A number of new family connections were recently uncovered and invited to Geni.
Here are a few words about who they are and how I found them.
I contacted my second cousin Laura Popper through Facebook. I knew about a Popper connection in the NY area from my mother. I knew that her cousin Martin Popper was a lawyer whose father immigrated to the US around 1900. My mother as well as Vilma Hoffmann knew Martin, and Martin even met up with us in Budapest in the 1960s. When I found Martin's obituary in the New York Times I was quite surprised by his distinguished career including defending those attacked in the McCarthy era witch hunts. Read more here.
The article mentioned Martin's wife Kathryn Trosper and his children Joseph and Dr. Laura Popper. I guess there aren't that many dr. Laura Poppers, besides, she has been voted one of the top 10 pediatricians in NY and has a wonderful blog
site. Hope to find more about this branch of the family, check her out on Facebook!
It's really cool that Laura was named after our common great grandmother Laura Kollin -- and Martin was named after my grandfather Márton, same as where George gets his middle name.
Péter Lóránd is my fourth cousin who lives in Veszprém, Hungary. We share common great-great-great-grandparents Leopold Lazar (1791-1870) and Terézia Bilitz (1798-1860). Neither of us had any idea about the existence of the other branches of the family, even though Péter has been researching his roots for over 12 years. Here is how I found out about him:
I was able to locate the death records for Laura Kollin which documented the names of her parents Márton Kollin and Franciska Lázár. I stumbled upon the website of a Hungarian genealogist Zoltan Györe who has been mapping the history of Jewish families in Veszprém county. Zoltan shared some information about the families of Ajka, among whom were Márton and Franciska, but no mention of Laura! Looking at Zoltan's document more closely I found in he footnotes that much of the information was provided by Péter Lóránd, whose name also appears as one of the family members in the document - Zoltan provided his email address. I expect that we will be learning more about the Lazar ancestors shortly.
The subject of the previous post, Anni Engel also yielded another connection. I mentioned that
I found the article in a post from Stevan Harnad who is Annie's cousin on her mother's side.
I contacted Stevan -- his email wasn't hard to find, as he is a well-published author. He is at UQAM in Montreal,
check him out on Wikipedia.
Stevan also put me in touch with Gabor Kalman, who has recently produced a film called "There Was Once..." a film about the Jewish community of Kalocsa, where the George's mother and aunt come from, as well as the family of Aladar and Olga Schwarcz -- and apparently Anni Engel's mother and Stevan's family. The film website is http://www.therewasoncefilm.com/. As soon as I find out more about it, I will post it.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Monday, March 19, 2012
Why Did You Let Them? (Anni Engel)
Nelly Kotányi, "Miért engedtétek?" Képes Figyelő 1945-10-13 (originally published in Hungarian, in June 1945, translated into English 2000-05-20)
It was six years ago that I saw her first, on a warm summer afternoon in a flowering schoolyard in Szekszard. The municipal music school had invited me to serve as an outside examiner that year. We were hearing the well-prepared pupils in the auditorium of the renowned Garay Gimnazium. A diminutive little girl was announced: seven years old, but hardly looking even that.
She began to play music. And it was indeed music she was playing, not just piano — music immemorial, her miniature fingers sculpting Bach and Mozart out of that oversize keyboard. She even played us a few little pieces she herself had written. A great gift, first spreading its wings. No one was surprised to hear that we awarded her the prize book. In the fullness of her 7 years she was already well-known in that town; many were predicting she would one day be the pride of Szekszard.
Four years pass. Now eleven, she plays Beethoven’s C-minor piano concerto in the student concert. By now everyone recognizes that hers is no ordinary talent. She is brought up to Budapest. The Music Academy Director receives her with tokens of his admiration and respect: He “would admit her immediately to the Academy, but the Jewish-Laws forbid it.” He adds that he hopes the regime will soon fall; till then he would still like to follow her development closely. The little girl is happy. A radiantly bright autumn day. Anny can come up to Budapest two more times, so the Music Academy’s celebrated piano maestro can hear her. Then comes March 19, 1944, and the maelstrom of deportation.
