29 – Birthdays

My 4th-great-grandmother Anna Nilsdotter was born on a settlement named Finnhult, in Grythyttan Parish, Örebro County, Sweden, on August 27, 1781. We share a birthday, my birth coming 172 years after hers. 

Photo taken the day I was baptized...Mom (right) passed along some Finnish genes!

When you get back to the 1700s you need to worry about whether they were using the Gregorian calendar yet or were still on the Julian calendar which was 13 days off. A paper in the FamilySearch.org wiki tells us that Sweden's switch from Julian to Gregorian was more complicated than you might expect, but that by 1753 Sweden had made the transition, so we should be safe to assume that by 1781 records used modern dating. Sometimes only a baptism date is given, but here we are in luck: both birth and baptism are listed, so there is no confusion on that point.

Anna Nilsdotter birth: 27 August 1781, baptized on Sept 2

We see her name is Anna, her birth and baptism dates, her parents names: Nils Ersson, and Catharina Jonsdotter from Finhult. Anna is also special because she is on my maternal line: we share the same mitochondrial DNA. My mDNA testing on FamilyTreeDNA shows identical matches to 17 Swedes and 3 Finns, and off-by-1 matches to 12 Finns and 3 Swedes. Since Finns mostly came to Sweden and not vice versa, it seems plausible that my maternal line goes back to Finland in the 1600s and before. 

Anna was one of my sixty-four 4th-great-grandparents, and so on paper Anna would be 1/64 of my ancestry, and her parents 1/128th each. DNA results at 23AndMe credit my sister and me with 0.9% Finnish ancestry, a chunk of DNA on our 4th chromosome. Since my mDNA seems to originate in Finland, my guess is that Anna's mother was mostly Finnish and her father mostly Swedish. Three more generations have been traced back, but they are still in this area of Sweden, which had a mix of Swedish and Finnish-speaking people. My earliest known ancestor on my maternal line is Anna's great-grandmother Chierstin Hindersdotter of whom we know almost nothing.

My second cousin Linda Hoeschler researched our shared Swedish ancestry, and mentions Anna in her notes about Anna's daughter Christina Larsdotter, my 3rd great grandmother:

Christina's years in Sweden centered on Örebro and Värmland county farms carved out of the woods, the tree removal and farm planting techniques having been taught by the Finnish immigrants to Sweden in the 16th and 17th centuries...

Christina, the second of six children, was born on Hälltorp farm in Grythyttan Parish, Örebro County, Sweden on May 7, 1814 to tenant-farmers Lars Nillson and Anna Nilsdotter. Anna was born in Finnhult, so she was most likely of substantial Finnish descent... The family's long-standing parish church in Grythyttan is beautiful, and its comely village is a major tourist draw today, due to a splendid historic hotel and world-renown restaurant.

I visited Finnhult in August 2008; it's a wooded area with many lakes, with scattered homes that look like vacation places today. I don't think any homes remain that were around in Anna's time. The church in Grythyttan where Anna was baptized still stands: it was built in 1642. An English guide to the church notes:

During the first decades services were held both in Swedish and in Finnish – half of the population of the parish being Finnish and one half Swedish. A Finnish bible printed in Stockholm in 1642 and still in possession of the church bears witness to this bilingual condition... Restorations of the building have been carried out in 1775, 1778, 1903-04, and in 1953... the organ case dates from 1780, being the front of the old organ...  

So there were two church restorations in the decade previous to Anna's birth, and the last one was done the year I was born.

Grythyttan Parish Church (taken 2004, L. Hoescher)

A final note: Anna died 7 Sep 1851, less than two weeks after turning 70, a long life for someone living in Sweden at that time. I turn 70 this year, and hope to do better than Anna given all the advances in knowledge and medicine we enjoy in our current times, but I will be especially cautious this September 7. 

Sources

Juengling, Fritz, Ph.D., AG. n.d. “Calendars and Feast Days in Scandinavia.” Accessed 26 Jul 2023.

28 – Random

My great-grandmother Eliza Greub married a neighbor and Civil War veteran, Nicolas Bader, when she was 16 going on 17, on Christmas Day of 1867; at 39 he was over twice her age. They had three boys before Nicolas died of appendicitis Dec 6, 1873, almost six years into their marriage:

1868 Nov 28, William Ernest Bader 

1870 Aug 17, Frank Amos Bader 

1873 Jan 21, George Nicolas Bader 

 

Eliza's first three boys: Frank, George, and Will Bader

Will, the first born, came 11 months after marriage; Frank, the second, 21 months later, and George after another 29 months. Having appendicitis seems a particularly random way to die, especially after surviving a war and early pioneer life in Colorado. So Eliza was left a widow with three young sons at the age of 23, living on a farm next to her parents. Which brings us to a younger man named Clemens Knaus.

