So you have established that your ancestors lived on Latvian territory. But what were their ethnic origins? Latvia has been a multi-ethnic territory for centuries, so the distinctions between ethnic groups might not always be so clear in the old records.
There are, however, numerous ways in which to establish someone’s ethnic identity. They are not foolproof, but simply a guideline that can help to unravel some of these mysteries.
Why is ethnicity important? Each ethnic group has its own unique traditions and culture. Knowing about these traditions and cultures helps us paint a clearer picture of our ancestors’ lives, the stories they told, the songs they sang and the languages they spoke.
Surname – The peasantry – mostly consisting of ethnic Latvians – only acquired surnames in the nineteenth century. They were encouraged to choose names that reflected this ethnic origin, though many did not comply and chose German, Polish or Russian names instead. But if they did select a Latvian name, the chances are extremely good that they were ethnic Latvians. Remember, Latvian was considered a peasant dialect in this time period, so anyone who was not Latvian would be unlikely to choose a Latvian name. German, Russian or Polish names, however, since they carried with them the appearance of prestige and a higher social class, were adopted by many different groups that were not ethnic Germans, Russians or Poles, including, but not limited to, Latvians, Estonians and Roma. Jewish surnames can also be of Slavic or Germanic origins, depending on a family’s particular history – sometimes they could come from Germanic origins via Yiddish centuries before surnames were prevalent among the Latvian peasantry, in other cases, they could have been assigned around the same time that Latvian peasants acquired surnames.
Census – Census records – from 1897, 1935 and 1941 – all have a column for ethnicity. However, as census records are derivative sources, they could have their inaccuracies, particularly depending on such things as who answered the census for the household, any biases on the part of the recordkeepers (for example, on the 1897 All-Russia Census, it was common for Belarusians and Ukrainians to be written down as “White Russians” and “Little Russians”, thus subgroups of the main Russian group, rather than as separate ethnicities within a wider Slavic group), and the political climate (the 1941 Census was conducted while Latvia was under Nazi occupation).
Congregation – So your ancestor from Latvian territory has a German, Russian or Polish name, but you believe that they are an ethnic Latvian? Look at religious records. Not the language of the records themselves, but the congregation your ancestor is found in. Many Lutheran parishes had separate German and Latvian congregations, and the records were often kept separate as well. If your ancestor was baptized in the German congregation, it is likely that at least one of their parents was an ethnic German. But here there is the caution regarding upward mobility – if a Latvian was seeking to improve his social status further – maybe he was already favoured by a local baron or had had the opportunity to study – he may have switched to the German congregation in an effort to maintain his higher status. In the nineteenth century, there was a movement against this Germanization by the Young Latvians.
Religion – Generally speaking, ethnic Latvians and ethnic Germans were Lutherans. Sometimes they were Catholics, particularly in Latgale. Some Latvians joined the Russian Orthodox church, or smaller denominations such as Baptist or Reformed churches. It is also important to read baptism entries of children fully – they will typically tell the religion of both parents. This additional information in baptism entries can also lead to surprising discoveries – I found an Anglican British man who settled in Sece parish in the 1870s who baptized his children into his local wife’s Lutheran church.
Class – Class is a big marker, particularly prior to the twentieth century. Ethnic Latvians were predominantly peasant farmers, with some working in trades. The nobility was primarily German, with some Russian and Polish nobles as well. I have yet to hear of any ethnic Latvian baron or large landowner, but it is not outside the realm of possibility. Depending on the time period, administrators would have been German, Russian or Polish. As time passed, Latvians began to move into other positions as well, but, for the most part, this would have only come after emancipation from serfdom.
