My Ingrisch Family I Came to Know
A genealogical journey.

by Jody McKim Pharr

With great joy I share the story with you, about the Ingrisch family I came to know . . .

     The memories I have of my family is at Brookhaven, an area of Atlanta where my Grandmother Katie lived.  The house in Brookhaven was built by my Great Uncle John Engrisch built while he was married to his 2nd wife Ruby Reynolds who had died on her front porch 19 May 1953 after returning from the garden.  Soon after Rudy died Grandmother who had been living in her own house on Lookout Ave, in NE Atlanta, moved in with Uncle John.  Grandmother's oldest daughter (my Aunt) Frances and her daughter Anne Little Allen lived with them and Grandmothers youngest brother Great Uncle Charley lived there too.      

     In 1998, I retired from Skip Tracing, I decided to go to Europe.  My Grandmother's family history had always intrigued me, because I knew NOTHING about them except they were from Hungary.  I thought this may be a great opportunity to visit the archives in Hungary and locate our ancestors, and Budapest the capital sounded like a great place to visit.   So in January of 1999 I booked our flights, it was set I was going in March 1999.

     About this time my Great Aunt Margaret (Engrisch) Stephens passed away, she was such a sweet lady who always had a smile on her face.  At the funeral I mentioned to some cousins I was going to Hungary in search of information and to see the old country and if anyone had information, please inform me.  No one had any additional information, just they were German-Catholics from Austria-Hungary.

      With not much time left to prepare before the trip, I began to ask my Mother questions and she recalled Grandmother talking about where they last lived, a place pronounced Tem-e-shaw.  I couldn't find it on a current map, so I visited the library and on an old gazetteer located a city that was close in spelling "Temeswar."  Further research I discovered the name had changed to Timisoara and was no longer in the country of Hungary, but now in Romania!  With one week before departure there was no way to change my destination. Just days before the trip I bought my first computer but lacked internet skills which would have enabled me to prepare for a genealogical adventure properly. 

     March of 1999, I left for Europe.  It was a very long flight, a day stop over in Zurich (a very liberal place) and then went on to Budapest, a beautiful and wonderful place to see! I inquired about traveling into Romania and everyone advised not to go, especially without a guide who could translate. Even so, I had to go -into the unknown.  My Grandmother's homeland was a four hour train ride away and I had my sights on Temeswar/Timisoara.
 
      On our 5th day, we left Budapest by train to Romania, it was a clear day & extremely cold. 

Budapest Train Station - a marvelous old building.

     The first hour seemed to go by fast, then time began to drag.  I didn’t know where I was going or what to expect when I arrived.  The countryside of the southeastern Hungary is absolutely beautiful.  Neither words nor pictures can truly describe it.  I ran my video cam almost the entire time.  
 
     As the train hurried down the track my eyes stared out the window, as the empty fields, horse-drawn wagons, ducks and small villages whizzed by.  As we approached the border,  the sound of the train seem to get louder, ca-chug-a-chug... ca-chug-a-chug, and then the brakes went on and the whistle blew.   I could see the border patrol with rifles strapped to their sides. 
 
     Several Romanian police rushed into the train cars.  They searched everywhere, asked us how much money I had, checked my bags and looked under the seats.  For cast-a-ways? For drugs?   I could not understand a word they said.  They finally left and returned to their post.
 
     After the border fright....we moved on into Romania.  All of a sudden the scenery changed.  Do you recall the photos of Kosovo?  Romania is similar in many areas.  Unlike the charming villages we passed in Hungary, the villages I was now seeing were old and run down.  It was absolutely sad and I cried as I saw this.  Wondering what my mother would think if she was there to see this, better yet Grandmother. 

    To us, it seemed to be a chaotic place.  There I was on foot, crossing a four-lane streets with no traffic lights, dodging cars and racing across the street with luggage.  It was cold as ____.  I could find no one who spoke English, and began to feel scared.  I have been a lot of places & seen a lot of things but this place had me worried.
 
     I approached by a ruthless looking man who spoke gibberish English...he was a taxi driver.  I managed to understand Temeswar (Timisoara) was about an hour away and he could drive me there.  Great, now I'm getting somewhere.   This turned out to be a ride from ____! This man did not know the words "SLOW DOWN" and there were no speed limit signs. He was all over the road.  I got a lot closer to the Lord during that ordeal...
 