After the siege’s end, I hear nothing about them. Just two weeks ago, I learned from the deathlist of the Muhldorf Camp, that Anny’s father had perished there. Last week I met some people from Szekszard. My first question is about Anny. They tell me. It was in Auschwitz on a December day that they saw her last. The executioners came for Anny, to separate her from her mother. The little child with the God-given gift had been found unable to labour hard enough. Her mother, Rozsi, would not leave her, so she was taken to the gas chamber too. Never seen again.
Little Anny Engel! This is the first article about you, and it will have no successors, because the little artist is no more.
Yet what an endless joy it would have been for me, if you had played the first movement of the C-Minor concerto once again. You know, that last trill, at the end of the cadenza, the one for which you need bigger hands — I would leave it as you played it for the time being.
Women, mothers, whom the star of fortune spared from the horror, and all of you who are happily embracing your children now: don’t you hear them sometimes, on calm nights, the muted moans?
Miért engedtétek?
Kotányi Nelly
Hat év előtt láttam először, meleg nyári délelőttön a szekszárdi gimnázium virágos udvarán. Abban az évben vizsgabiztosnak hívott meg az ottani városi zeneiskola. A nagyhírű Garay-gimnázium tantermében hallgattuk a növendékek szépen betanult jatékát. Beszólítottak egy pöttömnyi kisleányt. Hét éves volt, de annyinak sem látszott. Muzsikálni kezdett! Nem zongorázott, mert muzsika volt, áhitatos zene, ahogy kicsiny ujjai Bachot és Mozartot megszólaltatták! Meghallgattuk néhány apró darabját, amit ő komponált! Egy nagy tehetség első szárnypróbálgatása. Senki sem csodálkozott, hogy ő nyerte meg a jutalomkönyvet. A városban ismerték már 7 éves korában és sokan mondogatták, hogy egyszer még büszkesége lesz Szekszárdnak.
Elmúlik négy év. A 11 éves gyermek Beethoven C-moll koncertjét játssza a növendékhangversenyen. Most már mindenki elismeri, hogy nem mindennapi tehetség. Felhozzák Pestre. A Zeneművészeti Főiskola művésztanára elragadtatással és a legnagyobb elismeréssel fogadja. Azonnal felvenné a főiskolára, de a zsidótörvény nem engedi. Reméli azonban, hogy a rendszer megbukik hamarosan. Addig is figyelemmel akaja kísérni a gyermek fejlődését. A kisleány boldog. Verőfényes őszi nap. Anny még kétszer feljöhet Pestre, hogy a Zeneművészeti Főiskola kiváló tanára meghallgassa. Aztán jön 1944. március 19. és jön a deportálás infernója.
Az ostrom után sokáig nem tudok róluk semmit. Most két hét előtt olvastam a mühldorfi tábor halállistáján, hogy Anny édesapja szívbénulásban elhalt. Múlt héten szekszárdiakkal találkoztam. Első kérdésem, mi hír Annyról. Elmondják. Auschwitzban egy decemberi napon látták utoljára. A gyilkos pribékek jöttek Annyért, hogy szétválasszák édesanyjától. Az istenáldotta kis muzsikustehetség nem tudott eleget dolgozni. Vitték a gázkamrába. Édesanyja nem hagyta, vele ment. Azota nem látták őket.
Kicsi Engel Anny! Ez az első cikk rólad, melyet nem fog más követni, mert a kis művésznő – halott…
Pedig milyen végtelen öröm lett volna nekem, ha még egyszer eljátszanád a C-moll koncert első tételét. Azt az utolsó trillát, tudod, ott a kadencia végén, amihez nagyobb kéz kell, még egyenlőre elengedném!…
Asszonyok, anyák, kiket szerencsecsillagotok megvédett a borzalmaktól és boldogan ölelitek gyermekeiteket, nem halljátok néha csendes éjjeleken a halk sóhajtásokat: Miért engedtétek?
Made available on the Internet by Stevan Harnad at http://users.ecs.soton.ac.uk/harnad/skywritings/index.php?/archives/91-Miert-engedtetek.html
Anni Engel was Stevan’s cousin; her mother, Rozsika, from Kalocsa, his mother’s sister. Nelly Kotanyi was Anni’s piano teacher. His mother learned what became of them in June 1945, from a slightly earlier and longer (but suppressed and apparently lost) version of this article. This version was retrieved after some searching (at Stevan’s request) by someone in Hungary in May 2000.
