Stephanie St. Clair – Harlem’s Queen of Numbers

by | Jun 12, 2020 | Contemporary (1914 - today), North America, USA | 0 comments

In light of the current protests going on, today’s article is about a woman who was a community organizer and activist for black rights in America during Prohibition, as well as a successful gangster/businesswoman that stood up to the Mafia and the corrupt police system. Did I mention she was an immigrant too? Making a living as a black woman wasn’t easy from the get go, but not only did she build her own business and defended it for years, but continued fighting for a better chance in life for her community as well as those who came after her. Meet Stephanie St. Clair, Harlem’s Queen of Numbers.

From what we know about Stephanie’s childhood, she was born in Le Moule, Guadeloupe on Christmas Eve 1897. Some biographers cite her year of birth as 1887 – a whole decade earlier – however the best researched source, a book by Shirley Stewart, is certain of the one I went with in the first place. However it is interesting that there would be a dispute about this as she was a well-educated woman and would have known her birthday …unless she wanted this confusion. You’ll see why that’s more than likely in a moment. 

So, Stephanie was born mixed, French and African, and grew up with her single mother who worked hard to ensure a good education for her daughter. That way she learned her native French as well as English – in reading and writing as well as speaking, although some biographers state she learned the latter only when she was already in the US. In 1911, when she was 13 years old, Stephanie left her home on a steamboat for America. Arriving in New York the same year, she initially passed through and worked as a domestic servant before returning to the US five years later. The biographies aging her a decade state she spent time in Marseilles, France, before coming to the US, however this claim has been disputed by Stewart. Stephanie herself never disputed this claim though and speaking French, had no problem passing it as truth. And doesn’t it sound glamorous? And Stephanie was all about glamour for sure.

Whichever way she went, it is certain that she eventually settled in Harlem, New York, fitting right in with the growing African-American community. Arriving just a few years before the Great Migration when millions of black people fled the confederate South to settle in more liberal cities like New York. So the city was her playground, and it didn’t take long until she had her own gang: The 40 Thieves. Her main goal was to make a bunch of money fast and coercion and scams really seemed to work. By 1923 she was able to invest $10.000 to develop a numbers racket. The start of a lucrative career. 

A short interlude to tell you about numbers rackets in case you’re as confused as I was. Other names for it are policy banking or just numbers game. It’s basically a mix of lottery, gambling and investment where the person betting had to guess three numbers to win after paying a fee to enter the draw. There were different ways on how these random numbers were “generated” and I don’t know which one Stephanie used, but the winner was determined the day after the bets were placed. While the practice was illegal, it was one of the few opportunities for the working class to invest their money and it was even more important to the African-American community. You see, at the time there were very few banks accepting black customers, so the policy banking was more or less their only investment option. While, yes, it certainly wasn’t the most honest of professions, it did provide the black community with a surprising amount of wealth and jobs. 

But back to our story. Stephanie teamed up with another famous black gangster called Bumpy Johnson and, making him her lieutenant, her business bloomed. For the next few years Madam St. Clair ruled the numbers rackets in Harlem, becoming rich herself but also giving back to the community. She paid her workers well and funded projects to help immigrants like herself to not only learn English but also give them a network and a sense of belonging. One of her main strategies was to put out newspaper ads – full-page and often with a big photo of herself attached – educating her community on their rights, advocating for voting rights and protesting police violence as well as the corrupt legal system.

You see, she was quite and extravagant person with an eccentric, opulent fashion sense and well-respected by the Harlem residents who were the first to call her Madam. Others called her Queenie. While contemporaries describe her as sophisticated and educated, she was also arrogant and known for her temper and occasionally foul mouth (in several languages!) It was that particular mix of character traits that make her story so interesting though. Like that one time she was arrested for her ads, publicized the trial and right after she was released after eight months of prison, she went to the higher ups, not only telling them how she had bribed officers but also how many of them were actually customers of hers. Many officers were fired that day. The Queen lived a lavish lifestyle and, earning an annual income of about $200.000, she amassed a small “personal fortune around $500,000 cash and [owned] several apartment houses.” She resided at 409 Edgecombe Ave in Sugar Hill, a renowned address of the Harlem Renaissance, alongside more reputable black citizens. Still she never made a secret of her occupation and nonetheless remained a major figure in her community. And she loved it. 