Location – Where in Latvia did your ancestors live? Vidzeme and Kurzeme, the northern and western provinces of Latvia, had (and still have) the highest percentages of ethnic Latvians. Zemgale (the southern province) also had high numbers of ethnic Latvians – particularly in the west – but as you head east and into Latgale (the eastern province), percentages of Russians, Belarusians and Poles increase. Rural areas were predominantly Latvian, with the exception of the southeast, where there were larger numbers of Belarusians, Russians and Poles. Urban areas were very mixed. Latvians had pluralities in most cities at the end of the nineteenth century (except for in the southeast), but majority populations only in the north in cities such as Cēsis, Limbaži and Valmiera. In the southeast, cities were predominantly Jewish and Polish. In this same time period, there were two rural pockets that were predominantly German, one south of Ērgļi in central Latvia, the other in Kurzeme north of Saldus. The rural areas southeast of Ludza and west of Rēzekne in the east were predominantly Belarusian. Majority Russian rural parishes were found west of Rēzekne and east of Daugavpils.[1]
I hope that these tips can help you narrow down your family’s background and learn more about their traditions. Anomalies do occur, so nothing can be certain, but as a general guideline, these should help your research.
Any other tips? Share in comments!
[1]Population distributions taken from Latvijas Vēstures Atlants, ed. Jānis Turlajs, 1998, p. 28 – “National population at the end of the 19th century”.
I’ll admit, this post is long overdue. It should have been one of the first posts on this blog. But it is here now!
For the purposes of this post, I am assuming several things. The main assumption is that you have utilized all of the records in the place where your Latvian ancestor migrated to – naturalization documents, death certificates, etc. I am also assuming that you are familiar with what different types of records contain – for example, that you know what you can expect to find on a census record versus a passenger ship list. All fond numbers mentioned for records are from the Central Fond Register of the Latvian Archives.
So let’s begin!
Step 1: Do you know where in Latvia your ancestor was born? If YES, go to step 6. If NO, go to step 2.
Step 2: When did your ancestor emigrate from Latvia? In the POST-WORLD WAR 2 PERIOD, go to step 3. In the INTER-WAR PERIOD, go to step 4. PRIOR TO 1920, go to step 5.
Step 3: Consult DP camp records – you can write to the International Tracing Service (discussed in this blog post) for more information. When you have found a birthplace, move to step 6.
Step 4: If your ancestor emigrated from Latvia in the inter-war period, they could be found on passenger lists, most often departing from German ports such as Hamburg or Bremerhaven, but some people emigrated via the United Kingdom. You can also consult Latvian passport collections for major cities (fond 2996 for Rīga, other cities fond 2258), to see if your ancestor lived in one of them. Passports will list place of birth. When you have found a birthplace, move on to step 6.
Step 5: If your ancestor emigrated from Latvia prior to 1920, you can consult passenger ship lists as above for step 4. If they immigrated to Canada, consult the Li-Ra-Ma collection, which documents immigrants from the Russian Empire between 1898 and 1922, including numerous Latvians. The Li-Ra-Ma website mentions that the National Archives in the USA has a similar collection. The Li-Ra-Ma collection website includes digital images of the immigrant files. When you have found your ancestor’s birthplace, move on to step 6.
Step 6: When was your ancestor born? After 1921, go to step 7. Between 1909 and 1921, go to step 8. Prior to 1909, go to step 9.
Step 7: Contact the registry office of the municipality. When you have learned all you can from these records, go to step 8.
Step 8: Contact the Registry Office Archives of the Ministry of Justice in Rīga, who hold records from 1909/1910 to 1921 (some records for 1906-1908 will also be held here, depending on the municipality and how their records are bound, see note on step 9). When you have learned all that you can from the records available there, go to step 9.
Step 9: Consult religious records, available online at Raduraksti. These resources will provide basic birth/marriage/death records. The records are organized by year and type of record. Records could be in Latvian, German, Russian or Hebrew (for Jewish records). [Update July 2010: Most records from 1905 to 1909 have been transferred to the Latvian State Historical Archives, who are responsible for Raduraksti. They have not yet been added to the website, but hopefully will be soon. Until they are, you will need to contact the LSHA directly.] If you get stuck, brick walled or want to consult other sources for more information, go to step 10.
