Favorite Find – A Description of My Ancestor, the Smuggler

The theme for Week 2 of the 2022 edition of “52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks” is “Favorite Find.” I’ve had several favorite finds in the many years of researching my ancestors, and my favorite tends to be the the latest record, fact, photo, or person I found. But I have to admit that this find was rather unique and still makes me smile.

Prussia’s Most Wanted!

When I research my family tree, most of the ancestors are merely names and dates without any stories or context about who they really were as people. But, depending upon the circumstances, or the peripheral information about their occupation or town or family, some ancestors seem to call to me as if they have a story to tell. Jan Drogowski, one of my 3rd great grandfathers, is one of those ancestors. Maybe because he was the son of a farmer who became a linen merchant. Or because he lived during most of the 19th century (from 1818 to 1894). Or because he had ten children and I have dozens DNA matches among his many descendants. But his story got even more interesting with my favorite find.

I wrote about Jan’s life for the 2015 “52 Ancestors” challenge for Week 17 (“Prosper”). I assumed he had prospered since he was the son of a farmer who, at age 20, was already a linen merchant when he married the daughter of a farmer. He also was literate, which was not common at the time. He and his wife Konstancja had ten children together.

Years after I wrote that post, I used a rather unscientific form of research: a quick Google search. I put in just the surname and town name (Wilczyn) and found a reference to Jan on a list in a German newspaper. At first glance, I could tell it provided his physical description, so I was excited about that. I thought it might be a military draft listing. But then it dawned on me — he was from the Russian partition, so why would he be on a draft list for Prussia?

Upon closer inspection and translation, it is a list of people for whom the police have issued warrants! Both he and his uncle Kajetan (who is six years younger than Jan) were seen smuggling merchandise across the border. They were extradited for being “burdensome, troublesome.” My ancestor was a smuggler! Since he was sticking it to both Prussia and Russia who had divided up Poland, I felt proud of that fact.

Wilczyn is circled in red – the dotted line above & to the left represent the border between Prussia and Russia

In 1856, my ancestor Jan Drogowski, age 36, and his uncle Kajetan, age 30, both linen weavers from Wilczyn, are listed in a Prussian newspaper for outstanding warrants from 1855. Jan is described as 5’6” with blond hair, blue eyes, a blond beard, an oval face, a healthy complexion, and medium build. Kajetan is 3 inches shorter with dark hair and no beard.

Jan and his uncle were only six years apart due to a 50-year age difference between Jan’s father, Wojciech, and Wojciech’s half-brother. The pair not only smuggled together, but they must have been close friends since they married sisters.

I guess they never got caught, and now I know how Jan was able to support ten children! His granddaughter (my great-grandmother) lost the blond hair and blue eye connection and had brown hair and eyes.

It’s incredibly rare to obtain a physical description of an ancestor from the early or mid 19th century. It’s also rather rare to get a sense of story or personality from that far back. Usually all we have are names and dates. So I’m very happy with this accidental find. Wilczyn was really right on the very edge of the border between the two countries. I’m sure it was profitable to sell goods on the “other side.” At the time, he had about seven kids. My great grandmother wasn’t born until 1860, so I’m happy he wasn’t caught.

Newspaper Source: Amtsblatt der Königlichen Preußischen Regierung zu Bromberg. Published 1856. Original from the Bavarian State Library, digitized November 3, 2009. Pages 48-49. Accessed via Google Books.

Map Source: Józef Michał Bazewicz, Atlas geograficzny ilustrowany Królestwa Polskiego  (Litografia B. A. Bukaty, Warsaw, 1907); digital images, Mapster, http://igrek.amzp.pl/mapindex.php?cat=BAZAKP1907, Powiat słupecki guberni kaliskiej (Note: original has been cropped and edited to highlight Wilczyn.)

Life in America (Part 3)

This 3-part series of posts uses my cousin’s interview in 1985 with the Ellis Island Oral History Project. Part 1 tells the story of Ludwig and Mary Schultz, who came to America in 1912 and temporarily left their five children with Mary’s parents. In Part 2, their daughter, Louise, discusses  living with her grandparents and the eventual journey across the ocean to join their parents.  In today’s post, Part 3 will tell more about what happened after their arrival, how the family left behind fared in Poland after they left, and how everyone’s life eventually turned out.

