“She got up too soon after Hannah was
born.”
As told by Hanna’s granddaughter:
Sylvia Berg Lien
· Please
note that this is a difficult read, telling the story of mental illness
Hanna had left behind her family in Norway and traveled by steerage across the Atlantic Ocean, while pregnant and tending to two toddlers. We see their three names near the bottom of this manifest.
After landing in Philadelphia, navigating immigration and
customs with the toddlers, she continued on to Wisconsin to meet her husband. She set up
housekeeping in a bustling lumbering area and settled into a new home, in a new
country in a new language. By now the family had adopted the name Berg, and
Johan was John.
By 1886, Hanna and John had welcomed three more children into
the Berg home. The second child to be born in the USA, Alma, arrived
on 30 October 1883. Hannah Emilia joined the family on 10 December 1884. To
Gust’s delight, a brother, Antone arrived on 5 May 1886, named for John’s
brother who had died in 1872. By this time, the family had relocated to a small
logging community south of Menomonie called Downsville.
By the time, Antone was born, there was already trouble in
the Berg household. Hanna was not well. The family line, that “she got up
too soon” after her daughter Hannah was born, indicates that her illness
had been evident before Antone’s birth. Was this post-partum depression? Had
depression been something she dealt with before in her life? How did the
illness manifest? The question remains how John was managing with a growing family
and a wife who was increasingly unwell. Gust and Pauline, at the ages of eight
and seven, would take on responsibilities expected of older children. Perhaps John
turned to their community for help. The church and co-workers may have been
sources for assistance to the family.
In January 1887, Hanna’s illness escalated to the point that
it was no longer possible for her to remain at home. On a frosty winter
morning, John placed a wiggling baby Antone in Hanna’s lap as each of the older
children stepped up to say goodbye to their mother. Hanna had no idea when she
would see her children again. Perhaps, at this point, it did not matter to her.
Hanna was committed to the Mendota State Hospital in Madison
Wisconsin. In those days, the hospital would have been known as an insane
asylum. She was pregnant with their seventh child.
What does the illness have to look like to take a pregnant
mother from her home, from her six young children? Historical records are no
longer archived at the facility, now called Mendota Mental Health Institute
(MMHI). Only the dates of admission were confirmed. We can’t know if the
commitment was voluntary. It is unknown if the decision was made by John, or a
physician together with a judge. Was she a risk to herself, her family, or to
others?
Today Madison is a three-hour drive from Downsville. The
trip would have been much longer in 1887. Certainly, John could not visit
often, if at all. It is possible that the children never saw their mother while
she was in the hospital.
On 24 July 1887, Hanna labored and delivered her third son in the asylum. Johan was named for his father. John made the trip to Madison to take his newborn son home. What grief did Hanna experience, to not be able to nurse or hold her infant, or was her illness so severe it was of little concern to her? How gut-wrenching for John to take his infant son and leave his wife behind.
Maren, Hanna's sister, and Ole Jensen were married in 1867 in the Tune/Soli area of Norway. Ole emigrated to the US in 1878 and Maren and their four children followed in 1879. The Jensen family initially lived in Muskegon, Michigan, near another sister, Caroline and her family. Eventually the Jensen family relocated to north-central Wisconsin to a rural community 16 miles east of Wausau.
The Fallet Sisters L to R: Hanna, Caroline, Maren
In 1890, John brought Hanna home from the asylum, reintroducing her to the youngest children who had little memory of their mother. Antone was now four years old. They had to find a way to reintegrate Hanna into the daily routine and support her recovery.The decision for the Bergs to move close to the Jensens was,
no doubt, a comfort to both Hanna and Maren. They had not seen each other since
the Jensens left Norway over ten years before. The closely-knit nuclear Berg
family would expand to include an aunt and uncle and cousins who embraced Hanna and her family.
The Town of Easton must have reminded these Norwegians of their homeland.
The landscape, with old-growth forests and emerging farmland resembled Østfold.
The Scandinavian immigrants felt very much at home in this new land, carving out
homesteads in the land lying north of the Eau Claire River and east of the
lumber town of Wausau.
“She
spent time in Oshkosh, you know.”
As recalled by granddaughter: Sylvia Berg Lien
The reprieve for Hanna, if there was one, was brief. When Antone was six years old, he became big brother to Jennie, born on 24 April 1892. Hanna was not yet free from her illness. A year later, she was again committed to a state mental hospital, this time in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. The facility, known today as the Winnebago Mental Health Institute (WMHI), served the northern region of Wisconsin and sat on the shores of Lake Winnebago, just outside the city of Oshkosh.
