Escape from Russia
How the CPR’s immigration machine paved the way for one family’s early twentieth-century move to Canada.
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT IN LATE NOVEMBER 1928, NATALIA KAUTZ AND her family snuck out of their farm in what is now northwestern Ukraine on two horse-drawn wagons. With the threat of being apprehended by Russian authorities looming over them, the four adults and five children began the first leg of a long and difficult journey to Canada that had been arranged by the Canadian Pacific Railway. Already traumatized by exile in Siberia and by the impending confiscation of their farm by the communist government, the Kautzes hoped for a better future in a strange new land. They were setting out on what would be an eventful, sometimes frightening journey. And, like many immigrants of that time, their lives were in the hands of the CPR.
At the time, the CPR played a major role in bringing immigrants to Canada. A 1925 agreement with the Canadian government allowed the CPR and the Canadian National Railway to control the recruitment and settlement of European farmers. The CPR, which had ocean-going ships, took on most of the work. The railway ran extensive advertising in more than forty countries, with the goal of getting immigrants to set up farms on land near the railway. Their eventual crops would be shipped on the railway’s trains and ships, while machinery and other goods would be delivered to the farmers.
It was a win-win-win situation — for the railway, for the immigrants, and for Canada.
Natalia Kautz — my grandmother — had never heard of Canada until she read an article and accompanying CPR advertisement in her Lutheran church newspaper. As for many Germanspeaking people living in the Russian Empire at the time, her situation had grown increasingly precarious. She and her family had been exiled to Siberia in 1915 during the First World War, because the Russian government believed they would side with the advancing German Army. The Volhynian Germans were later returned home by the Russian government when Germany and Russia made a separate peace before the end of the war.
Natalia and her husband, Friedrich Kautz, owned a farm in the village of Heimtal in Volhynia, a predominantly German region in what was then part of the Russian Empire. From 1917 to 1923 Volhynia was on or near the battle fronts of four European conflicts, including the Ukrainian-Soviet War, the Polish-Ukrainian War, the Polish-Soviet War, and the Russian Civil War.
The years after the First World War were very difficult as the family rebuilt their farm from the ravages of the war while suffering the murdering, stealing, and other atrocities
committed by marauding soldiers of the four successive wars.
Then a new threat emerged — Joseph Stalin and the communists. In 1928 they proclaimed the first five-year plan to rapidly industrialize the Soviet economy. This included the government taking over farms and making them collectives run by communist bureaucrats. The farmers would work on the farms as labourers or be deported to slave-labour camps.
The Kautzes wished to avoid this fate. With the help of the Lutheran Church and the CPR Department of Colonization and Development, they obtained documentation to immigrate to Canada. The local church produced birth certificates based on the records they had, enabling the family to obtain Russian passports. Interestingly, the passports were in Russian, Ukrainian, and French. (The latter was the diplomatic language of the time.)
When the time came to leave their farm, they fled at night to avoid a potential confrontation with local authorities. Natalia described details of their flight in interviews that I recorded in the 1970s. She said that she, Friedrich, and her parents rode in one wagon, and the five children rode in another. They travelled to Zitomir, then boarded a train that took them to Moscow, where, to their relief, they were met by a CPR employee who took them to a local hotel leased by the company. There they were processed, which first involved stripping naked and showering with cold water while their clothes and belongings were disinfected in ovens. Russian staff stole Natalia’s jewellery while this was happening; it was a humiliating experience that affected Natalia all her life.
Next came interviews with Canadian government officials and medical inspections by a local Russian doctor hired by the CPR. When the doctor saw that Friedrich was missing three toes from a farming accident, he threatened to stop the immigration unless Friedrich paid him a bribe. Friedrich made the payment, one of many he made to get his family out of Russia.
By their third day in Moscow, they were cleared to start their journey and received an envelope full of travel documents. The most important document was a Canadian Pacific Railway Department of Colonization and Development identification card, which would enable the family to travel all the way to Winnipeg. Friedrich was identified as “The Bearer … accompanied by wife Natalia and 7 souls proceeding on SS Montclare sailing from Liverpool on 21 Dec 1928.”
