Find Family

[ Home Page | First Page | Previous Page | Next Page | Last Page ]

Descendants of Chaim Ze-eb Wolf Shaller

Generation No. 2


2. MOSES ISAAC2 SHALLER (CHAIM ZE-EB WOLF1) was born 1808, and died 1903. He married (1) EDIS, daughter of HUSBAND and WIFE. She died Bet. 1857 - 1859 in Gorlice/Gorlitza, Western Galicia (Poland), Austrian Empire. He married (2) RUT.

Notes for MOSES ISAAC SHALLER:
I.
Date: Fri, 11 Feb 2000 10:40:24 -0500

Here's another memory. There are cousins in NY, Mollie and Willie Steiner, daughter Ethel, sons Moe and I don't remember the other one. Mollie was a Shaller, I think my grandmother (Leah's) niece, which made her my mother's cousin. A. Sylvia came up with the name Steiner. Neither U. Al nor I could remember it. There was also Tante Gittel, which we are in the process of trying to remember how she fit into the Shaller family. Tante Gittel had a rooming house in Atlantic City and when I was very young we went there in the summer. That was my first venture into the community kitchen.
See you soon. Love A. Rhea

II. According to the memoirs of Moses' son, Asher Isaih HaLevi, Moses lived in Gorlice, Galicia. He moved southeast to Wishnitz (Vizhnitsa, Viznits,Vijnita ) in the district of Bukovina, Rumania, on the outskirts of the little town of Kuty, the birthplace of the famed Baal Shem Tov. (This appeared in an article written by Rabbi Ezekiel Nissim Musleah, religious leader of Mikveh Israel Congregation, in the Philadelphia Jewish Exponent, March 3, 1967. The article, plus a reply from Charles Wolf Berkowitz, plus a re-reply from the article writer, is included below.)

III. Gorlice/Gorlitza, Galicia can be found on a map (http://feefhs.org/maps/ah/ah-galic.html). Gorlice is in western Galicia, along the Rapa River, just southeast of Riecz, north of the Western Carpathian Mountain Range.

IV. Wishnitz is considered to be in the Ukraine. It is 48d15' Latitude, 25d11' Longitude. Very near the Ukranian/Rumanian border, it is not very far from Iasi, Moldavia, Rumania.


V. The following appeared as "From Galicia to the Himalayas", by Ezekiel Nissim Musleah, Philadelphia Jewish Exponent, March 3, 1967. Although the subject of the article, our ancestral uncle, Asher Isaiah HaLevi, speaks very poorly of our family, it does represent a good rendition of our family situation and location. One hopes that the reader understands this to be a story told through the eyes of a seven year old boy with wander-lust, and probably not an accurate family accounting at all.

      "For most people there is a place they can call home. it varies in size according to their requirements and means, and affords the maximum comfort. Some have two territories and migrate between them seasonally but seldom stray far from the route.

      "Among the more interesting persons who make the exceptions are inveterate travelers. Their proclivity for wandering takes them far afield. Their restless hearts and inquiring minds made a challenging adventure out of life.

      "One irresistible incentive is the romanticism of the Orient. Thus, Jews like Benjamin of Tuleda and Petachia of Regensberg are colorful personalities to whom we owe much of our scant knowledge of the conditions of Jewish life in the East in their day and age.

      "A vast majority of these wayfarers return, even after a prolonged sojourn abroad. But there is the occasional rambler who never again sees his native habitation. He might have been enchanted by the beauty of a country or fascinated by the traditions of its people. Or, like Asher Isiah HaLevi, might have found a locale best suited for withdrawal within himself.

      "The Jew from Galicia chose the town of Darjeeling, 6500 feet up in the Himalayas, the imposing chain of mountains on the northern borders of India. He lived in the middle and latter portions of the 19th Century, to the second decade of the 20th.

      "Who was this Ashkenazi Jew who meandered into the uttermost parts of the Sephardi world? It whets our appetite to know that he was a Hebrew poet and philosopher, historian and linguist, essayist and scientist. Let us unfold his dramatic story.

      "His father was indolent and poor and lived largely on the earnings of his wife. Dogged by poverty and insecurity, Asher was sold to people who proved very unkind and would have curtailed his freedom and influenced his religious beliefs had he, then only seven years old, not miraculously escaped therefrom. [Can you imagine any seven year old boy who is not concerned about his wicked family "curtailing his freedom and influencing his religious beliefs"?]

      "The family moved southeast to Wishnitz in the district of Bukovina [Rumania], on the outskirts of the little town of Kuty, the birthplace of the famed Baal Shem Tov. Asher was left in Gorlice [Gorlice, Galicia, part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire] in the care of his teacher, who, unfortunately lived only a short while.

      "The boy was obliged to join his family and once again was subject to the sever ill-treatment of his father. His sad predicament was removed temporarily by a sympathetic man who took him over to his home, but Asher's parents would not permit his living there long. [Can you imagine the audacity of his parents not permitting the young boy to live with a strange man?]

      "He was put to work collecting wood chips from the streets and dumps for sale until in the middle of winter his family dislodged him and he took refuge in the Beth Midrash. A widow felt sorry for him and gave him refuge in her home, but she lived only three months and thereafter Asher went back to the Beth Midrash and "G_d provided me every morning with bread and fruits to eat".

      "One cold morning at the age of 11, hungry and tired, he made one last attempt to seek his family but his father refused to recognize him; his grandfather and other relatives closed their door to him [Am i the only one finding this account of our family told by an 11 year old boy ridiculous?]. A stranger provided him with food and drink, clothes and lodging overnight at a hotel.

      "His host took him the following day to a sopher (scribe) who was asked to keep the boy with him and teach him his trade. But there was more bitterness in store for young Asher until illness betook him and he was taken to a hospital.

      "From clues in his writings we deduce he was in the Rumanian Army for a while. Despite these unusually luckless experiences, he received an exceptionally good Talmudic education [Who would have guessed his horrible father provided so well for his education?] At the same time he absorbed all the secular knowledge that came his way."

      "But he was apparently dissatisfied with the intellectual climate of his environment and craved for the learning centers of Salonika, Smyrna, (Izmir, Turkey), Aleppo in Syria and Baghdad in Iraq. From what we gather in his writings, he was disillusioned at these places too.

      "He left Wishnitz for good at the age of 17, and traversed many countries, making a living by writing Torah scrolls. An account of his travels is preserved in his autobiographical, "Toledoth Asher Halevy". Unfortunately only seven chapters are extant. The description of his initial wanderings in Europe and the latter, perhaps more interesting, stages of his long and wearisome journey which ultimately brought him to Calcutta, India, are missing.

