This is the story of my
great-grandfather, Mathew Breiner, and grandfather, Ferdinand Breiner. Most of it comes from public records in Germany and the U.S.: census, city directories, births, deaths, baptisms, and some oral history. I originally wrote it in 2002 and have added some updated information. Corrections, suggestions, clarifications, documents, and photos are all welcome. -- Jim Breiner, 2 March 2019.
When Mathew Breiner died of
pneumonia in Kings County Hospital in Brooklyn in 1918, he was 66 years old and
most of his family was gone. His wife, Magdalena, had succumbed to stomach cancer
six years earlier, and six of their eight children were dead as well.
The only family still living in Brooklyn was Mathew’s son, also named Mathew. The other remaining son, Ferdinand, was estranged from his father. Several years earlier he had left Brooklyn for Cleveland, married and started his own meat business.
The only family still living in Brooklyn was Mathew’s son, also named Mathew. The other remaining son, Ferdinand, was estranged from his father. Several years earlier he had left Brooklyn for Cleveland, married and started his own meat business.
An immigrant's dream
The old man had been a drinker.
Supposedly he had been successful in business, owned some property, and had
seven meat-cutters working for him at one point, but he lost much of it because
of his drinking. So one wonders what was going through Mathew’s mind as he lay
on his deathbed. He had lived half his life in a village in Germany and half in
the bubbling immigrant stew of Brooklyn, N.Y. Did he have any regrets about
picking up his young family and moving them across the Atlantic Ocean? Did he
have idyllic dreams of the village he had left behind? Did he hope to see the
son he had alienated, Ferdinand, one last time?
 |
| Breiner Brothers Meat store, Brooklyn, N.Y., about 1904. Mathew Breiner, the father, is standing at the rear. Then from left are sons Matt, Frederick, and Peter. Our grandfather, Ferdinand, was about 8 at the time and is not pictured. |
Here at the end of his life, on his death certificate, his occupation is listed, strangely, as “blacksmith”. Did his son Mathew suggest that to the authorities? Or is that how he described himself to the attending care givers? Maybe he still described himself that way, a bit ironically, since that’s what he was when he left Germany 33 years earlier. On official documents there, his trade was listed as – “hufschmied”, a farrier or blacksmith.
The roots
He was born in Bundenthal in
southwest Germany in 1851. As was the custom among Catholics, his name was rendered
in Latin form, Mathaeus, on his baptismal certificate; the common German form of the name is Mathias. We will refer to him hereafter
as Mathew, the name he went by in the U.S. His grandfather, Balthasar, was a
plowman. His father, Peter, was a linen weaver. His mother, Christiane (nee
Sarther), was just 23 when she was widowed. (She later married a man named Franz J. Brug; the Breiner and Brug families much later had close connections in Cleveland, according to my cousin Anna Breiner Caulfield, who is a professional genealogist and lives in Florida.)
Why they might have left
The village of Bundenthal is in a hilly, forested region known as the Pfalz and lies just a mile or two from the French province of Alsatia. My brother Tim and I visited there in 2001. Today it is very rural, but the village is really a bedroom community for the nearby cities of Pirmasens and Karlsruhe. In the 19th century, the residents were farmers, weavers, carpenters and laborers. The village was part of the German state known as the Bavarian Palatinate, which was rocked by a popular revolt against the monarchy and the land-owning aristocrats in 1848. It was the same popular revolt that swept through France and much of the rest of Europe. Prussian troops were called to put down the revolt in Mathew’s home region.
The village of Bundenthal is in a hilly, forested region known as the Pfalz and lies just a mile or two from the French province of Alsatia. My brother Tim and I visited there in 2001. Today it is very rural, but the village is really a bedroom community for the nearby cities of Pirmasens and Karlsruhe. In the 19th century, the residents were farmers, weavers, carpenters and laborers. The village was part of the German state known as the Bavarian Palatinate, which was rocked by a popular revolt against the monarchy and the land-owning aristocrats in 1848. It was the same popular revolt that swept through France and much of the rest of Europe. Prussian troops were called to put down the revolt in Mathew’s home region.
 |
| A gravestone in Bundenthal tells a sad story from World War II. Elisabeth Breiner (don't know if there is a family connection) lost her husband and son, both named Karl, in the battle of Stalingrad in 1943. Both were listed as "missing". |
As Mathew was coming of age, war,
economic strife and social unrest were part of life in the region and
throughout Germany. Farm laborers sought to throw off the shackles of the
feudal system, still in force, which gave landowners virtually complete
authority – judicial, economic and civil – over the people who worked their
land.
