Papou was Robbed!

My friend Debbie, who reads old Greek newspapers as part of her research strategy, recently sent me a gem. As she was looking at a New York City Greek-American newspaper from 1917, an article mentioning Papagiannakos from Hoboken caught her eye. Incredibly, she remembered this was my grandfather’s surname, and she sent me the following newspaper page with this message:  “didn’t know if you would need this, but maybe?”

September 22, 1917; Ethniko Kirika

Maybe? Good heavens, YES! This is about my maternal grandfather, Ilias Papagiannakos.

News clipping about Ilias Papagiannakos, September 19, 1917, Ethniko Kirika

The article states that because he did not trust banks, he hid his money in an old shoe which was kept in the back of his clothes closet. A thief stole the fruits of eight years’ hard work and sacrifice, and now the money was gone.

The translation reads:

In Hoboken, N.J.

He doesn’t trust banks – They stole savings of eight years of toil and sacrifice

(Special Correspondent)

HOBOKEN, N.J., September 19 [1917] – A victim of his mistrust of banks was the local restaurant owner Elias Papagiannakos, originally from Agios Ioannis, Sparta. Mr. Papagiannakos, distrusting banks, had been saving his money and kept it inside an old shoe, which he hid behind a box in his room.

The day before yesterday, however, while his wife went out to buy some household goods, unknown individuals entered the room and stole the precious old shoe containing all the savings from eight years of toil and sacrifice — amounting to $900 in cash and $300 worth of jewelry.

Mr. Papagiannakos reported the incident to the police and suspects the perpetrator is someone familiar to him, possibly even a household acquaintance, since they found the well-hidden shoe without any difficulty.

My first reaction was shock, then sadness. An inflation calculator estimates that in today’s dollars, the sum of my grandfather’s loss would be $25,502.48, a significant amount of money! Ilias immigrated at age 15-17 under an alias to avoid conscription into the Greek army. He had no money and worked hard to accumulate enough funds to purchase a small restaurant in Hoboken. To save $1200 after eight years’ labor was quite a feat.

At first I wondered why my mother (Catherine) and her sister (Bertha) never told me this story; then I realized that they may not have ever known this happened. My mother, the oldest living child, was 6 months old in September 1917. When my grandmother went shopping on the day of the robbery, she would have taken my infamt mother with her. Many years later when my mother was an adult, they may have forgotten or chosen not to mention this unfortunate event.

There are many questions that will forever remain unanswered. Who could possibly have known where my grandparents stashed their money? If it was someone close to them, how could he/she have perpetrated such a breach of trust? How did my grandparents cope with the loss of their savings? My grandmother had $300 worth of jewelry — that is significant for immigrants! Were they wedding gifts?

I am so grateful to Debbie for finding and sending this article, which gives me insight into a difficult event in the lives of my grandparents. It is said that we can gain strength from learning how our ancestors met and overcame challenges. Knowing that yiayia and papou weathered this setback and continued on to financial freedom is encouraging and inspiring to me.

(My appreciation to Giannis Michalakakos for translating the news article)

Shifting Gears

My last post about our family reunion caused me to reconsider my perspective on family history research. I write a monthly genealogy column, “Turning Hearts” for Meridian Magazine online, and used my last post as the basis for an article published October 18, 2013, which is reproduced below.

Last weekend, my “East Coast” cousins gathered for a joyous occasion – the baptism of the newest member of our family, Megan Ryan, at St. Andrews Catholic Church in Westwood, New Jersey. We are the grandchildren of Louis Pappas (Ilias Papagiannakos) and Angelina Eftaxias Pappas.

Family gatherings were central to the lives of our grandparents. As immigrants from Sparta in the early 1900’s, they settled in Hoboken, New Jersey. They traveled regularly to Brooklyn, New York, to be with family and friends from their homeland. These associations  brought them a sense of comfort and security in their new and very different country.

Our parents – Catherine, Bertha, William, and Nicholas – also treasured “family time.” All four families lived in neighboring towns in northern New Jersey. We cousins grew up together until the scattering began. Job opportunities took our fathers to Long Island, California, and Maryland. Only Uncle Bill remained in Westwood. There were occasional visits, but as cousins married and children arrived, we spun into differing orbits.

Except for Aunt Pauline, Bill’s wife who just turned 90, our parents have passed into a new realm of family relationships in the spirit world, unencumbered by worldly travails and earthly distances. This has engendered a new realization into all of us: We are now our parents’ generation; we are the ones to keep family traditions and maintain family ties. Our first reunion in July 2012 reinforced our longings to be together. The more we meet, the more precious these events become. We miss our  four “West Coast” cousins in California, the children of Nick, and we hope to be together with them soon.

Our renewed cousin reunions have changed my perspective on family history work. I have spent untold hours reading obscure documents from Greece with the hopes of finding one of my surnames. Although I now have a spreadsheet with several hundred names, I can’t go back far enough to find a common ancestor and to determine how these people are related to me (I know they are, as they hail from my grandparents’ ancestral villages). At times I become frustrated and am tempted to “throw in the towel” and wait for the Millenium to continue my research. But in my heart, I know that is not right. I must do what I can with what I have.

Our cousins reunions have caused me to pause and reconsider that I should reallocate some of my time from searching for the dead to reconnecting with the living. There are photos of my living relatives to be obtained and attached to our online tree. There are stories to gather from my cousins, so our collective family memories can be memorialized for future generations. There is research to be done on our parents’ cousins who came to the U.S., but whom we never had the opportunity to meet.

Shifting gears is not easy, as I am driven to probe deeper into my pedigree line. But it is essential to do so:  someday, our children will be us. If we do not capture our own family stories – and those of our parents and grandparents – we will leave them an empty legacy.