Though I haven't posted anything since March, it doesn't mean I'm not working on the family tree. Research is always going on in the background and I'm usually waiting for documents of some sort or other to come in.
During this recent posting hiatus, I have been concentrating on the Scherper-Saffro-Katz-Schefrin side of the family due solely to the fact that Naomi Sherper (daughter of David and Julia, granddaughter of Avram Goetzl and Eva Leah) lovingly blessed me with the gift of a meticulously-scribed family tree compiled by Amrom Katz and Yale Saffro in July 1983. In the last 6 weeks, I have been doggedly working on verifying the information contained within it, adding details (dates and places of birth, marriage and death), and contacting newly-discovered family members. I must give Amrom and Yale much applause for being able to put this tree together so accurately without the use of computers or genealogy software programs. It is quite a work of art and I regret that I'm not able to thank them in person.
In my quest to contact family members, I last Saturday called Judy Rosenthal, daughter of Myron and Blanche Shepard (Scherper), granddaughter of Avram Goetzl and Eva Leah). During this phone call, Judy told me about her children, Michael, Dana and Joel, and in the process told me that her daughter Dana (pronounced Donna) is a professor of sociology currently working in England. I immediately mentioned that my brother Adam is working on his Ph.D. in sociology in Boulder and Judy added that Dana had been in Colorado Springs before moving to England. After getting off the phone with Judy, I called Adam to let him know that he had a cousin in the same field, and to our utter, almost-speechless (I'm not speechless often as those of you who know me can attest) amazement, he actually knows Dana! Yowzer! This type of coincidence I have not come across before.
So my work (more a labor of love) continues with the help of recently-discovered cousins who are able to add new generations since 1983 and put me in contact with other cousins. I thank you all for your help and appreciate any contributions (additions or corrections) you provide.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Weekend in New York
I took off in a plane heading to New York on the 15th of March with several goals in mind--to find my great grandfather Scherper's grave in Baron Hirsch Cemetery on Staten Island, to meet Morenberg and Scherper family members I have not yet met, and to go to 3 other cemeteries while I was there to visit family graves. Perhaps it was too much to wish for in 4 short days, perhaps it wasn't. But the day I booked the tickets it was 60 degrees in New York. The evening I got there, it started snowing and it snowed for the next 2-1/2 days, bringing the "feels like" temperature down to 10 degrees at some points. A little chilly for my I-think-50-degrees-is-cold south Florida blood.
My sister Cori and I braved the bone-chilling, damp snow on Friday afternoon, making our way through the slushy quagmire of the New York subway system to our intended destination in Brooklyn--Washington Cemetery--where my great grandfather Isidore Morenberg's brother Wolf (William) and his wife Dora are buried. I was awestruck as Cori and I stood in the above-ground subway station overlooking the cemetery grounds snapping pictures (all pictures for the weekend can be found here). We were directly above the cemetery and all that could be seen in any direction was headstones. Thousands of eerily-beautiful headstones. Headstones of different shapes, sizes and shades of gray. Headstones written in many different languages. Each headstone signaling the end of a Jewish life.
As we emerged at the bottom of the steps of the subway station, directly in front of us was the Washington Cemetery office, a building that to me appeared to originally have been a house, welcoming and unwelcoming at the same time. Cori and I were quiet from the sobering scene of headstones and chilled to the bone with winter winds whipping all around us. As we walked up to the reception window, up popped a younger gentleman looking to be an Elvis impersonator of some sort, sporting a jet-black pompadour with long, wide sideburns and a short-sleeve Hawaiian print shirt. Odd scene, indeed. As if the Elvis impersonation wasn't enough, his arms were covered from shoulders to wrists in tattoos. Nothing against tattoos here, just that tattoos are an odd thing to find in a Jewish cemetery as observant Jews are not supposed to tattoo their bodies. "Elvis" directed us to our intended destination and off we were. Back into the cold, whipping winds, trying not to get hit by cars as we crossed the odd 3-way street corner.
And finally there it was. It is the first headstone I've ever seen that has the name Morenberg on it. William and Dora Morenberg. William, originally Wolf, came to this country 4 Jun 1891; I'm not yet sure when Dora arrived. I believe they knew each other already in Jaroslaw as Ephrahim Wald arrived in Boston in November 1898 stating that he was going to his brother-in-law's house at 111 Essex Street in New York and he was from Jaroslaw. His brother-in-law was Wolf Morenberg. As I stood in front of the graves, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of struggles Wolf and Dora had been through. How scared they must have been. Not speaking English. Not knowing what hardships were in store for them. Yet they made it through their struggles, raised a family and here they rested together. Note the 3 rocks on the ledge of the joint headstone left there by loved ones visiting the graves to let Wolf and Dora know they had been there.
