Grandma Karen and Her Feather Bed

It was nine feet tall and six feet wide
soft as a downey chick
It was made from the feathers of forty eleven geese
took a whole bolt of cloth for the tick
It'd hold eight kids n' four hound dogs
and a piggy we stole from the shed
We didn't get much sleep but we had a lot of fun
on Grandma's feather bed [1]

Karen Bue Berge, early 1900s.

Karen (Bue) Berge was one of my maternal great great grandmothers--each one of them a Norwegian immigrant who experienced the anguish of leaving home and family they would likely never see again, in order to forge a better life on the mid-19th century American frontier. Before Karen died from pulmonary emphysema in 1914, she devised a will, which was uncharacteristic of farming women of her time. It reads:

First. I order and direct that my executrix hereinafter named pay al my just debts. And I direct that my funeral expenses and the expense of the admistration be paid out of and made a charge upon the homestead hereinafter devised.
Second. After the payment of such funeral expenses and expenses of adminstration I give and devise unto my beloved daughter, Gunda C. Overson, my homestead, described as the East half of Lot 13, and all except the East ten feet of Lot 14 in Block 21, in the original Townsite of Granite Falls, Minnesota.
Third. I give and devise unto my beloved daughter, Sophia G. Skrukrud, two lots now owned by me in Lillehammer, Norway. I request that the said lots last mentioned be retained unsold by my said last named daughter, as I consider it would be for her best interest to retain
them.
Fourth. I give and bequeath unto my said daughter, Sophia G. Skrukrud, my featherbed, now in my possession at my home.
Fifth. I give and bequeath unto my four children, Ole B. Berge, Ottilia A. Erlandson, Gunda C. Overson, and Sophia G. Skrukrud, all my clothing, personal effects, and wearing apparel, to be divided among them as nearly equally as may be. And I do further give, devise and bequeath unto my said four children all the rest, residue and remainder of my estate.
Lastly. I do hereby constitute my said daughter, Gunda C. Overson, to be the executrix of this my Will, hereby revoking all fomer Wills by me made.

[Karen Berge]

Witnessed by
Ole P. Skorseth
Bert O. Loe

[2]


That Karen would have even mentioned her feather bed among the specific items bequeathed in her will, including a homestead and properties in Norway, is quite interesting. It either attests to her pride of ownership of such an item, or it was an attempt to eliminate sibling squabbling over a highly favored piece of furniture. It made me smile to discover the reference when reading her will for the first time.

Karen Bue Berge (seated), with her daughters, ca. 1910.  Standing, (L to R):  Gunda Overson, Sophie Skrukrud, and Othilie Erlandson.

Karen Olsdatter Bue was born on August 19, 1839 on Bue Farm in Faaberg (near Lillehammer), Norway, to Ole Pedersen Kraaboel Bue and Berthe Pedersdatter Bue. Karen had four siblings: Martha Olsdatter Bue (b. April 5, 1835), Petter Olsen Bue (b. 1841), Simon Emil Bue (b. March 21, 1847), and Thina Olsdatter Bue (b. 1849). On December 28, 1860, she married Gulbran Olsen Berge in Faaberg. The couple emigrated from Norway before their marriage had aged a decade. In April 1868, Gulbran boarded the sailing vessel, the Hannah Parr, bound for Quebec in North America, while Karen stayed behind in Norway with their two children, Othilie Annette (b. October 27, 1861) and Ole Benhart--my great grandfather (b. October 30, 1864). Karen was expecting a third child at the time of her husband's departure, but the baby, named Gunda C., died soon after being born on December 21. Gulbran Berge never saw his new infant daughter.

During the spring or summer of 1869, Karen and two children left Norway to join Gulbran in Minnesota. Several more children followed after the couple settled on a sixty-acre homestead in Leenthrop Township, Chippewa County: Gunda Caroline (b. June 26, 1872), Berthe Bergine (b..May 5, 1874 and died as an infant), Jorgen Benhart (b. in 1878 and died in 1880), and Sophie Georgine (b. July 16, 1881).

Karen Bue Berge as a middle-aged woman.  Chippewa County, Minnesota, 1870s.

When their youngest child was but a year old, Gulbran came down with consumption (tuberculosis), and passed on soon after, leaving his family to fend for themselves. His funeral was attending by about eight-five neighbors and friends during the height of a prarie winter in January 1883. Karen and her underage children, Gunda and Sophie, were probably aided by her grown children in the years to follow. There were twenty years separating the births of Othilie, the eldest child, and Sophie, the youngest, and Othilie had become a married woman a few years before, in 1879.

Karen's obitutary, published in the Granite Falls Tribune on September 3, 1914, was more extensive than for most women of modest means, especially a longtime widow:

Mrs. Berge, the mother of Mrs. Overson, passed away last Friday, September 4th, after a long illness. Her age was 75 years.

Deceased was born in Lillehammer, Norway, August 12th, 1839, and came to this country when a young woman. She has resided in Chippewa County for the past 43 years, being one of the first settlers and pioneers of the county. Previous to her residence there she lived at Mankato for three years.

She was a woman of a kind disposition and open hearted hospitality, the characteristics predominant among most pioneers, and always willing to do more than her share to lighten the
world's burdens for others.

She is survived by four children who will revere and honor her memory. They are Mrs. Edw. Elandson, Maynard; Mr. Ole B. Berge, Leonard, Minn; Mrs. G. T. Skrukrud and Mrs. Overson, of this city.

Funeral services were held this afternoon, the hour being 2:00 o'clock at the house and 2:30 at the United Lutheran church. Both Rev. M. B. Eriksen, of Maynard, and Rev. O. J. Eriksen, of this city officiated. Interment was made in the Lutheran cemetery. [3]

[1] Excerpt from "Grandma's Feather Bed." Music and lyrics by Jim Connor; performed by John Denver.
[2] Last Will and Testament of Karen Berge, Chippewa County Court Records, Montevideo, Minnesota.
[3] Obituary of "Mrs. Berge" [Karen (Bue) Berge]. "Granite Falls Tribune," September 8, 1914.

"New" Vaterland Family Photos

In my last post, I wrote about the Hans Thorsen Slaaen and Anne Thorsdatter Vaterland family that settled in Coon Valley, Wisconsin, after emigrating from Nordre Fron, Gubrandsdalen, Norway in 1853. Their youngest child, Anne Marie Slaaen, was one of my great grandmothers, who was born in a covered wagon near Swan Lake as the family traveled from Wisconsin to homestead in Chippewa County, Minnesota.



Photo #1, ca. 1860, inscribed "Anne and Mary 'Sloan."
Photo courtesy of Michael Siverhus.

The Slaaen (Sloan)/Vaterland branches are the parts of my mother's family that I know the least about. But, no sooner did I renew my interest in pursuing more information, than I received a wonderful surprise from one of my internet cousins. I say "internet cousin," because although we are blood related, I have only met Mike through e-mail correspondence. He contacted me a few years ago after seeing a notice I had posted in the Chippewa County Historical Society newsletter. I have several internet cousins whom I share information with, and this collaboration has helped me to make great inroads in genealogical research. Hopefully, I have been of some help to them, as well.

