I vividly remember when the movie version of “Fiddler on The Roof” was released. It was the first Broadway show I had seen in person as a child. So seeing it again in the movie theater reminded me of the special trip into New York City with my parents and the delight I felt while listening to the songs and learning about Anatevka. One of my favorite scenes occurs in a tavern where the Polish and the Jewish citizens end up in riotous dance!
The tavern scene has so much more meaning to me now. I was with my maternal grandfather the first time he saw the movie. Grandpa was from a small town in Austria/Poland called Trzciana. When he watched the tavern scene, he turned to me and said, “My family had a tavern just like that. It looked just like that.” Anatevka/Tzrciana taverns were interchangeable in my grandfather’s eyes. He said the movie brought back memories of his childhood.
Grandpa did not often speak freely about his family. Stories came in bits and pieces of memories. But it was not something you asked about. It was something that he had to offer because Grandpa’s family all perished in the Shoah. His parents, his siblings, his aunts and uncles, his cousins, everyone who was in Europe died, except for three. (See blogs below.)
But that tavern memory has so much more meaning because now I know more about it thanks to the research of Izabela Sekulska who started the Mayn Shtetele Mielec Facebook group. Izabela has been helping me find out information about my family for about a year now. The documents she finds make the stories I was told by Grandpa come to life.
Izabela recently found a document from the Chamber of Commerce and Industry that brings the family tavern to life.
Chamber of Commerce and Industry document
My great grandfather Gimple Feuer applied to open a tavern on April 10, 1912, when my grandfather was just over 12 years old. My Grandpa did grow up with a tavern in his life. This document from the Chamber of Commerce and Industry states that the location was in Trzciana, Galicia, which was then part of Austria as Poland. Throughout his life Grandpa said he was Austrian as that part of Galicia became part of Poland after the war.
At my family’s tavern they sold beer, wine, other alcoholic beverages and tobacco according to this document. I knew my great grandfather had a farm that included a crop of grains and grain silos to store the grain. So having a tavern makes sense, he had the grain to brew the beer.
Grandpa told us stories about cleaning out grain silos and how one time he and his cousin became intoxicated on the fumes from the silo. They actually became sick and ran to a nearby stream/creek to drink the water and wash the fumes away. He said they almost drowned, they were so drunk.
As I remembered this story, I looked for a map of current day Trzciana online and saw where the Cichawka stream goes through the town.
Thanks to Izabela, I know that there were no street names in Tzrciana, the homes and buildings were just numbered during the time my grandfather lived there.. And the number of the tavern was 129.
On the map that I found online all the buildings are numbered. There is one numbered 129 close to the creek. Could this be when my great grandfather had his tavern? I am not sure, but it perhaps the numbers remain the same.
Now there are addresses and streets. So perhaps with this information we can one day find out exactly where the tavern was located in the town. Perhaps this address is where the family lived, and the tavern was located on their farmland?
Izabela has asked for help in finding out where this location is now in Trzciana in the Facebook group. That would make this amazing find so much more amazing. And it might be that the number 129 is in the same place. And the numbers around it are the places where the other members of my family lived before the war.
Knowing my great grandparents had a tavern, perhaps explains to me why there was actually a trial after the war concerning the murder of my great grandmother during the Shoah. Perhaps their standing in the community created lasting friendships that existed after the war and lead to people actually testifying about her death. (See blog below.)
No matter what I find about where the tavern actually stood in Trzciana, I do know that from now on whenever I see the story of Anatevka and see the tavern scene, I will think of my grandfather and his family that perished, but I will also remember how they lived.
These two pictures are from Google. The show the new house at 129.If you look closely at the other picture you see this building right next to it. It could be the home of my great grandparents or other relatives!!
It has been a crazy three days. It has been stressful and at times unreal. But what I do know is that I am a mother of a daughter and son-in-law who live in Israel. More than that I am the mother of a woman who is 8-months pregnant.
My friends and family know that I am anxious, stressed and somewhat neurotic right now. They are reaching out with support and love. I am trying to continue with my daily life, but no matter what I do, my brain and my heart are in Israel.
I feel like I need to share, to vent, to emote, at times to scream. I mean, really! I was just in Israel. How could this happen! I HAVE to get back to Israel in six weeks!
Even my cousins who live in Israel or have their own children in Israel have reached out to me. One cousin, originally from Wichita, asked if I was okay. She told me that her mother needed tranquilizers during the Gulf War. Makes sense to me. Aunt Barbara I understand your angst now!
Then another cousin, who I also saw in Israel, and who recently became a grandmother for the second time, texted: “Stay strong.” My response, “I am trying! You too!” She is so Israeli. Her response “Children are strong. They are lions. And we are all warriors!”
I used that line this Shabbat when I was asked to read the Prayer for Israel. I told everyone to remember we are all warriors!
We will survive, as we always do. I believe that. In the last two years its especially important to believe. WE cannot cave to hate.
My daughter recently helped me see the reality. We communicate several times each day now. This What’s App Chat was classic.
I start off: “Perhaps when you are in the mamad (bomb shelter), you should stay away from the window. (Back story: When they purchased this apartment she told me, “You will be happy to know the apartment has a bomb shelter.” My response, “I am happy it does, but sad it has to have one.” Now I really am happy snd extremely sad.)
“No one who was in a shelter died,” my daughter typed. “And Home Front Command specifically said that the number one safest place to be is in your mamad. So that is where I will be.” (There have about 30 who have died so far and hundreds who have been injured.)
“My heart hurts that you and all of Israel have to go through this. But especially pregnant women. (Okay I should have said children as well.).” Then she informs me that one of her WhatsApp group of pregnant woman gave birth on Friday. Both are fine. But oy vey what a day. So as a mom I typed (as if I had any control) “Wonderful! But best not to go into labor during a missile attack. Just remember that.” I got a thumbs up and “Yeah not Ideal.”
