Documents for John Hansen: Birth, Citizenship, The Spanish American War and the Laundry Business Explained (Hansen)

    This blog is certainly a work in progress....as I was going through more of Auntie Claire's boxes I found a large binder containing records.  I found a whole section pertaining to John Hansen (my Great Grandfather).  These are all original documents and help to fill in more information about his life.  

           John Hartvig Hansen's birth certificate (original)

John Hartvig Hansen's Baptism and Confirmation Record (original)

Declaration of Intention September 14th, 1892

John Hansen's  Citizenship Papers September 21, 1894

Handwritten Letter April 26, 1898

John Hansen expressed his wishes to join the Navy for just the length of the war. He says he has had eight years experience in (? difficult to read) ships. On the back of the letter someone has written that he can enlist for 1 year for service on tugs or (?) vessels.  In different writing it says that 3 years is the usual term. 1 year terms are wanted on (?) vessels, tugs, etc. 

   This next letter was written by a friend and neighbor from Grass Valley as a letter of introduction. It was written from Camp Barrett, Ca. (Oakland)  which was a temporary camp for Spanish American Infantry volunteers.   P.T. Riley had joined up, too. 

John Hartwig Hansen's Discharge Papers from the Spanish American War

Back of Discharge Paper

  I am so glad I found this particular piece of paper!  It lists John's enlistment and discharge activity on the USS Independence. His Veteran's record on Ancestry.com lists him as serving on the USS Philadelphia.  Uncle Bob's recollection had him serving on the USS Mohican.  I found a letter from the Bureau of Pensions which shed more light on his service.   He did serve on two different ships!  

 

                                                               Billet Record for the USS Philadelphia

                                                                    Pension Letter....12$ a month!

                                                                    Pension Letter...an increase to 18$ a month!

  The USS Philadelphia was in Hawaii with the USS Mohican during the transfer of power and the flag raising ceremony, making Uncle Bob's recollection of the rope piece from that flag even more plausible.  There is more research needed on the service of the USS Independence.  The only reference I can find is on Wikipedia and states that the Independence was a receiving ship (an older ship used in harbor to house newly recruited sailors before they are assigned to a ship) and it was at Mare Island Navy Yard from 1857 to 1912 when it was decommissioned. He wrote his initial request to a Captain Kempff at Mare Island.  Captain Kempff signed his Honorable Discharge papers from the Independence.  So, he might not have actually served aboard this ship; it may have been where he signed up and was discharged.   I'm still not sure if John was ever in the Philippines as his obituary states. It does not appear that either the Philadelphia or the Mohican were anywhere near the Philippines during the time frame of John's enlistment and discharge.  So,  I'm still leaning towards....no. 

  And on to the period of his life where he met and married my Grandmother Vere Hansen. 

  The Union  July 3 1904

  At 4:45 this morning a quiet, but very pretty, wedding will be solemnized at the home of Mrs. E.J. Burrows, when her daughter, Miss C. Vere, becomes the bride of John H. Hansen. 

  The ceremony will be performed at this early hour to allow the bride and groom to take the first train out for the coast.

  The interior of the Burrows home has been very prettily decorated for the occasion, the parlor, where the ceremony will be performed, being especially noticeable.  Here a patriotic effect has been worked out with bunting and flags, while smilax, ferns and flowers are also woven into the color scheme. 

  The ceremony will be performed in the presence of only immediate relatives, Rev. C.E. Farrar of Emmanuel Episcopal Church officiating.  The bride will be attended by her sister, Miss Wanda Burrows, the groom by James Hogan.  The wedding march will be played by Don Burrows, brother of the bride. 

  At the conclusion of the services the gathering will enjoy a tempting wedding breakfast, after which Mr. Hansen and bride will be escorted to the train and given a farewell with showers of rice.  After a honeymoon trip to coast points, Mr. and Mrs. Hansen will return to take up their residence in this city.

  The bride is a native of Grass Valley, a young lady of grace and charm, whose sunny disposition and unaffected ways have won her a host of friends as one of Grass Valley's favorite daughters.  For several years she has been a devoted worker among the younger set of Emmanuel church, and has assisted especially in choir work.

  Mr. Hansen has made this city his home for ten or twelve years, and is one of the best known men in the district.  Whole-souled and genial, yet careful, shrewd man of business, he is popular with a wide circle of friends.  He was formally employed at the Empire Mine, but less than a year ago purchased the Nevada County Laundry which, under his careful, business management, has become one of the most prosperous concerns in the interior.

  Amid the shower of congratulation and good wishes for the future The Union joins most heartily. 

  

                                                             Main Street looking east Grass Valley, Ca.  1909.  

"Was looking for a card today send to Don and ran across this, so thought I'd send it to you.  I guess you recognize the location though that tree hides our house."  Sent to Vere's youngest sister Gladys E Burrows in Oakland October 5, 1909. 