By certificate of two physicians, and an order of the Honorable
Judge Louis Marchette, a Deputy Sheriff and lady attendant accompanied Hanna to
be admitted to the asylum on 8 June 1893.
Jennie was now two years old and became reacquainted with
her mother. In later years, when asked why she called her eldest sister Mother
she answered, “Because my mother was sick when I was young, and Pauline took
care of me.” The other children, now
ages 8-16 had been without their mother in their home for four years of their
childhood. Did her depression continue when she was home? A closeness developed
among the siblings as they cared for each other. This closeness was
demonstrated throughout their lives and became part of the fabric of our families’
lives.
As time passed and the Berg family grew-up Hanna continued
to struggle with her illness. Neighbors reported seeing her walking the country
roads in her nightgown. By 1902, the situation was again critical and Judge
Harry Miller, by certificate of two physicians, signed the commitment order for
Hanna’s third hospital admission. She was again accompanied to the Winnebago
facility in Oshkosh. This time the reason for admission is recorded as “the
change.”
WMHI Admission notes – 29-August
1902: "Certificate states that the first
symptoms of the disease were manifested fifteen years ago when patient was
violent, incoherent and destructive; that she was confined in an asylum three
years fifteen years ago and in this hospital one year ten years ago; that the
disease is increasing; that there are rational intervals lasting a day or two;
The derangement is now manifested by constant prayer; talking religion and
conversing with imaginary Bible personages; that patient has shown a
disposition to injure other from sudden passion, that there is occasionally a
disposition to destroy clothing or other property, ‘that she is in good
physical condition’ that patient has always been very religious"
The notes go on to report that Hanna expressed a yearning for Norway stating that she “has always been homesick,” blaming her husband for “taking her from everything that was good, everything God gave her.” Had Hanna truly been unhappy ever since she left Tune? Or was this a manifestation of the illness?
Months passed. Medical records note that Hanna became more “well-behaved” and quieter with fewer violent outbursts and irrational episodes. She began this admission in the isolation ward and as her condition improved, she was moved to the general ward to participate in daily work tasks as before. This admission would last for one and a half years.
On 14 March 1904, after a year and a half of hospitalization, Hanna was “paroled”, and once again John took his wife home. Plans were well underway for the summer wedding of Pauline, Hanna, and John’s eldest daughter, to Charles Anderson. Before the wedding, a formal family portrait was taken. True to the style of the early photography, all bore solemn expressions.
“Their hearts and lives were full to overflowing with love and caring…”
Taken from “When We Were Young” by the
Anderson sisters
Hanna passed away on 7 April 1924 and is buried in the Bethany Lutheran Church Cemetery in the Town of Easton, Wisconsin.
In 1999, Hanna’s eldest grandchildren, Lorraine Anderson Thorstensen, and Hazel Anderson Culley, wrote the story of their lives for their children. An excerpt:
Before we end this, we feel it is quite fitting and to our liking to pay tribute to two very special people, Grandma and Grandpa Berg [Hanna and John]. Our memories go back to that far in our family, and since we had the privilege of living with them seven full years (and from then on every summer until high school), we can truthfully sing their praises. They were two of the most kind and loving Christian people you would ever want to meet. They were never wealthy with material things, but their hearts and lives were full to overflowing with love and caring for both family and friends. We also witnessed an overflowing of this into the next generation, their children. Times of joy and times of sorrow were always shared so sincerely. We can honestly say that we never heard a harsh or unkind work spoken between any of these folks mentioned. They just loved each other too much for any of that.
We can
say this of our generation, too – our cousins and their families – no memory of
any harsh words, quarrels or unkind acts. Can you believe that? We can only
thank God for having lived in our hearts.
My mother, Sylvia Berg Lien (Antone's daughter) died in 2007 at the age of 93. At that
time, she was Hanna and John’s last living grandchild. In last box of her papers,
tucked in with the deed to the house and tax returns from the 1990s, was an
innocuous piece of paper, folded into a small square and addressed to
“Grandfather”.
My mother was 16 years old when she wrote this poem.
Grandmother
Six
years have passed,
Since
grandmother died,
When
I was small
And
stood by her side,
She’d
never fret when things went wrong,
She
would sing them away with
A
sweet little song.
When
I sit and think for awhile
I
cannot help see her sweet smile,
She
never had a frown on her face
But
a smile no one could erase.
Now
she has gone
To
that home above;
Where
you don’t get anything else but love.
Back: Sylvia and Hanna, Front: Pauline and Robert
- Hanna’s medical information was obtained by the author from MMHI and WMHI in 2017.
- Other information and memories taken from memoirs written by Ole Jensen and Pauline’s daughters, Lorraine and Hazel.
- Thanks to my mother for sharing her childhood memories with me as I was growing up.