In Kansas people go into labor during tornados and snowstorms. It snowed the day she was born. But somehow giving birth during a bombing seems wrong.
The conversation continued as we got into what I call the immigrant response that was handed down from her great grandparents. My grandparents were both from Europe. They kept jewels, gold and money hidden in the basement. My siblings and I inherited a lot of jewelry. I keep my share in the bank. But we know it is there if needed.
Don’t worry is her usual response. But this time it was a little different.
“Passports and jewelry are in the mamad as well,” she tells me. “A friend and I were talking about the first things to go into the mamad and I was like passports and jewelry. Then came food. Then extra clothes.” (This is what I call European Jewish escape response.). I added, “What about water and a pot to pee in.” (Someone had to remind them.)
“Then I was talking to another friend and her German boyfriend,” she typed. “I said something about diamonds, and he said “NO, Gold is better.” I said, “ok, I guess a real German would know what bribes Germans were most likely to take so I’ll be sure to include gold. Not that Germans are the problem right now.” (Definitely Shoah inspired response based on knowledge about our family who was murdered and those that survived.)
I told her I was sad that she had to think about what she needs to keep in the mamad.
“It is sad, but it’s also kind of our history. Jews – the original doomsday preppers,” she typed. “Gotta be ready to escape and bribe your way to safety.”
Yes, true, I wrote. But at least you have a shelter. I have to think of what Hamas did to the Gazans. Tunnels just for militants, the rest left to suffer the consequences of wars Hamas starts.
Unfortunately, perhaps it is our millenniums of dealing with hatred that has made us able to survive. Perhaps being the original doomsday preppers is good.
I am almost 70 years old. My Hebrew name is Chava. As I say this to myself, I shiver sometimes. I am the only Chava in my family. It should not be that way. My grandfather’s mother was Chava. She had five children and should have had many grandchildren. At least one girl in each family would have been named Chava.
In the family there were multiple people named Nissan, Moshe, Mordechai, Gital, Cerla, Gimple, Chava. As the next generation goes on, there should be multiples of these names as well. But there are not. There is one Nissan, my son, who is actually named Nissan Mordechai. There is one Gimple, my cousin, who passed away and now his grandson has that name. There are no Cerla or Gital. There are no Shimon or Nuta.
Why aren’t there multitude of cousins with these names? Because they were ALL murdered in the Shoah. There is no one to carry on these names. But we still must remember them.
My great grandmother Chava was 70 when she was murdered by the Nazis. As the world is so crazy with Jew Hatred. As I am turning 70. As my name is also Chava. Should I be afraid? As I read in detail from witnesses about what happened to my great grandmother on the day she died. Should I worry about the hate in the world around me? Could it happen again?
A few years ago, I wrote about the murder of my great grandmother, Chava. I have a book called “The Holocaust and European Societies” that talks about her murder. (See blog below.). The death of my great grandmother is discussed in this book. When I found it, I was astonished. I agonized. What was she thinking as they took her to be killed? Now I know. Is it good that I know? I am really not sure.
When I first started meeting with Izabela S. online, I had no idea how much she would be able to find out. Now, through the work of history profession named, Tomek, who has investigated the death of my great grandmother, I have the testimony of first hand witnesses. I can see in my mind what happened. I can feel her suffering. I thought, should I share this? Should it end with me? Isn’t it enough that I know?
But then I again think about what is happening in the world today, and I think not. I think everyone needs to know what happened to my great grandmother. No one should be able to say, this could never happen. Because it has and it did.
The next question I have to ask myself is, “When Do I Give Up.” That is a question I know my great grandmother faced. Her husband was dead, her children were gone, probably dead. So many of her relatives murdered all around her. The one child she knew was alive, my grandfather and his family, was so far away. Safe, but she would never see him again. And if she lived, would that reunion ever happen.
Before I start, Izabela asked that I not name the Polish people who are mentioned in the testimonies. So I will not name them except for the one I have named before.
This is what happened on the day my great grandmother Chava was murdered from testimony from a trial held in Poland after the war.
The first witness is my relative Zissel Feuer, who has played a part in my families Shoah story for years, because he did survive. Zissel was hiding in the forest of Trzciana.
“I would like to mention that a few days before Goldklang was shot, while I was in the barn of a farmer in Trzciana near the forest, I saw through a crack how Josef S. from Trzciana, together with two other people, were leading Chava Feuer, my aunt; then I heard from someone that Jozef S. was supposed to take Chava Feuer to the village head in Trzciana. The village leader in Trzciana was supposed to give a signal. Then Chava Feuer wsa taken to the German colony of Czermin and handed over to the Germans, who shot Chava.
(Just so his testimony makes sense, A few days later, Zissel heard shots and the sounds of pain, he went to look and saw a man named Jakub Goldklang. He told him that he had given all his property to a Polish man who was supposed to give him food, but instead another man, Josef Sypek, came and shot him. (He is mentioned in the book as well.)
Zissel realized he could not help Jakub so we went back into hiding. )
There is testimony that another man who saw the arrival of my great grandmother to the village head, who knew her and called her by the honorific, Gimplowa (Gimple’s wife).
“Gimplowa,” he said. “Why are you wandering around? Why can’t you hide somewhere in the forest?”
They knew there were Jews hiding in the forests around Trzciana. Some of the Polish people were providing them food, even though it could lead to their deaths. Others were turning them in. This man seems be upset that she is not hiding.
But in reality, it is her answer that breaks my heart. My grandparents always said that she was a very strong-willed person. That I reminded them of her because I don’t back down and I say what I think needs to be said. For me, Chava/Gimplowa’s answer is devastating.
“I don’t care anymore,” she said. “I have already decided on everything and I can’t stand it any longer.”
