The Whole Town's Talking Page 5

  In 1890, the U.S. Census had reported a population of seventy-four people resided in the community of Swede Town. By 1900, it had more than doubled.

  —

  LONG BEFORE KATRINA HAD left Chicago, she had grown tired of the dirt and soot and the rush of city life. She truly loved the fresh air and the quiet of the country. But after giving birth to their first child, Katrina had found out firsthand what a hardship it was to be so far away from a doctor and to have to travel so far to the nearest store to buy the things required to run a proper home.

  One day, she said, “Lordor, we need a real town here…with our own stores.” Lordor realized she was right. More and more farm families were moving there, and it was hard on the women to have to travel so far, especially in the winter.

  That night, Lordor sat down at the kitchen table with pencil and paper and a ruler and drew up a rough set of plans for a downtown area. After they had brought in the crops that year, the men got busy and laid out four neat, wide streets, then planted elm trees on each side for shade. That completed, they sent off to Chicago for a Lyman-Bridges architecture catalog. When it came, they picked out some mail-order ready-made prefabricated stores, a church, a meeting hall, and a few houses for the merchants to live in. They felt that they were getting a good price. You could get a store for under eight hundred dollars and a church building with pews and a meeting hall all for around five thousand dollars, so they pooled their money and had it all shipped by rail.

  Three months later, Lordor and some of the men met the train in Springfield, loaded their new downtown stores in wagons, and brought them home. After they had put up the new church, the stores, and everything they had ordered, they realized it would be good if they came up with a new name for their brand-new town.

  A meeting was held in their new meeting hall, and some suggested calling it Nordstrom, Missouri, since Lordor had founded it, but he was against it. “No,” he said. “This is everybody’s town now.” One man said they should name it Brand New, Missouri. The Norwegian suggested Fiddletown, and after much discussion of fancier names such as Athens, Paris, Gastonia, and Utopia, Lordor suggested that maybe they should pick a more honest and simpler name. “We don’t want to mislead people,” he said.

  A few hours later, they finally decided on Elmwood Springs, Missouri. “That’s not misleading,” said Mr. Knott. “We’ve got the elms and the springs. Now let’s vote, so I can go home and eat.” A vote was taken, and the name was passed with only one holdout for Paris, Missouri, from Birdie Swensen. At that same meeting, Lordor Nordstrom was unanimously voted in as their first mayor, and then Henry Knott went home and had cream noodles and apple dumplings for dinner.

  With a new mayor, a new name, and new buildings, the next step for Elmwood Springs was to run an advertisement in the newspapers back east.

  * * *

  ATTENTION: PROFESSIONAL MEN!

  * * *

  We implore those who are contemplating traveling west to engage in business of any kind to come to Elmwood Springs, Missouri. No better or more desirable place can be found in the entire state. Situated in a green valley with some of the most beautiful freshwater springs, on as pretty a site as could be selected, and composed of a class of people who for energy and enterprise are not excelled. We need a doctor, a dentist, and a storekeeper to carry farm goods, medicines, ready-made overalls, and bonnets and notions for the ladies. Also, one Lutheran preacher. Not too fiery.

  * * *

  Lordor read the advertisement Birdie Swensen had written and thought it might have been gilding the lily just a bit, but sent it anyway. They needed all the help they could get to lure professional men to move there.

  All over the West and Midwest, small communities once called Little Poland or Little Italy or German Town were changing their names, becoming more American, and hoping to grow. Elmwood Springs was lucky. Within the year, they had a doctor, a barber who could pull teeth if necessary, and one Lutheran preacher named Edwin Wimsbly. Not too fiery, as requested.

  1901

  In the past, all the farm children had been taught at home. But soon, the ladies in town felt it was time to think about providing them with something better. Katrina, for one, wanted Teddy and Ingrid to have the advantage of a formal education. As usual, Lordor agreed.

  A few months later, a charming little red schoolhouse was built. That fall, they hired Miss Lucille Beemer, an eighteen-year-old schoolteacher from Philadelphia, to teach grades one through eight.

