Letters From My Brothers in World War II

     As I wrote in a previous blog, both of my brothers served overseas in World War II, and when they could they wrote letters home which were eagerly awaited by my parents, who were kept busy writing letters back.  In the days before the Internet and Skype, the handwritten letters were the only form of communication and sometimes it would take weeks for mail to catch up with the soldiers who were always on the move. 

     Although the boys couldn't write any specifics about what they were going through, they were able to slip in a few clues and innuendos which made it through the censors.

     In my recent diggings through old stuff, which is an ongoing activity for me, I unearthed a letter from brother Gale Enger sent from Germany on June 6, 1945--one year after D-Day.  Since the censorship restrictions were lifted by then this letter gives more details of his activities. He would have been just 21 years old at the time. 

CENSORSHIP AND OTHER FRUSTRATIONS

"June 6th, Germany

Dear Folks,

     Today is an Army holiday. I don't know if it is the States or not. One year ago today was D-Day and the general has given us a day off to celebrate it. At last this business of mail censoring is over and we can write what we want to. So now I can tell you what has happened to me. 

     We left New York on the Queen Elizabeth on August 28th, 1944.  She is the largest ship in the world (10 feet longer than the Queen Mary).  Because she is so fast, we didn't travel in a convoy, but went alone.  A sub chased us on the third night out, but couldn't catch up.  Every eight minutes we changed course, so we made a zig-zag pattern. 

     On Sept. 5 we came to port at the Firth of Clyde in Scotland. (This was the only port big enough to hold our ship that was out of range of the Robot bombs.)  We boarded a train and went to a camp in England where we stayed a month.  From there we went to the southern part of England and boarded an LST (one of those boats that the front end opens up).  We crossed the channel and approached Omaha Beach around midnight.  These LST's have a huge anchor that they drop hundreds of yards out in the ocean and then they run for the beach at full speed.  When they want to leave, they wind up the anchor cable and that pulls them backwards.  We hit the beach at midnight and waited until 2 'clock for the tide to go out.  That left us sitting high and dry, out of water.  Then the front end opened and we rolled out with our trucks.  We slept on the beach that night and the next day took off thru France till we came to the city of Pennes.  There we set up our shop and stayed. 

     I finally got tired of that and asked for a transfer to a combat outfit.  Two weeks later I was on my way to Infantry training depot at Compeinge, France. (That's where that railroad car is that the Armistice of the last war was signed and where Hitler made France surrender in 1940.)

     I stayed there and took Infantry training for nine weeks (On the way down I stopped at Paris for three days. At the end of three days I was broke! ) Then I headed for the 417th Infantry Regiment of the 76th Division.  (Stayed one night in the Maginet line (?)  When I got to the 76th Headquarters I was interviewed and due to being in an Engineer outfit before was sent to the 301st. 

     The night before I got to this outfit they had built a bridge across the Sauer River at Ectienoch, Luxembourg in the Siegfried line and had a number of casualties.  One of their truck drivers went out in a boat and was missing in action, so I took his place.  That's when it was toughest, thru that Siegfried line. It was more heavily fortified than Saipan, Okinawa or Tarawa.  After we got thru that we continued across Germany with the Third Army, usually as a spearhead with Patton's tankers.  We bridged rivers and fixed roads, cleared mines, and blew out road blocks so the tanks could get thru.  If you remember the trap we made where the Moselle and Rhine rivers join up. 

     That night I got my first chance to bring an assault boat across the Moselle.  We took the 417th Infantry across.  Four of us Engineers were in a boat and 12 Infantry.  We were there to take the boats back again.  Our boat made two trips that night.  Next day we took our trucks across and again spearheaded with the tanks and cleaned out that pocket. 

     We finally ended up at Clausnilz, Germany, the farthest into Germany of any division of any army over here, and the closest to the Russians of any of them.  We were supposed to make contact with the Russians but the 69th Division screwed up and sent their patrols out too far, so they made it instead.  In fact we were in Russian territory so we had to pull back to the town of Crimmitchau, where we are now.  It was all pretty exciting and a lot of fun, although there were times when my happy home in the U. S. looked pretty far away.  All this time old C. J. (our Uncle Clarence Erbes) was right behind us, sending out those good old 155's. I'm going to spend the next weekend with him at Geia. 

     Well, I'll write more later, now that censoring is kaput.  It's hard to write when one of your own officers reads everything.  I suppose Billie (our older brother)  is home now or on his way, at least.  He wrote me and said he had 100 points.  He only needs 85 for discharge.

So long for now and write again,

Love to all,

Gale."

Brother Bill who was overseas from 1942-45 wasn't too keen on the censors either.  This was his take on the situation in a letter dated April 10, 1943:  (He was in North Africa with Patton's forces at the time).

"Dear Folks,

     I wrote a letter to you yesterday but this morning the Censor gave it back to me and said I had to rewrite it. Sometimes these Censors make me mad; they don't seem to realize that it's hard enough for us to write a letter in the first place without having to rewrite it.  It seems strange that the newspapers and radio commentators can say what they wish and prophesy the future but we soldiers can't even mention the name of a lousy city!!

   I suppose I can't even tell you that the war is over here in Africa, but anyway, it is! The Nazis are being made prisoners by the thousands so it looks pretty good for us right now.  What will happen next, I don't know, but I'm dropping you this line to let you know that I'm still O. K.

     I received your packages containing money belt, candy, mirror and socks. Thanks a lot.  I'll close now and write more when we get back to a rest camp.

Love,

Billie"

WHAT A WAY TO SPEND CHRISTMAS EVE!

From Belgium on Christmas Eve, 1944:

     "Merry Christmas!  It's only a few hours now until Santa comes but before hanging up my stocking, I'll drop you another "weekly letter"--late as usual.

     Everything here is going as well as can be expected, considering everything.  I imagine the headlines are full of news of the "Western Front" these days.  If everything goes well tho, there's nothing to worry about--this breakthrough might yet turn out to be a help rather than a hindrance--Time will tell.

The weather has improved considerably. The past two days have been freezing cold, but nice and bright.  We also have just enough snow for a Christmas atmosphere. One of the fellows cut down a tree and just brought it in.  Of course, we don't have any lights or decorations but, nevertheless, the tree alone helps quite a bit.

     One pitch black night we moved, me driving our captured German truck.  What a wreck--no lights, no brakes, no nothing.  For the first mile I did quite well by following the taillights of the vehicle in front. Then all of a sudden I stopped with a "bang", and upon investigation I found I had clipped a Sherman tank which was parked along the road.  (Needless to say I came off second best, ha!)  It took about ten minutes to disentangle ourselves but soon I was rolling merrily along again.--Pretty soon I noticed another convoy coming towards me, so to play safe, I pulled over to the side of the road and stopped in order to let them pass  Then, two halftracks hit my truck again (and again I came off "second best.") At the same time, we had some "visitors from the air" so I jumped into a ditch for a while. Then it started to rain and before I got to my destination I clipped a couple of posts and a few other little things.  I finally arrived about 5 o'clock the next morning and found that everyone was worried, not about me but because their bedrolls were on the truck--What a night!!   

Well the coffee is beginning to boil, warning me that it's time to quit and grab a cup while grabbing is good!

Love,

Billie "

PROMISES FROM THE WESTERN FRONT

(From my big brother Billie to me, February 1, 1945 when I was five years old)

"Dear Nonie,

The pretty birthday card which you sent came a little while ago.  I surely was happy to know that you thought of me.  When your birthday comes, I will be back home and I will buy you anything you want for a present---so start thinking!

Love,

Billie"

Billie on leave with Mom Effie and sisters Hope and Nonie

     Actually Billie did send and bring several presents from far away places.  To name a few, a navy girl and a soldier boy doll, a pair of child's wooden shoes from Holland, a stuffed cat, and a sequined purse from Paris which I still have to this day.

     My parents saved every letter that they received from both of their sons.  Several years ago Billie's grandson Ross Enger transcribed all of his grandfather's  letters and put them in a book for all the family to read.  Following his lead, I did the same with Gale's letters.  I still go back and read them from time to time.  Billie passed away from cancer in 1982 and Gale is now 88 years old and living in Oklahoma.  MEMORIES ARE FOREVER!

Gale Enger and uncle Clarence Erbes ran into each other overseas;

they remained best buddies forever after.

      

My 2012 Summer Tour to Norway Was a Family Affair

I chose to go with the Gudbrandsdalslag Norway tour this summer mainly because the itinerary included places that I hadn’t seen on my first two trips to the land of my ancestors in 2000 and 2010—but much to my delight the 2012 tour turned out to be much more of a “family affair” than I could have ever hoped for!

I am a member of Gudbrandsdalslag due to the fact that several generations of grandparents emigrated from the area during the mid-1800’s.  They were g.g.g. grandfather Hans Olsen Torgersrud, g. g. grandparents, Ellev Erlandsen Skogen (Ellef Ellson in America) and Ronnaug (Rena) Hansdatter Torgersrud; g. g. grandparents Christian Larson Gjedrud and his wife Anne Olsdatter Saeterbakken; and great grandparents Mathia Ellson Skogen (at age 6) and Matias Christiansen (Martin Larson in America) at age12, who eventually married each other in Wisconsin in 1878.  I was excited to see the areas where they came from but since they left Norway so long ago, I never expected to make contact with any real people.

Even Bergengstuen with Dianne Snell and Shirley Augustine

at the final tour banquet in Oslo

Fortunately, before the trip I had corresponded with a g. grandson of Ellef and Rena, James Ellson of California, who had been researching the family for some years.  He told me to get in touch with Even Bergengstuen who was a local genealogist in Svingvoll, but all he had was a postal address for him.  I wrote to Even but not in time to receive an answer before I left so I really didn’t expect to make contact.  Much to my surprise, when we arrived in Otta for the Kringen celebration I was told that Even planned to come and meet me there with information on the Skogen and Torgersrud farms.  Even was involved in compiling the bygedebøks for the Brottum area which also included the information on the Nordhagen and Gjedrud farms of Christian Larson.

            True to his word Even came to Otta and met with me and my cousin Shirley Augustine.  A few days later he picked us up at the picturesque Glomstad Gård where we had a dinner stop, to transport us to the Skogen and Torgersud farms.  In Otta I had given Even a copy of my family tree back to the Ellsons and he informed me that he had compared my line to his and we were sixth cousins. Another relative gained!!

Our first stop was Skogen, and Even went ahead of us to talk with the woman of the house.  She was delightful—her name—Gerd Ingrid Moen, the wife of Oddbjørn Skogen who was then up higher on the mountain with their sheep.  With her at home was her 25-year-old son Gudmund who had just returned from a summer of working in Saudi Arabia.  Gerd showed us around and told us that her husband’s ancestors had purchased the farm from my ancestral family.  She brought out a hand-written family tree showing my three times great grandparents, Erland Christensen, 1794, and Kjersti Eriksdatter, 1795, and their seven children.  Eldest son Even Erlandsen Skaugen, 1834, had taken over the farm after his father and after him his son Ole Evensen.  The farm was sold in 1886.

Gerd also had the information on my g. g. grandparents, Ellef Erlandsen Skogen 1842, and Rena Hansdatter Torgersrud, 1841, who left for America in April of 1868 on the ill-fated ship Hannah Parr.  After being shipwrecked and stranded in Limerick, Ireland, they arrived in America 107 days later. The Ellsons left Norway with three daughters and arrived in America with only one, my g. grandmother Mathea Ellefsdatter, age 6.  Their two younger daughters, Christine, 3, and baby Hanna, had both died on the voyage.  Also traveling with them on the Hannah Parr was Rena’s father, Hans Olsen Torgersrud, my three times great grandfather, who was a widower. He died in Norcross, Minnesota in 1882 at the age of 88 years and 5 months.

Gerd Ingrid Moen and her son Gudmund in front of the cabin on the Skogen farm.

From the Skogen farm we piled back into Even’s car and headed for Torgersrud.  When we arrived there the gate was closed and it looked at first glance as though no one was there. Even went into the yard and found the current owner Halvor Torgersrud, who just happened to be there.  He is a journalist in Lillehammer and he and his wife Liv Danielsen now use Torgersrud as their vacation home.  They were just leaving to have dinner with friends, but stayed back to talk with us and show us around.

