Freyenstein

When I went to Freyenstein for the first time in 2003, I didn't really know what I was doing. I knew that my great-grandmother's family had come from a town called Freyenstein; I just didn't know which Freyenstein (there are two in Germany, one in Switzerland).  I was on a mission, though, and within 48 hours of arriving in Germany, I set out on the Autobahn in a rented Fiat and headed for the nearest Freyenstein, determined to find the birthplace of my ancestors.

After a few construction detours, confusing one-way streets and traffic circles, and an almost complete inability to ask for (or understand) help, my resolve began to give way to frustration and fear.  “What am I doing driving around by myself in a country whose language I don’t speak?  What if this isn’t even the right town?  Why can’t I get this car to go in reverse???” 

Just then, as I passed the same building for the third time in Freyenstein’s neighboring town, Wittstock, a song began playing on the radio that I had never heard before. It was Harry Belafonte singing: Ma-til-da! Ma-til-da! Matilda, she take me money and she go Venezuela!  Everbody! Ma-til-da…

Matilda—as in my great-great-grandmother whose parents and in-laws came from Freyenstein, as in the woman my grandmother was named after.  I didn’t know if the Germans believed in “signs” like other cultures do, but at that moment I smiled and thought, if there ever was a sign from above, this was it.  I was headed to THE Freyenstein. 

the road to Freyenstein (not the main road--I have no idea how I found this one)

I had a good time in Freyenstein. A few weeks before going, I had emailed the town's librarian, Christine, and told her that I was trying to find out some information about my ancestors. Christine had arranged all kinds of things for me--first, I was given a tour of the church, and then the castle; I was even interviewed by the local newspaper.  While I was being interviewed, Christine went to the hair salon next door and told everyone there why I was in town, and one of the ladies came over and let me know we were probably (very distantly) related.

Town square in Freyenstein (2003)

Before I move back to Texas, I wanted to visit Freyenstein again. This trip was a lot more subdued than the last one. There weren't as many cars on the square or as many people on the streets. It seems that more and more people in this former East German town are doing the same as my great-great-grandparents: moving away in search of better opportunities. Though it appeared almost deserted, Freyenstein still had its charm.

town square in Freyenstein (2014)

St. Marienkirche, across from the square

the old castle

side street two blocks from the town square

the "new" castle (built in the 15th century) getting a facelift

One thing that Freyenstein has now that was not around in 2003 is an archaelogical park.  The original Freyenstein was destroyed in 1287 and residents then decided to move the town to its current location (across the lake).  Old Freyenstein is now carefully being dug up and displayed. There is still a lot of work to be done there, but Freyenstein is hoping this will bring more people to the town.

old East German mural on the partially-remodeled school building where the archaeological museum is
 

more work to be done at the park

Oldenburg

School started last month, and back to school means a lot of talking about your summer vacation!  When I told one of my German colleagues about my summer, including my trip to Craponne, France and then to Oldenburg, Germany, she offered to give me a list of "hick towns" that were closer to Frankfurt so that I wouldn't have to travel so far. 

I wouldn't call Oldenburg a tourist destination,  but I definitely thought it was beautiful. 



Maybe I do have a soft spot for "hick" towns, but I wasn't going to Oldenburg to be a tourist anyway--I was going as a descendant. My great-great-grandmother, Elise Mehrens, was from a nearby small town, Rastede (pronounced RAS-tay-duh by the locals). Elise's ancestors had lived in the Rastede area since at least the late 1500's.  I can imagine that back in Elise's day, Rastede was a little isolated.  On the way out there, I passed:

a tree farm, 

the occasional truck or tractor, some traditional homes,

 

and a few other things that reminded me of home.

I am not usually one to spend time in museums, but if I go back to Rastede, I'd like to visit the Bauernmuseum that I passed by once on some road, never to find again.  I may even be related to the people who run it. Seriously.  I did some family research in Oldenburg, and one of my family names is the same as the owners of the Bauernmuseum, and if there is one thing I know from growing up in a small town, nearly everyone is related one way or another.   

    

     Generations of my ancestors attended this church before Elise, her parents, and siblings left Rastede for Texas in 1846. 

        

A Different Thanksgiving

Last Thursday was Thanksgiving, an American holiday that has become a time in which families get together to eat way too much food and watch football. (Needless to say, it's my favorite holiday.) The idea of Thanksgiving dates back to the first settlers who celebrated and gave thanks to God for their own survival in their new land. Though most Americans are not descendants of those who came over on the Mayflower, our ancestors also had their own struggles in their new homeland. I have been researching one such family--a German family--for years.

Since I had last Thursday and Friday off for Thanksgiving,  I thought it would be a good time to visit the archives and research my German roots. It seemed fitting, too, that since I couldn't be with my family for Thanksgiving in Texas, I should use Thursday to look for clues about my immigrant ancestors.  I don't yet have all the details, but here is what I know:

My third great-grandfather, Heinrich, boarded a ship bound for Texas in October 1849 with his wife, Dorothea, and their two children, Max and Rudolph. This was his second time to start over.  Born in Holstein, Heinrich moved east to Posen as a young man. In the early part of the nineteenth century, the king of Prussia wanted to populate Posen  (an area he had recently taken from Poland) with German-speaking people.  Heinrich and others from Holstein went there in search of a better life, and maybe even hoped for some land.  Things weren't much better in Posen, though; in fact, by mid-century they were worse.  Thanks to industrialization and war, there were few jobs, and people were looking elsewhere. 

Heinrich had lost his job in 1847, and maybe he was desperate...what else would motivate a man to start over again in a completely new land at the age of 55? Maybe he and his wife already knew someone who had immigrated to Texas; maybe he didn't want his son Max, who was already 16, to face military service.  Whatever the reason, Heinrich took his family to Hamburg and set sail aboard the Hamburg-Knollen in 1849.   

steerage deck of mid-nineteenth century ship (picture taken at the Ballinstadt Emigration Museum in Hamburg)

If the Hamburg-Knollen was like most ships at the time, the conditions were pretty bad--inhumane by today's standards.  Shipping companies took more passengers aboard than the ship could safely transport in order to make a larger profit; the travellers were packed into the steerage deck, or "in-between deck", where there was little space and virtually no privacy. Travelling for nearly two months on a ship without sufficient space, food, or supplies, you can be sure illnesses spread rapidly.  In those days up to one-fifth of the passengers died. Unfortunately for Heinrich, this was the fate of his young son, Rudolph, who was only six years old.

Heinrich and his family eventually made it Frelsburg, Texas, but their struggles were far from over.  Most Germans came to the U.S. with dreams of owning their own land; Heinrich would never fulfill that dream. His son, Max, would own land in Texas, but not until after he fought in the civil war.

Max, his wife Elise, and their daughter Antonia (about 1890)

Every generation since then, though, has had an easier time. Though I was sad not to be home having turkey and dressing and watching my team win (Hook 'em!), I know I have so much to be grateful for.