Landing the Dream

This post was originally published on Jan. 11, 2011, and the the references to the 100th anniversary are based on that date

Today is the 100th anniversary of Josef Gärtz, my paternal grandfather, arriving in America, losing the umlaut over the "ä" and becoming Gartz. My guess is that he didn’t record his first impressions because he was too excited and overwhelmed upon landing to be scribbling in his diary. So without his words to guide me, I’m going to try to briefly reconstruct what he, and all of our European ancestors who entered through Ellis Island, probably endured as initiation into this new land.

Let’s join Josef as he disembarks from his ship, Friedrich der Grosse on January 11, 1911, and get just a little flavor of our ancestors’ arrivals. 

Passengers disembarking from barge at Ellis Island ~1910
From Library of Congress collection

After passing the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor, steerage passengers (undoubtedly how Josef traveled--the cheapest) are loaded onto barges, transferring them to Ellis Island, where they will undergo a number of inspections before being admitted to the United States.

In many ways, Josef is typical of the immigrants arriving at this time. Like Josef, most of them (68-90%) fall between the ages of 14 - 44. He is 21. About half of the men in this age group are single, like Josef. But his skills aren’t typical: about one fourth of the immigrants, the largest percentage, are “common laborers,” while about 15% are “skilled laborers.” As a master carpenter, Josef belongs to the latter group. That probably bodes well for finding decent work. The others are primarily farm laborers or servants. Only one percent describe themselves as “professionals.”

Eye Inspection at Ellis Island 1913
Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division

"Doctor's inspection of suspects for skin diseases, etc."
Ellis Island 1902

After all the health inspections, inoculations, and eye examinations, Josef has already endured before arriving in America, he, and everyone else, is once again subjected to prodding, peering, and poking, and all are further questioned as to their ability to support themselves. Failing these tests ends the dream.

Great Hall - Ellis Island

In the twenty years from 1892-1912, 169,312 aliens were refused entry, overwhelmingly for three main reasons: likelihood of becoming a public charge, affliction with “loathsome or dangerous contagious diseases,” or due to being “contract” laborers (why this last one kept out almost 13% of immigrants in 1910, I haven’t a clue.)

It has to be nerve-wracking to wait in these endless lines, to wonder if some small oversight will send you back across the ocean. But all goes well. Josef overcomes the final hurdle and enters the United States of America. I can only imagine the elation and anticipation. (I'd love to hear from any of you, Dear Readers, who has a note, a diary or a memorable story passed down as to what  an ancestor's first emotions were upon realizing he/she was actually starting a new life in America.)
Next stop: Cleveland, Ohio, where a “Landsman” (another Siebenbürgen/Transylvanian German, from his home town of Neppendorf) will welcome him into his home, help him get on his feet, and teach him the ropes. 

So it was with so many who sought out friends and relatives from the “Old Country” who could ease their way into the “New Country.”

In the near future, I’ll be posting some of the missives that went back and forth between Cleveland and Romania, and how Josef pulled out all the stops to get his Lisi to join him. 

But before we get to those letters and postcards, I want to get back to what I promised to write about in my last post: how I got my German mojo back which allowed me to tackle these letters that allow us to peer into the minds of two young immigrants a century ago.

Note, except where noted othewise, the Ellis Island facts and photos included here come from this site: Gjenvik-Gjønvik Archives. The site provides footnotes at the end of its pages.

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.

Out to Sea

12/30/1910 First page of letter 
from Josef to Lisi on  F. Missler stationery

This post was originally published on Dec. 31, 2010, 100 years to the date that Josef Gärtz boarded the ship for America.

Once Josef arrived in Bremen, and his path to America seemed clear, he wrote to Lisi. Not only had Friedrich Missler,  probably Bremen's most successful ticket agent, given thousands of passengers a brown, canvas wallet like the one in which I found Josef’s diary, he also provided stationery emblazoned with “F. Missler” and the agency's address at 30 Bahnhof Strasse [literally: Train Station Street], proving Missler was a marketing wizard of his day. Many descendants who have these wallets have mistakenly thought "Missler" was the name of the ship pictured and researched in vain to find it.

Here’s the first page of Josef’s letter to Lisi, written on Missler stationery. If you look closely, you can see the date at the start of the letter (the date is first and the month follows in Roman Numerals).

30/XII 1910

December 30, 1910

Dear Lisi,

I want to tell you that I have arrived in Bremen happy and healthy. Now I want to tell you about my nightmare trip.

