Henry Wolinsky

This is the story of how my grandfather was born Hillel Sragan in Keidan, Lithuania, in 1871, and transformed himself into Henry Wolinsky, a clothing merchant in Boston, Goldene Medinah, in 1892.

I had searched for 30 years to answers to some questions about Hillel/Henry, for whom I was named. I could never find records for my grandfather from the time he left Lithuania until the time he reached Boston. I always came up empty with searches with SOUNDEX or wild cards, using *s to represent a range of letters, trying to overcome possible misspellings. I started to conclude that space aliens beamed Hillel from Lithuania to America.

After three decades of bottlenecks, dead ends and roadblocks, I finally had a breakthrough last year, though I had been sworn to silence up to now. I cut through a tangle of misspellings with the help of a couple of savvy researchers in the United States and United Kingdom, who happen to be my genetic cousins.

A new friend, Dr. Nicholas J. Evans, lecturer in Diaspora History at the Wilberforce Institute for the study of Slavery and Emancipation and the History Department at the University of Hull, well known in these pages, helped fill me in—with the backing of the British Broadcast Corp.'s popular Coast program—on the specifics of Hillel's journey. In reality, his is the same journey experienced by millions of others who left Eastern and Northern Europe for the United States, Canada, South Africa and Australia. More on the Beeb in a bit.

My grandfather Hillel Sragan boarded the SS Sprite, with 36 other passengers, in Hamburg, on Saturday, July 30, 1892, headed first for Hull, U.K., and ultimately for America, according to the Hamburg Passenger List.

A weather report in The Times (of London) revealed the steamship encountered light clouds and relatively smooth sailing in the more commonly rough North Sea.

Calm waters were welcome news for the steerage passengers like Hillel, who went on deck to avoid seasickness by exposing themselves to fresh air and taking in a view of the horizon. They were surprised to see that waters along the way in the 32-hour leg were filled with hundreds of fishing boats. Once the Sprite reached the entrance to the River Humber, a local pilot took over and steered the ship into Hull (situated along the Humber), considered one of the least navigable rivers in the world.

Yiddish-speaking Hillel wouldn't have known it, but the door on emigration from Europe was about to slam shut, at least for a time.

Reuters reported the same day Hillel departed Hamburg that health officials in Paris had detected cases of an especially deadly outbreak of cholera, the acute intestinal infection caused by ingestion of contaminated water or food, in Paris.

The news service reported the same day that Count Ludwig Patrick Taafe, the Austrian premier, had warned the governor of Galicia of measures Vienna proposed be taken in case of the cholera epidemic reaching that province. Taafe worried that a long, porous border, along which smuggling prevailed and Russian troops were being massed, would make it difficult to control and treat a cholera epidemic in the autonomous province.

Shades of today’s travelers and the H1N1/swine flu threat.

Twenty-one-year-old Hillel had started out in Kovno (Kaunas), possibly taking a horse cart to the train station in Kovno and boarded a train headed for the German border. He likely took a train to Berlin and then traveled in a crowded train car on to Hamburg - then one of Europe’s busiest emigrant ports.

Nick said, "The trek from Kovno would have been a time-consuming affair. The journey to Hamburg would have taken around up to four days. The railway carriages on which he travelled comprised a series of locked compartments. Each compartment had uncomfortable seats on each of the room with limited luggage racks above them. There would have been enough space for eight people in the carriage. Most of the luggage passengers took with them would be with the other luggage separate luggage vans situated at the rear of the emigrant trains that traversed Germany. And the railway companies locked all carriages for the passenger’s own safety. Upon disembarkation at Hamburg, they would stay at approved lodging houses. Poor sanitation didn’t help. Cholera was spreading across Europe and the insanitary conditions in which emigrants travelled meant they were incubators for the spread of disease."

Oblivious to the trouble in Hamburg, Hillel made his way through Hull on train to Liverpool and sailing on to Boston. He was one of 60,508 European emigrants who passed through Hull in 1892, Nick said.

