The Losli connection

Dan Losley (front, far right) with sisters and their spouses, 1960-70s?

Our Grossparents had raised 12 children and at age 97 Harold Bell, a well-known portrait artist, painted Grossmama and entitled it “Mother of Twelve.” It hung in the Portland museum for a time and the portrait was published in the Oregon Journal newspaper.

Grosspapa Losli {ed note: census records show the name as both Losli and Losle} (Mother insisted Dad change his name to Losley, not unlike Mosley or Bosley, which is British) came with two brothers from Switzerland from a small town near Berne in the late 1840s {ed note: census records have Daniel, Maria and 5 children emigrating in 1888}. They came to join friends in an area of dairies known as Little Helvetia, now known as just Helvetia. The area was scattered with many Swiss or Switzers as many called them. The majority of them were either farmers or dairymen.

Grossmama and Papa separated after their 12^th child; the six older boys {census records list 5 Losli boys. It also shows the senior Loslis in the same household in 1910, 10 years after the youngest was born} lived with Grosspapa on a large dairy ranch and Dad and his sisters with Grossmama at a house about five miles away. I can only remember being at the dairy a few times, once while going to the well for water and a man came up and pulled up the bucket for me. He had bright red hair like mine and was very nice but did not come in the house. I found out later it was Dad's oldest brother Godfrey. {census records list John, born 1877, as the oldest son} Grosspapa had red hair too and two of Dad's sisters.

I learned that Dad did not speak to his older brothers, Godfrey, Jake and John (twins), and Fred and two whose names I can't remember {ed note: census records say only 5 boys and Jake and Fred as the twins}. So there were a dozen or so cousins I never got to know; I only knew my cousins of the five younger sisters {ed: seven sisters, only two younger than Daniel}.

We always spent Fourth of July with the sisters and their families. We would affix an American flag to the top of the radiator cap and in our Ford touring car with the top down to various parks and feast on fried chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, dill pickles, and punch, then fetch two huge watermelons cooling in the creek and cut huge wedges to eat. My Aunt Marty always spent the whole day locked in the car because she didn't want to get dirty and hated mosquitoes.

We know little of my father's side of the family except that Grosspapa and his brothers came to Oregon and later sent for their wives and children after they had bought farms and settled down. Grossmama came with a note pinned on her coat with instructions of where she was to be delivered in Helvetia. She had two small children and was expecting a third. {census records don't agree with this. The census of 1900 says father, wife and 5 children came the same year} Grosspapa spoke fair broken English but Grossmama never learned a word. We went to see her on Sundays every few months for a big dinner with a plate of homemade bread stacked 12 inches high. Mother hate it because everyone spoke nothing but Swiss {ed note: Swiss-Germans speak a unique hybrid dialect} and Dad seldom translated anything.

I found that Losli was a very common name in Switzerland in the lowland dairy country. Grosspapa brought a beautiful bronze bell from his head cow in his herd with him to America and a sprig of edelweiss from the Alps meadows. Dad gave me the bed which I treasured but it was stolen years later from our beach house when we were gone. When my dad died my mother gave me his birth certificate It was very ornate with gold leaf. From that I learned that Grosspapa's parents were of noble heritage and his name was ???????????????????.

My fondest memory of Grosspapa was when he came across the country road herding his cows to the barn wearing his clumping wood-soled shoes and yodeling at the top of his voice, his bright red hair gleaming in the sun. The few times I saw him he would take me on his knee and give me a nickel and pat my red head.