Sepia Saturday 300: Images of the Deceased

Sepia Saturday - A weekly meme providing a visual prompt for participants to share their own photographs. (I'm going to share some poetry as well.)

It is thought that this image may be an example of a Post-Mortem photograph, where at least one of the individuals is deceased. An appropriate image as we are in the month of October and Halloween. The boy and man both look as if this might be the case.

I don't have any post-mortem photographs, but the feeling one gets seeing images of the dead reminds me of the images I saw in French Children of the Holocaust, by Serge Klarsfeld, 1996. (The book can be viewed online.)

A publication of Jewish children deported from France (very many of which were not French nationals, but earlier refugees from elsewhere in Europe). The book includes alphabetical lists of children by convoy, indicating surname, forename, birthdate, birthplace, assembly center, convoy number, deportation date, and last address in France, followed by a photographic section featuring portraits and other information on many of the children. There are two indexes, a general name index to the deportation lists and an name index to the photograph section.

Ida CANTKERT was born on October 14, 1927, in Paris (12th arr.). She lived at 20 rue Basfroi (11th arr.). She was deported on convoy 68 of February 10, 1944, with her sisters Frida, age 4, and Suzanne, 8, and her brother Paul, 10.

***

It is possible that I am related distantly to Ida and her siblings. My second great grandmother, Rose Cantkert Newmark, came from Warka, Poland, on the outskirts of Warsaw. The deportation lists indicate that Ida and her siblings were born in Paris. But there is no indication of where her parents were born.

Excerpt from: Mid-Term Break - by Seamus Heaney (1939-2013)

I sat all morning in the college sick bay
Counting bells knelling classes to a close.
At two o'clock our neighbours drove me home.

In the porch I met my father crying—
He had always taken funerals in his stride—
And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.

The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram
When I came in, and I was embarrassed
By old men standing up to shake my hand

And tell me they were 'sorry for my trouble'.
Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,
Away at school, as my mother held my hand

[full poem]

Sepia Saturday 299: Candy is Dandy

Sepia Saturday - A weekly meme providing a visual prompt for participants to share their own photographs. (I'm going to share some poetry as well.)

Excerpt from: Reflections on Ice-Breaking, by Ogden Nash (1902-1971)

Candy
Is Dandy...

Everyone is familiar with the last two lines, right? If not, follow the link.

This week's image prompt is an advertisement for Wampole's Preparation, which was marketed as a tastier way to deliver cod liver oil. (Cod liver oil has a high vitamin-D content, which is useful in preventing Rickets.) In addition to the cod liver oil, the 'preparation' contained 12% alcohol.

Today's parents might receive a visit from Social Services if they regularly gave their child alcohol-based tonics.

Today, October 2nd, marks one year since my wife and I sat in a courtroom and promised a judge that we would continue to love and care for our two twin boys, always and forever. They had been living with us many months, but it was on this date that the judge finally removed the adjective 'foster' from our relationship, and we legally became their parents, and they became our sons.

Here are a few photographs. I promise they are drinking apple juice in the first one. One thing the images illustrate is how my wife and I like to dress them in 'coordinating, but not matching' outfits. It helps to be able to tell them apart.



A Flight Shot, by Maurice Thompson (1844-1901)

We were twin brothers, tall and hale,
Glad wanderers over hill and dale.

We stood within the twilight shade
Of pines that rimmed a Southern glade.

He said: “Let’s settle, if we can,
Which of us is the stronger man.

“We’ll try a flight shot, high and good,
Across the green glade toward the wood.”

And so we bent in sheer delight
Our old yew bows with all our might.

Our long keen shafts, drawn to the head,
Were poised a moment ere they sped.

As we leaned back a breath of air
Mingled the brown locks of our hair.

We loosed. As one our bow-cords rang,      
As one away our arrows sprang.

Away they sprang; the wind of June
Thrilled to their softly whistled tune.

We watched their flight, and saw them strike
Deep in the ground slantwise alike,      

So far away that they might pass
For two thin straws of broom-sedge grass!

Then arm in arm we doubting went
To find whose shaft was farthest sent,

Each fearing in his loving heart      
That brother’s shaft had fallen short.

But who could tell by such a plan
Which of us was the stronger man?