Laborers in the urban factories
sought better pay and working conditions. Along with the liberal middle class
bourgeoisie, workers were pushing the loose grouping of 39 German states toward
liberal democracy and a unified German-speaking nation.
Protestant Prussia vs. the Catholic south
Protestant Prussia vs. the Catholic south
The Protestant northern German
states, led by Prussia, vied with the southern Catholic German states, led by
Austria, for control. Prussia eventually prevailed and led the rest of the
German states into war with France in 1870. Mathew was 19 at the time of that
war. His world changed significantly the next year. The German states had
defeated France, and the victory gave momentum toward unification under a
Prussian Kaiser who presided over a national assembly. Catholics in the south,
where Mathew lived, were considered unruly and untrustworthy. Bismarck, named
chancellor by Kaiser William I, placed severe controls on Catholics in his
Kulturkampf, or culture struggle. The Jesuits were kicked out of Prussia. In
all the German states, priests were forbidden to use their pulpits for
political purposes. Priests and nuns were barred from teaching in the schools.
A slideshow of Tim and Jim Breiner's visit to Bundenthal in 2001. Here, Sts. Peter and Paul Church
By 1876, the year that Mathew Breiner, 24, and Magdalena Deis, 20, were married in Sts. Peter and Paul Church in Bundenthal (pictured above, in 2001), 1,400 parishes in Germany lacked priests. By the time Bismarck relented on many of these laws 10 years later, Mathew and Magdalena had already left for America. (Tim and Jim Breiner went to Bundenthal in 2001 and described their visit here.)
By 1876, the year that Mathew Breiner, 24, and Magdalena Deis, 20, were married in Sts. Peter and Paul Church in Bundenthal (pictured above, in 2001), 1,400 parishes in Germany lacked priests. By the time Bismarck relented on many of these laws 10 years later, Mathew and Magdalena had already left for America. (Tim and Jim Breiner went to Bundenthal in 2001 and described their visit here.)
It is not clear that religion was a
factor in their leaving. But it was for some. Many also left for America to
avoid serving in the Prussian army.
However, most of the people who left during the 1880s – Mathew and Magdalena emigrated with their two oldest boys in 1885 – sought greater economic opportunity. Germany had undergone a population explosion, especially in the rural areas. There wasn’t enough land to farm and there weren’t enough jobs in the cities to keep everyone employed. The decade of 1881-1890 was the period of greatest German immigration to America – 1.4 million came in that wave.
However, most of the people who left during the 1880s – Mathew and Magdalena emigrated with their two oldest boys in 1885 – sought greater economic opportunity. Germany had undergone a population explosion, especially in the rural areas. There wasn’t enough land to farm and there weren’t enough jobs in the cities to keep everyone employed. The decade of 1881-1890 was the period of greatest German immigration to America – 1.4 million came in that wave.
Bundenthal lies close to the Rhine
River. For those leaving southwest Germany, the Rhine was a great highway, and
they rode steamboats north in the first stage of emigration. The boats took
them to the seaport of Rotterdam in the Netherlands. From there, steamships of
the day made the Atlantic crossing in a matter of weeks.
 |
| The SS Noordland was built in 1883, 400 feet long |
The year they made the voyage Mathew was 34 and Magdalena was 30. Taking this step in their lives must have been a difficult decision. The couple had two boys, Peter, 8, named after his grandfather, and Frederick, 5. What did they take with them and what did they leave behind? It is possible that they had relatives or friends in Brooklyn, N.Y., already. Did anyone meet them at the dock?
 |
| 80 Graham Ave. in 2001 |
There were several Roman Catholic churches nearby whose parishioners were primarily German. But the neighborhood mixed in a rich stew of Italians, Irish and Jews as well. The building, perhaps their first home in America, is still standing. It is a four-story brick structure on a busy corner with a storefront on the first floor.
Today the area, known as East Williamsburg, teems with commercial activity. In 2001, when I visited, the streets were filled with people shopping at the neighborhood retailers that lined Graham Avenue, which is also known as the Avenue of Puerto Rico. More than a century later it was still a good place for newcomers, mostly Hispanic, to get started.
