GRANDPA OLSON, ADVENTUROUS SPIRIT

Indira Gandhi, former Indian Prime Minister, once wrote:  “My grandfather once told me that there are two kinds of people:  those who do the work and those who take the credit.  He told me to try to be in the first group; there is much less competition.”

My grandfather would have chuckled at those thoughts and wholeheartedly agreed with them.  From the time he left home at 14 until he retired at 79, he worked long and hard, and he never hesitated to give credit to those who helped him along the way.

In 1872, as a 19-month old, his Swedish-born mother Eli brought him to America on the Kong Sverre, a large Norwegian steamship.  Arne, his Norwegian father, had come to America the year before when Oluf was only 14 weeks old.  He worked in lumbering to raise money to send for his family the following year.  He built a log house near Greenwood, Wisconsin, where his little family would spend their first winter in the wilderness.  The next spring they moved to land near Curtiss, which Arne was able to homestead.  He acquired sixty acres of land and he and Eli built a small farm.  I’ve often wondered what those early years were like and if they ever had regrets about leaving their family and homeland behind.  Neither my grandfather nor his parents ever returned to Norway or Sweden.

My grandfather was born February 4, 1871 in Oslo, Norway.  Ironically, his father Arne was also born on that day.  Oluf attended a rural elementary school near Curtiss, Wisconsin.  The 1918 Clark County History book wrote about him years later:

          “His parents, settling in Mayville Township, Clark County, when it was a wilderness, he acquired his education in the district school, which stood in the middle of a wood, through which not infrequently roamed bears and wolves, so that his journeys to and from school were flavored to some extent with the spirit of adventure.”

my grandparents Oluf and Myrtle with Arne and Eli, my great-grandparents

Grandpa Olson (on right) about 1890

I think my grandfather thrived on the spirit of adventure. Although he attended school only through fourth grade, he sought out many different work opportunities.   When he left home at 14, he worked at logging and for railroads in different capacities.  He told the local newspaper:  “From that time on, I never depended on my parents for food, clothing, or shelter.”  Although he returned to farming at different periods in his life, I don’t think that’s where he was truly happy.  At one point he helped operate three different farms in Marathon and Clark counties.  And then, in 1907, six years after he married my grandmother, he moved to Abbotsford, my hometown, where he worked double duty—serving as a railroad foreman and village marshal.

My grandmother often helped by carrying a ladder around town so he could light the oil street lamps, which were so typical in the nineteenth century.  As a town marshal, it was his duty every evening to make the rounds, fill the lamps, trim the wicks, and touch a match.  He added, “We didn’t have to put them out in the morning as they usually ran out of kerosene before daylight.”

Another of his responsibilities as village marshal was to operate the jail and apprehend troublemakers.

          “We had a jail 14x14 feet on the Clark County side of Abbotsford where we usually had some drunken lumberjacks sobering up.  We never fined them just for being drunk but if they got to fighting, they had to pay a fine before being released from jail.  The most drunks I remember having in the jail at one time was seven.”

Once during his years as village marshal four strangers came to town and at night they tried to rob the village bank.  One of the robbers was caught, tried and sentenced to 10 years in the state prison.  The men managed to get in the bank, but not the vault.

In 1914 my grandparents moved to Neillsville, Wisconsin, the county seat, where Grandpa became custodian of the courthouse, and eventually worked as baliff and deputy sheriff, as well as janitor.  The Neillsville paper reported:  “It is the irony of fate that Oluf, who started the blaze in the street lights thousands and thousands of times, should have been caught by the flames in 1953 and sent to the hospital with burns running up the back of a leg.  Those flames, coming from a grass fire, sneaked up his trouser leg by a rear attack.  He did not know what was happening until the heat told him.”

Early on in his job, my grandfather was supporting nine children and earning a meager $60 a month.  At one time the Neillsville Press reported:

          “It was close going and when the time came for the annual Clark County Fair, the courthouse closed down so employees could attend the second day’s events.  As Judge O’Neill left his chamber, he met Olson in the hallway and inquired whether the Olson family was going to take in the fair.”

          “No, replied Olson, “we can’t afford it.”

The judge pulled out three dollars and said, “You take your family to the fair.”

Grandpa Olson and his family did go to the fair, and according to the Neillsville paper, “After buying their tickets, there remained but a few cents of the three dollars.  A man at the fair gate told Olson he should sign up for the prize to be given to the family with the largest number of children attending the fair.  The prize was five dollars.”

My grandpa and his nine children easily won the prize.  Later he attempted to return the three dollars to Judge O’Neill, but he wouldn’t accept it.  According to the Neillsville paper, Grandpa referred to the judge as “the most outstanding man to ever serve Clark County in public capacity.  The old Judge O’Neill was a warm and human man, as well as a good judge and a public spirited citizen.”

During my grandfather’s time as deputy sheriff in Neillsville he apprehended a murder suspect, a man, who, in a drunken rage was accused of killing his sister-in-law in her own home and then trying to pin the murder on a burglar.  The mother of three young children had been severely beaten.  The accused, Gust Handke, was locked behind steel doors at the county jail.  As the Marshfield News reported in 1927, “During this time, District Attorney V.W.Nehs, Sheriff H.M. OIson and undersheriff Oluf Olson have grilled, cross-questioned, and cross-examined the suspect, but to very little satisfaction as Gust Handke refuses to talk or answer any of the deeper questions.” 

