More Translation Tips: Resources for Surnames and Place Names

In my last post, I offered some tried-and-true tips for learning to translate Polish and Russian genealogical documents. Today I’d like to offer a couple additional recommendations for strategies that I’ve found to be extremely helpful for deciphering surnames and place names found in vital records.

As mentioned previously, vital records are very formulaic. There’s a lot of standard language in them, but the parts that frequently give us the most trouble are the names and places. Unfortunately, these are also the most interesting parts, so when it comes to deciphering this information, it’s important to pull out all the stops, and use every resource at your disposal. For research into Polish ancestors, here are a few of my favorites:

The Słownik Nazwisk database

The Słownik nazwisk database is a searchable database of over 800,000 surnames that were in use in Poland in 1990. William F. Hoffman provides a nice explanation of the database and offers instruction on how to use it here. The capacity for using wildcards to search the database makes it a great starting point when  struggling to decipher a particular surname in a record. If, for example, you’re pretty sure that the surname starts with “Cie-,” followed by some letters you can’t make out, and then ends in “-rski,” you can do a wildcard search for “Cie*rski” and see the surnames that were extant circa 1990 that might fit the bill. The only drawback here may be, “extant circa 1990,” since the database will not pick up surnames that might have died out long before then.

Geneteka

Where would we be without Geneteka? Not only is it our go-to finding aid for Polish vital records, but it can also be used to help decipher surnames when translating. Sometimes it happens that the particular record you’re translating is from a parish that is indexed in Geneteka, but falls outside the range of years that is indexed. For example, birth records for the parish of Wyszyny Kościelne are presently indexed in Geneteka from 1826–1909 with a gap from 1898–1900. (Since new indexes are added to Geneteka all the time, this range of years may be extended at some point.) But let’s say you’re translating a birth record from Wyszyny from 1823, online here. The indexed records are nonetheless useful to you because they can inform you of the surnames that were found in that parish. As with the Słownik Nazwisk, wildcard searches (“exact search”) are your friend when using Geneteka this way. If a surname clearly starts with “Wa-,” you can search within that parish for “Wa*” and use the resulting list of surnames to help decipher the name in the record. Remember, too, that you can broaden the search by adding in indexed parishes within a 15-km radius, or even search indexed parishes within a whole province, to pick up individuals who might have been from another parish originally. Using Geneteka in this manner gets you around the problem of the Słownik Nazwisk being limited to surnames that were in use in Poland circa 1990.

When it comes to deciphering place names, it’s helpful to fall back on both maps and gazetteers, to wit:

Magnificent Maps

This is probably Step 1 in your problem-solving process. When translating a vital record, you presumably know the location of the parish in which the record was created. Pull up a map of that location, and use it to identify other villages in the area. However, you may find that very small villages which were mentioned in vital records no longer appear on modern maps, possibly because they were absorbed by larger towns in the area. In such cases, it’s helpful to check an older map, preferably one from the same period (more or less) in which the record was created. Here are some good online sources for period maps of Poland and historically Polish lands.

Gazetteers are also incredibly helpful when translating vital records because they typically provide information on the administrative hierarchy for a location, as well as parish assignment. It was common for priests to provide some descriptive details, such as the parish or district in which the place was located, when identifying the birthplaces of key individuals in a vital record, and gazetteers can help you make sense of those details.

A good example of this is shown below in Figure 1. This is an extract from the marriage record for Tadeusz Skolimowski and Marianna Kessling, who were married in Wyszyny Kościelne on 28 January 1877. Tadeusz and Marianna were my husband’s great-great-grandparents, and my further research depended on my ability to correctly identify the birthplaces of the bride and groom.

Figure 1: Extract from marriage record of Tadeusz Skolimowski and Marianna Kessling, Wyszyny Kościelne, 28 January 1877, with details about the groom underlined in red.1Tadeusz Skolimowski marriage extract marked

The text underlined in red starts with the groom’s name in Polish instrumental case, “Skolimowskim Tadeuszem,” and then continues in Russian, “тридцати шести лҍтъ отъ роду холостымъ садовникомъ и жителемъ деревни Косинки Капличне уроженцемъ деревни Болешинъ тогожѣ прихода въ прусскомъ королествҍ,” which means, “age thirty-six, a single gardener and a resident of Kosinki Kapliczne, born in the village and also parish of Boleszyn in the Kingdom of Prussia.”

There are two places to identify here, Tadeusz’s place of residence at the time of his marriage, and his place of birth. Although his place of residence looks to me like Косинки Капличне (Kosinki Kapliczne), a quick look at the map tells me it’s got to be Kosiny Kapiczne, a few kilometers west of Wyszyny Kościelne (Figure 2).

Figure 2: Map of Wyszyny Kościelne and surrounding villages, Google Maps.Map of Wyszyny area

Although certain that this is the correct location, I ran my transcription past William F. “Fred” Hoffman, co-author of In Their Words: A Genealogist’s Translation Guide to Polish, German, Latin, and Russian Documents: Volume II: Russian, to see if he agreed that the place was spelled “Капличне [Kapliczne],” or if perhaps I was just misreading the handwriting and seeing an л where none was intended. Fred gave me permission to quote his reply, in which he wrote,

“I clearly read the name of the village as Kosinki Kapliczne. I’m guessing that may be a local variant of the name. The Kosiny vs. Kosinki is no big deal, that kind of thing goes on all the time with Polish names. But KapLiczne vs. Kapiczne appears to be a mistake, or, maybe, a regional form. I looked this place up in a series on the history of place names, and that name was consistently -picz-, not -plicz-. Russian does sometimes insert an -л- in palatalized situations where we wouldn’t expect it: for instance, the verb for “to love” is любить, but “I love” is я люблю. So perhaps the priest thought Капличне might be a proper Russified form. But I suspect I’m being too clever here. Maybe it’s a simple mistake. For a priest, confusion with kaplica, “chapel,” might explain how that -l- snuck in there where it doesn’t belong. It seems certain Kosiny Kapiczne is the right place. Scholars say the Kapic- part comes from association with a local fellow named Piotr Kapica — no -L-.”

Great Gazetteers

For kicks, I also looked up this location in the Skorowidz Królewstwa Polskiego (T. 1), which is a gazetteer of places in the Kingdom of Poland (i.e. Russian Poland), published in 1877. The Skorowidz tells me that Kosiny Kapiczne, village and folwark (manorial farm), was located in the Płock gubernia (province), Mława powiat (county), and Kosiny gmina (community, consisting of several villages), and that it belonged to the parish in Bogurzyn (Figure 3). The village of Bogurzyn can be seen just to the west of Kosiny Kapiczne on the map in Figure 2.

Figure 3: Entry for Kosiny Kapiczne in the Skorowidz Królestwa Polskiego.2

Kosiny in SKP

The parish assignment is an important detail, from the standpoint of translations. In situations where the bride and groom were living in different parishes, it was customary for the banns to be read in both parishes, so that anyone with any objections to the marriage might come forward. If we were in any doubt at this point about whether or not we had read the name of Tadeusz’s place of residence correctly, we could use the name of the parish to test our hypothetical identification of the village. In this case, we can predict that the parish of Bogurzyn will be named further down in the record when the banns are mentioned. Sure enough, Figure 4 shows that it is.

Figure 4: Extract from marriage record of Tadeusz Skolimowski and Marianna Kessling, Wyszyny Kościelne, 28 January 1877, with details about the marriage banns underlined in red.Bogurzyn in record

This section states, “Браку зтому предшествовали три оглашенія публикованнъл въ Вышинскоемъ и Богурзинскоем приходскихъ костелахъ,” which means, “This marriage was preceded by three announcements published in the parish churches of Wyszyny and Bogurzyn.” Bingo.

Moving on to Tadeusz’s birthplace, the record tells us that he was born in Boleszyn in the Kingdom of Prussia. An internet search informs us that this is not a unique place name in Poland: there is a village called Boleszyn that’s presently in the Świętokrzyszkie voivodeship, and another village by that name in the Warmińsko-mazurskie voivodeship. A quick look at a rough map of the borders between Russia and Prussia in the late 19th century is enough to suggest that the latter village is the one we want. Nonetheless, this is still a hypothetical identification until we find a record of Tadeusz’s birth in the parish of Boleszyn. In this case, it’s simple to do that. Records for Boleszyn are freely available on FamilySearch, and Tadeusz’s marriage record informs us that he was 36 years old in 1877, suggesting a date of birth circa 1841. A few minutes of searching results in his birth record, shown in Figure 5.

Figure 5: Birth record from the parish in Boleszyn for Tadeusz Skolimowski, born 17 September 1841.3Tadeusz Skolimowski birth 1841

This record confirms that Thaddeus/Tadeusz was born 17 September 1841 in Słup, baptized on September 26, and that he was the son of Laurentius (Wawrzyniec, in Polish) Skolimowski and Marianna née Zwolińska. Godparents were Mateusz Kalinoski (sic) and Franciszka Winter, wife of the church organist. Although not included in the underlined text in Figure 1, the next section of his marriage record identified Tadeusz’s parents as Wawrzyniec Skolimowski and Marianna (née Zwolińska) Skolimowska, both of whom were already deceased. Since the child’s name, parents’ names, year of birth and the baptismal parish all line up with the body of evidence accumulated for Tadeusz, we can overlook the fact that he was actually born in the village of Słup rather than in the village of Boleszyn as stated on the marriage record.

If this record were not so easy to find—if perhaps these records were only available onsite at the parish, and we’d need to hire an onsite researcher to get a copy of Tadeusz’s birth record—then we might want to take an extra step to confirm the location of Boleszyn before sending someone off on a wild-goose chase. The marriage record provided a small but important detail about the village of Boleszyn with the statement, “деревни Болешинъ тогожѣ прихода,” which indicates that the particular Boleszyn we’re looking for had a Catholic church located right in the village. We can therefore predict that if we look up the village of Boleszyn in a gazetteer of places in the German Empire, the correct village will be the seat of a parish. So what gazetteer should we use? Well, the Meyers Gazetteer is always good, except it requires us to know what the village of Boleszyn would be called in German, and we only have the Polish name (transliterated from Russian) available. We could transliterate again, guess that the village name might be something like Bolleschin, and do a search for that name in the Meyers Gazetteer, and in this case, we’d be right. Even if that weren’t exactly correct, we could do a wild-card search for “Bol*” which will produce all villages starting with “Bol-” and we can sift through the results. But sometimes the German names for places in Poland aren’t simple transliterations (e.g. the German name for the Polish town of Zagórów is Hinterberg), so this method might not pan out.

For these reasons, my first-choice gazetteer in this case would be Kartenmeister, since that gazetteer allows the input of Polish place names. Kartenmeister quickly informs us that the village of Boleszyn was also known as Bolleschin or Bolleßyn, and was the seat of both a Catholic parish and a German Standesamt (civil registry office). Moreover, both gazetteers confirm that there was only one village by this name in the German Empire, so we can be confident that this is the place mentioned in the marriage record.

As you can see, the various surname databases, maps, and gazetteers can be valuable resources to tap into when translating vital records pertaining to your Polish ancestors. Even situations in which village names are misspelled, such as Tadeusz Skolimowski’s place of residence, or misidentified, such as his place of birth, present only minor obstacles when armed with the correct tools for understanding the problem. Hopefully some of these tools will be useful to you, and if they are, I’d love to hear about it in the comments. Happy researching!

Sources:

1 Roman Catholic Church (Wyszyny Koscielne, Mlawa, Mazowieckie, Poland), “Akta stanu cywilnego parafii rzymskokatolickiej Wyszyny powiat mlawski, 1826-1909,” 1877, Małżeństwa, no. 3, marriage record for Tadeusz Skolimowski and Maryanna Kessling, accessed as browsable images, Metryki.Genealodzy.pl (https://metryki.genealodzy.pl/metryka.php?ar=13&zs=0629d&sy=1877&kt=2&plik=003.jpg#zoom=1&x=1976&y=126: 24 June 2020)

2 I. Zinberg, Skorowidz Królestwa Polskiego czyli Spis alfabetyczny miast, wsi, folwarków, kolonii i wszystkich nomenklatur w guberniach Królestwa Polskiego, z wykazaniem: gubernii, powiatu, gminy, parafii, sądu pokoju lub gminnego, oraz najbliższej stacyi pocztowej, wraz z oddzielnym spisem gmin podług najświeższej ich liczby i nazwy ułożony, wykazujący: odległość każdej danej gminy od miasta powiatowego i sądu swojego gminnego; czy i jakie znajdują się w gminie zakłady fabryczne lub przemysłowe, szkoły itp. oraz ludność każdej gminy, obejmujący także podział sądownictwa krajowego świeżo urządzonego, Volume 1 (Warsaw: W. Drukarni, I.J. Ałapina 1877), “Kosiny kapiczne w. i fol.,” page 286.

3 Roman Catholic Church, St. Martin’s parish (Boleszyn, Nowe-Miasto, Warminsko-mazurskie, Poland), Taufen 1761-1852, 1841, no. 29, baptismal record for Thadeeus Skolimowski, accessed as browsable images, “Kirchenbuch, 1644-1938,” FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:3Q9M-CSZY-H425?i=302&cat=310222 : 24 June 2020), path: Taufen 1701-1759, 1761-1852 Heiraten 1644-1862 Tote 1761-1787, 1789-1845 (DGS no. 7948735) > image 303 of 635.

© Julie Roberts Szczepankiewicz 2020

From Maniów to Plymouth to Chicopee: The Family of Jan Klaus

Note: This article originally appeared in the fall 2019 issue of Biuletyn Korzenie, the newsletter of the Polish Genealogical Society of Massachusetts. It is being reprinted here with permission.

