Pauline: A Brief Biography

Inger Pauline (Braaten) Hovick (1884–1975)

My maternal grandmother, Inger Pauline Braaten, known as Pauline, was born on 29 January 1884 in Fergus Falls, Otter Tail County, Minnesota. She was the daughter of Mikkel Mikkelsen Braaten (1 April 1834–28 January 1901), a dairy farmer and carpenter, and Gunhild Mathea Johannesdatter Pedersen Braaten (17 October 1844–18 April 1921), known as Mathea. Both were immigrants from Norway, both had been married before and widowed, and both had lost one child. Mikkel had six surviving children and Mathea had five, giving Pauline eleven half-siblings (see family tree below). Together, Mikkel and Mathea had two children, Pauline (29 January 1884–15 August 1975), and Johan Arndt (16 June 1886–3 February 1887).

At the age of sixteen, Pauline decided to become a nurse. Boarding a train to Chicago, she enrolled at the Norwegian Lutheran Deaconess Hospital on 15 October 1900, and was ultimately consecrated a Deaconess Sister. [1] Begun in Germany in 1836, the Deaconess movement quickly spread through Protestant denominations in Europe and the United States, most actively among Lutherans. Not unlike Roman Catholic nuns, Deaconess sisters lived in community in motherhouses, and were dedicated to nursing. Sisters went through a rite of consecration but were free to leave at any time to marry or to care for family. [2]

Pauline graduated in 1903. Her hometown of Fergus Falls offered her the position of Hospital Matron, but she declined, and instead became Head Nurse of the City Hospital of Madison, Minnesota. Shortly after arriving in Madison, she met her soon-to-be husband, Charles Hovick (2 May 1873–22 February 1848). Born Tjerand Torbjørnsen on the Håvik farm in Skjold Parish, Rogaland County, Norway, Charles ran the grain elevator in Madison. They were married in a grand double wedding on 18 May 1904. Likely because of societal expectations, Pauline gave up her nursing career after she married.

Pauline and Charles had four children: Tarald Melvin Hovick, who was stillborn on 26 June 1905 due to bad fall that Pauline had taken the day before, Mildred Ingeborg (Hovick) Monge (12 April 1907–16 November 2003), Signe Alise (Hovick) Christeson (3 August 1912–
15 July 2012), and my mother, Charlotte Pauline (Hovick) Thompson Lohman (9 October 1925–
8 November 2015).

In 1926, determined that their three daughters receive a quality education, they sold their farm in Madison and moved to Northfield, Minnesota so that the girls could attend St. Olaf College. Pauline spent years as a housemother at a boarding house for male college students, and Charles spent the rest of his life as a janitor at St. Olaf. Charles died of liver cancer on 22 February 1948. Pauline died on 15 August 1975 of heart failure after having broken her hip months earlier. She and Charles are buried in the Oaklawn Cemetery in Northfield, Minnesota.

---

[1] Mildred Hovick Monge, “Remember,” family history, 1974; “Remember,” blog entry, Hovick Lohman History, blog (hovicklohmanhistory.blog/remember/ : accessed 30 August 2020), pdf, pt. 1, ch. 4, “Recollections with Pauline,” p. 49 (printed).

[2] “The Deaconess Movement in 19th-Century America: Pioneer Professional Women,” United Church of Christ (www.ucc.org/about-us_hidden-histories_the-deaconess-movement-in : accessed 27 September 2020).

Pauline’s Family Tree

Threads of Love, Part 1

In 1991, my dear Uncle Raymond Jensen (1918-1996), the husband of my father’s sister, Priscilla (Lohman) Jensen (1919-2005), sat down to capture the memories of 1951-1952, a particularly dramatic year in both the Jensen and Lohman families. Ray and Priscilla’s offer to help at the most difficult time in my dad’s life was a gift for which my family will be forever grateful.

THREADS OF LOVE

 by Raymond C. Jensen

 ▂ 

I dedicate this book to my brother-in-law, Richard Lohman, who, in the face of despair and against all odds, persevered, and in so doing, became a help to numerous others who suffered losses similar to his own.

 ▂ 

Introduction

During the post war years of World War II, the lives of my brother-in-law’s family and my own had run relatively smooth. But on September 9, 1952 something happened to drastically change his life and the lives of our entire family. This is a story about the events that led up to that day as well as the events that took place in the months which followed.

My thanks go to Richard and Charlotte Lohman, Muriel Wood and my wife Priscilla for their willingness to share their memories of that time so long ago.

Raymond C. Jensen

1991

  

I

Priscilla (Lohman) & Raymond Jensen

Because my wife, Priscilla, had gone out for the evening, I decided to do the dinner dishes. Perhaps subconsciously, I left the large stainless steel mixing bowl until last. The bowl, one out of a set of three, was given to us as a gift almost forty years ago and has held special meaning for us ever since.

As I washed the bowl almost lovingly, my thoughts drifted back to an event that happened on August 13, 1952. The occasion was our tenth wedding anniversary and one that neither of us will ever forget.

It all started when my brother-in-law, Dick Lohman, and his wife Connie called to ask if they could take us out to dinner and a movie after. They wanted to help us celebrate our anniversary. Needless to say, our answer was “yes.” In those days the extent of our going out to eat was usually determined by the number of White Castle coupons that we had collected from our families’ newspapers. So, as you can see, the prospect of being taken out to dinner and a movie without the children was an exciting one and something that we looked forward to with great anticipation.

Fortunately, Priscilla’s Grandma Libby was available to take care of our six children. Grandma had been living at our house ever since we moved in 1947. But instead of living with us, she had a light housekeeping room of her own in the back part of the house. Her room had a separate entrance, so she could entertain her friends and maintain her privacy. However, when she watched the children, she would open the common door between her room and ours and sit in her favorite rocker as she held our youngest child in her arms and watched the others play.

Grandma Agnes Libby

Grandma Libby loved little children and enjoyed doing the dishes. On occasion when we wanted to go to a movie, she would offer to wash the dinner dishes, so we could leave in time for the early show. This always made a hit with our two oldest children whose daily chore was to help wash and wipe the evening dishes.

Grandma Libby with Mark & Barbara Jensen

While it wasn’t planned that way, having Grandma live at our house was mutually beneficial. She wasn’t in the best of health and seemed to find living with a family a comfort. On the nights that Priscilla had prepared a special dinner for our family, she would often dish up an extra plate and take it into Grandma so she wouldn’t have to cook that night. Grandma Libby was always grateful for this, just as we were for her loving care towards our children.

The night we had been looking forward to finally arrived. The children had eaten their supper and the youngest ones made ready for bed. At the pre-arranged time, Connie and Dick arrived in their 1939 Lafayette. 

Connie & Dick in their Lafayette on July 25, 1945

With a final admonition of, “Be sure to mind Grandma,” we said goodbye to the children and stepped into the rear seat of Connie and Dick’s car. As we drove off we felt pampered, as if we were being chauffeured to a swank restaurant. Our destination was the Port Arthur Cafe, a Chinese restaurant located on Lake Street and Hennepin Avenue. The restaurant was within half a mile of both Lake Calhoun and Lake of the Isles, which somehow made our date seem even more exciting.

The menu included both Chinese and American dishes, but I seem to remember that we all ordered Chow Mein. The Port Arthur was known for its Chinese cuisine, but as much as we enjoyed the food, we found our conversation even more enjoyable. Connie and Dick were a lot of fun to be with.

Not only that, the four of us had much in common. Their three children (a girl and two boys) were about the same ages as three of ours. Consequently, we felt comfortable sharing the joys – and sorrows – of parenthood as well as just being ourselves.

II

The fact that we were five years older than Connie and Dick made little difference in our relationship. But back in 1941 when I first became serious about Dick’s sister, Priscilla, I thought of Dick (called Richard by his family) more as her kid brother than as a prospective brother-in-law. This was especially true one day when I had stopped to pick her up for a date. Priscilla suggested we first go downstairs to see the room that Richard had built for himself in the basement. She was proud of her brother’s accomplishment. At any rate I agreed, and after looking over his handiwork, we took advantage of being alone and kissed each other. Suddenly we were startled by the sounds of laughter. Looking up we saw the faces of her brother and his friend peering at us through the basement window. When they saw that we recognized them, they quickly ran away, still laughing hilariously. For the moment I was both angry and embarrassed. I felt they had invaded our privacy. But after thinking about it for a while, I realized that they were just being kids and dismissed the incident as an immature prank.

Priscilla & Ray

Just a few months later I asked Priscilla to marry me, and she said “yes.” We were very much in love, but because we knew my induction into the army was imminent, we decided to wait until my year of training was up. However, with the advent of Pearl Harbor, all that was changed. We now knew that I’d have to be in the army for the duration and that our plans for getting married would have to be altered.

During the summer of 1942 I was transferred to a casual camp to await orders into pre-flight school. Unsure of when I’d be called, I requested a furlough to go home and get married. Much to my surprise and delight, my furlough was granted. After catching the first bus to Los Angles I was able to make connections with an Eastbound train that was scheduled to arrive in Minneapolis in two and one-half days. Before leaving, I had wired Priscilla to let her know that I was on my way so she could go ahead with the wedding plans. Just two days after I arrived, Priscilla and I were married at the Vine Congregational Church on Thursday, August 13, 1942. 

Ray and Priscilla’s Wedding, August 13, 1942

Richard was one of my groomsmen and for the first time I realized that he had become a mature young man. He had graduated from high school and even made plans to enlist in the Navy. Richard had also been dating Connie Stoep, a pretty brunette that he met during his sophomore year. Connie had a vivacious personality and, like Richard, loved being with people. Their relationship must have been serious because even after he began his boot training at the Great Lakes Training Center, he took a long train ride home every weekend so he could spend a few hours with Connie and his family.

Connie, Dick, Dick’s mother, Grace (Libby) Lohman

Dick & Connie

Dick and his big sisters: Priscilla & Muriel

In 1943 Richard made his first voyage as a gunner on the troopship the U.S.S. Anderson. In July 1945, after having made several additional voyages to remote parts of the world, he came home to marry Connie, his high school sweetheart. But first he had called her from his base to ask if she’d like to get married. Her response was a wistful, “Yes – if you come home.” I think the thought of his coming home seemed almost too good to be true. 

Dick & Connie’s Wedding, July 25, 1945

But he did come home and after getting married and going on a short honeymoon, they took the train back to his base where they found a place to live until Richard had to leave on his next voyage.

Dick & Ray

In November 1945, both of us were discharged from the service: he from exactly three years in the Navy and me from four years, four months and ten days in the Army. Dick came home to his new bride and I returned to my wife and two beautiful children. The world was finally at peace, and at last we were free to live the kind of lives that we had been longing for.

III

Our time together at the Port Arthur Cafe had gone by much too quickly. Soon we had to leave in order to get to the theater on time. Once more we got into the back seat of Dick’s car expecting to leave immediately. Much to our surprise, they handed us a gift box and a card instead. The box contained a set of stainless steel mixing bowls, something that Priscilla had always wanted but never felt free to buy. We were amazed at their generosity and appreciated such a thoughtful gift.

The movie we went to see was called Quo Vadis and was showing at the St. Louis Park Theater. The film, in part, was about the persecution of the early Christians by the Romans. It showed scenes of men and women being forced into the amphitheater of hungry lions while spectators watched and cheered. One scene showed the head of a man, his face still in a smile after his body had been dismembered by a ravenous lion. Needless to say, we were glad we saw the movie after dinner instead of before. The movie provided a lot of food for thought and as we drove home we wondered if our faith would be as strong as the faith of the early believers if we were persecuted as they were.

In spite of our evening ending on such a serious note, we enjoyed our night out with Connie and Dick. They made the event of our tenth wedding anniversary special – one that we’ll never forget.

IV

It would be difficult to put into words the appreciation I felt for my brother-in-law Dick and his wife Connie. Both of them were active in their church and their faith in God was made manifest by their generous spirit and willingness to help others. On more than one occasion we were the recipients of that help. I remember the time that Priscilla was in the hospital giving birth to our youngest son, Todd. In spite of having three small children of her own, Connie came over to our house to take care of our five children. One night when I came home from work, I found Connie preparing our evening meal. In the process of cooking and setting the table, she took time to play with the younger children. As they listened to their favorite 45 R.P.M. kid’s records, she danced with them hand in hand around the kitchen table. To this day I can still see them in my mind’s eye, singing and dancing in joyous abandonment.

Connie & Jeanne

After dinner, Connie left to go home with her three children. I think that Dick picked them up on his way home from work. At any rate, she continued to come over every day until Priscilla came home from the hospital. Because there was less than a year between our new son and his older brother, Scott, the doctor told Priscilla that she could not lift Scott for three weeks. Once again Connie came to our rescue. Because I couldn’t afford to stay home from work, she offered to take care of Scott until Priscilla was strong enough to lift him again.

Connie, Jeanne, Dick

Another example of Connie and Dick’s hospitality occurred back in 1949. This was the year they expected to move into their new home in St. Louis Park. But because their house wasn’t finished in time, they rented our upper duplex until the work on their new home could be completed.