The 1870 census shows Clemens Knaus, age 27 and single, listed as a laborer on the farm of Nicholas Bader 42, and Lizzie Bader, 19. We don't know how long Clemens worked there; one source has him coming to Colorado from New York in 1866 and working on the Bader farm with his brother John before moving to Blackhawk where he was a butcher. But, about a year after Bader died, he did come back. On Nov 17, 1874, Eliza married Clemens Knaus, my great-grandfather, bringing her three boys and a farm to that new marriage.

After a year off between marriages, Eliza did not wait long to become pregnant, and about 14 months after marriage gave birth to a fourth son, John. From then on a rhythm is introduced: a baby every two winters. 

1876 Jan 7, John Alex Knaus 

1878 Jan 11, Matilda Jane Knaus 

1880 Mar 6, Mollie Etta Knaus 

1882 Feb 7, Albert Jacob Knaus 

1884 Jan 9, Clemens Edward Knaus 

1886 Feb 19, Fred Knaus 

1888 May 2, Emma Louise Knaus 

1890 Mar 1, Daniel Knaus (my grandfather) 

1892 Apr 20, Jessie Myrtle Knaus 

1896 Feb 26, Carl H Knaus

There is a decided non-randomness to the biennial births. Emma and Jessie were a couple months late, coming in early spring. 1894 was skipped: did Eliza have a miscarriage? Her last child, Carl, was born when Eliza was just about to turn 45. Here's a photo taken about 1896 showing Clemens and Eliza in front of their home, with the last nine of their children:

Fred, Clemens holding Carl (baby), Mollie, Dan (front), Albert, Tillie, Jessie (front), Clem, Eliza, Emma

So Eliza and Clemens were procreating in the springtime, in rhythm with the many animals on the farm doing the same. And they skipped those springs when Eliza was nursing a new baby. Eliza is the Swiss part of my ancestry, and so I looked back over four generations of my Swiss; none of them were nearly as punctual as Eliza.

  

  

 

27 - The Great Outdoors: Great Aunt Emma, part 2

From the late 1930s until they died, my great aunt Emma Knaus and her husband Matt Oliphant lived on a small farm in Texas. The outdoors was all around her, and it is a key theme in the two 5-year diaries she kept from 1946 through 1955.

"This is me out hunting... killed a grouse"

There was, of course, the weather and natural phenomena to remark on and wonder at: 

1946 Mar 15, Fri: "1st wild geese went north at 12:30 a.m..." 

1947 Apr 9, Wed: "... tornado kills 140 in Higgins Tex & Woodward Okla."

1947 Apr 10, Thu: "Stormy day..." 

1947 Jul 24, Sun: "... we saw a sun dog."

1950 Oct 6, Wed: "Shooting stars..."

1955 Sep 21, Wed: "We saw a rainbow in the clouds in the south west, sprinkled a little between 5 & 6 oclock, got cooler. We drove pipe deeper into the well." 

The land was their source of livelihood, of what they could grow, raise, trap, shoot, or mine. There was an 11-acre wood, and they used this as a source of fuel, and made some money selling cords of woods to people in the county. There was a pasture that they often rented to someone to graze cattle, and they occasionally baled and sold hay. They would gather and sell pecans that fell from trees on their property. They dug a gravel pit, and sold gravel by the load. Sometimes Matt just searched for treasure.

1946, Nov 11. "Armistice Day. We went to town, sold 10 doz eggs = $5.20, 71 lbs pecans $19.88..."

1947 Jun 7, Sat: "... bought mine detector $45."

1948 Jan 7, Wed: "... Matt took Earl Ellington treasure hunting, found nothing."

1955 Jan 27, Thur: "EC Morris of Tyler brought a loader and loaded & hauled 3 loads of gravel for J.C. Brumbels. Matt allows him 20 cents a yard to load. Matt pulled down 1 tree with the loader (ford tractor)."

Emma's relationship to the wildlife was typically that of predator. Additional protein was useful, even if it came in the form of a squirrel or opossum. They would set out traps for game, and various pelts could be sold for cash.

1947 Oct 25, Sat: "Matt got deer hunting license $7.50, went up on the gore road, no meat."

1947 Oct 28, Tue: "... Matt killed a doe..." [hunting deer in Colorado]

1947 Oct 31, Fri: "Canned meat."

1947 Jan 5, Sun: "Went to the traps, caught 2 rabbits." 

1947 Jan 13, Mon: "Caught 2 skunks 3 possums. Ira showed us how to skin opossum up by the bridge where we set 2 traps for mink. Temperature 60°."