Step 10: Religious records (and later civil registration records) will form the backbone of your research, but sometimes the records don’t exist anymore, or you want to find additional information about your ancestors that doesn’t appear in those kinds of records. In this case, you will want to consult other records that are available – from 1920 to 1945, go to step 11. From 1890 to 1920, go to step 12. Prior to 1890, go to step 13.
Step 11: A wealth of documents from the independence era can be found in the Latvian State Historical Archives. Examples: The 1935 Census (fond 1308, abstract 12), the 1941 Census (fond 1308, abstract 15), civil servant employment files (judicial -fond 1536, police -fond 5604, I’m sure files for other departments exist as well, but these are the ones I have utilized) and house books (Rīga -fond 2942, other cities -fond 2110). For an earlier time period, go to step 12.
Step 12: In this time period, important records available are military records and the All-Russia Census of 1897, however they can be less complete than more recent records. The records for Latvian parishes for the All-Russia Census of 1897 can be found online on Raduraksti. Military records vary in quality and depth of information, I have utilized them only briefly. They appear to be organized in the archives by the specific division of the military. I would recommend searching by the words “pulks” (regiment). Many of these records date from the Latvian wars of independence, but it might be possible to find other types of military records as well. For an earlier time period, go to step 13.
Step 13: It is at this point when completeness and variety of records starts to become extremely dependant on individual civil parishes. Some parishes have large numbers of surviving records, while other have few to none. It always pays to consult neighbouring parish records as well, just in case. To find what might be in civil parish records, search for “pagasta valde” (parish council) or “pagasta tiesa” (parish court), and then look for the parish name you want. You can also search by parish name to find what other records could exist. Due to various Latvian noun cases, I would recommend, when searching by parish name, that you leave off the ending (for example, search “Limbaž” instead of “Limbaži”), since the case form can influence what records are found. Another useful source are the “revision lists”, which list members of various communities, and could provide more detailed information, depending on the purpose of the list. Revision lists for Latgale are at fond 1881, Vidzeme at fond 199, Kurzeme (which includes modern-day Zemgale province) at fond 630. Some revision lists are available on Raduraksti – at time of writing, these are lists pertaining to the towns of Bauska, Grobiņa, Jaunjelgava, Jēkabpils and Jelgava.
Unless mentioned otherwise, these records are only available at the Latvian State Historical Archives (LVVA) in Rīga, Latvia. To access the records in the archives reading room, it is necessary to register for a reading room pass. I would recommend doing this by email in advance of your visit. When you request materials, it may take a few days for the material to be located and made available for you, so plan your visit accordingly. The staff are extremely helpful, so do not be afraid to ask for help. However, not all of the staff speak English, but most do speak German and/or Russian. All speak Latvian. Visiting the archives is free, but copies cost money, and the cost can vary depending on shape and age of the documents. When I visited the LVVA in December, I spent about 80 lati ($150, £100) on copies. It was worth it! The copies are also annotated with the fond number, abstract number and item number.
I hope this helps you formulate your research plan. As always, if you need any help, or have any questions, just ask!
I first read about the International Tracing Service about a year ago when searching for more information about post-World War Two Displaced Persons Camps. According to their website, their history starts in London in 1943, as a tracing bureau for people missing due to war. After the war, they continued to work to identify and register displaced persons, liberated prisoners and forced labourers. They gained their current name while under the auspices of the International Refugee Organization in 1948.
From their website, I had been under the impression that they only held documents relating to victims of Nazi terror. However, a couple of months ago, one of my readers here informed me that they hold documents on other displaced persons as well, including Latvian DPs, and that they had been able to provide her with a lot of useful documentation.
So at the beginning of January, I submitted information requests for both of my grandmothers. I received a response in mid-February, wherein were full-colour copies of several documents relating to both of them, listing places they had lived, family profiles, where they wanted to go next, and so on.