Saturday morning, Cori and I excitedly waited for the arrival of Burt Warner, Barbara (daughter of David Sherper) and Carl Warner's son, a cousin neither of us had met. He had contacted me about a year ago when he learned from his father that I was working on the family tree. Sophie and Max Scherper were our great grandparents and our grandparents were siblings; I believe that makes us first cousins once removed if I remember a lecture I just attended on relationship calculating at the Jewish Genealogical Society of Broward County correctly. I had invited Burt to meet me in New York so we could meet and look for our great grandfather together. And Cori was nice enough to allow me to invite a virtual stranger (but for a year's worth of emails and phone calls) to stay in her home. After Burt's arrival, we spent Saturday together walking around Manhattan and getting to know each other.
On Sunday, Cori, Ralph (Cori's husband), Burt and I took off for Staten Island and Baron Hirsch Cemetery. Baron Hirsch is similar to Washington Cemetery only in that it's a cemetery and there are thousands of old beautiful headstones. Because it's on Staten Island, Baron Hirsch is cut into the woods, so it's covered in trees, shrubs and vines. Unfortunately, because it was one of the earliest cemeteries in New York, it was almost full when the State of New York began governing its cemeteries and money allotment was based on new burials, not the upkeep of the already buried. Due to the lack of funding, Baron Hirsch's grounds upkeep is not what you might see at other cemeteries, but I believe they do their best within their monetary constraints. It's still a beautiful old cemetery and I think because of the foliage it is more warm and welcoming than other cemeteries I've been to.
Did we find Max Scherper's grave? You better believe it! Ralph and Burt were wonderful and determined, clipping and hacking away at hibernating poison ivy vines and tree branches. Cori and Burt were both great at helping me narrow down where Max could be by filling in the names of the headstones we could read near where he was supposed to have been buried. It took us a while to figure out that in the 1930s in an Orthodox synagogue the men and women were separated even in death. I had no idea. Once we figured out we were looking for the men's side, it was easy to narrow his location down to row 2 and grave 3, just where Pam in the Baron Hirsch office had said she thought he was buried. While I was quite pleased that we had found our great grandfather, a sense of immense sadness came over me as I realized we had to have been the first people to visit Max Scherper's grave since at least 1943 when my dad's family moved to Miami Beach. I wasn't ready to leave him alone again. I felt obligated to say Kaddish (the mourner's prayer) so that he would know I had been there and to show the patriarch of our branch of Scherpers respect.
Sunday evening I was ecstatic about getting to meet a branch of Morenbergs I had never met. My cousin Fred was kind enough to pick me up and take me to dinner at his son Michael's house where I was welcomed by 3 generations of Morenbergs--Fred (my dad's first cousin), his children Michael and Beth, and their children Jacob, Adam, Aiden and Olivia. I can't thank Michael and his wife Martina enough for making the evening possible and for feeding me such a wonderful meal. It was a fabulous evening and I hope to be able to reciprocate in the near future.
I think the highlight of my weekend came Monday at noon when I had the distinct pleasure and honor of meeting my grandfather's brother, Abe Morenberg, the oldest living Morenberg I am aware of. Though he has hearing and sight difficulties, Abe is 100% lucid and still lives on his own at the ripe old age of 98 (his 99th birthday being March 30th). I wish I had my camera ready as a smile filled his face when he realized that I was his brother's granddaughter. Abe, Fred and I went out to eat at a quaint kosher deli Abe likes to frequent. We had an absolutely delicious lunch filled with half-sour pickles, pastrami and tongue sandwiches, french fries, coleslaw and potato salad. Getting to meet Abe was the perfect end to a great weekend.
All in all, chilly wet snow included, my weekend in New York was fulfilling. I was able to meet relatives on both sides of my father's family (4 generations on one side) and while I only made it to 2 of the 4 cemeteries I wanted to get to, I feel like I accomplished most of the goals I set for the weekend. There will definitely be more trips to New York in store for me and I fully intend to be at Abe's 100th birthday bash.
