The Icelandic Canadian - 01.06.1995, Blaðsíða 33

SPRING / SUMMER 1995
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
143
In the
Red River Valley
Part III, Chapters Two and Three
By Johann Magnus Bjarnason
Translated by Thelma Gubrun Whale
Con tinued from Fall, 1994
Part III, Chapter Two
The Wandering Icelander
The assembly hall of the Framfarafelag or
Icelandic League in Winnipeg was, as has
been said before, on Jemima Street a short
distance west of Isabel Street. It was quite a
nice building, but rather small. Inside, at
the gable end, was a high platform and on
the other side was a small room which had
a stove, cups and saucers, plates and other
articles. There were no chairs in the hall;
if I remember correctly, people sat on
benches which had no backs. Up on the
platform were several chairs, an organ, a
small table and a cupboard. And there were
curtains which were used when there was a
play. Winnipeg Icelanders loved this build-
ing. Whether the Jews thought more of the
temple of Solomon, or the Romans of the
“Colosseum” than we Icelanders thought
of our Icelandic Hall in Winnipeg, is ques-
tionable. In the early years, the Icelanders
of Winnipeg went there to enjoy them-
selves, to get the news and to be educated.
Eloquent speeches were often delivered
and the lively debates that took place there
kept to the topic and avoided personal dis-
putes. One of the finest choirs I had ever
heard sang there. Fine, entertaining plays
were sometimes shown. Church services
were held there on the weekends. A Sun-
day school flourished there for a long time
and a primary school for a whole winter.
Before an Icelandic church was built in
Winnipeg, this building was lighted and
decorated every Christmas as well as it
could be, and children and adults received
fine gifts. Time and again, money was col-
lected in this hall to help those in distress.
So it was no wonder that we Icelanders
loved this building, not least because it was
a real achievement for Icelanders of that
time to build such a building when every
single cent they earned cost them sour
sweat and back-breaking labour. They were
generous and promising people, those who
gathered together in the Framfarafelag
Hall on Jemima Street. They were charita-
ble in the fullest meaning of the word. They
were men and women who, for many rea-
sons, can be counted with the ablest and
best that have ever emigrated to Canada.
Never were there more concerts held in
the Framfarafelag Hall then in 1886. One
of them has remained in my memory be-
cause it was there I first saw the man who
was popularly called ‘the wandering Ice-
lander’ or ‘the ever-walking man.’ As I re-
member, it was the middle of September
when this mysterious man arrived in Mani-
toba. He had walked all the way from
Minneapolis and was staying at one of the
most expensive hotels in Winnipeg. He was
then about fifty years of age, tall and mus-
cular, dark of brow and eye, with whiskered
cheeks but clean shaven chin and upper
lip, and was not unlike a hardy, healthy
Scot. He was every inch an Icelander — of
that there was no doubt — but no one knew