Hannah Cohen 1858-1927: A Life to Remember

The further I delve into the story of my ancestors, the more aware I am of how much the lives of women have changed in the last 100 years—actually, more like the last 50 years, but since I am focusing on the women born between 1850 and 1900 right now, the 100 year line seems more appropriate.  I’ve said numerous times that women are harder to research because they changed their names when they married.  If you cannot figure out who they married, then they just disappear and their stories are never completed.

I obviously have a personal perspective on the question of taking on a new name when you marry.  When I married back in 1976, most women still took their husband’s names when they married, but some women were starting to resist and keeping their birth names.  Some women argued that keeping your father’s name was just as much a concession to male dominance as taking your husband’s name.  I struggled with this issue; I was never a radical or a pioneer.  But in the end, I wanted to keep my name.  My reasons were varied; some of it was definitely based on the values of the women’s movement that was exploding around me during my years in college.  Mostly, however, it was just about holding on to my identity, the one I had had for over twenty years.  How could I not be Amy Cohen?  It just felt wrong.

So I kept my name.  And despite the occasional strange looks I got (and sometimes still get) from people who think it odd and despite the awkwardness of making calls on behalf of my children and having to use two different surnames to identify who they were and who I was, I am very glad that I did.  Especially now when I see how many women disappeared into thin air historically when they changed their names, I realize how much it can matter to have your own identity, including your own name.

In the case of Jacob and Sarah Cohen’s daughters, I was actually able to figure out their married names, and so they did not disappear into thin air.  Sometimes it was really easy to find them because there was an entry in the online marriage records that revealed both the groom’s and bride’s names.  Other times it was rather serendipitous.

For example, in the case of Hannah Cohen, Jacob and Sarah’s eighth child, it was a tiny little death notice for Hannah’s troubled brother Hart that caught my eye.  I wasn’t even researching Hannah at the time, but the death notice made reference to calling hours for Hart being at the home of Mrs. Martin Wolf.  I thought that Mrs. Martin Wolf might very well be one of Hart’s many sisters.  I searched for Martin Wolf on ancestry.com and FamilySearch, and I found one in Philadelphia on the 1900 census with a wife named Hannah.

Hannah and Martin Wolf and family 1900 census

Hannah and Martin Wolf and family 1900 census

 

According to the 1900 census, Martin and Hannah had been married for 20 years.   Hannah’s birth year on the 1900 census was consistent with earlier census reports.  Martin and Hannah had three children living with them in 1900: Laura (1882), Edgar (1885), and Martin A. (1889). Martin was in the wholesale liquor business, apparently his family’s business as the city directories list him as working for S. Wolf and Sons, and Martin’s father’s name was Solomon Wolf.  It appears that he worked for this business for all or almost all of his adult life.

As I was researching Hannah and Martin’s life, at first it seemed that their life would be like Hannah’s sister Rachel’s life—fairly uneventful.  But as I researched more deeply, unfortunately it seemed her life had plenty of unhappy events, though not as overwhelmingly sad as that of her sister Maria.

First, I saw on burial records at Mt Sinai that there was an entry for a fifteen day old infant “Ray Wolf” who died in 1887 located in the same lot as Hart Cohen (Hannah’s brother) and other members of the Wolf family.  I found a death certificate for a Rachel Wolff who died on May 10, 1887, at six weeks, daughter of M.L. Wolf and Sarah Wolf, living at 855 North 6th Street, the same address in the city directory for Martin L. Wolf of S. Wolf and Son in that year.  Despite the error in the mother’s name and the inconsistent age at death, this is obviously the child of Martin and Hannah.  Little Rachel died of inflammation of the bowels.

Rachel Wolf death certificate 1887

Rachel Wolf death certificate 1887

Those same burial records also included an entry for a Carrie Wolf, aged three years, who died in 1894.  Once again, further research revealed another terrible loss for Hannah and Martin.  Their daughter Caroline died from typhoid fever, the disease that had also killed two of her first cousins, a child of Fanny and Ansel Hamberg and a child of Joseph and Caroline Cohen.  If little Caroline was named in honor of her aunt Caroline, that must have been an awful irony to see her niece die from the same disease that had killed their son Hart.

Caroline Wolf death certificate 1894

Caroline Wolf death certificate 1894

So between 1887 and 1894, Hannah and Martin had lost two young children.  Somehow they continued on, Martin continuing to work in his family’s liquor business and Hannah home with the remaining children, who by 1900 ranged in age from 11 to 17.  In 1901 and 1902, the family was living in Atlantic City, where Martin was still involved in the liquor business.  Perhaps his family business was expanding, or perhaps the family just needed a change of scenery.  Laura, their oldest daughter,married Albert Hochstadter in 1901 when she was nineteen years old.  Albert was a hotel proprietor in Atlantic City, so perhaps she had met him while her family was living there.  Albert and Laura had a son, Martin Hochstadter, born in 1904.

It might have seemed that life had settled down and that the worst was over, but then there were more changes and losses ahead.  On the 1910 census, Laura, married only nine years before, was living at home with her parents (who had returned to Philadelphia by 1903) and, according to the census report, widowed.

Hannah and Martin Wolf and family 1910 census

Hannah and Martin Wolf and family 1910 census

At first I thought, “How awful.  Her husband died before they were married ten years,” but I said she was widowed “according to the census report” because I found a death certificate for Albert Hochstadter, dated June 5, 1912. Albert was still alive at the time of the 1910 census when Laura claimed to be a widow.  Moreover, his death certificate says that he was divorced.  Did Laura lie to the census taker, embarrassed to be divorced, or did the census taker just get it wrong? At any rate, it’s a bit eerie that Albert did in fact die just two years later when he was only 46 years old.  His cause of death was reported to be uremia.

Albert Hochstadter death certificate 1912

Albert Hochstadter death certificate 1912

Laura had quickly moved on and was already remarried by the time her first husband Albert had died.  On the 1910 census, when Laura was living with her parents in Philadelphia, there was a boarder living there named William K. Goldenberg who was a treasurer for a theater.  Within a year, Laura had married William, and by 1920, Laura, William, and Laura’s son Martin Hochstadter were living together.  William had advanced to become the manager of the theater, an occupation he continued to hold for many years.

Laura and William Goldenberg 1920 census

Laura and William Goldenberg 1920 census

Both of Martin’s sons registered with the draft, and both were employed at the Central Market Street Company at the time of their registration, as was their brother-in-law William Goldenberg.  I assume that that was the company that owned the theater where William was the manager.  It seems he took good care of his brothers-in-law by providing them with employment.

martin a ww1 edgar ww1 William ww1

But in 1918 the family suffered another loss.  Hannah’s husband Martin died from acute myocarditis, an inflammation of the heart, while in Eddystone, Pennsylvania, which is about 16 miles south of Philadelphia (and once the hometown of Jennifer Aniston, for you trivia fans). The certificate is definitely for the same Martin L. Wolf; it indicates that Martin’s former or usual residence was 1737 North 15th Street in Philadelphia, the same address listed for Martin L. Wolf in the 1918 city directory and in the 1912 directory that also provided his business address for the liquor business.