There at the margin of the wood,
Side by side our arrows stood,      

Their red cock-feathers wing and wing,
Their amber nocks still quivering,

Their points deep-planted where they fell
An inch apart and parallel!

We clasped each other’s hands; said he,      
“Twin champions of the world are we!”

Sepia Saturday 298: Spaniels; Hungary; Carl Sandburg; and 18

Sepia Saturday - A weekly meme providing a visual prompt for participants to share their own photographs. (I'm going to share poetry as well. Follow the links for the complete poems.)

This week's image prompt was taken in 1931 outside the Vanderbilt mansion. It shows two daughters of Gloria Vanderbilt and Count László Széchenyi, along with two dogs. The dogs aren't named, and I haven't been able to verify if they belonged to the Széchenyi family. They are almost certainly English Springer Spaniels, a breed with which I am very familiar, as I grew up with several.

From left to right below: Daisy (half Springer, half Poodle); Molly; Benny


Excerpt from: "The Two Dogs," Robert Burns (1759-1796)

’TWAS in that place o’ Scotland’s isle
That bears the name o’ auld King Coil,
Upon a bonnie day in June,
When wearin’ thro’ the afternoon,
Twa dogs, that were na thrang at hame,
Forgather’d ance upon a time.

Count László Széchenyi (1879-1938) was Hungary's first minister to the United States. My maternal grandfather, Martin Deutsch, was born in Hungary. (The town in which he was born is now part of Romania.) I visited a few of the villages of my Transylvanian ancestors back in 2012.

Below are:
1) My grandfather's birthplace. 2012. (Varalmas, Hungary; Almasu, Romania)
2) The building my great grandmother, Helen (Lichtman) Deutsch grew up in. 2012. (Margitta, Hungary; Marghita, Romania.) It served as a home, and a place of business for her family. A different family now lives there.
3) The Lichtman leather shop in earlier days. (My grandfather emigrated with his family in 1913 at the age of six. Several Lichtman relatives remained in Hungary, and of those who did, there were only a handful of Holocaust survivors.)





Excerpt from: The People, Yes, Carl Sandburg, 1936.



Now that I have returned us to the Vanderbilts, I could end the post, as I don't have any connections to the Vanderbilts to discuss.  (I do have a fourth cousin who shares initials with, and has been on a date with a Vanderbilt descendant, but I don't usually blog about living people. So I'll just link to the Entertainment Weekly article.)

I also have a difficult time ignoring the number '18' inscribed on the image prompt. It is a meaningful number in Hebrew mysticism. In Hebrew the letters of the alphabet are associated with numbers, similar to as if we said A=1 and B=2. The Hebrew number for 18, חי, is also the word 'Chai,' meaning 'life.'

Here's a photograph of myself, age 8, after receiving a 'Chai' necklace for a birthday gift.

Sepia Saturday 297: Washing Lines

Sepia Saturday - A weekly meme providing a visual prompt for participants to share their own photographs. (I'm going to share some poetry as well. Follow the links for the complete poems.)

From "The World Transformed"
by John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892)

UNWARMED by any sunset light
The gray day darkened into night,
A night made hoary with the swarm
And whirl-dance of the blinding storm,
As zigzag, wavering to and fro,
Crossed and recrossed the wingëd snow:
And ere the early bedtime came
The white drift piled the window-frame,
And through the glass the clothes-line posts
Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.

From "Jerusalem" by Yehuda Amichai (1924-2000)

On a roof in the Old City
laundry hanging in the late afternoon sunlight

***
I noticed this week's image comes from the Missouri State Archives. I also recalled seeing washing lines in photographs from the 1908 report bythe Civic League of St. Louis on the housing conditions in the Carr Square tenements.

I have several ancestors who lived in or very near to the neighborhood, before and after the report.

Here's one of the said images:

I'm not entirely sure how the washing lines between the buildings worked. I'm guessing there was a pulley system.

Here's a photograph of my great grandmother, Margaret (Denyer) Vanevery. She is outside of her El Paso, Texas home. I believe a washboard can be seen leaning against the house. It was probably taken in the early 1920s. Evva (or Evelyn), the photographer, mailed it to her sister, Myrtle, my grandmother. Myrtle moved to St. Louis in 1920. Margaret died in 1923.