2821 Jersey Avenue now

It was during this period of time that my younger cousin Earl showed up at our door without any advance notice. I had last seen Earl in 1937 when my father and I did some work on my uncle’s farm near Alden, MN. Now, twelve years later, at twenty-two years of age, he had evidently decided to leave home and hitchhike to Minneapolis. But Earl was a man of few words and gave no indication of where he was going or how long he intended to stay.

After visiting with him for a while we decided to ask him to stay for supper. It was getting late and we still didn’t know what his plans were. By the time we had finished supper we were both pretty sure that he had no place to stay for the night. The problem was that we had no extra sleeping space. With the two bedrooms occupied by our children and Priscilla and me sleeping in the dining room, we didn’t feel we could ask him to stay for the night.

Sometime during the evening, we introduced my cousin to Connie and Dick. Secretly we must have told them about the situation because after hearing about our dilemma, they graciously offered to sleep Earl in their upstairs apartment. Priscilla and I were greatly relieved and when they asked Earl if he’d like to stay, he gladly accepted. The following morning, after Connie had given him some breakfast, he said that he’d have to be on his way. Before leaving, my cousin thanked all of us, but I don’t remember that he ever said where he was going. Sometime later we learned from his mother that he had gotten married and settled down.

Paul, Connie, Jeanne, Dick, Doug, Christmas 1951

When springtime arrived, Dick and I worked together on removing the upstairs storm windows and installing screens. Because the north side of our house was so close to the lot line, we had to put the extension ladders in our neighbor’s yard. When we had almost completed our work, our neighbor, Mr. Dagget, approached Dick and complained vehemently about our ladders being on his property. Instead of responding in kind, Dick said something to the effect that being neighbors, we didn’t think he’d mind. We wondered what the problem was because we had been very careful not to disturb his grass or flower beds.

Several months after Connie and Dick moved to St. Louis Park, our neighbors, the Daggets mysteriously moved out after dark. I remember them loading their possessions into a large truck and wondered why they were moving out at such a late hour. For weeks after, people came to our door to ask if we knew where they had gone. It seems that they had charged a lot of expensive items and skipped town without paying their bills.

Part 2

Part 3

Yours, Mine, and Ours

I come from a “Yours, Mine, and Ours” family. Both of my parents, Richard Byron Lohman (1924-2004) and Charlotte Pauline (Hovick) Lohman (1925-2015) were previously married and widowed.

Dad was married in 1945 to Constance Marie Stoep (1925-1952), who died very suddenly of bulbar polio, leaving him with three children: Jeanne, Douglas, and Paul.

Meanwhile, Mom was married in 1950 to Rev. Warren Lowell Thompson (1922-1951), who died of a brain hemorrhage when she was four months pregnant with their first child, Charles.

Since I was a little kid, I’ve always felt an odd connection to both Connie and Warren, for without their tragic and premature deaths, I simple wouldn’t have come into being. So my deep gratitude for life comes with it an awareness of the losses that made it possible.

At the celebration of my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary, my Dad similarly remarked: “I have mixed feelings about being grateful that I have lived this long, and that [Char and I] have had these years. Because I can’t be grateful that Connie and Warren… died prematurely before they had a chance at the full gift of life that God intends for everyone.”
As the family historian, with the passing of my Mom in 2015, I inherited all the old photos and documents from these four people and their three marriages. Among them were the photo albums that chronicle the early lives of Connie and Warren.

Telling and preserving the stories of my family on this blog would be incomplete without including the lives of these two pivotal people. Sadly, few stories still live on. Only my sister Jeanne has dim memories of her birth mother, Connie. The rest of my siblings were too young. And just about everyone else who knew them are now gone. So reconstructing their lives will have to rely heavily on these precious photos and documents, and whatever public records that I can find. But, over time, I will endeavor to tell about and honor their lives as best I can.

So yes, ours is a “Yours, Mine, and Ours” family. However, my mom was always quick to add, “But really, we’re just an OURS family.”

Life on Board the Twentieth Century Express, Ltd.

In going through my mother’s papers, there was a manila envelope that I hadn’t looked in until now. My jaw hit the floor when I realized that it was a third, unpublished memoir by my Aunt Mildred! Dedicated to her “Twenty-First Century Family,” it’s yet another collection of family stories.

The Three Sisters Charlotte Hovick Lohman, Mildred Hovick Monge, Signe Hovick Christeson

In the final years of her life, my parents and I would drive down to visit her in Northfield, Minnesota as often as we could. On one particular visit, I so clearly remember her saying, “I picked the most wonderful time to be alive! When I think that our Papa was born in a two-room, dirt-floored cottage… and now, just look at all the progress that I have seen!”

