Voyage and Minnesota Part 2
These pages are adapted from presentations at the Holtan Tweeten Reunion July, 2026. Written by Phil Holtan
Next came the Journey Inland
From Quebec, they traveled west. First by lake boat, and then by train. But not passenger trains. Freight cars. Cattle cars. Not cleaned after the cows were there. (pause), It was so confusing for these travelers. A language they couldn’t understand. Cities and ports and so much noise. After days of travel, they reached the Midwest.
But before they could go any further—something happened. Margit went into labor. At a small station in Wisconsin. We don’t know exactly where. Not a town. Just a depot. Among strangers. With almost nothing. But a kindly stationmaster and his wife helped them.
There, on July 29, 1862, she gave birth to a daughter. They named her Helga, after her grandmother, who was traveling with them to America. After everything they had lost—this must have felt like hope again. Like a gift.
But only for a few days. Baby Helga died. All three children lost— in one journey.
And still… they continued.
Eventually, they arrived at their last train stop, probably in LaCrosse, Wisconsin, the last stop on the railroad in 1862, and Hans’ brother Even was waiting. After so much strangeness, that must have been a wonderful homecoming. Even had seen nothing of his family for 16 years. After that joyous reunion, they traveled by wagon to Rock Dell in southeastern Minnesota, near Rochester, about 85 miles, and finally arrived in August of 1862.
At last—they had reached their destination.
Part 4: Minnesota – A New Beginning
They didn’t arrive into comfort. They arrived into work. Hans worked for his brother for several years, and it seems that the four to five years was a standard amount to pay back the tickets.
Hans and Margit lived simply. Saved what they could. And slowly… began again.
This was still the frontier. There were dangers. Conflict in the region. Uncertainty. But they stayed. 1862 is when the Sioux Uprising began. The government had not kept its treaty promises and native people were dying of hunger. Settlers lived in fear of attack.
Even had arrived with the very first settlers to this Minnesota frontier, near where Rochester, Minnesota and the Mayo Clinic now stand. But 8 years before that, in 1846, he had come to Koshkonong, Wisconsin. He had come with an early wave of Norwegian immigrants, almost surely with the Fellands, with a ticket and a promise to be a hired man for them for several years, often 5 years. He worked. He learned, he fell in love 
and married Marken Knutsdatter Holtan.
Yes, you heard that right. She was the Holtan, from the Holtan farm in Kviteseid, just down the road from Mo in Upper Telemark. They met and married, and when a treaty with the native tribes was signed in 1854, they moved to Minnesota. Even, like his brother Hans, had many last names, because he moved between many farms whose names he temporarily took. For some reason, perhaps because Knut Holtan, Marken’s father, was so well respected, Even took his wife Marken’s name, Holtan. That will happen again, with the Kinglands, because Ole Tostenson also took his first wife’s name, Kingland, actually, his mother-in-law’s farm name, Kingland.
And more and more, we will also see Hans using that name, Holtan, alternated at first with Evenson and Halvorson. Holtan, the name of a farm where none of his family had ever lived. Many of us have visited that farm, not knowing it was an adopted name, long after the family left Norway.
Do you know what the name, Holtan, means? In Telemark’s dialect, close to Old Norse, Holtan means a “clump of trees.” Not a forest, and not a single tree, but a small cluster of trees. Ironic, because the history of Olmstead County said the early settlers, like Even, were looking for quarters of land with both trees and prairie, not fully forest, nor complete prairie. Just clumps of trees. Holtan. That’s us. And Tweeten, do you know what that means, as a variation on Tvedt? It means a meadow, a cleared space, the complement to a clump of trees.
Both Margit and Hans had much to learn. Much was familiar. They learned some English, but Norwegian would still be their language of everyday life for many years. Hans also had to learn to farm in a new way- still oxen, still many kinds of farm animals, chickens, hogs, cows, but much, much more land.
Most everyone agreed, even in the America letters to Norway. You had to work harder in America. Long hours, fierce weather. And Hans owed Even some years of work for his family’s ocean passage, maybe as many as five. But it was a great way to transition to a new land, still in the bosom of your family, as you learned the ropes and found your way.
Rock Dell, near Rochester, the little town where Even and Marken settled, and where 7 generations of their family have lived, is worth a visit. That cemetery, at East St. Olaf church, is a holy place for Holtans. Halvor, Hans and Even’s father is buried there. Haege was visiting Iowa when she died, and she is buried at Winnebago church.
But it’s where life began again for Hans and Margit. Two more babies were born, named once again for their two male grandfathers, given the same names as the boys that died at sea- Halvor and Tarjei. But it’s America now, so not Tarjei, but Thomas, the American equivalent.
And eventually—Hans and Margit would move again. To Iowa.
And later, along with many of their children, to Dakota, and beyond.
But everything that came later—started here. With this voyage, this journey, and this new land.
So, what do we take from this story?
We talk about Norwegian immigration, in big numbers. ½ of the residents from some places in Norway. But this wasn’t numbers. This was a family. A mother, a father. Children.
Loss. Hope. And endurance.
They left everything behind— for a future they couldn’t see.
They endured hardship we can barely imagine. And they kept going.
Why? Because it was about the kids…. That’s us.
And because of that journey— we’re here. Thank you.
You can continue the story in Holtan Tweeten Journeys III Life in Mount Valley Township Iowa