Conscription - Sepia Saturday 645

On horseback - Kviberg 1925

The Göta Artillery Regiment (Swedish: Göta artilleriregemente), designation A 2, was a Swedish Army artillery regiment that traced its origins back to the 17th century. From 1895, and until it was disbandoned in 1962, it was garrisoned at Kviberg in Gothenburg (Göteborg). And that's where my grandfather Gustaf did his compulsory military service in 1925, at age 21. 

Gustaf in  uniform, 1925

Kviberg 2006 - Photo from Wikimedia Commons

In the area today, you'll find housing, municipal offices, businesses and various association premises. Recently, a theme playground was added, inspired by the history of the place. A friend of mine visited it and posted some photos on Facebook. I asked her permission to show those here as well:

Kviberg, playground 2022 - Photo: G.C.

Kviberg, playground 2022 - Photo: G.C.

Kviberg, playground 2022 - Photos: G.C.

For my grandfather Gustaf in 1925, Kviberg seems to have been rather the opposite of an "amusement park", though. While I do not have any letters written by himself from his time there, I do have some written to him by Sally (my grandmother) and her brother Nils, which also reflect a bit of what Gustaf in turn wrote back to them.

In earlier posts I have shared my deduction that Nils and Gustaf were friends since childhood, having grown up in the same village. In 1925, Gustaf and Sally were also still just "friends". (She was four years older, and if deeper feelings had begun to develop, at least they were not yet pronounced). 

The first letter (following below) is from Nils, with a short PS from Sally added at the end; and obviously written not long after Gustaf had gone off to Kviberg. Nils, two years older than Gustaf, had his own military service behind him (1923, and I think in Borås).  (Correction will be added in the next post.)

Nils to the far right in the middle row.

Nils in a somewhat more elegant uniform

Military terminology is not my area of expertise (in any language!); but I hope my translation will convey the general idea, and the 'tone of voice'. (Further comments about the content, and people mentioned, will follow below the letter itself.)

Fristad, 22.3.1925

Dear Conscript 24331 Johansson  [---]

Thanks for your letter. So, you're already angry with the commanding officers. Way to go! Completely natural, and very expedient - especially if shown openly. Should make things sooo easy when you need to ask for leave of absence...

I gather from your letter that you appreciated the enlistment ceremonies. Getting a tunic that fit seems to have been particularly difficult. You know, when I read that, a poem by [our friend] Klas came to mind --- [quote referring to conscripts being given ill-fitting clothes]

Yesterday evening I went to the annual meeting of the Farmers' Association, to write a report [for the newspaper]. Then I went to visit Karl Nilsson  and he gave me a cigarillo, which I smoked. He accompanied me to the church, and asked me if I had heard from you. I said ”yes” - and then some more. After that I met Arvidsson. He asked the same question, and got the same answer.

No need to worry about T. [Gustaf's grandfather]. I was up there today, but he wasn't home. But I looked through the window, and saw that he'd made the bed, and everything seemed to be in order. When I see him, I'll pass on your greetings.

So you didn't get to be a signalist. I kind of suspected you wouldn't. Being a coachman should be better than serving the cannons, though – I think.

Not much to report from here. Life goes on as usual. Mum and Hildur  have gone to church. Kalle keeps nodding off, and Sally is snapping her fingers.  A typical peaceful Sunday. In a few minutes I'll be off to the annual meeting of  the cooperative association. Looking forward to the walk, as we're having beautiful spring weather. Tonight I'll be seeing Nilsson at the 7 o'clock train, to give him the report from the meeting. And on Wednesday we'll probably be going to visit Klas together. 

Sally wants to add a few lines, so I'll say bye for now.

Your friend, Nils

[PS written by Sally] 
Greetings to you from ”Mor Bengta”. Thanks for the greetings I was about to get in your letter to Nils. Actually, we thought it got so empty here after you left that we almost felt like shedding a few tears – well, by ”we”, I mean we three women... Welcome home for Easter!  "Bengtamora"

Comments:

"Dear Conscript 24331 Johansson" - The original letter starts with a long line of abbreviations that Nils calls a "puzzle", and asks Gustaf to work out the meaning himself. (If he can't, Nils will explain it in his next letter - which unfortunately, I don't have!) But the first few obviously refer to Gustaf's conscription number and surname. At the time, he was still using his father's surname, Johansson. (He changed to his mother's surname later.) 

Klas - Must refer to a local poet and historian, Klas Olofson, who was well known in the village where they lived. I don't think he ever reached national fame, but he was a great inspiration to Gustaf when it came to collecting stories and folklore from their own neighbourhood. Nils quotes only a few words from the poem by Klas that he's thinking of - something about the military jacket not made to fit a dromedary. Since I've never seen/heard the full poem, I confess I'm having trouble fitting the dromedary into a Swedish army context. But it obviously refers to the fact that conscripts have to make do with the clothes they're given, and can't be fussy.

