The Dirty Thirties: No Easy Street

Ernest Johnson Begins Farming

During the Depression era, independent farmers like my maternal grandfather, Ernest Johnson, found it increasingly difficult to earn a living from planting and harvesting, and frequently supplemented their income through other work. The following story tells how he coped and managed to keep his small farm through difficult economic times in the 1920s and 1930s.

Ernest and Esther Johnson in March 1917.
Fosston, Polk County, Minnesota.

My Grampa Johnson was a farmer in rural Minnesota from 1914-1945. Like his nine brothers and sisters, Ernest Johnson had a Norwegian accent all of his life, even though he and his siblings were all born in America. English was something primarily used at school and social functions, while Norwegian was spoken at home. Upon leaving his parents' farm in 1914, Ernest purchased a plot of land about three miles outside of Leonard, Minnesota in Clearwater County, where Mississippi headwaters trickle from Lake Itasca, mirroring lush pines and running crisp and clear on the long journey to the Delta in the Gulf of Mexico. When Ernest married Esther Agnes Berge on March 22, 1917, he brought his shy, deferential, and bespectacled bride to live on that small farm. In a little clapboard farmhouse with one room up and one room down, my aunt and mother were born, in 1918 and 1920, respectively.




The farmhouse where my mother was born near Leonard, Minnesota, ca. 1920.



Ernest Johnson lived down the road from his parents and some of his siblings. For many years, the creed among farmers, including his grandparents as Norwegian-American homesteaders, was that neighbor helped neighbor, and especially, family helped family. Family is the main reason Ernest's parents left behind a picturesque and productive farm in the green and forest-rimmed fields outside Fosston in Polk County, so that they could follow him and his older brother, Bennett, to Leonard, over twenty miles away. Keeping the family together was not only ideal, but prudent, especially when there was hard labor to be done on a regular basis.

Though the newlyweds were off to a good start, Ernest and Esther's marriage was tragically short. Before their younger daughter celebrated her second birthday, Esther fell mortally ill with tuberculosis and died in January 1922. As per their mother's deathbed request, the young girls were sent to live with their paternal grandparents down the road, Ole M. and Malla Johnson, in order to be close to their father as they grew. It was painfully obvious that Ernest would not have the time nor resources to care for his two young daughters as long as perpetual and solitary work awaited him in the fields. And, what of the autumn and winters, when he must travel here and there to bring in some kind of income? No, it was far better that the little tow-headed girls, Phyllis and Doris, be watched over by their grandparents and a maiden aunt, Mabel, who could help supervise them and make their clothing.

Phyllis and Doris Johnson, Sept. 1921.

Once again a bachelor, Ernest applied himself to whatever would bring in enough money to pay the bills and buy seed. He helped on his parents' and brothers' farms, grew what small crops he could, and took pleasure in training and caring for his horses. Ernest's young nephews and their friends delighted in visiting someone who was "batching it." They could also ride horses away from the critical eyes of their mothers, and Ernest helped their fun along with some of his tricks. His horses were trained to stop dead in their tracks when he snapped his fingers, which sometimes left young riders clinging frantically to whatever they could, like real bronco busters. Ernest Johnson's farm was also a place where boys might find some privacy to steal a taste of their first cigar, or make successful raids on the cooky jar without the usual repercusions at home. Ernest may have been a longtime widower, but he knew how to fend for himself in the kitchen. He made his own doughnuts and canned apples, peaches, and other fruit... and he always kept the cooky jar full, too.

Ernest Johnson shows off his prized team of horses, Tony and Birdie.
My grandfather was very fond of this photograph, taken on his farm
near Leonard, Minnesota, May 2, 1943.

Whenever he could, Ernest Johnson raised sheep and planted seed crops such as flax, clover, and alfalfa, using only horses and a plow. He hunted game and fished to supplement both his larder and his income. He often traveled away from Leonard to help with late summer harvests in the fields of South Dakota and also drove drays for logging companies in the forests of northern Minnesota--hiring himself out however he could. He was often away from home for months at a time, leaving family and neighbors to tend to his livestock, and he returned such favors for them. Truth be told, he even attempted a little bootlegging on the side, but it was thankfully a short-lived venture that ended when others blew up the still during his absence.

With the onset of the 20th Century and increased industry, family-run farms began to struggle. Ernest's father, Ole M. Johnson, had made a success out of his own farm without once using a tractor, but he'd had decades of early midwestern development to build upon his success and reputation. For Ernest's generation, when so many small farms reached for a foothold in existing markets, independence by farming was harder to achieve, especially when the stock market crash of 1929 darkened the forseeable future. When the money was gone and seasonal jobs were harder to find, Ernest Johnson, bachelor farmer, began to look long and hard at new federal programs created by President Herbert Hoover and Franklin Roosevelt's New Deal, and the promise of jobs with the Work Projects Administration (WPA). Unemployment insurance would not become available until after 1935, but even then, many farmers who were independently employed were not eligible for the "Dole," as it was often called.


To be continued in Part II...

Wordless Wednesday

This WPA poster from the late 1930s, designed by Vera Bock, is just as applicable today as it was then. It's also the perfect segway into my next blog entry.

Image source: American Memory Project. Reference: Posters of the WPA / Christopher DeNoon. Los Angeles : Wheatly Press, c1987, frontspiece.

New Book Review of "A Long Way Downstream"

Much to my surprise, I found a short new book review of my family history, A Long Way Downstream: The Life and Family of Thibertine Johnson Winje, Norwegian-American Pioneer at the Minnesota Historical Society. Oh wait, can it get any better? Apparently, the curator at the library recommended my book to the National Library of Norway, in Oslo. My great great grandmother Thibertine is now off in the mail, returning to the Old Country. You'd better believe that I'm tickled purple over that!

