Memoirs of Oscar F. Peterson
Odebolt, Iowa, 1952
Excerpts of this booklet are published to
the Odebolt History Pages with permission
from Oscar's granddaughter, Barbara (Peterson) Michael of La Mirada, California.
[Editors' Note: We are publishing these excerpts because we felt that Oscar's description of life in Sweden, the account of his immigration, and starting out in a new country would be interesting to those who have Swedish immigrant ancestors. Many of his experiences would be similar to other Swedes that immigrated in the late 1800's to early 1900's.]
Oscar F. and Hilma PetersonPREFACE
This is no attempt to be an author—or to write a book in English. During my life in Sweden and America, I have written many letters. Some friends have read them and asked me to publish at least a few in permanent form, together with a sketch of my life. At first, I rather hesitated to do it. Then I thought that if this can be done for my dear children's sake and can aid the cause of bringing knowledge and memories from my native land, as well as my beloved America, I shall be more than glad to do it.
It may also awaken the desire in others to look upon the things which I have seen in some instances so imperfectly described.
I wish to express my special thanks to Mildred Jones for her stenographic help. Some of my writing was written in Swedish—so I had to translate into the American language.
- Oscar F. Peterson
CHAPTER I—MY ANCESTRY
My grandfather was a farmer, who lived some fourteen miles away from my birthplace. He was very poor, as farming that country's hills was not a very profitable business. When prospects at home became too poor, my grandfather found it necessary to leave the farm and move to a little house in the country. There he died at a ripe old age.
My father's mother lived a few years with one of her sons, but later (in very old age) came to this country. We only had two letters from her stating her dissatisfaction with the different nationalities and the sound of voices in many languages in the big city of Chicago.
My mother's father was a day laborer. He, too, was a poor man, but had a little home of his own. He was a large, strong man and lived to the age of 83 years.
My mother's mother was an expert cook and was occupied most of the time cooking for the higher-ups. She, in later years, made her home with my parents and had it very comfortable until her death.
My father's father and my mother's father and my mother's graves are in Sweden. My father's mother's grave is in Chicago, Illinois.
CHAPTER II—MY PARENTS
My father, Peter August Magnuson, was born the seventh of November 1841 in Kalmarlan [Kalmar län], Sweden. He spent his childhood days with his parents and later he spent several years in the building trade, and was considered one of the most able and capable men in that community. He took an interest in all his work and often had many buildings under construction at the same time and on several occasions had many men employed. He had learned to honor his father and mother. He helped his parents as they were a big family and in poor circumstances. He married October 27, 1870. At that time, my father was called to a place to do some estimating on a building; I remember father and mother said it was then they saw each other for the first time and after that their real friendship began.
My mother, Carolina Albertina Johanson, was born September 25, 1848 in Kalmarlan, Sweden. She spent her childhood days with her parents and one sister, and as I said in my first chapter, they were poor. Her father went out every day to work and came home with a little money with which they bought a small quantity of food, fuel and some clothes.
Neither my father nor mother had the opportunity or privilege of going to school. The custom in Sweden in those days was to learn from each other and in the home. As a rule the parents sat on a chair and the children, according to age, would come forward and stand by their side and read their lesson or go to the older brothers or sisters. They must have had wonderful memories. They learned to read and write. They memorized a great deal. My father and mother learned most of the Psalms and also nearly all of Proverbs by heart. The Swedish parents are very strict and don't allow their children to tell lies; they try to lead and educate their children according to the light they had and that is a great blessing.
My father and mother had many friends and mingled among prominent people, both in the church and in society. They took an active part in public life. They were ambitious to become the owners of a home. They encouraged each other to work and to save. In this connection about home and money, I must say, I remember one day we were visited by a few men, they took my father's hand and asked him if he would like to make money a little faster. As they were together and talked over some plan, one man took up a bottle and gave each one a drink. Then again they talked of the plan, how to get rich quick. They then said no money was necessary; all they had to do was to sign a note. Father had the Impression that these honorable men were honest so he signed a note for 6,000 kroner. In six or seven months he had to pay the whole amount and never got one cent in return. That put my parents in a hard and difficult situation. Paying the six thousand cash money was a very good lesson for us, his children. None of us drink and signing notes has never interested us. We all felt rather badly about that deal but we had a friendly attitude toward father and he worked very hard and exposed himself in all kinds of weather and never made any great mistake afterwards. So we all got over that extraordinarily difficult task, although my mother shed tears when we sat by her side and talked over faults and shortcomings.
