Our Family Tree: Chapter 3 - The Sommer/Baginski Family
This is the third chapter of a handwritten book by my great-grandaunt, Jo Baginski. It covers her paternal branch, the Sommer family, mostly of Heinrich Sommer and his son, Edward Baginski.
By Johanna Helene Baginski (Linked names open FamilySearch in a new tab; Places in Wikipedia)
One very, very cold winter night, there was a deep, deep snow and ice. Suddenly there were slinky, dark shadows along the picket fence around the Sommer house. The two farm dogs raced madly round and round the house whelping in freight, for it was a large pack of wolves that had come down from the nearby forest in search of food. The low picket fence would not long keep them out, and soon several of the bravest leaped over and were followed by more. The dogs were terrified. They realized that they were no match for that large pack. They howled and jumped up against the door and windows, hoping to rouse someone. Suddenly the door flew open, and out leaped three young men yelling to the dogs to join them. They were the Sommer boys, Fritz, Herman, and Johann. The dogs were over joyed to see them and turned in rushed at the wolves with gnashing teeth. The three boys fell upon the pack beating them with clubs and yelling fiercely. In a short time, they had chased him out of the yard and back into the forest. “Yes,” great grandpa Heinrich would say, “those great Onkels of mine were as brave and fearless and Hercules.”
He was especially proud of his great uncle Johann, who was the hero of the family. He was so strong he could lift up 4 bushels of peas, carry them out, and come back for more. Pa’s favorite story was the one about a fight with the robbers in the forest.
Every autumn, Onkel Johann would take a wagon load of produce to the city of Königsberg to sell. It always took 3 days, one day each way and one day selling in town. He carried the money he got in a belt around his waist. On this trip, he stopped about noon to rest himself and his weary horses on the way home. While eating his lunch, 2 rather dirty men came along and asked him for a lift partway. He really didn’t like the looks of them, but then (as great grandpa would say_ men didn’t shave or wash as often in those days, and besides, Onkel Johann was certainly not afraid of anyone, so he agreed. But as they rode farther into the forest, they suddenly began to beat him with clubs and fists, yelling, “Geld Oder Lebeen“ (Money or your life). Onkel Johann grabbed one by the collar with his left hand and reached for the other with his right. Just then, this one gave him such a blow with his club that Onkel fell from the wagon and was almost unconscious for a moment. But he held on tight to the first man who had fallen off with him. Onkel took him by the throat, and they lay there. All of this confusion and noise frightened the horses so they started to run off, dragging the wagons so that the second robber fell off too and landed near Onkel, who grabbed him by the throat also and began knocking their heads together and choking them so that they could hardly breathe and begged him for mercy. Onkel leaped up and beat them both till they begged, “Um Gotteswilleu." He left off for a moment, and without even a farewell, those two robbers took off back through the woods and soon disappeared. Then Onkel turned to get his wagon, but the horses and wagon were gone. After whistling and calling in vain, he started to walk home. At least he was all right, and his money was safe. It was very late, after midnight, when he reached his house to find, to his joy, that the horses had arrived safely at the farm about two hours earlier. So all ended well, with Onkel Johann a great hero again!
My great-grandfather, Heinrich Sommer, was born in Friedland in 1802. So he was about 10 or so with the French and Russian armies met near that town. There were several battles fought in that neighborhood, and they said the last battle was fought right in Friedland. Grossvater [Grandfather] Heinrich, as my father called him, said he could well remember that battle and the terrible, loud “Schlactdonner” (battle thunder) as the fight raged around Friedland and Eylau. [The Battles of Eylau and Friedland were in 1907] All that long time “when the French came was a hard, bad time for the people in Ost Preussen. As they live not far from the Russian border, this region became very important to both sides. First, a Russian regiment would suddenly arrive, and all hussars were quartered in the farm houses. When they finally marched off, almost immediately, a French troop would come in and stay to rest up. So the Germans were at the mercy of both enemies, who were both arrogant and indifferent to the people. Both sides took whatever they wanted, without paying, of course: horses, supplies, food, tools, anything. And woe to anyone who complained or objected, or resisted in any fashion. Like in all wars, Grandpa Heinrich used to tell Pa and his cousins that the French were not quite as nasty as the Russians. Several times, one of the French soldiers would put him up on his horse and ride him around. He said, “our history books also told us that the French are our ‘Erbfeinde’” (inherited enemies), but he could remember older people saying they’d rather have the French than the Russians quartered on them anytime.