In 1892 the city directory shows
Mathew a few blocks away on Montrose Avenue. His occupation is listed as
“cigars.” Perhaps he was still a peddler. Perhaps he had a store. Perhaps he
was working in one of the many cigar-making workshops set up by German
immigrants that made New York at that time the world capital of cigar-making.
 |
| Most Holy Trinity Church |
Their home on Montrose is gone, but
the address is a half-block away from Most Holy Trinity Church and school, both
of which served primarily German parishioners. The Breiner family must have
attended church there; when their son Ferdinand (this is our grandfather) was
born in 1895, he was baptized in the church that still stands on the site.
Probably their boys went to school next door. School attendance records don’t
go back that far.
When I visited in 2001, the church went by the Spanish name Santisima Trinidad, since the parishioners were mainly Hispanic. In 2019 it is called Most Holy Trinity-St. Mary, and it has masses in English, Spanish, and Polish.
Mathew had evidently found his
niche as a merchant. In America, everyone was in business. The densely
populated neighborhoods offered great opportunities for anyone selling anything
that people needed or wanted. Brooklyn had about 800,000 residents at that
time.
 |
| Our grandfather likely attended Most Holy Trinity School |
By 1897, 12 years after their
arrival in Brooklyn, Mathew Breiner is listed as a grocer in the city
directory. The address at that time was in the neighborhood known as Bushwick
and was within walking distance of the earlier residences and Most Holy Trinity
Church. The trade of storekeeper would be in line with the trade all four of
his sons eventually adopted – butcher. (When I walked that neighborhood in
2001, its residents were generally immigrants and poor; by 2019, Bushwick had
gentrified and was filled with young yuppies.)
Coincidentally, in the same year,
another Breiner appears in the Brooklyn city directory listed as a grocer.
Frederick Breiner, 28, was 18 years younger than Mathew, but he emigrated from
the same village in Germany three years after Mathew. They were second cousins and lived in the same area of Brooklyn.
Did they know each other? Probably, says Anna Breiner Caulfield. Were they in business together, since they
both appear as grocers in 1897 for the first time? It’s interesting to
speculate.
The census taker who stopped by the
home of Mathew and Magdalena on June 12, 1900, provides an interesting snapshot
of the family 15 years after their arrival in this country. The family had
grown to six. Still living at home were sons Peter, 23, a butcher, and
Frederick, 20, also a butcher. The census taker listed “butcher (boy)” as the
occupation for 13-year-old Mathew.
Ferdinand, the fourth son (our grandfather), was 5.
Census data
 |
| 44 Starr St., family home in 1900 |
Magdalena’s occupation was listed
as “home.” The elder Mathew’s occupation was listed as “book agent.”
Considerable research in historical census documents has yielded nothing definitive on the meaning of this occupation. For many years, I thought it meant that Mathew sold books. But now, in 2019, taking into account his later work in real estate, I think that may mean he was a real estate agent, booking people into apartments.
Considerable research in historical census documents has yielded nothing definitive on the meaning of this occupation. For many years, I thought it meant that Mathew sold books. But now, in 2019, taking into account his later work in real estate, I think that may mean he was a real estate agent, booking people into apartments.
According to that 1900 census, Mathew supposedly was able to
speak English, but his wife could not. All members of the
family could read and write, according to the census. Magdalena reported to the
census taker that she had given birth to eight children, only four of whom were
still living. This poignant detail about her life may explain the special
feeling that developed between her and her youngest surviving child, Ferdinand.
(It’s not known if the four children who didn’t survive were born in Germany or
in New York.)
The apartment they were renting was
in a three-story brick building, 44 Starr St., that had 12 windows on the front
and 23 people living inside. All were of German parentage. The building was in
a block of similar structures and is still standing 100 years later with a
fresh façade of siding. A stone cornice has been removed from the top, but
otherwise it looks much as it must have then. Their landlady, a German-speaking
widow of 64 named Deiss (Magdalena’s maiden name was Deis) lived at that
address along with her two grown sons.
Families and businesses on the move
Interestingly enough the city directory for that year shows the Breiners living at another address as well (350 Melrose St.). It was an accepted part of life in New York to move every few years, especially in the areas packed with apartment buildings. On April 30 every year, most leases expired. With rents rising, the population growing and people on the move, tenants used the annual lease expiration as an opportunity to find a better deal, and landlords, for their part, took the opportunity to kick out their worst tenants. May 1 was known as Moving Day or Flitting Day in New York, and articles and cartoons from the period depict the chaos in the streets that prevailed on that day.
