A small population of Swedish-speaking people with roots in today’s Sweden and Finland have been among the residents of the tiny nation of Estonia since the 13th century. Estonia was ruled by Sweden in parts of the 16th and 17th centuries, and, except for brief periods of independence, was dominated by Russia (contested by Germany in the early 20th century) until the fall of the Soviet Union in our day, when it became once again independent. ((I apologize for what must be a terrible butchery of Estonian history by condensing it into two sentences.))

Fridolf Isberg was born in Sutlepa, on the northwest coast of Estonia, on January 19, 1906, the son of Andres and Maria Isberg, and grew up with at least one brother and one sister. I know nothing of Fridolf’s early life, although I suspect someone with adequate linguistic skills could ferret it out – Fridolf was apparently well known in Estonia, but the documents available through Google are all written in Estonian, Finnish, and Swedish.

As a child, Fridolf would have gone through the hardships of the First World War, followed immediately by the invasion of his region by Bolshevik troops during the Russian Revolution, and the year-long Estonian War of Independence, which resulted in the opening of Estonia’s 22 years of independence before the tiny country was overrun by Russia during World War II. What that all meant for Fridolf, we can only imagine.

–oOo–

In 1923, in Salt Lake City, Janne M. Sjodahl – Swedish convert, missionary, editor of English and Scandinavian language publications for the Church, Book of Mormon scholar, editor of The Improvement Era – one of the most scholarly Latter-day Saints of his generation – kept current on Scandinavian affairs by reading Swedish newspapers published in both Europe and the United States, always on the lookout for anything that might be of interest to readers of LDS publications.

“I happened to notice in a newspaper a notice to the effect that old papers and other Swedish literature would be thankfully received by Esthonian-Swedes, too poor to buy them but eager to have some Swedish reading,” said Sjodahl. “I asked Brother Adam L. Petersen, at the time, if he thought he could send a copy of Utah-Posten, on a missionary excursion into Estonia, and he said he thought he could.”

The <em.Utah-Posten was the Swedish language newspaper published by the Church in Salt Lake City beginning in 1873, for the information of both first-generation Swedish converts in Utah and for members of the Church in Sweden. This paper, along with the other foreign language papers published by the Church, was operated on a shoe-string. Every subscription mattered; even missionaries who had served in Sweden were begged to carry subscriptions in order for the paper to survive. Sending a subscription “on a missionary excursion into Estonia” was a greater commitment than might be apparent to our eyes – but off the Posten went.

Eventually, acknowledgments of receipt and thanks began to arrive from Estonia. More than one of them came from teenager Fridolf Isberg, who “asked us not to discontinue it. It has, consequently, been going.” For three years, the Posten served its mission, carrying Swedish and Latter-day Saint news, pictures of life in Utah, and articles about the gospel. Some of those articles no doubt referred to missionary work in Sweden.

Then in 1926, the editor of the Posten received this letter from Fridolf:

Dear readers of “Utah Posten,” and brothers and sisters of the Latter-day Saints. God be with you and guide you to the eternal, right and true goal!

Would like to ask you, if you could send us a small money contribution. I have become acquainted with Mormonism and am keeping that faith, and I intend promulgating it here among the Esthonians and Finlandians, but a little money is needed for that purpose, and I would ask the brethren in Utah, if they possibly could assist me in the matter with a small contribution. In the first place, rent for a hall would be needed, and then something for traveling expenses. If my mission is to be a success, depends on to what extent you may be interested and will assist.

Would even be pleased, if you could send a few copies of the Book of Mormon to us. I believe the mission here would be a success, if it could be carried out, as I have intended.

It’s hard to judge Fridolf’s intent from this time and distance. On the one hand, when Bro. Sjodahl read this letter from a young man he knew had been reading the paper for years, he thought enough of the possibilities to bring the request to the notice of his close friend and fellow Scandinavian, John A. Widtsoe. On the other hand, the request for money was a little worrisome – in response to pleas for money from other would-be local missionaries in Japan, India, Syria, and probably other places, Heber J. Grant commented that there would be no shortage of missionaries or converts anywhere in the world if the Church could afford to buy them all. On the third hand, many Protestant religious missions were financed by donations from abroad – the 20-year-old Fridolf could still have been serious in his religious intention while assuming that the Mormons operated missions in the familiar way.

“Would it not be well to take that matter up for consideration in the proper councils of the Church, leaving the money contribution out?,” suggested Bro. Sjodahl. “Perhaps a missionary could go from Sweden over there, and establish connection with this gentleman. We do not know him at all. But in case the Lord will use him to open a door for our missionaries, it might be just as well to enter at once.”

“Thank you very much indeed for your letter,” responded Elder Widtsoe. “The note from Estonia is most interesting. I have called it to the attention of the First Presidency and have sent on a copy to Brother Talmage with the suggestion that communication be made directly with our correspondent, with a view of discovering the possibilities in the new republic of Estonia.”

And here’s where my story falls apart, and where you might be tempted to throw stones because I have to leave you hanging. History is sometimes incomplete this way, with unanswered questions and “the rest of the story” remaining to be uncovered, somehow. I don’t know whether Elder Talmage, or any other representative of the Church ever contacted Fridolf. I don’t know whether he ever heard from missionaries in Sweden. All I can tell you is that some of our missionary-minded leaders saw this as a potential opening for taking the gospel to Estonia, but I don’t think anything ever came of it.

I can believe, though, that had Fridolf Isberg learned enough about the Church to be truly converted, and had he been able to be baptized, he very well might have been exactly the man to establish the Church in Estonia. This young man, who couldn’t have had much opportunity for an education in a youth consumed by war upon war upon war, went on to become the principal of a “folk high school” – a school outside the normal academic system, focusing on practical education for adults, in his native Estonia. During the Soviet takeover of the Baltic Republics, Fridolf successfully negotiated the “russification” of his school, allowing it to continue to function.

Fridolf didn’t marry until 1950, to a much younger woman, and at least one son and one daughter who might very well be living today (they are my age). He published works on agriculture (his specialty) as well as notes on the folk history of Estonia.

And while we cannot know for a certainty what might have been, had Fridolf Isberg learned more about Mormonism, we do know that this go-getter, this man who began with nothing yet made a success of his life, might, under other circumstances, have been known to the Church today.

My thanks to Kim Östman, whose linguistic skills made it possible to know something of Fridolf Isberg beyond the letters I found exchanged by churchmen in Salt Lake City.