JOHNNY JOHNSEN

He was born Johan Peter Johansen to Hans Johansen and Sidse "Sine" Mortesdatter in Copenhagen, Denmark on January 1, 1866. When he was seven years old, his family, including his grandparents (Johan Diderik Hylsenberg and Ane Kristine Hansen) sailed to the USA with Denmark, Wisconsin as their destination. He became lost in the shuffle while his family prepared to board the train in New York City. When he was found, he was missing one of his wooden shoes, but had somehow managed to fill his pockets with apples.

He spent his youth on the family farm where he was to be especially able in the care and handling of horses. When he was 18, he headed up to the Northwoods to earn some money. The young hearty farmers commonly did this during the time between fall harvest and spring planting. Lumberjacks needed teams of horses and he spent his winter working with the animals.

When the spring thaw came, he returned to his parent's farm. His mother would not even let him in the door. While Johnny was up in the woods, his 16 year-old sweetheart gave birth to a baby boy. He asked his mother if he could just come in to wash up. She refused saying that his place now was with Minnie (Wilhelmine Rasmussen). -My father, Johannes Johnson told me this and said his father had told him.- There was soon a wedding and the union ended sadly after 12 years when she died in childbirth.

Their three children were nearly grown when thirteen years later, he married Anna Andersen. Eight living children came of this mnarriage, one being Johannes (Carl Hartwig Johannes), my father.

John Johnson was a vital man who would sometimes demonstrate his good physical condition by "walking" to the barn on his hands. His was a well run farm and modern enough to have a barn cleaner, rare for those times. He was known to have a pleasing voice and loved to sing. He and his brother and sister would sometimes be the entertainment at picnics and gatherings because they all sung so well.

One of Anna and Johnny's children was named Darvin and he was about two when he died. He was his father's little shadow. When his father hauled an armload of firewood into the house, he would gather up an armfull of sticks to carry. When his father would read, he would hold a piece of paper in front of him as if he were reading too. He became sick with something like dysentery. They tried giving him a chalky concoction but to no avail When the little boy went into convulsions, my dad was sent runnig to the barn to get "Pa". Daddy remembers his father having a full pail of milk, which he flung against the wall and ran to the house. He took his son and lifted him up to God begging Him to spare the boy. The child died while his father held him so. My dad and I visited his sister, Edna, and talked about this event with her. She remembers her father kneeling while he held the little one in his arms. (Visit was in the fall of 2001.)

The last years of John's life were full of pain. It is believed he suffered some form of arthritis or rheumatism that caused him to be bed-ridden. My father tried to help and comfort him. He would shave him on Sundays. He bagged up oats and hitched up the horses to get it town and sell it. With the money, he bought bottles of liniment. He would rub it on his father's body, then tuck raw wool around his chest and arms in hope that this would bring some relief. His last days were spent in a hospital. My father was 14 at the time and he hitched a ride and was with him when he died. His last words were "Let it go...leave it be". My dad believed that those words refered to the loss of his farm. This was during the Great Depression and it was in foreclosure. John died on Sunday and on Monday the actual foreclosure took place. His widow (our Nonnie) was forced to find another place to live with younger children and provide for them. My dad was on his own from that day on.

As told to me by my father several years ago...Joanne Johnson Alger...1/21/1998

(Daughter of Johannes and Clara (King) Johnson)