At this point Josef describes his misadventures and narrow escapes, which have already been shared in previous posts, so I’ll skip over that part and start with Bremen: [If you missed those narrow escapes, see Terror Atop the Train and Threats to the Dream.]

Thank God I am here, and I thank our Lord God again many times for the good thoughts he gave me. But such a trip! I thought it would undo me!

Missler Emigrant Hall, Bremen, 1907
Perhaps this is where Josef sat with his new-found friends

We’re sitting here at F. Missler, and already it’s going a bit easier because each person [fellow travelers he’s met] makes the other happy, and so we are getting along fine.

Tomorrow, December 31, 1910, we’re going to board the ship, as long as we remain healthy. Every day we are checked by a doctor, and up to now, I am completely healthy. Many people, who got sick on the trip, have already been here in Bremen for eight weeks. One woman, who had eye inflammation [probably trachoma--pink eye] has already been waiting here four weeks. She’s finally received authorization to depart for America.

With heartfelt greetings, I end my letter. Please, dear Lisi, tell me in your first letter what you have heard of my colleagues. [To read my recent discovery of what happened to the two friends with whom Josef started his trip, see the end of this post: Threats to the Dream]

With greetings to all, 

Gärtz, Josef, Bremen

We must look to his diary now, to see into the heart and mind of a young man, his written emotions  a reflection of what thousands of others must have felt at this point in their journeys, as he travels the final leg that will transport him to an unknown land and future.

Friedrich der Grosse, ship that brought Josef Gärtz
to America. Thanks to Norway Heritage for image

December 31, 1910 

Early Saturday morning at 4 am, we saw a doctor who looked us in the eyes and inoculated the left hand with four shots. At 7a.m. we took a two-hour train to the ship. We boarded the ship at 10:30 a.m., and at 11:30, it departed directly for America.

Throngs at the Port of Bremen. Not the era of Josef's
departure, but gives a sense of the kind of crowd
 he describes. 
(From the collection of Maggie Land Blanck)

I was moved by sadness, joy, and fear as the mighty colossus pulled us far out over the waves of the great sea. Everyone on land waved after us with their handkerchiefs as they wanted to share with us a last and friendly farewell. They know such a trip deals with life and death, and we’re never certain if we’ll see each other again.

Josef truly rang out the old on New Year’s Eve, 1910, departing from everything familiar -- and hoped to ring in 1911 with a new life in America. But first he had to endure the harsh winter crossing over the frigid, stormy Atlantic seas.

Not a drop of water

S.S. Blucher-Hamburg America Line built 1902
The ship that brought Johann Koroschetz to America
Thanks to www.norwayheritage.com for image

Johann Koroschetz traveled to Hamburg to board the ship, the S.S. Blucher, destined for America, on August 26, 1908, at the age of thirty-seven. He's the only one of my immigrant grandparents to leave from a port other than Bremen. He arrived on September 6th in New York.



The ship's manifest (I've posted the Ellis Island Passenger record, as it's easier to read) indicates that he was married "W" for "Wed").
It wasn't unusual for a husband to travel alone, and later send for his wife and the children to join him, once he had a job and a better understanding of the new country to which he would be bringing his family. But no family from Europe ever joined Johann, who changed his name to John once settled in.

It seems that John originally settled for a time in Buffalo, New York. I can draw this conclusion based on the postcard below, addressed to Johann Koroschetz (my mom's father) in Buffalo.


This postcard isn't dated, but the contents indicate John had recently left. The photo on the front is of a large group of men, a bicycle at the left, two guys lying on the ground clinking beer glasses and a couple with horns. 

Bicycle Club Postcard addressed to Johann
Koroschetz in Buffalo, NY

The caption at the top says: Greetings from the Workers' Bicycle Club in Hof at Leittaberg [Leithaberge]," a town just a few miles southwest of Vienna, shown by the red dot on the map. 


The writer, tells John that "things are getting worse and worse" back home in Austria. He goes on, "There's almost no water, winter is coming, the weather is already very cold, and once the water freezes, we'll have even less." He then comments: "You guessed it," as if Johann had predicted that things would be getting worse, and he made up his mind to leave. 


If I interpret this postcard correctly, something bad was occurring in Austria, and John had nothing to keep him there, as we'll see next time when we look at the court documents he filed in Chicago, declaring what had happened to his marriage.

