^{The News}
Dedicated to Austrian-Hungarian Burgenland Family History

The first webpage is at http://www.progenealogists.com/hungary/census-fhl.htm and is titled "Hungarian Census Returns." This one gives a nice narrative about the when and why of Hungarian censuses.

It notes that the first "population enumeration" by the Austro-Hungarian Empire was in 1696, to count how many Hungarian families in the city of Buda had survived the 150 year Turkish occupation. The first country-wide tally was done in 1715, followed by another in 1720 and one in 1728, but this last one is only partially preserved. An ecclesiastical count taken in 1747 is almost complete, especially for the western counties of Hungary, but all these early efforts were simple headcounts so are not very useful for family genealogical work.

The first census-like records are the Urbaria, kept as early as 1750. The Urbaria, created by the nobility, contain lists of peasants, by name, with their land rights, occasionally including names of family members, with amount of obligations of the peasant toward the estate owner, the conditions of payment, services owed to their lord by the peasants, and the size of the estate. The first general Urbarium was made in 1770, with other Urbaria in the 1780s and 1790s.

The first official true census [Népszamlalas] of Hungary was taken in 1785-1786, per a decree from Emperor Joseph II for conscription purposes. This census included names and ages of the male population. Much of this census was destroyed and the remaining records are of poor quality. Beginning in 1805 and extending through 1880, censuses were taken at irregular intervals in both Austria and Hungary. Some of these counts were general censuses of property owners; others were for specific purposes such as the 1848 Hungarian census of the Jews. Beginning in 1880 a census was taken every ten years. The last census of Austria-Hungary was in 1910.

The webpage also notes that the information provided varied according to census. Some list only head of household, conscription number of house, and taxable property. Many of the censuses of the 1800s give house number, head of household, names of members of the household (including servants), ages, occupations, religions, and relationships to head of household; some also give date and place of birth.

Four of the census returns are available on microfilm at the Family History Library. These include the land and property census of 1828, parts of the 1848 census of the Jews and parts of the 1857 and 1869 enumerations. Many of the other census returns are preserved in Hungarian county and city archives. (The website then gives details on the four microfilmed censuses.)

The second webpage is at https://wiki.familysearch.org/en/Hungary_Census and is titled "Hungary Census." It repeats much of the key information covered above then gives specific information about the "1725-1775 Censuses of the Jews" and about the four censuses noted in the previous paragraph. Some of the details on this page complement those on the first page I mentioned.

The third webpage is at http://www.dvhh.org/research/1828_census_connor.htm and is titled "The Hungarian Property Tax 1828 Land Census, Germans & Hungarians Extractions, by Martha Remer Connor." This page describes the books that Martha Connor created about the 1828 land and property census and offers them for sale. It also describes the headings of the 14 columns of data. If you are interested in one of these books, this site is an excellent place to start.

             

Knowing that Member Research Editor, Barbara Raabe, had two of the books (Moson & the City Index), I asked her for more detail about two Moson County villages, Halbturn and Wallern (which coincidentally happen to be my ancestral villages [wink, wink]). She reports that "Halbturn has 2 pages with 221 names listed. Wallern has 1 page with 152 names listed. Note it only lists the first and last names for those listed in the 1828 census, not all the information that is in the actual census."

I then asked her about the City Index book, inquiring specifically about four Counties, Vas, Moson, Györ and Sopron. She reports, "The second book (Index) lists at the beginning, 'City Lists of 15 Counties'. This includes Gyor, Moson and Vas but I don't see any for Sopron. It lists the cities in alphabetical order [with] its county next to it. This takes several pages. Then starts a list of cities for each county, but Gyor and Moson are not counties in this section. Sopron has 3 pages spelled Sophron, I assume that's the same. Vas is also listed as Castriferrei."

Barbara notes further that it "would be helpful if you wanted to know what county a particular town was in and the first book has a lot of information about the 1828 census and what the various columns mean. Other than that, they are strictly indexes listing the names of persons living in that town in 1828 and are no substitute for the actual census on microfilm through the LDS library."

             

There is much more, quite detailed, information about specific censuses in the six BB Newsletter articles I mentioned above. If you decide to try researching your family through the Hungarians censuses, I suggest that the time taken to read these articles will be returned six times over as you avoid struggles with their language and other idiosyncrasies. And if you do decide to tackle them, please share your experiences by dropping me a note for the Newsletter!
 