By the time Hillel left Liverpool for Boston on Aug. 4 on Cunard Line’s SS Pavonia, with 600 other passengers, cholera was simmering in Hamburg, where local authorities had tried to keep a lid on the emerging epidemic.

He landed in Beantown on Aug. 14, five days before Hamburg admitted things were out of control and shut the port for 18 months.

Nearly 8,400 people died in Hamburg, a large port city of 623,000, in just a matter of a few weeks.

Had Hillel left just three weeks later he might well have been turned back at the border and he might not have made it to America then, if ever.

I never spoke with my grandfather. He died in 1944, three years before I was born. And my father knew little or at least shared little.

But Nick told me pogroms did not motivate Hillel to leave behind his family. “Kovno never experienced a pogrom, ever. That’s important to remember," he said.

In the face of large-scale famine in 1891 and 1892, and pogroms, many Jews left Russia. And the poor economy in general drove tens of thousands to exit the Russian Empire.

That’s consistent with what Bessie Israel, my maternal grandmother, who hailed from Slobodka, Lithuania, had told me about her reasons for leaving.

Hillel was an economic refugee. “It was economic persecution that forced most Jews to leave Imperial Russia. Jews were prevented from entering the professions. They were restricted to living in specific areas (both inside and outside of the Pale). In 1890, 1891 and 1892, just before your ancestor migrated, Jews had been expelled from St. Petersburg, from Moscow, and even some from ports such as Riga and Libau. Most were now confined to living in the overcrowded Pale of Settlement, or of emigrating to the west," the historian noted.

Population pressures for those living in the Pale intensified on a constant basis. “The Pale was already crowded because the fecundity of the Jewish population and residential restrictions imposed on Russia’s Jews,” he said.

Records from the Lithuanian State Archives reveal that the ancestors of Hillel Sragan had lived in Keidan since at least the early 1700s. Hillel was born in Keidan in May, 1871, fifth son of Mosha Eliash and Chaya Bat Mordechai Sragan. Russian census records showed the family moved from Keidan to Babtai and Kovno City, following development of the railway system.

Sometimes fathers and sometimes sons, such as Hillel, were sent ahead to foreign lands as an advance party to test the waters.

Young adults with the best potential to be “earners” might be sent ahead, reducing the burden on the family back home by sending a proportion of their wages by cable, while at the same time saving money for fares to pay for siblings, spouses, children, or other family members to later join them Nick said.

Isaac Sragan, born in 1861, Hillel's big brother led the way. In 1884, in the wake of distant pogroms and other unrest following the assassination of Czar Alexander II, Isaac came to New York City, where he changed his name, for unknown reasons, to Wolinsky. He and his wife Rebecca had their first two children there before moving to Boston in 1890.

Hillel Sragan would take the name Henry Wolinsky after he arrived in Boston in August, 1892.

As it happens, none of the five other Sragan brothers ever left Lithuania.

One possible reason that Hillel’s siblings remained in Russia was because America had an economic bubble burst in 1893.  But the fact the family remained divided demonstrates that life in pre-World War I, Russia was not as difficult as family memories suggest, Nick observed.

More than 2 million Europeans, Jews and gentiles, followed the same path that Hillel travelled. From reading Avotaynu over the years, I picked up on these tales of the “transmigration” from ports such as Hull on the North Sea on to a train ride across England to Liverpool or London then a ship to America.

I knew Hillel changed his surname to Wolinsky to have the same name as brother Isaac.

But I didn’t know when Hillel changed his name. (Why Isaac took the name Wolinsky is still a matter of conjecture.)

I didn’t know if my grandfather traveled to the United States as Henry or Hillel. The National Archives and Records Administration was able 30 years ago to provide me information on the immigrant ships on which my grandmother's had traveled. But I could find nada at NARA on Hillel. When the Hamburg indices became available online, I checked to no avail.