Interestingly enough the city directory for that year shows the Breiners living at another address as well (350 Melrose St.). It was an accepted part of life in New York to move every few years, especially in the areas packed with apartment buildings. On April 30 every year, most leases expired. With rents rising, the population growing and people on the move, tenants used the annual lease expiration as an opportunity to find a better deal, and landlords, for their part, took the opportunity to kick out their worst tenants. May 1 was known as Moving Day or Flitting Day in New York, and articles and cartoons from the period depict the chaos in the streets that prevailed on that day.
A family may have had a few pieces
of furniture, some clothing and cooking utensils, but a move would not have
been as complicated as it is today. A houseful of strong sons would have made
it easier.
There is a wonderful picture taken
a few years later that shows the men of that household together (at the top of this blog entry.) They are all
behind a meat counter with some huge animal parts laid out in front of them. A
couple have knives in their hands. The elder Mathew is standing in the back, clearly
presiding over the scene. The picture shows the business known as
Breiner Brothers Meat, which appears in the 1903 and 1904 city directories.
The business was on the corner of Central and Linden, first on one side of the street, the next year on the other (businesses moved frequently as well). Peter Breiner was in his mid-20s at that time, Frederick was in his early 20s and Mathew was 16 or 17. Only young Ferdinand, probably 8 or 9 years at the time of the picture, is not present. The elder Mathew may have been the owner or an investor in the business. Maybe he owned the buildings. In any case, it is a telling detail that in this picture, he is the only one not wearing a butcher’s apron or holding a knife.
The business was on the corner of Central and Linden, first on one side of the street, the next year on the other (businesses moved frequently as well). Peter Breiner was in his mid-20s at that time, Frederick was in his early 20s and Mathew was 16 or 17. Only young Ferdinand, probably 8 or 9 years at the time of the picture, is not present. The elder Mathew may have been the owner or an investor in the business. Maybe he owned the buildings. In any case, it is a telling detail that in this picture, he is the only one not wearing a butcher’s apron or holding a knife.
The original buildings housing these shops are gone. A city health department building and public housing project occupy the two street corners. But photos of the original buildings exist in the photographic archives of the tax collection arm of the city of New York. These photos, taken in 1939-40, show two three-story buildings, one brick and one wood frame, with storefronts on the first floor, one of them a café and one a paint store.
Peter dies
The business known as Breiner
Brothers Meat doesn’t appear in the city directory after 1904. The directories
are not always complete. But maybe the name disappeared because Peter, the
oldest brother, died the following year. Peter, who was 28 and single, was
attended for five days by Dr. William Runge before he died of pneumonia on June
2, 1905. He was buried nearby in Holy Trinity Cemetery.
Frederick marries
Five weeks after this sad event for the family was a joyous one. Frederick Breiner, 25, the next oldest son, married Frances Miltner, 22, the Brooklyn-born daughter of German immigrants Anton Miltner and Bertha Radtke. The ceremony was held in the lovely baroque St. Barbara’s Roman Catholic Church, just a few blocks down Central Avenue from the brothers’ meat market.
Five weeks after this sad event for the family was a joyous one. Frederick Breiner, 25, the next oldest son, married Frances Miltner, 22, the Brooklyn-born daughter of German immigrants Anton Miltner and Bertha Radtke. The ceremony was held in the lovely baroque St. Barbara’s Roman Catholic Church, just a few blocks down Central Avenue from the brothers’ meat market.
It is possible that brothers Mathew
and Frederick continued in the meat business together. They both continued to
live in the same neighborhood over the next several years.
Matt Marries
By 1909, however, the younger Mathew (the man we knew as Uncle Matt) had moved about five miles from his parents to the neighborhood south of Prospect Park, where he was to eventually raise his family. He also seems to have parted ways with Frederick in the meat business. That year, Mathew, 22, married Mary Braband, 23, daughter of German immigrants John and Mary Braband at St. Leonard’s Church in Brooklyn.
The 1910 census
By 1909, however, the younger Mathew (the man we knew as Uncle Matt) had moved about five miles from his parents to the neighborhood south of Prospect Park, where he was to eventually raise his family. He also seems to have parted ways with Frederick in the meat business. That year, Mathew, 22, married Mary Braband, 23, daughter of German immigrants John and Mary Braband at St. Leonard’s Church in Brooklyn.