I'm In Print!

I am very pleased to announce that an article I've written, "The Naturalist and His Camera" has just been published in Old News, a publication of Seattle's Museum of History and Industry (Spring 2009, vol.9, no.1). The "naturalist" refers to Lawrence Denny Lindsley, a Washington State photographer and explorer. Although this has nothing to do with my family's genealogy, it has a lot to do with Lindsley's family history, and I am thoroughly enjoying the research involved with a much larger, related project.

For information on membership and/or events at MOHAI, see the website at http://www.seattlehistory.org/.

The 99 Things + Genealogy Meme

Becky at Kinexxions began this genealogy meme. In her blog entry, she wrote:

"With the help of the genea-blogging community a list of genealogy things related to, or associated with, your genealogy research has been created, thus 'The 99+ Genealogy Things Meme' is born! It was inspired by The 99 Things Meme and a suggestion by a post on the MoSGA
Messenger (Missouri State Genealogical Association) blog. Contributors to the list were: Thomas MacEntee (items 31-43), Donna Pointkouski (44-73), LOOKING4ANCESTORS (83-87), Kathryn
Doyle (78-83), and Bibliaugrapher (88-92) who also reminded us that the list should be international in scope (Thank you). And I'm to blame for the first 30 items as well as items 74-77 and 93-99 (#97 is courtesy of a commentor on Donna's blog). Greta Koehl left a comment with items 100-104, which I couldn't resist! How could we forget the Happy Dance! LOL."

If you would like to participate, the list should be annotated in the following manner (no tagging of others is necessary):

Things you have already done or found: bold face type
Things you would like to do or find: italicize (color optional)
Things you haven’t done or found and don’t care to: plain type

The 99 Things + Genealogy List:


1. Belonged to a genealogical society.
2. Researched records onsite at a court house.
3. Transcribed records.
4. Uploaded tombstone pictures to Find-A-Grave.
5. Documented ancestors for four generations (self, parents, grandparents, great-grandparents) .
6. Joined Facebook.
7. Helped to clean up a run-down cemetery.
8. Joined the Genea-Bloggers Group on Facebook.
9. Attended a genealogy conference.
10. Lectured at a genealogy conference.
11. Spoke on a genealogy topic at a local genealogy society.
12. Have been the editor of a genealogy society newsletter.
13. Contributed to a genealogy society publication.
14. Served on the board or as an officer of a genealogy society.
15. Got lost on the way to a cemetery.
16. Talked to dead ancestors.
17. Researched outside the state in which I live.
18. Knocked on the door of an ancestral home and visited with the current occupants.
19. Cold called a distant relative.
20. Posted messages on a surname message board.
21. Uploaded a gedcom file to the internet.
22. Googled my name.
23. Performed a random act of genealogical kindness.
24. Researched a non-related family, just for the fun of it.
25. Been paid to do genealogical research.
26. Earn a living (majority of income) from genealogical research.
27. Wrote a letter (or email) to a previously unknown relative.
28. Contributed to one of the genealogy carnivals.
29. Responded to messages on a message board or forum.
30. Was injured while on a genealogy excursion.
31. Participated in a genealogy meme.
32. Created family history gift items (calendars, cookbooks, etc.).
33. Performed a record lookup for someone else.
34. Went on a genealogy seminar cruise.
35. Am convinced that a relative must have arrived here from outer space.
36. Found a disturbing family secret.
37. Told others about a disturbing family secret.
38. Combined genealogy with crafts (family picture quilt, scrapbooking).
39. Think genealogy is a passion not a hobby.
40. Assisted finding next of kin for a deceased person (Unclaimed Persons).
41. Taught someone else how to find their roots.
42. Lost valuable genealogy data due to a computer crash or hard drive failure.
43. Been overwhelmed by available genealogy technology.
44. Know a cousin of the 4th degree or higher.
45. Disproved a family myth through research.
46. Got a family member to let you copy photos.
47. Used a digital camera to “copy” photos or records.
48. Translated a record from a foreign language.
49. Found an immigrant ancestor’s passenger arrival record.
50. Looked at census records on microfilm, not on the computer.
51. Used microfiche.
52. Visited the Family History Library in Salt Lake City.
53. Visited more than one LDS Family History Center.
54. Visited a church or place of worship of one of your ancestors.
55. Taught a class in genealogy.
56. Traced ancestors back to the 18th Century.
57. Traced ancestors back to the 17th Century.
58. Traced ancestors back to the 16th Century.
59. Can name all of your great-great-grandparents.
60. Found an ancestor’s Social Security application.
61. Know how to determine a soundex code without the help of a computer.
62. Used Steve Morse’s One-Step searches.
63. Own a copy of Evidence Explained by Elizabeth Shown Mills.
64. Helped someone find an ancestor using records you had never used for your own research.
65. Visited the main National Archives building in Washington, DC.
66. Visited the Library of Congress.
67. Have an ancestor who came over on the Mayflower.
68. Have an ancestor who fought in the Civil War.
69. Taken a photograph of an ancestor’s tombstone.
70. Became a member of the Association of Graveyard Rabbits.
71. Can read a church record in Latin.
72. Have an ancestor who changed their name.
73. Joined a Rootsweb mailing list.
74. Created a family website.
75. Have more than one "genealogy" blog.
76. Was overwhelmed by the amount of family information received from someone.
77. Have broken through at least one brick wall.
78. Visited the DAR Library in Washington D.C.
79. Borrowed a microfilm from the Family History Library through a local Family History Center.
80. Have done indexing for Family Search Indexing or another genealogy project.
81. Visited the Allen County Public Library Genealogy Center in Fort Wayne, Indiana.
82. Had an amazing serendipitous find of the "Psychic Roots" variety.
83. Have an ancestor who was a Patriot in the American Revolutionary War.
84. Have an ancestor who was a Loyalist in the American Revolutionary War.
85. Have both Patriot & Loyalist ancestors.
86. Have used Border Crossing records to locate an ancestor.
87. Use maps in my genealogy research.
88. Have a convict ancestor who was transported from the UK.
89. Found a bigamist amongst the ancestors.
90. Visited the National Archives in Kew.
91. Visited St. Catherine's House in London to find family records.
92. Found a cousin in [Norway] (or other foreign country).
93. Consistently cite my sources.
94. Visited a foreign country [Canada] (i.e. one I don't live in) in search of ancestors.
95. Can locate any document in my research files within a few minutes.
96. Have an ancestor who was married four times (or more).
97. Made a rubbing of an ancestors gravestone.
98. Organized a family reunion.
99. Published a family history book (on one of my families).
100.Learned of the death of a fairly close relative through research.
101.Have done the genealogy happy dance.
102.Sustained an injury doing the genealogy happy dance.
103.Offended a family member with my research.
104.Reunited someone with precious family photos or artifacts.