My sister Cori and I braved the bone-chilling, damp snow on Friday afternoon, making our way through the slushy quagmire of the New York subway system to our intended destination in Brooklyn--Washington Cemetery--where my great grandfather Isidore Morenberg's brother Wolf (William) and his wife Dora are buried. I was awestruck as Cori and I stood in the above-ground subway station overlooking the cemetery grounds snapping pictures (all pictures for the weekend can be found here). We were directly above the cemetery and all that could be seen in any direction was headstones. Thousands of eerily-beautiful headstones. Headstones of different shapes, sizes and shades of gray. Headstones written in many different languages. Each headstone signaling the end of a Jewish life.
As we emerged at the bottom of the steps of the subway station, directly in front of us was the Washington Cemetery office, a building that to me appeared to originally have been a house, welcoming and unwelcoming at the same time. Cori and I were quiet from the sobering scene of headstones and chilled to the bone with winter winds whipping all around us. As we walked up to the reception window, up popped a younger gentleman looking to be an Elvis impersonator of some sort, sporting a jet-black pompadour with long, wide sideburns and a short-sleeve Hawaiian print shirt. Odd scene, indeed. As if the Elvis impersonation wasn't enough, his arms were covered from shoulders to wrists in tattoos. Nothing against tattoos here, just that tattoos are an odd thing to find in a Jewish cemetery as observant Jews are not supposed to tattoo their bodies. "Elvis" directed us to our intended destination and off we were. Back into the cold, whipping winds, trying not to get hit by cars as we crossed the odd 3-way street corner.
And finally there it was. It is the first headstone I've ever seen that has the name Morenberg on it. William and Dora Morenberg. William, originally Wolf, came to this country 4 Jun 1891; I'm not yet sure when Dora arrived. I believe they knew each other already in Jaroslaw as Ephrahim Wald arrived in Boston in November 1898 stating that he was going to his brother-in-law's house at 111 Essex Street in New York and he was from Jaroslaw. His brother-in-law was Wolf Morenberg. As I stood in front of the graves, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of struggles Wolf and Dora had been through. How scared they must have been. Not speaking English. Not knowing what hardships were in store for them. Yet they made it through their struggles, raised a family and here they rested together. Note the 3 rocks on the ledge of the joint headstone left there by loved ones visiting the graves to let Wolf and Dora know they had been there.
Saturday morning, Cori and I excitedly waited for the arrival of Burt Warner, Barbara (daughter of David Sherper) and Carl Warner's son, a cousin neither of us had met. He had contacted me about a year ago when he learned from his father that I was working on the family tree. Sophie and Max Scherper were our great grandparents and our grandparents were siblings; I believe that makes us first cousins once removed if I remember a lecture I just attended on relationship calculating at the Jewish Genealogical Society of Broward County correctly. I had invited Burt to meet me in New York so we could meet and look for our great grandfather together. And Cori was nice enough to allow me to invite a virtual stranger (but for a year's worth of emails and phone calls) to stay in her home. After Burt's arrival, we spent Saturday together walking around Manhattan and getting to know each other.
On Sunday, Cori, Ralph (Cori's husband), Burt and I took off for Staten Island and Baron Hirsch Cemetery. Baron Hirsch is similar to Washington Cemetery only in that it's a cemetery and there are thousands of old beautiful headstones. Because it's on Staten Island, Baron Hirsch is cut into the woods, so it's covered in trees, shrubs and vines. Unfortunately, because it was one of the earliest cemeteries in New York, it was almost full when the State of New York began governing its cemeteries and money allotment was based on new burials, not the upkeep of the already buried. Due to the lack of funding, Baron Hirsch's grounds upkeep is not what you might see at other cemeteries, but I believe they do their best within their monetary constraints. It's still a beautiful old cemetery and I think because of the foliage it is more warm and welcoming than other cemeteries I've been to.
Did we find Max Scherper's grave? You better believe it! Ralph and Burt were wonderful and determined, clipping and hacking away at hibernating poison ivy vines and tree branches. Cori and Burt were both great at helping me narrow down where Max could be by filling in the names of the headstones we could read near where he was supposed to have been buried. It took us a while to figure out that in the 1930s in an Orthodox synagogue the men and women were separated even in death. I had no idea. Once we figured out we were looking for the men's side, it was easy to narrow his location down to row 2 and grave 3, just where Pam in the Baron Hirsch office had said she thought he was buried. While I was quite pleased that we had found our great grandfather, a sense of immense sadness came over me as I realized we had to have been the first people to visit Max Scherper's grave since at least 1943 when my dad's family moved to Miami Beach. I wasn't ready to leave him alone again. I felt obligated to say Kaddish (the mourner's prayer) so that he would know I had been there and to show the patriarch of our branch of Scherpers respect.
