We have already referred to this winter of 80-81 as the terrible snow winter. May we add a few words on that in order to understand what followed in the spring.
The snow, a three days' snow storm or blizzard, came on October 15th, and the snow never left, but kept piling up without thawing out to any extent until April. Railroad connection with the outer world, as far as the few towns in the state were concerned, was cut off, completely in many instances, after the 1st of January. This, of course, made coal as well as other provisions unobtainable in many cases. The people in some towns, as for instance Watertown, had to take what they could find to preserve life. So many empty buildings and other property made of wood were taken for fuel.
In the outlying country places the settlers could not get to them, even when some provisions were available. In not a few cases, too, there was nothing to sell and no money for buying. So barred by one or all of the circumstances, the settlers had to get along and try to preserve life as best they could. As for the few groceries which they might ordinarily have used, they dispensed even with them for the most part. Many lived on corn meal, ground on the coffee mill. But there was one privation which for many proved the "unkindest cut of all"—tobacco. Many and sore were the lamentations because of the lack of this one commodity and many the devices to get it. A man canlive without coffee, sugar and wheat-bread, not to speak of less necessary things, but tobacco—well, you can't do anything more to him after that.
As can easily be seen, when this vast quantity of snow began to go out, especially going out so late in the spring, it created a flood. Every creek became a raging river, the rivers became more like vast moving lakes. So if communication with towns had been difficult before it became well nigh impossible now. The whole Missouri bottom, for instance, became one vast and roaring sea, coming up to the bluffs of the present Mission Hill and Volin. But yet, can such a little thing as fourteen miles of roaring water and floating debris stand between a man and his tobacco, or a woman and her cup of coffee, especially when the latter is the only thing approaching a luxury that she has? No! By the shades of all our Viking ancestors, No! After looking over their possible resources of men and materials for the undertaking of defying the angry flood, they found that Ole Solem, who then lived on Turkey Creek, had a few remnants of lumber. They also found that Anders Oien had had a little experience in boat building, and Ole Johnson was an ex-fisherman and thus could row a boat if they had one. So with the help of those mentioned and others, such as Ingebricht Fagerhaug, who was a carpenter, and Steingrim Hinseth, the boat was built. It was crude, of course, and leaky, yet counted seaworthy because the situation was getting desperate. It should be said in fairness that mere personal and private needs were not the only motive with these men. For instance, some of the leaders of this enterprise, like Solem and Fagerhaug, had no need or use for tobacco, but needing other things and realizing the general needs they joined with heart and hand.
When the craft was finished Steingrim Hinseth hauled the boat and the men, Ole Solem, Ingebricht Fagerhaug, Thore Fossem and, I believe, Ole Johnson, to the foot of the bluffs, a couple of miles northwest of Volin, where the boatwas launched. The cargo was all that the little craft could carry, consisting of very many different parcels of butter and some eggs. These, belonging to many different parties and being the only things they had to sell, were to be exchanged for a few necessities such as mentioned above.
When the cargo was all in and the crew embarked there was about two inches left of the boat above the water line and the boat a little leaky besides. But with true Viking spirit they struck out over the twelve or fourteen miles of angry flood towards Yankton. There they were able to do the necessary shopping for the whole neighborhood, and in three days from the time of starting they were back without mishap and all errands carried out. It goes without saying that they were welcomed by the many expectant ones in the whole neighborhood and that there was great rejoicing on the part of both men and women, for the women got their coffee and the men got—well—whatever was coming to them.
The long and memorable winter of '80-'81 had at last come to an end. The resulting flood, too, as in the time of Noah, at length subsided, and now our new comers must begin their first real struggle with the earth in the new land. Without tools or draught animals, and even any knowledge of farming conditions on this new soil, and without means to buy tools, this struggle became for many both hard and prolonged. They had had during the winter their baptism in self-denial and privation. They were now to learn further that while the new land might possibly flow with milk and honey, yet if it was to flow for them, they would have to do the milking and gather the honey.
As an illustration of how the struggle in subduing the soil began for these people, may I again refer to my Father as an illustration of many others. I refer to him merely because I can recall these circumstances better in his case than in that of others and, also because the experiences of others were similar and in many cases much worse.