      "There is, therefore, no knowing why he terminated his itinery in Eastern India and did not proceed further eastward. We may presume that, having visited Darjeeling, only 300 miles from Calcutta, he was enraptured by its natural beauty and made up his mind to settle there to fulfill his literary ambitions.

...

      "In Iasi, Moldavia, we pick up the available thread of our traveler's course which abruptly stops in Smyrna, including en route a few cities on the east coast of the Black Sea and the Northern and Eastern coasts of the Aegean Sea. Let us sample a few of his experiences which span about seven years and like almost all of his literary works, were reported in Hebrew.

      "Our author was accomplished enough in rabinics to have been offered at the age of 18 the office of rabbi of the town of Tulcea, Rumania, in 1867. His free spirit and the annoyances of the community forced him to relinquish his post after serving briefly, in favor of an old man who was on his way to the Holy Land. The man paid Halevy 10 liras in consideration thereof.

      "In the worthy tradition of previous Jewish travelers, Halevy depicts and evaluates conditions of Jewish life in the cities he visits, describes economic and social peculiarities and furnishes some statistics. Here are a few examples.

      "In Kamenitz, Podolia, Halevy ran into a man discharged from the Russian Army. He was a victim of the child-lifters in the days of Czar Nicholas I (1825-1855) and had lost all recollection of his relatives over a period of thirty years. Halevy managed to establish relationship with the man's father.

      "Our traveler speaks of a Hungarian Jew with the Turkish name of Suleimash (?) Pasha, who occupied the post of governor of Vi (?) on the Black Sea, now in Bulgaria but then under Turkish rule. There are references to people of Jewish descent holding responsible high offices in the Rumanian Army and Jews disguised as Rumanian peasants throughout the country of Moldavia.

      "This is what he says about the Jewish community of Galatz (modern Galati, ?) a border town between Rumania and the Moldavian Soviet Socialist Republic.

            "There are many Jews in this place, about 400 families. The Jews are divided in their religious views and are hostile to one another, like in all oth

[There is much more to the article, I will add to it as time goes on]


VI. The following is the letter to the editor written to the Exponent by Uncle Charlie in reply to the above article. It appeared in the April 7, 1967 edition [Shayna Barlas nee Melmed, his grand niece, helped with the composition of this letter]:

                  "INJUSTICE"

      "There was an article (Exponent, March 3) about Asher Isaiah Halevi, written by Rabbi Ezekiel Musleah, entitled "From Galicia to the Himalayas."

      "I am Asher Halevi's sister's son, and I am 87 years old. I would like to explain the injustice done to our family by this article. The facts are that when he was seven, Asher Halevi's mother died. His father had to move to Rumania. Since Galicia had better Hebrew schools, the father took his three daughters with him but left his two sons in Galicia to stay with his brother-in-law (Asher Halevi's mother's brother).

      "This man was a big rabbi in Galicia. One son remained with his uncle, but Asher Halevi ran away several times. When he was 11, Halevi came to Rumania and found his father. However, he soon ran away again and began his travels.

      "Asher Halevi's father was a very well known and respected man in his town. This man, my grandfather, raised me himself when my own father died.

      "Asher Halevi must have been very bitter to have written against his family. However, the facts remain. His family did not sell him or give him to strangers. His father was worthy of every respect. ..."


VII. The following is the reply from the author to Uncle Charlie's letter to the editor. It also appeared in the April 7, 1967 edition:

      "Love has been defined as a temporary abrogation of the critical functions. This appears to be an understatement. A permanent rather than a temporary lack of objectivity would appear to be the distinctive characteristic of most family relationships.

      "I value the sentiments which inspired the comments of Charles Berkowitz in response to my article. But they are not necessarily unbiased. Nor, for that matter, might those of his cousin, the celebrated subject of my article, Asher Isaiah Halevi, since love is akin to hate.

      "We now are in possession of two contradictory points of view concerning the same family - the first by perhaps a "very bitter" member and another by an evidently grateful one. The historian, who can afford to be more objective, must go by his sources and his discerning, though admittedly not infallible, judgement."


VIII. A Week in Jassy (Iasi)
by Linda Hugle
(As reported in the ROM-SIG News, Volume 5, Number 1 - Fall 1996)

http://www.jewishgen.org/romsig/newsletter/vol5/index.html

In 1902, the Steinfeld family emigrated from Jassy, Romania, to Philadelphia. Ninety-four years later, my 21-year old daughter Brandy and I returned to Iasi/Jassy in pursuit of whatever history and records they might have left behind. This trip had been her idea, a college graduation gift.

Our research expectations were fairly low for several reasons. Neither of us spoke Romanian nor could we read or understand Hebrew. Despite the advice of previous travelers (reported in ROM-SIG NEWS), we had neglected to contact the state archives in Bucharest in advance to request research permission in Iasi. We were also aware that most of Romania's Jews had emigrated in the 1970s to Israel so who would remain to guide us in our research? Nevertheless, we would be satisfied just to see this place, perhaps to feel the "ancestral pull" other heritage travelers had reported, and to learn a little of its history.

Gaining Research Permission in Bucharest

Our trip began in Bucharest, two days of getting acclimated and wandering by foot. We were unimpressed by Ceaucescu's architecture and the tourist sites, particularly since nearly all the museums and concert halls were closed for the summer season. We did visit the Arhivelor Statului (state archives) at B-dul Gheorgui-Dej #29. The non-English-speaking guard sent us away, pointing next door to the Ministry of Justice, a scary place we walked into and quickly out of. Returning to #29, we scrawled a note in English and handed it to the guard, who then found someone to translate it. Mrs. Gabriela Birceanu then emerged and shepherded us through the process, even providing us with paper and pen (see how unprepared we were!) so that we could write a letter requesting permission to use the Iasi archives for genealogical research. This was on Wednesday morning, but she said we could not research there until the following Monday. The letter had to include our research purpose and time period. Fortunately, I left this fairly broad (1800s), because I later learned they would enforce this limitation.


A Lucky Encounter

On Thursday, we took the IC (Inter city) train to Iasi. I was impressed by how comfortable and clean the train was, especially since I had been told Romanian trains were miserable and dirty. We had the old-style tickets, with some mystery numbers on the backs, so we just found a compartment and hoisted our too-heavy suitcases up onto the luggage racks. It quickly became apparent we were in the wrong cabin, but not before we met a true gem, a young woman returning to Iasi who heard our English and introduced herself. Nicoleta accompanied us the entire five-hour trip, helping us find our cabin and joining us there. If I could give one piece of impossible advice to others heading to Romanian towns for research, it would be this: meet someone wonderful on the train on your way there. Nicoleta was our ticket to great success and a wonderful impression of Iasi. Translating, and navigating by tram, she accompanied us nearly everywhere we went during our week in Iasi. We ate several wonderful meals, prepared by her loving but non-English speaking mother, in her apartment.

