Lögberg - 01.08.1935, Blaðsíða 7

iÖGBEHG. FIMTUDAGINN 1. ÁGÚST, 1935.
7
The Firát Seven Years of the lcelandic
Settlement in North America
A Lecture Delivered in Winnipeg in 1914 by
J. T. Thorson, K.C., ex-M.P.
Today I wish to speak to you of one group of foreign born
pioneers, viz: the Icelanders, not because their lot was any hard-
er than that of others, for their story is only a chapter of the his-
tory of the pioneers of the west. I speak of them, particularly,
because I happen to know something of them and because their
main settlements in the early days were in the Province of
Manitoba and the State of North Dakota. Then, too, they have
been in North America a little over half a century. May I
add, also, that North America was discovered by Icelanders
over four centuries before its discovery by Christopher Colum-
bus. Leifur Eiriksson, son of Eirikur the Red, came to America
early in the llth century from an Icelandic settlement on the
west coast of Greenland. So I ask you to bear with me, while
I attempt to tell you the story of t'he first seven years of the
Icelandic settlements in North America. It will be a simple
tale, not lending itself to flights of oratory, if I were capable
of them, but a plain statement of labor and hardship and
persevering courage.
Men began first to think and talk of migrating^from Iceland
about the year 1870. The outlook for the future was dark,
trade conditions were bad and there was much social and
political unrest, for Iceland was then engaged in its political
struggle with Denmark for freedom of trade and self-govern-
ment. This was a period of great migration from Northern
Europe to North America, especially to the United States.
News of this had spread to Iceland and stirred the men’s hearts
with the desire to seek their fortunes in the new land.
In 1871 a few men left Iceland for America and settled on
Washington Island near Milwaukee in the State of Wisconsin.
The next year 18 persons, as far as I can ascertain, arrived
and settled in Milwaukee and its neighborhood. They were
well pleased with their surroundings, employment in factories
was easy to get, wages were good and they had plenty to eat.
Their only complaint was of the excessive heat. Their letters
to Iceland are hopeful and even enthusiastic. They point out
that in this new place they can save more in a month than
they could in a year in Iceland. Their letters especially men-
tion the success of the Norwegians, who received them as
brothers, and they express the hope that they, too, may succeed
as the Norwegians have done, and establish a new Iceland in
America with schools and churches and newspapers of their
own.
The year 1873 saw the beginning of the real migration.
In that year about 165 persons left Iceland for America and
arrived in Quebec August 25th. Arrangements had been made
by their compatriots in Milwaukee to place the new arrivals
with farmers in Wisconsin so that they might learn something
of agriculture, but the Allan S.S. Company in Glasgow had
given them tickets to Northern Ontario, free passage from
Quebec heing provided hy the Ontario government. So that
only 50 of this party went on to Milwaukee. The remaining
110 were sent to Rosseau, a small village on Lake Muskoka in
Northern Ontario. This was the first settlement of Icelanders
in Canada. Free land was set aside for them, but only a few
were able to take up homesteads. Theáe began at once to
build log cabins on their lands. Most of the others wCre en-
gaged on road construction, but work was intermittent during
the winter and wages were low, $16 per month. Food was
dear and not too plentiful and the cold was severe. During
the winter many left the settlement for Milwaukee, but there,
too, conditions 'had changed. The bank failures of 1873 had
caused a financial panic throughout the country and unem-
ployment was rife. That winter, however, passed without
serious mishap.
The next year, 1874, saw a greater influx. Some 360 people
came from Iceland direct to Quebec and all of these went to
Ontario but not to the settlement of the previous year which
liad rapidly dwindled. Most of them went to Kinmount, a
small village, about 100 miles north-east of Toronto, beyond
the end of the railway. At Kinmount the men were engaged on
íailway construction at 90 cents a day. The government built
for them and their families six small log huts, the two largest
being 70 feet long and 20 feet wide and the remaining four,
each half that size. In this crowded accommodation these
people lived that winter. Work was not regular; food was
dear and in spite of some government aid hunger was felt.
Many children died that winter mainly from cold and lack
of proper housing and food.
It was apparent that this district in Northern Ontario
was not the promised land, the new Iceland of their dreams.
