http://polish.genealogyforum.eu/ Polish Genealogy Forum en-us Mon, 16 Oct 2006 15:16:40 GMT 1440 CPG-Nuke Dragonfly The Polish Genealogy Forum News http://cyber.law.harvard.edu/rss/rss.html http://polish.genealogyforum.eu/images/banner.jpg http://polish.genealogyforum.eu/ http://polish.genealogyforum.eu/index.php?name=News&file=article&sid=5 One of the challenges of genealogical research is reading old handwriting. As we study the lives of our ancestors, we are often fortunate enough to encounter examples of their handwriting. Each time I hold a do(edited)ent in hand signed by a grandparent, great-grandparent, or more distant ancestor, I feel a thrill of connection with history and a tingle of excitement to hold and touch something they also held in their hands. If you are fortunate enough to encounter original do(edited)ents written or signed by your ancestors, you may have more than just a samples of their handwriting or signature. You may have something that provides clues and insights into their lives and character. Let's discuss several things to look for in these old do(edited)ents and ways to obtain a deeper perspective into your ancestors. Mon, 16 Oct 2006 15:16:40 GMT http://polish.genealogyforum.eu/index.php?name=News&file=article&sid=4 Originally published by the Franklin (Indiana) Democrat, Reprinted in POINTers, Volume 9 Number 4, Winter, 1995. At the southern point of the island upon which New York is built, a circular structure sufficiently isolated to attact attention has stood for many years. A fort once, pointing black-nosed cannon down the bay; then a peaceful and delightfully situated tea-garden, and then a concert hall in which Jenny Lind thrilled audiences with the sweetness of her song, it has since accomodated itself to another and very different use. The lower sandstone walls of the military establishment still remain, but above them and over them a roof and wooden walls have been put, and abutting on them are several large sheds. Castle Garden is now, and has been since 1855, a depot for the reception and protection of the emigrants arriving in New York, and in it the poor strangers landing from foreign countries are taken care of and helped on their way to their destinations. Any morning in spring and summer there is a scene here full of suggestiveness. We see the raw material of which our new population is being formed pouring in. Here, huddling together like sheep bewildered by the strangeness of their surroundings, are the poor of many lands. They look sad enough to move one's pity, and poor enough to invite one's patronage. In other cities - Boston, Philadelphia, or Baltimore - no special effort is made to care for them; but in New York, where more of them land than at all other ports, this place is provided for their reception. The emigrants are landed from the ocean steamer by a tender, and as they come crowding down the gang-plank, each armed engaged with bundles and boxes and packages balanced on their heads, or thrown over their shoulders, their faces wear an inquisitive, half-astonished, half-dismayed look. then passing off the tender, they are filed into the great rotunda, where hundreds, and sometimes thousands, of other emigrants are already gathered, brought together from every port of Europe, speaking half-a-dozen different tongues, and exhibiting evershifting effects of costume. The faces of the crowd represent nearly every type - light-eyed, bonnetless Irish girls, yellow-haired Germans, tawny Italians, thin-featured French, and often of late, there have been among the others the heavily-dressed and heavily-featured figures of the Russian Jews. The buzz of the voices and the crowding are confusing at first, but the emigrant finds himself rapidly put through a series of preparatory processes, and at the end of an hour he can, if he chooses, walk out and look about for himself in the grinding city. He is inspected by medical officers, his name, age, country, calling and distinction are registered at a desk where there are clerks and interpreters. These are the only things which are compulsory, and when they are done he can do exactly what he pleases. It will be well for him, however, if he does not venture too far into the city, lest he fall into the hands of thieves and cheats. The main purpose of Castle Garden is to protect him from these. The scene immediately after the arrival of a steamer is as busy and noisy as a fair. Within the great circus-like building there is a ticket-office, a money-exchange, a telegraph-office and a restaurant at each of which one may see many curious and touching incidents. Here at the money-changer's desk is a bulletin giving the American value of various foreign coins, and after each transaction the broker hands his customer a memoranda of it. Most of the emigrants are wary with their money, and carry it, not in their pockets, but concealed somewhere about their persons. Often it would take an adroit thief and an intricate exploration to find it. It is wrapped in envelope within envelope, stringed and knotted with the most precious care. Quote:: "Which people bring the most money?" "The Germans and Scandinavians are the best provided," answers the clerk at the exchange-desk." Next to them are the Irish, and the poorest of all are the Italians, who often have no money and little baggage." The names of the emigrants who have friends or letters or telegrams waiting for them are called out, and there are many affecting reunions. The husband who has been parted from his wife, and the son who has sent to his old home for his