In 1923, Stanley Newton published, “The Story of Sault Ste. Marie and Chippewa County.” This is part fifteen of a continuing series about the history of Sault Ste. Marie and area in its early years. I have left punctuation and grammar intact. – Laurie Davis
Mrs. Jameson explains the reason for the naming of Detour, the pretty village and point, at the mouth of St. Mary’s River, opposite Drummond Island.
“Soon after sunrise, we passed around that very conspicuous cape, famous in the history of northwest adventure, and called the Grand Detour, halfway between Mackinac and the Sault. Now, if you look at the map you will see that our course was henceforth quite altered; we had been running down the coast of the mainland towards the east; we had now to turn short round the point, and steer almost due west; hence its most fitting name, the Grand Detour.”
This name of Detour, bestowed by the French in the old days of canoe travel, looks uncommonly like that of Detroit when hastily written. The resemblance caused so much confusion in the mails, that Postmaster Roderick Munro of the village, asked and obtained the consent of the Postoffice Department to designate officially the name of the village as Detour. He thus restored the exact and original French term for the place before usage compressed the two words into one, – meaning “The Turning.”
One of the Graces Possessed by a Fury
“The rapids of Niagara,” continued Mrs. Jamesom on her arrival at the Sault, “reminded me of a monstrous tiger at play, and threw me into a sort of ecstatic terror. But these rapids of St. Mary suggest quite another idea. As they come fretting and fuming down, curling up their light foam and wreathing their glancing billows around the opposing rocks with a sort of passionate self-will, they remind me of an exquisitely beautiful woman in a fit of rage, or of Walter Scott’s simile -” ‘one of the Graces possessed of a Fury.’ There is no terror in their anger, only the sense of excitement and loveliness; when it has spent this sudden, transient fit of impatience, the beautiful river resumes all its placid dignity, and holds on its course, deep and wide enough to float a squadron of seventy-fours, and rapid and pellucid as a mountain trout stream.
“Here, as everywhere else, I am struck by the difference between the two shores. On the American side, there is a settlement of whites, as well as a large village of Chippewas; there is also a mission (I believe of the Methodists), for the conversion of the Indians. The fort, which has been lately strengthened, is merely a strong and high enclosure surrounded with pickets of cedar wood; within the stockade are the barracks and the principal trading store. This fortress is called Fort Brady.
“The garrison may be very effective for aught I know, but I know, but I never beheld such an unmilitary-looking set. When I was there today, the sentinels were lounging up and down in their flannel jackets and shirt sleeves, with muskets thrown over their shoulders – just for all the world like ploughboys going to shoot sparrows; however, they are in keeping with the fortress of cedar-posts, and no doubt both answer their purpose very well. The village is increasing into a town, and the commercial advantages of its situation must raise it ere long to a place of importance.
“On the Canadian side, we have not even these demonstrations of power or prosperity. Nearly opposite the American fort, there is a small factory belonging to the North West Fur Company; below this a few log huts occupied by some French Canadians and voyageurs in the service of the company, a set of lawless mauvais sujets, from all I can learn.
“Lower down stands the house of Mr. and Mrs. MacMurray, with the Chippewa village under their care and tuition; but most of the wigwams of their inhabitants are now on their way down the lake, to join the congress at the Manitoulin Islands. A lofty eminence partly cleared and partly clothed with forest, rises behind the house, on which stands the little mission church and schoolhouse for the use of the Indian converts.
The Whitefish of St. Marys
“The whitefish of St. Mary’s is a most luxurious delicacy. It is said that the people never tire of them. The enormous quantities caught here and in the bays and creeks around Lake Superior, remind me of herrings in the lochs of Scotland. Besides subsisting the inhabitants, whites and Indians, during the greater part of the year, vast quantities are cured and barrelled every fall and sent down to the eastern states. Not less than eight thousand barrels were shipped last year.
“These enterprising Yankees have seized upon another profitable speculation here. There is a fish found in great quantities in Lake Superior called the skevat, so exceedingly rich luscious, and oily, when fresh, as to be quite uneatable. It has lately been discovered that this fish makes a most luxurious pickle. It is becoming a fashionable luxury, and in one of the stores here, I saw three hundred barrels ready for embarkation. The Americans have several schooners on the lakes employed in these fisheries; we have not one. They have besides, planned a ship canal through the portage here, which will open communication for large vessels between Lake Huron and Lake Superior, as our Welland Canal has united Lake Erie and Lake Ontario. The ground has already been surveyed for this purpose. When this canal has been completed, a vessel may load in the Thames, and discharge her burthen at the upper end of Lake Superior. I hope you have a map before you, that you may take in at a glance, this wonderful extent of inland navigation. Ought a country possessing it, and all the means of life besides, to remain poor, oppressed, uncultivated, unknown?
Tanner, the Interpreter
“On the American side, further down the river, is the house of Tanner, the Indian interpreter, of whose story you may have heard – as I remember, it excited some interest in England. He is a European of mixed blood, with the language, manners, and habits of a Red skin. He had been kidnapped somewhere on the American frontiers when a mere boy and brought up among the Chippewas. He afterwards returned to civilized life, and having relearned his own language, drew up a very entertaining and valuable account of his adopted tribe. He is now in the American service here, having an Indian wife, and is still attached to his Indian Mode of life.
“Just above the fort is the ancient burial place of the Chippewas. I need not tell you of the profound veneration with which all the Indian tribes regard the place of their dead. In all their treaties for the session of their lands, they stipulate with the white man for the inviolability of their sepulchers. They did the same with regard to this place, but I am sorry to say that it has not been attended to, for in enlarging one side of the fort, they have considerably encroached on the cemetery. The outrage excited both the sorrow and indignation of some of my friends here, but there is no redress. Perhaps it was this circumstance that gave rise to the allusion of the Indian chief here when in speaking of the French here, he said ‘They never molested the places of our dead!’
“We took a walk to visit Mrs. Johnston’s brother Wayishky, whose wigwam is at a little distance, on the verge of the burial ground. The lodge is of the genuine Chippewa form, like an egg cut in half lengthways. It is formed of poles stuck in the ground and bent over at the top, strengthened with a few wattles and boards; the whole is covered over with mats, birch bark, and skins; a large blanket formed the door or curtain, which was not ungracefully looped aside. Wayishky, being a great man, has also a smaller lodge nearby, which serves as a storehouse and kitchen.
- Mrs. Jameson and Detour - November 25, 2024
- An Angel in the Night - November 20, 2024
- Chippewa Is Made a County - November 18, 2024
