He Could've Been on "I've Got A Secret"

Remember the old tv show, I've Got A Secret?   Well, my stepfather, who was a contractor, and did a lot of work in people's houses, could have.... and I think should have.... been on that program.  But as far as I know, he never tried to get on.

And Dad had a doozy of a secret to share.  He once installed a shower door for someone who later starred in an iconic tv comedy which to this day is seen in reruns.

Here is a clip from my favorite episode of her show.

Clipping and Picture

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• My maternal great-grandparents, my Baba, my great-aunts and great-uncles also arrived on that ship.

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• 

  Rochelle Brown I also found a picture of the ship.
  

  
  

  

Newly Discovered Info about my Father

I found an article about a camera club being formed in a high school in New London, Wisconsin in 1938.  The Robert Brown mentioned in this article HAS to be my father, because:

1: He lived in New London, Wisconsin.

2: He would have been in high school at that time.

3: He later became a professional photographer.

Who knows?  Maybe someday I'll find, online, some of the photos he took back then.  I have quite a few he took years later; most of them feature ME!  In fact, once when I had my picture taken for graduation, the photographer remarked that I seemed to be very experienced in having my picture taken, and I replied that I was.

"Are you a model?" he asked.

"No," I replied.  "My father is a photographer."

Splat!! (Brat!!)

I think it was Aunt Lily (actually my great-aunt) who first told me this story about my cousin Leslie, but it may have been Baba.

Okay, enough prologue.  On with the story!

Baba, Aunt Lily, Aunt Ethel, (Great-Uncle Sam's wife) her little son Leslie,  and several other family members had spent the morning on the beach.   They walked home, and went to the basement of the apartment building to shower.  There was a woman already there, and she was singing as she showered.  Leslie did not appreciate her voice; perhaps it was too high for his taste.

Whatever the reason, he picked up the custodian's mop and....

SPLATTT!!!

As you can imagine, the now ex-singer was furious, and that is an understatement.  Aunt Ethel apologized and apologized.

She was going to give Leslie what I admit would have been a well-deserved potch, but Baba and

Aunt Lily stopped her. 

Whether or not he got that potch  later on, when she got him home, nobody ever knew.

Disrupted Card Game

I've known for a long time that my Farmor (paternal grandmother) played cards.   It's only recently that I've learned that she belonged to a card club,
the D. D. D. Card Club.  (So far, I haven't been able to find out what D. D. D
stands for.)
One afternoon, Farmor had some of her friends over for a game of cards.  Perhaps it was a meeting, and her turn to entertain.   Perhaps it was just a friendly get-together.
Suddenly, the game was interrupted when a skyrocket came through the screen window, and whizzed around the players' heads.   The guests left, quickly, one might even say hastily.
I heard this story years later from the culprit... my father! It was when his mother got a hold  of him that the real fireworks happened!

The Old Rugged Cross

I have a connection to the  composer of the famous hymn, The Old Rugged Cross.

Rev. George Bennard

Relationship to you: husband of sister-in-law of great grand aunt

Additionally, one of the witnesses to his marriage also witnessed the marriage of my great-grandparents, John and Hulda Isberg.

Andrew Brown, my great-great grandfather

I've discovered a bit more about my paternal great-great grandfather.   The information here matches the information I've found on ancestry.com.
Now I am trying to find his birth and/or baptismal certificate.

My Paternal Grandfather

I've finally learned my paternal grandfather's full name: Edgar George Brown.  And I've started corresponding with a cousin on my paternal grandmother's side.  And all because I joined ancestry.com!

The Gossip of Viznits

Back when there were horses, instead of cars, on the roads, there was a woman in Viznits, Austria, whom I shall simply call "The Gossip of Viznits." (For one thing, I never knew her real name!)

All I know is what happened the day she gossiped about the wrong person, my Baba's grandmother, Leah.  And it is from Baba that I heard this story when I was about eleven years old.

Anyway, The Gossip of Viznits used to go around telling stories about everybody.  Lies.  Half-truths.  Slander.  Insinuations. Inuendos.  

And yes, there were reputations ruined because of her.  

She was feared.  She was hated.

