This article is based on a lecture given at the 28th International Conference on Jewish Genealogy held in Chicago, August 2008.

The history of Jewish migration from the Czarist Russian Empire beginning in the second half of the 19th century is generally well known. The powerful movement overland across the continent via European ports overseas, primarily to the United States, but also to South Africa, has long since culminated into a master narrative. Whoever seeks to comprehend the individual migration of his ancestors within the context of this general history, however, frequently encounters in his research inconsistencies or contradictions, because isolated incidents or anecdotes defy categorization.

This article demonstrates which variations of migration and decisions to migrate tended to occur among the Litvaks (as the Lithuanian Jews referred to themselves), how broad their spectrum tended to be, what background factors played a role, and to what extent these paths can be traced using documents.

In the second half of the 19th century, the territory of Lithuania belonged to the Russian Empire. Directly on the border were Kovno (today’s Kaunas) and Suwalki guberniyas (provinces), the westernmost portion of the Pale of Settlement.¹ During these decades, a change occurred on the other (southern) side of the border as the Kingdom of Prussia became part of the newly constituted German Empire. This region experienced continuous streams of Lithuanian, Polish, and Jewish migrations moving to and through Prussia from the areas near the border throughout the second half of the 19th century. Examination of the Jewish migratory movements of this period below is guided by the following key questions:

• How was the Lithuanian border crossed back then? What decisions were associated with these crossings?
• What role did the “transit migration” play?
• What were the special characteristics of child migration?
• What “Jewish factors” emerged in the border area?
• How were life destinies reflected in relevant documents?

Sources and Current State of Research

Until now, research has focused far more on the centers of Jewish life rather than on the regions with Jewish populations. No major work yet has been done on the Jews of Kovno and Suwalki guberniyas although one must mention the work of Steven Aschheim and Jack Wertheimer with regard to the migration of that period.² However, borders and, in general, the regions around them and how they pertain to the Jews have not yet been the subject of research.

The first large group of sources is found in files that the Prussian authorities in the governmental district of Gumbinnen (the border region being studied) compiled about Jewish and stateless citizens. A further body of sources is Sind Urkunden aus dem Standesamt Memel, die sich heute im Archiv in Vilnius befinden. A third group of sources is the set of documents and first-person documents of Jewish immigrants and those in transit that I have collected over the past seven years, possible only because of the Internet.

Situation of the Litvaks

At the end of the 19th century, Jews comprised 13 percent of Kovno guberniya. Of that number, 43.4 percent lived in the cities of Kovno (Kaunas), Panevežys, Siauliai, and Ukmergė (then called Vilkomir); 54 percent had settled in shtetls (villages); barely 3 percent lived in the countryside.[1] Even though a massive migration toward western Europe and the United States began in the last third of the 19th century, the Jewish population of Kovno guberniya increased about two-and-a-half times between 1847 and 1897.

In addition to the emigration, internal migrations also occurred, one into the interior of the country, the other into the border region with Prussia. The rule, in general, was that social advancement only was achievable through geographic mobility. Whoever among the Litvaks wanted to climb socially had to choose between the centers and the periphery. The cities experienced increasingly strong growth since people expected to find better possibilities to work and to earn a living there.

The border was a place to find other new possibilities. In the localities located on the border were many inhabitants who were there only for the short or medium term. If a good opportunity to leave the Czar’s Empire arose, then Jewish immigrants from the interior immediately moved in to take their places. In the 19th century, Jews accounted for 40 to 60 percent of the population in the small cities directly on the Prussian border. Unlike the interior which was shaken by various crises, on the imperial periphery one found life and movement. The Polish rebellion in January 1863 even sent ripples into the border region. In addition to economic problems, famines, and epidemics, the czarist system was applying increasing political pressure itself. [2]

Further elaboration on the situation of the Litvaks in the second half of the 19th century exceeds the scope of this article. Suffice to say that the advent of railroads and steamships, along with the dissemination of new knowledge through newspapers in general, and the Jewish press in particular, all contributed to a thirst for migration and made the challenge of migration seem possible. First, however, a national frontier had to be crossed.