Sunday evening I was ecstatic about getting to meet a branch of Morenbergs I had never met. My cousin Fred was kind enough to pick me up and take me to dinner at his son Michael's house where I was welcomed by 3 generations of Morenbergs--Fred (my dad's first cousin), his children Michael and Beth, and their children Jacob, Adam, Aiden and Olivia. I can't thank Michael and his wife Martina enough for making the evening possible and for feeding me such a wonderful meal. It was a fabulous evening and I hope to be able to reciprocate in the near future.
I think the highlight of my weekend came Monday at noon when I had the distinct pleasure and honor of meeting my grandfather's brother, Abe Morenberg, the oldest living Morenberg I am aware of. Though he has hearing and sight difficulties, Abe is 100% lucid and still lives on his own at the ripe old age of 98 (his 99th birthday being March 30th). I wish I had my camera ready as a smile filled his face when he realized that I was his brother's granddaughter. Abe, Fred and I went out to eat at a quaint kosher deli Abe likes to frequent. We had an absolutely delicious lunch filled with half-sour pickles, pastrami and tongue sandwiches, french fries, coleslaw and potato salad. Getting to meet Abe was the perfect end to a great weekend.
All in all, chilly wet snow included, my weekend in New York was fulfilling. I was able to meet relatives on both sides of my father's family (4 generations on one side) and while I only made it to 2 of the 4 cemeteries I wanted to get to, I feel like I accomplished most of the goals I set for the weekend. There will definitely be more trips to New York in store for me and I fully intend to be at Abe's 100th birthday bash.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Menachem Mendel Scherper
About a month ago, my Aunt Ethel found an envelope containing papers she had never seen before. In this envelope was Sophie's original Social Security card, yellowed, but otherwise in perfect condition, still attached to the original documentation it came with, letters and receipts from the landsmanshaft they belonged to, the Jewish National Worker's Alliance (an organization that still exists today under the name Ameinu), and some various odds and ends, all relating to Max Scherper's death on 16 Feb 1932. One in particular caught my attention as it appeared to be written in Hebrew or Yiddish. It was a piece of stationery from a Dr. M. Shepard, who I've since discovered was born Meyer Scherper to Avram Getzel Scherper, so a first cousin to Max. Meyer first changed his given name to Myron shortly after arriving here in the US to americanize it, and then when he moved to New Jersey as an adult to start a medical practice changed his last name to Shepard.
Anyway, this note from Dr. Shepard was interesting. It was handwritten in clear, bold, cursive print that gave me the impression that it was important. Unfortunately, I can't read cursive Hebrew very well, and I don't read Yiddish at all, so I had no idea what the note was about. I scanned and emailed it to my friend Marty Shames, the President of the Jewish Genealogical Society of Broward County, who let it slip at our recent Genealogy 101 Workshop that he both speaks and reads Yiddish. Just in time for me to head out to the airport on my way to go cemetery hunting in New York, Marty called to tell me that the note had been written in Hebrew and that Dr. Shepard had lovingly written out a headstone for his first cousin. Sophie must have asked for his help. It was a standard inscription for a headstone with the exception of 3 lines that state, "He loved his land. He loved his people. He loved his books." What a beautiful way to describe Menachem Mendel Scherper. And now we know what to have inscribed on his headstone.
Anyway, this note from Dr. Shepard was interesting. It was handwritten in clear, bold, cursive print that gave me the impression that it was important. Unfortunately, I can't read cursive Hebrew very well, and I don't read Yiddish at all, so I had no idea what the note was about. I scanned and emailed it to my friend Marty Shames, the President of the Jewish Genealogical Society of Broward County, who let it slip at our recent Genealogy 101 Workshop that he both speaks and reads Yiddish. Just in time for me to head out to the airport on my way to go cemetery hunting in New York, Marty called to tell me that the note had been written in Hebrew and that Dr. Shepard had lovingly written out a headstone for his first cousin. Sophie must have asked for his help. It was a standard inscription for a headstone with the exception of 3 lines that state, "He loved his land. He loved his people. He loved his books." What a beautiful way to describe Menachem Mendel Scherper. And now we know what to have inscribed on his headstone.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Why Milwaukee?
It's been driving me crazy for about a year now. Why did Max and Sophie Scherper go to Milwaukee? It had to be because they knew someone there. It had to be family. I've been putting it off too long. Take the time Ara. Sit down and really analyze who was in Milwaukee when Max and Sophie got there in 1900. Do I look for Scherper or Sherper? Look for both.