He had hired a man to break five acres the first summer. This was an ordinary amount of plow land, largely because the government required this much to be broken in order to comply with the homestead regulations. During the winter he had made a small harrow and in the spring sowed most of this ground to wheat and tried the best he could to harrow it with the ponies already mentioned. The year was not very favorable, as I can recall it, and withsuch equipment the results can be surmised. I do not recall just what they were, but I am quite sure we did not eat much wheat flour the following winter. He had one acre of corn, which he worked with the hoe. He bought, like most of the others, or, rather went into debt for, a pair of steers that spring. These he, with the help of Lars Almen, who worked together with him, as also Halvor Hevle, tried to "break" for work purposes. These animals proved themselves notoriously stubborn and fractious and made their drivers earn most of what they got out of them in the way of work. This, however, may have been due to the inexperience of the drivers. For, as already said, the ox, next to the cow, was the beginner's best friend, and without him it is hard to see how the pioneers could have gotten along at all. To be sure, some of these animals did not take kindly to the yoke and many were the scrapes they got their owners into, running away and breaking up both wagons and tools. Yet when you consider the lot of the ox you cannot be too hard on him for his occasional bad humor. As a boy I have driven him many a day, and often lost my patience with him, for which I now humbly apologize. We worked him on the plow, both stubble and breaking plow, drag, stoneboat and the heaviest work that was to be done. At noon or night we unyoked him and let him go to get a little grass or hay for himself. No oats for him, only the long kind you administer with a whip; no thanks to him when the long, hot day of pulling a breaking plow at last is done, but very likely a parting kick. We have not given the ox his well-earned place among the foundation builders of our land, and I propose that even at this late date we should repent and build in South Dakota a monument to the ox, our early, faithful and indispensable friend.
The first few years after arriving were required by our pioneers for making temporary shelters for themselves and their few animals; also in providing some way ofobtaining the bare necessities of life while they could lay the foundations for a larger prosperity and more comforts. As already indicated, the first resource and dependence for getting a little money was eggs, butter and hay. These commodities were sold to get the few groceries and small necessities which they could not well do without. Some of the men worked out to supplement their meager income.
By 1885, roughly speaking, these hardy men really began to wrestle with the soil in earnest and thus make possible something more than a bare existence. From about '83 to '90 a picturesque and ever recurring scene, when spring and early summer came, was the breaking rig moving slowly but majestically over the long furrows. There were from four to six oxen to each plow and most generally it took two men to hold the plow and keep the oxen in the straight and narrow way. The country I am describing was very stony and there was many a hard lift and aching back before these stones could be pried out of the ground and hauled away sufficiently to make breaking possible. Even after spending many weeks at this clearing work there would still be many stones left which the plow would strike with such violence as to almost fell the man at the handles. With the plow out of the ground and the load suddenly lightening the oxen would make the most of this relief by starting on a trot so that often the plow could not be gotten back into the sod for a rod or two. Two neighbors would often go in together in breaking, each furnishing one yoke of oxen.
This sod would be put into corn or flax the first season and the next into wheat. The returns were generally quite meager compared with what that ground is producing now. But even a little meant much then. Drought was the principal drawback. Then, too, these early beginners did not have the modern machinery either for putting in, harvesting or threshing grain, and this fact was also a large cause for small yields. However, they kept on breaking up alittle more each year, and after a few years the ground was subdued enough to begin to raise corn and consequently hogs. The beef cattle as a source of income had been good earlier, but the price of cattle went so low during this period that there was not much inducement. Then, too, as the country came to be settled and broken there was less possibility of keeping herds of cattle. I recall that during this depression in the latter eighties good milch cows sold for $10.00-$15.00 and other cattle in proportion. Of course, in the panic or notorious depression of 93-4, even grain and hogs went down with everything else. Corn was sold for eight cents per bushel and wheat as low as 35-40 cents. But generally speaking, in the period we are describing, when these path-finders were laying the foundations for permanent homes and farm equipment, corn and hogs became their corner stone of prosperity, with milk and butter a close second.
There arose an industry in the latter '90's which came to be of considerable economic importance—the creamery. These men at first located a considerable distance away and the cream had to be transported in hired wagons. Some of these creameries "failed" and left the farmers to whistle for their long expected and much needed cream checks. Later a co-operative creamery was organized and successfully operated by Sven Vognild on the S. Hinseth place. This was the first real co-operative enterprise in the vicinity.
Returning to early farm conditions, we find that for several years many of the new settlers did not have enough grain to have a threshmachine on the place, but hauled what little they might have to some nearby machine.