Paris Dress Design in Chicago

S.S. Geroge Washington
photo credit: www.norwayheritage.co

Louise Woschkeruscha, my maternal grandmother, boarded the S.S. George Washington on March 8, 1913, a month after leaving three years of paid apprenticeship and another three years as journey-woman in the Viennese clothing salon of master dressmaker, Elise Vogel. 

Hans's "Passenger Record," created by Ellis Island's

American Family Immigration History Center

Louise arrived in New York Harbor nine days later. She planned to meet  up with her brother, Hans, who had left the year before on the very same ship, entering the United States on May 23, 1912, a century ago. Leaving his abusive and hated father behind, Hans arrived with the skills of a wagon maker and carpenter, giving him an edge over the mostly unskilled immigrants pouring into the country at the same time. I assume Louise moved in with her brother, but I can't say for certain. 

Louise's "Passenger Record," created by Ellis Island's
American Family Immigration History Center

A few months later, in October of 1913, she wrote a letter to Frau Vogel about her new life, starting with her voyage across the Atlantic. The contents make it clear they had corresponded before, but unlike my paternal grandmother who saved every letter, this is one of just a couple of  missives I have from or to Louise (and why I have a letter Louise wrote, is a puzzle). Here are excerpts from that letter.

October 1, 1913

Dear Frau Vogel, 

Louise's 10/1/1913 letter to Frau Vogel

I have received your letter with thanks and joy, I was really very pleased that you wrote yourself because I know how hard writing is for you, and yet you were the first one who has [written me].
Now I want to tell you a little about my journey and how I’m doing.
When I left home, I didn’t realize what a huge trip I had ahead of me.

I had absolutely no fear when I saw the enormous water, and did not become sick at all. You cannot really become fearful. First there is always entertainment on the ship: evening concerts, and by day there are varied games, like one might play at a party. Very nice people are there so that I was never scared.

After her arrival, Louise was cheerful and optimistic about her prospects.

Louise and brother, Hans Woschkeruscha 
(later John Miller) probably in Chicago

I can hardly believe I’m in America! [After arriving in New York], we had to travel two days and two nights in 2nd class on the fast train [to Chicago]. Everyone spoke only English and I couldn’t understand a word. That struck me as so funny, I laughed and laughed. I really had fun on the trip so that I hardly had any homesickness. 

Louise rested up for one week before placing an ad in the newspaper, marketing her skills as a dressmaker. She continued her letter, describing the Parisian styles of fine clothing she is creating. It sounds like a very exclusive dress-making shop.

I immediately got a job, where I am now. We make only silk and lace dresses, and some of the dresses cost $100! We make them just like the crazy fashions in Paris chic. In America, people wear a lot of red.

Louise Woschkeruscha-date uncertain

The vests and the blouses are heavily gathered at the top and are worn under the hips. The widths are 28-30 by American measure, which is about 80-90cm in our measure. 

I still don't know English because I work with Germans and only German is spoken. From October 6 on, I'll go to evening school....When I know some English, I would like to earn a little more.

Evenings I go to the cinema and Sunday afternoons to the German concert. You write me, dear Frau Vogel, whether I'm afraid. Still never. I would only like to have my parents here. You'd really have to search throughout America to find such a woman as my mother!

I end my writing and hope that it finds you in the best of health. Heartfelt greetings from your former, thankful worker, Luisa. 

Louise undoubtedly met many young German-speaking men at the concerts she attended, perhaps even at the cinema, but it would be several years before she found a man whose affections she felt she could trust, given her smallpox-scarred face. Next week we'll meet that man––John Koroschetz, also from Austria, who had his own tale of physical––and emotional loss.

P.S. If you missed the interview with me that gives the backstory on this blog go to this link Digging Up Family History or to the previous post, to learn more about the interviewer, Joan Brunwasser. 

Anger begets anger

Theresia and Paul Müller, parents to
Therese Woschkeruscha, maternal
grandparents to Luise Woschkeruscha

Last week, we learned that Lil's mother, Louise, was sinking into mental illness just before Lil and Fred's wedding. (See More than I could stand.) 
While the origins of Louise's mental illness can't be pinpointed, some facts about her childhood may throw some light the possible origins of her incendiary temper.

Aloisia (in America, Louise) Woschkeruscha's mother was Therese Müller, daughter of a successful miller and farmer, Paul Müller and his wife, Theresia, nee Blaschka. (Couple at left).