The prospects of building up a settlement there was not a
bright one. The land was all heavily wooded and difficult to
clear and cultivate for people who had no implements, and
no oxen or horses, and no money with which to buy them.
With the completion of the railway there was no prospect of
employment. Opinions were divided; some wished to continue
the struggle in Ontario, others spoke of Nova Scotia as the
future home, thinking conditions would be better there. At
any rate, they argued, they would be near the sea and nearer
their dear Iceland and in the future they could build up trade
relations with Iceland more easily from Nova Scotia than from
Ontario. In the United States, too, the search for a suitable
place to found the Icelandic colony was being continued. Many
thought of Northern Wisconsin, others had gone further west
to Iowa and Nebraska. A land prospecting party even went
north along the Pacific Coast as far as Alaska, which had
just been bought from Russia. The winter of 1874 was one
of hardship and the spring of 1875 one of anxiety. The people
in Iceland were warned not to migrate to America further until
a suitable place was found.
In the spring of 1875 the Canadian Government suggested
that the west shore of Lake Winnipeg in the new Province of
Manitoba might be an ideal spot for these new settlers and
offered to set aside for them a strip of land along the lake
fifty miles long and twelve miles wide, open it all for home-
steads and give them all a free passage to the new settlement.
Three representatives were chosen to “spy out the promised
Iand.” On July 16th, 1875, these three, with three others who
had joined them arrived in Winnipeg, the first Icelanders to
set foot there. They went by boat down the Red River and
landed near what is now Gimli. The land ^eekers \Vere pleased
with this place. Here was a lake, full of fish; here was good
land not nearly so heavily wooded as the land in Ontario and
the woods were interspersed with meadow land, thick with
wild hay. This was dccided upon as the ideal spot for the
future home of Icelanders in the new world. The representa-
tives hrought the glad news back to Ontario and it was decided
to move at once.
Late in the fall of 1875 the movement to the new home
began. The Ontario settlements were totally abandoned. Log
cabins and improvements and everything not absolutely neces-
sary were left behind. The journey could not have been made
had free passage not been provided, for most of the people
were penniless. Altogether about 250 people dame in a party
from Ontario by way of Duluth, for as yet there was no rail-
way to Winnipeg. At Duluth they were joined by a considerable
party from Milwaukee. By rail the party proceeded to Fisher’s
Landing on the Red River and there they all embarked on board
ship for Winnipeg on the journey to the promised land. I
should like you to accompany in spirit these people on this
journey, full of confidence and hope and trust in Providence.
On this journey the name of the new settlement was decided
upon, and it was to be “New Iceland” and through some irony
of fate the name of the main village was to be Gimli. Those
who are familiar with the Norse mythology know perhaps
irom the Edda that after death there were three distinct
places of abode: Hel—which received the unworthy and those
who died of disease; Valhalla — where warriors who died
on the field of battle found the rewards of their valor; and
Gimli—the abode of the blessed, the most sacred of all, where
the wise men and those chosen by the gods were welcomed
to enjoy the blessings of paradise.
The party reached Winnipeg before the middle of October.
It had been arranged that three men should proceed to the
new district during the summer and put up hay for the cows
which the government was to provide for the us^ of the
settlers. This had not been done and the new arrivals were
sorely disappointed for the prospect of spending the winte
without fresh milk for the children was a serious one. Then,
too, winter was not far distant. What was to be done? To
remain in Winnipeg was imposisible. Winnipeg in those days,
was a city of only a few hundreds and conditions there were
bad. This was the year of the grasshopper plague; not a blade
of grass was to he seen and there were no crops of any kind.
Starvation seemed certain if these people remained in Win-
nipeg. There was some hope of surviving the winter in the
new land, for there was game in the woods and fish in the
lake and some food was provided by way of government loan.
A!1 who could get employment were advised to remain in
Winnipeg, but the remainder, about 200 in nuinber, decided
to venture out into the wilderness. Flat bottomed York boats,
16 feet wide and 32 feet long, were provided to convey these
people and their belongings to their new home. On October
15th, the boats were loaded and the party embarked in them.
