——. Y. Jackson 1852–1863. (The Minnesota Historical Society. St. Paul 1939.)
Swedish-American Historical Bulletin. 1928–1939. (St. Paul.)
Year-Book of The Swedish Historical Society of America. 1909–1910. 1923–1924. (Minneapolis.)
G. N. Swahn: Svenskarna i Sioux City. Några blad ur deras historia. (Chicago 1912.)
Roger Burlingame: Machines That Built America. (New York 1953.)
Railway Information Series: A Chronology of American Railroads.
——. The Human Side of Railroading. (Washington 1949.)
Andrew Peterson: Dagbok åren 1854–1898. En svensk farmares levnadsbeskrivning. 16 delar. (Manuskript i Minnesota Historical Library. St. Paul.)
Mina Anderson: En nybyggarhustrus minnen. (Manuskript tillh. förf.)
Alford Roos. Diary of my father Oscar Roos. (Manuskript d: o.)
Peter J. Aronson: En svensk utvandrares minnen. (Manuskript d: o.)
Charles C. Anderson: Levernesbeskrivning. (Manuskript d: o.)
Eric A. Nelson: My Pioneer Life. (Manuskript d: o.)
V. M.
Locarno, June 1, 1959.
Suggested Readings in English
Compiled by Roger McKnight
About Vilhelm Moberg:
Holmes, Philip. Vilhelm Moberg. Boston: Twayne, 1980.
McKnight, Roger, “The New Columbus: Vilhelm Moberg Confronts American Society,” Scandinavian Studies 64 (Summer 1992):356–89.
Moberg, Vilhelm. The Unknown Swedes: A Book About Swedes and America, Past and Present. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1988.
Thorstensson, Roland B. “Vilhelm Moberg as a Dramatist for the People.” Ph.D. diss., University of Washington, 1974.
Wright, Rochelle. “Vilhelm Moberg’s Image of America.” Ph.D. diss., University of Washington 1975.
About Swedish Immigration:
Barton, H. Arnold. A Folk Divided: Homeland Swedes and Swedish Americans, 1840–1940. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1994.
——, ed. Letters from the Promised Land: Swedes in America, 1840–1914. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press for the Swedish Pioneer Historical Society, 1975.
Beijbom, Ulf, ed. Swedes in America: New Perspectives. Växjö: Swedish Emigrant Institute, 1993.
Blanck, Dag and Harald Runblom, eds. Swedish Life in American Cities. Uppsala: Centre for Multiethnic Research, 1991.
Hasselmo, Nils. Swedish America: An Introduction. New York: Swedish Information Service, 1976.
Ljungmark, Lars. Swedish Exodus. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1979.
Nordstrom, Byron, ed. The Swedes in Minnesota. Minneapolis: Denison, 1976.
Part One. In Search of Homes
I. A SHIP UNLOADS HER CARGO
— 1—
On the elongated island of Manhattan, in the Hudson River, the largest city in North America had sprung up, already inhabited by half a million people. Like an immense hippopotamus resting immobile in his element, Manhattan sprawled in the water, at the mouth of the Hudson. The hippopotamus turned his head toward the Atlantic, and back of his enormous snout lay the piers of the East River, where ships with emigrants from the Old World tied up.
On June 23, 1850, there arrived in the port of New York the brig Charlotta of Karlshamn — Christian Lorentz, Captain — carrying seventy passengers, emigrants from Sweden, nearly all of whom were farmers with their families. The Charlotta was several weeks overdue, delayed by contrary weather; this arrival completed her seventh voyage as an emigrant vessel. The brig tied up at the East River pier between a tall, coffin-shaped English bark and a low Norwegian schooner heavily loaded with iron. Besides the human cargo in her hold, the Charlotta also had pig iron and sundry items of freight.
One of Captain Lorentz’s first errands on American soil was to change his passengers’ money. During the last days of the voyage he had collected the emigrants’ cash and, carrying a leather sack, he now went to a bank on Wall Street to exchange Swedish daler and shillings for American dollars and cents. He did not accept paper money, only gold and silver coin; he knew nothing for sure about American bills, except that their value never was the same as the amount printed on them.
Sweating and puffing in the intense heat, he returned to his ship. Captain Lorentz had been in New York port during every season of the year; he was familiar with all North American weathers and disliked them all; this summer heat he abhorred. Down here by the docks there was at least some breeze from the Atlantic, but in the Charlotta’s hold the air was unbearably oppressive. To be tied up near Manhattan this time of year was one of his most distasteful duties as ship’s commander.
In his tiny cabin the captain pulled out the passenger list. After each name he had noted the sum entrusted to him, and now he must figure out how much each passenger was to receive in American money. It was an annoying chore, a chore for shop clerks. He was not a counting man, he was a seaman; but a captain on an emigrant vessel apparently must also be a scrivener and a money-changer. Like a father with his children, he must look after his passengers and see to it that they weren’t cheated or robbed.
And having sailed these Swedish peasants across the ocean from one continent to another, Captain Lorentz now felt so great a responsibility for them he wouldn’t even leave them to shift for themselves after they had landed. Hardly had his ship tied up at the pier when all those who made their living from the simplicity and inexperience of immigrants flocked around the gangplank like rapacious dogs at slaughter time. These runners and grafters and brokers, and whatever they were called in the language of this new country, watched for every newly arrived ship. There were agents from freight companies which the captain knew were fraudulent; there were men from taverns and quarters of ill repute; well-fed and well-dressed men in funny little round caps with large visors; lazy men who avoided honest work and whose presence was repugnant to Captain Lorentz. He would always place an armed guard at the gangplank to keep such rascals off his ship, for once on board they would steal all they could lay hands on, down to a single nail or a piece of rope. The rogues came from all lands, but they preferred to rob their own countrymen. By talking the language of new arrivals they gained their confidence and made easy victims of them. All European nationalities, it seemed, plundered and defrauded each other here on American shores: English robbed the English, Irish swindled the Irish, Germans preyed on Germans — while Americans plundered the immigrants from all countries, regardless of nationality. In this respect at least, thought the captain, the Americans honored equality among men.
The authorities in New York were too lenient. Lost and unsuspicious immigrants enjoyed no protection against the scoundrels lurking at the landings.1
The passenger list stuck to Captain Lorentz’s rough, sweaty hands. His brain worked sluggishly in the infernal heat, and he lost himself in numbers as he figured daler into dollars. He was looking forward to evening, when he hoped to enjoy his supper and cellar-cool ale at Castle Garden. This tavern was conveniently close by, and it was the best eating place he knew of in New York — though not up to his standard in other ports. Its fare might do for the rich New York swine breeders who usually gathered there, but a man who sailed to Marseille, Bordeaux, and Barcelona had his own standards of good food. The Americans had lived such a short time in their country they hadn’t yet learned how to prepare their food properly. There were too many other things to attend to. For example, they were said to be particularly good at building churches; he had heard New York alone had a hundred and fifteen of them. And he recalled what he once had read in a book by a famous Frenchman: The French had one hundred different sauces, but only one religion, whereas the Americans had a hundred different religions, but only one sauce. Captain Lorentz had, unfortunately, not yet had the pleasure of tasting this sauce.