My father died August 3, 1911. My mother died and was laid to rest March 30, 1928 in the family lot in Tarnsfalla [Törnsfalla] Socken, Smaland [Småländ], Sweden. [Socken means parish]
CHAPTER III—MY CHILDHOOD
I was born April 3, 1879 in a rented home in Tarnsfalla Socken, Smaland. By the time I arrived, the family had rented the upper story of a big house and I believe they had lived there nearly a year, My mother gave me the name Oscar and my father the name Ferdinand, as on the Swedish calendar there is a name for each day and Ferdinand was the name on the calendar and is to this very day. My father's first name, as you have already seen, was Peter and now I was his son; that's why my name now is Oscar Ferdinand Peterson. My mother explained this to me when I asked her why my name should be Peterson.
Now as this letter takes the place of conversation, it is but natural, that is to say, I write as things happened and as I heard and saw them; and as I now remember and think, so is my expression. I might refer perhaps to our acquaintance, relations or friends. If I could use the same language as used when I was in Sweden, of course, it would go faster and better, but this letter contains the true sentiment of my heart, and although all my letters written in this language are of sincerity and may occupy a place near your hearts, for this reason, I will be careful and try to remember the most important happenings.
First, I may begin to tell you how many children we were in the family. We were nine—five boys and four girls. The first, Karl, born June 21, 1871 still living, came to this country in 1891. The one next to him died when 4 1/2 years old. His name was John. Then Gustaf, born November 18, 1876. Then I was born as you have read before, April 3, 1879. I came to this country July 11, 1897. Then another John, still living at this writing, was born July 19, 1881 and came to this country January 27, 1901. So you see, we are five. Gustaf came to this country in March 1902 but after a few years returned to Sweden and now is the owner of our parents' farm. Sister Hanna, born November 27, 1883 died in 1926 in Sweden. Maria, born March 22, 1886 came to this country March 5, 1902, the same day as brother Gust. Amanda, born December 28, 1888 came to this country September 15, 1905. Mathilda, born July 15, 1891 came to this country March 6, 1912. We are three boys and three girls in this land, one in Sweden, and two dead. You now can form an idea why father had to work hard for food and clothes for a family like that. My mother was a woman of vision and saw the need, so she was willing to work hard in order to give us a fair education.
When I came to the age of six years, I started school, but could not continue so regular. I had to help my parents with what work I could do. At the age of twelve I had to leave school and take my elder brother's place. He then left for this country and Gust had started to learn to be a tailor.
I remember much and very well how in the winter time I used to drive a pair of oxen the 14 mile long road to town to sell wood. This I used to do on Wednesday and Saturday—left home at 12 o'clock in the night and got in town around 8 o'clock in the morning and got back home in the evening about 6 o'clock.
Vestervik [Västervik] had a population of 12,879 and I got acquainted with many of the inhabitants. The hospitality was most cordial and with much pleasure do I remember the courtesies extended by the Swedes. How good it would seem if I could once more see their familiar faces, but I am thousands of miles away from my old home and because of the uncertainty of the mails, there is little chance for communication with my old friends. I especially remember the Swedish custom of hand-shaking. It was so common that I felt that my hand was suspended in mid air most of the time.
Everybody in our community joined the same church and some walked a distance of seven English miles. Many of the Swedish customs and manners lead me to say with regret that there is much lacking in our own country. The aged parents and their children were seldom found apart on Sundays. They had their good meals—delicious meat, cold tongue, brown bread and numerous other kinds of food, fruit and coffee. The impressive grace was repeated before and after meals.
Christmas in Sweden, can I ever forget it. We were awakened by our parents and had to attend church and after attending church, we went home and got our Christmas present and sat down to a long table to eat. In Sweden, the parents treat their children rather strictly, but most children have respect and show it to their aged parents and at Christmas time it is beautiful to see. How natural it seems to compare countries. Sweden is different from America. It would take a whole volume for me to explain, so must pass on and only say Sweden is very beautiful.
[To America]
I suppose I better tell you how I came on to the idea of leaving Sweden. Well
one reason, my parents were poor and another reason it was very hard to get any
money saved away for old age. From the age of twelve until I was eighteen, the
year I left home, I never could get any kind of money only by picking wild
flowers, which I did, as they were plentiful and beautiful. I sold them in town
and got from 15 ore to 25 ore. I then bought fish in town and sold them on my
way home. It is certainly very hard to get a start that way, but I saved my
nickels and dimes and bought my own ticket, said good-bye to discouraged parents
and brothers and sisters, and started the many thousand-mile journey.
First I went by train to Goteborg; left that big city on a boat that seemed to me nearly new. I will never forget the scene nor the sensation as the cables were loosened and the boat quietly slipped away from the dock. Many people stood waving handkerchiefs to departing friends, but there was no one to wave to me, for my relatives left me at the railroad station and the handkerchief that my father waved goodbye with I still have as my father wanted me to remember him. He said very earnestly “My boy, this may be the last thing in this old world that I can give you, may our God bless you” then he shed tears and I never got to see him in this life any more.
What I was going to say is this: the first day on deck was very comfortable, but in the night we met the full force of as angry a gale as ever blew on the North Sea. Old sailors said to us they never saw such a sea. We were kept below for a number of hours and when I came up on deck I sighted some people with sea sickness, some longing for death, some had great confidence in the boat and were dancing, some were swearing, so you see that company was not very entertaining; but the big boat was bravely fighting every inch of her way and we got to England. Some were met by relatives, but I stood there silently looking at the strange crowd. The sun was shining brightly and I began killing time by writing to my parents, and I felt that I should never have left them and my beloved homeland.
Now I had figured out that there is no need for anyone to go hungry and the fresh air had stimulated my appetite, so here I tell you my experience in getting my first meal in England. I went into a cafe and sat down. Then an Englishman came to me, he spoke his language and I spoke the Swedish; he was confused and so was I, but to my surprise the waitress gave me a meal and I in return gave her my pocket book and she took out some money and no more conversation at the first meal.
Soon I was on the train again to cross England; here I saw the English people, women and children working in the field. It gave me my first touch of homesickness and I tell you right now that I was not singing “Home Sweet Home.” After a few hours ride on the train, I had my first experience about fog. The fog at times settled down so thickly that often times I could not see ten feet ahead of me and after the fog had lifted, I felt the effect in my throat and nostrils for a long time.
Next we came to Liverpool. I arrived at a hotel. There came a man who skillfully represented himself to be a Swede. He told me if I would go with him he would give me a drink of beer; it was bright moonlight, but I would not go any place and I did not care for his beer. Who knows, maybe he would have taken me to some horrible spot.
Next day we went on the luxurious ocean liner “Pendlan.” There were only a few first cabin passengers, those with the second and third class and the crew of over 290 made over a thousand souls on board. Soon after I went to lie down, one of the stewards appeared and said to me “You are a Swede, I know what is good for you to eat so you won’t get seasick, come with me and I show you what I can find.” He opened a little door showing me where to get salt herring “you Swede,” he said, “eat all you can. They are good for refreshing the inner man and don’t forget I am telling you.” Let me add actually salt herring stops seasickness. I experienced that and I appreciated the privilege. I called him a good Swede, but he laughed as I heard he could talk seven languages. Finally I went to my bunk and was lulled to sleep by the wash of the waves, to be awakened when the big liner stopped at Ireland. There we had a very jolly time. I can tell the different nationalities, but we only had to take on three or four passengers. I never forgot how those Irish people could eat. They were lunching five and six times a day. They had soup and buns, delicious little cakes, I also believe they had fried fish along with them. Leaving Ireland, we spent one pleasant afternoon, but soon we had a visit from a doctor. He said we had to be vaccinated. At first I laughed, then I got angry, then I found it necessary to pull up my shirt sleeve and I showed him my marks and with a smile he turned away.