mother or sister, are here to receive them. Often when the first embrace is over, the new-comer stands back and surveys the Americanized relative from head to foot with great admiration. The head that left Queenstown bonnetless has now a gorgeous pile of milinery upon it. The feet that wore clogs are displayed in fancy leather, with tassels. Quote:: "Och, but it's your own mother, sure, that would be after not knowin' ye, me dawrter!" exclaims an old woman, as she looks at Bridget, who has all the colors of the rainbow in her dress. But sometimes the friends who are expected do not appear. As the names of the persons for whom there are letters or telegrams, or for whom some one is waiting, are called, you see an emigrant here and there - a girl or woman, most likely, who listens with strained attention, and who falls back with a woe-begone face when she finds that there is nothing for her. As often as the clerk's voice is heard she darts forward, hoping that now her name is to be called. Sometimes the looked-for friend at last appears. Sometimes death or some mischance has removed the one who was to be of help to her, and she finds herself cast upon her own resources. Before evening most of the emigrants arriving each day have left the Garden, either to stay in New York, or to take the train to other points. A few remain and make themselves as comfortable as possible on the floor and benches. The people of the different countries keep to themselves and you see the Italians huddled up here, the Germans there, and the Swedes across the way. There are some picturesque groups among them. A Normandy peasant woman in sabots and cap, seated on the floor, surrounded by six chubby little girls, each a miniature of herself; a knot of yellow-haired pink-faced Germans eating liverwort and blackish bread, and a circle of Italians, who are making a frugal supper, and each of whom, we notice is provided with a wicked-looking knife. At night the Garden is very gloomy, and looking over the floor upon the dark figures stretched out in slumber, a dream comes to us of the brilliant lights and the fashionable audiences of the time when Jenny Lind sang here. Fortunate are the emigrants who have friends to meet them and take them to the homes they have made for themselves in the new country. It is but a few years ago that the latter landed at Castle Garden, and their improved appearance, their sharpened wits and smart dress presage the future of the new-comers themselves, if they are thrifty and industrious. Sun, 01 Oct 2006 23:52:50 GMT http://polish.genealogyforum.eu/index.php?name=News&file=article&sid=3 This article might provide some insight into the discomforts endured during a typical trans-Atlantic voyage in the late 19th century. Perhaps our immigrant ancestors endured similar "hardships" on their journey to the US. This was written by Mrs. Sadakichi Bartmann traveling from New York to Paris, and was published in the Boston Evening Transcript December 21, 1892. She wrote: I had the means to live economically in Paris for two years while pursuing my studies in an academy of music, but decided to save money by taking passage in the steerage in spite of the protestations of my family. I chose one of the slow steamers because travelers had told me the space allotted in steerage was larger and the treatment was more humane. When New York was out of sight, the steeragers were driven downstairs in a line to show their tickets to an officer, who tried to suppress all his colleagues in a harsh voice and rough manner. I looked for the head steward and bribed him with a fee to give me as good a berth as possible. I was put into a compartment, a narrow aisle with two rows of beds on either side, originally meant for 24, but now occupied by 12 people, which allowed an empty berth to stow one's baggage. An upper berth was my lot, in one of the corners near the window, so I was protected at least on one side. My neighbor was a half-crazy German woman, with exceedingly dirty habits and unkempt appearance; she had a weakness for using her lap as a dish for sauerkraut, potatoes and herring during meals, offering me an assortment of eatables she had brought with her. The rest of the beds were occupied by women and two married couples. I did not find the presence of the men very appropriate, although they behaved respectably. But these are the small annoyances attending a cheap trip! Thus the pleasure of giving myself a good washing or of changing my underwear was denied me during the entire voyage. The food was plentiful and good enough though tasteless, being cooked by steam. "You will have to try and get along with the steerage food," remarked the steward as he ladled the pea soup out of a huge pail with much splashing, but I could not manage it. That first night when I climbed up to my bed with its mattress and blanket for which I had paid twice its value, I felt very homesick and wept silently in my squalid surroundings. I was awakened in the night by the loud cries of an Italian woman beneath me. This woman was my special aversion; she surpassed my German neighbor in her unkempt, dirty appearance, and was suspected of harboring vermin. The cause of her cries was a bottle of wine in my berth, which had been carelessly corked and was now spattering down into the bed below. My efforts to explain matters were in vain, because the Italian did not understand a word of English. Some occupants felt sorry for her, while others took my part. Our peaceful neighbors became two hostile camps; there was an exchange of invectives, sarcasm, with the din of crying children, and order was only restored with the intervention of the steward, who was on watch all night. In the meantime the ship was beginning to rock and groans and sighs told us that our neighbors were feeling seasick. The air was close and foul because the ventilators had to be closed as the sea was splashing in the windows and soaking our beds. At the break of day, I jumped out of bed, and dressed as I was, groped my way on deck. I felt the time had come to pay my tribute to Neptune. The decks were streaming with water, getting their early washing. The stormy sea stretched to the horizon and the dull sky above was steeped in a sickly gray. An officer went by smiling at my appearance: dishevelled hair, shivering in an old wrapper, covered with white flocks from my bed blanket. Days of misery began for us poor steeragers. The sea beat on the deck, drenching us to the skin, the rain fell in torrents and the ship's tossing made life unbearable. Seasickness under such conditions is a means of torture. One stands for days in wet shoes and stockings, which cannot dry overnight and have to be donned wet in the morning, our clothes are damp and ill-smelling, from being worn wet and in bed; chilled to the bone and racked with fever, one finds no rest on the hard straw and the short beds. And what with the noise of so many congregated in so small a space and the odor of people who have not changed their clothes for months, without a breath of air in a tightly closed space, one begins to regret the tendency to be economical. It is especially sad to notice the little children; during the stormy weather they crept away from sight, pale and sick, and no joyful word or play enlightened these little mortals; they could not eat food, and dirty and sad they lay about where they could. Yet all things come to an end, and the bad sea and gray sky were succeeded by calm and sunshine. The girls came out in holiday attire, the children began to play and the windows were opened. Our appetites increased and we began to wonder how we could bribe, coax and induce the officials to give us better food. The steeragers provided with money had food smuggled to them, which was termed "cabin food," and was actually the food of the lower officials. Twice a day I stole with a tin dish into a certain pantry under the cabin and was served with a large portion of "cabin food" by a little fat jolly cook's helper as he gravely looked up at the captain who was staring at the horizon. Selling of eatables was prohibited, but as the pastry cook also wished to make money, I was also well provided with cakes and biscuits. There were no conveniences for dining, so each passenger had to climb into his bed with his food and eat it. Moreover, one has only one plate for soup, meat and dessert, and the knife is so blunt or the meat so tough that the rest of the food spatters over the bedclothes before the tussle is over. As for climbing into bed I had acquired a proficiency at it and made it in a matter of a second. I stepped on the lower bed, turned swiftly and with a skillful movement lifted myself and landed in the tiny berth. Another disagreeable thing was the washing of the dishes; there being a great deficit of fresh water, one wavered between the alternatives of rinsing them in cold salt water, or of leaving them as they were. In any case the knives were never free from a thick coating of rust. A thing which will always prove interesting in steerage is the study of the different passengers, about 200 on this trip. Almost every European nationality is represented. There were Poles in gray linen suits with baggy pants and high-heeled topboots; Hungarians with dusky skins, large slouched hats looking like stage brigands; Norwegians in red shirts and fur caps, who had made and lost a fortune in California and returned home as poor as they left; Frenchmen in brown velvet suits who were glad to return to the vineyards of France. There were Polish Jews, who were dressed entirely in rags, of every shape and description, the majority were old women with beaked noses and witch-like faces, young women fading early, and beautiful large-eyed children. The Italians were very amusing to watch; they lay around on the deck, stretched at full length, huddled against each other under a ragged blanket. They were continually jabbering and quarreling and eating onions. The men of the family were entirely swayed by the old women, and there was generally a wrangling over money. One of them told me that after landing in New York he walked up Broadway, but he had scarcely gone a mile when the traffic and bustle so frightened him that he at once made his way back to the pier and bought a return ticket for the old country. The Italians were absorbed in the game of maro, a rather stupid game, but capable of making them excited and noisy. They seemed quite well provided with money and were merely making a pleasure trip. The good weather brought another pleasure. The captain ordered the hand-organ to be played, which a little sailor ground away at for hours. Dancing was not very energetic, however. Less delightful was the sailor's band consisting of a fiddle, a harmonica, a trombone, a drum and two tin lids as cymbals. Strange to say, nobody could make out what tunes they were playing. By this time my mattress had worn so thin that I felt the iron bars through it and lay awake for whole nights. The steward shrugged his shoulders when I complained, but brought me a new mattress soon after along with hot rolls, with the compliments of the pastry cook. All our hopes were now centered on the end of the voyage. What pleasure it was to greet the first vessel after a monotonous week of sea and sky. It was a beautiful sight, a full-rigged vessel with its white sails expanded and swayed by strong breezes, rising up and down the waves. What a sensation the first lighthouse created among the passengers, the "cabin gentlemen and ladies," affecting a peculiar walk to express their superiority, walked around to inspect the land on the other side. The first day brought beautiful weather and a calm sea; numerous ships, sailing vessels, and fishing smacks covered the waters; steamers bound for America, with their enormous loads of steerage passengers, passed us now and then amid mutual cheering. There was plenty of music, and the liquor flowed extravagantly; the sailors and our good stewards thought it time to begin their sprees, and were very gay and unstable with their legs. Nobody wished to go to bed, and when driven down at last, they busied themselves packing and dressing in spite of being warned by the officer that they would not land before nine the next morning; and for those few who lay quietly in bed, sleep was made impossible. When the people found at last that it would take several hours before landing, they wanted to have a little more sleep, but to punish them they were all sent on deck, which was being washed. The people crowded together like a flock of sheep in a thunderstorm, trying to find a dry spot. At last we touched the landing place and the bridges were let down. The steeragers were very anxious to reach land and pushed themselves among the cabin passengers, some of whom seemed to begrudge their escaping from their misery as soon as they could. Downloaded from the Internet. Sun, 01 Oct 2006 23:52:28 GMT http://polish.genealogyforum.eu/index.php?name=News&file=article&sid=2 I recalled the well-known historical facts of the Polish King, Jan III Sobieski (1624-1696), who on September 12, 1683, headed the Christian coalition of Polish, German, French and Austrian armies and lifted the lengthy Turkish siege at Vienna. The Moslem troops panicked at the sound and fury of the heavy mounted, winged Polish Hussars' avalanche, and frantically fled off the field of battle. On October 9 at Parkany, Hungary, Sobieski won the decisive battle. Never again did the Islamic military attempt to subjugate Europe. During those long weeks of the Turkish siege of the Austrian capitol, the Polish king was ably served by a personal confidante. This Jerzy Franciszek Kulczycki could be termed the erstwhile version of a current CIA agent. He was of noble birth and though his ancestry originated in Serbio-Croatia, he carried the Polish nobility crest of SAS. He was a wealthy merchant who traveled extensively in the Middle East and was fluent in Turkish and other languages. Speaking the Turkish dialects and dressed in appropriate Turkish garb, he was able to penetrate the Turkish siege lines and into the tunnels beneath Vienna walls in to the city proper. There he kept Count Von Starhenberg informed of the impending rescue attempts. Both men developed a code of mutual information for both sides through the use of primitive rocket signals. The beleaguered Viennese were morally uplifted. Through his broad experience in the Middle East, Kulczycki became aware of the far-reaching Turkish political and military plans of Kara Mustafa for conquering Europe. The morning of September 12, 1683, Sobieski ordered his thousands of soldiers, basically the heavy-mounted winged Hussars, to constantly repeated mass charges and forays on all fronts against encamped Turks. Surprised on every turn, the Turkish commander, Kara Mustafa, ordered a rapid, massive retreat to the East. Left behind were their command posts with maps, battle plans, armor, cannons, tents, stables, kitchen fires, coins, jewels, food and bags of Turkish coffee beans. Despite their forced swift evacuation, the Turks killed most of their concubines and camp followers, lest they fall into the hands of the Christian infidels. By evening, the battle was over and Sobieski relaxed in the Turkish Grand Vizier's magnificent tent. The spoils of war 'the booty' were divided amongst the victors. But the bags of coffee beans were strange items to the Viennese. While coffee was already known in England, Marseilles and Paris, it was unfamiliar to most of continental Europe. The grateful Viennese presented Kulczycki with a house in the Inner Stadt, the inner city or Old Town. Here the enterprising Pole established the first coffee house in Central Europe. The idea caught on rapidly and he expanded it into a small restaurant. At first the coffee was served black, but later he added milk and sugar to taste. But Kulczycki also created an appropriately designed piece of pastry which he served with this new intoxicating brew. This first pastry he made was in the form of the Turkish crescent, or half moon, a symbol on the Turkish banners. Legend also claims it was based on the form of the jeweled stirrups of the Polish King's saddle. When Sobieski made his triumphal entry in to the Austrian capitol, the enthusiastic Viennese reached out to touch the Polish monarch, rather his boots and stirrups. The pastry design eventually evolved into other molds, one of which is the present round, hard-glazed doughnut shaped roll, known as the bagel. With other Turkish war booty and Middle Eastern artifacts, the coffee bean and bagels also came to Poland. But Kulczycki remained in Vienna, operating his Kaffee Haus and continuing to serve his