STARTING SPARTA, POST #6

Sparta Thursday 7-21-11 This installment finds us (me) in sunny Sparta, Wisconsin.  I had spent Wednesday night in Spring Valley, Minnesota because that was the home of the Edwards family who married into the Breton family with Arthur’s marriage to Edith Breton, the eldest child of John Walter Breton.  It’s a pretty, little, wide space in the road with green lawns, pretty homes and not much else.  There may be more and I may be hearing from the Chamber of Commerce but I really didn’t spend much time looking around.  After another meal of locally grown produce, frosted corn flakes, I lit out.  It was my goal to get to Sparta early enough to set up camp and then begin hitting the research possibilities.  On the way there I took the scenic drive from Spring Valley to LaCrosse and it WAS scenic. Beautiful hills, bluffs, and the Root River meant campsites and pristine woodlands.  After a nice long phone conversation at the side of the road with Karen I crossed the Mississippi around 7:30 am and headed ‘On (to) Wisconsin.“  The Leon Valley Campground was my spot, actually 26A was my spot, but I loved it because I could pull right through it with no backing necessary, it had trees on both sides, a picnic table and nobody on either side.  I learned that before I before I unhook the trailer from the truck and put the trailer up on its jacks I should pull out the cord and hose from the trailer to see if they reach the electrical plug-in and spigot.   It won’t happen again, I assure you. Sparta is where the John Bretons came after leaving Milwaukee in 1871.  It was in this “western” town that John Walter’s father and mother became entrepreneurs, operating their own commercial laundry for the Milwaukee and St. Paul Railroad.  J.W. and his siblings attended school here, made friends here, and J.W. found two wives here.  The family was here for only four years before the lure of land in the Dakota Territory and J.W.’s job in Huron took them west.  There might not be much documentation of their presence here since they were here for such a short time, but since I was going through, I had to see what I could stir up.  My first stop was the Free Library where I perused some old newspaper microfilm and copied an ad for the Newbury-Ward Iron works.  Since I had no birth or deaths to look for that only left marriages and family records indicate that John Walter married Lizzie Sawyer in Huron.  In fact, they were married by Abram Thompson, John Walter’s sister’s (Maggie’s) husband.  I searched the papers shortly after the wedding date and no mention.  At that time records did not have to be filed, and I couldn’t find it in the county’s Marriage Record books either.  Good thing I have the other resources to help tell the story.  Next I trudged over to the History Center that is in the grand old Masonic Building.  There will be a picture in the blog.  Upstairs is the Deke Slayton Space and Bicycle Museum but my interest was to see what they had that would help further my efforts.  Here I worked with several volunteers since the Coordinator was out of town on a mission to procure new computerized microfilm readers.  I worked with one of them in Huron and they are brighter and easier to work.  Mostly we struck out in the areas we explored there.  I took my frustrations upstairs and was pleased to see the collection of bicycles and space gear donated by Slayton. They also had a ¼ scale model of the Wright Brothers Flyer that some of the local airplane aficionados had built. Using similar materials such as linen and wood, it was very authentic and a joy to see up close.  I went back downstairs and asked about property records.  I was directed to the majestic courthouse (blog worthy picture) and was surprised to see that I had to go through a security check like at the airport.  Once in, I found that the Register of Deeds office was in a modern building catty-corner to the courthouse.  Off I went and found myself again lifting heavy, big ledgers of Grantee and Grantor records.  It’s an experience handling these old leather, some suede, books, seeing the fountain pen writing, noticing the different handwriting of the various clerks and knowing that it was the technology and organization of the day.  I found both residential and rural properties for both the Bretons and Wards.   Susan, the clerk there, took it upon herself to photocopy a present day map and highlight a route out to see the rural property for me.  Again, the kindness.  After closing time I returned to the campground and erected the awning for the first time in the wild.  It went well and I welcomed the shade.  It wasn’t as hot as the previous week, but. Nonetheless I closed out the evening with a swim in the pool.  As I was bobbing about, I heard some kids come running up who thought that one of their own was in the water without them.  I heard one say, “Is that Jerry?”  “Naw,” one of them said, ”It’s just some old guy.”  Well, I started grinning from ear-to-ear.  I really hadn’t ever thought of myself with those descriptors, but…I suppose they were right.  Is that what they call a “Wake-up call”?  So I continued to bask in the cool and looked forward to the days when I’ll soon enjoy the warm waters for my soon-to-be arthritis. It was so cool that I cooked dinner in the trailer.  A delightful Hamburger Helper with sausage. There was plenty left so into the ice box it went.  Wal-mart had block ice so I made a daily trip there.  That was my first day in Huron and the next days looked promising.