(Note: I use the names Slaaen/Sloan interchangeably, because although the original Norwegian surname was "Slaaen," the family adopted the Americanized version of "Sloan" after a few years in America.)

The surprise was a couple of photographs Mike found while visiting his mother recently. He thought they applied more to my side of the family than his, and so, he sent them along. The lovely mid-19th century photo above is of sisters: "Anne and Mary Sloan" is written on the back.




Photo #2, ca. 1875, is inscribed: "Sister to "Pa's--Grandmother Annie Sloan."
Photo courtesy of Michael Siverhus.

This second photo, which is of excellent clarity and quality, is apparently of two sisters with their elderly mother (seated), although the inscription is more difficult to decipher: "Sister to Pa's--Grandmother Annie Sloan." The main questions are: who is "Pa," and which woman is the "Grandmother" referred to in the inscription?

There was another problem getting in the way of accurate identification of the women in the two photographs. As with many families, the names "Anne/Anna/Annie" and "Mary/Mari/Marie" were popular among Norwegians, and there were more than a few of the same name among the Slaaens and Vaterlands, and more than a few spelling variations, as well.

Photo #2 really set me thinking. I was not aware of any "Sloan" sisters by the name of Anne and Mary, although the shorter woman standing on the left looked familiar to me. I compared the photo to one of my great great grandmother (Anne Vaterland Slaaen), taken with the rest of her family, ca. 1890, and lo and behold, I found it to be the same woman. Could it be that the women in the second photo are actually Vaterlands, then, and not Sloans?



Photo #3:  Anne Vaterland Slaaen, ca. 1890,
 Chippewa County, Minnesota (cropped photo from the
 Hans T. Slaaen family portait in my previous blog post)

The woman in Photo #3, whom I know to be my great great grandmother, Anne Vaterland Slaaen/Sloan, appears harried and thin, almost gaunt, compared to the calm and appealing older woman standing on the left ("Grandmother Annie Sloan") in Photo #2, but they are indeed the same woman. Look carefully at the hairline, the droop of the eyes, the set of the mouth, and the distance between the nose and mouth. In 1890, Anne was in her seventies and had experienced a lifetime of hard work. Some 15 years earlier, as in Photo #2 (see cropped version below), she was not quite as thin.  Photo #2 had to have been taken in the mid 1870s, because Marit Pedersdatter Vaterland, the seated woman who appears to be the mother of the other women, died in 1878 in Washington Township, La Crosse County, Wisconsin.

Cropped image of Anne Vaterland Slaaen,
 ca. 1875 (from Photo #2)

My conclusion? The photos are actually Vaterland women, and not Slaaens/Sloans, in spite of the inscriptions on the back of the photos. Anne may have married a Slaaen, but her sister and mother could not lay claim to that name. When someone wrote on the back of the photos, perhaps many years after they were taken, Anne's maiden name had probably been forgotten, and the exact relationship of the women in Photo #2 was no longer clear.

But, did Anne Vaterland Slaaen actually have a sister named Mary, as the inscription on Photo #1 indicates?  While searching for proof, I took another look at a pioneer biography of Anne Vaterland Slaaen's father that I found in a book by Hjalmar R. Holand, some years ago. It reads:

"Thor Johannessen Vaterland was born in Nordre Fron, Norway, April 8, 1808. He emigrated to America in 1858, and settled in Coon Valley on section 35, Town of Washington, La Crosse County, the same year. He was married to Marit Pedersen with whom he had two children: Mari and Anne..." [1]

Thanks to my internet cousin, not only have we "found" two more photographs of our great great grandmother, Anne Vaterland Slaaen, but we have also met the acquaintance of her sister, Mary/Mari Vaterland, and their mother, Marit Pedersdatter Øyen Vaterland.

I now have a photograph of my great great GREAT grandmother; how cool is THAT?


[1] Holand, Hjalmar R. "Coon Valley: An Historical Account of the Norwegian Congregations in Coon Valley." Augsburg Publishing: Minneapolis, Minnesota, 1928, p.201.

Other source:  Ancestry.com

Little Church in Upper Coon Valley--A Family Icon

In 1841, Gulbrand Gunderson Skaret and his family from Sigdal, in eastern Norway, became the first white settlers in Coon Valley, Wisconsin. Sadly, this first immigrant family did not fare very well, suffering the hardships of wilderness and isolation, and death from Asiatic cholera after ten years of working the land. It would not be until the end of the decade that other Norwegians began to find some success in Coon Valley, and immigration to the area began in earnest. After a heavy period of settlement from 1852-54, almost all the well-situated and valuable land was spoken for.

It is no surprise why early Norwegian immigrants clustered around the welcoming scenery in Coon Valley, Wisconsin. According to many who lived in the valley, which lies a few miles south east of La Crosse, Wisconsin, there is scarcely found a more quiet, pleasant and secluded place. The surrounding wooded ridges, about 500 feet high, act as a protective wall around the entire valley, providing a sense of peace, security, and even coziness. The valley is about 25 miles in length, with numerous branch valleys, but it feels like everyone belongs to the same neighborhood with similar conditions and interests.[1]

The vast majority of early settlers in Coon Valley were poor. My immigrant ancestors were no exception. Women were expected to work exceptionally hard at all sorts of different tasks, so it is no wonder that Norwegian immigrant women often looked older than their years. They were expected to do all of the housekeeping and food preparation. They also had to spin, knit, weave, and sew inbetween heavier tasks, maintain the barn(s), bind wheat together during harvests, and engage in child rearing and holiday preparation.

Several branches of my mother's Norwegian family settled in Upper Coon Valley after coming to America. The first of my ancestors to arrive was the Slaaen family. Soon after, they adopted an Americanized version of their name: "Sloan." A pioneer biography for Hans Thorsen Slaaen, my great great grandfather, is included among others for the Upper Coon Valley during this early period of settlement (when the biographer writes that Hans T. Slaaen "moved west" from Coon Valley, Wisconsin, he meant only as far as Chippewa County, Minnesota):

Hans Thorsen Slaaen was born in Nordre Fron, Gudbrandsdalen, Norway, the son of Thor and Kari Slaaen. He emigrated to America in 1853, and settled in Coon Valley on Section 36, Town of Washington, La Cross County, in 1858, where he owned 160 acres. In 1851 [Norway] he was married to Anne Thorsdatter Vaterland, with whom he had the following children: Thor, Mathia, Karen, Thorwald, John, and Maria. Hans T Slaaen moved west, and died there.[2]



The Hans Thorsen Slaaen family. (Left to right), back row:  Karen, Thorwald (?), John (?), and Anne Marie (my great grandmother); front row:  Thor, Hans, Anne, and Mathia.  Photo ca. 1890, probably Chippewa County, Minnesota.

The Slaaens, like most of their fellow Norwegian immigrants, were devoted Lutherans. Originally, there was only one congregation in the whole of Coon Valley. In 1859, some members withdrew and built their own church in Lower Coon Valley, while a third was built in the Upper Valley at about the same time. The first Upper Coon Valley church that the Slaaens attended, pictured below, was in the cemetery opposite the later (1928 era) church, which was situated on an acre of land purchased from Christopher Hansen for the sum of $6.00.[3]

Although the old church was not large or costly, it took twelve years before it was ready. During the Civil War years times were particularly difficult, although the minister's wages were relatively high for the number of worship services the congregation received.[4]

"The Old Church in Upper Coon Valley"--the original Coon Valley Church was a log cabin.  This photo of an early painting was taken in the 1980s by Kristie Formolo, when she spotted it hanging on a basement wall during a tour of the current Coon Valley Church.