The Family Left Behind

Before discussing the Schultz family’s life in America, one interesting question asked by the interviewer in 1985 was: “Do you have any idea of what would have happened to you if you stayed in Poland, if you hadn’t come here?”

Louise responded: “Pretty awful, because we came in 1913 and in 1914 the first World War broke out.” What happened to the grandparents, uncles, and aunts they left behind?

The children’s grandfather and Alfred’s father, Jan Miller, died just three weeks after they left Poland. He passed away on 25 August 1913, leaving Elżbieta a widow with three children still at home: Paweł, Ludwik, and Zofie.

When the war began, Żyrardów was on the front line. Hundreds of workers were drafted into the army. Because of the decrease in workers and the lack of raw materials, the factory began to reduce production. Food prices increased. As German troops made their way through Russian Poland, martial law was declared.

In early 1915, goods, raw materials, and machines were removed from the factory. The town was deserted due to forced digging of trenches, general displacement, and epidemics of infectious diseases. The worst came after the collapse of the front line of Płock-Bzura-Rawka. On the night of July 16, 1915, the retreating Russian army blew up the main factory buildings. By the end of 1915, the town was under German occupation. During that time, charity committees were abolished and strict food regulation was imposed.

In an article in The New York Times on October 26, 1915 (originally printed in The Chicago Tribune on September 24), reporter James O’Donnell Bennett writes about crossing “Russian Poland” which at that time in the war was in German or Austrian control. He writes:

Often in the last five days I have made the experiment of looking out over the wide landscape to see if I could find an unscathed tract of country. Always the experiment is a failure. Always a shattered church tower notches itself against the sky or a battered village lies crumpled at the edge of fields.

The reporter mentions several towns his party traveled through, including Żyrardów. He describes the whole country as “flyblown and sodden and a ‘nobody cares’ atmosphere envelops it…It is all waste and wreckage, wreckage and waste, a land of grime and ruin and sour smells, of silent fields and slatternly women, of weary sentries…”

Louise said her aunt eventually told her what it was like during the war and “how awful it was when the German army went through the town.” Louise realized that she and her siblings “just missed the horror of a war. They used to hide in cellars and had no food. My grandmother went from one farm to another to beg for a piece of bread.”

Ludwik Miller

I am not certain exactly what happened to Paweł Miller. According to Louise, her aunt Zofie said he was part of the Soviet roundups in Żyrardów that sent residents to Siberia. He did not return from the exile and presumably died there. Their sister, Karolina Miller Razer, may have suffered the same fate; Zofie said she died “in prison”.

Ludwik Miller, a young teenager, either joined or was conscripted into the Russian Army sometime during the Great War. He survived the experience and lived a long life. Ludwik did not immigrate to America. He married twice and had no children, and owned a footwear store in Żyrardów. He died there sometime after 1977.

Elizabeth Smetana Miller with great-granddaughter, Lucille (Louise’s daughter). Long Island, NY, 1925.

The oldest brother, Emil Miller, who was the first of the family to immigrate to America, actually returned to Poland in 1913 after the death of his father. He brought his wife and their children, two of whom were born in America, but after the war began there was no way to leave. Emil and one of his daughters died in Poland during the war. Emil’s wife, Zofja, and American-born son Edward could finally return to America in 1927 (Edward) and 1929 (Zofja). Another daughter stayed behind in Żyrardów.

Widowed Elżbieta and her youngest child, Zofie, would eventually immigrate to America themselves. They sailed aboard the Megantic from Liverpool and arrived in Portland, Maine on 10 December 1920.  Elżbieta, or Elizabeth as she was called in America, lived for a time with Alfred in New York, then with Mary in New Jersey.  She died on 08 November 1944.

The Schultz Family in America

Finally in America after a long, scary journey, Louise said, “My first impression was pretty awful! Because [in Poland] we lived surrounded by trees and orchards and little houses by themselves.” In America, they lived in downtown Manhattan “on 16th Street, that’s where we moved first. The place looked dirty to me, crowded dirty.”  But the family adjusted. Louise was particularly good at learning the new language and communicating on behalf of her parents who, according to her, did not make as much of an effort in assimilating.

The Schultz Family in America, circa 1923. Top row from left: Louise, Mary, Ludwig, Edward. Bottom row from left: Walter, Julia, Henry.

