I recently visited USA, and had a lot of good experiences. My headquarter was S. Dakota.

From there I went east to Minnesota and west to the Black Hills near the border of Wyoming,

where a man from Vendsyssel, Denmark, had made huge statutes in the mountainside of the

presidents Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and Roosevelt. I rode through Nebraska, Missouri,

Kansas, Oklahoma and Texas down to the Gulf of Mexico. I went briefly over the border and

saw somewhat of Chicago and New York.

Much can be said of what you see, when you get around in God's Own Country, but I was not

made an expert. I would rather tell about the relatively small part of the states, that I got to

know, about Kingsbury County in sunny South Dakota. I lived in the small city of Arlington,

about the size of Snedsted (a village in Thy, Denmark). Six to ten miles from here is a lake with

the homely name of Lake Thisted.

The history of the white man in these parts is not long. It started in 1872 when two young men

from Thy, Andreas Jensen from Bedsted, and Lars Kristensen from Snedsted arrived here from

the copper mines of Upper Michigan, where they had worked. They took homestead according

to the law of 1862. Their place was about eight miles from Sioux Falls, now the biggest city in

South Dakota, about 53,000 inhabitants, and 80 miles from the nearest railway station, Sioux

City in Iowa. They built a hut into the earth, 6 feet deep and covered with turf from grass.

They broke up the earth and grew wheat in a great area.

They left after 4 years because grasshoppers ate the wheat. With 2 oxen to pull their prairie

wagon they went north to find something better. After 70 miles they camped at Lake Thisted.

They liked the area and thought about staying, but swarms of birds made a constant noise so

they could not sleep for their 2 days there. They went on over the rough prairie.

Not far away they found a nice place at Lake Albert, named after Lars Kristensen's eldest son,

the first white child to be born in Kingsbury County. Here they took preemptions land.

Homestead could only be taken once. They built 2 houses into a hillside, and started to

cultivate the land. When they lived at Sioux Falls their fiancès had arrived, and they married.

Andreas' wife Anna Margrete Olsen was born in Hvidbjerg, Thyholm, and Lars wife, Maren

Pedersen, came from Tingstrup just outside Thisted. A couple of years later Lars' 2 brothers,

Peter and Mathias and their wives arrived after some years in Upper Michigan. They took land

nearby. Quite a few children arrived so the area became a colony of people from Thy. Others

arrived and the area became what is now known as Kingsbury County. Later on Peter opened a

store. He wrote about the first pioneers on the Dakota Prairie. My information is from him

and other old people there.

It was a hard and primitive life to be a settler. It demanded strong health and will, and a firm

belief in that you could make a future there. No machines or remedies. Everything is wild and

desolate. No white people within many miles, only thousands of wild buffaloes and savage

Indians, who at any time could attack the settlers, but after all it was their land that the white

man occupied. The weather changed a lot, and hailstorms could spoil years of work. Winter

could bury them in lots of snow. They had to dig tunnels to get out to the cattle. Thaw could

drown the animals. The winter 1880-1881 was hard and tough. The first snow came October

15th, and the hard winter last until April 16th. An awful thaw then came. They sailed in boats

over the fields and many people and animals lost their lives. In the summer they fought bugs

and fires threatened to destroy both houses and crop. Distances were huge and there were no

roads or railways. Their only means of transport was the prairie wagons drawn by oxen. A trip

to the city to get provisions took several days. The journey was taken in the autumn, because it

was impossible in the winter. When they turned homewards they had a big load of provisions

for a whole year. Often money was scarce so they had to stretch the food in their cold earth

caves. Solid fuel was grass and dried cow manure. Matches were expensive, if you run out, you

had to walk several miles to borrow some.

It was a hard time for the young people from Thy; but they came through. Dawn came with

better times and conditions. More people arrived, from Thy, Mors, and elsewhere. The colony

grew. Poverty was replaced by prosperity. The earth caves disappeared and were replaced by

nice buildings. They could afford to buy machines and they got horses and spring carts. Wheat

and corn was grown on the former prairie. Trees grew up and gave shelter around the farms.