In 1974, in her first memoir, Remember she wrote, “These were the real Horse and Buggy Days we lived in, and for us to have seen these days develop into the Space Age of our retirement years makes us thankful to have been born during this century of progress; the most momentous 50 years of mankind.”

That drive to capture the wonders – big and small – that she had seen over her long, well-lived life, resulted in two memoirs that I knew of, Remember and Niblits and Bits. But it turns out that that drive kept her writing into her nineties. Remarkable.

At the age of 93, she closes this collection with this:

After reading this, my hope is that your faith has become stronger, 

your love even deeper, so you can sing with the Psalmist–

‘Lord, fill us each morning with your constant love, 

so that we may sing and be glad all our life.

June 20, 2000  11:00 A.M.

Finis

But two years later, at the age of 95, she adds a final page:

Psalm 127:3

“Children are a gift from the Lord. They are a real blessing.”

Psalm 128:6

“May you live to see your grandchildren.” 

A special gift to me as I also see many great-grandchildren.

Final Finis — June 25, 2002

Mim passed away on 16 November 2003. Mim, your Twenty-First Century family thanks you!

Life on Board the Twentieth Century Express, Ltd.
(click to download)

A Trip to the Library: Bygdebøker

I just returned from a most fruitful and exciting visit to the Norwegian American Genealogical Center and Naeseth Library in Madison, Wisconsin.

Going in to this research, my assumption has long been that, because my family were relatively poor farmers, there would be few records, and that after a generation or two, the records would probably not exist at all. Oh, how wrong I was!

Norwegian Farm Books

In 1906, the Norwegian Historical Association, an arm of the Norwegian government, created a nationwide plan for the collection of comprehensive family and community histories throughout rural Norway dating back centuries. The result of these efforts are the huge collection of farm books – bygdebøker. They contain a stunning wealth of information – and not just of the wealthy. Included are decidedly un-wealthy families like my tenant farmer ancestors. This project was funded by the government, who created curricula and taught classes throughout the country for historians and authors on how to systematically research, gather, and create these histories. I find it amazing that the Norwegian government had the foresight and vision to create such a rich repository of rural history.

Norway is broken into nineteen counties and hundred of parishes. Each bygdebok covers the history and genealogy of an individual parish. And the bygdebok for any individual parish may be in multiple volumes, like the ten volumes for the parish of Luster. 

For research purposes, these are considered secondary sources. There are errors is transcribing details from the original sources – church, census, tax, and probate records, etc. And apparently some authors resorted to creating out-and-out fiction when records could not be found. So the gold standard remains the original sources. But all in all, these bygdebøker are a treasure trove.

I drove from Minneapolis to Madison with my dear friend Babs on Thursday, and arrived in time to spend an hour and a half at the library before they closed. I knew that my family lived in the Skjold (pronounced “shold”) parish, so that is where I immediately headed. Skjold’s bygdebok is in two volumes. I searched for the farm on which my family lived – Håvik – and boom! There was a picture of the two-room house in which my grandfather’s large family lived!

I think that the librarian who was helping me was a bit skeptical. Sure… crack open the first book I get my hands on and claim, “That’s our house!” To be fair, I think that her skepticism is well-earned. For instance, as she later told me, “Everyone thinks that their family is descended from King Harald the Fair-Haired.” Well, guilty as charged. That belief in our royal lineage is part of our family lore. But the house – that was really ours! It wasn’t until the next day when I showed her a picture of my mom, Charlotte Hovick Lohman, visiting the house in 1978, that I think she finally believed me. 

I spent the rest of Thursday and eight hours on Friday at the library, surrounded by bygdebøker, and finding more family information than I’d dreamt possible. In some cases, I was able to go back an astounding ten generations!

Stay tuned… I have a lot to share!

Charlotte: Growing Up at St. John’s

My mother, Charlotte Hovick Lohman, moved from the tiny town of Madison, Minnesota (near the South Dakota border) to the college town of Northfield, Minnesota in 1926.