The Schultz family enjoyed their new lives in America. They lived in Brooklyn, then in New Jersey’s Somerset county. Eventually they moved to Metuchen in Middlesex county, New Jersey. Ludwig died in 1950 at the age of 77, and Mary in 1969 at the age of 85.

Henry, who never married, was the first of the Schultz children to die in 1954 at only 46 years old. Edward married and had three children; he died in 1984 at the age of 75. Walter, a decorated U.S. Army Air Corps veteran, died in 1986 at the age of 78. Louise, the source of this wonderful story, married twice and had two daughters; she died in 1990 at the age of 87. The youngest, Julia, married and moved to California where she had two children; she died in 2003 at the age of 93.

I should also note what happened to Alfred Miller, the brave teenaged uncle who brought his nieces and nephews to America! Alfred lived with the Schultz family for some time. In 1921, he got married. The couple had a daughter in 1922 and a son in 1926. Alfred died in 1969, two months after his sister Mary, in Piscataway, NJ.

The only Miller sibling that I did not provide an update on was Elizabeth, my great-grandmother. See her story and a photograph of her with her brother Alfred, sister Mary, and some of the Schultz children here.

Louise Schultz Nagy

When Louise was 82 years old, she was interviewed about the journey she took as a young girl for the Ellis Island Oral History Project. Thanks to that transcript, I was able to learn not only about traveling by ship to America, but also a little about her family, what life was like in Poland before and after she left, and her impressions about life in America. Thank you, cousin Louise, for sharing your journey with all of us!

The Case of Chicken Charley

Sometimes while researching a particular family I will become distracted by another find that is so interesting or humorous that I can’t help but follow that trail just to find out how the story ends. Such was the case with “Chicken Charley”.

I was researching a friend’s family. Much to his surprise, I discovered that his Rodda ancestors had been to California for the gold rush, and his 3^rd great-grandfather died there. This was a surprise because he wasn’t aware of that fact, nor that his 2^nd great-grandparents had immigrated to California for several years, but then returned to Cornwall, England to have a family and spend the rest of their lives there. It was that couple’s son who is my friend’s great-grandfather; he was born in Cornwall and immigrated to Pennsylvania as a young man.

While researching the Rodda family in California during the gold rush days, I discovered a wonderful resource for people with California ancestors – the California Digital Newspaper Collection. There I struck gold with a wildly humorous story about another Rodda – Charles “Chicken Charley” Rodda. How could a researcher not be distracted by this story?

08 November 1889 – Rodda’s Raid

A Chicken Thief on Whom the Habit Had a Firm Hold

The other day Charles Rodda was arrested by officer Carroll on suspicion of being a chicken thief. Sufficient evidence, however, was not obtainable to insure conviction, but a charge of vagrancy was placed against him. In the Police Court he succeeded in satisfying Judge Buckley that he was not guilty. Late Wednesday night, as officer Crump was patrolling his beat, he spied Rodda acting in a suspicious manner, and followed him into a yard on Thirteenth and J streets, where Rodda concealed twenty-one chickens. He was at once arrested, and, with the chickens, was taken to City Prison. On his way down he resisted the officer, and threw the chickens into a yard. The stolen property is at the police station awaiting an owner.[i]

Two days later, on 10 November 1889, this appears in the “Brief Notes” section of the newspaper:

The chickens captured by officer Crump from a thief the other night are still at the police station awaiting the owner.[ii]

Well, if the chickens were stolen, why didn’t anyone claim them? I’m starting to feel sorry for Charley. Then, the story gets more colorful with a delightfully descriptive (and potentially slanderous) article. I wish that the newspaper reporter was given a byline, because this reads as if it was written by Mark Twain:

12 November 1889 – Talked Himself to Jail

An Aged Chicken-Thief’s Idea of Defense. “Call the case of Charles Roder, charged with petit larceny,” was Police Judge Buckley’s first utterance upon taking his seat yesterday.

“Here I be,” said a wild-eyed, shockheaded old man jumping up from the prisoner’s dock.

Clerk Larkin informed Roder that he was accused of stealing chickens, and asked him if he was guily or not guilty.

“Not guilty, by dang,” shouted Roder, smiting himself upon the breast. “I never stole no chickens, ner anything else. I never was —.”

