The Journeys of Leah Rachel

To my knowledge, only four of my great-great-grandparents traveled from Europe to the United States. One of them, Abraham Joseph Ginsberg, a grandfather of my grandmother Mae Chapman Feinberg, moved back to Europe, where he died in 1929. Reuben and Chaya Rubinson, grandparents of my other grandmother Esther Rubinson Marcovis, settled in New York City, where they died in 1934 and 1923, respectively.

The other great-grandparent, Leah Rachel Reiss Leon, a grandmother of Grandpa Abe Marcovis, came to the US in 1886, returned to Romania, and came here for good in 1900. She died in Des Moines, Iowa, in 1913.

After a number of failed attempts to find her passenger records in ancestry.com, today I succeeded in finding both of her incoming passenger records, as well as the passenger record of Clara Leon and her eventual husband Aaron Marcovis.

"Leon" was actually the surname adopted by Leah's son Sol. In Roman, Romania, they were the family of Lev Shevach. Lev, we are told, was still alive when Leah Rachel, age 40, departed Hamburg, Germany, on November 6, 1886. With her on the Sprite to Liverpool and the Chicago, which arrived in New York November 20, were daughter Clara, age 17, and son Mutzer, or Muley, age 7. The surname out of Hamburg was "Schaffoch," but the New York passenger record said "Schaffock." The New York record also misstated the country of origin as Sweden. Both records listed the mother as simply "Rachel."

Clara would marry Aaron Marcovis, another Romanian Jew living in Des Moines, in 1888. Nothing more is known of Mutzer, except he must have been one of Leah Rachel's four deceased children as of the 1910 census.

Leah Rachel's second trip to America was in 1900. It was said that Lev had finally agreed to leave Romania but died before the time of departure. This time the passenger records for the Pretoria listed her as Lea Schewach, age 55, and with her was her daughter "Nutka" or "Butza," age 18. They left Hamburg on July 1 and arrived in New York July 14. This time, the New York record included the address of their destination, the Marcovis house at 770 9th St.

Nineteen days later, on August 2, 1900, Clara and Aaron Marcovis's first son was born. They would name him Leo, after Clara's recently deceased father.

The daughter "Nutka" or "Butza" would be known as Annie, and she would marry her first cousin Wolf Rise the next year. They, as well as Wolf's father (and Leah Rachel's brother) David Rise, are all buried at Glendale Cemetery in Des Moines. David Rise died in 1885, before Glendale was in use. It may be that his remains were brought from Romania. It may also be that he traveled to Des Moines and died before he could send for his family.

A photograph on display in the home of Clara's granddaughter Lois (Pellow) Beskind, may depict Leah Rachel.

The woman on the left looks similar to Clara in her wedding picture with Aaron. Thus, this could be, from left, Clara, Rachel Leah, young Annie, and another daughter taken before the 1886 journey. The daughter on the right would be another of the four deceased children as of the 1910 census.

Rubinson or Robinson?

A more recent blog, published in 2020, has a much more authoritative answer to this question.

One of the things that makes genealogy mind-boggling is trying to determine a family's "real" last name. This matter is of special concern to relatives of my maternal grandmother Esther Rubinson Marcovis (1902-1962).

Of Esther's four brothers, three changed Rubinson to Robinson. Only Milton "Mickey" Rubinson (1908-1969) stayed in sync with his father Maurice (1874-1963). Sam (1906-1992) and Ben (1910-1980) used "Robinson" once they married and moved out in the 1930s. Youngest brother Norton (1914-1998) used "Robinson" when he enlisted in 1942.

Were these first-generation Americans trying to downplay their Jewishness, or were they following the example of their grandfather, Rubin Robinson (1850-1934). Maurice's parents and siblings, residents of New York City, switched to "Robinson" sometime between the 1900 and 1910 censuses.

Rubin's only other known male relatives were the five sons of Eliyahu from the town of Pilviskiai, Lithuania. Four settled in Des Moines or Boone, Iowa, and kept "Rubinson." The fifth, Chaim Reuben of New York City (1861-1919), switched to "Robinson" in 1908, switched back to "Rubinson" in 1910, and switch to "Robinson" for good in the mid-1910s
.
How odd that the Des Moines family kept "Rubinson" but the New Yorkers did not.