As can be seen, there was not much grain to be sold for some time for these farmers. Butter and eggs, and, a little later, cattle, were the chief products which could bring a little ready money. To this should be added hay, which many hauled to Yankton with oxen,getting $2.50-$3.00 per ton. Even at this price, and with such slow transportation, this hay traffic was for many the chief source of any money, and some spent most of the fall and winter months at this work when travel was possible.
We ought, at this point, to make a visit around the neighborhood as it appeared from '81-'83 and even much later. Beginning in the Turkey Creek Valley, we have already indicated the half dozen families which had located there in the early seventies. As we have spoken in another chapter of this earlier wave of pioneer immigrants, I shall pass them by now as also those of that same group who had settled to the south, toward what is now Volin.
Berhaug Rise moved his living house from where it was first placed, viz., one quarter mile west of Ole Solem's, to about one mile west, that is, from the creek bottom at the junction of the ravines which traversed the place from east to west, to the higher land at the head of these ravines.
To the southwest of our place, about a mile distant, was John Johnson, who had settled there in '74 and lived in a log house. To the west one mile was Ole Johnson, who had filed in '79 and was living in a dugout with his family. Another mile or so still farther southwest was Peter Moen, also living in a dugout and having a considerable family. Then going back to Ole Johnson and going north were Peter Johnson, Jonas Vaabeno, Ole Liabo, and John Moene. To the east of Peter Johnson there was in 1880 a man by the name of Roser who, however, left about that time. All of these, as far as I remember, lived in dugouts, with the exception of the first named, who lived in a loghouse.
Going from five to six miles to the northwest of this Turkey Creek settlement, we find another group ofpioneers, some of whom had come before 1880 and others a little later. We can mention a few. There was Cornelius Nilsen, Albert Boe, Peter, Albert, and O.O. Gorseth; O. Lokken; Steen Bakke, Mrs. Mary Boe, the Simonson Brothers—Halvor and Ole. Also Asle Mikkelson. There may have been others, but these comprise practically all who were there at that time. The sons and daughters of many of these are either on the old places or in the vicinity to this day. Of course, some have moved away to other parts. Most of these pioneers are still living, but no longer in the dug-outs.
Going west to what was called the West Prairie, about six miles, could be found H. Hagen, the Gustads, Stoems, Skaaness and others. These had come in the earlier wave of immigration which we have mentioned already, i.e. in the early '70's or later '60's.
Going back to our starting point near Turkey Creek and going south, after passing John Johnson already mentioned, we find next the Lawrence place, now owned by Mr. Axlund; then Hans Dahl, followed in order by Haldo Sether, Ole Bjerke, Lars Aaen and the Hoxeng Brothers, both of them then living on the old home place now occupied by Thore Hoxeng. There were, of course, others scattered on either side of this line of settlers, but these were a sort of land marks in the early eighties.
Finally, going some eight miles north from our starting point, we find these: Thore Fossem and Iver Sneve of our original party and a few others like Ole Brunswick, Ingebricht Saatrum and John Rye, whom we have already mentioned, and J. Larsen. The next to the last named and a few others had settled in that vicinity before 1880. Here should also be mentioned the Durums, Baks, Snoens, Ressels, Grudts, and Lees. The old homesteaders of this group too, have for the most part found a last resting place in the neighborhood cemetery. Their children, however, are in most cases to be found on the old place or near by.
I am conscious that this rough sketch of our neighbors and neighboring settlements of 1880-'1 is far from complete. Yet it gives a fair idea of the population over the prairie there at that time. There were magnificent distances between neighbors and settlements. Yet there was often more neighborliness and sociability than in later years. We needed each other then, in fact could not well get along without helping and being helped in various ways by one another. Now we can help ourselves or rather think we can. But really we cannot, and if we of the newer generations lose the old neighborliness we shall be poorer and unhappier in our steam heated, electric lighted houses and swift speeding automobiles than they were with their earth cellars and ox teams and lumber wagons. So let us cherish and keep alive the old neighborly kindness and great-hearted hospitality. Practically all these early settlers at first lived in a one-room dwelling, seldom over 12 × 14 or 16, and this dwelling was in most cases a dugout. Yet in spite of this fact and of having large families of their own to accommodate, the traveler or stranger was not turned out into the night, and the visitor was always welcomed. There was always room, not merely for one more but for half a dozen more if necessary. There never was any lack of room then. In honor of this splendid trait of our pioneer fathers and mothers, let us reserve a room in our big house and, better still, in our hearts, for the occasional stranger or friend, and in doing so we too shall find that while we may not always have "entertained angels unawares", yet by doing so the angels have somehow entertained us more than they otherwise could.