Johann Woschkeruscha, father to
Aloisia and John

Paul owned 80 “yokes” of land, the amount of land two oxen, yoked together, could plow in a day, and a flour mill on the Mank River, not far from Vienna, Austria. Neighbors could never figure out how Paul Müller came up with the most creative and innovative approaches to both the skill and business of milling and farming. They didn't know that he sat up late into the night reading a publication called Über Land und Meer (Over Land and Sea) learning the most up-to-date methods to keep ahead of the curve. At a time when many of his peers couldn't even read or write, it gave him a vital edge.

Therese Woschkeruscha, nee
Müller,  Louise's mother

Paul and Theresia's third child was named Therese,  (photo left), mother to Aloisia and maternal grandmother to my mother, Lillian. Theresia, Therese's mother, died in childbirth, but it's not clear if she died giving birth to Therese or a later child. Paul remarried, but his second wife died in childbirth too. He then married a third time, to a woman, whom I believe was Anna, based on a funeral card we have in the collection. She was lucky enough to live to age 68. 

As a young woman, Theresia met Johann Woschkeruscha, a handsome wagonmaker. Family lore has it that Johann seduced Therese Müller as a way to wheedle his way into her family money. My mother told me that the butcher in town begged Therese not to marry Johann. He, the butcher, loved her and didn’t care if she was pregnant with Johann’s child. It's unclear to me if Therese loved Johann or just felt the child should be raised with her biological father. Whatever the reason for her decision, their differences in class and ethnicity infused their marriage and family life with tension and violence.  

Paul Müller's home, about 1900, location described on back:
St. Leonhardt am Forst, bei St. Pelten, Nieder Österreich (lower Austria)

John Miller, about 8, nee
Woschkeruscha. Look at his
eyes and hand. I see a tense
and angry little boy.

Johann apparently seethed over his inferior status. He would get drunk at a local bar and his fellow Bohemians would taunt him, “You let that German woman push you around? You should do something about her!” So he did. Drunk and embittered, he went home and beat his 4' 11" wife. He also beat Aloisia's younger brother, whom I'll call by his Americanized name, John, to keep him straight from his dad. John also trained as a wagon maker, like his father. I knew "Uncle John," my mother's uncle, here in America. Decades after leaving Austria, he could never speak of his father without shaking with rage, his face darkening, his voice quavering. 
Family lore has it he ran away from home at the age of fifteen. Whether that age is correct, I'm not certain, but I do know, based on Ellis Island's ship manifest, that John was twenty when he boarded the S.S. George Washington in Bremen on May 4, 1912, and arrived in New York on May 13th, destined for Chicago. He changed his name from  Johann (Hans) Woschkeruscha to "John Miller," using his maternal grandfather's Americanized surname, to erase the familial connection to the man who had abused him.

I never heard that Johann, the father, beat Louise, but it’s pretty clear that she grew up in a home where violence was common and self-control in short supply. She, too, would develop a volatile temper.

John Miller, center, son of Johann and Therese
Woschkeruscha, in wagonmaker school, Austria

Next week we'll learn more about Louise's childhood, her career as a dressmaker, and the disease that scarred her face and psyche. 

I-Gene Awards 2012-And the winners are...

Thanks to Jasia, at Creative Gene for once again hosting the annual I-Gene awards, an opportunity for the genealogy blogging community to look back over the past year and salute each other's best posts in five categories. Here are my choices for Family Archaeologist for 2011 Let the awards begin!

Best Biography: Dress Designer Extraordinaire My maternal grandmother, Aloisia Woschkeruscha, earned a dressmaker diploma in Vienna, Austria. In honor of Women's History Month last year, I posted a brief biography of her, accompanied by this photo of Aloisia posing in her graduation masterpiece.

Best Comedy: Going to the Dogs My trip to Romania in 2007 confirmed my grandfather's warning: It's a bad idea to name a girl "Linda!"

Best Documentary: It has to be the series of my paternal grandmother, Lisi's, journey to America as recorded in her diary from Transylvania to New York. It begins when she ships her trunk to America: Farewell, My Homeland, and continues with her Train Journey (Part I), then onward to the Port of Bremen, Train Journey Part II-To Catch a Ship. On board the steamer, Kaiser Wilhelm II, it's Lisi's Moveable Feast and From Ship to American Soil until, finally: Central Park, NY "I've Arrived!"