It is important to understand that all these immigrants first used "Rubinson" in America. Had they originally used "Robinson," which sounds like "Rabinson," we might think they were descendants of a "rabin" or rabbi.

"Rubinson," however, simply means "son of Reuben." Reuben ("Re-u-ven" in Hebrew) was the firstborn son of Jacob in the Book of Genesis. Thus, it is fair to assume there was a Lithuanian Jew named Reuben whose sons were legally required to adopt a surname. In Jewish Lithuanian vital records, surnames became common in the 1820s. If these sons of Reuben were heads of households in the 1820s, this original Reuben may have lived most of his life in the late 1700s.

My ancestor Rubin (son of Benjamin) and his relative Chaim Reuben (son of Eliyahu) probably received their first name, as well as their surname, from the same deceased ancestor.

It is unfortunate the 19th Century vital records have never been found for Pilviskiai. Those birth, marriage and death records could have verified that my Rubinson ancestors were also from that town. The records might have also shown the exact relationship of the Benjamin and Eliyahu branches.

There does exist a 1908 Pilviskiai directory. It lists no "Rubinson," "Robinson" or "Rabinson," but it has listings for Berko Gilel Rubinovich and Shlema Shepshel Rubinovich. "Rubinovich" is a Russian surname that also means "son of Reuben." Considering that the town passed from Polish to Prussian control in 1795, to Napoleonic control in 1807, and to Russian control in 1915, it is no surprise to see a mix of Germanic and Russian surnames.

American immigrants from Pilviskiai can sometimes be identified by ship manifests and passport and naturalization documents. From those sources I found three Rubinovich brothers (Moses, Louis and Meyer, sons of Joseph) who lived in Chicago as "Rubin." Meyer used "Rabinovich" when he sailed to America.

The use of "Rubinovich," "Rabinovich" and "Rubin" by the same family teaches us that surnames were recognized by their meaning rather than their exact spelling. And because Pilviskiai had just 67 households in 1797, anyone with any variation of "son of Reuben" could be paternally related.

My mother was told her ancestors used something other than "Rubinson" or "Robinson" before immigrating to America. It is certainly possible they used a Russian version in Russia and a Germanic/English version once they left for the German ports en route to New York. What is more certain: It doesn't even matter.

Joe and Beth Ginsberg, Our Omaha Cousins

Joe and Beth Ginsberg in 1994

When Beth Bernstein Ginsberg died in February, she took many profound memories, both happy and sad, with her.

Beth (1926?-2015) was the widow of my father's cousin Joe Ginsberg (1919-2001). Joe was related on both sides of my father's family. Joe's mother Anna Feinberg Ginsberg (1891-1950) was my grandfather Max's only full sibling. Joe's father Hyman Ginsberg (1880-1972) was my grandmother Mae's maternal uncle.

As such, the Ginsbergs and Feinbergs were especially well acquainted. Joe and Beth were close friends of my Aunt Betty (1922-2014) and Uncle Jack Goodside (1918-2001). It's remarkable that Joe died about half a year after Jack and that Beth died about half a year after Betty.

Whereas Jack Goodside excelled at track, Joe was an All-City football lineman at North High School in Des Moines, where my father would play quarterback several years later. Joe later played football at Drake U. and U. Iowa. Dad described Joe as a "little bull of a man."

Dad also recalls that Joe was the "first draft registrant in Des Moines ... to volunteer for Army service." The record shows he enlisted in November 1940, over a year before the attack on Pearl Harbor. He left service as a First Lieutenant with a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star. According to his Omaha World Herald obituary, he enlisted "at the request of an Iowa judge who said that as a minority, Ginsberg would set an example for others to join up." The obituary noted that the Bronze Star was from the Battle of the Bulge.

Joe and Beth married in 1947. They moved to Omaha in the mid-1950s after briefly living in Davenport, Iowa. After initially working as a supervisor at a Hinky Dinky supermarket, he launched American Service Corporation, "sellers of innovative products," in 1964.

