Farewell, my homeland

Bags packed. Ready to go. Hugs, and tears and kisses all around. “I’ll write as soon as I can,” Lisi says to her father, sisters and brother.

“Safe journey,” they say. “Come back to us.” “We’ll miss you so.”

I can imagine the scene when my grandmother, Elisabetha (Lisi) Ebner departed to meet her love, my grandfather, Josef, in Chicago--a century ago this summer, but I didn’t know the exact date she actually left her hometown of Grosspold, Austro-Hungary (now Romania)  for America. I had the date and time of her arrival in New York as well as the ship on which she arrived -- she wrote those details on the back of a postcard, which I’ll share in a future post.

But then I found the tiny book, just 2.5” wide, 4” tall, with its stark, unlabeled, black leather cover.

When I had first perused the pages, (when? Ages ago!)  lined like graph paper, it seemed a record primarily of addresses and unrelated numbers. With scores of letters waiting to be deciphered, I decided decoding the little book wasn’t a priority.

Lisi Ebner's diary. The right side is where I believe she started
the notes of her trip,  8/22/1911, and added details about her ship
on the left, probably after arriving in Bremen.

But recently I looked at it again -- and with an eye more trained in the old writing, I knew I had another example of my grandmother’s amazing compulsion to record her life.

On the first facing page, (which is where I believe she started her notes), I made out the following:

Am 22 August:     On August 22nd
Koffer:                 suitcase
Bahnhof:              train station
9 Uhr 1911:         9:00 [a.m.]  1911 in BIG LETTERS
Amerika:             The major  clue that I was onto something.

It was Lisi’s diary of her train trip from Grosspold to Bremen. I scanned it immediately and sent it off for “decoding" to my ninety-year-old German Rosetta Stone in Germany.  I’ve translated as best I could a rather confusing conglomeration of train schedules, addresses, expenses, and, possibly, an early version of networking.

But the first few pages are clear. Here’s what she wrote:

On the 22nd of August, 1911, I brought my suitcase to the Grosspold Train station at 9:00.

Contents:
6 large pillow cases
1 small pillow case
Many photographs
7 matching hand towels,
3 matching hand towels, one red, one white one blue
3 table towels
Two white napkins
6 blue napkins
1 cabinet towel (perhaps like a doily for a dresser?)
1 linen towel - just beginning work on it (perhaps a decorative cover for a dresser or cabinet. Perhaps she had begun to crochet the edges, or embroider a design onto a corner something she did all her life
A city map of Vienna
A map of Austria
A joke book (Could it be the book of jokes and songs that my grandfather, Josef, had created in the summer of 1910 (See the post,  Drafted 100 Years Ago).

Elisabetha (Lisi) Ebner
in Grosspold "costume" 1910

A Grosspold Costume without the shirt (probably just the skirt and apron. Here she is in her “Grosspold Costume,” at left.

My guess is that this is only one of several suitcases or trunks she took along, for it's only homemaking or practical items.

But it's the first step in a 5,000 mile journey to meet my grandfather, Josef Gärtz.  On the way, she will keep track of every stop the train makes, how much she spends on food, small gifts, and souvenirs.

She writes little of what she sees, and nothing of emotions or impressions. Perhaps it was too hard, at that time, to express herself in writing, having had so little opportunity to practice. I doubt she had written much beyond lists, basic instructions, and the letters to Josef since she had left school after the fourth grade. Her life had been filled with “productive” work. Time to just “write” for pleasure or art was non-existent--and probably never even occurred to her. Yet she was compelled to write, and here began her penchant for recording details and eventually evolving into a prolific correspondent that kept her in touch with loved ones for nearly seven decades.

In future posts we’’ll follow Lisi on her journey, and find out how Mrs. Jickeli, her former employer, even after her departure, took care of important business for Lisi.

The Highest Recommendation

Mrs. Berta Jickeli, center in black (Lisi's employer who wrote her the
 recommendation (Zeugnis-below), and her household help. 
Lisi is seated 2nd from left.The little girl she cared for, 
Berta's daughter,  Lisbeth, is at washtub, right. Dec.,1910.

The above photograph was signed on the back to my grandmother from Mrs. Jickeli, in December, 1910. (For details about what had been unseen for almost a century, written on the back of this photo, see post, Hidden Message Behind Women's Work.) It hung prominently in my grandmother's home for her entire life. I can imagine the immense sadness she felt as she prepared to say farewell to this woman and her little daughter, Lisbeth, both of whom she loved like family.

Mrs. Jickeli had taken Lisi under her wing for four years, and now this young woman of 23 was making what seemed to the forty-six year old Berta, a rash decision--taking off for America without knowing how long she'd stay or if she might return.  As she prepared for her journey, Lisi knew she would have to find a job once she arrived in Chicago, married, and settled in with my grandfather, Josef. Besides her Dienstbuch (record of all previous employment - see post: When a resumé worked as a passport, what else could be more important that a personal recommendation?