They very quickly became members of St. John’s Lutheran Church, a mere nine-minute walk from their home (according to Google). Founded in 1869 by Norwegian immigrants, the congregation was earlier named St. Johannes Norwegian Evangelical Lutheran Congregation. From the beginning, St. John’s, as it later became known, had close ties with St. Olaf College. My grandparents, Charles and Pauline Hovick, dedicated to providing for a good education for their daughters, spent much of their lives working at St. Olaf. (But alas, there was no tuition discount offered to children of college employees at the time.) Charles was a custodian at Mohn Hall, and Pauline was house mother at Forest Hall, an off-campus dormitory. St. John’s building was built in 1913.

Childhood
My mom enrolled in something called St. John’s Cradle Roll in 1927.

Music has always been so important in my family. My grandmother Pauline played the piano and taught her three daughters to play, and grandfather Charley played the mandolin. From the start, my mom sang in the choirs at St. John’s. 

Here’s St. John’s in 1934, about the same time as the choir picture was taken.

Confirmation

June 9, 1940. That’s her in the back row on the left, looking a bit glum, I must say. Mom was tall, so you’ll often find her in the back row of photos.

Charlotte, decked out in her white robe and carnation, alongside her proud parents, Charley and Pauline.

High School

Mom saved the bulletin from their Christmas Day service in 1943, the year she graduated from Northfield High School. Note the staggering number of people from that single congregation who were serving in the military. (And on a lighter note, how many of them were named Anderson, Arneson, Asleson, Benson, Carlson, Edwardson, Ellingson, Hanson, Jacobson, Johnson, Jorgenson, Knutson, Peterson, Swanson, Thompson, and Tollefson. But, oddly enough, not an Olson in the whole lot.)

And later…

My mom’s first marriage took place at St. John’s on the evening of May 18, 1950 (look at the candlelight!). She married Rev. Warren Thompson, who died only fourteen months later, leaving her four months pregnant with their son, Charles (who was named after both of his grandfathers).

For decades, St. John’s has been a gathering place for my extended family. So many funerals, yet they were opportunities to see beloved cousins who have spread out far and wide. 

And much later…

I had the thrill last year to go to St. John’s to co-lead a Building an Inclusive Church training. It was so wonderful to be back in that space, combining my personal and professional lives, and to spend time with the good folks of St. John’s who were so passionate about making the church one that fully welcomes LGBTQ people. Go, St. John’s!

2812 Humboldt

Here’s our home in 1923 – years before we knew it.

Company A, West High School (March 1923)

It would be another three decades before we would get to know and love this house across the street from West High School on Humboldt Avenue in South Minneapolis.

On September 11, 1952, Connie Stoep, the first wife of my dad (Richard Byron Lohman), died suddenly during the polio epidemic of a rare form of the disease called bulbar polio. My dad was left with three small children – Jeanne, Doug, and Paul. 

On the day of her funeral, Dad’s sister and brother-in-law, Priscilla and Raymond Jensen, approached him with an idea. 

“Richard, we know you’re not ready to think about this now, but we want to tell you now so that when you are ready, you’ll remember this. If you are willing to sell your small house and buy a larger one, we’ll move in with you and help take care of the children.” My Uncle Ray, who wrote a moving account of this period in his memoir, Threads of Love, wrote, “I don’t remember that Richard responded in words… nor did we expect him to. His hug and tears of gratitude said all that was needed.”

At first Dad tried to make thing work by hiring a string of housekeepers, but it was soon clear that this wasn’t going to be a long-term solution. 

After some searching, Dad found 2812 Humboldt Avenue South, and on December 31, 1952, they moved in. Two families with nine children under the age of nine all under one roof!

When my dad later married my mom, Charlotte Pauline Hovick Thompson, the Jensen’s moved back to their own home. This new Lohman family formed and came together under this roof, and here the family grew, adding Jeffrey in 1955 and me, David, in 1961. We remained here until 1965 when Dad finished seminary, was ordained, and received his first call to a pair of churches in Butterfield, Minnesota.

Life at 2812… on the Front Steps

Paul, Charles, Jeanne, Jeffrey, Douglas

Paul, Charles, Jeffrey, Douglas

Paul, Douglas, Jeffrey, Jeanne, David, Charles

The Front Yard

Paul, Charles, unknown, David

Douglas, Paul, Charles, Jeffrey

Richard’s Ordination Celebration on June 20, 1965:

Charlotte & Richard

Richard & Charlotte

Jeanne, David, Charles, Douglas, Paul (nice lampshade, Jeanne!)