Friday, November 30, 1928 — perhaps the most significant date in the life of the family — was the day they left the Soviet Union. They were taken to a special platform at the Moscow train station, where a train was waiting for them. They did not know it at the time, and probably never knew in their lifetime, that the train they were about to board was leased by the CPR for the sole purpose of carrying emigrants out of Russia on their way to Canada.
But, before they could leave, they had to suffer one last indignity by the Russian authorities. They were all thoroughly
searched, including their boots and shoes that they had to remove. The harassment ended only after Friedrich bribed the lead official with the last of the Russian rubles he had. Once on the train, Friedrich and Natalia relaxed a bit. They saw many other emigrant families in the same situation. When the conductor announced that they had crossed the border into Latvia, a loud cheer went up from everyone on the train.
In Riga, Latvia, the family spent two weeks in quarantine at an immigration camp. Their living quarters were in a large building that housed many other families, with curtains dividing the family areas. They ate soup or stew in a communal eating area. According to Natalia, “The food in the Riga camp was not bad. I don’t remember what it was, but we didn’t starve.”
Natalia was surprised to learn that the immigrant families came from many parts of Russia, including the Volga region, the Crimea, and some from Poland as well. The camp was also full of rumours. One rumour was that if you had dandruff you would not be allowed to go to Canada. So everyone went to a small kiosk set up outside the camp by a local entrepreneur to buy bottles of what they were told was dandruff-removing shampoo.
The ship to England seemed very large to the Kautz family, who had never seen such a vessel. They were given two cabins, one for the females and the baby Sighard, and another for the males. The meals on the ship introduced them to their first Western food, including Jell-O moulded in the form of a rabbit, which fascinated the kids. At the first breakfast on the ship, they could not understand the English waiters’ attempts to explain that they should put milk and sugar on their porridge. This was something they never did back in Volhynia.
Unfortunately, shortly after they sailed, Natalia, who was pregnant, became very seasick. She spent most of the voyage in her bed, eating nothing, drinking only water, and occasionally vomiting into a small pail.
After five days on the Baltic and North seas, the ship’s rocking motion eased as it made its way up the Thames River to London. A CPR official met the immigrants and led them through the customs and immigration lines, where their passports were stamped with “Landed as Transmigrant Under Bond 17 Dec 1928 Immigration Officer London.” Their escort then took them to a station where they boarded a train to the port of Liverpool.
In Liverpool another CPR official met the family and took them to a hotel for a few days. This was a great adventure for the kids, who took in all of the fascinating wonders — such as motor cars — of a large western European city.
On December 21 they were taken to the Liverpool docks, where they boarded SS Montclare, the Canadian Pacific Steamship Company ship that would take them to Canada. As they boarded, each person was briefly inspected by medical staff. Natalia carried baby Sighard in a blanket because he was not feeling well that morning.
As the ship left the dock and headed for the open sea, the immigrants were led down into a dining room for breakfast. Suddenly there was an announcement in English, which made some people gasp. Natalia did not understand what was said, but the words “mother and child on board” stayed with her the rest of her life. Within minutes the doctor who had inspected them as they boarded the ship, accompanied by two other ship staff, marched directly towards Natalia. The doctor took Sighard and looked at him closely. The doctor then said something to the other crewmen and walked away with the baby. One of the crewmen gently took Natalia’s arm, and they followed the doctor.
Meanwhile, the ship had turned around and headed back to Liverpool, returning to the dock it had left only a few hours earlier. Not knowing what was going on, Natalia followed the doctor carrying Sighard down the hurriedly reinstalled gangplank and into an ambulance waiting on the dock. It all happened quickly, and Natalia could do nothing but follow the doctor who was carrying her baby. The rest of the family watched helplessly from the ship, not knowing what to do as the Montclare
pulled away from the dock and again headed out to sea.