Norwegian immigrants depended upon the Lutheran church, not only for matters of faith, but also for security, community, and socialization outside of their day to day labors. Churches such as this one were the core of the early Norwegian-American experience, creating stability and offering support, promoting neighborliness, and making it possible for neighboring families to come to know one another well. With the help of the church, the Norwegian immigrant cluster in the familiar yet foreign landscape of Coon Valley resulted in the mingling and marriages between families from many parts of Norway. The rest is, well... family history!


[1] Holand, Hjalmar R.. Coon Valley: An Historical Account of the Norwegian Congregations in Coon Valley (Written for the 75th Anniversary of the Congregation in 1928). Augsburg Publishing House: La Crosse, Wisconsin, 1928, p.10.
[2] Holand, p.193.
[3] Holand, p.93.

[4] Holand, p.98.

Will the Real "Norden" Please Flap Your Sails?

In family history research, it is all too easy to take a wrong turn, as I was recently reminded.

A good part of my research for a recently published family history dealt with the emigrant voyage of my great great grandparents, Baard and Thibertine Johnson, and their two children, Ole and Ellen Julie (Julia). There was no doubt, according to Digitalarkivet (Norwegian census), that the family sailed from Bergen, Norway aboard the bark-rigged ship, Norden, on May 5, 1866. Many of the passengers, including my ancestors, were destined for the midwestern United States via Quebec. It was a common route for America-travelers at that time.

Though my family book has been published, I am a firm believer in always keeping an eye out for new sources and details. So, even though the ink has dried on the page, it does not mean that every last word has been written. While sleuthing around for information concerning a different project, I found an obscure bibliographic reference on the Norwegian-American Historical Association (NAHA) website that caught my interest: Tollefson, Arne. "The Voyage of the three-masted vessel, the 'Norden,' in 1866, from Bodoe, Norway, to Quebec." Norden, 23 (Dec. 1931). The article is based on the recounting of voyage events by a surviving Norden passenger.

Wow! What's this? I excitedly tracked down the journal via interlibrary loan. When it arrived, I was a bit disappointed to find it is only two pages long, yet it is quite interesting, nonetheless. I had hoped to find detailed information about the exact voyage my great great grandparents experienced. Instead, I found something quite different--a valuable lesson.

It turns out there was not just one ship named Norden that made a voyage from Norway to Quebec during the spring of 1866, but two! How could that be? Well, I cannot claim to know how the mid-19th-century shipping industry handled vessel identification concerns, but from a 21st-century research perspective, the potential for making an incorrect assumption loomed large.

According to the article, the other Norden was built at Bath, Maine in 1849, and was sold in 1863 to a Bergen shipowner, who renamed it from the original: Zenobia. By 1866, this Norden was described as " ...old and decrepit. The hull was mellow with age. The masts were rotten. It was wide of beam and a slow sailer." "My" Norden was eight years older than that, so what did that make her, I wonder? At least she held together long enough to get my ancestors to dry land in North America.

Another interesting fact is that the Norden on which my ancestors sailed left Bergen on May 5, 1866, and took only 30 days to reach Quebec. The Maine-built Norden left Bodoe, Norway on June 3, 1866, carrying about 700 passengers, and it did not arrive in Quebec until ten weeks later. "...the Norden staggered westward on her unhurried way day after day, and through-out the long nights for weeks and weeks--aye months." The ship's supplies were running out, and the water supply was low, and what there was on hand became foul. At the end of the tenth week, another ship was hailed off the New Foundland coast so that flour and salt pork could be purchased. Ten whole weeks at sea... I can only think the good ship and crew must have fought a head wind the whole way.

Though fairly short, the article relates a compelling story, well told, even though it is not my own ancestors' story, as I had hoped.

Perhaps the moral of this story is that before we can assert something as a fact, we should always seek the "triangle of proof": three sources that indicate roughly the same thing. The instructors in a certificate program in genealogy and family history that I attended always cautioned their neophyte genealogists to seek the triangle of proof as a method of weighing the truth of any fact.

Early on in my research, had I not known from another source that "my" Norden was built in 1841 at Åbo Gamla Skeppsvarv, Finland (thank you, Norway Heritage), or seen the passenger list information, complete with dates, on Digitalarkivet, or known from family members that my Johnson ancestors lived closer to the port of Trondheim than Bodoe, Norway, I might have turned a wistful blind eye to some minor inconsistencies in the article and globbed onto it as one of my prime sources. And, I would have been completely mistaken. Thank goodness I was on the track of the correct Norden from the very beginning, and, thank goodness both "old and decrepit" ships named Norden managed to limp from one side of the Atlantic the other in 1866.

History by Fact, or by Faith?

Some musings on how we interpret history


I've had a lot on my mind lately, and not just the myriad of responsibilities and concerns that need to be inserted into daily life before genealogy, research, writing, and many other things that are the breath of creativity for me.

I'm troubled that it seems like the more I learn, the less I know.

The more knowledge an individual acquires, the more it is realized that we (humans) do not, and cannot, have all the answers. You have probably heard it before, that history is subjective. History is only as accurate as the interpretation of the person recording it.

What did my family have for dinner last Thursday? Mom may think it was meatloaf, and I sort of remember salmon caesar, but I'm not certain, and my husband insists that we went out to eat that night and had steaks. Who is correct? Who do you believe? If you can come up with a date-inscribed photograph of my family sitting around a table eating dinner last Thursday, then you might come close to the truth. Or, do you? Is your camera imprinting dates correctly?

When it comes to genealogy, like any history topic, you can bag all the dates and related facts you want, but they will not help you create an entirely realistic picture of anyone's life or environment. You cannot count on 100% accuracy. What happens if the facts are not what they appear to be?

A retired pastor once told me: "The past is gone, and the future is uncertain, so, you really only have today." It was an attempt to help me let go of past hurts. It worked to some degree, once I took the time to ponder what he meant and how it applied to my life.


Today, THIS MOMENT, is the only thing you can be entirely sure about.


Or, can you?

When I entered the eighth grade, I was suddenly captured by visions of all things futuristic: "Star Trek," science-fiction novels, sci-fi conventions and futuristic artwork. It all hit me like an atomic bomb, and I spent hours and hours in libraries looking for new reading material (yes, this was pre-internet, folks). Perhaps it was my youthful age, but the romance of "what could be" seemed the most important thing in the world. My curiosity was sparked to learn about physics, astronomy, and science in general, to seek any understanding of how things came to be and why they work the way they do.


So, the future is uncertain. But, is the past much more reliable?


As a mature adult, I discovered how alluring history can be, especially when the old memorization torture tactics of school day history classes were thrown out the window. History looks quite different when taken personally--I mean, REALLY personally. This is the reason why we become hooked on genealogy and family history, in seeking a connection to our origins. We need to know what history means to us both genetically and spiritually, in addition to wondering about the perpetual mystery of why we exist, and was it really the egg, or the chicken, that came first.