1947 Jan 18, Sat: "...Matt went to the traps caught 1 civet cat, 1 opossum..." 

1947 Jan 24, Fri: "Matt went south looking for ducks, got a rabbit..."

1947 Jan 28, Tue: "We went to town p.m... Shipped 1 fox, 9 possum, 2 skunk, 1 civet cat to Sears cost .22."  

1947 Feb 2, Sun: "... got check $5.25 for 15 furs." 

1948 Jan 27, Tue: "Went to the traps, buzzards had eaten the rabbit..."

1948 Jan 29, Thu: "Tommy Curry walked down, ate dinner with us then he & Matt went duck hunting. I shot the 22 at a rabbit but didn't hit it. Matt shot a jack rabbit for the dogs."

1948 Feb 8, Sun: "...Caught a big possum in trap, cooked it for chickens." 

1949 Jan 14, Fri: "We finished upholstering chair, then put out some fish lines." 

Emma and friend with two elk

Sometimes it was just defending her chickens. She trapped foxes, and killed snakes; Matt had to shoot a skunk that bit their dog. 

1946 Oct 1: "... Killed a rattle snake 3 ft 10 inches long, 6 1/2 around, 6 rattles."

1946 Oct 27, Sunday: "I picked up pecans on the west side. Killed 2 copper head snakes, then walked down to the 11 acre place where Matt was hunting pecans."

1946 Nov 15. "I went to the timber to get wood. Saw a fox up in a tree, I came back after Matt and the gun and we got the fox."

1947 Jan 1, Wed: "The snow is glazed over the top, thawing underneath and sleeting. Fox caught in Palms trap. I found it and then Matt went and shot it."  

1950 Feb 7, Tue: "I killed white pullet for wolf bait..."

Matt died at the age of 75, three years and a couple months after the ten-year period documented in these diaries, at the end of March, 1959. Emma lived 9 years after that, passing at age 79 on September 12, 1967. I would have been 14 at the time, but I don't remember meeting her: she lived in Texas, and I grew up in the Midwest. 

I asked my Aunt Gladys about her, and she remembers Emma as being petite and somewhat pretty, and that Emma's father Clemens Knaus did not like her choice of a husband and instructed that her inheritance be put in trust until Matt passed away. Perhaps Clemens, an industrious German immigrant, thought Matt was too much of a dreamer. When her mother Eliza passed in 1935 Emma did get some money, but perhaps there was more when her husband died if her trust investments survived the depression years. 

Emma and Matt are buried next to each other in the New Chatfield Cemetery; there is a FindAGrave entry showing a nice stone with their names and dates of birth and death. If I'm ever close to Dallas, I'll stop by in Chatfield and pay my respects. 

Great Aunt Emma in 1961, about age 72, visiting brother Dan, shortly after Matt's death

26 – Slow: Great Aunt Emma, part 1

The two small diaries written by my great aunt Emma Louise Knaus have been sitting in a genealogy closet for a while now, passed on by my aunt Gladys Knaus. I've looked into them a couple times, and remembered them documenting a pretty slow life in rural Texas: the first covering 1946-1950 and the second 1951-1955. So for these next couple blogs I decided I'd finally scan and read those diaries, and see what I could find out about Emma, especially her life in Texas between the ages of 57 and 68 with her husband Matt Oliphant.

Emma on far left, about age 12, with her family circa 1900

Emma was the 7th of 10 children of Clemens Knaus and Eliza Greub, immigrants from Prussia and Switzerland; Eliza had 3 boys with her previous husband, so Emma was her 10th child, born 2 May 1888, two years ahead of my grandfather Dan Knaus (far right-front in the family photo above).

Emma, right, with younger siblings Dan and Jessie

Growing up with three other sisters, six brothers, and three half-brothers, home must have been a busy place on her father's large successful farm in Boulder County, Colorado. At the age of 18 Emma married a Texan, Matt Oliphant, who was 22. The 1910 census shows them farming next to Matt's older brother Bruce in Valmont, Boulder County, only a few miles from Emma's birthplace. For two decades they lived in Colorado, but sometime between 1935 and 1940 they moved to Texas, just a little south of Dallas, close to Rice where Matt's younger sister Addie Mae Harper lived.

Matt Oliphant and Emma Knaus: probably a wedding photo

The 1940 Federal Census shows Matt and Emma Oliphant living in Navarro County, Texas, having previously lived in Routt County, Colorado in 1935. Matt is 4 years older than Emma, age 56 in 1940. According to family trees online, some of his siblings had been born in Navarro County, so he must have lived here a bit when he was younger. This is where the first of Emma's two diaries begins, at the start of 1946, shortly after the end of World War II.

They lived near the Trinity River border of Henderson County, maybe ten miles from the unincorporated town of Chatfield; The small town of Rice was 6 miles further; the 1940 census found 489 people there, but that decreased to 396 by 1950. Corsicana, a larger town, was 15 miles; the 1940 census found 15,232 people there - by 1950 that had increased by 4,000.

Emma was the only one of her 9 siblings and 3 half-siblings not to have children; by the time of her diaries, she would have been long past that fork in her life. Her brothers and sisters did give her 26 nephews and 20 nieces, and her half-brothers another 7 half-nephews and 4 half-nieces. I have heard that she was a favorite aunt to many of them. During the 10 year span of her diaries, she and Matt traveled at least twice the 850 miles back to Niwot, Colorado, visiting her relatives and friends there. She kept in touch by mail around birthdays mostly. The handful of newspaper clippings, and notes about new births in the family show an interest in her nephews and nieces.

Dan Knaus with sister Emma and brother-in-law Matt Oliphant, on one of their visits

Emma wrote almost daily in the two diaries. The first entry, January 1, 1946, starts with "Nice day. We took dinner up to Aunt Lizzie's, spent the P.M. with Addie Mae..." Emma is 57, and will turn 58 that year; Matt is 4 years older. Emma's diary entries are a few sentences long at most, and note a few highlights of the day. 

First diary entry

The 5-year diary, with ten days shown across 2 pages, provides a more pulled-back, distant view of life. A single entry consolidates all the bustle, confusion, work, and emotions of the day. Emma was consistent; she missed a few weeks in 1955 when she and Matt were visiting in Colorado, and some days were terse like "Ice," "103 degrees,""Rained all day," "Worked on house all day," but most had at least a few sentences.

1946-50 Diary, showing pages for July 18-19

Emma talks about weather, sickness, chores, the economic life of a poor Texas farm in those years. There is no indoor plumbing, and in 1946 no electricity. Heating comes from burning logs from trees they have to cut down and saw, and later from a gas heater.

1946 Mar 14, Thursday: "... Matt & I sawed wood with 2 man saw."

1948 Jan 2, Fri: "Took the cook stove to pieces and put it all together again. Better than new."

1955 May 6, Fri: " Worked on Butane oven until after 10 p.m..."

They have no washer-dryer; she has a couple washboards, and hangs laundry to dry. A couple years into the diary, they start going to town to do the wash: a laundry opened in Rice.

1947 Jan 9, Thu: "I washed but the weather was too damp for the clothes to dry, rained more in the night."

1948 Jan 7, Tue: "We went to town - washed at the new laundry on North Benton, .50 for 1 hr..."

In 1946 they had no refrigerator or freezer, and would buy ice; about 1950 they bought a new freezer (so they had electricity by then). In 1955 it broke down, three days after the warranty expired (some things never change).

1947 Apr 18, Fri: "... we got 25 lb of ice from ice man = .20."

1950 Apr 11, Sun: "I cleaned shelves & washed dishes. Matt went to Corsicana got a Cold Spot that he bought from Sears Sat eve for 175 bucks. Geo Coffey went with him then Johnnie Bates and his dad helped unload..."

1955 Sep 13, Tue: "Matt went to town to see Sears Roebuck about the ice box, a man will come out tomorrow, our 5 yr. guarantee run out Sept. 10, 1955."

1955 Sep 14, Wed: "I washed and ironed, a Sears man come to see the Cold Spot [freezer box], we needed a new relay box, he put it on and it started working, cost $11.20."

Clothing needed to be sewn and mended, reused, occasionally bought.

1947 Jan 14, Tue: "... Matt fixed shuttle carrier in sewing machine." 

1947 Jan 17, Fri: "...I made 2 aprons of Matts old blue shirts." 

1947 Jan 11, Sat: "... I started a quilt (rainbow & trip around the world)."

There are no nearby shopping malls; grocery items consist of staples such as flour and milk, often bought with the cash they got from selling eggs. Otherwise food comes from their garden, and foraging. Emma has to bake their bread, and can fruit, vegetables, and meat.

1946 Aug 23: "We went to town P.M. sold 8 doz. eggs @45 = $3.60, got 100 mash $4.95, 100lb maize $3.45, 25 lb flour $1.75. Bought sow from Leon Coffey $17, brought her home in McClung's trailer and she got away."

1946 Sep 2-3: "Planted turnips, pinto beans, summer squash."

1946 Mar 14, Thursday: "Foggy am. I washed p.m. and baked bread..."

1946 May 13, Monday: "We went to the river, picked 1 small bucket of berries..."

1947 Jun 25, Tue: "I canned 2 hens..." 

1955 May 19, Thu: "Rained from 12 a.m. until 8 a.m. I picked beans and canned 5 qt."

There is no TV. They get a used radio in 1946, but, with no electricity in the home, it has to be a "portable" one, probably using a car battery. They did subscribe to newspapers, and must have read them thoroughly.

1946 Jul 16, Tuesday: "...Bought a portable radio from Baker = $15."

1947 Dec 2, Tue: "McNess man came we paid him $3 for a year subscription to Corsicana semi-weekly Light beginning in Jan..."

There is no phone, so they often have to drive to see somebody, only to find them gone. 

1946 Jan 11, Friday: "... Mrs. T Weaver drove in on tractor to tell us that Lincoln Benton wanted to buy some chickens."

1947 May 6, Tue: "We went to Mexia to see Geo W McClung, he was in Baird Tex. Beer was $4.80 a case so Matt only got 1 bottle."

1950 Jan 1, Sun: "... Matt went to Weavers after our 2 sows. They were out, so left them, lost 1 tire chain coming back. We walked back found it at the end of the lane..."

Their automobile is old, and they are constantly fixing it, and having flats and other breakdowns. Their long trips to Colorado were an adventure.  

1947, Aug 14, Thu: "We went to town washed at Gilmores Laundry. Bought motor for wind shield wipers $5.75, a pr pants (khaki) 2.50 at Army store, had a blow out coming home."

1947, Aug 15, Fri: "Matt patched tubes, used all the patches, put 12 on 1 tube and it still leaks air..."

1947 Sep 17, Wed: "We piled some of our stuff in the Buick and started for Colo, slept in the car near Quanoh, Tex."

1947 Sep 18, Thu: "Almost got to Springfield Colo. Slept in the car again, had lots of tire trouble, got a new tire in Dumas Tex."

1947 Sep 19, Fri, "Got two inland tires in Lamar Colo... We stayed in Fountain over night, paid $3 for the use of a bed in the Link house. Got fuel pump in Rocky Ford."

1950, Oct 18, Wed: We started for Colo about 10:30. Slept in the car near Quanah. Got a new knobby tire at Montgomery Ward in Ft. Worth, had starter worked over at Buick in Ft. Worth."

1955 May 6, Fri: "... We went to Corsicana after 4, had no brakes, got new master cylinder put in cost $5, groceries $9.02."

Income is from multiple sources, in small amounts. Sometimes they just barter for goods.

1946 Mar 16, Saturday: "We went to town, ate dinner with Mr. & Mrs. Walt Roberts at James Roberts cafe. Sold 20 doz. eggs @29, $5.80. Got 100lb mash $3.75, 75lb ice .30"

1946 Nov 19. "Nolan came gave is 1/2 gal honey and $7.50 for the years rent. Childress (chief) & Webster came after the 7 pigs. Coffeys came at night to borrow wood saw belt."

1947 Feb 11, Tue: "... Hobbs & Harvey Coffey came got 50 bales of hay @35 cts per bale."

Farm machinery is shared between farms, and breaks down often, slowing work and progress. In early 1947 they sell off their two mules, plow and harness, so they have just transitioned to using tractors.

1947 Feb 4, Tue: "Coffey and Leon & Harvey came got our mule Betty & Bess and plow and harness..."

1955 Mar 4, Fri: "Nice and warm. Matt got Lieser to come plow the garden. He was here about 2 hr, had coffee twice, wouldn't take any pay... I planted peas."

They had little money, and with no Medicare, medical expenses could easily push you into poverty; a 1955 entry notes they tried to get assistance at the welfare office, but were turned down because they owned land. 

1946 Sep 10: "We went to town to have my tooth pulled, learned I was cutting a wisdom tooth." 

1947 Jan 7, Tue: "...Matt went to Ennis. Had Dr. Gray to fit his eyes with glasses, used the rims & nose piece of mammas glasses, cost $16." 

1947 Mar 14, Fri: "Matt went to Ennis... Dr Kent pulled his 17 teeth from 2 to 3 o'clock at 4 o'clock he was home." 

1955 Jan 7, Fri: "Mrs Pryor welfare lady came, said we were not eligible for pension as long as Colo land is in our name..." 