Impressions of Iasi

Iasi is indeed a spectacular city. Nestled in a valley of seven hills, Romania's "Rome," Iasi sports some of the "communist architecture" seen in Bucharest, but unlike Bucharest still retains its own flavor. The people we met were well-educated and multilingual. We were told that the university is Romania's oldest and Europe's third oldest. Certainly it holds great influence over this town of poets and scientists. One of the town's pleasant surprises was the proliferation of statues of poets and writers and the dearth of similar honors for warriors. A disappointment was Ceaucescu's demolition of Iasi's and the world's first Yiddish theatre.

We could not research at the archives until Monday, a blessing according to Nicoleta as, she assured us, workers are far more helpful on Mondays than on Fridays. Therefore, we spent some time taking in the city. The Botanical Gardens, the university frescoes, an orphanage where Nicoleta has committed to the support of a troubled 15-month old girl, the palace museums, handicraft shops, and the forests nearby occupied us.

Part of my mission was to find some local history books and maps, a mission I failed, unfortunately. However, in its pursuit I chanced upon another lucky encounter. At the Galleriile Anticariat of Lapusneanu Street #24, I met the owner, Maestro Dumitru Grumazescu. Mr. Grumazescu was wonderfully hospitable and interested in local Jewish history. From him, I received a copy of a 1926 book, Romanii in America [see newsletter cover], which includes a chapter about the Evreii (Jews) who emigrated. Obviously a key figure in Iasi's intelligentsia, he introduced us to poets and to his fabulous postcard collection of old Iasi. His antique bookstore had been stripped of local history and Judaica by an Israeli friend recently, but he promised to locate more and ship them to me. Two fond memories of Iasi are drinking Romanian wine with Mr. Grumazescu and two noted poets in the Anticariat and eating a gourmet meal prepared by his chemical engineer wife. Another feature much appreciated was the Vivaldi playing in his store, a treasured break from the bad American rock and roll heard everywhere else.

The Jewish Community Center

We planned to visit the Jewish cemetery, but had read that the Chevra Kadisha records at the Jewish Community Center would provide a guide to burial sites. With this and the purchase of Mr. Kara's much-awaited book about the (now destroyed) old cemetery in mind, we visited the Jewish Community with our friend Nicoleta as translator. We were welcomed by three older gentlemen, none of whom spoke English. Since I had no death dates for my ancestors, they could not look them up for me; apparently the books are chronological only and an approximate year could mean a records search of several days. Iasi's Jewish community had been quite large, after all. Besides, when I gave the year of emigration, the men laughed and one commented, "We have only two times here, pre-regime and post-regime." A year as ancient as 1902 was too remote for them. This was disappointing, but inquiries about Mr. Kara were more productive. We were told he comes to the Center about 11:00 a.m. daily and we could find him Monday morning.

We returned as scheduled and Mr. Kara introduced himself in perfect English. Kara is his pen name, he explained; his real name is Schwartz. I asked about the gravestone inscriptions book Paul Pascal had mentioned and he located a copy for us [see newsletter cover]. He has written over 100 mostly unpublished manuscripts, many about local history. I mentioned the village of Codaesti (Koh-duh-yesht) and, yes, he had about a 10-page manuscript he had written about that village as well. It was in Romanian and he offered to have it translated for us. The translator would charge about $3.00 per page. I was to call him the next day to confirm, but was unable to reach him before our train left. I gave our friend Nicoleta the money plus an additional donation and she went to pick it up. Given the slow state of mail from Romania, I am still awaiting this treasure's arrival.

Mishpocheh

One of the gentlemen at the Jewish Community Center on our first visit had asked my grandmother's name and recognized the unusual surname. Before I knew what was happening, he was on the phone to Mr. Leon Steinfeld, a retired lawyer, and we were given directions to Mr. Steinfeld's apartment. We visited Mr. Steinfeld and his wife, Rosalie, twice. On our first visit, we were warmly greeted by this distinguished and well-read gentleman in his eighties. We shared family histories and didn't see any immediate connections except one: both Steinfeld families had come to Iasi from the little village of Codaesti. On our second visit, we brought good news from the archives--his grandfather and my grandmother's grandfather were brothers! I had never heard of family remaining in Romania and he had never heard of family in America, but there we were.

Leon showed me a most amazing document: his father's Romanian citizenship papers. I made photocopies but am still stunned. Here was a man who was at least third generation Romanian, whose grandfather had come to Romania in 1810, yet who was granted citizenship only in 1932. Various stamps were affixed to the certificate, showing that even in 1932 Jews had to pay for the privilege of citizenship. Included were testimonials including birth records, addresses and a copy of his parents' marriage certificate. Presumably, such documents would be available at the Iasi Municipal Archives (a different building, housing documents less than 100 years old) for interested researchers.

Leon's brothers, sisters, and aunts had all emigrated to Israel and their descendants were all there. Only he and his wife remained in Romania. He shared many stories, including the tragedy of the 1941 pogrom in Iasi. The Nazis had searched apartment houses, forcing all Jews they found to board a train where they were suffocated as the train traveled back and forth between Iasi and Podu Turcului, The Nazis then dumped the bodies in the village of Roman. They also told of the woman, Agaviche, whose brave act saved the lives of the few survivors. The Steinfeld family had been living in an Armenian apartment building that wasn't searched. Rosalie, a Dorohoi native, told us of a massacre there when a Russian officer had ordered the execution of a Romanian and a Jewish soldier had protested and prevented it. In anger, the Russian officer shot the brave Jewish soldier. Yet when his Jewish friends and family came to mourn at his funeral, Rumanians arrived and slaughtered them. The horrors of Jewish history in this region were hidden just beneath the surface, often only in the memories of its oldest citizens. This did temper my enchantment with the Iasi of 1996. Nicoleta, a product of local education and the University of Iasi, seemed even more shocked by these tragic stories than we.

The Iasi State Archives on B-dul Copou

Our visit to the Archives began badly. First of all, we had a Ceaucescu-era street name, now changed, and had some trouble finding it. Then when we arrived, a notice on the door announced that the archives were closed for two weeks. A guard explained that everyone was on holiday. That would have ended our excursion and my story if not for dear Nicoleta. She explained to the guard that we were here all the way from America and had permission to research from Bucharest. We were admitted to the bustling, obviously quite open, State Archives of Iasi.

