Week 12 of #52Ancestors Challenge: Historical Events
When we think of “historical events,” our minds often jump to world wars, presidential elections, or groundbreaking scientific discoveries. But history is also created through the personal journeys of ordinary people making extraordinary choices—choices that ripple through generations. For me, one such pivotal moment was my grandfather David Svensson Sten’s journey from Sweden to America in 1926. Without his decision to cross an ocean at just 18 years old to join his brother Hugo and his sister Alma, I wouldn’t be writing these words today.
The Voyage That Changed Everything (and Created Me!)
Picture this: November 24, 1926. My grandfather, David Svensson Sten, all of 18 years old, boarded the S.S. Gripsholm in Gothenburg, Sweden. I have a copy of his actual ticket (number 53397) from Svenska Amerika Linien, and let me tell you—this was no budget cruise! The kid splurged for second class, got assigned to stateroom C-157, and shelled out 600 Kronor for the trip. That’s like a teenager today emptying their savings account for a one-way ticket to another continent!
Born on March 21, 1908, in Hjärsås, Kristianstad, Sweden, David was the son of Sven Svensson and Pernilla Olsdotter. He grew up in Jämshög, Blekinge, working as a “Jordbruksarbetare,” which sounds fancy but just means “farm worker.” Apparently, plowing fields in Sweden wasn’t his lifelong dream.
Can you imagine being a teenager and thinking, “You know what? I’m going to leave behind everyone I know, a language I actually understand, and the only food I’m familiar with to go somewhere I’ve never been!” I get anxious ordering at a new coffee shop—this guy crossed an ocean!
The passenger manifest just lists him as “Svensson (Sten), David” — age 18, destination: New York. One tiny line – the last entry in fact – on a piece of paper that essentially translates to: “Future grandfather sets sail, eventually resulting in you existing.” Talk about a consequential boat ride!1
From Swedish Farm Boy to American Carpenter (Without Google Translate!)
Before he even boarded the Gripsholm, he had to get his documentation in order. I have a copy of his Swedish passport—a fascinating piece of history in itself!2 The passport, issued in Malmö on October 15, 1926, shows his same occupation (“Jordbruksarbetare”) and includes a striking photo of him as a serious young man in a suit and tie. The passport was valid for travel to Denmark, England, and “the United States of America”—his specific destination carefully noted.
After disembarking in New York (probably wondering what in the world he’d gotten himself into), my grandfather somehow made his way to Delaware to be near his brother, Hugo. His 1940 draft registration card shows he was living in Cheswold, Kent County, Delaware—a tiny town that would become his American home base.
Here’s where it gets impressive: This young man who likely knew minimal English managed to not only learn a whole new trade but also become self-employed at it! His occupation? “Carpenter.” His employer? “Self.” That’s right—Grandpa wasn’t waiting around for someone to hire the Swedish kid; he was out there building his own business, one hammer swing at a time.
I’ve tried assembling IKEA furniture (ironically, Swedish) and nearly lost my mind. Meanwhile, my grandfather crossed an ocean and built actual houses! Those construction skills would soon come in handy for Uncle Sam.
From Building Houses to Serving His New Country
When World War II broke out, my grandfather—who wasn’t even a U.S. citizen yet—demonstrated his commitment to his adopted homeland. On January 9, 1941, at age 32, he was inducted into the U.S. Army while still technically Swedish.
His military records document his service journey: he trained at the Armor Artifer School at Fort Lewis, Washington for six weeks in June 1942. He advanced from Private through the ranks to Staff Sergeant with Company D, 291st Infantry. His military occupational specialties evolved from Basic Training Infantry (521) to Armorer (511), and ultimately to Supply NCO (821)—reflecting increasing responsibility and trust placed in him.
The discharge papers reveal that his service took him back to Europe—to Central Europe, Northern France, and the Rhineland. He earned several medals: the World War II Victory Medal, Good Conduct Medal, American Defense Service Medal, American Service Medal, and the European-African-Middle Eastern Service Medal.
The timing of his military service is particularly meaningful: just 15 years after arriving as an immigrant, he was in uniform, willing to risk his life for his new country. His service record precisely notes he spent 1 year, 2 months, and 23 days in foreign service before being honorably discharged on December 4, 1945.
Becoming American
One of the most significant documents in my collection is my grandfather’s Certificate of Naturalization, dated August 11, 1942. The timing reveals an important aspect of his character—he became a citizen while actively serving in the military, formalizing his commitment to the country he was already defending.
His Declaration of Intention (the first formal step toward citizenship) shows that by this time, he had also started a family. In the early 1940s, he was living in Cheswold, Delaware, and continuing his work as a carpenter when not serving in the military.
The naturalization certificate describes him as 34 years old, 5’9″, 137 pounds, with blue eyes and blonde hair. There’s his photograph on the document—a formal portrait of a man who had traveled far from his birthplace to establish a new identity in America.3
The Ripple Effect
What strikes me most about these documents is how they represent a series of choices and events that directly led to my existence. Had my grandfather chosen to remain in Sweden, had he decided not to follow his brother and sister to America, had he settled in a different part of this country—my entire family’s story would be unwritten.
This is what makes genealogy so compelling. We’re not just collecting names and dates; we’re tracing the decision points that formed our reality. That ship ticket wasn’t just a piece of paper—it was the first page in a new chapter of our family’s story, a chapter that would include his continued connection to his agricultural roots through gardening, even in suburban America (that’s a whole ‘nother blog post!).
When I hold these documents, I feel a profound connection not just to my grandfather, but to history itself. His personal journey intertwined with global events—immigration patterns, world war, America’s melting pot—creating the unique circumstances that would eventually lead to me.
So while David Svensson Sten may not appear in history textbooks, his journey across the Atlantic, his military service, and his citizenship remain historical events of immense importance to me and my family. Without them, there would be no us.
What about you? Do you have immigration stories in your family? Which seemingly small decisions ended up changing your family’s trajectory? Did your ancestors make choices that directly resulted in where you are today? Share your stories in the comments below.
- “Gothenburg police chamber before 1900, Information received on emigrants, SE/GLA/12703/E IX/118 (1926),” Riksarkivet (https://sok.riksarkivet.se/bildvisning/A0035167_00389: accessed 19 May 2024), image ID: A0035167_00389, image 389, page 1503. ↩︎
- Sweden Passport, issued to David Svensson (Sten) passport, personal collection of Kirsten M. Max-Douglas, Cincinnati, Ohio. ↩︎
- Certificate of Naturalization No. 5426520, David Svensson Sten, issued 11 Aug 1942, personal collection of Kirsten M> Max-Douglas, Cincinnati, Ohio. ↩︎
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