What information did I learn? Most of the information on my maternal grandmother I had already known, but it did provide some other addresses she had lived at in Denmark. It also indicated her desire to resettle in Switzerland. For my paternal grandmother, Zenta Lūkina, I learned more – I learned that, along with her husband Juris Celmiņš and her parents Augusts and Lilija (nee Šīrs), she departed for Canada from Bremerhaven, Germany on October 13, 1948 aboard the USS General W. C. Langfitt. Her family’s intent was to move to Canada. A “Resettlement Record” for her father, Augusts Lūkins, indicates his primary occupation as “Lawyer”, and secondary occupations of “Occupational Interviewer” and “Gardener”. I never knew that Augusts was a gardener! The family had been housed at DP Camp Noor in Eckernförde, Schleswig-Holstein, Germany.
These documents have, however, presented a conflict of information in terms of my maternal grandmother’s port of emigration. Here, it says that the SS Samaria departed for Canada from Cuxhaven, but her Canadian citizenship application states that this ship departed from Bremerhaven, some 40 kilometres south. In everything I’ve read about emigration via German ports, these two, while being near to each other, have always been considered separate from one another. My grandmother and great-aunt say that they departed from Hamburg, which lends itself to the Cuxhaven version, since Cuxhaven was the official port from which Hamburg’s ships sailed. But then why write Bremerhaven? Did the ship sail from Cuxhaven to Bremerhaven, and stay in port long enough for it to be considered to have departed from Bremerhaven by Canadian authorities, but officially have departed from Cuxhaven according to German authorities?
That mystery aside, I will be writing to the ITS again for information on my grandfathers, to fill in more pieces of my family’s post-war puzzle.
The service is free of charge. While it could provide information for anyone who had family members in DP camps after the war, it is of particular use to those who are just starting their research into their Latvian ancestors, and may not know where in Latvia they came from. Information cards list all of this information, which will pinpoint the necessary places in Latvia to continue the search.
Provide as much information as possible to make the search easier – any names, places and dates you may have. You might just be able to find the answers to the mysteries you have been seeking!
Have you written to the ITS? What kind of results did you get?
[This post was written for the 27th edition of the Carnival of Central and Eastern European Genealogy, hosted by Al's Polish-American Genealogy Research.]
For this edition of the Carnival of Central and Eastern European Genealogy, I will be talking about the town of Krustpils, where both of my grandmothers lived for a time. My maternal grandmother was born there, and lived there throughout her childhood, while my paternal grandmother, Zenta Lūkina, lived there between 1925 and 1934, while her father Augusts was the local justice of the peace.
Krustpils is found on the north shore of the Daugava, at a midway point between Rīga and Daugavpils. The name “Krustpils” translates to “Cross Castle”. It is first mentioned in 1237 as being a place where the Bishop of Rīga built a castle. The name came from the cross formation of the castle.
In the modern day, Krustpils no longer exists as an independent entity – it was amalgamated with Jēkabpils, the larger town on the south shore of the Daugava in 1962. What I find intriguing about Krustpils in this regard is that even though the two towns were across the river from one another, they spent most of history in different administrative regions. During the time of the Russian Empire, Jēkabpils was in the Kurland guberniya, while Krustpils was in the Vitebsk guberniya – the Daugava river was a powerful dividing force.
This becomes quite important when it comes to genealogy, since serfdom was abolished at vastly different times – in Kurland guberniya it was abolished in 1817, while in Vitebsk guberniya only in 1861. This meant surnames were acquired at a later date as well – and took even longer to appear in church records consistently. I have been able to identify my great-grandmother Jūle’s birth record in 1874, but not all records in her year have surnames. The advantage is is that I clearly know where her family got their surname – Jūle’s father Indriķis was a craftsman who made wheels and wagons, and has the surname Štelmahers – from the German “Stellmacher”, meaning “wheelwright”. Occupational surnames are not particularly common in Latvia, so I’ve lucked out here! As I’ve mentioned before, the language of a surname in Latvia has no bearing on the ethnicity of its bearer – ethnic Latvians often had surnames of German or Russian origin.
