I like to call this story a saga, a story of heroic proportions when balanced by the years: a modern, heroic narrative resembling the Icelandic Sagas. For, was not the broad Atlantic a sea to be feared and mastered as did the Vikings their Arctic waters? And were not historic figures seen in the waves? And note the bravery and determination necessary to face the challenge of the mid-eighteen-hundred’s sailing ships!

My own father, Evan I. Evanson, in Toten, Norway, in his 22nd year left home in company with Uncle Anton Evanson, Father’s cousin, April 16, 1869. They arrived at the home of Per Holte, a relative, in Adamsville, Wisconsin. Father’s cousin, Marie Daffinrud, a very young girl, was present at Father’s embarkation, and she related to me, in 1937, the anxiety and concern of the family on that occasion. She also told of Great-Grandfather, Evan Hegernes, who had inherited a large estate. Had inherited a large estate! He was a spendthrift and show-off and wasted his substance, and as a result, his grandson, my father, emigrated. He was the oldest of nine and the first to emigrate.

My mother, Anna Karine Jordet at age 12, left Valdres, Norway April 19, 1869 on the sailing ship, Manila, and arrived in Black Earth, Dane County, Wisconsin, which according to my atlas, appears to be about fifty miles south of Adamsville where Father spent many years. I have always thought that the arrival of Mother’s family in Black Earth on July Fourth was a good omen although they did not know the significance to Americans. And on the contrary, they experienced the illness and death of the father, Knut Jordet, on September 13, 1869, of liver ailment, and that of John, the oldest son of tuberculosis later. My mother, Anna, was oldest girl, then came Ole, Gilbert, and Emma, or Ingeborg, her Norwegian name. They were very young but all helped whenever possible. The family left Norway quite well-off, but the death of the father and the long illness of John left the Mother, Ragnhild, the breadwinner. Ole said that his mother did spinning, dyeing and weaving and made heavy blankets for the men who worked in the woods, and that for two years he did all her spooling. She suffered with rheumatism but struggled on.

She refused to re-marry as long as John was ill, but when he died she married Jens O. Jesme, of Voss, Norway, a fine man but he did not seem to help our grandmother very much. In Norway he had been for 21 years “foresynger” in his church, loosely translated sexton, however it also indicates leader of singing in the days when there was no church organ. He had a son and a daughter, the latter, Mrs. Pierce, was a kind helper when Ole first went to Pasadena, California as a young boy, and she remained a fine friend of mother’s. Jens Jesme died in 1896, and I believe he and grandmother lived with Ole who had the farm we later knew as Grandin Farm. Grandmother (1830 — 1882) and he are both buried in our family lot in Bruflat Cemetery, Portland, North Dakota. Today there are 10 of our family there: Grandfather and Grandmother Johannes and Johanne Evanson, Grandfather and Grandmother Jesme, and Father and Mother, Evan I. and Anna Carine Evanson, the infant brother, Johannes Christian, Melvin, Carl, and Olga (ashes in Father’s grave). The inscriptions on the grave stones are Norwegian in some cases.

Evan I. Evanson spent ten years in or near Adamsville, Wisconsin, worked hard, and when he arrived in Dakota Territory in 1877 he had $200 in his pocket. He filed on government land, erected a log cabin 18x24 in South Roseville Township on the south fork of the south branch of the winding Goose River. The broad and fertile Red River Valley beckoned, and in the covered wagon train of one of these migrations my parents met. He bought a team of oxen for use in breaking up the land.

Anna Carine Jordet went west in the company of her aunt, Mrs. Paul Paulson and Mrs. Paulson and their two daughters, Kristine (later Mrs. C.O. Brager) and Jermine (Mrs. Ole Lund). Mrs. Paulson was her father’s sister. Also leaving were the Evan Evanson family. Uncle Ole (O.K.) called her Aunt Thora. Others were E.I. Evanson (father), Ole Paulsen, Ole Kjensrud. Erik Kjensrud went by train.

His name was originally Evan J. for his father Johannes. In his Americanization papers his named was changed to Evan I., J. being mistaken for I. He let it stand, and was called by friends and relatives everywhere simply E.I. I marvel that he could cut ties with the land of his birth so swiftly, but I suppose the lack of opportunity at home, and the privilege of obtaining 160 acres of enormous fertility were an overwhelming bonus. I have in my possession a Fourth of July speech he made in 1879 which for patriotic oratory is remarkable. I don’t know, but he may have learned English in Norway as he was educated there.

Evan Evanson left Wisconsin in 1877 with a group of four prairie schooners bound for Dakota Territory. The rich soil of the Red River Valley attracted these Norwegian immigrants who hoped to file for 160 acres of free government land. Father selected prairie land with a small river, and in twenty years ye had developed a fine farm. His ambition and energy were boundless. He had helped his parents, brothers, and sisters to come and establish their homes in America.