The 1910 census
Ferdinand (our grandfather) was now
the only son still living with his parents. On April 12, 1910, the census taker
stopped by the apartment of Ferdinand and his parents on 152 George St. and
recorded a snapshot of their lives. It was four days before Ferdinand’s 15th
birthday. The census taker asked if the boy had attended school at any time
since the previous September and was told yes. A 14- or 15-year-old making
normal progress in school would have been in about the eighth or ninth grade.
(Ferdinand much later told his family that he had finished only the sixth grade,
so maybe he had made slow progress; or maybe he was lying to the census taker
to avoid being reported to school authorities.)
Ferdinand’s occupation was listed as apprentice butcher. Likely he was working for his brother Frederick, who had his own meat business and lived much closer than his brother Mathew.
The elder Mathew, 58, reported in
the census that he was a self-employed real estate broker. In the family’s oral
history, Mathew was described as an owner of property, but the census shows
they were renting on George Street. Magdalena, 54, had been in this country 25
years by this time but still reported that she was unable to speak English.
Ferdinand would have had to speak German with her at home. The Breiners were among 31 people,
mostly Germans with a mix of Italians, renting space in this building. The
ethnic makeup of the building reflected other streets in the neighborhood.
Mother dies, Ferdinand flees to Cleveland
Mother dies, Ferdinand flees to Cleveland
Ferdinand’s life was rocked by two
events soon after. His mother, Magdalena, died Jan. 17, 1912, of gastric
carcinoma (stomach cancer). She was buried in Holy Trinity Cemetery, where son
Peter was buried seven years before. Ferdinand and his father were now living
alone in a one-story brick building at 93 Starr St.
The building is small but
must have seemed smaller. Ferdinand, now 16, didn’t get along with his father.
It was about this time, according to the family oral history, that Ferdinand
left Brooklyn forever. He was working at his brother’s meat market and they had
a big quarrel. Ferdinand rode his bicycle home, parked it and then took a train
to Cleveland. Ferdinand later told his children that he arrived in Cleveland
with 15 cents in his pocket.
 |
| 93 Starr, the building on the left, was the home in 1912 of Ferdinand and his parents. |
 |
| St. Michael's Church, Scranton Rd., Cleveland |
Ferdinand lived near St. Michael’s
Church on Scranton Road in Cleveland. The story goes that one day he met
Magdalena Frowerk, daughter of German immigrants, on a streetcorner opposite
the church. She also lived in the
neighborhood and was his landlady’s niece.
She was rather taken with this up-and-comer from New York City.
Ferdinand got a job driving a horse and wagon to make deliveries for the Higbee Company department store. But he knew the meat business, and eventually he got a loan of $500 from Magdalena’s parents to open his own store. (Another version of the story says Magdalena’s aunt, of the Brug family from Bundenthal mentioned earlier, loaned him the money.) He and a partner, Artie Strawhacker, who also put in $500, opened a store, but after six months, Ferdinand bought out his partner.
Ferdinand got a job driving a horse and wagon to make deliveries for the Higbee Company department store. But he knew the meat business, and eventually he got a loan of $500 from Magdalena’s parents to open his own store. (Another version of the story says Magdalena’s aunt, of the Brug family from Bundenthal mentioned earlier, loaned him the money.) He and a partner, Artie Strawhacker, who also put in $500, opened a store, but after six months, Ferdinand bought out his partner.
Ferdinand and Magdalena were
married in St. Michael’s church Sept. 12, 1916. Ferdinand was 21, Magdalena 20.
Today, the church has been refurbished and is a jewel. It is still a church for immigrants, but
today St. Michael’s is known as San Miguel and many of the masses are in
Spanish.
 |
| St. Michael's, interior |
One wonders if anyone from Brooklyn
came to this Cleveland wedding. The only family Ferdinand had left were his
brother, Matt, and his father. Matt had his own business to run and young
children at home. It would have been difficult to travel.
Ferdinand’s brother Frederick had
died in 1913 at age 34 after spending 16 days in St. Peter’s Hospital, Brooklyn,
battling pulmonary phthisis (the contemporary description for tuberculosis of
the lungs). Frederick was buried in Lutheran Cemetery (now known as All Faiths Cemetery). He and his wife, who
were living with her widowed mother at the time, had at least two children,
Frances, 7, and Frederick, 6.