During this decade of getting the ground ready and gradually getting an equipment for real farming there was one great enemy which was a continual menace and terror to the homesteaders—the semi-annual burning of the prairie. From times immemorial, before the White settler came, the prairie fire had stalked in majestic splendor over the vast and boundless sea of grass, covering this and adjoining states, licking up with his red and cruel tongue everything before him and leaving a barren desolation behind him. Sometimes set by the lightning, or Indians, or the campfire of the early explorer or trader, this fire, driven by the wind, would meander back and forth over the prairie for days and weeks until rain or a considerable stream might at last stay his stride.
With the first influx of the settler the fire menace greatly multiplied, for not understanding the nature of this menace, they themselves unintentionally set many of these fires. Thus there came to be a fairly certain expectation on the part of the homesteaders of a visit from this monster twice a year—spring and fall—unless he made a clean sweep in the fall, which was not generally the case.
As a boy I recall waking up at night and seeing a strange glare against the window, and upon looking out, I saw a great wave of fire, a moving wall of flame, pass by our house and going on to the south.
Let me give a brief sketch of one of these fires, well remembered by the old settlers and reported to me byH.B. Reese, who was then old enough to be out with the men on the fire fighting line. I give it largely in his own words.
It was Good Friday, 1887. In the morning we noticed smoke in the northwest. There was also a strong wind from that direction. There had just previously been several days of wind as also sunshine, so everything was dry as tinder. We knew at once what the black flag, hoisted to the sky in the northwest meant. It meant a challenge from the Fire King to come out and fight for our own and our neighbors' homes—buildings, stock and everything we had that could burn. We hurriedly got our weapons of sacks and water ready and started out to meet the giant and offer him all the resistance we could. But our antagonist was terribly swift as well as strong, and when we reached Jonas Vaabeno's place, three miles to the northwest, he had already done his terrible work, making a clean sweep of all out-buildings, mostly made of hay or straw, as also of the dugout which served for a dwelling. Where the stable had stood were the remnants of some half-burnt cattle. We hurried on to Peter Johnson's, but the Fire Demon was victorious and took everything except the dugout dwelling. The same fate was dealt out to Ole Liabo farther north. We were now driven back on our own home premises, and after desperate efforts we saved our buildings, but, of course, had to surrender everything not on the premises where the buildings were, such as trees, hay, etc. When night came and we could return to the house we just threw ourselves flat on the floor completely exhausted, not having tasted food during the whole day.
Next day, looking out over the country to the northwest, we could see very little except a vast desolation—how far no one seemed to know—of blackened prairie, dotted with many ashpiles which in many cases, as tho they were tombstones, marked the graves of all the settlers' material possessions except the land and a few cattle. It is a puzzle toknow how they managed to keep these cattle with the prairie burned off, but they did. Not only that, but tho sorely tried, yet not broken in will or spirit, they borrowed money, even at outrageous interest rates, rebuilt their temporary shelters and began the struggle once more from the bottom up.
The last and most terrible of all the fires, as far as known, swept over that country only two years later, 1889. As the writer of this was old enough to be an active participant in connection with this, I recall it vividly. The day was in early spring and began very hazy with so much smoke in the atmosphere that one could not see much beyond half a mile. There was a strong wind from the northwest, such as was common in spring in those days, and the prairie grass was thoroly dried out and very abundant. This condition, however, was not unusual in the spring of the year. On coming out after dinner I noticed that the haze or smoke seemed thicker toward the northwest than in other directions. On looking more closely I soon saw whirls of smoke rolling up toward the sky. I immediately gave the alarm, and every one at the house, including mother, rushed out to meet the foe. We did not have to go far before we met him, and so swiftly did he come that in our hasty retreat toward the house Mother was very nearly overcome by the smoke and heat. Fortunately there was a piece of plowed ground near by where she was able to find safety and lie down until sufficiently recovered to go on to the house. Then we all took our stand, some hauling water, others fighting at the front. There was a strip of plowed ground, or fire break, around the place, but the terrific wind continually threatened to carry the fire across, now at one point, now at another. Moreover, some barn manure had been spread on this plow land, and this, taking fire and blowing everywhere in the terrific wind, made our situation quite desperate for a while. However, we at last won to the extent of saving the buildings. This fire, together with theone which raged next day, when the wind was still more terrific, did enormous damage, burning out, in part or whole, even some of the older settlers, such as James Hoxeng and others. The town of Volin was almost completely destroyed. Some who had suffered loss in the previous fire were again burned out in part or whole, and the grass, as was the case after such a fire, was damaged for years to come. Many are the stories of narrow escapes in saving their homes and even their lives told by the old timers in connection with these fires. Sometimes there would be a whole company of women and children out on the middle of a plowed field, having fled there as the only refuge.
