52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks (Week 4): I'd Like to Meet

I'd Like to Meet:  Julia Johnson Larson

Julia Johnson Larson, ca. 1885

I cannot think of an ancestor I've researched who I have not been curious to know more about.  I wish I could bring each one of them "back to life" using stories.  But, since I must choose one now, I'll pick my maternal great grandfather's only full sister, Julia (Johnson) Larson, as someone I'd like to meet.  One reason is that I did not know she existed until I began to dive into genealogy about eighteen years ago.  By networking with newly discovered cousins, I managed to collect little info bits that tempted my curiosity for more.  What really intrigued me is that Julia lived a life similar to Laura Ingalls Wilder, of Little House on the Prairie fame.

Julia's birth name was Elen Julie Baardsdatter Lassemo.  She was born on November 29, 1862, to Thibertine ("Bertina") Olsdatter and Baard Johnson (hence the patronymic surname of "Baardsdatter"), on the farm called Lassemo near Grong, Nord-Trøndelag, Norway.  In Norwegian, the name "Julie" is pronounced more like "Juli-eh," so adopting the American spelling of Julia made sense.  After the family arrived in America, they ceased using patronymic last names and consistently used the surname of "Johnson."

Arriving in America at age three and a half, Julia possibly retained a few early memories of her homeland, and perhaps of the challenging voyage across the Atlantic.  In 1868, after her family began homesteading in Chippewa County, Minnesota, she settled into her new role as a prairie girl.  I picture her as a youngster being a trifle too silly at times, and suffering admonishments from her serious older brother, Ole.  I also envision her taking the time to visit each farm animal on summer days, wearing a straw hat to protect her face from the strong sun.  But, the pioneer way of life was not all sunshine, kittens, and wildflowers.  Although we enjoyed the television series, the Laura Ingalls Wilder character was oblivious to much of what had to be going on in real life.  Let's face it:  pioneer life was many things, but it was usually not light-hearted, and never easy.

I think that Julia must have had a rambunctious side when young, or she may have been a bit too fun-loving or willful for what protocol often allowed.  One day at school, a teacher cuffed her on the ear for some unknown infraction, and the blow affected her hearing for the rest of her life.  Another time, while wading in a nearby creek with some classmates after school, she slipped and fell into a deep spot and nearly drowned.  A neighbor girl saved Julia by pulling her from the water just in time.  When Julia was taught how to knit at a young age, using precious strands of yarn that could hardly be spared, her understanding but practical mother became miffed when Julia announced that she was making socks for the barn cat.

Julia's early years on the tall grass prairie were never boring.  During the 1860s-1870s, Native Americans, probably of the Chippewa Tribe, would often come to the door of her parents' homestead cabin and offer fish in trade for some bread or coffee.  Sometimes they stayed to have a helping of whatever was warming on the cook stove.  Julia's children would later recall hearing local Indian children playing a game on the river ice each winter, yelling something like "Inchee, Kinchee, Kin-ah-nee!" as they slid on the ice in bare feet.

Julia Johnson Larson with two of her grandchildren and a canine friend.  At the Larson farm near Granite Falls, Minnesota, July 1919.

At age 22, Julia married Ole Eriksen Larson (Vigesaa) on December 10, 1884.  Ole was the second eldest son of neighboring farmers, Erik and Kjersten Larson (Vigesaa).  The Larson family emigrated from Bjerkreim, Helleland, Rogaland, Norway, and originally settled in Coon Valley, Wisconsin.  Ole used to say that his parents relocated to Minnesota because their Wisconsin farmhouse turned out to be haunted.  At night, it sounded like chains were being dragged back and forth across the roof.  One has to wonder if this is a story that Ole liked to tell his children in order to watch their eyes grow wide with wonder and fear.  Knowing that Julia also had a fun side, she probably did not object to her husband's tale.  She married a man of unusual talents.  Ole E. Larson was adept at blacksmithing, but was known to have a healing touch with animals (sort of a "horse whisperer").  He was usually boarding an extra animal or two that he was trying to cure of some ailment.  He was also one of those unique individuals who could find water by using the forked stick method, and he could play the fiddle "by ear."

Julia (Johnson) Larson, in 1940.

