Fast Cars and Fast Horses

This year the annual meeting of the Entomological Society of America was held in St. Louis from 17-20 November. This is the time when everyone interested in insects – mostly professionals, but also students and amateurs – have a chance to get together face to face, discuss our latest discoveries, plan for the future, and generally hobnob. The meeting was a great success: we got to see old friends, and make new contacts. My grad students did really well with their research presentations, both of them receiving awards.

Given the opportunity to visit St. Louis, I took a little time to dig into the history of one relative who moved to that city from upstate New York. This is my 1st cousin 3x removed, Joseph Harrington. I thought that this would be very straightforward: find burial sites, take a look at some old houses, and generally get a feel for the place. And that is how it went down during my time in St. Louis, at least until I started to dig a little deeper. The story then became, at the same time, more complicated and infinitely more interesting.

Let me try to put Joe in some context. First cousin three times removed means that his grandparents, William O’Connell and Margaret Murphy, are my 3rd great grandparents (that’s 2 generations away from him and 5 generations from me). I’m related to him on the Harrigan side of the family, and, no, that wasn’t a misspelling in the first paragraph. His surname was Harrington, and he actually has no Harrigans in his ancestry. But as with all things Harrigan, the best starting point is the probate records from 1919 filed for the estate of Nora O’Connell. I described these earlier in my post about Tom Harrigan. In this case, one set of potential heirs or claimants to Nora’s estate were (numbers 3 and 4):

That gives you many of the names of the family relevant to the story. The main ones that are missing are, first, the unnamed child of Joe and Julia: this was a daughter named Julia Josephine. The other important person was Joe’s brother-in-law, a man by the name of Joseph O’Leary. First, though, let me recount the straight-line story of Joe Harrington’s life.

Joseph Francis Harrington was the second son of William Harrington and Margaret O’Connell. I’m not sure if his parents married before or after emigration from Ireland to the United States. My first records are when William Harrington bought property from Lorenzo Carryl in the township of Salisbury in Herkimer County, New York. This land is north of the city of Little Falls, abutting Spruce Creek on its eastern border. Since the original purchase the creek was dammed to produce a reservoir that provides Little Falls with water. The Harringtons had three sons: Martin (born 1868), Joe, and Thomas. There is only a single record for Thomas that I’ve found, the 1875 New York census, and it says that he was 3 years old. Thomas is never heard from again, and so I infer that he died sometime in the period 1875-1880. In that same 1875 census Joe’s age is said to be 5. However, in all the subsequent records Joe’s year of birth is recorded as 1872, and not 1870.

Joe graduated from high school in Little Falls, passing the Regents’ examinations in arithmetic, grammar, rhetoric, and Caesar’s commentaries. He then went on to college, enrolling in the Catholic school Mount St. Mary’s College in Emmitsburg, Maryland, from which he graduated in 1896. From there he enrolled in post-graduate work of some sort at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. He seems to have been a very good student. I haven’t been able to track down any details about what he was doing in Washington. However, in 1897 the Little Falls Evening Times reported that he was going to move to St. Louis to take on the job of a reporter with the Globe-Democrat, specifically in the “church department.” This took a bit of inside influence: “The position was secured by Congressman Richard Kearns, whose sons were classmates with Mr. Harrington at the Washington university.” As best I can tell, though, there was no such congressman at roughly this time. I believe the reference should have been to Richard C. Kerens, a St. Louis millionaire and political aspirant. Although he was a member of the Republican National Committee and tried to gain the Republican nomination for Senator, he was never elected. However, he did serve as Ambassador to Austria-Hungary in the Taft administration. His sons were Richard Jr. and Vincent.

From top to bottom, Mount St. Mary's University (photo from their Facebook site); Ambassador Richard C. Kerens; and The Catholic University of America (photo from their Facebook site).

I rummaged through pages of the Globe-Democrat, but the stories there had no by-line. It doesn’t seem that Joe stayed with the newspaper too long, anyway. In the 1900 census his occupation is “Com’l traveler (books)”; I presume that means a travelling salesman. At some point he worked for the Dodd-Mead Publishing Company. Meanwhile, on 11 May, 1898 he married a young woman from St. Louis, Julia H. O’Leary.

Julia was the only daughter of Cornelius O’Leary (1835-1891) and Mary Mulroy (1850-1876?). She had two brothers, Joseph (1873-1941) and Leo (1874-1889). Cornelius was a lithographer or printer. I’ve not been able to find much at all about Mary Mulroy. In the 1880 census Cornelius already is recorded to be a widower. There is a Mary Mulroy buried in Calvary Cemetery in St. Louis who died in 1876. The timing is right, and I suspect, but can’t document, that this was Julia’s mother. Julia was living with her brother Joe when she married Joe Harrington, and the three of them continued to live together for a few years. Joe O’Leary was an artist: he drew cartoons for most of the newspapers in St. Louis as well as drawing advertising, theatrical, and circus posters. The Harringtons had three children: Marguerite (born 1899), Joseph Jr. (born 1902), and Julia Josephine (born 1903).

The thing that makes this story interesting to me are a couple of dramatic changes from the expected timeline. The first of these occurred in 1905, when Harrington left the book business and turned to making cars. In 1907, with $2500 in cash, he and Julia, together with another couple, Robert and Grace Horne, filed articles for the incorporation of the Victor Automobile Manufacturing Company. The Harringtons and the Hornes each held 125 shares, the husbands each had 124 shares, while the wives had a single share apiece. In 1908 Horne was cited as the president of the company, with Harrington the vice-president. When Horne died the next year, Joe became president (I’m not sure what happened to those 125 Horne shares). His salary was $30/week along with about $100/month in commissions. A far cry from modern CEO salaries even when inflation is taken into account!

When I first learned this, I was puzzled: wasn’t Detroit the national center of automobile manufacturing? Well, yes, but in those early days there was a lot of competition, and St. Louis was a hub of such activity. The Victor Motor Car Company (another name for the business) produced both commercial and pleasure vehicles. In later years the commercial vehicles were a profitable enterprise, but the personal cars lost money for the company. For reasons that I’ll explain shortly, the company made cars only until 1911. There were a surprising number of companies around the country that sold cars under the name “Victor,” so a bit of care is needed when searching for information on Harrington’s products. Apparently, though, there is still one of their 1907 high-wheelers out there that still runs (although obviously with lots of rebuilt parts). I was also able to find some of their advertising.

The factory site moved around a bit, judging from the ads and listings in the St. Louis city directories. A new building to house the factory was constructed at 900 Boyle Avenue in 1909. The address is still valid, and from the looks of it, the one-story building could well be the same. Most of the floor space is now unoccupied. I was also able to find their home, located at 241 Selma Avenue in the suburb of Webster Groves. The house is just down the tree-lined street from Webster Groves High School, and Webster University is just a few more blocks away.

Above, the Harrington family home at 241 Selma Avenue in the suburb of Webster Groves. Below, the final factory site of the Victor Automobile Manufacturing Company at 900 Boyle Street.

The Victor Automobile Manufacturing Company ceased operations in 1911 due to the premature death of its president, Joseph Harrington. His wife, Julia, later testified that he had been quite sick during the period from 1896 to 1905 or 1906. Nevertheless, his death came unexpectedly and quickly; according to his death certificate he died on May 6 due to bowel obstruction, and had been attended by Dr. C.L. Armstrong for three days. The death certificate also states that Joe was to be buried in Calvary Cemetery. Online searches for the site were unsuccessful, though. I was able to find where Julia was buried (she died in 1930), but nothing for Joe. This is what prompted me to visit Calvary Cemetery.

My plan for the cemetery visit was the height of cunning: find Julia’s grave and then nose around reading the names on nearby stones and hope to get lucky. I knew that she was buried in Section 20, but when I arrived at the cemetery I discovered that it is huge. So I stopped in the office to ask directions. I thought that the mere fact that there was an office to visit was a very positive sign. Also, it was both manned and open for visitors! I went in and asked directions to Section 20. The clerk asked me who I was looking for, and I told him “Julia Harrington.” From his computer he printed out a map of the cemetery showing the sections, a map of Section 20, he identified a name on one of the markers close to the road and nearby Julia’s grave, and then he printed off a sheet of details on Lot No. 1450. On this sheet not only were all the burials in the lot specified, but there was even a sketch to show who was buried where. There was Julia H. Harrington (buried 30 Aug 1930); Francis Hoffmeier, the 1-year old grandson and son of daughter Julia (buried 09 Jan 1933); Joseph J. O’Leary, Julia’s brother (buried 11 Jun 1941); Marguerite H. Anderson, the other daughter of Joe and Julia (buried 31 Mar 1970); Oscar B. Anderson, Marguerite’s husband (buried 07 Jul 1988); and, last but not least, Jos. H. Harrington himself (buried 19 May 1911). Of course they got Joe’s middle initial wrong – it should be F. for Francis – and Francis’s name was also misspelled. It’s a good thing that the cemetery was so well organized, because the headstone was not very helpful. All it has on it are the four surnames Harrington, O’Leary, Hoffmeier, and Anderson.

Top: Headstone of the Harrington family cemetery plot. Here are buried Joseph and Julia Harrington, grandson Francis Hoffmeier, Julia's brother Joseph O'Leary, daughter Marguerite Anderson, and son-in-law Oscar B. Anderson. Middle: Calvary Cemetery. Bottom: Cemetery record for Section 20, Lot 1450.

Before our trip to St. Louis I knew at least the outlines of most of the story I’ve told so far. Since our return, the past couple of weeks I wanted to flesh out details and fill in the many gaps in the history. In doing so I stumbled across the record of an appeal to the Supreme Court of Missouri, dated 03 Dec 1917: Manchester Bank of St. Louis v. Harrington et al. (No. 18507).

It seems that when Joe Harrington died in 1911 and the Victor Automobile Manufacturing Company closed shop, the company was unable to cover all of its outstanding debt. The bank was left some $2000 short, and so, being bankers after all, they sued the family to take possession of the house on Selma Avenue. The bank initially won, and the Supreme Court case is the appeal by Julia and her brother Joe to have that decision reversed. In the testimony it comes out just how the Harringtons were able to purchase the Selma Ave. property and, probably, cover costs associated with the car company. This is the reason that I mentioned the name of Julia’s brother, Joe O’Leary, early in this post.

The crux of the matter, to my untrained legal eye, was that Julia Harrington asserted that the bank could not take possession of the house because her brother held the deed. And he held it because over the years he had loaned his sister and brother-in-law thousands of dollars, and he was a secured creditor. As such, he took priority over the bank when it came time for repayments for the car company’s losses. (Please, those of you who do understand the intricacies of the law, let me know how to better state the case.) That begs the question, where did Joe O’Leary get some $14,000 that he could have “loaned” to the Harringtons? By his own testimony, Joe was making only somewhere between $35-$45 per week, of which he sent his sister about $15 a week. From 1898 to the time of Joe Harrington’s death that would have only amounted to a maximum of $10,920.

First few paragraphs of the Missouri Supreme Court ruling in the appeal of Manchester Bank v. Harrington et al. You can read the entire decision at this link beginning on page 242, or I can send you a copy (it's 9 pages long).

It turns out that Joe O’Leary had another source of income: betting on the ponies. But he wasn’t your typical punter. No, Joe had the inside track. Remember that the father of Joe and Julia was Cornelius O’Leary. Cornelius had a brother named John J. O’Leary, and John had a daughter named Anna. She, in turn, was the wife of a certain John J. Ryan, a man who later in life came to be known as “Bald Jack” Ryan. With a nickname like that, you can probably sense that we’re heading toward the wrong side of the law.

Ryan began his notorious career as a bookmaker, and from there moved on to become a “horseman” or “turfman.” He owned race horses, built race tracks, and ran pool halls to accommodate betting. He operated across several states, from Missouri to New York, and north into Canada. Eventually he became well known enough to the authorities, jockey clubs, and such that he was forced to leave the horse racing business. From there he moved on in 1909 to, what else, playing the stock market. Later he became a speed boat racer and was a partner in a boat-building business that eventually became Chris-Craft Boats. He had a colorful life, and you can read much more about him in a 7-part story entitled The Horseman, written by Joe Ryan.

John J. (Baldy) Ryan as caricatured in the pages of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, 03 Oct 1903.

Joe O’Leary testified that he made thousands of dollars betting on horse races while he was working as an artist in Cincinnati and Chicago. His cousin, Anna Ryan (Bald Jack’s wife) would telephone him and pass on in code the names of horses to bet on. O’Leary never deposited the money in a bank, but left it for safekeeping at Dermody’s “bar” in Cincinnati. This was the source of the money that was supposedly lent to Joe Harrington. In the end, the appeal by Julia and Joe O’Leary was successful, and Julia was able to live out the rest of her life in the house on Selma Ave.

In the years after her husband’s death, the activities of Julia Harrington and her daughters often appeared in the society pages of St. Louis newspapers. The youngest child, Julia Josephine, was sent to spend her final year in high school in Los Angeles, California. There are notices of the girls and their mother traveling to visit friends around the country. One question, though: if, at the time of Joe’s death, the family risked losing their home because of a debt of $2000, on what income did they maintain that lifestyle for the next 19 years? Maybe Joe O’Leary had other cash assets stashed away somewhere?

The St. Louis Post-Dispatch reported on 09 Oct 1921 that the youngest daughter, Julia, left for Los Angeles to attend high school at Ramona Convent, a private school. She spent the holidays in California. As graduation day approached on 18 June 1922, the Globe-Democrat reported that “...she was suddenly stricken with appendicitis last Sunday and an immediate operation was necessary.” Upon return, I found her picture in the newspaper when she was voted Queen of the Armistice Ball in 1923.

Finally, to wrap up a few loose ends: I’ve mentioned that Julia, the mother, passed in 1930. Julia the daughter married John Joseph Hoffmeier (1903-1979) in Cleveland on 3 Jan 1926. At about that time her uncle Joe O’Leary was also working in Cleveland. What a tightly knit family! Julia Hoffmeier had 3 children, and she died in Santa Barbara in 1998 at the age of 94. Joseph Harrington Jr. appears in the 1920 census, but in his mother’s obituary in 1930 he is said to be deceased. I haven’t been able to find any record about what happened to him. Finally, the oldest daughter, Marguerite, married Oscar B. Anderson on 18 Dec 1945 in Phoenix at the age of 46. They had no children of their own, and Marguerite died in 1970, aged 71, in San Francisco.

So ends my tale of the life of Joseph Harrington. I’d expected my trip to St. Louis to be relatively uneventful, but his history turned out to have a few more surprises than I expected. There are still a lot of gaps to fill: what did he study at Mount St. Mary’s and at the Catholic University? What happened to Julia O’Leary’s mother? How about Joseph Jr.? Is any of Joe O’Leary’s artwork still around? I’ll be sure to include an update if and when new information shows up.

References

• Anonymous. 1908. The horseless buggy. The Spokesman of the Carriage and Associate Trade 24(6): 167-182. (The section entitled “The 1908 Hand Forged Victor” appears on page 182.)
• Manchester Bank of St. Louis v. Harrington et al. 1917. The Southwestern Reporter 199: 242–250.

Rescue at Sea

The Storm

Saturday, the 14th of December, 1839 was a mild day with clear skies. In New England many ships took advantage of the weather to sail to Boston, New York, and ports farther south. That all changed during the night. Around midnight snow began falling and mists and winds from the northeast blew in fog off the ocean. Ships quickly made for shore up and down the coast, looking to find safe harbor from the storm that was brewing.

Gloucester, Massachusetts was one such harbor. The town is located on Cape Ann, the spit of land that marks the northern boundary of Massachusetts Bay. Ships anchored in the harbor, most of them north of Ten Pound Island. This did not prove to be safe enough, though, as the wind shifted to the southeast greatly increased in force, reaching hurricane levels..

"The scene in Gloucester harbor during this storm has never been equalled in any other New England port. Many vessels sought this haven of refuge from the tempest, and in all as many as sixty were there during the gale.Between three and four o'clock on the afternoon of Sunday, they began to drift, dragging their anchors or breaking the cables that bound them. Upon the beach were many willing fishermen to assist the mariners if it were possible. ... On Monday morning only a single mast was left standing in the harbor. Twenty-one vessels were driven ashore, three schooners sank, and seventeen were so thoroughly dashed to pieces that in some cases no fragment larger than a plank was left. Twenty vessels still rode in the harbor, all but one without masts, they having been cut away. From each vessel a slender pole stood to bear aloft a signal of distress. They were tossing like egg-shells upon the still raging sea, liable at any moment to part their cables and be driven to sea with all on board. The pieces of twenty-two wrecks were scattered along the shore, scarcely any one of which being larger than a horse could draw. The crowd had staid on the beach all night to give assistance if it were possible. On the following afternoon as soon as it was considered safe to do so, a brave volunteer crew under the direction of Capt. William Carter procured the custom-house boat, and pulled out to the vessels that still floated, taking the weary and suffering seamen to the shore. The shipwrecked men were obliged to jump from their decks into the boat, as the sea was still too violent to enable the gallant little craft to approach nearer. One of the vessels, just after her crew were taken off, drifted out of the harbor and was never again heard from.

The exact loss of life was never ascertained. About forty lives were believed to have been lost, including the persons who perished by the wreck of a schooner near Pigeon cove, and twenty were known to have died, though only twelve bodies were recovered. One of the bodies was taken away by friends, and the funeral of the other deceased mariners was held at the Unitarian church on the following Sunday afternoon. ... The people of the town were so deeply in sympathy with the occasion that between two and three thousand persons listened to the exercises. ... The vast congregation formed in a procession, which was nearly a mile in length, and followed the remains of the mariners to the public tomb.^[1]

The Schooner Glide

The picture at the head of this post is a schooner. Since I've never lived anywhere near the sea, researching this story has prompted me to find out the exact meaning of familiar terms. A schooner is a vessel with two or more masts, and the lower sails on the masts are "gaff-rigged" The gaff is the pole, attached to the mast at one end and to which the head of the sail, its top margin, is attached. During the storm in Gloucester, one such schooner, the Glide, was tied up at the wharf, already loaded with cargo and ready to sail for New Orleans. Newspapers at the time reported that the Glide suffered damage due to "chafing" as it rode out the storm. This ship, though, is not the Glide that is the focus of this story. There was another schooner Glide that had already put to sea before the storm. It had been cleared from Boston harbor on November 30, and finally set sail on December 11, leaving Boston under Capt. James Colburn and headed for Havana. On board were six men and one woman, and part of the cargo was stored on deck.

Captain James Colburn was descended from an early settler in New England, an Edward Colburn who purchased land north of the Merrimack River in 1668 and occupied it a year later. James was his 3rd great grandson, five generations separated. James was born in Leominster 30 May, 1787; in 1821 he married Mary Shelton (1800-1825) with whom he had one daughter, Mary. After his young wife's death, James married Mary Herrick of Hopkinton, New Hampshire in 1836. The captain had one incident that was widely reported in newspapers of the time before our story begins. On 08 Mar 1836 he was captain of the brig Barafine (a brig is a square-rigged vessel), at the time anchored in Boston harbor. At four in the morning the ship was discovered to be on fire. Capt. Colburn was sleeping in his cabin and was the only person on board. He managed to save himself by knocking out a dead light (the cover over a porthole) and getting out of the cabin window. The fire apparently began from the stove in the captain's cabin.^[2]

The Pehr Ennes

The second "actor" in this adventure is the Swedish ship, the Pehr Ennes, captained by Sven Norberg. The ship was sailing from Gävle to New York, carrying a cargo of iron for the company Boorman, Johnston & Co. with offices in Manhattan. All the records I've seen refer to the Pehr Ennes as a "ship." I believe that this means that this was a larger, square-rigged vessel. One site on the web says that the Pehr Ennes was one of Sweden's finest ships.^[3] The ship was based in the port of Gävle, roughly 110 miles (175 km) north of Stockholm on the Gulf of Bothnia. The name of the city is, roughly, pronounced like "Yef-la," and in English-language newspapers in the 19th Century often spelled Geffle. Today the city is famous for the Gävle goat (Gävleboken). This is a holiday tradition, begun in 1966: a huge goat made of straw and set up in the city center. Its height varies from year to year, generally it's about 40 feet tall (12 m). The ship was named after Pehr Ennes (1756-1829), a Gävle wholesaler and shipowner. Sven Norberg (1792-1850) captained the Pehr Ennes from 1839-1846. He was based in Gävle, where he was married to Greta Stina Nordberg (1798-1832) in 1818, but he was born in the south of the country, in Allerun parish in Skåne. In the church records, the captain's name is spelled Nordberg.

Top: The Gävle goat, fenced and with security cameras in an attempt to avoid its natural enemy, holiday arsonists. Bottom: Pehr Ennes, namesake of the ship. The text below his name translates simply as oil painting.

Now, to bring these two ships, Glide and Pehr Ennes together. The Glide had left Boston before the storm hit. It was next heard of when Capt. Norberg spotted it. Here is an early account as published first in the Commercial Advertiser in New York on January 22. As you'll see, there are several errors in the initial version:

DISASTERS

Captain Norburg, of the Swedish ship Frobenis, from Gefle, fell in with on the 19th inst. Lat 34½ long 66, the schr Glide, Colburn, 8 days from Boston for Havana, in a sinking condition. The G. on the 15th, 16th and 17th inst. encountered severe gales, lost sails, deck load, and set the vessel aleaking so badly that the pumps could not keep her free, and thought advisable to abandon her.

To translate some of the abbreviations in that passage:

• inst., for instant, refers to the current month
• lat, for latitude, and long. for longitude, are the coordinates where the Glide was spotted. This location is roughly 134 nautical miles (248 km) NNW of Bermuda, or 534 nautical miles (989 km) SE of New York City.
• schr: schooner. Note that the record refers to the Pehr Ennes as a ship. After citing the name of the vessel, custom seems to be to name the captain.
• G.: the Glide

The obvious error is that Norberg's ship was not the Frobenis, but the Pehr Ennes. Later reports give more details, but then introduce another error, citing the latitude as 81°N. That would place the ship north of Greenland, a very unlikely place to be if your destination was Cuba! Two days later, the Evening Post (New York) published this note:

Extract from the Log Book of the Swedish ship Pehr Ennis from Geffle, S. Norberg, master.

The 18th December, at 4 o’clock P. M. fell in sight of a schooner (Glide, Captain Colburn) without sails, and drove right before the wind, and as his flag was hoisted at the foretop as in distress, we made several tacks to come up with him, in which we succeeded at 8 o’clock. We hailed him, but could not hear the answer, for it blew rather hard. Consequently I sent the jolly boat, with three men on board to inquire if they were in distress; the answer was that the schooner was sinking, and the crew asked to be taken off. I now despatched the large boat with five men, which with great danger took six men and a woman from the wreck.

The wind had now increased, and it continued to blow very hard. I laid by with the ship until 12 o’clock, when I had the great pleasure to see our men and the strangers all well on board, because I am persuaded that without our assistance no one on board the unfortunate schooner would have lived. We were then in lat N. 81 6, and long W 67 81, and arrived safe in New York, after severe weather, the 21st of January, the captain and passenger of the schooner having been on board 5 weeks.

The Commercial Advertiser echoed this report, but added an additional note. This, I hope, will finally explain to you why I'm telling this story:

Captain Colborn, of the Glide, in behalf of himself, passengers and crew, has published a card of thanks to Captain Norberg for his gentlemanly and kind attention to him while on board his vessel, and to Mr. Charles Westerlund, the first officer of the Peter Ennes. They say – “We consider ourselves under infinite obligations for the kindness and intrepidity he displayed in managing the boat which came to our relief. Undaunted by the tempest or the heavy sea running at the time, rendering it impossible to board the schooner, he, happily for us, succeeded in saving a part of our clothing, and our whole company, as we threw first our trunks and then ourselves overboard from the stern, and finally after much perseverance got us safely to the ship, then at 6 or 7 miles distance, during a … driving rain and dangerous sea, at midnight – thus distinguishing himself as a man of courage and a philanthropist.”

Over the next few months I found accounts of the rescue published in newspapers up and down the eastern seaboard, in Portland, Maine; Keene, New Hampshire; Woodstock, Vermont; Philadephia, Pennsylvania; and Charleston, South Carolina. One noteworthy point, I think, is that the newspapers reported that the Pehr Ennes arrived in New York 90 days out of Gävle. Also you probably noticed that it took the Swedish vessel 5 weeks to travel ~500 nautical miles to New York. The weather was not great, to be sure, but that would equate to an average speed of less than one knot. Perhaps that's a good pace for a sailing ship laden with iron.

The real reason that this article caught my attention, of course, was the heroics of a certain Carl (= Charles) Westerlund. That's my paternal grandfather's surname, so that explains my interest. I'm not sure if Carl was aboard the small jolly boat that initially set out to communicate with the Glide, but he was certainly in command of the larger boat that rescued the passengers and crew. It's almost unimaginable: a boat powered only by oars (certainly if it had the capacity to raise sail, the intensity of the storm would have prevented it), 6-7 miles distant from the mother ship, in the middle of a raging storm in the middle of the night. I think that I'd agree with Captain Norberg: those passengers were lucky to make it out alive. Upon arrival in New York, Captain Colburn and the passengers attempted to raise funds to repay the crew of the Pehr Ennes for their heroism. I don't know if that ever came to fruition. But the real question is, is there a sailor named Carl Westerlund in the family? The answer is yes.

Carl Axel Anshelm Westerlund

Carl Axel Anshelm Westerlund was born 08 Dec., 1816 in Stockholm, in the old city (Gamla Stan), son of Axel Jansson Westerlund (1784-1840) and Catharina Ulrika Hempel (1789-1831). He had 3 siblings: Mathilda Eleonora (born 1815, date of death uncertain, but sometime after 1840), Frans Daniel (1818-1881), and Helena Sophia Ulrica (1819-1820). His father, Axel, was a grandson of Lars Ericsson (1698-1757) and Margreta Ersdotter (1710-1784), which is as far back as I've been able to trace the Westerlund lineage. Axel was a policeman in Stockholm, and, in an earlier post, I included a picture from my visit to Stockholm standing in front of two of the buildings Axel and family lived in (see Retracing Steps: Stockholm). At the age of 14 Carl was apprenticed to the tailor C. Dahlin. The household examination records from Stockholm for this time are pretty minimalistic, and I lose track of Carl until, in 1841, he is recorded in the moving-out book. This is a record of members of the parish (Sankt Nikolai, or the Storkyrkoförsamling) leaving for another parish. Here Carl's profession is recorded as a sailor (sjöman), and he is headed for the sailor's home in Gothenburg (Göteborg).

Moving-out record for Axel Westerlund in 1841 (the sixth record down from the top). It records his occupation (sjöman or sailor), date of birth (1816 8/12), place of birth (Storkyrkoförsamling, the main cathedral parish is the old city), destination (Götheborg), where he'll live there (the sailor's home or sjömans huset), and then details on his religious capacity and participation. Source: Storkyrkoförsamlingen BIIa:7 (1835-1843) Image 228 / page 221 (AID: v90642.b228.s221, NAD: SE/SSA/0016)

After this, I've been able to find very few records of Carl Axel's whereabouts and fate. But if he was the first mate on that tiny boat in the Atlantic on that stormy night, then that's enough in my book to look up to him as a real hero.

Epilogue

After his rescue at sea, Captain Colburn was not out of the woods. This item was published in the Boston Traveler on January 31, 1840:

Capt. Colborne, of the schooner Glide, who arrived at New York last week, escaped from the wreck of his vessel, was a passenger in the stage from New Haven, returning to his family in Boston. The stage overset twice on the journey, and once it was thought Capt. Colburne was killed, as he had the whole weight of the stage and a large number of passengers upon him. When extricated he was found to be much bruised, but not seriously injured.

Colburn continued in the maritime trade in the West Indies. He died in Trinidad de Cuba on Sept. 2, 1843, aged 56.

After the death of his first wife in 1832 Captain Norberg was remarried to Brita Cathrina Sundberg (1793-1863). According to a post in the Gefle Dagblad his last voyage, in command of the Oden, brought emigrants to New York from Sweden. Among those passengers were Eric Norelius (1833-1916). Norelius studied here in Columbus, Ohio at Capital University, and then continued west to Minnesota. As the Latin form of his name might suggest, he was a Lutheran minister. Norelius, initially at least, seems to have been part of a group led by Joris Per Andersson from Hassela parish in Gävleborg (the county, or län, of Gävle). Andersson, his family, and followers were early settlers in Chisago, Minnesota, and the diaries of Norelius were part of the research materials upon which Wilhelm Moberg based his historic novels, the Emigrants. These books were also discussed in an earlier post (see Unto a Good Land). Captain Norberg died on 25 November, 1850 in New York and is buried there. As for the Pehr Ennes, it was abandoned in the North Atlantic on 14 July, 1853 on a voyage from London to Québec City, and its crew rescued by the British ship Parthenia.^[4]

That, at last, brings me to the central question: was the heroic Carl Westerlund actually the Carl I've found in the family? If the goal was to write an interesting story, I should have stopped at this point. My Carl was a sailor, he was about the right age, and the heroic acts are abundantly documented. But curiosity and skepticism pushed me to look a little further. The answer that a lawyer might give to the question is that I have no definitive evidence, one way or another, that Carl Axel Anshelm Westerlund born 8 December, 1816 was the first mate on the Pehr Ennes during the events of December, 1839. But, honestly, I don't think it was the same person (sigh). You may have noticed in the document pictured above, that when he left Stockholm in 1841 he used the name Axel, not Carl. This isn't definitive, to be sure: it seems that Swedes often switched from their first to their second names, or both(!), pretty liberally. But it isn't supportive of my argument. Second, my Carl was in Stockholm, not Gävle where the ship was based. In fact, looking through the Gävle records there were two, two! other Carl Westerlunds who were sailors based in Gävle. One was born in 1815, the other in 1816. I haven't (yet) found the crew list for the Pehr Ennes at the time, so this isn't definitive. However, in browsing for the death record of Captain Norberg, I did come across one of those Carls: he also died in 1850, and he was listed as Styrsman, the same rank of the Charles Westerlund in the newspaper reports. So while I can't say for sure, my own hunch is that it was the Carl Westerlund, born 1816, died 1850, who was the real hero of this story.

There is one further record for cousin Carl that I've found. It is from the Karlsborg Garrison. Karlsborg is a fortress on a bay off the western shore of lake Vättern, one of the huge lakes in central Sweden (I'm not quite sure how to refer to it in English, is it Lake Vättern, Vättern Lake, Vätter Lake...?). This was supposed to be a central defensive position: if Sweden were attacked, then the monarchy, administration, and all the gold could retreat to this central, fortified position. The garrison there seems to have been a mix of regular soldiers and men who had been sentenced to service in the garrison. I say this because Carl Westerlund's record documents that he was convicted of counterfeiting and attacking a police officer in 1855. He was sentenced to 28 days on bread and water. I don't know if this was a euphemism, or the real punishment. He seems to have been released in December, 1855, but then returned the next year, sentenced to two years. I'm not sure what the second sentence was for; perhaps the counterfeiting and assault were two separate incidents. Interestingly, the record shows that after he served this sentence he returned voluntarily (!!!) in 1861. And that's the last record I've found of Carl so far. As a final note, Carl doesn't seem to have been the black sheep of the family, at least not the only one. His brother, Frans Daniel, and his uncle, Lars Gustaf, also served sentences at Karlsborg.

Carl Axel Anselm Westerlund's record from the Karlsborg Garrison. https://sodabreadcrumbs.blogspot.com/b/post-preview?token=APq4FmBfacqcS9uCjH63aVggHvzK2UtFZ5WtmYjrKxDGJEkRWdGUGx8f546SwwpsN0cWBK6oaSBR6aGegpjEYgo8HOklpnTSvf97nYzG0T41qZyXoWV-EnfUcPKyYjZXO5Q0q1ZuwKIO&postId=1376938000395805820&type=POST

I'd like to close with the thought that it doesn't really matter too much if I'm related to the daring Carl Westerlund of the Pehr Ennes or not. It's a helluva story, and I admire the man and his courage on its own. I hope you do too.

Sources

1. Perley, S. 1891. Historic storms of New England. The Salem Press Publishing and Printing Co., Salem, MA. 341 pp. Link to Google Books.
2. Newburyport Herald, March 08, 1836, page 1.
3. Kaptensgården i Furuvik - snart ett minne blott? https://www.gd.se/artikel/kaptensgarden-i-furuvik-snart-ett-minne-blott
4. Fate of the Pehr Ennes: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_shipwrecks_in_July_1853

High Country Miner

A story of the Harrigan family, a start to clearing up the fate of one missing son of Denis Harrigan.

I realize that most of my posts to the blog relate to the family of my Swedish grandfather, and I've not spent nearly enough time talking about the Irish families of my other three grandparents. That's primarily because of the extent and availability of records from Sweden. This time, though, I have a story that deals with the Harrigans, the family of my maternal grandfather.

Loose threads, brick walls... I think that any historical research has their share of trails that run cold, where people are simply "lost" in the mists of time. But sometimes we do get lucky. This is one such story.

The Trail

Clue #1: Probate records. Hanora O'Connell died on June 3, 1918, a spinster. In the Surrogate's Court of Herkimer County, New York, a petition was filed by her executors, her sister Abigail Harding and Abigail's daughter Mary Ann Harding, seeking permission to "mortgage, lease or sell the real property of the deceased." This property in Little Falls, New York was sold to John and Julia Donnelly (nee Horgan) of Utica for the grand sum of $100. That's approximately $1500 today. The real value of this document, though, is that it included a list of heirs and next of kin of Nora. For all intents and purposes, this is a family tree: it not only names names, but specifies everyone's relationship to Nora. The seventh item in this list reads as follows:

In terms of relationship to me, the Julia Harrigan cited as the deceased sister of Nora is my 2nd great grandmother, wife of Denis Harrigan (1819-1891). Not much to go on, particularly with common names like Margaret and Julia, and no indication of where they might have been living.

Clue #2: Family stories. Florence Gillman related to me some notes about Tom Harrigan that came from Ed Horgan: "Thomas was a goldminer in the Black Hills of South Dakota. He opened hotels, including Hotel Edison (where?). ...he went to California 'late' after Hesperance Colorado." (Please remember that we can't worry too much about spelling here: Harrigan = Horgan = Horrigan, etc.) In a similar vein, Jim Curran passed on to me some notes on family history made by his mother. The relevant part says "She [Margaret Horgan] had two brothers who went out west: Thomas Horgan and John Horgan. I have Hesperes, Colorado down here and also North and South Dakota." [In the quotation, the italicized parts are handwritten in typewritten document.] We know that John ended up in Missouri. So presumably the references to the Dakotas all point to Tom.

Clue #3: Hillside Cemetery. Hillside Cemetery is found above the town of Silverton, Colorado, in the southwestern portion of the state. In 1904 two little girls, one less than 2 years old, the other a baby of four months, died about four weeks apart, both from enteritis. They were buried in an unmarked grave.

"Freda Carley Peterson was born in Kansas. She first visited the Silverton area in 1940, returned countless times over the years and became well acquainted with the people and the mountains. After becoming interested in genealogy and finding there was no record of persons buried at Hillside, she compiled and published such a listing ... mainly of tombstone data. Through many years of additional detailed research ... she discovered more than 2,000 burials at Hillside had no markers."

This passage is quoted from the website for Silverton Colorado Hillside Cemetery. Freda Peterson published her original compilation of burials in Hillside in 1981, and then followed this up with a 2-volume work in 1989 entitled The Story of Hillside Cemetery.

In 2004, a century after the deaths of the two girls, proceeds from Freda's books, under the name of the Hillside Cemetery Fund, were used to add a marker to the grave. It reads: Daughters of Thos. C. & Margaret Frew Harrigan, Katherine Caroline Dec. 16, 1902-Sept. 8, 1904; Vera Marie, June 9, 1904-Oct. 7, 1904. Then, in 2014, a John Church photographed the marker and posted it to the website findagrave.com (here's the link: click here). Thanks to the diligence and efforts of Freda and John, this was the key that broke down at least a part of the brick wall around Tom Harrigan. From there, I've been able to move both back in time before 1904 and forward and flesh out to some extent his history and adventures.

South Dakota

Thomas Horgan was baptized on 10 April, 1861 in Kilnamartyra parish in County Cork, son of Denis Horgan and Julia Connell. I have no other records for him in Ireland. The U.S. censuses of 1900 and 1910 say that he arrived in the U.S. either in 1882 or 1875. Possibly the first record that I have for him in the U.S. comes from an article published on March 15, 1889 in the Black Hills Weekly Journal, a newspaper published in Rapid City, South Dakota. The title is Miraculous Escape:

It is learned from an arrival from Silver City yesterday that a most miraculous escape took place there in the morning and that Tom Harrigan, a miner at work on the Silver Key has cause to give thanks that he is yet in the land of the living. It seems he was down in a shaft lighting fuse and after touching it off caught hold of the rope and putting his foot in a loop gave the word to hoist him up. When pretty near the top he accidentally dropped his candle and in his eagerness to catch it let go of the rope with both hands. Down he went again head foremost to the bottom of the shaft, right where a moment before he had lighted the fuse. Fortunately the fall did not stun him and with almost lightning like rapidity the rope was loosened. He caught on, and was jerked to the top of the shaft in less time than it takes to tell it, and hardly had he got out of the mouth of the hole than a deafening explosion took place below. Harrigan escaped with a badly burned hand and arm and several pieces of rock jammed into his face and head received in the fall. He came to Rapid City last evening and Dr. Van Buskirk extracted the particles of rock, after which he rested easier.

Of course, I can't prove that this was the same man I was looking for, but there is documentation over the next few years of the right Tom Harrigan living in the area. On 08 March, 1890 the same paper recorded that "Tom Horrigan from the Montana mine, was in town Sunday." Then on 24 Oct 1891, in Deadwood, South Dakota, a marriage license was issued to "Thomas Harrigan and Margaret Frew of Lead City." The couple are then recorded in the 1900 Federal census in Terry School Township, Lawrence County, South Dakota. Tom's occupation is said to be a gold miner. All of these places - Deadwood, Lead, Central City, Terry - are very close to one another in the Black Hills of western South Dakota. And, yes, this is the same Deadwood made famous by Wild Bill Hickok (James Butler Hickok) and Calamity Jane (Martha Jane Canary).

Wild Bill Hickok, murdered holding the "Dead Man's Hand": aces and eights.

In 1900 Tom and Maggie Harrigan had three children listed in the census: Julia D., Dennis A. and Joseph F. There was also another child who had already died; I haven't yet found any further documentation for that child.

Colorado: Silverton

I had hoped to be able to travel to both South Dakota and Colorado to visit and better understand the areas where Tom lived. Unfortunately, Deadwood is about a 12-hour drive (~700 miles) from the region of Colorado to which he next moved. I wasn't able to go to both places - yet(!) - but we did make a field trip to Colorado. The next record that I have for Tom comes from Silverton, Colorado.

Silverton is a small town, population 650, in the San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado. It is nestled in a flat valley, surrounded by mountains, at an elevation of 9,318 ft. (2840 m). The whole area was once the domain of the Ute Indians. This region was prospected for gold as early as the 1860's, but didn't really open up until Ute control of the land was ceded and a narrow-gauge railroad was built connecting Silverton (founded 1874) with Durango. The area turned out to be rich in gold, silver, lead, copper, and a wide range of other minerals. Mining operations continued for many decades, but by 1914 the productivity had already begun to decline.

During our short trip over Memorial Day, we based our travels from the town of Durango. From there it's about a 50 mile drive north to Silverton, going through some spectacular scenery. We drove, but another option is that same narrow-gauge railroad that still runs between the two towns. Now it carries tourists up to Silverton, instead of bringing ore down to Durango to be smelted. Our trip coincided with the Iron Horse Bicycle Classic, a race over the roads we were to drive. In fact, we had to leave for Silverton very early because the road was going to be closed at 8:30 in the morning for the bike race. I don't know if these bikers should be admired or pitied: this road - 50 miles - goes from about 6,000 feet in elevation at the start to slightly over 9,000 feet at the end, and along the way has to go over two passes that are over 10,000 feet in elevation. We overheard one of the riders saying that he peeked at his speedometer as he was going downhill, and it said that he was going over 50 mph; all this with no guardrails on the road and a thousand foot drop off the edge.

The town of Silverton, Colorado, seen from Hillside Cemetery.

In Silverton I was able to walk (remember, they'd closed the road, even in the middle of town) to Hillside Cemetery, located just north of town. There, thanks to the directions from Freda's daughter Julie, I was able to find the grave of little Caroline and Vera. The markers in the cemetery tell a vivid story of a mining town in the high country: deaths from avalanches, mine collapses.... Speaking of avalanches, we were told that one of the roads out of town to the north was still closed due to an avalanche over the winter. The road is still buried under more than 120 feet of snow!

Colorado: Hesperus

So it wasn't Hesperance or Hesperes, but Hesperus. If you look on the web, it'll tell you that Hesperus has a population of slightly more than 2,000. They must have a pretty expansive concept of the area, because to my eyes it was little more than a small collection of homes scattered through the valley. At any rate, this is the next place that Tom Harrigan pops up. As you might expect, when people show up in the records, it's usually not for a happy reason.

The Hesperus story starts with a short article in The Durango Democrat on Thursday, Feb. 7, 1907. "Last evening a young lad 13 years old was brought to Mercy hospital [in Durango] from above Hesperus suffering from blood poisoning induced from a .22-caliber gunshot wound in the knee. Mr. and Mrs. Horrigan, the parents of the sick child, are constantly at the bedside as the youngsters life is despaired of."

Further on the same page of that issue we read: "Last evening Ollie Harrigan, 13 years old, was brought in from Hesperus by his parents and placed in Mercy hospital for medical attention. Dr. Luckey was summoned and upon examination he found the boy to be beyond hope of recovery, suffering from blood poison superinduced from a .22-caliber gunshot wound in the right knee. The lad died at 2 o'clock this morning. Funeral announcement later."

The funeral announcement appeared in the pages of the The Durango Democrat the next day: "The funeral of little Dennis Allen Harrigan, who died at Mercy hospital Wednesday evening as a result of an overdose of chloroform administered to probe for a bullet inflicted by a gunshot wound, will take place this afternoon at 2 o'clock from St. Columba's Catholic church in North Durango. The remains will leave Durango Undertaking Parlors at 1:30 for the church. All friends invited."

Well, that paints quite a different picture than the earlier reports, doesn't it? Despite the earlier "confusion" about the teen's name, this looks like a good link to the Thomas Harrigan we're after: The 1900 census cited a child named Dennis A., aged 6, born June 1894. In February 1907 that would have made him 13 years old, just like the newspaper reported. But, wait! The story takes yet another interesting turn.

Looking down Main Avenue in Durango, and our base in town, the Strater Hotel.

Just a bit over a week after the funeral of Dennis, this note appeared on the front page of The Durango Democrat: The sheriff's office was busy yesterday. Dr. Thurman of Hesperus swore to a complaint against Mr. Harrigan of that village. Fighting Bob Pearson of this city was complained against by Matt Pheney." I don't know what happened with Fighting Bob, but what about Mr. Harrigan? The Durango Weekly Banner followed up on Feb. 21: "Thomas Harrigan was tried in the county court Tuesday upon a charge of assault and battering Dr. Thurman. It was a jury trial. Assistant District Attorney Lane prosecuted and W. C. Davidson defendant. The defendant was acquitted."

It's hard for me to imagine that there wasn't some connection between the death of young Dennis due to a chloroform overdose and Tom's alleged assault on Dr. Thurman. I should point out, though, that Dr. Thurman was from Hesperus, while the doctor at the hospital in Durango was a Dr. Luckey. I followed up with the La Plata County Clerk's office to see if I could get records of the trial and, hopefully, get more details on what actually happened. Here is the official record:

Court convened pursuant to adjournment,
Present, Robt. S. Clements - Judge - John Clarke Sheriff.
When the following proceedings were had and done, to wit

The People of the State of Colorado
vs
Tom Harrigan

At this day comes Geo. W. Lane Esq. Deputy District Attorney who prosecutes the pleas of this People in this behalf, and the said defendant comes into court and by W.P. Davidson Esq. his attorney also comes. And thereupon, it being agreed between said Deputy District Attorney and this defendant that this case may be tried to a jury six in number, comes the jury, to-wit: W.A. Decker, M. Green, Frank N. Hoover, E.P. Laithe, Henry Scoutten and John Harman, six good and lawful men. And they are duly selected and tried, empaneled and sworn to well and truly try and true deliverance make between this People of the State of Colorado and Tom Harrigan, the said defendant, and a true verdict give according to the evidences.

And the said jurors having heard the evidences produced herein, as well on behalf of the said defendant as of the said People, and the arguments of Counsel and being duly instructed by the Court retire to their room in charge of a sworn bailiff to consider their verdict herein.

And thereupon come again the jury and on their oath say: We the jury, duly empaneled and sworn in the above entitled action to try the question of the guilt or innocence of the defendant of the matters charged in the information herein do, upon our oaths, find the said defendant not guilty of the matters charged in the information in this case. E.P. Laithe, Foreman.

Wherefore it is considered by the Court that the said defendant Tom Harrigan of and from the premises in this said information specified be discharged and go hence hereof without delay.

Unfortunately, no juicy tidbits to be found there. Oh, but to be a fly on the wall....

Colorado: Cortez

The final chapter in Tom's life comes from Cortez, Colorado. This is a town about 45 miles west of Durango, located in the Great Sage Plain. In this area there are many archeological sites of the Anasazi. Mesa Verde National Park is probably the best known, but there are literally hundreds of sites here in the flat lands nestled between the mountains. We're also very close to the Four Corners, the point where the states of Colorao, New Mexico, Arizona and Utah meet.

From the pages of the Montezuma Journal [Cortez is in Montezuma County], 18 January, 1912: Tom Harrigan was brought up from the canon last week and is under the care of Dr. Spence having had a bad hemorrage of the lungs, being a victim of miner's comsumption [sic]. He seems to be rallying from this attack, and it is hoped that his lungs will begin to heal.

Unfortunately, hope and the ministrations of Dr. Spence were insufficient. A week later (25 January):

Thomas Harrigan died last Friday, and was buried Sunday at the cemetery. Mr. Harrigan was well known here and in the Laplatas, where he has prospected for years. He leaves a family, consisting of a wife and three children, who are living in McElmo canon. The loss of the husband and father comes as a grievous blow to those left behind, and the Journal voices the sympathy of the community for them.

Several things to dissect here. The "Laplatas" mentioned in the passage presumably refers to La Plata County and vicinity; Silverton is the county seat (and only town!) in La Plata County. A wife and three children left behind: that would be Margaret Frew, Julia (born 1892), Joseph (born 1899) and Margaret Ellen (born 1901). Finally, the family is said to be living in McElmo Canyon. This canyon is just south of the town of Cortez, and the canyon runs toward the west, ending somewhere near the Utah border. If you're looking on a map, the Cortez Municipal Airport is just south of the road running up along McElmo Creek. In the old newspapers this region was referred to as an area of fruit production, even in the middle of the arid landscape. As we drove up the road we had no idea, of course, where Tom and his family lived. But we did run across a vineyard, bearing witness that that tradition lives on. We did check out the Cortez Cemetery: I wrote in advance, but their email address is no longer functional. They do have a directory of interments - the first I'd ever seen that - but Tom isn't on it. In the recent past there's been a bit of a kerfuffle concerning record keeping at the cemetery, so I may have come up empty-handed even if they'd responded to my query.

McElmo Canyon, looking east toward the winery and west.

Looking forward

Following Tom's death, the family moved north to Grand Junction, Colorado. Maggie never remarried, and she passed away on 08 May 1935. Joseph never married and died in 1959 in Salt Lake City. Margaret married Arthur LeRoy Skidmore, and she died in 1975. Finally, Julia, the eldest, married Harold Arthur Lewis in 1912 in Cortez. She had but one child, Fern Marie, born in 1932. Julia died in Grand Junction in 1972. All of that sounds terribly dreary, so let me add a bright spot. As we were in Durango, I received a message from one of Tom's descendants! Welcome to the Harrigan clan, Casey!

The Lost Son

For the past several months most of my genealogical efforts have been invested in tracking down and documenting all of the descendants of the oldest direct ancestors that I've so far been able to find on the Westerlund (= Johnson) line: Lars Ericsson (1698-1757) and Margreta Ersdotter (1710-1784). This has proven to be a much bigger job than I first thought. As of today  - 03 Mar 2019 - that encompasses 2422 people (including spouses) over 12 generations. I still haven't followed some trails at all, and information on the later generations is sparse. (I sometimes feel almost like a stalker.) Of course, among those many relatives are some interesting stories, stories of really talented individuals as well as an understanding of the times in which they lived. Let me share one with you.

One of the children of my Westerlund "Adam and Eve" was Maria Larsdotter (1753-1824). In 1778 Maria married the soldier Anders Bjurman (1757-1831), and together they had a big family of 10 children. Remarkably, all the children survived early childhood. From 1783 on, they lived in Västerfärnebo, a town in Västmanland. When Maria died in 1824 from tuberculosis (lungsot), there was a note in the entry in the book of death records that stated that she had had 3 sons and 6 daughters, of which 2 sons and daughters survive. One son was unknown. He remains imprisoned in Russia: "3 söner och 6 döttrar, hvaraf 2 söner och döttrarna lefvar. Om en son är det ovist. Han blev fången i Ryssland." Again, when her husband Lars passed away from a stroke in 1831, the same notation was made.

The missing son's name was Anders. So what was Anders doing such that he ended up being imprisoned in Russia? And what happened to him? The last record that I have for him comes from the household records for 1808 in Västerfärnebo. You can see the record in the image below, with his name listed as Anders Andersson. After this point, he completely disappeared from the church books. But in that record, on the right-hand side, there is a two-word note that says "Comanderad Svanfelt." In other words, he entered the army.

That begs the question, though: what was the Swedish army doing around 1808 that would account for one of the soldiers ending up as a Russian prisoner? And isn't the country of Sweden noted for its neutrality? I had so many questions. The short answer to this one is, yes, but Swedish neutrality is a relatively recent phenomenon. The last time Swedish armed forces engaged in a declared war was in 1814, over 200 years ago. Actually, that year two conflicts ended. One was the War of the Sixth Coalition. This was one of the series of wars against Napoléon Bonaparte and the French Empire. This one ended with Napoléon's defeat and exile to the Mediterranean island of Elba. The other was the Swedish-Norwegian War, and at its conclusion the two countries were united in a union. Since that time, Sweden has adopted a position of neutrality, a stance that at times has been difficult to maintain, especially during the Second World War when Germany imported large quantities of iron ore from Sweden.

Let's go back to the time that Anders Bjurman (or Andersson) entered the army in 1808. A great source to learn about all things associated with the military (and more) in Sweden is a website developed and maintained by Hans Högman (www.hhogman.se/military.htm). First things first: Sweden has continuously had an army, even through the last two centuries of official neutrality. How did they man their armed forces, in particular, how did they do so around the time when Anders disappeared from the record?

The Swedish army and navy acquired their manpower from two sources. First, of course, men could volunteer. The other was called the allotment system (indelningsverket), introduced as a reform in the late 17th Century. Under this system the country was divided into districts called rotar. The freeholders within a rote were collectively responsible for contributing one soldier to the army (or a sailor to the navy depending on where the rote was located). Together they would provide for the maintenance of this soldier, providing equipment and a uniform, as well as a small house and land for the soldier (and his family, if needed). Sometimes you see this home called a croft in English. The local farmers were then exempt from being drafted into the army. The soldier, in turn, was responsible for reporting for training, such as it existed, and going off to battle if called upon.

Another feature of the army and navy that sometimes complicates family history research is the practice of assigning soldier names. Most of the men going into the army had patronyms. What we call a surname was actually the combination of a man's father's name plus the word "son." As a result, the ranks of the army were filled with men named Andersson, Larsson, Johansson, and every other combination. Put this together with a relatively low diversity of given names and you end up with many soldiers with exactly the same name. The solution to this potential confusion was the soldier's name: the company commander would assign each soldier a new "surname" to distinguish him. Usually, this was a relatively short word based on military terms or weapons, personal characteristics, names from nature, or names from the rote from which the soldier hailed.

In our case, Anders was assigned the name Svanfält, meaning, I think, field of swans. You may notice the difference in spelling from the church record: Svanfelt vs. Svafält. Spelling in those days was not as tightly regimented as it is now. The two words are pronounced just the same. In this case, the name Svanfält was given to each generation of the soldiers from that rote even though they were not necessarily related. Our Anders Svanfält belonged to the Berg Company of the Västmanland Regiment. The Central Soldier Registry (Centrala Soldatregistret) at Linköping University records that he was both enlisted and "discharged" in 1808. Again, my question: what was going on in 1808? It turns out that this is where family history intersects the larger conflicts in Europe in the early 19th Century: the Napoleonic Wars.

Tsar Aleksandr I of Russia

Napoléon Bonaparte of France

Earlier I mentioned that Napoléon was defeated and exiled to Elba (able was I ere I saw Elba) by the Sixth Coalition in 1814. I need to begin the story a bit earlier, though, with the Third Coalition against Napoléon from 1803-1807. The Third Coalition was made up of Russia, Great Britain, Prussia, Austria, and Sweden. It was during this period that two very famous battles occurred: the British naval victory at Trafalgar under Horatio, Lord Nelson, and the victory of the French Grande Armée at Austerliltz in Austria over Russian and Austrian troops. These two battles assured British dominance at sea and French dominance at land, leading to a stalemate. Austerlitz is also known as the Battle of the Three Emperors: the French emperor Napoléon I defeated Tsar Aleksandr I of Russia and Emperor Franz II of the Holy Roman Empire (Austria and Prussia). As a consequence of the loss, the Holy Roman Empre was dissolved. More relevant to my story, though, is that Tsar Aleksandr signed the Treaty of Tilsit with Napoléon in 1807, thus switching his allegiance from one side to the other. Russian ambitions in Finland were blessed by Napoléon, and the Russians demanded that Sweden participate in the "Continental System." This system was the response to the British blockade of the French Empire by the Royal Navy. In retaliation for the blockade, the French pushed all their allies - and other countries on the continent - to close their ports to British commerce. Aleksandr I pressured the king of Sweden, Gustaf IV Adolf, to participate in this boycott of British goods. Gustaf, however, detested Napoléon and resisted the Russian pressure.

Napoléon and Aleksandr I signing the Treaty of Tilsit

Gustaf IV Adolf of Sweden

As a result of this combination of Russian expansionist ambitions and the refusal to close Swedish ports to Britain, 24,000 troops under Friedrich Wilhelm von Buxhoevden moved west from Russia (near Saint Petersburg) into southern Finland on 21 February, 1808, thus beginning the Finnish War. At this point in history Finland was an integral part of Sweden, and to this day Swedish remains one of the official languages of Finland. The winter invasion was unexpected, and the Russians encountered little resistance to their initial push. The defenders' strategy was to retreat inland and wait for summer when more troops could be brought as reinforcements. Additionally, the plan was to maintain the series of sea fortresses along the Baltic coast of southern Finland. From there smaller ships could effectively maneuver in the maze of small islands off the coast where the larger warships could not venture. One of the most famous of these fortresses was Sveaborg (known in Finnish as Suomenlinna), built upon the Susiluodot Islands within view of Helsinki. However, the latter half of this strategy collapsed after both Sveaborg and another fortress, Svartholm, surrendered to the Russians after short sieges. The commander of Sveaborg, Admiral Carl-Olof Cronstedt, was subsequently vilified not only for the loss of the fortress, but for the eventual outcome of the war.

Sveaborg Fortress. The city of Helsinki is visible in the background.

I'm not going to try to go into depth on the Finnish War: it was a confusing time, often with little coordination between actions in the south, the west and the east of Finland. One of the most important battles took place on 14 September, 1808 near Oravais, a small town on the west coast of Finland on the Gulf of Bothnia. Here the Swedish and Russian armies were arrayed in a long line on either side of a small stream. One of the Swedish units participating was the Västmanland Regiment, presumably including Anders Svanfält. The battle was a tactical give-and-take. First, a Russian attack on the Swedish right flank was pushed back. The Russians then tried the left flank, advanced, but were then repulsed. The Russian commander pulled troops from his center to again attack the Swedish left flank, and the Swedish commander counterattacked up the weakened middle. Unfortunately, the arrival of Russian reinforcments prevented the Swedes from being victorious. After 14 hours of bombardment, cavalry charges, and infantry attacks both sides were physically spent and running low on ammunition. After nightfall the Swedes retreated, and the Russians were in no condition to pursue. The Swedish army retreated north around the Gulf of Bothnia and then south into Sweden proper.

Images from reenactments of the Battale of Oravais. See and read more at the website of the Oravais Historical Society. At the upper right of the web page are buttons to render the site in Swedish (SV), Finnish (FI), English (EN), or Russian (RU).

A side note: One of the battles of the end game of the Finnish War was a daring march of Russian troops in winter from Finland to the Swedish city of Umeå across the frozen Gulf of Bothnia. These troops were under the command of Bogdan Fyodorovich von Knorring (the German version of his name was Gotthard Johan von Knorring). I add this tidbit just as a bit of historical irony: in 1942 my 6th cousin 1x removed, Vega Cecilia Norman, married a man named Gustaf Mauritz von Knorring, a relative of the Russian general. The name von Knorring, not a typical patronym, suggests that the family had royal connections. In fact, this was a noble family from Estonia.

Bogdan Fyodorovich von Knorring

von Knorring coat of arms.

What was the ultimate outcome of the Finnish War? With Swedish war fortunes going badly, on 13 March, 1809 King Gustaf IV Adolf was seized and imprisoned in a coup. He abdicated 16 days later and his uncle became King Karl XIII. On 17 September, 1809 the Treaty of Fredrikshamn was signed in which Finland was ceded to the Russian Empire as an autonomous grand duchy under the direct control of the Tsar. At the time he became king, Karl XIII was 60 years old and had no heir. As a result of his mental incapacity and lack of heir, a search was made for someone who could take his place. Eventually, one of Napoléon's generals, Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte, was chosen for the role and he accepted. Bernadotte was the brother-in-law of Napoleón's brother, Joseph Bonaparte, but it seems that he was far from a favorite of the Emperor. (He was perceived to have a habit of failing to appear at battles.) Reigning as Karl XIV Johan, he founded the Bernadotte dynasty of Sweden, a dynasty that continues to this day in Carl XVI Gustaf.

Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte who later reigned as Karl XIV Johan of Sweden

Anders Svanfält: what happened to him? The short answer is that I don't know. I've mentioned the notations in the death records of his parents that said that he was a prisoner in Russia. In contrast, the inventory of possessions of his father upon his death (called a bouppteckning) listed all living heirs but did not include Anders. In my opinion the most likely outcome was that Anders had died during or after the Battle of Oravais, either in the battle itself or during the retreat as a result of wounds, illness, cold.... The "imprisonment" story may have been just a way to avoid acknowledging a painful truth. That's just a guess, though: who knows, Anders may have served time then settled into Russian society.

Although the Finnish War appears to have been a resounding defeat on all fronts, it did lead to a growth in Finnish nationalism under Russian rule. One form that this took was in the works of the schoolteacher and poet Johan Ludvig Runeberg (1804-1877). Runeberg is now claimed by some as the national poet of Finland, and probably his most famous work is The Tales of Ensign Stål (Fänrik Ståls Sägner). By the way, Stål, meaning steel, is one of those soldier names mentioned earlier. The Tales of Ensign Stål is a collection of 35 ballads depicting events and personalities of the Finnish War, the emotional impact of the war on the Finnish people, and an expression of their love for the land. I thought it might be interesting to highlight two of these poems.

Johan Ludvig Runeberg (1804-1877).

The first is entitled Sven Duva. In it Runeberg describes the heroic defense of a small bridge crossing against advancing Russian troops with an ironic twist at the end. I found a short (about 10 minute) video made in the 1950s that tells the story (but not in verse!).

The next poem is actually the first in The Tales of Ensign Stål and is entitled Our Land (Vårt Land in Swedish, Maamme in Finnish). The words have been adopted as the national anthem of Finland. Here is a video of the anthem sung in the two national languages of the country, first Finnish and then Swedish.

And here is a translation:

Our land, our land, our native land,
Oh, let her name ring clear!
No peaks against the heavens that stand,
No gentle dales or foaming strand,
Are loved as we our home revere,
The earth our sires held dear.

Coat of arms of the Västmanland Regiment.

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Notes

• The painting at the top of the post is entitled Porilaisten-marssi, Albert Edelfelt (1854-1905).
• The English version of Fänrik Ståls Sägner that I used was translated by Charles Wharton Stork and published by the Princeton University Press and the American Scandinavian Foundation in 1938. If you would like a PDF of the Sven Duva, just drop me a line or leave a comment (with an address: the commenting function in blogspot.com does not record how to get back to you).

Places mentioned in the text. 1. Västerfärnebo, where Anders and his family lived. 2. Helskinki and, offshore, the Sveaborg fortress. 3. Oravais, site of the battle where, likely, Anders fought and may have been captured or died. 4. Umeå: Russian troops marched across the frozen Gulf of Bothnia to attack the city.