By Gordon Berg

Has anyone ever said something to you that came so completely out of the blue that their comment stopped you cold? This happened to me a few years ago. I was talking with James Kieszkowski, the driving force behind Manistee’s Oak Grove Cemetery, before he passed away in 2021. He had helped my father and me find the unmarked grave of my great-grandmother, Anna Martinson, and place a beautiful gravestone on it.

When we were all done, Jim asked me, “So, who’s the infant girl in your great-grandmother’s grave?”

“Huh?!”

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Everything stopped. Our family’s unfinished business had been resolved, when Jim served up a new one.

So, climb out on this branch of my family’s tree with me. Hang on. Let me tell you a story.

Maxwelltown settlers

Anna and Nels Martinson were my great-grandparents. In the late 1800s, they emigrated from the Skåne region in southwest Sweden to live in the U.S. They were young parents with big dreams, yearning for a better world for themselves and their children. Nels was a skilled blacksmith and had heard Manistee was a good place to make a living during those legendary logging days. They settled in Maxwelltown, close to all the logging mills around Lake Manistee at the time. In 1892, Anna gave birth to their last child, a son they named Harry. This boy would become my grandfather.

Two years later, in March 1894, tragedy struck. Here is the story from the Manistee Daily News, May 14, 1894:

Manistee Daily News Clip. Comes to the Surface After Being in the Water Two Months. Body of Mrs. Martinson is Found. Suffering from the grip, she wandered from her bed into Lake Manistee. A logger found her body.

Anna, my great-grandmother, was only 29 years old.

Over time, all the pain from that tragic night had been laid to rest … or so it seemed. Back in those days, people who died by suicide were buried in unmarked graves. This was the case for Anna, too. Swept beneath the rug of history.

Oak Grove Cemetery

Fast forward 80 years. My wife and I would often take Harry, now my grandfather, to Manistee to visit friends and family. A trip to Manistee was never complete without stopping by Oak Grove Cemetery. He’d pause by various markers and tell us humorous stories of those beneath our feet. And, every time we drove out of the cemetery, he would ask me to stop the car by the low-rising hill on the south as we approached the gates. He would quietly stare up at the knoll and then say, “Okay. We can go now.”

After the third such visit, I finally asked him, “Grandpa, what’s up there?”

“My mother,” he said, tears welling up in his aging eyes. “My mother’s up there on that hill somewhere, in an unmarked grave.”

And bits of the story spilled onto his cheek.

Grandpa died in 1984. About 10 years later my father and I began a quest to make sure that Anna Martinson would not be forgotten to time. We were grateful to Jim for helping us make that happen. Times had changed. She deserved it. It was the least we could do to honor her short time on this planet. We owed her so much more.

Photo by Gordon Berg of his great-grandmother's gravestone. Photo assist by Lauren Berg. Flowers by Lavender Florals, Manistee.
Photo by Gordon Berg of his great-grandmother’s gravestone. Photo assist by Lauren Berg. Flowers by Lavender Florals, Manistee.

Unanswered questions

But what about the infant girl who shares the gravesite with my great-grandmother? Why? Who were her parents? Why an unmarked grave?

Here’s what I learned from Oak Grove Cemetery documents. Her name was Amanda A. Anderson. Seven months old. Female. Cause of death: meningitis. Buried April 25, 1895. “N.S.” – No funeral service. Really?! Why?

To learn more, I sat down with Mark Fedder, executive director of the Manistee County Historical Museum. He’s an amazing historian. He found the article noted above. But Amanda eluded even him. He suggested I visit the county clerk’s office to check for birth and death certificates to learn the identity of her parents. Their records go back to 1867, but they had nothing about Amanda either. It was as though this little girl didn’t exist.

But she did. And she needs a marker of her own. Every life, even a forgotten one, deserves to be remembered. To the extent possible, I owe it to Amanda to provide as much information as possible on that stone. After all, for 127 years she and my great-grandmother have been softening each other’s pain. A timeless act of love.

So, I am asking the readers of Freshwater Reporter to help me. My skills as a gumshoe historian are limited here. Perhaps one of you can shed light on this story and help me write a fitting end to it.

If you have any clues, tips or suggestions about who Amanda A. Anderson may be, please contact me through the Freshwater Reporter email address: editor@freshwater-reporter.com.

Amanda deserves a stone. If we don’t do this for her, who will?

With deep gratitude,

G.B.

Gordon Berg is a descendant of Manistee’s Bergs, Swansons and Martinsons. His debut book, “Harry and the Hurricane,” is about his father’s life as a young boy and survivor of the Miami Hurricane of 1926. www.harryandthehurricane.com

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