“That’ll do now; sit down,” admonished Baliff Rowland, motioning to the witness.

“Sit yerself down, yer wall-eyed scalpeen,” roared the petty larcenist, stamping with his feet and swinging his arms wildly. “Yer a set of blackmailers, and I’ll —“

“Shut up and sit down!” This was from Judge Buckley, and Roder only needed to glance at his Honor before concluding that it would be a good idea to sit down. But his tongue never ceased. He denounced the police force and everybody in general, and kept up a constant jabber all through his trial.  Police officer Crump testified to having caught Roder in the vicinity of Fifteenth and K streets, early in the morning, with two sacks full of chickens, which he could not explain how he came into the posession of. Officers Carroll and Farrell both stated that Roder had admitted in their presence of having stolen the chickens. Roder denied all of this, of course, and never ceased in his denunciations.

“Where did you get those chickens, Roder?” asked City Attorney Church.

“I got ‘em honestly,” replied Roder, doggedly.

“But where?”

“Well, that’s my business, and not yours,” was the reply.

Judge Buckley tried to get some information on the subject from Roder, but fared no better than the City Attorney. As a result Roder was found guilty and will be sentenced to-day.[iii]

This “news” reporting conjures up quite an image of what the town and townspeople were like in 1889. But it must have been a slow news day for the story of the infamous chicken thief to get such press! As a side note, the spelling of Charles’ name is “Roder” while it was “Rodda” just days before – and it will show up in other editions of the paper in other forms.

Charley didn’t fare too well at sentencing after talking back to the judge (did they find people in contempt back then?).  On 13 November 1889 it was reported in the “Brief Notes” section of the newspaper that “Charles Rodda, convicted of stealing chickens, was sentenced to three months imprisonment in the County Jail yesterday by Police Judge Buckley.”[iv]

The newspapers are quiet about Charley until nine months later. On 20 August 1890, the following appears:

Who Lost the Chicks?

At an early hour yesterday morning E. R. Dole, Captain of the chain-gang, encountered that incorrigible poultry fiend, “Chicken Charley,” at Fifteenth and I streets, coming from the northeastern part of the city. Dole examined his load and found it to comprise nineteen fowls. Surmising that Charley had been on one of his periodical raids, he arrested him. The fowls are at the police station, and as policemen do not like chicken-meat, they are in the way. The owner is requested to call and identify them.[v]

I had to laugh picturing the chickens at the police station getting in the way. While this chicken thief named Charley isn’t identified by a surname, it became clear that it was the same man by looking at entries for the next few days (although they still keep varying the spelling of the surname).

22 August 1890: “Chicken Charley’s” Plunder

Yesterday Daniel Healy visited the police station and identified several of the fowls found in the posession of Charles Reddy as his. It looks as though the officers now have a case against the slippery fellow that will stick. He generally manages to escape conviction when up for robbing hen-roosts, in which business he is said to be an expert.[vi]

23 August 1890: Chickens Need Not Roost So High

Charles Rodda, known to fame as “Chicken Charley,” was held to answer before the Superior Court yesterday on a charge of petit larceny and a prior conviction. Rodda, as usual, denied having stolen any chickens, but his explanation of how he got them was so lame that Judge Buckley concluded it was a good case for a jury to look after.[vii]

The next mention (that I found, anyway) was not until 15 January 1891:

Rhodda Acquitted. The Veteran Chicken-Parloiner is at Liberty Again.

Charles Rhodda, a tottering old man of seventy years, who has a mania for stealing chickens, and who has in consequence become familiar with the interior of various prisons, was tried before Superior Judge Van Fleet and a jury, yesterday, on another charge of chicken larceny.

He was arrested something like six months ago, and not being in affluent circumstances, has had to remain in jail until his trial was called.

When the jurors became aware of this fact, they evidently felt that Rhodda had been punished sufficiently already, for they acquitted him readily.[viii]

At this point I’m almost rooting for poor Chicken Charley…

But, he’s back to his old ways soon thereafter. On 12 March 1891 it was reported that Charles Rodda, alias “Chicken Charley,” was charged with vagrancy. He pled not guilty and “demanded” a jury trial. The article said his case was set for Friday[ix], but I was unable to find any reference to it in the newspapers that week.

