Just Me = Not Them

Aunt Lulu Graves... there aren't too many of us left who remember her.  She was my great-grandmother's spinster sister, and a woman of idiosyncrasies.  She led a colorful life, and not necessarily in a good way.  At one time in my early life I recall that she used to sell greeting cards as a side hustle - the kind where you order them pre-printed with your name on them - I'm sure quite a concept back in the 1960's.  I remember them because every Christmas we all got the outdated proof samples in place of a regular Christmas card.  "Merry Christmas from Tom and Gertrude Forrester."  Who??  Apparently she was not a customer herself, as we never saw one with her actual name on it.

A Pilgrim Story

Tracing my family history led me back four centuries to a pilgrim named Edward Bangs, the man said to anchor every Bangs family line in America.  Young Edward was born in 1592 in Panfield, England. He was a shipwright by trade and apparently had some education as he had signed his name on several documents over the years.

What exactly made Edward want to pull up stakes, get on a cramped wooden boat and sail over the Atlantic ocean to a completely foreign place is beyond me.  A sense of adventure? Tired of the lack of religious freedom in England?  We’ll probably never know but he tried three times to do it so we can say with some certainty that he really wanted to be here.

First, a quick and oversimplified explanation of the situation. The pilgrims, before leaving England, had an arrangement with investors who put up the capital for the soon-to-be-formed colony. The pilgrims, or “planters” as they were called, were to establish a settlement (Plymouth Colony) and build it up for seven years and at the end of that time the assets would be divided between colonists and investors.

Under the agreement, three ships brought these “planters”: the Mayflower in 1620, the Fortune in 1621 and the Anne in 1623.  No other ships brought passengers under this agreement for the next seven years.  It was the third ship, the Anne, that arrived in July 1623 with 32 year old Edward Bangs aboard.  Legend has it that in England, shipwright Bangs had been called upon to get the ship seaworthy for her voyage across the Atlantic, and decided to join them.

 Aboard the second ship was the Robert Hicks family.  Hicks had been a successful fellmonger (hide and wool merchant) in England.  Edward married his daughter, Lydia, in 1633 and they had a son, John, shortly after which Lydia passed away.  In 1635, Edward married Rebecca Hobart, whose widowed father came to the New World just two years prior with Rebecca and her brother and sister.  Edward and Rebecca went on to have nine children.

Edward served on numerous juries, and oftentimes acted as an overseer of others.  His name appears over and over in the Plymouth colony records in a number of different capacities. He served on the staff of Gov. Bradford with Captain Myles Standish, Thomas Prence, Mr. Howland, John Alden, Stephen Hopkins, William Collier, Manaseh Kempton, Joshua Pratt and Stephen Tracy.

When the seven years were up, the colony was divided between the men. It was the original settlers, including Robert Hicks and Edward Bangs, that became owners of the Plymouth Colony, in common.  However, there wasn’t enough land to divide. England granted them more land, and new settlements were made and new settlers came in.  There was a lot of fussing about rights, who paid what, etc.  Finally in 1640 an agreement was reached and the Colony was to reimburse settlers who had to pay out their own money to acquire land. Under this agreement the original settlers were to select 2-3 tracts of land that they wanted in specific areas and no one else could claim that land.  What was left over belonged to the Colony and the Colony Court would decide on the disposition of it. 

There was only one problem (well, two if you were Edward Bangs.) (But more on that later) First, the land was not exactly uninhabited.  Indians lived there.  Pilgrims were quick to concede that the Indians were the rightful owners of the land and that they could not just take it from them. It was concurred that they’d need to purchase the land in order to get rightful title.  These colonists were the only ones with a legal right to purchase the land, and there might have been no problem had they done so in a prompt manner.  But since they’d already established homes within Plymouth Colony, there didn’t seem to be any hurry.  The wording of the agreement said that the right to purchase the land was theirs and their descendants’ “for all time.”  And the ones who did promptly purchase the land weren't in a big hurry to occupy it. 

As more and more settlers came to the area, the interest in this “reserved” land was greatly increased. The chief of the Indians in this area was Mattaquason and the new settlers began purchasing this reserve land from him. Meanwhile, this land had been promised to the colonists in the earlier agreement; some had put off purchasing for years because they had been granted the rights “for all time.”  Others had purchased right away but not settled on it.  At any rate, new settlers were buying it.