1955 May 27, Fri: "Matt took a sudden notion late afternoon to go see Dr. Logston about his neck. Dr told him to go to hospital next morning and have x-ray of his neck..." 

1955 May 28, Sat: "Went to town, Frances Anderson took Xray pictures of Matts neck $15. Dr Rosen said it is arthritis. We went back to see Dr. Logston, but he was out."

Living at this time, especially in a rural area, especially being poor, things took a lot longer than they do today. There was a lot of waiting, and a lot of work we no longer have to do for living. "Fast-paced" would not be the appropriate adjective for their life; "Slow" would be a better fit.

Sources

Litwinovich, Paul. 2015. “The Farm Radio.” WSHU. June 30, 2015. https://www.wshu.org/vintage-radio/2015-06-30/the-farm-radio. Short history of the radio coming to America's farms.

Continued in next post...

25 – Fast

This blog post theme is "fast" which brings my uncle, Harry Kenyon Jr., to mind, and in particular his fascination with flying and attempt to get into the Air Corps, the precursor to today's Air Force. The story is told in his regular letters home to Fond du Lac, Wisconsin.

Cal-Aero training field in Ontario, California

Normally after the second year at West Point the cadets got a summer furlough; in 1942 that was looking unlikely because of the war. Late second year was also when the second-year cadets, or "yearlings," had to decide on particular career paths in the Army. Harry showed his interest in the Air Corps in his letter home on January 18:

The big news of the week is the poop-sheet all the yearlings were given to fill out. One side says (1) Tentative plans provide that all yearlings planning to enter the air corps after graduation will be given flying instruction starting in July, 1942, and continuing thru 2° and 1° class years. (2) This instruction will be given at Air Corps elementary flying schools, beginning after 30 days of furlo. It will also be given every other day thereafter here. (3) Yearlings who don’t take Air Corps will take some other branch instruction this summer. (4) All men interested will take the air corps physical exam in the near future.

The other page has three choices: (1) I want air corps (2) I do not (3) I haven’t decided, would like to take the physical exam. After crossing out paragraph 2, I had to decide which other choice to make. I finally crossed out paragraph 1. So I do not reject anything, while I have time to decide about air corps if I pass the physical exam. 

In his March 16 letter, we get an idea of how much Harry has set his heart on the Air Corps:

In regard to the exam, if you were praying for me, thank you. I almost felt like praying myself by the night before I took it. But it was easy. From the way I worried, I must have wanted flying pretty badly.

This must have alarmed his parents a bit. We have a letter from Harry's uncle to them which supports Harry's choice unreservedly:

You’re worried about the war, are you? Regardless of anyone’s attitude toward the thing in general the fact remains that we’re in it and we have to win the damned thing – right? Don’t condemn Jr. Kenyon for wanting to fly – the next generation may be in a position where they can thank God we had enough young fellows with his desire – because he happens to be a member of the family doesn’t change things either – all the boys up in air belong to someone. If I were young enough and no family obligations that’s where I’d be – and why? Because in that particular branch of the service you’re more of an individual and less a very small cog in a very large machine.

Harry was doing well academically, and training air fields were picked by academic rank; Harry set his sights on California:

As you see, I shall probably get my choice of field, or at least my second or third choice. But I don’t know where to go. Dunwoody, Jackson and I wanted to go to the same field. We rank about 25, 225, and 525 respectively. What a mess. 

You said you’d like to visit me this summer. Look at where the fields are – Alabama, Texas, California. The eastern fields stink; the Texas fields are deep in the heart of, with rabbits and cactus in place of women and bright lights; the California fields are in California. Distance makes no difference financially, we get mileage. I can’t possibly be near home. I probably can’t pick my companions. So now it looks like San Diego or one of the three coastal California towns. It’s hard to say.

By April 12 Harry knew where he would be training:

Thursday night we drew for air fields. The drawing went by scholastic rank for the first 1 ½ years. I ranked 18 – same as at the end of plebe year – and no. 10 of men taking flight training. So I had my choice of fields, and took Cal-Aero Academy at Ontario, California. It’s a big school and one of the best if not the best. It’s located about 30 miles outside of Los Angeles, and nearer to other towns. If any of you saw Abbot & Costello in “Keep ‘em Flying” you’ve seen the field. The film was shot at Cal-Aero.