Where is the line that keeps a person going; that says keep living against that line that is defeated? When do you reach it? It was already April 1943 close to Easter and Passover. She had been hiding for almost two years. I don’t fault her, I feel her pain, but my heart says, ‘If only you had waited a bit longer.’
Another witness, a woman who recognized Gimplowa, saw her being taking away by some men she did not recognize. My great grandmother called out to her by name. and told her: “Stay with G-d.” Can you imagine that you are being taking to your death and you see someone you know, perhaps a friend, and you tell them “Stay with God”. The woman does not answer. She is probably afraid also of the men she does not recognize.
Another witness states “it happened on Maundy Thursday, at 3 pm in 1944. (This is the story that was in the book I mentioned earlier.) Josef S.’s wife called a group of neighbors together and said there was a Jewish woman, Gimplowa, in her house and she did not want to leave. She said, ‘Do whatever you want with me.’ “
Josef’s wife told the villages to do whatever we wanted, to kill her or to take her somewhere, because if the Germans found out and burned the village, she did not want anyone to blame her for supporting the Jews. “So we decided to take her by foot to the village head.”
The witness continued: The village head also did not want any responsibility for her. So he told them to take her to the German colony in Czermin. She did not want to go there, so she said she was old. So they got wagons to take her to the colony and hand her over to the German’s mayor Jukub Hesler. What he did with her, I don’t know, because I didn’t see it with my own eyes.”
He did not know for sure, but he knew. The witness was asked:
Q: Were you aware that you were leading this Jewish woman to her death?
A: Yes, we were aware of it, but we didn’t want to answer to it. So we brought it to the Germans so they could do whatever they wanted.
I know that fear overcomes kindness. But this is just too much for my heart and soul. It’s not our problem, let the Germans handle it. Even though we know they will kill her.
And one last witness to the last years of my great grandmother’s life.
During the German occupation, the Jewish woman Gimplowa was hiding with other neighbors. (So at first they did help her.) But on Good Friday, they were all talking because the Germans had set fire to the town of Bodborz because they believed that the people were hiding Jews there. So a neighbor who was drunk, made the first move to say we must take the woman who was hiding in my house to the village elder. We all supported this motion. And she was taken to the village elder.
How do you decide what is evil. My great grandmother was being hidden and helped through Easter of 1943. But now the Germans were burning villages where they found Jews hiding. So was it wrong of them to turn Chava over to the Germans? I, of course, think so. Why couldn’t they just send her out with some food to the forests?
But my great grandmother said she did not want to leave. I don’t think she wanted to hide in the forest any longer. She was done. She was tired. In my work as a spiritual care volunteer, I have seen what it means when a person tells me that they are very tired. When they are tired of living. When they want it to end.
My great grandmother wanted it to end. She was not in physical pain, but I am sure she was in emotional pain. The only thing I can think and hope is that the Germans shot her in the head and she died quickly.
I have to consider what she was thinking on the way to her death. Was she thinking about all who died in the past three years? Was she thinking about her son and grandchildren in America who she knew would survive. Did that give her a glimmer of joy. She had cared for my mom and my uncle for six months in 1931-32. Perhaps that memory of happy grandchildren helped her on her way to die.
It would be nice to know where she is buried. But I am sure she is in a mass grave somewhere near the town of Mielec or Trzciana. Or perhaps not. I will never know.
Baruch dayan HaEmet. May her name and memory be forever a blessing. May her murder by the hands of those who feared and the Nazis bring some goodness into the world. I carry her memory and name with me for all my life. I hope that as I turn 70, the world veers away from its direction of Jew hatred, or any hatred, and realize we are all one.
(The dates are sometimes a bit off as to when events occurred. There are several different dates for when Chava died. But now we know it was 1943 because it happened after the burning of a certain village.)
In the last week I have been in contact with Izabela S., who lives in Tarnow, Poland, which is close to both Mielec and Trzciana, where my family lived and where they were murdered in the Shoah. Izabela has been working for the past three years to clean up the Jewish Cemetery and get information about the places where the Jewish residents were murdered and put up plaques to commemorate them in the Mielic area. She also writes a blog and has a Facebook page to write and remember the Jewish residents who were murdered in the Shoah. Before the war, of the 10,000 residents in Mielec, 5,000 were Jewish. After the war, maybe 200 survived!
(See video about Izabela below.)
My quest to find my grandfather’s family started in the late 1970s after I spent time in Israel and met those who survived. My grandpa lost his entire family in the Shoah, except for a few cousins, and except for his mother, he never knew how his father and siblings died. I told him that I would find out. It has taken almost 50 years, but I never gave up! Over the years I have written many blogs about them. (Some are linked below.). But I could not find out about three of his siblings. Now I know more.
But then there is the question? When you find these things out, do you really want to know? And are some ways of dying better than other ways. In the towns my family came from people were burned alive in the synagogue and mikve, starved to death or died of disease in the Lodz Ghetto, gassed at Belzec, shot at a mass grave. Which is worse?
I guess I decided that being shot is the kindest way to die among those options. A distant cousin of mine (Her great grandfather and my grandfather were second cousins, l believe), thought her great great grandparents were burned alive in the synagogue. She now knows, thanks to Izabela, that they were shot. And in a weird way it is better. I think.
My family came from the small town of Trzciana. Before the war there were about 1000 people. The town was known for its windmills. I can imagine that it was lovely. Izabela wrote about it this way:
“Jewish families lived in Trzciana: the Amsterdams, the Hollanders, the Brenners, and the Feuers. They were closely related to each other. In Next is the night: The fate of Jews in selected counties of occupied Poland, vol. II Tomasz Frydel writes that every Sabbath, members of the Amsterdam family from the village of Trzciana went to the synagogue in Czermin, where more Jews lived among the German colonists. This family was widely respected, its members gave grants to the Roman Catholic parish and distributed potatoes and beets to local peasants.” This was my family.
I knew already how my great grandmother, Chava, died. (See blog below.) But I now know my grandfather was not killed in Belzec with his son, Shimon. Instead he was murdered on March 9, 1942 with many others of his family during a round up/deportation and slaughter of Jews. He was shot in Cieszanow. I now know that their daughter, Tova, was also in that roundup. But was not killed then. So probably died in one of the camps. I know Jews from Meilec went to four camps, Belzec, Sobibor, Treblinka and Majdanek.
I now know that outside of the town there is a mass grave of 800 Jews. Many of them my relatives. I know about one for a fact. Natan Feuer ran. He was able to get about 50 yards when the Nazis shot him and dragged him back to the pit where they threw him in still alive. And he perished. But Natan story really hits home as my grandfather’s brother was named Nueter/Natan. So is this him? I will never know.
I believe that my grandfather’s cousin, Morris Brenner, who owned a candy store in Linden, NJ, and whom I wrote about before, (See blog below.), had two sisters and a nephew who are buried in the Jewish cemetery on Traugutta Street: Cerla Kleinman nee Brenner, her son David, and sister, Sara Brenner. His mother, Gital, died in 1941, before the mass murder of the Jews. I have to admit that gives me a bit of joy. It is nice that someone died a natural death and wasn’t murdered because she was Jewish.
I had heard of the brothers Tuvia, Zus, and Asael Bielski, from the book and the movie Defiance. I now know that there was also the Amsterdam Brothers, Johanan and Abraham, who led a group in the forest near Bulcza Mielka called The Amsterdam Group. According to Izabela, it was a large group of Jews who hid and the core of this group were families from Trzciana. There were 84 Jews in Trzciana before the war, all related to me. The two brothers, who had been in the Polish Army before the war, commanded the group. They built a series shelters and hideouts where they survived the winter of 1943. They hid in bunkers and acquired weapons from the peasants as well as gaining them in battles with the police and Germans. They divided into small groups to keep more people safe.
A survivor named Ryvka Schenker wrote about the conditions in the hidden camp:
“It was very cold back then, the snow fell, You had to be very careful – every step was known. How they went out to the country Shopping, they made their feet like the birds they have. It was made of wood, They made the same traces as birds walked. No one could have Imagine there are people in the middle of the forest. We sat all day very long calmly, one read a lot, others wrote diaries, some embolden images, Everyone made it through that day. We always lived the hope that It will be after the war soon, but it was just a dream. There were severe frosts, nobody had The right clothes, let’s get out of the field little. The men were more Resilient. We had a lot of water because it froze.”
I am Amazed! And feel proud that my family tried to survive in every way that they could.
There is so much information it will take me a while to unravel all of the connections and organize in my mind so that I can write about this family that was almost wiped out. My family. But I felt it was important to write this down when the emotion of discovery was still strong. Baruch Dayan HaEmet. May their memories live through these remembrance and that we never forget those who have been murdered by hate and evil.
With the uptick in anti-Semitic events, with masked college students attacking Jewish students at colleges, with a Hamas murderous pogrom in Israel, I am still amazed when events from the Shoah are revealed in present day. I feel like I am in a time warp. Reading about the events at the UC Berkley campus and at the same time reading an email from a distant cousin telling me about a mass grave found in Poland that contains members of my extended family. Don’t college students learn anything about history?
My newest journey started with a email from a distant cousin concerning the Holocaust and my family. I get unusual requests now and then because I have been the family historian, trying to document all the family who were murdered during the Shoah. A task I realize is virtually impossible with all large number of people in my family who were murdered.
My distant cousin received a letter through JewishGen’s Family Finder. Her great aunt, who I keep in contact with, suggested she send the email to me.
Her email contained a series of emails between two people in Europe that forced my brain back in time to all that my maternal family had suffered so many decades ago during the horrors of the Shoah.
The first was from a retired baker in London who had been contacted by a researcher who wanted information about a family named Brenner who were murdered by the Nazis and whose bones were recently found in a mass grave and in accordance with state law were re-interred in a Catholic cemetery.
His mother was born Kornbluth and her father was born in Mielec, Poland, where many Kornbluth’s were living when the Nazis invaded. They believed the bones were those of a woman whose maiden name was Kornbluth; her married name was Brenner.
My family was from Mielec and its surrounding small towns. I have written about the destruction of the Jewish population in this city and its surrounding in other blogs. Brenner is one of the names in my family. Which made me think that I could have a connection with this grave. Although the last name Kornbluth is familiar, I wasn’t entirely sure of the connection to us. But I kept reading.
The baker then include emails from a representative of the Zapomniane Foundation that deals with locating and commemorating the graves of the Holocaust victims. He found the baker through JewishGen Family Finder.
“I represent the Zapomniane Foundation that deals with locating and commemorating the graves of the Holocaust victims (zapomniane.org or our profile on FB). I’m currently researching the case of the Brenner family murdered in 1942 and buried in a mass grave near Mielec. According to what I have learned so far among the victims probably were Lazar and Sara Brenner. Her maiden name was Kornbluth. Before the war they lived in a village called Hyki (today it is called Sarnow). They were killed together with their children and Sara’s brother. Would you happen to know this story and/or have any information about Sara Brenner nee Kornbluth?
Sincerely A N”
Then came more information from the Zapomniane Foundation: “ Here is the story of how I have learned about the Brenner family:
Two years ago I went to Czajkowa (a village near Mielec) to see the location of a place where the Brenner family (seven people) was killed and buried in August 1942.My guide was Robert P. who told me the story of his aunt Anna P. Anna’s real name was Ryfka Amsterdam she was Jewish, converted to catholicism before the war and married Andrzej P, Robert’s relative and became Anna P. The Brenner family were the relatives of Anna/Ryfka: perhaps Ryfka’s sister with husband and children and possibly Ryfka’s (and Sara’s?)brother. There are no names, only the last name of the father of the family i.e Brenner.”
