Part V

Pastor Guttormsson was also a good singer, he could play the organ, and he had a wonderful sense of humor. He did not pressure his parishioners. One time when Joe Peterson and I were discussing him, he said, ‘Pastor Guttormsson was the nicest fellow who ever came down the pike, but he would do better when he meets you on the street to ask you why you weren’t in church last Sunday.’

I remember once, when I was studying Latin II in high school — Cesar — I had my book home one Sunday when he came over for coffee after the service. He saw the book and picked it up. I showed him my lesson for the next day. He translated it like he would read English. He was also able to read Greek, which really separates the men from the boys.

Another Greek scholar in our community was Dr. Thordur Thordarson, our Icelandic M.S. from the late 1890s to the late 30s, with time out for World War I, when he served as captain in the medical corps. He was very intellectual and in some ways a bit different. His office was above that of Globe Land and Loan Company in a building which stood where the Finnegan store is now located. One day Doctor Thor came into the Globe Land Office just when Attorney Bjorn B. Gislason had finished reading an article which proposed the theory that all left-handed people were a little odd. He said to Dr. Thor: ‘Take a pen in hand and refute this article. Certainly you don’t think that all left-handed people are odd.’

Old Doc, gently clapping his hands thoughtfully, as was his custom, said, ‘Humph, don’t you think I’m plenty queer?’ Of course, the original dialogue took place in Icelandic, undoubtedly losing something in this translation.

One more story about Doc Thor, who was a member of St. Paul’s. He had a very famous and successful brother named Hjortur who, incidentally, was married to a relative of Dora Askdal Harvey. He was an electrical engineer and manufacturer in Chicago. Once when he came on a visit to Minneota traveling in a very large car driven by a chauffeur, he took Doc Thor out for a ride. When Doc got out at the end of the ride he asked, ‘How many miles does it make on a gallon of gas?’

In mid-winter of 1936, I had an infection in my left ear, and I went to see him one evening. Doctor Thordorson was getting old and was almost blind. The weather was cold and I was farming. He asked, ‘How bad is it? Can you sleep?’

I said, ‘Oh yes, I can sleep all right.’

Well,’ he said, ‘come back when you can’t sleep.’

The ear got worse and became so painful I couldn’t sleep; so I went to see him and told him the pain was so bad I couldn’t sleep. He said, ‘It will have to be lanced, but I can’t see well enough to do it.’ Since Dr. Sanderson was not available I went over to Dr. Gray in Marshall. He opened it and stuffed two feet of gauze into the canal.

When I was supposed to return to Marshall to get the packing removed we got a blizzard and the roads were blocked. I called him up, asked what I should do. He said, ‘Pull it out.’ Since I didn’t have the nerve to pull it quickly I pulled it an inch at a time, standing in front of the mirror over the kitchen sink. That was drawn-out pain.

(Continued next week)

Sources: “Ninety Years at St. Paul’s,” Committee Members, J.A. Josefson, Cecil Hofteig and Haldur G. (Jimmie) Johnson of Icelander Lutheran Church, Minneota, MN., October 1977.