The Settlers (61 page)

Joy reverberated in the spring air, this spring which had brought good weather for sowing and growing. The sap in the sugar maples flowed more abundantly than ever before, grass and flowers and all the plants of the earth sprang up in a profusion such as no one had previously observed—this spring when Minnesota became a state.

—2—

In the settlements at Chisago Lake, the news of statehood was celebrated joyfully. Here no one could afford to waste ammunition but this time everyone was generous with his powder. Karl Oskar shot off three salutes from his old muzzle loader—the only shots he ever fired just for fun in America. His gun was old but it had been made by the most famous gunsmith in Småland and it made more noise than any of the other guns in the district. Karl Oskar said that since he was the first one to settle at this lake he must fire a shot loud enough to be heard all the way to Washington by the President himself!

This same spring Karl Oskar and his family received their papers as American citizens. There were five of them to get such a paper—he, Kristina, and the three children born in Sweden. Each paper cost a dollar. It cost him and his family five dollars to become citizens of the United States. The American-born half of his flock were citizens as soon as they left the mother’s womb; because of this they saved three dollars.

Since they had left Sweden and were stricken from the Ljuder parish records they had not belonged anywhere; they had not had papers that they rightfully belonged in any country; they had in a sense been vagrants in the world. Now they had printed papers to prove they belonged to a new homeland.

When Karl Oskar a few years earlier had assured the court in Stillwater that he wanted to settle in America and become a citizen, he had been asked to forswear all allegiance to foreign rulers and potentates. Without a moment’s hesitation he had forsworn Oskar I of Sweden all obedience and allegiance. He forswore the Swedish king with an easy conscience since he could not remember that he ever had taken an oath to uphold that ruler.

In order to become a citizen of the North American republic you were also supposed to renounce your nobility status and all titles and prerogatives adhering to your status in the old country. Because in this country no one had greater rights and advantages because of his birth; counts and barons and similar lords were forbidden. In whatever mother-womb one had lain meant nothing here; it did not make one a ruler over other people, as in Sweden. But Karl Oskar need not renounce any patent of nobility or inherited rights; from his homeland he had only brought the title of farmer, and this he could keep in America as long as he wished.

Karl Oskar spent several evenings reading their citizenship papers; with the aid of his son Johan, who had learned English at school, he searched out the meaning of the words and interpreted them for Kristina. Their names were now incorporated in the official papers of their new country; they would forever remain recorded in official American records as citizens of the United States. They were now equal to the families who had lived here for a hundred years or more. And it was printed on paper that they had changed from Swedes to Americans.

“Are we no longer Swedish people?” wondered Kristina.

“We’re stricken out at home. We’re American citizens. We’re partners of America. We have renounced Sweden for eternity.”

“In case of war between the two countries—will you go out and fight against Sweden?”

He laughed. “I guess I must if I’m asked.”

“Never have I heard such craziness!”

“But the Americans have once and for all gotten rid of the English king and will never again fight the old country. They have better sense.”

Kristina eyed the citizenship papers without understanding a syllable. In her, America had acquired a citizen who never used the language of her new country. She kept to her resolution not to try to learn English. Yet Karl Oskar insisted that through these papers she had been turned into an American.

Kristina felt it couldn’t be that easy to change a person. This paper couldn’t change her, even though it was large and thick and decorated with stamps and ornaments around her name, which was printed in large letters. In this paper it stated that she was an American citizen: “Wife of Charles O. Nelson.” But what did this new name mean to her? It changed her neither inside nor outside. She was sure to remain the same as she had been since her birth: Kristina Johansdotter of Duvemåla, Algutsboda parish, Sweden. And however much her name was changed on American papers, she would continue to think as often and as longingly as before of her old homeland.

She had noticed that Karl Oskar had changed these last years. Not in clothing or external things but in his speech and his way of thinking. He accepted the customs here, he felt that Americans were clever and industrious, he approved of most of their ways and tried to ape them.

He himself testified to this change as he now asked his wife: Should he begin to use the name on the American citizenship paper, should he call himself Charles O. Nelson? What did she think?

“I don’t like it!” said Kristina. “You may renounce the Swedish king, but if you change your Swedish name I’ll laugh at you! For then it means you’re getting to be uppity!”

This was a clear reply and he said nothing more. Kristina was really right, he thought. And he continued to write his name in the old way; he was still Karl Oskar Nilsson.

—3—

The powder smoke of the May festival days blew away, and plans for the new state’s government took its place. Liberty always brings with it great concerns and much trouble, and liberty is most troublesome to those who are unused to it. It now fell upon the shoulders of Minnesota’s inhabitants to agree on how to govern their state; they must prepare and agree to a state constitution.

In the old territorial days, Democrats and Whigs had fought for power. But in 1855 a new party had come into existence, founded in Michigan the year before. Its members called themselves Republicans. They promised great advantages to the settlers and wanted to give land free to newcomers. They became the party of the settlers. Alexander Ramsey, the territorial governor, previously the Whig leader, joined the new party and became its leader. The Democratic leader was Henry H. Sibley, earlier the government’s Sioux Indian agent. The Democrats were soon outnumbered by the fast-growing Republican party.

Republicans and Democrats met in St. Paul to work out a constitution for the state of Minnesota. But the differences between the two parties grew ever wider, and soon made it impossible for the delegates to work at the same table. It turned out to be very difficult to work out
one
constitution for the new state; on the other hand it was very easy to arrive at
two.
The two parties sat in different rooms and each made up a constitution. The two documents differed in about two hundred points.

In the Old World people shot each other when they disagreed about forms of governments, but Republicans and Democrats in Minnesota agreed on one thing: this must not happen among them! They must come to peaceful agreement. And after long and tiresome negotiations the two constitutions were finally fused into one, acceptable to both sides.

Now the young state must elect its first governor. But its inhabitants had come from countries in the Old World, where they never had been permitted to select their rulers, and their highest lord—the king—had always been appointed by God, who never asked their advice. The selection of a governor would be the first test of the people’s ability to govern themselves.

Both parties nominated candidates: Alexander Ramsey on the Republican ticket and Henry H. Sibley on the Democratic. A bitter campaign ensued.

In the Swedish settlement at Chisago Lake many immigrants who never before had participated in choosing representatives for governmental posts, must now for the first time in their lives learn to handle a ballot. To the Swedes, this participating in their own concerns, seemed a strange and novel business. Most of the Swedes at Chisago Lake wanted Ramsey. His party promised aid and easing of taxes, while the Democrats advocated raising taxes for farmers. And Ramsey’s personality and background inspired confidence. Born to poor people he had been orphaned at ten, from which time he had supported himself, often through manual labor. He had worked as a carpenter and forester and like themselves learned to get ahead in the new country. He was the right kind of governor for men who wielded the ax and the plow. In Sweden one must be born in a castle to reach such a high position, in America a log cabin sufficed. Colonel Sibley was a businessman, one of the higher-ups in the American Fur Company, the richest and most powerful business venture in the territory. Sibley, the Democratic candidate, had grown wealthy from dealing in furs; he would be a governor for money-men. About him his opponents said: Sibley is honest in this way, that he never makes any promises except those he won’t fulfill.

In Red Wing, a Swedish paper had been started,
Minnesota-Posten.
While
Hemlandet
was intended as an organ for all Swedes in America, the
Minnesota-Posten
directed itself especially to the immigrants in Minnesota. The new paper was more American than its predecessor and championed the new homeland above the old. In its first issue it explained that the Swedes in America would never really have a chance until they were entirely integrated with the Americans. “
Minnesota-Posten
aims to devote itself to the new generation and wishes particularly to be a friend of young people and a guide for their transition from Swedes to Americans . . .”

The Red Wing paper came out for the Republicans and urged the Swedes to take advantage of voting rights to support the good and the right by casting the first ballot in their lives for the Republican candidate for governor.