With the Great Depression in 1930 and the end of Prohibition two years later, the (predominantly white) Mafia in the surrounding areas saw their profits dwindle and decided that Harlem would be a pretty good addition to their turf. One mobster in particular was determined to take over Madam St. Clair’s business: Dutch Schultz, a brutal man with a violent temper who would become her arch nemesis for the years to come. And he wasn’t subtle about his entrance. He would beat up and straight up kill numbers operators who refused to pay for protection. And when Madam St. Clair refused, he started a personal vendetta against her, threatening her via phone, kidnapping and killing her men and bribing the police wherever he could. He even got her arrested at one point! She responded in the same fashion, killing his men, destroying his businesses, tipping off the police and having his property raided by the police. One such raid cost him $12 million (which would be around $172 million today!) Then she wrote about it in her newspaper ads, because that’s just how extra she was. You might think that’s a pretty stupid move, but actually she used her writings as insurance against potential attacks on her life. By recording the threats against her in the paper, everyone would know who to turn to should something happen to her. Still it was a bloody war with at least 40 people dead.

Slowly this feud pushed Queenie out of the game though. With the police’s eyes constantly on her, she had to watch her every move. In the mid-30s she turned most of the business over to Bumpy Johnson who in turn protected her. And again she used the newspaper to her advantage, this time posting ads that catalogued her activities as a defense against any criminal charges. And for that she had to keep her nose clean. Ironically it was then that the fight against Schultz finally ended …with him being shot. It was a Mafia thing and Madam St. Clair had nothing to do with the assassination whatsoever but she couldn’t miss the chance for one last taunt. It was only a small bible verse that arrived on his deathbed in the hospital via telegram: “As ye sow, so shall ye reap.” It was signed “Madam Queen of Policy.” 

But even with Dutch out of the way, Madam Queen retired from the numbers game and instead focussed all her energy on her activism. She also met and married Sufi Abdul Hamid around 1936, an eccentric activist who ran a mosque as well. He was also very anti-semitic and because of this (and the fact that he was often seen wearing a Nazi-style shirt combined with a cape and turban) he was dubbed Black Hitler by the press. Madam St. Clair and Abdul Hamid were certainly a match in regards to their eccentric characters and flamboyant fashion, as well as their fight for black rights. However their marriage was a stormy one from the start and ended abruptly in 1938 when she shot him. 

…or at him anyway. Abdul survived and went on to marry his mistress, a black fortune teller who went with the name Fu Futtam and somehow claimed to be Asian. The couple had already tried to establish quite a few businesses with Stephanie’s money and at some point she snapped. What followed was a sensational trial of Madame St. Claire vs. Abdul Hamid. 

Throughout it all she maintained that “if [she] had wanted him dead, he would be dead.” Eventually her lawyers got him to admit that his name was actually Eugene, that he wasn’t from Egypt but from Philadelphia as well as tell them all about his affair. Still, in the end Madame St. Clair was found guilty by the all-white jury and sentenced to prison. 

The duration of her stay there isn’t completely certain and ranges from 2-10 years and her trail gets a little faint afterwards. Just like with Dutch Schultz, fate seems to have had a strong dislike for those giving her trouble: just a few months into her imprisonment, Abdul Hamid died in a plane crash. After her release in the early 1940s it seems that she steered clear of criminal enterprises and once again fully focussed on her activist work. Continuing to use her newspaper ads, she publicized the discrimination against black people in her community as well as police brutality and the often illegal tactics employed in the name of justice. She kept campaigning for black voting rights and educating her peers on their civil rights until she died in 1969, quietly and still rich, shortly before turning 73. Four years earlier, in 1965, the Voting Rights Act had been passed which finally gave black people equal voting rights. 