Krustpils has always been a multiethnic town. It was inhabited by Balts for centuries, and Germans arrived with the Rīga bishop. Russians also settled in Krustpils, as did Jews. In 1935, Krustpils’ population was 53% Latvian, 35% Jewish, 12% other. For those doing Jewish research in Krustpils, Jewish Gen’s ShtetlLinks has a variety of information, including lists of Jewish residents. During the Russo-Turkish War (1877-1878), Turkish prisoners of war were interned in Krustpils, and many remained when the war was over. My grandmother and great-aunt grew up just down the street from the local Russian Orthodox church. Across the river in Jēkabpils – named for Jakob von Kettler, a 17th century duke of Kurland – there is also a very brightly blue-painted Old Believer church. Russian Old Believers and Polish/Ukrainian Greek Catholics fled from Russian territories due to persecution in the 16th and 17th centuries, and many settled in the semi-independent Duchy of Kurland.
Zīlanu street, Krustpils, December 2009. Picture taken by author. Click on the image for a larger version.
In this photograph, note the abovementioned Russian Orthodox church in the background. Note also the numerous Latvian flags – this picture was taken on the first Sunday of December, which is a designated remembrance day. By law, Latvian flags must be displayed on each of the eleven remembrance days, five of which, including this one, also require black ribbons of mourning tied alongside the flag.
Today, the town of Jēkabpils has approximately 29,000 inhabitants. Most refer to the area solely as Jēkabpils, since Jēkabpils was larger, but the train station, as it is on the Krustpils side of the river, is still the Krustpils railway station. There is a small cemetery on the Krustpils side, but it has mostly fallen into ruin, and most burials happen on the Jēkabpils side. My great-grandparents, along with several other members of my extended family, are buried at the Jēkabpils cemetery.
I know this was yesterday’s blogging prompt, but I don’t have much to say in terms of my female ancestors and newsmaking, since it was my male ancestors who were the newsmakers, but I do on moments of strength.
Today’s prompt: Share a story where a female ancestor showed courage or strength in a difficult situation.
When she was twenty-five years old – the same age that I am now – my grandmother, along with her elder sister, left Latvia in the midst of the Second World War. The war was nearing its end, and it was clear that the Soviets would be victorious. Having experienced the first Soviet occupation from 1940 to 1941, they had no desire to experience it again.
They were nurses with the Red Cross, having initially worked in the hospital in Rīga, and then traveling across Europe. Their journey took them across Europe by many methods, including trains and boats. They were on one of the last ships out of Gdansk, where bombardments were happening regularly and numerous boats were lost.
By war’s end, they found themselves in Copenhagen, Denmark. Displaced persons’ accommodations over the next four years were varied – the manor house “Gurrehus” west of Helsingor, army barracks near Kastrup airport, apartments on Prags Boulevard, even temporary accommodations in Christiansborg Palace.
Initially, displaced persons were not meant to work in the community, but eventually these rules were relaxed. The sisters took jobs as maids in the rich community of Vedbæk, north of Copenhagen. After time, they also secured long-term positions as seamstresses at the fashion house Modepalæet on Østerbrogade in central Copenhagen. During this time, they also met the men who were to become their husbands. My grandfather was the DP leader at Gurrehus. However, they only married in Canada.
In 1949, the opportunity came to emigrate to Canada, and they took it. The sisters boarded the SS Samaria on June 30th, 1949. Documents conflict as to whether this was in Cuxhaven or in Bremerhaven – emigration documents say one, immigration documents the other. They arrived in Quebec City on July 11th, 1949. When my grandmother first set foot on Canadian soil, she was twenty-nine years old. The uncertainty of the years since the war began now over, she and her husband-to-be (who arrived in Canada a month later) were able to pursue life as it should have been before the war interrupted – building a home (literally) and having a family.
My grandmother is now 90 years old, and her sister is 98. I have always admired the strength and courage of these formidable women, and the bravery it took to leave their family and the only home they’d ever known to journey across a continent in the midst of war, and then onwards to a country with a new language and culture to build new lives.
I retraced their steps this past fall, visiting Bremerhaven, Hamburg, Copenhagen and Gdansk, and seeing the places that they told me about. I also went back to the village they grew up in and the property where they lived (only the root cellar of their home still exists, there is a new home on the property now). I visited their parents’ graves. It was all an extremely moving experience.