But, she was also listened to.   So many people will listen to gossip, as long as it isn't about them.

My great-great grandmother never listened to her.

Perhaps that is why The Gossip of Viznits decided to start a particularly nasty rumor about her. I do not know what that rumor was; Baba didn't tell me.

But as that woman was talking, great-great grandmother herself walked by and heard her.

She took swift, decisive action.  She scooped up a handful of dirt from the road, a road used,

as I said, by horse, and shoved that dirt right into The Gossip of Viznits' mouth!

That woman stood there, coughing, gagging, spitting.  Baba's grandmother walked away,

head held up, dusting off her hands.

Several hours later, one of her friends came to warn her, "That woman's husband is on his way over to see you.   You'd better hide." 

Hide?  Not great-great grandmother.

When the woman's husband came and asked her, "Did you stuff dirt into my wife's mouth?"

Baba's grandmother answered, "Yes. I did."

She expected a terrible argument.

The man bowed to her, and kissed her hand.

"Thank you," he said.  "Maybe now I'll have some peace."

And, as far as I know, that woman never gossiped again.  She didn't dare!

And after that, my great-great grandmother was considered a heroine in Viznits.

When Baba told me this story, I remembered an incident from my nursery school days.

I walked by the sandbox, and heard another little girl telling a lie about me.  Without realizing it at the time, I emulated my great-great-grandmother.

That girl ate sand that day!

Family Names

I discovered the maiden names of TWO of my ancestors,  thanks to ancestry.com.

My maternal great-great grandmother Leah Wechsler's maiden name was Kronenfeld.

[Great-great grandmother was rather a heroine in Viznits, Austria; I will share the story of how that came about tomorrow.]

My paternal great-grandmother Hulda Isberg's maiden name was Anderson (or Andersson).

  I also learned the origin of the surname Isburg.  Two brothers adopted the name; they were the first Isbergs.  Jonas Isberg is my great-great grandfather.  

There were, and are, Isbergs all over Sweden, and all over the United States.

My branch of the family came from Bullmark, and settled  in Burdell, Michigan.

For anyone who has an account on ancestry.com, here is my family tree.

I wonder if there are still some Isbergs in Bullmark!

Trampoline? NOPE!!

No, it was not a trampoline.  It was a little boy's bed.  But that little boy, Bobby Brown, who would one day be my father, was using that bed as a trampoline.

Bounce.  Bounce. Higher bounce.  Higher bounce.

CRASH!!!!

The bed now had only three legs.

Bobby used a typical little-boy solution.  He propped up the bed with some books, and then made a quick exit, announcing that he was going out to play.

Some time later, his mother went into his room, probably to put away his laundry.   Of course, she saw the damage at once.

"Ro-BERT!!!!" she bellowed.

A few minutes later, it was Bobby, [or Ro-BERT!!!] who was yelling!

What's In A Name?

What's in a name?  Or rather, what's in how a name is spoken?  Sometimes, quite a lot.

My father's given name was Robert, but when he behaved himself, his mother called him

Bobby.

When, however, he was in trouble, she called him

Ro-BERT!!!!!! 
Later this week, I will share at least one story about his being called
Ro-BERT!!!!!! 

Itseh Crem

I'd like to share an anecdote about my maternal great-grandfather, Hartz Wechsler (my Baba's father).  It was, in fact, my Baba who first told me this story.

When my great-grandfather came to America, he saw quite a few ice-cream trucks go by.

"With all those trucks," he remarked, "this Itseh Crem must be a very wealthy man!"

Possible Relative

Well, here is another post about my search for my family history.

Today, I went to Google Translate, and translated my grandpa's surname (Rosenthal) and the name of the place he was born (Bessarabia) into Russian.  I then copied the Russian translation, 

pasted it into Google Advanced Search, and looked at some Russian sites.

Well, I found something fascinating! 
Here is the translation, copied and pasted.