Screenshot (7) Screenshot (8)

But the certificate raises some questions.  It says that Martin’s occupation was as a laborer for Remmington Arms in Eddystone.  According to Wikipedia, Remmington Arms, the rifle manufacturer, had opened a plant there during World War I, and “a large portion of the rifles used by American soldiers in France during World War I were made at Eddystone.”  What was Martin doing there?  He was 63 years old, too old to be drafted and serve in the war.  Was this his way of making a contribution to the war effort?  Or perhaps more likely the social forces that eventually succeeded in leading to the 18th Amendment and nationwide prohibition of liquor sales had already led to a decline in Martin’s liquor sales, thus causing him to get a job in the munitions industry during the war.  It’s total speculation, but it does seem very strange that after a career in the liquor business Martin would have taken up work in Eddystone making rifles.

Nine years later in 1927, Hannah also died from myocarditis, arteriosclerosis, and diabetes.  She was sixty-nine years old.

Hannah Cohen Wolf death certificate 1927

Hannah Cohen Wolf death certificate 1927

She and Martin were both buried at Mt Sinai with their two daughters Caroline and Rachel.

Mt Sinai burial records

Mt Sinai burial records

In some ways the timing of  Hannah’s death may have been a blessing because three years later her daughter Laura died at age 47 from complications of diabetes on February 10, 1930, leaving her husband and her 26 year old son, Martin, who had already lost his father when he was only eight years old.

Laura Wolf Goldenberg death certificate 1930

Laura Wolf Goldenberg death certificate 1930

On the 1930 census Martin was listed as William’s son and had adopted his surname Goldenberg as well.  He was also employed as a theater manager, another member of the family finding employment through William Goldenberg. Martin married later that year, and in 1940 he was continuing to work as a theater manager.

William and Martin Goldenberg 1930 census

William and Martin Goldenberg 1930 census

Two years after Laura died, her brother Martin A. Wolf died from chronic ulcerative colitis on September 20, 1932, at age 43.  He also left behind a wife and a nine-year old son.  Martin A. also had continued to work as a theater manager.  His wife Marie died seven years later in 1939, leaving their son Martin without parents at age sixteen. On the 1940 census he was living as a lodger with a couple named Magee and working as an usher, following in the footsteps of his father and other relatives.

Martin A Wolf death certificate 1932

Martin A Wolf death certificate 1932

That left Edgar as the only surviving child of the five children of Hannah and Martin Wolf.  Edgar had married in 1916 and had had a son in 1921, and like his brother Martin, his brother-in-law William Goldenberg, and his nephews Martin Goldenberg and Martin A. Wolf, he also continued to work as a theater manager in Philadelphia.  Edgar died in 1966.  He was eighty years old and was the only one of his siblings to live a full and long life.  No one else had made it to 50, let alone 80.

When I look back on Hannah’s life, as with the lives of so many of the women I have researched, I realize how completely a woman’s life was defined by her husband and her children in those days.  Whereas I can report on the men’s occupations and their military careers, for the women I seem only to be able to mention where they lived, who they married, and how many children they had.  Unless a woman remained unmarried, she did not work outside the home. These women had hard times and raised their families under often difficult circumstances, losing babies and children to disease and having more pregnancies and childbirths than I can imagine, and probably even more than are reported.  It was the way women lived for most of history: family and home centered and dependent financially on their fathers and then their husbands.  It is a very different life from the one most women I know live today, for better in many ways, but also for worse in other ways.

If women’s lives and their value was based primarily on their children, then losing a child must have been especially awful for these mothers, losing two unimaginable. At least Hannah did not live to see that two more of her children would die prematurely. She had lost two babies and her husband. Nine of her siblings, including some younger than she, had predeceased her.  Those are enough losses for any person to have to endure.

If I had not found that little death notice mentioning a Mrs. Martin Wolf, Hannah Cohen might never have been found.  As you will see, it was an equally serendipitous discovery that allowed me to learn the story of her younger sister Elizabeth. Hannah’s life was a life with plenty of heartbreak.  She did not make any scientific discoveries or make a lot of money or change the world.  It was nevertheless a life that should not disappear simply because she changed her name when she married or because she never worked outside the home.  I am glad that I was able to help to preserve her name and her life for posterity.

Blog Update

My head and heart are filled with the joy of the birth of my new grandson, and so is my time right now.  That means that there will be a hiatus of sorts in my research and less time to write up whatever research I do, at least for a short period.  I do, however, have a few items to post based on research I had completed before he was born.  They require a little more work, but I hope to post them within a a very short time.

In the meantime, I will be celebrating this new life and the knowledge that our family history continues with this new leaf on the tree.  It was primarily for my children and my grandchildren that I started down this path originally, though it has grown to be something more than I ever anticipated, linking me to new cousins, teaching me so much about my ancestors, history, and myself.  But in the end it does all come down to future generations.  Now I just have one more reason to keep doing this research and to keep writing this blog.

 

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Remy Brandon Fischer, Shalev Ezra ben Dov Baer Yaakov v Rivke Gittel

Remy

Remy

Yesterday just before 4 pm, our family grew again with the birth of our grandson Remy.  He weighed 8 pounds and is 19.5 inches long, and he is beautiful.  His big brother Nate whispered in his ear, “You are going to be my best friend,” bringing us all to tears.  It was a magical, wonderful, perfect day.

Remy is named for five remarkable women from all sides of his family.  Remy is for Rose, his paternal great-grandmother who passed away just a few months ago.  Brandon is for Bea, his other paternal great-grandmother who lived to be 101 years old.  Here they both are, together at Remy’s parents’ wedding in 2006.  They were both strong, independent women, both widowed far too young, but both women who not only survived, but found continuing  joy and fulfillment in their long lives.  I was honored to get to know them both.

Bea and Rose

Bea and Rose

Remy’s Hebrew name is in honor of three women from his mother’s side.  Shalev is for my mother-in-law Sara, Remy’s maternal great-grandmother, who also lived a long life.  She was the matriarch of her family and a strong, sweet, loving and incredibly funny woman who was adored by all her grandchildren, her nieces, nephews, and, of course, her sons and her daughters-in-law.  She raised two truly wonderful men, one of whom I was fortunate enough to marry.

 

Sara with Maddy and Rebecca

Sara with Maddy and Rebecca

Ezra is for my two aunts.  My father’s sister Eva, who despite contracting MS as a young woman, lived a long and productive life, working until retirement age for the city of Philadelphia, where she was born and lived almost her whole life.  She was another strong and independent woman who had an incredibly large and yet close circle of friends. (Picture to come once I get back to my scanner.)

Ezra is also for my Aunt Elaine, my mother’s sister, our family’s matriarch, who was yet another incredibly strong and loving and smart and funny woman, our family historian.  As my mother remarked this past weekend, we cannot tell a story about her that does not make us laugh and smile.  She, too, was adored by all.

Phil and Elaine

Phil and Elaine

Remy, you have an incredible foundation to start your young life.  May you be blessed to have the strength, the heart, the independence, and the sense of humor that all five of these women had to help get you through what we hope will be a long, healthy and very happy life.

