A Tapestry of Names, Migrations, and Reclaimed Roots (Now with 50% More Chutzpah)

For over two decades, our quest to trace the Berman and Saklovitz lineages has unfolded like a telenovela scripted by Sholem Aleichem complete with name changes more baffling than a rabbi’s sermon on caffeine, bureaucratic hoops higher than a chuppah, and enough “oy vey” moments to fill a deli’s pickle barrel. What began as whispers of “ver iz dos?” (who is this?) has blossomed into a saga spanning continents, centuries, and at least one customs officer who butchered a Slavic surname worse than Aunt Esther’s brisket.

The Spark: Stevie Milne and the Mystery of Simon “Call-Me-Berman”

In March 2005, genealogist Stevie Milne slid into my inbox like a matzo ball into chicken soup. He’d spotted my online plea for clues about Simon Berman, born 1867 in Ivenets (now Belarus), who’d pulled a classic Jewish reinvention: fleeing tsarist Russia, ditching his birth name like last year’s hametz, and adopting his wife Kate’s surname because, let’s face it, “Saklovitz” sounds like a sneeze.

Stevie’s research revealed Simon’s parents, Elias and Easter names as mysterious as why gefilte fish still exists. Together, we mapped Simon and Kate’s six kids: Alec, Mark, Leah, Sophy, Esther, and Rose Rene. Their legacy? A family tree so sprawling it could’ve shaded Moses at Sinai, later digitized into 29 pages. “Mazel tov,” said the printer.

The Surname Enigma: From Saklovitz to Berman (Or: How to Confuse Future Generations)

For years, relatives whispered about a “lost” surname. Sheila Dobin swore it was Millerkovsky; Keith Band muttered Mullkoski. The truth? It was Sackelovitch later Saklovitz a name dropped faster than a hot knish when Simon’s brother Mordechai married a Berman and thought, “Eh, hers is easier to spell.”

The 1901 UK Census briefly outed them as Saklovitz before they vanished into Bermanhood. Nearby, Mordechai (now “Mark”) lived with a Harris and a Morris names so generically Jewish, they might as well have been “Schmuel” and “Kvetch.”

Letters from the Past: Philip Kuhn and Dan Berman’s Megillah

In 2007, Philip Kuhn shared notes from his grandfather Dan Berman, who’d chronicled his life like a Yiddishe Hemingway. Dan recalled Saturdays visiting “The Uncle” a man so rich, he probably had schmaltz on tap. The Uncle’s kids? Leah, Sophie, Esther (who married a nearly blind musician—“He played by ear… literally!”), and Renee. Alec wed a baker’s daughter (“Finally, a reliable challah source”), while Mark, deafened by WWI shrapnel, likely perfected the art of ignoring his mother-in-law.

Meanwhile, Gloria Sher in Tucson dropped a bombshell: “Simon had a sister, Rachel Sokolove, and a brother Jacob.” Cue the family tree exploding like a poorly wrapped hamentashen.

The Living Archive: Documents, Mysteries, and Why Bubbe Kept Everything

Our evidence? Census records, Simon’s will (bequeathing cash to Rabbi Myer Berman’s yeshiva (“Because nothing says ‘eternal life’ like a tax-deductible donation”), and photos of Basire Street tenements so cramped, they’d make a shtetl look spacious.

Yet mysteries linger:

  • What happened to the sister who fled to America? Last seen arguing with Ellis Island officials over the spelling of “Saklovitz.”
  • How did Rabbi Myer Berman fit in? Probably the same way kugel fits at every meal—“We’re not sure, but it’s tradition!”
  • Why did Elias and Easter’s kids scatter like mandelbrot crumbs? “Immigration, darling. Also, have you met our in-laws?”

The Legacy Today: 600+ Descendants and a Global Mishpacha

Current Family Snapshot

  • 600+ Descendants: From Belarus to Arizona, we’re like rugelach small, sweet, and everywhere.
  • Artifacts: Photos of tenements, Rabbi Myer’s yeshiva records, and letters so old, they’re practically treyf.
  • Collaborators: Gloria, Steve Garber, and Carol Seigal—the machers who turned chaos into challah.

Epilogue: A Family Reborn Through Memory (and Stubbornness)

This isn’t just genealogy—it’s a tisch of survival. From Ivenets’ cobblestones to Arizona’s cacti, the Saklovitz-Bermans prove that every name change whispers, “We’re still here.” And as we keep digging, we honor the sacred truth: To be remembered is to endure.

“Unless you forget the seder date. Then you’re dead to us.”

If you’ve got ties to Saklovitz, Sokolove, or Berman clans or own a time machine [reach out]. The next chapter needs more schmaltz.