By that time, Beth had already started to make a name for herself as a dance instructor. Not her real name, but as Beth Gaynes. Beth, who had studied at the American Ballet Theatre School in New York, taught dance in Davenport and opened a dance studio in 1957 in Omaha's Center Mall. She ultimately advanced to the top of her profession, serving as national president of Dance Masters of America (1978-1980). The Omaha World Herald remembered her for choreographing the Omaha Press Club's annual show for "nearly three decades." This sign is from the 2013 auction of the studio's assets.

Joe was also well-noted for his work with young people. In a city famous for Boys' Town, he was a long-time youth advisor at Beth El Synagogue, Boy Scouts of America, and the Omaha Home for Boys.

When Dance Masters of America announced "Beth Gaynes'" passing, two of the comments understandably wished "prayers for her family." The well-wishers probably did not know that Joe and Beth's only son Joseph Alvin "Jay" Ginsberg (1959-1986) died long ago in a tragic accident.

Nor are there Bernstein nieces or nephews to pray for. Beth's older brother Seymour W. Bernstein (1916-1958) was still living with their mother when he died. Her other brother Benjamin Albin Bernstein (1919-1943), who listed his occupation as "actor" when he enlisted in 1942, died serving with the Air Force.

My dear cousin Jay died from a fall. His middle name Alvin was likely in memory of his late Uncle Albin, who most likely was shot down. The day Albin died, October 14, 1943, is known as "Black Thursday" because 600 Americans and other England-based allied airmen were lost on a mission to bomb a ball bearings factory at Schweinfurt, Germany.

Beth, Seymour and Albin's father, Joseph E. Bernstein (1889-1950), died one week before the end of the war in Europe. And sure enough, Beth's mother Pearl (1891-1977) died less than a year after Betty Goodside's mother.

Joe Ginsberg's family was almost equally star-crossed. One sibling was stillborn, and both Helen and Milton died in early childhood. Only brother Jerome "Jack" Ginsberg (1914-1965) and Joe reached adulthood. Jack's son Stanley M. Ginsberg is the only known descendant of Hyman and Anna Ginsberg.  Stanley, if you read this, I would like to meet you.

The Rohrlichs from Romania

This post is about relatives of my great-grandmother (mother's father's mother) Clara Marcovis, nee Schevach (1869-1944). In particular, it is about the descendants of Clara's first cousin, another Clara, who married Karl Rohrlich.

Clara's father was Leb Schevach. My great-uncle Leo Marcovis (1900-1983) must have been named after Leb, his maternal grandfather.

Leb Schevach was one of three known children of Avram and Leah Schevach. One must assume that my grandfather Abe Marcovis (1902-1997) and his cousin Abe Leon (1892-1918) were named after their great-grandfather. This Schevach family, as far as we know, lived in Roman, located in what now is the northeast, or Moldavian Region, of Romania.

To our knowledge, Leb Schevach had only two siblings. Of Isadore Schevach, we only know his name. Leb's sister Blima (d. 1928) married Avram Mark or Marcu, and they had two daughters, Liza and Clara.

Liza, whose husband Moritz Reiss was a maternal cousin of my Clara, died in Israel in the early 1950s. Their children, Beatriz, Theodor and Josefine, then moved from Israel to Sao Paolo, Brazil. Theodor's son Gerald earned a doctorate in electrical engineering from U.C. Berkeley and returned to Sao Paolo.

Clara Marcu married Karl Rohrlich. Schevach relative and family historian Harvey Leon (1914-2002) said Karl owned an olive oil factory. Their son Leon (1899-1979) carried on the olive oil business until the Communists seized his assets in 1948. Leon moved to Israel in 1964.

Little is known about their daughter Sylvia Rohrlich Samitca, who died in 1941, in her early 40s, from an failed operation.

Their other son, Berthold (1897-1943), died from a stroke while returning home by train from Bucharest. The family believed the presence of Nazi soldiers on the time may have contributed to the stroke. Berthold was survived by son Alexander (1922-2005?), whose mother Clementine died in childbirth. Both father and son filed claims of slave labor after the war.

Dr. Alexander Rohrlich

Alexander, whose Romanian nickname was Sandu, became a pediatrician. He met his wife, Bronja, when she worked in a hospital in Roman.

