Family History Blog

          Rosa Beck                Georg Schmieder

         (1894-1985)                  (1897-1967)

Dawn at the Station

As the sun rose over the small city of Lahr’s train station on an early November morning, its gentle rays cast a golden glow on the waiting crowd. A cold November breeze mingled with the soft chatter of early travelers as Georg and Rosa, hearts pounding with both anticipation and apprehension, joined the line in front of the destination board. Their eyes met in a shared moment of silent promise, each aware that the journey to Freiburg would intertwine their futures.

Boarding the Train

The station buzzed with activity and hushed conversations. Amid the shuffling of luggage, bags, and coal smoke, the conductor’s call of “Alle einsteigen” urged passengers to board the train, eager to begin their journey. Georg and Rosa stepped onto the coach, using its worn steps. Once settled into their seats—Rosa chose the window seat as the train’s whistle sounded a piercing farewell to the familiar.

A Changing Landscape

The countryside lay stretched before them, unveiling tranquil farms, rolling fields, and clusters of small villages. Telegraph poles stood as silent sentinels along the tracks. Georg’s hands held Rosa’s—a wordless affirmation of their shared hope amid the uncertainty of the future.

Echoes of Conflict

Yet, even as the serene landscape moved past, echoes of a painful memory lingered in Georg’s mind. His mother, Maria Anna, had harshly declared, “Kein Fabrikmadchen wird meinen Sohn heiraten!” — “No factory girl will marry my son.” The words stung deeply. 

This painful declaration arose as the family arranged a marriage between Georg and a farmer’s daughter who had no sons to inherit his land. The union aimed to secure Georg’s future land ownership and elevate his status through this arrangement. However, this choice starkly contrasts with the love that blossomed between Georg and Rosa. Rosa’s modest upbringing on a rented farm in Schoenberg with her father, Jakob, her mother, Monika, and her siblings set her apart from the land-owning families that Georg’s parents envisioned. Her work in a cigar factory further distinguished her from them.  

The Heart’s Decision

In the quiet moments between the train’s clatter, Georg was resolute in choosing the passionate and authentic connection he felt for Rosa, an attractive, slender twenty-six-year-old with dark, wavy hair, over the promise of prosperity offered by an arranged marriage. 

They reminisced about their first meeting at Poche, a charming local village pub and restaurant known for its hearty cuisine, refreshing drinks, and lively dancing. After Sunday Mass at St. Stephan’s Catholic Church in Reichenbach, they would gather with family and friends at Poche, where they spent their afternoons and evenings together. 

As the weeks passed, their connection grew more substantial, and they began to crave the serene solitude found among the tall firs and pines of Eichberg Mountain. In these quiet moments, they discovered a peaceful sanctuary- a refuge from the stresses of the outside world as their love bloomed.

Driven by a deep love, Georg openly discussed his commitment to Rosa with his parents. The confrontation was fraught with tension; his and his mother’s anger ran deep, resulting in an irreparable widening of the rift between them and leaving their relationship strained and unresolved. 

Driven by rising anger and deep frustration, he left Zipperhof, the family home that had been his life and part of his family for generations. During this challenging time, he found solace in working on various other farms. Yet, amidst the turmoil, the bond between Georg and Rosa remained strong, fortified by their unwavering support for one another.

A Fragile Future

Arrangements were made with the parish priest for a marriage ceremony at St. Martin’s Church in Freiburg on November 7, 1920, while the shadow of their lost anticipated child served as a reminder of life’s fragile uncertainties.

Journey to Freiburg

The screeching of the train’s brakes jolted the passengers in their wooden seats. The conductor’s voice echoed through the carriage, announcing their arrival at Freiburg Train Station after a scenic forty-mile journey. They navigated through the bustling crowd, drawn to the resonant sound of the cathedral bells and the promise of new beginnings. 

The City’s Embrace

Walking down the historic cobblestone streets, they marveled at the combination of horse-drawn wagons, modern automobiles, and inviting aromas wafting from local bakeries. As the rhythmic clip-clop of horses’ hooves echoed through the air, the tantalizing fragrances from the charming bakeries beckoned passersby to pause and savor the enticing smells. These sweet aromas evoked the warmth of home and the bittersweet realization that loved ones would not share in their joy. 

On their journey to St. Martin’s Parish Church in Freiburg, they heard the melodious tolling of bells resonating from the magnificent Freiburg Cathedral, a structure dating back to the Middle Ages. Its 400-foot Gothic spire pierced the sky like a celestial arrow aimed at the heavens. 

The Church of St. Martin

St. Martin’s, situated a short distance from the Cathedral, was constructed in 1226 by the Franciscans. In the plaza near the church, a monument honors Friar Berthold Schwartz, who is credited with the invention of black powder (gunpowder). 

The Church’s grand, intricately designed stained glass window above the entrance bathes the choir loft and nave in a soft, colorful glow. Majestic arched columns flank the outer rows of wooden pews, soaring upward to meet the flat wooden ceiling. Beautiful religious artwork, including 14th-century paintings, adorned the church. 

The Sacred Ceremony

As the ceremony began, Rosa knelt at the altar, George by her side, gently adjusting the delicate mantilla that covered her head. The stained-glass windows above the sanctuary cast vibrant rays of red, blue, green, and yellow light, illuminating the holy scenes they portrayed. The couple could feel a warm, celestial glow enveloping them, deepening their sense of the divine love surrounding them. In front of them stood a priest in white vestments, a stole draped over his shoulders, holding a black leather prayer book as he initiated the sacred ceremony. 

Rosa blinked away tears as their eyes met and exchanged heartfelt vows in that sacred moment, the incense mingling with their whispered prayers. Their hands, calloused from hard work and marked by the evidence of daily struggles, spoke volumes about their life journey. Each whispered promise and shared glance affirmed that their love was a light capable of guiding them through any darkness despite the hardships and familial discord. 

A New Beginning

With the priest’s final blessing—“In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”—the past was put aside. At that moment, Georg and Rosa stepped into a future of their own making, united in love and ready to confront the uncertainties of tomorrow together.

Note: This account of our grandparents, George and Rosa Schmieder, and their marriage in November 1920 includes factual events and personal perspectives. It reflects individual interpretations and subjective insights while acknowledging the challenges of accurately capturing details of past events.

Frederick Schmieder

Additional note: In 1944, an Allied air raid destroyed St. Martin's Church. It was rebuilt years later.