Unfortunately for Edward Bangs, his land was in this reserve.  And just when you think things couldn’t get any more complicated, enter William Nickerson, another settler from England.  Nickerson was not a colonist but came over independently with his wife, minor children, and adult children and their families, desiring to found a new, private settlement for themselves.   They left England aboard the ship John and Dorothy in 1637.  He was tired of the oppression of the King of England. 

Great, but the only problem was he bought a lot of reserved land from Chief Mattaquason. And some of the land he bought had already been purchased by Edward Bangs.

And so began years and years of court hearings, trials, fines, and, due to William Nickerson’s extreme belligerence and disdain for the King's law, time spent in the stockade and jail.  Edward Bangs was found to be the wronged party, but his land was already settled by others so the Court awarded him land elsewhere and he eventually settled in Nauset, which was later renamed Eastham, Massachusetts. 

I mentioned before that if you were Edward Bangs, you had two problems. And the second problem? Edward’s granddaughter, Mary Bangs, married William Nickerson’s grandson Thomas Nickerson. That would have made for some interesting family reunions.

In the end, Edward Bangs lived a good and profitable life filled with community service in Eastham, as he had in Plymouth Colony.  And William Nickerson spent most of his life fighting for the land he believed was rightly his, and also a life filled with civic duty.  Edward died in 1678, at the age of 86 and William died about 1690 at about age 84 and is buried on the land he fought so hard for.

 

**Note: This is oversimplified and severely edited because no one wants to be here reading this into next week. :) Plus, all the "goings on" were complicated.  All images used were generated by CoPilot and are copyright-free.

Tom Graves, Master Carpenter

 

Tom Graves could make just about anything.  In his home near Princeville, Illinois and later in eastern South Dakota he built numerous homes with his son Delbert.  In Esmond, South Dakota he and Delbert built a large, two-story brick building known as “The Big Store” with a double store front on the main floor and the Graves Dance Hall located on the second story.  He built many pieces of furniture for his family members, including the rocking chair I rocked his great-great-great-great granddaughters in.  But when he wasn’t busy building these items, he liked to whittle and carve. 

Where and when Tom picked up this hobby, I don’t know, yet I can picture him sitting on his back step all alone, as the sun went down at the end of his work day, whittling on a piece of wood.  But the fascinating thing about his carvings is that he worked with any material he could get, not just wood.  He created a number of small items from pipestone, which is also known as catlinite.  This material is a soft sedimentary rock best known for being used by Native American tribes for creating ceremonial pipes, and is an attractive brown/red in color.  The best known deposit of this is in the Pipestone Quarry district in Minnesota. 

Though born in Ohio, Tom grew up just outside of Princeville in Peoria county, Illinois near the Stark county line.  He married a local girl, Nettie Belle Lair, daughter of Lawson and Margaret Lair.  They lived on an 80 acre farm given to him by his father, William Graves.  He also lived in Stark county for a few years before moving to Esmond, South Dakota, and then to nearby Carthage, South Dakota where he lived out the remainder of his life. 

 

Two of his pipestone carvings are dated August 30, 1901, when he and his family went to Pipestone, Minnesota to thresh, hence his ample supply of material.  He made a number of carved pieces during his stay there.

The family may have returned to Pipestone in the early fall of 1912, when it was rumored that they ran a hotel and restaurant for a year before returning to South Dakota. 

Tom gave up building homes and large structures after his son Delbert died in World War I and focused on building furniture and other smaller pieces.  He was not only a master carpenter and woodworker, but a kind and loving man whose family meant everything to him.  I wonder how many of life's problems he solved while sitting out there steps, watching the sun go down.

The Truth About Gabriel Monsen: Tragedy aboard the "Italia"

Gabriel Monsen - a 30 year old Norwegian fisherman, kissed his wife and children goodbye one morning, took his fishing boat out off the coast of Norway, and never returned.  The year was 1890.  It was said that he ran into an unexpected storm and drowned.  That was the "truth" that we all knew for 135 years.

Fast forward 105 years, when my grandmother (his granddaughter) passed away.  My grandfather, knowing I was interested in family history, gave me a box of things she'd saved, hoping I might find "something interesting" in it.  What I found was a small brown wallet that had belonged to Gabriel's wife, Alfhilde.  It contained some photos, a financial register, and a two-page letter handwritten in Norwegian with an official looking stamp at the end. Since I did not read Norwegian and didn't know anyone who did, I folded it back up and put it back in her wallet.