We found a road sign pointing to Redlschlag, (2 miles away) and I thought it probably was the "Raelischlow" the folks talked about. I saw a load of hay coming down the narrow mud road we were on, just wide enough for one car, and hailed the driver. My German was good enough to be understood, and I asked if he knew whether the village of Lebenbrunn was nearby. He replied that it was less than 5 miles away "just beyond Raelischlow." That pronunciation did it and my next question was, "Is there a family by the name of Boehm in 'Raelischlow'?" He said yes, indeed, and he was a Boehm.

He took me to his home, where his father, Joseph Boehm, recalled that his uncle, Franz Boehm, had gone to Henderson, Minnesota, many years ago. His wife, whose maiden name was Boehm also, though they were not relatives, went into the house and brought out some old notes, and among them was a slip with the words 'Henderson, Minn.' on it. There were no other Boehms in Redlschlag, but they urged me to see their daughter, a Mrs. Johann Schloegel in Lebenbrunn, who would refer me to the Webers.

I got there [Lebenbrunn] just at noon, and the Schloegels in Lebenbrunn sent their little boy up the road about two blocks and, within 5 minutes, there were ten people there running into the house, all relatives. Still living in Lebenbrunn are a 66-year-old sister and a 72-year-old brother, who are children of Grandma Boehm's sister Anna. The brother took me up to his house to meet his wife and he told me that the family record showed that all of the children of Hieronymus Weber were born in this building, making it the birthplace of Grandma Boehm [nee Teresia Weber]. The house was at least 300 years old. Grandma Boehm's niece, the 66-year-old lady referred to above, has a son about 30 years old, who is a Burgenland area traffic policeman, and he directed me to many interesting sites, including the old schoolhouse which Louis and Charles Boehm (and probably Mary and Frank, if they were old enough at the time) attended.

But the most interesting thing was still to come. I was asked if I knew that Grandpa Boehm had contributed a church bell to the village church to replace the one taken during World War I. I had heard something about it years ago, but had forgotten. The young policeman took me to the old church where Grandpa and Grandma Boehm were married and where the children made their First Communion [St. Ulrich in Lebenbrunn]. The inside was just as it was 200 years ago. I crawled up three ladders into the belfry, chased the pigeons out, dusted off a bell and there, inscribed on it, was the wording that in English would read, "Donated by Franz Boehm from America." It really was an emotional occasion for all of us in Lebenbrunn that day.

The area, which includes Redlschlag, Lebenbrunn and Salmannsdorf (the "Sormischdorf" of Henderson pronunciation), is about 90 miles due south of Vienna, just five miles inside the western boundary at that point. I got many interesting stories of their problems in the war years and, when I see all of you, I will have much to tell you.

If I can get back there before I finish my work in Vienna, I will learn much more. I did not get to Salmannsdorf because everyone of our known kin had already come to Lebenbrunn when the word got around and, by five o'clock in the afternoon when I had to start back to Vienna, I had met at least 40 relatives, only four of whom were on the Boehm side, the rest all being Webers.

Well, all in all, it was quite an experience and I thoroughly enjoyed it. We were throwing questions back and forth all day and it gave me quite a workout in my poor German speaking capacity.

Incidentally, I arranged a Requiem High Mass in Lebenbrunn for all the Boehms and Webers, dead and living, for one day next week and another one on my father's next birthday.

Regards to all of you from
"Bud"

Bud never made it back to the Burgenland, but encouraged other family members to visit, and several did just that in the late '60s and into the '70s. Conditions improved markedly over the years and Burgenland became as prosperous as any state in Europe.

The bell became a legend in our family, and my aunt Bev Boehm and I decided to go look for it again. So, in 2002, with nothing but Bud's letter to go on, we flew to Vienna and drove ourselves to the Burgenland for a little exploration of family history. The next entry is from a family circular I wrote at the time:

October 9, 2002: Burgenland, Austria

Oberloisdorf became the base for our adventure in Burgenland. We were the only lodgers at the little "privatzimmer" in the range of hills in which nestle the villages of Lebenbrunn and Redlschlag. The tang of wood smoke filled the air in the mornings. The harvest was underway, and many roadside stands boasted large pile of "Kurbis" (pumpkins and squash) for sale as well as signs for "Most" and "Stürm" (the first fermented grape juice of the season). Small trucks loaded with grapes from area vineyards were found on all the country roads and, if you were lucky, there was fresh-pressed apple juice for breakfast. The weather had turned rainy and cloudy, but the intrepid adventurers set out to find that bell.