Hmmmm. The 1900 Federal Census has an Abraham G. Scherper on it living in Milwaukee. I've seen this info before, but just didn't take the time to look into it. Abraham G. Scherper. Why does the name sound familiar? Think Ara, think. Abraham G. Scherper. Oh my G-d! Could Abraham G. Scherper be Avram Goetzel Scherper--that picture Daddy gave me from Sophie? Let's see. He's from Russia. They all say Russia. Couldn't they give me a city or shtetl? He has a wife Eva. He has 2 boys, Meyer and David. He's a milk dealer. Meyer's a tailor. At least they give me month and year of birth. They got to the US around 1890. His age in 1900 would make him either a much older brother or an uncle of Max's. Let me pull out the picture. What does it say on the back again? He's Max's uncle. Does this fit? It's got to. How do I know for sure?
Look for the 1910 Census. No Abraham G. Scherper. Drop the G. and look for Abraham. Look for Avram. Try Sherper instead of Scherper. Nothing. Don't put in the first name and try Scherper again. There he is! Abram Scherper on the 1905 Wisconsin State Census. Same children. Same wife. Keep going. Find a living relative. Meyer disappears. Where did he go? David E. Sherper. Myron Sherper. Did Meyer change his name to Myron? They're in Minnesota. Minnesota? Where the heck is Minnesota? I wish I'd paid more attention in Geography class. Oh, right next door to Wisconsin. It's possible. Be sure Ara. Keep going.
A birth certificate for a child named Abraham Daniel Sherper. Order it. Fabulous - the Minnesota Historical Society let's you download the birth certificates immediately. Instant gratification for $8. He's Myron Sherper's son. A death certificate for Abraham Sherper in 1915. Order it. A death certificate for David E. Sherper in 1938. Order it. What does the E. in David E. stand for? Earl? Maybe they're not related. Is Earl Jewish? Keep going Ara. They've got to be related.
Where did Eva go? Wait. I know that name. Eva Sherper. Eva Sherper. I have an Eva L. Sherper who died in the Bronx in 1941. Everyone else is in Minnesota. Is this the same Eva Sherper? Hmmmm. Order the death certificate. Who knows?
David E. Sherper's wife was Julia. Who were their children? Kenneth and Keith. They're twins. Phone numbers in Virginia and Minnesota. They've got to be related. Do I call? I hate making cold calls. How else do you find living relatives though? Calling the number listed for Keith. No answer. Calling the number listed for Kenneth. An answering machine! It says it's the Sherper residence. I giggle. Hot damn. I'm making progress. Call back tomorrow.
Calling Kenneth back. Answering machine again. I leave a message. Poor people on the other end. What a weird message. "Hello. My name is Ara Morenberg and I'm working on my family tree. My great grandparents were Scherpers. You don't have to call me back if you don't want, but my number is ... I'll try calling you again."
My phone is ringing. It's a D.C. number. It must be my cousin Burt (another Scherper). Nope. It's Kenneth Sherper. We talk. Yes, Abraham was Avram Goetzel and they were from Pinsk. The Scherpers were from Pinsk! I've done it! I've found more family. It has to be why Max and Sophie moved to Milwaukee. Kenneth says to call his brother Keith and his sister Naomi. I call Daddy first and let him know that I've found the Scherpers and they're from Pinsk not Minsk where Sophie's family is from.
Call Keith. Chat for a while. Keith says to call Naomi. She's the family genealogist. Call Daddy again. I'm so excited. My heart's pounding. Call Naomi. She's a fountain of information. Avram Goetzel was a vegetarian, I assume because he didn't think the kosher food in the US was kosher enough. He had auburn hair. Yes, he's buried in Minnesota. Yes, Eva L. Sherper is Eva Leah and she died in New York. I ordered the right death certificates. Yes, she thinks she remembers something about a Max Scherper. She'll have to look through her papers and she's got a picture of Avram Goetzel's headstone. That will give me another generation because his headstone should say who his father was. Myron has got to be Meyer, though she's not heard him called that before. He moved to New Jersey and changed his last name to Shepard. Wait. Myron Shepard was a doctor. Why do I know that name? Aunt Ethel just gave me an envelope with old papers. In it is a piece of stationery from Dr. M. Shepard in New Jersey. The note is written in Yiddish. I've got to get that translated. A light bulb goes off. Dr. M. Shepard is the doctor who wrote a letter to Aunt Ethel's school in New York to tell them they might cause her emotional damage if they didn't quit trying to force her to be right-handed when she was left-handed. They kept smacking her knuckles. He told them he'd go to the State if they didn't quit. Aunt Ethel remembers Sophie calling him Dr. Scherper. But that's what Sophie would have known him as in Milwaukee. Meyer Scherper. Naomi and I will trade information and we'll all keep in touch.