Interestingly, he may appear once more – but not in Sacramento. The Marin Journal reports on 21 July 1892:

“Chicken Charley” is the euphonious and approriate title of a man arrested in Grass Valley the other day. He confessed to stealing over 300 fowl in that town and vicinity within a comparatively short space of time.[x]

Grass Valley is about 60 miles northeast of Sacramento. Is this the same Chicken Charley? Maybe, because he’s talented enough a thief to steal much in a short amount of time. But maybe not, because Sacramento’s Chicken Charley always pled not guilty! Oddly enough, Grass Valley is where my friend’s Rodda relatives lived. But I haven’t yet found any connection to his family.

Charley was portrayed as such a colorful character in these newspaper articles that I would love to learn more about his life and ultimate fate. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to dig up any information on a Charles Rodda in California that definitively connects to Chicken Charley. But, I’m glad to have discovered this character who distracted me from my more serious research pursuits. The writing in these newspapers was so entertaining that I began to search for other articles with the “characters” of officer Crump and Judge Buckley. I wish I had ancestors in Sacramento!  Thanks, Chicken Charley, I hope you either mended your ways or continued to evade conviction for the rest of your life.

Sources:

[i] Sacramento Daily Union, Volume 62, Number 68, 08 November 1889. California Digital Newspaper Collection, Center for Bibliographic Studies and Research, University of California, Riverside, < http://cdnc.ucr.edu >

[ii] Sacramento Daily Union, Volume 1, Number 26, 10 November 1889. California Digital Newspaper Collection, Center for Bibliographic Studies and Research, University of California, Riverside, < http://cdnc.ucr.edu >

[iii] Sacramento Daily Union, Volume 62, Number 71, 12 November 1889. California Digital Newspaper Collection, Center for Bibliographic Studies and Research, University of California, Riverside, < http://cdnc.ucr.edu >

[iv] Sacramento Daily Union, Volume 62, Number 72, 13 November 1889. California Digital Newspaper Collection, Center for Bibliographic Studies and Research, University of California, Riverside, < http://cdnc.ucr.edu >

[v] Sacramento Daily Union, Volume 79, Number 151, 20 August 1890. California Digital Newspaper Collection, Center for Bibliographic Studies and Research, University of California, Riverside, < http://cdnc.ucr.edu >

[vi] Sacramento Daily Union, Volume 79, Number 153, 22 August 1890. California Digital Newspaper Collection, Center for Bibliographic Studies and Research, University of California, Riverside, < http://cdnc.ucr.edu >

[vii] Sacramento Daily Union, Volume 79, Number 154, 23 August 1890. California Digital Newspaper Collection, Center for Bibliographic Studies and Research, University of California, Riverside, < http://cdnc.ucr.edu >

[viii] Sacramento Daily Union, Volume 80, Number 125, 15 January 1891. California Digital Newspaper Collection, Center for Bibliographic Studies and Research, University of California, Riverside, < http://cdnc.ucr.edu >

[ix] Sacramento Daily Union, Volume 81, Number 16, 12 March 1891. California Digital Newspaper Collection, Center for Bibliographic Studies and Research, University of California, Riverside, < http://cdnc.ucr.edu >

[x] Marin Journal, Volume 32, Number 19, 21 July 1892. California Digital Newspaper Collection, Center for Bibliographic Studies and Research, University of California, Riverside, < http://cdnc.ucr.edu >

 

Bavaria’s Most Wanted

While doing some random Google searches, I stumbled upon a fascinating resource on Google Books – the Bayer[ische] Zentral-Polizei-Blatt, or the Bavarian Central Police newspaper.  In short, Bavaria’s Most Wanted.

While my German language skills are lacking, it seems that this paper was distributed throughout Germany and perhaps neighboring countries – presumably to police departments.  Each edition lists many individuals that are wanted by the police for various crimes or for further questioning, or they are wanted by the court to serve their time. The paper is a multi-purposed resource: a “Wanted Dead or Alive” for criminals, a “Beware” list of shifty characters, and a “Who is This?” for unidentified persons.  Some listings are quite detailed and others are brief, but many include the person’s physical descriptions, identifying information such as birth dates, birth places, and occupations), and occasionally even photographs of the individuals.

