History of Otto Nordman

Born 25 Jan 1885 as GEORGE OTTO EBERHARD LOTHAR SCHNEIDER in Heppens, Germany. Soon after (1886) brother Rudolf was born, traveled to Bismark archipelago with mother & father (Sakar Island). Father was surveying German acquisitions and commanded the ship "Isabella" / "Ysabela".

Returned to Germany to Marmstorf (later to Tunning) most likely before 1890-01 to begin formal education.

Incorrigible at school because of clothing and restrictions unfamiliar to south sea islands, placed aboard a sailing ship as a cabin boy at 8+ (1893). At completion of voyage had become docile enough to complete schooling in 1900.

In July of 1900 began merchant seaman career sailing as common seaman, able seaman and finally as 2nd mate (had earned captains papers) on ships "Eberhard", "Ascuncion", "Gesine", "Anakonda", "Prometheus", "Essen", "Paula Blumberg", "Berger Wilhelm" and others. Took passage as sailmaker from Hamburg to Buenos Aires from Oct thru Nov 1909 aboard "Cap Bianco" for purposes of immigration.

Dec 1909 thru 1914(?) worked as field hand, later as "Gaucho" and / or horse drover. Knowledge of German & Spanish language landed him work with German surveyor and American engineers siting the trans-Andean railroad. Familiarity with seamans sextant allowed his repair of broken transit that saved several months delay for engineers and earned invitation to USA and eventually position as surveyor.

Arrived USA as a visitor in New Orleans on May 1914 and is believed to begin proving up his homestead in Louisiana(?), and was joined by his youngest brother, Erwin. He married Eveline VerHeyden in Pinesville, Louisiana in 1916 but soon abandoned his wife and traveled Oklahoma and divorced Eva Schneider on 2 Nov 1918 in Garfield County OK after one year residence.

1918 thru Dec 1940 worked beginning with Gypsy Oil Co which became Gulf Oil Co as a surveyor and later as field geologist, mapping many of the oil fields in OK, KS, and NE which required moving every 2 or 3 months. Studied geology and earned pilots license during the early part of this period. Naturalized on 29 Jan 1925 in Tulsa county and changes hist last name from Schneider to Nordman at that time. In 1929 visited Germany and met Elisabeth Stahmer of Wandsbeck. Married her on 24 Aug and returned to USA alone. New wife followed and arrived in NYC on 25 Nov 1929, continued to Oklahoma and joined him as housewife and traveled about mid-west because of his work. Five children came of this union.

During 1940-41 his outspoken pro-German / anti-British attitude forced his resignation from Gulf Oil Co. Family applied for passports to travel to Paraguay to live with his brother, Erwin. Traveled to NYC area to be near transportation. Passports and travel denied because of "unsettled conditions" and became trapped (jobless) in this area when USA entered WWII. Though skilled and educated he was unable to hold a good paying job during WWII because of his known pro-German sentiment and sustained his family by holding down multiple menial jobs at the same time.

From 1941 thru 1955 the family lived in New Jersey, but upon receipt of Social Security in 1955; he sailed as passenger on the "Italia" to Germany where his Social Security payments afforded a better standard of living. In Germany he returned to school to refresh his maritime training and was once again issued a merchant seaman officer's certificate. He sailed as second mate on "Frieda Wilckens" from 11 Apr to 17 May 1957 (age 72). After vessel returned to port he remained on board as "port watch" and was injured in an accident aboard ship. During recovery from injury he suffered a heart attack. After a second heart attack a relative took him to Lorrach where he dies on 27 July 1958. He is buried near Lorrach, Germany.

The Way of an Emigrant in South America

I received this from Uncle Rudi via email in 2015. Email was titled "dads last try at sharing" so I can only assume this is my grandfather from Germany, Otto Eberhard George Lothar Schneider (1885-1958). 

The Way of an Emigrant in South America

Written about 1946

            Some years before I emigrated from Europe to Argentina, I was a member of the crew of a three masted bark.  Like other windjammers, we were loading pitchpine in Mobile bay at the mouth of the Mississippi.  The backbreaking labor, the miserable food, and the bully mate, as well as the stories about plenty of money, big cities, and large prairies full of intrepid cowboys, brought my decision to leave the ship to a head. This wasn't as easy as one may think.  We were anchored twelve miles out, near a little sand dune island, but the lumber came out on big barges, towed by a tug.  At night, when empty, they dropped anchor about half a mile astern to be picked up by the tug in the morning in exchange for a barge with a new supply of wood. 

            One stormy night I eased the paint scow hanging on the cathead down just above the choppy water, climbed down and cut the tackle so the next high wave lifted her away.  It was risky, because I had only a board to navigate with.  However, the wind and waves carried me swiftly astern in the direction of the pounding barge.

            I managed to get alongside and when she was up on a wave, jumped over her flat deck.  In no time at all, the scow, which was only a square box was, lost in the stormy darkness.  These barges are manned only by one Negro, who was, of course, asleep, so I opened up one of the small square hatches, lowering myself into the slimy water world interior, replacing the hatch behind me.  Unfortunately, on account of the unruly sea, the tug did not arrive that particular morning, which in turn meant that on board the ship a boat was lowered to search the island and a close search was made of the barge.  The bully mate came down the hatch into the barge interior and lit a match in the dark, then called up, "he isn't here either."  I was hanging over his head like a monkey on a deck beam, and, as luck would have it, my sheath knife, which every sailor carries, dropped out of its sheath on his head.  That was the end of my first attempt to become an American citizen.  Brought before the captain, he remarked, "I knew you were trying to run away but never thought you'd try it in a night like that!! I'll impound all your belongings until the scow is paid for."

            Years later, back home,  recounting this episode, father advised me to finish school before going into a foreign country.  And so, when the time arrived, we flipped a coin: heads up "North America", tails "South America".  Tails it was. Argentina. But how to get there?  Money was scarce, so I signed on as a sort of sailmaker for the run only.  The ship was a passenger boat and my work consisted of sewing canvas covers for boats and other things. 

            One fine day, I stood on the docks of Buenos Aires with a small bag of clothes over my shoulder and a tiny dictionary in my pocket.  Argentina.  The first night I spent at a cheap hotel along the waterfront, but early in the morning, I took my bag and wandered west out of the city.  The Camino Real, which means highway, was dusty and windblown, but followed the rails in a general way.  The country was flat with nothing in particular to catch the eye.  As night drew on, I felt pretty lonely in the immensity on which the sinking sun cast its last rays.  walking along the rails, a sort of barn made from corrugated tin sheets was visible,  I directed my feet over there to look for some sort of shelter for the night.  Approaching, I noticed a couple of men squatting about a fire, who called to come and sit. As it turned out they were foreigners also. Gringos also, and our aims and hopes were identical.  Some of them already knew the ropes.  That is, where work could be had, speak a little Spanish to get along with, and above all, how to hit the road and secure food. 

            I travelled west as far as my resources allowed and asked for a job at a ranch, then learned the ins and outs of being a gaucho on the pampas of Argentina.  I bought a horse from an Indian living on a small island in a river raising horses, with the help of the foreman who spoke Indian.  Learned the hard way that the Indian had told me to cover the horses eyes with a blanket when crossing water as he had trained them to not cross water.  The fourth time the horse stopped short and pitched me over his head into the water, the next river that I came to,  I shot him.  When I cooled down, I realized that I had a 75 kilometer walk back to the hacienda with my saddle and gear.  I arrived hungry and footsore and much smarter.

            Several years later, I was working as a rail hand on the railroad through the Andes.  All work stopped when the surveying  instrument was dropped and broken.  I offered to fix it on site instead of sending the unit back to Europe for repairs.  I was successful, got promoted to the surveying team, and was the first man on the team to see Lake Titicaca.  I was told by the construction boss to look him up if i came to the United States, job guaranteed, in the oil fields  working for Shell oil. 

            I came to the USA, and with my brother, started a farm in Louisiana raising cabbages on a share crop type farm.  I used my last cash to buy a horse, wagon, and seed.  I spent the year tending the growing plants and fending off a local gal.  When I took the crop to market and was offered less than the cost of the seed for the full grown cabbages, I got a bottle of whiskey, drove the wagon down to the river, and threw the cabbages into the river  between drinks.  The horse started to spook so I hit him between the ears with the back end of the quirt.  He dropped like a stone. I finished the bottle, burned the wagon and woke up three days later married to the local round heel.  I left for Oklahoma on the first train and sent her back at the first station we came to.  I applied for a divorce, got one, and changed my name to prevent that ex from finding me. When I reached the local Shell station, I got a job as a geodetic surveyor. That job lasted for 24 years, until trouble with anti German feelings in 1939 within the company made it intolerable for me to remain.