Sophie, I've found another branch of your family.
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
The Levins of Ostroshitskiy Gorodok
How do you find people who didn't give you enough information to find them? I've been searching for my Levins and Scherpers on and off for years. While the actual searching process is part of the fun of doing genealogy, it can be terribly frustrating when you get no results. Oh, I can find my specific Scherpers here in the US and I make contact with more and more relatives as I go along which is wonderful all in itself, but I want to know where they really came from. I want to be able to take a trip to my ancestral hometowns and travel through Belarus and Poland by train as they would have traveled. I want to be able to imagine with knowledge what their daily lives might have been like.
So I've hired a Russian researcher. The actual researcher's name is Oleg and he researches for an organization called JHRG of Belarus. My contact's name is Yuri Dorn. Yuri actually contacted me originally when I first joined JewishGen and had sent an email to one of the discussion groups asking if anyone knew of my Scherpers and/or Levins. He told me that only about 10% of the Minsk records were entered into JewishGen's online database and that when I had more specific information about my family, his group would be happy to help with the research. More specific? How does one get more specific when they have no information? Every piece of documentation I've found so far in the US says Russia and Russia only for place of origin. All my father was told growing up was that the family (assumed Scherper and Levin) was from Minsk. Is that Minsk the city or Minsk the district? Who knows. All Yuri could tell me was that he had never heard the name Scherper in Minsk and he didn't think he had heard it ever before. Now Levin, that could be anywhere. It's like having a last name of Smith in the US.
Then the Hamburg Passenger lists went online this last December. I frantically searched the database looking for Scherper. I knew that my grandmother was born in Russia, so I knew I was looking for 3 passengers with the same last name starting with the letter S. I knew my great grandfather's birth name was Mendel, not the anglicized Max he went by here in the US. I knew (or thought I knew) that my great grandmother's first name was Sophie or maybe Sofia and that my grandmother's first name was Ida. I knew that my great grandmother was pregnant when they came over and that the first child born here in the US was Sam. He was born in April 1900, so they had to have come over within the 9 months preceding his birth. I did an exact search for Mendel Scherper. No results. I did an exact search just for the names Scherper and Sherper. Still no results. I did a sounds-like search for Scherper and a list of hundreds of names came up looking nothing close to Scherper to me. But I decided to look anyway. Who knows how a German port employee would hear and spell Scherper?
I looked through pages and pages of passenger lists looking for any grouping of 3 names that looked somewhat close to Mendel, Sophie and Ida Scherper. I tend to go into robot mode when I look at long lists, so I'm not sure I'm always paying attention to what I'm seeing as I flip pages. I was in the S-E-R section of the list searching in alphabetical order when the hair went up on the back of my neck. I swear it felt like Sophie smacked me, told me to stop immediately and pay closer attention. By the way, I've taken to speaking to Sophie when I research this side of my family. I don't know why. I feel some pull to her. Maybe it's just because she's the oldest relative on this side that I've met. I backed up a page just to be sure I hadn't missed anything. And there they were! Mendel, Sore and Chaie S-E-R-P-U-R. So Sophie's birth name was Sore as in Sarah. And Little Grandma's name was Chaie anglicized to Ida. Chaie was 11 months old when they boarded the ship. And they left Hamburg for London on 17 January 1900.
So what to do next? I contacted Yuri and told him I had new information. I prayed that he would say it was enough to get started with the search. He didn't. He said he still didn't think any Scherpers were in Minsk. So I got a little testy--pushy might be a better description. I explained to him that all the pictures from Russia that I had were from Minsk. I had already translated the Cyrillic and the photography studio was definitely in Minsk and the family had to be close enough to get to that studio. I explained that I had this piece of paper from my grand uncle David kindly given to me by his grandson Burt, a Scherper, that said "Harra-Duk." Now Yuri and I had already been back and forth about the "Harra-Duk" which we both knew had to be a phonetic spelling of Gorodok--Russian for town. There were 20 some odd Gorodoks in the district of Minsk. I had no idea which Gorodok this piece of paper spoke of. So Yuri finally gave in. He was starting with limited information. He said he'd start with the 2 closest Gorodoks to the city of Minsk proper--Semkov Gorodok and Ostroshitskiy Gorodok. I knew the chances were slim that he would find my Sophie and Mendel, but I wanted the search to start, so I was willing to take that chance.