(This Frederick Breiner was the grandfather of Anna Breiner Caulfield, whom some of our siblings have met. So Anna's and our grandfathers (Frederick Breiner and Ferdinand Breiner) were first cousins; their fathers were brothers.
(This Frederick Breiner was the grandfather of Anna Breiner Caulfield, whom some of our siblings have met. So Anna's and our grandfathers (Frederick Breiner and Ferdinand Breiner) were first cousins; their fathers were brothers.
 |
| Ferdinand (Fred) Breiner in his meat market in Cleveland, 1917. He was 22. His first store was at 7825 Linwood Ave. and later he relocated a few doors away to 1596 Addison Road. The store was near old League Park, and Cleveland Indians players lived in the neighborhood and patronized the store. |
 |
| Uncle Matt Breiner's delivery truck |
In 1920, he and Mary and their five
children were living at 129 Cortelyou Road, a rowhouse that was relatively new
at the time. The census lists their children as Mathew, 10, John, 7, Mary, 4,
Gerard, 2, and Madeleine, 6 months.
In 1942, Matt and his family were still living in that rowhouse when Sam Marcus, who was assigned by the Navy to the Brooklyn Navy Yard, paid a visit. Sam was dating Patricia Breiner, daughter of Ferdinand and Magdalena, and went to visit the Brooklyn branch of the family at her suggestion. Sam showed up unannounced. Matt was sitting on the front steps. “Are you Matt Breiner,” Sam said. “Who wants to know?” was the gruff reply. Sam recalls that he and Matt chatted while Matt occupied himself with a flyswatter killing cockroaches in the house. (The house is still there. By coincidence, about 80 years later, our son, Patrick, and his wife, Jamie Agnello, were renting an apartment on that same street, about a half-mile away.)
In 1942, Matt and his family were still living in that rowhouse when Sam Marcus, who was assigned by the Navy to the Brooklyn Navy Yard, paid a visit. Sam was dating Patricia Breiner, daughter of Ferdinand and Magdalena, and went to visit the Brooklyn branch of the family at her suggestion. Sam showed up unannounced. Matt was sitting on the front steps. “Are you Matt Breiner,” Sam said. “Who wants to know?” was the gruff reply. Sam recalls that he and Matt chatted while Matt occupied himself with a flyswatter killing cockroaches in the house. (The house is still there. By coincidence, about 80 years later, our son, Patrick, and his wife, Jamie Agnello, were renting an apartment on that same street, about a half-mile away.)
 |
| In this 1924 photo, taken on the steps of 129 Cortelyou Road, in Brooklyn, our grandfather, Ferdinand (Fred) is at bottom right with his daughter Patricia, then age 2. Uncle Matt, his brother, is at the top, on the right, and his wife, Mary is at the top left. Our father, Dick Breiner, is second from the left in the front row, and his cousin Madeleine, whom he was very fond of, is next to him. |
After retiring from the meat
business, Matt took an interest in horse racing and owned some horses, which he
occasionally brought to Thistledown Race Track in Cleveland. He would take the
opportunity to visit his younger brother. He attended the 50th
anniversary celebration of Fred and Magdalena in Cleveland in 1966. Matt was living in
Sparta, N.J. when he died in 1972.
The Cleveland and Brooklyn branches
of the family did not have much contact and lost track of each
other. Robert, Ferdinand’s son, believes that one of Matt’s sons rose to a high
executive level at Texaco in New York.
 | ||
| At my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary in 1966. From left, unidentified woman, Fred (Fritz) Frowerk, who was our grandmother's brother; our grandfather, Fred (Ferdinand) Breiner; his wife, Magdalena (Lena, Helen) Breiner, nee Frowerk; Uncle Bill Frowerk, Grandma's brother; unidentified woman, perhaps, Mary, Bill's wife; Uncle Matt Breiner, Grandpa's brother; and an unidentified man. |
The Frowerks and Powalskis
This is the story of the immigrant parents of our grandmother, Magdalena (Lena, Helen) Breiner—Fredrick Frohwerk (later shortened to Frowerk) and Anna Powalski.
You have to marvel at the risks that immigrants took in the 19th century when they sailed to America. They would bet their life savings on a future in a foreign country where they did not speak the language and knew almost no one.One of those was Fredrick Frowerk, age 25, who described himself on the ship’s manifest as a fisherman, from the village of Stubendorf, a German-speaking enclave of Upper Silesia, well inside the border of what is now Poland (today the village is called Izbicko).