     As a child, we didn't have much and we knew hard times, but this would have been a very hard existence to bare.   I thought of my Great Grandparents who once lived in Banat and how we here in the US we take so much for granite.  Believe me, we do have so much to be grateful for.   
 
     As we approached a city, I looked up into the sky and there was an iron sign scrolled "TIMISOARA” spanning across the  four-lane highway.  We were almost there!  To what, I would soon find out.   The streets we drove through were almost like ghettos.  In a moments flash the driver stopped and hollered, "get out!" – “Where are we?” I asked... and no one spoke English.  He pointed to another taxi driver.  Oh great here I go again, on another joy ride.
 
     Everything that was going through my mind during these moments brought to mind how the Ingrisch family came to the US to have a better way of life for themselves and their children.  Who crossed their homelands by wagons, trains and then across the ocean by steamship - traveling with hundreds of other people in steerage!  So I guess our minor adventure was nothing compared to what they endured. 
 
     Feeling abandoned in the middle of the ghettos, eventually I accepted a ride with another taxi driver, who didn't speak English at all!   By this time I began to feel a little discouraged.   As we rode down the streets I watched for anything that looked official, like an American Embassy.

     I finally spied what looked to be a police department & told the driver to stop.  I got out with luggage in both hands and looked stranded, worn out and hungry, as I was.   There were people standing all around staring at us.  I attempted to communicate with them, someone said "wait - just wait." 

     After standing there lost for a while, along came two Latter Day Saints Missionary boys.  I was sure glad to see them.  They were from the US and said they were as glad to see me, an American also!  As there were not that many Americans there to chat with.  They took me to their nearby apartment for refreshments and to rest, then around the town to find a Hotel.  These two young men who came to my rescue, were the first of many gene-angel blessings sent my way during this trip.
 
     After checking into the Continental Hotel (don’t go there),  I dropped my bags and freshened up and decided to find a place to eat.  On my way out I stopped at the concierge desk and asked for their local telephone book & looked up the last name "Ingrisch" and there were 2 listings.  The concierge made the calls for me. The first # was disc.  The second number a lady answered and said to call back in the evening when 'the man of the house' was home.
 
     After dinner a taxi to drive me around a while, -taxi fare was inexpensive. I was a little nervous about meeting possible distant relatives but I couldn't stand the wait, so I had the cabby drive me to one of the Ingrisch addresses.  A very nice home and the property gate was close to the street.  Most of the homes had little property but they had a very nice sized yard.  Looking at the house was not enough for me,  I had make contact and see who answered; I had to look into the eyes of a an 'Ingrisch!'
 
     While the taxi waited, I rang the bell at the gate near the street.  Momentarily a very handsome man professionally dressed came out.  After announcing who I was, etc, he immediately said "Oh yes, we heard about your telephone call this afternoon, come in"  - With a big smile on my face I entered their home.  The man paid the taxi driver and sent him away. 
 
     I immediately was greeted by the lady of the house, Eugenia Ingrisch who began hugging me.  She was crying and speaking Romanian, but I couldn't understand a word she said. Her husband "Josef Ingrisch" spoke German and neither spoke English.  But again as before with the missionary boys, I were blessed again with those who could speak English.  The gentleman, Alex Ingrisch who had greeted me at the gate did speak English. He & his wife Gutwein had just flown in that day from Germany where they live.
 
     They invited me to sit at a “very” large table and the lady brought out fresh made apple strudel and home made wine & Turkish coffee...it was very strong.   They seemed to be as glad to see me as we were to see them.  I was a stranger and they took me in, we all cried.  I only knew one grandparent, Grandmother Katie.  When she died in 1992, at age 98, I felt as though my roots were severed.  But at that moment for some strange reason, I felt at home, like I belonged.
 
     Most of us in America are 1st or 2nd generation Americans.  Like me, some of you reading this may not know your family history, I was about to learn about mine.  For me, at that moment I couldn't have been at more peace.  I wished my mother could have been there to experience it with me first hand.
 