  This is a unique look at Main Street as it was in 1909 (or before) as a dirt road.  It looks very similar today, although the steps leading up to the houses are contained behind tall cement walls.  John and Vere lived in their first house on Main Street before they moved out to the ranch with the boys.   Later in life their son Bob would design their "new" house at this same property on Main street.  Vere and her son Jack would live the rest of their lives in this house, which is still standing. 

   I am not sure which era of John Hansen's life adventures this is from...his early days as a miner, a navy seaman in the war, or maybe from his days in Central America working in the mines.  He still seems like a larger than life character to me!  

The Hansen Brothers in WWII Part 1. Harold Hansen (Hansen)

Harold Hansen with Margaret and Claire 1944

  My Grandfather Harold Hansen enlisted in the United States Navy on the 28th of March, 1944.  He served until the 3rd of December, 1945 aboard the  USS Lenawee which was built to transport assault troops to hostile shores.  Grandpa served as a Fireman 2nd Class, which meant he was responsible for tending to the boilers in the ship's engine rooms.  It was hot, dirty work down in the lowest recesses of the ship.  Veteran Thomas Monteith (93 years old)  described his job as a Fireman First Class in the Lake Okeechobee News (April 14, 2019). He served on the USS Wadsworth in the same theater as the Lenawee.  It was his job to fire the boilers, and his regular workstation was the boiler room where the temperatures got up to 130 degrees.  Firemen couldn't wear any metal at all on their bodies and they didn't sweat.  Monteith explained that they had to take salt pills due to the intense heat.   There were two boilers and the pressure was roughly 600 pounds.  The steam temperature could get up to 1,000 degrees.  The ship was part of the attack force from the sea during the invasion of Iwo Jima.  He was able to see the man who raised the flag on Mount Suribachi,  Iwo Jima, from his vantage point on deck where he was stationed watching the stacks to make sure no smoke could be seen by enemy artillery. His ship endured kamikaze attacks at around this time; one night a plane came across the bow flying very low. The left wing hit Monteith's gun tub a glancing blow and came within 4 feet of him while going 300 miles an hour.  He was training on a Bofor twin 40mm AA gun. 

                               Muster Roll of the Lenawee. Harold Hansen was first aboard  October 11, 1944

                                                           Harold Hansen  Spring, 1944 in his Navy Uniform

  The U.S. Navy website Naval History and Heritage Command describes the Attack Transport  Lenawee history and her service during the war.  She departed San Francisco November 26, 1944 and sailed for the Pacific theater.  Following amphibious training in the Hawaiian Islands, she sailed in January 1945 for Saipan.  In the Marianas the final rehearsals for her entrance into the  battle zone were held.  After a 3 day voyage she arrived in Iwo Jima on February 19 where her boats helped place the first wave of marines ashore.  The article does not describe what specifically happened during this time, but it was probably a similar experience to what the Wadsworth went through.  She withdrew on the 27th, and sailed for Guam to discharge Marine casualties and prepare for the final large-scale amphibious operation of WWII.

  She sailed south to Espiritu Santo where she embarked reinforcements to the Okinawa invasion.  She landed troops and cargo each day and then retired to open sea each night.  She was subjected to kamikaze attacks during her stay in the area from April 9-14, but suffered no damage. 

  The Lenawee transported  troops from the Philippines to Japan, and was present in Tokyo Bay when the Japanese surrendered  on September 2, 1945.  Grandpa said he had to stay at his station below decks in case the Japanese decided to "pull a fast one on them" (according to Margaret Hansen Boothby). 

  The Lenawee was part of the "Magic Carpet" voyages, making two trips to take soldiers back to the United States from the Pacific Theater. She returned to her home port of San Francisco on October 31, 1945.   Grandpa ended his war service December 3, 1945. 

                                          The Lenawee APA-195 operating out of San Diego, Ca March 1957 

  Veteran John Ludtke, in a Quad-County (Iowa) Newspaper article  written February 16, 2010, described his experiences on board the Lenawee.  He served as meteorologist aboard the newly built ship, edited the ship's newspaper The Lenaweekly Bullhorn, and kept a log of his observations at Iwo Jima. The ship was named for Lenawee County, Michigan, and was derived from the Shawnee Indian word "Lenawai" meaning men or people.  He stated that the ship had a crew of 479 enlisted men (including my Grandpa) and 31 Officers.  The ship was called "Leapin' Lena" and had a mission to land assault combat troops and equipment on hostile shores.  On D-Day (February 19, 1945), the specially trained Seabees, Marines and beachmasters from the Lenawee were put ashore, and were in the first wave of Marines and equipment ashore.  On board the ship, the medical corps were swamped with wounded Marines.  Ludtke describes how he  "was busy passing on weather information through the radio room to those in command, and I worked whenever I could comforting the wounded".  The ship was occasionally strafed by enemy aircraft, prompting the gunners to race to their 40mm machine guns.  Ludtke gave the report of weather conditions prior to the invasion of the Pacific Island. It said "Swell forecast for Iwo Jima zero eight hundred king eighteen February four foot six second sea from northwest no significant change during twenty four following hours".  His predictions that the waves would stay below 5 feet meant that an amphibious landing was practical. He looked back with pride on his role during the assault where 100,000 Americans and 20,000 Japanese battled one another for more than a month.  

  As I write this, I can't help but think of the tremendous choice and  subsequent sacrifice my Grandfather made.  He left his wife and two young daughters to serve and to possibly loose his life for his country.  He lost his father during this time and both of his brothers were in harms way doing their part in the war.  He chose to step into an unknown future which turned out to be a horrific experience for him and thousands of others.  He served in the Pacific Theater at a time when the United States was anticipating invading Japan. The Pacific Theater experienced some of the most horrific fighting and casualties of WWII.  The atomic bombs of August 6th and 9th effectively ended the war with Japan, so he was able  to experience the end of the war by being in Tokyo Bay, and he experienced the repatriation of thousands of soldiers.  I hope he felt pride in the role he played down in the belly of that ship keeping it in top shape to perform its duties both during and after the war.   I am certainly very proud of him. 

   Unfortunately, he came home and suffered years of nightmares and most likely PTSD.  Mom (Margaret) recounted how one night he woke up the whole house hollering and pushing the bed around, scaring her mother to death.  He could not watch any movies that depicted war or fighting. He suffered from mood swings.  He didn't talk about his experiences; neither did his brothers.  It just wasn't done back then.  Soldiers came home and  got on with the rest of their lives.   This was part of the legacy of "The Greatest Generation".  Unfortunately, his family did not realize the extent of his service and experiences which led to his suffering. 

   But, I remember him as a loving, happy Grandpa who had a bear hug that could squeeze the wind right out of you. You always had to prepare for it ahead of time.  He was proud to serve his church choir most Sundays with his singing and loved working in his yard. He was proud of his daughters and his grandchildren.  He got to spend a little bit of time with his great grandchildren too!

                                                        Harold Hansen with his Great Grandson Casey about 1990

   I hope I have put Harold Hansen's story of service into context through research and reflection. This is dedicated to Mom and Auntie Claire.  I hope this begins to answer some of those questions you have had for many, many years and gives you a clearer perspective.  He was a brave soul who loved his family and his country. 

"The Long, Terrific War" Letters from Norway (Hansen)

  I found two letters that my Auntie Claire had filed under John Hansen.  The first was written by Knut Nilsen and began "Dear Uncle".   It was addressed to John Hansen and was written November 10th, 1945.  John Hansen had passed away earlier in the year on April 10th. The news had not yet reached Norway, most likely due to  German occupation.   The second letter was written by Knut  and began "Dear Jack".  It was written to my Uncle Jack April 20, 1946 expressing  sympathy at hearing the news of his father John's death. Both letters give us a unique perspective of the German occupation of Norway during WWII and the impact it had on our Norwegian relatives.  I am still working on researching the relationship between John Hansen and Knut Nilsen, but it appears that the relationship was a close one.  The inability to communicate with family during this time is really felt in Knut's first letter.  

German occupation of Norway began April 9, 1940 and ended May 8, 1945. 

Here is the first letter, type written in English. 

Knut Nilsen

Havalds Vei 1. 

Bekkelagshogda

Oslo--Norway                                                          November 10th, 1945

Dear Uncle, 

  How are you and your family, uncle? We, my father, my brothers and I have very often been thinking of you and yours, but during the war we were not able to send you letters.  The Germans refused it of course, one of the many results of the hard occupation.  But now we are through it, and many drops have run into the ocean since last I heard from you.  And, of course, we wonder how you and your family came through the long, terrific war.  We have been thinking of your sons, whom I had the pleasure to meet, especially Haine and Jack. Have they served in the army or the navy and have you got them safe home again? 

  My mother, and my youngest brother Per died during the war.   Per went to the officer's school 1939-40, and during the winter maneuvres he got hard ill and was brought to Akers Sykehus, where he was when the Germans broke in. He was thrown out by them and was at home until he was brought in again.  He said himself that he was all right, and only wanted to live at a sanatory at Lillehammer for reconvalesence. But there he had to take an operation, and few days after the doctors could not do anything more for him.  He died on July 21, 1942, 23 years old. 

  Mother had then been ill since I came from sea in 1938.  She was very ill then, and when Per died, she fortunately could not perceive it.  She died three months after.  She had been ill for many years, so we considered it to be the best for her to be saved for (from?) more pains.

  Father and I live alone now, we have a clever maid, which is a good help.  My brothers Harald and Birger are both married and have children at an age of 4 years to 11.  Birger has the illness Sclerosis Multiplex (Multiple Sclerosis) in his arms and legs, and by means of a stick he moves to the tram every day and is doing his office work.  For the rest of the day he sits in a chair in his home.

  My father is still going strong, and so am I.  The Germans were often after me, but I kept clear of them, and the seventh of May was a big day when we could wear  our weapons openly and did not need to train secretly any longer.

  Now it is all over, and we appreciate it.  These years were long and dark, and we did not know who was next to be taken to the Nazi prison and tortured to death.  Our work in the underground was dangerous , but we had to do it, and we did something.

  Now our country is visited by the allied troops, and we like them very much.  Many Americans have been here and I often thought that perhaps I should meet Haine (Harold) or Jack.  I have made acquaintances among them, and they have come to my house as well as to my brothers'. 

  These are few words, uncle, and I shall remember to you and your family from my father and my brothers. 

  With many regards to you, your wife and your sons. 

(two lines of Norwegian written by hand  that are hard to decipher.....)

                                                                    Knut. 

The second letter is hand written on extra thin see-through paper and is very fragile. It has been taped multiple times in the past to preserve it intact.  It begins...

Dear Jack. 

  I am sorry to learn that your father is dead, he was a fine man and surely he was a good father to his sons and a good husband to your mother.  You all must miss him, and please be kind to tell your family that I felt with all of you, when I got the sorrowful message.

  It is deplorable (?) you did not come to Norway during your stay in Europe, we would (have) appreciated it so much, and to you it had been an adventure to come to your fathers country in the marvellous (sp.)  days when the "peace broke out". And now one year has gone since then. The conditions are quite good in Norway at present, taken in consideration that the Germans robbed us and especially in the northern part burned houses when they escaped from there.  There thousands of families live apart and have bad enough roof over their heads till their homes are rebuild, but change (?) to others, they won't move from there. 

  People do not starv (sp) in Norway, and we are glad we are able to export food, fish, to other countries.  Clothes are getting better, but how to get a shirt is the very problem.  

  I must say, that you and your brothers have been been talked about and I am glad to know that you all came through it well, and hope your feet and legs are better.  Here in Oslo we could see how the English and Americans where (sp) marching where we guard and it does not suprise me that a man get bad legs by that excersis (sp).  Perhaps I told you of my brother, he is lamb (paralized I think you call it) in one leg and one arm, it started in 1940 and the doctors give him no hope.  That is bad too, he stands on my right hand in the (?) picture.  He is married and have a four years old daughter and expects another daughter or son in May, fortunately he is able to go to the tram by his one good leg and two sticks, so he is doing his office work, but the rest of the days he sits in a chair and never gets anywhere.  So I am trying to buy a motor car so I could take him and his family out on Sundays, but here is none car to get, they are all reserved for military or the police or other institutions.  Evidently it takes some years till the new cars come from your country and the prices will be about 3,000 dollars what we figure here.  It is strange to remember how people in U.S.A. in 1939 could buy little used cars for a cost of a couple hundred dollars.  And now the prizes (sp) are rised perhaps in U.S.A too? 

  I shall remember you and your mother and brothers from my folks and my two brothers and their children and of course from myself.  

  Your cousin Knut.

All three Hansen boys fought in WWII as members of "The Greatest Generation".  In his 1998 book of the same title,  Tom Brokaw describes this generation  who came of age during the Great Depression and went on to fight in WWII.  They fought not for fame or recognition, but because it was the "right thing to do".  They were fighting for not only their country and families, but for  their extended family in far off Norway.  Per made the ultimate sacrifice at the age of 23.   Jack, Bob and Harold all came home.  

Next post...WWII pictures.......

  

  

  

  

The Hansen Brothers (Hansen)

  The Hansen boys grew up in beautiful Grass Valley on the Ranch near the Idaho-Maryland Mine in the late 19-teens, 20's and 30's.  They grew up with a sense of patriotism and love for their country which continued into their adult lives when it came time to serve in WWII.   I love this letter as it shows how they played  their part in WWI.  Jack was 12, Bob was 9 and Harold was 8 years old. I'm sure either their father John or their mother Clara was there with them, helping them do their part. 

                                                                                        Jack Hansen 1908/09

                                                            Jack Hansen Grass Valley High School Graduation 1924

                                                             Robley (Bob) Hansen growing up in Grass Valley

                                                     Robley (Bob Hansen) Grass Valley High School Graduation 1926

                                                               Harold Hansen (third from left) with friends

Harold Hansen Junior Class Grass Valley High School 1927 (second row, 4th one from left)

                                                                              Harold, Jack and John Hansen mid 20's

When it came time to serve their country in WWII, all three boys signed up.  Jack was not married, but Bob and Harold were already married with children.  It was a huge  sacrifice for all three men.  Their lives and the lives of their families were forever changed.  Their father, John passed away while all three were in the service. 

                                       Bob, Jack and Harold Hansen at Jack's retirement from Nevada County in 1972

I will continue the next post with more detail on the brothers' service in WWII, and share a few letters from Norway with interesting details of German occupation during the War.......

A Love Story and Two Stories About a Very Bad Monkey (Hansen)

Clara Vere Burrows Grass Valley High School Graduation 1900

John Hartwig Hansen taken in Norway  as a young man

    John Hartwig Hansen and Clara Vere Burrows were married in Grass Valley, California the third day of July, 1904.  Clara was 22 years old, and John was 39 (the certificate of marriage states he was 37).  It was said to be a love match.  

   There was a 17 year difference in age.  John's occupation was listed as "laundry".  He was an adventurous man who liked sailing and seeing the world.  But somehow, Clara and John met, fell in love, convinced Clara's family that this marriage would  work out, and married the day before the Fourth of July.  John Hartwig was ready to settle down for the time being.   They had four children between 1905 and 1910.  Their first born daughter Hulda died at only thirteen days of age from pneumonia. Her death was still talked about by my grandfather Harold Hansen, so her memory had been kept alive by her parents well after she had died. Jack was born  October 6 of 1906, Robley (Bob) was born January 23 of 1909 and Harold was born October 11 of 1910.  

 

 

    But, John H. was not yet ready to stay in one place.  He was working as a miner in Grass Valley in 1910.  An opportunity came up to take a job as a manager at a mine in El Salvador.  I'm sure that sounded like a new adventure to him, because on June 25, 1910 he boarded a steamship bound from San Francisco for the Central American port of La Union in the Republic of Salvador.  He had accepted a position with the Pullinger and Butters Co. which operated mines in Central America.  He left his wife and  two small boys in Oakland with her mother  Elizabeth Jane Hurd Burrows.  Clara was pregnant with my grandfather, and he was born in Oakland while John was in Central America.  John wanted him to be named Salvador, but thankfully he was already given the name Harald (Harold) Lloyd Hansen.  

     Clara decided to join her husband and bring their oldest son Jack with her.  They arrived in early July of 1912.  John wrote a memoir of his time working at the mines which Gay Hansen Sandberg typed up many years ago; another unique family treasure to take us into the past.   In it he tells of his many adventures from almost drowning in a raging river during a rain storm to being given death threats by the natives.  When you read his stories you get the feel of his ability as a story teller.  He writes with  lots of description, emotion and a subtle sense of humor.  You can almost hear him chuckling in the background. Today I will share two related stories.  One is the incident that my Great Grandfather John had with the monkey that lived in the mango tree, and  the other is the story of my Great Grandmother Clara and the monkey that lived in the mango tree. It was the same monkey.  What a bad monkey!

                                             Chapter 9 "The Devil Pays Me a Visit" 

 " Here is another incident which happened during the electrical storm, a little incident I likewise shall not forget.

    With the darkness of the night, as if riding on an invisible steed, an electrical storm unleashed all of its fury.  The darkened heavens opened and poured down torrential streams of water which rushed down every incline. 

Lightening drew its fiery hieroglyphics on the black sky and the very earth trembled and shuddered under the impacts of electric bolts.

  Through this deluge I hastily ran into my cabin.  And I ran!  Just as I reached the porch of my cabin, I had a fleeting impression of seeing something swing around the corner of the porch.  However, I was in too great a hurry to reach the dry shelter to stop and investigate closer. 

  In a flash I opened the door of my cabin and hastily closed it behind me. I shook the water from my clothes and seated myself in a pleasant anticipation of enjoyment.  I had just received a letter from my  wife in the United States.   But I didn't even open the letter.  A brilliant green flash of lightning illuminated the scene about me.  Simultaneously  with this, one of the shutters began to shake violently, in jerky movements.  Through the sounds of a howling storm I thought I heard a strange inhuman cry.  I leaped to my feet.  I could feel the hair on the back of my neck rising--the chill ran down my spine.  I reached for my gun and leaped onto the porch.  Peering into the stormy elements as hard as I could, I wasn't able to see anything. 

  I returned to the cabin with the conclusion that a violent gust of wind had forced the branches of the mango tree to swish its limbs against the shutter of my cabin.  I seated myself once more and opened the letter.  I hadn't read more than a few lines when the door at the other side of the cabin shook as if under the impact of violent blows.  It shook and creaked in such a way that I concluded somebody must have been holding it by the door handle. 

  Quickly I turned off the lights in the cabin and grabbing my gun, I rushed outside once more.  There was nothing--nothing but lightning and thunder and torrents of rain. I read my letter, lit myself a cigar, enjoying its fragrant aroma.  I watched the blue smoke from my cigar moving in lazy spirals, and rising toward the ceiling, thinking of the comfort of my place, thinking of....

  A loud crash from the direction of the front porch brought me to my feet in a flash.  Upon examining the porch I found empty dishes scattered all about.  I was getting fed up with these mysterious noises and happenings which I couldn't explain.  But I was going to explain them.  I made up my mind right then. I switched off the lights in my cabin once more and poised myself on the porch.  Gun in hand, I waited in anticipation of whatever was to come.  For a minute or so I even thought that my imagination was playing tricks on my senses.  But that thought was corrected almost immediately.  The shutter in the window, the nearest one to the porch, shook under the impact of some object.  It rattled and shook repeatedly.  

  

  "What the devil...".  This time really mad and furious, I took the gun and heedless of any danger I leaped outside.  No sooner had I reached the porch when something struck me on the back of my head and took hold of my shoulders.  The hairy arms encircled my throat.  I could feel the stringy hair against my cheek.  The jerk almost knocked me off the porch.  I reached back and got hold of the devilish creature or whatever it happened to be.  An inhuman cry rang through the night and mixed with the rumble of thunder.  With a mighty heave I jerked the creature over my head and flung it on the floor of the porch.  Then lightening flashed brilliantly and illuminated the night.  Well blow me...it was a monkey.  I grabbed it and heaved it towards the Mango tree.  I was glad that it was a monkey after all.  For a minute or so I thought that I was going insane or that some devils were in pursuit of me.  Or maybe both. 

  At lunch the next day I related my previous night's experience to the foreman.  He roared with laughter, while listening.  After I had finished telling him the story, he said, 'Didn't you know that was Mr. Gartwaite's pet monkey? Since he died there had been no one to feed him.  He is always roaming around at night.  He sleeps most of the day'. 

  About a week ago, I was late coming home. So the cook took my dinner down to the cabin, but since I had eaten my dinner down at the Plaza, I left it untouched and went to sleep.  I was awakened by the sudden crash of a dish and I turned on the light just in time to see the monkey making his getaway through the open window."   

                                                                 *************************************************************************************************

 

  Clara and Jack arrived right before the 4th of July in 1912, stayed for Halloween and Christmas and then left with John in March of 1913.  John writes of passing the time with parties, dances, receptions and moonlight rides through the jungles. Clara grew a flower garden from seeds  and John gave her the title of "Central American Botanist".   She  took daily mule back rides with Mr. and Mrs. Perry and Mrs. Valesca who were staying at the hacienda annex with the Hansens.  It was during an afternoon gathering of the ladies from the Plaza that another incident with the monkey took place.....

   "When the ladies from the Plaza came up to spend the afternoon with my wife, Mrs. Perry would be sure to be down in a few minutes.  The rest of  the ladies used to say, 'She just came and butted in, thinking she was missing something.'  It was at one of these gatherings that our well-known monkey decided to take the place of Mrs. Perry and butt into the party in her place.  And did he butt in plenty. 

   While riding up from the mine, I always rode underneath the mango trees. There, never failing, the monkey would greet me by his chatter. This time, however, there was only an empty chain and strap, but no monkey.  I dismounted and with a slap on the mule's hind quarters, I sent him off to the barn.  Carefully I looked around.  But there was no monkey anywhere to be seen.  Then my wife espied me from the porch.   With her hands she beckoned to me to hasten to the house. 

  'What's the matter, Clara?' I asked, puzzled by all this.  Instead of giving me any answer, she just opened the door to the dining room. The room through which a hurricane must have passed, raging in all its fury.  There were blood stains, monkey hair, as I rightly judged, mixed up with mustard, catsup and sugar.  Sprinkled all over this were broken pieces of glassware and dished, strewn about in wild profussion.  There were pieces of battered cake and other food on the floor, on the wall, and some of that mess was even clinging to the ceiling.  I stood amazed at this complete picture of destruction, visualizing in my mind just what preceded before this room was thrown into such a terrific state of utter disorder.  And as the scene cleared before my eyes, I couldn't help but laugh.  Then my wife told me just what had happened. 

  'We had just sat down for our afternoon tea,' she began, 'and Balcazar, the cook, came in with a nice layer cake.  It was at this moment that a hairy arm of the monkey managed to open the screen door from the top and then that horrid monkey swung himself right on the lower end of the table, where were the bottles of catsup, mustard and different sauces.  He picked them up and hurled them on the glazed floor with such a force that they broke and the pieces of glass flew over the room.  You can be sure that by this time all of us were out of danger, hiding behind the paneled glass door.  Balcazar was the first one to slam that door behind himself.  You can see from this what a commotion there was going on around. ' 

  As my wife paused in her story to catch her breath, I cast my eyes over the haphazard, scattered and overturned chairs.  'There must have been some rush to get out of here', I commented.

  'Well, when we got behind the door', my wife continued, 'Mrs. Minton and I looked through the glass door and watched that monkey.  He picked up the teacups and saucers and smashed them against the walls and ceiling.  He tried to take a drink of tea, but evidently burnt his tongue while doing so.  Infuriated by the pain, he hurled about everything within his reach.    Then the monkey spotted the layer cake.  We couldn't help but laugh when he began to eat it, piece by piece. It must have tasted good to him, because he kept constantly glancing about the room, as if afraid somebody would come in and take the cake away from him.  At this time, Entimo appeared with a lariat in his hand.  He walked up to the monkey, but that beast wasn't about to be captured without a struggle.  The monkey knew that Entimo was afraid of him because he had had several encounters with him before.  It took him nearly half and hour before he managed to subdue the monkey and securely tie him with the rope.  However, before he admitted the defeat, the old monkey bit Entimo several times on the leg.'

  I inquired about the ladies who were present when the battle of dishes began.  'Oh, they haven't gotten over the shock, yet,' explained my wife.  'They returned to their rooms and are lying down.  There were four of them:  Mrs. Perry, Mrs. Forbes, Mrs. Allen and Mrs. Minton.'  Glancing about the room once more, taking in that picture of complete destruction, I couldn't help but feel sympathy for those good ladies.  