It was six years ago that I saw her first, on a warm summer afternoon in a flowering schoolyard in Szekszard. The municipal music school had invited me to serve as an outside examiner that year. We were hearing the well-prepared pupils in the auditorium of the renowned Garay Gimnazium. A diminutive little girl was announced: seven years old, but hardly looking even that.
She began to play music. And it was indeed music she was playing, not just piano — music immemorial, her miniature fingers sculpting Bach and Mozart out of that oversize keyboard. She even played us a few little pieces she herself had written. A great gift, first spreading its wings. No one was surprised to hear that we awarded her the prize book. In the fullness of her 7 years she was already well-known in that town; many were predicting she would one day be the pride of Szekszard.
Four years pass. Now eleven, she plays Beethoven’s C-minor piano concerto in the student concert. By now everyone recognizes that hers is no ordinary talent. She is brought up to Budapest. The Music Academy Director receives her with tokens of his admiration and respect: He “would admit her immediately to the Academy, but the Jewish-Laws forbid it.” He adds that he hopes the regime will soon fall; till then he would still like to follow her development closely. The little girl is happy. A radiantly bright autumn day. Anny can come up to Budapest two more times, so the Music Academy’s celebrated piano maestro can hear her. Then comes March 19, 1944, and the maelstrom of deportation.
After the siege’s end, I hear nothing about them. Just two weeks ago, I learned from the deathlist of the Muhldorf Camp, that Anny’s father had perished there. Last week I met some people from Szekszard. My first question is about Anny. They tell me. It was in Auschwitz on a December day that they saw her last. The executioners came for Anny, to separate her from her mother. The little child with the God-given gift had been found unable to labour hard enough. Her mother, Rozsi, would not leave her, so she was taken to the gas chamber too. Never seen again.
Little Anny Engel! This is the first article about you, and it will have no successors, because the little artist is no more.
Yet what an endless joy it would have been for me, if you had played the first movement of the C-Minor concerto once again. You know, that last trill, at the end of the cadenza, the one for which you need bigger hands — I would leave it as you played it for the time being.
Women, mothers, whom the star of fortune spared from the horror, and all of you who are happily embracing your children now: don’t you hear them sometimes, on calm nights, the muted moans?
Miért engedtétek?
Kotányi Nelly
Hat év előtt láttam először, meleg nyári délelőttön a szekszárdi gimnázium virágos udvarán. Abban az évben vizsgabiztosnak hívott meg az ottani városi zeneiskola. A nagyhírű Garay-gimnázium tantermében hallgattuk a növendékek szépen betanult jatékát. Beszólítottak egy pöttömnyi kisleányt. Hét éves volt, de annyinak sem látszott. Muzsikálni kezdett! Nem zongorázott, mert muzsika volt, áhitatos zene, ahogy kicsiny ujjai Bachot és Mozartot megszólaltatták! Meghallgattuk néhány apró darabját, amit ő komponált! Egy nagy tehetség első szárnypróbálgatása. Senki sem csodálkozott, hogy ő nyerte meg a jutalomkönyvet. A városban ismerték már 7 éves korában és sokan mondogatták, hogy egyszer még büszkesége lesz Szekszárdnak.
Elmúlik négy év. A 11 éves gyermek Beethoven C-moll koncertjét játssza a növendékhangversenyen. Most már mindenki elismeri, hogy nem mindennapi tehetség. Felhozzák Pestre. A Zeneművészeti Főiskola művésztanára elragadtatással és a legnagyobb elismeréssel fogadja. Azonnal felvenné a főiskolára, de a zsidótörvény nem engedi. Reméli azonban, hogy a rendszer megbukik hamarosan. Addig is figyelemmel akaja kísérni a gyermek fejlődését. A kisleány boldog. Verőfényes őszi nap. Anny még kétszer feljöhet Pestre, hogy a Zeneművészeti Főiskola kiváló tanára meghallgassa. Aztán jön 1944. március 19. és jön a deportálás infernója.