MORE ON HURON POST #5

Huron, South Dakota

July 21- 24

I began last week in Huron, South Dakota or as our Iowa friends say “ So’dakota.”  This was the town that began in 1880 and in 1882 the Chicago and North Western Railroad made it that far west and with it came telegraph operator, John Walter Breton.  It was there that he married his sweetheart, Lizzie Sawyer and produced two children before her death at the age of 26 in 1887.   At some point John and Marguerite followed them.  John Walter’s parents. From 1882 too 1894? The two families walked the same streets, lived in the same house I saw and made sad trips to Riverside Cemetery, Block 1, Lot 91, Grave 1 like I did

As I travel I note that many towns justifiably celebrate their native sons and daughters. Huron is the town where a U.S. Vice-President was raised.  Yep, Hubert Humphrey’s family had a general store here on the main street, Dakota Avenue.  Humphrey family members are still there and still run the little store.  Mitchell, S.D. is where the George and Eleanor McGovern Library and Center is on the campus of Dakota Wesleyan University.  The Center serves to prepare students for public service, reminding me that Bill Clinton’s school in Little Rock was not as innovative as I had thought.  The campus also houses the Midwest United Methodist Conference Headquarters, which is why I came to investigate the preacher husband of Maggie Breton Thompson.  Now in Sparta, it’s Deke Slayton, the astronaut.  He was one of the original Mercury Seven and later flew the Space Shuttle as well.  So traveling around is enlightening in ways I hadn’t anticipated.  It’s a treat.  If Huron is the State Fair town, then I should also point out that Sparta bills itself as the “Bicycle Capitol of America.”  After touring the Deke Slayton Memorial Space and Bicycle Museum I inquired about why they adopted the bicycle title and was told that Sparta was the first community to convert unused railroad tracks into bicycle trails.  The literature reports that there is over 30 miles of trails through scenic countryside with three long tunnels (one is a mile long!) for cheap thrills.  I added that last part after my shower experiences in Huron.  So, I look forward to enjoying what Milwaukee brags about …“The beer that made Milwaukee famous.”  On, on! 

So, last week. 
After a wonderful sleep in the motel l was refreshed and embarked on another stage of the research.  After making the discoveries I did, my task this week would be to follow-up, document, and organize my findings.  I wanted to gather supporting materials, make sure I had my sources correctly noted, explore some lesser points of interest, elaborate on some of the more interesting gains, and thank those who had helped.  My goal with this last endeavor was to leave a positive recollection of my visit because I may need to contact and ask for the assistance of these same people again.    

I returned to the Dakotland Museum, photographed their telegraph key mechanism and a few other items of interest.  I tried another office at the Courthouse, the Auditor’s office where I traced the taxes paid on the properties owned by family members.  This helped confirm property ownership and time periods.  A return trip to the library with the laptop allowed me to use Ancestry’s Search function and since the Huron papers have been digitized, the computer will search them for any name you specify.  In this way I found many of the little events that flesh out the people.  That night I returned to the motel and watched American Pickers and the tail end of RV Crazy, a Discovery channel special that I’d seen before but thought it timely to watch again before I meet the looneys at the vintage trailer rally in South Bend on the 28^th. 

The next day I went to the Huron City Hall because J.W. had reported that he was an Alderman from 1887 to 1889.  I thought that they might have old minutes of meetings that he participated in, but alas they didn’t go that far back.  However, their listing of City Government people did and I learned that he only served one term (1892), not the two he reported in his memoirs. 