Next morning, when the good steward I told you about, came around, he found two men had lighted their cigars, but let me tell you, extraordinary greetings met them with a big broom and they had to go up on deck.
Soon it was Sunday. There came a man and gave each one of us a little New Testament; I have mine to this very day. Then he said we were to have a meeting on the deck. I, of course, was very glad to go, it gave me an opportunity to hear the English language. That meeting lasted over two hours. There were people from every country under the sun and speaking every language. It was difficult to understand any of it, but, oh, the music. The blue water below us, the balmy air and clear sky above us. Oh, how I enjoyed it. I tell you my children it has been good for me to see some little of this globe on which we live, for there is in travel a larger education than can be found in a class room.
In a few days our big liner came into the American harbor and soon I was on the train that took me to my brother in Iowa.
[In Odebolt]
Arriving in Odebolt a man came up to me and said, “Well Oscar how are you?
Come and have dinner with me.” He said that to me in the Swedish language. I
then asked him how he knew my name and where he had seen me; he told me that my
brother Karl had been in his house a day before and that he got a letter that I
was coming. So, I went with him. Sat down in a comfortable chair while his good
wife got dinner on the table and they had sweet corn and I had never seen that
before, so, I was waiting for them to start and eat so I could see how to eat
that and they were also waiting for me to see how I did. After dinner we met a
man that was going to drive by where my brother worked, so, he took me along and
I tell you, I sure was glad to see my dear brother and felt sufficiently at home
in his room. I believe I left my brother in two or three days, got work and then
I walked a few miles on Sunday to visit him.
I have given you some details of my journey and it may be fitting that I tell you how I liked it, when I first came here and started to work in rural areas and on farms. When I saw how farmers could produce such big and good crops, and how much better nutrition people had here, in milk, meat, fats and eggs, I realized that people had it better here than we could ever have it in Sweden. Seeing the big flocks of chickens on the farms, and the big ears of corn on the stalks, make it easily understandable that I got the impression that I had landed in the best country in the world. Thinking of my future, I saw and knew that here were opportunities for anyone who had the energy and willingness to undertake any task and be dependable. I knew that I had to stick to any work through thick or thin, but I must admit that corn husking was not easy for me. To follow the wagon up and down the rows of corn, and send the ears flying through the air against the bang board for weeks and months was hard, but there was nothing else to do. It was absolutely necessary, and I knew that many of the farmers had started with, what you might say, two empty hands, and they had made magnificent records. So I took a real liking to my new country and state, and I gained many new and genuine friends.
What I have now said covers nearly all of my life from birth to eighteen years. Now I write you a letter written to me by my father, but I must translate. So good-bye until tomorrow.
CHAPTER IV—LETTER FROM HOME
“Avalund the 27th August 1897
Our dear son:
Your letters have given me and your mother much pleasure, but oh how we miss you in our family circle. Seen in your letter from England that there was just a little disappointment in your heart. We are glad that you are over the awful sea. You had a most remarkable experience. So you don’t like the cliffs and rocky coast of Ireland. That foghorn and the boat kept you awake. The deck steward sure was a fine fellow, gave you so many herring.Last night we heard a rap on the door. It was the shoemaker. He just dropped in to find out if we had heard from you, but I felt he wanted to be offered some liquid refreshment.
You were fortunate enough to have Karl to go to and also that family that treated you as if you had been one of them. Be courteous to old men and women of all ages. Now you are out in the big world, it is necessary for you to show politeness. There are many things that we have said to you, we have tried our best to show you how to live and we know we will not be ashamed if at any time you wish for something that you can not get by fair means, that you can not pay for, then go without it. Go about your business quietly. You must remember that all things in this old world are not all pleasure. Now you are out in the world earning your own way. You must not complain. Many duties will fall on your shoulders. We cannot promise that we can help you, we know what a temptation it is for you to be so lonely, but you will get over that and again be smiling. The very best pull that any man can ever have is the push that he gives himself.
Remember that your mother and I want to be your best friends, we will miss you at the Christmas gatherings. Be good to yourself.
With lots of our hearts best love to both of you.
Your ParentsP. S. Your sisters and brothers greet you and will write next time. Write soon again.”
[Editor's note: The story is continued in PART II.]
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