My Natacha Nattova obsession: about roy

about roy

My Google profile can be found here. I teach philosophy in Orange County. I'm a blogger.

Interested in ultra-conservative Orange County, CA—or in conservative, politics? Check out my posts about Tom Fuentes, for many years, the Darth Vader of Orange County politics: Fuentes
You might be particularly intrigued by my research concerning the mysterious sinking of the yacht, Shooting Star, in 1974. Very creepy/suspicious. (See collection of posts among those assembled in Fuentes file.)
My first and most established blog, which I share with my colleague “Rebel Girl,” is called Dissent the Blog. It developed out of a series of newsletters that pissed off some powerful people and forced me to seek 1st Amendment protection in Federal Court in the late 90s. I won.
I also have a philosophical blog—I am the sole full-time philosophy instructor at Irvine Valley College—called OC Blue Philosopher.
Finally, my family are German immigrants (by way of Canada), and I am the family’s unofficial historian. Interested? See The Bauer Family Blog.

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Who on Earth was Natacha Nattova?

French Kiss: the sad story of baby Peter

Sierra (Edith) and friend, c. 1950

From The Bauer Family Blog, July 12, 2011:

¶ You’ll recall that Edith (Bauer) was raised by her Aunt, Martha Hänfler (né Schultz) and Martha’s husband Otto. Edith regarded the two as her parents and referred to them as “mother” and “father.”

¶ Otto died (of TB) in 1941, when Edith was about eight. And so, starting in ’41, Edith lived only with Martha, although Martha maintained close ties to her family—and people seemed to come and go, living for a time in their house or some portion of it.

AN AMOROUS FRENCHMAN:

¶ Hänfler, who himself seemed to be pretty well-off, had a wealthy brother in Berlin (actually, in the adjoining town of Falkensee). (Incidentally, the brother was sweet on Martha, but to no avail.) In 1943, brother Hänfler’s 19-or-so-year-old daughter, Edith, became pregnant by a handsome French POW named ~~Pierre Henyon~~(?) [Frederic François Hennion]. (The name is pronounced HenYOn, rhyming with “alone.”)

¶ ~~Pierre~~ Frederic's family was wealthy, and they had pull with the Red Cross. The Red Cross arranged for Frederic to receive special privileges as a POW, and so he was “free” to go to work—at the garden of Herr Hänfler’s estate—during the day. Ordinarily, he would report to a POW facility at night. (These prisons were typically placed in city centers to discourage aircraft bombing there.)

¶ Edith (i.e., our Edith, Edith Bauer) recalls that Frederic was handsome, dark-haired, and of medium build. He spoke little German. Evidently, he was very much in love with Edith Hänfler. (One wonders how much French Edith spoke! My guess: little.)

¶ Naturally, it wouldn’t do for a woman to become pregnant by a French POW—were that circumstance to come to the attention of authorities, said POW would be executed. And so for that reason (among the usual ones), young Edith Hänfler left town before she started to show. She was sent to live way to the east—with Martha and Edith in sleepy Bärwalde, Pommern.

¶ Our Edith—I’ll call her “Sierra” to avoid confusion—remembers Edith Hänfler. She was one of twins. These twins were very attractive and seemed always to travel and do everything together. (Well, not every thing.)

"SuperNazis" above, Hogan's Heroes below

AN EPISODE OF “HOGAN’S HEROES”

¶ When the time came, young Edith went to the nearby town of Neustettin, which had a hospital. Meanwhile, Frederic was a POW in Berlin, but he was determined to be with his love. When Edith gave birth to the child—she insisted that she didn’t know who the father was—Frederic declared that he would steal himself to Neustettin by train.

¶ Naturally, this was a lunatic notion, but Frederic would not be dissuaded, and so brother Hänfler (reluctantly, I hope) helped Frederic with operation Loony Lover: smuggling this non-German-speaking Frenchman from Berlin all the way to Bärwalde and back without alerting the authorities. Edith remembers that a great effort was made to dress Frederic properly for the trip. The plan involved his saying nothing, dressing well, and hiding in the train’s restroom. Did Preston Sturges concoct this plan?

¶ (Update: just spoke with mom [Sierra]. She explains that Hänfler did help Frederic to Bärwalde, but the Bärwalde crew—Martha, et al.—were taken completely by surprise when they arrived. I can just see Martha muttering, "Mein Gott!" [if, that is, she's anything like Sierra] It was at that point that the gang worked out the plan to smuggle Frederic into the hospital, several miles down the road. Sierra, who was eleven at the time, remembers helping to dress him up. I asked her, "Who will play Colonel Hogan when they do the miniseries?" She laughed. But she still insists that this yarn is all true.)

