Cataloging a collection of books saved from my childhood home; it is interesting to peak at the cover pages. Within, it is quite common to witness a name, date or address or to see a remembrance scripted from long ago. One such book revealed so much more. It had belonged to Grandmother.
This unassuming Third Grade Reader from 1931 — “Good stories from Everywhere Out-of-Doors stories Old tales Big and Little Workers Fairy Tales Festival Stories Hero Stories” was a bit of an oddity.
The pages had no such content. The pages were blank as finished. It was defective from the publisher. Perfectly bound but devoid of author’s work.
The unique but quite useless book likely found itself on some flea-market shelf and this is where Grandmother acquired it. She was thrifty that way.
Actually, I believe she bought it second hand. The first dozen or so pages had been torn out after the previous owner scribbled upon them and then had given up interest, so extra bargain points there. This was circa 1963 and for the next decade and a half (until her death) she spoke of early childhood in the old country. She wrote of admiration for her loving family, and remaining loyal to her faith throughout, of the trials and tribulations that accompany life.
Addressed to: Dear Friend, it offers insight into her declining years which she makes the best of nonetheless with positive thinking and future hopefulness. I’m glad to have found this old book, inconspicuous in the dusty library stack. I read every word.
Our 19th century Norwegian relatives were rooted to land that was and still is scattered with small farms. Rural areas of Nordland and and also the fjords provided for them. Published records give ideas on life events — comings and goings.
Within Nordland is the Hemnes municipality and following is a map overlay of the original farms of old.
The farms of interest in this family are 87 Tybækken and 89 Straumbotn. The linked farms displayed with arrows show particular origins of pedigree e.g. from the farm Overleir came Anna Nilsd.
Mons Pedersøn (1671-1734) the oldest trace in the farm migration chain recorded. He settled at Straumbotn but the farm of his birth is not known. Not to be confused by the term farm migrants these folks might migrate once — twice sometimes if a husband passed away and they were looking to remarry.
For perspective the straight-line travel distance was at most 25 km. A 6-Ring work boat with sail (Seksringsbåt) would have been a conveyance of choice. They didn’t migrate too far at all. You’d think that from limited geography that finding a mate (who wasn’t related) might be a challenge. Uh oh…
Best I can tell the bloodlines of siblings of my 6th great-grandparents carried to Tybækken rendering my great grandparents 4th cousins in marriage. What does this mean. Beyond the 3rd or 4th, the genetic relationship becomes quite distant. A study showed that less than half of 4th cousins share IBD segments of identical by descentDNA.
By the turn of the century and with small farms unable to sustain large families there were changes happening. Many moved away seeking to renew prosperity and as we know, made the exceptional migration all the way to the USA and so after this lookback, here we are here.
Christopher Olai, my 2nd great-grandfather lived his life on a small farm in Norway. Local parish ledgers recorded in longhand document births, christenings , marriages and deaths. These have been digitized and transcribed. There are also population Census but to drill down even further there are Farm Books (Gård og Slekt). These were created by local historians and genealogists in the 20th century and document the history of individual farms and the families who lived on them over time. These are a trove of information but can be rather cryptic with abbreviations and of course it’s foreign [to me] . Handy is a Table of Common Abbreviations in Bygdebøker
5) Christopher Johannessen (1816?31,10.1914), sønn av f.br., fikk bbr. mot kår til foreldrene, dat. 12.2.1842, tl. 21.6.?43. Han var også smed og rokkedreier. G. 1842 m. Berit Pedersd. (1819?19.12.?90) fra 40 Myrvik bnr. 1.
This excerpt is an outline summary of the fifth (5) Tennent in the history of the farm Bnr 2 (lnr.276b) STRAUMBOTN and as the abbr. table states Bnr stands for small farm number (bruksnummer). The abbreviation lnr. is serial number, parcel number (løpenummer). Straumbotn is the name of the farm as a whole.