Before I went to the Latvian State Historical Archives for the first time, I didn’t pay much attention to farm names. Sure, I knew the name of the farm where one of my grandfathers grew up, but I didn’t attach a significance to it beyond an address.
My work in the archives showed me just how important these names are, and they are now what I look at first when looking at an old record.
So what changed? What did I learn?
Knowing farm names makes looking at a census easier and faster. For rural parishes, census records for 1935 and 1941 are usually arranged alphabetically by farm name. It is a great time saver if you know the name of your ancestor’s farm.
Farm names help distinguish individuals with the same name. I have encountered this in my research in Limbaži parish. I was looking through birth records to locate all of my great-grandmother’s siblings when I discovered there were at least four separate men with her father’s name – Ansis Eglītis. Since I knew the name of the farm my great-grandmother was born on, I could identify who her siblings were. I was also helped by the fact that I knew her mother’s full name – Līze Graumane – and that this was also listed. If only the mother’s first name was listed – as is common, particularly in older records – I would have been in trouble, since there were two Ansis Eglītis’ who were married to women named Līze. But because I knew the farm name, I had an extra confirmation that I had the right person.
Farm names can be connected to surnames. This can, sometimes, be a chicken-or-egg situation, but in most cases, farm names came first. Farm names are often based on physical characteristics of the land, and are therefore duplicated many times over throughout Latvia (and these farm names are, consequently, the roots of the most common surnames). In Vijciems parish, where my Celmiņš ancestors are from, there are three farms in a 20km radius called “Celmiņi”. As far as I’ve traced my ancestors, they lived on a farm called “Stampvēveri”. This farm is almost in the centre of the triangle formed by the three Celmiņi farms. I have a suspicion that my ancestors were originally from one of the Celmiņi farms, and then moved to Stampvēveri. Why are there so many farms called “Celmiņi” in Vijciems parish? The area is known for forestry, so it does not seem odd to me that there would be numerous farms called by the diminutive of “tree stumps”.
Knowing a farm name provides insight into another type of history – house history. I have not utilized rural land books yet, but they do exist. I have utilized their urban equivalents, that list occupants and their vital information. I’m given to understand that rural land books provide more information such as farm equipment, animals owned, etc. Some of this information is also available on the 1935 census forms. Depending on its size, there may also be other families living on the farm. They will also appear on the census forms. Census forms will also indicate who is the owner of the property.
Farm names identify concrete places within parishes, which can be located on maps and visited. If you are planning a research or family history trip to Latvia, having concrete locations connected to your family history to visit will make your visit more meaningful. I have only visited one of my ancestral farms thus far (it is owned by my half-uncle), but there are several more I have yet to visit. Contact the current owners ahead of time so that you can obtain permission ot explore the property. You might even happen upon a distant relative by doing so! If you explain your reasons for wanting to visit, most people will be amenable and helpful.
Farm Name Features
- Farm names almost always end in “i” – this is a plural noun ending.
- If there are farms that were established by family members, the names could indicate connections, for example: “Jauncelmiņi” and “Veccelmiņi” (New Celmiņi and Old Celmiņi, respectively). This is not a guarantee of blood relation, however, since farms can change hands, and several families can live on one farm.
- “Leja” means “valley” and “kalns” means “hill” – these are frequently added to the beginnings of farm names as well. It is possible that these come from related properties, or two properties that used to be one, and so on.
Are there any farm names you are particularly curious about? Trying to place a farm on a map? Let me know and I can try to help!
Today’s prompt: Do you have marriage records for your grandparents or great-grandparents? Write a post about where they were married and when. Any family stories about the wedding day? Post a photo too if you have one.
It’s a bit ironic – the ancestors that I have marriage records for are the ones I don’t have photographs for, and vice versa.
Since everyone loves photographs, I’ll stick to talking about the marriages of the couples portrayed within them, though my knowledge of those weddings are slim.
These are my paternal grandparents, Zenta Lūkina and Juris Celmiņš, on their wedding day. They were married in 1943 in Latvia, but I don’t know the date, or where the wedding took place, though it was most likely in Rīga. They were 20 and 23. I had always thought that they met in displaced persons camps in Germany after the war, but then I learned I was wrong. I don’t know how they met. Both of their families were relatively well-off – Zenta’s father was a justice of the peace and former Member of Parliament, while Juris’ father was a bank director (though he may have been deceased by the time his son married, since he died in early 1943).
This photo is of the wedding of my great-grandparents Brencis Līcītis and Jūle Štelmahers, c. 1909. They are the couple in the middle of the second row – Brencis is to the left of Jūle (you can see barely make out the dark corsage on his jacket), and Jūle is in the white dress with the dark edges and flowers in her hair. They would have been married in Krustpils, but that is all I have in terms of details at the moment. Jūle’s parents, Indriķis Štelmahers and Ieva Lapiņa are on the left end of the same row – Indriķis is the blurred figure on the end, Ieva is the older woman in the striped dress. Brencis’ brother, Krišjānis, is on the left end of the third row, just above Indriķis. Ten people in this photograph, mostly people in the top row, remain unidentified.
I’m not sure how Brencis and Jūle met. I only know that Brencis must have moved to Krustpils sometime before 1897 (since he appears in the 1897 All-Russia Census records for Krustpils), while Jūle was born and grew up there. They married relatively late in life for the time period – Jūle was 35, while Brencis was 43. He made harmonicas and repaired other musical instruments. His brother was allegedly a musician in Paris around the turn of the century.
Does anyone know about the Paris music scene of the early 20th century? Ideas on where to start to look for information about musicians from the Russian Empire in that scene? He was apparently quite well-off, though I don’t know if that was due to an inheritance of some kind or an income from music. Thanks for any tips!
Today’s prompt: Do you share a first name with one of your female ancestors? Perhaps you were named for your great-grandmother, or your name follows a particular naming pattern. If not, then list the most unique or unusual female first name you’ve come across in your family tree.
Well, the most unusual name in my family tree is my own – Antra. I wasn’t named for anyone, it was a name my parents saw in the Latvian name calendar and liked. It is not a particularly common name – growing up, other Latvian-Canadians would ask me if my name was Latvian, and I, confused, since I knew my name came from the name calendar, would tell them that it was. I only know two other Latvian-North-Americans with this name.
It is more common in Latvia though – nowhere near the top of the list, but popular enough that I can find pre-printed items with my name on them. It is more popular than names that I thought were quite common, such as Zinta and Krista. Despite modern-day (relative) popularity, I have yet to see it in any old record.
Women’s names in my family do not seem to follow any sort of pattern. A count of women’s names in my family tree (my name included, direct line only):
- Anna – 4.
- Ieva – 3.
- Līze – 2.
- Aina, Antra, Dorotea, Ēde, Jūle, Kače, Karlīne, Kristīne, Lilija, Marija, Mārīte, Mērija, Mīle, Vija, Zenta – 1.
There we have 18 names, 24 individuals. Anna and Ieva still remain some of the most popular female names, though the popularity of Līze has dropped off dramatically. Other names, such as Aina and Vija, I haven’t seen anywhere in old records, even though they are very popular now. Names that appear frequently in old records, such as Mīle and Jūle, are almost unheard of these days.
Tomorrow: – marriages! And hopefully I’ll get my post on farm names up as well.
Today’s prompt:Post a photo of one of your female ancestors. Who is in the photo? When was it taken? Why did you select this photo?
I’m cheating, and posting two. While looking through my photos, I realized that I have very few of female ancestors by themselves. There were a couple, but not many. As such, it seemed more appropriate to post photos where they are not by themselves, but rather, with family.
These two photos are of my grandfathers’ families, c. 1925-1930. My grandfathers are the young boys in the pictures, but I am going to talk about their mothers – my great-grandmothers.