That’s exactly what she received from Mrs. Berta Jickeli. “Zeugnis" means "recommendation.

It’s a glowing report which must have made my grandmother’s heart swell with pride. She saved it her entire life - and now I have it, this century old tribute to my smart, hard-working grandmother.

Recommendation

The undersigned at the end [of this document] certifies herewith that Eliesabeth [also spelled Elisabetha]  Ebner from Grosspold (Nagy-Apold), Hungary, first worked for me as a parlour maid and later as cook from January 8, 1906 to August 15, 1911.

During this time, she has always been honest, upright, industrious, and faithful, and for every duty has earned my fullest satisfaction. She is superbly qualified for childcare and illness duties and is well-trained in all household work, and I can therefore most heartily recommend her. 

Berta Jickeli, Merchant’s Wife, August 15, 1911.”

Hermannstadt (Nagy-Szeben), Hungary on August 15, 1911

At the bottom, in purple ink, is an official stamp of Hermannstadt, and the document is countersigned by what is our equivalent of a notary. 

I can only imagine the conflicting emotions Lisi must have suffered through as she put all her affairs in order:  excitement, fear, anticipation, and sorrow, knowing she may never return to the beloved Jickeli household, her father, her sisters, and brother. 

She didn't write about her feelings. Perhaps she thought that was too self-indulgent, but she did record much about her trip, beginning with the delivery of her luggage to the train station in Grosspold--followed by details of her  journey. Coming up: Lisi's diary -- from Grosspold to Chicago.

I'd love to hear from any of you who have a document related to your ancestors in which they (or you) would take particular pride. 

Please click on the word "comments" below center. Thanks for reading!

When a resumé worked as passport

Lisi's "Passport" 

Traveling sure was different 100 years ago. My grandmother, Lisi Ebner had to get all her papers in order to travel to America. I found her “passport” among the artifacts she left behind. She had actually written on it “My Pass von [from] 1911.”

I can't read most of the lines in the "pass" because all is in Hungarian (In 1911, Siebenbürgen/Transylvania was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire), but things like her town (Nagy-Apold -- Hungarian for Grosspold) and dates can be made out.

Her name seemed to be misspelled  -- as Erzsébet, instead of Elisabetha. That wouldn’t fly today (literally!). But I was told by my "Rosetta Stone," Meta, who deciphers the old German letters for me that Erzsébet was the Hungarian name for Elisabetha. (And thanks to Nick at Nick Gombash's Genealogy Blog, for providing the correct spelling. See his comment below that translates the details of Lisi's town, district, county, and country--from the Hungarian)

I always assumed (because of her note) it was a true blue passport, but I've learned it was actually a “Dienstbuch,” literally a “service book.” We can consider it a kind of “resume.” In it are listed her various employers, when she started working for them, her job, and even salary. Because of its official nature, (the first page is stamped by the local police!),  it appears to have also been used as her passport, per her own note. 

Lisi's employment history with the Jickeli family, with
whom she corresponded for sixty years.

This method of keeping track of employers seemed to be pretty common (See my post of May 4th, Happy 125th Birthday). My maternal grandmother, had the same type of book, but in Austria it was called: Arbeitsbuch, literally her "Work-book").

The first entry listed In Elisabetha Ebner's "Work-book" is from January 1, 1903-December 31, 1904, when Lisi was ages 15-17. 


The next two pages have been filled out by Dr. Carl F[riedrich] Jickeli, (left) Eisenhändler (hardware store owner). I recently learned this was far more than a hardware story, however. It was a kind of department store in the center of Hermannstadt (Sibiu) where you could buy everything from kitchenware to tools and nails to clothing.  Lisi actually worked for Carl Jickeli's wife, Berta, from January 8, 1906, to August 15, 1911, (ages 18-24) as a Stubenmädchen (parlor-maid--a good position). Monthly salary:  12 Kronen. She must have also been given room and board, as she was eighteen miles from her home in Grosspold, but it still doesn't sound like much. The left page is stamped with the final date of her employment: 1911, Aug. 15.  On the right page is hand-written:  [Wishing you] complete satisfaction in every path.

For more than five years Lisi was Mrs. Jickeli's right-hand gal. Her role evolved far beyond that of just a maid, as future letters, revealed. Mrs. Jickeli entrusted her with the running of the household when she had to be away on business, and most importantly, entrusted her young daughter, Lisbeth, to Lisi's  care. 

As she prepared to leave the woman she considered a second mother, Lisi would turn to Mrs. Jickeli for a very important document to help her find work in the far-away land of America. Coming up --"The Recommendation."

