John August Johnson - Part 1 Life in Sweden

Plätt Farm is situated on flat, grassy acreage, spotted by light woodlands, near the town of Väggeryd, in Byarum Parish in Jönköping Lan, Sweden. Houses, barns, and other buildings, cranberry red trimmed in traditional white, are arranged in a cluster around a common yard with fields and wooded areas all around. In the summer, lingonberry bushes, ferns and wild flowers dust the ground around the roots of the trees flanking the road that leads to the farm.

I can picture Plätt farm in my mind and as I think of my ancestors’ stories, I see events from their lives happening around me.  

"Johannes!" Inga cries out in the night, shaking her husband from a deep sleep. "Wake up! I think it's time. The baby is coming!" Johannes starts and scrambles to stand, facing his wife; coming to his senses as his feet touch the cold floor. "You're sure?" he asks.

"I may be 22 but I've seen many babies born in my life. I am sure! Run and get Lena. With six children already, she'll know how to help."

Johannes pulls on his clothes and drags his heavy coat off the hook. The embers dosing in the hearth crackle and hiss as he tosses a log on them. He tugs on his boots and heads to the door. "Stay in bed." He commands over his shoulder. "I'll be back soon."

As he pulls open the door the icy wind punches him in the face, he frowns anxiously, turning back toward her small form lying in the bed. She may have seen babies born but his experience is with livestock and he knows many things could happen during birth. Dangerous things... and this is his wife. No time for worry now, he tells himself as he secures the door, trapping the warmth inside. His boots slog through the late February snow to Christopher and Lena's cottage across the farmyard.

John A. Johnson, as he was known later in his life, was born Johan August Johannesson on the 28th of February in 1847 on Plätt Farm. He was the first born of Johannes Ivarsson and Inga Christina Svensdotter.

In my imagination, I see little Johann August, bundled and curled up in his mother's arms as Inga eased herself onto the bed. It's the 1st day of March 1847. Baby, born and baptized. New mother, tired but satisfied and father, proud and very relieved. Now life will begin as a family.

By the time Johan was 10 he was elder brother to 5 brothers and sisters; Britta Wilhelmina, Emilia, Christina Carolina, Sven Edvard, and Anders Gustaf.

Life on the farm was hard work and, in order to feed and clothe a family of eight, everyone's help was required. Six children must have livened up the farm a bit.

From the age of about 7 or 8, until age 12, Byarum children went to folkschola from fall to spring when the weather allowed. The rest of their time was spent in chores and play.

Household Records show the residents of a cottage on Plätt farm. Names that are crossed out on this page all died of rödsot in September of 1857. New husband is written in above Johannes.

In the 19th Century, diseases such as dysentery rolled across Europe in unpredictable waves of devastation. Jönköping was hit hard with an epidemic of rödsot, what we know as dysentery, in 1857. The household records kept by the parish priest give stark facts without a hint of the despair and grief that must have ripped through their communities.
Byarum wasn't spared this disease, and in the fall of 1857, dysentery circulated through the farms; taking many people with it. On the 9th of September, when Johan was ten years old, his four-year-old sister Christina, and two-year-old brother Sven, succumbed to the illness. Just five days later, their father, Johannes, also died.
As a mother, it’s a scene I loathe to imagine.

Johan started and sat up in bed, woken by a sharp sob from the corner of the dark room. There was movement in the dark and he recognized the familiar shape of his mother bending over his little sister and brother who lay in their parents’ bed. Four-year-old Christina cried out again and Mama shushed her gently. Johan could now see Papa, in the firelight, standing nearby with baby Anders in his arms. First it had been Sven. He had gotten sick last night. Mama was sitting over her two-year-old son as he fitfully slept, when Johan had finally fallen asleep. Now, it was early morning and two were sick.

Mama held a cup to Christina’s lips, set it down and turned to Papa; worry and exhaustion washing over her face. They looked at each other for a moment and she took Anders in her arms and started toward our bed.

“Mama, will they be okay?” Johan whispered as she approached. “If God wills it.” she whispered back; quickly looking away. “You’ll need to get up now. Papa needs your help. We need more wood for the fire and water from the creek.”