Anna Jordet, mother, left Wisconsin in 1877 in the covered wagon train for Fargo, Dakota Territory. She worked in Fargo a few years and was married July 31, 1880, to Evan I. Evanson whom she met in the prairie schooner train. They were married in the First Bruflat Church by the Rev. Bjug Harstad. The wedding reception was held at the bridegroom’s home. Our Uncle O.K. (Ole) did the honors, going about inviting everybody and serving wine. The bridal gown was white made by mother herself. I remember when Ragnhild wore it in play and burst the seams. Mother was 22, about 5 feet 3 and slender. Her hair was red. Clara and I inherited it. Olga was very blond. Father’s hair was brown [and he] was average height. But his father was a stately six-footer who outlived him by sixteen years.

Evan bought a team of oxen for breaking up the land. They were brown in color, cheaper and stronger than horses. The 18x24 log house was not only their home. It was for many years the home of arrivals from Norway, both relatives and friends.

To you who may travel and wish to look up our relatives you would find Father’s folk in Toten, and the second-cousin whose large family would be interesting to meet. She is Klara Bekkelund (Mrs. Ole Bekkelund). Ole is Bygg mester—master builder, architect. Klara is daughter of Marie Daffinrud whose mother, Kari, was Grandfather Johannes Evensen’s sister. Klara has 11 children. Norma Hoyt and I spent three pleasant days with them in 1956. These people were very religious, but not Lutheran. The oldest is architect (born 1930). The rest, medicine doctor, Ole, minister, the rest are girls or foreign missionaries. Only the younger half of the family were at home, and they all doted on 3-year-old Jan Filip. I keep in touch with them. Several of the family were in Germany and Switzerland.

Mother’s family sold the home, Jordet, and the parents were Knut and Ragnhild Jordet. Their five children were John, Anna, called Karine by some of the family, then Ole, Gilbert, and Emma, or Ingeborg, her Norwegian name. They came to America and brought with them his brother Gilbert and their children Anton, Karine, Ole, Gulbrand, and Syver. They settled in Buffalo County, Wisconsin and avoided Knut because he owed Knut for the tickets.

Mother’s folk were in Valdres, her birthplace was in Begnadalen, valley of the Begna River. The house was modernized inside and, fortunately, the exterior was unchanged. The elaborately carved front porch was painted white outside and the red inside I scrutinized well as I have tried to match in painting our two immigrant chests. The log stabur which I call the “outdoor pantry,” on stilts on all the farms, all have a fascinating architecture. Inside were dried meats, gjet ost (brown goat cheese), flour, butter, and what I looked for, a high stack of large, round flatbread.

In this part of Valdres are several old stavkirkers (stave churches) as those are called which are built of logs or timber vertically placed. They are said to be the most remarkable and architecturally important timber buildings in Europe. There is nothing like it in stone architecture known to exist. They resemble a Chinese pagoda, or the prow of a ship. Their origin is unknown. It has been estimated that one time there must have been at least 300 in Norway. Today, 24. Made of soft wood, pine or fir, they are a rich brown color, the result of age and the frequent applications of pitch and tar. Because of its remoteness in this valley, Hedalene Stavkirke is perfectly preserved and remained intact when the Danes, allied to Napoleon, left Norway after his defeat.

In the 14th Century the Black Plague raged in Norway. Whole families were wiped out. Dense forests grew and covered everything. Several centuries ago a hunter in pursuit of grouse happened on one of these deserted places. As he shot his arrow, he followed the course as he heard a peculiar ringing sound. To his astonishment he came upon an old church. The key stood in the lock of the half-open door and he walked in. A large bell was at the foot of the altar and a bear had found sanctuary there. The man killed the bear and it was the preserved skin in the frame on the wall that recalled me to the whole story! I had read it in a Norwegian Reader when I struggled to learn to read.

It was one of the bells the man’s arrow had struck. Four bells are still preserved and they are rung by two sextons at the services every Sunday. Many treaures have been preserved: a tall sacrament case, incense burner, kissing plate with runic writing, a large stone baptismal font, and a very large wood carving of Christ on the cross. Mother and her sister and three brothers were baptized in the carved stone font, completely covered with carving.

In the home of Geirtrud and Herman Karlsgot in Bang, Valdres, Norway, were single shelves all around the room, and under each shelf was a quotation from the Havamal, the moral code of the Vikings. I showed these verses to a couple here who are Icelandic. These are not in Icelandic, but translations to Norwegian.

When I arrived in Norway in October, 1937, I went at once to Valdres to visit my mother’s relations. Geirtrud Juvkam Karlsgot’s grandmother and my grandmother were sisters. I was surprised to learn that Geirtrud had spent much time in my parents’ home in Portland, Dakota Territory when Clara and Carl were small. It was a coincidence that I should find myself in the familiar atmosphere of schools and teachers as I was on nine months’ sabbatical leave from the Seattle schools. Herman Karlsgot, Geirtrud’s husband was still teaching, and she had taught until recently. Their daughter and her husband were also teachers. They had a good knowledge of English as they had studied in England. Lehrer (Teacher) Karlsgot was impressed with my ability to speak Norwegian, he invited me to speak to the classes about America and my trip. In introducing me he spoke of the similarity of “kultur” in our two countries. He called attention to the great number that had emigrated in the [eighteen] sixties, and pointed with pride to the fact that they had by their physical labor helped build a new land, and that there are as many Americans of Norse descent as there are Norwegians in Norway.