Great list--it really gives perspective on how committed the genealogy-impassioned can be.

Nordic Blue Has Bad Break

...Literally!

Just before Christmas, while at work--in the middle of moving to a new house and the worst winter weather the Pacific NW has seen in a long time--I managed to slip and break my wrist. I didn't plan it that way, since this Mountain Girl knows how to walk on snow and ice, but there was an unseen patch of ice underneath soft snow that I could hardly have avoided. I am in a cast and typing one-handed, so this is going to slow me down for a few weeks. I hope you each had a safe and warm holiday with your loved ones, whatever the weather in your neck of the woods.

Dear Genea-Santa

This post is written for the 62nd (whew!) edition of the Carnival of Genealogy. The topic is Three Wishes.

This is your chance to write a letter to Genea-Santa*. Make a list of 3 gifts you would like to receive this holiday season from 3 of your ancestors. These have to be material things, not clues to your family history (we're talking gifts here, not miracles!). Do you wish your great grandmother had gifted you a cameo broach? Or maybe you'd like to have the family bible from great great grandpa Joe? How about a baby doll that once belonged to your dear Aunt Sarah?
This is a fantasy so you can dream up gift items. They don't have to be actual items that you know your ancestors owned. However, they do have to be historically accurate to the time period in which your ancestor lived. Do your research. No asking for a new computer from your great grand aunt! Genea-Santa wouldn't like that ;-) The deadline for submissions is December 15th.

*Genea-Santa is a non-denominational guy. He's happy to accept lists from members of all faiths and from atheists as well.

Dear Genea-Santa,

If I could have three things from my ancestors this Christmas, I have just the list.

First of all, I would love to have a Victorian remembrance card woven with some of my great great grandmother's auburn hair. She (Bertina Johnson Winje) gave a card just like that just to her son, Ole. My mother said that when she was a small girl on her grandparents' farm, that keepsake card was safely tucked inside the Johnson family bible. I have never seen the card myself, because it was lost some years later, before I was born. I have always been told that Bertina had lovely red hair, but since I do not have a color photograph of her. I would like to see it for myself.

Then, perhaps you would consider tracking down my great grandmother's wedding dress from 1886? Malla Johnson was a very frugal woman, so she may have cut off the train, let out the seams, and found a way to use it many times over in later years. But, I would want it just the way it appeared in her wedding photograph. It had a tiny, long-sleeved fitted jacket with cuff and collars, and a full skirt with resplendent layers of ruffles, all in black silk. It fit her perfectly, and, 17-year-old bride that she was, she looked so lovely with her big, wide eyes and freshly pin-curled bangs. I think it must have been one of the prettiest dresses any of my ancestors, modest farming folk all of them, ever wore, and I'm sure her mother helped hand sew it.

Last, but not least, is a funny sort of a request. My Great Aunt Mabel Johnson was the closest thing to a grandmother I knew. She had no children of her own, but somewhat of a kid at heart, she never turned down a card game of "Old Maid," a challenge in a coloring book, or the opportunity to go to the park. She distracted naughty children by using a clicker, rather than getting upset or scolding, and she loved to sing silly songs and tell jokes. If it wouldn't be too much to ask, I'd like to have that colorful decorative plate that always hung on the wall above her kitchen stove, serving no real purpose other than to catch cooking grease and dust. The plate was typical 1950s kitchen kitsch: it had two raised angel fish motifs and swirls of purple, black, turquoise, and yellow that didn't really go with anything else. Perhaps it is fixed in my memory more than many other things because it was so mismatched. But, thinking of it reminds me of Mabel's little house with the detached garage, the old ringer washer on the laundry porch, the sea green Depression glass cups and saucer that always came out with coffee and cookies, and her dogs, Tula, and then Buffy, curling up on a towel that protected the seat of the biggest overstuffed chair I had ever seen.

Anyway, Dear Genea-Santa, I have tried my best to be a good girl this year, but if you can't manage all three wishes, I understand. Sometimes the wanting of things is better than the having, and you of all people can appreciate the power of imagination.

