On May 12, 1869, Eric Olson, his wife Margaret, and their five children, Carrie, Ingeborg, Margaret, Mary and Olof, started on a long adventuresome journey, which proved to be full of trials and hardships.
I, Olof Olson, was the only son of Irie and Margaret, a boy of but six years, and as I now tell of our journey and early life in Minnesota, I have reached the age of 75 years and am the sole survivor of the family.
In our company were 63 persons, all from the small village of Venjan in Dalarna; Sweden. Our relatives and friends whom we were now leaving, most of whom we had very little hope of ever meeting again, wept bitterly with us. It seemed as if even the weather was in harmony with this sad occasion, for a cold heavy rain with dark cloudy skies and sodden grounds made the first step of our journey more difficult. We children, not realizing that this was to be a definite parting from our homeland, were eager to be on our way.
To us America was a land of milk and honey, so, spurred on by the illusions of fairy tales, we left the meager board Venjan had afforded us, for the faraway promised land. We were facing starvation as there had been several consecutive years of crop failure, due mostly to poor soil and early frosts, and there was not enough food in Venjan to feed its inhabitants.
When leaving Venjan, each family loaded into its wagon bare necessities such as bedding and homemade chests which were filled with homespun clothing, copper kettles, hatchets, knives and other articles. They set out in a long caravan, the entire company on foot, only babes too young to walk being given a place to ride as the wagons were loaded to capacity with odd pieces of baggage.
In this manner we traveled a distance of 25 Swedish miles, which equal almost 175 American miles, to Arvika, where we sold our horses and wagons and loaded our earthly possessions onto a railroad train which brought us to Kristiana (Now Oslo), Norway, and here, after a delay of three days, we boarded a steamer of the Anchor Line, whose destination was Litt, Scotland. The North Sea, being a body of sweet water, was very very rough. Our baggage slid from one side of the ship to the other and needless to say, we were all seasick. In three days we docked at Litt.
At Litt, we boarded a train for Glasgow, which was a four hours’ ride. At Glasgow we had to wait four days for the steamer which was to take us to America, but were glad to have a chance to rest and recuperate from our rough voyage over the North Sea.
We feared we would have the same experience on the Atlantic Ocean, but it was not as rough and the steamer was much larger. After fourteen days we docked at Ellis Island.
We had expected to be furnished with food on the steamer, but all we received was rice and ship bread. The rice was dished out with a ladle from a huge kettle us we marched in line, each with his own dish and spoon. The ship bread was a cracker made from flour and water, not crisp and flakey like the soda cracker we enjoy today. They were in a very large barrel in the center of the room and each one could help himself. No restrictions were necessary as they were not
edible.
Drinking water was not plentiful. We had to wait in line for a drink and with each drink we got a chalk mark on our backs. The only sweet water on the ship was what had been brought from Scotland, so after a few days it was far from fresh. It was not at that time known how to extract the salt from sea water.
After two days on the Atlantic, I contracted measles and my father went to the captain and requested medical aid, but instead of aid, the Captain told him there was no doctor on board and in his gruff voice advised my father to “throw the youngster overboard.” My parents worried a great deal, not only about my recovery, but they feared they might have trouble taking me ashore when we arrived at our destination. Luckily I recovered quite quickly, but still had scars when we landed, so when we were checked over at Ellis Island, I pulled my homespun cap down to shield my face, and was passed by the immigration agent, much to the relief of my worried parents.
When our baggage was checked over, our mattresses were destroyed while we stood helplessly and watched the fireman feed them into his hungry furnace. (This was done to prevent the spread of disease). The poor mothers wept, for this was indeed hard to see. Aher all the weary miles of walking on blistered aching feet from Arvika in order to make room for the bulky mattresses on the wagons.
When we had finally passed inspection by the Ellis Island officials, we were jammed onto a ferry like a herd of cattle and taken to Castel Garden, where our company was locked up to await roll call. Then we received our tickets for Chicago, which we had paid for in Glasgow when we purchased our steamer tickets at 200 crowns per person. We stayed at Castle Gardens until the following morning, when we boarded a train for Cleveland, Ohio, where we transferred onto the Chicago train.
Arriving in Chicago, we were immediately met by confidence men whose racket was selling railroad tickets. We finally bought from one whose price was $3.00 less than any previous offer. This train took us as far as LaCrosse, Wisconsin, where we once more moved all our baggage, souvenirs from our homeland, and this time we loaded it onto a freighter which took us up the Mississippi River to St. Paul. There were several mules on the boat and they were separated from us by a partition of trunks and bags. The crew was composed of colored boys whom we, of cout’Se, thought very strange looking as we had never seen a negro back in Sweden. They were very quarrelsome and we were afraid of them. Many of the passengers were robbed by these negroes, but we kept watch over our possessions all night and lost nothing.