Jan Klaus was no stranger to me. I’d never met him, of course, but I’d known about this brother of my great-great-grandfather, Andrzej Klaus, since March 2013, when I first discovered his baptismal record in an index at FamilySearch. What I didn’t know was what happened to him. Until recently, I never knew for certain that he immigrated to the U.S., although I suspected it. The name “John Klaus” (or Claus, or Clouse) is sufficiently common that it’s not the kind of name one spends a lot of time chasing when it’s only a collateral line. And I certainly never knew that his descendants settled in Chicopee after his death—that is, until one day, when a DNA match brought all these pieces of the puzzle together.

The Klaus-Liguz Family of Maniów and Wola Mielecka, Galicia

Jan Klaus was born on 9 October 1860 in the village of Maniów, in the Dąbrowa powiat (district or county) of the Galicia province of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.[1] His baptismal record is shown in Figure 1.

Figure 1: Baptismal record from the church of St. Mary Magdalene in Szczucin for Jan Klaus, born 9 October 1860. Transcription of each column is as follows: [Record number] 20, [Date of birth] 9 October 1860, [Date of baptism] 10 October 1860, [House number] 28, [child’s name] Joannes, [religion] Catholic (indicated by tally mark in the appropriate column), [sex] male (indicated by tally mark in the appropriate column), [status] legitimi, [Father] Jacobus Klaus natus Laurentio et Anna Żel, famulus, [Mother] Francisca nata Laurentio Liguz et Margaretha Warzecha, [Godparents] Adalbertus Liguz et Catharina Mamuska, hor. [hortulanus].”

jan-klaus-baptismal-record-marked

The record is in Latin, and states that Joannes Klaus, or Jan Klaus, as he would have been known among the ethnic Poles in that village, was the son of Jacobus (Jakub) Klaus, who was himself the son of Laurentius (Wawrzyniec) Klaus and Anna (née Żel) Klaus. Although it appears to be written as Żel in this document—note that the vowel looks more like the “e” in “Laurentio,” rather than the “a” in “Jacobus”—Anna’s name is more often recorded as Żala. Jan’s mother was noted to be Francisca (Franciszka), daughter of Laurentius (Wawrzyniec) Liguz and Margaretha (Małgorzata) née Warzecha. The godparents were Adalbertus (Wojciech) Liguz and Catharina (Katarzyna) Mamuska. Jan’s father, Jakub, was a servant (famulus) at the time of his birth, and his godfather was a gardener (hortulanus). Jan was baptized at the church of St. Mary Magdalene in Szczucin, the parish to which the village of Maniów belonged at the time of Jan’s birth (Figure 2).

Figure 2: St. Mary Magdalene parish in Szczucin. Photo taken by the author in July 2015.St. Mary Magdalene Church in Szczucin

Jan was Jakub and Franciszka’s oldest child. Their marriage record tells us that Jakub was a 30-year-old servant when he married 24-year-old Franciszka on 16 September 1860 in that same parish church of St. Mary Magdalene.[2] At least six more sons were born to Jakub and Franciszka following Jan’s birth: Józef in 1863, Andrzej in 1865, Michał in 1867, twins Piotr and Paweł in 1870, and then Tomasz in 1872, before finally a daughter, Helena, was born in 1875.[3] Several of these children did not survive to adulthood. Unambiguous evidence exists for the deaths of Paweł, Piotr and Helena in childhood.[4] An additional death record from 1874 exists for Józef Klaus, son of Jakub and Franciszka Liguz, but the evidence is problematic, since the record states that he was 7 years old at the time of death, suggesting a birth year circa 1867, rather than 1863.[5] Despite this discrepancy, it seems likely that this is nonetheless the death record for the same Józef Klaus who was born in 1863, which brings the number of Klaus children who died in infancy or childhood to four out of the eight documented births. Figure 3 summarizes these data in chart form.

Figure 3: Children of Jakub Klaus and Franciszka Liguz.Jakub Klaus descendants with border

The Emigrant Klauses

Of the remaining children of Jakub and Franciszka Klaus, I knew that my great-great-grandfather, Andrzej Klaus, immigrated to Buffalo, New York. I subsequently discovered that his brother Tomasz did, as well, since there is a record of the marriage of Tomasz Klaus of “Mielecka Wola, Gal.” to Wiktoria Rak in 1900 at St. Stanislaus Church.[6] The record states that Tomasz was the son of Jakub Klaus and Franciszka Słowik, not Liguz, and research is ongoing to determine if Słowik was perhaps the surname of Franciszka’s second husband, or was merely an error. The fate of Michał Klaus remains unknown, as no death or marriage record for him has yet been discovered in Polish or U.S. records. Jan Klaus similarly seemed to disappear from Polish records, and I suspected that he emigrated when I discovered a Jan Klaus on a Hamburg emigration manifest that seemed to be a good match (Figure 4).[7]

Figure 4: Extracted image from Hamburg passenger manifest showing Jan Klaus.Jan Klaus Hamburg emigration manifest marked

The manifest was from the S.S. Marsala, which departed from Hamburg on 14 September 1888. The passenger, Jan Klaus, was described as a 28-year-old Arbeiter (laborer) from the town of Mielec in the Austrian Empire. His age suggests a date of birth circa 1860, which would be consistent with the date of birth for my great-great-granduncle, and Mielec was the town closest to the small village of Maniów where “my” Jan was born. Figure 5 shows the locations of Szczucin, Maniów, Wola Mielecka, and Mielec in relation to one another.

Figure 5: Places in Poland associated with the Liguz-Klaus family. Jakub was born in Wola Mielecka, Franciszka in Maniów, and some of their children were born in each of these two villages.Map for Jan Klaus blog post

When one finds a Hamburg emigration manifest, it’s often possible to locate the corresponding arrival manifest, and it’s a good idea to seek these out, as they sometimes contain additional information beyond what’s found on the emigration manifest. Jan’s arrival manifest was no exception (Figure 6).

Figure 6: Extracted image from New York arrival manifest showing Jan Klaus.[8]Jan Klaus New York arrival manifest marked

As expected, much of the information on this manifest recapitulated the information found on the manifest recorded at the port of departure. Jan Klaus, age 28 years, was noted to be a male workman from Mielec, Austria. Some of the additional information provided on this manifest was not especially significant, such as the fact that he was marked as an alien (as expected), that he had no baggage, and that he was assigned to the main compartment aboard the ship. More significantly, it was noted that his intended destination was New York—a fact which might be useful in tracing him further in U.S. records. However, this particular manifest included the column, “Date and Cause of Death,” and the line for Jan Klaus contains the notation “11–6.” Given that the Marsala departed Hamburg on 14 September and arrived on 1 October, the significance of these particular numbers is unclear, but certainly the presence of some notation in this column suggested that the passenger Jan Klaus died during the voyage. In the light of this information, and in absence of any good matches for this Jan Klaus in records from Buffalo, where his brothers Andrzej and Tomasz settled, I accepted the tentative conclusion that Jan may not have survived, and I moved on to other research questions.