The uniform jacket referred to??

Karl Nilsson - Another friend and mentor to my grandfather, working at the small newspaper in town, where Gustaf started out as a journalist. From this letter it seems that Nils also contributed freelance reports to the paper sometimes. Or maybe he was just helping out with that while Gustaf was away. (From what I know, after Nils got married and moved away from the farm, he worked as a bus driver and taxi driver. His oldest son became a journalist though.)

T. - Gustaf's grandfather, 70 years old in 1925, and a widower since 1922, was now living alone in the small 'croft' cottage on the grounds of a neighbouring farm. I have got the impression that he was also a periodic alcoholic. Whatever the main reason, Gustaf was obviously worried about him, and had asked his friends to keep an eye on him. 

Kalle (Carl) was Sally's and Nils' oldest half-brother (by their father); running the farm where they lived, and 55 years old in 1925. (As far as I know he never married. He died in 1928.) Hildur was Sally's and Nils' older half-sister by their mother. - 33 years old and still single in 1925. 

"Sally is snapping her fingers" - I don't know if this was a habit of hers; or if she was just impatient to take over the pen from Nils and add her PS to the letter!

"Mor Bengta" or "Bengtamora" =”Mother Bengta”. This seems to have been a private joke between Gustaf and Sally – a nickname he had given her, perhaps? The name Bengta doesn't ring a bell with me, so I don't know what or who it might refer to (a real person, or a fictional character). Sally does not seem to mind the nickname though, because she keeps signing herself so in a few more letters to come. (Perhaps she was acting "motherly" towards Gustaf sometimes?)

- - -

Linking to Sepia Saturday 645

(going with "groups" and "damaged photos")

SVENSKA

Brev från Nils (med PS av Sally); till Gustaf (på Kviberg) 

Fristad d. 22/3 1925

K. dr. vpl. 24331 J-n o. k. G. a. A2 K. G. ä. f. på 3. b. o. i. e. s-n. f. s.

Detta är en rebus. Kan du lösa den, så sänd mig lösningen i nästa brev! Varom icke, skall du sedan få reda på, vad den betyder.

Tack för brevet. Jaså, du har redan blivit lömsk på befälet. Rätt så, rätt så. Det är fullkomligt naturligt, och synnerligen ändamålsenligt att tillämpa i praktiken. Åtminstone visa det öppet. Det går så lätt att få permission se'n så –

Av ditt brev ser jag, att du tyckte stunden, då du fick ”lump”, var synnerligen högtidlig. Särskilt svårt var det visst att få en passande kollett. *

*livrock utan skört l. med korta sådana; sedan länge bl. mil.; numera bl. om dylikt plagg (med korta skört o. ståndkrage) tillhörande den dagliga dräkten vid artilleriet o. fortifikationen samt (för officerare o. underofficerare) vid vissa kavalleriregementen [SAOB]

Vet du,när jag läste det kom jag att tänka på Klas' ”Beväringens exercis”: ” --- Kronans helga jacka syddes --- ingalunda åt en dromedar” etc.

Igår kväll var jag och refererade Bondeförbundets årsmöte. Sedan var jag hos Karl Nilsson och fick en cigarr-cigarett. Jag rökade den. Nilsson följde mig till kyrkan och frågade om jag hört något från dig. ”Ja”, sa' ja'. Och sedan lite mer. Sedan träffade jag Arvidsson. Han frågade detsamma och fick samma svar.

Tulin skall du icke oroa dig för. Jag var däruppe i dag på fm, men träffade honom ej hemma. Såg genom fönstret, att sängen var uppbäddad och allt i ordning. När jag träffar honom skall han få hälsningar från dig. 

Du blev ej signalist. Jag nästan anade det. Men kusk är i alla fall bättre än vara med bland kanonservisen. Tror jag.

Härifrån är icke mycket att berätta. Allt går sin gilla gång, och mamma och Hildur hava gått till kyrkan. Kalle sover mellan han är vaken och Sally knäpper med fingrarna. Allt är söndagsfrid. Om några minuter skall jag gå till koop. fören. årsmöte.  Det skall bli härligt med en promenad, alldenstund vädret [är] vårgrannt. 

Ikväll skall jag träffa Nilsson vid 7-tåget. Han skall ha referatet från koop. mötet. På onsdag skall vi visst gå till Klas. Om det blir av.

Sally vill skriva några rader, därför ”Hej!” till nästa gång. 

Vännen Nils

PS (skrivet av Sally)

Hälsningar till dig från ”Mor Bengta”. Tack skall du ha för hälsningarna jag höll på att få i Nils' brev. Vet du, det blev så tomt efter dig här sedan du rest, tyckte vi, så det var nära vi togo till ”lipen” lite var – ja, jag menar vi tre fruntimmer. 

Välkommen hem till Påsk! D.S. ”Bengtamora”

Kommentarer:

Göta artilleriregemente (A 2) flyttade in på Kviberg 1895; och där gjorde min farfar Gustaf sin värnplikt år 1925 (21 år gammal). 

På platsen idag finns "kommunal förvaltning, bostäder, småföretag, föreningslokaler och annan verksamhet".  2022 invigdes också en tema-lekplats, vars utformning inspirerats av platsen historia. En vän till mig besökte denna nyligen, och har gett mig tillåtelse att använda hennes foton här.

För min farfar, 1925, tedde sig Kviberg dock knappast som någon ”nöjespark”, vilket framgår av brevet ovan, skrivet av hans vän Nils (bror till min farmor Sally, som också skrivit ett PS på slutet). (Sally och Gustaf var vid den här tidpunkten än så länge bara vänner.)

Nils var två år äldre än Gustaf och hade sin värnplikt avklarad (1923).

”Detta är en rebus” osv. Tyvärr har jag inte vare sig Gustafs svarsbrev eller Nils' nästa skrivelse, och det enda jag känner mig säker på är att ”vpl. 24331 J-n” måste stå för ”värnpliktige 24331 Johansson”, samt att A2 var artilleriregimentet på Kviberg. Gustaf använde vid den här tiden fortfarande sin fars efternamn, Johansson. Han bytte senare till moderns och morföräldrarnas efternamn, Thulin.

Klas – Klas Olofsson, en lokalt välkänd poet och historiker, författare till samlingsverket ”Folkliv och folkminne” (1928 + 1931). Jag tror inte han nådde nationell berömmelse men han var en stor inspirationskälla för min farfar Gustaf när det gällde att samla historier och sägner från trakten där de bodde. Klas' dikter har jag inte, och har aldrig läst.

Karl Nilsson – Också en vän och mentor till Gustaf. Han arbetade på tidningen Borås Nyheter, där Gustaf också började sin bana som journalist. 

Av detta brev framgår att även Nils ibland tydligen skrev notiser för tidningen (t.ex. från lokala årsmöten). Men kanske var detta bara tillfälligt, som ersättare för Gustaf? Vad jag vet, så arbetade Nils (efter sitt giftermål) som busschaufför och taxiförare. Hans äldste son blev dock journalist till yrket.

Tulin (Thulin) var Gustafs morfar. 1925 var han 70 år,  änkling sedan tre år, och bodde nu tydligen ensam i torpet (som löd under en granngård till Storegården). Jag har av andra anteckningar fått intrycket att han var periodisk alkoholist. Vad än huvudorsaken var, så oroade sig Gustaf tydligen för hur han klarade sig, och hade bett sina vänner på Storegården att hålla ett öga på honom.

Kalle (Carl) var Sallys och Nils äldre halvbror (från fadern Samuels första äktenskap). Han tog över skötseln av gården redan några år innan faderns död 1907. Så vitt jag vet gifte han sig aldrig. Han dog 1928. Hildur var Sallys och Nils äldre halvsyster från deras mors sida. 1925 var hon 33 år och fortfarande ogift hemmadotter. (Sally, Nils och Hildur gifte sig alla samma år - 1930.)

”Sally knäpper med fingrarna” - Jag vet inte om detta var en vana hon hade, eller om hon bara just då var otålig att få ta över pennan, och lägga till sitt PS till brevet!

"Mor Bengta" / "Bengtamora" – Detta verkar vara ett privat skämt mellan Gustaf och Sally – ett smeknamn han gett henne, kanske? Namnet Bengta säger mig ingenting, så jag vet inte vad eller vem det syftar på. Sally tycks dock inte ha något emot det, för hon fortsätter att använda det även i kommande brev till Gustaf under 1925. Kanske uppträdde hon ”moderligt” mot honom ibland? (Hon var fyra år äldre, och när de var yngre måste åldersskillanden ha känts större.)

'On the Bummel', Part 2 - Sepia Saturday 644

Gustaf - mid/late 1920s

Continued from my post last week: 

 'Two Men on the Bummel' - Sepia Saturday 643

Norra Björke, Sunday Morning

Darling!

We are now at Norra Björke, with your friend Anna E, where we're very comfortable. We have just got out of bed. I'm dressed and ready to go. Nils is washing himself in a big basin to get rid of yesterday's dust from the roads. In the night, we were nearly drowning. No, don't worry - I don't mean that in the literal sense! What we were 'drowning' in was soft pillows and featherbeds! 