 

 

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Maria Cohen 1856-?: A Hard Story to Find, A Harder One to Tell

It took me a long time to find the story of Maria Cohen, the seventh[1] child of my great-grandparents, Jacob and Sarah, and once I did, I wished I hadn’t. Things started easily enough, as I was able to find a record in the Philadelphia marriage index identifying her husband as William Levi. They married on December 15, 1875.  I was able to find them on both the 1880 and 1900 census reports with their sons Lewis, Jacob, and Isaac, but on both there were entries that were inconsistent with the facts I know about Maria.  On the 1880 census, it says her parents were born in Germany, and in 1900 it says her parents were born in Russia, when I know that her parents were in fact both born in England.

Had the census taker received erroneous information or did I have the wrong Maria?  Certainly her sons’ names, Lewis, Jacob and Isaac, were all names that ran in the Cohen family.  The age given for Maria on the census reports seemed close enough.  In 1880 Maria would have been 24; the census says she was 21 with two sons ages two and one.  If she really married in 1875, that means she would have been only 16 when she married, which seems unlikely.  In 1900, Maria would have been 44; the 1900 census reports it as 40.  I am accustomed to census errors, and these were not any worse than others I’ve seen.

So this could be the right Maria Cohen, but I cannot be absolutely sure because after 1900 she and her husband disappear from the records.  I cannot find Maria or William Levi on the 1910, 1920, or 1930 census.  Perhaps they both died between 1900 and 1910, but I also cannot find any death records or burial records for either of them. At first I thought perhaps they all changed their names, but after a lot of looking I was able to find death records for three of their four sons, and that is where this story gets harder to tell.

The first record I found was for their oldest son Lewis, who died on May 4, 1915, from heart disease at age 38.

Lewis C. Levy death certificate

Lewis C. Levy death certificate

His wife Emma Fogle, whom he had only married five years before in 1910, lived another almost 50 years, but was buried beside him at Adath Jeshurun cemetery and apparently never remarried.  Since the headstone is marked “father” and “mother,” there must have been at least one child born during that brief marriage, but so far I have not been able to locate that child.

Lewis and Emma Levy headstone

Lewis and Emma Levy headstone

This morning, after much looking, I found a death certificate for Maria and William’s second son Jacob, who also died at a young age.  He died only a year and half after his brother Lewis on December 22, 1916, from tuberculosis. He also was 38 when he died.  The death certificate reveals that he had been residing at the Norristown State Hospital for the Insane when he died and had been there for just over ten years.  He also was buried at Adath Jeshurun.

Jacob Levy death certificate

Jacob Levy death certificate

I was already feeling sad for Maria and William for losing two sons before either reached forty years of age when the story got even worse.

In searching for records for Maria, William and their sons this morning, I was surprised to see a death record for a Benjamin Levy, son of William Levy.  It was the first time I knew that Maria and William had had a fourth son, Benjamin, born in 1881.  Since he was born in 1881, he was not on the 1880 census.  Since he died in 1897, he was not on the 1990 census.  I had missed him completely in doing my initial research of Maria and her family.  I gasped when I found his death certificate and saw his cause of death: “found drowned.”

Benjamin Levy death certificate

Benjamin Levy death certificate

I looked to see if I could find any other information and found this story, quoted in its entirety from the Philadelphia Inquirer dated March 18, 1897.

The body of the young man which was found on Monday in the Delaware River at the foot of Callowhill street was that of Benjamin Levy, aged 16, who lived at 1580 Fontaine Street, and who has been missing since January 9. It is thought that he committed suicide.

Before going away, he said to his brother: “Good-bye, Jake, forever.  I’m going to jump overboard.”  He was not seen alive afterwards.  It is believed he drowned himself because he had been rebuked for drinking.

(“A Young Suicide,” Thursday, March 18, 1897,Philadelphia Inquirer (Philadelphia, PA)   Volume: 136   Issue: 77   Page: 10 )

Benjamin had been missing for two months when his body was found.  I cannot begin to imagine how his family felt.  Could it possibly be that just getting scolded for drinking led him to commit suicide? Or was there something else behind the story? Was there underlying mental illness, as was the case with his older brother Jacob?

Although the death certificate for Jacob said that he had been hospitalized since October, 1896, ten years, one month and 28 days before his death, this news story about Benjamin seemed to indicate that Jacob was still home when Benjamin committed suicide in March, 1897.  One has to wonder whether Jacob’s mental illness was precipitated or at least exacerbated by his little brother’s death and thus whether Jacob’s death certificate was off by a year in describing his stay at the state hospital.  Did Jacob feel guilty, knowing that his younger brother had talked about suicide but Jacob had not being able to stop him? How did Maria and William cope with these two traumas?

It was less than twenty years later that their son Lewis died in 1915, with Jacob dying a year later in 1916.  Only Isaac remained, their youngest son.  Fortunately, Isaac’s story is not tragic.  In 1909, he had married Rose Hicks, who was a few years older than Isaac and had a son William from a previous marriage. Although marrying an older divorced woman with a child might have been somewhat unusual back then, given what this family had been through, that must have been small potatoes to them.  In 1910, he and Rose were living at 133 Walnut Street in 1910 with several boarders, and Isaac, now using the name Harry, was working at a pawnshop.

Isaac "Harry" Levy and Emma Levy 1910 census

Isaac “Harry” Levy and Emma Levy 1910 census

In fact, it was his uncle Lewis Cohen’s pawnshop, as revealed in Harry’s World War I draft registration (and as confirmed by an address check for Lewis Cohen in 1917).

Isaac "Harry" Levy draft registration World War I

Isaac “Harry” Levy draft registration World War I

Harry, Rose, and Rose’s son William as well as her nephew were living on Reno Street in 1920, and Harry and Rose continued to live in Philadelphia at least until 1942 when Harry’s draft registration for World War II continues to provide a Philadelphia address at 222 North 52nd Street.  Harry was working for the WPA in Philadelphia at that time.

Isaac "Harry" Levy World War 2 draft registration

Isaac “Harry” Levy World War 2 draft registration

It does not appear that Harry and Rose had any biological children of their own.  I cannot yet find any record for Harry or Rose after 1942, nor have I yet had any luck locating any records for Maria or William after the 1900 census.   I plan to contact Adath Jeshurun cemetery in Philadelphia to see if they have records for Harry/Isaac, Rose, Maria or William Levy.  Since the other members of the family were all buried at that cemetery, I am hoping that I will be able to get at least some greater information about the others.

Genealogical research is filled with twists and turns.  I spent many hours this week, focused on Maria Cohen and her family with William Levy, and until this morning I had found almost nothing except their marriage record and  those two census reports.  I went to sleep feeling that I would never know the rest of the story.  Then with just a few lucky keystrokes this morning, I opened the door to a terribly tragic family story.  I almost wish that I hadn’t.  Careful what you wish for, as they say.  I hope I can put some closure on Maria’s life.  Only time, persistence, and lots of good luck will tell.

 

 

 

 

 

[1] Reuben was the sixth child, but I am skipping over him for now as I wait to hear from one of his descendants.