Happy Holidays, and please watch your cholesterol levels on Christmas Eve; we want you to be around for a long time to come...

Chery

Unravelling History's Mysteries Through Genealogical Research

Mysteries throughout history can be brought to light through family history research. An example is this inspiring story involving a World War II tragedy, published by USA Today on March 12, 2008.

"Three sons of Lt. Commander Jim Abele, located their father's missing submarine, 'The Grunion." Three women - now affectionately dubbed the sub ladies - have taken it upon themselves to make sure the 70 men who went down with The Grunion are not forgotten..."

"'Sub lades' Uncover Tale of Lost Crew"

"The story is part mystery (Why did the sub go down?), part genealogical search(Who were these rakish-looking men?), but mostly it's a love story. A labor-of-love story."

Story Behind Famous Dustbowl Photo

Look what's on CNN today: the story behind the black and white classic "Migrant Mother" Dustbowl-era photograph taken by Dorothea Lange. How many times have we gazed at this photograph and similar ones, wondering what happened to those who were eternally captured in poverty and despair? Where they forever locked into misery and misfortune, or did they find a way out? In the study of genealogy and family history, all family histories are important:

Girl From Iconic Great Depression Photo: "We Were Ashamed"

Yulefest 2008

The Nordic Heritage Museum in Ballard just held another Yulefest (annual Christmas Festival) on Nov.22-23. Attendees shopped for hand-crafted gifts from over 50 vendors while weaving through the meandering halls and nooks and crannies of the old school building housing the Museum. Many visitors, in addition to vendors, staff, and volunteers, came suitably dressed for the occasion in a traditional costume or Scandinavian sweater--myself included. I had planned on getting a photograph of Father Christmas while I was there, but he had his own photographer and was charging the parents of kiddies who wanted visual souvenirs to take home.

Scandinavian food and drink was served at several places in the Museum, including the New Bodega, the Nordic Cafe, and the popular Kaffestuga. Musicians, singers, and other entertainers could be observed entertaining those who stopped for coffee and a traditional treat. The Yulefest is always a fun and colorful event. The halls and booths are constantly crowded, and the cashier line in the gift shop moves glacially slow, but no one seems to mind. Everyone is thinking of the joys of Christmas and appreciating the opportunity to be a part of another Yulefest.

Not too long after my husband and I arrived at the Nordic Heritage Museum on the afternoon of Saturday, November 22, a fire alarm sounded and the building was slowly evacuated. It did not take long, however, before everyone was able to return to their shopping or plate of sweets.

A message board outside the museum promoted the Leif Erikson International Foundation LEIF)

On the main floor near the entrance, visitors perused home-baked pastries and other goodies to buy and take home, including krumkake, snickerdoodles, and much more.

In a room next to the auditorium, lefse line volunteers were kept very busy.

The Yulefest housed over 50 vendors on three floors of the museum. The second floor included these displays of woven items and Celtic-design inspired jewelry--one of my favorite stops.

Happy shoppers!

A close-up of some traditional rosemaling. My mother doesn't know it yet, but she'll be getting a painted heart-shaped box for Christmas.

Yule Love This, 2008

The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings.
From : "The Walrus and the Carpenter," Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, by Lewis Carroll, 1872.


Obviously, there have been far too many things for me to deal with lately, and blogging (along with cabbages) has fallen by the wayside.


But, I can't let this next weekend (11/22 & 11/23) go by without promoting the annual Yulefest at the Nordic Heritage Museum in Seattle. Oh, ja... a Yulefesting I will go, and hopefully I will return home with some photographs to post here on my Norwegian-minded blog. So, for those of you who can't actually participate in tasting the pastries and the lefse, you will at least be able to see them!


Image: Norway stamp with image of Yule Nisse.

Picnic at Clearwater Lake

As my mother grew up on her grandparents' farm in rural Minnesota, she looked forward to the picnics held, typically twice each summer at Clearwater Lake (in Clearwater County). Grandpa Ole Johnson owned a cedar strip boat and kept it at the lake in order to go fishing.

Picnic at Clearwater Lake, Minnesota, ca. 1923.  L to R: Elmer Rinde's sister-in-law; Mabel Johnson (2nd from left); Malla Johnson (in background, seated on steps wearing a dark sweater and light skirt); Mrs. Rinde; Cora Johnson (with coffee cup); Mabel Rinde; Thea Johnson (seated at right), and (Marie Rinde?-standing at right).

Marie Rinde, a family friend (pickle in mouth)

 

Cora Johnson Moen

Thea Johnson Humberstad

Malla Larson Johnson and Stina Rinde



(L to R): Emma (Moen) Johnson, Esther Rinde's sister (white hat), Mabel Rinde's daughter, Esther Rinde (above the little girl), Mabel Johnson, Mabel Moen, Agnes Johnson (face not visible), Thea (Johnson) Humberstad, Marie Rinde, Phyllis Johnson, Doris Johnson, and Mabel Rinde. Clearwater Lake, Minnesota, 1930.



The 1920 census for Sinclair Township, Clearwater County, Minnestoa, Sup Distr 9, Enum Dist 49, Sheet 1B:

L A O Rinde, 45
Stina Rinde, 48
Elmer A., 21
Clara L., 20
Albert J., 17
Mabel P., 15
Oliver S., 14
Mary E. (Marie), 12
Henry O., 8

Both parents in the Rinde family were of Norwegian descent. The father, L.A.O. Rinde, was a farmer from Wisconsin, and the mother, Stina Rinde, was from Norway. When the Rinde family moved from the Leonard area in Clearwater County to Bemidji in the 1930s, the Johnson family continued to visit them and keep the tradition of multiple family picnics going.