How was the border of the Czarist Empire crossed? What decisions were associated with these crossings? In order to cross the border legally, a Russian foreign passport had to be presented, the acquisition of which was a costly affair, and, on the other hand, a passport was not issued readily to just anyone.[3] Thus, it became commonplace for citizens who wanted to leave the country to cross the border illegally. Whereas the czarist border gendarmes in the first half of the 19th century ran a very rigid regime, the situation changed after mid-century.

With the beginning of the Crimean War in 1853, the situation on the Prussian Lithuanian border changed radically. Russia experienced a trade boycott imposed by all sides—with the exception of Prussia—for the entire length of the war (1853 to 1856).[4] As a consequence, the czarist government had to unblock the border with Prussia. All imports into the expanses of the Russian Empire now passed over that border, through Memel and Tilsit. Driven by these economic factors, the border control experienced a sudden and politically unintended liberalization.[5] The border was virtually open; later these times went down as golden years in the history of the region. Nor could this ad hoc liberalization of the border control be brought under control again for quite a while. Beginning in 1861, there was a regulation for the local border traffic within the 30 km zone whose permission slips were valid for three days.

The newly emerging economic relationships, the noticeable differentiation of commercial and transport traffic, as well as the growing number of people, all resulted in the participation of more strata of the population in the commerce that was reaching across the border. New commercial arenas were created in Prussia, primarily for the Jewish immigrants.

The railroad, which had been crossing the border in this region since the end of the 1860s, brought about some far-reaching changes. The invention of this new form of transportation led to a significant increase in traffic. Contrary to all predictions, the railroad quickly developed into a mode of mass transit.

Research shows that with increasing small border traffic:

• Jewish settlement in the small border towns grew.
• Commerce and employment increasingly served areas across the border.
• Emigrants used the mechanism of small border traffic to cross the border.

We may summarize the decisions underlying these phenomena by observing that:

• Those who came to the border from the interior of the country would someday find that they too wanted to cross over to the other side, even if they didn’t yet know which direction they wished to go to change their lives.
• Some of those who became established found that the border itself became a business, for the stream of illegal émigrés increased and promised a brisk business.

In broad terms, we may distinguish two groups, individuals with a concrete travel destination from A to B, e.g., from Lithuania to overseas, and others who (for any number of reasons) moved away gradually. This latter group settled down for a time in the Prussian border region, usually in the port towns. It was a transit migration of sorts, except for the fact that this term and its myriad connotations were still unknown at the time.

Transit Migration

What role did “transit migration” play? The transit areas in the second half of the 19th century, and generally up to World War I, were in border areas or in port towns, as they were the interfaces between different cultural systems. It was in these realms that decisions germinated about the future of families, about their travel destinations, about what path of education their children would pursue, and also about new forms of employment.

Hundreds of Jewish families and individuals crossed the border, which had been brought so close by rail connections, and settled temporarily in East Prussian cities, towns, and villages. They were just a fragment of a mass movement of people, Jews and non-Jews, who were striving to leave Poland, the Baltic region, and Russia.[6] Predominantly it was members of the lower class and the lower middle class who were leaving.[7]

At that time, the way from the Lithuanian shtetl did not run directly through to the embarkation harbors and on to the New World. The more or less linear route was first formed in the decade of the 1890s. In hindsight, an imagined straight path from the decision to emigrate to the migration that followed were images that came solely from the perspective of those looking back on it. In fact, the emigration in those days was accompanied by varying dynamics. Among them was the central economic question: How to finance the move? Only a few brought the sum for the ship’s passage with them directly from Lithuania. The up-and-coming economy of the German Empire had enough work to go around. Even before crossing into Prussia, many emigrants already had acquired the necessary language skills while previously living in the border area.