They were pushed off into midstream and the journey down
the Red River began. Picture the scene!—the end of October
with its chilly nights and its promise of winter; the open
boats witfi their cargoes of men, women and children drifting
before the current; the grounding of the boats on the shallows
and their navigation through the rapids; the Sunday service
on the bank of the river; the hopes and fears of the settlers,
knowing that no provision had been inade for their reception.
Eventually the boats reached the mouth of the river. Ihere
they were met by a Hudson’s Bay Company steamer which
towed them all to the spot which is now Gimli. The 60 niile
trip from Winnipeg had taken a week.
Gimli was to be no paradise for them that first winter.
The day after their arrival there was a heavy fall of snow,
accompanied by severe frost. Here were these people in the
wilderness with winter hard upon them, without any shelter
except a few tents, and with only a small supply of food. Log
cabins had to be built at once and this was no easy task.
There were no horses or oxen and logs had to be drawn by
hand. Yet during that winter 30 log houses were built, in-
cluding one which was used as a school house. It is perhaps
worthy of note that English was taught there that first winter.
That winter was one of terrible suffering. Food was dear and
scarce, there were no roads and no means of getting food
into the settlement; that year the fishing was poor and even
had it been good, the men were not skilled in fishing through
the ice; there was no milk for the children. Starvation faced
the people and panic struck them. Many of them left betore
the winter was over. Of those who remained one-third died
of scurvy and exposure. One household lost seven children
out of nine. This was a terrible introduction into New Iceland,
the abode of the hlessed. Words cannot describe to you that
winter of suffering, of cold and hunger and disease and death.
It will never be forgotten by those who endured it. New
hope came with the coming of spring, government aid was
rushed in as soon as navigation opened; 20 cows were dis-
tributed amongst the settlers, sometimes three or four families
shared one cow. Summer brought a revival of spirits, part
of the land was cultivated and some crops were put in.
In the summer of 1876 about 1200 people came from
Iceland and most of them joined the settlement on the western
shores of Lake Winnipeg. They spread over all the area set
apart for them and began to prepare for the winter. The
story of hardship is not yet finished. The summer of 1876
was wet and there was little hay and crops were almost a
failure. In the fall smallpox appeared having been brought in
by one of the new arrivals. Little attention was paid to it at
first for people did not know what it was and there were no
doctors at hand. In consequence it spread through the whole
settlement like wildfire and even into the Indian reserve to
the north. Medical aid was rushed in and the whole settle-
ment placed under quarantine until July of the following year.
That winter over 100 persons died of smallpox, almost one
out of every ten. The havoc among the Indians was even
greater. In one small village of two hundred inhabitants
every individual died of the disease and the authorities caused
the whole village to be burned to ashes. That winter many died
of scurvy and other diseases for food was again scarce. Yet
even with the terrors of smallpox, this second winter was less
terrible than the first.
The summer of 1877 was a good one and gave the settlers
a ray of hope. As soon as the quarantine was lifted many
left the settlement to seek work elsewhere. Those who re-
mained busied themselves with work on their farms. Much
of the bush had been cleared and a good deal of land had
been broken. Cattle were multiplying and hay was plentiful.
That year saw the first flour ground from wheat grown in
the district. Other crops were fairly good. The winter was
mild and passed without hardship. A brighter day appeared
to be dawning.
But the period of trial was not yet over. The summers of
1878 and 1889 were wet, the land was unfit for cultivation,
crops of hay were small and many cattle starved during the
winters. Many of the settlers began to despair of success in
this new Iceland of theirs and an exodus from the settlement
began. The Icelandic settlements in the Counties of Pembina
and Cavalier in North Dakota date from the fall of 1878 and
succeeding years saw their steady growth.
The year 1880 was a year of floods; in the spring the waters
of Lake Winnipeg were unusually high and another wet sum-
mer lay ahead of the settlers. Late in the fall the lake over-
flowed its banks, flooded the log caliins near the shore so that
they had to be abandoned, and carried some of the haystacks
out into the lake. Severe frosts set in with the receding of
the flood waters and that winter the cattle were fed on frozen
hay. In 1881 the exodus from the district became general.