     This family said their Great Grandfather had a brother who left for the US & never returned and never heard from him again.  Said he was a cabinetmaker, like my Great Grand Father.  They told me the history of the Banat Region and about it's ethnic German Donauschwabens.   The Ingrisch family came to this region called "Banat" in Austria-Hungary during the 1700's from Germany and other areas traveling down the Danube River, thus getting their name "Danube Swabian."   The Ingrisch family had lived in the Village of Mercydorf about 20 minutes away.  We planned to go there the next day.
 
     The Ingrisch family spoke of the hardships they endured through the years of World War 2, as they ethnic Germans who did not comply with Hitler, were shipped off to labor camps.  They told us how they lost everything to the State of Romania, even the homes that had been in the families for years.  That means the state of Romania owned everything until 1989 when Nicolae Ceausescu, 1918-1989 Communist official who was leader of Romania from 1965 was overthrown and assassinated in the Romanian Revolution in December 1989.  I won’t attempt to repeat everything he said because during those moments "facts" were not on sticking in my mind.  Unfortunately afterwards I wished I had paid more attention to him and took notes.  

     They were shocked I knew nothing about the history of Banat, saying to me “You don’t know your history?”  - I was embarrassed and ignorant, as I was.  But in my defense, my family were told to assimilate the American customs and not speak of the old country and we certainly were not taught about this forgotten people, the Donauschwabens of Banat in Austria-Hungary. 

     That night they drove me around town and took me to a better Hotel, close to their home, the Perla Hotel.  Thank God, another blessing. 
 
     Oh by the way 'this particular night' was the same night the air strikes started in Belgrade, about 50 miles just south from Timisoara.  I was so excited that night, the events in Belgrade was the farthest thing on my mind. Yeah I was scared, but if I died that night I would have died happy.
 
      I was about to embark on a dream, to see the village of my Great Grandfather's birth.  I realized that night how small the world really is.  And sometimes we can't see the forest for the trees.  We get so caught up in the details of the every day that we never think about what it was like for our families who came to America to leave the ones “they left behind.”   Parents, children and friends who they would never see again.  I know that had to be heart wrenching.  Imagine now, leaving your parents, children and friends to go to a foreign country, knowing you will NEVER see those people again.  I am not sure I could do it.  Maybe that is why Martin Ingrisch forbid his children to talk about the old country, could be to make it easier to move forward with their new lives. 
 
     My visit to Mercydorf was a memorable one.  My discoveries were enlightening not only for ancestral facts but also for self-discovery.
 
     We traveled to the "Village of Mercydorf" leaving the main highway to a less traveled road.  We had to drive through another village called Sankt Andreas.  The anticipation grew and I pondered thoughts of my Grandmother passing on this same road when she was a child.  I tried to imagine how it was through her eyes of a young girl.
 
     It was very cold that day just as it may have been on any day in Grandmothers life.  I wondered if they rode a train into town, as we passed over a train track.  Or maybe she rode in a horse drawn wagon like the one we had passed or did she have to walk.
 
     As we entered Mercydorf the first thing I spotted saw was a Stork perched in her nest atop a chimney.  Storks do exist after all!  Something I've never seen before.  The village was quaint & very well maintained.  I was told, Mercydorf was once a thriving German village but was now occupied mostly by Romanians who lives hand to mouth. 
 
     Most of the houses still had the German family names etched atop the house.  I could not believe how these engravings still exist after all these years.  They took us to a house where once stood an  "Ingrisch" house" where they Grandfather had lived.  The last Ingrisch family who lived there returned to Germany in the late 1980's after the revolution.  The new home owner allowed us to look around and take pictures.  The original water well still stood.  The grape vineyard, the courtyard and gardens reminded me of Grandmothers I played in as a child in Brookhaven. 
 
     Before leaving on my trip, I had asked my Mother what she'd like me to bring her back, she replied "dirt" from the land of her Mother.  What better place to get it from than an Ingrisch yard.  The current owner overheard my speaking of my Mom's request and he scooped up a bag full of dirt.  Mom was shocked! 
 
     We visited the Mercydorf Cemetery and located 2 Ingrisch graves.  I know there were many overlooked because the cemetery was rather large.  There were graves dating back to the 1700's.
 