At the beginning of the 1880s, Prussian politicians, influenced by anti-Semitic movements and attitudes, began to halt migration into Prussia and to deport non-citizens.[8] The East Prussian transit area of 25 years (1860–85) was destroyed by the targeted anti-Jewish deportation practice of the Prussian state. Research shows, however, that the Jews did not disappear completely from the transit area. It tended to be the men and boys over age 16 who moved on; women, girls, and small children stayed behind. A radical change in normal family patterns came about and with it temporarily fragmented families.

The simplest explanation for this phenomenon either was inadequate economic conditions or the lack of opportunity in the new location. Partial migration from a Lithuanian town often was not possible, as leaving the family behind in the Czarist Empire meant they would have been subject to investigations by the authorities concerning family members who had migrated and subject to possible punitive measures. In contrast, family members left behind in Prussia were relatively safe from persecution and deportation. Because women and children had no citizenship of their own, they were politically invisible. Because they worked or were supported within the Jewish networks (Hilfsvereine, or aid societies) and many also received money transfers from abroad, they were not socially visible to the Prussian administrative authorities either.

These fragmented families lived for an indefinite period in a gray area. The women tried the best they could to maintain family contacts. At the same time, they frequently chose adequate daughters-in-law and took them in under their wing. In addition, a minority of families pursued another strategy. Jewish heads of households obtained another nationality to be able to stay in Prussia. Turkish papers were particularly easy to obtain. In my research, I also saw Swedish, American, British, and Dutch nationality records. This route represented a formality towards the authorities that was not widely discussed within the family.

Minors

Was there migration of children, and what were some of its special features? Although children generally migrated with their parents, three variations in the migration patterns of minors during the second half of the 19th century may be identified:

• Boys who fled czarist military conscription
• Children left behind
• Children who traveled with their parents, the usual case

The straightest line was taken by young boys who were fleeing the military draft. Usually they were free of social responsibilities and brimming with a desire for adventure. Moreover, they were often under pressure to leave the continent as quickly as possible.

In autumn of 1867 alone, when the government of Suwałki launched new conscription campaigns, the Major and Border Commissioner reported to the government of Gumbinnen and to the Prussian Ministry to be passed on to the Russian authorities 38 cases of “Israelites who became fugitives.”[9] The fugitives were primarily from Vilkaviškis, Virbalis, and Vistytis, and all were 17 or 18 years old.[10] (In the eyes of the law, they were minors until they reached the age of 21.) Research shows that several decades later, even some 14 year olds left Europe on their own. In this case, two reasons were sufficient. First was the political prospect of someday being conscripted into the military. Second was the economic prospect of never finding an apprenticeship or opportunity for a vocation. These young men decontextualized themselves from their families and their cultural environment. We know of cases in which military refugees supported their families and kept in touch or had their siblings follow them. To my knowledge, however, no particular research has been conducted on the migration history of military refugees and the significance of their social factor in the countries where they were received.

It was more difficult for families to begin the journey quickly. Illnesses and other unexpected events frequently forced them to defer or completely rearrange their plans. In addition to young families seeking a future, individual young women also left home to find their fortune or to follow a loved one.[11] Women with flocks of children were underway; the fathers had gone ahead to check the terrain and to earn the cost of their passage. If the longed-for letter finally arrived, the whole family set out on the journey. It also often happened, however, that the men sent back no word after they left. In that case, the rest of the family sat in a village on the Prussian border and waited.[12]

The second group was comprised of children who did not travel with their parents or who were left behind. Examples could be found in every port town. One such case was Sara Tittman, later Maidenbaum. The family, originally from Shepetovka in Ukraine, traveled to America via Memel at the beginning of the 20th century. Twelve-year-old Sara was sick and remained with relatives in Memel. Arrangements were made for her to follow once she was well again, but some of her family died in a shipboard fire. Sara stayed in Memel and married there. She only saw her siblings again in 1939 when they were able to arrange an entry visa to the United States for her.[13]