It was 1892 when Fredrick boarded the steamship Karlsruhe in Bremerhaven, Germany, bound for Baltimore. It was common for able-bodied young men to migrate alone with a plan of meeting friends or family in America, finding work, and sending money home, much as immigrants from Mexico do today. There were plenty of jobs for uneducated, unskilled workers.
We don’t know how Fredrick got from Baltimore to his ultimate destination, Cleveland, Ohio, or who might have helped and housed him when he arrived there. He was barely above 5 feet tall, but that did not prevent him from finding work on the docks in Cleveland, where immigrants unloaded boats laden with coal, iron ore, grain, lumber, and other bulk cargo.
He never did learn English and didn’t need to. He lived in the German-speaking neighbohood centered on St. Michael’s Church on Scranton Road on the near West Side. Here he met Anna Powalski, whose family, despite their Polish-sounding name, came from a town near Munich, Germany. She was 25 when she immigrated to the U.S. in 1891, a year earlier than Fredrick, and may have had family in the neighborhood.
We don’t know the story of how they met or when they married, but the 1900 census shows the couple living at 93 Rhodes Ave., less than a mile from St. Michael’s Church. By now they had two children, "Maggie”, as she was listed on the document, age 4, who was our paternal grandmother, and baby Joseph.
 |
| The Frowerk home on Rowley Ave. in the Tremont neighborhood of Cleveland, 2013. |
By 1910, the Frowerks and their five children were living in this home at 1908 Rowley Ave., just a few blocks from St. Michael’s church. Succeeding generations of the family lived here for most of the next 90 years. Grandma's sister, Annie Rooney, her husband, Howard, and their daughter, Dolores, all lived there. (Howard's occupation is listed as "plumber" in the 1955 City Directory.) The house was in bad shape and evidently abandoned when I went by it with brother Mike in 2003. In 2017 the property was repossessed by the bank. By 2019 the house had been demolished and the lot had been cleared. The site is just a few blocks from the house used to shoot the popular movie "The Christmas Story," shown every year on the Turner network.
The oldest Frowerk, Magdalena, our grandmother, attended the Catholic school where nearly all the instruction was in German. English was studied only one day a week. She never finished elementary school, according to Robert Breiner, our Dad’s brother.
Magdalena went to work in a shirt factory nearby, operating a sewing machine. She became a very skilled seamstress. Her father, the dock worker, believed that the children should support the parents, and he retired when he was still in his 40s, according to Robert (our Uncle Bob). Only the youngest boy, Fred, who later became a Jesuit brother, finished high school.
Magdalena loved music and wanted to learn piano. Her mother had a sister who lived nearby and offered to get one for her. But Fred, her father, "nixed the whole deal," Uncle Bob recalled. "This had a lot to do with the fact that my mom bought a piano almost as soon as she was able in order that her children could learn.'' That included our father, Dick Breiner, who became a pianist.
Uncle Bob remembers being taken to visit his grandparents at the home on Rowley when he was a boy. Neither grandparent could speak more than a few words of English, he said. They didn’t need to; the neighborhood was so completely German.
Joe Frowerk, Magdalena's brother, worked in the meat business for A&P. At one time, when our grandfather, Fred Breiner, wanted to expand his own meat business--he had one store on the East Side--he set up Joe, his brother-in-law, in a second store. But after about a year and a half, they had a falling out. Fred didn't like the way Joe was running the store. The two of them didn't speak for years. As Bob Breiner tells it, if his father was driving over to visit the Frowerks on Rowley Ave. and saw Joe's car in the driveway, he would turn around and go home.
It was Joe Frowerk and his wife, Gertrude, who for a time owned a restaurant, the Have-a-Seat Dining Room, in the Willoughby area. "She was a great cook," Ruth Breiner recalled. But they sold the business after a short time; it turned out to be more work than they expected. There was a duck pond out back that Jim Breiner wandered into when he was a toddler. Joe and Gertrude "moved down to Florida twice", according to Bob Breiner. When they visited Cleveland, they brought back oranges and grapefruit for the extended family.
Joe Frowerk is notably absent from the 1969 photo of the 50th wedding anniversary of his sister Magdalena and Fred Breiner. Was he living in Florida and unable to travel? Was the old feud still active? However, Bill Frowerk was there with his wife, Mary. For many years, Bill ran a Shell service station at 3237 Scranton Road, just a few blocks from the Rowley Ave. home (Source: 1955 Cleveland City Directory).