We arrived here last night around 6 pm. We had then cycled almost 100 km without feeling overly tired. We had nice weather all day. After having asked for Anna at a number of farms (whose female inhabitants gazed at us with eyes big as plates from pure astonishment), we finally found the right one. (The thing is, Vitlered turned out to be a whole village, consisting of seven farms.)

We first met the son, a timid young man with a beard. He was driving a load of peat. Next, we made the acquaintance of a couple of sisters – younger – of Anna's. They were strange creatures. With one of them we had to greet her twice (each), before she understood the meaning of lifting a hat.  

The next acquaintance was the lord of the manor. He was a jovial man of around 65, from Bohuslän. [B. is a province on the west coast of Sweden; and they may have guessed his origin from his dialect.] 

The mistress of the house – who Nils had claimed to be dead – had gone to Trollhättan for some kind of family reunion. Anna herself had gone to put flowers on the graveyard nearby. However, we were generously offered to have a look around (as if special permission would be needed for that). So we did. A bit later, our saviour Anna arrived. She was the nicest in the family - a bit squint eyed, but kind.

We had supper, and after that it was almost 8:30 pm. Nonetheless, we went climbing up steep hills and dark passages to the top of the mountain Hunneberg, together with Anna and one of the other girls. The view was spectacular, in spite of the falling dusk. After that, we had coffee; and then it was time for bed.

Hunneberg (a 'table mountain', 155 m / 508 ft high)
Photo from Wikimedia Commons

Hunneberg is one of two table mountains in that area (close to Lake Vänern); separated by a valley about 500 m wide (1600 feet). The other mountain is called Halleberg. Together they form a protected nature conservation area.

Today we're leaving after breakfast, heading for Vänersborg, and then (if the weather allows) on to Lidköping in the afternoon – around 50 km. It's looking cloudy today though, so hard to tell. But we'll be going as far as Vänersborg anyway.

Where we'll be spending the next night we don't know yet, but it probably won't be in a bed as comfortable as last night. But we're glad that the weather has been good so far. The nature up here is wonderful, you know.

Speaking of Anna, before we leave I'll take a photo of her and the rest of the family, so that you get to see their home. I was thinking yesterday, that this might be of interest to you.

About an hour later: 
We're now in the vicinity of Vänersborg. It started raining, so we sought shelter in a carriage shed. As soon as possible, we'll continue into town, where we'll stay until the weather improves. I'm sitting here meditating whilst listening to the monotonous sound of rain dripping from the eaves. I'm thinking of you at home, and wondering how you are. It seems like a long time since I last saw you, and yet it's only been two days. [---]

Now I've been writing two sheets at a speed that probably makes it hard for you to read my sloppy handwriting! Lots of greetings from both of us, to all of you! All my best wishes! And I can't wait to get to Falköping and receive your letter!

Yours, Gustaf

[ Alas, if there were any more letters written from this bicycle trip, they were not preserved. I know they arrived safely back home again, though - or else I would not be here to share the story! ;-) ]

This photo of Gustaf I'm pretty sure was not taken on this trip, but closer to home. Gustaf's and Nils' bicycle adventure took place in the same province in Sweden, though - Västergötland - and the agricultural landscape was and is rather typical for the whole area.  

(The original photo is of course black-and-white, but I played around a bit with colour filters to try and create a "sunny" vs "twilight" feeling.)

I haven't found any photos in the albums that seem to be from the bicycle trip.

Sally at home, waiting for letters...
(Farm house in the background)

 

Linking to Sepia Saturday 644

SVENSKA

Fortsättning från föregående inlägg
('Two Men on the Bummel' - Sepia Saturday 643)

Norra Björke, söndag morgon

Älskling!

Som du av ovanstående datering ser, befinner vi oss nu i Norra Björke hos din väninna Anna E. Här ha vi – enligt din utsago – haft det finfint. Vi ha nyss stigit upp. Jag är färdig. Nils håller just på att skölja landsvägsdammet av sig i ett – dess bättre – stort handfat. Vi höllo i natt på att drunkna. Tro nu för all del inte, att jag menar ”drunkna” i bokstavlig mening. Vi ”drunknade” nämligen i kuddar och mjuka bolstrar. 

Klockan var ung. 6 när vi  i går kväll anlände hit. Vi hade då kört nära 10 mil utan att vara vidare trötta. Vackert väder hade vi hela dagen. Efter att ha frågat efter Anna i några gårdar, vars kvinnliga invånare vid denna fråga fingo ögon stora som tallrikar av pur förvåning, träffade vi på rätt gård. (Det finns nämligen en hel by med 7 gårdar med namet Vitlered.) 