In every new country the Fire King, as tho endowed with a dramatic instinct, seems to end his performances with a grand climax. So here this was the last prairie fire of any consequence in that part of the country. King Corn from now on began to reign and the Fire King had to abdicate his immemorial sway and boundless dominions.
Even at the risk of seeming to chronicle too many of the hardships and afflictions of those times, I feel that I cannot leave this decade of our pioneer life without referring to the great blizzard of Jan. 12th, '88, for that, too, is a landmark and one which brings sad memories to many a South Dakotan of those years. The writer was merely a young boy then, yet the experience of that storm is very vivid in my mind.
The day opened bright and very mild, almost thawing, with no premonition that it held in store untold suffering, terror and death to man and beast, such as no other day has held for South Dakota. There was considerable loose snow on the ground, but the day being exceptionally pleasant up till noon and after, men were out on their various errands of going to town, hauling hay or other out-door occupations. The cattle, too, taking advantage of the mild day, were in the corn stalks and generally had scattered out some distance from the buildings. It being shortly after noon when the storm struck, many cattle were being taken to water, which in those days was often a considerable distance from the stables.
Suddenly and without the slightest warning, upon this peaceful unsuspecting scene, the storm burst forth in all its deadly fury. The wind having suddenly whipped around to the northwest, the temperature fell in a very short time as much as 60 and 70 degrees. The wind coming at the rate of about 60 miles an hour, picked up the loose snow and whipped it into a fine powder, rushed over the prairie as itwere a rapidly moving wall of snow and fine particles of ice. Thus the air was so thick with fine snow, driven along by the furious storm, that it became very difficult to breathe and almost impossible to open one's eyes even for a moment. This choking, blinding effect of the storm soon exhausted either man or beast and, of course, all sense of direction was lost. Thus it seems probable that many of the victims were at first choked into exhaustion before they froze to death.
Many narrow escapes are told of that day. But there were also many who narrowly missed finding a shelter and never lived to tell their experiences. Some lost their way even between house and barn, and some were found frozen only a few rods from the house they had tried to find, but in vain. This was the case with two girls to the east of our place, who in going out to look for a younger brother never came back but were found frozen to death a short distance from the house. My younger brother Sivert and I were at the barn when the storm struck. We did the best we knew how for the cattle, Father being absent at a neighbor's and then we started for the house. We were only a short distance from the house and there was also a small building between, but even then we had to pause before starting out and take definite aim from where we were and then run, as we say, "for dear life". We reached the house to the great relief of Mother, who had become very anxious about us by that time.
The storm raged with merciless and demon-like destructiveness all that afternoon and all thru that night, with the temperature getting colder as the hours slowly rolled by. What terror and suffering the hours of that afternoon and fearful night brought to many, no one will ever know. There were those out in the storm, fighting desperately hour by hour with death, and in most cases only to find themselves rapidly nearing complete exhaustion. Then came the gradual numbness of all the sensibilities, followed bynature's merciful growing unconsciousness as drowsiness and sleep crept upon them and they at last stumbled over in the snow not to rise again. But tho the many tragedies and sufferings out in the open prairie that dreadful night were beyond words or imagination, yet scarcely less was the suffering of fathers, mothers and relatives of the lost ones who were utterly helpless in most cases even to attempt a rescue. These latter, as they listened to the merciless storm all thru that night, almost had a taste of the agonies of the lost world—if such a thing can be in this world. For in many cases their waiting thru the night was utterly without hope. If they knew their loved ones were caught by the storm some distance from the house, they also knew that there could be no hope. So they could only follow them in thought and imagination out there in the storm and the darkness as they were fighting their unequal and losing fight with the cruel, relentless storm. But even those who were in uncertainty as to the exact whereabouts of members of their families, like parents who had children in school, scarcely suffered less, for they had no assurance but that theirs, too, might be out there in the storm, and in many cases their worst fears proved to be the fact.
However, as all things come to an end, so this night of nights. The storm let up somewhat toward morning, and the new day at last came on, gray and terribly cold. The snow everywhere as far as eye could see lay piled up in great drifts. The prairie, especially near farm houses, was in many places dotted with frozen cattle, and other cattle still alive. There were over the country thousands and thousands of these cattle either already dead, dying or badly frozen. But worst and saddest of all, there were in this state and adjoining parts of Iowa, Minnesota and Nebraska, over two hundred men, women and children scattered around, singly or in groups, in the snow. Some were found sitting; some lying as tho in their last step they had stumbled forward on their face exhausted. Some even standing and, asit were, about to take one more step when the end had come. Not strange that January 12, 1888, is the most memorable and terrible date in all the world's story to many a settler whose loved ones were out in the storm that fearful night and who never came back.
We have spoken of the men and the women who broke the ground and prepared the way for the prosperity and comforts we enjoy today. It would be unfair not to mention the part which the boys and girls also bore in this struggle with raw nature, poverty and many discouragements. In the early spring, as soon as seeding was well under way, the boys—and often, when there was no available boy on the place, the girls—had to keep vigilant watch of the cattle, and this thruout the long summer until the corn was all out. There were no "pastures" or wire fences in the early eighties. This meant for most boys that, either at home or away from home, they had to be out on the prairie with the cattle beginning with early spring and ending late in the fall, from early morning until night, rain or shine, and not even a Sunday off, or at least very seldom. The food we carried for our dinners would, of course, get mussed, stale and unpalatable, being carried around all day and exposed to the hot sun. The water, or whatever we carried to drink, would become even less palatable and often scarce. Often in our extreme thirst we would drink out of the sloughs or stagnant lake beds. Then in the spring and fall we would frequently have a cold, drizzling rain continuing all day and often soaking us to the skin as there was no shelter, and raincoats were almost unknown. Every step we would take thru the wet grass the water would churn in our shoes and we had to keep going, for the cattle were generally restless at such times and insisted on starting off indirections where lay the plowed land or hayland which must be guarded.
Where there was no boy in the family, girls had to do this job, for the cattle had to be herded. For them, as can readily be seen, this job was even more difficult than for the boys, being impeded in their chase after the cattle by their skirts dragging in the tall, wet grass. Not strange that some of them sacrificed their health and future in this task. Of course, when, as in the case of most girls, they were at home, they would generally be relieved for at least part of the day. But even half a day was long under those conditions.
But let it not be inferred that we boys, and the girls, too, had no good times during those long summer days. The sun shone anyway most of the time, and we made the most of our opportunities while the sun shone. We boys hunted gophers, digging them out or drowning them out if near a pond; we dug Indian turnips in the spring and picked grapes, plums and berries in their season if we could get to them; built stone houses or caves; waded or swam in the sloughs or creeks; fished; fought snakes and skunks and sometimes one another. We traded jack knives, which were our chief valuables and consequently a standard medium of exchange; we braided long, long whips made from old boot legs or even willow bark; we broke young steers to ride on, at least attempted to, and sometimes they in turn nearly broke our necks by bucking and throwing us off; we concocted special modes of terrible punishment for exasperatingly troublesome members of our flocks. Much of the time, however, we could not get together or, as we said, "herd together". Then time passed more slowly and we had lots of time to think and even to brood over our job, which we considered about the worst there was in the world. However, with all its drudgery and sometimes loneliness and hardship, our job was a good preparation for the jobs that lay ahead of us.
We have mentioned Reverends Nesse, Graven and Eielsen as pioneers in laying the foundations for the Church in these settlements. Among those who gave many years of service in the formative period of church development should also be mentioned Rev. Carlson, who followed Graven, who wrought for many years and at last found his resting place near one of the churches he had so long served. We cannot refrain from offering, altho a far too inadequate tribute, to one who has given the years of her life for the brightening and bettering of the lives of others; one who, altho not a pastor, yet as one pastor's devoted daughter and equally devoted as the wife of a succeeding pastor, gave the years of her young womanhood as well as the maturer years of her life to the service of these people—Mrs. C.T. Olberg, nee Carlson. For many years as a teacher in the parochial schools and continuously as a worker in the various activities of the church, especially among the younger people, and later as the pastor's wife, going in and out among the people, she has exerted an ennobling, Christianizing influence which only the angels of God and the far-off shores of eternity can estimate or measure.
There are many more, both men and women, lay-men and clergy, who have labored for their Master in this region, whose names I shall not be able to dwell upon, but whose names and records are in the Book of Life in Heaven and also written deep in the book of human life touched by them here on earth. Just to name two or three, there was Rev.Dahl of Gayville, who has put in a lifetime there. Then among the many visiting clergymen were Rev. G. Norbeck, Governor Norbeck's father, and a goodly number of others, lay and clerical preachers.
There were in the earlier years extensive "revivals", generally promoted by outsiders, often of other denominations, such as these of the middle eighties and middle nineties. There were other movements by laymen, both Lutheran and of other denominations. There were bitter controversies at times between the leaders of these movements, especially those promoted by men of other denominations than the Lutheran and the more strict adherents of the local churches. There were also bitter doctrinal controversies between members or adherents of the various branches of the Lutheran faith. Of the words said and the things sometimes done on these occasions none of the participants would be proud now, and I shall not perpetuate them by repeating what ought to be forgotten. The word "scorpion" is not just the right substitute for "Christian brother", but I distinctly recall that it was thus employed even between Lutherans.
Suffice it to say, there was often narrowness and intolerance on both sides, both as between denominations and between branches of the Lutheran Church itself. There was some good in most of these revival efforts and there were also some features which could justly be criticised.
There could be no doubt as to the sincerity of most of these revivalists, but being for the most part men and women of very limited education, they sometimes lacked balance and developed some vagaries. There were those who specialized on "Tongues" and on written revelations performed under spiritual ecstasy. Some had "revelations" that they should go to Africa to convert the heathen and a few actually went, soon returning sobered and saddened in their disappointment that the tongue gift did not enable them to understand, or to be understood by the natives.
Others advocated communism, baptism by immersion as indispensable to salvation, etc. In general there was a strong prejudice against any kind of church organization and to any regularly paid ministry. These extreme tendencies were, of course, a natural reaction against the evil in churches where a mechanical organization and the repetition of dead forms were all that reminded of what should have been a living spirit.
But to some people then and even now, a religious effort was either of God or of the devil, and consequently either wholly black or wholly white.
Then, too, when people believe, as many did and do still, that one's immortal salvation depends more on his holding a correct intellectual creed than on the spirit and fruits manifest in his life, it was inevitable that discussions of mere points of doctrine or creed, should become so intense at times as to lose wholly, for the time being, the Christian spirit. However, we shall, in this connection, give our pioneer fathers and first settlers credit for one great quality: They had convictions; they knew what they believed and believed it heart and soul. They did not, as some of this generation seem to do, doubt their beliefs and half believe their doubts.
In closing this brief outline of the religious activities of these people, allow me to give a boy's pleasant remembrance and loving tribute to one of the many traveling lay preachers who came to our house and also held services around in the neighborhood. John Aalbu and his good wife had settled near Ash Creek, Union county, in the sixties, and having retired from active farming in the eighties, they would drive the distance of 30-40 miles to our settlement on Turkey Creek several times a year. We children were always glad to see them. They had a top buggy, which in itself was of interest to us, as there was as yet no such luxury in our neighborhood. In this buggy, among other things, was always to be found a good sized tin can of smoking tobacco,for John and his wife both smoked. This was not considered as anything peculiar then or as objectionable on the part of the preacher and his wife, as it might be now. Now it seems that only women in the highest society may smoke. So amid clouds of the burning incense they would talk theology, religion, and also give practical hints on household and farm matters to their hosts, who were "newcomers." Mrs. Aalbu was a woman of very good mind and keen intellect. She would often correct a quotation from the Bible when not quite exact and serve as mentor to her husband when he, in the course of the service or some ritual, would forget something. It was only in later years, however, that he became ordained and in going thru the rituals at the various sacraments and services she was the "better half" in fact as well as name. This was owing to her splendid memory as also to her generally keen mind.
We did not see many strangers in those days, and how much these visits meant to us children as well as our parents! The discussions of fine theological points were often complicated and lasted far into the night, but we enjoyed them as well as we enjoyed our visitors. May God bless them, their work and their memory!
As an illustration of the subtlety of these discussions we might give a few of the topics: "Which Precedes in Christian Experience, Repentance or Faith?" "Faith or Works, Order of Precedence and Relative Worth." "Can a Man of His Own Accord and Strength Repent?" "Can a Christian in This Life be Wholly Sanctified?" "Free Will or Predestination?"