How the choice to embrace and integrate intertwining family trees from lineages to which I am not biologically related has enriched my genealogical toolbox and aided in unraveling the mysteries of my own family history.
When I embarked on my genealogical journey, it quickly became clear that the traditional conception of a family tree does not adequately encompass the complexities that unfolded before me. Instead of branching out like a mighty oak, my family lineage resembled more of a miniature bonsai tree - particularly since the Frank family hails from a tiny village that did not maintain its own vital records. I was surprised to discover the limitations of documented history, and at that point, I had no idea where to begin my search. I hit a brick wall as soon as I started researching.
As I continued to gather more information into my genealogical project and examined the connections among various individuals, it prompted me to rethink the visual representation of genealogy. Rather than the traditional two-dimensional family tree, which, in my view, reflects the tools available in earlier times, I believe we should shift toward a three-dimensional visual approach. A broad genealogical project would actually look more like a cosmic galaxy, with depth, width, height, and multi-dimensional connections, rather than a tree.
I find that it is fascinating to think that a similar structure of interconnected networks holds the secret that builds all forms of creation - tiny molecules are organized in a manner reminiscent of how vast galaxies are structured. When examining a large genealogical database - a jungle of family trees representing complex social connections woven through families, clans, communities, and international ties, influenced by historical events and processes - one finds a similar structure.
But let’s set aside philosophy for now. In light of the lack of documentation regarding my grandfather's lineage, I began to shift my focus and meticulously search for subtle clues that might help. Two noteworthy hints caught my attention: Firstly, three daughters of my grandfather’s grandfather Herman Frank’s 13 children (Henrietta, Regina, and Kornelia Frank) married men with the surname Reich (brothers Ferdinand and Arpad Reich, and their 1st cousin Ludwig, respectively).
Secondly, another two of Hermann Frank’s children (Arthur and Josephine Frank) and one granddaughter (Elisabeth Reich) married three siblings (Adele, Maximilian, and Alexander) from the Sidon family. This indicated that there were cousins connected in more than one way.
The likelihood that such mutual connections between two families would occur randomly seemed very low to me. In Judaism, there is a specific concept for marrying multiple children into one family “Making a home”. The aforementioned families - Reich and Sidon - both resided in Trnava, Slovakia (formerly known as Nagyszombat, meaning "the great Sabbath" in Hungarian, in reference to the day the weekly market was held). My intuition suggested this was too significant to be merely a coincidence.
I felt that understanding the dynamics between these families could shed light on my ancestry, and fortunately, I quickly managed to locate the vital records of the Jewish community of Trnava and the neighboring towns. Thus began my research on the Reich and Sidon lineages, even though I am not their descendant.
Once I started exploring these families, I entered a new realm - the rich historical landscape of Trnava County in Slovakia and the surrounding villages and towns. Before the Holocaust, this area was home to thousands of Jews, but during the systematic genocide carried out during World War II, most of Slovakia's Jewish population was murdered. Among those who survived, the majority emigrated.
The Bill of Tolerance of 1781 required Jews in the kingdom of Hungary (then including many areas that now belong to Slovakia, Ukraine, Romania, and other modern countries) to adopt Latin names, but it took nearly half a century for Jewish communities to genuinely begin keeping community records of births, marriages, and deaths. By the time they did, several prominent families, including Frank, Sidon, Reich, Sonnenfeld, Duschinsky, Berdach, Büchler, Rosenfeld, Diamant, Drechsler, and others had already established themselves in the Trnava area.
In an effort to preserve their Jewish faith, as well as their social or economic status, or to marry their daughters to scholars or rabbis, increasingly intricate marriage connections developed between several family trees among the Jews who lived in this region. The branching ties among these families created complex familial structures resembling overlapping pyramids more than traditional family trees.
One story that particularly intrigued me emerged from oral history I collected from a 5th cousin in New York, who is a descendant of both the Frank and Reich families. Among the captivating anecdotes he shared was the account that his great-great-grandfather, Jacob Koppel Reich from Nagy Sur (now known as Šurovce, Slovakia), was, according to family lore, a cousin of the famous Rabbi Jacob Koppel Reich from Budapest, who served as the chief rabbi of the autonomous Orthodox community in Budapest and acted as royal advisor to Emperor Franz Joseph I, as well as representing the Orthodox Jewish community in the upper house of the Hungarian parliament.
This discovery drew me to explore the complex family history of the patriarch of the Reich family - Rabbi Yaakov Koppel Altenkunstadt-Reich, known as ‘Koppel Charif’ [1766-1835]. I carefully pieced together his lineage, scanning historical records, rabbinic literature, community registries, and located gravestones to decipher the clues left in cemeteries across Central Europe, and compared those with family trees preserved by some of the descendants. Ultimately, my findings rewrote the narrative of this remarkable lineage.
Diving deep into these families enriched my understanding of genealogical research over time, and revealed to me what Jewish life looked like in the 19th and 20th centuries – not only for my family but taught me a lot about Central Europe Jews before WW2.
Moreover, it provided me with tools and captivating stories along the way. My persistence eventually led to a full-circle moment: after eight years of research on the lineages of others, I fortuitously stumbled upon the town where the Jewish community’s vital records held the secrets and keys to the Frank family history, illuminating long-forgotten mysteries within my own family tree.
This post serves as an introduction to a series of parallel posts, in which I will delve into various branches of the families I’ve mentioned here, whose genealogical histories have intertwined, tightened, and created my genealogical jungle. The posts I will share will unveil the lesser-known stories hidden among the branches, the thrilling discoveries I’ve made, the historical inaccuracies that came to light and were corrected, and the intriguing individuals whose narratives emerged along the way. Today, my deep connections with all these families feel so integral to my identity that I feel a responsibility to ensure their heritage is preserved just as much as my own family tree.
Mattan Segev-Frank, Genealogy Jungle
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