The Flaum Family: from Prussia to America

 

The Flaum Family History:

A “Reader’s Digest Version” . . . .

 

 

In my second and final edition of the Flaum family history I decided to continue the format of telling each individual or family’s story as completely as I could, based upon the facts as I had been able to discover them.   I also wanted to try and tie things together a bit – in the form of some sort of chronological narrative.

 

 What follows is an attempt to do just that; in putting together this family tale, I tried to stick to the facts as I know them to be and include as few logical suppositions or educated guesses as possible.  The biographical stories of each family or individual that come later in this book will tell each person’s story in greater detail.

 

For some readers this may be more information about their family history than they care to know; for me, it is the fulfillment of a personal commitment to honor my family, and pass their stories along to future generations.

 

 

The Story:

 

The Flaum family in America can trace its beginnings back to the day that Karl Wilhem Flaum and his family arrived in Baltimore, Maryland from Germany.  It was Thursday, October 17, 1888 to be exact, when the family landed at the immigration dock at Locust Point in Baltimore harbor on board a decidedly old steamer, the S.S. Donau after a 10 day transatlantic crossing that began in Bremerhaven, Germany.

 

Karl Flaum was a 47 year old ironworker, who came to America in the hope of a better life for himself and his family: wife Henrietta, a 37 year old mother of three and 8 months pregnant, daughter, Wilhemina, 18, and two young sons, Wilhelm, 4, and little Herman, just three.  A second Flaum family traveled with them: Karl’s brother, Frederich, his wife, and four children.

 

Karl’s family traveled light – only two suitcases – but could not afford to travel in style: their shipboard accommodations in steerage were long on discomfort and short on privacy and cleanliness, but it was the cheapest and fastest way to come to America. One thing the family did not bring with them were the stories of their past; the events and facts concerning Karl’s illegitimate birth to Friedrich Schoen and his mother, and the entire family history were left behind.

 

The two Flaum families were actually the last in a four family migration that had begun 7 years earlier, and followed a common pattern of families emigrating from Germany during the 19^th century:  one family member would be sent to America, get a decent paying job to earn the money to send back to Germany to bring another over, and little by little the entire family would be brought to America.

 

The Flaum family’s first steps on American soil were taken in a long line of immigrants going through customs and medical inspections in the Baltimore immigration center. By the time Karl and his family passed their inspections and were officially allowed to enter the country, they were saddened by the news that someone in Friedrich’s family had failed the medical exam and was denied entry; his entire family had decided to return to Germany rather than be split apart.  For one branch of the Flaum family their opportunity to begin a new life in America was over before it had begun.  They re-boarded the “Donau” and sailed back to Germany, never to return.

 

For Karl and his family It was but a short walk from the immigration center to one of the B&O trains waiting on the tracks next door; their new life in America began with a 24 hour journey north to what would become their new home in America: Cleveland, Ohio.

 

It was Friday evening when the train carrying the Flaums to Cleveland  pulled into the large brick B&O station on Cleveland’s west side, in the area known as the Flats today.  There to greet them were several anxious and expectant members of the Schoen, Haske, and Dunkel families, the relatives who had preceded the Flaums to America over the last seven years, and whose combined earnings had paid for the two Flaum families’ passage.

 

There were hugs, tears, and cries of “Willkommen zu Amerika!” that greeted Karl and his family as they stepped off the train.  Brief bits of family news were quickly shared, to be discussed in more detail over the next few hours:  “Where are Friedrich and his family?”  “Sailing back to Germany, because they did not pass the medical inspections”, came the reply.   The disappointment over Friedrich’s family was accepted, and the relief of having Karl and his family safely in America became the focus of conversation as the families walked the few blocks between the train station and Fourth Street, where the Flaums would live, on the same block as their relatives.

 

Karl could not read the advertising signs along Canal Road as the families walked to their new home, but his eyes, nose and ears told him much about the area of Cleveland they were in.  The tall brick smokestacks and chimneys in every direction belched a sooty black smoke that clouded the air and hung heavy with the smells of iron, coal, paint varnish, beer and animal slaughterhouses. Their first home in America – in Cleveland’s most polluted industrial area - was all that any of the families could afford, even after 7 years of toil.