Sepia Saturday 210: Do You See What I See?

I haven't participated in SepiaSaturday since May, but I thought I would return to the meme. They provide a weekly prompt for bloggers to search through their files of old photographs.

Many of us will have experienced the joy of discovering a precious old photograph tucked away within the pages of a dusty old volume. Now is your opportunity to share such discoveries, or, if you prefer, share your photographic discoveries whether they were found in a bound volume of Shakespeare or in an old shoebox.

My mind returns to the photograph on the left. I didn't discover it in a 'dusty old volume.' I discovered it in a digitized newspaper article. The article doesn't identify the individuals beyond the neighborhood - Little Jerusalem, St. Louis, Missouri, 1900. I had two great-great grandfathers who owned a second hand store at that time. I wondered if it could be the Cruvant family. The few photographs I do have of the family aren't conclusive either way. But the facial similarities are intriguing. At the time, the presence of a baby made the identification less likely.

Since I last posted about this photograph, I have figured out who the baby could be, if it is the Cruvant family. Fannie Cruvand, the daughter of Ben and Pearl (Grossberg) Cruvand, was born July 1, 1900. Ben was the nephew of my second great grandfather. According to the census, they lived at 1125 North 12th street, whereas my second great grandfather lived at 1111 Morgan street. Looking at old maps they weren't far from each other. In that case, the mother in the photo could be Fannie's mother, Pearl, or my second great grandmother. Of course, they could still also be a completely different family. My mind could certainly be only seeing similarities it wants to see, and ignoring crucial differences.

To be more certain either way, I would need a known photograph of my second great grandfather closer to 1900. A childhood photograph of Sol could also be helpful.

Sepia Saturday: Cancer and Cats

The theme photograph for this week's Sepia Saturday is to the left - a machine that dispensed lit cigarettes. I instantly thought of the collage I created several years ago containing a photograph from my paternal grandparents' honeymoon, a cigarette my grandmother probably received for her 17th birthday, and lines from both of their death certificates.

One would think with everything we know today about cigarettes, no one would smoke. But alas, that isn't the case.

On a lighter note, the theme picture features "Black Cat" cigarettes, so I also thought about this photograph of my maternal grandmother, and an unnamed companion:

While my wife and I both grew up in 'dog families,' we now have two black cats of our own.

Group Photographs

I recommended the photo for this week's Sepia Saturday prompt. It comes from the Harry Truman Library - and I found it browsing through the Missouri Digital Heritage website. It's an unusual group photo. Most group photos are from the front, but here we get to see everyone's backs, as they pose for a more traditional photograph in front of the press. The photograph was taken on July 17, 1945, the day after the atom bomb was tested in New Mexico. Truman had written on the back of the photograph, "This is the place I told Stalin about the Atom bomb, which was exploded July 16, 1945 in New Mexico. He didn't realize what I was talking about! HST"

I've shared a few large group photos here in the past.

This group photo of the St. Louis Post Office Inspectors and Office Force from 1935 came with a caption identifying everyone, which I transcribed here. Both of my maternal grandparents are in the photo.

This photograph, unfortunately, had no such caption. It's the 1924 Confirmation Class for B'nai El Temple. The youth in the front row, second from the right, with a thin white box drawn around him is my paternal grandfather, Melvin Newmark, age 12.

Here, however, is a photograph I haven't shared. The National Beekeepers Association meeting from 1906. I found this in Gleanings in Bee Culture, Volume 35, 1907, pp. 34-35.


The images can be enlarged, or one can follow the link for an ever larger look. Everyone was given a piece of paper with a number on it to hold, and the caption below identifies everyone by number. Unfortunately, #83, "E. Van Every," didn't make certain the piece of paper was visible to the camera, so I am uncertain who showed up to represent the Van Every family.

Either the caption is in error, and it should read "M.E. Van Every" for my great grandfather, Melvin Elijah. Or his fourteen year old daughter, Evelyn/Evva, represented the family. There are some young women in the photo, so it's possible. I've sent the photograph to some cousins, but haven't yet received any positive or negative identification. I do have a photograph of Melvin, shown below with his wife, Margaret. I don't see a clear match for him in the group above.