On Monday workers had blocked off the entrance to the fairgrounds because of the upcoming 4H Rodeo and Exhibition.  Tuesday, being curious, I entered the arena where little kids were competing in the Western Showmanship event.  Little kids and big horses made for a unique insight into the 4H world.  It was fun to see the parents/grandparents coaching the kids, just like in baseball or soccer.  I was the only one in sandals, everyone else wisely wearing boots since the horses show no discipline in were they relieve themselves.  “Watch your step” became a real coda for me as ambled around. 

The group I saw had to walk their horse to a standstill, then stand on the left (“Keep your feet facing the horse,” soto voiced a parent), wait for the judge to call them forward, then lead the horse forward, wait while the judge judged, turn the horse around and then trot him/her back to the starting point and then stand beside the OTHER side of the horse.  There was obviously more to it than I could see, but it was educational to see the age groups and the escalation of skills that were being appraised.  These kids weren’t even ON the horse, but looked forward to the days that they could compete in the older events.  There were Western and English saddle events so a really broad spectrum of skills was tested. 

My favorite was a little girl with the requisite blue Wrangler jeans, white western blouse, white cowboy (should I be saying cowperson?) hat, and pink cowboy boots being coached from outside the ring and photographed by her Grandpa.   She got a red ribbon, but Grandpa said she’d not be happy with that, purple was for the Grand Champion, and that was her goal.  Like the Women’s World Cup, there’s always an upcoming event to aspire to. 

I hung around some more, but did I mention the heat?  You can imagine the “atmosphere” in the arena.  On the way out I saw the older kids washing and cooling their horses on a cement area.  I returned to the library and did some writing about the first days.  In mid-afternoon I headed back to La Hacienda and had a quiet meal to myself.  This time I challenged them for a chimichanga plate and more of the dip.  In fact I got almost a soup bowl’s worth. So I ended up taking half the chimi and half the dip home to the motel refrigerator. This mid-afternoon dining was a new technique for me, but I ate at the motel breakfast area, then nothing for lunch or dinner, but had the main meal in mid-afternoon.  I like it!   Later that evening I walked over to (Sheryl’s suggestion) the Sun’n’Suds Laundromat.  Why the Sun part? It’s also a tanning salon so you can lighten your wash and darken your skin at the same time.  I wonder if they channel some of the dryer heat into the booths?

I pulled out early the next morning, July 20^th headed for Spring Valley Minnesota, but stopped in Mitchell to check out the Methodist records.  A call to the Archivist  Laurie Langford, the day before rewarded me with several open documents in precise reference to my inquiries of the day before. Not only did she help me, but I helped her by allowing her to photocopy a portrait of Abram Thompson and the records that I had for him as well.  The conference has an ongoing project to have photos of the founding members of the regional conference and he was one that they were missing.  It was a wonderful exchange of resources because, as Sheryl had suggested, there might be mention of Maggie’s death in the church records since Abram was a preacher.  Indeed there was, Laurie had found it and allowed me to photocopy it. 

This instance of cooperation and support really touched me and prompted me to realize how much I owe to so many for making this trip possible.  First is my wife, Karen, who supported me on my wacky project to restore the trailer, who allows me to travel even when she has to stay home.  Then I think about all the people at Brown Hardware, the guys who helped me with carpentry, electrical, plumbing, staining, mechanical, and storage that made it possible to restore the trailer to roadworthy condition.  Now I see all the people who are helping me on the road.  Whether it’s a mechanic offering free advice, or a native that tells me how to get to the Ford dealer “Just go down to the second stop and go light.”  I find it rewarding to meet and gain from all those who share so freely.  It encourages and reminds me to be aware of those who could use my support or attentions.  It reminds me of my progressive concerns for others and the need to get this country off its selfish self-centeredness.  End of rant.  I’m grateful to all. 

EARLY HURON POST #4

7-15-11

OKAY! 

   I was ready to rumble on Friday, July 15, my first full day in Huron.  I began with a visit to the Dakotaland Museum, which is housed on the same fairgrounds where I’m camped.  The museum has an extensive amount of relics (5000!), one of which drives fear into the heart of any Arkansas Razorback and that was the Hog-Killing Hammer.  It looked like a sledgehammer head with a big metal knob on it.  One blow to the skull would do the trick.  After cringing a bit, I moved on and was very impressed with the extent of the collection, every thing from 370 stuffed animals from the same farm to a telegrapher’s key mechanism. The animals were taxidermized (new word!) by the farmer’s wife as a way to not go stir crazy during the long winters.  The ladies that volunteer at the museum were helpful and gave me the name of the cemetery keeper.  Did I mention that when I went to the cemetery the evening before I couldn’t find a marker that was described to me?  After telling the ladies that I was going back out, they gave me the guy’s name and after calling, he agreed to meet me out there later in the afternoon. 

   From the Museum I went east four blocks and parked in the shade in front of the Courthouse.  I spent the next hours with ladies in the Register of Deeds office locating properties bought, sold, and granted to various Bretons.  In six cases Bretons were granted acreage, which we located on maps. Later research shows that these acres were soon sold off to others, thus I learned that land speculation was a way in which the pioneers were able to gain financial advantage over the out-of-town, Johnny come latelies.   In town multiple transactions were identified and then had to be translated from Lot and Block numbers into current street names and numbers.  These processes involved handling large ledgers with the original writings and signatures of those involved.  Luckily for me, it was a slow day and the ladies were very helpful and instructive on how to learn what I wanted to learn.  Apparently, the Bretons lived or owned four properties in town.  Handed down to me by my grandfather were two pictures that are identified as being the family home in Huron.  With the addresses just revealed, could I find that structure at one of the addresses? Time was flying by, no time for lunch and whoa!: it was time to race back out to the cemetery.    

   At Riverside Cemetery I met the man who, when he got out of his truck, took ten steps and pointed me to the marker with BRETON emblazoned on it.  I was amazed because I had walked by that marker many times the afternoon before and just not seen the name on it.   I had found the marker for another relative and even knew that the one I was seeking was near the other.  Despite my feeling very foolish and unworthy, the keeper took time to explain how the numbering system went and gave me permission to clean the stone if I wished.  The marble was covered with a fine moss/lichen and not much was legible, but the heat was so infernal that I deferred that task until the cool of Saturday morning. 

   Returning to the Courthouse I detoured to the addresses we had turned up.  At 240 Iowa Street there was the house from the  old pictures!  Recognizable by its two windows up stairs and downstairs and the crenellated brick chimney, it looked considerably more forlorn than in my 19^th century pictures.   It’s survived.  There have been superficial modifications, but the basic house is still the same.  This house was also the birthplace of my grandfather and his siblings. The other properties had old homes on them too, but I didn’t have old pictures of them.  One was so overgrown with bushes and trees that I still couldn’t find the house number. 

   Back at the courthouse I stayed until closing time and spent time organizing the day’s findings.      

   Leaving the air conditioning presented an obvious challenge, so knowing that it would be brutal cooking dinner in the trailer, I went to the MomnPop Mexican restaurant, Natalia’s, and settled in with my files, some new cuisine, and the air conditioning.  Pupusas were new to me.  They’re fried corn tortillas covered with meat, cabbage, cheese and a special sauce.  Crisp and spicy made for a tasty combo washed down with a Sangria flavored soft drink.  I had two of each!!

   Nightfall at the trailer was quiet, and led off with a cool shower at the campground showers which I had to myself.  Even a shower provided an adrenaline thrill when the lights went out and the room was totally dark. I called out, no one answered. I climbed out of the stall, peeked into the darkness (only a few thoughts of the shower scene in Psycho bubbling to my awareness) and the lights came back on.  Apparently they are on a motion sensor switch and when you’re in the shower, it can’t see your motions.  So by poking my head out several times I had a lengthy, well-lit, cooling shower. 

   Post–shower thrills, the continuing heat meant I couldn’t get to sleep in the hot trailer.  When people ask about what the trailer looks like I usually say “It looks like a big toaster” and now I know that in hot weather, “It IS a toaster.”  Even with my little 1950s fan going full-tilt it was too hot.  I ended up going outside and sitting in my river guide chair, watching the fullish moon and appreciating the slight breeze.  I finally conked out, back on the bed around 11 pm.  The prediction is for “Heat Advisory Warnings” later in the week.

   What a day!  Connecting family heirlooms with the present, learning and seeing the whereabouts of family homesteads, enjoying new foods, discovering family grave markers, gaining from the information on them, meeting nice, helpful people, and the anticipation of learning even more as the days proceed was invigorating.  No wonder I had trouble getting to sleep.  

