Timothy Cochrane. Gichi Bitobig, Grand Marais: Early Accounts of the Anishinaabeg and the North Shore Fur Trade. University of Minnesota Press, 2018. 249
pp. ISBN 978-1-5179-0593-4.
https://www.upress.umn.edu/book-division/books/gichi-bitobig-grand-marais
Readers of Transmotion
will be accustomed to history monographs, and also to editions of historical
documents mined from archives, whether they be
journals, memoirs, missionary relations, exploration narratives, or political
manifestos. There is a potential, however, for these two common book formats to
blend into one another. Many of us can probably recall reading an edition of a
document or a literary text for which the introduction and other apparatus was
longer than the document itself.
Gichi Bitobig, Grand Marais is such a book, except that the primary texts edited here –
journals written by the chief factors of a new fur trade post during its first
two winters on the North Shore of Lake Superior – are not entirely new nor particularly extraordinary. Instead, the logbook by Bela
Chapman and the journal by George Johnston, who commanded the post established
by the American Fur Company from 1823 to 1825, provide anchors for a monograph
that delivers what the subtitle promises: Early Accounts of the Anishinaabeg and the North Shore Fur Trade. Author
Timothy Cochrane worked a long career with the National Park Service of the
United States, at parks in Alaska as well as in Northern Minnesota and
Michigan, and served for twenty years as superintendent of Grand Portage
National Monument, on the Canadian border about fifty kilometers northeast of
Grand Marais. He is also the author of two previous books about Isle Royale, an
island near the middle of Lake Superior that has been a National Park since
1940. Cochrane has worked extensively with Anishanaabeg
tribal leaders in the area by virtue of his jobs with the park service.
Both Chapman's and
Johnston's journals convey a sense of suffering, tedium, and desperation as
they worked to try to build permanent shelters, collect enough firewood to stay
warm, and catch enough fish to stay fed. Desultory comments on the weather and
the insubordination of their men are recurring themes. A typical passage from
Chapman, written March 7, 1824:
"...every thing has been wet through +
through but as bad luck would have it I have no Peltry to get wet My buildings
are worse than any hog pens, I am entirely cast down to see my returns, we are
not arrived at spring and nothing done, to say we live would be false only stay
and hardly that since March began we have taken no fish until this day" (166)
The Grand Marais post
was situated on a natural harbor. The name means "large marsh" in French but
may be a mis-transcription of a Quebecois dialect term marée which meant
pond or pool, such as a harbor (see 44). The site was a stopover for canoe
convoys travelling from Fond du Lac (today's Duluth, Minnesota and Superior,
Wisconsin) to the large fur trade post of Fort William, at the mouth of the Kaministiquia River in modern Thunder Bay, Ontario, just
east of Grand Portage. However, the primary routes for voyageurs led up the Kaministiquia, or along the eponymous grand portage to the
Pigeon River in the Hudson's Bay watershed, and thence toward Rainy Lake and
the Red and Saskatchewan Rivers. The north shore was more thinly travelled, and
Chapman tried in vain to locate Anishinaabeg who
would sell him their pelts.
The book depicts a time
and place where geopolitical and economic forces were on the cusp of great
changes. As Cochrane explains, the post was established by
the American Fur Company (founded by John Jacob Astor in 1808) in an
effort to challenge the monopoly of the Hudson's Bay Company, which had merged
with the North West Company in 1821. Astor built the largest fortune in
American capitalism in the early 19th century in part by seeking government
subsidies and support for his ventures. After the Jay Treaty of 1794, the
United States wished to expand its sovereignty west of the Great Lakes. The
"[U.S.] Congress passed a law on April 29, 1816, that provided that 'licenses
to trade with the Indians... shall not be granted to any
but citizens of the United States." (67). Astor himself had lobbied for this
measure and he saw to it that some of his factors were appointed U.S. customs
officials as well. If Native trappers north of the border sold their pelts to
Astor's agents, he could maintain a monopoly similar to that enjoyed by the
HBC.
Chapman and Johnston
distinguish their characters in their short journals. Johnston was considerably
more loquacious and literary than his predecessor, and, though he referred to
his new home as "Siberia," he was somewhat more successful at trade. He wrote
of meetings with Anishaabeg leaders, Grand Coquin, Espagnol, and Maangozid, whom Cochrane fleshes out for the reader, with
genealogies and descriptions by better-known fur trader writers including
George Simpson and David Thompson. These family histories and others illustrate
the métissage of the fur trade. Another interesting portrait Cochrane provides is of George Bonga, and his
brothers Jack and Stephen, all sons of Pierre, an African
servant of Alexander Henry, and Ojibwayquay, an
Anishinaabe woman. George Bonga was referred to in a fur trader's
writings as "the first white man that was a negro that
ever traded at Leech Lake" (54).
For decades the center
for fur trade research has been the Hudson Bay Company archives in Winnipeg,
but the two documents published in this book are not held there, but instead
among the Henry Rowe Schoolcraft papers at the Library of Congress (for
Johnston, who was Schoolcraft's brother-in-law through Jane Johnston
Schoolcraft), and at the Minnesota Historical Society (for Chapman). Cochrane
makes a bid to shift attention of fur trade historians toward the U.S. side of
the border, and has written a book that will appeal to academics and local
history enthusiasts in equal measure.
Gordon Mitchell Sayre, University of Oregon