by Robert E. Forman
Martha was a year old when her parents moved their family from Sweden to America in 1894. John and Anna Wennerholm arrived in the new land with Martha and Jane, her three year old sister. John, a master baker in Sweden, soon found a job at a bakery in South Minneapolis. They had barely settled in, however, when Anna became fatally ill with tuberculosis, known at the time as consumption.
As a grieving newly single father, John felt overwhelmed by the prospect of working at the bakery and caring for his two young daughters, so he turned to his church for local resources available. One family wanted to raise Martha as their own daughter, but only if they could adopt her. He rejected that option, but gratefully accepted another family’s offer to care for Jane — without adoption.
He was still desperately searching for a home for Martha, when someone suggested the Washburn Memorial Orphan Asylum. It was established by C.C. Washburn, a philanthropist who operated the Washburn-Crosby Milling Company (now General Mills). Known for their humane approach with children, it was considered an enlightened facility. After investigating further and meeting with staff, John was satisfied that Washburn would make an adequate home for Martha until he could provide for her.
Her first challenge was to learn English. The few words she knew were all Swedish, but fortunately there was a Swedish speaking laundress on staff, who could act as translator until Martha learned the new language.
By 1907, when Martha was 13, John had his own bakery on Riverside Avenue in Minneapolis, and finally felt able to bring his daughters back to live with him. John’s love for books and reading was a formative influence on both daughters. He brought Martha books while she was at Washburn and continued to encourage her reading and education once she came to live with him.
After graduating from South High School, she enrolled at the University of Minnesota. At a time when only one woman in a hundred earned a bachelors degree, she majored in education, and went on to do the course work for a Master’s degree in classical languages — Greek and Latin. This qualified her to take a position as a high school teacher in West Concord, Minnesota , a small town about 60 miles south of Minneapolis.
James Linsley, a young local man who was helping a friend harvest apples, spotted Martha one Sunday afternoon while she was visiting with friends. He introduced himself to the petite, blonde schoolteacher with hazel eyes and a shy smile. Obviously smitten, he immediately asked his mother to invite this lovely newcomer to their home for Sunday dinner. Of course Martha accepted, secretly pleased that this amiable young man with black hair, a ruddy complexion, and twinkling blue eyes, had taken such an interest in her.
Before long they were seen together regularly, taking Sunday afternoon buggy rides. When winter came they used the cutter on snow-covered roads, draping a black cowhide over their laps for warmth. The next spring, as James’ horse Scott pulled the buggy along on yet another tour of the familiar countryside, James took the inevitable next step: “How would you like to be my cook?” he asked. Noticing her confusion, he tried again: “You know what I mean, don’t you?” But she ignored these initial clumsy attempts until he could be more direct — and romantic.
When they returned home, he took a deep breath, got down on one knee, in the fashion of the time, and asked her to marry him. His two younger sisters — Esther and Emily — stealthily watching the drama unfold through the parlor doorway, witnessed her happy “Yes!”
Neither of them had given much thought to their life plans after marriage. Unlike many country youth who could hardly wait to head for the glamour and opportunity of the city, James always wanted to live and work on a farm, like his family homestead. After completing eighth grade in 1907, he saw no reason for further education. At that time, going to high school was only for those who wanted to train for a profession. James remained at home, and worked as a hired hand for farmers in the neighborhood. He later expanded his services to include road work for the state and county, using his own team of Morgan horses — Scott and Tim.
After their wedding, they set up housekeeping in a small rented house in town. But Martha’s modest salary plus his irregular earnings did not provide an adequate income to establish a family. James considered becoming a Manual Arts teacher, and he could have qualified for a position with some additional training. With his love of woodcraft and mastery of tools — plus an intuitive understanding of boys — he surely could have had a satisfying career as a teacher and mentor.
Martha offered to work while he completed his training but — with his traditional code of honor — he would not accept her support while taking the few classes necessary for certification. His options were limited, however. His parents were too young to retire and their farm could not support two families. At the urging of his brother-in-law, who worked for the Minneapolis Streetcar Company, James applied and was hired as a conductor. So the young couple headed for a new life in the big city — which James hated with a passion.
At that time, Streetcars had a two-man crew. The motorman sat in an enclosed front compartment and drove the car; starting, and stopping, and opening the gates to let passengers on and off. The conductor rode at the rear of the car, and collected fares, sold tokens, made change, and gave out transfers.
It was a job he could tolerate, but in his heart, he was always a farmer. They bought a lot in south Minneapolis, where he built a small house. They had two children, Ruth, born in 1923 and John, born in 1925. But he could never forget about farming. As he pulled the leather bell cord to signal the motorman — two rings for go and one ring for stop — he wished he was holding the leather reins for Scott and Tim; Instead of handing out transfers and filling out daily reports, he longed to be milking cows and keeping farm records. He spent days cooped up with throngs of strangers, while day-dreaming of his friends and small town community back in West Concord.