INTO THE PAST, POST# 3

7-15-11

OKAY! 

   I was ready to rumble on Friday, July 15, my first full day in Huron.  I began with a visit to the Dakotaland Museum, which is housed on the same fairgrounds where I’m camped.  The museum has an extensive amount of relics (5000!), one of which drives fear into the heart of any Arkansas Razorback and that was the Hog-Killing Hammer.  It looked like a sledgehammer head with a big metal knob on it.  One blow to the skull would do the trick.  After cringing a bit, I moved on and was very impressed with the extent of the collection, every thing from 370 stuffed animals from the same farm to a telegrapher’s key mechanism. The animals were taxidermized (new word!) by the farmer’s wife as a way to not go stir crazy during the long winters.  The ladies that volunteer at the museum were helpful and gave me the name of the cemetery keeper.  Did I mention that when I went to the cemetery the evening before I couldn’t find a marker that was described to me?  After telling the ladies that I was going back out, they gave me the guy’s name and after calling, he agreed to meet me out there later in the afternoon. 

   From the Museum I went east four blocks and parked in the shade in front of the Courthouse.  I spent the next hours with ladies in the Register of Deeds office locating properties bought, sold, and granted to various Bretons.  In six cases Bretons were granted acreage, which we located on maps. Later research shows that these acres were soon sold off to others, thus I learned that land speculation was a way in which the pioneers were able to gain financial advantage over the out-of-town, Johnny come latelies.   In town multiple transactions were identified and then had to be translated from Lot and Block numbers into current street names and numbers.  These processes involved handling large ledgers with the original writings and signatures of those involved.  Luckily for me, it was a slow day and the ladies were very helpful and instructive on how to learn what I wanted to learn.  Apparently, the Bretons lived or owned four properties in town.  Handed down to me by my grandfather were two pictures that are identified as being the family home in Huron.  With the addresses just revealed, could I find that structure at one of the addresses? Time was flying by, no time for lunch and whoa!: it was time to race back out to the cemetery.    

   At Riverside Cemetery I met the man who, when he got out of his truck, took ten steps and pointed me to the marker with BRETON emblazoned on it.  I was amazed because I had walked by that marker many times the afternoon before and just not seen the name on it.   I had found the marker for another relative and even knew that the one I was seeking was near the other.  Despite my feeling very foolish and unworthy, the keeper took time to explain how the numbering system went and gave me permission to clean the stone if I wished.  The marble was covered with a fine moss/lichen and not much was legible, but the heat was so infernal that I deferred that task until the cool of Saturday morning. 

   Returning to the Courthouse I detoured to the addresses we had turned up.  At 240 Iowa Street there was the house from the  old pictures!  Recognizable by its two windows up stairs and downstairs and the crenellated brick chimney, it looked considerably more forlorn than in my 19^th century pictures.   It’s survived.  There have been superficial modifications, but the basic house is still the same.  This house was also the birthplace of my grandfather and his siblings. The other properties had old homes on them too, but I didn’t have old pictures of them.  One was so overgrown with bushes and trees that I still couldn’t find the house number. 

   Back at the courthouse I stayed until closing time and spent time organizing the day’s findings.      

   Leaving the air conditioning presented an obvious challenge, so knowing that it would be brutal cooking dinner in the trailer, I went to the MomnPop Mexican restaurant, Natalia’s, and settled in with my files, some new cuisine, and the air conditioning.  Pupusas were new to me.  They’re fried corn tortillas covered with meat, cabbage, cheese and a special sauce.  Crisp and spicy made for a tasty combo washed down with a Sangria flavored soft drink.  I had two of each!!

   Nightfall at the trailer was quiet, and led off with a cool shower at the campground showers which I had to myself.  Even a shower provided an adrenaline thrill when the lights went out and the room was totally dark. I called out, no one answered. I climbed out of the stall, peeked into the darkness (only a few thoughts of the shower scene in Psycho bubbling to my awareness) and the lights came back on.  Apparently they are on a motion sensor switch and when you’re in the shower, it can’t see your motions.  So by poking my head out several times I had a lengthy, well-lit, cooling shower. 