Most children, of course, emigrated with their parents, their childhoods changing dramatically as a result of the migration. One outward manifestation of this often was the acquisition of a new language. The “old” language remained a childhood and family language. Such bi- or multi-lingualism (e.g., Yiddish, Lithuanian, and possibly Russian, along with German) in a primarily monolingual environment, gave them special skills. How were these applied? What was the place of children in Prussian transit migration? In 1879, Rabbi Rülf founded a charity school in Memel, which provided instruction in Hebrew, German, and the Talmud. A charity school was one in which the community, along with a school club, assumed financial responsibility for education, and school tuition was waived. The opportunity of schooling for émigré children represented an important socio-emotional strategy. Besides, there was no room for traumas back then. How the sons and daughters coped with this migratory life was seldom made part of historical record.[14] There were children who spent their formative years in the border area and discovered this place as their sphere of activity and their profession.

Border Crossers Become Agents

What “Jewish factors” became manifest in the border area? Jewish border crossings generally were organized by Jews, and entirely new lines of work emerged here. Because a foreign passport was required to cross the border officially and acquiring one was both expensive and complicated, most people attempted to cross the border illegally.[15] People smugglers generally transported the emigrants using borrowed or fake border passes for small border crossings, hid them between the cargo, bribed Russian border guards, and/or led them across the border along unguarded areas.[16] Sometimes these transports ended tragically.[17]

How did the emigrants reach the border? Emigrant agencies sprang up like mushrooms in the 1870s. The agents of many foreign societies traveled through the Czarist Empire offering ship passage and quick transport across the border. Most were Jews. The work required some finesse, as it was forbidden to promote migration in the Russian Empire. Agents could also be apprehended by the police.[18] Those traveling legally crossed the border via train or came with carts,[19] whereas illegal travelers took the train only to destinations near the border.[20] Then they had to cross the so-called “green border.” This situation created several economic opportunities. First, smuggler agents—Jews or Lithuanians—who organized transportation from the interior of the country to a meeting place near the border, pocketed a handsome commission.[21] Next, but much less lucrative, was the innkeeper business. Because border crossers sometimes had to wait several days for a good opportunity to cross, they had to stay in inns, typically owned by Jews. Lithuanian wagoneers or Lithuanian and Jewish guides brought the emigrants over the border and delivered them to a travel agent. Naturally, the Russian border guards held out their hands for hefty bribes.[22] The people smugglers generally bribed the Russian guard posts so that their person transfers were conducted without any losses. Once in a while, however, the police were successful in arresting people smugglers, as was the case with an entire Jewish group associated with people smuggler Shereshevsky in Tauroggen in 1890.[23]

From 1892 onward, as the result of pressure from two German steamship lines, HAPAG and Bremen Lloyd, emigrants were allowed to enter Germany from the Czarist Empire even without papers, so long as they could show a ship ticket.[24] Both large German shipping lines took Russian emigrants under their protection out of profit motives, and the German authorities ignored the fact that these ticket holders generally were leaving Russia illegally.

The main agents and sub-agents for the steamship lines located in Insterburg, Schirrwindt, Tilsit, and Eydtkuhnen pulled all the strings and earned most of the money on this vast cross-border enterprise. The concession of the agents was renewed annually by the Prussian government in Gumbinnen. Whoever wanted to acquire such a position had to have either good connections or considerable money. Among the most successful agents from the 1890s onward were the Litvaks Joseph Abelmann (Memel) and Adolf Funk (Königsberg). Both had come to Prussia as children in the 1870s from Garsten and Polangen respectively. In a manner of speaking, Jewish agents of the cross-border migration represented personified interfaces between two different worlds and, for the most part, succeeded in striking a balance between business and charity. They played a fundamental role in the network of service providers. One of them was the subject of the legendary Mr. Schidorsky in one of the best-known emigrant novels.[25]

Documents

How were these phases in people’s lives reflected in corresponding documents? Official documents may provide an invaluable snapshot, but in actuality they tend to reveal little. Although we may have documents, we still can have no certainty about the circumstances they seem to record. Here are some examples. Every human being receives official papers for two events in his or her life—whether he is in a country legally or illegally—and that is at birth and at death. In Prussia, from 1874 onward, these events had to be registered at the civil registry. A birth generally was registered, if not by the father, then by the midwife. She didn’t necessarily have to present any documentation. The situation left room for individual inventions—such as information about the identity of the father. Here was an opportunity to create a figure—sometimes also in the interest of a lawmaker—by providing a commonplace first name, for example.