DNA Points the Way

Fast forward to December 2018. While reviewing some of my mother’s DNA matches, I came across a match to “N.F.M.” whose family tree indicated that her great-grandfather was John Klaus, born circa 1861. N.F.M was a DNA match to me as well, although we matched only as distant cousins, sharing a modest 19 centimorgans (cM) across 2 segments. I was immediately intrigued, and my excitement grew when I read that her John Klaus died in Plymouth, Pennsylvania in 1920. This fact was significant to me because my great-great-grandfather Andrzej Klaus named Plymouth, Pennsylvania as his destination when he immigrated in 1889 (Figure 7).[9]

Figure 7: Image extracted from passenger manifest of the British Queen, showing passenger Andrzey [sic] Klaus with destination as Plymouth, Pennsylvania.Andrzej Klaus manifest marked 1889

I was never able to document Andrzej in Plymouth, and since he married Marianna Łącka in Buffalo on 21 January 1891, it’s clear that he didn’t stay in Plymouth for long.[10] Neither could I find a corresponding arrival manifest for the British Queen, which should have arrived in an American port in mid-April 1889 based on its departure from Hamburg on 26 March. The arrival manifest might have stated the name of the friend or relative with whom Andrzej was staying, and lacking this information, I had no basis for further speculation about the identity or surname of this friend or relative. However, in light of this new evidence that I was genetically connected to a descendant of John Klaus from Plymouth, Pennsylvania, a missing piece to the puzzle seemed to fall into place.

An important thing to remember about autosomal DNA testing is that it doesn’t prove anything on its own. Even when there is a paper trail documenting both individuals’ descent from a common ancestor, it could still be the case that the individuals are related through some as yet undiscovered relationship which could be the source of the shared DNA segment. Nevertheless, DNA evidence can be very helpful in cases such as this, when there is a common surname involved, because it can help us identify a target individual or family for further documentary research. Since the match between my mother and N.F.M. was found on Ancestry DNA, it’s not possible to know anything about the chromosome number or specific position of the matching DNA segments. However, shared matches between my mother and N.F.M. can be examined, and the amount of shared DNA (in cM) can be considered as well.

Examination of Shared Centimorgans

If we begin with the assumption that N.F.M.’s tree is correct—a reasonable assumption in this case—then she is the great-granddaughter of John (Jan in Polish) Klaus and his wife, Mary or Marya Frankowska. Since my mother is the great-granddaughter of John Klaus’s brother Andrzej (Andrew in English), Mom and N.F.M. should be third cousins, and should share an amount of DNA that falls within the normal range for that relationship. According to data gathered by Blaine Bettinger’s “Shared cM Project,” third cousins can be expected to share anywhere from no DNA, up to 274 cM, with an average of 74 cM shared DNA.[11] Since it’s possible that third cousins will not share any DNA (thanks to the random nature of DNA inheritance through recombination), the fact that Mom and N.F.M. share only 25 cM of DNA over 3 segments is not a concern, despite the fact that this amount is below the statistical average expected for this relationship. Moreover, since mom’s line of descent from Andrew was through (1) her father, (2) his mother, and (3) his mother’s father (Figure 8), we would expect that the list of shared matches between Mom and N.F.M. would include additional paternal cousins of Mom’s who were known to be documented descendants of Jakub Klaus and Franciszka Liguz.

Figure 8: Relationship chart for Mom and N.F.M. Since their great-grandfathers (Andrzej and Jan) were siblings, their grandmothers (Genevieve and Mary) were first cousins, and their late fathers (John Frank and John Henry) were second cousins. Some data have been redacted to protect the privacy of the living.Relationship chart for Mom and Nancy Foster Mulroy

Evaluation of Shared Matches

In fact, that’s exactly what we find. For example, Mom has a paternal first cousin, M.D., whose mother was John Frank Zielinski’s sister. This means that M.D. would also be a documented third cousin of N.F.M, although they may or may not share any DNA. As it happens, Ancestry reports M.D. as a shared match between Mom and N.F.M., as predicted. Although it’s not possible to know how many centimorgans of DNA are shared between M.D. and N.F.M. or where those matching segments are located, we know that M.D. and N.F.M must match at the level of 4th cousin or closer, based on Ancestry’s cut-offs for reporting shared matches.

Although M.D. is the only one of Mom’s known cousins who also matches N.F.M., additional DNA evidence can be found in Mom’s match list on Ancestry. Further examination of Mom’s DNA matches revealed a match to R.D.S, who is another great-granddaughter of John Klaus and Mary Frankowska, just like N.F.M. While N.F.M. was descended from John and Mary through their grandson, John Henry (see Figure 8), R.D.S. is descended from them through John Henry’s sister, Mary Catherine. Examination of the shared matches between R.D.S. and Mom produces two of Mom’s documented second cousins, R.S.L. and D.M.R., both of whom are descended from Genevieve Klaus’s sister, Anna Klaus Gworek.

Back to the Paper Trail

At this point the DNA evidence strongly supports our hypothesis that John Klaus of Plymouth, Pennsylvania, husband of Mary Frankowska, is, in fact, the same as Jan Klaus, brother of Andrzej and son of Jakub Klaus and Franciszka Liguz. Although neither N.F.M. nor R.D.S. had done any research in Polish records, R.D.S.’s tree provided further documentation to add to the growing body of evidence: John Klaus’s death certificate stated his parents’ names as Jakub Klaus and “Frency Bigus” (Figure 9).[12]

Figure 9: Death certificate of John Klaus of Plymouth, Luzerne, Pennsylvania, showing parents’ names.John Klaus death certificate marked

The informant on the certificate was John’s wife, Mary, and it’s easy to see how “Franciszka Liguz” might have been transformed into “Frency Bigus” in a moment of grief, given that she’d probably never met her mother-in-law.

Coming back full circle now to that passenger manifest for Jan Klaus from the S.S. Marsala in 1888, it appears that it was the correct manifest after all. John reported in the 1910 census that he arrived in the U.S. in 1889, which is reasonably consistent with that October 1888 arrival.[13] Moreover, the record of his marriage to Mary “Fratzkoska” [sic] on 21 January 1890 confirms that he was in the U.S. by that date.[14] It may be that New York was his intended destination upon arrival, as recorded on the manifest, and he decided to settle in Plymouth at a later date. Perhaps the numbers written in the “Date and Cause of Death” column had some other obscure significance, since it’s clear that Jan Klaus did not die on the voyage to America. However, the  general agreement between the date of arrival, the passenger’s name, his date of birth, and his origin in Mielec all support the conclusion that this is probably Jan’s passenger manifest, in spite of the discrepancies.

