Christmas Legend of the Tailor's Needle

On my visit to Kreis Saarburg this autumn, I couldn't resist exploring the book and pamphlet collection of my vacation apartment.  As I expected, there were stacks of brochures about the attractions of the area and discarded paperback books left behind by former tenants.  But there was an unexpected treasure trove.

Frau Hedwig Hoffmann, owner with her husband of the vacation apartment, was born in Saarburg and during a part of her working life, was a bookseller in a book and stationery shop on the most scenic street in the city.  A few of her own books, loaned to my apartment's bookshelves, showed it.  I found some wonderfully eclectic titles including a collection of “new old fairy tales.”  The author modeled her tales on fables and stories from various places around Germany and created a more timely and charming book for children - and I couldn't resist the title or the idea that I would be able to read it without constant searches of my German dictionary.

Vacation apartment table

One tale, of a Trier tailor and his needle, delighted me and also seemed so appropriate for a blog post at Christmas time.  When I finished reading it, I sat at the dining room table in "my" apartment, set up my Netbook computer, and typed a summary of the timeless story with its simple wisdom; then saved it to be reread, reworked and posted in December.  

THE STORY OF THE CHRISTMAS NEEDLE

There was a master tailor in Trier, Schneidermeister Krautscheid,  who lived at the end of the 18^th century.  He had inherited a sewing needle from his father who in turn had inherited it from his father – a family tradition that perhaps went back to 1356 in Trier when the first record about a Tailors' Guild of 46 men is documented.

Tailor in the 1800s

Schnidermeister Krautscheid lived at a time when conditions for most tailors were not good.  They often suffered times of poverty.  Even though they had journeymen and apprentices, they had a hard time making ends meet.  In summer, with longer days, they often worked 13 hours at their jobs, but this was not possible when winter came and the days were very short.  Darkness came early and candles were expensive.  In Trier there were 61 Master Tailors in the Guilds. To have enough work for all of those men and their helpers was rare.  Many were in debt and unhappy with their conditions and the hand that the society of the time dealt them.

It was also at this time that the French Revolution and the storming of the Bastille were taking place.  In Trier, some of that indignation was felt; and the tailor, though a small man, felt the need to challenge the authorities.  He went out banging his drum as workers and Masters from all the guilds began a revolution of their own.  The authorities made promises; and the men of Trier, not really revolutionaries at heart, went back to their work, including Herr Krautscheid, our master tailor. 

Christmas was coming, and he had only a few days left to finish some jerkins, a contract he was glad to have.  By Christmas Eve, his workers said he had the eyes of an owl to go on working when it was dark and the Christmas celebration was about to begin.  They left their Master, as was allowed by the Guild. 

 One of the young apprentices, as he was leaving, felt sorry for his master.  The tailor's wife had died and his children had gone off on their own.  He gently told the old man it would be such a good thing if he would take in a cat or a dog for company, especially during this holiday.  "I'm not alone" growled the old man, "I have my needle" – and indeed it was like a third hand to him.  As he sewed with it, he and the needle shared memories of past work, as one does with a friend.  


The old tailor had a jerkin for the Burgermeister to make, a job that had to be finished in time for the mayor to wear it to the Silvester (New Year's Eve) Dance.  One should not disappoint a man of importance if he knows what is good for him.

Mother and Child

Each night, the tailor stuck his precious needle in a piece of silk cloth and laid it on his pillow.  But when he awoke on Christmas morning, the needle was not there.  The tailor searched the bedclothes piece by piece, carefully examined every bit of the floor, but the needle was nowhere to be found.  Without it, he was desperate.  He believed it would be impossible to finish the jerkin on time without his needle and then he would no long receive the contracts which kept him in his business. 

He hurried to the Christmas Matins service where he stared for a long time at the Christmas nativity scene.  The mother of Jesus held her baby in her arms.  Both she and the child were protected by a large blanket secured in place by a sewing needle.  The longer the tailor looked at the scene, the more sure he was that this was his own precious needle which somehow had come to Mary and now was the only thing that was holding the blanket around the pair and thereby keeping the mother and babe warm. 

At first he wanted to have his friend, the needle, back with him.  But the more he looked, the more he realized that the needle had a more important purpose; it protected a mother and child from suffering in the cold.  His heart grew happy, and he softly whispered to Mary and her baby, the Savior of the world, that he gave his needle willingly and freely with a loving heart.  He knelt from early to late before the nativity scene all that Christmas day.

The next morning, he went to his workshop to try to finish the Mayor's jerkin before the deadline, but it lay there finished with beautifully sewn stitches.  His needle was in the collar of the jerkin, glowing at him. 

For it is true what is said, "he who gives freely, gets even more in return."

Sources:

Neue Märchen aus Stadt und Land by Annette Craemer 
The Christmas needle legend is adapted from the chapter called "Das Trierer Schneiderhandwerk" in Trierisches Handwerk von der Vorzeit bis heute by Richard Laufner

Tidbits Tell a Tailor's Story

The Schneider's helpers in sewing position





If you go to an Archive such as the one in Koblenz where your ancestors' emigration papers are preserved, a well-meaning archivist may caution you that there is not much point in trying to use these documents for genealogical purposes. If you already know the names and the birth dates of the immigrants and the date they left for North America, there is little to be gained by reading “boiler plate” documents that are the same for everyone.

Sometimes this is true. But in many applications there are tidbits of information that are precious to those of us who want to develop a robust family history. This was certainly the case for my 2nd great grandfather's younger brother, Michael.

Michael Meier was a 24-year-old tailor when he applied for permission to emigrate to North America in September 1856 according to an index in the Family History Library in Salt Lake City. Before my trip to the Koblenz Archive to find his actual emigration documents, I had viewed him as a daring young man who wanted to explore a new country. He was single; therefore he was free to take chances. He had dreams of wealth and prosperity in a land of freedom.
After having his emigration papers translated, I have begun to envision a very different young man.

We start with Michael's letter for permission to leave Irsch for a better life in America. (I've noted in bold the information I feel is important in understanding Michael's story). This letter was the first step in the immigration process and probably dictated to Michael by Burgermeister Bodem.

A most obedient petition of Michael Meier, 24 years old, tailor at Irsch, requesting permission to emigrate.

Your Grace,
I give a most obedient notice that I am of a mind to emigrate to America immediately. The reason for my emigration lies in that I have a sister there who has been there for a year. I wish to visit her and at the same time be able to be trained in the profession of a tailor.

Regarding military service duty, in my view, nothing stands in the way. In 1854 I was declared by the … Department Reserve Commission to be totally unfit for field and garrison service. Therefore, I promise not to join the service of any foreign army, rather only intend for the mentioned purpose of emigration. But because I need a permission to emigrate for this purpose, I take the liberty, your grace, most obediently, to petition, most graciously, that you request for me at the respective office [of Saarburg]

Respectfully signed,
Your most obedient petitioner supplicant
Michael Meier

Along with the application papers sent from Beurig to Saarburg to Trier, a verification of Michael's unsuitability for induction into the Prussian military service was included. In summary it said that in 1854 the military commission in Saarburg had declared Michael Meier to be completely unfit for military service because he was too short and also because he had ulcerous sores on his feet. It was noted that Michael had not yet contracted a ship passage with any agent.

Before I had the information above, I sometimes wondered why Michael had chosen to become a tailor. He came from a family line that had been land-owning farmers for several generations. Yet Michael did not want to work on the land he and his only brother would inherit from their father. Learning about Michael's problem with foot sores, I could guess at the reason for Michael's occupational decision. A tailor or a tailor's helper could spend much of his work day sitting and sewing, as illustrated in the decorative beer stein above.

According to information in the German version of Wikipedia, the tailor sat in a cross legged or Schneidersitz position on a wooden table. This was a good method for sewing long seams and keeping the fabric off of the floor. The four most important tools of a Schneider were needles, thread, an ell measure, and a scissors.

The same Wikipedia article also described the pecking order in the tailor's workshop when guilds ruled the lives of all craftsmen. The master tailor was in charge. He had started as an apprentice, moved on to become a journeyman/Geselle and finally was certified as a master tailor. There were also Nähknecht. These were semi-skilled assistants to the tailor and not usually eligible to rise into a higher position because of physical disability or health problems. They learned only the basics of sewing, mostly closing uncomplicated seams. They would be found sitting on the wooden table stitching side seams, trouser seams, sleeve seams, etc.

