Several years ago, my dad gave me a copy of an old letter. It was
from my great-uncle Adrien, sent to my dad's cousin Bob, who was doing
a high-school project on his family tree. I never met Adrien, but
he was a real character with
an offbeat sense of humor. Despite having never finished high school,
he was also an excellent writer (not to mention all the things he did
during his lifetime... but that's another story for another day.)
A few years ago, I met a distant relative online, while we were
both looking for information on Adrian. He was a nephew by marriage,
and had very fond memories of the man, mainly from a visit to San
Francisco to stay with Adrien and his wife during the "Summer of
Love"
in 1967. I promised this relative that I would dig up the letter
and send him a copy.
Well, I'm not a very good correspondent, and
the distant relative and I are no longer in touch... but I've finally
found the letter again! This time, I'm taking no chances. I'm putting
it online!
May 3, 1962
Dear Bob:
I have your note inquiring about our family's background. Complete information would require more time and research than I can spare. Here are a few highlights that come to my mind:
I'm not much on geanealogy, so I can't get far behind my grandparents to describe our family tree. Besides, it would look like something between a Mexican cactus and a poison oak bush. Personally, I consider the line of ascent much more important than that of descent.
Derivation of the name "Falk": It is only in recent centuries that any but the upper classes were permitted to use family names. When that came about, it was customary to take names from one's occupation, from the neighborhood, from physical characteristics, etc. Falk, a common northern European name, is one of the many corruptions of "falcon", a hawk, and probably was taken from the shape of one's schnozzle.
My father, Jerome Falk, came to California right after the Franco-Prussian war because he didn't want to become a German subject. His mother died in middle age: his father, a distinguished looking man, survived her many years. He was a livestock dealer and trader. Dad left behind his youngest brother and three sisters named Palymere, Valerie and Coralie (their names as French as boulanger); their descendents still live in France and Switzerland. His oldest brother had precded him to California nad a younger one came later. Both engaged in general merchandizing in interior towns; their descendants still live in these parts. Your dad should be able to fill in on these details.
Dad came to San Francisco and lived here until his death at the age of 56. He was an expert in fancy imported groceries and a particularly fine judge of wine and liquors. He married my mother, Jennie Lindheimer, and they begot four children -- your grandfather, Emile, the author of this article and Aunts Sadie and Florine. Dad was a sweet, gentle man who had everybody's respect and love. He was a devoted husband and father.
Now the Lindheimers: My maternal grandfather, Meier Lindheimer, was born in Franfort-on-Main in 1829. I only know one thing about his forebears, viz., in the museum at Frankfort there was displayed prior to World War II (it may still be there) the first financial document of record involving the famous House of Rothschild. It was a promissory note, whereby Meyer Rothschild, founder of the famous clan, promised to pay one Meier Lindheimer (my grandfather's grandfather) the sum of one thousand thaler. There is no evidence that note ever was paid; if collectible I would undoubtedly be the richest man in the world (including, of course, compound interest). Long ago I thought of bringing suit, but as the lawyer I consulted required a down payment of $15. I was obliged to abandon the project.
Grandpa Lindheimer was an advenrurer. He ran away from home at the age of 13; shipped as cabin boy on a German sailing ship. He deserted it at Baltimore; found his way to New York and apprenticed to a bootmaker. Later he met my grandmother there (she came over as a child with her parents). Her maiden name was Helena Maier. Her family came from a small town on the Rhine (Kundesblum...probably spelled incorrectly).
Shortly after gold was discovered, my grandparents came to California via the Isthmus of Panama. They shipped from New York to what is now Colon; carried their meager belongings to the Pacific side. It was a long walk, for the straighter, modern Panama Canal is now 50 miles long. They reembarked on another vessel on the Pacific side and came to San Francisco. Grandpa opened a bootmaking shop, making boots for the miners for $75. a pair, gold dust. He did alright but he hated the work -- it was too confining. He wanted action. So he joined the San Francisco police force (he was its 13th man) and served as a peace officer for 45 years, dying at 93.