Well now we are getting closer to my family, since Amsterdam is my grandfather’s last name. I know that any one named Amsterdam is definitely somehow related to me. This is the first time ever that I have heard about a family member who converted to Catholicism before the war. But to be honest, if someone left the family to marry outside of the faith, it was probably not discussed.
What the email says next really touched my soul! I could not image how this young man would have felt when he dug up the grave.
“The gravesite of the Brenner family was partially destroyed in 2003 by an excavator. Obviously the grave itself has never been marked, it was just a hole in the ground. As a result the bones from this grave were taken by the police and buried in an anonymous grave in Tuszów Narodowy catholic cemetery. Ironically the guy who worked with the excavator and dug out the bones was the grandson of Ryfka Amsterdam/Anna P. He was interrogated by the police in 2003. Anna/Ryfka had three children, her son born in 1950 is still living in Mielec.”
Next shock! A non-Jewish descendant of Rikva/Anna born just a few years before me, still lives in Mielec. They stayed there even after all her Jewish relatives were murdered. I cannot understand that reality. Could you comfortably walk the streets of a city, see the houses of your relatives, know that they were murdered and that others were living in their homes? Would you ever feel safe?
Not only that, it was Anna’s grandson who accidentally dug up the grave of people who might be his great aunt and uncle and their children, his cousins. I could almost see this as a movie. Could this truly be happening? But yes, it was and it is. So now he has not only dug up a grave 80 years after they were buried, but it is his family buried there. I really have no words.
The researcher continued:
“I found the information about Chaim Brenner via the Holocaust Survivor Program. Thus I knew the names of his parents and their fate that fits the story I know from the Polish archives:
Czajkowa Aug. 15, 1942 Captured and shot by German police, beginning w/ oldest family member; gendarme Franiszek Wojtas identified as likely shooter; family did not report to ghetto and remained in hiding for approx. 3 mos.; hid in forest and empty home of Kamuda; group consisted of two families; relatives of prewar converts to Christianity, Amsterdams, who survived war in same village
So my big questions are who was buried in the grave destroyed by the excavator 20 years ago and how can we commemorate them.”
The retired baker then tells my cousin that he contacted her because she has a Nathan Amsterdam in her family tree who told Yad VaShem about the death of a niece with the maiden name of Kornbluth. Could she help? Which is how I became part of this Nazi murder/grave mystery.
I knew I really could not help, but I felt like I had to say something I emailed both the baker and the Zapomniane Foundation. Here is a shortened version of the email I sent.
Your question about the grave and the Brenner/Amsterdam/Kornbluth murders, was sent to me as I have become an Amsterdam family researcher for a while now.
She knew I would be interested in this question.
Unfortunately, I do not know who was buried in the unmarked grave. Not much help I know. But I can tell you that there are many named Nathan Amsterdam in our family. My cousin’s great grandfather and my grandfather were both were named Nathan Amsterdam and they were cousins who were born in Austria/Poland in the Mielec area.
The family in Meilec and the surrounding area had four main family names: Amsterdam, Feuer, Brenner and Hollander. The family is Cohanim. Hence the names Feuer/ FIre and Brenner/ Burner. The other names came because the family did go from Spain to Portugal to Amsterdam and then a group moved to Austria/Poland. There was much intermarriage between people with these four surnames.
Almost the entire family who remained in Europe died during the Shoah. Mielec was one of the first areas that the Nazis made judenfrei. Only a few cousins survived. They are all gone now. One moved to the USA, two went to England and two moved to Israel.
Here is the info on the family that survived and moved to England. Perhaps you might find a descendant. I met them in the early 1960s when they came to the USA to visit the family here.
Zacheriah and Elka had seven children. Only three survived the Shoah. Gimple Feuer married and moved to England. They had four children. (I then named the four children who they might be able to reach. I am not publishing their names here as they might still be alive.)
Lazar Feuer also lived in England after the war, I never met him. He had three children: (I named these three as well.)
I am sorry I cannot tell you or the researcher there who exactly is buried in that grave. But I can tell you that several hundred members of the family were murdered in the Shoah in many different places and methods. But as the names were Brenner and Amsterdam, I can tell you that they are my distant relatives and that the men were probably Cohanim.”
Because I think finding a way to commemoriate these people is important, I am posting this on Tracing the Tribe Facebook page to see if anyone else has a connection that could help.
In 1931 a 25-year-old mother of two young children was pregnant with her third pregnancy. It was twins. But whereas her other pregnancies went fine this one was not going well at all. In fact, her kidneys were failing, probably due to eclampsia. If nothing was done, she and the fetuses she carried would all die. Abortion was not legal in 1931. But someone saved her. Someone, I am told a doctor, provided her an illegal abortion.
That woman was my grandmother. She lived.
“Preeclampsia may lead to kidney disease by causing acute kidney injury, endothelial damage, and podocyte loss. Preeclampsia may be an important sex-specific risk factor for chronic kidney disease,” according to an NIH website. Although my grandmother did not die in 1931, she was left with failing kidneys. In fact, she had kidney disease for the next 52 years of her life.
Grandma decided to go back to Europe with her two children, my Mom and my Uncle, so that when she died they would be raised by their grandmother, as she was sure that she was still going to die. Someone traveled with my grandmother for this trip. In fact, one night she was so sick, they took her up on the deck because she wanted to see the stars one more time before she died.
The doctor who saved her life actually impacted the lives of many people. Because my grandmother lived, my mother and uncle were not left without a mother. Also, as the story continues, because my grandmother lived, others lived as well.