An article in Der Blumenbaum, the Quarterly Newsletter of the Sacramento German Genealogical Society gave a good deal more information about the tailor's craft. Here is a brief summary:

Young men started as an apprentice in a trade, such as shoemaker, capenter, blacksmith, tailer, etc. After three to six years of training, it was time for a young apprentice to prove his worth and learn from other masters and from a variety of experiences in order to become a master himself. In English, this would be a journeyman, in Germany a Geselle. And "journey men" they were, for they were required to leave their home villages and with empty pockets travel to other villages and towns to work for masters who could teach them new techniques and where they could perfect their craft. This journey lasted three years and one day and was known by its common name "on der Walz" (on the journey). And it was a journey, for the Geselle could not wander closer than 30 miles to his home village.


















Gesellen on der Walz

The early journeymen belonged to the guilds of the middle ages and the tradition continued into the 19th century. Usually an experienced journeyman accompanied the new Geselle for a week or two. After that, the young man was on his own to find work - but never for more than three months in one place for he must remain a traveler, a stranger.

A uniform of sorts identified the Geselle as an honorable stranger in the town and also indicated what kind of craftsman he might be. A wood worker of any kind would wear a dark color like brown or black, the color of wood. Lighter colors like gray or beige, were worn by men who worked with stone.

Even more than clothing color, the eight buttons set in a double row on his vest, his pants with a flared leg, a collarless white shirt, and a coat with six buttons were signs of a free journeyman out in the world to sharpen his skills. The eight buttons on the vest were meant to represent his eight-hour workday while the six buttons on his coat signified the length of the work week. His hat was one of two kinds. Schlapphut was wide brimmed and floppy as in the drawing above. The "Zylinder" was a top hat, either half or full size. A tie in the color of his guild or lodge completed his traveling uniform.

He carried only few items. One was a "Stenz", a carved cane; another was his pack in which he kept his work clothes and a satchel with his tools, and his diary or Wanderbuch. In it each master for whom he had worked recorded the date and place of the labor. The master also prepared an "Empfehlungskarte, a card similar to a letter of recommendation that vouched for the competence of the Geselle.




Wanderbuch






With the invention of the sewing machine in the middle of the 19th century, the work of the tailor underwent a fundamental change. Long seams were closed by the sewing machine, not by a Nähknecht, an apprentice, or a tailor sitting on a table.

With all of the bits and pieces of information I have learned about young Michael Meier and his chosen trade, my instincts tell me that he was not that adventurous young man off to make his fortune in America. Michael had limited options. He had sores on his feet that prevented marching with an army. Work on the farm required constant standing and walking during the growing and harvesting season. He had chosen a craft that would allow him to earn a living in spite of this handicap. But in order to advance from an apprentice to a skilled master, he was required to walk from town to town to town for three years. This was not something he could undertake. He was trapped as a Nähknecht, sewing long seams for a master who would pay him very little.

His sister Anna and her husband lived in America. Without the strict guild rules for a German master tailor, Michael might have a chance at such a position for himself, learning the trade without making a three-year journey in order to qualify. Did he want to be more than a poorly paid tailor's helper?

Five years later, in 1861, when Michael's brother Johann applied for emigration permission, Mayor Bodem of Beurig penned this explanation as Johann's reason for leaving Irsch: "...to emigrate to North America where he already has two brothers-in-law." Johann did not mention having a brother in America.

So while my knowlege of Michael's life in Irsch is now much clearer and while I have learned so much about the difficult road to becoming a craftsman of any kind, Michael's journey after he obtained his emigration papers remains a mystery for me. I have not been able to find a good match for him in any US census or any ship passenger index. What happened to Michael after September 9, 1856? Did he reach America? Oh how I'd like to know!

(Note: In my previous post, I outlined the typical emigration documents from the Prussian Government.)
Sources:
Der Blumenbaum, Sacramento Genealogical Society, Vol. 26, No. 3: Jan, Feb, March 2009;  http://de.wikipedia.org/;  Division of the Interior of the Royal Government at Trier, Vol. 10, Koblenz Abt 442, Nr. 180 p. 283-287

Pictures:

http://www.brandenburg1260.de/quedlinburg04-4.jpg

www.rechtschaffene-zimmerer.de/

www.gutenberg-museum.de/ index.php