Richard and his mother, Grace

Charles Hovick’s Dream: An Education for His Daughters

Born Tjerand Torbjørnson, my grandfather came into this world in a dirt-floored cottage on the edge of a fjord near Håvik in Norway in 1873. His entire immediate family came to America from Norway in three waves between 1886-1889. They first lived in northwest Iowa, before finally settling on a farm outside of Madison, Minnesota in 1903. My grandfather, who had changed his name to Charles Torbjorn Hovick, remained in Iowa, but when a job offer came from the grain elevator in Madison, he finally joined his family in 1904. 

Madison, Minnesota in 1909

He met my grandmother, Pauline Braaten, shortly after arriving, and they were married on May 18th of that same year.

The Wedding of Charles Hovick and Pauline Braaten, 1904

My grandfather, often called Charley, has been described to me as a gentle, loving, and funny man. He had only the equivalency of an eighth-grade education. But despite this, he understood the value of education, and would go to great lengths to insure that his three daughters received the finest education that he could provide. What makes this all the more remarkable is that Grandpa’s dedication was so counter to the prevailing attitudes of the day. My Aunt Mildred summed up those attitudes like this: “Education for girls? What a waste of good money when all they would do would be to get married. And who needs learning for keeping house and raising children?”

In 1915, an old family friend, Mr. H.E. Loe from Linn Grove, Iowa offered my grandfather a job managing a farm five miles north of Madison. So at the age of 32, he, along with his wife, Pauline Braaten Hovick, 31, and daughters Mildred, 7, and Signe, 3, left the hubbub of small town life and moved out to the farm.

The H.E. Loe Farm

Now that they had no neighbors nearby to disturb, the girls were delighted that they could make as much noise as they pleased.

The Barn at the H.E. Loe Farm

The Hovicks during the time they lived on the farm back: Pauline, Mildred front: Charles, Signe

Their financial well-being was wholly dependent upon the success of each year’s crops. One year on a hot, sunny summer day, the Ladies Aid Society was meeting at the Hovick farm. The fields looked good, and they were optimistic for a good harvest. But a freak summer storm swept in, complete with driving rain and hail, and by the time the Ladies went home, the crops were devastated.

However, the fall harvest of 1925 was an exceptionally good one. 

Charley Hovick the Farmer

In Remember, my Aunt Mildred’s memoirs published in 1974, she writes:

“…the crops filled the granary and barns to overflowing. Papa called out from the granary [for me] to come to him. The two of us sat on the tongue of the lumber wagon, talking over the days of harvesting just completed, so grateful for the bountiful gifts of God.”

Mildred, or Aunt Mimi as we called her, had graduated from the Lutheran Normal School the spring before, intent on becoming a teacher. 

Lutheran Normal School, Madison, Minnesota

Her first choice was to attend St. Olaf College in Northfield, Minnesota, but the family simply couldn’t afford it. So plans had been put in place for her to attend Cedar Falls College in Iowa.

Sitting there in granary, Grandpa asked her if she would like to go to St. Olaf after all. “We can manage it with these crop returns.” Mildred was elated, The beginning of the school year was almost upon them, and before she knew what was happening, she was on a train for Northfield.

“In my pocket was a personal checking account with a $300.00 deposit which would see me through most of the first semester.”

Grandpa’s dream was beginning to come true.

My mother, Charlotte Pauline Hovick, was born a month later on October 9, 1925.

Charlotte Pauline Hovick

Mildred, now a freshman at St. Olaf, excitedly came home for Charlotte’s baptism. She wrote:

“Monday and the inevitable return to college came with shocking reality. I cried. I cried for hours. Papa took my bags in one hand and with his arm about me, escorted me from the car to the waiting bus, determined as ever to see his dream for my education fulfilled. I cried all the way home to Northfield, suffering the very worst spell of homesickness I ever experienced.”

“In June 1929, dressed in the traditional black graduation robe with the tassel switched to the other side of my cap and holding my sheepskin diploma in my hand, 

Mildred Hovick’s St. Olaf College Diploma

“I felt an arm around me. ‘Now aren’t you glad I made you get on that bus four years ago, Mim? It hurt me all these years to think of you and your tears, but I thought I knew what was best for you.’ I turned and hugged him and said, ‘Thank you, Papa. I’m so glad you did.’”

That winter, Charles and Pauline made the momentous decision to leave Madison and move the family to Northfield. The reasons were two-fold. Pauline suffered from pernicious anemia, and living and working on the farm was growing increasingly difficult for her. Secondly, this would be a major step forward in realizing their dream of giving their daughters a fine education. Living in Northfield would mean that they wouldn’t have to pay room and board, making an expensive St. Olaf education a bit more affordable. 