Oh, I just love Sherlock Holmes and his dogged collection and interpretation of evidence. Dr. Watson has just as important a part in in these classic sleuthing adventures, because he is the sounding board Holmes needs to help piece together his theories. We have all done it: researched the facts, found discrepancies, mulled it all over--either alone or with friends and family--and come to a "logical" conclusion. Even so, there are outcomes that cannot be logical, because there are simply not enough facts, and there never will be.

Case in point: did you see the recently aired History Channel documentary: "The Real Face of Jesus?" It knocked me out. I mean, it simply knocked me out. If you are unfamiliar with the story of the Shroud of Turin and the lengthy, ongoing investigation of whether or not it is the actual burial cloth that wrapped Jesus after his crucifiction, there is plenty of reading material available, online and otherwise. This program pulled together a thrilling investigation that utilized science in a attempt to prove history. I say: "attempt," because science, like everything else, is not infallable. That said, I believe that physics and mathematics prove that there is such a thing as universal truth.

To continue, this History Channel documentary shows the scientific and artistic methods used to create a 3-D representation of the image mysteriously recorded on the Shroud of Turin, whom many believe to be Jesus Christ. In the end, it is nothing short of fantastic how we can come to gaze upon a likeness of this man from so long ago. It is truly amazing by virtue of the modern scientific methods that enable such a venture, even if the image is of someone other than Jesus himself.

The entire point of this particular history-mystery is the lack of "evidence," and the sensitve, even volatile issues concerning the interpretation of whether the image is of Jesus or someone else, and how it came to be. While reading about the history of the Shroud of Turin, you may come to the conclusion, as do many others, that although there is not enough hard evidence to scientifically prove that the image on the shroud is that of Jesus, there is probably enough circumstantial evidence to prove it in a court of law.

History by faith? I don't necessarily mean religious faith. Which of the "facts" do you accept? What part of the story do you discount as factual? Unfortunately, this is one history-mystery where the solution will always be relinquished not to fact, but to personal opinion.


Conscientious genealogists and historians want to come as close to the truth as possible.


Assuming that we can never be 100% accurate in our reporting of history, the best we can do, then, is to be thoughtful and open-minded in our consideration of all "facts" presented to us. Sometimes, stories or memories do not mesh with each other, and then it is up to us to weigh the choices and determine what is likely the truth.

When I was very young, my grandfather's eyes looked sparkling blue, but my mother tells me they were blue-gray. Will I cling to my own early memory instead of accepting Mom's statement about her own father as truth? Probably not in this case, because her interpretation of the evidence as an adult would likely have been more accurate than mine as a young child.

You cannot even be entirely certain of a primary resource: a personal journal, for example. If I record my thoughts and impressions in a diary to leave them for generations to come, the only thing my descendants can really be certain of is that the writings will represent me, but they are not necessarily historical "truth." What if I choose to discuss a topic in a wishful-thinking mode, but this bent toward fantasy is unclear to the reader? What if I tell a little white lie out of not wanting to offend someone, or worse, spread a rumor about something I am not certain is true? What can a researcher trust, anyway?

How about sensitive issues concerning a person's character? A family member tells that your mutual ancestor could not join the U.S. Army during WWI due to an old injury, so he went to Canada to join up with the Canadian forces and participate in the Allied war effort. Another family member tells you that the ancestor crossed the border to Canada in order to avoid getting drafted by the U.S. Army, but was caught, and made to enlist in the Canadian forces. Whom do you believe? Whom do you want to believe? We must be very careful when considering disparate stories, because choosing the wrong one can ruin someone's credibility... or, your own.

Will we ever be able to check our interpretation of history against the experiences of those who lived it? Many a historian longs for the perverbial time machine in order to visit the past and re-live historical events firsthand. Don't we just wish we could cut to the chase and see what happened for ourselves?


When Professor Hawking talks time travel, I listen.


Stephen Hawking, a brilliant and eminent physicist of our time, admits he would be the first to want to travel back in time and visit Marilyn Monroe in her prime, but he also thinks that this could never be.


According to Hawking, who holds Sir Isaac Newton's chair as the Lucasian Professor of Mathematics at Cambridge University in England, a one-way ticket to the future is entirely possible: all you need is something to get you traveling very, very fast.

Photo: Prof. Stephen Hawking in front of the clock that eats time, designed for Christi College at Cambridge. The clock represents the philosophy that "once a minute is gone you can't get it back." The grasshopper atop the clock is designed to "swallow" time as it passes.

But, he thinks time travel into the past is unlikely is because of the destructive nature of feedback. As sound enters a microphone, if too much sound reaches the speakers and travels back to the microphone, it goes around in a loop and gets louder each time, eventually destroying the sound system if no action is taken. Hawking theorizes that radiation within a wormhole, or other such potential time travel portal, would react much the same as sound. The resulting feedback would soon destroy any portal used in an attempt to go back in time.

I'm sorry if this scientific theory bursts your bubble, but it looks like we may all have to continue piecing history together for ourselves, since it seems history may not be able to speak to us directly.

I hope I have inspired you to see that truth does not necessarily lie within the "facts." Still, what is the answer to this dilemna? I, for one, will continue to view historical data with the proper respect, but also with a critical eye. After careful consideration, I may actually choose to discount collected data and accept parts of history on faith.

To quote Albert Einstein, another eminent scientist who helped us to make sense of time, the universe, and everything: "Imagination is more important than knowledge."

Good advice, Albert.

Duty, Fate, and Beauty

Regina Winje Strand
(1873-1899)


Duty, Fate, and Beauty:
A Norwegian-American Pioneer Legacy Remembered

(a repost from February 2008)

Timeline for Regina Winje Strand:

July 13, 1873
Born in Sparta Township, Chippewa CO., MN

Autumn 1874
Sent to live with paternal grandparents

Oct. 23, 1888
Wrote letter telling of uncle's death

1889/90
Married Thomas E. Strand in Chippewa CO., MN

Jan. 15, 1899
Bore 6th child, Thomas R. Strand

Jan. 22, 1899
Death from "heart disease"



While studying data and details in genealogical research, we often come across statistics regarding pre-modern era populations and epidemic disease. Most of the time we do not have to think much beyond the statistics. In the days of our immigrant ancestors, epidemics and untreated health conditions were an inevitable part of life, and though much feared, were met with courage and acceptance. The early demise of children and young adults was common, and yet it cuts to the heart when one studies the past and finds personal evidence of just such heartbreak and loss. The story behind the short life of Regina Winje Strand touched me in just such a way.

Berthe Regine (Winje) Strand, 1873-1899.
 Photo ca. 1895, Chippewa County, Minnesota

"Regina" Winje was born during the heat of a plague-filled summer on July 12, 1873, on the prairie in Sparta Township, Chippewa County, Minnesota. The surrounding land had been claimed by the first homesteaders only a few years before, in 1868. She was the firstborn child of my great great grandmother, Thibertine (Johnson) and her second husband, Eric Larsen Winje, both immigrants from Norway. The summer of 1873 brought one of many severe locust infestations in the southwestern plains of Minnesota, and that year, it followed upon the heels of a devastating January blizzard. After catastrophic weather and other natural events, times were hard for local homesteaders and farmers, including Regina's family. Many homesteaders had to take out loans in order to survive, selling any extra cattle or livestock that they owned.


