Person:Adam Wagner (13)

State Archives Arad, Reg. 6, No. 33, page 114

State Archives Arad, Reg. 6, No. 33

Born on a Friday and died on a Friday

When he was born, the house address was Semlak, No. 226. His birth on 1 July 1870 was found in State Archives in Arad, Register 6, No. 33, Page 114. The officiant at his baptism was Priest B. Pál Goldperger and his godparents were Daniel Stefan and Krisztina Tell.

Of the ten children, he was the fourth in his family. His parents were Janós Martin Wagner and Elisabetha Grünwald. He was born at midnight between June 30 and July 1. The first immigration to America was in 1910 to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. On the manifest he stated that he and his family were going to his cousin, Peter Grünwald, who lived on Cameron Street. Due to my research of the manifests on the Ellis Island Records site, I believe Cameron Street was the destination where most of the immigrants from Semlak indicated they were going.

Source: Ellis Islands Internet Site. Sailed from Fiume on the Ultonia and arrived in New York at Ellis Island on April 22, 1910. With him were wife Erzsebet [sic] and daughters Maria, Erzsebet, and Magdolina [sic]. On page 34 of the manifest. It stated the following:

Paid for own passage.
Was in possession of $92 (equivalent to $1736.38 in 2002)
Not in US before
Joining Peter Grünwald at 1087 Cameran Street in Harrisburg, PA
Complexion is listed as "dark" (hard to believe)
Height: 5'4" (Adam), 5' (Elizabeth)
Hair: Brown (Adam), Brown (Elizabeth)
Eyes: Blue (Adam), Brown (Elizabeth)

The youngest daughter, Katherine, was born in Harrisburg in March of 1912. They went home again to Semlak when Katherine was an infant. Did they just come here for such a short time to survey what was going on in Harrisburg? Why come for such a short time and take such a young baby on such a long trip? I believe now that they were returning to Semlak because Elisabeth's younger sister, Magdalena, was dying and she wanted to see her one last time. She remained in Semlak when Adam and the two older girls returned to the US because she had promised to care for Magdalena's children.

When Katherine was a year and eight months old, Adam came with Elizabeth and Maria, his two oldest daughters and left his wife and the two youngest in Semlak. Adam and his two daughters left Bremen on the Wittekind on 20 November 1913 and arrived in Baltimore on 10 December 1913. Once again their destination was Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. In Harrisburg, he worked on the railroad for $3.50 per week. His wife came later with Magdalena and Katherine. They arrived in New York on 17 May 1914, just five months after Adam and the oldest had arrived. Mary then married Joseph Keller in October of 1914. Was that why they had returned? Joseph had come to America in September 1913.

Adam's main purpose in come to America was to improve his home and to purchase more fields for farming. He was, by his very nature, a farmer who loved animals and the earth. His goal was to return to the land and home he so loved.

In 1920, the family of Adam, Elizabeth and Katherine left once again for Semlak. The war was over and the trip was a hard one. Traveling with them was their oldest daughter, Maria, and her husband and their two children at the time, Henry and Elizabeth. Joseph was disenchanted with life in Semlak since it was very poor following the war and he and his family returned to America in February 1921. Elizabeth was despondent because her three oldest children and their families were so far away. As Grandpa put it to me, "She cried an ocean of tears and I could not see her unhappy." So in 1923, he and Elisabeth and Katherine crossed the ocean once more to be with family.

Source: Ellis Islands Internet Site. Sailed from Bremen, Germany to Ellis Island, New York (lines 21-23). Grandpa, Adam Wagner, was accompanied by his wife, Elisabeth, and his 11-year-old daughter, Katherina. On the steerage manifest in 1923 the following was listed:

Amount of money bringing in: $118 (equivalent to $1266.05 in 2002) which was almost double what the rest were bringing in.
Ever here in America before: 1909-1920 in Harrisburg, PA (should have stated 1910-1920)
Going to: Son-in-law Stif Holzinger [sic]. Their daughter, Magdalena's husband, Stefan Holczimmer, who was living at 31 Oakman Street, Rochester, New York
Intending to return to country of origin? No. (Very interesting comment)
Hair color: Grey (Adam), Brown (Elizabeth), Blond (Katherine)
Eyes: Blue (Adam), Brown (Elizabeth), Brown (Katherine)
Skin: fair (all three)
Height: 5'7" (Adam); 5'7" (Elizabeth)
Didn't have a ticket to final destination of Rochester, New York

In 1931, Adam and Elizabeth and Katherine once again returned to Semlak. It must have been shortly after my birth since I have an infant in a photo of the family. In December Katherine married Henry Keller/Pinczés and he was conscripted into the Romanian army. Katherine told me that she just could not live the Semlak way any more -- she had become Americanized. She decided to go back to America thus making it easier for her husband to join her (she being an American citizen) after his military service was over. Adam and Elizabeth followed soon after in 1033. They never returned to Semlak.

