The Raymond Emerson Story Continues

Ed's Day Wednesday

Dear FOLKS,

This week our search into the history of Raymond Emerson continues with the telling of his story provided by the family. Many members of the Emerson family have generously shared their life memories with us and there is still another generation to learn from. Raymond Emerson (1819-1904) was born as Reinert Ommundson, as a new arrival to America, he not only found a new home but also a new name. Raymond was one my late cousin Ed Ostrom's maternal great-grandfathers, his mother's father's father.

The information for this story was provided by Inga Regina Emerson Larson, born 31 March 1895. Inga was the daughter of Raymond's oldest son, Ole Tobias Emerson. Inga wrote this as a letter that she sent to Vivian Vera Emerson Crowe, born 12 June 1920, who typed it from Inga's letter. Vivian was the daughter of Reinert Immanuel Emerson, Raymond's second son. Their project to document stories told to Inga happened in the 1950s. Inga and Vivian, two cousins, were pleased to capture their grandparent's story to share with others.

Note: In the following story, my comments for clarification purposes are surrounded by square-brackets [ ].

IMAGE: An example of a three-masted
sailing ship. This is of the USS Chesapeake,
provided by Wikipedia.com. The rigging for
the SS Espindola would be similar.

The Immigrant Emersons

by Inga Emerson Larson

"Our Paternal Grandfather, Reinert Ommundson, age 36, immigrated to America as a single man in 1855 with a group of people including a man and woman named Ole Lindeland and Inger Tallaksdatter who were then married. She was the daughter of Tallak and Ingeborg Tallakson, they were born in Flekkefjord, Norway.

They made the journey aboard a sailboat named the Espindola, bound for South America to return to Norway in two years with cattle. It took thirteen weeks to cross the ocean. The passengers had to furnish their own food. Their bread was a well-baked hardtack which they called ‘flat-bread’, and their meat was mostly dried mutton, homemade goat cheese was also included. They carried their bread in a homemade trunk called a ‘mad kiste.’

Inger and her first husband settled in Southern, Minnesota, later moving to Sauk River, Wisconsin where they homesteaded. Ole Lindeland died of typhoid fever in 1865. The mother was left with two small girls, ages seven and two. Their names were Josephhine Bendikt and Annne Tonette, three other children having died, the youngest being born and dying the day after her father’s death. They were buried in the same casket.

The widow owned very little of this world’s goods and what little she had, a cunning lawyer took from her under pretense of helping her. She had a cow, which took sick and had to be destroyed. She would get up early and go to a small creek to fish while her two little girls were still asleep so they would have something to eat for breakfast. They had many crop failures. One year all they had through the winter was peas and corn. The corn was ground with their coffee grinder and made into corn bread, the peas were roasted and ground, then boiled. This was used in place of coffee or tea.

After the Civil War, she married again, to Reinert Emerson, who had changed his name from Ommundson. When he was drafted, those making the records made an error in his name and as it would have been difficult and a lot of red tape to correct it in all the confusion of war and the hard times that followed and as there were many by the same name of Ommundson where he lived in Wisconsin, they decided to keep the incorrect name.

Grandfather [Reinert], being left in poor health through his war experiences, received a pension during his lifetime and after his death Grandmother received the same. Grandfather was also granted land as a result of being a veteran of the War. During his service in the Civil War he knew Generals Sherman and Grant and fought in the battle of Gettysburg.

At one time, he was taken prisoner and spent a long time in a Southern prison camp where sanitary conditions were bad and of course, much aggravated by the hot climate. Food was very scarce and consisted mostly of half-baked beans. He suffered all his life because of his experiences in this camp. He was attached to Company D., 2nd Nunn.

He spent much of his military service in a hospital in Georgia with dysentery caused by drinking water. He was there when Lincoln was assassinated.

After their marriage, they drove from Sauk River, Wisconsin to Kandiyohi County, Minnesota with oxen and homemade wagon where grandfather had filed on a homestead. He had built a shack ten by twelve feet, it leaked like a sieve, so at night they slept under the table. When it rained during the day, grandmother would put her two girls under the table to keep them dry. Snakes were unwelcome visitors night and day, crawling here and there.