Here is one of the great grandpa’s tails I especially enjoyed also about that brave Onkel Johann. That whole winter, the village was full of enemies, one time the “Rohthosen” (red pants) Russian, next Napoleon’s Grenadiers, back-and-forth, everything getting scarce and worse, including tempers. One day Onkel Johann’s temper got the best of him when he came into his house to find a French corporal, a gallant Frenchman, paying court to his wife. That was the last straw and in a few moments, that Frenchman lay on the floor with a terrible nosebleed, two eyes closed, and a cut cheek. He was beaten so badly that a few days later, when this regiment marched off, he had to be carried in an ambulance. Onkel’s wife was, of course, terrified as her husband would surely be violently punished for daring to lay a hand on a soldier of France. She made him go to the shed in the backyard in which they had stacked a huge heap of firewood, under which was a hidden, secret cellar, full of potatoes. They got the wood off, and she made him go down into the cellar, then piled all the wood back on. The soldiers searched and search for that guilty German but finally had to march off without finding him. Then she’ll let him out of the seller, but he was so frozen and starved, he could hardly stand. She got him into the big “Himmelbett” with a bowl of bacon and peas. It was over 12 hours before he was able to get up and walk. He had hardly recovered when they got news that another French regiment was coming, and they might have orders to search for him. So back down into the cellar again. These troops had hardly left when they were followed by the “Rohlbens” [sp?] When these finally left, they took great grossvater’s oldest brother, Gottfried, with them to show them shortcuts to other villages. He was about 14 or 15. It was quite a time before he managed to escape and get back home.
For many generations, the Sommer family lived in this section of East Prussia. Many of our relatives lived in a circle of five or 6 miles in every direction from Friedland, where in 1802, my great-grandfather Heinrich Sommer was born. Our relatives had very close family ties, and every Christmas, Easter, and many Sundays, great numbers of them would gather at one house or another to celebrate. Very often, this would be at my great-grandfather’s place as he liked to have an open house, and everyone was always welcome there. He was an even-tempered, very popular man and known as a fun storyteller, always ready with many lively, exciting tales on many topics besides his family anecdotes. He loved adventure tales, historical, Indian lore, etc. After he served his three years military service in Konigsberg, he came back to help on his father’s farm. In 1825, his son, my grandfather Edward, was born. Very soon after this, he and his wife separated. She returned to her parents, leaving the tiny infant with his father. However, Heinrich’s mother took the baby and raised him with great love and care for several years. In the meantime, Heinrich gave in to his father's wishes and married the daughter of a well-to-do neighboring farmer: Christina Schliemann. She brought him what was considered a fine dowry: 200 Preuscher Tahler, a one-horned cow, 6 sheep, several pigs, and various household goods. This was called the bride’s “Mittgift.” The slide joke in the family was how could he resist that one-horned cow. (Whenever Pa told me about it, it used to puzzle me, for I pictured it as a sort of unicorn) Grossmutter Christina, as Pa called her, was a very determined, firm woman and soon had gentle great grandpa “under eire pantofflen” (under her slipper or henpecked). She suddenly insisted that little Edward must come and live with her and his dad. His grandmother protested and wanted to keep her darling grandson, but Christina, as usual, won. He didn’t want to go either and always said how thankful he was that he had had those early years with his grandmother and so learned what real love was. This does not mean that his stepmother was unkind to him, but he said she believed firmly that to spare the rod would spoil the child, and no one could ever accuse her of spoiling any child, neither him nor his 4 half-sisters and 1 brother. However, she insisted that he be registered in his mother’s maiden name so her sons could be the Sommer boys. As usual, to keep peace, Heinrich gave in to her, and so my grandpa was registered as Edward Baginski. But often, as the years went by, he would say he was going to have it legally changed to Sommer, but somehow he never quite got to it. (I am sure because of Christina) She and great-grandpa had five children, four daughters, and one son. Of course, they are my dear aunts and uncle. He called them Tante Jettchen, Lottchen, Minnchen, and Malchen and Onkel Fritz.
When great-grandpa Heinrich was about 40 years old, he sold his share of his inheritance because he was appointed to a very important position by the nobleman Der Barone, overlord of all the surrounding land. This Barone, who lived in a palace in Prauerschitten, owned and controlled vast stretches of land all of this section of East Prussia, for this was still the time of real serfdom for farm workers. With the exception of the independent farmer who owned their land, all other farms belonged to him, not through purchase but because of rank. Therefore all people on his farms had to obey him, work for him, serve him as ordered, turn over all crops to him. No one could leave that farm, marry, or do anything without his permission or that of one of his stewards. He appointed great grandpa Heinrich a steward or overseer. “Hofhalter” was his title. This was a fine position, for under his direct supervision was everyone working on any of the Barone’s farms in a district lying around 6 towns. Great Grandfather kept all accounts, bookkeeping, gave orders, divided the work, and once a month paid the very small wages to all the farmers, herdsmen, shepherds, dairymen, swine herds, helpers, etc. Many of the single workers live near grandpa’s in Prauerschitten. They came to his house every day for two meals, which his wife, Christina, and his daughters cooked and served with the help of two or three maids. These workers had to be on the fields by 4 AM. At 6 AM, a bell was wrong, and they came in for breakfast which consisted of little variety, always a soup, oatmeal, or barley, “mehlsuppe” in Milich. The men sat on the bench around the table, and in front of each one was a huge black bread (baked every 2 weeks) from which each man cut as much as he wished with his pocket knife. when no one was around, Pa and his cousins would roll these loaves around the room. They were so hard, not even the crust broke. At noon, the main meal, they were served heaps of potatoes or dumplings, meat. Always on Sundays, a special treat like “plum kiekle.” (plum balls?) My father adored his grandpa Heinrich and spent most of his free time there. Bartenstein was about 2 miles from Prauerschitten, and that was nothing to walk in those days. His grandpa was never too busy or too cross to stop and tell him stories or to take him for a walk through the woods and fields around. Henrik knew the names of all the plants and birds and insects, so he was a wonderful companion for a boy. He loved to read and knew stories from Shakespeare, American authors, and German authors. This is surprising in an age when people had little education in all land. Great-grandfather kept this position of Hofhalter till late in his life. He got along very well with the farm people and with the noble Barone. However, he resigned suddenly because he objected to some orders from the Barone, which he considered too harsh and unfair to the farmers. The Barone was so furious that anyone would dare to disagree with a nobleman that he let Heinrich go without giving him a pension, as was the custom after so many years. Great-grandpa was too proud to go and ask for it, so he had to move out of his big house and spent his last rather unhappy years living in the house of his oldest daughter, Tante Jettchen and her husband, Skoen, the schoolmaster of the district in Bartenstein.
Pa said he always remembered the last time he saw his beloved grandfather. He was already bedridden, and Pa went to say goodbye to him as he was leaving next day to go on his wanderschaft. (1879, I think) Grandpa held his hand tightly and said “Richard, vergesse niche für den alte Heinrich zu beten.” “Richard, don’t forget to say a prayer for old Heinrich.”
Our Family Tree
This was a handwritten book by my Great Grandaunt, Jo Baginski.
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