Johan began pulling on his clothes as Mama gently shook his sister awake. Britta sat up, rubbing her eyes. She sleepily looked into Mama’s eyes, and then was suddenly wide awake. Mama wordlessly laid Anders in her lap and walked back to the other bed where weak cries were beginning again.

Johan pulled his boots on and followed Papa out the door. They walked silently to the barn, ignoring the drizzle that had been falling nonstop for a week. The dreariness of the damp air matched Johan’s mood. He was worried.

The normal activity of late summer had stopped suddenly in Byarum. School had been postponed for two weeks. Too many students were sick at home, and word had come from the village that one of his classmates had died of this horrible illness just the night before.

Papa opened the big barn door and started preparing to feed the livestock. Johan walked to the side of the barn and pulled open the door to the wood bin. The moaning hinge reminded him of the sounds his sister had made from her bed. Would they be okay? He bent over the edge of the bin, noticing how much lower the pile of logs was. The cold, damp weeks made it necessary to keep the fire going. He’d tell Papa about it later. He began picking logs from the top of the pile and soon had an armful to take back to the house.

Johan pulled the door open and Mama shut it behind him. He quietly let the wood fall to the floor in front of the fireplace and then placed the rough logs into the fire one at a time. Standing and brushing his hands on his trousers, he turned back to the room. Mama was standing at the window with the covering slightly open.

“Johan, Lena is awake now. Run across and tell her about Christina and Sven. I think I’d like you children to stay with her for a few days. Just until the little ones are better. Britta will need to watch Emilia and Anders there.”

Damp, dreary days went by at Christopher and Lena's. Britta played with Emilia while Anders dosed on the bed in the corner. Mama had made Emilia a special doll for her seventh birthday. Was it really just one week ago? It wasn’t fancy but it’s embroidered face smiled at Emilia and made her happy. It was her favorite choice of activity. Lena had pulled a few scraps of fabric from her sewing basket to keep them busy and the girls spent their free time turning them into a new costume for the doll.

Britta sat on the floor with Emilia. What day was it anyway? It had been so long since life had felt normal that she had a hard time remembering. If she’d been in school, she would know. Dates were important at school. She decided it must be September 9th. They had been at Lena’s for three days. “I’m changing the name of my doll to Christina.” Emilia said, shaking Britta out of her thoughts. At the same moment, Johan had opened the door and stood there, shaking the rain off his clothes in the doorway. Looking around for Lena. He smiled at Emilia. “Christina would like to hear that.” He said. “Mama sent me for Lena. Sven is really sick today.” Britta rose from the floor and walked to the bed where Anders was laying. “Lena is in the pantry. I’ll get her. Anders is getting hungry anyway. Maybe she can take him to Mama when she goes.”

The sky was getting dark and Britta shivered as she looked across the yard at their dark house. Lena had left hours ago. She wanted to run across just for a minute to see what was taking her so long. She stood at the window and felt Emilia come up behind her. “Do you think everything is okay? She asked. “I’m sure…” but she didn’t finish her sentence. The door to their house had opened and Mama was running toward them. In the dim evening light, Britta could see her mother’s tear streaked face. Before Britta could reach the door, Mama had opened it and rushed toward them. Dropping to her knees, she gathered her girls into her arms.

Inga Stina and her children remained at Plätt and she married Johannes Jonasson in 1858. It was a marriage of necessity. Anders would tell his children, years later, that his step-father was not a good person and a very difficult man to please. Sad times weren't over for Inga Stina as the two sons she gave birth to during her second marriage died young and close together in 1863.

The Inga Stina and her children remained at Plätt and she remarried in 1858. Sad times weren't over for her as the two sons she gave birth to in her second marriage had very short lives. Both died in 1863.

Sweden experienced wide-spread drought between the years of 1866 and 1868 which caused years of poor crops and subsequent famine. Many Swedes decided to leave Sweden to make better lives in America. By doing this, they hoped the smaller family could survive easier until the drought was over.

In the 1860's, there was pressure from the government for all young men to join the army. That meant at least six years. Johan didn't want to be a soldier and he didn't want to give six years of his life to service. John told his own children, years later, that the bad crop years, the 6 year military conscription in Sweden and the push at that time for young men to volunteer contributed to his decision to emigrate.