The collection found on Google Books was digitized from originals at Harvard University’s Law Library. The collection includes papers published in Bavaria from 1866 to 1910.

Crime hasn’t changed much since then. The first edition found online from 1866 has a wide variety of crimes listed including rape, fraud, theft, forgery, violence, and vagrancy – and the alleged criminals are both men and women.  Maria Balthasar, a seamstress from Austria who also claims to be an actress, was wanted for misdemeanor theft. Johann Schäffer from Brixen, Tyrol, was wanted for questioning for an investigation about a brawl.  Johann Gieselbreth, a goldsmith from Linz, Tyrol, apparently disappeared with quite a bit of gold that did not belong to him. Katharina Pfeifer, a cook working for Baron Eichthal, was accused of “the crime of theft by misappropriation of silver spoons and forks, then the crime of fraud embezzlement.”

The paper does not include the type of information about the crimes that a newspaper account would, but the brief descriptions left me wanting to know more.  One particularly intriguing crime is “returning from exile” – which seems to indicate that perhaps exile from the country is a punishment for one crime and returning early is another crime on top of it.  Is that similar to breaking parole?

Naturally, the individuals I became most fascinated by were those that had their photographs printed in the paper.  I found quite a few great stories browsing through the 1903 edition.  Many photos were the typical “mug shots” – front and side view like you see today.

Bayer. Zentral-Polizei-Blatt, 1903, page 631. Unknown man wanted for grand larceny.

Under the headline “Unbekannter Verhafteter” – “Unknown Arrested”, this man is described as being approximately 60 years old, 1.75 meters tall, with gray hair, graying mustache, and gray eyes.  He committed grand larceny – either at the Neunkirchen train station or else that is where he was last seen. The courts believe he might be a carpenter named Sebastian Maier, who was born on 23 Mar 1853 to Christoph and Margarete Maier.

Other photos looked like upstanding, law-abiding individuals such as this attractive couple:

Bayer. Zentral-Polizei-Blatt, 1903, page 581. Mr. & Mrs. Ellenrieder from Munich.

This is Hugo Ellenrieder, a banker from Munich (born 1871), and his wife Elise (born 1876) nee Kahl.  The happy couple are traveling together – apparently away from Munich, where they are wanted for a fradulent admission of bankruptcy.

Some of the photos were a bit creepy, particularly the ones of dead guys in coffins:

Bayer. Zentral-Polizei-Blatt, 1903, page 13. Unidentified victim pulled from a river.

This poor guy is not a criminal, but an unidentified body found in the river near Bamberg.  Since the police were unable to identify the body, they printed a the photo as well as a detailed description including scars on his body and the clothes he was wearing.  His pocket contained a wallet with 7 pennies and one room key.

Just browsing through one year’s worth of the Bayerische Zentral-Polizei-Blatt and looking at only the stories with photos would provide me with several interesting blog posts.  There were sad stories like the deaf and dumb man wanted for vagrancy or the entire Gypsy family, parents and four children, wanted for begging.  These two particular crimes seem to show up frequently, and the culprits seemed to be foreigners, mentally ill, or deaf.

Occasionally the paper had photos of missing people.  One of the sadder ones was a photo of a cute young boy who had been missing from his home for months.

Some stories make me want to know more about what happened – both before the crime and after!  What ever happened to the studious-looking, bespeckled notary clerk who was wanted for embellzement?  Then there was the well-dressed, attractive, mustached Italian named Guido Wölfler.  He was a watchmaker’s assistant from Florence traveling in Germany also using the alias “Bonvini”.  It seems that Guido was wanted for embezzling a significant sum of money “to the detriment of Italian workers”.  No wonder he was in Germany…

As I wondered about “the rest of the story” for these individuals, I came upon a surprise – a name I knew. I don’t know the beginning of the story or the circumstances of the crime, but here was one tale I could tell further!  Stay tuned for my next post to learn more about the relative I found listed in Bavaria’s Most Wanted.

Sources:

Bayer[isches] Central-Polizei-Blatt. Published 1866. Original from the Bavarian State Library, digitized November 22, 2010.  Accessed via Google Books: http://books.google.com/books?id=OQZFAAAAcAAJ

Bayer[isches] Central-Polizei-Blatt. Published 1903. Original from Harvard University, digitized August 5, 2008.  Accessed via Google Books: http://books.google.com/books?id=4cAqAAAAYAAJ.