When my Grandmother got to Europe she traveled through Germany to Carlsbad, to take the waters, and then around Poland visiting family for over six months. During these travels her opinion about life in Europe changed drastically. By the end she was much healthier and concerned about taking her children back to the United States to safety.
Why do I say saving her life saved others? She had been traveling through Germany in 1931. She had seen the evil that was taking over Europe with the rise of Hitler.
This is where her surviving preeclampsia and a life saving abortion takes on even more meaning. First, everywhere she went in Poland, she told family and friends to “Get Out! Bad times are coming.” We do not know how many heeded her warning! But we know her story and what she tried to do.
When Grandma came home she had one goal, to get her family and the family of my Grandfather out of Europe! My grandparents worked to bring family members over from Poland and Austria. In the end, they only were able to bring my Grandmother’s father and sister. My Tante was very small for her age, so they changed her age and made her under 21 so she could travel to America on my great grandfather’s papers and visa.
My Tante lived. She married and had one daughter. Her daughter married and had three children. Her children married and among them had 11 children.
All because my grandmother had an abortion, all because she lived, two people survived and avoided the horrors of the Shoah and 15 descendants were born. Who knows how many more will be born in the future.
Abortions save lives! The mother’s lives. To me these lives are extremely important. Currently, in this time of legal abortions another relative of mine had eclampsia putting her life and the life of her much wanted fetus at risk. They were both dying in the hospital. The only choice to save one life was an abortion. My cousin lived. Amazingly a year later she was again pregnant and gave birth to a healthy child.
I do not believe anyone, a legislator or a member of the voting public, has the right to tell a woman how to handle her private medical issues. We have HIPAA laws that are supposed to keep our medical history private. What a woman decides, with input from her medical professional, for her own health is her personal business. HIPAA laws are not just for men. They are for everyone.
In the meantime, I support women’s health rights. I support women who make the difficult decision to end a pregnancy. I support their choice and decisions concerning their personal medical health. I know that the right to chose an abortion must remain legal, because I know that saving a mother’s life is vital.
It is a wonder how two photos that I did not know were related could help find a branch of the family that I had no information about.
I have a family album that we found hidden in the bottom of a closet in the attic of what had been my grandparent’s and then my parent’s home in Kauneonga Lake, NY. We found it when we cleaned the house out about four years ago. Most of the photos are from the 1920s, 1930s and 1940s. Many of the photos are unidentified. But some have comments on the back written in one of many languages including, English, Yiddish, Hebrew, Polish and German. (See blog below.)
Every few months I open the book and focus on a few of the photos. It is an emotional task, as I find that many of these photos lead me back to the Shoah. And often the people in the photos perished in concentration camps or were murdered near their homes. I find it a bit terrifying.
About a year ago I posted a photo of two young girls on the Tracing the Tribe website. No one translated that one for me. I am not sure why. It probably got posted on a busy day. As usually these short messages are translated in a few hours.
Then about a month ago I posted two identical photos of a young man, but each had a slightly different note on the back, written in German. I wondered why German, although I knew that my grandmother could read and write German along with three other languages.
I knew that one of the photos of the young man and the photo of the two girls were sent to my grandmother, Tova/Thelma. And I that the other one of the young man was sent to her aunt, my great aunt Gussie. This lead me to write about the young man Abraham Prentki/Prantki. (See blog post below.)
I assumed he had to be the son of one my great grandfather’s three sisters , Esther, Sura or Leba, who we really had no information about.
By some serendipitous decision, I was looking for another post on the Tracing the Tribe Group when I stumbled upon this photo of the young girls who had never been identified. So I reposted it on Tracing the Tribe and Jewish Ancestoy in Poland. With in a few hours, I had a translation. It was to my grandmother, their cousin. There were names including the last name Granek. This postcard was also written in German.
My Tracing the Tribe friend, Amy, decided to search some more. Thank you, Amy. She found a Yad V’Shem testimony written by a Martha Granek Wynn, who wrote a page of testimony for her mother Cella Prentki Granek. Cella’s parents were Esther Schenk and Pinkus Prentki and they lived in Breslau, Germany. But originally came from Boleslaviec, Poland, where my grandmother grew up. Cella was murdered in Mauthausen. The testimony is chilling. In Place of death: it is written Mauthausen. In circumstance of death, it is written: Oven.
The pieces were now coming together. And although I cannot be one hundred percent certain. This is what I know. My great grandfather Shlomo Abraham had several sisters. Gussie moved to the United States, where she married and had four children. My grandmother moved in with Gussie and her family when she moved to the USA. (See two blogs below.). The postcards from the young man, Abraham Prentki were to his cousin Tova and his Aunt Gussie. I assumed he had to be the son of Esther, Sura or Leba, my great grandfather’s sisters who we had no information on. This leads me to believe that Abraham was the brother of Cella Prentki Granek who died at Mauthausen. And that he was also the son of Esther Schenk Prentki.
My grandmother is sitting on the right. Who are the other two women?
More information, we (my sister helps me with my research) know that my grandmother went back to Europe in 1931 with my mother and uncle. (see blog below.). We also know that she left the children behind with her father and then her in laws and went to Breslau to visit her family, her aunt, and go to the waters of Carlsbard/Karlsbard to heal. The Prentki family lived in Breslau.
My sister says she agrees that this looks right. But we are not totally sure. On the page of testimony there is an address in Melbourne, Australia. I found this address on line, in Australia. I sent a letter to the woman who submitted the testimony about her mother, but not sure the family still lives there. It was written in 1999, and Martha would be in her 90s now. She is probably one of the young girls in the photo. I am hoping that some family members live there.
However, another connection. After the war, my grandmother’s two brothers and their wives moved to Australia. They were waiting for visas to get out of Europe and went when the first visa to Australia arrived. They lived in Melbourne. Coincidence? Or did they move to be with other family who had escaped. My mother’s first cousin is still alive. She was born in Melbourne in 1955 and now lives in Israel. I have asked her if she knew this family. But she was a child when she left Australia.
We might never know the truth. My sister is right, we cannot be 100 percent sure. But in my heart, I think these were the Grandchildren children of my great aunt Esther. In my heart I believe that this was the family my grandmother visited in Breslau. In my heart I think the mystery of these two photos is solved. Still not sure about the photo from Karlsbard.
It is amazing what information two photos can lead to. And that is why I keep going back to this album and searching.
Update: I did get a message from a woman who knew my grandmother’s cousins. In fact one of the girls lived with her family in England. The girls were separated, which made me a bit sad.
I have not gone to the Yad Veshem website in years. I already had all the information about my great grandparents. But in writing about a mystery cousin, several people suggested I go see if he was listed at Yad VeShem. He is not. So I will assume he survived, (optimistic I know) and look elsewhere. (See blog below.)
However, the website looked so different, I decided to look at my great grandparents again. I knew that there was an entry for both of them. But when I first saw it, I could not read much of it. Now it is all translated into English. More important, it was put up by a survivor, a cousin, someone I met in Israel in 1976 with my grandmother: Shalom Hollander.
I had not seen his name in 42 years. When we met, in Haifa or Tel Aviv, Grandma and Shalom only spoke in Yiddish. And at the time, although I did understand some of what they said, I did not really pay attention. I heard so many holocaust stories when I was with grandma that month, and I was just 20. (See link blog below.)
It has been many years since I last looked at the listing in Yad VeShem. Besides their updated website, I have been on a mission to record what has happened to my family.
Recently I listened to an audio tape made by my grandfather in 1981. I had it made into a cd earlier this year. (See link below.) In it he talks about the village where he grew up. We always thought it was in Mielec. Which it was to a degree, but it was actually in a small village near Mielec called Trzciana.
We knew that my great grandmother, Chava, was killed near her home. That she had been hidden and did not go to the concentration camps. The Yad VeShem records confirm that she was murdered in Mielec/Trzciana.
I did not know which concentration camp my family had perished. I only knew that they had all died. However the testimony provided by Shalom Hollander is clear. They were murdered in Belzec. I am not so sure I am happy about that. But I now know that is where Gimple Feuer, my great grandfather died.
In Belzec approximately 500,000 Jews were murdered. Nazis were killing people at Belzec for nine and a half months. Thus, I now also know that my family was murdered between March 17 to December 1942. But at Belzec the Nazis not only murdered and buried my family, when the war was near the end, the Nazis secretly dug up their bodies and burned them. Most depressing is that of all the Jews who were sent to Belzec only seven survived according to Wikipedia.
In the past I have also tried to find any reference to my grandfather’s siblings. My biggest problem is that I do not know his sisters’ married names. However, the most amazing aspect of going to the Yad Veshem datebase this time is that I found one of my Grandpa’s siblings: Shimon. Born in 1910. Single. A merchant. Murdered in Belzec. I knew all my grandfather’s siblings died. But I never saw it in writing before: Murdered in Belzec.
Shalom also did the records for his own parents. Mordechai Amsterdam, a cousin of my great grandma; and Tova (Tauba) Holander Amsterdam. His parents were probably cousins as well, as we were all related: Amsterdam, Feuer, Hollander, Brenner.
But there it is. Murdered in Belzec. No one is named for Shimon. I do not think Shalom Hollander had a family. Or at least I did not meet them in Israel. I guess my next job is to search for any of Shalom’s descendants.
I am still stuck on those three words. Murdered in Belzec.
Thanks to Tracing the Tribe members for their suggestions, especially Amy.
I recently saw the documentary, “Big Sonia,” about a local Kansas City area woman who survived the Holocaust and three concentration camps from ages 13 to 19; how she and her husband started their own tailor shop; how the tailor shop became an important part of her life; and how the Holocaust impacted her life, her family and those around her. Although I do not know Sonia, I do know her sister-in-law, who belongs to my congregation.
Both Sonia and Ann are contemporaries of my Mom. And when I hear of their Holocaust survival story, I cannot help but think, “there for the grace of G-d, could have been my Mom.” But she would have just been 10 when the horrors really began, and she might not have survived. It stabs at my heart. Here is why:
When I look at the smiling children in the 1931 passport, I feel fear in my heart. They are my Mom and my Uncle. My grandmother is getting ready to take them to Poland.
In 1931, most Jews in Poland and Europe were not yet concerned about escaping. Although Hitler’s rise to power was advancing, he did not become chancellor of Germany until January 1933. Thus, I guess in some ways, my Grandmother was not afraid to take her two small children, my Uncle, who was 4 ½, and my Mom, who was 2 1/2, to Europe to stay with family while she tried to regain her health.
The kneeling sailor is speaking to my Mom; behind her my Uncle; behind him my Grandma.
I always knew this had occurred. I have seen the photo taken of my Mom and Uncle on the ship to Europe. I knew that my grandmother almost died aboard the ship on the way to Europe. I have seen several photos of my grandmother in Kalsbadt and with family members during that trip.
Both their visa and Passport were issued on May 18, 1931. I think their visa was good until May 18, 1932. This part of the Visa is in German. Since my Grandfather’s family lived in the area of Galicia which was then Austria, it makes sense. They arrived in Europe on May 26, 1931.
I heard the stories of my Mom and Uncle coming back from Europe only speaking Yiddish. Their English left them while they spent six months with their paternal grandparents. This would not happen again, as these grandparents perished in the Shoah.
This registers my uncle and mom as living in Boleslawiec.