We were directed upstairs to a small salon where a woman archivist and three researchers were working. Nicoleta translated and we asked first for the marriage record index, Registrui Tarii Civile Oras: 1865-1899, for 1892, the date I had for the marriage of Morris Steinfeld and Pauline Loebelsohn. The index, an original ledger book, arrived almost instantaneously and we began scanning. The records were by year, but not alphabetical so all names and pages for each year had to be skimmed. In 1889, we found them: "Steinfeld, Moise Avram cu Dra. Leibilson, Paulina." Nothing here will describe the excitement of that discovery. I had been seeking the Steinfelds since my grandmother's death in 1981 and found little. But here they were, real people! The Leibilson name was a surprise since I had been told Loebelsohn, but in the actual records it was repeated several times, though mostly spelled Leibelzon or Leibelson (why not Leibovici?).

Rodica Anghel, the archivist who became a valuable help to us, returned quickly with the actual marriage papers. They were about 20 pages long, including an application, notices for posting at the city hall and synagogue, the certificate itself ("Certificat de Casatorie"), and affidavits of the births of both bride and groom. I developed a deep affection for the Romanian bureaucracy at that instant. My great-grandparents may have found it burdensome and unnecessary, but oh what a boon for me! From this document, I learned my great-great grand-parents' full names and addresses, my great-grand-parents' correct birthdates and birthplaces, and the location of the synagogue where they were married (I later learned from Mr. Steinfeld that this synagogue was bulldozed to put in a highway). Naturally, we requested copies of these documents and were told we could pick up photocopies the next day, our day of departure from Iasi. Both Brandy and I sensed that these photocopies were not part of the regular archives services and may not be normally available.

We next requested an earlier marriage index, listing marriages from 1809-1865, hoping to find the marriages of Moise's or Paulina's parents. This index was much better organized (no explanation given or requested), arranged alphabetically by first initial of last name and then by church. At the end of each letter's section was a listing of "Israelite" marriages, though an incomplete one as Jews in this period often did not register their marriages with the state. Although I didn't find the Steinfelds or Leibelsons, I asked if I could buy photocopies of each of the Israelite lists. This request was denied with the explanation that the state held "copyright" to these books and I might publish this information and sell it. Besides, I had only been granted permission to research my own family for genealogical purposes. Perhaps some other researcher reading this will find a valid purpose to obtain this information?

My third request was for the catagraphy (census) of Sudits in 1859 that I had read about in ROM-SIG NEWS. Ms. Anghel said there was none for 1859, but there was one for 1851. However, they were all in Cyrillic, even the indices. I asked for clarification here, as I had read the indices were not Cyrillic, but she repeated that they were. Since I had forgotten to bring my transliteration guide, I thought I would have a serious problem. Fortunately, the archivist asked for my family names and again remembered the Steinfeld name from some research she had been doing in the1836 Catagraphy (are you following this incredible series of lucky breaks?). She ushered us into a smaller private room, where she located and read to us from an ancient book. The story of Avraim Steinfeld, age 66, a Sudit from Galicia under Turkish protection began to unfold. From his white hair, tall stature, and "usual nose" to his wife's birthing history, the census takers had kept meticulous records. Here I learned the relationship between my daughter and me and Mr. Leon Steinfeld of Iasi. I regret that I did not ask for a copy of this entry.

Rodica Anghel was both knowledgeable and helpful and we developed a friendship. She expressed frustration with the limitations imposed on archival research and was well-versed in both archival holdings and Jewish history and culture. I was surprised to learn we were only the fourth Americans to visit the Iasi Archives. Others planning to visit who might request Ms. Anghel's help should brush up on their French or bring a translator: she speaks no English. I asked whether she would be interested in presenting information at the 1997 Paris International Seminar and she indicated she would, if the costs of attending could be covered. This decision, of course, will rest with the convention organizers, but I would recommend her. Only recently are archivists allowed to travel, as the archives fall under the Security Department's jurisdiction.

Whatever frustrations you may have encountered seeking your immigrant ancestors, like the Steinfelds, it is almost certain they too were caught in the Romanian bureaucracy's net and their secrets await you in the old country.

Those planning Jewish heritage travel in Romania will find Rumanians welcoming and interested in Jewish people. Unlike before World War II, Jews are now a rarity and therefore higher in Romanian esteem. Today's resented minority are the Gypsies who are both more visible and more numerous.

In less than a week, we met 14 people who befriended us or went out of their way to help. Until Iasi and similar towns become accustomed to and resentful of tourists, expect friendly interest in your quest and be prepared with small gifts. Several young people we met were interested in studying in the U.S. and after returning home we shipped several TOEFL study books and college guides for foreign applicants.

Several we met indicated an interest in emigrating, whether to America or other places. While Jews were invited by Israel, others have not had the opportunity but take great interest in the outside world. Perhaps this has been fed by the repression of the Ceaucescu regime or by the mandatory television in each apartment broadcasting American shows. Pictures of our family and home were of great interest to those we met.

Certainly our task would have been more difficult without our new Romanian friend; future travelers may want to consider hiring a student from the university to help them. A search for "Iasi" in Savvysearch on the Internet brought up numerous university sites and might be a worthwhile place to start looking for student guides.

Finally, recognize that Romanians do not earn much money and what they have has been eroded by inflation. Do not flaunt your money and insult your hosts. In most cases, people who helped us did not want money and the few times we tried to pay someone for some small service it was refused. The exceptions would of course include taxi drivers and others in the "tourist trade," but those who offered to help freely seemed offended by cash offers.

Notes for EDIS:

I. From the Rumanian Newsletter, VOLUME 4, NUMBER 3 - SPRING 1996 (http://www.jewishgen.org/romsig/newsletter/vol4/):

My trip to Pistyn and Wiznitz
..........by Phyllis SImon

In July 1993, while on a Heritage-Holocaust trip to Kolomyya, West Ukraine, I was able to go to the "town" of my paternal grandfather's birth, Pistyn.

The only exclusively Jewish place I was able to visit was the former Jewish cemetery. The tombstones were a mess, and goats and chickens were in full view! I photographed the area, and gazed at the Carpathians in the distance. While I couldn't read the tombstones, some Israelis did, but unfortunately I didn't find any of the tombstones that might be those of relatives.

In front of the cemetery was a typical Ukrainian house. The residents were cordial and invited us in. I took more photos that I sent to them later.