 

It was pitch dark by the time that the families turned onto Fourth Street, and little could be seen under the flickering lights of the gas street lamps, whose feeble flames could not penetrate the heavy shroud of night.  Near the end of their street, at a small wooden frame house that could not hide its need of paint or repair even in the dark, it was barely possible to see a small group of people gathered on the front porch, dimly illuminated by a single gas lamp.

 

At the approach of the walkers, a cry from the porch called out: “Karl, Henrietta, seid ihr hier”?   “Ja, wir sind hier” came the reply, and for the next two hours the little house at #35 Fourth Street was alive with the heavy familiar accents of their old homeland, as stories, anecdotes and heartfelt reminisces were shared among young and old. 

 

Soon there was beer in buckets, carried fresh and frothy from a saloon just down Canal Street, shared with  toasts offered to “Gott im Himmel” for the safe voyage, and for the chance to start life anew in Amerika. There was a hearty, melancholy toast to old Friedrich Schoen, Karl’s father, who had helped earn the passage fare for those that emigrated, but died before he could join them.  When the hour grew late and the conversation wearied, it was time for bed.  Tomorrow would be the Flaum family’s first day in their new life.

 

Ludwig Haske was Karl Flaum’s brother-in-law by marriage to Karl’s half-sister, Augusta Schoen.  At 5:30 am on Saturday, October 19^th, Ludwig knocked softly on the front door of #35 Fourth Street.  A moment later Karl stepped outside onto the wooden porch, carrying his lunch and a small leather bag which held the tools of his trade.  He had been an ironworker back in Germany, and would be one in America as well; by his hammer he would forge a better life for his family.  Ludwig found Karl his first job in America at the foundry where he also worked; for the next 40 years their friendship would remain as strong as the iron and steel they hammered.

 

Exactly one month after the Flaum family arrived in America, Karl’s third son, Ferdinand was born at home on Saturday, the 17^th of November, 1888.  He was named in honor of Karl’s half brother, Ferdinand Schoen, who had come to America with his family only five months earlier.  Little Ferdinand was baptized on December 9^th at Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church on Bolivar Street, just up the hill in downtown Cleveland, where many German immigrants living in the Flats attended church.  The witnesses were the baby’s uncle Ferdinand Schoen, aunts Auguste Haske & Louise Dunkel, and his sister, Wilhemina Flaum.

 

Life soon settled into predictable routines for each member of the families living on Fourth Street; for the men, it was work - six days a week, 12 hours a day: Karl & Ludwig Haske at a foundry, Ferdinand Schoen as a carpenter, and Herman Dunkel as a bricklayer.

 

Their wives were kept busy raising their children:  Henrietta Flaum now had three young sons, Carrie Schoen had three children before 1890, then four more between 1892 and 1899.  Her last child was a son, born on November 5, 1899; he was named Carl Wilhelm in honor of his uncle.  Augusta Haske had a daughter, with only Louise Dunkel a childless, but a helpful aunt.  If taking care of children was all they did, they would have been busy enough, but the daily duties, necessities and chores of that era demanded nearly every moment of time in a day.  Life was hard, and hardest of all on the women.

 

By the spring of 1891 little had changed for the four families, except for the fact that Henrietta Flaum was expecting another child, and her daughter, Wilhemina – “Mina”, had met a young man, Otto Hallig, who was a bartender at a saloon nearby on Water Street.  Mina was not yet twenty, but marriage to Otto was very much in her plans.

 

Monday, April 20^th marked the start of another work week for Karl; he left home early, knowing that his wife’s baby was due at any time, but that his daughter and step sisters were there to watch over Henrietta and the children.  By late morning Henrietta was in labor, and a mid-wife was sent for; when there were signs that her delivery would be especially difficult, a doctor was summoned, and word was sent to the foundry for Karl to hurry home.

 

Whether Karl got home before the doctor is unknown, but by the time 20 year old Dr. Gustav Feil arrived, Henrietta was dead of a heart attack suffered during her delivery.  Her unborn child lay forever still within her womb; the family’s expected joy had become great sorrow.   A simple funeral at the home for family and friends was followed by Henrietta’s burial in the Erie Street Cemetery, just around the corner from Zion Church.  The family could not afford even the simplest of gravestones; her grave remains unmarked to this day.

 

For the Flaum family, the loss of a mother with three young sons meant that Mina and her aunts would take on the responsibilities of raising seven year old Wilhelm, six year old Herman, and two year old Ferdinand.  Mina’s plans to marry Otto Hallig would not be delayed for long, however.

 

Karl Flaum wasted little time in providing a new mother for his young sons, and freeing his daughter to pursue her own dreams.  On December 31^st Karl married Carrie Preuss, a widow who lived just a few houses down the same street as Karl. 

 

Their marriage was followed by the wedding of Wilhemina and Otto Hallig on Dec. 4, 1892, at the Flaum family home.  It was the first real Flaum wedding in America, as far as a family celebration was concerned.  All the Flaums, Schoens, Haskes and Dunkels were at the party that Karl gave for his only daughter and her husband. 

 

In the pursuit of their own dreams, Otto and Mina moved up and out of the Flats. The young couple headed to the eastern most part of what was a rapidly growing city, where Cleveland city ordinances were less restrictive on the sale of beer on Sunday.  They soon were operating two saloons located just north and east of the city limits at Wilson Avenue.  Business was good in an area where many German immigrants were settling.

 

It did not take long for the newest branch of the Flaum family tree to bear fruit; in December of 1893, Mina and Otto had a son, and named him Henry Carl Hallig.  Perhaps it was the desire to be near his first grandson, or maybe it was because he was earning just enough money to afford something better – or both – but by the Spring of 1894 Karl had moved his family to the east side of Cleveland into a rented house on Gallup Street, not far from the Hallig family.  Although Karl was now 53 years old, he also took a job at Hydraulic Pressed Steel, where he would work for another 23 years!

 

In the spring of 1895, a daughter, Lillian was born to Mina and Otto.  As their families grew, the desire to improve their living conditions led each family to move to a series of residences.  By 1902 all four families had vacated the Flats.  The Flaum, Haske and Dunkel families had moved east, and all three lived in homes on Amelia Street [later re-named East 67^th Street], while the Ferdinand Schoen family moved west into the Tremont district, which overlooked the Flats.  Karl’s other half-brother, Carl August Schoen, had left Cleveland 5 years earlier, and moved his family to Detroit in search of a better job; family ties forged in the old country were no longer as strong.

 

There might have been several reasons behind this separation between the Schoens and the other three families, but the most obvious might have been economic.  Ferdinand Schoen was a carpenter, and eventually became a construction foreman, which suggests that his job was too good to leave the area around the Flats, where he was likely employed.  Karl Flaum and Ludwig Haske found employment together as ironworkers in one of several foundries on the east side of town, while Herman Dunkel was a bricklayer, and could find work most anywhere in the city.

 

The turn of a new century brought changes to the Flaum family.  Karl’s two oldest sons, Wilhelm and Herman, ended their public school education after their 8^th grade year.  By the year 1899 both found employment in metal foundries, where 16 year old Wilhelm was a mould maker, and 15 year old Herman was a stovemounter.

 

In late March of 1902, Karl’s son-law, Otto Hallig was stricken with a severe case of erysipelas, a highly lethal streptococcus infection; after three days of intense suffering, he died only a week after his 40^th birthday.  Otto & Mina had done very well in the saloon business during their all too brief life together, operating two saloons and saving a sizeable amount of money for a future that never came.  Otto’s death placed a great burden on Mina’s shoulders, and her family helped as best they could.  Her brother, Wilhelm worked as a bartender in the Hallig saloon on Quincy Street.

 

Young widow Hallig did her best for her children and family; she sold one saloon, and in 1903 purchased a small home for her father on Amelia Street, where the Haske and Dunkel families also lived.

 

In the early spring of 1905, love blossomed for 20 year old Herman Flaum; in March he married 18 year old Minnie Krajewski, just arrived from Finckenstein, Poland. Their wedded union came none too soon, as a son was born on August 23rd of that same year.  While the little boy was named in honor of his grandfather, a page had been turned in the family history; old German names had been Americanized: their son was named Charles William instead of Karl Wilhelm.

 

Mina Hallig was but 30 years old; as a widow with two young children, and a business to run, she kept an eye open for a chance to better herself.  In 1905, she married 34 year old Andrew Weber.  Their union may have been as much a business merger as a marriage: he was a successful manager of a bottling plant for the Beltz Brewery – Mina likely sold the beer he bottled in her saloon. 

 

Andrew Weber was a man on the upward move; he earned good money, dabbled in real estate, and had good connections in the city’s thriving brewery industry.  Andrew Weber was also two things that all of the men in the Flaum, Schoen, Haske, and Dunkel families were not: he was a naturalized U.S. citizen, and a Roman Catholic. 

 

Mina’s brother, Wilhem tried to follow Andrew Weber’s path to success in America by becoming a naturalized citizen on October 24^th of 1905; from that day forward, Wilhem became “Bill” to all but the older members of his family.  About that same year, Karl retired from working at the Hydraulic Pressed Steel factory; he was 64, and had worked in foundries for 50 years.

 

The marriage of Mina Hallig to Andrew Weber soon added two new children to Karl’s rapidly growing brood of grandchildren; Rose Margaretha was born in 1907, followed by Helene Henrietta in 1908.  Bill Flaum married Elsie Schoenfeld in 1907, and a son, Harry was born later that same summer.   Herman & Minnie Flaum also had a daughter, Lillian that year.  For Karl, it was three new grandchildren in one year! 

 

Both of Karl’s oldest sons struggled to provide for their young growing families; each family had to live with Karl in the little house on East 67^th to help make ends meet for a year or so.

 

In 1908 the new Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church building opened its doors at the corner of Sterling [30^th] and Prospect streets on Cleveland’s eastern border.  The altar piece from the old church on Bolivar Street had been moved into the new sanctuary, but the rest of the church was largely the product of the skills of its German congregation: carpenter Ferdinand Schoen, iron workers, Karl Flaum & Ludwig Haske, and bricklayer Herman Dunkel helped create a suitable place of worship for the church’s nearly 4,000 members.

 

In the fall of 1910 the hard reality of life in the early 20^th century hit home once more.  Mina Weber was rushed to the Womens’ Surgery Center at Canfield White Hospital for an operation on her uterus; four days after her operation, she was dead of a massive hemorrhage.  Her loss was felt the most by her children.  Her oldest, Henry and Lillian, were now without either of their birth parents, while little Rose & Helene had lost a mother they would remember only in a picture or two.  Henry Hallig chafed under the stern hand of his catholic step-father, and at 16, he left home for good.

 

At age 70, Karl went back to work with Ludwig Haske at the foundry, while his younger half-brother, 40 year old Ferdinand Schoen, was now a carpenters’ foreman, working and still living in the Tremont district of the city.  The Schoen family no longer saw as much of the Flaum, Haske and Dunkel families; when Zion church had re-located to the eastern part of the city, the Schoen family had joined Immanuel Lutheran church, just a few blocks from their home.

 

Many families have one particular month in their family history in which an inordinate number of events – births, marriages, deaths, etc seem to have occurred.  For the Flaum family, that month was easily the month of April; in the year 1913, it was an especially bad month.

 

On Tuesday, April 12^th, Herman Dunkel fell from a ladder at work, suffering a broken neck and paralysis.  Five days later he was dead.  If the death of his good friend and brother-in-law was not enough, Karl’s wife, Carrie, suffering from kidney disease, took a turn for the worst, and died in the little house on East 67^th Street, just two days after Herman Dunkel was laid to rest in Lutheran Cemetery.

 

The rest of 1913 ended the way the year began; in November a tremendous, deadly blizzard buried the city for days.  The news outside Cleveland was not much better, as the gathering storm clouds of events in Europe made war seem a certainty. 

 

By 1914 Europe was in a war that for many Americans brought mixed emotions.  German-American families like the Flaums struggled over the question of loyalty to “the Fatherland” or to America; it pulled each generation in different directions. 

By 1917, the war clouds had reached America: Karl Flaum was forced to register as an “enemy alien”, while his sons William, Herman, [a new father to Herman Jr.] and Ferdinand [now “Fred”] registered for the military draft.  When his youngest son, Fred, and his grandson, Henry Hallig both joined the army and went “over there” to fight the “Huns” 1918, one can only wonder what old Karl had to say.

 

The war years were difficult ones for German-Americans in Cleveland.  Many things German were considered unpatriotic: German cultural celebrations were frowned upon, some German street names were changed, German language newspapers censored, and the Ohio State Legislature banned the teaching of the German language in all elementary schools. 

 

The war’s end saw Fred Flaum safely home; Karl’s grandson, Henry Hallig returned safely from the war as well, but did not come home.  He moved to Fargo, North Dakota, became a butcher, married, and lived the rest of his brief life in that state.

 

In 1918 prohibition became federal law; the manufacture, distribution and consumption of beer, wine and booze was banned by Jan. 1, 1920.  Like the millions of other Americans who opposed it, the Flaum, Haske, Schoen and Weber families each found ways to cope with the new law of the land. 

 

There had been over 1,200 legal saloons, taverns and biergartens in Cleveland before 1918.  During the prohibition years, Clevelanders illegally toasted their shared reputation as one of the most law-breaking cities in the U.S. when it came to illegal alcohol manufacture & consumption.  Prohibition agents estimated that there were 3,000 illegal “speakeasies” in Cleveland, and over 100,000 Clevelanders who made and consumed their own personal beer and wine.

 

 Herman Flaum learned to make wine, beer bottler Andrew Weber started bottling soda pop, and lifetime beer drinkers like Karl Flaum and Ludwig Haske were left to find illegal sources of beer and schnapps, and undoubtedly they did!  Karl Flaum did not live to see the repeal of prohibition, but family stories tell of his love of schnapps until the end of his days.

 

The “Roaring Twenties” had their share of important events in the Flaum family.  The family tree grew even larger still, as Fred Flaum married Rose Hanzlik in 1920, and had two daughters, Dorothy, [1923] and Rita [1929] to add to Karl’s list of grandchildren, which had grown to ten in number.  Karl’s first great-grandchildren were also born just before the “Twenties” began to roar: his granddaughter, Lillian Hallig’s marriage to Raymond Rosenberry produced two sons, Raymond [1917] and Robert [1921].  His grandson, Charles and his wife, Amelia Schmidt, added two more great-grandchildren, Charles [1927] and Betty [1929] born by the end of the decade. 

 

The year 1927 was one of great change for the Flaum family, as Karl left the home on East 67^th Street that he had lived in for over twenty years.  At the age of 85 his health was failing, so he moved into the new home that his son, Fred had built on 117^th Street in Garfield Heights. There was also one less member in Karl’s generation as well; his step sister, Louise Dunkel died of stomach cancer at age 75 in August of 1927.

 

In his little bedroom just off the kitchen, Karl spent his final years, quietly reading his German language newspaper, the “Waechter Und Anzieger”, smoking  cigars, sipping illegal schnapps, and taking occasional short walks.  In April of 1930, less than a week before his 89^th birthday, Karl died of kidney failure and prostate cancer.  His old friend, Ludwig Haske was among those who came to the family home to pay their respects.

 

Karl was in many ways a man of an earlier century, born at a time and in a place so very different from the world he knew in America.

 

Like the steadfast Prussian soldier he once had been, Karl labored a lifetime to fulfill his duties to his family, remained loyal to his German heritage, and took the stories of his past to his grave.