     The grounds keeper (a kind man and his wife, Mr. Minich) opened up the Mercydorf Catholic Church.  It was built in 1737 and still looked great.   Hand painted ceilings and murals crowned the church.   They lit the candles and allowed me to take pictures.  In one of the conversations I had with Grandmother, I asked what special thing she recalled about the old country, she said the Church, it was the most important part if their lives.  

     I have learned "Kirchweih" (consecration of the church) the largest holiday of the year.  Already the drive of the whole "Kerweih Week,"  left the presentiment of things to come.  In the shops there is a lot of activity, in the homes everything is turned upside down to clean them thoroughly, there is cooking, baking, roasting.  Then everything must be finished to a "t" by Saturday.  The skirts were starched, ironed, and soon they had to run to a tailor to try on a "Kerweikleed" (Kerweih clothing).   I am sure this is part of what Grandmother was talking about.   This being such a major event to "never participate in again" must have been very hard for Grandmother not to miss.   But she moved forward with her American way of live and never complained.
 
      There was a store directly across from the Ingrisch house I visited. The school is very small and the toilets were outback.  The one room schoolhouse is heated by one stove in the room.  The people there are very poor there and many orphaned children.  Mostly you see horse & wagons, few cars, at least during the day.  I were told there are only 3 phones in the village at that time.  Each family there has a small plot of land, some very small.  But the utilize every bit for vegetables, grapes and flowers.
 
     Everyone I met was gracious and happy to see visitors to their village.  The older women wore long black skirts, black sweaters, black stockings and boots.  I saw no children, but since it was a week day, I assumed they were in school.

     I took many pictures and ran the video recorder for the most part, until our battery ran out.  Guess I should not have kept it on during the train ride.  The voltage is different from the US; and I couldn't recharge my video camera!   I couldn't even use my blow dryer, which was devastating!   But I was able to capture on video Alex & Gertwin and Josef Ingrisch Jr., during our visit to the Mercydorf Cemetery.  There Alex gave a short history of the German’s in the Banat, ending well it looks like you found your roots, here in Mercydorf.  I love their accent!  
 
     Finally we left the village and parted ways with the Ingrisch family that I had met.  I spent the rest of that day in the town of Timisoara doing research and wound up in the Mayor's office.  His assistant spoke English and again I was blessed.  I toured the city known for it's wonderful architectural buildings which have been standing for centuries.
 
      That night on TV I heard the Air Strike in Belgrade news.  It was horrible to see what was going on.  And to think how close I was .....50 miles away.  It is a fact that invading hordes, ambitious empires and the cultural divide between east and west have left the Balkan Peninsula with a legacy of continual conflict.  Back at home our TV footage of current day wars, it cannot depict the true impact, which takes place in these countries. 
 
     The next day...I was due to return to Budapest via the same route I rode in on.  I'd have to pass the Mercydorf on turn off on our way towards Arad, where I'd catch the train.  At the hotel I interviewed several taxi drivers and chose one that spoke some English and had a decent auto and who was willing to go to Mercydorf and drive me around.  I had to go back to Mercydorf, this may be the only chance I have to see it again.  I wanted to see it again, feel it again, smell it again and try to capture the memory in my mind.
 
    Today I was more acquainted with the surroundings in Mercydorf than the day before.  The Stork still was nestled in her nest and the streets were still quiet.  Quite different I'm sure from a hundred years ago when the town was active and thriving.  
 
     The Donauschwaben Colonization came to be known as "der Grosse Schwabenzuge" or  "the Great Swabian Trek."  The region became known as "the Bread Basket of Europe."   The hardships endured by the groups of colonists is summarized in this known verse by their descendants:  "The first encounters death, the second need, only the third had bread."
    
     During this last tour through the village, I were blessed yet again with a woman who spoke English.  She was so kind, as everyone was.  She rode around with me and stopped to talk with anyone we saw.  The lady said she knew of the oldest lady in the village and took us to her house.  The young woman translated to the older woman who we were and if she had known the Ingrisch family.  The girl said the woman told her she was born an Ingrisch.  But the woman seemed confused about who I was and was already on her way for a walk about town.  Quickly I took her photo and as she stopped to visit lady neighbor.  I concluded, Ingrisch was her maiden name.
 