In-between the abbr. is more Norwegian puzzle that Google Translate can’t crack. Make sense of: sønn av f.br., fikk bbr. mot kår til foreldrene, dat. 12.2.1842, tl. 21.6.?43
AI makes quick easy work of it:
“Son of born tenant, received lease against retirement provisions for the parents, dated 12.2.1842, transferred 21.6.1843.” – xI Grok beta
“Son of the farm owner, received a lease with care provisions for the parents, dated 12 February 1842, and took over on 21 June 1843.” – ChatGPT
Claude 3.5 Sonnet was more detailed albeit less conversational. A Google translation, old school (not AI), was weak and worthless:
“son of a brother, received a brother against the will of his parents, date 12.2.1842, tl. 21.6.?43“
Regarde the complete record for 089 Straumbotn and what at superficial glance looks all Greek to me can be found in translation with the aforementioned tools at hand. I’m a bit closer to Great Great Grandfather’s life on the farm.
4 teenage girls and a 21 year old take his buggy out for a sunny church Sunday afternoon joyride. What could happen!?
To condense the report from the Marshalltown Iowa Times-Republican: Mr. Dawson drove up with his buggy, to which was hitched a pony. The young ladies thought they would fancy a ride, and the four, with Dawson started up the road for a short distance. The wind caught the hat of Miss Drury, who was driving, and the horse frightened, turning suddenly. To make matters worse, the road had just been worked and was rough and furrowed. The buggy began to tip, and Miss Drury was thrown out. Dawson tried to reach the reins, and in so doing knocked Miss Lora Specht out...
Everyone survived more or less. Poor Mr. Dawson was deemed unlucky as in his final act of picking up the reins the horse kicked him cutting a bad gash on his head and breaking his arm.
In the responsible party’s defense it should be known that these were not city folk. Being accustomed to farm life, would it be unusual for a country girl to occasionally operate a Buggy with the close supervision of a man? He would be accountable and right there beside her to coach. Tragically, for his effort, he failed to procure favor with any of the girls; of that I’m sure.
Preceded by the wayward hat and the ensuing shrieking when the horse bolted, there was an element of surprise which was compounded by the unforgivable chaotic reaction of dropping the reins. This was an element of panic — and certainly for the Pony.
These animals are easily spooked by such things and a ladies straw hat passing peripherally would do the deed. (blinders for the beast?) This suggests that there was a breeze coming from behind. I don’t think that they were reckless. Had they been speeding (before the event) the unsecured hat would have disappeared aft rather than in the direction of the stead.
The seating configuration of the buggy is not known but since the story does not reference a carriage model we can assume that there was only one bench style seat on which they all lined up abreast.
Having all 5 aboard could have been unwise. Realize that there wasn’t much to grasp onto. Seat belts? Nope. Max Seating Capacity placard non-existent. Fault or negligence would have been reasoned by the families as opposed to insurance companies or lawyers. These were simpler times…
No Police report, just the recounting in the newspaper story of peril and what could possibly go wrong!
Whilst browsing publicly available military records for male relatives of the era I was bemused as to why there were so many, seemingly beyond physical fighting years, that were registered for WW II. Initially rationalized in my mind as patriotism, I noted that some of these men had registration cards for WW I – the Great War, both. That would have made a very patriotic statement! Max Boris Harrison was 25 when he enlisted in September of 1918 and here he is signed up in 1942.
Investigation reveals that the Selective Service Act for WW 2 as of 1940 considered all men between the ages of 21 and 36. Following the attack on Hawaii in late 1941 the age range was quickly expanded raising the age to 45 but by 1943 the Draft was revised yet again to 64 years of age.
Those of 45-64 weren’t eligible for actual military service but were registered for potential civilian mobilization and civil defense needs. The expanded draft helped the government closely monitor the national workforce and manpower resources to best support the war effort on both the military and home front. Toward War’s end the age limit was lowered back down to 45 as the nation’s military manpower needs became less acute.
Witnessing all of the yellow draft cards, it seems that everyone fulfilled their civic duty and now I have a second reasoning for the why.
We saw the animal descending out of the tree in moment of hurry. He crashed through the watery bog as he made his get away. He could have stayed put, silent while we paddled by and we’d have never known.
About that startled Black Bear… NC Wildlife Resources Commission: “Black bears are commonly seen in Brunswick County, especially during the summer months. This is because bear cubs are often sent away by their mothers to explore,” source another source bear facts and yet another source
The “creek” was very flooded still from the recent rains. We witnessed pumping which seemed rather futile. Mother nature will have its own way.
Having traced our Scandinavian roots we shift to a tougher one to crack; The Harrison side of the family– born into the Russian Empire what is currently Lithuania. Difficult because there was little to go on. We had first hand knowledge of those who were born in the USA of course but their parents that immigrated and who had enjoyed good lives here were loath to talk about their past. In other words any hard facts were not forthcoming. We did not have places of birth, dates, or even their former names and spellings.
Nanny Fan dismissed most inquiries, saying that her last memories of the old country were too distressing to re-live. We believe she probably witnessed religious prejudice, cruelty and even bloodshed. There were hints that some emigrated with just the clothes on their backs and valuables hand stitched into coat linings.
We think our relatives from the old world would have wanted to assimilate as citizens into the USA not only to avoid scorn or ridicule but to gain a normalcy that would not sabotage their sense of community or livelihood. First order of self help: losing a foreign sounding name and learning English. So, none of us twice removed had good intel.
We had but one strong hint: the original family surname sounded like “Kurgon”. So where to begin…
Working backward with the closest relative, father or mother, we find out who their parents were and in this case learn that Zadie’s father, Max Boris Harrison had immigrated. Starting with a 1910 United States Census we scrape the year of immigration (1908) and discover that he, with parents and siblings, were under the same roof in the USA by 1910. It was likely that they immigrated together as well; but what surname? Harrison was the naturalized but how to search for this family in archival ship passenger listings?
A challenge is that invariably each tracking document has the names malformed in some way. Not only were names changed but then altered or misspelled through clerical error along the way. The Census poll has the name as Herrison. Sifting through passenger lists would have been and impossible task before searchable computer databases. Realize that a data set was once transcribed by human hand from records hand written and with hopeful accuracy. In our case Harrison turns up zilch. Luckily a search engine allows for fuzzy or broad pattern name spellings. Browsing dozens of returns we capture a hit with a Max Herison. And with a departure port of Hamburg, Germany it makes sense. A bit of sleuthing reveals that this was close proximity and the natural point for anyone emigrating from the area now known as Lithuania. A German document processor upon hearing Harrison phonetically would have written down Herison. The German word Herr (a conventional title showing respect when addressing a German gentleman translated as Sir or Mr. and sounds like “hair”) so naturally a local clerk might trade the letter e for the a. His counterpart in New York would switch it back from e to a!
SS Kaiserin Auguste Victoria – Passenger List
Observe Max B, his mother Rose, and younger sisters Dora, Lena, and Hannah all together. (Father: Morris immigrated in 1904) Their ship makes interesting historical reading. It was operated by the Hamburg-Amerika Line and they traveled Steerage Class on the 9 day voyage to New York.
So we now know Hamburg. Our family boarded with their new surname Herison but the trail goes cold again. Searching the old name Kurgon reveals little except that an alternate spelling, Kurgan, offers many hits but with another obstacle. The first/middle name Max Borris would need to be translated along with everyone else’s given names. Mother, Rose was Rasha or Rasya in the old world. Dora Sarah was Sore Dvora. Morris Harrison was Movsha and had many name variations but ultimately was to become Morris. Max Boris birth name was Berel Mordekhay. That one was never going to turn up even with the broadest of search variations. There was better luck with his father’s name which helped to pinpoint him with the other family members.
Finally, having the names we could find places and dates. Browsing the LitvakSIG online data source for taxation, conscription, and family list ledgers was fruitful.
The central government did in fact run a comprehensive Census back in the day, which would have been most excellent for our purposes except that they only retained population counts and counts by ethnic percentage — discarding all the other details. Shoot.
Armed with a a place, also with spelling variations depending on nationality, required some geo-political learning. In the USA we have town|county|state with maybe a rural township to complicate the effort. The Russian Empire used province|district|town as we drill down. One aspect is that modern political borders and alignments are significantly less helpful. Lithuania for example wasn’t a thing before WW I but listing a country location as Russia does not work either. One must find and utilize period correct maps.
Russian Empire Provinces of Kovno, Vilna, Suwalki until 1918
These old time provinces today would encompass Lithuania and spill into current day Belarus and Poland. Our Kurgan (Harrison) group lived in Vilkija which is on the Nemunas River in the province of Kovno district of Kovno. An alternate spelling, Kaunas, is synonymous. The former is Russian and Lithuanian is the latter. Here we find our relatives and discover some who didn’t make it to America.
By the time we, as descendent children, take interest and get around to inquiring about family background history — direct informational account is no longer possible and by now second/third hand news. Logistically, one’s closest living relative was probably a youngster themselves (Nanny Fan was age 5) when she and her family emigrated and she would have had scant primary recall. She would have instead relied upon stories or tales after the fact and that these recollections may have been influenced by blur, bias, or emotion.
So the old family backstories were easily contorted or even lost all together. It’s interesting to uncover them in the perspective of historical times past and with a perceived glimpse into what once was.
This Strombotne family surname has always been a twister. Some get it right first try but others, be they strangers or acquaintances could attempt — make a hash of it and give up or not even try for fear of mangling and risking insult injury. The first syllable was generally easy for them but the rest of it, usually a big fail. Frequently the “t” gets ignored for some reason and it’s uttered phonetically : strom·bone·eeee . Cringe. I had a Junior High PE Coach that would say it Strum·bot·knee with the emphasis on the second syllable. He had the last 2/3rds correct but the first syllable came out like strum (as in strum guitar).
Here’s how: Strom begins with an ST blend phonic same as do words straight or strong and these two consonants precede rom which sounds like ROM (computer read only memory) or rom as in Trombone (the instrument(s) from The Music Man) then bot like in robot and finally “ne” — say knee (the knee bone connected to the…) Strom·bot·ne
Then we have spelling tangles. After they’ve heard the name spoken there is the issue of the last letter. Was that an “i” followed by conversation: “Oh! is that Italian?” No it’s a letter “e”.
Strombotne is an anglicized family name tracing its origin to a farm in Norway — Straumbotn.
Ancestors that lived at Straumbotn and elsewhere had been using a patronymic naming system. The use of a fixed family name was made compulsory by law in Norway in 1923. As a result of this change, many chose and began using their patronymic name as their fixed family name; others (as in our case) chose their farm’s name as their permanent family name and thus the surname name — Strømbotne.
Patronymic Simplified: A child’s last name was derived from the father’s first name. If you had a daughter you would add – datter to the end of the father’s first name, if you had a son you would append – sen or –son to the father’s first name and this new name compounded would become the Childs surname. Sometimes the name of the farm was used as a 3rd name; not so much as a surname but as an address identifier. The reason being is that after several centuries many now had the same first and last names. A formal change to a fixed family surname began in the early 1800’s and was widespread by about 1900.
Spelling differed but the sound was always the same. Straum was the (Nordland local) Nynorsk standard and Strøm was the Bokmål way (Danish was the written language of Norway until 1814).
Considering authenticity, I doubted that my ancestors pronounced words anything like we do here in the USA. Then I told a Norwegian friend, last name Tvedt 🙂 of my state of perplexity and asked him to read it into a recorder.
Strømbotn
We think that other peoples in broader Scandinavia had been adding a soft “neh” sound to botn, so Strømbotn gained an “e” in its spelling to align with this pronunciation. A second theory is that since there are no English words that end in “tn” consonants that this vowel was added to the spelling. Somewhere along the line the soft “e” (neh sound) became a hard “E” (sounding like knee) the spelling Rule #3: the silent “e” ignored evidently.
After an ah hah! moment of imagining a lifetime spent methodically (incorrectly) correcting people it became clear to me that my instilled conception of pronunciation wasn’t necessarily THE way .
In the case of brief person to person interaction it’s unlikely to matter too much how you pronounce it. No longer do I impose (unless badly adulterated) and even then at times let them know “close” or “good effort” as it gives them satisfaction and allows them to smile. But, for standardization (and extra points) say Strombotne – – – strom·bot·ne, straum·botn, or possibly straum·boat·neh.
As a young boy I can remember Dad bringing home random arrowheads and stone rock Indian artifacts from out on the range. While I never witnessed one of his lucky chance finds, I was with him once when he pointed to another piece of western history — ghostlike narrow tracks through dry hard packed alkali ground. From out of nowhere and scattered tumbleweed these parallel impressions were the dirt markings of the old Butterfield Stagecoach he explained. This seemed so incredulous to me that day and I retained the memory.
That was 60 years ago and even at the time the trail remnants would have been dated by a century. Local knowledge. I categorized his factoid as legend or folklore.
Present day and watching an old James Stewart/John Wayne cowboy western re-run (1962 and available on streaming media), I spied a stage. This movie prop rekindled my early intrigue, for barely legible on the side of the coach roof in faint paint was Butterfield.
for movie timeline purposes they tried [unsuccessfully] to obfuscate the name
This prompted a deep dive [web] search. There was in fact a stagecoach express so described: The Butterfield Overland Mail Company. Accordingly, it operated between St. Louis and San Francisco funded by a 4 year U.S. Postal Department contract. Recalling the glimpse of rutted arid San Joaquin Valley tracks gives one pause; it would have been a rough tough dusty ordeal and how far we’ve come…
Full circle. Dad was onto something! Excepting that reproduced historical map creations are not necessarily precision navigation and that evidential proof has been obliterated by agricultural progress the mapped area of trail discovery does happen to highlight the territory of my one time visit. I like to think that Dad was spot on.
A 1971 USDA historical aerial photo from UNC Chapel Hill libraries showing the neighborhood now known as Charleston Woods. Before the houses were built, Charleston Woods was actual woods! The point location was determined by taking angles from the Bond Lake Dam (under construction), the White Oak Creek and a transmission line which transits. It is a general estimate.
annotated snippet copy of the original neighborhood
There are also aerial photographs of the county from 1959 and 1938 that also show pine and hardwoods here. The farmland fields that are present in these images are limited to low flat areas of Crabtree Creek; what is now Bond Park Baseball Diamonds 5 & 6 and the Prestonwood Soccer Complex northward. The survey depicts rail tracks and 2 public roads that precede these dates — Highhouse Rd. and Old Apex Rd. None of the streets that we enjoy today had been built yet. The actual full resolution photo file taken on February 24, 1971 can be retrieved easily from here.
The same perspective (via satellite and incolor) today!
After measuring the [29″] diameter of a particularly large Loblolly Pine in the backyard it can be assumed that the area has not been recently cultivated. A 36″ tree is considered mature and that size equates to about 150 years age. There have been people in the area since before the Civil War so it is of course possible that the area had been logged, farmed, or burned. The 1938 shows faint trace remnants of bare dirt that may have been encroaching trails. These are no longer noticeable in subsequent surveys.
Developers had there way made progress and this area has forever lost its out in the sticks nature. It would have been easier to clear cut but to their credit many of the trees were spared.
Update: (according to this source) Before the first Europeans set foot on the [North Carolina] Piedmont Plateau, the land was 99.5% covered by Old Growth forest (oaks, maples, pines, hickories, poplar and tulip poplar, persimmon, elm, hemlock, beech, magnolia, cedar, ash, willow). Some scholars write that the Old Growth was harvested entirely by 1750. All agree that these magnificent trees had been taken down by the start of the Revolutionary War in 1776. When the Old Growth was gone, they started in on the secondary growth. This greatly over-simplified history explains the proliferation of fast-growing pine trees common today.