I was delighted that I was able to stand on the ground where my antecedents probably walked, and were possibly buried, and to think that over 100 years ago relatives saw the same mountain view.

In Spring 1995, my business partner and I organized a genealogy trip to Galicia and environs. I didn't get back to Pistyn but we did go to Wiznitz, where my father was born in 1900. The mayor was cordial and he told me (through our interpreter) that Jewish records were destroyed for the time period that was of interest to me. We toured the town, which attracts vacationers because of the mountains and clean air. We saw the former synagogues and spent some time in the cemetery. The English letters and numbers on the sides of the tombstones led me to assume that, somewhere, someone has cataloged the graves in this cemetery. Local residents gave me names of Israelis who would like to reestablish a Jewish community in Wiznitz.

We visited the archives in Chernovitz and one member of our tour did get records, at a cost of $200. The copied records were sent to her four months after our trip ended. Even though I was unable to obtain archived records for my research, it was still wonderful to be there!

There are more stories to share; if you're interested, please feel free to write to me. We're now organizing a trip for July 1996 to the same and other areas.

Phyllis Nierel Simon
19 Earl Road
Melville, NY 11747-1313


II. From the Rumanian SIG Newsletter, VOLUME 4, NUMBER 4 - SUMMER 1996:

The surnames of the first Ashkenazi Jews in Romania
.........by Marcel Bratu

The variety of Jewish surnames in the two Romanian principalities--Wallachia and especially
Moldavia--is in fact the story of the Jewish population that came mainly from central and eastern
Europe and settled in Romania. There were three distinct categories of Jewish surnames, reflecting the
sources of that immigration and the historical period in which the immigration occurred:

1) A large immigration of Ashkenazi Jews from the 1600's and even before, until the early years of the
19th century;

2) A small number of Sephardim entering from the south over the centuries;

3) An even larger influx of Ashkenazi Jews starting in the early 1800's and doubling every decade or
two thereafter.

Following the Jewish existence in Dacia Felix as early as the first century, and the arrival of some
Khazars from Russia from the eighth century onward, a large mass of Ashkenazi Jews started to settle
in Moldavia, coming as early as the 16th century (the 1500's) from Poland, Bohemia, Austria, Galicia
and later from Russia. They came without a surname, but with a standard identification: "x Ben y" or
"x Zien y." An example would be Slomo ben Ithac in Hebrew (Slomo, the son of Ithac) or in Yiddish,
Sloima Zien Itic. I remember this "Zien" still in use in Dorohoi in my childhood (I was born in 1924).
Frequently, zien appears in print as sin.

Much later, in the early and mid-19th century, when a few thousand Jewish families, maybe 30,000
souls, already existed in Romania, they were compelled by the authorities to be identifiable by a
patronymic name. They needed to have more than an "x ben y"or "x zien y" in order to pay taxes, to
be identified as lawbreakers and later to satisfy their army duties, etc.

Like other Jews in other countries, these immigrants used a mixture of Yiddish and the language of
their new homeland. The first name was in Yiddish, or spelled as in Romanian: Sloima or Solomon,
Hers or Herscu, Avrum or Avram, etc. The patronymic name thus became the name of the father with
a Romanian suffix: -escu or -eanu.

From Solomon came Solomonescu; from Avram, Avra-mescu; from Iacob, Iacobescu; from Isac,
Iscovescu; from Aron, Aroneanu; from Lazar, Lazareanu, etc.

The suffix -eanu was also, in some cases, added to the hometown of the subject to produce the
Jewish sur-name: Ieseanu (from Iasi), Tecuceanu (from Tecuci), Focsaneanu (from Focsani),
Deleanu (from Deleni).

In still other cases, the suffix -aru was added to the name of the trade, resulting in other Jewish
surnames: Ciubotaru, Cizmaru, Pantofaru (bootmaker, shoemaker), Moraru (miller), Pitaru (pita and
bread makers), Croitoru (taylor), etc.

Some Romanians bore the same surnames as Jews. However, the first name was different. If the
whole name was Itic Croitoru, he was a Jew. If the name was Ion, Vasile, or Neculai Croitoru, the
subject was a gentile. Greek and Russian Orthodox, who made up 99% of the gentile religionists in
these two principalities, never used names from the Old Testament or names from the Yiddish
language for their children. However, in the case of a boy's name that left you in doubt, his identity
was checked by pulling down the pants. Romanian Christians were never circumcised, except for a
very few medical instances.

Therefore, the Jews who came to Romania up to the early 19th century when their identification was
still only "x ben y" or "x zien y" adopted these surnames. These Jews were granted by the authorities
with the title "evrei Pamanteni" (Jews of the Land). They enjoyed some civic rights intermittently,
based on mutual understandings, but not stipulated in any law.

However, the exception tests the rule: a Jew named Itic Shor (probably Shor was a surname) played
an important role in the court of Stephen the Great (Stefan Cel Mare) who reigned between 1457 and
1504, when very few Jews in the whole Ashkenazi world had a surname.

These clues in identifying the surnames of the first Ashkenazim in Romania appear to tell a clear-cut
story, but they do not. Confusions and complications occurred through the years; I will discuss
these in the later articles of this series.


III. From the Rumanian Newsletter, VOLUME 5, NUMBER 2 - WINTER 1996-97:

Third of a series
The Surnames of the Later Ashkenazi Jews in Romania
by Dr. Marcel Bratu

The Jewish population in Moldavia and Wallachia increased almost threefold in the 19th century,
from 100,000 people in 1800 to 260,000 in 1900. On the one hand, the number of Sephardim in
Wallachia did not increase, since they had few children. In Moldavia, on the other hand, the
Ashkenazim had a tremendous birth rate, but that can not account for 160,000 Jews added at the end
of the 19th century. They came from somewhere else: many Ashkenazim came down into Moldavia
from the Polish territories. What does this migration have to do with the names of Romanian Jews?
This is the story I want to tell you.

The Ashkenazim were forced to take on surnames at the beginning of the 19th century, to be
identifiable for taxes, military service, and other administrative functions of the various governmental
authorities. This was much later than the Sephardim, who gained their surnames in the 14th and 15th
centuries. The Ashkenazim (Ashkenaz in Hebrew means Germany) were spread throughout Central
Europe (Austro-Hungary, Prussia, Bohemia) and there were huge numbers in eastern Europe (Poland
and Russia).