Az ostrom után sokáig nem tudok róluk semmit. Most két hét előtt olvastam a mühldorfi tábor halállistáján, hogy Anny édesapja szívbénulásban elhalt. Múlt héten szekszárdiakkal találkoztam. Első kérdésem, mi hír Annyról. Elmondják. Auschwitzban egy decemberi napon látták utoljára. A gyilkos pribékek jöttek Annyért, hogy szétválasszák édesanyjától. Az istenáldotta kis muzsikustehetség nem tudott eleget dolgozni. Vitték a gázkamrába. Édesanyja nem hagyta, vele ment. Azota nem látták őket.
Kicsi Engel Anny! Ez az első cikk rólad, melyet nem fog más követni, mert a kis művésznő – halott…
Pedig milyen végtelen öröm lett volna nekem, ha még egyszer eljátszanád a C-moll koncert első tételét. Azt az utolsó trillát, tudod, ott a kadencia végén, amihez nagyobb kéz kell, még egyenlőre elengedném!…
Asszonyok, anyák, kiket szerencsecsillagotok megvédett a borzalmaktól és boldogan ölelitek gyermekeiteket, nem halljátok néha csendes éjjeleken a halk sóhajtásokat: Miért engedtétek?
Made available on the Internet by Stevan Harnad at http://users.ecs.soton.ac.uk/harnad/skywritings/index.php?/archives/91-Miert-engedtetek.html
Anni Engel was Stevan’s cousin; her mother, Rozsika, from Kalocsa, his mother’s sister. Nelly Kotanyi was Anni’s piano teacher. His mother learned what became of them in June 1945, from a slightly earlier and longer (but suppressed and apparently lost) version of this article. This version was retrieved after some searching (at Stevan’s request) by someone in Hungary in May 2000.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Laura Kollin, my great-grandmother (1851-1928)
Other than knowing that she was my mother's grandmother, no family lore was passed on to me. I suppose my mother never knew her.
However, we are able to see the rich history of her family from archival records. She was born in Ajka, her parents were Márton Kollin and Franciska Lázár. Both the Lázár and the Kollin families lived in Ajka for at least 3 generations. Her maternal grandfather, Leopold Lázár was born in 1791 and was recorded in a 1828 census. Leopold Lázár and Terézia Billitz had 13 (!) children. Laura's paternal grandfather, Fülöp Kollin, was born in Kislőd, also in 1791. I guess these are my great-great-great-grandparents.
Through correspondence with a Hungarian genealogist, I was able to get a large set of family records from the surviving Jewish registries of Ajka. Close to 80% of the people in this set are related to the Lázár or the Kollin families. Sadly, very few branches survived the Holocaust; however, there a few living descendants I am still trying to trace.
The Kollin name probably derives from the Czech city of Kolín. Within Hungary, this is a rare Jewish name. Traces of it our found mostly in Veszprém county and the cities of Ajka, Devecser, Veszprém and Pápa. Alternate spellings are Kolin, Kohlin, even Kholin.
However, we are able to see the rich history of her family from archival records. She was born in Ajka, her parents were Márton Kollin and Franciska Lázár. Both the Lázár and the Kollin families lived in Ajka for at least 3 generations. Her maternal grandfather, Leopold Lázár was born in 1791 and was recorded in a 1828 census. Leopold Lázár and Terézia Billitz had 13 (!) children. Laura's paternal grandfather, Fülöp Kollin, was born in Kislőd, also in 1791. I guess these are my great-great-great-grandparents.
Through correspondence with a Hungarian genealogist, I was able to get a large set of family records from the surviving Jewish registries of Ajka. Close to 80% of the people in this set are related to the Lázár or the Kollin families. Sadly, very few branches survived the Holocaust; however, there a few living descendants I am still trying to trace.
The Kollin name probably derives from the Czech city of Kolín. Within Hungary, this is a rare Jewish name. Traces of it our found mostly in Veszprém county and the cities of Ajka, Devecser, Veszprém and Pápa. Alternate spellings are Kolin, Kohlin, even Kholin.
A little geography and history: Ajka, Padrag and Tapolca are in Veszprém megye (county). The city of Ajka has a medieval past, but really started to develop with the start of coal mining in the area in 1836 and the establisment of the Ajka Glass Factory. It has continued to be an industrial centre based mostly around the production of aluminum, and was the scene of the 2010 alumina plant accident. Padrag was a village about 8 km to the south. It was absorbed into Ajka in 1984.
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