This is my maternal grandfather’s family. His mother’s name was Mērija Eglīte. She was born in Lāde parish to Ansis Eglītis and Līze Graumane on September 10, 1892. She was born on the family farm, which belonged to her mother’s family (and belongs to my half-uncle today). Mērija lived there until the farm was expropriated by the Soviets, at which point she and her daughter moved to Rīga. Mērija died on March 11, 1973. Her husband had been executed by the Soviets in 1941, and her son fled west during the war, settling here in Canada. They never saw each other again.
This is my paternal grandfather’s family. His mother’s name was Anna Liepa. She was born in Rīga to Fricis Liepa and Mīle Buše on September 23, 1895. She worked as a bookkeeper, while her husband was a civil servant who was responsible for helping set up the postal savings bank, which still exists today. Anna, her husband and their two children moved around a lot during the 1920s, living at many different addresses in Rīga and Jūrmala. I do not know why they moved so much. Her husband died in 1943 due to causes unrelated to the war. Her son left for the west during the war, while her daughter remained in Latvia. Anna died in Rīga on June 20, 1987. As such, she holds the distinction of being the only one of my great-grandparents who was still living when I was born in 1984. However, I never had the opportunity to meet her, since I was born in Canada and she lived in Latvia, which was at that time still under Soviet control.
I find the similarities between the life events of these two women quite interesting, and the photos reflect those similarities. They both had two children, one boy and one girl, the boy being the elder child. They both outlived their husbands, who died during wartime, by several decades. Both of their sons left for the west, while their daughters stayed in Latvia.
Tomorrow’s prompt- Names! One of my favourite subjects.
I am working on the posts about the All-Russia Census and farm names, but as a warm-up to get in the spirit of the blogging world again, I’m also going to participate in The Accidental Genealogist‘s “Fearless Females: 31 Blogging Prompts to Celebrate Women’s History Month”.
I’ve realized that on this blog I talk a lot about my male ancestors, so I hope that by participating in this blogging prompt month that I can highlight some of the women in my family tree, as well as educate about Latvian women throughout history, both “big event” history and home and community life.
Today’s prompt: Do you have a favorite female ancestor? One you are drawn to or want to learn more about? Write down some key facts you have already learned or what you would like to learn and outline your goals and potential sources you plan to check.
I can’t say I have a favourite female ancestor, but the one I want to learn more about right now is Ieva Līcīte, one of my great-great-grandmothers. All I know of her so far is that she was living on the Līcīši farm in Sērenes parish in 1866, when she had my great-grandfather, Brencis, out of wedlock. She may have had a second son, Krišjānis – my great-aunt remembers meeting her uncle Krišjānis when she was a little girl, but it is unknown whether he was Brencis’ full brother or half-brother, and if half-brother, then through which parent, since while Brencis’ father might not have been officially recognized on the birth record, they probably did know who it was.
My great-aunt and grandmother do not recall meeting Ieva, their paternal grandmother, so it is possible that she passed away before they were born. I have searched the marriage records for both Seces congregation and Jaunjelgavas congregation (the congregations where people in Sērene parish were most likely to have their life events recorded), but have yet to find any trace of a marriage or death record for Ieva. There are several other nearby congregations that I could check as well, such as Zalve and Sunākste. I will also begin searching for her birth record – chances are good that she was born in Sērenes parish as well, since she lived in “Līcīši”, which is the farm name version of her surname. I would like to learn more about her and her family, since this branch of the family is the one that I know the least about.
Having children out of wedlock was not uncommon in 19th century Latvia – in the records I’ve looked at, there are at least four or five every year, sometimes more. Often there were times when children were conceived out of wedlock, but quick marriages would take place before the child was born. In the time period when German barons and lords still owned most of the land, it was not uncommon for these barons and lords to involve themselves with the young women who lived on their estate. If a pregnancy resulted, the baron or lord would quietly ask one of the young men on the estate to marry the girl, and if he did so, he would receive his own land, and sometimes a position of prestige.
Tomorrow: Photographs!
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