I’m curious as to what sort of passports any of my readers may have from their ancestors. Do they seem to be uniquely a passport -- or did you find an "employment book" as well -- that might have been used as a passport?

Are we going there to stay?

June 7, 1911, postcard from Lisi to Josef. The two love-birds in a heart
of roses,  the clasped hands, and the forget-me-not blue flowers
speak of love without saying a word

Lisi has made up her mind! One hundred years ago today, she sat down to write another postcard to Josef, probably in response to his desperate pitch  (May 25, 1911) to come and marry him. Read it at
If you love me...

This strange land of America is so confusing: even the addresses make no sense. What part goes where? Despite the fact that she mixes up the street, state, city and house number on the postcard, it still gets to Josef. His heart must soar. Lisi is coming to America to marry him! She writes this postcard from Salzburg, where she has undoubtedly joined her employer, Mrs. Jickeli, at the family's summer home.

Some background notes: Pentecost (celebrated the fiftieth day after Easter and marking when the Holy Spirit descended upon Jesus’s apostles) was a holiday in the Evangelische Lutheran church worth mentioning in her letter.

Herrn Josef Gärtz:
Orchard Ill St. 1550
Chicago, North America

Beloved (Dearest) Heart,

I have spoken with Kathi and mother on the 2nd Pentecost day. Am I right -- that you want to marry there [in Chicago]? I should do what I think is right.

How will [the trip] work out in the end? Is there anything I’ve forgotten to ask you in the letter? Please, answer me immediately. I have already spoken with the madam [probably her boss, Mrs. Jeckeli] that I could leave before autumn. But please let me know clearly what I must do. Then I will make all the arrangements.

When will we two return home? Or are we going there to stay? What is your thinking about that? Please answer every question soon.

Yours,

Elisabetha
Salzburg, June 7, 1911

Despite not knowing if she is going to live in America just for a short time -- or for the rest of her life, Lisi is taking the plunge. What she takes on her journey -- coming up.

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I will come

The blue flowers are "forget-me-nots"

Josef’s long, heartfelt letter of May 25th, 1911, (click: If you love me...) could not yet have reached Lisi in Transylvania when she picked out this sweet postcard and wrote to him on May 30th.
For one thing, she chastises him for sending her such a “short” response, making clear she hasn’t yet seen the May 25th letter in which he exhorts her, in determined pleadings, to come to America (“If you love me, you will come here”).

She’s also annoyed that he has told her not to show his writing to anyone else, and yet recently has written to her (prior to May 25th) on a postcard which anyone can read. She, however, sends this postcard in an envelope (the entire back is filled with her writing, with no space for an address.)

Below is an approximate translation.

Note: Sepp is a nickname for Josef (think of the Italian for Josef, GiuSEPPe, and it makes sense):

May 30, 1911

Dearest Sepp,

Thank you for all your letters and also postcards, which I’ve received. But your answer to my long letter is very short. Also, you asked me to keep all the writing from you to me hidden from the eyes of others, but then you send me a post card where everyone can read what you say! That’s the main reason I feel annoyed and am uncertain if I should make the trip to America.

But just like the flowers [bloom] on this card [forget-me-nots], joy blooms in my heart because I know that I love you and that you love me. God knows what is right. I have in mind that I should come.

Picture this:
You are a twenty-three year old young woman--one hundred years ago. You were raised in a small town of all German-speaking people, and now work in the larger town eighteen miles away.  You secured an enviable job with one of the most prominent families in the area, a family of merchants, politicians, church luminaries, doctors. You’ve served them well, especially the mistress of the house, been responsible for the vast staff she has to feed and manage, taken care of her little daughter and loved her as your own.

But the love of your life has traveled to a strange land 5,000 miles distant--a land where you won’t understand the language, have no idea of the customs, habits, expectations. He sees the opportunities in America and has made it clear: he will never come back to Transylvania. He wants you to come to marry him…now! He doesn’t want to wait, and “if you love me,” he says, “you will come here to marry me.” (see If you love me...)

The translation is difficult, but it seems Lisi is leaning toward joining Josef in America. But by the time she writes again, she will have received Josef's desperate pitch ("If you don't come here,  I know you don't love me." see If you love me...). Her response on June 7, 1911 -- up next.

I look forward to your hearing from you. Please click on the word "comments," centered, below this post and leave me a message.

The Fallen - Part III

Travel Tuesday - Monument to the dead

Sam Ebner, Lisi's brother, died in the Battle of Galicia, one of the earliest battles in WWI. (See previous two posts: The Fallen-Part I and The Fallen-Part II). I wrote about my brothers and my 2007 visit to my grandmother’s (Lisi's) church courtyard in her hometown of Grosspold, where we discovered this monument inscribed with “Our Fallen Heroes.” Lisi's brother’s name, Samuel Ebner, was carved near the top.

