Our sons graduated in 1994 and 1995 and suddenly the busy years were over. In January 1996, I read an article that the magnetic pages in many photograph albums are harmful to pictures. Remembering that most of my pictures were in this type of album, I went to check them. It had been a long time since I had hauled them down off the closet shelf. Sure enough the pictures were discolored, the glue was letting go and they were in a mess. I stumbled across a sale on albums, the style that has pockets, and stocked up. If I was going to all this work, I might as well divide them into two, label the books for our two sons, and someday the unpleasant job of dividing up the family pictures, would be diverted. I already had started the habit of ordering double prints when getting my pictures developed, now I could put one print in each of the boys photo books.

It was a big job. When I was finished, I had all these pictures left over from the suitcase that had belonged to my great-grandparents, John and Margaret Hirtz. And some of their personal papers and Grandpa’s journals. What could I do with them? There was so many interesting things in them.  All the family should have an opportunity to know what was in them.

As I looked through the letters and journals, the pictures and other items that must have been very important to him, so many questions began to form. Why did Grandpa receive the Grand Ducal award? How did he know Prince Charles of Luxembourg? What government did he work for in Paris at the Dorsay Hotel? Why did he have letters from the Luxembourg Prime Minister and other important Luxembourg people? How did he know them? What was the story behind the post cards of the Royal family that contained messages written in numerical code? (Were they secret messages from Royalty? Was he a spy?) Why did Grandpa send money to an organization called the Luxembourg Brotherhood in Chicago? Who was Leon Lefort? (His name kept coming up in Grandpa’s story.) So many questions!

I thought about writing his story down. I had lots of pictures and thought I could put the pictures into the story. I had a picture post card that I was pretty sure was John and Margaret and Lucy (my grandmother) on a ship called the Finland. In the picture, Lucy was about the right age that the picture could have been when they immigrated. (Later I discovered that nearly everyone in the family had a copy of this post card.) Then I found a sheet in the back of one of his journals. His script style handwriting made it very easy to imagine his thick accent saying the words written on the paper - “In the year of 1913, in the month of March, the Red Star Liner Finland moved slowly past the Statute of Liberty in her dock at the Harbor of New York, carrying some 1200 immigrants which assembled 15 days before at the Harbor of Antwerp in Belgium ...”

Now I knew, I had to write his story. As I began, the idea of a book that included the story about each family member began to form in my mind.

Again while helping mom move in 1992, we were sorting in the garage and spotted a mouse eaten and bird-dropping covered old uniform that had been hanging on a nail since the day it had been moved from Grandpa Hirtz’s in 1969 when he died. Mom wondered what to do with it.  I wasn’t sure either, but decided to take it home and see if it could be cleaned up. I did clean it somewhat and tramped it to several dry cleaning places. However, nobody would touch it. So it hung on a nail in our garage. I didn’t place the value on it that I should have because I thought it was a war uniform and I knew Grandpa had never been in the war. I thought it was just a uniform he had picked up somewhere over the years. And yet there was a small nagging voice that kept me wondering.

One day in the old pictures, I noticed an "X" under a tiny figure on a postcard from Bigonville, Luxembourg, standing by the train. I never would have paid extra attention to this postcard if the penciled "X" hadn't been there. Out with the magnifying glass again. The butterflies started in my stomach. The tiny figure was none other than my great-grandfather, John Hirtz, wearing the uniform that hung so undignified on a nail in the garage. I knew he had been a conductor on a train in 1906 in Luxembourg. I just hadn't put that together with the uniform. I flew out to the garage, shook off the heavy wool double breasted coats, and laid them out on the living room carpet. I verified that yes, this in fact was the train conductor uniform. I gathered a toothbrush, pail with warm water and gentle soap, and the vacuum out on the deck and went about cleaning. For the first time, I noticed the buttons were silver, of course tarnished green from years of neglect. I spent hours scrubbing it.  Now how was I going to display it? My husband was not exactly enamored with the idea of hanging it on the living room wall. Then I came up with the idea of putting it on a dress maker's form. Later, I found a picture in a relatives collection, of a close up of Grandpa wearing the uniform and made a copy of it and the postcard of the Bigonville train station to hang beside the uniform as a feature display. I would dearly love to find the hat he wore with the uniform.

Michel Hirtz wrote from Luxembourg: “Your great-grandfather worked some time for a railway company in Luxembourg. It was a narrow - gauge railway, called “Jhangeli”, which started in Nordingen to go to Martelingen and passing in Bigonville where he was born. the railway doesn’t exist any more, but an association called the “Friends of the Jhangeli” has been created to keep the memory of the Jhangeli alive. They acquire old railway stations to install museums. I contacted the president of this association who gave me a lot of information and documents. If you intend ever to throw away the uniform of your great-grandfather, you may offer it first to the friends of the Jhangeli. They would also be pleased if you could procure them enlarged pictures of all you have concerning this subject.”  I took pictures of the uniform and sent the negative to Michel and all I knew about Grandpa’s life with the railway. He had obtained the job through the parents of a young boy when Grandpa saved his life from drowning.

I started typing the story on my old 086 computer with the WordPerfect program as my only tool. I wrote a few letters, to addresses in Luxembourg where I thought I might get some answers, The Grand Ducal Palace, the Luxembourg National Library, Luxembourg National Museum and the Resistance Museum. I knew language would be a problem. They might ignore my letter. To entice them to try and read my letter, I enclosed photocopies of the Royal Post Cards with messages written in code, the letter from the Luxembourg Prime Minister written during World War II, a photo of Grandpa receiving the Grand Ducal Award. Weeks went by - no replies.

Gradually, I became dissatisfied with my 086. Photocopying the pictures was not going to give me the effect that I wanted. Should I find a publishing company and price out what they would charge? What would a scanner cost to be able to scan documents and pictures? A phone call to the computer store quickly told me that I would need to upgrade to a Pentium computer and I would need a laser printer. I knew it was a lot of money, I sat on it for a few days - one minute talking myself out of it and the next justifying the cost. In a moment of weakness, I ordered it.

Those first weeks, I had stuff spread from one end of the house to the other. Gradually I organized each family unit into it’s own three ring binder. Each time I found out something about a family member, I put it in the appropriate binder. 

I began writing the stories in May 1996. In writing the introduction, a title rolled onto the pages. I wrote, “Although Grandpa and Grandma Hirtz had died when I was in my early teens, their memory had remained an important part of my life. And I realized it was because my dad, John Mitchell, had continued to talk about them, and tell stories about them and by doing so he had kept those memories alive.” Keeping Memories Alive had to be the name of my book. That was in fact the purpose of the book.

I began writing letters to my living relatives. Would they assist me in my project? Replies were slow, and the information fairly basic. I envisioned a story about each of them, taking up to several pages to record their life - where they lived, what they did, their interests and accomplishments. They envisioned a chart with their name, birth date, anniversary date and a blank for date of death. How was I going to overcome this? Meanwhile I retrieved a lot of information from obituary columns, newspaper articles etcetera that I had saved and community history books. I knew mom was a saver so she must have a bunch more stuff that could help me. My husband, Terry, was leaving on a fishing trip. Perhaps I should take holidays and spend them at mom’s, looking through her pictures, obituary notices, birthday book etc.

Then my brother Tony phoned, mom had mentioned my project to him. Did I know that he had a couple trunks full of Grandpa Hirtz’s papers? I kind of remember some trunks in the cistern house. But by the time mom and I had got to that building, we were very tired. I looked in them and saw a mouse nest and John Howard Society files and prejudged the entire trunk as uninteresting. Remember we were packing mom up to move at this time. Now all of a sudden, I was interested in what little piece of information might be discovered in this trunk. I couldn’t wait for those holidays to arrive. I would use the whole week to visit all the relatives I could to record as much information as possible so that I could proceed with my project. But if I could show them one finished chapter, perhaps they would share in my vision for my book.

I ignored the fact that spring had arrived outside and worked every possible spare moment on the first Chapter of my book, the story of John and Margaret Hirtz. At the eleventh hour, knowing there were still a lot of unanswered questions, I made a copy to leave with each relative on dad’s side of the family. I felt bad that I didn’t have enough completed on mom’s side to do the same, but I was desperately short of pictures to include and of course, time.

I looked forward to seeing relatives that I hadn’t kept in touch with for awhile. It seemed when my grandparents died, the glue that kept the family together and in touch had somehow let go. Secretly I wondered if they would have any interest in what I was trying to accomplish. Would they trust me with one-of-a-kind pictures, documents, etc? Would I have trusted someone else with mine?

Mom was a great help. She had no hesitation in letting me borrow whatever she had tucked away in drawers and closets. We spent several wonderful hours scouring through pictures and negatives. In the next three days we visited all the family members within a 150 mile radius.

Each and every one of them took the time to dig into their own closets and drawers and come out with a new piece to the puzzle. It was very much like putting a jig-saw puzzle together. Each member of the family had part of the picture, they just needed someone to gather it all together and organize it. And the amazing part, they all trusted me to walk out of their homes with those one of a kind pictures, books, letters and news articles. I came home with a car load of information. The next several weeks were so exciting as I discovered answers to so many of my questions. Several news articles from Aunt Marcy including one about the Prince’s visit to Saskatchewan, another explaining who Leon Lefort was and another about a man posing as a doctor visiting my Grandma Mitchell in the hospital. From cousin Edward pictures, obituaries, identification of pictures and more of Grandpa’s journals. From Uncle Larry pictures and family history. From my brother Tony, stacks of letters and news articles from the trunks of Grandpa Hirtz.

While many questions became answered, new mysteries were developing. Why were there many letters from family members in Luxembourg and Paris addressed to Grandpa (John) and Grandma (Margaret) as “Dear John and Gretchen”? (Her sister’s name was Gretchen.) Why did Aunt Renee say in her 1959 letter to her parents “Pete Link is also started on a house and quite a few more are going to build. That new lot where the Grand Duke was is nearly full.” What did she mean by ‘where the Grand Duke was’? The history books stated that the Luxembourg Royal Family left Luxembourg during World War II and formed a government in exile. They came to the United States and lived with former Luxembourgers in the Mid-West. Was it possible that the Grand Duke hid out in the tiny village of Beechy, Saskatchewan while in exile?

I drove myself to copy, scan and index all the information and put it all in packages labeled with each family member’s name on it. I wanted to maintain the trust of my family by ensuring that their treasures were returned to them.

Gradually, I got a life again. I still spent a lot of hours, certainly some time every single day, on my project. However, I started taking the odd day off to go fishing, my other hobby. One day in late June, my husband and I returned from a day fishing trip to find a note on the table from my son “Mrs. Lefort called from Montreal. She will call later”. My heart stopped. Is it possible that this was Mrs. Leon Lefort? No, I tried to tell myself, it must be her daughter. I could hardly stand the waiting. But there was no call. I barely slept that night. In the morning, I called the phone number my son had written down. An answering machine from the consul General de Luxembourg (Luxembourg Ambassador) in Montreal stated that no one was available to answer my call, so I left a message. Finally we connected on Sunday, June 23rd. The following are my notes of our conversation.

Sunday, June 23, 1996
(The Luxembourg National Holiday)
I sent a letter to the Grand Duke’s palace in Luxembourg some months ago. It was answered by telephone today by Mrs. Leon Lefort. She was a wealth of knowledge and sounds like a very nice person. She and Leon met John Hirtz (my great grandfather) because John’s brother Mishy managed a brewery for Leon’s brother in Luxembourg. When John was visiting Mishy, Leon was there. John talked about Saskatchewan and the vast prairies and Leon dreamed of owning a farm here. He got John to buy him one. Then John arranged with his grandson John Mitchell (my father) to “manage” it (rent it). Leon came to Canada in 1953, Mrs. Lefort followed in 1954.