¶ The plan worked. They got Frederic into Martha and Edith’s Bärwalde home. The home was large, and its top floor had by then been commandeered by high-ranking Nazi officials (Sierra always refers to them as “those SuperNazis”). Those people tolerated no funny business. Edith tells of how she and her mother would listen to illegal non-German radio broadcasts at night, but they had to be careful that the “SuperNazis” couldn’t hear them.

¶ So the story—Edith eyewitnessed much of it—is that Frederic was smuggled into their downstairs apartment, and then, later, he was smuggled to Neustettin Hospital to visit with Edith, who had just given birth days earlier. (In those days, new mothers would spend about two weeks in the hospital, recovering.) All of this occurred over a few days, perhaps a weekend. Eventually, Frederic was smuggled back to Berlin and back to his POW facilities. None of this skullduggery was ever detected. Whew.

¶ This yarn is pretty hard to swallow, but Sierra swears that all of it is true. And she’s no liar.

Martha and Else, c. 1912

THE TRAGICALLY MATERNAL ELSE ZEMKE:

The last of Peter

¶ The baby was named Peter. Naturally, young Edith could not keep Peter—she needed to return to Falkonsee as if nothing was up—and so it was decided that Tante Else (one of the younger Schultz sisters) would take him.

¶ Else had no children but was crazy about them. She might have been just crazy. She had a reputation in town for taking in children from women who could not keep them, but, typically, these schemes would come to grief, for Else would grow very attached to these kids and, inevitably, the authorities would take them away from her.

¶ Else, who lived in Bärwalde, was married to one Georg Zemke (no relation to Gerhard Zemke). The Zemke family had money, and so Georg had money. He was well liked, but he was also a known gambler and alcoholic—not a good candidate for parenthood.

¶ When Hermann Schultz (Sierra’s father) died in 1939, someone had to take Ilse, Sierra’s sister (who would have been about nine years old). And so Else and Georg took her. (That's right; Else took Ilse.)

¶ A few years earlier, Else had inherited the family homestead (near the Jewish temple), and that is where Else and Georg made their home. But Georg managed to gamble and drink it all away. They were forced to move to a cheap apartment in town.

¶ So, on the 28th of February, 1944, Peter was born and was handed over to Else, who was thrilled. The arrangement was decidedly unofficial, off the books.

* * *

¶ The great German flight to the west—in response to the dreaded Soviet invasion—occurred exactly one year later. Martha, Edith, Else (Georg had died), and little Peter managed to escape by train, ending up in the Munster area south of Hamburg.

¶ Meanwhile, Frederic somehow ended up back in France. He and his family made great efforts to locate Edith and Peter, and, pretty soon, Edith and Frederic were reunited, in France, where they married. They wanted to retrieve their son, Peter, who, of course, was being raised by Else.

¶ The post-war chaos was such that it took years for Red Cross (and other?) officials to locate Else and Peter. At some point—perhaps in ~~’47 or ’48~~ [49?], Else received a letter from the Red Cross that alerted her to the efforts of Peter’s parents to have Peter returned to them. Evidently, it was very clear that, legally, Else could not prevent this from occurring.

¶ Oddly, Else never shared these warnings with anyone. As far as anyone knew, Peter was Else’s child, and that was that. Else commenced secretly worrying and fretting about the impending arrival of officials to take her “son” away. Her health suffered. Sometimes, family members would have to take in young Peter, who had become beloved by all. Sierra was particularly fond of him. He was very much a member of the family.

¶ But, in truth, a time bomb was ticking and it was bound to explode in the middle of their lives.

Operation Loony Lover: smuggling a French POW from Berlin to Bärwalde and back

ELSE’S SUICIDE:

¶ Finally, in ~~about 1949~~ 1950, the arrival of Red Cross officials became imminent—though, still, Else kept the fact a secret. Else’s distress increased. She fell apart. She would declare to friends and relatives that “tonight” she would die. She would even tell people what they were going to inherit from her. (She told Sierra that she wanted her to have her wonderful sewing machine.)

¶ Naturally, everyone was concerned.

¶ But then she would not die. Then, suddenly, it became clear that Else was suicidal. Over a period of days, she attempted suicide, unsuccessfully.