Best Screenplay, a love story:  Falling in love––70 years ago My mother's diary of meeting and falling in love with my father begins with this post on October 11, 2011, and unfolds in a weekly series over the next several months (it's ongoing even now on this blog), as she pours out her heart in these "engaging, sweet, and vivid entries, full of hope and promise." If you ever were madly in love, this serial "screenplay" will take you right back to that emotional high.

Close up from above photo: Josef Gartz, age 23. 1912

Best Picture: Joe Nelson's Saloon, 1912. Free Sandwich with that Beer! My grandfather, Josef Gartz, finally landed a decent-paying job at this saloon, at Crawford and Madison on Chicago's West Side. And it came with food! This photograph of an early 20th Century saloon, with my grandfather (background, above, and close-up, right)  at age twenty-three, is a classic. It's the oldest one we have of Josef after his arrival in America in January, 1911. My grandmother's letter, in which she references this job, is included with the post and brings their monetary struggles to life.

Merry Christmas and a look back 101 Years ago today

Merry Christmas, Everyone -- and Happy Holidays.

I'm thinking of all of you celebrating with your families and the impressive posts and research so many in the family history and genealogy community have done over the past year to share their stories and knowledge. 


I'm also thinking back to 101 years ago, when my grandfather, Josef Gärtz, boarded a train in Austro-Hungary to start his fateful path to America and the terror he experienced on that journey.

In honor of the 101st anniversary of that trip, I'm adding a link to the post I made on Christmas Eve last year to mark the centennial of his departure.

Click Terror Atop the Train to read the story of this twenty-one year-old's audacious manner of getting to the port of Bremen  and my discovery of the diary which allowed me to share his story with all of you.

All the best in 2012. 

Left Behind

Samuel Ebner Sr. my great-grandfather
Lisi Ebner/Gartz's father

Lisi Ebner, my grandmother, made the gut-wrenching sacrifice of leaving behind her family to follow her heart to America, to marry my grandfather, Josef. Or so I thought.

It turns out Lisi’s father, stepmother, Maria,  and half siblings (Theresia and Johann (aka, Resi and Hans, born in 1900 and 1904, respectively), had planned to join her!

On our trip to Romania in 2007, we learned for the first time from a relative that Samuel Ebner had never made it to America because of an eye infection, probably Trachoma, or pink eye, incurable and highly contagious at the time, but today easily treated with antibiotics.

For more details on the many inspections culling eye-disease emigrants,  see Threats to the Dream.

Since I learned this stunning news, I have discovered the actual letter Samuel Ebner wrote about what happened. It captures in simple, stark words, what was surely a devastating disappointment.

Deciphered from the old German and then translated, here’s the story, one of tens of thousands no doubt, about the immigrant who didn’t make it.

November 3, (year missing)
Probably 1912 or 1913, based on other letters after Lisi left


Dear Children, Sepp and Eliess, [aka Josef and Lisi]

It wasn’t meant to be that we would see you. Mari and Rudolf sent us free tickets 2nd class. [Lisi’s stepsister and husband in Cleveland, Ohio ]

We had our things in two boxes and what you wanted packed into a box. We sent it all, second class, to Bremen on the 11th of October. Then we traveled to Cadca. [a town on the border of Germany that Lisi had also passed through. See post: To Catch a Ship]

There at Cadca they wouldn’t let me go any farther because I needed to have a certificate from the hospital [probably for his eyes]. They took 1600 Kronen from me. It wasn’t only my money. It was also 1,000 Kronen from Mari [probably Maria Wagner, his 2nd wife’s daughter in Cleveland].

They made me turn around, but Mari’s mother [Ebner’s 2nd wife, Lisi’s stepmother] still had 1,000 Kronen and travel money to get her to Bremen, so they let her travel onward to Bremen with the children.

There they [the authorities] wouldn’t let her travel without me. Maria [his wife] wrote me in the hospital in Mühlbach, and I immediately telegraphed them that they should come back.

But they had also sent a telegram to America and waited 12 days in Bremen [probably waiting for word from Mari in Cleveland], where it cost 3 Kronen per day and there were three of them so it cost nearly 9 Kronen per day, and they [still] had to all come back along with the baggage.

Now I’ll unpack your luggage [probably extra stuff he was bringing along for Lisi and Josef] and send to Mari  [in Cleveland].

I already paid the transportation charge to Bremen and back. I wasn’t allowed to send [the packages to you] without us accompanying them. Mother came back to me sick and if she can’t get better in a short time, then I’ll have to see what I’ll do. In other things, it’s not going the best. You don’t have to worry about us. Health will come back, if God gives it to us.

Dear Son, [Josef] all the accounting of your money is the luggage. I will send it to you when the opportunity is better.

Sam Ebner Jr., Lisi's brother,
described as  "in military" by his dad.

How is it going with you both? Stay healthy. Write back soon. Sam [Lisi’s brother] is in military service and is healthy. [This didn’t turn out so well either, once World War I began. See The Fallen]

I greet you a thousand times as does the whole family

Lovingly, your father,
Samuel Ebner

"Your Uncertain Fate"

Berta Jickeli, Lisi Ebner's
employer and mentor in
Hermannstadt/Sibiu

We think of our grandparents as venerable and wise, unlikely to be impulsive, reckless, or spontaneous as youth is wont to be. But what if we could see them as they were viewed by the generation older than they -- if we could see them as they really were in their younger days, not the way they present themselves through the foggy, faulty lens of memory.

As I’ve written before, I was stunned to learn of my grandfather’s impatient, risk-laden determination to get to America (See Terror atop the Train). His letters exposed his surprising romanticism and desperate love for my grandmother, Lisi, pulling out all the stops to persuade her to join him in America-- another eye-popper! (see If you love me)

But what about my grandmother, Lisi? I always saw her as a powerful, no-nonsense woman, the antithesis of spontaneity. The opposite of ill-considered action.

But that’s not the way her former employer, Mrs. Jickeli viewed her decision to join Josef in America. Forty-five years old at the time twenty-three-year-old Lisi left, Mrs. Jickeli’s first letters to her peg my grandmother as a foolish girl who acted too impulsively in rushing off to America to join her equally reckless husband. You can feel Berta Jickeli's frustration -- like a mother for her wayward daughter, hoping for the best, but harboring serious doubts that things will work out.

December 10, 1911

Dear Lisi!

I received your letter and the picture, and I am glad that everything goes well for you. With great anxiety, I let you go to your uncertain fate in such a foreign place, and it is good that up to now everything has gone better that we thought.

Nevertheless, the fear and worry about you, who were my greatest problem child, has not lessened. When I see the picture, it proves to me that you are now a wife and so will be the victim of the painful and changing nature of life. From my entire heart, I wish that fate intends for you a gentle future and brings you nothing bad, and if you can write me over the next ten years that you still are satisfied, I will be truly happy and be glad that I was wrong.

The circumstances in America are certainly very different and in many instances they will be difficult to get used to; in other cases, easy. The culture of the wide [world] is certainly an enlightenment, and when you look around you and think of home, everything here will seem small to you.

Above all you must beware that you don’t let yourself become homesick. Because if that happens to you, you are lost. The best would be to strive to forget your old home town and only think about the future. When you next write me, write me what you do the entire day.

What kind of food you cook? Who is your boss, and how she is? How is Mr. Gärtz? His heart will be satisfied because he has you there, where he wanted you. Does the American climate suit him well? And how is he making out with his military duty? Does he want to report for it in March or be forever divorced from his homeland? (See Drafted 100 years ago. It's not clear to me if Josef ignored his draft summons, or signed up but left before he performed his duty)

I often wonder, why [your departure] all had to be so outside the law [or proper way] and form, when in a half year everything could have been worked out in the right and easy way. If now it would only come to good!

Here no one has called you or Gärtz --or have they? Because if [your marriage] hasn’t been announced here, your marriage is not according to law, and you must either marry here again or you must abandon any rights to each other’s families.*

*[Note: In Neppendorf or Großpold the pastor announced an upcoming wedding in the week(s) before the event so community members had a chance to object for any reason. Without the announcement, it wouldn’t be entered into the family book and not been considered legitimate, as Mrs. Jickeli describes.]
I am often with you in my thoughts and we also speak often of you. Our girls were completely crazy with joy when they saw your beautiful picture [undoubtedly the wedding photo].

Berta Jickeli

Of course, Mrs. Jickeli didn’t realize that World War I was just around the bend, that Josef likely would have died in that horrid war, as did Lisi's younger brother, and that the life she knew in Siebenbürgen would soon come to an end. In this case, impetuous youth had made the wise, forward-looking decision.