All four of my grandparents came to Canada for the same reason: to flee from the Communist terror that had overtaken their homeland [...]]]> [This post was written for the 30th edition of the Carnival of Central and Eastern European Genealogy on the topic of "Arrival in New Lands", hosted by Al of Al's Polish-American Genealogy Research.]

All four of my grandparents came to Canada for the same reason: to flee from the Communist terror that had overtaken their homeland and the rest of Eastern Europe. I have already talked at some length about their experiences in leaving and life as Displaced Persons, so for this post I will look at their arrival and first years in their new home. This is a time period that I initially neglected in my research, but now I am starting to try and learn more about it.

After World War 2 ended, there were millions of Displaced Persons across Western Europe who either could not or would not return to their homes. As a result, refugee organizations had to work to resettle all of these people into new homes across the world. This is a process that took several years, and most DPs departed for new lands between 1948 and 1951.

In numerous cases, DPs were admitted to countries through a variety of worker placement schemes – agreements that they would take up a pre-arranged position of employment that they needed to remain in for at least a year to fulfill the obligations of their contract. These schemes were not perfect, and in some cases exploitation did occur. However, for most it provided a good opportunity in their new country, to already have a steady job waiting for them, which sometimes also came with a place to live for the duration of the contract.

My grandparents participated in such placements upon their arrival in Canada. My maternal grandmother took up a nursing position at the Weston Sanatorium in Weston, Ontario, now a part of the city of Toronto. My grandfather Aleksandrs Francis obtained a contract to work on a farm near Niagara-on-the-Lake while he learned English. They were married in Toronto in 1950, presumably after he completed his contract. They lived in Toronto for several years, and then in 1954 moved to Saint Catharines, Ontario, where they built a home. Aleksandrs died in 1983, and my grandmother moved from this home in 1993, when she and her sister moved north to my family’s town.

My paternal grandfather, Juris Celmiņš, had trained as a civil engineer back in Latvia. He and his wife Zenta (nee Lukins) moved around to numerous places before they settled in Toronto. Juris’ first job was working in a mine in Sudbury, Ontario, but after a few days his supervisors thought “Why do we have this engineer who speaks English working down in the mine?” and gave him a new position. Juris had learned English while working in his DP camp, which had been in the British zone of Germany. After this job, he also worked in Sarnia, and then by 1954 was living in Toronto, where he and Zenta and their three children lived until Zenta’s death in 1959. Juris remarried to Edīte Bulle, a fellow Latvian who had been recently widowed, and they lived in their home in Toronto until their deaths in 2002 and 2003.

The homes they lived in were simple post-war homes. I’m not sure when my paternal grandparents began to own their homes, but I know my maternal grandparents’ first home in Toronto, from roughly 1952 to 1954, was jointly owned by them and another Latvian couple. I have the bill of sale of them selling this property to a young Jewish family (searching the address on Google provided me with several “society pages” articles from the Canadian Jewish Review where the name matched that on the bill of sale). Then they built their home in Saint Catharines, and defied apparent social conventions of the time with the design – instead of putting the living room at the front of the house, they put the kitchen in the front and had the living room with large windows overlooking their beautiful garden. My mother tells me that several neighbours were displeased about this design – I guess this setup made it harder for them to be nosy! The garden had many different plants and shrubs, both for decoration and for food. I have fond memories of eating black currants and red currants straight off the bushes when I was a child.

The worker placement schemes could take DPs to far corners of the country – late 1940s editions of the newspaper “Brīvais Latvietis” (Free Latvian) mentions Latvian clubs in places such as the Yukon. But through newspapers like this, they kept in touch, found lost friends and kept the community spirit alive. Early editions of this paper are available through the website Connecting Canadians. At some point during this time, though I’m unsure as to how it happened, my maternal grandmother came back into contact with her high school sweetheart, who had settled in the USA. They still keep up correspondence to this day.

After the contracts ended and DPs could move to anywhere they wanted, Latvians tended to congregate in larger cities – Toronto has the largest Latvian community in Canada, but there were also communities in Montreal, Saint Catharines, Ottawa and Hamilton. They set up Latvian Saturday schools for their children, organized singing and dancing clubs, created scout and guide troops, organized summer camps and established churches. A prevailing notion that inspired this flurry of activity right from the beginning was that Latvians in the Soviet Union would be systematically eliminated, so it was up to the exiles (“trimdinieki”) to maintain their identity, heritage and language.