By June 3 Harry was at Cal Aero for training, after a 3-day and 4-night train trip from West Point. A newsy mid-June letter to his father indicates Harry is finding this training a challenge:

Teaching us to fly here is comparable to teaching an Eskimo to drive a car in an hour or so. I don’t believe there’s any able bodied man today – barring those afflicted with air sickness – who can’t learn to fly. But we’re expected to learn by 40 hours what our instructors picked up over a period of years. So flying requires the most intensive effort I’ve ever put out to grasp a new subject. I can’t tell how well I’m doing – I’d guess about average. There are so many mistakes one can make we have a wide choice. Today I almost applied the brakes by accident on my first landing. I pulled the same thing last week on a take off. The brakes are on the rudder pedals, and if you don’t keep your heels on the floor you’re apt to catch them. Well anyway, having pulled the same thing twice, I caught hell. Deservedly, of course, since the trick is the easiest way to flip a plane on its back. And altho that’s been my most serious error to date, it’s just one in a multitude. 

Harry, second from left, with some fellow cadets

A July 1 letter shows Harry struggling to keep up:

Day before yesterday I was taken out by the ass’t F.C. He soloed me. Yesterday I took my second supervised solo. One more and I’ll be free, to make or break myself. Another man & I who are behind in time have been given to the ass’t F.C. He will bring us up to schedule. And since he’s one of the best men here, he’ll teach us to fly or – well, just or.

Of our original 38 men, one quit, two never soloed, one soloed but was later eliminated, 5 of us have just soloed and are fighting to get back up with the rest of the men. This record is not bad, and speaks well for Cal Aero. They play very fair, and everyone here is convinced that he got the best field on the coast.

Harry's July 5 letter included photos:  

"Took a picture of me and my first solo ship"

Flight tower, with white flag (solo ships may take off) field & Puente Hills in background, PT (primary trainer) and behind. B.T. (basic trainer). Both are two place. The rugged little number in the front is the Stearman P.T. 13B, the ship I fly. Washing it out, however, would cost Uncle Sam $13,500. If I wait and wash out the low-wing monoplane in the rear, the Valtec B.T., I chalk up around $40,000 to my cadet store account. Incidentally, I cannot ever remember seeing the hills as clearly as shown on this view.

In his July 13 letter Harry brings us up to speed on his progress as a pilot, including plane damage to date:

I’ve started acrobatics now. Supposedly I’ve had enough of spins, stalls, turns, etc., so now I attack, or butcher, rolls, loops, vertical reverses, etc. These won’t be as hard to learn as some of the precision work.

I am still on the fence, the problem child of the flight. I’m just too careless. Had 3 ground loops in 4 days last week (those lower wings are worth $450 apiece, incidentally – the ailerons $150. I did all my dirty work on the ailerons). There was no excuse for any of them but I was given the benefit of the doubt on the first two, which were made in a strong side wind. I almost had to take an army disposition ride for the last, entirely my own fault. But my pal, the ass’t flight commander, put in a good word, so all that occurred was a change of instructors. Now I have to be a good, or at least careful boy, from now on.

A week later we see that Harry is going to make it through flight school:

We’re winding everything up this week. Our finals in ground school began today and will finish on Wednesday. Then the time we finish depends on the day we get our 60 hours flying time. When I finish today I shall have almost 53 hours. So if all goes according to schedule, Thursday should see me thru at Cal Aero.

My final check will come any day now. On it I should show proficiency in all the fundamentals, and some mastery of acrobatics. The former include turns, stalls, spins; the latter vary, but usually include chandelles,  lazy eights, and rolls. I need practice in the latter.

Back at West Point in September, Harry is an Air Cadet, training for the Air Corps, and has learned that his class will graduate in 3 years rather than 4, so this begins his final year at West Point:

I don’t know how to feel about early graduation. The sooner I can get my wings, the better. We would lose the most valuable year of academics, First Class Year, for which all the others are mere preparation. Yet, if civilian colleges are shortening 4-yr. courses to 3 yrs, - because of the war – how can West Point hold to 4 yrs?

What the short course will mean to us, you can guess. I have no spare time now. Flying takes 5 hrs per day, the entire morning or afternoon. Our only free time has been 3 PM to 6 PM yesterday. Evenings are busy, studying for Chem and Mechanics, no snap courses.

But in September 22's letter we hear that Harry has washed out of the Air Corps; he claims he isn't heartbroken, but this was becoming part of his identity and he must have been greatly disappointed:

No. I’m not sick or disabled. I was just in the process of washing out of the Air Force and into the Ground Forces. They finally got me last Saturday noon. Went up before the Board; the decision came out yesterday noon.