I waited. I didn't expect an answer from Yuri for 2 or 3 months, so I busied myself finding out whatever else I could about the Scherpers that might be of help. I targeted the Scherpers because I've never heard any stories about the Levins coming to America, other than Sophie under the married name of Scherper.
On March 1st, 2007, just about 5 weeks later, there was an email waiting for me from Yuri. The subject line read "research report" and it had an attachment. My heart started pounding. I opened the email. No Scherpers were found just as Yuri suspected. But they did find my Levins. Sophie's family...all her sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews--10 siblings in all--and I could now go back 1 more generation. Sophie's grandfather's name was Leizer Levin. They were from Ostroshitskiy Gorodok, Minsk, Belarus. Sophie also had a brother named Leizer who lived at #7 Bogadelnaya Street in Ostroshitskiy. The house was owned by someone named Yossel. Yossel I discovered was her brother Yankel (Jacob) and either he owned it and let his brother's family live there or both families lived there together. This was amazing! I cannot describe how good it feels to have made this connection. I finally have the first real proof that my family existed somewhere other than the US. I finally have a place to visit, to walk up and down the streets and know that my family walked those same streets. Maybe I'll be able to stand in the exact same location that Sophie stood one day as a young girl. What will that feel like? Maybe I'll be able to find the grave of Leizer Levin, my great great great grandfather and leave a rock to let him know I've been there.
So I've hired a Russian researcher. The actual researcher's name is Oleg and he researches for an organization called JHRG of Belarus. My contact's name is Yuri Dorn. Yuri actually contacted me originally when I first joined JewishGen and had sent an email to one of the discussion groups asking if anyone knew of my Scherpers and/or Levins. He told me that only about 10% of the Minsk records were entered into JewishGen's online database and that when I had more specific information about my family, his group would be happy to help with the research. More specific? How does one get more specific when they have no information? Every piece of documentation I've found so far in the US says Russia and Russia only for place of origin. All my father was told growing up was that the family (assumed Scherper and Levin) was from Minsk. Is that Minsk the city or Minsk the district? Who knows. All Yuri could tell me was that he had never heard the name Scherper in Minsk and he didn't think he had heard it ever before. Now Levin, that could be anywhere. It's like having a last name of Smith in the US.
Then the Hamburg Passenger lists went online this last December. I frantically searched the database looking for Scherper. I knew that my grandmother was born in Russia, so I knew I was looking for 3 passengers with the same last name starting with the letter S. I knew my great grandfather's birth name was Mendel, not the anglicized Max he went by here in the US. I knew (or thought I knew) that my great grandmother's first name was Sophie or maybe Sofia and that my grandmother's first name was Ida. I knew that my great grandmother was pregnant when they came over and that the first child born here in the US was Sam. He was born in April 1900, so they had to have come over within the 9 months preceding his birth. I did an exact search for Mendel Scherper. No results. I did an exact search just for the names Scherper and Sherper. Still no results. I did a sounds-like search for Scherper and a list of hundreds of names came up looking nothing close to Scherper to me. But I decided to look anyway. Who knows how a German port employee would hear and spell Scherper?
I looked through pages and pages of passenger lists looking for any grouping of 3 names that looked somewhat close to Mendel, Sophie and Ida Scherper. I tend to go into robot mode when I look at long lists, so I'm not sure I'm always paying attention to what I'm seeing as I flip pages. I was in the S-E-R section of the list searching in alphabetical order when the hair went up on the back of my neck. I swear it felt like Sophie smacked me, told me to stop immediately and pay closer attention. By the way, I've taken to speaking to Sophie when I research this side of my family. I don't know why. I feel some pull to her. Maybe it's just because she's the oldest relative on this side that I've met. I backed up a page just to be sure I hadn't missed anything. And there they were! Mendel, Sore and Chaie S-E-R-P-U-R. So Sophie's birth name was Sore as in Sarah. And Little Grandma's name was Chaie anglicized to Ida. Chaie was 11 months old when they boarded the ship. And they left Hamburg for London on 17 January 1900.