Sandu and Bronja applied for emigration in 1950, but were denied. They tried again in 1958. This time, a Communist official approved their application so he could take over their house.

After stops in Vienna and Amsterdam, they arrived in Israel in 1959. They first lived in a "settlement town" where Sandu cared for the children of poor immigrants from Arab countries. These children would be for them a substitute for the children they never had.

I was fortunate to meet them in their Tel Aviv apartment in 2001.

Prominent Shirttail Relatives

Karl Rohrlich's brother Egon practiced law in Vienna. Egon could not get out of Austria, and was killed at Sobibor concentration camp. Two sons, however, fled after the German annexation in 1938.

George F. Rohrlich (1914-1995) would receive a Ph.D. from Harvard, serve on General Douglas MacArthur's staff in Tokyo, and teach economics at Temple University in Philadelphia.

Fritz Rohrlich (1921 - ) would become a world leader in the field of Quantum Electrodynamics. Before joining Syracuse University, he taught from 1953 to 1963 at the University of Iowa, just 100 miles east of where Clara Marcovis had lived.

My Journey to Israel: 1972

One year ago, my niece and nephew took their first overseas trip on the 10-day Birthright tour to Israel. 36 years earlier, their mother went on the Des Moines Jewish Federation-subsidized 7-week high school summer tour in Israel. Over 40 years ago, I used a Federation scholarship to join the B'nai B'rith Youth Organization (BBYO) summer tour.

Our first tourist site that summer of 1972 was the entry hall of Lod Airport, whose walls bore the pock marks from a bloody terror attack about a month earlier. Luckily, that was my closest encounter with violence.

We stayed much of the time in Arab hotels in East Jerusalem. When there was free time, we walked through the Arab neighborhoods to go either to West Jerusalem or to the Old City.  If children were playing in the street, I stopped to kick a soccer ball with them.

On the left, my friend Samir,
working the family stall in the
Old City of Jerusalem

This was just five years after Israel reunited East and West Jerusalem in the 1967 Six Day War.

One of the hotel owners had a son, about 14, who mixed with our group whenever we returned from a tour. He called himself Moshe, but we called him Freddy Felafel. When he and I became close over the summer, he confessed his real name was Nasser. He hid his name so the American Jewish kids would accept him.

This hotel was a 15-minute walk to the Damascus Gate of the Old City. Inspired by a recent sermon by my congregational rabbi, I snuck off to visit the Western Wall at midnight on Shabbat. Hopelessly lost in the maze of dark, deserted alleys, a friendly Arab, arm wrapped tightly around my shoulder, showed me the way back to the gate.

Our trip included an extensive tour of Jewish sites in the West Bank. Our bus wandered freely through the occupied West Bank. There were no separate roads for Jews, and almost no Jewish settlements for them to lead to.

There also were no superhighways linking Jerusalem, Tel Aviv and Haifa. Buses going uphill to Jerusalem

Tel Aviv as seen from Jaffa in 1972

were very, very slow.

We visited some kibbutzim, but our main agricultural experience was on a moshav up north called Nahalal. It was the home of Moshe Dayan, the eye-patch wearing iconic Defense Minister of the 1967 war.

It was also the home of Israeli pop star Shula Chen (pronounced khen). It was to the Chen family that Maureen Gurner and I were assigned to clean the chicken coop. That week was also an opportunity to observe closely as a teenage boy worked the community milking machine.

Yoav Yosilevich with his par-
ents and little brother outside
their house in Yehud

One Shabbat I was assigned to an Israeli family with a son my age named Yoav. The Yosilevitch family lived in a small ranch house on a quiet street in Yehud, a town north of the airport. On Friday night, the mother lit candles inside the front door and served us peanut butter sandwiches. In those days,  Israelis had their main meal at midday.

Later we drove with his friends to a roadside snack bar.  It was Arab-owned, so it did not have to close for Shabbat. In the afternoon I played frisbee with the kids in the street.

Yoav practiced English speaking to me, and I practiced Hebrew speaking to him.  14 months later I would study the casualty list from the Yom Kippur War hoping to not see his name.

