Unravelling Roots: The Journey from Maurice Vaughan to Zena Rosengarten
When my father died, mum started going to the National Archives in Kew every weekend.
She would take my daughter and spend hours searching for details about our family history. One day, my daughter, got fed up with these trips and asked me to help Grandma. She was bored of sifting through endless records and said, “You’re into computers, can’t you help?”
My father was adopted just before the Second World War from Norwood orphanage (a Jewish adoption home) At the time, they were trying to make space for refugee families arriving from Europe. He was adopted in 1936 by Isaac and Dora Vanovitch, a couple in their 50s, and was given the name Monty Vanovitch.
At the time, they were trying to make space for refugee families arriving from Europe. He was adopted in 1936 by Isaac and Dora Vanovitch, a couple in their 50s, and was given the name Monty Vanovitch.
He only found out he was adopted at his Bar Mitzvah when he was 13. A cousin he had been arguing with blurted out in anger, “I don’t even know why I’m wasting my time with you, you’re probably not even Jewish! You’re not part of my family, you were adopted!” That was the moment everything changed. Monty Vanovitch became a ginger-haired boy with no idea of his true origins and he went off the rails.
A Life Rebuilt
He later served in Egypt during National Service, eventually settled down, married my mum, and started a family.
My dad was a brilliant storyteller, and I once asked him why he changed his surname from Vanovitch to Vaughan. He told me that, during his National Service, he worked as a driver in the van pool. Every morning, the sergeant would call out, “Vich van, Monty? Vich van?” The nickname stuck, and when he left the army, he changed his name and Monty Vich Van became Maurice Vaughan.
The Adoption Mystery
When my aunt asked about his adoption, he told her that his birth parents had died in a car crash in Germany in 1935. He was then taken in by his grandparents. I traced his adoptive mother Dora’s family and found an uncle who remembered Isaac and Dora bringing Monty home from the orphanage. He was certain that they were not blood relatives Isaac and Dora couldn’t have children, so this baby was a blessing in their lives.
As I began uncovering more details, my mother took me aside and said, “There’s something I need to tell you. You already know your father was adopted, but what you don’t know is that, throughout his life, he tried to trace his biological family.”
As an adoptee, he had a social worker assigned to him and made regular visits to try and learn more about his birth mother. On one of these visits, the social worker briefly left the room and instructed my parents not to look at the file. Of course, the moment they were alone, they peeked inside and quickly scribbled down three pieces of information on a scrap of paper that he carried in his wallet until he died,
The Clue That Started It All
Years after Maurice’s death, my mum handed me that fragile piece of paper. Written on it were two key fragments of information:
📍 An address—Prebend Street, Islington
📜 A name—Christopher Rose
Maurice had never spoken about his origins, but this clue opened a hidden chapter. My initial research revealed a heartbreaking truth: Prebend Street had been destroyed during the Blitz, erasing any physical trace of the family who once lived there. Undeterred, we turned to online archives, determined to uncover the past.
I wrote to an archivist at Islington Council, asking for records of who had lived on Prebend Street in 1936. When I didn’t receive a reply, we carried on searching.
A Breakthrough in the Archives
We revisited my father’s birth certificate and discovered that he had spent two years in the orphanage before his adoption.
Our persistence paid off. We found that only one male birth had been recorded in London on Maurice’s exact birthdate: Johnny Christopher Rose, born to Zena Rose.
The long-awaited birth certificate confirmed the Prebend Street address and listed Zena as his mother. It was a pivotal moment that finally tied Maurice’s origins to a real person. Six months later the Islington archive, replied and revealed that Samuel and Leah Rose had lived at Prebend Street but moved by 1937, leaving us wondering—how were they connected to Zena where they her parents?
Piecing Together the Past
Maurice Vaughan—born Johnny Christopher Rose—entered the world under mysterious circumstances. Adopted in 1936 through Norwood, a historic Jewish children’s charity, he was renamed Monty Vanovitch and raised by Isaac and Dora. For decades, his true lineage remained a mystery—especially after his passing, when we assumed the trail had gone cold.
But fate, persistence, and a single scrap of paper would change everything.
A Forum Post That Changed Everything
Desperate for answers, I posted a query on the British-Jewry genealogy forum about Zena Rose. Within hours, researcher Steve Milne replied and told me Zena Rose appeared in his family tree as Zena Rosengarten, living at 47 Prebend Street with her parents and siblings.
This revelation bridged decades of silence. Maurice’s birth name, Johnny Christopher Rose, had been reshaped by adoption, yet his roots remained in the Rosengarten lineage.
Lingering Mysteries & The Road Ahead
While the connection to Zena Rosengarten marks a milestone, gaps remain. Was Zena’s relocation tied to hardship, societal pressures, or the looming shadow of war? How did Samuel and Leah Rose fit into this puzzle? And what became of Zena after 1937? The family’s quest continues, fuelled by the hope that DNA testing or newfound relatives might yet piece together the full picture.
The Power of Community: A Forum Post Changes Everything
Desperate for answers I posted to the British-Jewry genealogy forum, posting a plea for information about Zena Rose. Within hours, researcher Steve Milne responded: Zena Rose appeared in his family tree as Zena Rosengarten, residing at 47 Prebend Street with her parents and siblings. This revelation bridged decades of silence, tying Maurice’s adoption to the Rosengarten lineage. The discovery also hinted at a poignant truth: Maurice’s birth name, Johnny Christopher Rose, had been reshaped by adoption, yet his roots endured in the Rosengarten story.
According to his family tree, Steve pointed to Samuel Rose and Leah Rose (nee Berman) as her parents he told me that my dad (who had spent his life as an only child had a half-brother Ralf Rose and that the family name Rose was shortened from Rosengarten
So we now started researching Rosengarten, Rose, and Berman
A Testament to Resilience
Maurice’s story isn’t just a genealogical discovery—it’s a testament to the human need to belong. From war-torn London to the digital age, his journey reminds us that identity is both inherited and discovered.
For families navigating adoption mysteries, this story proves one thing: every name, every address, and every scrap of paper holds the potential to reconnect lost histories.
If you have ties to the Rosengarten, Rose, Berman or Vanovitch families—or any knowledge of Prebend Street’s Jewish community before the war—your insights could illuminate the next chapter.
🔎 The search continues…