Halvor knew the history of the farm and where the older homes had been located.  As a crowning gesture of hospitality he gave both Shirley and me a book of poetry, “Det gol ein gauk, og andre vers og viser” with verses by his father, Ole Arnfinn Torgersrud, who passed away in 1974.  Halvor added this inscription:  “August 26, 2012. Dear Dianne, Nice to meet you in Gausdal, Torgersrud. Best regards, Halvor Torgersrud.” What a treasured keepsake!

Halvor Torgersrud, owner of Torgersrud, and his wife Liv Danielsen

Shirley Augustine and Dianne Snell at ancestral farm Torgersrud

          Dusk was beginning to close in and it was time to leave—we still had a couple of stops to make.  First, the large stone Østre Gausdal church, and second,  the smaller Follebu Church.  After that it was too dark and Even made just a quick “drive by” of the Fåberg Church, where g. g. grandfather Christian Larson was baptized, before dropping us off at our Lillehammer hotel.  We saw Even again at our final banquet at the Grand Hotel in Oslo, and he said that when we came back to Norway he would take us to Nordhagen and Giettrud farms. I plan to take him up on that promise!

         
Østre Gausdal stone church,  partially burned during the Seven Years war in the 1600’s and enlarged in 1715. and the smaller Follebu Church.  Both churches were built in the 1300's with later additions and restorations.

          The next day I learned that a scheduled group stop at the Fåberg church had been cancelled, so our tour guide Arna had arranged for a caretaker to provide a private tour for those of us that had family ties to Fåberg.  Arna served as interpreter and four grateful immigrant descendants met at the church just outside of Lillehammer—Sandy Aune, Kathy Peterson, Dick Lundgren and Dianne Snell. We were excited to climb the stairs to the bell tower to view the two historic bells, the oldest from the 1100’s.  Our tour guide gave us the history of the church and four cameras were clicking a mile a minute.  Definitely a major highlight of the tour!

The Fåberg Church near Lillehammer where g. g. grandfather Christian Larson was baptized.

The oldest bell (right) at Fåberg Church is from the  1100's with no markings. The newer bell (left)

from the 1700's was made in the Netherlands. Both bells are rung simultaneously for services.

Four awestruck immigrant descendants by the Fåberg Church pulpit;

From left, Dianne, Kathy, Sandy and Dick

An authentic runestone pillar in the church yard indicates an acient worship site on this spot

            When the Gudbrandsdal tour ended on August 30 Shirley and I traveled by bus from Oslo to Honefoss to begin another wonderful week with relatives on our fathers’ side of the family in Ringerike and Sigdal and we also joined the Sigdalslag tour which was already in progress. (That's for another blog!)

            I will conclude by saying that although the beautiful and historic places we saw and events we attended on the 2012 tour were wonderful experiences, for me the family connections were the best part—priceless!  When’s the next tour??  I’ll start packing!

A view from the top near Skogen and Torgersrud farms

in Gausdal, Oppland, Norway

The Bergans--A New Branch on my Family Tree

One of the "mystery photos" in my collection, from Tacoma, Washington.

Which one is Peder O. Bergan?  I now know he is the one on the left!!

Update on December 29, 2012

EUREKA! I FOUND IT!!

After all these months I have located an identified photo of P. O. Bergan (see below)

This photo, possibly a wedding photo, is identified as P. O. Bergan and his wife Anne Hadland on the left,

and N. Hadland (brother of Anne) and his wife Gina on the right, therefore the top photo

is an older version of P. O. Bergan on the left, in Tacoma.

           

The title of this Blog may be a little misleading.  The Bergan family is not exactly “new,” they have been there all the time, but I have just recently pieced a part of the puzzle together to connect our relationship. 