Feinbergs in Nebraska

While viewing the movie "Nebraska," about petty, gossipy, small-town residents of the Cornhusker State, I was forced to reckon with the fact that I am (ugh) half Nebraskan due to the fact my father Ted was born in Grand Island.

In 1909, my grandfather Max Feinberg, then 17 and living in Des Moines, began working in shoe stores, mostly for Sol Panor's Family Shoe Store. In 1917, Sol assigned Max to open and manage a "novelty" boot store in Lincoln, the Nebraska State Capital and home to the University of Nebraska.

The following January, Grandma Mae gave birth to twin girls. Only Helena survived, and almost 96 years later she is still surviving.

Max still managed for Panor in 1918. There was no Lincoln city directory in 1919. In 1920, Panor had a different manager and Max had his own shoe business. It must be during this transition that the Feinbergs lived in a small town, either in Nebraska or Missouri. As Ted remembered the story, the Ku Klux Klan warned Helena's baby sitter to stop working for Jews, who they were about to drive out. The baby sitter reported the incident, and the Feinbergs moved on.

In 1920, Max was now operating the C & F Shoe Store with his father-in-law Nathan Chapman, who moved his family from Centerville, Iowa. At the same time, Max was President of the Lincoln Shoe Co. at 1337 O St., two blocks over from C & F at 1107 O St. In 1921, Lincoln Shoe Co. was gone, and Max managed C & F, where brothers-in-law David and Jake Chapman were now working.

O St. is the main east-west road across Lincoln.

Around 1922, Max left the partnership, and Nathan and Jake ran C & F another two years. The Feinbergs now moved further west to Grand Island, where Betty was born in June 1922, followed by Ted in 1926. They, too, are still alive.

The Feinbergs lived here at 401 W. Charles St. in 1926.
It was at least their second residence in Grand Island.

For most of the Grand Island years, Max operated the Feinberg Novelty Boot Shop. Helena recalls that the store had a home-like atmosphere, with comfortable armchairs and sofas. The history book of Grand Island and Hall County (2007) has a 1927 photo of the block the store was on. The boot shop was wedged between Martin’s Department Store on the right and the Piggly Wiggly Store on the left.

The family lived comfortably at home as well. I visited the town in the 1990s and photographed two of the residences. Max, though never particularly religious, hosted High Holiday services, according to a newspaper article written years later.

Last of at least four Feinberg residences in Grand Island.
This "show house" is at 2212 W. Division.
David and Lenore Chapman also lived with them here in 1930.

His other religion was baseball, and he was one of the directors of the town's Nebraska League team. It was while driving to or from a road game when Max, with Ted sitting on his lap, swerved to avoid a head-on collision. He flung the door open, threw Ted out, and jumped out himself, but Grandma was still inside when the car stopped upside down in a corn field. She suffered internal injuries and several broken bones, was laid up two years, and never fully recovered.

Around 1933, Feinberg Novelty Boot Store became Feinberg Economy Shop, selling ladies ready-to-wear clothing and shoes.  Dad says it grew into a chain of nine small-town stores in Nebraska.

Then came the dust bowl, which drove him and much of Nebraska to bankruptcy. In August 1934, with less than $40 and a dog named Fritz, the family moved back to Des Moines.

With 17 years of retail experience acquired in Nebraska, Max was hired almost immediately by the Davidson family to work in their "Boston Store," first as salesman, then as manager. About three years later, with $50 loans from brothers-in-law Dave Matulef and Leo Schutzbank, Max acquired a grocery and was once more self-employed.

"Foot" Note: When Nebraska comes to mind the first thing many people think of is University of Nebraska football. Dad told me that his uncle Dave Chapman (1897-1949) was the first NU freshman to play first string. I found a web site (huskermax.com) that has all the rosters, and from 1914 through 1923 there was nobody named Chapman.

Reconstructing Rose Rothschild

Three steps up my maternal lineage is my great-grandmother Emma Robinson, nee Rothschild. Emma was one of 9 children born to Moses and Sheyna (Kahano) Rotshild in Virbalis, Lithuania.