Vi träffade sonen i huset, en försagd liten ung man med skäggväxt. Han körde torv. Därpå gjorde vi oss bekanta med ett par systrar – yngre – till Anna. De voro ena besynnerliga varelser. På den ena av dem tvingades vi hälsa ej mindre än 2 gånger vardera, innan hon förstod vad betydlse som låg i hattens avtagande. Nästa bekantskap var husets herre. Det var en fryntlig gubbe på ca 65 år, bohuslänning till börden. Mor i huset – som Nils sade var död – hade rest till Trollhättan på något slags släktmöte. Anna själv var med blommor på den närbelägna kyrkogården. Nå, vi blevo generöst bjudna att få gå och se oss omkring (som om det skulle tarvas särskild tillåtelse till det), och det gjorde vi. Efter en stund anlände frälsaren Anna. Hon var den trevligaste av familjen E. Fast hon såg en smula i november. Snäll såg hon emellertid ut. 

Så fingo vi kvällsmat. När denna väl var inmundigad var kl nästan halv 9. Men icke förty klättrade vi uppför branta stup genom mörka gångar upp till toppen av Hunneberg. Anna och en av de andra flickorna voro med. Det var oerhört mödosamt, men flickorna klättrade som stengetter. Utsikten var storslagen, trots den inträdande skymningen. Så fingo vi kaffe vid hemkomsten, och så blev det ”läggning” av. 

Idag äta vi frukost och så åka vi till Vänersborg, därifrån vi såvida vädret tillåter, på em fortsätter till Lidköping, ca 5 mil. Det ser dock mulet ut, så man vet ej. Vi resa i alla händelsre till Vbg. 

Var vi nästa natt övernattar är ej gott att veta, men troligen blir det väl inte i så komfortabel säng som i natt. Men det är skönt, att vädret är så vackert. Naturen här uppe är härlig, må du tro lilla du. 

Apropå Anna, så skall jag, innan vi resa, ta ett kort på henne och de övriga, så du får se hennes hem. Jag tänkte igår på, att detta skulle intressera dig. 

Något över en timma senare:

Vi befinner oss strax i närheten av Vänersborg. Det har börjat regna, varför vi sökt skydd i en vagnsbod. Så fort sig göra låter, fortsätta vi till staden, där vi stanna tills bättre väderförhållanden inträtt. Jag sitter och mediterar under det jag lyss till takdroppets monotona plaskande. Jag tänker på dig därhemma och undrar hur du har det. Jag tycker det är länge sedan jag såg dig sist, och dock är det blott 2 da'r sedan. [---]

Nu har jag skrivit 2 ark i en fart, som gör att du borde få svårt att läsa den slarviga stilen. Hälsningar i mängd från oss båda till dig och Er alla. Lev väl! Jag väntar på Falköping och ditt brev! 

Din Gustaf

'Two Men on the Bummel' - Sepia Saturday 643

Below is photo showing two letters from Gustaf to Sally (my grandparents). It's summer, and he is off on a holiday bicycle trip with Sally's brother Nils for a few days. The year is unknown, but it's clearly after Gustaf and Sally started 'dating'. So 1926 at the earliest (cf my previous post). 

If anyone is wondering about the title I chose for this post, I borrowed that from Jerome K. Jerome's humorous classic Three Men on the Bummel (1900; sequel to his more famous Three Men in a Boat); in which J. and his friends George and Harris go on a bicycle tour in the Black Forest in Germany.

My paperback copy of the book

Bummel is a German word --- The first American edition, published by Dodd Mead in 1900, was entitled Three Men on Wheels.   One of the characters in the book asks, "how would you translate [bummel]," to which the narrator replies ---

"A 'Bummel'," I explained, "I should describe as a journey, long or short, without an end; the only thing regulating it being the necessity of getting back within a given time to the point from which one started. Sometimes it is through busy streets, and sometimes through the fields and lanes; sometimes we can be spared for a few hours, and sometimes for a few days. But long or short, but here or there, our thoughts are ever on the running of the sand. We nod and smile to many as we pass; with some we stop and talk awhile; and with a few we walk a little way. We have been much interested, and often a little tired. But on the whole we have had a pleasant time, and are sorry when it's over." (Wikipedia)

I can't recall ever having seen a photo of neither Gustaf nor Nils with a bicycle; so I was actually quite surprised when reading these letters, proving that they were obviously capable of quite long daytrips on bicycle, without ending up overly exhausted.

Repeating a photo from a previous post just to remind you what they looked like: 

Gustaf & Nils, 1922

The first letter:

Vårgårda, Saturday 10.30 am 

Darling Sally,

We have reached Vårgårda. The road sign says 33 km [20 miles] which means we have covered about a third of the first leg of our trip. The sun is shining from an almost clear sky. The roads are perfect, no hills to speak of. It feels like the bike is rolling by itself. The nature is lovely, with farms surrounded by fields. The oats already being harvested in some places are short and not looking too good, though. The air is warm and brings a fragrance of heather from the banks along the road. 

With that I have summed up the landscape and the weather in a few lines. So what about ourselves? As for me, I've just about got warmed up, as they say. Nils, on the other hand, was sweating profusely until we reached Tämta. [~ 10 km / 6 miles from where they started]  Then he began to cool off a bit. Now he's all right.    

You asked me to write something amusing, to liven up. You must forgive me if this first letter is somewhat prosaic – I'm afraid there hasn't been all that much amusement so far. Oh, wait. Just before Vårgårda we met a girl with long braids. Nils, always keen to talk to a pretty girl, called out to her in his loudest voice. The girl, who was cycling, jumped off her bike, quite perplexed by being addressed by two dusty ruffians. ”Do you know how far it is to Vårgårda? How is the road? How does one get to Vänersborg from there?” The girl was blushing from the crossfire of questions and had to admit that she didn't really know. ”How far is it to Vårgårda?” he asked again. ”The road is good,” she answered. ”I didn't ask about the condition of the road, but how far it is!” And so it went on for a while.

Then we met an old woman carrying an unmentionable vessel in her hand, which she tried to hide behind her clean apron. She didn't know anything either, and what she might once have known, she had  forgotten. 

Well, we continued past Tånga, where soldiers were loitering about. 

Vårgårda, Fältläger på Tånga hed 
(military camp on Tånga moor) 
(Friday, 21 August1925, 3:50 pm)
Kalmar Läns Museum - digitaltmuseum.se

Then we arrived in Vårgårda, and found a café that looked nice from outside. So we went in. But the interior turned out not to quite match the exterior. Black tables, black chairs, black ceiling, and an advertising sign for Pommac* was what met us.
*[a carbonated soft apple drink, introduced in 1919] 

The waitress was a toothless beauty around 60 years old, with hungry eyes. The coffee was weak, and so was the cream. The only good thing about the place was that it gave me an opportunity to write this letter to you! I will post it at the railway station here, as there is no telling when we'll arrive at the next one. But if able to continue as we've started, without encountering too many hills, we should be able to make 100-120 km per day. [62-74 miles]

I won't write more now. Nils is sitting with his watch in his hand, and muttering: ”It's absolutely crazy to write several pages, when you've only been gone for two hours!” However, he condescends to sending a greeting. Please tell your mother that he's happy and ”living life alive”. Nothing bad has befallen us. We're like fish in the sea. The only thing I'm missing is you! 

A thousand kisses (you can't deny me that, can you?)
More later. 
Yours, Gustaf

Both letters are written with pencil on by now yellowed paper, and in haste, making some parts not all easy to decipher. But I hope my interpretation and translation does the 'spirit' of them justice.  (I left out one or two extra sentences of endearments that I suspect Sally herself would have skipped when reading the rest alound to her mother and sister, though!)  [I plan to post Part 2 next week.]

---

Incidentally, in the Swedish Wikipedia article about Vårgårda, there is this photo of a statue celebrating the Fåglum brothers from Vårgårda; four cycling brothers who were famous in the 1960s.

Photo: Bengt Oberger - https://commons.wikimedia.org

Linking to Sepia Saturday 643

Gustaf and Nils weren't anywhere near the seaside
on this trip; but I'm going with holidays, wheels,
and need to stop for some refreshment! 

SVENSKA

Det första av två brev skrivna av Gustaf till Sally (mina farföräldrar) på en cykeltur han gjorde en sommar tillsammans med hennes bror Nils. Året är inte angivet, men uppenbarligen efter att de två blivit ett "par" - så tidigast 1926 (jmf tidigare inlägg). Men troligen före deras förlovning (1929).

Svensk titel på detta inlägg skulle vara "Två män på velociped" - kopierat från Jerome K. Jeromes bok "Tre män på velociped", från år 1900 (uppföljare till hans kanske mer kända "Tre män i en båt").

Vårgårda, lördag kl 10.30 fm

Älskade Sally!

Vi befinner oss i Vårgårda. Vägvisaren visar 3,3 mil, alltså ha vi tillryggalagt en dryg tredjedel av dagsetappen. Solen strålar från så gott som molnfri himmel. Vägarna äro idealiska, utan nämnvärda backar. Det känns som om cykeln ginge av sig själv. Naturen är fager. Böljande sädesfält omgärda välbyggda bondgårdar. Havren, som på några ställen börjat skördas, är dock kort och dålig. Ljungen doftar utefter vägkanterna. Luften är ljum och balsamisk.

Sådär! Nu har jag beskrivit bygden och vädret på några få rader, nu kommer turen till oss själva. Jag själv är nätt och jämt varm i kläderna, som det heter. Nils var svettig så det dröp av honom – åtminstone från överkroppen – tills vi hunnit till Tämta, då han började svalna något. Nu är han all right. 