Consider the birth certificate of Moritz Suchedowitz. His father was in South Africa at the time of Moritz’s birth, and the marriage of the parents had taken place only in the synagogue, not at the civil registry, as was typical for a life in transit. Yet the birth certificate reveals none of this, not even anything about the provenance of the parents—a Lithuanian shtetl. No one today knows whether his mother Pere, listed as Paula on Mortitz’s birth certificate, actually carried that name in a German context, whether the civil registrar was merely unwilling or unable to enter names in their original variations, or to what extent Pere herself asked for the name to be changed. The fact is the closer the Litvaks moved to the Prussian border, the more their names manifestly adapted to German naming customs.

In cases of death, the procedure involving official papers was somewhat different in that the family could make neither additions nor corrections. For a death certificate, it was only the identity on paper that mattered. Jakob Suchedowitz, the grandfather of little Moritz, who came from Lithuania, worked as a baker in Memel in the 1890s and died there in 1895. He died as a Turkish citizen with a fake birthplace. The man had probably never set foot in the Ottoman Empire in his life, but, because that was on his passport, that is what had to be entered in the papers. The gravestone inscription, on the other hand, would have been up to the discretion of the family, but Jakob’s gravestone was not preserved. This is how a man’s life story can end up being told in ways that are much different from the true facts.

Conclusion

Due to their individual knowledge, Litvaks from administrative towns on the border made individual decisions to migrate, which first led to crossing the border and then frequently resulted in further decisions. This led to transit stays of fragmented families. These intermediate stops were above all reserved for women and children. They represented a virtually invisible group in the country where they were staying. The migration of minors also was commonplace. The Litvaks represented a substantial contingent among agents for Jewish migration strategies and maintained the networks. These stages of Jewish migration movements cannot be reconstructed without personal historical narratives. The few official documents that exist today do not allow for a comprehensive reconstruction.

Although my work concerns an infinitesimally small area of the European continent, observations being used to look at the virtual transit area that had come into being there, seem valid for all of middle Europe of that time.[26] In many places in the border region, Jewish and non-Jewish immigrants established temporary residence, financed a way of living for the moment, and collected information about future prospects. This imaginary transit area stretched from Memel through Berlin, Bremen, and Hamburg to Antwerp, and on to other embarkation harbors.[27]

The transit area, which represents the border regions in the second half of the 19th century until the outbreak of World War I, shifted radically after 1918 from the periphery to the center due to new migration laws. Decisions to emigrate were no longer made at the border, but instead were pushed back into each individual capital city and, within those cities, into the diplomatic missions and consulates.[28]

    [1]. Dov Levin, The Litvaks. A Short History of the Jews in Lithuania, Jerusalem, 2000, p. 79.

      [2]. Stanislaw Chankowski, “The Attitudes of the Jewish Population of Augustow Province Toward the January (1863) Insurrection,” in: Landsmen 2, pp. 2–3.

      [3]. Alfonsas Eidintas calculated that, in 1900, the fees for the acquisition of a Russian foreign pass amounted to one-third of the price for passage to the United States at the time. Add to this the fact that it took up to six months to obtain all the necessary stamps and approvals. See Alfonas Eidintas, Lithuanian Emigration to the United States 1868–1950, Vilnius, 2003, p. 32.

      [4]. Christian Friese, Russland und Preußen vom Krimkrieg bis zum Polnischen Aufstand, Berlin/Königsberg, 1931; Paul W. Schroeder, Austria, Great Britain, and the Crimean War: The Destruction of the European Concert, Ithaca, 1972; Winfried Baumgart, The Crimean War, 1853–1856, London 1999. The effects of the war on the Russian economy and the Prussian periphery have hardly been researched.