Aboard the ship, the doctor and a German-speaking crewman explained to Friedrich and the family that the baby had the measles, making it necessary to get him off the ship as quickly as possible. This was a serious blow to the family, particularly the small children. Friedrich knew that Natalia was a strong woman, but he worried about how she would be able to find them in Canada. Unfortunately, he was helpless to do anything about it.
The family arrived in Saint John, New Brunswick, ten days later. From there they travelled by train across snow-covered Canada to Winnipeg, and then to the small town of Ridgeville, located about ninety kilometres south of the city. There they were met by their sponsoring family and taken to their new home in Overstone, Manitoba.
Meanwhile, back in Britain Natalia was living a nightmare. When she got into the ambulance waiting on the dock, Sighard was given back to her. The ambulance took off immediately, without any explanation to Natalia. She had no idea where they were going or what would happen to them. They drove on and on. Natalia recalled that she “thought they were driving us to the end of the world.”
She knew that Sighard was sick, but she did not know what was ailing him. She thought briefly about the rest of the family, and then she remembered that all of her belongings were on the ship. She had nothing with her. What would she do? And where were they taking her?
Finally the ambulance pulled into a driveway, through a garden, and up to a vine-covered building. A nurse in a white cap and long, white, starched cuffs came out of the building. She spoke a few words with the driver and then said something to Natalia in English that Natalia did not understand. Natalia knew that the nurse wanted Sighard, and she reluctantly passed the sleeping baby to her, expecting to accompany them into the hospital. But the nurse abruptly took Sighard into the building. Natalia was left dumbfounded and panicking in the ambulance as the driver quickly drove away.
She was driven to the Liverpool hotel where they had stayed earlier. There she was met by a female hotel employee. Natalia frantically asked in German what was going on, but the woman could not understand German, and Natalia could not understand English. The hotel worker could only escort the distraught woman to a room in the hotel.
Natalia spent a very bad night. She tried to sleep, but there was just too much on her mind. She was frantic about what they would do to Sighard. She had lived through four wars in her old country, when life meant very little, especially children’s lives. Would these people here in England be the same? Would she ever see Sighard again? Then, as an afterthought, she wondered whether she would ever again see the rest of her family?
In the morning the hotel employee visited Natalia, who was glad to see the woman whom she now considered her only friend in this strange land. “Boy good,” the woman repeated. Natalia did not understand the word “boy” but did understand the word “good.” This made her feel better, as she followed the woman to a vehicle and was driven back to the hospital where she had left Sighard. A nurse brought him out to see her. The confused little boy, Natalia said, “was wringing his little hands and saying ‘Mama, Mama.’ But I couldn’t do anything for him. I went away with tears in my eyes, and he was crying.” The visit at least showed Natalia that Sighard was safe and that the hospital staff were looking after him.
Natalia visited Sighard several more times during his twoweek stay in the hospital. She spent Christmas and New Year’s Eve in the hotel but did not partake of the celebrations that were arranged for the immigrants. Finally she was allowed to bring Sighard back to the hotel, and on January 11, 1929, they were taken to the docks and put aboard the Canadian Pacific vessel SS Montrose. They were given a small windowless cabin deep in the bowels of the ship. It was so far below deck that one morning there was water sloshing around on the floor. The crew quickly cleaned it up, and it did not happen again.
Pregnant Natalia couldn’t have cared less about the water or anything else going on. Shortly after sailing she again got violently seasick, and she stayed ill all the way to Canada. The crew regularly checked on her and tried to get her to eat. They routinely took Sighard to the dining room for feeding. He was okay but had no sense of day or night, because they could not see outside. All Natalia could do to comfort him was to tell him that they would soon see Papa again.
On Sunday, January 20, 1929, Natalia and Sighard arrived in Saint John, New Brunswick, with no train ticket and no money. The authorities said, “What shall we do with you? You have nothing?” A still ill but defiant Natalia replied, “No, I have nothing. They took me off the ship and I have nothing. Do what you want.”