Then, a casual conversation with one of my genetic/DNA cousins, Rebekah Canada, the godmother of the H haplogroup for mitochrondrial DNA, started to change my luck. Rebekah mentioned that she often has helped people solve family history questions in Iowa, where she lives. As it happens my maternal grandparents met there, having immigrated from Lithuania and Latvia. I had found records for my grandmother, Bessie Israel, of Slobodka, Lithuania, but struck out with my grandfather Samuel Geskin, of Dvinsk.

Rebekah is an expert at searching for such things. I had used wildcards—using *s to represent various characters in hopes of uncovering misspellings, but never got anywhere. But Rebekah found Samuel Geskin at Ancestry.com.

Then, I confided that Hillel was my biggest roadblock. Rebekah went wild with wildcards in May 2008 and found an Isaac Sragan arriving in New York, by way of Glasgow, on Oct. 30, 1884.

Sragan. The name had a different spelling than I had been looking for. But that had to be it.

I always had been told that the name was Schrogin. In fact, have cousins who arrived in the United States after the Russian revolution, and they used Schrogin and other variations.

I had encountered Sragen and Sragon. For that matter Wolinsky was spelled in a wide variety of ways, including Wollinsky, Wolinski.

Such is the lot of family researchers.

Rachel cut through the consonant and vowel fog to find Isaac.

I duplicated her search and was thrilled to finally see Hillel Sragan pop up on my screen at Ancestry.com. He was on the Hamburg Passenger List.

Meanwhile, another genetic cousin, Jill Whitehead, a London resident and an expert on British records, using FindMyPast.com, indeed found part of my grandfather’s past. Hillel Sragan was listed in emigration records held at the British National Archives as “Halel Seagan.” Knowing the final port in the UK (Liverpool), destination port (Boston) and departure year (1892), Jill turned up my granddad. A wildcard search wouldn’t have helped.

Nor would it have helped on the U.S. arrival information. Back at Ancestry.com, Rebekah found the Boson passenger list with my grandfather. She wrote, starting a sentence with exclamation marks, “!!! I think this is our Henry!” He was listed as “Hilel Seagren,” having left Liverpool on the Pavonia, arriving in Boston Aug. 14, 1892.

Schrogin, Sragan, Srogen, Shrogin, Sragen, Seagren, Seagan. All these names show up in official records. No wonder Hillel was so hard to find.

I had recalled Nick Evans’ articles in Avotaynu on the “transmigration”—immigrants moving to the States indirectly using the route from East Coast ports of England via train to the West Coast to sail to America. Nick is a distinguished researcher on transmigration, with a special affinity for the Jewish people going back to his childhood in Hull. Many Jews had settled in Hull, including Jill Whitehead’s ancestors.

I asked Nick if I could hire him to do further research for me. My winning streak continued, showing how you need to be persistent.

On June 9, Nick wrote: “Sincere apologies for my delay in replying to your e-mails. This delay was caused by the BBC as they contacted me last week (the day after you had emailed) and are keen - subject to your approval - to film you visiting Hull in the first week of August to discover what I can find out about your ancestor arriving in Hull.

He added: "This may appear like a wind-up but if you are in agreement, can they contact you? They are seriously considering flying you to Hull where you will be shown around the place and given copies of all related documentation - with the BBC picking up the bill for research, travel and accommodation!”

The program was to focus on Hull’s role as a gateway for migration to America, Canada, South Africa and Australia.

I had to agree to do no research myself and to not write about the experience until the show aired on Sept. 1, 2009. I’m breaking my silence here.

I’m a professional journalist and have been on TV many times, including once being interviewed about genetic genealogy by Jonathan Samuels, Sky TV correspondent based in London, via a satellite connection to Chicago, where I Iive. Jonathan and I are DNA cousins. We met in person while he was covering the Obama election.

I’m not crazy about doing TV. I’ve had more than my 15 minutes of fame. But a free trip on the BBC, along with setting Nick loose to do the research, was an offer too good to refuse. My wife Judi, son David and sister Faith came along (not on the BBC dime) to witness the taping and to follow Hillel’s path through Hull.