King as a man of confidence and observer of things political. As in Austria and other European countries, the coffee house or "kawiarnia" became popular in Poland. It was the cultural center of meetings, discussion for the literati and cognoscenti and ordinary gossip not devoid of political connivance. It became a library of sorts where ultimately newspapers and books became available to the patrons. In our times, with the development of the radio and the omni-present television, this pacific, relaxed atmosphere has been considerably disturbed. Following my 1944 combat infantry service with the 88th Division in Italy, I was reassigned to Vienna with the U.S. Occupational Forces as a Public Welfare Officer, later as a Coordinator of Catholic, Jewish and Protestant Relief Agencies. The duties were important: our American theme was "prevent disease and unrest." My 1945-48 Army tour of duty gave me many educational opportunities including studying the "1683 Sobieski Saga." In 1883, the 200th anniversary of Vienna's rescue, the grateful Viennese erected a larger-than-life statue of Kulczycki. It is located on the first floor pediment of an apartment house at the corner of Favorittenstrasse and Kolchitskygasse in Vienna. There he still stands in a Turkish dress, holding a coffee urn in his right hand and in his left hand a tray of cups and bagels. At his feet lie Turkish flags, banners, pikes, swords, shields and bags of coffee. Sun, 01 Oct 2006 23:51:57 GMT http://polish.genealogyforum.eu/index.php?name=News&file=article&sid=1 Good Subject Line First and foremost, you want to capture the readers' attention. In message boards and in E-mail messages, an effective, specific and informative subject line is the key to successful communication. I have seen messages posted with the following actual subject lines: JONES John Smith ATTENTION: OHIO Wilson Researchers!!! STILL LOOKING FOR CONNECTIONS HELP!!! These are not good subject lines. I have to admit that I am as guilty as the next person here. They tell the reader nothing to help him or her determine if the content of the message is of interest to them. An effective subject line for surname research contains the following: 1. Name of the individual, with the surname in all capitals--such as Isaac CRONIN; 2. The location where you are seeking records, such as SC or Mecklenburg Co., SC; and 3. The time period, such as 1850-1885 or Late 1880s This information provides readers with many details in a brief subject line that allows them to determine if they want to read the posting. Here are some examples of good actual subject lines: FORNAL, HARRIS b. 1846 m. Rosa Cronin Susan Elzie MORRISON b 1857 AR Whitfield, Thomas 1806 TN John Ball b. abt 1767 m Rachel King John McKnitt ALEXANDER - 1733-1817 - MD>NC The use of the > character in the subject line above indicates that the person moved from one place to another and is an excellent way to briefly communicate movement between locations. Good Message Content The second important component of an excellent posting is the content of the message. You should indicate the name of the person you are researching (one person per posting is a good rule of thumb). You should state exactly what information you are seeking. Finally, you should include as much pertinent information as possible for the reader to determine if they have information that will help you. The following is an example of an effectively constructed message: "I am seeking names and vital dates about the parents of Lydia Lenora PATTERSON, b. 13 November 1833 (place unknown) and d. 28 August 1914 at Davidson (Mecklenburg Co.) NC. She married Joseph McKnitt WILSON on 8 April 1856 in Mecklenburg Co., NC, and they produced at least nine children but there may have been as many as twelve. I would also be interested in names, dates and spouse/family information about these siblings." In this example, the subject's name, vital dates, location and additional information about spouse and children are listed. The message is concise and contains enough details for the reader to determine if he or she has information that might assist the researcher who posted the message. You might also include additional information that might induce a response. An additional paragraph for the above message might look like this: "I have information about all of Lydia Lenora PATTERSON's children, their spouses and children and would be willing to share this information with others interested in these lines." Signature Finally, include your signature and information about how to respond to you. It is generally assumed that any responses will be posted to the message board. This is very helpful to other researchers. However, if you wish to receive a private reply via E-mail, mention this fact and provide your E-mail address. (Any information received this way that is not posted on the message board should probably be posted there as well.) Summing Up Consider for a moment the E-mails and message board postings you see every day. Which ones will capture your interest first? Which ones are you most likely to read first? Do some of them provide insufficient information for you to make a decision? Do you even know what is being asked? As you can see in the examples above, a thoughtfully constructed message board posting that includes a meaningful subject line and detail-rich content is more likely to elicit responses. Invest a little time in creating better message board postings and chances are you will expand your research and achieve some new successes. Thu, 28 Sep 2006 00:48:29 GMT