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Rachel Cohen 1853-1925: An Ordinary Life

As I move down the list of my great-grandparents’ thirteen children, I will face a few new obstacles.  First, there are several daughters among the middle group of siblings, and as noted before several times, women have a tendency to disappear if I cannot figure out their married names.  Second, as these children were born later, many also died after 1924, making it much more difficult to obtain their death certificates and other vital records on line.  That means I will either have to order documents from the Pennsylvania archives or visit a local branch of the Family History Library where I can view microfilm sent from Salt Lake City.  Those visits will have to wait until the fall probably as I will not have ready access to a branch until then.  For now I will report what I know based on what I can find and then update my findings as I obtain more documents and information.

I have reported on the first four children of Jacob and Sarah, my great-great grandparents: Fanny, Joseph, Isaac, and Hart.  Rachel is the next child.  She was born in Philadelphia in 1853 and spent her childhood at 136 South Street with her family.  In 1879 she married Lewis I. Weil, who was born in Pennsylvania of German-born parents.  In 1880 Rachel and Lewis were living at 406 South 2d Street with a servant.  Lewis was in the gentlemen’s furnishings business, and Rachel was at home.  (It is hard to imagine what a young woman with no children did at home all day, given that she had a servant, but times were different back then.)

Rachel and Lewis Weil 1880 US census

Rachel and Lewis Weil 1880 US census

Rachel and Lewis had six children: Sallie (1880), Benjamin (1882), Jacob (1883), Blanche (1888), Irene (1891), and Joseph (1893).  All but Benjamin survived to adulthood; Benjamin died when he was six months old from enteritis, an inflammation of the small intestine usually caused by a bacterial infection.

Benjamin Weil death certificate

Benjamin Weil death certificate

On a separate record of Benjamin’s death, it identified the attending physician as “Sarah Cohen.”  Since this was 1882, it seems unlikely that this was really a doctor, but rather Rachel’s mother, Sarah, my great-great grandmother.

UPDATE:  See the comments below from rustica2389.  It seems there was a Dr. Sarah Cohen practicing in Philadelphia at that time!  I should never make assumptions….

Benjamin Weil death record

Benjamin Weil death record

That must have been an awful loss for Rachel and Lewis, but like so many others, they went on to have four additional children.  In 1900, Rachel and Lewis still had all five surviving children living with them, and Lewis was still engaged in the business of men’s clothing.  They also still had a servant living with them, now at 1401 Ridge Avenue.

Rachel and Lewis Weil 1900 US census

Rachel and Lewis Weil 1900 US census

By 1910, the family had moved to 606 Diamond Street, and only Sallie (who never married), Irene, 19, and Joseph, now 17, were still living at home. Lewis was still working in men’s furnishings, and Joseph was working in the same business.  Sallie was a salesperson in a department store, and Irene was at home.  Lewis’ brother Simon was also living with them.

Rachel and Lewis Weil 1910 US census

Rachel and Lewis Weil 1910 US census

In 1908 Jacob had married Flora Cohen and was selling men’s neckwear in 1910, and the following year his younger sister Blanche had married Alexander Klein who was a “manager” in some kind of manufacturing, according to the 1910 census.

Marriage certificate of Blanche Weil and Alexander Klein

Marriage certificate of Blanche Weil and Alexander Klein

Ten years later in 1920 Rachel and Lewis were living with Sallie, Blanche, and Blanche’s son Edwin, who was nine years old, born in 1911.  They now lived at 4620 Thirteenth Street, and Lewis was working as a buyer and manager in “furnishings,” I assume men’s clothing.  Sallie was an assistant buyer of dry goods, and Blanche was a singer in the theater. (Each of these moves from Second Street to Ridge to Diamond to 13th Street took the family further and further north, consistent with other family members and Jews in general in Philadelphia.)

Rachel and Lewis Weil 1920 US census

Rachel and Lewis Weil 1920 US census

Although Blanche was still listed as married, her husband Alexander was not living with her, but was living with his brother Lewis at 4510 York Drive.  He was in the shoe business.  He also is listed as married.

Alexander Klein 1920 census

Alexander Klein 1920 census

Since Blanche and Edwin were also living without Alexander in 1930, I assume they never reconciled, although perhaps they also never divorced. Thanks to Gil Weeder, a relative by marriage to the Weil family, I now have these photographs of young Edwin Klein with his father’s family, presumably with his mother Blanche next to him sometime before Blanche and Alexander separated.Klein Family Edwin Klein

 

Blanche and Edward Klein 1930 US census

Blanche and Edward Klein 1930 US census

Rachel and Lewis Weil’s daughter Irene had married James Doran in 1915.   They had a long marriage, living in Philadelphia for almost twenty years before moving to Camden, New Jersey in the 1930s where they lived for at least another ten years.  I have not found any records for either of them after 1945, except for a record of Irene’s death on April 8, 1977 in Erie, Pennsylvania, on the Social Security Death Index.  Both Irene and James were buried at West Laurel Hill cemetery in Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania, but no dates are recorded for James, so I am not sure when he died.  They left no descendants.

Rachel and Lewis’ youngest child, Joseph, married Goldie Kret on June 17, 1912.  He was only 19, though his age on the marriage certificate is 21.  Goldie was recorded to be 18.  They were married in Wilmington, Delaware, and Joseph’s sister Blanche and brother-in-law Alexander Klein were the witnesses on the certificate.  Goldie was the daughter of Jacob Kret and Sarah nee Newman.

Joseph Weil and Goldie Kret marriage certificate

Joseph Weil and Goldie Kret marriage certificate

Interestingly, Joseph was residing in Boston at the time and working as a salesman.  Why is this interesting? Because I have been in touch with someone who is a relative of Flora Cohen, Jacob Weil’s wife, and he has a copy of a baby book created for Jacob and Flora’s daughter, Maizie Weil, in which there is a reference to a trip to Boston to visit “Daddy.”  Maizie was born in 1912, so perhaps Jacob and his younger brother Joseph were living in Boston for work during that time period. Since both Jacob and Joseph were living in Philadelphia in 1910, this marriage certificate is the first document I’ve found that has a reference to anyone in the family living in Boston.

By 1917, however, Joseph was living back in Philadelphia, according to his World War I draft registration.  The registration also says that Joseph was married with two children, living at 2405 South Elkhart Street, and working as a buyer at N. Snellenburg and Company.  Joseph’s uncle, Joseph Cohen (Rachel’s brother) had married Caroline Snellenburg, so I imagine that this was a store owned by his uncle’s father-in-law’s family.

Joseph Weil World War I draft registration

Joseph Weil World War I draft registration

I cannot find Joseph or Goldie or either of their daughters on the 1920 census, although there is a man named Weil living as a boarder in a home in Tampa, Florida, with no other identifying entries in the listing.  By 1922, however, it is evident that the marriage between Joseph and Goldie had ended, as Goldie married Edwin Hoffman that year, and in 1930, she and her two daughters with Joseph, Lillian and Barbara, were living with her second husband in Newark, New Jersey.

Joseph, meanwhile, had also remarried by then.  He had married Rose “Rena” Sley in 1921.  On the 1930 census, he was living with Rena, and their daughter Geraldine, who was then seven years old.  Joseph was selling men’s shirts.  In 1935, they were living in Hackensack, New Jersey, and in 1940 in Irvington, New Jersey.  Two cousins were living with them as well. Joseph was a buyer at a department store; according to his World War II draft registration, he was working for R.J. Goerke Company in Elizabeth, New Jersey, and living in East Orange in 1942.