¶ It was during these tense “suicidal” days that Sierra, riding her bike to work one morning, stopped by Else’s place to check in on her. (Peter was in the care of others.) Sierra, who would have been sixteen or seventeen, called out to Else, but there was no answer. Sierra used her key to open the door. Everything was still; the place was immaculate, as always. There was a bedroom to the left. The door was closed. She entered it. Else was hanging, motionless, from the curtain rod, her face draped.

¶ It was obvious what had happened.

¶ Sierra was horrified. She does not recall what she did then. After a time, she realized that she had to get help, but there was no phone. Sierra managed to ride her bike to the office, which was perhaps a quarter mile away. From there, she called her boyfriend, a cop. He said he would get right over there (evidently, all relevant personnel were elsewhere than Bärwalde). Sierra then returned to Else’s. She stayed downstairs, in the basement. Finally, after a half hour or so, her cop boyfriend arrived, but he “brought everyone”: the usual officials and workers for such circumstances. It was overwhelming.

¶ Until just a few days earlier, no one had thought of Else as someone who might commit suicide. But she had kept the fact of Peter’s imminent departure from everyone. Even during the few days after Else’s death, no one understood what had motivated Else’s action.

¶ But, soon, Red Cross (and other) officials made clear that they were about to take Peter to France. At about that time, the family had found Else’s letters and read them, which revealed what she had feared and what had caused her suicide.

Sierra (Edith), c. 1950

BUREAUCRATIC VIOLENCE:

¶ What happened next is odd. Or perhaps not. Even when officials arrived to take Peter—he was taken from Edith and Martha’s household—it was months before Peter was actually taken to France. By then, Peter was about six years old and he was a big part of the lives of Edith, Martha, and others. But he was taken away, and he was moved from orphanage to orphanage while bureaucratic red tape (or something else?) held up his relocation to France (Paris, I believe).

¶ The family was horrified. For a while, Sierra would travel great distances on weekends to spend time with little Peter. Tante Martha was incensed. Given the slowness of the process in which Peter was relocated to France, it seemed to her that those who wanted Peter didn’t seem to want him very badly. She wrote to Peter’s mother, revealing the toll that this action was taking on the family. It even seemed to lead to Else’s suicide, wrote Martha.

¶ Peter eventually arrived in France. After that, the family no longer traveled to visit with him. (One can easily imagine the reasons.) He was simply gone. Forever.

¶ Sierra wrote to him, and he wrote back. But, only a year after Else’s suicide, Sierra emigrated, starting a new life and a family, far far away. Still, she wrote to Peter, and Peter would write to her.

THE NOT-SO-SWEET PETER:

Peter: identity crisis

¶ One might suppose that Frederic, the Frenchman, having been raised in a rich family accustomed to privilege, was spoiled. Certainly, the crazy "train to Bärwalde" caper casts an unfavorable light on the fellow. It seemed to Sierra that, at the hands of his parents, Peter, too, had become spoiled. His letters continued to demand of Sierra that she rescue him. He would ask for other things. Even money.

¶ After a while, the Pen Pal Peter didn’t seem like such a nice kid anymore.

* * *

¶ One day in 1956 (perhaps a year or two later), Ilse, Sierra's sister, heard the door knock. When she opened it, she was amazed to find Peter standing before her! He seemed to think that Ilse must take him in. And she did.

¶ Peter remained for a long time. Eventually, Ilse asked, “Isn’t it time for you to go to your home in France?” Peter was old enough to travel the trains by himself (trains and train stations were safe then), but he certainly was not old enough to leave home permanently.

¶ By then, Ilse was married to Franz, who clearly thought that enough was enough—Peter needed to return to France. Ilse and Franz paid for his ticket back home, and off he went.

¶ It isn’t clear what Peter’s parents thought of all this.

¶ Subsequently, Peter would occasionally show up on Ilse’s doorstep again, and he’d stay too long again. Invariably, he would spend all of his money—playing around—and use that as an excuse not to buy a ticket home. Ilse is not the sort to put up with such behavior. When he would show up, she would demand from him enough money to pay for his return home.

¶ Meanwhile, Peter continued to correspond with Sierra, asking for rescue, for money, etc.

¶ Eventually, Peter married. His wife was a success in the fashion industry, and she made good money. He sent pictures of his two (?) beautiful girls. Later, Sierra would discover that the girls had attended a Catholic school in Orange County (probably Tustin's Saint Jeanne de Lestonnac School)! She had had no idea!

¶ Peter would occasionally show up on Ilse’s doorstep—with his entire family. Ilse would “go nuts,” says Sierra.