Epilogue: Mary Frankowska’s Story

Following their marriage in 1890, John and Mary went on to have ten children, all born in Pennsylvania, according to the 1910 census. However, only 6 of these children—Thomas, Frances, Mary, Katherine, John Jr., and Leon—were still living in 1910, so there are four more children whose births and deaths might be documented through baptismal records from the church they attended in Plymouth. The oldest son, Thomas Klaus, left Plymouth and was living in Southwick, Hampden, Massachusetts as early as 1914 when he married his wife, Florence Phillips.[15] Frances, Mary, and Katherine Klaus all eventually followed suit and moved to Western Massachusetts, along with their brother Leon. (John Klaus, Jr. settled in Jersey City, New Jersey.) After John Klaus (Sr.) died in Plymouth, Pennsylvania in 1920, his widow Mary (née Frankowska) followed her children to western Massachusetts, where she died in Chicopee in 1923.[16]

When I started researching Jan Klaus’s family for myself, I became curious about Mary Frankowska’s origins. As mentioned, neither of the DNA matches, N.F.M. and R.D.S, had done any research in Polish records, and Mary’s parents’ names were not known. The 1910 census reported that she was born in Austria, and I wondered if perhaps she was from the same part of Galicia as her husband. I decided to check the FamilySearch database, “Poland, Tarnów, Roman Catholic Diocese Church Books, 1612-1900” for her baptism. The name of this database is a bit misleading since it indexes only baptismal records, rather than containing any marriage or death records whose inclusion might be implied by the use of the term “Church Books.”[17] Nevertheless, it can be a good starting point for researching immigrants who are suspected to have originated in the Tarnów region. Interestingly, the search produced a baptismal record for Marianna Josepha Frankowski, daughter of Josephus Frankowski and Anna Dachowski, born 5 August 1863 in—drumroll, please!—“Maniów, Maniów, Kraków, Poland.”[18] This is the same Maniów where Jan Klaus was born, and the year of birth, 1863, was consistent with the year of birth suggested by Mary Klaus’s age as reported on the 1910 census and her marriage record. If this was, in fact, her birth record, then Mary Klaus and her husband John were actually from the same village in Poland—not an uncommon situation, but a delicious bit of research serendipity nonetheless.

Mary’s death certificate was the linchpin needed to confirm this hypothesis. I requested a copy from the city clerk in Chicopee, and bingo! The parents of Mary Klaus were Joseph Frankowski and Anna Dachowska, a perfect match to the birth record in the FamilySearch index (Figure 10). According to the certificate, Mary died on 30 December 1923 at the age of 60, suggesting a birth year of 1863. Consistent with expectations, the certificate states that she was the widow of John Klaus, was living at 220 School Street, and had been a resident of Chicopee for one year prior to her death. The informant was her daughter Catherine Klaus who was living with her, and Mary was buried in Calvary Cemetery in Chicopee on 2 January 1924.

Figure 10: Death certificate of Mary (née Frankowska) Klaus of Chicopee, Hampden, Massachusetts, widow of John Klaus.Marya Klaus death 1923 cropped marked

More research can still be done in both Polish and U.S. records to flesh out the history of John and Mary (née Frankowska) Klaus and their descendants, but the outline of the story has been firmly established. The paper trail tells the story of Jan’s emigration aboard the S.S. Marsala in 1888, his residence in Plymouth, and his marriage to Marianna Frankowska, a young woman from his home village, in 1890. We know of their 10 children, and we can trace the lineages of some of those children into the present day. Their descendants carry a legacy in the form of bits of DNA which allow us distant cousins to identify each other as fellow descendants of Jakub Klaus and Franciszka Liguz. With every connection we make, our understanding of the family’s history deepens and grows. Who knew that this Buffalo girl had family connections to Chicopee? I do now.

Sources:

[1] Roman Catholic Church, Sanktuarium Matki Bożej Fatimskiej – Różańcowej (Borki, Szczucin, Dąbrowa, Małopolska, Poland), “Ksiąg Metrykalnych,” 1860, births, #20, record for Joannes Klaus, born 9 October 1860.

[2] Roman Catholic Church, St. Mary Magdalene parish (Szczucin, Dąbrowa, Małopolskie, Poland), “Księgi metrykalne, 1786-1988,” Akta małżeństw 1786-1988, Maniów, 1860, 16 September 1860, marriage record for Jacobus Klaus and Francisca Liguz, FHL Film no. 1958428, Items 7-8.

[3] Roman Catholic Church, Sanktuarium Matki Bożej Fatimskiej – Różańcowej (Borki, Szczucin, Dąbrowa, Małopolska, Poland), “Ksiąg Metrykalnych”, 1863, baptismal record for Josephus Klaus, born 26 February 1863; and

Roman Catholic Church, Sanktuarium Matki Bożej Fatimskiej – Różańcowej (Borki, Szczucin, Dąbrowa, Małopolska, Poland), “Ksiąg Metrykalnych”, 1865, births, #37, record for Andreas Klaus, born 25 November 1865; and

Roman Catholic Church, Sanktuarium Matki Bożej Fatimskiej – Różańcowej (Borki, Szczucin, Dąbrowa, Małopolska, Poland), “Ksiąg Metrykalnych”, 1867, #20, baptismal record for Michael Klaus, born 1 September 1867; and

Roman Catholic Church, Sanktuarium Matki Bożej Fatimskiej – Różańcowej (Borki, Szczucin, Dąbrowa, Małopolska, Poland), “Ksiąg Metrykalnych”, 1870, #18, baptismal record for Paulus and Petrus Klaus, born 28 May 1870; and

“Podkarpackie,” database, Polskie Towarzystwo Genealogiczne, Geneteka, (http://geneteka.genealodzy.pl), Search result for Klaus births in Podkarpackie, 1872, #23, Tomasz Klaus, son of Jakub Klaus and Franciszka Nygus (sic), parish Ksiaznice-Wola Mielecka, born in Wola Mielecka on 3 September 1872, source, parish archives, indexed by Krzysztof Gruszka, accessed 3 August 2017; and

“Podkarpackie”, database, Polskie Towarzystwo Genealogiczne, Geneteka, (http://geneteka.genealodzy.pl), Search result for Klaus births in Podkarpackie, 1875, #23, Helena Klaus, son of Jakub Klaus and Franciszka Nygus (sic), parish Ksiaznice-Wola Mielecka, born in Wola Mielecka on 25 September 1875, source, parish archives, indexed by Krzysztof Gruszka, accessed 3 August 2017.

