Enoch N. Bjerregaard

Born: 01/03/1853 in Nordjylland, Denmark

Married: 03/04/1886 in Maryville, Nodaway, Missouri

Died: 05/12/1942 in Barnard, Missouri

Through Leona (Bob) Whorton I learned that my Grandfather Enoch rode a mule from Utah to Whitesville, Missouri. This must have been when his parents and other members of family came to Missouri from Utah. Grandpa would tell me stories about him and his brother "Andrew" riding across the plains, seeing Indians and riding as hard as they could away from them.

This must have been in Utah before he came to Missouri with parents. There was some Indian problems at that time. This is pure conjecture on my part but dates and ages support it somewhat.

I, Devere Byergo, found more information on my grandfather in a story written about the Bertelsen family. More from and about this story in Andrew N. and his wife Johanne's memos. To begin with I found out our last name was spelled Byiargor not Bjerregaard when the family went to Utah and stayed with the ones who moved to Missouri. It was changed to Byergo in Missouri around 1890 but I do not know when the family in Utah went to Bjerregaard. Or why??

Also I found out that my grandfather Enoch went on a trip back to Utah in 1880. This was in a letter written by Andrew N., Enoch's oldest brother, to his wife's sister in Utah. The letter was written in 1880, and he told her he would write Enoch and have him go visit her. How my grandfather Enoch went to Utah and how long he stayed I do not Know. I am sure he stayed with his brother Andrew because from the stories he told they must have been very close brothers. He married my grandmother in 1886 so he had to return to Missouri before then.

Following are stories about my Grandfather Enoch and I, Devere Byergo.

Learning to Swim

My Grandfather could swim very good and was always trying to teach me how. So one day we headed for the small river that went through his property to a deep place we had picked out for my swimming lessons. You must remember I was about 8 years old and Granddad was over 80 years old.

That day I felt real smug because I knew how to swim and didn`t tell him. (I learned when I was forced to swim or get beat up by the town bully. This is another story.) We got to our swimming hole, removed our cloths and jumped in. The water was about shoulder high on me. I said, grandpa watch me. I began dog paddling all over the place. He looked at me and said, Devere that`s good but you have to get your feet off of the bottom.

I told him that I had my feet off of the bottom. He laughed and begin swimming around. This really took the wind out of my sails. I think to this day he didn`t know I was swimming. Maybe he was just kidding me.

Anyway we swam around for a while and he showed me how to feel for cat fish in the holes in the river bank. After a while Granddad said lets get out, I felt like we should stay in a while longer, but we got out, dressed, and headed for the house.

Collecting the Bees

One day Granddad and I was walking across the barn yard to the gate in a wooden fence that opened into the pasture that the river we swam in ran through.

On one of the fence posts by the gate was a swarm of honey Bees. Granddad was thrilled. He said, Devere I`M going to put them Bees in a box. So he took off and a while later came back with a good size box.

I ask, grandpa how are you going to get the Bees in that box. He said I`ll just rake them off the post into the box. There was some tall grass in the pasture so he pulled some of it up and twisted it together to use to rake the Bees off of the post with.

I didn`t think this was going to work so I headed for the house. At the other side of the barn yard I turned around and watched Grandpa rake the Bees off of the post. As you might have guessed they swarmed him. Here he came towards me, hat in hand, swinging his arms around his head running as fast as he could.

I thought, OH! MY! He`s going to bring them Bees to me. I stood my ground, and by the time he got to me he had ran away from them. He was a mess, I must have picked stingers out of his face for over an hour. It`s a good thing he had a long sleeve shirt on.

I don`t know why he didn`t get sick or something, but he didn`t. I think that was the last of the Bee collecting attempt. The box was left by the fence post for a long time.

Eating with a knife

Grandpa ate everything with just a knife. He only ate foods that he could manipulate with just a knife. Such as meat, boiled potatoes, peas, apples, pears, peaches, etc. I don`t know how he held his meat while he cut it but I know he could eat peas with a knife better then some people could with a spoon. He would not eat butter and neither would my dad.

One day I was having dinner with Grandpa and Grandma. Grandma had fixed some peas out of her garden. I watched Grandpa rake some out of the bowl onto his plate and begin to eat them with his knife. I said, Grandpa if you use your fork it would be easier. He said that when you travel horseback a knife is all you have room for and you learn to use it for everything. That`s how I learned to use a knife and it`s all I need. And it was.

Grandpa would tell me stories about when he was a child about my age, at Grandpa would tell me stories about when he was a child about my age, at that time, riding horseback on the plains with his brothers. These stories are vague, I was to young at the time to remember them in detail. He would stand and pick at the age spots on his arms. I thought this was funny at the time, but I do it now. He would walk to Guilford, about a mile and a half, everyday weather and health permitted just to talk and whittle with people his own age. These are just a few of the many things I remember about a person I thought a great deal of.

Following is a short story about Grandpa Enoch that involved his jockey days. He must have been in his late teens or early twenties to have been small enough to ride competitively. He probably only road in local races or county fairs. This story given to me by another grandson Keith Byergo.

The Jockey

As the story goes this was a match race between just two horses. It was a straight half mile track or road with plowed fields on either side.

Grandpa got the jump on the other rider and though the other horse was faster and could have past him, he maneuvered back and forth in front of the trailing horse forcing him into the plowed ground if he wanted to pass.

The deep going in the plowed ground slowed the horse enough that he could not pass. Grandpa won the race at good odds but knew the other rider and owner would beat him up if he stayed around to collect his purse. He jumped off his horse at the end of the race and hit the ground running.

He was fast on foot also and so missed a beating, then came back a few days later to collect his money. His competition was apparently honest but vindictive when angry.

Enoch N. Bjerregaard
Born: 01/03/1853 in Nordjylland,Denmark
Married: 03/04/1886 in Maryville, Nodaway, Missouri
Died: 05/12/1942 in Barnard,Missouri
Notes: Bjerregaard/Byergo same name
Enoik, Enock, Enoch Bjerregaard, Byergo was three yrs. old
when he came to United States from Denmark and 12 yrs. old when he came to Missouri from Utah with parents.  Enoch was 33 yrs. old and Virginia (Jenny) was 26 yrs. old when they married.   Another birth date: 01/03/1854.