¶ By then, the Sierra-Peter correspondence had come to an end. All information about Peter came indirectly through Ilse (who, these days, is no longer able to communicate). It seems to Sierra that Peter eventually divorced his wife and returned to bachelor life.

¶ And he continued to show up occasionally on Ilse’s doorstep.

* * *

¶ The last “Peter” story related to Sierra by Ilse comes from the late 90s—a few years before Ray’s death, says Sierra (Ray died in August of 2001). Peter suddenly phoned Ilse, declaring, “I’m back in Germany. Germany is my home. I’m a German, not a Frenchman.”

¶ That was remarkable enough. But then he asked her, “Can I stay with you?”

¶ Ilse being Ilse, said “no.” She had moved, and so Peter did not have Ilse’s new address.

¶ And she did not volunteer it.

UPDATE:

¶ Yesterday (6/21/12), I was contacted by one of Peter's granddaughters in France. She identifies herself as Edith Hennion, and she was born, oddly enough, on Peter's birthday—February 28—in 1966, which would make her Ron's age (46).

¶ She has already sent me several photos, including the one at left of Peter's wife, Edith Martha Hänfler, who, she tells me, died on october 2, 1960, at age 42. She also sent a roughly written "family tree," which indicates that Peter's father was Frederic Francois Hennion, who was born on October 20 26, 1915. He died around 1971 from cancer; he is buried in Noyon cemetery. He married Edith Martha Hänfler on the 1st of June, 1945, in Charlottenburg (Berlin). [Note: Berlin fell to the Soviets on about May 2, 1945.] Peter's name is given as Peter Frederic Remo Hänfler.

¶ For some reason, Peter's wife's name is not indicated. But in a subsequent correspondence, Edith states that her mother's name is Josiane.

¶ Peter Hänfler did not become a Hennion until 1959, when his father at last recognized him as a son.

¶ Edith indicates that her father, Peter, died ten years ago at age 58. That was news to us.

¶ Edith also sent three old photos: one of a man by the beach, another (perhaps at the same beach) of two young children, and one of the two young children, slightly older, with a dog. She writes that she does not know who these people are.

¶ I've already emailed her, informing her that the man is my father, Gunther Bauer, and that the two kids are Annie and me. The dog, of course, is Prince. These photos were taken in 1960 and about 1961 (in Santa Monica and Orange).

¶ Ma (our Edith) is very excited about this turn of events. She is surprised that Peter and his family had the photos of our family, since, as she understood it, her sister Ilse was unwilling to part with any family photos and give them to Peter. (They were in contact, though they have apparently not been in contact in recent years.) Maybe that wasn't true.

¶ More to come.

P.S.: Edith sends an email today (6/23/12) in which she writes: "I remembered he [Peter] received from California a photo of your family in front of a house, it was probably [sent] in the eighties. This photograph diseappeared as well as the one of a beautiful young (15-16 years) black-haired woman at the very beginning of our family photo album, a beautiful face with a white net gloved hand. Maybe you can recognized your mother ? This photo was with him when he came to France."

¶ I'll have to ask Edith about those photos.

¶ Later!

The Fatal Lie—and other tales

Jacob Gould Schurman

From Dissent the Blog (Sept. 10, 2010):

¶ My mother, who, at age twelve, fled the Russian advance in 1945, has almost nothing from her childhood in Pomerania, aside from a few pictures, a handful of artifacts, and some stories. She left (Western) Germany in 1951, not to return until the 1980s. But, even then, she was not permitted to visit her hometown, which had long been handed over to the Poles. (She finally achieved a visit recently.)

THE STORY OF THE FATAL LIE:

¶ Mom's aunt Martha, whom she called her mother (her biological mother died in 1934), once told mom the following story. One of the girls of the large (12 children!) Schultz family of Bärwalde, Pommern—namely, Martha's sister Frieda—had a burning desire to move to America. But there was a problem: she was still married to her deadbeat husband, who had ditched her and now lived somewhere in Berlin.

¶ Without a divorce, she would never be permitted to emigrate. So she sought the divorce. Her lawyer told her that, first, she needed to secure Herr Deadbeat’s residential address.

¶ So Frieda, accompanied by another sister (Siss3—these Schultzes seemed always to travel in sororal packs), flew to Berlin and followed whatever leads they had. Eventually, they found a tavern in the vicinity of Herr Deadbeat’s last known whereabouts. Herr D wasn’t there, so they asked some of the patrons about him, but those guys became suspicious, and so Frieda came up with a lie:

“We must get ahold of Herr D, for his wife was in a terrible car accident near the Berlin Airport!”

