Aká matka, taká Katka - Like mother, like daughter

I'm going to jump over to another branch now, away from the waspy side to the Slovak side. My maternal grandmother was 100% Slovak and the first generation of her family to be born an American. Her parents were founders of a small Slovak settlement in northern Wisconsin called Moquah. Her stories about life on a farm sound more like 19th century stories than 20th. I've talked more about my Grandma Helen in my personal blog if you'd like to know more about her. Click here to see a video of her picking out a polka on the organ and here to read about the day I lost her. That's Grandma Helen with Grandpa Andy on their honeymoon in 1956.

The hard thing about tracing the genealogy of the immigrants in our family is that it is so easy for the trail to go cold quickly. Add a language change and it gets even more complicated. With Slovak families you also have to take into account the inevitable Ellis Island name change.

Stefan become Steven.

Kateřina becomes Kate.

Mrovscak becomes Mrofchak or worse yet Mrofchalk.

Mária becomes Mary.

You have to have quite a bit of contextual data such as religion, geography, family member names, etc. in order to work your way through these immigrants. A little luck helps, too.

The hunt for my Slovak ancestors hasn't been as fruitful as some of the others, but it has been rewarding. Only three generations ago my great-grandma and grandpa made the trip over to the U.S. I never thought I'd find anything beyond them.

Well, here's the story on how we found more.

I of course started with everything my Grandmother knew about her parents, Stefan (Steve) Kacvinsky and Mária (Mary) Mrofchak. I also had a 1960s publication on the history of their town, Moquah, Wisconsin. Most settlers were from Plzn in what is now the Czech Republich. In fact that area was once known as Pilsen. I knew their ethnicity was Slovak and that they had not immigrated together, but met in the U.S. Other than the names of their children and general birth dates I didn't know much more.

Finding the census records was easy since it was such a small town. I started with the 1930 census, the most recent one that is public record. There's Helen, my Grandma! This picture is of this family six years later in the fall of 1936:


From 1930 I scooted back to 1920, two years before my Grandmother was born. You'll notice Moquah is called Pilsen here. Here it is, see anything special?

Look closely. There are three Marys. The wife, age 33 is my grandmother. Their eldest girl, my great-aunt, is the one that is age 6. Now, look at the bottom, see the third Mary? Look at the age. Yep, it is my great grandmother!

Now, I never thought I would find her, let alone in a U.S. Census. She did not immigrate, but I found her. She just happened to be visiting the year the census was taken! She actually came in 1909. I'm not sure what year she returned.

At this point in your census search take a step back and look at the big picture. If I hadn't I would have missed even more. Scrolling through their neighborhood I recognized families from the stories my grandmother would tell.

I found at this time she was widowed. The relationship very clearly states her name is Mrofchak, so now I have pretty great proof of my great grandmother's maiden name. I also find her approximate birth year and confirm her parents were both born in Slovakia. If you scroll down on the page you'll see more Mrofchak's too!

Given the date of entry I then searched Hungarian passenger lists into the U.S. and found her! She came over on The Deutschland in the second class. She is the seventh listing from the bottom. It lists her residence as Harsalva, but as I looked closer I realized the database had recorded it incorrectly.


When my mother was able to search the LDS archives in Salt Lake City she found records in Csepanfalva. Here is where another important aspect of genealogy comes into play -

Location, Location, Location!

Okay, well it is a little more than geography. In this instance the geography of what is the Czech Republic and Slovakia now very complicated by its history. In my hunt I've learned more about the Austro-Hungarian Empire and Western Civilization than I ever thought I wanted to know.

It turns out Csepanfalva is also Csepanfalu and Markusovce. Under the tyrannical rule of the the Magyars and later the Austro-Hungarian Empire the Slovak culture was greatly repressed.
Here is the complicated name history of just one small town:
1773 Markusfalva, Marcksdorf, Markussowcze, 1786 Markuschfalwa, Markussowce, Marksdorf, 1808 Markusfalva, Marksdorf, Markussowce, 1863–1877 Markusfalu, 1882–1888 Markusfalu és Csepánfalu, 1892–1902 Márkuscsepánfalu, 1907–1913 Márkusfalva, 1920– Markušovce
Štefanovce: 1773 Csepanfalva, Stefensdorff, Stefanowcze, 1786 Cschepanfalwa, Stephansdorf, Sstepanowce, 1808 Csepánfalva, Tschepansdorf, Cžepánowce, 1863 Csepánfalu, 1873–1877 Csépánfalu.

It is a small village in the count of Spišská Nová Ves or Spis, or Szepes megye. Here it is on a modern map in Google maps.

So now that we found the town we found what we believe is her family. My mother found their parish records in the LDS archives on microfilms 1739642 through 1739645. The Parish records go back to the 1600s so I'm still on the hunt.

All those names for their village tell a story. Markus-Csepanfalu was the Hungarian name of the village. The Slovaks were the lowest of the low for many generations and lived barely as serfs. A great many Slovaks of Spis immigrated the the U.S. because of the hard economic conditions. In fact after the fall of the Empire referring to a town by the old Hungarian suffix -falu was offensive to the Slovaks. Below is the Markusovce castle:

Researching my Slovak family has been the most challenging, full of foreign languages and dead ends. But, I never give up hope or give up trying.

As a side note, here are some great resources for researching Slovak history and genealogy:

A great site for Slovak research is here. When I get stuck or can't find an answer to a historical question in the library or with Google I go here!

I didn't have a true understanding about the struggles of my Slovak ancestors until I read more about life in the Old Country and about the tribulations of immigration.

I'm fortunate to live in the Cleveland area now because there are so many Slovaks. Therefore there are decent resources including the local libraries and the Bohemian National Hall. Even the libraries have more Slovak-oriented materials than I ever found before growing up in the South in Nashville.

A good start to understanding Slovak history is this very informative book, The Slovak Americans by Mark M. Stolarik, even if it written at middle-school level. It has a very comprehensive European history of the Slovaks and details the immigrant experience. One of the most interesting things I read was that researches believe the Slovaks are actually descended from a tribe of early Celtic settlers. This theory is based on both archeological finds and genetic research. Scientists have discovered the Y-chromosomes of populations of the Atlantic Celtic countries have been found in several studies to belong primarily to haplogroup R1b, which implies that they are descendants of the first people to migrate into north-western Europe after the last major ice age. This data can be found in The Blood of the Isles by Bryan Sykes and The Origins of the British: a Genetic Detective Story by Stephen Oppenheimer. In fact etymology of Bohemia is right from the Boii Celtic tribe.

More in-depth early history of the Slovak culture online can be found here.

One of my favorite reads is the story of the immigrants, Notes of a Teacher On Emigration Circa 1905.

The lasting impression my Slovak research leaves is that in only three generations so much of that rich culture has been assimilated. My grandmother could speak and somewhat read Slovak. I couldn't begin to do so. The last festival I went to was in the 1980s. But, certain things remain such as traditional koláče, a holiday family tradition. Sometimes I wish assimilation wasn't the cost of immigration. I'm proud to be an American, mutt that I am, but sometimes wish I knew more about my culture. I fear most of it has been lost.

Here is my generation on our 2007 visit to Moquah to scatter my Grandma's ashes: