The Life Story of Harold Hansen (continued) (Hansen)

Vere Hansen with sons Jack (l), Bob (r) and Harold (top) about 1911

  I am continuing the story of my grandfather, Harold Hansen, compiled from his own writings and audio cassettes that he recorded in 1991.  This was transcribed and typed out  by my Auntie Claire.  Several posts earlier, I shared the part of his story which described the trip to Norway he took as a young man. This part starts at the beginning....

                                                     My Life's Story--by Harold Lloyd Hansen
  "The Beginning---for a preface to my story, let me say that as the years have rolled on, I am convinced that the Lord deemed that I was to be a special person with a special job to do, and He has been watching that I do it, and as my story unfolds you will understand my reasoning and that He has guided me through thick and thin, and has brought me safely so far, and will be with me until the end.  So much for the preface, now let the accounting of my life begin.

  On 11 October 1910 at 4:00 AM, I was ushered in upon this planet.  My mother, Clara Vere Burrows Hansen, was staying with her mother Elizabeth Burrows, in a house owned by a Mrs. Lloyd on East 28th St., Oakland, CA.  My father, John H. Hansen, was in San Salvador with a group of miners, hoping to find gold.  A cable-gram came from Dad advising that I be named Salvadore in respect for that country.  Fortunately for me the cable came to late, as I had already been named Harold Lloyd Hansen, which had duly been recorded.  The Harold was a mispelled old Norwegian name (Harald). 

  I was the third son born to my parents.  My brothers were Jack Klemments and Robley Evans Hansen.  I was somewhat frail and susceptible to bronchial troubles.  So, the doctor advised my mother to take me to a warmer climate.  So, she took my brothers and I back to Grass Valley when I was about 18 months old to a house at 418 W. Main Street. 

  Our house was near the top of Main Street Hill on the north side.  That was the focal point to my early boyhood, until four and a half years old.  That was where I had an established trail that led where food and fancy dictated--a second breakfast across the street, a hot dog at the butcher shop, a cookie at the bakery, then back up the hill to visit neighbors before returning home for lunch.  After lunch, I usually associated with hillside young folks. 

  One evening, I was seized with a excruciating pain in my stomach that made me lie on the couch screaming and crying with pain.  A young doctor, who had been next door on a maternity case, heard my cries.  He hopped over the fence, took a look at me and bundled me off to the Jones Memorial Hospital.  He operated to remove my appendix, which was inflamed and infected.  Thank the Lord that I was spared then.  When I was recuperating from the operation I visited other patients and cheered them with singing "It's a Long Way to Tipperary".  I received $3.29 in tips which Mother had me deposit in an account at Nevada County Bank. 

This is a postcard of the Jones Memorial Hospital in 1910.  The hospital opened in 1907 and closed in 1968.  It is located at 328 S. Church Street, Grass Valley, Ca and is now the Swan Levine House Bed and Breakfast. 

    At the beginning of 1916, my father acquired a 5 acre ranch near the Idaho-Maryland mine, near the Nevada County Narrow Gauge Railway tracks.  In March that year, he moved our family from Main St. amidst a blinding snowstorm.  Our possessions were loaded into a couple of freight wagons, and the family members climbed aboard an express wagon with side blinds drawn to escape the blizzard conditions.  The draft horses had a hard time making their way out E. Main St. to the Idaho-Maryland Rd. 

  Our 5 acre spread surrounded by wire fence was home for 20 years.  The large house had a well, woodshed, utility shop, and a cemented cellar.  There was a screened back porch that was used to land the produce from our self-sufficient acreage.  Out in front a walk way led from the front porch to the gate that opened to the road.  The road led to the mine in one direction, and in the other it almost divided the ranch until it took the hillside and disappeared toward the county road.  

  The house was shaded with a combination of locust and walnut trees.  Roses climbed trellises against the sides and flowers adorned the garden.  Green grass covered the level areas that accompanied the house and adjoining dwellings.  Border gardens on the eastern and western sides featured mostly roses; the old fashioned varieties. 

  In an easterly direction, there was a chicken coop, fenced tightly from skunks and other chicken loving wild animals that came down from the backwoods during the night.  Next to that was the cow barn, with its adjoining hayloft and barnyard.  We kept 2 milking cows, a heifer, and a calf stall.  These cows gave us fresh milk, cream, butter and supplied extra milk for our dairy route.  Us boys delivered to customers on the way to school and picked up bottles on the way home.  Sometimes we delivered eggs, produce and cut flowers, too.  Besides the dairy, our family had several fruit trees, berries and vegetables.  Hay and oats for the cows grew as ground cover under our orchard. There was the remains of a bottling works where we found remains of clay bottles.

  The house had a spacious front porch with a place for sleeping cots, where I usually stayed with the dog, a border collie that helped round up the cows at milking time.  The front door opened to a long hallway.  On one side was my parents front bedroom, on the other the front parlor.  Behind these were the other bedrooms and dining room off the kitchen. 

  After we moved to the ranch, I started school.  I went to Washington School for 1st and 2nd grades.  Then I went to Lincoln School for 4th grade and came back to Washington.  There I had a teacher Miss Alice Dillinger.  Once I was playing ball with the other boys when the ball went through the window.  She had us all stay after school and asked who was responsible.  I admitted to the deed.  Another time a boy called me "Heine".   That made me mad and I beat him up.  That got me in real trouble with Miss Dillinger.  Also, the nickname stuck with me all my life.  But, I always hated it. 

  

  After I finished grammar school, I attended Grass Valley High School.  I played on the school ball teams, especially football, basketball, baseball.  I had a knee injury that spoiled my ambition to go to Annapolis.  that made me so depressed that I barely graduated in 1928 (18 years). I couldn't get into Berkeley either."  

Harold Hansen's Graduation picture 1928 Grass Valley High School

  I love Grandpa's description of his life on the ranch.  I like to think he got his love of gardening, keeping a beautiful yard, and working hard at whatever you put your mind to from his parents and from growing up in such a unique and special place.  

Harold Hansen with the Sacramento City College Glee Club 1929.  Harold is third from the left in the front row. 

   A few posts ago I shared my Grandfather's story of his trip to Norway in 1930.  Before he went he attended  Sacramento City College for a short time, thinking he wanted to be a forester. His extracurricular singing activities soon effected his studies (or was it spending time with Louise?), and he eventually decided to take some time to travel.  

Harold Hansen with John Hartwig Hansen on board a ship before his trip to Norway.

  

    Music would always be a part of Harold Hansen's life in many ways.  It was intertwined with his faith, his church, and his community.  It would eventually lead him to an encounter on Mill Street one day with Emma Van Duzer.   And Emma Van Duzer had a daughter who had a sweet soprano voice in the choir at the Methodist Church...... (to be continued).