Long before Karl Oskar had become a reader of the
Minnesota-Posten,
he had decided to vote for Ramsey. In this he listened to the best advice available: he followed his own common sense. The Democrats had been in and misused their power until they had almost ruined the country; the money situation indicated it was time for a change. Only those who earned easy money stayed with the Democrats and were for Sibley.

Karl Oskar was shocked at the shameless behavior of the party members against each other during the campaign. In each issue the
Minnesota-Posten
called the Democrats “this dishonorable pack.” To express such an opinion right out would be libelous in Sweden. But apparently what was considered a crime in Sweden was a civic duty in America.

The Democrats said the Republicans were playing false by promising the settlers free land. The Republicans accused the Democrats of having bought five thousand gallons of cheap whiskey to be used for vote buying; they were sending agents around with whiskey kegs and offered up to ten gallons for a vote. A rumor was spread about Colonel Sibley that while he was an agent for the Sioux he had led such an immoral life that he had had thirty-five children by squaws. A man who in this way increased a warring tribe—was he suitable as governor? A few days before the election, a Republican paper raised the number of Sibley’s illegitimate children to forty-two, while the Democratic papers published attests from well-known people, assuring the public that the Colonel had not a single brat among the Sioux.

The Democrats won the election, and Colonel Henry H. Sibley became Minnesota’s first governor. In some quarters it was felt that the rumor about his many children among the Indians had won him the victory. Those who held it to be false were greatly angered at the dastardly attempt to dirty an innocent man—that was why they had voted for Sibley. Those who considered the rumor true regarded his forty-two-fold paternity as proof of superior manhood, not at all derogatory to a governor of the young and fast-growing state—that was why they had voted for him.

Most of the Swedish immigrants voted Republican: in Chisago County 409 votes were cast for Ramsey, with only 192 for Sibley. And the honest
Minnesota-Posten
greeted the new governor with the following words—in Swedish: “This old fox will now be our governor for the next two years!”

The Republicans blamed their loss on the whiskey; a great number of the Democratic voters had been drunk. The Democrats accused the Republicans of ballot stuffing. One man could only have one vote, but in several Republican townships it appeared that more ballots had been cast than there were inhabitants; indeed, in two districts the number of ballots was twice the number of voters. The election turn-out, consequently, exceeded all expectations.

The difference between the number of votes and voters was difficult to explain, but apparently some non-existent persons had participated. The majority of these votes were discarded, but the incident could not be held against the voters: it was self-evident that the new citizens had overdone it a little when they used their new rights for the first time: it was probably purely an expression of joy which had made them produce more votes than voters. These people had for so long been suppressed and without rights in their respective homelands that it was quite excusable if they exaggerated a little when they celebrated their coming-of-age. Their action showed they were people with life in them; they would be able to take care of themselves.

In view of the fact that these immigrants and other settlers out here lacked all experience in self-government, they merited this praise at least, that they had proved they could vote for a governor.

—4—

About this time, when men got together in Minnesota, there was talk about a lawyer down in Illinois whose name was Abraham Lincoln and who was at the helm of the new Republican party. But the man was seldom referred to by his name. He was called Old Abe, or Honest Abe. It was known of him that he was a settler’s son and had been born on the floor of a log cabin in Kentucky. Honest Abe came from the deep forest, his ax under his arm; he had been sent by God to be the settlers’ leader in the Northwest. His body was said to be as large as that of the biblical Goliath, and the strength of his arms was fantastic: he could drive his ax deeper into the wood than any timberman before him. In wrestling no one had ever been able to press Abe’s shoulders to the floor; both as wrestler and fighter he was unbeaten in all the states and territories of the Union. And the creator had endowed him with spiritual gifts of the same immense proportions. He studied while he performed his daily labor; as a store clerk in New Salem he read a book with one eye while he weighed up coffee and tea for his customers with the other. Ever since he was thirty he had been called
Old
Abe—this because of his great wisdom. In him friends and foes could trust: he would always satisfy the former and disappoint the latter.