It was a Dark and Stormy Night

Münchener politische Zeitung Issue 162, July 1813

Weather has always been big news, and the more severe the weather, the bigger the news. I was surprised to discover that the media obsession with weather-related events isn’t new – it also happened in my Bavarian ancestors’ hometown back in 1813. I recently found this newspaper account of a violent storm that occurred in Pfaffenhofen an der Ilm and the fire that resulted from lightning strikes. It reads:

Bavaria. Pfaffenhofen an der Ilm, 3 July 1813.  The big storm that occurred in our town on 30 June caused a great havoc, since the lightning that accompanied him seems to have uniquely discharged only here. The clouds stood so low that one flash of lightning followed another, and almost every flash fell down on earth but mainly fell on the high-pointed tower of the town’s church. A lightning flash hit a barn filled with straw in a side alley, which immediately ignited nine other hay and straw-filled barns that were mostly very old already and not well built.

Despite very nearly all the possible obstacles of nature united so that even the most determined men gave up all hope of rescuing even one single house throughout the city, every attempt was made with the greatest consternation to stop the fire line that was spreading with enormous speed during the continuing storm, which turned in all directions in rapid alternations, and with the rain pouring down where you could barely see what was in front of you.

Miraculously, after the toughest six-hour battle against the violent storm wind, the flames were pushed down on the floor and prevented from spreading further; the fire itself could only be put off today.  The courage in the apparent dangers,  the skill and presence of mind of Master Carpenter Nigg and Master Mason Pickl, which both have distinguished themselves so often in similar cases, could not be praised enough.

The fire would not have burned down so many buildings if these old buildings were not built so badly and if they had been equipped with proper fire walls. As lucky as the town was with this great misfortune, the damage that was suffered on the buildings and the carriages can be estimated at approximately 80,000 fl., not considering the fire insurance sum of 14,000 fl. for a total of 5 houses, 4 stables and 9 barns.  Several smaller building nearby were enflamed which included the buildings of three farmers, that of Franzbräuer, Kreitmaierbräuers and Zuhammers. However, no one was seriously injured during their work.

According to news received from the state court, this terrible thunderstorm was spread over many miles and caused great devastation in the forests and woods. The lightning hit very often, but nothing else was set on fire. Highly remarkable is the strange fact that two years ago on 01 July, a similar thunderstorm along with a tornado-like storm caused great devastation when a lightning strike hit the church tower of Pfaffenhofen, set a farm in the area on fire, and caused a damage of at least 50,000 fl. due to a severe rainstorm and hail.

On 30 June between 9 and 10 in the evening, a severe thunderstorm and hailstorm developed in the area of Regensburg, but it caused no significant harm in the area near the city. The storm that accompanied the thunder storm, however, destroyed century-old lime trees along the surrounding walk ways and tore down many fruit trees in the gardens within the neighborhood.  Two hours later, a torrential thunderstorm erupted in the area of Karlovy Vary (Bohemia).

The reason I was drawn to this story? Master Carpenter Nigg, one of the two named men credited with fighting the fire, is my 4th great-grandfather. Since I have difficulty finding my 20th century ancestors in newspapers, imagine my surprise when I found an ancestor in the press who lived from 1767 to 1844! I’m happy to know that he was well-regarded in the town for his courage, skill, and “presence of mind” and that it did not appear to be the first time he distinguished himself in that manner.  The storm of 30 June 1813 and the resultant fire must have been terribly frightening for his family.  At the time, Karl Nigg and his wife Maria Höck had eight young children. While I am not entirely sure if all eight children were still living since infant mortality was high at the time, at least one child was alive – my 3rd great-grandmother, Magdalena, who was six years old at the time of the storm.

Source: Münchener politische Zeitung: mit allerhöchstem Privilegium. Page 757, Issue 162, July 1813.  Publisher: Wolf, 1813. Original from the Bavarian State Library, digitized Sep 17, 2010.  Accessed via Google Books: http://books.google.com/books?id=DidEAAAAcAAJ

Many thanks to my friend Marion for the translation.  I broke up some of the paragraphs and sentences for easier reading. And I can’t believe I was able to find a perfect post to actually use “It was a dark and stormy night” for the title!