¶ Well, no, his wife was that very woman, telling der whopper.

My mom doesn’t recall whether Frieda ever located her husband’s address. But she does remember this: “Exactly one month later—not in Berlin, but back home in Stettin (the big city nearer Bärwalde)—she was in a terrible automobile accident. It occurred at the Stettin Airport.

¶ “She was killed.”

¶ I looked at my mom: “Well, I guess that’s a pretty good story. A pretty sad story.”

¶ “Oh yes,” replied mom. “And my mother always told me—‘See! You must never tell such lies! If you do, this is what vill happen to you!’”

¶ “You don’t actually believe that, do you?” I asked.

¶ “Well, that’s what she always said.”

¶ I recalled being told similar instructional tales when I was a kid. Sheesh.

Martha and Edith (mom) at father's grave, c. 1939

THE AMBASSADOR IN BERLIN:

¶ I asked mom how it came about that this unfortunate aunt had developed a burning desire to move to America.

¶ “Vell, maybe it had to do with the Ambassador.”

“The Ambassador?”

¶ (I’m streamlining this a bit.)

¶ So here’s the second part of this story, which was told to mom by her Aunt Martha (aka “mom”) sixty-some-odd years ago.

¶ At some point, likely in the late twenties, some of the Sisters hatched a plan to go to Berlin to meet the ambassador. The “American ambassador.”

¶ “Do you mean the American ambassador to Germany or Germany’s ambassador to the U.S.A.?”

¶ Mom thought. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I was just a little girl when I heard this story.”

¶ As it turns out, some of my mom’s relatives are named Schurmann. (Edith's grandmother on her father's side was a Schurmann.) The ambassador’s name was Schurmann (almost), too. And so, evidently, these Schultz girls went to Berlin to meet with Ambassador Schurmann, a relative.

¶ I pressed my mom for details, but she didn’t seem to have any. But then she remembered that, according to family lore, a Schurmann had left Germany for America and, at one point, his letters back home simply ceased. He became the "lost Schurmann." Then, much later, the fellow appeared again, only now he was a big shot, a diplomat.

¶ She told me all of this a couple of days ago. Yesterday, I did a little research and soon discovered that the American ambassador to Germany from 1925 to 1930 was one Jacob Gould Schurman (one “n”), who had been born in Canada (like me).

¶ I dug deeper. JG Schurman was a scholar with extensive training in philosophy (that’s my field). Though he was raised on a farm, he was very bright and he won scholarships that allowed him to study in London and then in such places as Heidelberg, Germany. Eventually, he lived in New York, where he pursued an impressive academic career. (He helped found one of the most prestigious journals of philosophy: The Philosophical Review.)

¶ Starting in the early 90s, he became the President of Cornell University, doing much to increase its size and reputation. Evidently, he advocated an ethnically diverse studentry and helped poor students go to college.

¶ He retired from that post in 1920. By then, he had been an American ambassador to several countries, including Greece and China. From 1925 to 1930, he was the U.S. Ambassador to Germany, where he was very well known and well liked, owing in part to his efforts to raise funds to rebuild his alma mater (the U of Heidelberg).

¶ It is likely that the Schultzes would have known about Jacob Gould Schurman, even if he weren’t a relative. He was well-known, and, of course, he had that name.

¶ Last night, I presented this information to my mother, who proceeded to utterly confuse me and herself. I do believe, however, that we have established the following:

• The “sisters” who traveled to Berlin went to see J.G. Schurman, the famous American Ambassador.

• The visit possibly concerned an effort to confirm that Schurman was a relative.

• It is not known whether the confirmation occurred or even whether the sisters managed to meet with Schurman, though it is likely that they did meet with him (since the story was told without any indication that things went badly). (Evidently, Martha was not the sort to lie or to embellish stories. I think she feared bursting into flames.)

Ambassador Schurman, with Hermann Müller, visiting President von Hindenburg

THE GENEALOGY OF SCHURMANS:

¶ Today, I did some more research and I found a genealogical site that traces JG Schurman’s pedigree. Here’s the short version:

¶ Jacob Gould Schurman (1854 – 1942) was a (Canadian-born) American educator and diplomat, who served as the President of Cornell University and United States Ambassador to Greece, China, and Germany.

¶ JGS’s father, Robert Schurman, was born on Prince Edward Island (Canada) in 1821.

¶ Robert’s father, Caleb Schurman, was born in 1782 in New Rochelle, New York.