That year saw the beginning of the prosperous settlement in
the Argyle district in Manitoba and a large influx into North
Dakota.
So passed the seven lean years of the Icelandic settlements
in America from 1873 to 1880. They were years of hardship
and suffering, of cold and hunger and disease and pestilence
and death. But better years were to come.
My story is almost finished and I do not intend to tire
you with further details of hardship. You are all more or
less familiar with the struggles of the pioneers.
Although many left the New Iceland during the years
1878 to 1881, their places were taken by new arrivals. The
immigration from Iceland continued until the close of the last
century. Since then it has been intermittent. It is rather
difficult to ascertain the total number of Icelanders who have
come to this country, but I think I might perhaps be safe in
saying that there are now in America between 30,000 and
40,000 people of Icelandic origin. •
In all the letters which the early pioneers wrote home to
Iceland there appeared one outstanding feature, and this
same feature I have attempted to emphasize in my address to
you, viz: the desire to establish a New Iceland in America,
where all Icelanders could live in peace and happiness with-
out severing the bonds which tied them to the old land. There
was no intention then to take any part in the formation of a
new country or the development of a new nationality. The
new settlement was to be a part of Iceland and they were to
remain Icelanders still, holding to their language and customs
and traditions. With this end in view they organized their
schools and churches and established their newspapers and
periodicals. But the desired object has failed as it was bound
to fail.
New Iceland could not hold all the newcomers; they de-
sired greater opportunities and a wider field. The Icelandic
settlements have spread westward in Canada and the United
States to the Pacific Coast. In the main they have prosepered;
the lean years have been succeeded by fat ones. Their original
policy of isolation has been abandoned and they have sought
to take their full share in the rights and privileges of this new
land. In agriculture and industry, in trades and the pro-
fessions they have won success. Nor do they forget to wh|>m
the opportunity for success is owing. They have endeavored
to share the liabilities of citizenship as they have shared its
rights. How fully they have done so, is not for me to say.
May I mention, however, that in Canada over 1,000 volunteered
for active service during the late war and about 125 never
returned.
New Iceland is still known by that name to its Icelandic
inhabitants and to the older people. The settlement has sur-
vived its early years of privation and suffering, and has grown
and developed. It is still the largest Icelandic settlement and
its people are reasonably prosperous and contented. Many
Icelanders in America still cling to the past and their early
dreams, but in the main the identity of the Icelanders in
America as Icelanders is being lost. Whether that is altogether
desirable is a question of controversy. But the fact neverthe-
less remains.
I have almost finished. I have tried to tell you the simple
story of the Icelandic pioneers in America, to take you through
the hour of travail in which the Canadian of Icelandic origin
had his birth. Let me emphasize one fact in connection with
these people. In the short space of half a century one-fifth of
the entire population of Iceland has been transplanted and
has taken root in Canada. They make no apologies for their
presence in Canada for they are part of it. They have thrown
in their lot with Canada and are taking their share in the build-
ing of our new nation. Why should we not reserve judgment
as to our other foreign born people? Let us remember we re-
gard thern in a different light from that of 25 years ago.
So in approaching the problem of nation building out of
the various elements in our midst, I suggest that you consider
what has been accomplished by the foreign born peoples of this
country, their aims and aspirations, their struggles, and suc-
cesses, Rome was not built in a day. What older immigrants
have done, more recent arrivals may yet do. The problem of
assimilation is not an easy one but we must solve it if we are
to build a nation. In attempting a solution of that problem,
I bespeak your sympathetic understanding of the newcomer,
whether he be artisan, fisherman or peasant; whether he be
Anglo-Saxon or Scandinavian, Teuton or Slav. Each may have
his contribution to make. The newcomer of today is the raw
material from which the Canadian of tomorrow will be made.
—Jón fíjarnason Acadcmy Ycar Book.
Hátíðakveðjur
f
til Islendinga
í tilpfni af sextíu ára landnámi
þeirra í Canada,
1875 — 1935
Frá
R. J. McLean
((>0 ár í Canada)
Frá 1875 — 1935
Verzla með úrvals karlmannafatnaÖi og alt, sem
að klæðaburði karlmanna lýtur.
Market & Main
WINNIPEG