The coming of the railway around the turn of the century was a great progress. A lot of time

was saved. In the years up to the first world war the tie of the pioneers was about to end, and

the Dakota prairie had changed to become a decent part of the States. And the first pioneers

began to die. Andreas Jensen's wife, An Margret, died so early as 1881, 33 years old, and left

Andreas with 4 little children. A tragedy in a farmer family at that time, and it was difficult to

get a woman into the house again. To be a farmer's wife was quite a job. Lars Kristensen, the

grand old man of the colony, died in January, 1913. He had become a wealthy and esteemed

man in the area. He was 71. He was buried by a lot of mourners, 85 carts and 7 cars.

Coming to Kingsbury today it is hard to believe that this was only bush land not so long ago.

Now every place has been cultivated, and towns have been raised. And now it is easier to get to

and fro. When An Margret from Hvidbjerg in 1873 at last reached Andreas in Sioux Falls, she

had been on her way from New York in a slow train for 4 days, and the last many miles in a

hard wagon. The journey was not just fun. Today a jet takes you to Sioux Falls in a couple of

hours, and from there you ride the 80 - 90 miles to Arlington in a car. Up in the air you cannot

help to think of your old country folks who went along down below in uncomfortable wagons

for days. They worked hard and founded the later wealth. Now they rest in their graves in the

small cemeteries.

One of the last one from the old time, Jens Larsen from Snedsted, died about 1955, 94 years

old. When you stand at this old pioneer's grave, you bow your head in respect of what this old

country fellow did in the creation of the new USA. These hard working men were true heroes,

as great if not greater than the ones who now try to conquer the moon.

Kingsbury County today is no longer a definite colony of people from Thy. People have come

from the other parts of Denmark and from the other Scandinavian countries, but from

Germany, Ireland, Scotland, Switzerland, Holland, and other places. Ten miles west of

Arlington is a town called Volga, the Russians lived here, but they moved up to North Dakota,

not on account of the - then not invented - cold war between East and West, but because the

climate further north suited them better. The name of the town and some street names

reminds us about the Russians, but now mainly people from Norway and Holland live here.

You can easily count the people here who were born in Thy, but you meet their descendants. If

you get into conversation with people in the street, and they hear you are from Denmark, you

can in 5 of 10 cases be sure, that their parents or grandparents were Danes. If you ask where

they came from, you hear names such as Thisted, Snedsted, Hundborg, Østerild, Sønderhaa,

Vesløs, Glæde, Frøstrup, and other names from the homeland. But if you address them in

Danish, most of them shake their heads, saying not understand. In some cases it helps you if

you use the dialect from Thy. Some of them will then understand. This dialect was spoken in

their homes many years ago, and a bit of it is still alive. Many from the younger generation is

more or less mixed up with people from other nations, but many are aware that they are of

Scandinavian origin. I met several 'genuine' Scandinavians - one thirds from Thy, one third

Norwegian, and one third Swedish. This to me stands as Scandinavian cooperation.

I met some second generation people from Thy, who could understand and speak the Thy

dialect at a reasonable level. One of them said to me that I had perhaps lived too long in

Copenhagen. He did not find my mother tongue correct. It was an experience to converse with

a native American who spoke the language that was spoken in Thy 80 - 90 years ago. But our

language there is disappearing, and will soon be forgotten. They get very few Danish

emigrants, and they are prepared to speak English. The young ones are proud of their roots,

but feel they are not 100% American peoples.

Although the descendants from the Thy people are only part of the population in Kingsbury

County, it is my impression that they have set the standard of the population as a whole. I

cannot say exactly how, but I feel it lies in the air, that the spirit from Thy leads, and that the

temper from Thy is in the people. You feel on homely ground when you walk among them.

Over here they have preserved the old custom, that when a wife lies in her childbed, the

neighbors bring her childbed food, a plate of soup or stewed fruit (prunes). This was a

common custom in Denmark, in Thy, too. It is hardly known in Denmark any longer, but it is

still alive over here in the States. Other things reminded me of old times in Thy. In my time as

a boy I remember that Saturday night was something of a festival. Country people came to

town to shop - the shops were open until very late - but also to take a promenade in the streets

and to be together with friends and acquaintances. You could see people standing, talking

together on the pavements or in the streets - there were very few cars to run over people then.

They also went to the pubs and had a few drinks or more.

Saturday night in Arlington is also somewhat of a festival. People meet in the Main Street.

Shops are open till late. But they do not arrive on foot or on a bicycle like in Thisted - people

would laugh at them, and consider them to be mad, if they did. They arrive in cars, even people

who live only a hundred feet from Main Street. They park along the pavement in both sides.

Most of them want to buy something, but when that has been done, they enter their cars again

and look at life in the street. If they spot friends they shout at them, and they come into the car

if there is room. Otherwise they stand outside and chat through the open windows. Around

nine o'clock something happens. A fire engine stops in front of the town hall with light and

loudspeakers. The shops have given out free lottery tickets all day, and now the winner is

announced. He or she gets 25 dollars. People go home then.

I got the impression that only a few went to a restaurant; most of them went to bed in order to

rise early Sunday morning to go to one of the four churches. The town had 4 pubs, and they did

not lack customers, but in my time in Arlington I did not notice one drunken person.

People here are very social and interested in other people. They have a paper, The Arlington

Sun, the window mirror of the town and the area. Mainly local news, not just births,

engagements, weddings and broken legs but also very common things like people visiting each

other to drink a cup of coffee together. When I had arrived, I was an interesting item. It was

announced that I had come by air from Copenhagen to see relatives and friends, and the paper

followed me from day to day, where I had lunch and dinner, afternoon and evening coffee, etc.

They informed if I went away, and when I returned, I was welcomed in the paper. You could

not hide. The editor of the news column, Mrs. Maria Krahn, is a daughter of the old Jens

Larsen from Snedsted.

I was invited to some picnics. You live rather primitively and make your meals out in the open

in the parks where you find fireplaces which charcoal or wood. Two of the picnics were family

gatherings, arranged on account of my visit. One time the descendants of Jens Larsen from

Snedsted had been called together, and the other time it was the descendants of Jens Larsen's

sister, Stine, married Wonsbek, who came to Dakota about 85 years ago, and who died in 1915.

Both the old and the young people took part, 3 - 4 generations. I was invited as a kind of guest

of honour, I only belong to a side branch of the family. There is a happy spirit at such

gatherings, and a lot to discuss when relatives from different places meet. They eat well and

play games, among them one with a huge and heavy horse shoe made for this purpose. And

this is the only time when a horse shoe is used - horses are relics from the past, hardly known

here now. I saw only one single horse up in the deserted area at the border to North Dakota. A

man rode around on an old horse to manage a big herd of turkeys.

Not many things in the US impresses you much. They are not a lot further ahead of us with

technic and other things - everything is just in a bigger scale. What I liked about the people on

the prairie was they were so wonderfully unpretentious and unsnobbish They were very

straight with one and another, and strangers were welcomed heartily and without formalities. I

experienced this on a tour to the Black Hills. I passed through the main and residential town

Pierre, a pretty little town with 5,000 - 6,000 inhabitants and went in to see the government

building. A lady asked me to write my name in a visitor's book, and when she noticed that I

came from Denmark, she got engaged. Well, I was a Dane, so I was a Scandinavian, too. So

was the governor, he was of Norwegian origin, and she was sure, he would like to meet me. I

doubted it, and thought she made a joke. But the girl ran into another office, and came back

immediately. The Governor, Mr. Gubberud, would like to see me. He understood Norwegian,

and could tell me all that I wanted to know. The Governor received me with his sleeves rolled

up, behind a huge desk full of this morning's mail. He was a tall, strong man - previously he

had been a farmer - and it was a huge fist he stretched out against me. His knowledge of

Norwegian was very limited, so we spoke American. He was extremely kind but I understood

that his time was scarce, so our conversation did not last long. In the next issue of The

Arlington Sun, readers were told that Mr. Hald from Copenhagen had shaken hands with the

Governor himself. I wondered if things were as informal as this in the White House or at the

King's audiences in Copenhagen.

South Dakota is called Sunshine Country, land of the beautiful sundowns, and the sun - both

that of Our Lord and The Arlington Sun - shone on me almost every day during my stay. For a

few days I lived along the banks of Lake Poinsett. It was wonderful in the mornings to see the

sun rise, spreading its rays on the blue water of the lake. But the best time was at evening time

when the great prairie lay as a wavy ocean that had settled, with the sun standing red as a

flaming bonfire, slowly dying out. When the sun went down far out, its rays flowed like

streams of gold out over the green prairie. If you have once seen this sight, you have forever

lost your heart to South Dakota.

Johs Hald (1963)