When Regina was about a year old, her brother Louis, was born, and Regina was sent to stay with her paternal grandparents in Sparta Township, Lars and Ragnild Winje. Perhaps the arrangement was never meant to be permanent, but in the end, it was, and the reason can only be surmised. While caring for her lovely little granddaughter, Ragnild Winje may have found a longtime need fulfilled in such a way that she found it difficult to return the child. Ragnild had given birth to two sons, but no daughters. In Norway, children were often placed where it was deemed most practical, so it was likely that Eric and Thibertine saw the gift of their daughter as a way to ensure company and help for her grandparents during their elder years. Fortunately, Sparta Township, where Lars and Ragnild Winje had their homestead, was only a few miles from Granite Falls Township, where Regina's parents lived. All family members saw each other frequently, and even attended the same Lutheran Church for several years, in spite of the alternate living arrangements for Regina.

Regina Winje, ca. 1883.

The earliest known photograph of Regina, taken in about 1883, shows a reserved young girl with a slightly sad, Mona-Lisa style loveliness and mystique. In spite of her youth, she seems to possess an inner acceptance of what life holds in store, a resignation almost. Wearing homespun clothing, there is unusual grace for a child of her age revealed in the hand she poses on the photography studio's velvet chaise.

At the age of 16, Regina revealed maturity of an adult level in a letter she wrote to a longtime friend of her father and her uncle, Ingebrigt Winje (translated from Norwegian). It is young Regina who must write for her grandparents and inform the family friend of her uncle's death:

          Mr. Doran Wessell

Good Friend,

I must now send you some lines as an answer to your letter to Ingebret Winje, since he can not.

Your childhood friend is dead! He died the 26th of May 1888. He was sick for 9 weeks this winter from arthritis but then he got a little better again, so much so that he could work, but then he became again lame in his right foot and had to in the end, be in bed and was so frightfully sick for 2 weeks that he lost his understanding right up until the last hour, his last hour he was however calm.

Here there were many people who followed him to the grave. If you come to Minnesota, then you must come to us. You shall be heartily welcome. We wish to get to talk with you, then you will have gotten to hear more about your friend that you thought you soon should get to see again, but it doesn’t always go as one imagines.

You are now most heartily greeted from Lars and his wife. I should write this letter for my grandfather and you must excuse me if it is bad, but it is so much for you to know that your friend is dead. I am the oldest daughter of Erik but I am living with my grandparents and I have been here since I was 1 year and have been raised together with Ingebret and no wonder that I have sorrow for he was always friendly and good toward me. I have also this summer lost 2 of my youngest sisters so that the sorrow becomes even greater. If you want to come here then you must get a ticket to Myers Station, Chippewa Co., Minnesota.

We live not so far from there. I must now end my poor writing with a greeting to you.

Regina E. [Eriksdatter] Winje [1]

The "youngest sisters" mentioned by Regina were Hattie Christine and Annie Jorgene, who died from diphtheria within days of their uncle, Ingebrigt Winje. Hattie was 5 years old, and Annie was just 2, when their deaths occurred. The young girls were living with Regina's parents in Duluth at the time, where Eric L. Winje worked first as an attorney, and later as a municipal court judge.

Within several months after the letter was written, Regina married Thomas Einersen Strand, who hailed from Soer Troendelag, Norway, like her father and grandparents. As the wedding photograph reveals, Regina was already expecting her first child by the time the marriage took place, which was not an uncommon occurrence in early Norwegian-American culture, as it had been in rural Norway. The only real shame involved was when a birth occurred without marriage beforehand.



Thomas and Regina Strand, 1889/90

Newlyweds Thomas and Regina Strand set up housekeeping on the homestead in Sparta Township where Regina had been living with her grandparents. Lars Winje, who was ill at that time, added his granddaughter to his will. Regina stood to inherit the Winje homestead when her grandmother, Ragnild, no longer needed it. Shortly after Thomas and Regina were married, Lars Winje died, and Thomas Strand began renting the land from his mother-in-law in order to farm and support his family.

Thomas and Regina had six children together, all of them sons, and all but one survived birth. Regina was only 25 years old when she bore their last child, on January 15, 1899. Thomas was most certainly proud of his growing family, and although it is doubtful he ever said it aloud, he must have felt that he had the most beautiful and graceful wife on the Chippewa prairie. Now, he also had five strapping sons to carry on his legacy: Elmer, Arthur, Theodore, Lambert, and the newborn, Thomas Raymond.[2]

But, as Regina so aptly states in her letter to Doran Wessell: ". . . it doesn't always go as one imagines." A week after giving birth, on January 22, Regina slipped into unconsciousness and died. Her husband, sons, and elderly grandmother were left in a state of shock. [3]

Regina's death certificate indicates “heart disease” as the cause of death, but her family understood the direct cause to be either a heart attack or a blood clot. It is likely that, as a child, she contracted a light case of diphtheria when her uncle suffered from it and died. Survivors of diphtheria often developed a weakened heart from the ravages of the disease, and after six pregnancies in rapid succession, Regina's physical reserves were severely depleted. Even after the immediate danger of an epidemic had passed, it was never certain what the lingering effects would be.

Regina was laid to rest at Saron Lutheran Cemetery, near the old Winje farm. Her headstone has an image of two hands clasping, along with the following engraving in Norwegian: [4]

Farvel [Farewell]
Berthine R. Strand
Dode [Died] Jan 22, 1899
Alder 25 Jahr, 6 M, 10 D [Aged 25 years, 6 months, and 10 days]



Saron Lutheran Church, Chippewa County, Minnesota, ca. 1915.  Minnesota Historical Society, Photographs Collection.  Location no. MC4.5 p11.  Negative no. 58207.  Photographer:  Louis Enstrom (1873-1947).

There were more than a few decisions for the family to make after Regina's sudden loss. Like most women, Regina, as wife, mother, and granddaughter, had been the glue holding the family together throughout the daily routines. Ragnild Winje, advancing in age, could not possibly take care of five energetic young boys alone, while her son-in-law, Thomas Strand, kept to the fields each day in order to continue farming and maintain their livelihood. As a strangely prophetic turnabout, the newborn, Thomas Raymond, was sent to live with his maternal grandparents, Eric and Thibertine Winje. It was they who had given the baby's mother, Regina, to her grandparents, Lars and Ragnild Winje, nearly 25 years earlier.





The Strand family on the old Winje farm in Sparta Township, Chippewa County, soon after Regina Strand’s death in 1899. An album lays opened on the table with a photo of a baby displayed (possibly the infant, Thomas Raymond Strand). Left to right: the three eldest Strand boys (Arthur, Elmer, Theodore), Thomas Strand (seated), Matilda (Tilda) Nelson, Ragnild Winje (seated), Lambert Strand, and two unidentified men- the one on the far right holding a Jack Russell terrier (possibly her brother, Edward Winje?).