Arriving in St. Paul, we had a little surprise for there was someone to meet us. It was none other than the man who had sold us the railroad tickets tci Chicago. His intentions were not of the best as he took immediate possession of our baggage and threatened to hold it until we paid him more money. Father and Uncle Andrew inquired if there was a Swedish consul in St. Paul, and when they learned there was, they became brave and went to this rackateer and told him they would seek the aid of the Swedish Consul and he would get into trouble if he would not immediately return our baggage and leave. He then lost nerve and left us, a loser at his own game.
We now left St. Paul for Carver County, a distance of sixty miles. We arrived there June 24th, a big Swedish holiday-“Midsummer Day”-after a journey of forty-three days. Here the mothers stayed with the children while the men set out to seek homestead land. They were anxious to get homes of their own, so on the very day we reached Carver, the ten men in our company set out on foot for Alexandria, a distance of a hundred miles, to the land office. Upon reaching there, they were told there was no homestead land to get. They then walked still farther from their families as they had been advised to go to Otter Tail County, but when they reached there they were told that they would have to wait until Spring when the surveying should be completed. They did not feel that they could wait that long and returned to their families in Carver. Several of the families moved to Minneapolis, where they worked for a year or two, but Father, Uncle Andrew and Sigfred Anderson and his Father were persistent in their determination to locate on a homestead if it were possible to obtain one.
These four went to a land office at Taylors Falls and were told there was some homestead land to be had at Stanchfield Brook. (At this time Dalbo, Maple Ridge and Stanchfield Townships were one, and the whole tract was known by the name of “Stanchfield Brook”).
They were directed to w·hat is now Section 18, Maple Ridge Township, where homesteads were at last obtained and they then walked with lighter hearts back to Taylors Falls, a distance of 55 miles, where the necessary papers were signed. They returned to their newly acquired land to cut hay for the stock which they planned to purchase in Carver. They also blazed a trail for six miles. The Lunny family had settled on Section 10 the same year, so the trees and brush had been cut that far.
Their families were overjoyed to see them upon return to Carver and they were eager to see their new homes in the wilderness. Father and Uncle Andrew each bought a steer and a cow, and the Anderson family bought a yoke of oxen and a cow. The families also bought two wagons and yoked their oxen to the wagons and for the last time loaded their odd looking baggage which they had brought from the homeland onto their wagons and started out on the last lap of their wearisome journey. They had no canvas over their wagons to protect themselves and their goods from the rain and sun.
When they were within 45 miles ofthcirdestinat.ion. it rained and it was here, ncur Anoka, that a son was born to my Aunt and Uncle. He was named Andrew nftcr his Father, following the custom of naming the first son after the Father. He grew up to be a strong man, and lived to see the age of 52 in spite of the unfavorable circumstances of his birth.
When this company of the four remaining families reached their destination, Section 18 of Maple Ridge Township, they hurriedly built an oblong hut of bark nnd brush with an opening at the top for the sparks and smoke from the fire which was built in the center of the hut. This surely was a poor fire risk.
Immediately upon completion of the temporary shelter, they started to build II small log cabin, 16 x 18, in which the four families, consisting of nineteen persons, lived like one family until the following Spring. In this log cabin which lhcy first built, each family had a corner for their “bedroom” but they had no hells. They slept in bunks attached to the wall; there were two such bunks in ruch corner. The children slept in low cribs which were placed in the center of lhc room at night and pushed under the bunks in the daytime.
The older folks often spoke of their mattresses that had been burnt by the immigrant officials and what a comfort they would be in the log cabin. There were none to be bought even if they had had the money. They made mattresses from l111oyn which they rested after each hard day’s work of clearing the heavily wooded land for fields. Among the first crops raised was corn, and the husks were saved to use for mattresses and found to be more comfortable than hay. Hut even these were none too comfortable compared. to the inner spring mattresses of today. They had to be shaken up and evened out each morning as a rrrdlcss person turning in bed a few times would find himself in a hollow with hurdly any husks under him. Of course there were no springs, only slats which were pretty hard to lie upon.
In the.spring, each family built its own cabin on its own land, all working to-11ethcurn til each cabin was completed. The women also worked together with ,h,tcrly love, helping each other with spinning, knitting and weaving. They bore 1111t1h e truth of the proverb–“Unity makes for strength.” They often wept to-11ethcorv er the hardships they had to bear while their stalwart husbands tried to l’mnfort them. It was hard for those pioneers to be courageous under these “unditions. Of course they knew nothing about modern conveniences such as t1lcphone, automobiles, etc., but they lacked even the necessities and missed the, social life they had enjoyed in their homeland, especially their neighbors, Rhools and churches.
When we got located in our long-sought-after land, we found ourselvesIUrrounded by Indians. We treated them in the most friendly fashion, being “Ireful not to show fear, nor did we in any way antagonize them. We traded with them, receiving venison in exchange for bread and potatoes. They did us no h11rmt,h ough we were sometimes startled by their uncivilized habit of covering our windows with their blankets while they peered in on us. We were just as much a curiosity to them as their painted faces and strange ways were to us. We h11ds ettled where no one but Indians and wild beasts had ever walked.