Also absent from that 1969 anniversary photo was the Frowerks' second daughter, Annie, mentioned earlier, and her husband, Howard. My sister Nancy tells me that Annie became something of a recluse later in life; she would not leave the house because she was extremely obese and embarrassed by her appearance.
Annie and Howard were still living in that home on Rowley Ave. in 1969. They had a daughter, Dolores, and she and Ruth Breiner became reacquainted when both were working downtown at the Cleveland Public Library. Dolores's daughter, Kathy, and Elaine Breiner, our sister, went to Germany in the early 1980s to visit members of the Powalski family, who were still living near Munich. I can't wait for her to send us the story and photos of that trip.
The older Frowerks, who had immigrated here from the Old World, lived long enough to see seven great-grandchildren born in the U.S.; Anna died in 1953. Fred was still living in the Rowley home when he died a year later.
The oldest Frowerk, Magdalena, our grandmother, attended the Catholic school where nearly all the instruction was in German. English was studied only one day a week. She never finished elementary school, according to Robert Breiner, our Dad’s brother.
Magdalena went to work in a shirt factory nearby, operating a sewing machine. She became a very skilled seamstress. Her father, the dock worker, believed that the children should support the parents, and he retired when he was still in his 40s, according to Robert (our Uncle Bob). Only the youngest boy, Fred, who later became a Jesuit brother, finished high school.
 |
| The Frowerks, parents of Grandma Breiner. A slideshow. |
Magdalena loved music and wanted to learn piano. Her mother had a sister who lived nearby and offered to get one for her. But Fred, her father, "nixed the whole deal," Uncle Bob recalled. "This had a lot to do with the fact that my mom bought a piano almost as soon as she was able in order that her children could learn.'' That included our father, Dick Breiner, who became a pianist.
Uncle Bob remembers being taken to visit his grandparents at the home on Rowley when he was a boy. Neither grandparent could speak more than a few words of English, he said. They didn’t need to; the neighborhood was so completely German.
 |
| Magdalena Frowerk, a slideshow. |
Joe Frowerk, Magdalena's brother, worked in the meat business for A&P. At one time, when our grandfather, Fred Breiner, wanted to expand his own meat business--he had one store on the East Side--he set up Joe, his brother-in-law, in a second store. But after about a year and a half, they had a falling out. Fred didn't like the way Joe was running the store. The two of them didn't speak for years. As Bob Breiner tells it, if his father was driving over to visit the Frowerks on Rowley Ave. and saw Joe's car in the driveway, he would turn around and go home.
It was Joe Frowerk and his wife, Gertrude, who for a time owned a restaurant, the Have-a-Seat Dining Room, in the Willoughby area. "She was a great cook," Ruth Breiner recalled. But they sold the business after a short time; it turned out to be more work than they expected. There was a duck pond out back that Jim Breiner wandered into when he was a toddler. Joe and Gertrude "moved down to Florida twice", according to Bob Breiner. When they visited Cleveland, they brought back oranges and grapefruit for the extended family.
Joe Frowerk is notably absent from the 1969 photo of the 50th wedding anniversary of his sister Magdalena and Fred Breiner. Was he living in Florida and unable to travel? Was the old feud still active? However, Bill Frowerk was there with his wife, Mary. For many years, Bill ran a Shell service station at 3237 Scranton Road, just a few blocks from the Rowley Ave. home (Source: 1955 Cleveland City Directory).
Also absent from that 1969 anniversary photo was the Frowerks' second daughter, Annie, mentioned earlier, and her husband, Howard. My sister Nancy tells me that Annie became something of a recluse later in life; she would not leave the house because she was extremely obese and embarrassed by her appearance.
Annie and Howard were still living in that home on Rowley Ave. in 1969. They had a daughter, Dolores, and she and Ruth Breiner became reacquainted when both were working downtown at the Cleveland Public Library. Dolores's daughter, Kathy, and Elaine Breiner, our sister, went to Germany in the early 1980s to visit members of the Powalski family, who were still living near Munich. I can't wait for her to send us the story and photos of that trip.
The older Frowerks, who had immigrated here from the Old World, lived long enough to see seven great-grandchildren born in the U.S.; Anna died in 1953. Fred was still living in the Rowley home when he died a year later.
No comments:
Post a Comment