Joseph Weil World War II Draft Registration

Joseph Weil World War II Draft Registration

Meanwhile, on March 9, 1925, his mother Rachel, my great-grandaunt,  had died at age 72 of what looks like bone cancer: carcinoma of the left femur; she, like so many in her family, was buried at Mt Sinai cemetery.  Her husband Lewis died three years later on July 26, 1928, of heart disease and was buried beside her.

Rachel Cohen Weil death cert 1925

Rachel Cohen Weil death certificate 1925

 

Lewis Weil death certificate 1925

Lewis Weil death certificate 1925

Rachel and Lewis Weil death record

Rachel and Lewis Weil death record

Rachel’s life story is not dramatic.  It was in fact a bit of a relief after researching her brother Hart.  Rachel’s life seems to have been without scandal.  Her husband had a steady occupation throughout.  They suffered the loss of a child early in their marriage and perhaps other losses that are not documented in public records, but they also raised five children to adulthood.  Two of those children may have had some marital issues, but overall there were, aside from Benjamin’s death, no apparent tragedies or scandals. Rachel and Lewis stayed married to each other for almost 50 years.  They both lived into their seventies, unlike Rachel’s older siblings who did not live to see 70.  It was not a remarkable life, but it was a life not unlike many lives.  It may not make for an exciting story, but nor do most lives.  Their story is a family story, a story that many people aspire to live for themselves.

 

My Great-Great Grandmother Rachel Jacobs Cohen: Her Death Certificate

I have received a certified copy of my great-great grandmother’s death certificate from the General Register Office in London.  This is my first English vital record, and I was quite excited to receive it.  It amazes me that I can obtain a record that is over 150 years old from a foreign country just by clicking on the keys of a computer.  Below is a scan of the document and also a cropped version to highlight the actual text on the certificate.

Rachel Jacobs Cohen  death certificate

Rachel Jacobs Cohen death certificate

rachel jacobs cohen death cert 1851 cropped

There are a number of things that interest me about the information on this document.  First is Rachel’s date of death, January 9, 1851.  When I had searched through the BMD Index for this certificate, there were a number of Rachel Cohens who might have been the right person.  I guessed that it was this one based on the date.  Although Lewis and Jacob, Rachel’s sons, had left for the US in 1846 and 1848, respectively, Rachel’s husband and other children, Elizabeth and Jonas, did not leave until 1851.  I had a hunch that they did not leave because Rachel was ill and not able to make the journey, so they waited until after she died.

As the certificate shows, Rachel’s cause of death was “scirehus paylonis” and exhaustion, and it seems she had been ill for a year.  As best I can tell, scrirehus paylonis would be translated to schirrous pylonis or cancer of the stomach.  (My medical expert should feel free to correct this.)  I found some English writings on line in which that term was used to refer to what we would call stomach cancer.

The certificate also indicates where the family was living—in Landers Buildings in Christchurch, Spitalfields, in the Registration District of Whitechapel, County of Middlesex.  It also confirms that Hart Levy Cohen was a clothes dealer.

Perhaps most interesting and surprising to me is that Hart signed the certificate with a mark, an X, not with a signature.  Was he not able to sign his name? Was he illiterate? It’s so hard for me to imagine not being able to read and write that I found this shocking and disturbing.

 

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The Pawnbrokers: Not Reality TV, but Realities

Tradition symbol of pawnbrokers--three connect...

Tradition symbol of pawnbrokers–three connected balls (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Growing up, I always heard my father’s family’s business referred to as jewelry and/or china dealers; I don’t recall them being described as pawnbrokers.  Maybe I just wasn’t listening (quite likely), or maybe that’s how my father explained it when I was too young to understand what “pawnshop” meant.

Anyway, I never thought of them as pawnbrokers.  My image of a pawnbroker was based on what I saw on crime shows on television, in movies like The Pawnbroker, and through windows as we drove through poor neighborhoods in New York.  The pawnshop was a place for either desperate people in need of money or criminals fencing stolen goods.  The pawnbroker was someone who was thus taking advantage of someone’s misfortune or the willing or unwitting participant in a crime.  I know of two incidents where my ancestors aided the police in solving crimes, so I am hoping that they were not complicit in receiving stolen goods, but were they taking advantage of the misfortunes of others?  Was this just a stereotype promoted in popular culture? Were pawnbrokers actually parasites, usurers, or were they providing a much needed service?

The Pawnbroker (film)

The Pawnbroker (film) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Interestingly, I had not really focused on this as I was researching until I could not decipher a word on the 1910 census for Joseph Cohen’s occupation, as I posted earlier this week.  I had asked for help here and elsewhere to decipher the word.  Several people expressed the same opinion—that the word is “loan office.”  As one person commented, it was just a nicer term for a pawnbroker.  Joseph may have been attempting to convey a less controversial image of his occupation.

I decided to do some reading to see what I could learn about pawnbrokers.  First, I wanted to better understand how the pawn business works.  I know that there are now a few reality television shows based on pawnshops, most notably Pawn Stars.  (One of my students brought this up in class this year during a discussion of bailment contracts, and I was sure he had said PORN Stars.  Just shows how uncool I can be….)  I read a few definitions and websites online about how pawning works, and this one seemed to be fairly accurate and concise, from Dictionary.com: “a dealer licensed to lend money at a specified rate of interest on the security of movable personal property, which can be sold if the loan is not repaid within a specified period.”

Wikipedia has a more expanded definition:  “If an item is pawned for a loan, within a certain contractual period of time the pawner may redeem it for the amount of the loan plus some agreed-upon amount for interest. The amount of time, and rate of interest, is governed by law or by the pawnbroker’s policies. If the loan is not paid (or extended, if applicable) within the time period, the pawned item will be offered for sale by the pawnbroker. Unlike other lenders, the pawnbroker does not report the defaulted loan on the customer’s credit report, since the pawnbroker has physical possession of the item and may recoup the loan value through outright sale of the item. The pawnbroker also sells items that have been sold outright to them by customers.”

So a person who needs money but for some reason cannot obtain a bank loan—insufficient credit, time pressure, some other reason that makes a bank an impractical choice—can take their property—jewelry, household items, clothing, whatever—to the pawnshop; the pawnbroker assesses the value of the items and provides a loan of cash to the person who agrees to pay with interest within a set period of time or to forfeit the personal property.

Since the pawnbroker must be licensed and since there are numerous state and federal regulations that apply to the business, there is nothing inherently shady about this business. It is a legal method of loaning money to those who choose not to go to a traditional bank.  So why is there an aura of shadiness often associated with the business?