But now that I have the Passport, and have had part of it translated, I know that this story is not totally true. They spent at least two and half months in Boleslawiec, Poland, from August 14 to October 3, 1931. This is where my Grandmother was born. They spent at least that time staying with their maternal grandfather and his children. That was a surprise.
So at some point, my Grandmother traveled across Europe with two small children, going from Mielic, Galicia, Austria, to Boleslawiec, Poland. WOW. I wonder how the trains were then. I am sure she went with her American dollars and was able to travel easily. But the idea of them on a train in Austria and Poland sends shivers through my body. I can so easily image the other members of my family who traveled on much less kind trains a number of years later to their deaths in the concentration camps.
I also knew it was this trip and her visits to the mineral waters of Kalsbadt that saved and cured my grandmother. Her experiences in Europe over these months also made her resolute to get as many family members out of Europe that she could. Unfortunately, she was only successful in rescuing her father and sister. Her in laws refused to leave, and they perished.
However, until I held the Passport that jointly named my Uncle and Mom as USA citizens and saw the visas, I somehow did not quite fathom the enormous consequences. This passport was only valid for two years. What if they had been stuck in Europe? I had asked my grandfather when I was younger what he would have done if Grandma died in Europe. He assured me that he was not going to leave his children in Europe. He let her go because she was ill, but his children would return to the USA.
That always made me feel better, as the family they stayed with, my grandfather’s family, all perished. I always believed that Grandma took the children to her in-laws and traveled by herself. But that is not true. She also took them to see her father and siblings as well. And miraculously my Grandmother’s two brothers and their wives survived even though Grandma could not get them out of Poland.
The Passport was originally made out only for my Uncle in May 1931. I found that strange. Was my Grandmother going to leave my 2-year-old mother with my grandfather in the States, while she traveled with my Uncle? What changed her mind? I will never know that story. I found the Passport long after my grandmother had passed away.
I do know that they came home. They arrived back in the USA on October 13, 1931. I can see the US Immigration stamp. The trip itself took a week or so crossing the Atlantic. They grew up in New Jersey. They married. They had children and grandchildren. Their memories of Europe faded quickly. Perhaps my Uncle remembered more, but for my Mom it was just stories she heard.
My Mom did not go through the horrors and Hell that Big Sonia experienced. Her American Passport and visa and ticket to return saved her and my uncle. In 1936 Mom went with my Grandmother to Ellis Island to gather my great grandfather and Tante (great aunt). My Grandmother was successful in saving them.
Not everyone had a life saving Passport. I often think of those who perished. I still remember the day I found out about the Holocaust. I cannot forget.
With the vitriol and anti-Semitic language and acts of bullying throughout the country, I think it is important that no one forgets. Everyone should go and see “Big Sonia” and learn about real courage, and the horrible consequences of baseless hatred and bigotry.
Thank you to members of the Facebook Groups: Tracing the Tribe and Jewish Ancestry in Poland for the translations.
In 1936 my Grandma Thelma’s siblings sent her a Rosh Hashannah card from Poland. On the front is a photo of her siblings. Seated are her brother Isaac and his wife, Bronia. Standing are her youngest siblings David and Esther. Soon after this photo was taken the world really began to change.
This photo looks so peaceful and calm. But so much was going on behind the scenes. Plans were already being made. Getting out of Poland was their main goal.
My Grandmother worked diligently to get her family out of Europe. She and my grandfather owned a bakery and had two young children. Grandma had taken her children to Europe in 1931 and since her return had been searching for ways to rescue her family and my grandfather’s family. It was very difficult.
Eventually, she got documentation to bring my great grandfather Abraham (her mother had died young) and her younger sister, Esther, to the United States. Esther was older than 21, but she was very tiny. So they made her younger. And thus she was able to come with her father.
The age difference was a bone of contention for years. My Tante always stating her ‘fake’ age, my grandmother always correcting her. It was made worse by the fact that my Grandmother had traveled by herself to the USA in 1922, when she was only 16. To get the papers she needed, she made herself two years older! The war over their ages went on for years.
It was great until Tante wanted to retire. Truly she was 65, but legally she was 62. I remember this as my Grandmother and Tante would argue about this as well. Like sisters, with love, they found many things to argue about.
In any case two were saved. I have my Great Grandfather’s passport and visa. In the passport it states that he has to leave Poland within a certain time or the visa is invalid. Luckily my grandparents also sent money. Saving family was utmost in my grandparents’ mind.
But my Grandmother was unable to rescue her brothers and bring them to the USA. They decided that they had to leave Poland: Uncle Isaac and his wife, Bronia, along with David and Bronia’s sister, Rosa. The Rabbi said that David and Rosa must marry before they left Poland. So a quick wedding was held.
They escaped Poland to Russia. Not as great, but they were tailors…or they became tailors. And so, my grandmother would say, they were employed to make army uniforms for the Russian army.
Their lives were not easy. They suffered. But they survived. Many were not as fortunate.
After the war they wanted to leave Europe. They were in Italy and the Facists were on the rise. They were afraid. They wrote to their sisters in the United States, and to Bronia and Rosa’s sisters in Australia. They decided whoever sent documents first , they would go to that country. They just wanted out of Europe as quickly as possible.
Once again they were among the fortunate ones with sisters on two continents working to save their siblings. The sisters in Australia got documents first. My great aunts and uncles moved to Australia. There my cousin was born. There my Uncle David passed away when in was in his 30s. He is buried in Melbourne.
When my cousin was a child, they decided to move to Israel. My Great Uncle and his wife; his sister in-law, and niece. My cousin and her family still live in Israel. My grandparents, great aunts and uncles have all passed away. But when I look at this Rosh Hashannah card, I see hope. I wish everyone a blessed, happy, healthy and sweet new year.
zicharonot 