  She was young, but what the committee liked about Miss Beemer’s particular job application was her special interest in literature and English, so important to their community. As recent immigrants, they wanted their children to speak and read English well.

  Miss Beemer’s first few years were not easy. Most of the schoolbooks she was given to work with were in Swedish, and nobody had any idea what grade to put what child in. Her oldest student was Gustav Tildholme, a sixteen-and-a-half-year-old eighth grader. Her youngest child was six-year-old Ander Swensen, and she had fifteen other students of all sizes and grades—all being taught in the same room. It was quite a job. Miss Beemer was so glad to have Gustav in the class that first year. On cold winter mornings, he rode his mule to school early, brought in the wood, and started the fire in the potbellied stove. As he was over six feet tall, he also helped her control some of the younger boys when they got too rowdy. Gustav was more of an outdoor boy and not a very attentive student, but he was a treasure as a helpmate. Like the other children, he loved Miss Beemer.

  Dearest Parents,

  I am writing to inform you that your daughter is now a real teacher. I have seventeen pupils who call me Miss Beemer, and I am feeling quite the grown-up. The family I am living with is a Swedish couple, Mr. and Mrs. Lordor Nordstrom. He is tall and nice, and she is not tall, but very pretty and sweet and wears a gingham bonnet. Their two children, Teddy and little Ingrid, are darling and very well behaved. Mr. Nordstrom has a dairy farm with many cows, chickens, and one pig. I do not like the pig. I went close to the pen, and it tried to bite me, and I about had a jiminy fit! Mrs. Nordstrom said she was sorry it had tried to bite me, but the pig thought I had something to eat.

  Mother, would you please send me my good blue dress? I did not think I would need it, but the people here are very social and put on many dances and get-togethers. I am putting on a little weight. Mrs. Nordstrom makes a lot of pies and sweet pastries, and I find it hard to say no. Do write and tell me the news of home.

  With love and affection,

  Lucille

  Hi-Ho, Katrina,

  I am so glad to hear from you again. A mother with two children now! I can’t believe it. I am still playing the field. You have the babies, and I’ll have the fun. You always were the mother type, not me. Anyhow, the kiddies sound swell.

  Not much news here at the house, except that Dagmar Jensen’s husband has come to join her. He has been hired on, so I now have my own room. It’s that cubbyhole up on the fourth floor, where we used to hide our books, but it will do for the meantime.

  I am now stepping out with a baseball player. He plays with the Chicago Cubs and oh boy, how that boy can bat. And what parties! They sure know how to have a good time. I’ll say they do. Last night, I didn’t get home until 4 a.m.

  Say, how is that pig you wrote me about? She sounds like a gal after my own heart. Gotta run. The old lady is up and ringing her bell.

  Anna Lee

  Sweet Potato had been trouble from the beginning. She was never what you would call well behaved. Whenever Katrina or Lordor or the children tried to pet her, she made it quite clear she didn’t particularly care for any of them. “Feed me, but don’t bother me” was her motto. And she would eat anything. She once ate a pair of Lordor’s long red underwear that had blown off the clothesline, buttons and all, plus an entire Sears, Roebuck catalog and a leather shoe.

  She was truly a disgusting, gluttonous creature with, evidently, the digestion of a goat. “That pig is s
uch a pig,” said Katrina. But as much trouble as she was, Katrina and Lordor could never bring themselves to sell her, nor certainly to eat her for dinner. To them, Sweet Potato had one big saving grace. She was so content in her grotesqueness, so completely oblivious to what others thought, that she made them laugh. Of course, being a pig, Sweet Potato never understood her good fortune.

  It was also fortunate that she couldn’t understand English. Mrs. Knott had often announced in a rather loud voice, “Katrina, if this was my pig, she’d be in a pot today and sausage in the morning.” Sweet Potato just snorted and kept on eating. They said she was the only pig in the state of Missouri that ever died of old age. Sweet Potato would not understand the irony, but she would even outlive Mrs. Knott.

  Little Ander Swensen, Birdie and Lars Swensen’s now seven-year-old son, was a cute red-haired boy who looked just like someone had picked up a large bucket of freckles and thrown them at him. He must have had over a thousand freckles on his face and ears alone. But what endeared him to everyone was his sweet nature and silly giggle.