After the wedding, Julia joined her husband on his parents' 71-acre farm near Granite Falls in Chippewa County, Minnesota.  By 1878, the property was improved to include a stable, a granary, and a well, with 200 forest trees and about a dozen apple trees set out.  In 1866, Julia's older brother, Ole Johnson, married Ole E. Larson's younger sister, Malla Larson.  The children born to both couples were, therefore, "double cousins," with both sets of parents providing similar sets of genes to their respective offspring.  Between 1885-1904, Ole and Julia Larson had seven children:  Christine (who lived to the age of 103); Ben (born two weeks after the disastrous "Schoolhouse" or "Children's" Blizzard that hit the northern Great Plains on January 12, 1888); followed by Emily, Thea, Emma, Josephine, and Oddie.

My mother recalled meeting her great aunt only once.  It happened during a trip she made back to Minnesota in the winter of 1947/48.  Mom's grandfather and Julia's brother, Ole Johnson, was hospitalized and not expected to live.  At the time, Julia had already sold her farm, having been a widow since 1918.  She was living with a daughter, Josephine (Larson) Knutson, and her family in a rental house near Montevideo.  Mom hardly got to visit with her great aunt, because Julia preferred to keep busy in the kitchen.  As a girl on the prairie, Julia had been well-taught how to make do in the kitchen with practically nothing, and she considered cooking her specialty.  Mom would never have another chance to see her great aunt, for Julia passed away at the age of 86, about a year and a half later.

One of Josephine's daughter's remembered that her grandmother tended to spoil her and her siblings, much to their mother's dismay.  Whenever the granddaughter offered to help with the dishes after a meal, Grandma Julia would tell her:  "Go out and play--you will have plenty of time to work when you are older."  Julia was described as a strong-willed woman who was never faint-of-heart.  She had been brought up to always be busy with something, and it was a habit she engaged in throughout her life, whether making lefse (a traditional Norwegian flatbread made from potatoes, flour, butter, and milk or cream), knitting mittens, or making doll accessories.  She passed along a love of gardening to her granddaughters.  Although Julia encountered plenty of challenges during her life, she always managed to keep a twinkle in her gray eyes--a constant reminder of the curious and adventurous prairie girl still hidden within.


Sources:

--Dorothy Knutson Joseph and Margjorie Knutson Skrukrud, daughters of Josephine Larson Knutson, letters to Chery Kinnick, 2005.
--Norway, Select Baptisms, 1634-1927, "Elen Julia Baarsdatter," Ancestry.com
--Land Entry File, Cert. 4668, "Larson, Erick," "Homestead Application," March 28, 1871, NARA, Washington D.C.

"Another Troll in the Pigpen" & Other Tales of Norwegian Pioneer Women Resolve

It was a daily certainty that early immigrant settlers in the Upper Midwest encountered challenge and hard work. Women were expected to not only raise children and provide shelter and sustenance for their families, but to tend livestock, work in the fields, and sometimes, respond to a crisis.

The Slaaen (Sloan) and Vaterland branches of my mother's Norwegian family first settled in Coon Valley, Wisconsin upon arriving in America in the 1850s. Twenty-five miles long, Coon Valley lies a few miles southeast of La Crosse, Wisconsin. It was originally an area of small, thin woods surrounded by hills and ridges. Settlers from Norway were initially attracted to the area because of its cozy appearance, but also because of the creek which ran through it. Forest fires started a rich growth of grass which turned Coon Valley into a lush feeding ground for many species of wildlife. Norwegian immigrant men were good hunters and adequate protectors of their families, but once in awhile, there was an emergency requiring intervention by their women folk. When the emergency involved protecting precious winter food stores--these pioneer women took it quite personally.

From among the stories about the earliest settlers in Coon Valley, Wisconsin during the mid-19th century are some tales of exceptional female bravery and resolve.

A RELUCTANT HUSBAND

One autumn morning, Gunhild Maurstad started outside to get a piece of pork from the lean-to storage room outside the cabin. As she opened the door to the cabin, she stopped suddenly. She slammed the door shut and turned toward her husband, Johannes, who had just finished lighting his pipe.

"Nei [no], things are going too far now. A big bear is standing in there and rummaging in the pork barrel! Let the dog out!"

Johannes gazed cautiously at the door. Yes, indeed! there stood the brute with his head down in the pork barrel gorging himself with all his might. The dog had also awakened now and ran barking toward the door, but Johannes grasped him by his collar.

"Let the dog out!" shouted Gunhild again.

