Land (#52Ancestors, Week 17)

I haven’t found anyone in my family who was a homesteader on federal land, or who was a land baron. But I want you to meet Charles Bruce Foley, mining engineer, who lived in more places in this country than just about anyone else on our family tree.

Charles Bruce and Esther Foley
with baby Esther, ca. 1915

Charles Bruce (also just called Bruce) was born in 1876 in Indiana. He married my great-grandmother's sister, so you can see that he is sort of a shirt-tail relative. But he intrigues me, mostly because he did move around so much. Here is an outline of the places I know he lived in:

1876 Indiana
1901 Colorado
1906 Mexico
1909 Arizona territory
1911 Milwaukee
1918 Dayton
1915 Michigan
1918 Brooklyn
1920 Bristol, CT
1923 Albany NY
1930 Ft. Wayne, Indiana
1936 Kansas City MO
1940 Reno NV until his death in 1965

That's a lot of ground to cover. Bruce attended Colorado College in 1901 in the class of "special student," which I think meant he wasn't there as a freshman, sophomore, junior or senior, but just to take classes. He later worked as a mining engineer.

Charles Bruce Foley,
student, circa 1901

I don't know what brought him to Aurora, Illinois, but that is where he met and fell in love with Esther Hedin. According to my mom's Aunt Adrienne, Bruce declared that he would not leave Illinois until Esther married him. I haven't found any documentary proof of this marriage (or even that he ever lived in Illinois) but I have the birth certificate of their first child, Ruth, who was born (in Mexico) in 1906, and it includes Bruce and Esther, father and mother.

Another interesting fact about Bruce Foley is that he owns a U.S. patent. According to his obituary, he was the inventor of the electric furnace for U.S. Steel Corp. According to his patent, Number 1,350,714, he invented the Process of Treating Metals and Alloys. (They could be the same thing, what do I know about electric furnaces or treating metals and alloys?)

Patent 1,250,714
Process of Treating Metals and Alloys

I don't consider my research on the Foleys complete in any way. I'd love to find out more about what Bruce did in all those places he lived, and if he lived places I haven't discovered yet. Bruce and Esther made their last move to Reno, Nevada in 1936; I'm not sure why. No doubt there were many mining related opportunities there for a mining engineer, perhaps he went for a job. Or maybe they moved there with retirement in mind. In any case Charles Bruce Foley, you picked a beautiful place to land.

Air (#52Ancestors, Week 16)

John Robert Graf
ca. 1940

John Robert Graf was my mom’s cousin, 16 years older than she was. He registered for the draft when he was a 19-year-old student. I remember my mom telling me he was a conscientious objector during World War II but that he participated in the war without going into combat. She also said that he had gone missing in the Pacific Ocean.

Although nothing in my research specifically confirmed that he was a conscientious objector, I choose to believe that he was, based on my mom’s comments and the fact that his family was Seventh Day Adventist, sometimes considered a “peace church.” Some research in the Fold3 database has helped me piece together how John Graf served in the war, how he went missing, and how he fits this week’s prompt, “Air.” 

John Robert Graf was a pilot in the 17th Photo Reconnaissance Squadron, 4th Photo Reconnaissance Group of the U.S Army Air Force. Reconnaissance pilots were called “Photo Joes,” and after reading about them I have a sincere respect for how John served his country in the second world war. 

Photo from the P-38 National Association and Museum

“Photo Joes” like John were the advance eyes of the fighting men. Their job was to fly over enemy territory and take pictures of the location, activities and movements of the enemy, either before or after a raid. The recon pilots flew alone, with no guns to defend themselves. If they were spotted, they had to rely on speed and elevation to outrun their pursuers; they had no guns to defend themselves. 

This was the life John led in the army. But somewhere along the line he met an army nurse named Maurine. I don’t know much about their life together but I do know John and Maurine got married because I have a picture of them.

Wedding party of John Robert Graf and Maurine Betty Halbe
Place and date unknown

Back to the war and photo reconnaissance. John’s story ends sadly as so many men’s stories did in World War II. On about February 22, 1945 John took off from Molotai Island on a combat photo reconnaissance mission to Tarakan, North Borneo. 

On Feb 23 a bomber on a mission to Tarakan reported seeing sea dye from a life raft along the flight path that John would have taken. An emergency rescue group in the area was notified and planes were sent out, but they could not make the visual sighting because of adverse weather conditions. A month later an official Missing Crew Member Report was filed about John Graf. 

Manilla American Cemetery and Memorial

John’s sacrifice is memorialized at the Manila American Cemetery and Memorial in the Philippines. He is listed among the 36,286 names of the missing. So far I haven’t found an obituary for him. But hopefully this memorializes him in a small way. John Robert Graf, thank you for your sacrifice and your service in the air.

Watch a YouTube video that sings the praises of the World War 2 Reconnaissance Pilot. If only John and Maurine’s story could have turned out the way this video did. 

Fire (#52Ancestors, Week 15)

There are two fires in my family history that I know of. I don't have pictures, but one of them did make the newspaper.

I will never forget walking home from school in the fall of my freshman year at Muncie Northside High School. I was at the bottom of our street and noticed a couple of fire trucks up ahead. How exciting, I thought, there's a fire on our street.

As I got closer I realized that the fire was at our house and I was no longer excited. I was horrified. I ran up the street to our house on the corner to find Mom and Mrs. Sears, one of our neighbors. To be honest I don't remember too many details except that I just lost it on Mrs. Sears' shoulder. I was worried about our cat and dog. Turns out that the dog had run away (we did find him) and the cat hid inside.

Mom had come home earlier and opened the garage door. She heard a "Whoosh" and all of a sudden there was a fire in the garage. We figured later that it must have been spontaneous combustion. I don't know how she called the fire department but they did a great job of putting it out before it spread to the rest of our house. Most of the damage was in the garage and attic above it where, unfortunately, we had put some family keepsakes: my mom's childhood doll house, my rocking horse (both of which were made by my Grandpa Falk). The Christmas ornaments were there, too, but luckily not the handmade ones.

We couldn't stay in our house for a few days while the damage was cleaned up and repaired. One of Chris' friend's parents (the Stanleys) loaned us their RV for Mom and Dad to stay in, parked in our driveway. We kids stayed with friends. Thankfully, repairs and cleaning were taken care of and it didn't seem long before life was back to normal.

Princeton Bureau County Tribune,
December 31, 1915

The second fire story in our family is a little more serious.

Theodore Johnson is my great-grandfather. His daughter Edna is my paternal grandmother. Edna was the fourth daughter of Theodore and Anna Johnson. She would have been 15 in 1915, about the same age as I was when we had our fire.

The fire at the Johnson's house happened on Christmas morning. According to what I can make out from the article, (and I remember Grandma telling this story once or twice) the family was ready to go to church early on Christmas morning but someone forgot their hat so Grandma's mom Anna went back to look for it in the closet. In 1915 the house that they lived in didn't have electric or gas power, and it would have been dark, so Anna had to use a kerosene lamp. Whether she left the lamp burning in the closet or something caught fire that she didn't notice is not known. But at 6:45 a.m. while the family was worshiping at church on Christmas morning, a neighbor saw that their house was on fire and called the fire department.

Princeton had a fire department at the time but no dispatching service like we have now. The telephone operator misunderstood where the fire was and 20 minutes were wasted because of the mix up.

The paper reported on the fire:

“When the wagon finally arrived the interior of the house was a mass of flames and it was impossible for the firemen to enter and save the furniture. The house property was covered by insurance amounting to $1,000. No insurance was carried on the furniture….

“The only piece of furniture removed from the house was a piano. This was dropped by the firemen as they were taking it out of the house and was damaged so that it is practically of no use.

“The residence will be repaired at once. During the repairing of the home the Johnson family are living with relatives and friends in the vicinity of their home.”

I can't imagine the tragedy of losing your house on Christmas Day, along with all the presents and food for the celebration. And the loss of the piano! My grandma and her sisters were all very musical, I'm sure they mourned the piano.

Hopefully Anna was able to let go of any burden she might have felt about starting the fire. The blessing was that no lives were lost in the fire. I'm sure that, as the ashes smoldered, the family eventually was able to count their blessings. In a tragedy, we find hope in counting our blessings.

Water (#52Ancestors, Week 14)

Outer Banks, North Carolina

The best water story I have comes from my own family history. For over 30 years our family has traveled to the Outer Banks of North Carolina to stay at the beach for a week. For years, going to Nags Head every summer for the family vacation was our tradition. After a while it became almost sacred. Changes loom now that my mother has passed and COVID-19 threatens our trip this year. But that’s the future. Let me share our family’s history at Nags Head, North Carolina.