In February of 1926, they sold much of what they had. An auction was held on February 17, 1926 to sell what appears to be everything on the farm – livestock, machinery, and household goods. 

Chas. T. Hovick Farm Auction Notice Click to enlarge

With the downsizing completed, it was time to bid farewell to their dear family and friends and move the 180 miles to Northfield. They must have owned a car by this point, because Charles drove to Northfield loaded down with their remaining belongings, and Pauline, Signe (age 13), and Charlotte (6 months) soon followed on the train. They moved into a rented house at 652 St. Olaf Avenue, which would forever be known as “Charlotte’s Baby House.”

652 St. Olaf Avenue, Northfield, Minnesota Charlotte Hovick in buggy

Signe grew up to attend and graduate St. Olaf in 1934, and Charlotte attended St. Olaf in 1943-1944, before completing nurse’s training at Fairview Hospital School of Nursing in Minneapolis. Grandpa’s dream was fulfilled.

A few years later, as he lay dying of cancer in 1948, he told his girls, “I don’t leave you with an inheritance of money or property, but you have the best of all – an education, which has prepared you for life on your own.”

Richard & Charlotte: Engaged on the First Date!

1952-1953: The Year That Changed My Life

By Charlotte Lohman, 1993

After the death of my first husband Warren in 1952…

…and the birth of our son Chuck in 1952…

…nursing at Fairview Hospital, together with being a single parent, became my career.

Chuck and myself, along with another recent widow, Mona Hjortland and her son David, moved in together; and with the help of our babysitter, Grandma Turk, Mona and I were able to work. Our life together was good.

One Sunday in October, 1952, Mona and I decided to eat at the then-famous Hasty Tasty Café at 50th and France [two doors down from the Edina Cinema]. 

As we looked at the people enjoying their dinner, Mona spotted a man and his young daughter, whom she had previously met. 

This man, Dick Lohman, had very recently lost his wife from bulbar polio, leaving him alone with two sons, Paul, age two, Douglas, four, and his daughter Jeanne, six.

After finishing our meals, we went over to greet them. Our hearts ached for him, knowing what he must be going through. But after a pleasant visit, we went on our way.

It wasn’t long before Dick started to come to see us after he got his children to bed – just to talk and share his grief. We understood what he was going through. [He dubbed us the “Merry Widows.”] Sometimes another recent widow friend, Merlyn, would come and join us. They were good times for us all. My “playing Cupid” instincts were being aroused, so I would encourage Dick to take Merlyn home. He willingly did, but he always immediately returned to our home to continue to visit. Playing Cupid wasn’t working, so I dropped the thought!

Time passed and our get-togethers continued. Mona was soon engaged to a seminary student, and she decided that she now wanted to play Cupid with Dick and I. I said, “Nope, he’s too short for me!” My reaction to Mona was silly, but I had always been tall for my age. My Dad and first husband Warren were both 6’4”, so this was a new experience for me. (Before I go further, I want to say that I was less than ½“ taller than Dick. How silly! I later came to just wear low-heeled shoes. What a simple solution!) 

One evening in April, 1953, I was working the 3:00-11:00 pm shift at the hospital and the phone rang. It was none other than Dick asking me for a date to see the newly released film, Martin Luther. That sounded like fun, so I said yes.

By this time, I had not wanted to admit to myself or anyone else that I was starting to like Dick, not only as a friend, but some romantic feelings were creeping in, too. So I was excited about this date – my first since 1951 when Warren died. Mona was delighted – she had been right!

The fateful night arrived and off we went and had a wonderful time [first at the Uptown Theater…

 …and then a few doors down at the Rainbow Café.]

I must have been excited when I left home, because I left my keys and Mona wasn’t home to let us in. So Dick came to the rescue, got a window opened and in we went. We talked and talked about so many things, and he finally said, “Will you marry me?” Without hesitation, I knew that I was in love and said, “Yes.” It just felt so right. Our first date and now we were engaged. This was unbelievable. Nothing slow about us! 

We went to introduce Dick to my mother. She had heard about him being short. But as she opened the door and laid eyes on him, the first thing she said was, “You’re no shrimp!” They loved each other immediately.

On August 15, 1953, our family became a “Yours and Mine” family,

 and later, in 1955 and again in 1961, a

family when our two sons Jeffrey and David were born.

But really, it’s always simply been an “Ours” family.

This was forty years ago as I write this in 1993, and we still stand in awe of how blessed we have been by God.

Charlotte: Class Picnic