[4] “Podkarpackie”, database, Polskie Towarzystwo Genealogiczne, Geneteka, (http://geneteka.genealodzy.pl), Search result for Klaus deaths in Podkarpackie, 1879, #7, Pawel Klaus, son of Jakub Klaus and Franciszka Liguz, parish Ksiaznice-Wola Mielecka, died in Wola Mielecka on 14 March 1879 at the age of 8 years, source, parish archives, indexed by Krzysztof Gruszka, accessed 3 August 2017; and

Roman Catholic Church, Sanktuarium Matki Bożej Fatimskiej – Różańcowej (Borki, Szczucin, Dąbrowa, Małopolska, Poland), “Ksiąg Metrykalnych”, 1870, #18, baptismal record for Paulus and Petrus Klaus. Note: There is a cross next to Petrus’ name which indicates that he died 22 July 1870; and

“Podkarpackie”, database, Polskie Towarzystwo Genealogiczne, Geneteka, (http://geneteka.genealodzy.pl), Search result for Klaus deaths in Podkarpackie, 1878, #28, Helena Klaus, daughter of Jakub Klaus and Franciszka Liguz, parish Ksiaznice-Wola Mielecka, died in Wola Mielecka on 15 August 1878 at the age of 3 years, source, parish archives, indexed by Krzysztof Gruszka, accessed 3 August 2017.

[5] “Podkarpackie”, database, Polskie Towarzystwo Genealogiczne, Geneteka, (http://geneteka.genealodzy.pl), Search result for Klaus deaths in Podkarpackie, 1874, #4, Józef Klaus, son of Jakub Klaus and Franciszka Liguz, parish Ksiaznice-Wola Mielecka, died in Wola Mielecka on 12 January 1874 at the age of 7 years, source, parish archives, indexed by Krzysztof Gruszka, accessed 3 August 2017.

[6] Roman Catholic Church, St. Stanislaus parish (Buffalo, Erie, New York, USA), Marriages, 1900, #77, record for Tomasz Klaus and Wiktorya Rak, 20 November 1900, accessed as browsable images, “Church records, 1873-1917,” FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:3Q9M-CS4N-64QV-L?i=1468&cat=23415: http://familysearch.org : 7 August 2017), image 1469 of 1979.

[7] “Hamburg Passenger Lists, 1850-1934,“ Ancestry, (http://ancestry.com : 31 July 2019) S.S. Marsala, departing 14 September 1888, p 338, line 197, Jan Klaus, citing Staatsarchiv Hamburg; Hamburg, Deutschland; Hamburger Passagierlisten; Microfilm No.: K_1738, Volume 373-7 I, VIII A 1 Band 062 B.

[8] “New York Passenger Lists, 1820-1891,” database with images, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:QVSL-CV45 : 17 December 2018), S.S. Marsala , arriving in New York on 1 October 1888, passenger no. 197, Jan Klaus, 1888; citing NARA microfilm publication M237 (Washington, D.C.: National Archives and Records Administration, n.d.).

[9] “Hamburg Passenger Lists, 1850-1934,” Ancestry, (http://ancestry.com : 7 August 2019) S.S. British Queen, departing Hamburg 26 March 1889, p. 361, line 4, passenger Andrzey Klaus, citing Staatsarchiv Hamburg; Hamburg, Deutschland; Hamburger Passagierlisten; Microfilm No.: S_13155, Volume: 373-7 I, VIII B 1 Band 077.

[10] Roman Catholic Church, St. Stanislaus parish (Buffalo, Erie, New York, USA), Marriages, 1891, no. 26, record for Andrzej Klaus and Marya Łączka, 21 January 1891, accessed as browsable images, “Church records, 1873-1917,” FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:3Q9M-CS4N-64SL-7?i=1407&cat=23415 : 7 August 2019), image 1408 of 1979.

[11] Blaine Bettinger, “August 2017 Update to the Shared cM Project,” The Genetic Genealogist, https://thegeneticgenealogist.com: posted 26 August 2017).

[12] Pennsylvania Death Certificates, 1906-1966,” database, Ancestry, (http://ancestry.com : 7 August 2019), Plymouth, Luzerne, Pennsylvania, no. 60801, certificate for John Klaus, died 13 May 1920, citing  Pennsylvania Historic and Museum Commission; Pennsylvania, USA; Pennsylvania, Death Certificates, 1906-1965; Certificate Number Range: 058501-061500, record for John Klaus, citing Pennsylvania (State). Death certificates, 1906–1963. Series 11.90 (1,905 cartons). Records of the Pennsylvania Department of Health, Record Group 11. Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.

[13] “1910 United States Federal Census” (population schedule), Plymouth Ward 5, Luzerne, Pennsylvania, Enumeration District 105, Sheet 5A, John Klaus household, Ancestry (https://ancestry.com : 12 December 2018),  citing NARA microfilm publication T624, roll 1369.

[14] Clerk of Orphans Court of Luzerne County, Marriage License Docket, license no. 7356, John Clause and Mary Fratzkoska, married 21 January 1890, accessed as digital images,”Pennsylvania County Marriages, 1885-1950,” FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org :  19 December 2018), DGS no. 004268759, image 292 out of 625.

[15]“Massachusetts, Marriage Records, 1840-1915,” database with images, Ancestry (https://ancestry.com : 19 December 2018),  record for Thomas Klous [sic] and Florence Phillips, June 24, 1914, Southwick, Hampden, Massachusetts.

[16] Chicopee, Hampden, Massachusetts, no. 177 [?], death certificate for Marya Klaus, 30 December 1923; Chicopee Town Clerk’s Office, Chicopee, Massachusetts.

[17] “Poland Tarnow Roman Catholic Diocese Church Books – FamilySearch Historical Records Coverage Table,” FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org/wiki/en/Poland_Tarnow_Roman_Catholic_Diocese_Church_Books_-_FamilySearch_Historical_Records_Coverage_Table : 10 August 2019).

[18] “Poland Tarnow Roman Catholic Diocese Church Books, 1612-1900,” Marianna Josepha Frankowski, baptized 5 August 1863, FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:X5HQ-G5J : 10 August 2019).

© Julie Roberts Szczepankiewicz 2019

Down the Rabbit Hole

As genealogy researchers, we often stumble upon interesting historical tidbits while researching other things. Since time for research and writing is limited, I do my best not to let my curiosity take me too far down the rabbit hole into further exploration of those individuals or events. Yet sometimes, those individuals stay with me, returning to my thoughts every now and then, so I decided to write about two of them today.

Lament for a Nameless Child

The first item I’d like to share is a death certificate I discovered recently while reviewing the entry for Thomas Coyle on the same page. Number 2827, bordered in red on the image below, is the death certificate for an unnamed child from Nepean township, Carleton County, Ontario.1 Records on this page were erroneously described in the FamilySearch catalog as being from the city of Toronto, some 400 km away.Nameless Child Death Certificate

The death record is for an unnamed baby girl who died on 7 June 1896 having lived for just a few minutes. As was typical for civil death records from Canada in this era, no parents’ names were required on the form, so her identity may be lost to the descendants of any siblings she may have had. Her cause of death was noted to be “difficult parturition,” meaning she died as a result of some trauma from her birth. The informant was her father, who was a resident of City View, which is a neighborhood formerly located in Nepean, which is now located in Ottawa.