Thomas Strand's duty to his family necessitated finding a housekeeper as quickly as possible. In local-born Matilda Nelson, he found a healthy young woman with the stamina necessary to chase four young boys about the farm, as well as take on most of the household duties that had previously been relegated to Regina. After several years of building a bond through daily routines together, Thomas and "Tilda" were married in 1902, and promptly began a family of their own, which eventually included eight children: Alvin, Stella, Noel, Gearda, Olaf, Gerhardt, Maude, and Margaret. Strand eventually became one of the best-known farmers in Sparta Township. He purchased the homestead outright from his mother-in-law, Ragnild Winje, and continued to care for her until she passed away. [5]

In looking over the brief details known about Regina's life, she was obviously a dutiful daughter who did her best to live up to her parents and grandparents expectations. She may have found a purpose and direction of her own by marrying young, hopefully finding love in addition, though she continued to serve her family above all else. Regina's beauty could have instead led her toward vanity and unrealistic expectations, but it is doubtful she ever considered taking advantage of her gift.

When fate called Regina in the prime of her young adulthood, she left a legacy of personal sacrifice and acceptance that continued to strengthen her husband and sons, as well as grandchildren, who faced the future without her help and guidance. Regina's story is similar to the lives of many American pioneer women who suffered day to day hardships without complaint, hoping only for increased opportunity and better lives for their children and descendants.



Photographs (except the image of Saron Lutheran Church) are from the Johnson and Winje family collections. All rights reserved.

[1] Letter, Regina Winje, Wegdahl, Chippewa County, Minnesota, to Doran Wessel, Seattle, WA, Oct. 23, 1888; In Regina's signature, the middle initial "E." stands for "Eriksdatter," her patronymic name; note the typically Norwegian self-depreciation in the last line: "I must now end my poor writing with a greeting to you."
[2] A sixth child died in childbirth: obituary for Regina (Mrs. Thos. Strand), Montevideo Leader, ? January 1899 (copy in the possession of the author).
[3] Death certificate for Berthe Regine Strand, January 22, 1899, Sparta Township, Chippewa County, Minnesota.
[4] Information from Regina Winje Strand's headstone acquired by the author's visit to Saron Lutheran Cemetery, Chippewa County, Minnesota, September 2002.
[5] A biography of Thomas E. Strand is included in: L. R. Moyer and O.G. Dale, joint editors. History of Chippewa and Lac qui Parle Counties, Minnesota. Indianapolis, Indiana: B.F. Bown & Company, Inc., 1916. Vol. II, pp.127-128.

Give Me a House on the Prairie

In 1886, at age 25, my great grandfather Ole Martin Johnson married and brought his 17-year-old bride, Malla, to live on the farm his parents had handed down to him. Located in Section 18 of Granite Falls Township 116-N, Chippewa County, Minnesota, the homestead was begun by Ole's parents, Baard and Thibertine Johnson in 1868. It bordered tree-lined Hawk Creek, a tributary of the Minnesota River.

The Johnsons, along with their six-year-old son, Ole, and four-year-old daughter, Ellen Julie (Julia), arrived in America in 1866 from Nord-Troendelag, Norway. They first stayed in Goodhue County, Minnesota for a couple of years before deciding to settle on newly available land along the Minnesota River to the west. In order to "prove up" his homestead, Baard Johnson built a two-room cabin on the property in Norwegian cotter style, with a decorative Scandinavian gable over the small entryway. I believe it is the same cabin that still stands on the property today, though the land has not been owned by family members since about 1901.

After Baard Johnson died in 1872, his widow, Bertina, remarried and began another family. It was soon after this marriage that a new and larger farmhouse was built on the property, but it was located farther from the creek and closer to the road. When Bertina and her second family moved to Duluth in eastern Minnesota so that her husband could pursue a career as an attorney, she offered the homestead to Ole, her eldest son, as his rightful inheritance.

The farmhouse Ole Johnson inherited, and probably helped build, had an L-shaped floor plan commonly used on the Midwestern prairie at that time. Downstairs was a kitchen with an entrance off a back porch, a parlor with tall windows to let in as much light as possible, a front porch, and a bedroom that drew some warmth from the kitchen. The upstairs consisted of two unheated bedrooms that could get quite chilly in winter. Ole Johnson's mother, Bertina, must have brought some of her children into the world in that back bedroom behind the kitchen, as would his wife, Malla (Larson), probably attended by her sister-in-lay, Julia (Johnson) Larson.

House on the Johnson farm in 1941.  Granite Falls Township, Chippewa County,
 Minnesota. (Photographer:  Doris Johnson)

The kitchen of any 19th century farmhouse was the hub from which family members and others constantly came and went between endless rounds of chores. Children and hired help lingered at the farm table as long as they dared, drawn by the comfort of the trusty black stove and compelling aromas of freshly baked bread, warm lefse and butter, or a simmering venison stew. At most hours of the day, Malla Johnson could be found there, busy with cooking and canning, washing, knitting and darning, churning, chatting, and preparing baths, as well as nurturing, while her husband, Ole, took care of the farm and farm buildings.

The photograph above was taken by my mother while she still lived in Minnesota. During the summer of 1941, a group of relatives went to visit the old homestead property. Years later, the old house was torn down because it was in a state of disrepair and had begun to be used as a "party house" by local youth.

I like to dream about owning one of the houses my great grandfather built, either this one, or the one he built some 35 years later, near the village of Leonard in Clearwater County, Minnesota. It is sad that more houses of this character and age have not been preserved for the sake of history.

I doubt that future generations will ever look at a house I've lived in and think quite the same nostalgic thoughts, for there was something very special about the first immigrant generations in America. Their homes were simple and functional, and their way of life, well, there was nothing cushy about it. My farming ancestors sweated for each gain and every meal on the table. Early American pioneers experienced a connection to land and community that we do not often find in modern times. They had an intense appreciation of the acreage they acquired to plow, sew, and reap, and to form as one willed. After the limited availability and nearly impossible prospects of land ownership in Norway, new life and opportunity in America was a dream come true for my great great grandparents.

If I were given a time machine, the first place I would want to visit would be the 1870s homestead on the southwest Minnesota prairie, where this house was built. Hand me an apron, tie back my hair, and sink me up to my elbows in flour on the rough hewn table by the cast iron stove. I'll try not to mind too much when my arms become solidly black and blue from chicken pecks while collecting eggs, just like Malla. In the spirit of my ancestors, I would carry out my days uncomplaining, knowing that my work and sacrifice would bring a universe of opportunities for my children, and their children. And, so it has. How lucky we are that we no longer have to work so hard in order to live, and yet, how we yearn for the straightforward, sincere toil of our ancestors, and their infinite hope.

Faces from the Past

A beautiful child is timeless...















Laura Basgaard (1884-1982)
The seventh of nine children, Laura was born in Polk County, Minnesota to Norwegian immigrants Ole S. Basgaard and Severine (Larson). Her mother, Severine Theresa, was the eldest sibling of my great grandmother, Malla (Larson) Johnson. As an adult, Laura became the wife of Albert C. Corliss, a street car conductor in Fargo, North Dakota.
_________________________

Sources:

Laura Corliss. Social Security Death Index: 502-26-3501; Issue State: North Dakota;Issue Date: Before 1951.