Mom's aunts, Cora (Johnson) Moen and Thea (Johnson) Humberstad, were newly married, but still lived in the area. The young ladies in the Johnson and Rinde families were about the same age, and they enjoyed each other's company. The men are conspicuously absent from these photos, but they may have been out fishing, something that increased pollution in the lake in later years prevented. But in the 1920s, the simple joys of friendship and togetherness were cherished and planned for, between the endless round of household and farming chores, and the fishing was still good!

Spooked by Swensson

Each autumn after an annual membership drive, the Chippewa County Historical Society of Minnesota holds a special event, the "Enchanted Evening at the Swensson Farm."

"To say that these evenings are truly enchanted is an understatement!" touts the Society in its October 2008 newsletter. "Perhaps the best barometer of success is when your guests, volunteers and staff all equally enjoy the evening." This year, the Minnesota Sesquicentennial was celebrated with the lucky winners of a drawing from among new Society members. The guests were treated to dinner at the historic Swensson farmhouse amidst the atmosphere of original pioneer furnishings, and catered by a local restaurant. The meal included "Settler's Soup," "Root Cellar Salad," and "Pioneer Pot Roast." Of course, everyone anxiously awaited the fourth and final course: "Thresher's Pie" (lemon pie).



The Swensson Farm, Chippewa County, Minnesota. Now a museum, the house is on the National Register of Historic Places. USGenWeb: Chippewa Area Pictures.


The 17-acre Swensson Farm is the jewel in the crown of the Chippewa County Historical Society. Located six miles east of Montevideo, Minnesota on Highway 7, then five miles south on County Road 6, it is open to visitors from Memorial Day weekend through Labor Day weekend each year. The farm happens to be located quite close to the homesteads of many of my ancestors. My great grandmother, Malla Larson Johnson, grew up in a house just across the road from the Swensson Farm, and her sister-in-law, Julia Johnson Larson, lived near the farm most of her life.

But, is the farm truly "enchanted"? Or, is it... haunted?


Julia Johnson Larson (1864-1949), used to say that neighborhood children were terrified of walking past the looming Italianate/Georgian structure as soon as it was built, in 1901. Could it have had something to do with the spooky ambience created by its mansion-like architecture when compared to nearby farm houses? Or, perhaps it had to do with the small family cemetery at the edge the property, not to mention the large, public cemetery operated by Saron Lutheran Church just across the road?

For the most part, it probably had to do with the stories that circulated among timid neighborhood children about the severe-faced Olof Swensson (1843- 1923) the owner of the house. Swensson was a builder, writer, and unsuccessful candidate for Minnesota governor. He was also a fervent Lutheran, and conducted weekly religious services in the large room upstairs. His sermons, in Norwegian, have been preserved.

Even with the accomplishments of the elder Swensson, the house had an undeniable eerieness about it, and many would have testified in years past that it was, indeed, haunted. Did Swensson really build a secret tunnel leading from the house to the family burial plot? What about the flickering lights seen in the large windows at night by neighbors when no one was home? And, what is the story behind the cross on the basement wall, allegedly painted in blood, which appeared just after the local historical society took possession of the property in 1967?

According to Julia Johnson Larson, Swensson continued to hold church services in the upper floor of the building long after neighbors ceased to attend. There were open benches, placed along the walls of a large room upstairs, which served as pews for the folks who came to hear Swensson speak in those early years. Later, when no one came anymore, Swensson created his own congregation--out of rocks. He spaced them carefully on all of the benches surrounding the large, stark room. Pacing dramatically up and down the middle of the floor, he preached to his "stone-faced" and silently appreciative audience until he had his oratory fill.

The Chippewa County Historical Society continues to hold regular festivities on the farm property, such as the "Enchanted Dinner," and the annual Horse Power Event, held the second Saturday in September. The 22-room house, the grist mill, and curiosities such as the display of original wood forms for the family cemetery tombstones, continue to attract many visitors to the historic Swensson farm each year.

To judge for yourself whether or not the old Swensson place is truly haunted, see:

"Swenson Museum in Book on State Haunted Sites" (Montevideo-American News), and
Minnesota Road Guide to Haunted Locations, by Chad Lewis

Just Call Me "Anna"

Whenever I look through Norwegian genealogy and census records that are filled with many of the same names (Karen, Maren, Berit, and Kirsten, to name a few), I've had to wonder how one of my great great grandmothers acquired the unusual name of "Thibertine" (pronounced : Tibb-air-TEEN-eh).

Thibertine

According to Greek and ancient world mythology, "Tibertine" was a Sibyl (prophetess)--identified by her habit of wearing animal skins and carrying a bag of rocks. Well, every Sibyl had her own fashion sense, you understand. And, in Rome, attesting to the Roman fondness for all things Greek, there is the Tibertine Way, as well as the River Tiber. But, how did the name come to be used in sub-arctic Norway?

My great great grandmother, Thibertine Olsdatter Lassemo was born in 1841 in northern Norway: Grong Parish, Nord-Troendelag. News traveled more slowly in the nineteenth century than now, to be certain, but it was most likely the mid-century revival of romanticism and interest in classic literature that was responsible.

According to John I Borgos, who maintains the Slekt & historie website, Norwegian first names have seen a lot of change over time.

Many [Norwegian] names are derived from biblical originals, they are of course much changed to suit the Norwegian tongue. Other names have Nordic origins. Since many of the old Nordic names have meanings related to pre-Christian beliefs, the priests tried to avoid the use of the most "heathen" names, at least before 1850. After that these old names gained new popularity as a result of a strong national cultural movement, and they climbed very high in the statistics after 1900.