No, Johannes thought the bear might harm the dog.

"Ja, but think of the pork; we cannot let that troll eat up our winter food." With that, Gunhild took a burning piece of wood, opened the door a little bit, and threw the burning stick at the bear. This was an unexpected attack, and the frightened bear rushed out the door and down the hill. Gunhild stood there quite satisfied and content, looking at her departing enemy; but her happiness did not last long. Just below the house was an enclosure, where a pig had just raised himself on his legs and was smelling around for something to eat for breakfast. The bear tore down the enclosure instantly, grasped the pig with it front paws, and rushed away with it.

"Nei, have you ever seen anything so awful? There goes the bear with the sow, too. Let the dog out, Johannes!"

"Nei!" Johannes feared that the bear would hurt the dog.

"Ja, but get your gun then , and shoot the bear. We cannot lose the sow."

Nei, Johannes was afraid of shooting, for he might kill the sow.

"Ja, ja, but the sow must be saved. Hei, pup, sick 'em! Get the troll!" With that, Gunhild gave the dog an enormous kick in the rear end, so the dog almost pulled Johannes down as he started after the bear.

It took just a moment for the dog to get a good hold of the bear's little tail, and since the bear's tail is a sensitive area, the bear released the pig which ran away howling loudly. The bear jumped and danced wildly while he tried to get a hold of his lively adversary.

"Get your gun now and shoot. Then we will be done with him," shouted Gundhild.

But, nei, Johannes was afraid he might wound the dog.

Finally, the bear became tired of this dancing around and lumbered away up the hillside, pursued by his brave canine adversary.

After Johannes had finished his usual helping of coffee, lefse, and cheese, he went after a neighbor to get help in tracking down the bear. Despite many hours searching, the pair was unsuccessful.

If Gunhild had gone after the bear with her wooden ladle, it is quite possible that she could have returned with a bearskin. These pioneer women were not to be taken lightly when they took charge.

Another example of Norwegian pioneer women pluckiness is the story about Roennoeg Sandbakken's encounter with a bear.

ANOTHER TROLL IN THE PIGPEN

Thor Sandbakken was away from his farm one day, when his wife, Roennoeg, noticed that a strange and big animal has broken into their livestock pen and grabbed their only pig. The pig had to be saved above all else because it represented most of the Sandbakken's winter food stores. Instinctively, Roenneog ran to the woodpile and grabbed a piece of oakroot to hurl at the menacing invader in the pigpen.

Struck in the backbone, the animal was so startled that it dropped the pig. At the same time, Roennoeg hurriedly grabbed a pitchfork and stabbed the attacker in its side. She yelled: "Will you get going, you ugly thing?"

The big animal raised up to a great height on its hind legs, and she saw that it was a bear. It opened its mouth wide enough that it could easily have swallowed a pig whole. Then, the bear gave out a tremendous roar and started for Roennoeg. She let out such a shrill yell that it echoed on all ridges surrounding Coon Valley, and then she took flight. The bear was so frightened by the woman's scream that it took to the woods in the opposite direction.

Everything would have ended happily if the pig had only acted sensibly. Instead of gratefully crawling back into the peace and quiet of the straw pile and sleeping off its fright, the pig became so bewildered that it took off on the heels of the bear and was never seen again...

Finally, there is Helge Gulbrandsen, one of the very first Coon Valley settlers, who saved her livestock from certain death because of her command of folk medicine.

CHICKEN IS GOOD FOR WHAT AILS YOU

Helge Gulbrandsen was out in the field breaking land when her husband, Ole, came sauntering out to see how the plowing was coming along...

Just then one ox jumped suddenly into the air, and Helge saw a rattlesnake shoot out of the grass and bite the ox on the leg. Helge yelled instantly to Ole, who was watching at a distance, that Ole should run to the barn and get a live hen, an ax, and a sack or a rag. Ole did as Helge said, and Helge grabbed the hen and chopped it into two pieces. Then [she] placed the two parts of the hen on the leg of the ox, and bound it tight with rags made from a sack. Two days later Helge took the binding off. The chicken meat had drawn the poison out of the [ox's leg], and the ox was well again.

Source: Holand, Hjalmer R. Coon Valley: An Historical Account of the Norwegian Congregations in Coon Valley. Minneapolis, Minnesota: Augsburg Publishing House, 1928, pp. 33-35.