John Averill, 3rd from Left |
If I recall correctly, my research of the census records for Fremont did not turn up any non-white people for several decades. My great grandfather John logged Wisconsin forests and then went to Europe to fight in The Great War. He was a logger, soldier, and from what my family tells me, a drunk. I imagine he was insufferable since my great grandmother went to the lengths of divorcing him at a time (the 1950’s) when divorce wasn’t so common. I vaguely remember visiting her as a child. She was first generation from Sweden and by all accounts, a tough woman.
My grandfather John W. seemed to take a similar trajectory as his father. He grew up in rural Wisconsin, was drafted, and fought in Europe during World War II. This photo appears to confirm that he took the saying “You wash my back, and I’ll wash yours” literally. I never met him since he died in the 1970’s, but I found out that he was court martialled for whatever antics he got up to in Europe. Within six years of his return to the U.S. he had three children, including my father. He married a “good Irish woman,” someone I generally refer to as “my kick ass grandma.” My grandfather worked for American Motors in Milwaukee and my grandmother worked at Smith Brothers filleting fish. My father volunteered for the Army at 17 and regrettably found himself in Vietnam in 1969. His hat from Vietnam lies in a box in Milwaukee with a Snoopy pin that says “It’s been a long year.” He had three children and raised a fourth, my half-brother (a term I never grew up using or knowing). He campaigned for numerous Wisconsin Democrats in the 1980’s, worked for the City of Milwaukee, and was the President of his union for nearly two decades. I don’t have as deep a knowledge of my mother’s side since much of the family history had already been compiled. While my paternal grandmother lectured me on my Irishness (“Do you know what they did to the Irish, Brian?”) and occasionally threatened to sell me to the Gypsies, my mother’s side argued that I was in fact German. Part of my mother’s side came to the U.S. illegally from Germany in the mid-1800’s and has mainly lived in Ozaukee County since then. German was spoken at home into the 1960’s and my grandfather (at 93) has trouble pronouncing “th” words (three = tree, that = dat, etc.) My maternal grandfather also fought in World War II. His love for Germany died when real Germans nearly killed him on numerous occasions. He was drafted and reluctant to go to war. He came home, had six children, and worked in a tool and die shop for decades.
My maternal grandfather (seated) |
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