   Post–shower thrills, the continuing heat meant I couldn’t get to sleep in the hot trailer.  When people ask about what the trailer looks like I usually say “It looks like a big toaster” and now I know that in hot weather, “It IS a toaster.”  Even with my little 1950s fan going full-tilt it was too hot.  I ended up going outside and sitting in my river guide chair, watching the fullish moon and appreciating the slight breeze.  I finally conked out, back on the bed around 11 pm.  The prediction is for “Heat Advisory Warnings” later in the week.

   What a day!  Connecting family heirlooms with the present, learning and seeing the whereabouts of family homesteads, enjoying new foods, discovering family grave markers, gaining from the information on them, meeting nice, helpful people, and the anticipation of learning even more as the days proceed was invigorating.  No wonder I had trouble getting to sleep.  

OUT OF ARKANSAS, POST #2

Mtn. Home, AR  11-13-11

    As most of you know, my retired self has been exploring family connections and stories.  This summer it’s been my plan to backtrack the residences used by the Breton family as they came from Guernsey to Milwaukee, then Sparta in Wisconsin, then west to Huron in what was then the Dakota Territory and finally out to Morgan Hill, California.  Since I’ve been to Morgan Hill and met some wonderful family, that left the Midwest to see.  My route would begin in Huron and then go east to Sparta, then Milwaukee and then finish at a vintage trailer rally/campout near Elkhart, Indiana. 

   Departure was set for Wednesday, July 13.  Due to my scheduled late-night arrival at a Rest Area near the Iowa border I lingered in Mountain Home.  This strategy allowed me to purchase some fresh groceries for the trip, to pack and load the trailer AND to watch the US Women's' Soccer team come from a position of remorse to triumph.   This exhilarating experience prepared me for even greater emotions as I assisted at the Howdy photo session for the Peitz Cancer House Paws for the Cause 2012 calendar. 

The upshot is that I hit the road at 2 pm.  I was barely gone an hour when I encountered my first “Road Closed” sign outside of Ava, Missouri. This called for a reverse Y turn, which was an early challenge to my backing up ability with the trailer.  Luckily, there was almost no one else on the road and I reversed direction with only slight delay. 

   The 2010 truck and the 1946 trailer worked well together with little strain on the truck and smooth following by the trailer.  The first stop was in Pittsburg, Kansas at Chicken Annie’s, where the chicken was, as boasted by the Food Channel, “moist and tender with a crunchy coating” that was worth the stop.  Pulling back onto the highway around 7 pm I was like Lindbergh crossing the Atlantic, I too had a fly inside the vehicle going the distance with me.  I appreciated the companionship, although the conversation was a bit one-sided. 

   North of Sioux City, Missouri we (the fly and I) saw our first flooded areas.  In fact as we were leaving Sioux City we saw that the freeway underpass was underwater and a small boat from the Corps of Engineers was just docking.  As we went north there were more and more small boats parked at the edge of flooded roads, waiting to transport farmers out to their fields.  In an irony of abundance we later saw a ten boom agricultural sprinkler system marooned in a vast watery expanse. 

   It was dark as we flew through Sioux Falls, but the full moon shining on the Missouri River stirred thoughts of Lewis & Clark rowing their way upstream.  It’s just me, the fly, and the other intrepid adventurers! 

   We reached the Rockport Rest Area at around 11 pm and settled in with the other trucking road warriors.  Sleep came easily albeit to the lullaby of 18 wheelers roaring past 100 yards to our left.  The trailer welcomed me back with its two nine inch deep foam mattresses and the next thing I knew the iPhone alarm was waking me.  After a “Rest” at the Rest Area we were on our way by 5 am.  Unlike yesterday I wanted to get to the stopping place early in the day, so that takes an early start.

7/14/11

   Due to the early start, my Sioux City meal stop turned into breakfast rather than lunch stop.  As I parked my “rig” you naysayers should know that it was a traffic stopper.  Yes, a guy actually stopped in the road and engaged me in a conversation about the trailer.  I could tell he was eating his heart out over the ’46 Angelus…and he didn’t even see the inside!