My grandfather was present at the court hearing that was to follow, and as the paper reported, “At 10 a.m. the courthouse was filled to capacity with people who had come to take in the hearing and get a look at the suspected murderer.  At two o’clock Oluf Olson, under-sheriff who made the arrest, was placed on the witness stand.”

At the end of the hearing, “the judge after a minute or two of deliberation, bound the suspect over for circuit court.”  Shortly before his trial in circuit court, Gust Handke pleaded guilty.  He was sent to life at hard labor at the state prison in Waupun and each year on the anniversary of the young mother’s death, he was kept in solitary confinement.

I’ve often wondered how my grandfather was affected by that case.  He had nine children, including my mother, who was only 13 at the time.  I’ve also wondered if my grandmother was aware of the challenges and dangers of my grandfather’s job.  I doubt that he ever saw himself as a hero, more likely that he viewed himself as an everyday man doing what was expected in the service of his community.  He was an incredible role model for those around him, and as Albert Schweitzer once said, “Example is not the main thing in influencing others—it’s the only thing.” 

Despite having only a fourth grade education, he at one time became school director of the Curtiss elementary school and was proud that nearly all of his children became college graduates, as well as teachers.  Starting with his oldest daughter Ellen, each graduate offered financial help to the next student in line.

Grandpa Olson and Dad

My grandfather had a strong sense of values, as my mother could attest.  She and my father eloped and drove to Dubuque, Iowa to get married by a Justice of the Peace.  She was afraid of losing her teaching job because women at the time could be fired if it was learned that they were married.  She didn’t want to take that chance, but somehow my grandpa discovered the truth and had it printed in the Neillsville paper.  He insisted that no daughter of his was going to be secretly married.  My mother was relieved that she never lost her job.

When my grandfather got married in March of 1901, the Colby Phonograph wrote:

          “Mr. Olson is one of the leading young men of his town, honest and industrious and highly respected by all his acquaintances.  The Phonograph joins the many friends of the young couple in wishing them a happy and prosperous voyage on the matrimonial sea.”

In 1946, my grandfather celebrated his birthday at the courthouse.  He was then a part-time employee.  The Neillsville Press reported, “Oluf Olson celebrated his 75^th birthday at the courthouse on Monday.  He gave a party for his friends there, with the help of Mrs. Olson, providing rolls, doughnuts, dill pickles, cheese and coffee.  His friends bought a box of cigars for him.  Now a box of cigars for Olson is a long smoke, for when he smokes a cigar, he makes a business of it, taking his time and doing nothing else.  OIson has completed 31 years as janitor at the courthouse.  He is still going strong.”

I remember those pungent cigars well.  When I visited my grandparents in the ensuing years, my grandpa often had a cigar in hand and a big smile on his face.  Life was good!

Grandpa loved having his children and grandchildren visit on holidays or for any other occasion.  Some of my fondest memories are of Christmas Eve gatherings at my grandparent's house.  The house was filled with relatives from all over the state.  It was festive and magical and I loved every minute of it.

In December of 1948, a few weeks after my birth, my grandfather announced his resignation from the Clark County Courthouse.  He had worked for 34 years as janitor of the courthouse, along with his other duties as sheriff and baliff.  True to his character, he would not leave his job until another worker had been trained.  He was loyal, devoted to his family and community and a man of exceptional spirit and humor.  May Sarton, an American writer once said, “Do not deprive me of my age.  I have earned it.”  My grandfather felt comfortable in his old age and had earned his rest.  His community was proud of him and deeply appreciative.

Grandpa Olson lived to be nearly 91 and Myrtle, the gentle woman he married, 94.  They were married for 64 years.

The Clark County Jail where my grandfather once spent much of his work life is now a museum and listed on the National Register of Historic Places.  About 30 years ago my Aunt Ellen, his oldest child, gave me the large wall clock that my grandpa received when he retired.  It hangs proudly on my wall and I think of him whenever I wind it up and listen to the gentle ticking.  I’ve gone through the wonderful old museum numerous times and often imagined him interacting with the inmates, using good humor whenever possible.  His name is still listed in the old phone book.  I find it ironic that he lived on Court Street.  I also find it ironic that the murder suspect he apprehended lived in the same rural neighborhood of my father, who was only 13 at the time of the arrest.  Many years later, as my mother often told me, Grandpa came to admire and respect my father, who was in many ways like him.  I loved and greatly admired them both.

Grandpa would be proud to know that the Clark County, Wisconsin genealogical site preserves the history of the towns and land that he loved.  Dedicated volunteers, including some of his relatives, have made it a special place for many of us to learn about our ancestors and why they chose to settle in Clark County.

I think he would also be proud that his children’s families in Wisconsin have maintained a connection with relatives in Norway.  It is my fondest wish to one day visit the land of my grandfather and great-grandfather.  Then my journey will also be complete.