Stephanie St. Clair was a complex and fascinating woman, shifting between gangster and community advocate as she pleased. But this duality is what makes her so interesting, we can see her motivated by a genuine wish for socio-political advancement just as easily as by the desire for riches and publicity. She was in the middle of a fight against racial inequality and she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. Her style of activism shaped future generations and shows just how creative especially marginalized groups can get when it comes to advocacy. Especially in these days her story is so important as it shows how exposing injustices and educating the community matters. It also shows that informal (and, let’s be honest, often illegal) networks are essential in organizing a successful protest against a corrupt system. So let’s learn from this incredibly smart woman and let’s make sure to continue her fight against police brutality.

image credits:

1: Photo of Stephanie St. Clair in her youth. Book cover of “Madame St-Clair, Reine de Harlem” by Raphaël Confiant – via Wikimedia Commons – Link
2: Harlem Numbers Banker Madame Stephanie St. Clair. (Courtesy of Morgan and Marvin Smith Photographic Collection, Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture New York Public Library) – via the African American Intellectual History Society – Link
3: one of Stephanie St. Clair’s newspaper ads in The Amsterdam News – via Rejected Princesses – Link
4: African-American religious and labor leader, Sufi Abdul Hamid with his wife, Harlem mob boss, Stephanie Saint-Clair, in formal dress, January 23, 1938. (Photo by Afro American Newspapers/Gado/Getty Images) – embedded – Link
5: “Stephanie St. Clair Hamid in Custody” (fair use image) – via BlackPast.org – Link

Minna Canth – Finland’s First Feminist

by | May 22, 2020 | Finland, Mid Modern Period (1750 - 1914) | 0 comments

Because it’s my Mum’s birthday, I want to honor another badass mother today. After her husband died, she raised their seven(!) kids by herself and even found time to not only manage the family store, but also fight for gender equality, writing text that were way ahead of her time. Let me introduce you to Minna Canth.

We’re in Tampere, Finland in Spring 1844 and a after their first son had died in infancy, textile worker Gustav Johnsson and his wife Ulrika were overjoyed when their daughter Ulrika Wilhelmina, or Minna for short, was born. In 1850 another boy would follow and two years later another girl. One year after her little sister was born, her father was promoted to managing a yarn store and the whole family moved to Kuopio. Even before that she had attended the school at the factory her father worked for and continued her education in her new home. The shop was so successful under her father’s management that Minna was even admitted to an upper class school! 

That meant she was able to get a much better education than most working-class women at the time, not only learning the basics of reading and writing, but also history and geography and mathematics! Besides the main language, Swedish, she also learned to speak German, French and Russian, while at home she spoke Finnish. (Back then Swedish was the official language of Finland and it wasn’t until 1923 that Finnish was recognized in the same way.) Half the day was put aside for crafts – of course, it was a women’s school – but Minna really didn’t have the patience for that, she’d much rather devour every book she could find. 

When a school to train female teachers was established in a city near her home, 19 year old Minna was among the first to apply. The Jyväskylä Teacher Seminary was the first school in Finland to make higher education accessible for women and of course Minna wanted in. And she got in. 

In 1963 she began her education as a primary school teacher and she absolutely loved it! Not only was she elated to keep learning, but she also loved the philosophy of teaching and unexpectedly enjoyed the hour of gymnastics everyday and regular outdoor activity. In her journals she wrote: “Here, even the careless, like me, are forced to take better care of their health” and the habit of daily exercise and long walks would accompany her throughout her life. Minna also found love somewhere unexpected: in her natural science teacher Johan Ferdinand Canth. And in 1965 the two of them married. Unfortunately that also meant that she wasn’t allowed to continue her education at the Teacher Seminary, as married women weren’t allowed to study at the time. 

Even though her formal years of education were over, Minna had learned a lot and began to see society – and especially the role of women within it – in a whole new light. But for now she fully immersed herself in married life, taking care of the household while her husband worked at the school and as a newspaper editor. Her joy and pride was tending to the garden where she grew vegetables that not only fed her family but also produced a bit of income at the side. Apparently Minna had inherited her father’s talent as a salesperson. But not only her garden grew, her family did too. Between 1866 and 1890 the Canths had seven children!

Somehow in 1974 Minna found the time to start writing for the newspaper her husband worked at, focussing on women’s issues. She was incredibly happy to finally have intellectual stimulation in her life again, or as she called it “spiritual nourishment.” Her articles didn’t go over with the editors however and both her and her husband had to leave the paper only two years later. They were both immediately hired by the competition though and Minna began publishing her first fiction stories. They were even collected in a book in 1878!

But the happy family life came to a screeching halt when Johan Canth died unexpectedly in July 1879, leaving Minna alone with six children and a seventh on the way. Not only was she now a widow at 35, she was also really really broke.

She knew that continuing to write only newspaper articles would not sustain a large family like hers for long, so she thought bigger and sent a play to the Finnish National Theater in Helsinki where it was enthusiastically accepted. This would lead to a lifelong partnership with the director of the institution who taught her much. Still Minna knew it would be hard staying in the big city and after her youngest daughter Lyyli was born, she sold the family home in Jyväskylä and took her children on a three-day journey back to her hometown, Kuopio.

Returning home after 17 years of absence, Minna lost no time. Her parents had opened their own draper’s shop, but her father had died shortly after and now it wasn’t doing too well. So Minna took charge. Soon she had turned business around and was earning enough to not only take care of her seven kids and the family cat, but her mother and ailing brother as well. After her brother’s death in 1884, she took over his general store as well and she seems to have had a real talent for business: in 1895 she was elected as the first woman to be a voting representative in the General Merchant Meeting. There wouldn’t be another woman of a similar rank for the next 100 years. She also greatly enjoyed the freedom her existence as a businesswoman granted her. She made enough to hire people and finally, finally she had the time to write again!

Her home in Kuopio quickly became a meeting point for intellectuals and creative to discuss new ideas and Minna established a women’s circle to discuss social issues and needed reforms. But she didn’t just keep her ideas in her home, she wrote articles focussing on social and gender inequality for different newspapers and even planned a women’s magazine for which she ended up being too busy. Even if Swedish was the official language and she did speak it well, Minna made the choice to write in Finnish. Not only the language was unusual, but her opinions were often controversial and way ahead of her time as well – her topics included the wealth divide, public education, sexual repression and morality, as well as the stigma against sick and disabled people.

Often the deeper meaning of her work was overlooked in order to criticize the imperfect but very human characters and progressive ideas; some of her works were even banned! In 1889 she started a newspaper where she translated texts from all over Europe to debate international ideas with her readers, but that too was censored after just one year. She knew that she was ahead of her time – “a woman of a completely new age,” she called it – but she never gave up trying to usher in that new age for everyone else. 

And she had her personal reasons to keep standing up to against the system. As her daughters grew older she once again realized how difficult it was for a woman to get a good education. Without further ado she hired high school boys to teach her daughters what they learned, like mathematics and Latin, in addition to their regular lessons at the girls’ school. Of course Minna didn’t just stop at that. She and some members of her women’s group saw the need for women’s education and In 1886 the first Finnish-language co-educational school in the country was established – all paid for via fundraisers! One of her daughters, Elli, followed her mother as an intellectual, even going to Switzerland for a few years to study natural medicine. I imagine that must have made Minna very happy, as she firmly believed that to achieve true gender equality, we must empower our young women, not only by educating them but also by teaching them to navigate the world outside the home without relying on a husband.

And we know that at least with Elli she did a great job in doing so for her own daughters. When Minna died in 1897, at age 53, Elli and her brother Jussi continued their mother’s businesses and they kept operating (under various names) until 1974! But Minna’s story is not completely over yet. Ten years after her death, Finland became the first European country to give women the right to vote. It is not unlikely that her writings had at least a little influence on that progress. 

image credits:

1: “Finnish author Minna Canth (1844-1897) in her youth (age 13-16)” from her biography “Monisärmäinen Minna Canth : kirjoituksia hänestä ja hänen tuotannostaan” by Liisi Huhtala, 1998 – via Wikimedia Commons – Link
2: “Finnish author Minna Canth (1844-1897) and lecturer (teacher) Johan Ferdinand Canth (1835–1879) in Jyväskylä” from the biography by Liisi Huhtala, mentioned above – via Wikimedia Commons – Link
3: “One of the first uses of photographs in Finnish newspapers – Uusi Kuvalehti, June 1891, published in Kuopio – In picture: Kuopio-based authors Minna Canth and Juhani Aho” – from the biography by Liisi Huhtala, mentioned above – via Wikimedia Commons – Link
4: “Landscape from the cathedral tower” – Kuopio between 1889 and 1893, Minna Canth’s house is the light one at the corner. Photo: Aug. Schuffert [cropped] – Link
5: “Screw game in Kanttila [Minna Canth’s house in Kuopio]” – Pictured are Hanna Levander (left), Alma Tervo, Maiju Canth and Minna Canth, between 1890 and 1896. Photographer unknown – Digitized at the Kuopio Museum of Cultural History – Link
6: “Finnish author Minna Canth (1844-1897)” – date and photographer unknown – via Wikipedia Commons – Link