   More detours presented challenges as I headed out of Iowa and into South Dakota.  It was along in here that I saw flooded soybean fields that reminded me of colors of Brazil’s flag due to the blue water, yellowed dead soy plants, and then the green unflooded plants: tragic really. These detours took me over cornfield-lined two lane roads, and at one point I was leading a convoy of eight 18-wheelers.  I got a couple of toots as they breezed by after I pulled off the road, because I know they’re on a schedule and …well…we road folks stick together.    But mostly I just didn’t want them crowding my ass.

   Anyway, I found the fairgrounds in Huron without a problem and set up the trailer by 2:30.  The Holstein wrapped garbage barrels were seen again later in the trip at the Milwaukee fairgrounds.  The early arrival meant that I had time to drive around the town, visit the Chamber Of Commerce/Visitors’ Center, the Riverside Cemetery, the Huron Library, and find a family-owned Mexican restaurant.  Just kind of getting the lay of the land. 

   The next installment will bring you up to date on my discoveries in Huron. This is where my great-grandfather, John Walter Breton became a train dispatcher.   In fact he was the FIRST and only telegraph operator when the Chicago and North Western RR came this far west in 1880.

  For a more visual perspective of the trip, a web album of over 100 photographs with captions is posted at https://picasaweb.google.com/udadster/JulyTrip2011a?authkey=Gv1sRgCJ7O8bTM_pieBQ . Feel free to look at any time, if you want to see the pics first, or after you read each posting.  There are seven more posts to follow this one.

WAGONS HO! POST #1

…in reverse direction that is.   On July 13 I plan to begin a research journey that backtracks the Breton family’s westward movement.  After seeing the California sites and settings, I’m curious to see the Midwestern locales.  The main focus will the first and second generation Bretons which means John and Margaret Breton, plus their children: Maggie, Mary, John Walter, and Sarah.  The plan is to go to the places they lived and search local records, newspapers, libraries, archives, and so on to see what stories can be gleaned about their lives.  

The journey will take about 20 days.  To keep expenses down I’ll be pulling the restored 1946 travel trailer.  Overnights are scheduled for truck rest stops, campgrounds (rural and urban), and motels.  It will take two days to get to Huron, South Dakota, where the Bretons resided for 20 years and I’ll reside for five days.   After that I’ll head east to De Smet, Madison, and Spring Valley for short research efforts before arriving in Sparta, Wisconsin where they lived for four years.  Following that I’ll head further east to Milwaukee where they lived from 1859 to 1871.  Milwaukee will also be a chance to explore Haag roots since Grandpa Bill Haag’s sisters lived there and their descendants still do live there.  That will conclude the family research portion of the trip, then I’ll head east to Indiana for a vintage trailer rally at a campground there for three days.  I’m really looking forward to seeing what can be learned about the family and then sharing what I’ve done with the trailer to others with similar interests. 

One particular question that is glaringly open is “Where did the Bretons enter the country and what did they do after their arrival in 1857 until the birth of John Walter in Racine in 1859?”  Perhaps the trip will provide a clue …or an answer.  We shall see. 

If you have any suggestions or inquiries that might be helpful, please let me know (mikeandkarenbreton@yahoo.com) and I’ll do my best to address your input.  I’ll be taking a laptop with me, so perhaps I’ll post an entry or two from the road.  Until then…

A Brief Profile - Jean and Marguerite Breton

John and Marguerite were married on April 14, 1852 in St. Saviour’s Parish church. At that time Jean was 28 and Marguerite was 26.  Both had been born in that parish which was one of the ten church districts on the island of Guernsey in the English Channel.  After the birth of their fourth child in five years of marriage, they left for America in 1857.  Why they came to the USA is not recorded, but we can assume it was with the hope of a better life.  One child, Rachel, had died before leaving and on the way across the Atlantic, three year old Johnny died three days out of Southampton and was buried at sea.  What a mournful experience that must have been; not exactly a good omen for a new life. 