            This mystery has been plaguing me since 1993 when there was an Enger family reunion in Kindred, North Dakota, and a family member from Spring Grove brought some unidentified vintage photos.  She knew they were family and showed them around to all that were there, but no one knew who the people were.  Then she offered them to anyone who wanted to take them and do some research to find out the identities.  I volunteered, of course, because one thing you need to know about me is that I hate old photographs without names;--what good are they to anyone if they are unknown?  I get almost nauseous when I see vintage photos for sale in antique shops of marriages, and babies, and grandparents, with  no names.

            I took the photos with perfectly good intentions of finding out who these people were.  Most of the photos had photographer logos from Spring Grove, one or two from Moorhead, Minnesota and then one very intriguing one of two dapper looking gentlemen, taken in Tacoma, Washington.  The Spring Grove and Moorhead photos were understandable since our Enger ancestors had settled in both of those places, but Tacoma??  No one knew of anyone in our family who had gone to Tacoma!

            Well, these photos have rattled around in the depths of my genealogy materials since 1993—(Someday I will probably be found in my office suffocated under a mountain of paper).  From time to time the photos would surface when I was looking for something else, and then I would vow once again to put names to the people who were staring back at me—all with vaguely familiar “family-looking” faces.  Each time I would work on it for a few days,  hit a dead end and then put them back in the box for another time.

            Fast forward to 2012 when I was working on this blog—I went back and re-read the Enger family history that had been written by Ida Enger Berg back in the 1960’s and had been distributed to us at the aforementioned family reunion by her nephew Keith “Skip” Enger.  I guess I read a little farther and a little deeper than I ever had before, and all of a sudden when I came to the section on the Bergan family, this sentence jumped out at me: 

            “Peder (Bergan) had an urge to write so after locating in Tacoma, Washington, he published a paper called “The Budtikken.”  This rang a bell loud and clear, those mystery photos were more than likely the Bergan family.  So now I will start from the beginning and tell where the Bergan branch fits in the Enger family tree.  Again, I will quote Ida Enger Berg:

            “Ingeborg, the eldest daughter of Peder and Aase Enger, was born near Eggedal, Norway in 1838.  In 1860 she was married to Ole Kristiansen Jokstad.  A son Kristen was born to them in 1861 and shortly after that Ingeborg’s parents emigrated to America.  Peder Enger sold them the Elling-Engar gaard (farm) and the newlyweds chose to remain in Norway.  They were the parents of eight children. Kristen 1861; Peder 1862, died 1864; Peder (2) 1865, went to America in 1882; Martin 1867; Aase 1869, died 1874; Ole born 1873, came to America in 1890; Jorgine 1875, died 1884; Anne Marie born 1880, died 1900.

            Ole Kristensen Jokstad died in 1898 and his wife Ingeborg in 1893 and son Martin took over the farm.  Kristen, the eldest son, married Berte Asle Saastad of Bergan and three of Ingeborg and Ole Jokstad’s sons adopted the last name of Bergan since they lived on the Bergan farm with Kristen.

            Peder Bergan came to America in 1882 (changed to Peter) at the age of 17 years. He went directly to Spring Grove, Minnesota to live with his grandparents, Peder and Aase Enger, and later he went to Moorhead where his Aunt Sigri (Enger) lived.

            Peter Bergan married Anne Hadland Bakkos who was about 14 years his senior.  She had saved her earnings so they decided to go west.  Peder had an urge to write so after locating in Tacoma, Washington, he published a paper called Buttiken (The shop).

First issue of the Tacoma Budstikke, December 25, 1889

            I have now learned that the paper published by Peter Bergan with partner Peter Julseth,was actually called “The Tacoma Budstikke” and I was excited to locate copies of three editions of this newspaper at the Tacoma Public Library.  (Note:  I was nearly as excited about the fact that they were in Tacoma as I was in finding out who they were.  Finally, a chance for me to do family research in my neck of the woods.  The Tacoma library is about ten miles from my house!)

The Budstikke was only published for a short time, from December 1889 to 1891 when Peter left Tacoma for other adventures.  Two of  Peter and Anne’s daughters, Ilma and Olga, were born in Tacoma.

                 Ida Berg quoted from a granddaughter, Adell Swanson:  “The venture (Budstikke) was not too successful, not because of Peter’s lack of ability (he loved journalism) but because he and his fine friends would party and forget to get the money-making part of the paper--namely the ads--into their publication.  The subscribers soon lost faith and he was forced out of that business.” 