      [5]. This sudden liberalization took place not just on the border. During the war, the Jews in all of the Russian Empire were allowed to bring their markets to where the troops were even though there were restrictions against staying near the troops sutler’s trade. See: Jeschurun, Zweites Beiblatt zum Augustheft, 15. August 1855, p. 1.

      [6]. See. Eidintas (2003); “Viele von jenen Auswanderern kamen zunächst nach Deutschland, um sich hier das Fahrgeld zusammenzusparen. Manch einer gab allmählich den Plan auf, und so kam es, dass mit den Dienstmädchen und Knechten, die als Sommerarbeiter nach Deutschland gekommen waren, im ganzen etwa 3.000 Litauer jährlich den Sommer über in Deutschland waren […].” He further describes their lives and neglected conditions. “In den katholischen Grenzpfarreien entfielen zuletzt 25–30 % aller Taufen auf litauische uneheliche Russenkinder.” Siehe Johannes Wronka, Kurland und Litauen, Freiburg i. Br. 1917, p. 135.

      [7]. That is true for the Jewish part of the population as well as the German which migrated to the U.S.A. in the 19th century. Among the Germans, about 95 percent belonged to the lower class/the lower part of the middle class. See Elke Jahnke, “Primäre soziale Beziehungen deutscher Amerikaauswanderer im 19. Jahrhundert,” in: Matthias Beer/Dittmar Dahlmann (ed.), Über die trockene Grenze und über das offene Meer. Binneneuropäische und transatlantische Migrationen im 18. und 19. Jahrhundert, Essen, 2004, pp. 329–344, here p. 330.

      [8]. See. Helmut Neubach, Die Ausweisungen von Polen und Juden aus Preußen 1885/86. Ein Beitrag zu Bismarcks Polenpolitik und zur Geschichte des deutsch-polnischen Verhältnisses, Wiesbaden 1967; Richard Blanke, Prussian Poland in the German Empire: 1871–1900, New York 1981.

      [9]. GSTA [Geheimes Staatsarchiv Berlin = Privy State Archive Berlin], XX. HA, Rep. 18, Tit. XXIV Gumbinnen, No. 1254 (1852–68), p. 135.

      [10]. Ibid.

      [11]. GSTA, XX. HA, Rep. 12, Abt. 1, Tit. 3, Nr. 19, 1885–1904 Nachweis der Überläufer I–XII, Bd. XI Tilsit, Nr. 66 Jeanette Guttmann (b. 1865), to Amerika (IV/86).

      [12]. The publisher of Hamagid, Eliezer Lipmann Silbermann, published on the back page of his newspaper, among the other announcements and advertisements, requests for information about husbands who had disappeared. In 1869, he complained that the weekly newspaper, even if it appeared daily, still would not be able to print all the messages from abandoned wives. See Mark Baker, “The Voice of the Deserted Jewish Woman, 1867–1870,” in: Jewish Social Studies 2, no. 1 (1995), pp. 98–124, here p. 100.

      [13]. Bericht ihrer Tochter Eva Glass Datum

      [14]. Mary Antin, The Promised Land, Boston 1912.

      [15]. GSTA, XX, Rep. 12, Sect. 1, Tit. 3, No. 10, vol. 18, p. 181–187; AP Olsztyn, 1592/7 District Administrator’s Office of Tilsit, Immigration and Emigration Records 1879–96 previously: Rep. 18 District Administrator’s Office of Tilsit, Sect. VIII, No. 3, Acta of the Royal District Administrator’s Office of Tilsit concerning Immigration and Emigration and Colonization, 1849–1896, Vol. II, p. 386.

      [16]. Rose Cohen recalls how she and her mother managed to make it over the Russian border hidden between sacks of flour. See Sydney Stahl Weinberg, World of Our Mothers. The Lives of Jewish Immigrant Women, Chapel Hill 1988, p. 77; Selma Berrol, East Side/East End: Eastern European Jews in London and New York, 1870–1920, Westport 1994, p. 8.