The villages of Lebenbrunn and Redlschlag sit at a higher elevation than the rest of the area, so the views were impressive. Lebenbrunn was quiet that day as we drove over the hill and spotted the steeple of St. Ulrich's in the valley below.

The church was fronted by a goose pond (the pond where a young Charlie Boehm was disciplined for splashing his siblings after church) with a newly remodeled bridge and several monuments to those of the village lost in war or plague. A venerable horse chestnut shaded the front of the church.

St. Ulrich's is a modest, stucco-clad church with a short steeple. The doors were locked and no one was around. As we were walking around the village, a truck drove by and stopped at a house across from the church. Two men got out and started unloading glazed blocks, which are common house construction materials in Austria. I went over to ask them in my halting German if they knew who might open the church for us and that we wanted to look at the bell. The younger man nodded and went inside the house and came out shortly with a set of keys. Could it be we found the sexton by chance? He unlocked the front doors and we went in.

The church interior is much like the country Catholic churches in Minnesota, plain painted walls, a modest tabernacle and altar and a simple choir loft. No fancy stained glass in the windows or baroque madness on the ceiling. We climbed to the choir loft, where a rough wooden door with stout hinges appeared to be the only access to the belfry. That door, too, was locked. The man could not open it with the keys he had and briefly looked as dejected as we did. He ran his hand over the lintel and suddenly brightened. In his hand, no kidding, was a large old skeleton key! He quickly inserted it into the lock and the door swung inward.

Old faded paintings of saints and Stations of the Cross were stacked haphazardly in the space beyond, lit by a grimy colored glass window. A wooden ladder rose out of the pile and continued into the ceiling. A glance upward revealed a landing and then another, even older looking, ladder that rose into the belfry itself. Dust covered everything.

I turned on my cameras and made ready to climb. The man shook his head and said, "Gefaehrlich," which meant it was dangerous, and that I should be careful. I nodded and climbed the first ladder, which was solid, but the second one was not. Bev wanted to climb up, too, but visions of broken limbs made me worried enough to advise, to the man's relief, that she should wait below. She agreed and watched as I climbed the second ladder, which wobbled quite a bit, up under the bells hanging above.

Upon gaining access to the belfry, I saw three bells, one large and two smaller ones, suspended from a large beam. The light slanted in through louvered windows, keeping out pigeons. I could hear roosters crowing in the village below. The large bell had some decoration, but no inscription. The smaller bells were harder to see without climbing up on the sill of the louvered openings. One bell had a date of 1947 on it, so that wasn't the one. I walked around to see the other bell and it was then I saw the inscription.

Under an embossed figure of the risen Christ, were the words, "Gespendet von Franz Böhm in Amerika." I caught my breath and then yelled down to Bev that it was here, the story was true, old Franz really did get his name on a bell. I took many pictures and tried to get it to ring, but it was hooked up to a mechanical device that struck it rather than letting it swing. We were all flustered and excited, and even our helpful man with the keys was smiling at these goofy Americans.

Our visit to Redlschlag included a visit with an outgoing man at house no. 27 (next door to the former Boehm home) who didn't speak a word of English and a retired 90-year-old English teacher who tried to help find relatives but was ultimately unsuccessful at finding anyone at home who might know something about the Boehm family. Nonetheless, it was a great day.

I am fortunate to have had Bud's letters and information to build upon when I took up the family history. Even though the Boehms were early immigrants from what would become Burgenland, I am separated from West Hungary by just two generations, as my grandfather, Ed Boehm, was born when his father, Franz, was 54 years old, and "Papa Ed" was 42 when my mother was born. I still have the original "letter of recommendation" from the village clerk in Lebenbrunn (another Weber relative), written in German but stamped with official seals in Hungarian. The peony plants they carried across the ocean took root near the well house on their Henderson farm. The pride of my great grandmother Teresia's garden, they continued to bloom for years even after the property became part of an adjacent cemetery. The grapes didn't fare as well, dying during the first winter. But the family spirit and memories live on.