  'By the way, where is the monkey now?' I asked my wife.  'He is in the barn in a big box.  Entimo told me that you will have to get him out,' she replied.  'So he is in the brig, eh?  I'll go and get him out of there.'

  I walked over to the barn where I found Entimo, dressing the wounds on his leg and his hands.  As he saw me come in, he paused and said, 'Maestro, he is a bad monkey.'   

.....I wondered many times how that monkey got loose from his chain.  Probably somebody who wanted to play a joke on the women, freed him.  But just how it happened, remains an unsolved mystery." 

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Clara Vere Hansen 1911 before joining John in El Salvador. 

  

  

Jack, Robley and Harold Hansen 1915 two years after Jack's adventure with his parents in El Salvador. 

    John Hartwig Hansen would go on to continue his work as a mine superintendent  in Nicaragua and Guatemala in 1921. I'm not sure how long he stayed, but he must have earned a nice paycheck as he invested in several different mine adventures as well as the Gilmore Airship Company in Grass Valley.   He and Clara raised their boys on the ranch by the Idaho-Maryland mine.  All three boys served in WWII, following the footsteps of their patriotic father.  John passed away April 10, 1945 at the age of 80.  After his death, Clara would heat a pillow every night before she went to bed, and put it up against her back so she could go to sleep, because he was not there anymore to keep her warm at night.  

John Hartwig Hansen Larger Than Life (Hansen)

Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not it's twin.
Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams

  

  The stories go like this..............

  John Hartwig Hansen was born in Norway; ran away to sail the seas on clipper ships when he was 12 years old; jumped ship in Eureka, California, worked for awhile as a farm hand in Sacramento and San Joaquin Valleys, enlisted in the Spanish American War and after his service somehow found his way into the Sierra Foothills and mining country, ending up in Grass Valley, California.  His knowledge of rope splicing made it easy for him to get work as a cable splicer in the mines.  In Grass Valley, putting down roots, he taught elocution which led to participation in local theatrical productions.  He gave dance and physical fitness instructions (he worked out with Indian clubs all his life).  He swept Clara Vere Burrows off her feet because he was such a good dancer!

  John H. enlisted in the U.S. Navy during the Spanish American war.  It was said that he sailed under Robley "Fighting Bob" Evans (hence the name given to his middle son Robley "Bob" Evans Hansen).   His obituary stated that he was present at the raising of the American flag in Manila. He was present at the raising of the flag over the Iolani Palace in Hawaii.   He tried to enlist for active duty during WWI, but was kept in the active reserves.  He was a very patriotic citizen, participated in events of patriotism, and always hung out the American flag for appropriate occasions. 

  In 1910 he embarked on the  steam ship  "City of Para" to El Salvador where he accepted a position with the Pullinger and Butters Co., which operated a number of mines in Central America.  He spent 3 years there, and wrote down his adventures as a collection of stories filled with tales of monkeys, dogs and mules, numerous close calls with nature and difficulties with employees and natives alike. The last few months of his tenure  he was joined on his adventure by his wife, Clara Vere Burrows Hansen and their oldest son, Jack Klemmet.  They left their two youngest sons at home in California. When the President of El Salvador was  assasinated it was time to come home.  

  He spent the remainder of his life  ranching and raising three boys in Grass Valley with the love of his life, Clara. They built their final home on West Main Street, and he saw his three boys off to serve in WWII.   He served on the Grass Valley City Council for 4 years and was eventually elected mayor of the city for which he served two years. 

  John Hartwig Hansen  was indeed a colorful character, and seems almost larger than life to me.   The story of his life is put together from pictures,  family memories, newspaper articles and information provided in his obituary.  There are his memoirs written down of his adventures in Central America.  But.... are these memories, tidbits of information and stories accurate?  I am finding that genealogical research can sometimes be a difficult thing when it comes to matching memories with actual fact.  Gay Hansen Sandberg, Bob Hansen's daughter, edited John Hansen's memoirs.  She added in her introduction that.."It has to be remembered that he was quite a spinner of tales". 
 Memory is indeed a complicated thing. I will try to provide some relative truth, but it will never be it's twin. 


  John H. Hansen's family applied for a headstone for Military Veterans after his death in April of 1945.   This application gives the date of his enlistment as July 1, 1898 and his discharge as November 11, 1898.  He was 33 years old when he enlisted. According to a July 4, 1984 article in the Reno Gazette Journal, Bob Hansen talks about his father's early years.  The article states that "As a teenager the late John Hartwig Hansen ran away from home and went to sea aboard a clipper ship.  After exploring a large part of the globe in the 1880's he decided to settle in the United States--but he didn't give up the sea.  When the Spanish American War started, Hansen presented his brand new citizenship papers to the U.S. Navy and was assigned to the USS Mohican as an Able Seaman.  That's how he happened to be aboard when the Mohican sailed to the Hawaiian Islands to raise the American flag over the Iolani Palace in Honolulu, officially annexing the islands to the United States.  Since Hansen was an expert rope splicer, he was sent ashore with the landing party and was one of the sailors who hoisted the flag into place.  After the ceremony, each sailor in the flag raising party was given a 12-inch piece of the rope and a certificate telling about their part in the annexation of Hawaii." 