      [17]. This was the version in a report by the Prussian border patrol: “On the 16th of May of this year, an estate owner in Augsgirren reported to the head forester of the same town that a Russian Jew, shot and wounded, was lying at hunting ground 204 in Jura Forest not far from the border. Investigations undertaken by the head forester and the head official on the same day yielded the following: the wounded man was the Russian subject Nockem Bloch from Sadova in Russia. The same person, along with other travel companions, had crossed the national border between Russia and Prussia on that day in order to emigrate to England or America.” See GSTA, XX. HA, Rep. 77, Tit. 91, No. 74c, Vol. 1, p. 175.

      [18]. Eidintas (2003), p. 31.

      [19]. Hartungsche Zeitung [Gazette] (Königsberg) 19 August 1887

      [20]. For example: GSTA, XX. HA, Rep. 77, Tit. 1145, No. 114. The regulations as a result of migration of Jewish refugees from Russia to Prussia Vol. 1 & Vol. 2, p. 10, 8. August 1882 Regional President of the Province of East Prussia to the Minister of the Interior of Puttkamer: “In particular, from 14 July to the end of the same month, 76 Russian Jews were transported via Memel by ship as émigrés, comprising: on 14 July to Stettin 12 men, 1 woman, 2 children, on 20 July to Stettin 18 men, 5 women, 22 children, on 21 July to Königsberg 3 men, 2 women, 5 children, on 28 July to Stettin 5 men, 1 woman, all in all 38 men, 9 women, 29 children, while the train leaving from Memel was not used by any Jewish émigrés. From 16 to 31 July a total of 52 Russian-Jewish émigrés with 40 children arrived in Eydtkuhnen, all of whom had direct tickets to Hamburg and who immediately embarked upon their continued voyage to this destination.” Or p. 26 25 August 1882: “All persons counted had considerable amounts of money for the continued voyage,”

      [21]. Eidintas discovered that of the 494 people smugglers who were arrested, convicted and deported from 1888–1915 by the Czarist authorities in the Lithuanian governments, 316 were Jews, and the rest were Lithuanians.

      [22]. GSTA, XX, Rep. 12, Abt. 1, Tit. 3, No. 10, vol. 18, pp. 181–187.

      [23]. Eidintas (2003), p. 69.

      [24]. Cf. Moses Rischin, The Promised City, Cambridge 1962, p. 20.

      [25]. Mary Antin, The Promised Land, Boston 1912, p. 171.

      [26]. Elias Marwilsky from Wystiten lived for a year in Paris before he went to the USA. See Vishtinetz (Wisztyniec/ Westitten)”, Landsmen (1991), p. 32.

      [27]. Breslau was also a stopping point. See Till van Rahden, “Einbürgerung und Ausweisung ausländischer Juden in Breslau,” in: Tel Aviver Jahrbuch für deutsche Geschichte XXVII/1998, pp. 47–69, hier p. 51; This transit can also be referred to as a Thirdspace as suggested by Edward Soja, see Edward Soja, Thirdspace: Journeys to Los Angeles and Other Real and Imagined Places, Cambridge 1996.

      [28]. Baumann writes about the Jewish wave of emigration that passed through Berlin: “The Central European metropolis of Berlin, only indirectly affected by East-West emigration before the
War, had now become a major focal point. While most émigrés could not settle in Berlin, unlike the pre-War period, they could stay there for a while.” See Tobias Baumann, “Topographies of emigration – Jewish Transmigration in Berlin after 1918,” in: Dan Diner (ed.), Synchronous Worlds. Time spaces of Jewish History, Göttingen 2005, pp. 175–198, here p. 1.

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Ruth Leiserowitz is affiliated as a research fellow with the Berlin School for European Comparative History at the Free University of Berlin. Simultaneously, she is Associate Professor of the Institute of Baltic Sea Region History and Archaeology of the Klaipeda University (Lithuania). Her main fields of research are modern and contemporary history; European history; especially Baltic, Polish, and Russian; cultural and social history; as well as Jewish history.