Facing mortality

I think one of the most sobering parts of researching family history is seeing the rate of infant, child, and maternal mortality, and thinking about the family implications. It’s true that mortality was a much more common part of life in the seventeenth or eighteenth century; you expected that not all of your children would live to adulthood, and you might not live to a ripe old age. Yet each family had a story, and as I enter in dates and names, I think about them.

Take Anna Goertz Sengel, born in 1681 in Illkirch. She married Diebold Sengel at the age of twenty on 21 February 1702, and they had their first child, Margaretha, on 28 September of 1704; Margaretha died just shy of her fifth birthday on 21 September 1709. Their second daughter Anna was born on 6 February, 1708, and passed away the next day. Their third daughter Maria was born on 20 October, 1711, and died three weeks later. Their fourth child, a son named Diebold, born January 4, 1713, was their only child to survive to adulthood (my 6-great grandfather). Fifth child Catharina was born on 24 February, 1717; she died at the age of seven. Sixth child, Anna, was born 24 February 1720, and outlived her mother, the only one of the daughters to do so; even so, she died when she was nine. Seventh child Maria was born 20 September 1722 and died on 3 December of the same year, and their final child, Salome, was born on 10 August 1724, and died on the same day as her mother Anna, 5 October, 1724, three weeks after seven-year-old Catharina.  A whooping cough epidemic in Alsace in 1724 may be to blame for the death of mother and these two children, though the family was clearly plagued by ill health in general, losing seven of their eight children between 1704 and 1729.

Diebold took a second wife a year later, marrying Anna Michel on 13 May 1725, but he died on 1 March, 1726, leaving his wife pregnant with twin boys who were born on the first of September. One of the boys, Johannes Georg, died before his second birthday, but the other twin, Johann Michael, lived until the relatively advanced age of 59.  Thus of the ten children of Diebold Stengel, only two survived to adulthood: my 6-great grandfather Diebold, and his half-brother Johann Michael.

The next generation faced similar tragedy. Diebold was a fisherman, and he married Barbara Mursch on 12 March 1737. Their son Diebold was born 28 September 1738; he died just before his fifth birthday. Their second son, Georg, only lived three years. But their daughter Anna, my 5-great grandmother, was born 1 April 1748 and lived until she was seventy-three.

Diebold’s half-brother, Johann Michael, became a cooper and innkeeper at “The Swan” in Illkirch (Cygne).  His first wife was Margaretha Steuer; their son Johann Michael was born 27 April, 1749.  She died when their son was only six months old; he married again, but he and his second wife, Barbara Walther, had three sons who did not live past their second birthday. So, of this generation, only two of the seven children survived to adulthood.

Johann Michael’s only living son, Johann Michael II, went on to accomplish a great deal in his life: he was a cooper; he continued his father’s role as the innkeeper of The Swan; he was the mayor of Illkirch from 1790-1793, and he was the Chief Commissioner in Geispolsheim.  He married Anna Maria Goertz around 1767 and they had four sons and one daughter.  But the same infant mortality seen in the previous generation continued: his first son, Johann Michael, died before his second birthday. Happily, their daughter, Anna Maria, lived a relatively long life (1771-1822). Their third child, also named Johann Michael, lived only two weeks. Their fourth child, the third Johann Michael, lived to adulthood and continued the tradition of being the innkeeper of The Swan.  Their fifth child also lived to adulthood; he was named Johann Georg, after his grandfather’s twin brother, and lived as a farmer in Illkirch.

Similarly, Diebold’s daughter Anna, my 5-great grandmother, bore six children and saw four of them survive to adulthood.  Andreas (1767-aft. 1798) became a fisherman and innkeeper and had four children; Diebold died at age 5; Anna (1773-1835) married and had one son; Diebold (1777-1851, my 4-great grandfather) was a day laborer and saw six of his eight children live to adulthood; Anna Maria died at the age of eight; and Margaretha (1782-1826) married and had five children. Only one, however, lived to be an adult.

I am not sure whether there was a particular genetic trait that wreaked havoc with these families, or whether it was simply living in a time of disease, war, and hardship. As I research other branches of the family, I’m sure I’ll have a better sense. But as I read through the names and saw infant siblings and uncles and aunts remembered by surviving family members, it seemed to me that, regardless of the common nature of infant mortality, each child was still mourned and remembered. It makes me feel humbled to think of how many times my ancestors were one of only one or two surviving children; humbled, and grateful.

Alsace

When my great-grandfather met a charming young woman at the opera and borrowed her opera glasses, I wonder if he knew what a departure he was about to take from generations of tradition.

Frédéric Auguste was born in Illkirch, a town in Alsace near Strasbourg, on August 28, 1882.  His beloved Toni–born Theresia Antoinette Lordemann–was born on April 7, 1880, just outside of Münster in Germany. That they met at the opera in New York City and married and lived their lives does not seem particularly remarkable in our American melting pot. But for Alsatians at the turn of the twentieth century, it was troubling at best.67995_10151121095161776_594960160_n (1)

In his 1918 book Alsace-Lorraine, George W. Edwards noted, “Should an Alsatian girl so far forget her vows as to espouse a German, henceforth she was disowned by her own people, and considered as one dead. Thus society dealt with the invader in the two inseparable provinces of Alsace-Lorraine.” I suppose that if that Alsatian girl–or boy–left for the New World and was rarely seen again, the effect on her would be lessened, but this quote certainly reflects the depth of antagonism between Alsace and Germany.

What was the source of this deep animosity?  In 1871–only a decade before Gus’ birth– Germany (Prussia) had siezed Alsace and Lorraine.  The next fifty years saw what Alsatians considered to be an unending occupation of their country by “invaders.” Considering that the Rhine had historically been the border between Germany and France, and noting also that this area was long ago settled by Gallo-Romans and not Teutonic peoples, it seems logical that the area in question should be considered more French than German. That was indeed the feeling of the native Alsatians, who saw the Germans only as an occupying force.

All of this got me thinking about August’s Alsatian background. My grandmother was very much aware of her Alsatian heritage, and grew up speaking her father’s French as well as her mother’s German. (And English, once she started kindergarten.)

So, I began to research the family line of August Fels.

And I hit a treasure trove!

28029_10151121095466776_678029077_n (2)

The family inn in Grafenstaden

It turns out that a French historian by the name of Damien Bilteryst has done extensive research on this family tree.  I began adding the names to my own tree on Ancestry.com, and was amazed to see the family living in the same little town, Illkirch, all the way back to the 1500’s and beyond. Generations being born, living, marrying, and dying in this picturesque spot on the Ill River. Many fishermen, as well as churchwardens, farmers, straw-cutters, bakers, innkeepers and others. Even a mayor or two.

 

 

Some of the earliest in the family lines had their marriages recorded: for example, Jacob Haffner and Maria Heyger, married on 9 February, 1623. He was a weaver.  Maria’s father–my 11-great grandfather–was a baker there in the little town of Illkirch. I love that, because my great-grandfather was also a baker, and a chef, and that was part of what drove him to the new world.  Another baker in the family tree was Mr. Roesch, my 12-great grandfather born around 1510, who was a “Boulanger de pain blanc”–a baker of white bread.  I am currently doing a bit more research on this designation, knowing that there were strict rules governing which bakers could bake which types of bread at various points in history. Another baker was another 11-great grandfather, Wendling Meykuchel, born in 1545. One of his sons, Diebold Meykuchel, born around 1570, was a baker and innkeeper; his other son, Hans Meykuchel, my 10-great grandfather born around 1580, was a “Weißbeck,” a “fancy baker” or confectioner.

The earliest “Fels” ancestor I have traced thus far is Claus Veltz, born around 1547 in Illkirch. (The name changed spelling from Veltz to Fels only a generation or two before my great grandfather, as seen below.) Claus married Susanna Fischer on February 4, 1572, and they had at least three children: Catharina, Sebastian (Nov. 10, 1583- Feb. 3, 1645), and Johannes. Sebastian was my 10-great grandfather, a “bourgeois et pêcheur,” or person living in a town and fisherman.

It is rather amazing to trace the lineage of this one branch of the family tree, and see it going back over ten generations in one town in the banks of the Ill:

Claus VELTZ (Fels) (1547 – 1587)
Sebastian VELTZ (1583 – 1645)
son of Claus VELTZ (Fels)
Michael VELTZ (1624 – 1693)
son of Sebastian VELTZ
Elisabeth VELTZ (1678 – 1732)
daughter of Michael VELTZ
Barbara Mursch (1715 – 1771)
daughter of Elisabeth VELTZ
Anna Sengel (1748 – 1822)
daughter of Barbara Mursch
Georges Andres Fels (1817 – 1898)
son of Diebold Thiebault VELTZ (Fels)
Andreas “Andre” Fels (1848 – 1922)
son of Georges Andres Fels

 

The Fels line weaves in and out of other family lines–Murch, Sengel, Erb, Meykuchel, Schertzer, and others–but it is still striking to see the generations continuing one after another in the same place, and even to this day among the cousins. August would have inherited his family’s land and businesses there in Illkirch, but his round-the-world trip with its unexpected terminus in New York City changed the course of our family history.

So many more stories to tell.

.

 

 

 

The Chef

1240154_10151581028941776_1136157854_n.jpg

The Holland House Hotel, 30th and 5th

My Grandma Harley told me many stories of her parents.  Her father, Frederich August Fels arrived in New York City on May 6, 1906, on the Philadelphia. The passenger list indicated that he was headed to work at the Holland House Hotel at 30th and 5th Avenue, one of the finest hotels of the day.

 

Trained in Paris, Gus was a fine chef, and his plan was to tour the world before settling down to take over the family hotel and restaurant in Graffenstaden.  His plans changed, however, when he met Antoinette Lordemann at the opera one evening. He asked to borrow her opera glasses; they married on October 4, 1910.

 

The Holland House Hotel closed in 1920. Prohibition had an unintented consequence for the hotels and restaurants of New York; without wine lists and the income from other alcoholic beverages, they went under.  Gus was no longer working at the Holland House when it closed; by 1915, he was listed in the census as the head of the household at 402 8th Avenue, a three-story building with a restaurant and bar on the first floor. The other members of the household were Toni and their daughter Henrietta (Rita), my grandmother, who had been born December 9, 1911. The rest of the house was rented to ten roomers, many of whom were possibly employed by Gus: four waiters, a cook, a kitchenman, and a porter. (There were also a lawyer, a machinist, and a driver rounding out the boarders.)

At some point between 1916, when Rita’s brother Frederich was born in New York City, and 1920 when the Federal Census lists them at the home on Somerset Street in Philadelphia, Gus’ business failed. I have heard it said that he was too trusting, got into trouble with creditors, and fled to Philadelphia to start over. I am curious what role WWI and Prohibition might have played in its downfall, if any. Gus, in his mid-thirties, did not fight in WWI; being German and French, the family worked hard to prove their patriotism in their new home in Philadelphia. They had been American citizens for years; young Fritz became Fred only, and Rita spoke English in her new Kindergarten.

More to come…