Wendy A. Woloson wrote a book entitled In Hock, Pawning in America from Independence through the Great Depression (2006) that addressed just this question.  She wrote:

Pawnbrokers were at once essential to the continued well-being of this economic system and important scapegoats for the various social ills that the financial difficulties it brought.  Loans from pawnshops supplemented substandard wages, enabling workers to continue to feed their families and producers to continue to exploit their workers.  Although industrialists indirectly benefited from the services pawnbrokers provided, it was also in their interest to encourage the idea that pawnbrokers were fringe operators whose business had no place in the “mainstream” economic system. (p. 21)

Woloson contended that these capitalists promoted an image of pawnbrokers as hard-hearted, greedy and criminally inclined foreigners who used shady practices to exploit their customers. She also asserted that there was a fair degree of anti-Semitism behind these stereotypes.   Although not all pawnbrokers were Jewish, many were.  As Woloson explains, “Jews’ involvement with pawnbroking resulted not from any inherent character flaws or moral failings, as the popular press often posited. Rather, they took up pawnbroking and like occupations largely because they were barred from other trades, especially the mechanical and artisanal, and so necessarily developed an acumen dealing in consumer goods as peddlers, used clothing dealers, and auctioneers.”  (p. 71)

Of course, the negative stereotype of the Jewish moneylender is far more ancient than 19th century America; Shakespeare’s character Shylock from Elizabethan times is evidence of the way society and popular culture have long depicted Jews who were involved in the lending business.  Woloson elaborated on the role this stereotype and the anti-Semitism in society in general had on the popular assumptions about pawnbrokers—that they were Jewish opportunists taking money from hard working Americans.  (pp. 21-24)

Pawnbrokers were aliens in a commercial world populated by supposedly moral and upright Christian entrepreneurs, and the very nature of the business set it apart from ‘normal’ economic dealings.  The antithesis of merchants, pawnbrokers doled out money instead of taking it in, profiting from customers who lacked capital rather than possessed it. (p. 29)

As Woloson wrote, “Jews’ affiliation with pawnbroking and affiliated trades, such as dealing in used clothing and auctioneering, created among them a cohesive, commercially defined group; yet it also reinscribed outsiders’ perception that they operated beyond the currents of mainstream trade.” (p. 25-26)  Woloson explained that since most Americans in the early 19th century did not know many Jews, their preconceived image of the Jew as a greedy moneylender was reinforced by the fact that many pawnbrokers were Jewish. “It mattered little whether or not individual pawnbrokers were Jewish. Because they were all assumed to be, people scrutinized their business practices and questioned their ethics.” (p. 26)

Even as many Jews achieved substantial economic success through other businesses and finance in the 19th century, there was a common assumption that they had done so illegally, and the stereotype of the greedy, heartless moneylender persisted as part of popular culture. (p.28)  Pawnbrokers became common stock characters in works of popular culture, further promoting the negative and anti-Semitic stereotypes; Woloson catalogs a number of examples of novels and plays using such characters based on this stereotypes (pp. 28-53).

Woloson then provides evidence that in fact pawnshops served important public functions and were set up in ways to prevent exploitation of those who used their services. She describes how as cities grew and people outside the wealthy classes needed access to cash on short notice—to pay taxes or acquire assets they need to live or to work, there was a need for the services of pawnbrokers.  In the early 19th century, cities began to adopt regulations for pawnbroking.  I saw many legal notices in the Philadelphia Inquirer announcing the issuance of pawnbroking licenses to my ancestors and others. These required the posting of an expensive bond and thus ensured a commitment by the pawnbrokers to run their businesses in compliance with the regulations.  (pp.  54-57)

These local regulations controlled both the interest rate a pawnbroker could charge and the period a pawnbroker had to wait before the customer’s goods would be forfeited to the shop and available for sale.  For example, in Philadelphia in the 1860s, the interest rate could not exceed 6% and the pawnshop had to hold collateral for a year before reselling it. (p. 58)

Pawnbrokers hoped that this would add some legitimacy to their business and to their image, but apparently that did not occur.  As Woloson wrote:

Pawnbrokers were hardworking people who offered what was fast becoming a necessary service in maturing American cities, providing short-term loans on modest forms of collateral. Yet their profession, like dogcatching, was not one that people aspired to. Unlike clerks and mechanics, who received education through apprenticelike training and shared social activities, pawnbrokers enjoyed neither professional prestige, identity, specialized education, nor occupational camaraderie.  (p. 58)

According to Woloson, most pawnbrokers learned the trade by starting out as general dealers in goods, learning how to assess the value of those goods.  This is consistent with the experience of my ancestors.  First, they sold used goods and then perhaps newer goods, including china and clothing primarily.  Then they became pawnbrokers.  “A lasting and successful career in pawnbroking rested on one’s ability to identify local market niches and to accurately appraise a miscellany of goods.” (p. 60)

In Woloson’s opinion, these pawnbrokers provided substantial benefits to the people and the cities they lived in.  The money borrowed from the brokers helped not only their customers, but the economy of the city by enabling those people to buy goods and services and thus support local businesses.

She also discusses the typical patterns of the pawnbroking business in various cities, including Philadelphia.  Woloson noted that pawnshops tended to locate in areas that sold used clothing and furniture and other second hand goods rather than in the commercial heart of the cities where more elite retail centers would be located.  In Philadelphia, that meant that most pawnshops were located either north or south of the center of the city in areas, for example, like South Street where my great-grandfather’s pawnshop and home were located for many years.  Woloson provides this insightful description of that neighborhood in the mid-19th century:

Unburdened by any systematic police control, the diverse population and its many activities brought a liveliness to these areas. The very rich and the very poor mingled freely, as did members of various ethnicities and races. While this social mixing may have been scandalous to outside observers, residents themselves shared the collective ambition of getting ahead. The neighborhood’s mixed population at midcentury engaged in many enterprises. They drank, whored, pilfered, and occasionally rioted their way down South Street. By 1839 there were at least sixty-two taverns in the ten-block area.39 Men had their pick of brothels. ….  Some back alleys harbored “houses of prostitution of the lowest grade, the resort of pickpockets and thieves of every description.” Strangers were “earnestly admonished to not go there.” In contrast, another brothel only a few blocks away was home to a respectable “swarm of yellow [mulatto] girls, who promenade up and down Chestnut Street every evening, with their faces well powdered.” The lower sorts needed pawnbrokers to get them through the exigencies of the day and to fund their debauchery at night. Ten of the city’s thirteen pawnbrokers in 1850 were on South Street or within one block of the corridor. Rooted, the shops continued to hem the southern and northern fringes of the city until the end of the century.  (pp. 64-65; footnotes omitted)

H. Williams & Co. Ltd. Pawnbrokers

H. Williams & Co. Ltd. Pawnbrokers (Photo credit: christopher.woo)

This description gave me a far different impression than I previously had about how and where my great-grandfather Emanuel and his many siblings grew up; whereas I had never assumed that this was a wealthy neighborhood, I had assumed it was fairly safe and middle-class since Jacob had servants and a business that supported so many people.  Did my great-grandfather grow up hungry?  Probably not, but neither did he grow up in some swanky suburb or upscale city neighborhood.  He grew up surrounded by thieves, pickpockets, brothels, and bars.