It all started in 1986 when Mom decided to find a summer vacation spot at the beach. We lived in Indiana and going to the ocean was an exciting destination. She wrote away to Chambers of Commerce all along the East Coast (no internet research at that time!) and she picked Nags Head, North Carolina. She rented a small house right on the ocean and took her mom, my youngest sister Carla and Carla’s friend. They took two days to drive there. The three-bedroom house had no TV, no telephone, and no air conditioning. There were few restaurants and fewer activities. Mom, Carla, and her friend spent the days reading or sunning on the beach; Grandma stayed on the porch and crocheted.

Two years later the whole family went to Nags Head, Grandma included. We stayed in the same house, which was called “Lucky Us.” Mom and Dad had the master bedroom, I shared with Grandma, Stacy and Carla shared the third bedroom, and Chris slept in the living room. By this time there was a putt-putt golf course and a few more restaurants. We (actually, Mom) cooked some of our meals and some nights we dined out. We spent most of our time on the beach. We enjoyed breakfast on the porch, lazy days on the beach, family bonding sessions at night, and the majesty of the ocean.

After 1988 we went to Nags Head every summer; our seaside vacation was a constant in our changing family. We children were maturing, getting jobs, living on our own, getting married, and having children of our own, but we kept on going to Nags Head. We found larger houses that could accommodate all of us. Mom and Dad added a second trip in the fall, just the two of them. As our families grew and schedules changed, there were some years we couldn’t all make it, but most of us always went. We stayed all up and down the Outer Banks, in Kitty Hawk, Nags Head proper, and south Nags Head. Our most recent trip was way north in Corolla.

Family Dinner 2018

The Rest of the Family Dinner 2018

Over the years we’ve accumulated so many memories it’s hard to know what to include here. I’ll just end with a random list and family members can add on if they want to. I hope these give a flavor of the place on the water that is so important to our family.

Carl's First Nags Head 2001

Claire's First Nags Head 2004

We love to eat out at Owens', Sam and Omie's, and Lone Cedar.

We buy our food at Food Lion, Seamark Foods, Cahoon’s, and the Whalebone Seafood Market. Remember the year we bought out Cahoon’s stock of Nabisco Sugar Wafers!

Mom loved to go shopping at The Farmer’s Daughter, The Christmas Shoppe, and the Manteo bookstore, and we often went with her. The outlet stores were another popular shopping destination.

We visited other sites like the Bodie Island, Cape Hatteras, and Corolla lighthouses, the Wright Brothers National Memorial, and the Elizabethan Gardens. We attended The Lost Colony outdoor drama in Manteo. We took the ferry to Ocracoke Island and took a tour of the wild horses north of Corolla.

We went went to the movies, we went golfing, fishing, and parasailing. We did puzzles. We played cards, Yahtzee, backgammon, frisbee, and bocce ball.

Carl learned to walk there. Chris suffered from his brain tumor there. Mom got lost there once in the early stages of her Alzheimer’s disease.

We often celebrated Bill’s birthday there. Peter chose Nags Head to ask my parents’ permission to marry me. One trip was specially dedicated to celebrate Mom and Dad’s 50th wedding anniversary.

Sometimes I wonder if we love Nags Head because the ocean is "in our blood," so to speak. Our Swedish family comes from Skane, Sweden. This area is close to the ocean, but I don't have any evidence that our ancestors actually went to the ocean. Maybe they did, maybe they didn't. But I'm sure that now, after so many years of going to the beach, Nags Head is truly in our family's DNA.

Nags Head sunrise

Nearly Forgotten (#52Ancestors, Week 13)

Nearly Forgotten

Today I'm going to write about my great-grandfather's brother, Andrew Pierson. My great-grandfather was Herman Peterson. There has been discussion in our family about the different last names these brothers had and whether or not their names were changed at Ellis Island. That is addressed at the end of this post. What follows is based on research I have done in Ancestry.com, newspapers and by talking to relatives.

Andrew Pierson seems to be a person who hovered on the outskirts of our family. My dad and his cousins only remember a little bit about their great-uncle: He attended some of the family’s Swedish Christmas Eve celebrations, and toward the end of his life he lived in the “old folks’ home” in Princeton, Illinois. He was forgetful in his later years and maybe had a form of dementia or senility.

Here is what I have found about him in my research. Although his name changes, other things like his birthday and his relationship to his brother do not change.