As family historians, we often think in terms of preserving the stories of those who have gone before us. Stories like this one, of lives ended before they’d even begun, always make me sad. Perhaps there’s a genealogist out there somewhere who’s researching a family from Nepean, wondering about that gap in the births of the children, noting that there should have been another baby born circa 1896. Or maybe that genealogist has already discovered a Catholic burial record which identifies the parents for this little one, so this civil death record is just one more piece of evidence to document a life cut short. In an era when infant mortality was so much higher than it is today, it’s quite possible that her parents had already lost children prior to the death of this baby girl, yet losses like this aren’t something one ever forgets. I hope that her parents and any siblings found some measure of peace in this life after her death, and as a person of faith, I also hope that the souls of all the family are reunited in the joy of the next life.

A Cinderella Story

The second historical tidbit is this 1891 baptismal record for Cinderella Maria Howe, found in the records of St. Stephen’s parish in Middleport, Niagara County, New York.2 I stumbled across it one day last year when researching my husband’s Lewandowski/Levanduski ancestors (there’s a baptismal record for Joseph Levanduski on the preceding page). Cinderella Baptism

The record is in Latin, and it states that Cinderella Maria Howe was baptized on 15 August 1891, and that she was the daughter of Morgan L. Jones and Elizabeth White. Godparents were Maria Butler and Daniel Hurlihan. All of this is pretty standard, apart from the uncommon given name, but what really intrigued me was the fact that Cinderella was 62 years old at the time of her baptism, having been born on 13 February 1829.

Although people can get baptized into the Roman Catholic faith at any age, infant baptism is common practice. So if one is researching ancestors that one knows or suspects were Catholic, one might expect to find a baptismal record within a year or so after birth, not 62 years later. A researcher investigating the family of Cinderella (née Jones) Howe would have absolutely no reason to go looking for her baptism in these records, in this time period, unless there were an oral family tradition which stated that Cinderella was baptized as a Catholic late in life. Moreover, since these church records from St. Stephen’s are not presently indexed online, this record can only be found by browsing through the digital images, page by page, or by visiting the parish. (More information on finding such unindexed scans at FamilySearch can be found here.)

Quick searches on Ancestry and FamilySearch reveal quite a lot of “low-hanging fruit” in the form of easily-found documents that can further inform us about the life of Cinderella Howe, but this baptismal record was not cited in any of the family trees I reviewed that mention Cinderella. This is perhaps unsurprising in light of the factors already discussed. One wonders what the factors were that inspired her to convert to Catholicism at the age of 62. As a widow who had buried her husband a few years previously, was she merely pondering her own mortality, and felt drawn to the Catholic faith? Were there other family members who converted as well? Perhaps these questions will one day be answered by one of her descendants. In the meantime, I need to climb back out of the rabbit hole and get back to my own genealogy projects. Those dead ancestors aren’t going to research themselves.

Sources:

1 “Ontario Deaths, 1869–1937, and Overseas Deaths, 1939–1947,” database, FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org: 4 May 2019), no. 002827, register entry for Not named, died 7 June 1896 in Nepean, Carleton, Ontario, Canada, accessed as browsable images, path: Deaths > 1896 > no 1001-6523 > image 579 of 1466.

2 Roman Catholic Church, St. Stephen’s parish (Middleport, Niagara, New York, USA), “Church records, 1878-1917,” database, FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org: 4 May 2019), Baptisms, 1891, p. 35, unnumbered entries, Cinderella Maria Howe, baptized 15 August 1891, accessed as browsable images, image 23 of 154.

© Julie Roberts Szczepankiewicz 2019

 

The Siren Song of the BSO

One of the guiding principles of efficiency in genealogy research is to create a research plan and stick to it. We all run across distractions as we research, of course, and we’ve probably all had that experience of heading down a research “rabbit hole” in pursuit of something not directly related to the original goal, and then emerging hours later with little to show for one’s research time, beyond, say, a new appreciation for plants which our ancestors might have used to make clothing dyes.  (Okay, maybe that’s just me.  Anyway.)  In the genealogy community, these distractions are commonly referred to as BSO’s: Bright, Shiny Objects.  The prescribed remedy is to make a note of each BSO as it arises, jotting down where it was found so that it can be explored in detail during another research session, and then move on, in order to achieve the research goals set forth in the initial research plan. This is absolutely sound advice.

And yet, there are times when I am so very glad that I pursued those BSO’s.

A perfect example of this arose last weekend.  My husband and I had a date night planned, but I had allotted some research time in the afternoon prior to that.  My goal was to make a list of distant cousins on my Dad’s paternal line who might be persuaded to donate a DNA sample to address some research questions that have recently cropped up. In reviewing my data on this side of the family, I took a look at my Grentzinger line.

The Grentzingers of Steinsoultz, Alsace and Detroit

Henry and Catherine (née Grentzinger) Wagner of Detroit, Michigan, were my 3x-great-grandparents.  Henry was the son of Johann Heinrich Wagner and Maria Anna Nau, immigrants from Germany who arrived with their family in Detroit in 1853.1 Catherine was the daughter of Peter and Elizabeth (née Eckhardt/Eckerd/Eckert) Grentzinger of Steinsoultz in Ober-Elsaß, or what is now the Haut-Rhin department of France.  It’s not yet clear to me whether Peter also emigrated, or if Elizabeth came to Detroit with her children as a widow, but Elizabeth herself is buried in Assumption Grotto Cemetery in Detroit.2  It is also known that Catherine had at least one sibling who emigrated:  a brother Peter, who was living with Catherine and Henry Wagner’s family in 1870 (Figure 1).3

Figure 1:  Extract of 1870 census showing Henry Wagner household.3henry-wagner-household-1870Note that the family includes not only Henry and Catherine and their two children, John and Mary, but also 16-year-old Mary Meat.  I haven’t yet figured out how she fits in, so that’s another mystery for another day.

In reviewing my notes, I realized that I still didn’t have Henry and Catherine’s marriage record.  Henry and Catherine Wagner should have married circa 1855, based on the fact that their older son, John, was born circa 1857.  Catherine was born in 1828, meaning she would have been 27 at the time of her first marriage.  That’s certainly a reasonable age for a first marriage.  But in a previous round of research, I’d noted the following marriage record in the index at FamilySearch (Figure 2)

Figure 2:  Michigan Civil Marriages, 1834-1974, index-only entry for Catharina Grenzinzer.catherine-granzinger-marriage-index

I’d wondered if it was my Catherine, but there were other Granzinger/Grentzingers living in the midwest at that time and the relationships between them aren’t yet clear to me. I know from experience how easy it is to draw erroneous conclusions based on limited data, so I was hesitant to get too excited about this record.  Although Catherine’s age here suggests a birth year of 1828, which is consistent with what is known for “my” Catherine, this indexed entry did not include parents’ name or any other identifying information that might make it easier to draw firm conclusions. So I put this puzzle piece aside for the time being and moved on.

