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- 1865, Steien, Bardu, emigrerte derfra i april 1866.
Letter from Peter Olsen to granddaughter:
"Rice Lake, Wisc., March 27th, 1933
My dear Marian Janet,
As you are my youngest grand-daughter, and consequently, not much aquainted with me, I will here tell you of a few of the very few important angles of my trail through life up to this, my 78th birthday.
I was born on the 25th day of March, 1855 in Sovig, Helgeland, Norway, which is located near the Arctic Circle. When I was about six years old, my father, Jens Johan Olsen, and my mother, Anna Elise, moved with us four boys, Peter, Hans, Ole, and John to Bardodalen, adjoining Monselvdalen. Here father contracted for a job of road building. When I was eight years old, I got a job herding cattle at a satter up in a nearby mountain. (A satter is a place where cattle are pastured during summer, and where butter and cheese are made.) I held this job for two summers. When I was in my tenth year, Father and Mother decided to move to America (Apr. 1866 from Steien, Bardu, Målselv, Troms). I now had one more brother, Helmer, two months old (born Oct 1865).
We started for Bodo to board the sailship "Norden". We had orders to provision ourself for seven weeks, which was the time specified to cross the Atlantic. When the seven weeks were up, we were only about half way across, and our provisions were running low. We hailed an English ship and got supplies to last four weeks more. Our delay on the Atlantic was caused by three storms, one breaking three masts. It wasn't such a pleasure trip as it is now with steam power and modern cabins. In our case, there were five hundred passengers, old and young, in the bowels of the ship with chests and boxes for seats and tables. We landed in Quebec, Canada, in eleven weeks.
At Quebec, we were guided into what I have since learned was railroad freight cars. (One night I saw small balls of fire in the air, and learned later that they were fire flies. I had never seen the like before.) From this box car, we were loaded on to a steamboat, but where we traveled, I don't know. I do remember when a high wave washed across the deck, soaking everything. Then we were transferred to a smaller boat. The next I remember is that we were landed at a dock about midnight, and on a wall was a named which I undertook to read. After some spelling, I made out the name, "LaCross". I told the folks that I could read English.
Next day, we boarded a small boat again, and after one half day and two nights, we landed at Prescott, Wisconsin, after dark. We walked down a narrow gang-plank to the gravel at the edge of the river with our two chests. Father and our only fellow passenger thought best to walk up into the city after they had mother and we boys seated on our chests, to see what could be done about getting out to Martell. So, of course, I had to go along. On the way up, we met a man. Father spoke to him, at which our companion said to Father, "Don't you know better than to speak to him? He can't understand you." But, to our surprise, the man answered in Swedish. He went on to say that he had been asked by Jacob Olsen to see if there might be any newcomers. Jacob was looking for his brother Jens, (my father) and wanted this man to give him a ride to Martell if he was there. (Uncle Jacob came to America one year before we did.) This was surely lucky for us. We piled our chests into his lumber wagon, and he drove us into Martell.
Mother was not feeling well on the journey across the Atlanic, and by the time we arrived at the Swede's home, she was quite ill. After five days, she died. So father was left with us five boys to care for, and without money. The good neighbors took one each of us boys to their homes, excpet Helmer, who was sick. He was left at the Swede's home, and he died about a month later, at the age of five months. Father worked among the neighbors, doing what he could to support Hans, Ole, and John. This was in 1865 (66!), and being about ten years, I was considered old enough to make my own way.
After some time, father heard about the big saw mill at Menomonie, and went there for more steady work. Time went on, and after nearly three years, he sent word with a man that worked at the mill and walked to Martell for a visit, that if Iverson would consent and I was willing, I had better come to Menomonie to work in the mill. Of couse, I wanted to go. In six days, the man was ready to walk back to Menomonie. It was forty-five miles to Menomonie with much of the way only a track between the trees. One morning before sunrise, we started our walk. I held all my wealth in a satchel weighing about twenty-four pounds. When we got to within two miles of Menomonie, my legs refused to go any further. We laid down for a rest. Nils was as willing to take a rest as I was. After a few minutes rest, we started again. This time we got to within one-half a mile of Menomonie, when my feet gave out. I lay down and told Nils to go on and I would come after resting. But Nils sat down also. After a few minutes, he said "Do you see that hill? When we get on top of it, we can see the mill and town just below the hill." At that I jumped up, all nerves, picked up my satchel and led Nils a merry walk. I had not known how near we were to the end. We reached the big pump between the mill and store at 6:50 o'clock. The men were just coming from the boarding house, and among them I saw father. On the second day at Menomonie, I went to work at the mill at $12.00 per month and board. Hours were from six to six. This was in August, 1868.
