Genealogical Mythology - How my Grandfather came to America

This is a complicated story spanning three continents. You will find lies, theft and other deceptions.

My Grandfather was the first Ernest. Actually, he was Ernst. As he had no middle name, and my Father had a different middle name from mine, I am neither the second nor the third.


Ernst Fink was born in Gomaringen, Wurttemberg, Germany, in 1908. His Father, Gottlieb, would die in the battle of Vauquois in France in 1915, leaving his Mother, Katharina, with four children to raise on her own. Ernst would die in Philadelphia in 1964.

Here, again, we turn to his wife, Verna Stevenson, my Grandmother, for a tale of woe.

According to Verna, Ernst's Mother had a single brother. He made his way to Australia and began a sugar plantation. He was very fond of his sister. Upon his death, he willed her everything, with the intent that she send one of her children to America to be educated and successful. As her oldest was already married, she decided to send Ernst.

Ernst was not happy about the idea. But, as the dutiful son, he went, rather angrily, we were led to believe. So much so that he never answered any of his Mother's letters.

The money, however, was stolen by another member of the family, who were able to send three of their children to college. Ernst would spend much of his adult life as a trolley conductor for the PTC (Philadelphia Transit Company, which would later become SEPTA).


This all sounds like a Movie of the Week.

The story begins to unravel about four years ago. Gomaringen, Germany became genealogy crazy! In 2015, Beatrice Burst and Birgit Wallisser-Nuber published the book "Das Gluck in der Fremde gesucht, Gomaringer Auswanderer 1679-1957". The book was a compilation of everyone in Gomaringen who emigrated from the town to the four corners of the world. The tome is nearly 590 pages long and covers all known information about families that left the country.



Not only was this done, but Gomaringen set up a website that carried birth and death records and other information about the town's inhabitants.

Of course, I was drawn to the Fink section of the book. That's when I found Karl Fink.

Karl Fink was born in 1880. He was the brother of Ernst's Father (not the brother of Katharina). He died in Goodna, Queensland, Australia, on 14 Nov 1926. The entry says that he had an estate worth about £1200 that was split between five people.

For reference, the Australian Pound and the British Pound were in parity until 1931. This means that they carried the same approximate value. The Pound in 1926 was about $4.8675. Thus, the estate was valued at, roughly, $5840; split five ways, $1168 each. With most better colleges costing $2000 per year (that is courses, room, board and books), there is hardly enough there to send one person to college, let alone three.

Another factor that does not help the story is that Karl died in 1926, yet Ernst was sent to America in 1925. Does clairvoyance enter into this story?

The last piece of the puzzle is that my parents had only heard this story from Verna, not from Ernst. He never spoke of any of this.

So what did happen? Here's my theory:

In the 1920s, Germany was in the throes of depression and hyper-inflation. Their currency was being devalued on an hourly basis! Legend had it that a wheelbarrow full of Deutsch Marks was needed to buy a loaf of bread. In America, Katharina's family had a thriving business and offered to train one of her sons. As the oldest was already married, she sent Ernst. He was the only other son. The daughters would likely marry and be supported by their husbands. (Note: this isn't the way it turned out as Ernst's sister, Luise, never married and was sent to America in 1950). Ernst may not have been happy about coming to America, but it was the best way to provide for him and insure his survival.

Oh, funny thing about Karl Fink. He died in the insane asylum in Goodna. Cousins of mine from Germany were working in Australia and researched his time there and actually published a small book on his life and the Goodna Asylum.



To this day, I am at a loss as to the stories that my Grandmother told. I honestly don't think she was happy unless she was "stirring the pot".