One of Emma's sons, my great-uncle Sam Robinson, wrote a family history that helped me rather easily learn about the six Rothschild brothers.

The history was less helpful with regard to her two sisters.  The older sister, name unknown, was the only child who stayed behind. The other sister was Rose: “Mom’s baby sister passed away from cancer many years back.”

The older sister turned up in recently translated Virbalis death records, which included the names of both parents. Rachel Grinstein was born in 1875 and died of influenza in 1939.

Finding Rose should have been easier. I knew her first name and she came to America. My first break came from Agnes Rothschild (1903-2003), whose father-in-law Sol was one of the six brothers. Agnes seemed to have good memory when I met her in 1998.

Agnes believed that Rose was married once or twice. The last husband, Aaron Rosenberg, was at least ten years younger than Rose.  "He caused her a lot of grief." They married in the 1920s or early 1930s. He did movie work, perhaps script writing or crane operating. Rose would have died under the name Rosenberg. She had no children.

It made sense the Rose would have lived in Los Angeles near her brothers Sol, Clarence and Abe. I searched county marriage indexes for a Rosenberg groom, preferably named Aaron, and a "suitable" bride, but nothing caught my eye.

My second break came from the computerized California death index, now online and free. Searching for maiden name Rothschild, I discovered Rose Farber, 1884-1949, whose mother's maiden name was Kahn (close enough to Kahano). This was a sure hit. The death certificate confirmed she died of cancer, which spread from her right breast to her spine despite the doctor operating on her in 1946. She was a widow who operated a children's clothing business.

After stating that the deceased lived in Los Angeles, the certificate said she had lived "in this place" four years. Perhaps she only moved to Los Angeles to have the support of her brothers during treatment. She moved to 2667 S. La Brea in 1945.

So who was this Mr. Farber who predeceased Rose? What was his first name? Did he work in the motion picture industry? Searching for Mrs. Rose Rothschild Farber in the Los Angeles marriage records, newspaper announcements and voter registration lists was just as futile as searching for Mrs. Rose Rothschild Rosenberg.

The best lead appeared to be a weak one. The Los Angeles Times carried an announcement of Morris Farber's marriage to an older woman named Rose. The date was May 10, 1933. Bride Rose Ettelson was 43.  Our mysterious aunt Rose was at least 48.

With no other trace of either Rose Farber or Rose Ettelson, my next step was to request the social security application of the Rose Farber who died in 1949 . It showed that in 1944 she lived in University City, Missouri. She was already a widow.

"U City," as I knew it while attending Washington University, is part of St. Louis County, which is separate from St. Louis City. County directories listed Rose M. Farber in outlying Chesterfield from 1941 through 1946. If this was our Rose, she could have moved to Los Angeles in 1945 after the 1946 directory had been prepared.

I still did not know if the Rose Farber of the 1940s was the Rose Ettleson Farber of the 1930s. At first, searches for Rose Ettelson turned up several women, but the results did not reveal maiden names or places of origin.  Ancestry, however, keeps adding new information, so in July 2012 I tried again. This time I found the 1931 naturalization record of Rose Ettelson, born 1884 in "Wirbalen, Poland" (German version of Virbalis), immigrated via London, England, and Port Huron, Michigan, in 1913, childless, and widow of Solomon of "Kebarte," present-day Kybartai, Lithuania, three kilometers west of Virbalis.

This was the record that broke open the dam. When Solomon arrived in New York, his destination was A. (Abe) Rothschild, who was still in Des Moines. From 1916 to 1922, Solomon and Rose lived in Canton, Ohio, where he was a cattle dealer, cattle buyer and butcher. Rose's brother Phil also lived in Canton until he died from the influenza epidemic in 1919.

Soloman Ettelman died in Los Angeles in 1927. As noted, Rose would marry Morris Farber six years later, but their years together remain a mystery. Though the 1940 census is now fully indexed, they are not found unless one considers a married restaurant manager who lived apart from his wife on Vine Street. About that time, the Los Angeles Times reported Morris Farber, a caterer living at that address, was charged with serving putrid chicken at a banquet of the Jewish Welfare Center. Was this an example of the "grief" Agnes said he caused Rose?

Rose was interred above ground at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery.