Who Was George Bonga?
WhoWasGeorge Bonga?In the 1800s in the territory known asMinnesota, this talented fur trader had areputation to rival the legend of loggerIn the 1800s in the land known as Minnesota, this talentedfur trader had a reputation to rival the legend of loggerPaul Bunyan. But George Bonga was real,and today few Minnesotans know his story.Paul Bunyan. But George Bonga was real, and today fewBy William DurbinIllustrations by Chris GallMinnesotans know his story.His StoryGeorge Bonga was born nearDuluth in 1802 to an AfricanAmerican father and an Ojibwemother. He grew up to be a furtrader and a wilderness guide.Due to his strength of characterand talents, he was well knownin the Lake Superior region.Bonga was well educated, as40Minnesota Conservation Volunteerhe attended school in Montrealand spoke English, French, andOjibwe. He claimed to be boththe “first black man born in thispart of the country” and one ofthe “first two white men thatever came into this country.”In the language of the time,Bonga was correct. He was oneof only 14 African-Americanscounted in the Minnesota Territory in the 1850 census. Butsometimes, such as at treatysignings, Bonga was considered“white,” because it was common for people to be classifiedonly as Indian or non-Indian(white). Many African-Amer-
icans in theUnited Stateswere slavesin the early1800s, butBonga was afree man. HisgrandfatherJean Bongahad been an indentured servant to a British Army officerin Michigan. After the officerdied, Jean Bonga was releasedfrom his contract and gainedhis freedom. George Bonga’sgrandfather and grandmotherbecame fur traders.Bonga’s father, Pierre, wasa fur trader and a guide forthe famous explorer AlexanderHenry Jr. George learned wilderness skills from his father andmother and followed in thefamily tradition of fur trading.He worked for the AmericanFur Company in the 1820s. Inthe 1830s, he traded at poststhroughout northern Minnesota. The following story, “Meetthe Guide,” imagines a journeythat George Bonga may havetaken from Fond du Lac toLeech Lake in August 1836.Meet the GuideThe wood floor creaked as Louiestepped into the log storehouse. Thedim light made it difficult to see. “Hello,” Louie called. “Is anybody ”Before he could finish his question,a huge voiced boomed, “Hello, yourself!” A man stood at the other end ofthe room. He held a pile of wool tradingblankets in his arms.Louie jumped, startled by the loudvoice. The man dropped the blankets andwalked toward him. He was the biggestand blackest man that Louie had ever seen.His head nearly touched the log beamthat ran down the middle of the cabin.He was wearing a broadcloth shirt, pants,and leather boots. “I’m George Bonga,” hegrinned. “By the look on your face, I cantell that you’ve never seen a white man.”42“A white man?” Louie looked to see ifthere was anyone else in the room. “Butyou’re so ”“Black?” Bonga laughed a huge laugh.Louie didn’t know what to say. He wasonly 14 years old, and this was his firstsummer as a voyageur.“Welcome to Fond du Lac.” Bongareached out and shook Louie’s hand, lifting him onto his tiptoes.“Nice to meet you,” Louie said, feelinglike his teeth were rattling. “I’m LouiePomeroy.”Bonga suddenly frowned. “Where arethe others?”“They had trouble getting a crewtogether at Fort Misery.”“How many fellows came with you?”“Just me.”Minnesota Conservation Volunteer“We asked for three men,” Bonga said.“The fellows at the fort are tired of hauling barrels of fish. Half of them have deserted. They said they signed on as furtraders not fishmongers.”Bonga laughed again. “Can’t say as Iblame them. We’re packing our share of fishhere these days. Are you a good paddler?”“I made it all the way from Montreal.”Bonga looked Louie up and down.“I’m short, but I’m strong,” Louie said.At 5 feet 4 inches tall, Louie was averageheight for a voyageur, but he felt like achild next to Bonga, who was more thana foot taller.“You’d better be strong. I promisedto deliver four canoes of trade goods toLeech Lake before freeze up, and we’veonly got 14 men.”“Which leaves you two men short,” Louie said.“I can see you know your math, professor,” Bonga laughed. “The only other fellowI have handy is my assistant, Cadotte. Andhe’s got a wooden leg. Both yours are realaren’t they?” Bonga grabbed a long canoepaddle that was leaning against the wall andtapped Louie’s shins.“Ouch,” Louie said, as Bonga grinned.“The two of us will have to handle onenorth canoe ourselves.”Louie’s eyes widened. “Don’t they hold3,000 pounds?”“I hope you can paddle as well as youcount, professor.”November–December 201043
Day Two“Time to voyage!” Bonga poked Louie’sribs with his paddle.“What’s that?” Louie sat up with a start.The sky was still half dark, but the othervoyageurs had already broken camp.44“Roll up your blanket, professor,” Bongasaid. Wearing a deerskin shirt and moccasins this morning, Bonga looked morelike an Ojibwe trapper than a fur trader.Louie followed Bonga down to theMinnesota Conservation Volunteerbank of the St. Louis River. Three canoes were alreadyloaded. And the dock was piled with the ton and a half offreight that would fill Bonga’s canoe: five 90-pound balesof trade goods plus a case of North West guns, bags of leadballs and bird shot for the guns, kegs of gunpowder, sacksof flour, kegs of wine and side pork, iron works for Ojibwetrappers, sacks of tobacco, and kettles. They would deliver the trade goods to trade posts, where traders wouldgive them to Ojibwe families in return for beaver furs tobe trapped and delivered throughout the winter.Ten minutes later Louie was seated in the bow of theloaded canoe with Bonga in the stern.“Which side should I paddle on?” Louie’s head wasspinning.“Take your pick,” Bonga said.Louie reached out to paddle, but Bonga’s first strokeshot the canoe forward so fast that Louie tipped overbackward. The voyageurs in the other canoes all laughed.“Don’t be lying down on the job, professor,” Bongachuckled, taking another powerful stroke. “You keep asteady pace, and I’ll handle the steering.”“OK,” Louie nodded. Trying to relax, he began pullingat his normal pace.Louie was amazed as they skimmed upriver like aship under sail. He had never traveled so fast in a canoe.Bonga struck up a familiar song, A la Claire Fountain: “At the clear running fountain/Sauntering by oneday ” The men in the trailing canoes joined in at thechorus: “Your love long since overcame me/Ever in myheart you’ll stay!”When the current began to speed up, Bonga said,“Hear that, professor?”Louie stopped paddling and heard the roar of a rapids.“That’s the Dalles,” Bonga said. “We’ll land below thatbald rock.”November–December 2010His StoryBonga, ca. 1870On fur-trading voyages,Bonga’s strength andendurance became legendary among his fellowtravelers. And his excellent singing voice helpedvoyageurs keep time allday long as they paddledbirch-bark canoes loadedwith trade goods. He alsowas a gifted storyteller.According to folks whoknew him, Bonga “lovedto relate his adventuresto newcomers,” and hewould frequently “paralyze his listeners withlaughter.”45
Portage TestWhen they neared the shore, Louiestepped into the shallows and turnedthe canoe sideways to unload. Bongagrabbed a parcel of trade goods in eachhand and carried them up the bank.As soon as the canoe was empty, Bonga picked it up by the center thwart.“Let me help,” Louie said, knowing thattwo men always portage a north canoe.“Birch bark is light,” Bonga chuckled46as he walked up the bank holding thecanoe against his hip.After all four canoes were unloaded,Bonga said, “Time for a little stroll.” Heswung a parcel of trade goods onto hisback and slipped a tumpline around hisforehead. Then he told Louie, “Help meboost that next bundle up.”Louie stacked on another parcel. Bongasaid, “I’ll take one more.” Louie had seen aMinnesota Conservation Volunteerman carry three packs, but never on a portage this steepand rocky. Bonga was so tall that Louie had to stand on arock to hoist the third parcel high enough to settle betweenBonga’s shoulders.“Now two parcels in front,” Bonga said.“But ,” Louie stammered, “that would be 450 pounds.”“Fine multiplying, professor,” Bonga laughed.“I know the routine.” A bowman named Jacquesstepped up and helped strap two parcels on Bonga’s chest.Louie stared in disbelief.As Bonga leaned forward and started up the trail,the crewmen chanted, “Bonga, Bonga, Bonga ”“He’ll never make it,” a short man spoke to Jacques.“We’ll see,” Jacques replied. Then turning to Louie, hesaid, “Bonga likes to start his trips with a little test. You’dbetter hurry if you want to see the finish.”Shouldering a single parcel, Louie ran after Bonga.The rest of the crew followed.At first Louie trotted to keep up, and Bonga hummeda tune. When the trail steepened, Bonga stopped humming and took deep breaths. His calf muscles bulged,and his moccasins slipped on loose rocks.“You can make it,” Louie said.“Thanks, professor,” Bonga spoke through gritted teeth.Once Bonga crested the ridge, his stride lengthenedagain. From there, it was a short march to the river’s edge.The men all cheered when he reached the calm poolabove the rapids. Jacques pulled out a coin purse andsaid, “The time of reckoning has come.”The handful of men who had wagered against Bongadropped a coin into Jacques’ palm.Then Jacques jingled his purse and asked Bonga, “Doyou want your share now or later?”“Hold it for me,” he grinned. “We’ve got canoes to carry.”November–December 2010His StoryAt 6-feet, 6-inches tall,Bonga stood a foottaller than the averageFrench-Canadian voyageur. Along the traderoute of lakes and rivers he paddled rushingrapids and hiked roughportages with ease. Hecarried heavier bundlesthan most men crossingoverland from one waterway to another. Thetale of his 700-poundcarry around the dallesof the St. Louis Riverwas most likely an exaggeration. But if Bongaportaged even half thatamount, his feat wouldhave been extraordinarybecause a voyageurordinarily carried two90-pound parcels.47
His StoryWhen Bonga was 18 yearsold, he was hired by explorer Lewis Cass to guidea search for the Mississippi River headwaters(which was unsuccessful).Cass chose Bonga becausehe was a skilled canoeist,spoke the Ojibwe language(anishinaabemowin), andknew the headwaters country, home of his mother’sPillager band of the LeechLake tribe.The most difficult testfor the Cass expeditioncame when they encountered the Savanna Portage.This mosquito-infested, sixmile trail ran through muckthat could swallow a manup to his waist. Bonga’sjokes and fine singing keptup the men’s spirits.48Swampy PortageThe lower St. Louis River was a mix of rapids,black chutes of rock, and waterfalls. Hundredfoot-tall white pines grew along the rugged,rocky shoreline. But other than a few short pipebreaks that day, Bonga gave the crew no time toadmire the scenery.Four days later, they turned up the East SavannaRiver. The farther they paddled west, the more thechannel meandered and narrowed. Thick reedbeds slowed down their canoes. Trees formed atangled green canopy that blocked the sun. Louieslapped at clouds of mosquitoes, but Bonga onlysaid, “Those little critters don’t eat much.”By the second day, swamp grass had closed inso tightly that Louie couldn’t get his paddle intothe water.“Portage time,” Bonga called.Louie stepped out of the canoe and sank tohis ankles in smelly, black muck. “Be carefulyou don’t lose your moccasins, professor,” Bongalaughed.For four more grueling days, Bonga led theway across the Savanna Portage. The voyageurscursed the knee-deep mud, the alder brush andthorns that cut their faces, and the swamp grassthat grew taller than their heads. But Bonga sangsilly folk songs to keep the spirits of the men up.The ground gradually got higher as theycrossed the continental divide. By the end of theportage, half of the men were limping, and allhad bloody cuts and torn shirts and sashes.Declaring the stream wide enough to float a canoe, Bonga called, “Leech Lake, here we come!”Minnesota Conservation Volunteer
Hero’sWelcomeThe afternoon the crewarrived at the Leech Laketrading post, 20 or 30 menand women—voyageursand Ojibwe—greeted Bonga with a hero’s welcome.When Bonga raised hispaddle and waved, two menfired guns into the air, raining bird shot down on allfour canoes.“Now, that’s what I call afine reception, professor!”Bonga smiled. “The Indiansin these parts are partial tome. My mother was one ofthem. And folks think it’sreal special that I was thefirst black man born in thispart of the country.”Louie shook his head andgrinned. Whether Bongaclaimed to be black, white,Ojibwe, or something else,there was no doubt that hewas 100-percent original. nVA Note to TeachersFind links to teachers guides atwww.mndnr.gov/young naturalists.Historical consultation by AntonTreuer, professor of Ojibwe,Bemidji State University.50His StoryIn 1837 Bonga’s name became a household wordwhen he captured an accused murderer. Ignoringthe bitter January cold andsnow, Bonga set off alonein search of the suspect.For six days and nights,he tracked him. Finally, hecaught and delivered theman named Che-ge-waskung to Fort Snelling, resulting in the first criminaltrial in Minnesota history.Bonga’s career as a furtrader faded in the 1840s asthe fur trade ended. Boththe supply and demandfor furs had declined. Toomuch trapping and diseasealmost wiped out the beaver population. Demand forbeaver pelts to make tophats dropped off as silk became the fashion in Europe.In 1842 the American FurCompany went bankrupt.Being resourceful, Bongafound a new way to earna living. In the 1850s, heand his wife, Ashwinn, andtheir four children operated lodges for tourists atLeech and Otter Tail lakes.In his later years, Bongawas an outspoken advocatefor fair treatment of theOjibwe people. He recommended that the government acquire good land forthe Ojibwe so they couldmaintain their traditionalfishing, hunting, and gathering of wild rice and maplesap. In 1867 Bonga servedas the official witness tothe treaty signing that established the White EarthIndian Reservation.When Bonga died in1884, notice of his deathappeared in newspapers inMinneapolis, Chicago, andNew York.The U.S. Congresshonored his passing. Bongaleft a legacy of voyaging,pioneering, and being a fairand honest man. The Rev.Henry Whipple, Minnesota’sfirst Episcopal bishop, said:“No word could be bettertrusted than that of GeorgeBonga.”
ever came into this country.” In the language of the time, Bonga was correct. He was one of only 14 African-Americans counted in the Minnesota Ter-ritory in the 1850 census. But sometimes, such as at treaty signings, Bonga was considered “white,” because it was com-mon for people to be classified only as Indian or non-Indian (white).
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