So what to do next? I contacted Yuri and told him I had new information. I prayed that he would say it was enough to get started with the search. He didn't. He said he still didn't think any Scherpers were in Minsk. So I got a little testy--pushy might be a better description. I explained to him that all the pictures from Russia that I had were from Minsk. I had already translated the Cyrillic and the photography studio was definitely in Minsk and the family had to be close enough to get to that studio. I explained that I had this piece of paper from my grand uncle David kindly given to me by his grandson Burt, a Scherper, that said "Harra-Duk." Now Yuri and I had already been back and forth about the "Harra-Duk" which we both knew had to be a phonetic spelling of Gorodok--Russian for town. There were 20 some odd Gorodoks in the district of Minsk. I had no idea which Gorodok this piece of paper spoke of. So Yuri finally gave in. He was starting with limited information. He said he'd start with the 2 closest Gorodoks to the city of Minsk proper--Semkov Gorodok and Ostroshitskiy Gorodok. I knew the chances were slim that he would find my Sophie and Mendel, but I wanted the search to start, so I was willing to take that chance.
I waited. I didn't expect an answer from Yuri for 2 or 3 months, so I busied myself finding out whatever else I could about the Scherpers that might be of help. I targeted the Scherpers because I've never heard any stories about the Levins coming to America, other than Sophie under the married name of Scherper.
On March 1st, 2007, just about 5 weeks later, there was an email waiting for me from Yuri. The subject line read "research report" and it had an attachment. My heart started pounding. I opened the email. No Scherpers were found just as Yuri suspected. But they did find my Levins. Sophie's family...all her sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews--10 siblings in all--and I could now go back 1 more generation. Sophie's grandfather's name was Leizer Levin. They were from Ostroshitskiy Gorodok, Minsk, Belarus. Sophie also had a brother named Leizer who lived at #7 Bogadelnaya Street in Ostroshitskiy. The house was owned by someone named Yossel. Yossel I discovered was her brother Yankel (Jacob) and either he owned it and let his brother's family live there or both families lived there together. This was amazing! I cannot describe how good it feels to have made this connection. I finally have the first real proof that my family existed somewhere other than the US. I finally have a place to visit, to walk up and down the streets and know that my family walked those same streets. Maybe I'll be able to stand in the exact same location that Sophie stood one day as a young girl. What will that feel like? Maybe I'll be able to find the grave of Leizer Levin, my great great great grandfather and leave a rock to let him know I've been there.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Happy Birth Day Sam
Today, Salom Sherper's birth certificate came in - oops, that's Sam Scherper (left) as we know him. His name makes sense, though. He was named after Max's father Sholom (Solomon on Max's death certificate).
What's this? I've never seen Sophie's name documented as Sarah in the US. Wow. She hadn't changed her name yet. Not that I don't like the name Sophie -- I do actually -- but what was wrong with Sarah? Was it as simple as "We've got a new life, let's change our names?" What made Sarah such a "foreign" name? Did Sophie sound more American? I guess I'll never know.
Monday, March 5, 2007
The Beginning of the Journey
Where to start? I guess at the beginning. I started researching my family tree about 4 years ago when I was recovering from surgery and had to try to figure out what to do with myself while I couldn't work for 4 months. I was chatting with my husband one evening while sitting in front of my computer and I told him that if I did a google search on my last name (Morenberg) everyone that came up would probably be related to me. Odd the things you think of to keep yourself busy when you're bored. I was right, though -- there were cousins I had never met (but I knew their names), my sister and brother, and of course my dad.
I clicked on an old google entry of my sister's and there she was in an email group of some sort talking about our mother's side of the family in the Cayman Islands. As I read the entry, I realized, as I'm sure my sister did at the time, that the information given to her in this group was incorrect. Even though her message was a few years old, I decided to see what the group was about and find out how I could correct the errors.
That's it. Simple as that I was hooked. I called my mother. She went into an old suitcase of her father's and pulled out 2 yellowed and fading 8-1/2 x 11 pieces of paper. On one he had sketched out a basic family tree years before and on the other was a list of immediate family members with birthdays, marriage dates, and dates of death -- a family bible of sorts. My mom faxed the 2 sheets of paper to me, and there begins my journey.
I clicked on an old google entry of my sister's and there she was in an email group of some sort talking about our mother's side of the family in the Cayman Islands. As I read the entry, I realized, as I'm sure my sister did at the time, that the information given to her in this group was incorrect. Even though her message was a few years old, I decided to see what the group was about and find out how I could correct the errors.
That's it. Simple as that I was hooked. I called my mother. She went into an old suitcase of her father's and pulled out 2 yellowed and fading 8-1/2 x 11 pieces of paper. On one he had sketched out a basic family tree years before and on the other was a list of immediate family members with birthdays, marriage dates, and dates of death -- a family bible of sorts. My mom faxed the 2 sheets of paper to me, and there begins my journey.
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