Alfhilde Monsen and daughter, ca 1885

Fast Forward 30 more years to the present. While going through a box of things, I found Alfhilde's wallet.  I thought I remembered everything in it but decided to take another look anyway.   I found the folded handwritten letter again and decided to see if I could find out what it was about.  The only thing I could tell was that the official stamp was from a Consulate, and the year was 1890 - the same year Gabriel disappeared. Turns out this was an official document from the Royal Swedish and Norwegian Consulate in New York, and Alfhilde had kept this with her till her dying day.

What follows is the real story of Gabriel Monsen, at least the last day of his earthly life.

Turns out Gabriel was not a fisherman at all.  He was a sailor.  And he didn't have a small fishing boat, he was aboard the "Italia", powered by a steam engine.  His job was "fyrbøder" - or stoker - and his duties were to stoke the fire to keep the steam engine running.  The "Italia" had pulled into port at Bergen in early April 1890 and was to take a load of timber to the Bahamas.  On the evening of April 11, as the ship approached Watling Island (now San Salvador Island) near its final destination, a fire sparked in the cargo area.  The timber quickly burned despite the efforts of the crew to get the situation under control, and when it was determined that it was not possible to save the vessel nor the cargo, the decision was made to abandon ship and launch the lifeboats. Under the command of the 2nd mate, Gabriel and three other men jumped into a lifeboat which then entered the water.  As they were about to start rowing away a large wave came and capsized the small vessel.  The four men suddenly found themselves thrust into the cold, turbulent water.  The remaining crew quickly entered the second lifeboat and immediately threw out lifebuoys to the drowning sailors.  Every one of the 21 people on board survived the ordeal, with the exception of Gabriel Monsen. The last anyone saw of him he was being cast about by the raging, unrelenting waters of the Atlantic with no one able to help him. 

It took 135 years, but now we know the truth.  

*****

Photo of Alfhilde Monsen and daughter from personal collection

Other images created with Google Gemini for illustration purposes only

The Map

 

Above: an ordinary map of Europe.  Except it wasn't so ordinary to Jennie Kluthe, whose son, Ed, was serving in World War II somewhere in Europe and she had no idea where.  She listened to the radio every day and whenever a town, city or village was mentioned as the location of any sort of war activity, she would find that area on the map and put a pin in it.

Below: The same map, after the war, when held up to the light.

Roots of Resilience

 

Ella Monsen Christensen

I have been documenting the early life of my great-grandmother Gabrielle “Ella” Christensen, a Norwegian immigrant.  Her father, a fisherman, was caught up in a storm off the coast of Norway and never returned home, leaving his wife a young widow with three small children.  One by one, she sent her children to relatives in the United States in hopes of a better life for them.  Ella was the oldest of the children and first to make that trip at the age of 20.  Her mother worked as a “washer woman” to pay her fare.

Ella’s destination was Howard, South Dakota to the home of her paternal aunt, Ingeborg Rye. While I was happy to find so many details about Ella’s life, which was my primary goal, what I found as a backstory was even more interesting.

Aunt Ingeborg immigrated March 1, 1889 as a 35-year-old single woman.  She married a homesteader, Ole Rye, and they settled down on his farm in Miner County, South Dakota.  Eleven months later, she gave birth to their only child, a boy named Ole, and five days after that her husband died.  She was suddenly left as a single immigrant woman with a newborn, and no means of support but a homesteaded farm. So what did she do?  She farmed.  With a baby.  In fact, in 1892, she “proved up” the homestead and her farm was granted to her free and clear.  In 1904 her niece Ella came to the United States to her Aunt Ingeborg and there she not only learned English, but probably a whole lot about digging deep and doing what you need to do to make it in this world.  Eventually Ella moved to nearby Huron, and Aunt Ingeborg and her son continued to farm for at least another 20 years. 

This is what I love about family history.  I want my granddaughters to know that they come from strong roots and that there are some remarkable women in their ancestry. 

Four Dollars and a Dream - The Story of Peter Christensn - Part 6 - The End

  Part 6 of Pete's Story - read Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here, Part 4 here, Part 5 here, Part 6 here.

