Who Was George Bonga? In the 1800s in the territory known as Minnesota, this talented fur trader had a reputation to rival the legend of logger Paul Bunyan. But George Bonga was real, In the 1800s in the land known as Minnesota, this talented fur trader had a reputation to rival the legend of logger and today few Minnesotans know his story. Paul Bunyan. But George Bonga was real, and today few By William Durbin Minnesotans know his story. Illustrations by Chris Gall His Story George Bonga was born near he attended school in Montreal of only 14 African-Americans Duluth in 1802 to an African- and spoke English, French, and counted in the Minnesota Ter- American father and an Ojibwe Ojibwe. He claimed to be both ritory in the 1850 census. But mother. He grew up to be a fur the “first black man born in this sometimes, such as at treaty trader and a wilderness guide. part of the country” and one of signings, Bonga was considered Due to his strength of character the “first two white men that “white,” because it was com- and talents, he was well known ever came into this country.” mon for people to be classified in the Lake Superior region. In the language of the time, only as Indian or non-Indian Bonga was well educated, as Bonga was correct. He was one (white). Many African-Amer- 40 Minnesota Conservation Volunteer icans in the in Michigan. After the officer mother and followed in the “We asked for three men,” Bonga said. United States died, Jean Bonga was released family tradition of fur trading. “The fellows at the fort are tired of haul- were slaves from his contract and gained He worked for the American ing barrels of fish. Half of them have de- in the early his freedom. George Bonga’s Fur Company in the 1820s. In serted. They said they signed on as fur 1800s, but grandfather and grandmother the 1830s, he traded at posts traders not fishmongers.” Bonga was a became fur traders. throughout northern Minne- Bonga laughed again. “Can’t say as I free man. His Bonga’s father, Pierre, was sota. The following story, “Meet blame them. We’re packing our share of fish grandfather a fur trader and a guide for the Guide,” imagines a journey here these days. Are you a good paddler?” Jean Bonga the famous explorer Alexander that George Bonga may have “I made it all the way from Montreal.” had been an indentured ser- Henry Jr. George learned wilder- taken from Fond du Lac to Bonga looked Louie up and down. vant to a British Army officer ness skills from his father and Leech Lake in August 1836. “I’m short, but I’m s t ron g ,” Louie said. At 5 feet 4 inches tall, Louie was average height for a voyageur, but he felt like a child next to Bonga, who was more than a foot taller. Meet the Guide “You’d better be strong. I promised The wood floor creaked as Louie “A white man?” Louie looked to see if to deliver four canoes of trade goods to stepped into the log storehouse. The there was anyone else in the room. “But Leech Lake before freeze up, and we’ve dim light made it difficult to see. “Hel- you’re so …” only got 14 men.” l o,” Louie called. “Is anybody …” “Black?” Bonga laughed a huge laugh. “Which leaves you two men short,” Lou- Before he could finish his question, Louie didn’t know what to say. He was ie said. a huge voiced boomed, “Hello, your- only 14 years old, and this was his first “I can see you know your math, profes- self!” A man stood at the other end of summer as a voyageur. s or,” Bonga laughed. “The only other fellow the room. He held a pile of wool trading “Welcome to Fond du Lac.” Bonga I have handy is my assistant, Cadotte. And blankets in his arms. reached out and shook Louie’s hand, lift- he’s got a wooden leg. Both yours are real Louie jumped, startled by the loud ing him onto his tiptoes. aren’t they?” Bonga grabbed a long canoe voice. The man dropped the blankets and “Nice to meet y ou ,” Louie said, feeling paddle that was leaning against the wall and walked toward him. He was the biggest like his teeth were rattling. “I’m Louie tapped Louie’s shins. and blackest man that Louie had ever seen. Pom e roy.” “Ouch,” Louie said, as Bonga grinned. His head nearly touched the log beam Bonga suddenly frowned. “Where are “The two of us will have to handle one that ran down the middle of the cabin. the others?” north canoe ourselves.” He was wearing a broadcloth shirt, pants, “They had trouble getting a crew Louie’s eyes widened. “Don’t they hold and leather boots. “I’m George Bonga,” he together at Fort Misery.” 3,000 pounds?” grinned. “By the look on your face, I can “How many fellows came with you?” “I hope you can paddle as well as you tell that you’ve never seen a white m an .” “Just m e .” count, professor.” 42 Minnesota Conservation Volunteer November–December 2010 43 bank of the St. Louis River. Three canoes were already loaded. And the dock was piled with the ton and a half of freight that would fill Bonga’s canoe: five 90-pound bales His Story of trade goods plus a case of North West guns, bags of lead balls and bird shot for the guns, kegs of gunpowder, sacks of flour, kegs of wine and side pork, iron works for Ojibwe trappers, sacks of tobacco, and kettles. They would de- liver the trade goods to trade posts, where traders would give them to Ojibwe families in return for beaver furs to be trapped and delivered throughout the winter. Ten minutes later Louie was seated in the bow of the loaded canoe with Bonga in the stern. “Which side should I paddle on?” Louie’s head was spinning. “Take your pick,” Bonga said. Louie reached out to paddle, but Bonga’s first stroke Bonga, ca. 1870 shot the canoe forward so fast that Louie tipped over On fur-trading voyages, backward. The voyageurs in the other canoes all laughed. Bonga’s strength and “Don’t be lying down on the job, professor,” Bonga endurance became leg- chuckled, taking another powerful stroke. “You keep a endary among his fellow steady pace, and I’ll handle the steering.” travelers. And his excel- “OK ,” Louie nodded. Trying to relax, he began pulling lent singing voice helped at his normal pace. voyageurs keep time all Louie was amazed as they skimmed upriver like a day long as they paddled ship under sail. He had never traveled so fast in a canoe. birch-bark canoes loaded Bonga struck up a familiar song, A la Claire Foun- with trade goods. He also tain: “At the clear running fountain/Sauntering by one was a gifted storyteller. day …” The men in the trailing canoes joined in at the According to folks who chorus: “Your love long since overcame me/Ever in my knew him, Bonga “loved Day Two heart you’ll stay!” to relate his adventures “Time to voyage!” Bonga poked Louie’s “Roll up your blanket, professor,” Bonga When the current began to speed up, Bonga said, to newcomers,” and he ribs with his paddle. said. Wearing a deerskin shirt and moc- “Hear that, professor?” would frequently “para- “What’s that?” Louie sat up with a start. casins this morning, Bonga looked more Louie stopped paddling and heard the roar of a rapids. lyze his listeners with The sky was still half dark, but the other like an Ojibwe trapper than a fur trader. “That’s the Dalles,” Bonga said. “We’ll land below that laughter.” voyageurs had already broken camp. Louie followed Bonga down to the bald ro c k .” 44 Minnesota Conservation Volunteer November–December 2010 45 man carry three packs, but never on a portage this steep and rocky. Bonga was so tall that Louie had to stand on a rock to hoist the third parcel high enough to settle between His Story Bonga’s shoulders. “Now two parcels in f ront ,” Bonga said. “But ,” Louie stammered, “that would be 450 pounds.” “Fine multiplying, professor,” Bonga laughed. “I know the rout i n e .” A bowman named Jacques dstepped up an helped strap two parcels on Bonga’s chest. Louie stared in disbelief. As Bonga leaned forward and started up the trail, At 6-feet, 6-inches tall, the crewmen chanted, “Bonga, Bonga, Bonga …” Bonga stood a foot “He’ll never make it ,” a short man spoke to Jacques. taller than the average “We’ll s e e ,” Jacques replied. Then turning to Louie, he French-Canadian voya- said, “Bonga likes to start his trips with a little test. You’d geur. Along the trade better hurry if you want to see the finish.” route of lakes and riv- Shouldering a single parcel, Louie ran after Bonga. ers he paddled rushing The rest of the crew followed. rapids and hiked rough At first Louie trotted to keep up, and Bonga hummed portages with ease. He a tune. When the trail steepened, Bonga stopped hum- carried heavier bundles ming and took deep breaths. His calf muscles bulged, than most men crossing and his moccasins slipped on loose rocks. overland from one wa- “You can make it ,” Louie said. terway to another.