On his website, Borgos has created a Top 25 table of Norwegian girls and boys names from the 1700s through the 1900s. Heading the girls' list for the 1800s are: Anna/Anne/Ane, Petra, Johanna/e, Ellen/Elen, and Hanna. Topping the lists for both the 1700s and the 1900s is (you guessed it): Anna/Anne/Ane. It isn't so far fetched, then, that I also have great great grandmothers who are named (double bonus points here): "Anna," and also a "Karen," and a "Kjersten" too!

"Thibertine" is not an old Nordic name, and I doubt it would be classified among the heathen types. You do have to give her mother, Maren, an A+ for innovation. She found a lovely, but rarely used name for her third daughter, and that choice influenced at least a couple of local expectant mothers.

I conducted searches in Digitalkarkivet (the Norwegian census online) for 1801, 1865, 1875 and 1900, and verified that Grandma's name was rather unique in nineteenth century Norway. There were only three uses of the name "Tibertine" (this spelling) found in the early censuses, and my ancestor was among them. The other two were: Tibertine Olsdatter (age 6 in 1865), and Tibertine Albrigtsdatter (age 7 in 1865), both born in Grong, Nord-Troendelag like my great great grandmother. The 1900 census records the younger (unrelated) Tibertine Olsdatter all grown up at the age of 41.

And, what happened to my grandmother's ancient and lyrical name once she emigrated to America? Why, it was shortened, of course! From then on, she was commonly known as "Bertina."

Slang from the Great Depression

An Imaginary Trip to Hobohemia

(Hobowhatia?)

The bindle stiff looked around cautiously as he exited the alley. He’d been carrying the banner and was long weary of going by hand. Distracted by a high ball in the distance, he nearly jumped out of his skin as a bone polisher hackled on the front porch of a nearby house. “Shut your bazoo!” he hissed at the ragged creature, shifting his turkey in order to raise his roll of California blankets in a threatening gesture.

He was eager to leave this hungry town and go with the birds. Eating snowballs was not his style. Though he was glad for the new front he’d gotten at the sallie, he had no intention of sticking around and turning into a mission stiff. His blistered feet found the uneven walkway just as a group of Lizzie tramps rolled by and slowed down to look him over. “Hey, Bud... where’s the main stem?” one shouted. “Down yonder,” the bindle stiff nodded toward the west and noticed a couple of road sisters coughing behind handkerchiefs in the back. As he made a move to get back on his way, he stopped suddenly and turned. “Mind them yeggs!” he added with a touch of concern in his voice, while mindlessly scratching his crums.

His thoughts turned next to his stomach, and he jingled the thin ones in his ragged pocket. Maybe he would use the last of them on a little punk and gut before flipping a rattler down at the yard. It sure had been a long time since he’d seen a nickel note…

www.oldpicture.com

Although I wouldn't recommend writing about your ancestors in exactly this fashion, it's fairly easy to add color to your family history by using slang from the appropriate era. In this case, I used an excessive number of "hobo-isms" to tell a story.

I found a great little website explaining and illustrating Depression era slang, a project created at the University of Virginia. Check it out: "Hit the books, schlepper, there's a lot of slanging to be done!"

Grampa was a Bootlegger?

In September 2005, Cousin Duane was driving two of my first cousins and me around Leonard, Minnesota to see the old family sites. We stopped at the farm once owned by our great grandparents, Ole M. and Malla Johnson, from 1917-1948. After knocking on the door and getting no answer, we could not resist the urge to peak in windows and walk the grounds a bit before getting back into the car. Ole had built that farmhouse with his own hands, and though time and lack of attention had taken its toll, that house still stood straight and proud, aware of its solid heritage. The voices and Norwegian brogues of our mothers and their own cousins and playmates who sledded, rolled, and scooted in our footsteps at an earlier time, echoed in our minds.

Duane is a generation older, and so, of course, we had been prodding him with many questions about our family history. As Duane pulled the car out of the driveway and proceeded down the road toward Grampa's farm, the place where our mothers were born, he mentioned that our grandfather used to keep a still out in the woods for a short time.

A still? Cousins Cheryl and Craig and I quickly looked back and forth at each other.

"Did Grampa ever tell you about that?" I directed my question at Craig, knowing that Grampa shared far more stories with his grandsons than his granddaughters (it had to do with the male bonding thing).

"Not about that," Craig said, with subdued amazement. A history teacher turned counselor, he was always ready for a good yarn.

During the Prohibition years of the 1920s, it was difficult for new, solitary farmers to make any profit. Clearwater County was not the only area in Minnesota affected, let alone the nation. It was actually a Minnesota congressman, Andrew Volstead from Granite Falls, who came up with the idea of making alcohol sales illegal, and thus promoted the start of Prohibition with a bill he sponsored. Ironically, Granite Falls, Minnesota was also the birthplace of my grandfather.

Grampa became a young widower in 1921. His two little girls (my mother and aunt), were sent to live with their paternal grandparents, Ole and Malla Johnson, so that Grampa could give all of his attention to farming and make a go of it. Proud and stubborn, Grampa would never have given in and sold his farm only to work on someone else's--it would have negated the reason his grandparents emigrated from Norway to America in the first place. But flax, alfalfa, potatoes, and corn yielded little cash then, and many farms continued to struggle for years to come. Some locals saw an opportunity with the arrival of Prohibition and tried their turn at making illicit liquor, whether they drank it themselves, or not.

Grampa kept his still well hidden in the woods behind his farm. Duane said that a bear damaged it once. Grampa fixed the damage, but he gave up on the idea of making liquor altogether after one of his brothers blew up the still.

"Blew it up?" we all chimed in unison.

It was not meant as an act of kindness to keep Grampa on the straight and narrow. As it turned out, Grampa had refused a brother's request to take part in the bootlegging. Feeling vengeful or playfully mean, or both, the brother sneaked back to the still when Grampa was away, along with a cousin or friend, and some dynamite: WHAM! No more still.

"What happened after that?" we asked Duane, our ears straining like tots listening to a ghost story around a campfire.

As kids, my cousins and I never had an inkling of such an event, in spite of all the hours spent with Grampa and our great uncles and aunts. Evidently, some family lore was quickly squelched, especially when repeating it meant a revival of some festering old wound. Cousin Craig said he could always tell there was a certain tension between Grampa and one of his brothers, in particular, but he was never sure what it was all about.

It was a good thing the still was done in, however suddenly, because Duane mentioned that the authorities had already taken steps to control the widespread bootlegging problem within the district. A few bachelor farmers had been arrested and sent to jail for breaking federal law. The U. S. Marshal had not planned to come after Grampa or certain others right away because they had families to feed, so they chose instead to make an example of a few select others. So, Grampa's hidden still was not such a secret, after all, especially to those who mattered.

I will never hear Grampa's side of the story, or his brother's, if either of them ever would have talked about it. My guess is that they would have avoided it, scoffing and laughing off any inquiry, like soldiers coming home from the war who wanted nothing more than to forget certain parts of the past. But, anyone can understand the frustrations of a farmer living in fear of his property being repossessed, or worrying about being deemed a failure in the eyes of his family and neighbors. Grampa never failed to help neighbors in need, and frequently let neighbor kids ride to town with him on the back of his dray whenever he headed to the bank or to get supplies. He also proved tolerant whenever young nephews successfully raided his cookie jar down to the last crumb, or showed up on an almost daily basis to hang out at Uncle Ernest Johnson's because they could ride horses bareback without the disapproving clucks of female relatives.

It is clear that bootlegging of illegal liquor during the 1920s was carried out not just by gangsters sporting machine guns. There were many everyday folks, including normally law abiding Norwegian-American farmers like my grandfather, who out of necessity and a unique brand of assertiveness (pioneering spirit, if you will), took part in creating illegal supplies for an ever-thirsty demand.

GeneaBlogger Gnome at Snoqualmie Pass!

I heard a faint knock at the door late yesterday, and at first I thought I'd been imagining things. But, the dog barked insistently, alerting me to something unusual outside. I opened the door and peaked out. It was growing dark, and at first it appeared no one was on the porch, until a high voice squeaked, "Down here!" It was our own GeneaBlogger Gnome come to visit!

G.B. Gnome apologized for being a bit late, but he had been to Seattle earlier in the day to see his cousin, the Yule Nisse, who is busy making preparations at the Nordic Heritage Museum for the upcoming Scandinavian Yulefest. As Gnome squeezed past my 30-lb. Australian Shepherd and came inside, Chips began wagging his tail so furiously that I thought it would fall off.


Norwegian Yule Nisse


I asked G.B. Gnome if he wanted to curl by the woodstove for the evening, but he couldn't stay very long. "Places to go, people to see!" he said with a smile and a cock of the head. Gulping down the remainder of his hot cocoa, he wiped his mouth on an already smudged green sleeve. No sooner had he slapped his pointed cap back on his head than he was out the door and on his way. I shouted after him to watch for coyotes. He had a little trouble navigating the stairs, but once he was in the driveway, he hobbled away quickly into the growing darkness. Gee, I hope he made it... I'm sure he's alright, judging by the affect he had on my dog. G.B. Gnome is a real charmer with that crooked grin of his!

I think he said he was headed into eastern Washington, but I can't be sure. Maybe he'll stop at your door next? Watch for him, please. I'm concerned about the little guy!

While you're watching, you might want to make a visit to Hill Country of Monroe County, one of G. B. Gnome's favorite places, for the Getting to Know Me Challenge.

Family History and the Great American Migration

I must pause briefly from my Norwegian-American focus to introduce a source helpful to those wanting to read more about population migrations during the twentieth century. Social history, when added to genealogical data and stories handed down through the generations, makes a perfect blend for an interesting and readable family history. And, if you don't have any family stories and precious little genealogical data, then history might be as close as you get to understanding the times and motivations of elusive ancestors.

My birth father was part of the great migration from Oklahoma to the western states during the Depression era years, the 1930s. When I went looking for books to read, I came across Southern Diaspora: How the Great Migrations of Black and White Southerners Transformed America, a companion website to the book authored by James M. Gregory, a University of Washington faculty member.


Gregory wrote:

The Southern Diaspora may have been the most momentous American population movement of the twentieth century. Between 1900 and 1980 more than 20 million southerners left their home region looking for jobs in the cities, suburbs, and farms of the North and West. Most visible were the African American southerners whose migration transformed urban America and set the stage for important changes in racial understandings and the rights of people of color. White southern migrants outnumbered black migrants and in some settings were almost as controversial. Called "hillbillies" in the North and "Okies" out West, the whites faced challengesdifferent than most Americans who move across state lines.

The website contains oodles of starting points for further research: photos, tables, other links, and my favorite, the bibliography. With Gregory's help, you can easily go beyond Grapes of Wrath in understanding your Depression era relations, and find a plausible reason for your great granddad ending up in Detroit after leaving the old family home in Yazoo City (Gateway to the Delta).