  The article goes on to tell how the piece of rope grew smaller.  "Without really recognizing the value of his memento, Hansen sold half of it for $20 when he was short of cash.  Later, he sold half of what was left.  The remaining snippet of rope, no bigger than a cigarette, he wore as a watch fob. Now, 86 years after it was cut from the line that raised the American flag over Hawaii, that tiny piece of rope is one of Robley Hansen's treasures.  He loves to tell his granddaughter the story of the piece of rope and why her great-grandfather wore it as a reminder of his role in a chapter of American history." 

  
  This part of John H.'s story is probably the most accurate of his war stories.  In researching Robley Dungliston Evans I found that he was commanding the USS Iowa in Cuba early summer of 1898.  The raising of the flag in the Philippines was August 13, 1898.  The formal flag raising ceremony to mark the annexation of Hawaii over the Iolani Palace was August 12, 1898.  I believe that John H. possibly idolized Robley Evans from his previous war exploits (he was a colorful character) which is why he named his second son after him.  I also believe that in the retelling of the Spanish American war and his part he played, possibly the flag stories got mixed up resulting in a piece of information in his obituary telling of his role in the Philippines.  He was actually in Hawaii serving on the Mohican.   That is my interpretation.  It is always open to revision.  
  
  John H Hansen was found living in Grass Valley in the 1900 US Census. He was living on Neal Street as a single boarder in the household of George Hill and his wife. His occupation was listed as miner. He was listed as being 33 years of age. In reality he was 35 years old.  One of his fellow boarders was a Florence Garrison, aged 32.  Her occupation was listed as "Teacher of Elocution".  That is an interesting connection, and may be where his skills as an elocution teacher came from! I wonder what he and Florence were collaborating on.  He lists his date of immigration as being 1883, which would have  made him 18 when he entered the United States. Since most of the 1890  US Census is not available due to fire, we really do not know what he was up to prior to 1900, with the exception of his war service in 1898.  He certainly could have been working in various parts of California, especially as a farm hand, since he grew up on a farm in Norway.  Later in life, he worked a small ranch near the Idaho-Maryland Mine.  In 1900,  Clara Vere Burrows was 17 years old and  living on the west side of Townsend Street in Grass Valley.  He and Clara would marry in 1904.  It sounds like both John and Clara had a busy social life in Grass Valley and could very well have met at a theatrical production, or during dancing lessons!  

  The 1910 Census lists the Hansen family as living at 418 Main Street (in the old house..before the new house was built).  John Hansen was listed as a miner, working in a gold mine as a ropeman.  He and Clara had experienced the death of their first child, Hulda Hansen in 1905.
  The Union Tuesday April 25, 1905......Hulda Elizabeth, infant daughter of Mr. and Mrs. John Hansen passed away yesterday morning at 5 o'clock, after a week's illness.  The child was only thirteen days old.  A severe attack of congestion of the lungs was the cause of death.  The funeral will be held this afternoon at 2 o'clock, from the family residence, and will be private.

  Jack Hansen and Robley Hansen are listed on the census.  Harold Hansen was born October 11, 1910, after the census was taken.  

  In his memoirs, John Hansen talks about Clara and Jack meeting him in El Salvador and staying with him for a short period.  I did find the Passenger and Crew List for their return trip home from La Union which lists their arrival date in San Francisco as 2 March 1913 which coincides with the story of the assassination of the president in February of 1913.  

  
  I also found a U.S. Passport Application for John Hansen requesting a passport to Nicaragua in June of 1921. 

  

     His obituary mentioned that he was a gold miner in Nicaragua and Guatemala. Indeed, he was!

  I chronicled the rest of John H.'s life with his family in the last blog post, using his obituary as my source along with family pictures to fill out his life in Grass Valley.  I believe I am closer to the truth of John Hartwig Hansen, but I will never truly know him as I am generations removed from when he lived and made his mark on the world.  He was a unique person who left his mark on our family in many, many ways.  


Some pertinent information on Indian Clubs....

"Indian clubs, which originated in the Indian subcontinent, are a type of exercise equipment used to present resistance in movement to develop strength and mobility.  They consist of bowling-pin shaped wooden clubs of varying sizes and weights, which are swung in certain patterns as part of a strength exercise program.....they were used in carefully choreographed routines in which the clubs were swung in unison by a group of exercisers, led by an instructor, similar to 21st century aerobics or zumba classes.....when the 19th century British colonists came across exercising clubs in India, they named them Indian clubs."  Wikipedia.
 

                            St. Pauls Young Mens Society Indian Club Swinging Team, Ipswich, 1890's