Zolmen Rosenthal was born in the Bessarabian Jewish agricultural colony Telenesti (now district center Telenesti district of Moldova ), one of ten children in the family of the tenant. He studied at cheder , externally passed the exam for the initial high-school course in Odessa and enrolled in the eighth grade school, a then Novorossiysk University .
In 1914 founded the Jewish school in Telenesti, where he taught before moving to Chisinau in 1919 . Stories debuted in Warsaw newspaper Mordkhe Spector "Undzer Lebm" ( Our Life ) under the pseudonym S. Ashkenazi in 1910 . Actively published in Odessa press (poems and essays), and in 1917 served as a staff member of the Odessa newspaper "Dos Naye Lebm" ( New Life ). In 1918 in Odessa, one by one began to leave a book of poems and stories for children and adults, "Lideleh" ( Pesenki , 1918), "Dos Vunder Tsigl" ( Wonderful Goat , 1919), "Unter Eloһus Boym" ( Under the Tree of Elijah , 1919), "Dos Naye Lebm" ( New Life , short stories, 1919), "Dos Tsigele Vigele Bam" ( Goat in the crib ), "Dare Krechmer" ( innkeeper ), "Far Mayseleh Kinder" ( Stories for Children ).

I have no way of knowing for sure. My grandfather and I never talked about his years in Russia.

What I do know is that if Zolmen Rosenthal was a relative, he would be a cousin; my grandpa had
no brothers, only (very doting!) older sisters.

Some Sad Family History

In my search for my family history,  I've discovered some paternal cousins.  One of them, Steven Osha Brown, died of an accidental gunshot wound at the age of 17.  
 I wonder if my other cousins are still alive; I think I'd like to get in touch with them.  But I'm a bit concerned that they may think I am trying to stalk or scam them. There's so much of THAT going on these days!  On the other hand, what if someone pretending to be family tries to contact me?

Looking back, I wish my father had told me about my cousins.   I would like to have known about them, and that includes the sad things.  I would like to have known about Steven's death; I would like to have cried for him.

My Baba's Home Town

I came across this article about my Baba's home town. [Vyznytsia is another name for Viznitz.]
If the cemetery shown is indeed in Viznitz, then many of my ancestors are buried there.

Synagogue in Viznitz

This photograph of the Hasidic synagogue in Viznitz, Austria which I found online,was taken sometime between 1910 and 1920.
It may have been the one my family attended, although as far as I know, they never were Hasidic Jews.
Something new to wonder about!

Farmor

 Lately, I've been researching my family tree from both my parents' sides.
 I never met my paternal grandmother, who is deceased now. She lived too far
 away, and somehow we just never got in touch. 
(My paternal grandfather died before I was born.)
Well, the other day I joined ancestry.com, and since then I've made a few discoveries
about my father's family, the family I never really knew.
I always knew that my father was born in Wisconsin, but now I know the name of the town: New London. 
I've known for a long time that his mother was of Swedish descent, but until a couple of days ago, I did not know that her given name was Estella (which is funny because I've always liked that name!) and she was born in Michigan, probably in Menominee Ward 7, Menominee, Michigan.  
Also, I never knew her maiden name, but now I believe it was Janson.  My reason for believing this is that her parents (my paternal great-grandparents) came from Sweden, as did the parents of the Estella whose maiden name was Janson.
But I haven't, so far, been able to find out what part of Sweden they came from.
And now, the reason I've named this post Farmor.  That is the Swedish word for one's paternal grandmother.  I would like to have called my paternal grandmother "Farmor."

I'm SO Glad I Found this Picture!

Street in Viznitz, near the Ringleplatz

My Baba came from Viznitz, so I am absolutely delighted to have discovered this photo online.
I wonder, did she often walk along this street? Might it even, perhaps, be the street where she lived as a young girl? And do the descendants of any of her friends and playmates live there even now?
These questions, I cannot answer. What I do know is that this is a little piece of my family history.

All-Of-A-Kind Family Family Connection?

This post is adapted from a post in one of my old blogs.

I recently re-read Sydney Taylor's "All-Of-A-Kind Family" series.
Last year, I came across this website.
The second picture shows the family so familiar to the readers of the series, but it is the picture on top that means even more to me. You see, my Baba came from the same place as the grandparents in that picture, and she was born in 1902. Could at least some members of their family and mine have known each other?