  Being such a close neighbor, he spent a lot of time over at the Nordstrom house. He loved Mrs. Nordstrom’s cooking and clearly had a crush on Ingrid. And he let her boss him around without mercy.

  Ingrid loved to play tricks on her father. One day, she even made Ander help her dress up one of Lordor’s favorite cows.

  That morning when Lordor went in the barn for the milking, there stood Sally, his prize heifer, wearing one of Katrina’s big straw bonnets and a red checked apron. Lordor heard the muffled giggles coming from the hayloft and pretended to be very upset. “Oh…my poor Sally. When I find out who did this, I’m going to throw them in the pen with Sweet Potato, and then they’ll be sorry!”

  Of course Lordor knew who had done it. He had seen the two children sneaking the hat and the apron out of the house earlier that morning.

  Later, at the lunch table, when Lordor was telling Katrina and Miss Beemer what had happened, Ander’s big brown eyes opened wide, and, being the sincere and truthful boy he was, he immediately broke down and confessed. “I did it, Mr. Nordstrom. It was my idea. You can throw me in the pen if you want to.”

  It was all the adults could do not to laugh. Lordor said, “What do you think, Miss Beemer? You’re his teacher. Should I throw him in the pen or not?”

  Ander looked over at Miss Beemer in terror, awaiting his fate.

  “No, Mr. Nordstrom. I think the fact he told the truth is very admirable. I believe he deserves to be saved.”

  Ander breathed a big sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you, Miss Beemer. I’m scared of that pig.”

  Katrina said, “I agree, Miss Beemer. In fact, for being so truthful, I think Ander deserves a second piece of cake.”

  Ingrid piped up and said, “I want one, too.”

  “Sorry, Ingrid, too late. You missed your chance,” said Teddy.

  Ingrid glared at Ander. “I was going to confess, but you beat me to it.”

  Ingrid was a little troublemaker all right. One night at dinner she looked over and asked Miss Beemer right out, “Is that big tall Gustav who walks you home from school every day your boyfriend?” Teddy kicked her under the table.

  Katrina quickly said, “Ingrid! Don’t be so silly. How rude.”

  “But what’s wrong with having a boyfriend? Ander said he was my boyfriend, and Teddy likes Elsa Bergsen.”

  “I do not!” said Teddy, quickly defending himself. “Miss Beemer, she’s lying. Don’t you believe her.”

  Miss Beemer smiled. “Why, Teddy, I think Elsa is a very lovely little girl.”

  Katrina had been terribly embarrassed that Ingrid had asked Lucille that question, but on the other hand she had wondered about Lucille. She was so fond of her, and was concerned that she didn’t seem to have any friends her own age.

  Later that night, when the two of them were in the kitchen washing the dinner dishes, Katrina said, “I’m sorry Ingrid was so fresh, Lucille.”

  “Oh, that’s all right, Mrs. Nordstrom. She just has a curious mind.”

  “But do you have a young man you like, Lucille? I only ask because, if so, I want you to feel free to invite him here to visit anytime.”

  “Oh no…there’s no one,” Lucille said, taking another plate to dry.

  “Well, I’m sure there will be very soon. You’re so good with children I think you will make someone a wonderful wife and mother someday.”

  “Really? How kind of you to say so, but no. I doubt if I’ll ever marry.”

  “But why?”

  Miss Beemer sighed. “Oh, it’s just a feeling I have.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure. I used to think that, and now look at me.”

  Just then they heard the most awful yelling. “Help, help!” Ingrid yelled as she came running through the kitchen, knocking over a chair, with Teddy not far behind her, knocking over another as he chased her around the table.

  He yelled, “Mother, she stole my notebook.”

  “I did not!” screamed Ingrid as she headed out the other door.

  Katrina called out after them. “Children, stop that racket! Right now. Your father is trying to read.”

  Then Katrina looked at Lucille and laughed. “Of course, I suppose there is something to be said for being single. At least it would be quiet.”