Du bad mig skriva något roligt, något som kunde liva. Du får förlåta mig om detta mitt första brev blir något torrt, men saken är den att det roliga varit tämligen tunnsått än. Ja, vänta. Strax vid Vårgårda mötte vi en tös, troligen med långa flätor. Nils, som alltid varit svag för det täcka könet, ropade till henne med sin kraftigaste ton. Flickan, som cyklade, hoppade plums ned mellan tramporna, alldeles perplex av tilltalet och åsynen av tvenne dammiga karlslokar. ”Vet ni hur långt det är till Vårgårda? Hurudan är vägen? Hur skall man åka för att komma till Vänersborg?” Flickan rodnade inför korselden av frågor och måste tillstå att hon ej visste så värst mycke av det Nils frågade efter. ”Hur långt är det till Vårgårda?” sporde han. ”Det är fin väg,” löd svaret. ”Jag frågade inte hur vägen var, utan hur lång!” - Så fortgick det en stund. 

Så kom en gumma med ett onämnbart kärl i handen som hon pietetsfullt sökte dölja bakom det rena förklädet. Hon visste heller ingenting, och vad hon eventuellt en gång vetat, hade hon glömt av. Nåja, vi fortsatte förbi Tånga, där [soldaterna] gingo och drogo benen efter sig. Så anlände vi till Vårgårda och hittade ett kafé, som tog sig tämligen bra ut utvändigt. Vi trädde in. Men interiören är helt annan än exteriören. Svarta bord och stolar, svart tak, en skylt med orden ”Drick Pommac, serveras här” i förgrunden. Servitrisen var en tandlös skönhet på 60 vårar, med hungriga ögon.Kaffet var svagt och grädden dito, tvi då. Det enda som var bra var att jag fick tillfälle skriva brev. Jag lämnar det här på järnvägsstationen, när vi befinner oss vid nästa station veta vi ju ej. Med den goda fart vi hittills ha nått orka vi utan motlut[?] en tio à 12 milper dag. 

Skriver icke mer nu. Nils sitter med klockan i handen och muttrar: ”Det är för galet skriva flera [sidor] och efter att endast ha varit borta 2 tim.” Han ”nedlåter” sig dock att be om sin hälsning. Hälsa din mor att han är glad och ”lever livet levande”. Oss vederfares inget ont. Vi befinner oss som fiskar i vattnet. Det enda jag längtar efter är dig. ---
Tusen kyssar! Det kan du inte neka mig, eller hur?
Vidare framdeles.

Din Gustaf

From Cobbler to Journalist - Sepia Saturday 642

In the two previous posts I introduced my p. grandfather Gustaf, and a bit about the circumstances in which he grew up: brought up mainly by his grandparents, living in a small 'croft' cottage, while his mother had to be admitted to a mental hospital.  

From Gustaf's 'teenage' years (a concept not really invented yet when he was in them) I have no stories put down in writing, neither by himself, nor by my dad. Also no photos of him between the one of him in the village football team (at perhaps 12 or so) and until he's around 18. (Cf. the post Old Friends.) 

In my head, there are still some things from Gustaf's adolescence that I know by hearsay, though. So in this post I'll try to fill in some of that.

Back in the beginning of the 20th century, children in Sweden usually started school the year they turned 7; which for Gustaf would have meant 1911. Living in a small village, it's unlikely that he got more than the basic six years in folkskola - from which he then would have graduated in 1917, at age 13. According to Swedish Wikipedia it wasn't until 1918 that another two years of school became mandatory. Before 1918, students who wanted to go on to higher education (or, whose parents wanted them to...) would have had to go into town for that. And I doubt Gustaf's grandparents were in a position to afford that. 

Instead (although I'm not sure of the year), Gustaf was taken on as apprentice by a shoemaker in the village. In a memorial article in an annual publication by the local history society in his village, written in 2004 (100 years after Gustaf was born), by a former journalist colleague of Gustaf's, I found the shoemaker's name: Ernst Karlsson. And having the name, I now also found a photo of Ernst in his old age, published in the same annual magazine in 1980. (The society seems to have caught up with scanning and making all their old publications availabe online now.)

The Swedish text under the photo says (1980): "Shoemaker Ernst Karlsson has been mending shoes for nearly 75 years, but has now given up his trade. He was only 11 years old when he started." 

Applying some math: If Ernst gave up his trade in 1980, after 75 years, he must have started as an apprentice himself in 1905. And if he was 11 years old in 1905, that in turn means he was only ten years older than my grandfather (who was born 1904). And if my grandfather was (perhaps) 13 when he started out as a shoemaker's apprentice - Ernst was still a young man himself then, only 23! 

That boggles my mind a bit, as I've somehow always imagined that it was a much older man who took Gustaf on as apprentice! 