Warren UpHam. Compendium of history and biography of Polk County, Minnesota [Minneapolis: W.H. Bingham & Co.], 1916, p.340.

Image: Emma, Hilda, and Laura Basgaard. Portion of a cabinet card, ca. early 1890s.Photograph is part of a Victorian-era photograph album privately held by the family of Ole M. and Malla Johnson of Leonard, Clearwater County, Minnesota.

Passport Applications: Eyes Into the Past

I paid another visit to Ancestry.com recently to "re-search" some individuals, and ended up striking gold. Since the last time I went hunting there, an entry had been made for Eric L. Winje under the "U.S. Passport Applications, 1795-1925" category. The family history has already been written and has gone to press, but it is never too late to satisfy one's curiosity, plus, the belated information can always be saved for another project... or, just for a rainy day.

Eric Larsen Winje was my great great grandmother's (Thibertine "Bertina" Johnson Winje's) second husband; the couple had eight children together between 1872-1885. It was shortly after this portrait sitting that Winje made a trip back to Norway to visit his home town of Vinjeoera in Hemne.

The Eric L. Winje family in Duluth, Minnesota, 1888. Left to right: Edward (in front), Louis, Eric, Regina, Emma, and Bertina (Eric's wife). This photograph was likely taken just after the deaths of the two youngest children, Hattie and Annie. Lena, another child, is not present in the family portrait and may have been ill at the time.

Eric and Bertina Winje had lost an infant daughter (Emma M.) to diphtheria on the Chippewa prairie in 1878, followed by their two youngest and red-headed daughters, Hattie Christine and Annie Jorgene, who also succumbed to the ravages of the disease during the spring of 1888. In 1893, their eldest son, Louis Peter, was drowned during a shipwreck in Duluth Harbor to which, tragically, his father was a witness. Within a couple of years after his son's death, Eric Winje decided that he needed a vacation far and away from the familiar cityscape of Duluth, Minnesota, where he worked as an attorney. Perhaps a visit to the old country was just what he needed to overcome some of his grief and put a sense of balance back into his life again.

Initially, I did not know exactly when Eric Winje made the trip back to Norway, and if his wife or any of the children accompanied him. There was mention of the trip made by Markus Wessel in an article about Winje, his parents and brother, and their emigration to the United States from Vinjeoera, Soer-Troendelag: "En Utvandrerfamilie fra VinjeØra i 1869." I found the answers to these questions, and more, within the passport application. According to the document, which was submitted on April 10, 1885, Winje declined to include his wife or any of his children in the application (this is the part that is scratched out following his name, near the top of the document).


Early passport applications contain a wealth of information, including birth statistics, date of emigration, name of sailing vessel, length of residence within the U.S., and date of naturalization, as well as the occupation, address, and signature of the individual.

From the document, I am able to surmise that Winje made his visit back to Hemne, Soer Troendelag, Norway during the summer of 1895, but I can also visualize him more clearly as a 44 year-old man of 5'11" in height, with brown hair, an "ordinary" nose, gray eyes, and a retreating forehead--also possessing a smallish mouth he preferred to keep covered by a full beard, and a mostly light complexion that was colored by ruddy or flushed cheeks.

Eric L. Winje: I'm glad to know you better, and it is all because you decided to take that vacation in Norway, to see old friends and recuperate from difficult trials in the new world. I hope it helped...

Wordless Wednesday

Hannah Parr

An early Norwegian emigrant ship

Sorry, I just can't do this one completely wordless...

The Hannah Parr is the ship that my Great Great Grandfather, Gulbran Olsen Berge, sailed on from Chrisitiania (Oslo), Norway to Quebec in North America during the spring of 1868. It is perhaps the most documented of these early sailing voyages because of a severe storm encountered at sea, after which the ship and all aboard, some 400 emigrants, were waylaid in Limerick, Ireland for lengthy repairs. It's quite a story!

See a gallery of Hannah Parr 1868 voyage images, have a look at my ancestor's sea voyage diary and others, or read the background essay about the voyage at Norway Heritage.com--one of the best websites for Norwegian genealogical research.

The Dirty Thirties: No Easy Street, Part III

A Hand Up, Not a Hand-Out

Ernest Johnson, my grandfather, was unable to eek out a living in the 1930s solely by raising crops on his small farm in rural Leonard, Minnesota. One of many places he out-sourced his physical labor was at the Hoover Dam construction site on the Arizona/Nevada border, about 35 miles southeast of Las Vegas. My mother does not remember exactly how long her father was away from home while working at the site, but it seemed a long time to a girl in her early teens. In any case, the employment probably extended for a period of six months up to a year, somewhere between 1931-1935.

Grampa was not a large man, perhaps standing about 5'5" or so, but like others of his generation and before, he could work extremely hard. I still have one of the shirts that he was fond of wearing: a sturdy button-down wool flannel in a red and gray plaid. When he outgrew it by a few spare pounds in his elder years, he gave it to my mother. She wore it outside while gardening for quite awhile after that and then passed it down to me. I am only 5'1" but I have never really been able to wear that shirt, in a man's small size. It rests, lovingly folded, among other treasured items in my cedar chest.

I remember sitting on Grampa's lap as a child, but being very young, I had no sense of how he compared to others back then. He was just "Grampa"--my only grandfather--with an interesting accent and a crinkly smile. He sometimes smelled of pipe tobacco or bacon, and I never knew him to go anywhere without a hat or cap. I always understood that underneath that shy smile and spare, straight talk there was an unshakeable fortitude... a fierceness even, that I'll liken to a pioneer spirit. I felt safe whenever he was near. Grampa loved a good laugh, but he had no tolerance for utter foolishness. I was more than okay with that since since I was a rather subdued child to begin with, but I really only wanted to please him, or any of my elders, for that matter.

I wish I knew something specific about the work my grandfather did on Hoover Dam, which was renamed Boulder Dam in May 1933. The family just always knew that Grampa spent a fair amount of time working on "that dam with the two names." To be certain, it was some variety of sweaty, back-breaking labor under the heat of the desert sun: there was no escaping it in one of the hottest and dryest regions of the United States.



A vintage postcard.



Work on Boulder City began in December 1930. The original plan called for completion of the town before work on the dam began, but the construction schedule for the dam was accelerated, and the town was not ready when the first dam workers arrived at the site in early 1931. During the first summer of construction, workers were housed in temporary camps while work on the town progressed... [1]

It is likely that Ernest Johnson arrived in Boulder City by train and lived in a company dormitory. Reporting to work each day, he had to stop at security check point and present an employee card. All those entering the work site were expected to obey the posted regulations, which included not bringing "intoxicating liquors, narcotics, explosives, or firearms..." onto the site. Many employees rode in large groups on the large motor lorry ("Big Bertha"). [2]

The road from Boulder City to the canyon rim, about seven miles, was constructed for the Government by the General Construction Company. Designed to transport men and equipment to and from the dam site, these roads later formed a link in the main highway between Las Vegas and Kingman, Arizona. [3]

The U. S. Bureau of Reclamation posted signs along the trecherous canyon rim:

Men Are Working--

Please Refrain From Rolling or Throwing Rocks [4]

To accommodate the workers and their families at Boulder City, Six Companies constructed housing for both single and married employees, a fully stocked department store, a post-office, laundry, recreation hall, school, and hospital. Single employees at Boulder City were housed in eight 171-man dormitories, and one 53-man dormitory. The bunkhouses contained water coolers, toilets, and one shower for every 13 men. For $1.60 per day, workers received a private room with a bed, mattress, pillow, bedding, a chair, meals, and transportation to and from the construction site. In addition to the dormitories at Boulder City, Six Companies constructed six dormitories and a 400 man mess hall at Cape Horn, a bend in the river downstream from the dam site. [5]

The concrete arch-gravity Hoover/Boulder Dam was the world's largest electric-power generating station and largest concrete structure when it was completed in 1935. For images of the construction, visit the Bureau of Reclamation Hoover Dam website.

