It's a long way from Denmark to Hooper NE

part of the McDowell Family Saga

Martinsen Harness Shop in Hooper

Almost 4,500 miles, to be exact. My Great Great Grandpa Martin Martinsen made that journey twice (three times if you count the journey from Hooper back to Denmark). He was 42 when he first set sail, six years after his wife died. His seven children followed as soon as they could afford passage.

Without personal documents, it's impossible to say with any certainty why Martin wanted to leave his home in Levring (Jutland) and come to America. Some sources posit that over-population of the country (due to the fact that Denmark had enjoyed many years of peace and good crops) had led to economic difficulties, making the Industrial Revolution of the U.S. pretty attractive.

Whatever the reason, Martin packed his bags and left the only home he'd known for a new life in America. I'd like to find out why / how he ended up in Hooper. Was there an advertisement somewhere? Did he know someone already living in the area who wrote to him about the splendors of the Midwest? Or was he near Hooper when he just plain got tired of traveling? Maybe someone knows. If so, I hope they'll let me know "the rest of the story."

Martin's Children (in birth order)

• Margaret - immigrated in 1899 according to the 1910 census.
• Fred - immigrated in 1897 (with Minnie?) per 1900 census.
• Henriette - immigrated in 1906 with her husband and four children aboard the ship "United States." They traveled in steerage.
• Minnie - immigrated in 1897 according to 1910 census.
• Amalie - immigrated in 1900 with husband Jen and baby Oscar aboard the St. Paul.
• Chris - immigrated in 1907 per the 1910 census.
• Jacob - immigrated in 1899 (with Margaret?) per the 1910 census.

This small article was included in the 1876-1976 Centennial History of Hooper, Nebraska.

Martinsen Family History Martin Martinsen was born July 17, 1850, in Jyland, Denmark. He married Johanne Henriette Wustenfeld in Denmark in 1871. She passed away in 1886. Seven children were born: Margaret Martinsen-Finegan, Fred, Henriette Martinsen-Keilstrup, Minnie, Amalie Martinsen-Jensen, Chris, and Jacob L.

Martin came to the United States in 1892 and stayed for 3 years. He then went back to Denmark, returning to the United States in 1898. He settled in Hooper, Nebraska, and was a harness maker by trade. His children came over a couple at a time, as they had the money for passage, until all were here in Hooper. Martin had a harness and shoe repair business until he retired.

Daniel & the Earthquake

Daniel blew hot breath against his hands, watching it fog into the frigid night. He’d counted on a nice warm bed; instead he shivered beneath the blanket of boughs he’d scavenged from the banks of the Wabash, wondering even now how he’d faired so poorly on today’s ride. He’d ponied horses many times between the farm and Vincennes, in worse weather than this December had to offer, but never had he been forced to bunk down for the night. Something had these fillies agitated; even now, hobbled and free to graze, they pawed the earth as if some demon hid just under the frosted ground.

Well, one thing was certain, there was no point worrying; either Penfield would be waiting tomorrow or he wouldn’t. Best thing he could do was grab a few hours rest and start out at first light. Assuming he didn’t freeze first. He burrowed down, closed his eyes, and let Morpheus take over.

A crack of thunder jolted him upright, and he looked around befuddled, trying to make sense of the growing din around him. Thunder from a cloudless sky? No. This was wrong. He could hear water rushing and bubbling all around him, but it wasn’t rain.

A tree groaned behind him and only then did he realize the ground was alive, uncorking like a wild bronc. From habit, he reached for a fistful of mane, but only cold clay met his fingers.

No. Not a storm. Not anything he knew.

Time itself distorted while he took in the rippling ground, a veritable pond of rocks and earth, and the crescendo of wildlife giving voice to their confusion, his horses’ screams carried on the upsurge. “A great tempest rent the mountains and brake in pieces the rocks,” he said, a passage from the Bible memorized sometime in his youth, brought to mind by the brimstone burning his nostrils.

There was no safe place in this early morning Armageddon, so he huddled into himself and began to pray.

No ancestor captures my imagination quite like Daniel McDowell (and his wife, whom you haven’t yet met). Honestly, they talk to me so often that I started a novel for them; some folks just insist on being heard.

But, this venue is for fact (or near fact, in the case of my imagined scenario above), and the truth is

A Father's Worry

A cool wind whistled at the cabin’s window. At least marching will be pleasant, Benjamin thought. “Come, Anna, girls; Onkel Martin is waiting for us.” He slung his musket over his shoulder, and ushered his wife and daughters from the house.

Martin lived near Drapers Meadow; Anna and the children would be safe there while he was gone. They would have to hurry, though, to get there by sunrise.

They’d traveled the twenty miles so often—every Sunday since moving to Virginia—that Zelter required little guidance; he gave the horse his head and took the opportunity to study his family in the moonlight: Anna, bundled in furs and blankets as if winter already raged; little Lizzie and Eve, their drowsy heads bobbing with each of Zelter's foot falls. Somewhere under all Anna’s furs was his son, so tiny still the church ladies harangued Anna with remedies to fatten the babe up.

And worry they should.  Already John Gustafson’s son was crawling about, getting into everything. Shouldn’t David be doing that? After all, Anna and Mary were confined at the same time.

Moreover, he worried about leaving his little family fatherless. He knew too well what growing up like that was like. Not that Onkel ever treated him like anything but his own son. Still, it wasn’t quite the same.

He rubbed his brow, trying to erase the furrows he could feel tightening. What would his father think? He tried to imagine a young Elijah looking down from heaven, watching the man he’d become. Would he approve his abandoning Anna and the children for war? Not that he had any choice of course; Dunmore had made it clear what happened to those in the militia who failed to report.

Anna laid a hand on his, loosening his solicitous grip on the reins. “You worry too much, Benjamin Weddle. We will be just fine; Martin will see to that. You just come home to us safely.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “We’ll be waiting for you.”

Benjamin Weddle, the only child of Elijah—who, you might remember, died at sea—left his home in Floyd County Virginia, sometime in September-1744, for what would soon be known as the Battle of Point Pleasant, an encounter between Shawnee Indians led by Cornstalk and the Virginia Militia. He left behind his wife, Anna, and three small children: Elizabeth (4), Eve (3), and David (3 m).

Controversy abounds around the battle itself. Some say that Lord Dunmore, governor of the province of Virginia, set the militia against the Indians in the hopes of decimating the militia’s numbers, knowing that war loomed in the near future between the Continentals and the Crown. And while no official rosters exist from this battle, a story persists about Benjamin, captain of his unit, so antagonizing the Governor that a price was placed on his head, forcing him to leave his home at Horseshoe Bend and move to Bent Mountain.

Regardless of the controversy, we know one thing for certain—Benjamin made it home from the war, fathering ten more children in the coming years. He served in the Continental Army during the Revolution, and following, patented 1600 acres, settled in the wilderness on the west fork of Little River, and founded a dynasty of Weddles.

But that's a story for another day...