On New Year’s Day, 1952, life took a major change again. Their daughter Sylvia and her family had come to Gardena for lunch and while Ella was fixing the potatoes she got dizzy, so Sylvia had her lay down for a while. Ella fell asleep and when Sylvia had checked in with her about 4:00 p.m. Ella said her leg had “gone to sleep” and her hand felt funny, so they called the doctor who came right out to the house. He said it was just the flu and she’d be fine in a few days. The neighbor, Gretchen, who was close to Pete and Ella, said she had the same thing happen but her hand kept going to sleep and it lasted for about 24 hours. By this time Ella was feeling better, and feeling encouraged at the flu diagnosis, as she had feared it was a stroke or something else more serious. No one was overly concerned, and the neighbor offered to look in on Ella when Pete was at work the following day. Several days later Ella was still paralyzed but could move her fingers a little. Pete would take care of her first thing in the morning and then Gretchen would come over and get Ella’s breakfast and help her get dressed. Gretchen would come back and get lunch, and Pete was typically home by 3:00 p.m. and take over then. They came to realize that this was not the flu, but a stroke as Ella had feared. They got her a wheelchair and in it she could maneuver around the house a little, and she began improving fairly quickly. She had regained use of her right arm except for her fingers. She could hold things but was unable to write, and still unable to walk. Gretchen made her do as much as she could for herself to keep her muscles exercised, and Ella took a great deal of pride every time she could do a little more on her own. Pete, to everyone’s surprise, not only took care of Ella but everything else that needed to be done in an impressive manner. He cooked all the meals and kept the kitchen “spic and span.” They may have spent their married lives fighting and arguing but no one took better care of her when she needed it.

Eventually Ella learned to walk again, although with a bad limp and needing a cane. She moved slowly and tired easily. She also re-learned to write but with a very shaky hand. Eventually she began doing some household chores and cooking. She even got to the point where she could walk next door to Gretchen’s to visit.

While her recovery was steady, her health was still a struggle. Pete told Lillian, “She had to set up in bed last week, she couldn’t get her breath lying down, so I took her to the doctor. He said her heart was not working right, it was too weak.”

Ella died on April 8, 1952 at the age of 67.

********

After the death of her mother, Pete’s daughter Lillian felt it was her duty to move to California and take care of her father. Her husband Bill put his farm up for rent and the family packed what they needed and drove to California. The plan was for them to live with Pete and for Lillian to take care of him and the house. Bill got a job where Pete worked, but for a man who had spent his entire life taking care of his crops and livestock, working an assembly line in the city was devastating. But Lillian was very much like her father – of strong constitution – and felt very strongly that they needed to do the right thing by her father.

The kids had wonderful memories of their time in Gardena. Pete took them to museums, zoos, to the beach, and encouraged them to read books from his large collection. He had a very docile old white horse that he kept for the kids to ride. One of his favorite things to do was go to the beach and go diving for shells. The kids were amused with him standing on his head with his feet sticking out of the water. The boys loved spending so much time outside, and the girls loved their “grown-up” city high school. But the adults were not so happy with the arrangement. Pete could be quite difficult to get along with and liked to be in control. He had gone from living a quiet life to having two extra adults and four rambunctious kids underfoot. Lillian didn’t appreciate his rigid stubbornness and desire to control everything. Bill was never good enough in Pete’s mind, even though he gave up everything meaningful in his life (except his family) to take care of Pete, and Pete liked to bicker with them in return. Shortly after the first of the year, 1953, Bill, Lillian and their kids packed up their car and left Gardena to go back to their previous life.

Pete retired from his factory job in 1954 and was getting tired of being home alone all the time. Alone, except for Butch, his beloved black cocker spaniel, that is. And his outdoor pet squirrel, who would eat nuts out of his hand. But that was soon to change as his daughter-in-law was ill and Pete took care of her while his son was at work; no doubt Pete was often hard to get along with, but his actions show that he was there for his family when he was needed, and went the extra mile for those he cared about. He took care of his daughter-in-law during the day and got her to her doctor’s appointments two to three times a week, and offered the extra support she needed.

In 1955, for a variety of reasons it was decided that Pete would trade houses with his son and daughter-in-law. Besides Pete’s house being bigger and more suitable for a family, his daughter-in-law was much more comfortable in Pete’s house. He said she didn’t like her old neighbors, and Pete wasn’t sure he would either, but he made the trade anyway. It turned out well after Pete did a little remodeling and ended up liking his new neighbors despite his initial misgiving. Butch, however, didn’t like it at all – it had a fenced in yard and he couldn’t get out. Pete also splurged and had a phone put in, and in addition, made plans to plant his new back yard.

