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Getting to the Roots

(Written October 1997)

After the mandatory two week’s stay in the hospital required for a mother and a new baby, my parents brought me home to 20 St. Mary’s St., Lancaster, NY. I lived there for the next 18 years until I went away to college. After that, I lived there off and on until I married in 1954.

Here at 20 St. Mary’s I found two brothers and two sisters waiting for me, and also a full complement of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbors, and friends -- all in place and ready to help me get on with my life. Where did all these people come from? It wasn’t until many years later that I became interested in finding out about them. By that time many of them had died and taken their life stories with them. I had to rely on clues they left behind. Some of them left many clues, others just a few or none at all. My paternal grandfather left a diary (God bless him!). It was written in German and in pencil and wasn’t found until after his death. We had it translated and transcribed and it is the source for many of the facts and figures in this chapter.

My ancestors started to arrive in this country in the 1840’s. All who were coming got here by 1883 which was nine years before Ellis Island was opened to screen immigrants. So that was one less obstacle they had to face.

It is interesting to note that all my ancestors -- both my mother’s and father’s sides of the family -- came from the same part of Europe called Alsace Lorraine. Alsace Lorraine is a region of northeastern France on the border of Germany. To the north lies Luxembourg, to the south lies Switzerland. The region looks like the number "7". Alsace forms the north/south arm, and Lorraine the east/west arm.

It is a beautiful area. In fact, my daughter Kathryn was there just one year ago (in 1996) and she said it was so pretty she wondered why anyone would leave it. I’ll tell you why! This territory has been battled over since the time of Julius Caesar. In the Middle Ages it was under the control of Germany. Then in the early 1800’s Napoleon conquered it for France. After the Franco Prussian War in the 1860’s Germany again took charge.

My paternal grandfather was born in Alsace Lorraine in 1857. He lived in the small village of Stundwiller until 1880. As a schoolboy he remembered that his lessons were in German for half the day, and in French the other half of the day. He also recalled the constant tramping of soldiers’ feet as army after army marched through the village.

This same territory was battled over again in World War One, and given back to France after that war. At the start of World War Two Germany grabbed it again and it was later bombed to smithereens by the US and British Air Forces. My brother Jim, in the US Army, went through there in 1945, toward the end of the war. He said there was nothing left of the town, not even a church. So last summer when my daughter was there, the places she saw were all quite new -- having been built since 1945.

Getting back to my grandfather... his name was Frank Anton Staebell. Even the surname smacks of French/German heritage. The first part, "Stae" is German for stick. The last part, "bell" is French for beautiful. His family were French citizens, but with German heritage. They were devoutly religious -- strongly Roman Catholic.

In the 1840’s many of my grandfather’s aunts and uncles emigrated to America and had become successful farmers in upstate New York. Once comfortably established in this country, they would send for other members of the family still in Europe -- paying for their transportation and ensuring them a place to live and work when they arrived here.

Hence, in 1880 it was Frank’s turn to go to America. He was 23 years old, the second oldest in a family of ten children. He had six brothers and three sisters. In his belongings, after his death, we found a very official looking document dated 1877 (three years before he left home). The document was signed by a Commanding Officer of the Prussian Army. It stated that Frank Staebell was physically incapable of serving in the military.

It appears that he made the voyage to America alone, unaccompanied by any family member at least. He booked passage on what was to be the very last ship with sails to bring immigrants to this country. From then on they all came by steamship -- a voyage which took about ten days. Frank’s ship, with only sails to keep them going, took two months to get here. It was a terrible experience. The ship was crowded. Food was scarce and not very good. Many people were ill. He arrived in New York on November 2nd, 1880. There was no Statue of Liberty to greet him and welcome him to these shores. That beloved statue was not placed in New York Harbor until 1886 -- six years after Frank arrived.

My grandfather settled in the western part of New York State, but he did not become a farmer. He was a carpenter by trade, and his occupation was always listed as "Cabinet Maker". After living here for only three years, Frank was able to send for his parents and siblings. In December 1883, they too arrived in New York City. However, Frank’s mother had become ill while on board ship. She died the day after Christmas, just nine days after disembarking the ship. She never reached her final destination in Western New York State where Frank and other relatives awaited her and her family.

My grandfather became a United States citizen on February 5, 1886. He celebrated on that date every year for the rest of his life. He was very proud of his citizenship, and considered himself a full-fledged American -- not German-American, not French-American. The English language gave him a lot of trouble, and I could never understand a word he said. I never had a meaningful conversation with him.

In February 1937, while coming home from the store with ice cream he had bought to celebrate his citizenship anniversary, he was struck by a car as he crossed the street. He never fully regained his health or well being, and died several months later on August 29, 1937. He was 80 years old -- and I was only 11.

Grandpa and Dad, 1930