Many of these same instutitions continue to exist today. My father and I both graduated from the same Latvian school in Toronto, which this year celebrates its 60th anniversary. The Latvian summer camp that I attended as a camper from 1993 to 1998, and as a counselor for five of the eight following years, has been operating for fifty-three years.

Now, since independence was regained, there has been a shift – children and grandchildren of exiles, who were born and grew up in the West, are increasingly moving to Latvia to live. Many of my childhood friends have done so, and it is my intention as well. How much of a trend this will be, and how much culture and identity is retained in the West by those who do not return, is yet to be seen.

J.M. of Tracing My Roots, in the post The Effects of War, describes the lingering effects of war after the battles are over, and how in this particular case they influenced the life of a [...]]]> Welcome, everyone, to the 28th edition of the Carnival of Central and Eastern European Genealogy! This month’s topic was War Stories.

J.M. of Tracing My Roots, in the post The Effects of War, describes the lingering effects of war after the battles are over, and how in this particular case they influenced the life of a German ancestor living in the Netherlands.

In her post Ray, Karen of Ancestor Soup writes about the peacetime and wartime activities of Flight Officer Raymond Christensen, a WW2 pilot, as told to his friends back home in the USA.

Next, Brenda Dougall Merriman talks about the experiences of her ancestor Otto during the 1905 Revolution in the Latvian provinces of the Russian Empire.

Al of Al’s Polish-American Genealogy Research discusses how the Franco-Prussian War Impacts the Wierzba’s from Lipusz, and how this may have influenced their decision to emigrate to the United States.

Finally, in the post War Stories, Antra of Discovering Latvian Roots recounts her great-aunt’s memories of a childhood spent in rural Russia to avoid the battles of World War I being fought in Latvian territory.

That concludes this month’s carnival! May’s edition will be hosted by J.M. of Tracing My Roots, and the topic will be “Religion, religion as part of the life of an ancestor, sources about an ancestor that are connected to their religion, basically anything to do with religion would be accepted.” The deadline for submissions is May 14th, and the edition will be posted on May 17th. Submissions can be made on the Carnival’s BlogCarnival submissions page.

Since I’m hosting this edition of the Carnival, I got to choose the topic. I chose War Stories. When I thought of this topic, I initially [...]]]> [This post is for the 28th edition of the Carnival of Central and Eastern European Genealogy, which will be hosted right here. The Carnival post will be up on Friday!]

Since I’m hosting this edition of the Carnival, I got to choose the topic. I chose War Stories. When I thought of this topic, I initially had ideas to talk about the various experience of my family members in World War II, since this was a defining moment of my family’s history, since over the course of the war, all four of my grandparents left Latvia, spent several years in displaced persons camps, and then came to Canada.

However, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I should tell a different story – the narrative of my family’s history focuses on World War II so often, it would be interesting to tell a different story for a change.

So instead I will talk about one branch of my family’s experience during World War I and the Russian Revolution. These stories have been told to me by my great-aunt, who is now 98 years old.

When World War I started, Latvia was still a part of the Russian Empire. My great-aunt was three years old, living in Krustpils, which was then part of the Vitebsk guberniya, with her parents Jūle (nee Štelmahers) and Brencis Līcītis. Because of the war front raging through Latvia, the family moved further east, and settled near Rzhev, a city approximately 200km west of Moscow.

The three lived with a Russian family by the surname Kislev in a manor house. The family had two daughters, Vera and Zoya. It is living here that my great-aunt learned to speak Russian, and took great pleasure in going to the local market as well as to the Orthodox church, even though the family was Lutheran. They were not the only Balts living in the area – other Latvians, Lithuanians and Estonians had also moved to the Rzhev area to avoid the war.

But World War I was not the only war going on at the time. This was a time of political upheaval in Russia, which eventually led to the 1917 Revolution and the beginning of the Communist era. The family was opposed to Bolshevism early – my great-aunt remembers going with her father to listen to a speech that was given by a political party leader that was opposed to Lenin and his party. After the Bolshevik victory, she also remembers her mother arguing with a Communist about “workers” and what the party would do with people who were unable to work due to age or infirmity, and his response being less than satisfactory. When the Communists came asking how much they were paying in rent to the Kislevs, they lied and said a lower price than they were actually paying. They knew that otherwise the Kislevs would have had even more of their property expropriated for being “kulaks” (affluent farmers), even though they really didn’t have very much.

But the defining moment that showed the family precisely where the Bolsheviks went wrong and why their family would always remain opposed to Communism was when the Communist soldiers came to the village, took the grain stores and burned them in the town square, calling them “rich peoples’ food”. Instead of this grain that they had stored up, the people were given animal feed to eat.