Little Adam Wagner died 23 May 1952, just two years and 11 days after the death of his beloved wife, Elizabeth. His death is registered as No. 22. His eldest daughter is listed as the informant of his death. No autopsy was performed. His last doctor is listed as Dr. Ernest J. Field, 40 Empire Blvd.
He is buried in Mount Hope cemetery at R312.

Verbal Snapshots of my beloved Alfadr:
Traveling back and forth over the Atlantic Ocean to make a better life for his family . . . Always planning to return to Hungary . . . Sitting at his feet listening to his stories -- he was a wonderful storyteller . . . A warm, gentle man who loved animals . . .Playing cards on Saturday nights with family and friends . . . A Sweet, gentle man who loved his family . . . Saying he didn't know how to speak English but managed when no one was around to translate for him . . . Racing everyone to a ringing phone so he could answer with "Hello, nobody home." and then hang up . . . Contentedly puffing on his pipe . . . a simple, kindhearted soul who made the world better because he was in it.

What follows is a sampling of the stories he told . . . this is excerpted from a booklet I prepared for his great grandchildren . . .

He was a simple man with very simple needs. He came to America to make money so that he could return to Semlak, Hungary to purchase more land and to make improvements on his home. He was a respected landowner with a nice home, but he wanted more because land and family were one's most valuable treasures.

Because he was sure he was to remain in America for only a short time, he avoided learning how to speak English. Being a proud man he refrained from placing himself in situations where his lack of English would expose him to ridicule. However, he did love answering the phone and would race one and all to be the first to answer a ringing phone . . . saying as he lifted the receiver, "Allo, nobody home." and down would go the hand piece! This caused a major problem for me once when I was returning from college for a holiday and arrived at the Rochester train station with only a dime left to make my call home to tell them to come and get me. I prayed that Grandfather would not win the race to the ringing phone . . . my prayers were not answered. There I was in the train station, late at night, with no way to get home and no more money to make a phone call. I finally prevailed on the station master's kindness to allow me to use the station phone and continued calling until someone other than my grandfather answered my call.

Another time we were all going off on a day trip. Grandfather was home alone; mother remembered she had not turned off the hot water heater (a major disaster as it could become red hot and explode!). She called and got the "Allo, nobody home." Despite her crying out in German, "Father, father, listen!" he hung up. The only solution was to call a neighbor and ask her to go over and explain about the hot water heater.

Because our grandfather supposedly didn't speak English, we all became quite adept in speaking German. I should explain that German was the language spoken in the home even though they (parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends who had come from Semlak) were all born in Hungary. My grandparents, parents, other relatives, and their friends considered themselves German-Hungarians. In school they learned Hungarian and Romanian because the borders were always changing; however, in their small village, the "German" residents spoke German as their first language. My sister says that Grandpa really knew more English than he would admit to. She overheard him once talking at length with someone who had come to the door (it was "broken" English, but English nevertheless!).

He was a farmer and loved making things grow. At our house on Empire Boulevard in Irondequoit, he and grandma and my parents grew many vegetables, had chickens, pigs, geese, ducks, goats, and a cow. The cow, Heidi, was led daily to the field by Grandpa -- they had a special relationship. I can still see him in my mind's eye . . . holding her tethering chain in a loop on one hip and the other hand holding her halter -- the two of them walking to the field. Sometimes grandma would accompany them.
More than once Heidi got frisky and ran off down the middle of Empire Boulevard (a major highway) with Grandpa running hard after her, cars trying to avoid the old man dashing down the dividing line and the cow unconcernedly galloping down whichever lane suited her.

He would scythe the tall grass and it would be brought to the garage-barn for Heidi's use during the winter. Grandpa could do anything to Heidi, except milk her. She would only allow women (most expressly Mother and Grandma) to do her milking.

You would have liked my grandfather. He was very short . . . I am five feet one inch tall and I was taller than he. He had a beautiful handlebar mustache that he would smooth with the back of his hand; a pipe in his mouth (the kind with a metal lid) that he would take small puffs on; and there was always a hat on his head -- even sometimes when he was inside. He had a beautiful face, full of character and dignity.

Grandma made all his shirts and nightshirts. He would wear the vests of old suits as his daily apparel. When they went visiting, he would wear a suit coat. The only time I saw him wear a tie was at weddings.

He was most often in good health except for his eczema which caused him a great deal of discomfort. Once when it was at its very worst, he refused to eat with the family because he was afraid it would disgust them — he was ever mindful of others. Another time he was deathly ill because he had swallowed the fumes from burning poison ivy. It was a very bad time for him and for the rest of us because we knew how sick he felt, but he wouldn't burden others with his troubles.

He enjoyed a beer now and then but, for the most part, he was not much of a drinker. There was one time, though, when for one reason or another, he really indulged himself. I'm not sure if it was Thanksgiving or Christmas . . . but he came to the dinner table in an inebriated state. Grandma was furious! He just sat and grinned at her and gave her sheepish looks. We all loved it! He was so cute! Not only was Grandma upset that her husband was drunk, she was also distressed that the rest of us seemed to be encouraging him.

He was devoted to my grandmother. When she went downtown, he would sit and wait for her, watching for her returning bus. She would arrive bringing him some hard candy and he would be at peace again. When she died, he was extremely lonesome. He would sit for hours staring out the window, willing her to return on the bus.

They were both little people and to see them dance was a real treat . . . very erect, in perfect time with one another. Now that I am older myself and reflect upon their relationship, I am struck by the fact that they had a wonderful, loving marriage. They were never affectionate in public but now that I ponder on their behavior, I realize they had their own way of expressing their fondness for one another. I had never really thought about it before; now that I do, I am touched by their sweet love for one another and their sweetness toward one another.

When I think of my times with my grandfather, what I remember might be totally different from what the other grandchildren might, but these are the mental snapshots I have of my dear, dear Alt Vater (old father) . . . he loved to tease and I would say to him in German, "Grandfather, leave me alone!" and he would respond in German with, "But, I'm not holding you!" He cleverly used the English idiom against me! On the other hand, he was also my arch defender. Grandma always criticized me; it seemed I couldn't please her with anything I did . . . Grandpa would console me and would tell me what a good child I was. I knew he loved me without condition . . . no matter what I did, it didn't matter, he loved me. What a wonderful thing for a child to experience. When I came home on holidays as a college student, no matter what the hour, he wanted me to wake him and let him know I was back home. I shall always regret that the last time I came home when he was still alive, I didn't wake him. He had been sick and not too strong. The next morning he looked at me with a hurt expression . . . he thought I had forgotten him. The next time I came home was for his funeral. I had sung the Lord's Prayer at Grandma's funeral. Mother asked me to do the same for Grandpa. I got about halfway through and I couldn't go any further, it was just too hard . . . the minister finished it for me.

I can still see him sitting in the bay window in the dining room playing cards with my oldest brother, Hank. He was a good card player and enjoyed the camaraderie of the game. He so looked forward to Hank's weekly visit -- not only were they grandfather and grandson, they were good friends as well..

Grandfather also had a wry sense of humor and loved to tell tall stories. He always told me that when he was young, he had stood taller than six feet . . . and look what old age had done to him! He had shrunk! For a long time I was afraid of growing up because if he ended up that small from the height of six feet, what would I end up as?! That reference brings us to the real purpose of this small book of remembrance . . . his storytelling. I know others probably sat with me on the floor as he told his stories, but I can't remember them being there. I can only recall sitting there alone, mesmerized, at his feet as he recounted stories in which he was the central character. As a grownup I now realize that he was probably retelling folk stories; as a child I truly believed that he was telling about real happenings in his life. I wish I could remember all of them . . . but here for posterity . . . for my children, grandchildren, and others in the family are two of the stories I remember best. I hope my recounting is a true rendition of my adored grandfather's tales.

The first of the stories was already recorded by my son, Bob, Jr., when he was in the sixth grade. Here is what he wrote for the school literary publication . . .


Grandfather's Tall Tale

Not long ago, my mother told me a story that her grandfather used to tell about something that happened to him when he was a little boy. Great-grandfather always swore that it really happened, but no one knows for sure. Some say it is true and others say that it was just his imagination. Perhaps it was his imagination, but having told it so many times, it seemed real. What do you think?

When great-grandfather was a small boy, perhaps eight or nine, he used to travel with his father to town from the small farm where he lived. This was years ago in a rural area of Hungary when the only transportation was by horse-drawn cart. He was going to town with his father one day and since it was hot, it made him very sleepy. Great-grandfather climbed into the back of the cart to relax on the soft bed of straw. Soon the rocking of the cart lulled him to sleep.

As they drove through a deep forest, the cart hit a bump in the road and great-grandfather tumbled out. It took him a while to wake up and discover he had fallen to the ground. By that time, the cart had turned a bend in the road and disappeared. Realizing he was lost, he started walking. He walked a long time and as it started to get dark, he was getting very hungry.

He spied a light in the distance and started walking toward it. As he approached the light, he saw to his surprise that it was a campfire of a band of robbers. Being very scared and not knowing what to do, he climbed into an old barrel that was sitting by the edge of the camp. He was now hidden and felt a little safer. Looking through a hole in the barrel, he could see the three robbers as they sat around the fire. They were terribly frightening -- dirty men with shaggy beards. One had a patch over his eye and a long thin knife in his belt. Great-grandfather was very frightened but realized that he had to remain as quiet as possible to keep the robbers from discovering him.

A rabbit was roasting over the fire and the men were eating the meat and throwing the scraps over their shoulders. Great-grandfather noticed that some of the meat scraps were landing near the barrel. Even though he was afraid, he reached out of the hole in the barrel and grabbed them for something to eat. After he ate some of the meat, he didn't feel hungry any more but was very tired and soon dozed off.

When he woke, he saw that all of the robbers were sleeping and knew that this was his chance to escape. As great-grandfather started to get out, a new danger appeared -- a pack of wolves! He jumped back into the barrel! The lead wolf smelled the meat scraps in the barrel and after sniffing all around great-grandfather's hiding place, he stuck his tail through the hole to feel around for what was inside. The tail poked here and the tail poked there - great-grandfather tried to keep out of its way. Not knowing what else to do, great-grandfather grabbed the wolf's tail and held on as tightly as he could. The wolf was panic-stricken and he took off running and howling, dragging the barrel behind him.

The clattering of the barrel echoed through the forest and the noise inside the barrel was hurting great- grandfather's ears. Back and forth the barrel went, bouncing over rocks and ground for what seemed like an eternity. Finally great-grandfather felt the barrel coming apart, so he let go of the wolf's tail. The barrel clambered down a long hill and when it hit the bottom, it shattered. When he stood up, he was very dizzy and it took him some time to regain his senses. He looked down the road and there, believe it or not, was his father's cart! He ran up to the cart and jumped in. At first he thought he would pretend that he had been in the back of the cart all the time but then he felt badly about lying to his father. Well, good thing he admitted he had been gone because his father had been going up and down the forest road looking for him. He was so happy to be back that he didn't mind the spanking his father later gave him for getting lost. And great-grandfather said when the story was over, "I knew he wasn't spanking me because he was angry, he was spanking me because he had been so worried. I knew he loved me."

The second of the stories will be told from the point of view of a grandchild . . .

The Tale of the Hats

When grandfather was a very young man, he worked as a section hand for the railroad. One day, his supervisor told him to go down the tracks, by himself, and get branches, etc. off the rails. He was to return at the end of the work day.

Grandfather did as the was told. After several miles, he came to a bend in the tracks and there, lying by the side, was a large trunk. It must have fallen off a freight train! He ran to the trunk and upended it. The trunk was locked! He searched and found a large stone with which to break the lock open. He was successful! There in the trunk was one cap after another! There must have been dozens of them. All colors, all patterns, even different materials! What a find! He would have hats for the market, for work, for church, for taking Elizabeth out for walks -- why he had enough hats to last him the rest of his life! What a well-dressed, fine gentleman he would be. He tried on one hat after another. He felt like a rich man!

All of this activity soon tired him out. Keeping one hat on his head, he made a smooth place to lie down to take a nap. It was a perfect place to rest . . . there were many tall trees to provide cooling shade.

After a little while, he woke refreshed. He lay for a few minutes making plans for getting the hats home. He would have to finish his work and then find a means to safely transport his treasure. He decided to hide the trunk and then come back with a cart to carry it home. He walked over to the trunk making ready to close it. But! What's happened? The hats are all gone!!! Where are they? Did someone come along when he was sleeping and steal all of the wonderful hats?

He was angry! He felt cheated! Here he had had all those hats and now they were gone! He took off the remaining cap on his head and threw it to the ground in disgust and anger! All of a sudden, hats came raining down from all directions! Hats came flying at him from the left, the right, over there, from there! His hats were showering down! What could be happening? Looking up in the trees, he saw many, many monkeys. As you know, monkeys imitate what others do. When they saw grandfather throw down his hat, they did the same!

He quickly gathered up all the hats. Placed them in the trunk, closed it tightly, and hid it deep in the woods. He would come back later with the cart to get the trunk from his secret hiding place. Which is, of course, what he did.

He always ended the story with . . . "and you see this hat on my head? It's the last one I have from that trunk full of hats . . . the hats that the monkeys had stolen from me."


I don't know if grandfather ever worked on the railroad in Hungary. I do know that he did in Pennsylvania when he was in his 40s. As an adult, I have difficulty believing there were monkeys in Semlak, Hungary. I'm sure if I had questioned him about this, he would have had a most believable response. But, what a wonderful story . . . and there, there was the proof . . . the hat on his head!

What grand stories . . . what a dear, dear man. I still miss him.