He was a big, vigorous man with a hasty temper and a heavy hand.. but he did have the biggest heart of any man I ever knew. Money, to him, was just a commodity to be disposed of; he never refused to help anyone in need, even down to his last dollar. He financed meals and board for more down-an-outers and ex-cons that the National Probation Society does to-day. I believe he had more friends from every walk of life than anyone in San Francisco.
He was a great story teller and would regale his friends with his endless experiences, rarely repeating himself. Like all good tellers of tales, he drew a long bow; but his actual adventures really were unlimited. Like many early Californians he was a prime whisky drinker, but I have never seen him under the influence. He just could take it.
He had a married sister in San Francisco with a large family. One of his brothers was a successful wholesaler in New York; another even more successful in Chicago. Both had large families.
When grandpa came to judgement, I'm certain his limitless acts of kindess, charity and helpfulness far outweighed his many human failings. He had a good balance to his credit.
My maternal grandmother was a real housefrau. She lived entirely for her family. There were three sons and four daughters; all sons and one daughter died early in life, victims of the many epidemics that swept San Francisco in early days. My mother and the two remaining sisters lived to ripe age; all raised families in San Francisco.
Grandma was scrupously honest; she spent sparingly and abhored the very thought of owing anyone anything. Her single vice was buying lottery tickets in the hope that some day she would hit the jackpot and thus provide the security her husband's extravagances denied. She never cashed in more than $5. She died aged 83.
Grandma had three sisters who lived in San Francisco with their families. One with her husband (they were prosperous) once owned and ran the famous "What Cheer House", a hostelry of Gold Rush days. They acquired it several decades later. Another of the sisters married a rascal. He was treasurer of one of the frontier counties of Nevada, and one day he disappeared with the treasury (reputed $80,000) and beat it for parts unknown. Unfortunately, the lynching party that pursued him was a little late.
My mother was a doll. She was keenly intelligent and had an ever-present sparkling sense of humor. She ran the home and ran it well; loved my father dearly and did her share to outride their many visissitudes. She reared her children carefully -- never harshly but through love and respect. Such virtues as we may possess -- such degrees of sound character, integrity and regard for our fellow are due largely to her teaching and example.
That's the story. No doubt your mother will post you on her fmaily tree and I hope for the sake of color and balance it also discloses an occasional horse thief or the like.
Speaking of horses: my father who loved them taught me to drive almost as soon as I was able to walk. There were no automobiles in those days and horse stealing was a rarity, so we heard much less of juvenile delinquincy. While I drove on every occasion, I could'nt afford to buy or keep a horse until much later in life. But one day I lent my entire savings, $20., to a friend who owned a racehorse who never came in the money. Nevertheless, the horse had to eat and my friend didn't have the wherewithal. When I told my father about my investment, he shook his head doefully and gave to me this sage advice (it was not original) which I pass on to you: "Never lend money on anything that eats".
I hope this will help with your essay. If not, I'll dig further in the archives and endeavor to produce some more exciting characters.
Best wishes.
Uncle Adrien
Also attached to the letter was this very silly little note from 1947,
when Bob was born.
January twenty-third
1 9 4 7
Dear Ann and Ralph:
We received the official notice of the arrival and naming of Ronald Allan Falk. It sounds euphoneous and aristocratic, and I hope he will grow up to all its implications.
You appear to have gone in for quite a series of alliteration, viz., Ralph Alfred Falk, Robert Adrien Falk, and Ronald Allan Falk.
No doubt you will want to perpetuate the custom and, as it must be quite a strain to whip a name with such limitations into shape in a moment of crisis, I offer the following for future use:
Royal Airforce Falk
Royal Academician Falk
Rollo Acheela Falk
Rosher Aguinaldo Falk
Rutzer Aqueduct Falk
Raoul Aschleck Falk
As a further thought, if a new arrival should run to overweight and give indication of either histrionic or sexual impulses, you might name him Roscoe Arbuckle Falk. I haven't mentioned girls because you seem to lean in the opposite direction. However, there is always a chance that a girl may appear on the scene, and in such an emergency I offer:
Rosie Apple Falk
Rifka Apoopa Falk
This ought to keep you busy for awhile, so with best wishes for the health and happiness of your entire family, I am
As ever,
Uncle Adrien
"Rutzer Aqueduct" has got a nice ring to it, no?