Andrew Pierson came to the United States under his original Swedish birth name, Anders Hansson. He arrived in New York on March 17, 1900 on the S. S. Campania. He said that he was going to stay with his brother in Princeton, Illinois.

In the 1900 census he was living and working on a farm in Bureau Township, Bureau County, Illinois. He is listed as Andrew Peterson, born September 1877, immigration date 1900.

In 1917 Andrew Pierson became a United States citizen.

In 1918 he filled out a World War I draft card. His name was Andrew Pierson, he was living and working on a farm in Bureau County. He gave his birth date as September 22, 1877, and he listed Herman Peterson as his closest relative.

 

In 1923 he applied for a passport and traveled to Sweden, maybe visited his parents and family there. On the passport his gave his name as Andrew Pierson, confirmed his birth date September 22, 1877, that he was born in Espo, Sweden, lived in Princeton and became a citizen in 1917. His passport application also included a photograph of him, the only one I've found so far.

In 1930 he lived in Princeton and worked as a gardener at the Country Club.
In 1940, he lived in Princeton and worked at a nursery. His brother had the same occupation.

The newspapers say that Andrew attended Pierson family reunions, the family of his father’s brother Carl who came to Princeton in 1893. Andrew also attended First Lutheran Church in Princeton and Lutheran Brotherhood meetings there.

He was in the hospital a couple of times in the 1960s. He died at Prairie View Nursing Home in 1972, several months before his brother Herman.

These bare facts are not a lot to go on. They paint a fuzzy picture of the man. I see someone who left his homeland probably looking for a better life than he had in Sweden. He went to Princeton because family was there. He worked on farms and other outdoor jobs because that is what he knew in Sweden. He went to church. He never married. He didn’t make an impression on the younger generation of his family. I would guess he stayed on the sidelines of family gatherings, but he did go. He didn’t stand out in a crowd. He worked and earned a living for himself.

Andrew, if this is all I ever know about you, it will be enough to tell me that you were a member of my family and you were loved by God. If I find out more about you I will certainly post it here.


*********************************************************************************
Ellis Island Name Changes

For a long time all I knew about Andrew was the family story: He and Herman (my great-grandfather) came to America at the same time. When they got to Ellis Island someone there gave Andrew the last name of Pierson and they gave Herman the last name of Peterson. I've also heard that Herman changed his name to Peterson because he thought Pierson was too common. I don't believe either one of these is true. The New York Public Library and the Smithsonian Magazine have written articles that debunk the myth of names being changed at Ellis Island. I tend to agree with them.

Andrew Pierson was born Anders Hansson on September 22, 1877. He was born in Sweden and therefore followed the naming conventions of that country. Sons took their last name from their father; his father was Hans, so his last name was Hansson. His father’s father was Per, so Andrew’s father’s name was Hans Persson. It is my guess that Andrew and Herman took their father’s name, thereby following American naming conventions. Herman came to the United States in 1899 and Andrew came in 1900. I don’t know why they ended up with different last names but I don’t think it happened at Ellis Island.

Tragedy (#52Ancestors, Week 12)

The official prompt for this week was “Popular,” but I really didn’t have any inspiration for that one. Instead, I will tell the sad story of John and Evelyn Swanson’s three daughters.

Evelyn was my paternal grandmother’s sister. She died before I was born so I didn’t know anything about Evelyn or her three daughters until I started researching the family. Here is what I found.

Evelyn was the youngest of the four Johnson sisters. She married John Swanson on the 23rd of December, 1925, in Chicago. The Swansons lived in Chicago when their daughters were born. Phyllis was born 5 August 1926 and her twin sisters Bernadine Ingrid and Joanne Ingrid were born on 27 November 1927. Sadly, baby Bernadine only lived three days. I imagine that the medical help available for multiple births at that time was a little lacking compared to what is available today.

At some point after 1930 Evelyn and John moved their family to Princeton where the rest of Evelyn’s family lived. In 1934 tragedy struck again when little Joanne, seven years old and in the first grade, died on May 11 from a severe case of pneumonia after “fifteen days of brave and patient endurance.”

Then on December 19, 1940, John and Evelyn’s last daughter Phyllis died. She was 14 years old and had just started Princeton High School.

I wrote in an earlier post about the “long line” of faith in my family. It is certainly seen in the lives of these three sisters. If there is anything to be gained by reading about the tragic deaths of the Swanson daughters, it is the presence of faith in their lives and the lives of their family and friends.

I don’t know if Bernadine was baptized, but this church record indicates that she was a member of the church. Often church membership was based on baptism.

First Lutheran Church record book, Princeton, Illinois, 1927

At Joanne’s funeral, two young women sang two of her favorite songs, “Jesus Loves Me, This I Know” and “I Am Jesus’ Little Lamb.” Joanne's obituary gives an insight into the spiritual life of this little one:

Bureau County Republican 17 May 1934, p. 6

Phyllis, who died at 14, also lived a life of inspiration to others.

Bureau County Republican, 26 December, 1940, p.3.

I haven’t found Evelyn’s obituary yet, but I can only imagine that it would contain a rendering of her faith as well. Surely her daughters learned their faith from their parents, and only a deep faith would enable Evelyn to live without bitterness after losing three daughters and then her husband.

As I write this post we are in the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic crisis. I look back to my family that has gone before and find comfort in the strength of their faith that saw them through so much. I trust that the Lord will walk beside me through this crisis as well.


(Headstone images taken from FindAGrave, Oakland Cemetery, Princeton, Illinois)

Luck (#52 Ancestors, Week 11)

Good luck, back luck, sometimes it’s hard to tell.

In the summer of 1985, after we graduated from college, my friend Trish and I traveled around Europe for six weeks. It was a dream come true. We traveled with our Eurail passes and so sometimes we slept on the trains but most of the time we spent the night in a hotel or pensione. (The exchange rate was fantastic that summer!) Our itinerary included France, Italy, Greece, Germany, Austria, the Netherlands and Belgium but the details of the trip were flexible.

Unfortunately, terrorism reared it ugly head that summer. Bombs went off around Europe, and TWA flight 847 was hijacked in Athens. Greece had been on our itinerary but we prudently decided to cancel that part of the trip. This opened up some extra days to fill so after talking it over we decided to travel north to Sweden. We also decided we should let our parents know about our change in plans.

Remember, this is 1985. There were no cell phones then. In order to make a phone call home we had to go to a phone station and wait our turn. When I got through to my parents, they suggested that we try to meet up with my Swedish relatives. They gave me Aunt Helen’s phone number, because she had been to visit the Swedish relatives and would know how to contact them.

Marie

As luck would have it, I was able to connect with a “cousin” named Marie Larsson. She met us in Malmo and took us around to where my great-grandfather Herman Peterson had lived.

The back of the photo reads,
"Where Dad P was born."

Trish and I in front of the home
in 1985

Marie shared some lunch with us and we did our best to communicate—she in broken English and we in no Swedish at all.

A Swedish lunch

I feel regret when I look back now, knowing that I had this fabulous experience in 1985 but have not kept up with my relatives in Sweden at all. If I had it to do over again…. Nevertheless, I’m so grateful that we were able to connect and that I was able to walk “the old sod.” Maybe one day luck will be with me again and I can reconnect with my family in Sweden...but without the benefit of an international crisis.

Strong Woman (#52Ancestors Week 10)

At first glance I see no strong women in my family tree—there are no women who owned their own business, or farmed, or became famous, or overcame great obstacles. But after some thought I have decided that all women are strong in their own way, because we all have obstacles to overcome, whether great or not. So this week I’m going to write about a woman who overcame the obstacles in her life, someone whose birthday we just celebrated, although she is no longer with us to celebrate.

Sarah Margaret Falk was born the only child of Burton and Verna Falk in Berwyn, Illinois in 1938. She had a happy childhood, got through high school, and met the love of her life at Augustana College. She married Stan Peterson in 1961. They spent part of their honeymoon traveling from Illinois to Portland, Oregon where Stan spent his third year of seminary as an intern at a Lutheran church and she taught junior high school English. By the time they returned to Rock Island for Stan’s last year in seminary, Sarah was pregnant with their first child.

Sarah’s first obstacle was taking care of a colicky baby in a small apartment while her husband studied and worked. Her mother was far away and she had no close friends. It must have been a lonely, scary, frustrating time for her. However, her inner strength, fueled by her faith and her love for her husband, must have told her that this was temporary and things would get better. They eventually did. Stan and Sarah, both only children, ended up with four children of their own, and by the time the fourth one came along, Sarah had the mothering thing down pat.

Sarah and Stan spent 8 years serving at a small Lutheran church in a medium-sized Indiana town. In 1970 Stan decided to continue his education at Butler University in Indianapolis and spent two years studying for a master’s degree in counseling. The family of six lived in a three-bedroom townhouse in a crowded neighborhood of townhouses. The two oldest children were in school and the two youngest were at home with Sarah. Not long after they settled into the townhouse, Stan began his first semester of school with practical work at a rehabilitation center for alcoholics in Madison, Wisconsin. Every Sunday night he drove 350 miles from Indianapolis to Madison, Wisconsin, and then on Friday evening he drove back to Indianapolis for the weekend. During the week Sarah was at home with the four children but without a car, just a little red wagon to transport the two youngest when they needed to go to the store or just get out of the house. Sarah knew practically no one at first. During this time Sarah also had a bout with pneumonia and her youngest child spent several days in the hospital with croup. There was no money for frivolities—barely enough for the necessities—and yet her children remember these years fondly. Sarah took her children to the nearby library branch during the summer for the summer reading club, she served as cookie mom in her daughter’s Girl Scout troop, she took the oldest two to piano lessons, and found solace in the local Bible Study Fellowship. Again she found her strength in her faith and the love of her husband. 

A third major obstacle in Sarah’s life was when her son developed a brain tumor when he was 29. He was married, later divorced, but Sarah was there for him whenever he called. He lived for 10 years until the tumor took his life. Amazingly, Sarah delivered a eulogy at his funeral that was full of warmth and love. She never displayed any bitterness over her loss.

Sarah met the last obstacle of her life when she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. Over her last ten years the disease slowly took her away until she finally succumbed last year. During all that time, however, she rarely complained or made a fuss. I believe that the depth and strength of her faith and the love that permeated her life carried her through those days of uncertainty and forgetfulness. Sarah could not overcome this final obstacle but she met it with the faith and grace that defined her life. Because of the way Sarah lived her life until the very end, she is my strong woman for this week. Thank you, Mom. 

Disaster (#52 Ancestors Week 9)

I don’t have a lot of details on this story but it’s too good not to share. So here goes.

Herman Peterson

 In 1956 my great-grandfather Herman Peterson decided to travel to Sweden to visit relatives in his home country. He booked passage on the M.S. Stockholm, traveled to New York City, and set sail for Europe on Wednesday, July 25, 1956.

The Stockholm sailed east out to the north Atlantic. The night was foggy, and around 11 o’clock, south of Nantucket, all of a sudden another ship loomed out of the fog. Neither ship could avoid the impact. The Stockholm rammed into the ship which turned out to be the Italian luxury liner, the Andrea Doria. The Andrea Doria was mortally wounded by the impact; she listed and eventually sank. The Stockholm stayed afloat and helped rescue the Andrea Doria’s passengers. Many other vessels, including another cruise ship the Ile de France, came to the rescue of the Doria’s passengers. 51 people died that night, but over 750 were saved. [I have included a few web links below that tell the story in more detail]

The Andrea Doria

The Stockholm limped back to New York City on Thursday evening with her original passengers, Herman Peterson among them, as well as some of the rescued Andrea Doria passengers. How did Herman react to this disastrous experience? Thanks to cousin Michele who shared a letter from her mother Alice, Herman’s youngest child, we know some of the details of what Herman did when he returned to New York City.

Alice Peterson Stevenson

“Hi, Everybody, My, haven’t we had an anxious, exciting week-end - or if YOU haven’t, you are more calm than I!” (At this time Alice was working for the Joint Chiefs of Staff at the Pentagon in Washington, D.C.) “I had half the Pentagon, PLUS the Swedish Embassy, checking on Dad on the STOCKHOLM...I called the Swedish-American Line in New York to see if they had info on one Herman Peterson, but found they had little information....I kept a constant vigil at the ticker-tape machine here in the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and got the latest info that way. Well, aren’t we happy that no more were injured or lost.” What a different picture from our world of instant newscasts today!

Alice finally got some answers on Friday when she spoke on the phone with “Gladys” in New Jersey (does anyone know who Gladys was/is?), who reassured her that her dad was OK. Alice continued, “I asked her if Dad had said that he would telephone home, but she said he had said, yes, he would let them know he was OK, that he would WRITE them. I really got a bang out of that....good old steady Dad will WRITE! Oh that I had inherited a similar nervous system!”

Alice found out that Herman had alighted from the Stockholm and immediately booked passage on the Bergenjhord, a Norwegian ocean liner, that was leaving on Wednesday. Alice went to New York on Sunday to see her dad who told her that he wasn’t going to let anything keep him from visiting Sweden. He also told her that his roommates, two men from Michigan, went straight back home to stay put.

Alice recounts another anecdote that is worth sharing here:

“When I was with Dad in New York he took me to the headquarters for the Stockholm passengers - a room off the lobby of his hotel....While in the hq we were chatting with the man in charge there and he told Dad that the Swedish-American Lines was hosting a cocktail party on Monday evening for all the Stockholm passengers...I looked at Dad thoroughly expecting to see a scowl come over his face, but to my complete surprise he smiled and said ‘Yah, I’ll be there.’ I nearly fell off my chair. Later we found the invitation in his mailbox and he opened it. I was kidding him and asked what he would drink at the cocktail party, that I didn’t want any rumors floating back to the Swedish Embassy that he had gotten tipsy in New York, etc. etc. He laughed and said that he would probably drink orange pop. I asked him if he liked ginger ale, and he said yes he liked ginger ale. So I tactfully suggested that he might ask for that instead of orange pop. I got so tickled at him.”

So Herman survived his night of disaster on the sea. He probably drank a ginger ale toast with other Stockholm passengers that Wednesday evening, and then turned his attention to getting to Sweden. As far as Herman was concerned, the disaster with the Andrea Doria was just a detour from his main objective, seeing his family in his homeland.


Sources, links, etc.

The Story of the Andrea Doria from the History Channel 

The Last Voyage of the Andrea Doria
A National Geographic Documentary

Pictures of the MS Stockholm

Prosperity (#52Ancestors, Week 8)

I never thought there was anyone prosperous in my family until I found this headline one day:

Capital Times (Madison, WI) July 17, 1953, p. 1

I was researching one of my favorite ancestors, Bruce Foley, whom you may remember from my "Favorite Photo" post in week one. Bruce's wife Esther and daughter Esther were candidates for last week’s “same name” post, and one day I will write more about Bruce, I promise. But today it’s his daughter Esther’s turn, because she is the one who married an Italian count. Here is a little bit of her story.

Esther Foley was born in Michigan on May 18, 1915 and married Byrlton Lohmiller, a physician in Madison, Wisconsin sometime in the mid-1930s. During World War II Brylton was an army air corps doctor. He died after the war, in 1946, in a drowning accident near Biloxi, Mississippi. Their daughter, Mary Esther, was 14 months old.

After her husband’s death Esther remained in Madison and worked as a bookkeeper and then as office secretary in a doctor’s office. One day in 1951 Professor Gian Orsini (a Comparative Literature professor from Italy teaching at the University of Wisconsin) and his wife Margaret introduced Esther to a graduate student from Italy. His name was Alessandro De Asarta. Count Alessandro de Asarta.

Capital Times (Madison, WI)
July 17, 1953, p. 1

Capital Times (Madison, WI)
July 17, 1953, p. 1

Esther’s life was never the same after that. Her relationship with the count flourished and they were married in Italy on May 21, 1953. But this wasn’t just any wedding. They were married in St. Peter’s cathedral in Rome (by the same priest who had married Tyrone Power and Linda Christian, if that means anything to my readers!). The wedding ceremony was an intimate affair but the reception hosted 250 at Alessandro’s residence in Rome, and the guests included Italian royalty.

St. Peter's Basillica, Rome, Italy
image from Wikimedia Commons

Esther returned to Madison in June of 1953 to wrap up her affairs there. Then she literally set sail for her new life. She and Mary Esther departed from New York to Genoa, Italy on July 22, 1953 on the Italian luxury liner Andrea Doria (whose maiden voyage had just taken place in January of that same year. This ship will make another appearance in this blog soon). 

Andrea Doria
image from Wikimedia Commons

Evidence of Esther’s prosperity popped up again in a 1961 passenger list from a Pan American airplane coming back from London. Esther's address is on Madison Avenue in New York City, just a block away from Central Park. Did she live there with Alessandro? I don't know. I wish I knew more about her life as an Italian countess. I can find that she visited the States from Italy once in a while, and then eventually she and Alessandro moved to the United States and settled down in Florida in their later years.

Central Park, New York City
image from Wikimedia Commons

 I wonder if  Esther's daughter Mary Esther is still out there? Mary Esther, wherever you are, I would love to hear about your childhood growing up as the step-daughter of an Italian count. I hope that you and your mother shared a life not only of prosperity but of happiness and fulfillment.

Favorite Discovery (#52Ancestors, Week 7)

I’ll never forget the day I discovered Emil Pierson.

I was researching Carl Pierson, my great-grandfather Herman Peterson’s uncle with whom Herman said he was coming to stay when he immigrated from Sweden. The Pierson family had immigrated several years earlier and were settled on a farm in Shelby township, Bureau County, Illinois.

As I researched Carl I came across a passport application, but the application wasn’t for Carl, it was for his son Emil. So I looked through the document. The information verified Carl’s immigration then went on to tell more about Emil: permanent residence is Princeton..."where I follow the occupation of “U.S. Army...” What?! Emil was in the army? Here's someone in our family that’s “regular army,” as they say on M*A*S*H.

Insignia for Colonel, U.S. Army

I kept reading.

“I am about to go abroad temporarily; and I intend to return to the United States within 4 months…I desire a passport for use in visiting the countries hereinafter named for the following purpose: Belgium, England, France, Italy, Switzerland, on 'official Business' and Holland, Sweden, and Denmark for the purpose of 'touring.' ” He planned to leave on May 5, 1921.

Well, isn’t that something. I looked at the next page (always look at the next page!) and there was a physical description of him with a picture at the bottom of the page!

Emil Pierson, 1921 (U.S. Passport photo)

Was there more? Oh, you bet! Turn the page again and I found a typewritten letter to Emil from J.M. Wainwright, Assistant Secretary of War. 

1921 U.S. Passport application, Emil Pierson

More pages followed, including permission to leave the United States, by order of the Secretary of War and a note that verified he was appointed in the United States Army on June 14 1907 and had been continually an officer of the Army since date of appointment. The request for the special passport (below) noted that he would be accompanied by his wife (!) 

1921 U.S. Passport application, Emil Pierson

Hannah Peterson Pierson, 1921 U.S. Passport application

Even though Emil was not a direct descendant, he looked like he had an interesting story. I eagerly went “down the rabbit hole” to find out more about him, and this is what I discovered:

Emil graduated from West Point in 1907.

He married a Princeton girl, Hannah Peterson (no relation to me) in 1909.

He fought bandits on the Texas/Mexican border in 1916.

He was a machine gunner instructor during World War I, or, “the World War” as it was called at the time

He was in charge of the settlement of claims in Europe following the World War.

He was a diplomatic attaché in the 1930s and was presented to the Danish royal court.

In 1941 he was named head of recruiting for the army in Ohio, West Virginia, Kentucky and Indiana.

He died in Princeton, Illinois on November 3, 1951.

The usual documents have given me the outline of Emil’s life, but other sources give me an insight into who this man was.

Here is his 1907 West Point yearbook entry. It sounds like he was a meticulous young man with an optimistic view of humanity in general. 

1907, Emil's photograph from The Howitzer,
the West Point U.S. Military Academy yearbook

1907,  entry for Emil Pierson from The Howitzer,
the West Point U.S. Military Academy yearbook

In 1933, after his time as military attache to the Scandinavian countries was finished, he spent some time in Princeton and paid a visit to his old high school. It sounds like he could probably tell a good story.

Princeton Bureau County Tribune,
February 10, 1933, p4

In 1941 his photo appeared in numerous newspapers in Ohio, Kentucky and Indiana (including my hometown paper, The Muncie Star!) as his new recruiting duties were announced.

The Muncie Sunday Star,
May 18, 1941, p1

Emil and Hannah never had children. They visited Princeton fairly regularly, and when they did they stayed with Hannah’s sisters Amy and Minnie Peterson. Subsequent articles indicate that sometime in the early 1940s Emil was wounded somehow (although I don't have any indication that he served overseas in World War II). Emil died on November 3, 1951 in Princeton and Hannah died several years later on February 10, 1959.

There is still more research to be done. I have yet to find Emil and Hannah's Princeton obituaries. I want to know more about the "claims settlements" that he was in charge of after WWI. I am also curious about the last ten years of Emil's life, how he was wounded, if he retired, and if so, how he spent his last days. However, I think I've found enough so far to give a picture of the man that, until recently, I never knew resided in our family tree.

I love Emil’s story. He came to this country from Sweden as a twelve-year-old who spoke little if any English, and he ended his days as a Colonel in the United States Army, respected for his character and quality of work. I am proud to call him an ancestor.