However, as usually happens in history, there were some exceptions. The most impressive exception
occurred in Frankfurt am Main in Germany, during the 17th century, before all the Jews of Prussia
had surnames. At that time, Jews were forced to live in a ghetto area on a street called "Judengasse."
Because houses didn't have numbers, each tenant would paint or carve a sign on the front wall of the
house, to be identifiable and to avoid opening a neighbor's door (with or without intention). These
signs--flowers, animals, birds, fish, trees--became very dear to the Jews, because they loved their
house and family. They even carved or painted these signs on the gravestones in the old Jewish
cemetery in Frankfurt. Thus, these signs naturally became the surnames of the Jews when the
authorities followed a French initiative to introduce house numeration on the streets.

Let me give you a few examples:

. Trees: Apfelbaum (apple); Birnbaum (pear); Gruenbaum (green tree)
. Flowers: Rosen, Rosenthal, Rosenfeld; Blum (flower), Blumenfeld
. Animals: Hirsh (deer); Ocs (ox); Tauber (dove); Einhorn (unicorn); Hirshorn (deer antler)
. Fish: Fishel (small fish); Laks (salmon); Hecht (pike)

These signs remained on the wall of the house long after the house numbering. A small house at 148 Judengasse bore a sign that was a red shield. Thus, the family adopted the surname of Rotshield (which later became Rothschild), and they grew famous as the greatest family of Jewish bankers.

Later, in Austria (1787), the Jews were compelled to take a surname. After the first partition of Poland (1772), Austria gained Galicia, western Podolia, Lemberg (Lvov) and part of the Krakow area. Maria Theresa, the Austrian empress, was terrified by the huge number of Jews in the captured territories, especially because she had bad feelings for the Jews. She never spoke to a Jew face to face unless separated by a screen. But her inconvenience was shortened by her death in 1780. Her son, Joseph the Second, insisted that the Austrian Jews, including those from the occupied Polish territories, have a German surname. All of these Jews with names in the form of X ben Y were now to have a German name, even though their secular language was Yiddish, and the language of their Bible was Hebrew. Nasty business!

Prussia, another power that occupied Polish territory after the three partitions, became the landlord of the so-called Polish Prussia, including Danzig (Gdansk) and Thorn, all the way to Mazovia and Warsaw, comprising another area with a large Jewish population. In 1812, the Prussians also forced the Jews to adopt a German surname. In this way, the Jews from central Europe and from half of Poland's territory had German surnames. Despite the resemblance of Yiddish and German, the Yiddish was written in the Hebrew alphabet, creating some distortion of the German surnames borne by the Jews. Surmounting some legal limitations concerning these surnames, they obtained beautiful family names, some of them of the upper class.

. From Ehre (honor) came Ehrenburg, Ehrenkrantz
. Krone (crown), to Kronenfeld, Kron
. Susse (sweet), to Sussman
. Schone (nice, beautiful), to Schonfeld , Schonblum

. From precious metals: Goldenberg, Gold, Zilber, Zilberman, Zilberstein.

. Names of professions: Drucker (printer), Gerber (tanner), Becker (baker),Zimmerman
(carpenter), Goldstein (goldsmith).

. Names of geographic origin: Alpern, Elpern, Halpern, Heilprin (from Heilbronn), Berliner,
Epstein, Ginsburg, Gruenberg, Kissinger (from Kissingen), Lifshits, Popper, Weisel, Wiener
(from Wien, Vienna), etc.

. Names of specific places in Galicia and Bohemia (territories occupied by the Austrians): Apter
(from Apatov, Galicia); Brandes, Brandeiss (from Brandeis, Bohemia); Dolinsky (from Dolinsky,
alicia); Eger, Ieger, Iager (from Eger, Bohemia); Potok (from Potoc-Zlaty, Galicia); Horowitz and
all its variations (Horovice, Bohemia)

. Names of countries and regions: Oistrach (from Austria); Ungar (from Hungary); Pollak,
Polaner (from Poland); Wallach (from Wallachia)

These German surnames of the Jews coming into Romania suffered two metamorphoses: first, many
of them were translated into Yiddish; and second, the spelling was adapted to the Romanian language,
which is a phonetic language. For instance, "Peter" is pronounced "Peeter" in English. The first -e- is
read like an -ee-, the second like the -e- in "pet." In Romanian, the letter -e- is always pronounced as
in "pet." The same consistency applies to all the letters of the Romanian alphabet. For this reason,
Gruenberg became Greenberg, Goldstein - Goldstain, Gruenspan - Grinspan, and Susseman - Zisman.

Meanwhile, what happened in Russia? The three partitions of Poland were a pantagruelian feast that
erased Poland from the map of Europe. Russia acquired White Russia, Bielo-Russia, Ukraine,
Lithuania and other territories, filled with hundreds of thousands of Jews. Catharine the Great, the
empress of Russia, disliking the Jews, was terrified by their addition to her empire. She proclaimed
that all foreigners would be naturalized, but she added, "Krome Zhidov" (except the Jews). However,
as with Maria Theresa, her Jewish nightmares didn't last long; she died in 1796, one year after the
third partition of Poland. In 1893 [1803?], the next Tsar, Alexander the First, passed a law stating that every
Jewish family must have a surname that could not be changed. X ben Y, followed in the next
generation by Z ben X could not exist any more. Yet, the surname did not have to be Russian, unlike
the Austrians and Germans requiring German names. In general, the surnames were a combination of
a Yiddish name with a Russian suffix.

In one area, Obauch, 50 per cent of the Jewish surnames had the suffix, "man": Dorfman,
Perlman, Feldman, Fridman, etc.

East of Vitebsk, the suffix was "son" or "zon": Idelson, Davison, Mendelson, etc.

In Bielo-Russia and Ukraine, the suffix was "sky": Shamansky, Kaganovsky, Yankelevsky
(beautifully derived from the diminutive form, Yankele), Levisky, etc.

Lithuanian names, usually geographical places: Dolinsky (from Dolina); Melnik (from
Mielnick); Dubin (from Dubina); Rogov (from Rogovo); Zager (from Zagora), etc.

A very common suffix in all of the Polish captured territory was "ici": Smilovici, Leibovici,
Herscovici, Bercovici, Solomovici, Rabinovici, Calmanovici, Abramovici, Leizerovici, etc. These
surnames are known as "Polish" (mostly, they are patronymic surnames). Some of the names
were altered in Romania to change "sky" to "schi" or to replace -s- with -z-, -g- with -gh- (Sager
became Zagher).

Ever since the Bible first appeared, the Jews have liked acronyms and word combinations. They have
used them in surnames as well: Katz or Catz is a combination of Cohen and Tzadik; Segal is a
combination of Segan and Levy; Cohn comes from Cohen. These are very common names.