Water, Water, Every Where

The prompt for this week's Sepia Saturday contains, among other things, a body of water. So I thought I would share some photographs in my collection involving oceans and lakes. Some of these I have shared previously, others are new to this blog

Here's a photograph of my four paternal great-grandparents, on a vacation together. They were good friends prior to their children getting married. Barney and Bertha (Cruvant) Newmark are on the left, and Herman and Annie (Blatt) Feinstein are on the right. The year was 1947, they were in Miami, FL, and family lore states that while the Feinstein surname caused them enough difficulties with the area hotels in that year, as the vacation progressed, and my great grandfather's tan grew darker and darker, their difficulties are said to have grown.

Here's some photographs of the children of the above four, ten years earlier in 1937. My paternal grandparents Melvin and Sissie (Feinstein) Newmark. They are on their honeymoon in the Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri.

Here are my maternal grandparents, also on their honeymoon in 1937. Martin and Myrtle (Van Every) Deutsch. The water isn't visible in this photograph, though it is clear they are on a boat. They are in Mexico. The beginning of the phrase on the boat reads: "Soy del nino" which translates to "I am the child." I can't read the rest.

And finally, here is a photograph of my wife and me last year, on our honeymoon.

Clockwise: How does one define that word?

This post has very little to do with genealogy. However, readers may still find it interesting.

As everyone learns when they are young, "clockwise," refers to the direction the hands of a clock turn.

But what if the direction the hands of the clock turn depended upon the clock? I'm not referencing the novelty wristwatches marketed by Disney with pitcures of Goofy on them. They are intentionally 'goofy.'

As some may recall, back in July of last year I blogged about a clock tower in Prague, at the Jewish community center next to the Altneu Synagogue, where the hands go "Counter-Clockwise," and have been doing so since 1586. Which, as I mentioned, doesn't make sense linguistically. For that clock, 'clockwise,' is different.

I purchased a wristwatch while in Prague which is modeled after the Altneu Clock-tower. The time on the wristwatch shown is approximately 4:22. (My wife and I were married on April 22nd last year. Prague was our honeymoon. It's not a coincidence that I took the photo at that time.)

The direction of the clock has no relationship to the direction of the written language. Arabic is right-to-left, just like Hebrew. And it is probably Arabic numerals on the watch of most individuals reading this post. Watches and clocks that actually have Roman numerals don't turn in the opposite direction. Apparently, after some research, I have discovered that clocks were originally designed to imitate sundials. Interestingly, sundial movement is different in the Northern and Southern hemispheres, and if clocks had originally been designed in the Southern hemisphere, the usual definition of 'clock-wise' would likely be inverted.

Clocks and watches in Israel all run clockwise. (I shouldn't say "All," but Israel was another stop on our honeymoon, and I did look for watches there that ran counter-clockwise, and found none. I've also looked online since our return, without success. The Altneu wristwatch appears to be unique. And, for what it's worth, I've only seen Altneu-styled watches available online at auction sites such as Ebay. If you can't find it at an auction site, it appears you currently have to go to Prague.)

So - the clock tower in Prague - why does it do that?

Well, the person who designed the clock tower is deceased. (You may recall I mentioned above that it was built in 1586.) I am unaware of any record of his intent. There are actually two clocks on the tower, and the other one does have Roman numerals. Maybe the designer did decide, incorrectly, that the direction should be based on the written language. It's certainly possible Arabic numerals weren't in common usage on clocks in 16th century Prague. Perhaps the designer wanted the Hebrew clock to be 'different' as a metaphor for the community. Lots of possibilities.

Since I am submitting this for this week's SepiaSaturday meme (the soldier in the pic is wearing a watch), I should probably include a photograph more than 12 months old. Here's a photograph/postcard of "The Alt-Neu Synagogue and the Jewish community house," courtesy of the Yad Vashem Photo Archive. You can see both clocks; the Hebrew clock is the lower of the two.

Yad Vashem doesn't put a date on it, but some other sites with the same postcard state it is from 1890. If I were able to identify the motorcar in the photograph, I might be able to be more certain about the date.

Top Photographs - ©2012 John Newmark.

Barrels; Bee Boxes; Bridges

The prompt at SepiaSaturday this week contains a lot of snow, a man with a white beard, an overcoat, a lamp post, barrels, houses, a fence, a shovel, and hats. A lot of different things for the mind to focus on.