She and Sighard were taken to a hotel and given a room. She was able to bathe and to have her first real meal in about ten days. The following Monday morning, a CPR official gave Natalia an envelope with two train tickets in it and took her and Sighard to
the railway station, where they boarded a waiting train.
The motion of the train brought back the combination of seasickness and morning sickness. Other immigrants on the train sympathized when she told them her story. They looked after Sighard and fed him, and they took apart two benches so she could lie down. She was a very sick woman during the four-day train trip to Winnipeg. As Natalia later said, “I didn’t care if I lived or not.”
In Winnipeg, a Lutheran Church minister met her at the train station and accompanied her to an immigrant hotel, where she spent the weekend. On Monday she boarded a train south and into a typical prairie snowstorm. It took all morning to make the trip to Ridgeville, the nearest train station to Overstone.
The cold and wind hit her immediately as she stepped onto the station platform. Within minutes the steam engine blew its whistle, and with a jerky start, the train slowly pulled away. Natalia looked around and saw nobody. Once again she was on her own, but this time she was shivering with cold and bracing herself against the storm. Sighard was cold, too, and began to cry.
Out of the blowing snow she saw a figure approaching, and as he neared her he asked, “Frau Kautz?”
“Whom do I have the honour to see?” Natalia asked defiantly in German. “I was expecting my husband.”
“I am Pastor Heimann of the Overstone Lutheran Church. I will take you to your family. Please come with me.”
Pastor Heimann bundled the mother and child into his enclosed horse-drawn sleigh, which was equipped with a small stove for heat. Natalia was very grateful for the warmth, and she began to get excited about seeing her family again. Although Overstone was less than ten kilometres away, it took about two hours to get there. By the time they arrived, the storm had abated. Her first impression of the house and farmyard toward which they were heading was that it looked like an island surrounded by snow. They never had this much snow in Volhynia, she thought. How could people live in such a place?
By now the family was settled in an abandoned log cabin that the man who sponsored them had on his property. The kids rushed to Natalia as she entered, and they all wept openly. Natalia was shocked when she looked closely at the house. It was very old and small compared to what she was used to in Volhynia. The tiny kitchen had a small cookstove and a rickety table with a few chairs. The living room had an old, torn sofa, a few more chairs, and some bedding on the floor. Two small bedrooms were in the back off the living room. She thought to herself, why did we ever leave the comfort of our home in Volhynia?
It turned out that Natalia and her family had escaped the Soviet Union just in time. Shortly after they left Volhynia, the farms in the region were taken over by the communists and turned into state-run collectives. Those who objected were sent to forced-labour camps. Collectivization was widely opposed and poorly administered, leading to drops in food production. Eventually Joseph Stalin ordered that all food in the Ukraine region be confiscated and sent to other areas in the Soviet Union. Widespread famine resulted. In 1932 and 1933 approximately seven million people starved to death in Ukraine in what became known as the Holodomor.
The Kautz family had avoided this fate. A few months after their arrival they moved out of the log cabin and into a better house on a rented farm that they worked successfully in spite of the Great Depression. The five kids from Volhynia, plus two more born in Canada, grew up and prospered. Here’s what became of them:
Baby Sighard — later called Harry — joined the Winnipeg police force. Vera, with whom Natalia was pregnant during the migration, taught school in rural Manitoba. Gerhard, the oldest son, worked in the MacDonald aircraft plant in Winnipeg building bombers for the Second World War, and later ran a store in Ridgeville. Mary, the oldest daughter, got tuberculosis in 1935 when she was fifteen years old and spent six years in a sanatorium. After her recovery, she worked in an office in Winnipeg. Arvid volunteered for the Canadian Army and served overseas in the Service Corps, after which he joined the National Harbours Board and worked in Vancouver’s harbour until he retired. Wilma was active in the Lutheran Church, married, and moved to Michigan. Victor, the last child, had a career with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.
It all worked out very well for the Kautz family, thanks in many ways to the Lutheran Church and the CPR immigration machine.