From what I recall being told by my dad (who of course in turn could only rely on stories he'd been told), Gustaf also lodged with the shoemaker in the village for a while in his youth. I'm  thinking perhaps after his grandmother died. She passed away in September 1922. By then Gustaf was 18, and I think he had been relying more on his grandmother than on his grandfather while growing up. (My impression from various bits and pieces of family history is that the grandfather was a periodic alcoholist.)  

Gustaf's ambitions in life went beyond being a cobbler, though. He wanted to be a journalist, and worked his way towards this goal by freelancing, writing short pieces for the local newspapers in town about events in the village and countryside. I seem to recall having heard that he also learned stenography by taking a correpondence course. Later on (not sure when), he got a typewriter, and a camera, so that he could provide photos with his texts. (In my own childhood, in the 1950s/60s, he also had a "portable" tape recorder - the kind with two reels, the size of a small suitcase! - which he brought with him to record interviews.) 

According to the 2004 memorial article, it was "in the mid 1920s" that Gustaf gave up his job as cobbler, and started working full time as a journalist at a small newspaper in town (Borås), run by a friend of his. 

From photo albums and letters, I know that in 1925 (the year he turned 21), he was doing mandatory military service in Gothenburg; so I'm guessing that it was after he came back from there, that he took more serious steps towards changing his career.

"On horseback - Kviberg 1925"

(I think Gustaf is probably No 3 on horseback from the left - or else No 5.)

Just recently, I've been going through some letters exchanged between Gustaf and Sally (my grandmother) between 1925-30. The first lot were written to him by Sally while he was away in military service. I don't have any of Gustaf's letters written back to her from there; but from Sally's letters I conclude that in 1925, the two of them were just friends, not yet dating. (She was 25; he turned 21 that summer, and had been friends with her younger brother Nils since childhood.) Before his conscription, Gustaf had been a frequent guest at the farm, looking in there quite regularly. Now, being away at military service, he seems to have felt rather lonely and miserable at times. Sally and Nils both wrote to him to cheer him up, assuring him that he was missed by the whole family. And when he was back in the village on leave for major holidays, he seems to have spent time with them.

Then there are two letters from S to G, that unfortunately (for me) lack dates; and one from him to her also without date; followed by another very long and very unhappy missive from him to her dated Whit Monday1926. Other related pieces of communication between them around that time are either missing, or were dealt with face-to-face. But from those letters that have been preserved, I draw the conclusion that it was not long before Easter 1926, that Gustaf declared himself in love with Sally - but rather took her by surprise, and did not immediately get the response he'd been hoping for. 

Exactly how long it then took them to sort things out between them, I don't know. Days? Weeks? Months? Even longer? What I do know is that before September 1928, he had succeeded in winning her over. This I know because of the photo below - which includes Sally's oldest brother, Carl, who died in September 1928. (So the photo has to be from before then!)

Sally's older half-brothers, Carl and Gustav; 
Selma, mother of Hildur, Sally and Nils; 
Hildur and her future husband, Olle; and Sally with Gustaf sitting on her lap!

A note under the same photo in my grandfather's album says: "From my room at Storegården."

... which means that when this photo was taken, Gustaf was also living (boarding) with the family at the farm. What I don't know is if he moved in with them before or after he and Sally started "dating". From the letters written by Sally in 1925, it seems clear that before he went off to military service he was not living with them; only visiting quite often. A theory that seems likely is that it was after having finsished his military service that he took more serious steps to change his career from mending shoes to becoming a proper journalist; and that it was in this context that the family on the farm offered him a room there. 

I think this photo of Gustaf is also from his room at the farm.

If he had already moved in with them when he declared his feelings for Sally, and she turned out not to be quite ready for that... That must have made things double awkward for a while, though! But as I have no dates, I can only speculate. 

Anyway, there are no more letters between them (preserved), until they were on "darling" terms with each other ;-) . There are two without date, written by Gustaf on a bicycle tour together with Nils. (I've not read those in full yet, as they're somewhat hard to decipher.)  And then some from Sally to Gustaf, from 1929-30,  the year between their engagement and their wedding, when it seems Gustaf was living in town (Borås), at least during the weeks. My guess is that he sometimes had to work evenings at the newspaper; which would have made it difficult to commute back and forth. 

The house they built in 1930, and moved into after the wedding, was situated close to a railway stop, though; which made it possible for Gustaf to commute into town by train for many years to come.

The relationship issues aside, I'm finding the letters from Sally to Gustaf quite informative as to what daily life on the farm was like in those years. She was a good writer herself, and had a nice clear handwriting (easier to read than Gustaf's). I may come back with some translated quotes in future posts, trying to link them to photos. 

 

Linking to Sepia Saturday 642

Building bridges, crossing rivers, making plans...

All useful methaphors when it comes to relationships as well!