Tacoma City Director of 1890

Peter T. Julseth, solicitor of Tacoma news, and Peter O. Bergan, publisher, Tacoma Budstikke

            In 1891, with his family, Peter Bergan and his cousin Ole Rustan moved to Britton, South Dakota where they bought a section of land and started farming.  A third daughter, Nora, was born there. Their living quarters in Britton was a sod house with the inside plastered over the exposed roots.  There was no floor but the ground inside the house was covered with mint as a protection against sand fleas. 

The Indians and cattle barons resented the farmers who interfered with their hunting grounds or pasture lands and would retaliate by setting fires to force the settlers out.  One day the fire came and the Bergan family was forced to take refuge on a square of plowed land that had been prepared for just such an emergency.  Everything was completely burned and after that the family moved to Felton, Minnesota where they lived for twelve years.  While there Peter was assessor for 9 years.  As quoted by Ida:  “He was a true frontiersman, he loved to break the first furrow in the sod but when it became everyday he was ready to move on.”

            Politics and local or national issues were always Peter Bergan’s big interest and he constantly contributed articles to local and national publications.  After his death clippings from the San Francisco Examiner and Hearst Publications were found among his possessions, all bearing his trademark signature “P.O.B.”  He was a strong advocate of Free Trade and most of his writings were on this subject.  One of the reasons he contributed to so many publications was to get free subscriptions and reading material.  “Not only did he read the newspapers from headlines to ads, but also all the magazines available,” his granddaughter stated.

            In 1906 the Peter Bergan family moved on again, this time to homestead in Saskatchewan, Canada. On the way they stopped off in Moorhead, Minnesota where daughter number 4, Anne, was born.  Saskatchewan was wild and unsettled when the region was acquired by the Dominion of Canada, but when the Canadian Pacific Railroad was completed in 1886 the settlers started moving in.

            Peter’s claim was at Invermay, Saskatchewan, and because of a chain of sloughs in the area the land needed drainage before it could be cultivated, so Peter the entrepreneur, preceded his family to Canada and went into the dredging business.  His family at Felton were left behind to do the harvesting and the moving.  Daughter Olga remembered helping to drive the cattle to Kragnes station and loading them into cattle cars.

            Meanwhile Peter, in Canada, had built a log cabin at Invermay where the family lived for nine years.  The farm prospered, Peter continued the dredging business and became the sales representative for an imported Swedish cream separator.  During the time in Invermay, two Bergan daughters, Olga and Nora, married brothers Ole and Nels Espeland. 

            In 1915 the Bergans moved to St. Joseph’s Island, Ontario, a beautiful wooded island abounding in wild flowers and fruit.  Daughter Nora and her husband, Nels Espeland, joined Peter Bergan there in buying abandoned property and they had quite a profitable little real estate business for a while.  For three summers they went to Flint, Michigan where their daughters Ilma and Annie lived and worked.  Mother Anne did practical nursing and Peter was foreman on a road construction project.

            Later they raised sheep and sold wool and lambs and Peter cut cord wood and sold it.  They only received mail two  or three days a week, and the day after they received the mail Peter was so busy reading he hardly took time to eat.  He became active in local government and wrote stirring articles in local newspapers trying to get a law passed forbidding hunters to shoot deer on the island when they were swimming.  On November 16, 1927, the day after hunting season opened, Peter was informed that hunters were in the area, he took his gun and posted himself where the deer usually came into view.  He died there of a heart attack at the age of 62.

            There ends the saga of Peter Oleson Bergan, a colorful character and a truly adventurous pioneer.  His wife Anne died of a ruptured appendix just six months after her husband’s death, so as quoted by Ida from the granddaughter Adell Swanson, “This was the beginning of the end of a fun time at Sterling Bay (St. Joe’s Island).”
              From Barbara Davies of the St. Joseph Island Historical Society I have learned the following about the Peder Bergan family:

• Peter Bergan died Nov. 16, 1926 and is buried in the Tenby Bay Cemetery. His cause of death was “chronic myocarditis.” 
• His wife Annie, nee Hadland, Bergan died on May 12, 1927 at the Red Cross Hospital, Richards’ Landing, St. Joseph Island. The cause of death was appendicitis.  She is also buried in the Tenby Bay Cemetery.
• Their daughter Anne married Einer Gilbertson on April 3, 1920 and she is buried at Tenby Bay Cemetery, death date unknown.
• Nora’s husband Nels Espeland died October 14, 1937, “Death by hanging--suicide.” His birth date was May 12, 1873, born in Norway and is buried in Tenby Bay.  His parents were Osten Espeland and Asloug Boen, both born Norway. His brother Ole Espeland was the informant.
• The sawmill purchased by Peter Bergan was Peter Chesterfield’s Mill located at Sterling Bay.  After the mill closed it was the site of a summer boy’s camp in the 1930’s.

Family members who visited St. Joseph Island at a later time placed stones on both the Bergans’ and Espelands’ burial sites.  Daughter Anne’s was unmarked, and when the Tenby Bay Cemetery Board raised enough money through bake sales etc. simple stones were placed on all the known unmarked grave sites, including Anne’s.



Postscript to P. O. Bergan Story: (Dec. 29, 2012)

          An article found on the Genealogy Bank website under Historical Newspapers, comes from the Grand Forks Herald dated 9-16-1892, and intimates that P. O. Bergan and associates  may have been involved in some questionable real estate activity in Washington State. 

           The article states that the following advertisement appeared in Normanden of February 25, 1892.

    

       "The Bergan City Real Estate Building Association, with a capital of $25,000, and with one-third of the original townsite under its control, will next spring, as soon as the rainy season is over, commence the erection of several business and residence houses and a shingle mill in Bergan City.  For that purpose this association has issued under the laws of Washington 500 shares of stock at $30 per share, that can now be obtained from officers in the association or its authorized agents.  A similar organization commenced business about five years ago with a capital of $30,000 and have today a taxed evaluation of $2,000,000.

     Friend, wherever you might be, whoever you may be, young or old, rich or poor, man or woman, "go thou and do likewise."  Here you are offered a rare opportunity to invest your savings in an enterprise that cannot but bring you 100 and probably 1,000 fold in return. You run no risk as the shares are backed by real estate that will enhance in value every day that passes.  "He who don't risk don't win." the proverb says. By securing shares in the Bergan City Real Estate and Building Association you have no risk, but everything to win. A half dozen shares may secure your financial independence and become the foundation for a fortune.

For further particulars address any of the trustees and directors of the association.

M. O. TEIGEN, President; P. O. BERGAN, Treasurer; H. A. FOSS, Secretary."

         

       The author of the article goes on to say " Now the spring is gone and the fall has come and there has not been erected a single business house, nor a single residence, nor a shingle mill.  Excepting P. O. Bergan's claim shanty there is not a single house in the "city." The writer intimates that the enterprise is a swindle, plain and simple, and that "the company with a capital of $20,000 has as yet been unable to pay for their advertising they had done in our paper." 

        I guess my next research will be to try and find out where "Bergan City, Washington" was located. I remember that when I accessed  the available copies of the "Tacoma Budstikke" (P. O.  Bergan's newspaper) at the Tacoma Public Library last summer there were some advertisements for property for sale on the Olympic Peninsula which involved P. O. Bergan.  Now--back to the library at the first opportunity!

  OLE BERGAN

            Another of the Bergan brothers, Ole, born in Norway in 1873, came to America in 1890 at age 17.  He wrote Peter Bergan of his plans to come to America, and asked advice of his older brother.  Ole asked Peter how the men shaved in America.  Peter responded by saying that American men shaved off their eyebrows, so Ole, in good faith did just that.  When he arrived in America and discovered that his brother had fooled him he was much embarrassed and justifiably angry!  But, as Ida noted, this type of humor seems to be typical of the Enger men—a bunch of practical jokesters!

            Ole Bergan was evidently not an entrepreneur like his brother Peter.  Ole came directly to Washington State and spent his entire time at Issaquah, (then called Gilman) King County, Washington (about 20 miles from my home.) He worked in the coal mines for Kaiser Coal.  According to Ida Berg he continued to work in the mines until he was in injured in an explosion accident which put him in the hospital for three years and reportedly his face was almost blown off.  Later he was crippled by arthritis and remained in a wheel chair for the remainder of his life. He died in 1944 and he never married. (See postscript for an updated version).

            Since learning about this relative who lived near my present home, I went to Issaquah to try and find  more information about him.  From the New York Passenger Lists on Ancestry.com I found that he arrived in America on July 5, 1890 in New York on the ship Island, which departed from Copenhagen, Denmark.

In the 1900 Federal Census he is living in Gilman, King, Washington, age 26, single.  In 1910 he is living in Newcastle, (another coal mining town) King, Washington in a boarding house of William and Marguerite Gill. In 1920 he is living alone in Gilman again, and in 1930 he is still in Gilman with Herman and William Hagland and he is not working, so that was apparently after he was disabled.  My research on Ole is ongoing.

           

I still don’t know the individuals names in the photos in my possession, but at least I know what family they belong to.  I guess that’s progress!  I will publish some of the photos on this site in the hope that a family member will see them and be able to identify the people.

Here are some of the unidentified photos. Can anyone help?

                      Caledonia, MN                   No location, could be Norway

      

Both photos from Spring Grove

Both by C. Engell, Spring Grove

Moorhead, Minnesota

Possibly the youngest Bergan daughter, Anne, who was born in Moorhead Circa 1905 (?)

Postscript to Ole Bergan story: 

         Since publishing this blog initially, I was delighted to receive some new information about Ole Bergan from the Issaquah Historical Society in the form of an obituary,  published January 20, 1938, in the Issaquah Press.

             "Suffering from a heart attack, Ole Bergan died at the Alfred (Boss) Anderson home Friday afternoon (Jan. 14) of last week. He was sitting talking with friends, got up and walked around the floor to get a drink of water and fell over, dying immediately."

           "He was born in Norway 65 years ago.  He came to Issaquah in 1892 and worked in the old mine and Grand Ridge until he became too badly crippled to work.  He owned a small home and a lot on the hill immediately under the water tanks.  Ole was a cousin of the late Gilbert Weston.  (Should be Rustan).  Buried at Hillside (cemetery)."

              It is interesting to note that Ole Bergan died in the same manner as his older brother Peter, from a sudden heart attack. 

           After receiving this obituary I visited the Flintoft's Funeral Home in Issaquah and the director kindly did a quick search of Hillside Cemetery records for me.  Ole Bergan is not on the cemetery maps, and I learned that there are many unmarked graves in the old lower part of the cemetery.  Apparently the previous funeral home did not keep accurate cemetery records, but I did go there and take a photo.

          A peaceful resting place for Ole Bergan in Hillside Cemetery, Issaquah, Washington

Additional information was that his house was located east of town in the plat Issaquah Park.   He bought the house on March 26, 1920. The house was later moved to Fall City in about 1956.  It was located in Block 5, Lots 8, 9, & 10 lying southerly of Sunset Highway, less mineral rights.   I am in the process of obtaining a picture of the house from the King County archives.

Ole Bergan cabin as it was on March 14, 1940;

It even shows smoke coming from the chimney!

Postscript #2 to Ole Bergan story:   I received a scan of the Ole Bergan property and cabin in  Issaquah, as part of a project to photograph all King county properties with improvements done by the WPA in 1938, the same year Ole Bergan died. The information states that Ole bought the property March 26, 1920, and the cabin was built in 1915 so the cabin was in place when he bought it. The building is only 12x20 (240 sq. ft.) with a 4x12 shed. The type of construction says "cheap"(!), condition poor. It had a stove for heat, a spring for water,  and a dugout basement.  The property was sold to the state of Washington in 1952 and the cabin was moved off to make way for the new Sunset Highway.  So ends the story of Ole Bergan, bachelor coal-miner, who came to America for a better life but apparently didn't find it!  Although, his obituary states that he died in the company of friends, so maybe he was happy anyway.  Rest in Peace, Ole!

Scan from the King County archives