My job in the mill lasted two weeks, for one day Mr. Dean, Mgr., came to the mill looking for someone to work in the kitchen. I was selected, and my job began with waiting on tables where fifty hungry lumberjacks ate. Among them was "Butter Huns", a big German who liked butter especially well, and from which he derived his name. I also had to wash dishes, and help in a general way wherever I could be useful.
That fall I was sent to the camp at Rice Lake. The lake at that time was only a small pond, and not a big house here except the lumber camp. I helped to cut down the big pine where the city is now located. I helped the cook about the camp in a general way. In the spring it was down the river with the log drive to Menomonie. There I got a job in a barber shop for Mr. Kemenske, together with Fred Sharlou. After about a year I got a job as clerk in a General Store, where I worked about three years. During these three years, I homesteaded 120 acres near Colfax, Wisconsin. Father had taken 160 acres the previous year. On this land I had a small house built and 30 acres broke.
One day Lena Saga came into the store with a young lady whom she introduced to me as her cousin Miss Amelia Johnson from Winchester, Wisconsin. The next day when I met Lena, I told her that Amelia was going to be my girl. So it turned out to be. Lena at that time was keeping company with my friend, John Steendahl. I was then in my early twenties. On March 15th, I quit my job at the store, and on March 16th, 1881, John and Lena, and Amelia and I, got married in that little brick Lutheran church at Menomonie in a double wedding ceremony. After dinner, at banker S.B. French's home, where Lena had worked, we started on our wedding tour with a team of horses hitched to a two-seated cutter and in a snow storm drove out to my homestead. John and Lena drove back to Menomonie, next morning. Your grandmother Amelia, and I, spent about three years on the farm.
One day I got a letter from Ohnstad & Peterson at Menomonie offering me a job as clerk in their store. We sold the homestead and moved back to Menomonie again. I worked in the store about three years, until Oliver Ohnstad graduated from college. He then came home to work in the store. Buisness at that time was such that they could do without my help, so I got a job at the Company Store. After about a year there the company asked me to go to their store in Rice Lake to take charge of the clothing and furnishing goods department. In November 1886, we moved to Rice Lake. In about four years, the logging in that section was about done, trade in the store fell off, and help was cut down. I started a grocery and feed store which I operated until 1897, when I was comissioned as postmaster at Rice Lake by President McKinley. I acted in this capacity until suceeded by W. H. Dunn, during President's Wilson's administration, February, 1916.
We then traded our home (that we had built on Newton Street while working in the Company Store) for a 160 acre farm at Earl, Wisconsin, and then after three years, we sold the farm and moved back to Rice Lake.
I then went to work for the Omaha Railroad Company as coach cleaner until I reached the company's age limit.
On May 25th, 1928, your grandmother, Amelia died. Since then I have been at home with your Aunt Mary and Uncle Abner, your Aunt Alba and Uncle Oliver, your Aunt Palma and Uncle Wendell, and am now with your Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Jasper. I expect to go to Aunt Ardys and Uncle Philemon sometime in the future.
Such is the main trail I have traveled during these 78 years. Up and down many a hill, with many a turn in the trail. I have found both joy and sorrow on the way. God has been good to me, yes, better than I deserve..."
Shared by Hannah Stenberg on Ancestry
Children 1936: Son Orva, died 1916, son Orva, died in 1916. Jasper E. Olsen, who is in the insurance business, Mrs. Oliver Stark (Alba), and Abner Olsen of Hammond-Olsen Lbr. Co., all of Rice Lake; Mrs. Wendell Olson (Palma) of White Rock, S. D.; Marshall Olsen, Presbyterian pastor at Minneapolis; Harold Olsen, assistant athletic director and head basketball coach, Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio; and Philemon Olsen with Beckwith Lbr. Co., Hayward.
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1855 - 1936 (80 years)