  —

  IT WASN’T ANY QUIETER over at the Swensens’ farm either. For the past few months, Birdie Swensen had been trying her best to knit her boy Ander a new sweater for his upcoming birthday. But it had been difficult with Ander always running in and out of her sewing room, interrupting her. And if it wasn’t Ander, it was Lars or one of the farmhands wanting something. So lately, when she went up to the cemetery with her basket of gardening tools, she had brought her knitting things with her. And after she finished her watering and pruning, she would turn the basket over, sit on it, and knit. It was so nice to be out of the house, sitting in nature all alone up on the hill, just her and the birds.

  As she sat and knitted, Birdie often thought about the time when someone would be buried up on this hill. They had been lucky so far, other than a few scares—one with Katrina’s childbed fever. But everybody was still pretty healthy, and so far, they had not lost anyone. But they were all fairly young yet.

  It was on these days that Birdie first began to notice something strange. She suspected it was just her silly imagination playing tricks on her. It had to be. But she continued to have the oddest feeling that someone was watching her. And, of course, Birdie was right. There was.

  1902

  In the new little town of Elmwood Springs, Missouri, wooden sidewalks had replaced the dirt paths, and a real downtown business area started to develop. First, a farm supply store opened, then a blacksmith shop, a drugstore, a general merchandise store, and a grocery store, where you could buy crackers and cheese and a pickle for a nickel.

  On Saturday mornings, Main Street was packed with farm wagons and people walking up and down, shopping and visiting, women buying material for clothes, men looking at farm supplies. Kids were eating ice cream cones in the front of the drugstore, and the men (except Reverend Edwin Wimsbly) enjoyed a small shot of whiskey in the back. For medicinal purposes only. But mostly, they just visited up and down the street with neighbors they hadn’t seen all week. The men, sitting on the benches in front of the drugstore, feeling warm and rosy after their drugstore medicine, would marvel at how much the women loved to talk. They didn’t understand how lonely farm living could be for their wives. Unlike the men, they needed the company of other women.

  Katrina loved her lady neighbors and enjoyed the knitting class that Birdie Swensen held in her home every Thursday afternoon. Birdie and the rest of the ladies had been so kind to her, especially when the babies came. But she still missed her own mother so much. Too many years of missing her had passed by. One day, Lordor came in from the farm and found her crying, and when she told him how much she wanted to see her mother again, Lordor took her in his arms. �
�You write and tell her to come. The whole family belongs here with us.”

  Soon a telegram arrived saying that Katrina’s mother, her sister, Brigette, and her brother, Olaf, would come. Katrina was overjoyed.

  Less than three months later, Katrina was smiling as she took her bread out of the oven. So many letters and documents had gone back and forth, and it had taken a lot of time and work, but Lordor had made all the arrangements. At last, her mother would live in a home with heat and running water. Katrina couldn’t wait for her to arrive. She and Lordor had saved money in a coffee tin from the profits on the dairy, and some had just been sent to Sweden to buy the tickets. It made Lordor happy to see Katrina so happy.

  A few weeks later, a letter came.

  My Dear Daughter,

  Please forgive me, but the doctor comes and tells me my old body will not make the trip to America or live to finish it. But don’t be sad for me. America is for the young, for ones with prayers yet to be answered. All my prayers have been answered. Because of you and Lordor, my children and grandchildren will never be hungry. Thank you for the pictures of Ingrid and Teddy. So pretty. So handsome like his poppa. I think of you every day.

  Love forever,

  Ingrid Olsen, Your Momma

  Not long after that day, word came by telegram that her mother had died.

  As word spread around town about Katrina’s mother, one by one, the ladies came to the house and sat with her. They didn’t say much. They just didn’t want her to be alone.

  Six months later, when her brother and sister arrived from Sweden, Katrina was so happy to see them, but it was a bittersweet reunion without her mother there as well. Katrina’s sister, Brigette, now a girl of eighteen, was happily welcomed by the local boys and quickly married one of the Eggstroms’ sons. Her brother, Olaf, now almost a grown man, went to work immediately at the dry goods store and saved his money. A year later, with a little secret help from Lordor, he sent for Helga, his young wife in Sweden.