Getting to Know Me, Getting to Know Nordic Blue

I am a Bay Area girl turned Seattlelite, with eclectic interests ranging from history and genealogy to science-fiction and Chinese film, to name a few. One of my main passions has been discovering all I can about my Norwegian-American ancestry. I began blogging primarily to share research tidbits with family, but I quickly became hooked because of the wonderful support and enthusiasm shared by a special group of family history bloggers. I love genealogy, and I also love to write about history. I currently have two publications under my belt: a Pacific Northwest history entitled "Snoqualmie Pass," by Arcadia Publishing, 2007, and a family history: "A Long Way Downstream: the Life and Family of Thibertine Johnson Winje, Norwegian-American Pioneer." My goal is to continue researching and writing about my Norwegian ancestors and other history topics that catch my fancy.




My mother, Doris Johnson, holding me
on the back porch of our second story apartment
in Richmond, California, early 1954.









Brightest Blog Entry

Not Without My Car: My Family History and the Automobile.
Family history is not just about the ancestors, but also about preserving personal memories. The automobile had such a large impact on my young life that I just had to recall all the Fords and more that I had the pleasure to know.


Breeziest Blog Entry

No Ode to Lutefisk
Written for the 2007 Advent Calendar of Christmas memories, hosted by Thomas MacEntee, this article sums up my attitude toward a questionable Norwegian-American holiday tradition.


Beautiful Blog Entry

Duty, Fate, and Beauty
A heart-rendering story about the purposeful life and ill-fated demise of a young Norwegian-American prairie flower: Regina Winje Strand, 1873-1899.


Nordic Blue is a celebration of my Norwegian-American family culture and history, but the range of topics is often swayed by current and related news, Carnival of Genealogy writing challenges, the discovery of new genealogy resources, the study of human nature and social history, my own personal memories, and by just plain 'ole blogging fun (topics and memes, as suggested by my fellow genealogy bloggers).

Historic Cabin Represents Lives of My Pioneer Ancestors

I would love to spend months exploring Chippewa County, Minnesota. It is the center of the genealogical universe when it comes to my mother's ancestry. All four sets of her Norway-born great grandparents homesteaded in the area, and their children intermarried to create the families I am obsessed with researching.

Years ago, the Chippewa County Historical Society (CCHS) set about to preserve many of the original buildings of the area's first settlement along the Minnesota River: Chippewa City. Among the preserved treasures is the original cabin of homesteader Bardinus Anderson, where the congregation of the old Saron Lutheran Church was first organized.




Layout of buildings in Historic Chippewa City, Chippewa County Historical Society.



The following photographs were taken by one of my cousins, Michael Siverhus, of Minnesota, during a visit to Chippewa City over Labor Day weekend, 2008. Michael is an "internet cousin." We have never actually met, but we are related through my mother's maternal grandmother line, the Slaaens (Sloans). Last year, I asked the Chippewa County Historical Society if it would print a little article on the family research I was conducting. I listed off surnames, many of which are represented in several pioneer cemeteries in that area, including Saron Lutheran. As a reader of the historical society's newsletter, Michael saw the article and contacted me. Now, that's networking!

"One of the most authentic log cabins in the state, the Anderson Log Cabin was built by Bardinus Anderson in 1870. Originally located 8-1/2 miles southeast of Montevideo this building was brought into Historic Chippewa City in 1965. Inside the walls of this log cabin, the Saron Lutheran Congregation was organized. Twisted prairie grasses were once used as fuel by settlers who lived in log cabins much like this one."

Bardinus Anderson hosted the first meeting to organize the Norwegian-Danish Evangelical Lutheran Church at this cabin on November 1, 1870. The initial church membership was made up of 99 Norwegians, 16 Swedes, and two Danes. But, it was only charter members came together for that first discussion; their families remained at home, obviously due to lack of space.

The discussion included where to locate a permanent church and cemetery for the new community. Charter members, including some of my ancestors, agreed upon 80 acres along the south edge of Leenthrop Township, in Section 31. The Chicago and Milwaukee Railroad owned the land, but donated 10 acres to the community. The congregation then purchased the remaining 70 acres for $650. In 1886, the existing Saron Lutheran Church was built at a cost of $4,750, and the cemetery, where many of my ancestors are buried, went in to use soon after the land was secured.

A typical pioneer farm table setting inside the cabin.

The woodstove:  the most important feature of any homesteader cabin.

A warm and cozy place to sleep after an exhausting day's work.

Each year, between Memorial Day and Labor Day weekends, visitors to Chippewa City can walk through many buildings depicting pioneer life as it was during the early years of settlement. It was a time when my ancestors were building their own cabins, pushing plows, and fighting to put food on the table throughout seasons of relentless drought and locust infestations, punctuated by severe winter weather and exceptional blizzards. It was not an easy life, to say the least!

Thank goodness for historical societies whose members work hard to preserve our heritage. Why don't you join one local to your genealogical heritage today? If you're not close enough to help with your hands, the societies can always use extra membership funds and donations to shingle structures, for example, which is a project CCHS is committed to in order to keep Chippewa City in good condition for future generations. I am so glad!


Sources:

"Historic Chippewa City," Montevideo Chamber of Commerce, http://www.montechamber.com/cchs/chipcity.htm (accessed 25 September 2008).

Christianson, Mrs. John. Our First 100 Years: 1870-1970. Chippewa County, Minnesota: Saron Lutheran Church, 1970.