They built a log cabin about a year later, but before they had moved, a son was born to them, the first white boy born in that settlement. Building operations had to be halted for a spell as the door on their shack was used in their new home. When the baby was twelve days old, Grandfather loaded grandmother, baby and girls into a wagon pulled by oxen and took them to a neighbor where they stayed until the door was re-hung in the new home.

Grandmother thought she had a palace, no leaks! Fuel was plentiful, timber everywhere and an abundance of deer meat and fish. Lakes surrounded them. They cleared land, plowed, planted and harvested. Everything was done the hard way. No modern machinery, the axe, their main piece of equipment. The grasshoppers took their crops three years in succession. They had some potatoes which they cut into small pieces and planted. They also had a few cattle.

In the fall they loaded a wagon full of potatoes, tied two cows behind the wagon, got up at midnight and drove twenty miles with oxen to Grove City, then the nearest town. There, they traded their potatoes and cows for groceries and clothing. On this trip they treated themselves to breakfast at a restaurant!

They had six children: Ole Tobias, Reinert Immanuel, Christoffer Andreas, Oline Sophie and Sivert [forgetting to mention Ida Malene]. They lived on their farm until their deaths. He died June 30, 1904 and she on May 27, 1918. Both are buried in the cemetery of the Free Mission Church, Irving, Minnesota.

During the years of their life together, times were difficult. They had constant worry and strife with the red man. The Chippewa Indians held the northern half of Minnesota. The Sioux, the south. There was constant warfare between the two tribes, and the white settlers would become involved. The Indians didn’t like these new settlers to intrude and often there would be uprisings and many times there were entire families wiped out. Grandfather always had a loaded gun under his pillow at night. They were always careful that the baby didn’t cry loud at night as it may attract lurking Indians.

At the present location of Paynesville and St. Cloud, there were block houses that were stocked with food and ammunition. These houses were built of large logs: the upper story extending out beyond the lower portions with loopholes for musketry. The settlers hitched their oxen to their homemade wagons trying to get to one of these houses if there were rumors of uprisings. Sometimes the women and children would be taken to these houses and men would get together in one house at night and otherwise try to protect their fields and stock from fire and theft so there would be food for winter.

When the Indians were really riled, they would paint their bodies with war paint and wear war feathers. One day Grandfather was haying some distance from his home, eleven warriors entered the cabin, walked around and examined everything but did no harm. It seems that one of the things they did was kidnap white babies, tie two of them together then hang them over a wire fence and stick their bodies full of prairie-needles. Unless found, they would die after much suffering.

Grandmother [Inger] would tell of nearly smothering her babies when they cried at night lest the Indians hear them and take them. One year during harvest time the Indians were exceptionally riled so all the women and children were taken to St. Cloud and put in a Catholic Church with guards stationed. The men went back to harvest, all the men working in one field while one man stood watch, they went from field to field. Grandmother fled three times from the red man but those pioneers were a sturdy people.

Our ancestors were a God-fearing people. All early settlers were friendly and very helpful to one another. Late one fall, a stranger came to Grandfather’s home, he was clad in tatters and his feet frozen. They took him in, doctored him with their home remedies, shared with him their scant supply of food, clothing and bedding. By spring, he was able to leave.

Eventually schools and churches were built, the crooked roads were straightened, railroads and town sprang up. Today, the town of Hawick is four miles from Grandfather’s homestead."

---- The End ---

I am proud to acknowledge these people as my ancestors, and to possess the heritage that is mine. There must have been moments of despair and discouragement and sorrow and heartbreak. But I am sure there were moments of happiness and feelings of great accomplishment.

No doubt, they had misgivings about leaving a life of comparative convenience and exchange it for great sacrifices that an uncivilized land would offer. Perhaps they felt they could mold with their own hands a better way of life, not only for themselves, but for their children and their children’s children.

I am grateful to them for migrating to this new world because as a result, I and mine can enjoy the fruits of their labors. For it is ‘beginner’s luck’ to be born in America!  -- Vivian Emerson Cowe b. 6-12-1920

Thank you to Inga and Vivian for sharing this story with family. Fortunately it would be passed along to cousin Ed where I would find it in the files he left with me. Please note that the village of Hawick, Minnesota is a small unincorporated community in Kandiyohi County. This story is not intended to be historically accurate for events that took place within Minnesota, but is instead the telling of  recollections of one family by those who were not there. 

Hope your day and week are going well. Thanks for stopping by to read this story. I appreciate your visit here.

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