World War I officially ended in 1918, but the following years were still filled with conflict in Eastern Europe, with the civil war in Russia between the various factions, as well as the wars of independence in the Baltics. While Latvia in declared independence on November 18, 1918, this wasn’t officially recognized until the early 1920s.

I’m not certain when exactly the family returned to Krustpils, but it would have been before the autumn of 1919, when my grandmother was born. The wars ended, and Latvia gained an independence that had been lost eight hundred years earlier.

In recounting this story, I’ve realized just how many of the details of this time period are a mystery to me, historically speaking – in Latvian Saturday school, we didn’t really study it. We learned about early Latvian history and the beginnings of German rule. We learned about the following periods of Swedish and Russian rule, and then about some of the Latvian writers of the late 19th century who started to inspire political movements of independence and nationalism. But we didn’t study the independence wars. We celebrated the 18th of November every year, acknowledging independence as being gained in 1918, and that from that day on people lived happily ever after until World War II broke out. The first I recall hearing about the independence wars was looking at some maps in my Latvian historical atlas that I acquired in my first year of Latvian Friday night high school, but I don’t recall ever discussing them in class.

So my mission for the next couple of months is to educate myself more on this time period. It was an important period of Latvian history, and it might hold the key to answering some questions about different types of access to various Latvian genealogical records. I will be sure to share my findings here!

The deadline to submit was officially yesterday, but I realized today that I had totally forgotten to mention the Carnival here on my blog this month. Oops! I thought I had, but it turns out [...]]]> The 28th edition of the Carnival of Central and Eastern European Genealogy will be hosted right here on Discovering Latvian Roots!

The deadline to submit was officially yesterday, but I realized today that I had totally forgotten to mention the Carnival here on my blog this month. Oops! I thought I had, but it turns out that I hadn’t.

The Carnival was going to be posted on Wednesday, but if you still want to get a submission in, I’ll delay posting the Carnival until Friday. Just let me know! You can send your submission URLs on the subject of War Stories to admin at celmina dot com.

Thanks!

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 [...]]]> [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.

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.

There are thousands of people in the West with Latvian ancestry. Many are searching for their Latvian ancestors, but often encounter a variety of misconceptions about Latvian genealogical research, or don’t know where to start.

I [...]]]> [This post was written for the 26th edition of the Carnival of Central and Eastern European Genealogy, hosted by Jessica's Genejournal.]

There are thousands of people in the West with Latvian ancestry. Many are searching for their Latvian ancestors, but often encounter a variety of misconceptions about Latvian genealogical research, or don’t know where to start.

I will be addressing the latter soon, with a step-by-step guide on how to get started with Latvian research. Really, I should have done that when I started this blog, but better late than never!

For now though, I want to address the former – myths and misconceptions about Latvian research. I’ll admit, when I first got started, I believed some of them as well. But now I’ve learned that the task of researching your Latvian ancestors is not as difficult or impossible as it may seem.

Myth: Since Latvia was a battleground through both world wars and numerous smaller ones, as well as being controlled by totalitarian political regimes, this means the records are all destroyed.

Fact: Records survive! Certainly, some disappear or get destroyed throughout the years, but this happens everywhere. But the vast majority of records you will want to seek out for Latvian genealogical research do exist today. Precisely what is available will vary from parish to parish, but because of the variety of records, it is extremely unlikely that all records for a given area were destroyed or have gone missing.

Myth: You need to be able to speak Latvian to do Latvian genealogical research.

Fact: Only partially true. While knowing Latvian is a great asset for research after 1918, prior to that, most records were in German or Russian, both of which are languages spoken more widely than Latvian. But even if you don’t speak any of them, a dictionary or genealogical word list will help you extract the information that you are looking for.

Myth: The surname of my ancestors from Latvia is German or Russian, so that means my ancestors were German or Russian.

Fact: Not necessarily. Latvian peasants (the majority of the population) only acquired surnames in the nineteenth century, and it was not uncommon for them to choose German or Slavic names (even though officially they were encouraged to choose Latvian ones). While Latvia has always been a multiethnic country with many German and Russian inhabitants, surnames alone cannot determine ethnicity. I will be addressing how to sort out ethnicity soon.

Myth: It is difficult to access Latvian records.

