didn’t know how to get something to eat because the cost [of food] is miserable on the ship.

It’s quite possible Josef ate sparsely for the entire trip as he had very little money. We heard that when he first arrived in America, he would buy a loaf of bread and a salami, and portion it out over a week. No wonder he was so skinny.

This is the last that Josef writes in his diary about his journey. I feel a little cheated, but don't want to be greedy either. I would like to have learned more about how he felt seeing the Statue of Liberty, pulling into the port of New York, and enduring more health inspections at Ellis Island. But then I'm grateful to have the records he did make --and that have been amazingly preserved for this past century. It is so much more than I even imagined existed. I hope you readers have felt a kinship with the efforts your ancestors made through Josef's trials and exhilarations as he made his way first across Europe -- and then across the Atlantic.

According to the Ellis Island Ship’s list, Friedrich der Grosse arrived on January 11, 1911. Thanks to Monika Ferrier, I was able to find Josef's name, name and age mis-transcribed, on the ship's manifest.

While Josef continues his journey, the next few posts will share more finds that shed light onto the process of my "archaeological" dig, along with a bit of history thrown in for good measure.

Channeling the Dead to Life

Missler Wallet with Josef's Gärtz's diary inside.
Note: "Missler" was a ticket agent in Bremen, Germany,
but for years people thought it was the name of this "ghostship."
Scroll down on the "Missler" link to learn more.

I sometimes feel like a medium--you know--those people able to communicate with the dead. But in my case, they are speaking to me, and I’m channeling them back to life from across the last century.

One of the most astounding discoveries I made just recently was Josef Gärtz’s diary of his trip to America. Several times I had seen the small, brown canvas Missler wallet inside of which my grandmother had written, “Dad’s Pass,” meaning his passport. But inside was no passport--just printed pages in Hungarian and some strange writing in the back. I have so many documents, photos, and artifacts (twenty-five banker boxes full) that even after I’ve gone through them, I can come back to a box later and discover some small detail I had overlooked.

Josef's Diary - page 1

The reason I think I noticed the diary this time around (just a few months ago) was because I was becoming more familiar with the ancient handwriting, able to recognize more letters and words. On this page in the back of the “passport” wallet, I easily picked out “Amerika” and 1910. (see it to the right) That was promising! Looking more closely I realized he had written “Die Fahrt nach Amerika.”

My heart soared. “The Trip to America!” What else could it be but a diary of his journey! Even if I weren’t related to the author, I’d love to read a century-old diary of a young immigrant in order to discover what a he experienced on that risky, bold trip. I sent off a copy to Meta, and within a few weeks, Josef told me about his adventure in his own voice.

Combined with the discovery of a letter and two postcards that he wrote to Lisi along the way, we can hear the fear, sorrow, and excitement that accompanied a twenty-one-year old about to leave behind everything familiar to strike out for an unknown future with only his optimism and confidence to carry him through.

But his greatest trepidation may have been that he was leaving his Lisi behind, hoping she would eventually come to meet him in America. This postcard he sent her doesn’t have a specific date, but its Christmas wishes and melancholy tone place it at the time of his departure. A small "2" in the upper left indicates that it must be the second page of a longer missive, the first part of which is missing. The romantic image of two hands clasping under the flowery good luck horseshoe seems to reach out to Lisi with longing. I imagine it was sent near the beginning of his trip. It’s a little hard to translate, but it's about like this:

I wish you much happiness and Merry Christmas on this sad day and say many thanks for the farewell gift. And I certainly will take my little heartfelt remembrance of you and will carefully protect it.

Please excuse me because it is now only as it is and not otherwise. [Perhaps he means, he just has to go, and it can’t be otherwise]. God be with you until we see each other again. Adieu, Adieu. Forget me not.

Tomorrow, Christmas Eve, on the 100th anniversary of his departure, I'll post the beginning of his diary on the centennial of its writing.

Welcome to Family Archaeologist

My family’s ancestral roots are in Transylvania -- known more for its Dracula legend than the hundreds of thousands of ethnic Germans, like my father’s parents, who had made it their home beginning in the twelfth century. One hundred years ago, my grandfather headed for America from that stunning land of rugged mountains and lush valleys, armed only with youthful optimism, confidence, and a fierce work ethic, determined to succeed in America. My grandmother followed, and they built a life interwoven with the historical events of the decades to come.

I knew the broad outlines of the family story, but details were scant. Until I started the Dig. 

After my mother’s death in 1994, (Dad had died five years before), my brothers and I dug through the artifacts our parents left behind, separating trash from treasure. We found the latter, tucked into the corners and cobwebs of their attic. A trove of diaries, letters, documents, scribbled notes, and photos had lain entombed for decades. Relating on a personal scale to Howard Carter's utterance at his first glimpse into King Tut’s tomb, we, too, felt we were seeing “wonderful things” -- the detailed gems of family -- and twentieth century -- history. 

So many in my family were compelled to write: letters to and from the homeland spanning almost seventy years, close to 300 letters exchanged with my uncle, Lt. Frank Gartz,  a B-17 navigator in World War II, diaries dating from the 1920s to the 1980s. All these missives and journals reflect on the personal and historical:  World War I, the stock market crash,  the Great Depression, the Second World War, the 1950s, racial strife and riots of the 1960s in our changing neighborhood of West Garfield Park, and into the '70s and '80s.

During the last several years, I’ve pored through the written records of several lifetimes, making astonishing discoveries along the way. What has been laid bare is not just my family’s secrets, but the kind of drama, joy, sadness, and triumph that underlie all our families' experiences. Their records reveal the daring-do of youth and young love, labor, laughter, madness, illness, war, death, riots, generational tugs-of-war, and marital strife. The experiences may be particular, but the themes are universal--now known only because my family refused to relinquish its history to the trash heap of time.

As the Family Archaeologist, I’ll be sharing with you not just letters and diaries that span much of the last century, but also the excitement of discovery and revelation that sparks my archaeological dig. I hope these finds will create a resonance with your own family’s past and engender curiosity about how history is not just textbook dry, but the fabric into which our families' lives are woven.

This is not a genealogical site per se, but in the course of unraveling the past, I’ve turned to many genealogical resources: Ancestry.com, census reports, ships’ manifests, death notices, gravestones, interviews with family and friends, and a roots-finding pilgrimage to my grandparents’ home towns in Transylvania, where some startling discoveries awaited my brothers and me.

Stick with me, and through the power of recorded words, you can experience the lives of real people as they were really lived. Without the fakery or hype, it’s a “reality show” of the last century.