      NOTE: (Long after returning home I received an email from a fellow Banater – Oct 21, 2000: In the usual list of birth and anniversaries which comes with each issue of the Banater Post is in the 5 Oct 2000 issue under the Village of Mercydorf (1) Maria Fedrich geb. Ingrisch on 14 Oct in Mercydorf, She is 81.   This was a birthday announcement.  This was the the lady we spoke with.   Thank goodness I took photos of her. 

     NOTE: Just days before I received the above notice I received information regarding the Mercydorf Heimatbuch listing the Ingrisch families of Mercydorf 1940-45.  There were many.  One family being reported:  Jakob Ingrisch, wife Susanna Mehrfeld at house # 327 – also at 327 was Peter Fedrich, wife Maria Ingrisch, child Maria.   (Sounds like this was the lady we met) 
 
     Walking in the footsteps of my ancestors to see where they lived and experience how their daily lives may have been was very touching to me.  As I spent my last hours in Mercydorf, I walked about and cried.  I thought I probably would never return.  I looked out at the roads that branched off around the village and the winding lanes and scoured the houses that lined the streets.  I smelled the cold fresh air that brushed across my face.  And as I rode out of the village, I looked back through the taxi window at the Ingrisch house one last time . . . saying goodbye.
 
     Reflecting on the trip and what I had learned, despite the hardships German Banaters had to endure, they never abandoned their hopes and dreams.  From where they began in Western Germany to the Austro-Hungarian Empire (now lands in Romania) to the ports of America and scattered around the world, they have been a definite impact on society, as we know it today due to the cultures and educational values brought forth by the Donauschwaben people.   Their rich heritages and traditions have flavored the American & Canadian Soup.
 
     In this age we hear a lot about diversity.  In most respects we tend to relate this issue to the African-American.  But diversity stretches over all races.  Let us not forget what is inscribed on the Statue of Liberty...
 
      Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning
      to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
      Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me.  I lift my lamp
      beside the golden door!"
 
      As am American...I inherited my passage rights, by those that came before me, those that struggled so I could have this life, as I know it.  The only true-blooded American's are the American Indian's.  The rest of us are here because someone else came before us.  I breathe free today and live in a land where I can worship as I choose.   We mustn't take that for granted.  History repeats it self, because man refuses to learn from the past.   We are history in the making; let's make the best of this life for our children and theirs.
 
Jody McKim © 2000

******

    My Grandmother Katharina "Katie" Ingrisch, was an amazing woman.  At age 14 she journeyed to the US with her mother Elisabeth and her siblings to join their father Martin Ingrisch, in Atlanta, Georgia.   They traveled in steerage of a steamship.  These steamships could accommodate as many as two thousand passengers in steerage.  It was called steerage because it was located on the bowels of the ship where the steering mechanism of the sailing ships had once been located.  From what I have read these long narrow compartments were divided into separate dormitories for single men, single women, and families. Jammed with metal-framed berths three bunks high, the air in steerage became rank with the heavy odor of spoiled food, sea-sickness, and unwashed bodies. There was little privacy, and the lack of adequate toilet facilities made it difficult to keep clean.  Lice was very prevalent and it is said "the atmosphere was so thick and dense with smoke and body odors that if your head itched and you scratched your head,  you got lice in your hands."   By 1910 many ships had replaced steerage with four and six-berth Third Class cabins.   But not soon enough for Elisabeth and the children. 

******

      Papa married Elizabeth MARMON (their marriage was arranged) I had heard Papa was a shy man.  Now, I heard Papa had a cabinet shop in Temeswar and business was not good.  He sold it and since he was not the first born son he would not inherit the farm in Mercydorf.  Along about that time a Michael Schick (a brother in law - I have not located him or his family - yet) immigrated to the US.  And Papa and Uncle Anton Marmon joined him here in Atlanta in 1906.  Elisabeth and the children followed the next year.  He came for opportunity and for a better way of life for his family.  The only thing mystical about it is, why Georgia, when there was soooo much going on in the northern states - and he could have worked and lived amongst fellow Donauschwabens from his homeland. 

To be continued . . . one day

Last updated: 19 Jul 2012 © Jody McKim Pharr

Published at DVHH.org by Jody McKim Pharr.