When I rediscovered this puzzle piece last weekend, it occurred to me that many of the indexed records collections on FamilySearch now have images online.  A great place to see what’s online (indexes and scans) is to visit the “Research by Location” page for your area of interest.  For example, the page for Michigan  shows all these fantastic collections of online images (Figure 3).

Figure 3:  Michigan Research Page at FamilySearch.michigan-research

I noticed that the Michigan County Marriages, 1820-1940 database has been updated since the last time I researched my Grentzingers two years ago.  I looked up that marriage record for Catherine Grentzinger and Victor Dellinger again, and this time, I was able to obtain the image of the record (Figure 4),4 despite the fact that Figure 2 states “no image available” in the upper right corner. Sometimes it seems that the left hand at Family Search knows not what the right hand is doing.

Figure 4:  Marriage record for Catherine Grenzinger and Victor Dellinger, 1846.4catherine-granzinger-and-victor-dellinger-1846-crop

The full record reads, “1733.  State of Michigan, County of Wayne. I do hereby certify that at the City of Detroit on the third day of February A.D. 1846 I received the mutual consent of matrimony between Victor Dellinger, 22 years of age, + Catherine “Grenzinger,”18 years of age, both of the City of Detroit, and joined them together in the bonds of holy wedlock in the presence of Henry “Diegel” [Diezel?] and + John Damm of Detroit, given under my hand this 22nd day of Xbr 1846 (signed) Rev. A. Kopp.”

Unlike that index-only record, this image was a cause for celebration, because it provided a necessary clue that allowed me to conclude that this was, indeed, my 3x-great-grandmother.  The clue was the first witness, Henry Diegel.  When I saw that name, my heart leaped with joy.

Henry Diegel! 

Now at this point, you may be asking, just who is Henry Diegel?

As I mentioned earlier, Catherine’s mother, Elizabeth (née Eckerd) Grentzinger, is buried in Assumption Grotto Cemetery in Detroit.  The last time I was working on this line, I’d made a phone call to the cemetery office to see what they could tell me about Elizabeth’s burial. The receptionist was very informative.  She told me that the burial record is in Latin and in translation it reads,”1 August 1854 Elizabeth Eghart (sic) age 54. Henry Diegel.” She commented futher that Henry Diegel was probably the one who paid for the grave, and was presumably Elizabeth’s husband, based on the way the records are structured.5

Immediately I took a look at the other burials in Find a Grave in Assumption Grotto Cemetery with the surname Diegel to see if I could gather additional clues.  There were a couple hits for men who were born in the mid-to-late 1800s, who were therefore unlikely to have been Elizabeth’s husband.  When I broadened the search to include any Diegels buried in that cemetery, however, there was quite a list of them, including one John Henry Diegel, born in 1798, who seemed like the most plausible candidate for a connection to Elizabeth Grentzinger. But why was she not buried as Elizabeth Diegel, if they were married?  Perhaps one of the other Henry Diegels was a son-in-law who paid for her grave, since her husband Peter Grentzinger was already deceased?  There were too many questions and too few answers, and more pressing matters pulled me away from further research on this line.

Until last weekend.  Last weekend, it became clear that Henry Diegel was connected to the Grentzinger family in some important way, even if that connection is still unclear.  Not only did he pay for Elizabeth’s grave, but he also witnessed the marriage of Elizabeth’s daughter, Catherine. More importantly, I now had clear evidence that Catherine Wagner was married prior to her marriage to Henry.  Armed with that information, it was a matter of minutes before I located her civil marriage record to Henry Wagner in 1855 (Figure 5).6

Figure 5:  Civil marriage record for Henry Wagner and Catherine Dellinger, 1855.6henry-wagner-and-catherine-dellinger-1855-crop

The witnesses named here are Henry’s siblings, August and Gertrude Wagner, providing further confirmation that this is the correct marriage record for my ancestors.  It’s also worth mentioning that although this is the civil marriage record — meaning the one created by the civil authorities for Wayne County, Michigan — this does not imply that they were not also married in a religious ceremony.  In fact, the column heading on the last column (cut off in this image) indicates the name of the officiant at each marriage in the register, and the column heading states, “Ministers of St. Mary’s Church.”  The church record should also be sought because it is likely to contain information beyond what is mentioned on the civil version of the record.

After realizing that Catherine Grentzinger was married to Victor Dellinger in 1846, my next step was to look for them in the 1850 census (Figure 6).7  Bingo!

Figure 6:  Victor Dalmgher household in the 1850 U.S. Census.7victor-dalmgher-household-p-1-crop

They were indexed under Victor Dalmgher, and it doesn’t look like a transcription error, but rather a spelling that’s true to what was recorded in the census.  At this point I don’t know which version is closer to Victor’s true surname, but as my undergraduate research mentor used to tell me, “Keep gathering data, and truth will emerge.”  What’s really exciting about this record is the fact that there are two children living with the parents, previously unknown to me. Also listed with this household, but appearing at the top of the next page, is Catherine’s brother, Peter, recorded here as “Gransan” (Figure 7).

Figure 7:  Peter Gransan in the household of Victor Dalmgher, 1850 U.S. Census.7victor-dalmgher-household-p-2-crop

That was as far as I got with my pursuit of the BSO that afternoon before my husband came looking for me, wondering why I wasn’t dressed and ready for our date yet.  (Have I mentioned that he’s a saint?)  While it’s true that my journey down the rabbit hole kept me from finishing the task I’d assigned for myself, I was still able to complete that research task the next day.  And I’m absolutely thrilled with the fascinating new insights into my Grentzinger ancestors that resulted from one little dalliance with a BSO.

 Sources:

New York, Passenger Lists, 1820-1957 (image), Henry Wagner family, S.S. Erbpring Luidrich August, 29 September 1853, http://ancestry.com, subscription database, accessed January 2017.

2 Assumption Grotto Cemetery, Detroit, Michigan (image and transcription), Elizabeth Eckert Granzinger headstone, 1800 – 5 August 1854, Memorial #108389561, http://findagrave.com, accessed February 2017.

3 1870 U.S. Census (population schedule), Detroit, Wayne, Michigan, 1st precinct, 6th ward, page 11, Henry Wagner household, http://ancestry.com, subscription database, accessed February 2017.

Michigan, County Marriages, 1820-1940,  (images and transcriptions), record for Victor Dellinger and Catherine Grenzinger, http://familysearch.org, accessed February 2017.

Assumption Grotto Cemetery, Detroit, Michigan to Julie Szczepankiewicz, Notes from telephone conversation, 15 January 2015.

Michigan, County Marriages, 1820-1940, (images and transcriptions), record for Henry Wagner and Catherine Dellinger, http://familysearch.org, accessed February 2017.

7 1850 U.S. Federal Census (population schedule), Detroit, Wayne, Michigan, page 156B and 157, Victor Dalmgher household, http://ancestry.com, subscription database, accessed February 2017.

© Julie Roberts Szczepankiewicz 2017.