The BBC hired a boat to take me out on the North Sea and enter Hull via the Humber River. We retraced Hillel’s arrival in Hull. It was a rough ride for the brief time we were on the water.

We rocked back and forth, Coast director Dick Sharman made sure we hit our marks as cameraman Julian Clinkard and soundman David Holmes, dressed in all-weather gear, recorded the scene, barely able to stand. I can only imagine how uncomfortable it must have been to travels for a week or more, coping with seasickness and culture shock.

Coast presenter Neil Oliver, a Scottish archaeologist with flowing long hair, a genuine UK celebrity, asked me questions about what I knew about Hillel and what he faced back in Lithuania. Frankly, I didn’t know much specifically. I was on the Coast show to learn.

We saw some of the same buildings Hillel would have seen when came into port. Looks like some of the old warehouses had been converted to loft apartments. And the dock (now a marina) is a bit posh, as the Brits say.

We met up with Nick in the marina. He guided our tour and told of what the travelers went through. We had breakfast at Cuckoo’s, a coffee shop overlooking a sleek new mall, Princes Quay and historic buildings in Hull, not far from a statue of Queen Victoria and a site where a Jerry bomb landed during WWII. It turns out—the BBC revealed—Cuckoo’s was the was the site in 1892 of the ticket office for the Norddeutscher Lloyd steam ship line.

We walked down cobblestone streets, as Julian held a camera at the level of my high-tech North Face shoes and David captured the clip-clop, clippity-clop Hillel would have heard en route to Harry Lazarus Hotel. A City Heritage Plaque on the two-story structure notes that the hotel was used to feed the transmigrants. The hotel closed shortly after Hillel’s trip because of the decline in the number of emigrants traveling through the port caused by the cholera epidemic.

Background noise—airplanes, strollers, construction crews and garbage trucks—posed a constant problem. BBC researcher Leanne Gladwin, arms loaded down with the crew's coats and gear, did what she could to ask workers to wait a few minutes while the camera was rolling. I hadn’t been aware previously how noisy the urban environment is.

And Neil’s groupies were everywhere. I may have been sworn to silence. But word got out on the local BBC radio station that the Coast crew was filming in town, and Neil’s fans came looking for autographs and photos. I offered to take a fan's photos with the star. Afterward I asked, “Don’t you want to get a photo of me and Nick?” “Are you famous?” No photo for me.

After about 12 hours in Hull, the immigrants would get on to horse carriages to be transported to the central train station. Funny enough, we spent about 12 hours filming (for about a six-minute segment) and walked over to the train station.

We finished up at “The Tiger’s Lair,” a sports bar for the fans of the Tigers (Hull City), Hull’s soccer Club. The site of the Lair back in 1892 was the waiting room where the emigrants came—men went to wooden benches in the room to the right of the entrance and were segregated from women and children - who waited to the left. As many as 500 people would wait there for the train—separate from the main section of the Paragon Station.

Today, the waiting room is a sports pub, with draft beers served at the tables and TVs hanging from the ceilings.

Dick ordered up beers for Neil, Nick and me. Neil asked me what my grandfather would have made of all this as he donned a Carlsberg. I noted that I would be guessing since I didn’t know him, but thought he likely would have been impressed that his journey resulted in the family continuing and thriving in the United States.

My grandfather Henry/Hillel, like many of your ancestors, accomplished an amazing thing, traveling alone to America, where he fathered, grandfathered and great-grandfathered 80 descendants and counting living across the United States.

After we finished in the bar, we followed the path of the immigrants to a huge train platform, the biggest in England, separate from the regular train station.

Hillel and the others boarded the train at Paragon Station for Liverpool or other ports on the west and south coast of Britain.

Judi, David and Faith, who had been behind the scenes up to now, joined me for a final shot on the platform. Neil predicted that would make the final cut. We’ll see about that.