While my family's ancestors have lived in the Midwest since the late 1800s, I don't have a lot of winter-time photographs, except more recent ones, and I have a policy on my blog of not sharing photographs of living people without their permission. The final caveat, and the fact I am often too lazy to ask for permission, results with the one major exception to the rule being photographs of myself. (I am great at giving myself permission.)

This photograph, however, wasn't taken during the winter. It was taken in August of 1973 in Williamsburg, Virginia. It looks like I am having a barrel of fun, doesn't it?

Maybe I'm thinking to myself, "If I click my red shoes together, will I find myself at home?"

I'm also wearing a tricorne hat approximately 15 years before I would develop literary Francophilia. A 1988 production of Les Miserables led me to read more of Hugo, and then follow him up with Baudelaire, Moliere, and Montaigne. I haven't been the same since.

This photograph reminded me of a photograph I had shared in the past.

That isn't a barrel the young girl is standing on. That's a bee box. My assumption is that she knew the bees were asleep, or the boxes were empty.

The girl might be my grandmother, Myrtle Van Every, who was born in 1900. The young lady on the right might be her sister, Minnie (16 years separated them in age), or their mother, Margaret. The apiary almost definitely belonged to my great grandfather, Melvin Van Every, and if he had a daughter of the age of the girl in the photo, they were still living in Caldwell County, Texas.

***

I do have a couple winter-time photographs to share, though to my knowledge they contain no kin. The Missouri History Museum recently shared a photograph on their Pinterest Board which caused me to do a double-take.

Source: collections.mohistory.org via Missouri on Pinterest

The photograph is from February, 1905.

The Mississippi River had frozen solid, forming a bridge of ice from one side to the other.

The lady isn't the only one crossing the river; you can see a line of people in the background.

This may be another view of the same ice gorge:

Source: Courtesy of the Missouri State Archives.

Sepia Saturday 162

Through my post last Wednesday, a commenter introduced me to Sepia Saturday.

Every week they post an old photograph, and participants are supposed to use it as a prompt and reflect upon an old photograph (or photographs) from their collection that in some way correspond(s) to a theme associated with the original.

I like the challenge of finding a photographic companion to their prompt. I can see that I am occasionally going to have to get a bit creative. At least they give previews for the following two weeks, which gives some time to allow the creative juices to flow.

I know one question in some reader's mind: Wait, it isn't Saturday yet!
I am posting this at midnight GMT. While it is six hours earlier where I am, the host of Sepia Saturday and several participants are "across the pond." Several participants are likely to have jumped in even earlier. Even though I posted on Wednesday last week, I was still the sixth participant.

Here's this week's photographic prompt:

Here's my response:

This is a photograph of my maternal grandfather, Martin Deutsch, from 1972, when he was 65. I was 3 years old at the time, so while I've seen pictures, I never knew him as a younger man. That's the way it is with grandfathers. However, he was very active. Not only did he ride bicycles, he lifted weights, bowled, jogged in circles around his basement, and in the winter shoveled snow.

Here's a photograph of him from 1942, during his war service. He was stationed in the Middle East and Africa.

A jeep isn't too much different from a bicycle. Both are 'open air' modes of transport. Different number of wheels. 

In both of my photographs, there are trees, and grass. Something noticeably absent from the prompt.

Workday Wednesday: Cruvant's Toggery - East St. Louis

Below is a photograph of my second great uncle, David Cruvant, inside his store, Cruvant's Toggery, in East St. Louis. David was the brother of my great grandmother, Bertha (Cruvant) Newmark

If you click on the photo, you can see a larger version.

A toggery is an old term for a clothing store.

Photo: Circa 1910-1920

We're uncertain what year exactly this was. According to East St. Louis City Directories, in 1907 David and his father, Morris, had a shoe store. In 1912 they had a "Clothing, Shoes, and Fur" store. (Morris actually died in 1911, but his name appeared in the 1912 directory.) In 1920, it was still a clothing store, but by 1924, it had become a pawn shop. None of the directories provide a name for the store, but they appear to narrow the date of the photograph down to a period of about 10-15 years.

Update: Following a suggestion in the comments, I have also submitted this post to Sepia Saturday 161