All of these Jews in these immense territories wandered from place to place, trying to avoid
persecutions and pogroms. Due to their marriages or changes of names to avoid taxes and military
duties, it was often impossible to locate the origin of their surname. But who cared? A Jew is a Jew!

The migration of the Jews into Romania, in the 18th, 19th and 20th centuries from the different
Jewish subcultures in Galicia, Poland, Russia, and Bessarabia brought an onomastic wealth that was
sometimes very confusing. Mixture of these later Jewish surnames with the ones mentioned in my
first two articles helped to complicate matters.

Further, the Jews often liked nicknames much more than surnames. They paid more attention to the
first name and nicknames, and often used only these to identify an individual. So, when you are
examining old documents, what looks like a surname may actually be a nickname. I remember a man
known as Sloim "Chibrit" (match). I have no idea what his real surname was, and this was true of
many other Jews in Dorohoi. I knew another one, Meilah "Plop" (poplar). He was a very tall man like
a poplar, but certainly he had a surname which was less known in town. My father had an uncle
known as Mendel "Tipirig." This word means "ammonium chloride" in the Moldavian dialect, a
substance used in glueing copper. There must be an interesting explanation (which I don't know) for
this nickname of my father's uncle, whose real name was Moscovici.

These were the surnames of the Jewish people from Moldavia, Wallachia, Bessarabia, Bukovina,
Dobrodgea and the southern part of Transylvania, up until World War II. What happened after that
war, and some other onomastic curiosities may be the subject of my next article.


IV. From the Rumanian SIG Newsletter, VOLUME 5, NUMBER 3 - SPRING 1997:

Onomastic derailments: irregular surnames
by Dr. Marcel Bratu

As I mentioned in my first three articles on the origin of Romanian Jewish surnames, there is a
myriad of peculiar deviations from the standard patterns. To illustrate some of these aberrations, I
will draw on my own family's history. Certainly, these aberrations happened in almost all Jewish
families from Romania.

The first known forebear of my father's family was a young man named Smil Grinspan, born in
Moldavia (perhaps) around 1780, in the village of Stanisesti near Barlad. Not having a profession or
business, he was forced by the local authorities to leave his birthplace, to go God knows where. He
crossed the Prut River eastward into Bessarabia, at that time Romanian territory, to find a wealthy
wife and a business. Very soon, he found both items. But, two years later in 1812, Bessarabia was
occupied by Russia after the defeat of the Ottomans in the Russo-Turkish war. The Bessarabian Jews,
frightened by the Russian pogroms and the military colonies of Czar Alexander the First, started to
send their boys to Moldavia, where life was much safer for the Jews. Many of the boys had relatives
in Moldavia and the others were to be raised by the Moldavian Jews until better times would allow
reunion with their families. But how to send these boys to Moldavia? The Bessarabian Jews
remembered that Moses, as an infant, crossed the Nile in a small boat in Egypt and they decided to
send their infant boys over the Prut River into Moldavia. In this way, Smil's first boy, like others,
crossed the Prut with the help of a peasant paid for the job. The Moldavian Jews were waiting for
them. In the small boat where Smil's boy was lying, they found a piece of paper written in Yiddish:
"This is Sloima Zalman, the son of Smil Grinspan. Please bring the boy to Haim Tvi (Herscu)
Vainigher in Stanisesti, a cattle merchant and my relative."

Sloima Zalman grew up and Herscu gave him a bride, his daughter Leia. But his surname "Grinspan"
was lost and a new family with the surname of Zalman was born. Sloima's children were Zalmans,
not Grinspans. Among them, Herscu Zalman was my grandfather. Herscu Zalman married my
grandmother in 1874, and they had seven children, five boys and two girls. The first two boys bore
the surname of Grinspan, the other three were Zalmans. In between these first two Grinspan boys, a
girl was born but her surname was Zalman. Isn't that funny? Neither my father--who was a
Zalman--nor my grandmother could explain to me these patronymic derailments

My mother's father was known as Moritz Stern. But his parents' last name was Pincas. To escape from
military duties they changed their name to Stern. The Pincases disappeared mysteriously from Iasi, in
exchange for a generous baksheesh (a very precious Turkish word entered in the Romanian
dictionary and meaning a bribe or kickback).

Another story is about an aunt of mine, Sofi Zalman, married to Herman Volfzon. On their way to
America in 1903, my aunt delivered their first child, a boy, on a vessel in British territorial waters.
Herman went to the officer in charge of birth certificates, asking him to write the name of his son,
Haim Ber Volfzon. The officer, unused to these peculiar names, yet very impersonal and not asking
again, wrote what he heard: Humbert Wilson. His parents adopted the name of Wilson but they
obtained American naturalization. Thus, the parents were American while Humbert was British.
Unfortunately, in 1912 Herman died of tuberculosis in Denver, Colorado, and Sophie (not Sofi
anymore) with her son Humbert returned to Dorohoi as the Wilsons, the only American citizens in
town, to live with her mother, Seindle Zalman.

I want to note that the name of Smil Grinspan (Gruenspan in German) suggests an origin from
German-occupied territory (see my last article in ROM-SIG NEWS, Winter, 1996-97) while Zalman,
a Yiddish derivative from Sloima, is in no way a clue for the place of origin of my family. The same
confusion occurs with my mother's family. Pincas is a Hebrew name for an account book or index,
which does not suggest a German origin, while the changed name, Stern, does (it means star, in
German). Therefore, she had a name suggesting the origin of her family was Germany, while her
family actually came from Russia.

After the first World War, the Jews of Romania obtained citizenship. The young Jewish
aristocracy--doctors, lawyers, pharmacists, teachers and rich businessmen--tried to break away from
the rigid Jewish religious laws and to socialize more with Romanians, in order to close the gap
between Jews and non-Jews. They enjoyed the euphoria of gaining political and religious rights,
becoming more patriotic. This attitude had repercussions concerning their names, as these Jews
changed their names to pure Romanian names. For instance, names like Ardeleanu, Stelea, Balus,
Rodescu, etc. started to appear among Jews. This was more a phenomenon of the upper class. Also,
mixed marriages became more frequent, as well as conversions to the Christian religion.
Unfortunately, the Holocaust and Hitler's ideas on the purification of the white race sent these Jews to
their death, regardless of their names or Christian conversion.

After the second World War, in which 250,000 Romanian Jews were killed in Transnistria, in the
trains of death in Iasi, and in pogroms here and there, the Jews still alive wanted to survive and to
hide their Jewish origins. The recent past and the anti-Semitic atrocities were too vivid in Jewish
minds. Those who did not live these atrocities have no right to criticize this movement, especially the
Jews of America, where vessels with Jewish emigrants from Nazi Germany were returned to the
Atlantic Ocean from American shores.