He was diagnosed with diabetes after coming to the United States. He would take a set amount of insulin each day and try to keep his eating habits and his activity level fairly consistent, and had always been able to feel if his blood sugar was high or low, and handle it accordingly. But as he got older, it was harder and harder for him to know if he was going to pass out, or if his sugars were high or low. If he worked a little harder than normal, his blood sugar would plummet. In 1956, Pete was having problems with anemia as well. But still, when his daughter-in-law got sick again, he took her to her appointments twice a week until she was better, in addition to getting shots for his anemia three times a week.

Just in case Pete is coming off as a “softy” as his health was declining, he still retained a bit of his orneriness. He felt the doctor was stringing him along with the appointments and the shots several times a week, when he didn't feel bad to begin with. So Pete told him flat out that he’s not coming back till he’s stick enough to actually feel it.

Feeling lonely, Pete was thrilled that three of his four American sisters were getting together and would be spending time at his house. Katrina, Laura, and Mary (from Omaha, Nebraska) came to visit and got along surprisingly well, considering their history of squabbling. He was quite impressed, until he got each one separately and they each had plenty to say about the others. It sounds like Pete was not the only Christensen who could be hard to get along with!

In his spare time, Pete watched wrestling on TV 3 times a week and when there were no matches, he worked on his yard. He planted a number of rose bushes and a Walnut tree. He then decided to put in a whole new lawn, and the increased activity caused him to burn more sugar than usual, resulting in a sudden drop of blood sugar. Luckily he did not pass out, and made it into the house. He ate dinner and came out of it ok, but he did not remember exactly what he cooked. He was to take medicine three times a day and his insulin shot every morning, but admitted sometimes he would forget his medicine.

********

With his tenuous health situations, he made the decision to stop driving as he couldn’t tell if he was going to pass out and he didn’t feel it was safe for him to be behind the wheel anymore. He sold his car but felt lost without it so he bought a bike to get around but it caused his blood pressure to increase so he needed to sell that as well. He wrote, “It seems all I can do it play with the dog and think of the old times.” He wrote in a letter to his daughter Lillian, “I sure love to hear from you often as I’m alone most of the time, sometimes I get tired of my own company and that is most of the time.”

One night shortly afterward he slid off his bed and fell onto the floor, where he stayed most of the night. Someone checked on him the next morning and discovered him on the floor. He had had a stroke overnight and was unable to walk or stand up alone. He and Butch went to stay with his daughter for a couple of days. In an unfortunate accident, Butch got out of the fenced in yard, ran into the street and was hit by a car. Butch died immediately. In those couple of days it was apparent that Pete was not going to be able to live alone anymore. His daughter Edna in Harlingen, Texas, wanted him to live with her family.  Pete had wanted to live in Harlingen since he left Huron all those years before, and felt Edna's family genuinely wanted him there. Edna’s husband Johnny was a pilot and flew there to get him.  Despite the private plane accommodations, he had a hard time making the trip. As a result of the stroke he could not use his left side very well, but was hoping for improvement “now that I don’t have anything to worry about.”

Pete loved it at Edna’s. He and Edna had one major thing in common – they both liked to fish, so they went as often as they could. Due to his physical limitations, he had to fish while sitting on the bank and he didn’t catch a lot of fish that way. But when he did, there was abundant black bass and trout. Pete said Edna was a good nurse, helping him dress every morning and making sure he was eating. As a bonus, Edna’s little grandson kept him entertained.

He did miss being able to do any meaningful work – as this was the first time in his life that he couldn’t garden or do any outdoor work at all.

As the months passed by, Pete was not improving. He wanted to visit in South Dakota, and Edna’s husband was trying to trade a piece of land for a 4-passenger plane. If he could make that happen, they’d look at a trip to South Dakota. But he needed help getting in and out of the car, and moved extremely slowly. He couldn’t walk much and had balance issues, plus his memory was failing. He wanted to try to exercise but the doctor said it’s too hard on his heart. His legs swell up when he walks, but he was glad he was not in any real pain. The trip from Gardena to Harlingen had been hard enough, and his health had certainly not improved, so they were unable to make the trip to South Dakota. He told Lillian that Johnny and Edna take good care of him and he really feels they want him there.

His diabetes continued to be a problem. He would pass out and need to be helped up off the floor. He admitted it’s hard to know if he’s taking too much or too little insulin and he would pass out either way, and it was difficult for the family to know exactly what to do. On one occasion he was out cold for two hours, so he could not be left alone at all.

In February of 1960, after seven months in Harlingen, Pete had another stroke which resulted in his death at age 75.

And so the chapter closed on the life of the young immigrant with $4 in his pocket and a dream in his heart.

Some photos courtesy of Jenny Sasaki