John met Prince Charles at the Lefort’s in Saskatoon when he visited in the mid-fifties. The Prince stayed in a hotel and was traveling incognito under the name ‘Clervaux’ ( which is the name of a castle in Luxembourg) so that he could move around easier. The Prince traveled with Leon and John to the farm and went hunting with them and on a picnic. After about a week he traveled on to Alberta.

The mysterious post cards written in code - she believes they may be cards sent between John and Margaret when they were engaged to be married. Because they were open post cards, they would have written in code to keep their lovers messages secret.

The letters written to “John and Gretchen”, she explained that Gretchen was a German endearing translation of Margaret.

She is familiar with the Luxembourg Brotherhood in Chicago. She believes they remain an active organization.

The letter from Prime Minister Dupong to John (1941) seems to be responding to an offer from John to assist during the war. In the reply the Prime Minister says he is touched, thanks John and says if an occasion arises where he can assist, he will be called. She thinks there may have been an occasion, and perhaps that is why he received the Grand Ducal award.

Charles Beck was the son of a former Minister of Luxembourg. He was a friend of Lefort’s. He had a business in New York before moving to Montreal and becoming a Consul there.

Leon Lefort was offered the position of Consul General of Luxembourg in Montreal in 1960. He died suddenly in 1975 at age 57. Mrs. Lefort, because she had always helped him in his duties, was asked if she would temporarily take over the position. She was still holding that position when I spoke to her in 1996.

She personally knew John, his brothers Tony and Mishy, one sister Margaret who lived with Mishy, John’s daughters - Lucy and Renee, and grandson - John Mitchell (my dad).

She states the Grand Duke was never to Saskatchewan as far as she knew, so she doesn’t know what Renee would have been referring to in her 1959 letter when she talks about the lot in Beechy “where the Grand Duke used to be”.

Mrs. Lefort had to leave our conversation to attend to receptions for the Luxembourg National Holiday, she will call back on Tuesday morning at 9:00.

Tuesday, June 25, 1996:
Mrs. Lefort and I had another very pleasant visit. She and Mr. Lefort visited John and Margaret on Sunday evenings. We laughed about the bunnies, which as a kid I believed were pets for us children, but they were actually raised as food.   She said Mishy was a very nice person and a competent accountant. He and his sister shared a place in Neudorf.

Her oldest son is a Translator/Interpreter in Luxembourg. She has a daughter who attended McGill University in Montreal and another daughter who studied to become a doctor in France and stayed in France. The Prince did visit them in Montreal including Expo ‘67.

It was the most exciting turn of events in my research yet. I can still hardly believe my luck.

Edward Stockman answered the question that would have haunted me forever. He wrote, “If you have a Beechy history book, on page 90 you will find a person by the name of Mr. Edward Alford. He lived on the NW corner of Beechy, near where Pete Link was starting some house construction. Most of my young life I only knew him as the ‘Grand Duke’. I only found out his real name after I became an adult. I don’t know how he got that name, but I only remember that he used to scare the heck out of us kids. We were afraid to go near his place, but we did anyway.” Another mystery solved!

One by one, the mysteries did get solved. The story that unfolds is a wonderful story of the dreams of riches and adventure that lured the immigrants to North America, the hardships and difficulties they experienced upon arrival. In desperation they abandoned their dream and returned to Luxembourg and Paris for five years, only to yearn to return again. His desperate attempts to find his brother during the Second World War, who was the Chief of Police in Luxembourg and obliged by the Prussians to work with them. His many attempts to assist the Luxembourg government during the war and his unending assistance to Luxembourg immigrants to Canada earned him the Grand Ducal award.  The remarkable service he gave to his new country earned his name being given to a lake in Northern Saskatchewan (in the Meadow Lake Provincial Park).

The family home was destroyed by a bomb during the Battle of Ardennes.  The ending of the story is very sad when the man, now a widower in his 70's, who’s heart was always in his homeland, returns to Luxembourg and rents a hall for a family reunion and no one shows up. When he came home, he never spoke of Luxembourg again.

Stories

John & Margaret Hirtz:  A Family Odyssey

Val Hvidston
Box 2751
Tisdale, Sask
Canada     S0E 1T0

(306) 873-2703