A large number of the Jews in Romania changed their names. A dear aunt of mine, whose married
name was Brauhfeld, became Bratu (from the Russian for "brother") to avoid discrimination in an
academic environment. Shortly thereafter, I too became Bratu as a student at the Medical School in
Bucharest. Three Zalmans were killed in the Romanian holocaust. My father survived and didn't
change his name. The Sterns had no casualties, and those remaining in Romania changed their name
to Stefan. The few remaining Rabinovici, the maternal family of my father, are in Israel. They left
Moldavia before World War I.

In other words, at the present time it is very difficult not only to establish the origin of the Jews by
their name but to identify them. As you know, in Romania there are now only a few thousand Jews,
the majority being very old, from over 800,000 before World War II. They went back to their ancient
homeland of Israel after 2,000 years of Diaspora or they dispersed (again) all over the world. Even in
Israel the Romanian Jews changed their names again, to the old X ben Y Hebrew format, not the
Yiddish sin or zien. I had a dear cousin in Israel whose father's first name was Leon and his own was
Beno (Ber). His Israeli name became Dov Ben Ari [son of Leon, the lion]. My son-in-law became
Talmor from the Romanian Tangiu, with the only connection between the two names limited to the
first two letters.

In America, the changes of surnames are not as many, because they didn't have a holocaust. The
changes are more related to differences in spelling and, to some extent, trying to hide their origin. You
readers know better than I the examples of such changes in surnames.

I wish good luck to the American Jews originating in Romania. If they search for a Moscovici or a
Zalman, the name can now Popescu, Bratu or Stefan, names previously unheard of in Jewish
onomastics.


V. From the Rumanian SIG Newsletter,

How soon did Ashkenazi surnames appear?
by Paul Pascal <path@interlog.com>

I was fascinated reading Marcel Bratu's articles on Jewish surnames in Romania. He has added much
to our understanding of the influx of various types of foreign surnames to the Romanian Jewish
population over the last two hundred years or so. On the other hand, some of what I have seen or
researched personally appears to contradict one of his contentions, at least on the face of it--namely,
that Ashkenazi Jews in Romania were forced to take on surnames at the beginning of the 19th
century.

It is well accepted that most European states did demand surnames during that period, beginning first
with Napoleon's requirements of French subjects in his vast empire, and spreading to that other great
empire, Austria-Hungary. The Russian Empire was slightly slower but soon followed suit. Russian
Jews were resistant, however, and--at least among themselves--did not much abide by this law in the
Russian provinces for many decades (the more urban areas may be another story), not until the last
two decades of the nineteenth century, in many cases.

My observation of Romanian Jewish census data and vital statistics documents is that if there was
such a requirement of Jews by Romanian authorities at the beginning of the 19th century, there must
have been similar resistance among Romania's Jews as well--or perhaps the law simply was not
rigorously enforced--because the censuses and other documents abound with examples of Jews
without true surnames. The Jewish penchant for nicknames which Bratu discusses so eloquently was
one source of this "non-surname surname." Beyond nicknames, however, many, many Jews listed in
the Romanian documents which I have seen bore no surname in our modern sense of the word.

At the start of the 19th century, Romania did not exist as an independent country, but was a colony of
the Ottoman Empire. I find it hard to imagine that this Muslim empire, with an Islamic
naming-tradition that follows the pattern of X ibn Y (X son of Y)--not unlike our Hebrew tradition of
X ben Y--would ask its Jews to abandon such a tradition themselves. Indeed, I have seen ample
evidence in Romanian historical documents concerning Jews, where the X ibn Y format is used
extensively among and for Jews, the only difference being the use of the Romanian-Yiddish word sin
instead of ibn (they mean the same thing). Even in cases where sin is dropped, the format still
followed the same pattern, or a variation of it, in a large percentage of cases.

Many, many documents from a century or more later (even though Romania had by then gained
independence from the Turks) retain the format. For example, my grandparents' marriage certificate
(1891) lists my grandmother as Feige Ruhla Itsig Avram, where her father's first name was Itsig and
HIS father's first name was Avram. My grandmother's maiden name as listed on her Canadian death
certificate, Eisenfeld, was never seen on any Romanian document...


VI. From the Rumanian SIG Newsletter, VOLUME 4, NUMBER 4 - SUMMER 1996:

Romanian synagogues....addresses
.........collected by Camelia Jimale

Here are the addresses of the synagogues in Romania. On my list, unfortunately, the postal codes are
not indicated. However, from my experience the letters reach the destinations nevertheless.

...

IASI
- Sinagoga Zisu Herman, str. Labirint 6;
- Sinagoga Merarilor, str. Labirint 13;
- Sinagoga Stolerilor, str. Cuza Voda 26;
- Sinagoga Mare, str. Sinagogilor 7;
- Sinagoga Cismarilor, str. Dr. Gherlerter 16;
- Sinagoga Kahane, str. Stefan cel Mare 38;
- Sinagoga Kantarschi, str. Gh. Dimitrov 17;
- Sinagoga Azil (Schor), str. Sf. Constantin 5;
- Sinagoga Pietrarilor, str. Ipsilante 26.
...

     
Children of MOSES SHALLER and EDIS are:
3. i.   LEAH3 HALEVI, b. Rumania; d. April 1937, Philadelphia, PA, USA.
4. ii.   MOLLIE HALEVI-SHALLER.
  iii.   DAUGHTER HALEVI-SHALLER.
  iv.   SON HALEVI-SHALLER.
  v.   ASHER ISAIAH HALEVI-SHALLER, b. Bet. 1849 - 1850, Gorlice/Gorlitza, Western Galicia (Poland), Austrian Empire; d. January 03, 1913, 13 Teveth 5672.
  Notes for ASHER ISAIAH HALEVI-SHALLER:


I. Translated portions of the Yiskor memorial book of Gorlice is at: <http://www.jewishgen.org/yizkor/gorlice.html>

In it, a chapter is called: 183 "The Wandering Adventure Author Asher Yeshehu Halevy". This is our cousin!!


  More About ASHER ISAIAH HALEVI-SHALLER:
Died 2: January 03, 1913, Calcutta, India

[ Home Page | First Page | Previous Page | Next Page | Last Page ]
Home | Help | About Us | Biography.com | HistoryChannel.com | Site Index | Terms of Service | PRIVACY
© 2009 Ancestry.com