These locations were, in Woloson’s view, business necessities.  The people who needed the services of the pawnbrokers were not the wealthy who shopped at fancy stores, but the working class and poor residents who could not get by without a quick and fairly easy loan.  Woloson opines that in some ways pawnbrokers were more straightforward businesspeople than those who used sales techniques to manipulate customers into buying goods.  In Woloson’s view, “Pawnbrokers made no pretense that they did anything other than loan money, and in this way many may have been more honest professionals than the retailers pushing goods on the other side of the city.” (p. 67-68)

Another pattern observed by Woloson was the tendency of pawnbrokers to expand and pass down their businesses within their families.  “Established, successful pawnshops were often passed down through single families rather than being taken over by outside partners; younger generations grew up in the trade and learned from fathers, uncles, and brothers, thus providing steady income to families over generations and contributing to social and economic stability where pawnbrokers resided.”  (p. 74)

Finally, Woloson also discusses the relative economic success of pawnbrokers, debunking the myth that many were wealthy as a result of the exploitation of those of lesser means.  She wrote:

Like many other businessmen operating in interstitial markets, most pawnbrokers worked the margins. Once they reached their professional apex, they typically did not advance much beyond the class of their customers and failed to accumulate enough capital to invest in larger financial endeavors that would have elevated them socially and economically. A pawnbroker’s profits were tied to the economic fortunes of his customers, and he often suffered losses at auctions of unredeemed collateral, especially during economic crunches. Pawnbrokers running shops in smaller cities necessarily supplemented the lending business with other petty entrepreneurial activities. Average pawnbrokers made enough money to support their families and to keep the business going, but probably not much more.  (p. 75)

I am really glad that I found this book because it has really given me a new perspective on my Cohen ancestors.  Compared to my Brotman and Goldschlager relatives, I’d always imagined that my Cohen relatives were wealthy and established.  Of course, by the late 19th century, early 20th century when my mother’s family started to arrive from Galicia and Romania, the Cohens had already been here for about 50 years and were well-settled, owning their own businesses, speaking English, and American-born.  They had the advantages of being here much earlier and so were far ahead economically when my mother’s family arrived.  But they were not the wealthy elite; they were probably at most middle class business people who were working in unpleasant neighborhoods, subjected to negative stereotypes based on their trade as well as their religion, and engaged in a business that required some risk-taking and business acumen but was not well-regarded.  That must have been very painful and frustrating.

Having this new perspective will help me better understand their lives as I continue to move forward in telling their story.

 

 

 

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Isaac Cohen 1850-1914: A Harder Story to Tell

The third child of my great-great grandparents was Isaac.  He was born on February 4, 1850, in Philadelphia, the first of their children both conceived and born in the US.  Until at least 1872 when he was 22 years old, he lived at home with his parents at 136 South Street and was working as a clerk in one of the family pawnshops.

He was living at a different address as of 1873, 923 Parrish Street, which was two and a half miles north of his family home, continuing the northward movement of the family.  I assume that sometime in 1873 he had married his wife, Emma Cordelia van Horn, since he was no longer living at home.  Emma was born in 1853 in Pennsylvania, the daughter of William van Horn and granddaughter of I.B. Merkel, according to documents relating to her death, but so far I have not been able to find out more about her family or to locate a William van Horn with a daughter named Emma.  I was surprised to see just how many William H. van Horns there were in Philadelphia alone.

Like his older brother Joseph (as well as many of his younger brothers) and his father, Isaac was a pawnbroker.  For his whole career he worked at a pawnshop at 830 North 10th Street, a block away from his residence in 1873 on Parrish Street.   On July 9, 1879, Isaac and Emma’s son, Isaac Wilbert Cohen, was born, and in 1880 the family was living at 636 North 11th Street, only a few blocks away from the store on 10th Street.  The 1880s seem to have been fairly uneventful.  Isaac continued to work at the same location throughout the decade, according to the city directories.  Emma and little Isaac were at home.

Isaac Cohen and son living with Emanuel Cohen and family 1880 census

Isaac Cohen and family 1880 census

Then in 1893, tragedy struck, and Isaac’s life was never the same.  His wife Emma died on November 3, 1893, when she was only forty years old and her son was only fourteen years old.  Emma died from “Septic Peritonitis from Suppurative Salpingitis,” according to her death certificate.  As explained to me by my brother, suppurative salpingitis means she had pus in her fallopian tubes, a condition today known as pelvic inflammatory disease.  In Emma’s case it led to a septic condition in her abdomen which killed her.

Emma Cohen death certificate 1893

Emma Cohen death certificate 1893

Emma Cohen funeral notes 1893

Emma Cohen funeral notes 1893

It was from the funeral notes above that I learned Emma’s father’s and grandfather’s names.

When she died, Emma and Isaac had been living at 1606 Diamond Street, so the family had moved again, about two miles north from 11th Street and Isaac’s store on 10th Street.  After Emma died, Isaac and his son remained at 1606 Diamond Street, and as of 1895, Isaac’s much younger brother, my great-grandfather Emanuel, was also living at 1606 Diamond Street.  Emanuel was thirteen years younger than Isaac, 32 in 1895, and was himself married and the father of three sons, including my grandfather John, who was born in 1895.  On the 1900 census, Isaac and his son were still living with Emanuel and his family, with Emanuel listed as the head of household.

Isaac Cohen and son living with Emanuel Cohen and family 1900 census

Isaac Cohen and son living with Emanuel Cohen and family 1900 census

I found this somewhat puzzling.  Had Emanuel moved his family to Isaac’s home to help take care of his widower brother and motherless nephew?  Or had Isaac taken in Emanuel to help him out?  I assume it’s more likely the former—that Isaac need help with caring for his teenage son and that my great-grandmother Eva was willing to help raise him as well as her three sons, who would have been young boys during the 1890s.  Isaac had twelve siblings, some much closer to him in age.  Why would he have ended up living with Emanuel, his much younger brother and not one of the others?

Isaac was the first member of the Cohen family to marry someone who was not Jewish.  Emma had been buried in a non-Jewish cemetery, West Laurel Hill in Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania, outside Philadelphia.  Had his other siblings been upset that he married outside the faith?

Isaac’s stay in Emanuel’s household continued for almost twenty years.  In 1910, he was still living with Emanuel, Eva, and their sons, now at 1441 Diamond Street, and still working as a pawnbroker.  His son Isaac Wilbert had married Gertrude Mann the year before and was living in his own place.  Why had Isaac stayed with Emanuel and not moved with his son?  To give the newlyweds their own space? Again, it does seem a bit strange, but I suppose that after fifteen years of living with his brother and family, Isaac at age 60 was content to stay put.

Isaac Cohen with Emanuel and family 1910 census

Isaac Cohen with Emanuel and family 1910 census

But then Isaac suffered another terrible loss.  On March 3, 1914, his son Isaac Wilbert Cohen died from lobar pneumonia.  According to the death certificate, Isaac Wilbert had suffered from myocarditis, another family member succumbing to heart problems.  He was only 34 and had been married only five years when he died.  He had no children.

Isaac Wilbert Cohen death certificate

Isaac Wilbert Cohen death certificate

Isaac Cohen, my great-grandfather’s brother, himself died just a few months later on September 15, 1914, from acute peritonitis secondary to pancreatic cancer.

Isaac Cohen death certificate

Isaac Cohen death certificate

He was 64 years old and had lost his wife 21 years before and his only child just six months before.  It seems like he endured far too many losses far too soon.  I hope that he found comfort living with my great-grandparents and my grandfather and great-uncles.  I wish that I knew more about his life and his story.

