St. Patrick’s Day has
become a celebration for all sorts of Americans whether they are of Irish
descent or not. For those of us with
Irish heritage and who know the family story, St. Patrick’s is more than a day
for corned beef and green beer. It becomes
a day of remembrance
I saw an editorial this
week lamenting the absence of the Irish Potato Famine in current U.S. History
textbooks. At best, it has be deferred to
a paragraph. But the Irish Immigration
in the 19th century became a turning point in our American
history. Irish were treated with
prejudice and disdain. Even in Wisconsin
the German immigrants were livid that Irish refugees were taking away jobs in
the breweries. Did you know that the
Lutheran Church-Wisconsin Synod began as a movement of Germans trying to rid
Milwaukee of the new Irish Catholics?
But I digress.
History books might gloss
over the Irish immigration but I have a personal interest in this period of
history. My middle name is Lindsay which
was my mother’s maiden name. I am very
proud of my middle name and the history behind it. It links me to ancestors who endured
boldly. In fact, the family motto is “Endure
Fort,” Gaelic for “endure boldly.”
The Lindsay name is not
exactly Irish but rather has Scottish origins.
I wish I knew more about British history and the rebellion in Scotland
which drove many Scots in the 18th century to cross the Northern
Channel and resettle in Ireland. I have
never watched “Braveheart” in its entirety.
That might enlighten me. Robert
of Bruce may be an ancestor.
My Lindsay kinfolk settled
a little further south than many other Scots-Irish. Another branch of the
family tree settled in County Donegal.
William Lindsay settled in the village of Killala in County Mayo. It is a seaside village on the Bay of Killala
where another historic battle was once fought.
Now I begin to develop the story with names which personalize my story.
William Lindsay was
married twice. His first wife, Euphemia,
died at a young age. William and
Euphemia had children. William then
married Jennie. They had several more
children including my forbear George, Sr. I will spare my readers of all the “great-greats.” William must have prospered because he
donated the organ in the Protestant church just before George, Sr. married
Isabella.
Soon after George, Sr. and
Isabella were married the Irish Potato Famine began as the blight hit the crop
that the Irish people had become dependent upon. Potatoes were the food that
the people could grow for themselves.
Absentee landlords demanded crops that could be exported. A confusion of domestic laws paralyzed the
land. A million Irish people died during
the famine. A million more
emigrated. Historians have said the
Great Famine was directly or indirectly genocide!
The Lindsay family was
directly impacted by the famine. Two of
William’s sons from his first marriage emigrated to Australia and became
started a rather famous vineyard.
William’s younger sons were distressed by the growing famine. As difficult as it must have been to leave
his wife and children behind, George, Sr., a sister, two brothers and a new
sister-in-law made the decision to go to America.
The voyage was perilous. The Lindsay siblings were crowded together in
steerage with many other seeking the American dream. The conditions were
miserable and putrid. All they had was a small fry pan to prepare some meager
food. (The fry pan now hangs on my
sister’s wall.) Brother Robert and his new bride were both fatally stricken
with typhus and buried at sea. Montreal
was the port of destination. From there,
Brother Stuart parted from George, Sr. and Sister Margaret and remained in
Canada.
George, Sr. and Margaret
made their way to Steuben County, New York, where a half-brother had
established himself as a justice of peace and commissioner. George, Sr. went to work to earn money so
that he could send for Isabella and their children. No information tells us
where he worked but Steuben County has historically been known for its glass
works.
After about a year of
saving enough money, George, Sr. sent for Isabella and the family. When he left
the village of Killala, they had four children and one on the way. When Isabella arrived she only had two
children with her, Arthur and Jane.
While George, Sr. was gone Isabella had to bury three of their children
one after the other including the baby he never knew. Three small stones still mark the graves in
the village cemetery.
George, Sr. and Isabella
were reunited in New York and stayed there for a short time. It was there in Steuben County that George,
Jr. was born. During that same period
George, Sr.’s sister, Margaret and her new husband, Isaac Hanna, came west to
the Territory of Wisconsin. Margaret sent
word urging George, Sr. and Isabella to come to Wisconsin where there was rich
farm land and other Scots-Irish folks.
The Lindsay family
traveled to Wisconsin by way of steam ships on the Great Lakes. We do not know exactly where they landed but
eventually they rafted upstream on the Wolf River as far as Northport. The first winter in Wisconsin was spent in
something little more than a lean-to. George, Sr. and Isabella made a land
claim in the Town of Little Wolf in Waupaca County and the Lindsay farm was
established in 1856 where they raised their family. Arthur became a business man in Manawa. Jane
was the proverbial Irish maiden aunt and George, Jr. stayed on the farm which
became known as a very progressive farm in the 20th century.
The story of William,
George, Sr., and George, Jr. Lindsay has made a significant impression upon my
own life. I think of the hardships they
encountered, the desperation of hunger, the pain of separation from loved ones,
the back-breaking toil of plowing new ground. Those men and women personified
the family motto of “Endure fort.”
Our family does not have
specific customs that connect us to Killala.
The only recipe from those people is for potato pancakes which tells us
to use lots of butter. There simply was
no money to develop or continue customs.
Their Calvinist influence made them to be restrained and simplistic.
St. Patrick’s Day may be a
time of revelry and partying. The
Lindsay family has never really followed such a tradition. Maybe I will simply brew a pot of tea and
ponder what I have endured. Nothing
compares.
By the way, no other Lindsay
woman has since been named Euphemia.
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