Fact: Numerous Latvian genealogical records are available online at Raduraksti – religious BMD records, the All-Russia Census, and a growing number of revision lists. Now, they are not indexed (yet! I’m working on it) or searchable, so you need to read through the handwritten pages, but they are accessible anywhere in the world. For other records, you would need to visit (or write to) the Latvian State Historical Archives in Rīga. Obtaining a reading room pass is fairly straightforward, and the staff are wonderful and will help you find what you need. Not everyone speaks English, but there will usually be someone around who does. If you want to know the Latvian names for records to search before you go so you have an easier time, let me know and I can try to help you.

Myth: I met someone with the same surname. We must be related!

Fact: Just like in other countries, having the same surname does not imply kinship. The most common Latvian surnames arose independently across the country from what were farm names, which were in turn often based on physical characteristics of the area. Remember also, that while Latvian surnames might sound “exotic” to non-Latvian speakers, many of these names are extremely common in Latvia. My Latvian Surname Project is growing, and while I haven’t even covered a tenth of the parishes in Latvia, looking at some of the names there and the number of different places they are attested can begin to give an idea of how common or uncommon a name may be.

Now, if these ancestors with the same surname were from the same parish, it is much more likely, since when surnames were being assigned, there were efforts made to not duplicate the names within estates or parishes. That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, but since surnames came about because rulers needed a way to distinguish these newly freed peasants from one another, it would not have happened often.

Myth: A different surname means a different family, and thus not a relation.

Fact: Just like the inverse above, this is also not necessarily true. The family surname was chosen by the patriarch – he chose the surname that he, his wife, his unmarried daughters, his adult sons and their families, would bear. If the family patriarch was deceased, the brothers could each choose a different surname for their families. Since this only happened in the nineteenth century, it is important to be aware of these potentially different surnames within a family, especially if you are interested in finding living distant cousins. To trace family groups through this time period of surname acquisition, family numbers in population registers and revision lists are invaluable. Since this number remained the same from year to year, it can help match up families in the times before and after surname acquisition.

Any myths that I’ve missed? Questions? Let me know and I’ll try to answer them!

While not new to genealogy, I am new to both genea-blogging and having information about my family such that I can conduct meaningful research. Most genealogical research that I have done has been for other people, and any efforts [...]]]> [This post is written for the 87th edition of the Carnival of Genealogy, hosted by Creative Gene.]

While not new to genealogy, I am new to both genea-blogging and having information about my family such that I can conduct meaningful research. Most genealogical research that I have done has been for other people, and any efforts at my own family were shots in the dark (and didn’t bear any fruit).

But now that has all changed. I’m proud of my two biggest accomplishments regarding genealogy this year – finally starting up this blog on Latvian genealogy (I’ve been blogging for years, it was about time I blogged about my passion!) and conducting research at the Latvian State Historical Archives. So now it is time to look to the future!

My genealogical goals for the year fall under two categories: Personal and Professional.

First, the personal:

• Make some progress with my difficult ancestors – my great-grandparents Brencis Līcītis and his wife Jūle (maiden name Štelmahers). Besides their appearance on the 1941 Census, and Brencis’ on the 1895 Census, I have no documentary evidence of their lives. I now know that Brencis was born in Sērenes parish, but I have not found a baptism record for him in the year claimed on the 1941 Census, or the years surrounding it. Krustpils is Jūle’s birthplace, so I have been looking in the right place, but the sheer amount of records to go through means I haven’t found her yet. I hope I will!

• Locate Anna Liepa’s baptism in Rīga baptism records. I know she was born in Rīga, and when, but there are so many parishes to look through that this is a time-consuming task. I know her father’s name though, which should help me distinguish my Anna Liepa from others, since I know others exist.
• Continue back in time through church books and the 1895 Census (if available) on other branches of my family as time allows.

Now, the professional:

• Continue to make Latvian genealogy and the pursuit of it accessible to non-Latvian speakers. This includes maintaining this blog, as well as answering questions and taking blog topic suggestions from readers. Additionally, I plan to launch four different projects relating to Latvian genealogical research that should make things much easier for non-Latvian speakers.

• Continue taking courses at the National Institute of Genealogical Studies. I’ve also applied to the ProGen Study Group waiting list, so hopefully I can start that soon as well. Until then, acquire as many books as I can on the professional practice of genealogy, read them and apply them.
• I would also like to start taking on clients in a professional capacity, even if it is just family friends to start with. I hope to make another research trip to Latvia sometime in the coming year, so if I have even one professional job to work on, that would be amazing.

There is one word for this coming year in genealogy: Ambition! Now that I’m certain that this is what I want to do for a living, I only need to make that ambition real.

The topic for this Carnival is Tips, Tricks and Websites.

I’ve already outlined the websites useful for Latvian research, but I’ll list them here again, with some other potentially useful websites: