Alice Maria Bååv, my grandfather’s first cousin (their mothers were sisters), left Göteborg for Hull on the s/s Runo on March 17, 1913. From Hull she took the train to Liverpool, and then she left for New York from there.
Alice arrived in Ellis Island on March 30, 1913 onboard the Celtic of Liverpool. She was 5 feet and 7 inches tall, had a fair complexion, brown hair, and blue eyes. She gave the address of a friend, Ingeborg Olsson: 33, W. 12th St., NYC. The old notes are hard to read, but she seems to have had $75 with her. She was of good mental and physical health. She was 25 years old.
From where Alice’s family were living in Bangatan, Göteborg, they could have taken a short walk to the quay, and seen Runo sail away. They lived so close they would have heard and smelled the ocean everyday, before and after Alice left.
These are notes made at Ellis Island when the s/s Island, the ship that had left Göteborg on June 23, arrived. Passengers are listed as having embarked at Fredrikshavn on the Danish coast across from Göteborg, but we know that some of them had been on the ship since Göteborg. The Swedish passengers are at the top of the page. They are listed in the same order as they were on the manifest taken in Göteborg.
The page is torn where Elna G. Nilson’s name would be, right below Gustaf Larson. Following her line to the right we can see her final destination, New York. Most of the young men are listed as farmhands, and the young women as servant girls. I’m guessing Elna was another servant girl.
Elna had traveled in the aft, rear, of the ship. She brought one piece of luggage. On this part of the page alone four people are listed as having died on the voyage across the Atlantic. The first digit indicates the date, July 1st, 2nd, and 3rd. The second digit is a code for the cause of death. I haven’t been able to figure out what they mean.
My father has told me that his father, Elna’s brother Karl Adolf, was a seasick sea captain. I get seasick too. I wonder what three weeks on a ship across an ocean would have been like.
I hadn’t been able to figure out that Elna’s name had disappeared in the worn fold of the piece of paper if it hadn’t been for more experienced researchers. It seems obvious to compare the names on the list created when they departed from Göteborg to the list that was taken down when they arrived at Ellis Island. But I didn’t think of that. Instead I cursed. The records are well organized, but you never know. The paper trail is important. I needed to know that Elna had arrived in New York, or else I would have lost her.
For a very long time this note was the last I knew of Elna’s whereabouts. She disappeared in New York, into what I imagined was a hot summer day, or a warm summer’s night.
This is the ship manifest listing the names of those traveling from Göteborg to New York on June 23, 1896 on the s/s Island. One of the passengers was Elna G. Nilson from Österåker, Södermanland. Elna was my grandfather’s younger sister. Before emigrating she had been working as a maid on a farm in Österåker. She had been baptized Elma Georgina, but most records have her name is spelled with an ‘n’, Elna.
Elma was born without a known father, but unlike her brother she didn’t use their stepfather’s last name, Kratz. In Sweden in those days you could chose a last name for yourself, no questions asked. Elma picked Nilsson for reasons we will never know. Maybe she knew who her father had been, and wanted to use his name. Maybe she named herself for a friend. Either way, as a teenager she clearly didn’t want anything to do with her stepfather’s name.
On June 22, when the list was created, they hadn’t yet left Göteborg harbor. Anticipating their lives in America one change had already been made: All names ending in -son have had one ‘s’ eliminated. Andersson has become Anderson, Larsson is Larson, and Elma Georgina Nilsson Kratz is now Elna G. Nilson.
All that aside, tho, look how young these emigrants were: 16, 23, 17, 18. Elma was 21.
The father of my great grandmother Johanna, Anders Hedberg, laborer, died in Falköping on Sept. 21, 1875. He was 64.
The estimated total value of his belongings was 90 kronor, around $10.
The estate inventory states that his daughter Maria Christina’s whereabouts were “unknown”.
From the bird’s eye view of the internet, we know that Christina and her family had emigrated in 1870. In 1875 they were living in Cedar Township, Jefferson Co., Iowa.
For the past 20 years I’ve had discussions with students about what it means to be American. One guy described himself as an “American mutt”, and said “I don’t have deep roots, but being a mutt gives me a broad base”.
I’ve poured over the results of my DNA test for many hours. Whatever service you use, they will give you access to your own results, and to the results of your matches. I’ve looked at images of my chromosomes, and compared them to those of strangers. I’ve skimmed hundreds of family trees, the Anderssons and Larsdotters of Sweden, and the O’Malleys and O’Briens of Ireland.
There are so many people in the world, and there are bits and pieces of so many strangers in each of us. Bits of chromosomes from our families and from relatives long gone and forgotten. Parts of my DNA was already in the cemetery here in Los Gatos when I moved here in 1995. Wild, huh?
Looking at the results of my DNA analysis has made me feel more human. I too have a broad base, wider than America. We all do. We’re connected. 99% of the time we will never know how we’re connected, but that only makes it more beautiful.
This is George Victor Johnson, born in Alameda, Contra Costa Co., Calif. on Dec. 11, 1911, to Agnes Judith Hanson and Gotlin Alfred Johnson. His father was an immigrant from Norway. His mother was from Sweden, related to me through my previously unknown great grandfather.
George was known as a one-armed robber, and the ringleader for a 1930s band of East Bay boy bandits. In 1933 he was given a sentence of 5 years to life, and sent to San Quentin. The photo is in the prison paperwork, and available online.
If I’ve done the math correctly George and my father were 3rd cousins.
I’m a member of a Swedish/American genealogy group on Facebook. People post asking for help finding records for missing relatives in either Sweden or the US. Often Americans need help with translations of Swedish documents or correspondence left behind by older relatives. One morning a man asked for help with a postcard dated March 28, 1928. Here is the translation I typed:
Dear Evelyn I am sending you a view that maybe one day you’ll come visit along with my very best wishes to you and everyone at home from grandma!
One run-on sentence from Värmland to Los Angeles on the back of a picture of Mårbacka.
I am a fairly active member of online discussion forums around Swedish American culture, and Swedish culture in America. (There is a difference.)
Painting by Anders Zorn, and slaughtered horses.
This photo, or one similar, was posted in one of those groups. You see a painting by Anders Zorn, on display at Nationalmuseum, Stockholm. Below the painting are wooden horses, cut up and packaged as you would meat for sale in a supermarket.
Closeup of the dead horses.
Swedish American members of the online group were furious. They found the display disrespectful. Swedish members of the group, myself included, didn’t see disrespect but rather interpreted the display as a commentary on culture and art as commodities.
I find the difference interesting. It is as if symbols of Swedish culture are more important to those who don’t inhabit Swedish culture anymore.
This is my grandmother’s second cousin Esther. She was born in Martin Co., Minnesota, in 1892. Esther married her husband Ed Golden, who is standing next to her, in 1922. She died in Des Moines, Iowa, in 1997, almost 105 years old.
Relatives to Esther have posted photos of her on ancestry.com. When I saw them I realized that Esther looks quite a bit like my aunt, who lived until she was almost 102. I can also see myself, and other relatives, in her.