Perhaps to be near friends, the young family who only spoke French at that time arrived in Racine, Wisconsin where in 1859 John Walter Breton was born. Two weeks later they moved to Milwaukee where they lived for thirteen years.  Jean, by now called John, worked as a laborer in a shoe factory.  During 1863 J.W.’s sister, Sarah Elizabeth was born and his sister, Mary Louise, age seven, was blinded for life by scarlet fever and measles.  The family moved west to La Crosse, Wisconsin and then after a short period relocated to Sparta where John and Margaret “operated a laundry which did all the laundry work for all the sleeping cars of the Milwaukee and St. Paul Railway.”[1]

It was in Sparta that Margaret (Maggie), Mary, John Walter, and Sarah went to school.  J.W. says he left high school to go to telegraph operator school around 1876 and in 1878 Maggie married Abram Thompson in Sparta.  JW moved to Huron in the Dakota Territory in 1880 marrying Lizzie Sawyer in 1882.  In 1885 John and Margaret’s eldest child, Maggie died in Madison, Dakota Territory.  John and Margaret left Sparta in 1887 to help JW raise his two infant children, Edith and Walter, after Lizzie’s tragic death of Rocky Mountain fever.  It’s not known how John and Margaret made a living at this stage but they were near their children, their daughter Sarah who’d married Lizzie’s brother, Uzell and their son John Walter with his second wife, Gertrude Ward.   After Uzell, who was a train brakeman, lost his foot in a train accident,[2] Margaret traveled several times to be with her son-in-law to help in his recovery during a succession of amputations.   Uzell and Sarah, along with John and Margaret moved to Florida in 1890 where his handicap and the climate allowed for a new career in the raising of fruit, probably oranges.  They didn’t forget their family as the newspapers of the day reported several times that the Breton/Sawyers had sent boxes of fruits, plants, and flowers to the winter bound folks in the north. [3] It was a good thing that the folks were with Sarah because Uzell died in 1899.  Once again John and Margaret stepped in to help raise their grandchildren: Clyde, age 12 and Marguerite, age 9. 

By this time the others had had their fill of the Dakota weather and after losing his first wife, JW wrote “my wife (Gertrude) was in delicate health and doctors said a milder climate was absolutely necessary, we moved to Morgan Hill.”[4] Walter Breton records that “As a boy, I remember Grandfather Ward’s letter from California, written when he had contracted for his acreage, he quoted from the old Sunday School song ’This is the land I have long sought and mourned because I found it not.’  He named it Paradise Valley.”[5]

John and Margaret, perhaps helped by John Walter and Gertrude,  purchased property near the Wards and a handsome two story house was erected which is still a lovely home for the present occupants.  Walter reported that Mary “was the happiest member of the family and was taught to crochet and play the organ.” [6]

In Morgan Hill the Bretons and Wards were active in the orchard business growing walnuts and plums/prunes.  In April of 1911 John and Margaret were honored with a party on their 59^th wedding anniversary at which “a large number of neighbors and friends called upon them with kind remembrances and earnest wishes for continued health and happiness.“[7] At that time John was 87 years old and Margaret 85. 

John died in December of that same year.  He, Margaret, and Mary are buried in a family plot in Mt. Hope Cemetery in Morgan Hill.  The modern marker was paid for by Lynn Breton and records that his father’s (Vivian Breton) and his grandmother, Gertrude Ward Breton’s ashes are buried at sea.  

 

                                           Mt. Hope Cemetery, Morgan Hill CA  2007

 In this odyssey can be seen some of the archetypical American themes. Some of the biggest themes like immigration to a foreign land, menial immigrant labor, moving west for better lives, livelihoods based on the railroad, relocating and starting over,  agricultural entrepreneurship, and family caring are all assets that we can be proud of.  We owe our own present good fortune to the attitudes and examples of the pioneering spirit of John and Margaret Breton.  

[1] (J. W. Breton p.3)

[2] (Sawyer p.1)

[3] (Daily Huronite p.4)

[4] (J. W. Breton p.4)

[5] (W. S. Breton p. 2)

[6] (W. S. Breton p. 2)

[7] (Their Wedding)

Daily Huronite 11 June 1891

Breton, John Walter. Memoirs. Morgan Hill, CA 1939  Preserved by Leland Edwards, Retyped by Mike Breton, 2010.

Breton, Walter S. "Bud". Letter to Mike Breton. San Jose, CA, 1971.

Sawyer, Clyde. "Memoirs." abt 1968.

"Their Wedding." Morgan Hill Times 21 April 1911.

---