The final opinion of the Air Corps was that if I continued flying, I’d kill myself, and perhaps somebody else. I heard that all thru my 70 hrs. So they’re probably right. Which would seem to point to a mediocre, if not unsuccessful career in the Air Corps, regardless of my opinions. Therefore I’ll take my chances in some other as yet undetermined branch. My heart isn’t broken, so I must not have fallen in love with flying. Solo was fun; dual I always felt as tho, I were butting my head against a wall. But I went along for a ride until the end of the line. And so to work.

It wasn't for another month before it looks like Harry has finally come to terms with this failure; from his October 25 letter to his father:

As for my feelings now, I still consider the Air Corps the most exciting branch. I could never have been more than a fair pilot – I had too many days on which I stunk. But I would have stuck, even if I were wrong, because of pride. Looking at it, rationalizing, I will probably be prouder of myself later as a good ground officer, than as a barely proficient flying officer. The question now is: what branch?

Harry spent until May of that next year, shortly before graduation, agonizing over which branch to join; he started with Engineers, but finally ended on Infantry since it gave him the best chance to become a paratrooper. Impatient to finish up at West Point and get into the war, Harry's whole life seemed to go by fast, from skipping two years in grade school, to finishing West Point in three. He was only 22 when he survived combat in the Battle of the Bulge, and 23 when he died in the drop over the Rhine. If I could go back in time, I'd tell him to slow down, but I'm sure that advice would have been ignored.

24 – Last One Standing

My grandmother Marie Justen Kenyon, born a Gerhard in 1898, lived to be 93; by the time she died she had outlived her older sister, her two younger brothers, her husband, and all four of her children. 

Marie with her young family circa 1934: Harry Jr, Pat, and Lawrence

Harry Jr. was her first child, coming in February 1922, three and a half years after she married my grandfather. Dad came next, in May 1926, over four years later. After having two boys, a third son Justen died at birth in August 1927 when Marie was just 29; Marie's diary was simple and matter-of-fact:  

"At 4:50 our 'sonny' came out but lived only a few moments"

Justen's small grave marker lies next to Marie's parents in Rienzi cemetery, almost covered by Autumn leaves when we visited there in 2008. I don't remember Grandma mentioning Justen, maybe once or twice.

Baby Justen Kenyon Aug 19, 1927

Marie had one more child, a girl she named Patricia Lou Kenyon, born in 1929 at the start of the Great Depression. The family moved from Fond du Lac to Milwaukee for a while but returned to Fond du Lac, living out the 30's with Harry's parents, his sister-in-law and two nephews. 

In March 1945 Harry Jr., captain of a paratrooper company, died at the age of 23 in the waning days of World War II, in a jump over the Rhine River into a heavily defended Germany outside the town of Wesel. Harry and his ambitions had always been a large part of the family, and he was especially close to his mother; his death was a huge blow.

Marie with her son Harry Jr., West Point visit

Grandma's only daughter, Patricia, died of Hodgkin's lymphoma in March of 1960 at the age of 30, leaving two young children and a husband behind. She was the little sister in the family, with two older brothers (it would have been three if Justen had lived). We knew her as Aunt Pat, and the only time I remember my father praying was when she was close to death and he gathered us kids to pray alongside him.

Marie with her daughter Pat, dressed for Easter

Marie lost her husband Harry in May of 1969, when he was 73 and she was 71. I remember the trip to Fond du Lac from Chicago with Dad when his father was dying – the only trip I remember with just the two of us. I think Grandpa died within the first day we arrived. Dad did not seem emotional about this; like Harry Jr., I think he was much closer to his mother than his father.

Finally, my father, Marie's second born, died of lung cancer at the age of 65, just 6 months before her own death – she had just turned 93. Marie was also the last of her immediate family; second-born, she had already lost both younger brothers and her older sister. But I wondered if losing her last child diminished her will to live. As a strong believer in the Catholic religion she hoped to see her children again in heaven, and at times she must have wished for death to come. And for those who live that long there must be a loneliness to having no contemporaries who share your early memories. 

Marie with son Larry and husband Harry

Marie and husband Harry are buried next to their daughter Pat in Calvary Cemetery in Fond du Lac, where most of the Catholics in the family seem to have ended up. The Gerhards, Marie's paternal side, tended to go to Rienzi Cemetery just outside of town, where Marie's parents and her baby Justen are buried. Harry Jr. is at West Point, and Dad's ashes lie next to Mom's, in Burlington Cemetery in Longmont, Colorado where she was from.

But the next generation survives: nine grandchildren in all including the son Harry Jr. had adopted, the six in my family, and Aunt Pat's two children. By living so long, a life spanning most of the 20th century, Grandma did get to talk to us a bit about our ancestry, and helped to pass along our family's history.  

Marie J. Kenyon 1898-1991