Like his wife, Isaac was buried at West Laurel Hill cemetery along with his son Isaac Wilbert.

 

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My Great-Grandfather’s Brother Joseph: 1848-1923

Joseph was the first child of Jacob and Sarah Cohen to be born in the US; he was born on November 21, 1848, in Philadelphia, only four months after his parents’ arrival in July, 1848, meaning his mother was five months pregnant when she traveled from England to the US with her husband and toddler daughter, Fanny.  Joseph lived with his family at 136 South Street until he married Caroline Snellenburg around 1868.

Caroline was born in Germany around 1849 and emigrated to the United States with her family as a young child in 1857.  Although I cannot locate a specific marriage record for Joseph and Caroline, they probably were married sometime in or before 1868 because their first born child, Hart, was born May, 1869.  In June, 1870, when the census was taken, Caroline, Joseph and one year old Hart were living at 115 Congress Street in the same ward and district as Joseph’s parents, and Joseph was working as a tailor.

Joseph and Caroline Cohen 1870 US census

Joseph and Caroline Cohen 1870 US census

 

Then, later that year, little Hart was stricken with typhoid fever and died on November 21, 1870, only one and a half at the time.  So like his older sister Fanny and her husband Ansel who lost their daughter Rachel to typhoid fever in 1873 before she was two years old, Joseph and his wife Caroline lost a young child to typhoid.

Hart Cohen death certificate 1870

Hart Cohen death certificate 1870

I have speculated before about what these deaths must have done to young parents and whether it made them less able to attach to children or made them treasure each child more.  In the case of Joseph and Caroline, it seems they compensated by having another ten children after losing their first born.  At least one other child did not survive to adulthood, the last born child, Meyer, who was born in July 1889 and died the next month.  By having so many children, Joseph and Caroline were able to ensure that at least some of their children would survive the dangers of life back in the 19th century.

By 1875, Jacob and Caroline had four children, Jacob (1872), Bertha and Isaac (1874) and Nathan (1875) and were living at 221 South 2d Street, where they would live at least until 1886, according to various city directories.  This residence was located about half a mile north of where Joseph grew up on South Street and close to the city center of Philadelphia, near Walnut Street.

In 1875 Joseph was listed in the city directory as a clothier, and in 1879 he was in business as Cohen and Brothers with at least his younger brother Reuben and perhaps Hart and Isaac as well.  Although there is no description of what trade Cohen and Brothers were engaged in in the 1879 directory, on the 1880 census Joseph’s occupation was described as a dealer in clothing so he was still in the clothing trade.

Joseph Cohen and family 1880 census

Joseph Cohen and family 1880 census

In 1881, however, the city directory lists his business as being a pawnbroker, like his father and his brothers Isaac and Reuben (Hart was still a clothier), but also as a clothier at his home location.  So by 1881, Joseph had followed in his father’s footsteps and was working as a pawnbroker but also selling clothing.

Perhaps Joseph was engaged in two businesses for good reason.  By 1881, he and Caroline had five children, Sallie having been born in 1877.  By 1884, they had two more, Fannie (1882) and Julia (1884).  By 1886, the family had moved, perhaps to accommodate all these new and growing children, to 703 South 12th Street, and Joseph was in business with his younger brother Lewis Cohen and had a store at 701 South 12th Street, right next door to his residence.  This was a move closer to Broad Street near South Street, so presumably a good business location.   In 1887, Joseph and Caroline had two more children, twins named Morris and Samuel.

The business and the family remained at this location at least through 1889, and then in 1892, Joseph had a store at 1200 South Street and was residing at 710 North 5th Street.  This was a move four miles north, and so nearing the turn of the century, Joseph, like his sister Fanny, was living in North Philadelphia, part of the migration of Jews from the southern to the northern parts of the city.  Presumably, the business and the family were doing quite well.

Interestingly, in 1900, Joseph and Caroline and the children were living in Cape May, New Jersey, where Joseph was working as a pawnbroker.  I assume that he was working to establish a new store in a new territory, perhaps for one of his sons. Or maybe after the death of infant Meyer in August of 1889, they just needed a change of scenery.  Although the records conflict, some records indicate that the twins Morris and Samuel were born in Cape May in August, 1887, so it could be that this was a second stay for the family in Cape May.

Joseph Cohen and family 1900 census

Joseph Cohen and family 1900 census

Although Joseph and Caroline’s oldest son Jacob was already married at this point, he is listed on the census as living in Cape May with his parents in 1900.  (He is also listed as living with his wife and child back in Philadelphia, so I assume he was shuttling back and forth.)  His occupation was as a jeweler, a business that I know became a part of the Cohen family businesses.  His younger brother Isaac was working as a traveling salesman, and Nathan, then 25, was working as a clerk in the pawn store.

By 1903, however, Joseph was back in Philadelphia, working at the store at 1200 South Street, and in 1910 Joseph and Caroline were living with six of their adult children at 1915 Diamond Street, another few miles north and west of where they had lived in 1889.

Joseph Cohen and family 1910 census

Joseph Cohen and family 1910 census

Joseph was described as the proprietor of a business, but I cannot decipher the script for what type of business.  If one of you can, I’d love to know.

Detail: What is the word after "Proprietor" on Joseph Cohen's line?

Detail: What is the word after “Proprietor” on Joseph Cohen’s line?

Sam and Morris were working in a department store (maybe Ansel’s, maybe their father’s?), and Nathan was working as a loan officer in a bank.  Imagine that! A rebel in the family, abandoning the long tradition of being merchants and pawnbrokers.

On October 17, 1918, Joseph and Caroline lost another child, but this time an adult child.  Their son Morris, who was only 30 years old, died from pneumonia after having influenza.  Morris was married to Helen Goodman and working as a sheet metal worker in the manufacture of automobile radiators, according to his death certificate and 1917 World War I draft registration.  He had only completed that draft registration a few months before his death.

Morris Cohen death certificate

Morris Cohen death certificate

Morris Cohen draft registration for World War I

Morris Cohen draft registration for World War I

In 1920, Joseph and Caroline were living with just two of their adult children, Nathan, now 43 and still working as a loan officer, and Fanny, who was 35 and not employed outside the home.  Joseph had no occupation listed on this census, and he and Caroline were now 70 years old.  They were living at 1914 Erie Avenue, even further north and west from their prior home on Diamond Street.

Joseph Cohen and family 1920 census

Joseph Cohen and family 1920 census

Joseph died three years later, on June 10, 1923, from chronic endocarditis, another family member dying from heart disease.  The contributing causes were chronic parenchymalious nephritis.  According to my medical consultant and brother, this is form of kidney disease.

Joseph Cohen death certificate 1923

Joseph Cohen death certificate 1923

Caroline died the following year on April 3, 1924.  I do not have a death certificate for her, but both she and Joseph were buried in Mt Sinai cemetery.  Together they had endured a fair share of heartache, losing at least two children as babies and one as an adult, but they also had enjoyed a fair amount of financial security and the company of many of their children.  As with Fanny, Jacob and Sarah would have been pleased to know that their son Joseph had overall lived a good life.

 

 

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