¶ Caleb’s father, William, was born in 1743 in New Rochelle. This means, of course, that he was in his prime during the Revolutionary War. According to “Ancestral Trails” (a genealogy website),

William Schurman, was a Loyalist, farmer, merchant, shipbuilder, miller, cooper, Magistrate and Legislator. A tax list in 1771 shows him owning 5 blacks, 2 of them adults, and 3 girls under the age of 16, William considered himself to be 'English' and not 'American'. He left New York in 1783 and selling his holdings bought a ship and sailed to Shelburne, Nova Scotia, which had been created for 'Loyalists'. William left Shelburne and sailed to Prince Edward Island in the Fall of 1783. He bought land at the head of the Estuary of the Dunk River, which is now Central Bedeque. At one point he owned approx. 10 thousand acres of land encompassing the areas of Wilmot Valley, Norboro, Bedeque and Kelvin Grove.

¶ A slaveholder, eh? Sheesh.

According to AT, William’s father, Jacob Schureman (c. 1699 to c. 1783), was elected Town Assessor in 1739, 1757, 1762 and 1763 in New Rochelle, New York. He was also elected Overseer of Highways in 1756 and 1761.

¶ Jacob’s father was yet another Jacob (spelling his name Schureman and sometimes Schuerman). According to AT, “he was elected a Constable for the Town of New Rochelle in 1703. He was also elected as a Tax Collector in 1717. He was twice married….”

¶ Jacob’s father was Frederick. Again, according to AT,

Frederick Harmenszen Schureman may have been the one, who with his brother Nanning, set out in 1686 to trade with the Ottawa Indians in Upper New York. They were captured and robbed by the French and Indians, carried as prisoners to Montreal and then to Quebec. They did manage to escape and make their way back home. Frederick & Christina belonged to the Dutch Church in New Amsterdam (NewYork City). They may have lived later in Stamford, Ct., but end[ed] up in New Rochelle, New York.

¶ Frederick’s father seems to be Harmen Schuerman (born c. 1590), who was

the assumed founder of the New York-New Rochelle Schuremans. He is found on Manhattan Island in 1649 in the Dutch colony of New Amsterdam. In accordance with prevailing Dutch usage his offspring for a generation or two are given the the Patrionic Harmenszen i.e: Harmen’s son. It is believed that he was born either in Dutch Holland or even possibly Germany, although the Dutch version is probably the correct one. A study was done by a Mr. Wynkoop who had found a reference to a Hermann Scureman who held land near Dortmund, Westphalia about 1300, but no evidence to link him to Harmen.

¶ Well, that’s all that AT has. If Harmen was Dutch, then it is very unlikely that he (and thus Jacob Gould Schurman) are relatives of the Schultzes (and therefore of me). But it appears that Harmen’s nationality is uncertain.

¶ My own research (such as it is) has tended to suggest that the name “Schurman” (with its many spellings) is associated with precisely the part of German-speaking Europe that my mother hails from (Pomerania).

¶ My mother’s account of the “lost Schurman” story—told to her when she was a child, I believe—seems not quite to fit the facts of the J.G. Schurman family story, which involves many generations, not one. She has always been under the impression that the “lost Schurman” left Germany in the late or mid-19th Century.

¶ But it is possible that my mother misremembers the story. Who knows.

¶ Oh. I guess my mom was suggesting that Frieda was inspired to immigrate to America upon meeting her famous relative Jacob Gould Schurman. (Whew!)

¶ Next, I’ll attempt to find a Schurman among the huddled masses who arrived on Ellis Island. It's an unusual name, so I have high hopes.

* * *

¶ Here is a photo, taken in about 1912, of my mother’s family on her dad’s side: the Schultzes of Bärwalde, Pommern (in what was then the far eastern part of Germany, which included Pomerania; see old map).

¶ Karl Schultz and Emilie Schultz [né Schurmann], who are seated, had twelve children (!), but only six are shown here. My mother’s father is the boy at the right. (I think there were only two boys.)

Martha, the woman at the left, and Else, who is wearing the same outfit over at the right, both worked at the time for the Berlin Opera. Perhaps they were home for a visit. Three other sisters are visible. My mother doesn't know their names.

¶ Else committed suicide c. 1950. (My mom found her body, hanging.)

Recent posts of the “archives” series:

From the archives: her mother’s death

From the archives: 1912

From the archives: little bro Ray

Bärwalde today. (The Poles call the town "Barwice.")

My Natacha Nattova obsession

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