But it wasn’t until I was able to decipher several letters from Lisi’s father (also Samuel) back home in Grosspold, that I realized Lisi’s direct connection to and partial responsibility for this memorial honoring her brother and other fallen soldiers of "The Great War," as it was known.

Here are two letters Samuel Ebner, the father, wrote to Lisi and Josef. The first is undated, but the content and date on the second make it pretty clear that both are from 1936.

Dear Children,

I must ask you for 100 Lei by March. At that time, a memorial for the fallen soldiers [of World War I] will be erected in the church courtyard and on this monument, the names of the dead will be written in gold letters. So I want to make this little request for 100 Lei* to be given for Sam. 

May 2, 1936

Dear Lisi,

I’m late writing because of...the memorial to our heroes who were laid to rest in foreign ground. The Memorial stands in the Church courtyard. I paid with the money from you, and your name was inscribed.

But my grandparents had sent more than just the 100 Lei* for the monument -- ten times more, in fact. The remainder of the letter shows just how much Lisi was helping her extended family during desperate times in 1936 Romania.

Dear Children, 
I received the 1000 Lei, and I send you my deepest thanks for it. I have often said already that we are so lucky to have you. Other people say how nice it is when the children think about their parents.
Best thanks again, you Dear Ones, for the money. We have paid the taxes for 1936 and bought pigs for next year.

(*Lei has been the currency of Romania until recently. I don’t know what the exchange rate in 1936 would have been, but I do know it was in the depths of the Great Depression. Not only were my grandparents trying to keep afloat in a dismal economy, they were financing a memorial and family 5,000 miles away)

Although separated by thousands of miles and away from her home town for twenty-five years, Lisi maintained strong ties to her homeland. One hundred years after she and Josef emigrated from Siebenbürgen/Transylvania, we can still see today the visible impact they made on a land their hearts had never left behind.

I look forward to your hearing from you. Please click on the word "comments," centered, below this post and leave me a message.

The Fallen - Part II

Travel Tuesday

"Names of the Fallen"
Samuel Ebner-2nd from top

Father and Son, both Samuel Ebner
~ 1902-05.  My grandmother, Lisi's,
brother and father.

In the first post in this three-part series about Samuel Ebner,  my grandmother's younger brother, I explained how my two brothers and I discovered this monument to the fallen soldiers in World Wars I and II in the courtyard of my grandmother, Lisi's, home church in Grosspold, Romania. Samuel's name was listed near the top of the World War I "fallen." (See The Fallen-Part I).

We didn't know much about young Samuel (also my great-grandfather's name), but this photograph, at left, always hung in a prominent place in my grandparents' home and now hangs  as part of a 100-photo family history wall extending up the wall along my front stairway.  It's the two Samuels: father and son.   Hand-colored with pastels, the photo was made about 1902-05.

Once I was able to decipher some of the missives my grandmother had saved, I came across a very special one-- this postcard from her brother, Sam, addressed to his father, dated August 19, 1914. Samuel (who must have been nicknamed “Kaspar,” perhaps to avoid confusion with his dad) writes only the briefest of messages:

Dear Parents,

"Dear Parents" The final words received from
Sam Ebner (Jr.) written August 19, 1914

I share with you that we are now in Galicia. Most beautiful greeting to all. Farewell.

Kaspar Ebner

On the right side he’d added: Don’t answer [this letter].

Perhaps he didn't know where he'd be. Perhaps he knew what a terrible battle he was about to enter. The day before young Samuel wrote this card, on August 18, 1914, the Russians had invaded Galicia from the east, in one of the earliest battles of World War I. The Russian army would eventually devastate the Austro-Hungarian Army in which Samuel was soldier. He died during the Battle of Galicia on August 26, 1914, just eight days after penning his last words.

Grosspold Church Family Book entry for  Samuel Ebner (Jr.) the youngest
son of Samuel Ebner and his first wife, Elisabetha Eder/Ebner
 Birth column: 6/16/1893.  Death column: 8/26/1914

His birth and death dates (latter barely legible) were entered into the Family Book from the Evangelische Lutheran church and show he was born June 16, 1893. He was twenty-one when he died.

At some point, my grandmother’s half-brother, Hans, sent her the above postcard, adding this heart-felt note on the address side:

Dear Sister,

I’m sending you here the most valuable thing I’ve ever had--because it is the last writing from our dear brother, Sam--in the hope that you will treasure it as I have.
Hans

The fact that I still have this postcard, almost 100 years later, is testimony to the care my grandmother took with this precious last message.

But not only did she save her brother’s memory in this modest missive, she helped make possible the impressive memorial whereon were inscribed her brother’s and his fellow fallen comrades' names.  More on how I discovered this connection in the third part of this series on Samuel Ebner, "the younger." Look for "The Fallen - Part III" next Travel Tuesday.

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