When Ernest Johnson ended his stretch of employment at the site, he remembered his daughters before heading back home to Minnesota with his earnings. At a local store, perhaps in Las Vegas, he purchased a purse and a pearl necklace for each of them. These were very special presents for the girls, particularly during the Depression era, although they never received their necklaces. Someone stole the pearls from among Ernest's belongings before he left the dormitory. Strangely enough, the purses were left behind--unlawful greed mixed with a twinge of guilt on the part of the thief? Or, perhaps the purses were simply not as portable as the jewelry. Grampa, being a practical man, had allowed a certain amount of money for presents, and when the necklaces were gone... well, they were gone. The thief was lucky to have gotten away undetected, because Grampa could be hot-tempered if the need arose, and he was not afraid to defend himself. Although my mother and aunt were disappointed over the loss of the necklaces, they did appreciate their father's thoughtfulness, and they treasured their purses all the more. My mother still has hers to this day: a hand-carved leather shoulder bag with a metal clasp.

While back on his farm in Leonard, Minnesota, Ernest Johnson used some of his WPA wages to buy new seed, after which he spent a few years successfully raising alfalfa, flax and clover to sell for feed. He found it increasingly difficult to farm due to a physical incapacity, however. Years before, a horse had stepped on his ankle, and arthritis had slowly set in.




Ernest Johnson with his dog, Pee Wee, near Leonard, Minnesota in 1941.  The photo was taken
 a few years before he sold his farm and moved to Richmond, California.



 

In preparation for his retirement years, Ernest Johnson sold his farm at age 56 and moved to Richmond, California along the Pacific coast. He went to work as a custodian for the Ford Motor Company in 1945, first living in a boarding house due to a housing shortage, and then renting a room atop a water tower. Other family members, his two daughters included, had already made the move out west from Minnesota, since California was the land of new opportunity to midwesterners after the heavy industrialization experienced during World War II.

As with many others during the Depression era, the WPA wages from the Hoover/Boulder Dam reconstruction project and others gave my grandfather the means to support himself until he was ready to make the transition from farming to a different way of life. It was not a hand-out, but a "hand up." Thus, those who were willing to work hard and carefully use whatever wages could be earned, were able to turn the "Dirty Thirties" to their advantage, in spite of difficult times, as did my grandfather.



[1, 3, 5] The Boulder Canyon Project: Hoover Dam, by Wm. Joe Simonds
[2, 4] The Boulder Canyon Project, AKA Hoover Dam

The Dirty Thirties: No Easy Street, Part II

How You Gonna Keep 'Em Down on the Farm?

My grandfather's family was, almost unamiously, stubborn and proud: not so proud that they would not help one another, but proud enough that they would never have accepted outright charity. When Franklin Roosevelt's legislation resulted in the Social Security Administration and unemployment insurance began in 1935, it would have been a "foreign" idea to my Norwegian-American relations. I'm sure they eventually got used to the idea, but if there was a way to survive, unemployed, and not burden anyone but close family, they would have certainly have preferred that to being "on the dole."[1]

President Franklin Roosevelt's Works Progress Administration (renamed the Work Projects Administration in 1939) officially began with the passage of the Emergency Relief Appropriation Act of 1935. It served as a continuation of relief programs similar to the Reconstruction Finance Corporation (RFC) started in 1932 by Herbert Hoover and the U.S. Congress. Both programs were meant to provide the means for many out-of-work individuals to bring home a wage and put food on the table, though the WPA--part of FDR's New Deal--would be much more succesful.

Even before the RFC or WPA, a large scale project came into being in the midwest that provided over 20,000 with temporary work at the beginning of the Depression era. My grandfather, Ernest Johnson, was one of the lucky hopefuls who were not turned away for the building of the Bagnell Dam in central Missouri. The trip out from Minnesota was neither too far nor too ardous when the promise of months of wages were at stake during the 1930s.

I do not know exactly how long Grampa worked at the site, or even what type of work he did, but the construction of Bagnell Dam was begun during the later half of 1929 and completed in 1931. The following images are from 1931 postcards that my grandfather brought home to Leonard, Minnesota to give to my mother and aunt as keepsakes.

Bagnell Dam, Missouri, in 1931 (Postcard #1)

Bagnell Dam, Missouri, 1931 (Postcard #2)

Records show more than 20,000 people worked on the project at one time or another. Although there were some steam shovels and other powered equipment, most labor was done by hand. Pay rates for construction workers were as low as 35 cents an hour. But during the Depression era, when a person could be hired for farm work for 50 cents a day, workers were glad to make the wage.
The project was truly massive. Nearly 60,000 acres of land had to be acquired, and about 30,000 acres cleared of trees and brush. One million cubic yards of earth and rock had to be moved. Enough concrete was poured to build an 18-foot-wide highway from St. Louis to Topeka, Kansas. Enough carloads of material were used in the dam to fill a freight train stretching from St. Louis to Tulsa, Oklahoma. [2]

For more information and photographs, see also the interactive online book, The History of Bagnell Dam, at the Lake of the Ozarks website.

I wish I had specific stories about the time my grandfather spent at the Bagnell Dam, but these personal memories and observations are lost to history. I am sure he told a few tales to his brothers and nephews, but they did not filter down to my mother and aunt--his own daughters. Perhaps if they had been sons instead, Ernest would have shared a few yarns with them, if only to see their eyes open wide in fear or amazement. But, since the Johnson girls did not live in the same house as their father, and they were not of the same gender, my mother and aunt missed out on a lot of the tales of male bravado. Girls were apparently meant to be protected and be useful in earning their keep. Although Ernest Johnson brought his daughters chocolate, treats, small gifts, and even pets upon occasion, he apparently did not spend a lot of time talking to them about his past. What a pity!
If my grandfather were alive today, I would not let him get away from the table without telling me a story or two. When I knew him, I was too young to be assertive (he died when I was 16), and I did not even know what to ask at the time. You know how they say that youth is wasted on the young? I'm afraid so, especially when it comes to genealogy.
In the late 1930s, Ernest Johnson again left his farm in rural Clearwater County, Minnesota, to work on the construction of the Hoover (Boulder) Dam near Las Vegas, Nevada--a bona fide WPA project.

To be continued in Part III


[1] "On the dole": a giving of food, money, or clothing to the needy; a grant of government funds to the unemployed.
[2] History of Bagnell Dam

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...