Helen and Elizabeth Cumming – Women Behind the Whisky

by | Dec 11, 2018 | Europe, Mid Modern Period (1750 - 1914), UK | 0 comments

Today I’ll introduce you to not only one but two extraordinary Scotswomen who founded a whisky distillery that still exists today – and they did it illegally!

You see, in 18th century Scotland, the taxes on whisky were raised and raised as the English tried to control Scottish production. The laws honestly got pretty confusing and no distillery was charged at the same rate – and for most the taxes became unmanageable. By the end of the century there was a flourishing black market and illicit distilleries thrived. And one of them was spearheaded by our heroines for this week: Helen and Elizabeth Cumming.

Our story begins in 1811 when 34-year-old Helen and her husband John leased a small farm in on Mannoch Hill, above the River Spey in Scotland. They named their new home Cardow and, like many of their neighbors, set up an illicit distillery. While John worked the farm, Helen took care of the household and the whisky. Not only did she work the stills, the first recorded woman to do so, she was also responsible for the product’s distribution. 

And so she would walk the 20 miles or so to the nearest township of Eglin, whisky skins hidden underneath her skirts, and sell them on the streets to whoever was interested. She also sold bottles of her whisky through the window of her farmhouse to whoever passed by. To avoid detection by the authorities, she developed a pretty smart scheme: Whenever officials were approaching her hometown she would disguise the distillery as a bakery and invite them in for tea. As there was no inn in the area, she would invite them to stay the night as well and while they were busy stuffing their faces, Helen would go into the back yard and raise a red flag or hung her laundry for all her neighbors to see, warning them to hide their whisky production as well. And even though John was convicted three times over the next five years, business never halted and soon the Cummings had earned a reputation for their high quality single malt. It wasn’t only their business that flourished, their family did too and before long there were eight children out and about – although some of them were likely born before they moved to Cardow.

Finally in 1824 taxes were lowered and one of the first people to purchase an official distilling license was Mr. John Cumming. Their eldest son Lewis had established a network of contacts already and helped Helen expand their distribution. It was also Lewis who had married our second heroine, Elizabeth, at some point and the young woman got involved with the family business almost immediately. She possessed a quick mind and an understanding for numbers and in the following years they grew their reputation; despite being the country’s smallest distillery they became quite well known.

In 1846 John died, leaving the brewery to his son. Yes, John was the official owner, not Helen, as married women still were not allowed to own property and her late husband had left it to their son. It was a wise decision though, Elizabeth and Lewis were an amazing team and soon doubled their output, meeting the increasing demand. By 1854 their business went so well that they had to employ two more people and couldn’t maintain their farm year-round, starting seasonal work. Now the fields were only worked during the summer while the other seasons were reserved for whisky-making.

The news came that the new Strathspey railway was being built, a promise to increase business even more. What a disappointment it was when it was finally finished but the nearest station was four miles away from their home, connected only through poor roads. Then in 1872 Lewis died prematurely, leaving his mother, wife and their four children behind. But that didn’t get Elizabeth down; she took over the distillery and registered their single malt under the trademark Car-Dhu, meaning “Black Rock.” It was a total success. Unfortunately it wasn’t over with deaths in the family. After continuously working in the family business for more than fifty years, Helen passed away in 1874 only three years short of her 100th birthday. She lived to see her eight children grow up and met all of her 56 grandkids.

Under Elizabeth’s management the production grew steadily but still by 1884 she could’t meet the high demand for her product anymore. Promptly she bought four acres of land in the neighborhood and moved the business to the new buildings which she simply called New Cardow. The old building was sold to a then brand-new startup distillery called Glenfiddich. New Cardow had three times the capacity of the old premises and once again business boomed. 

According to brewing and distilling historian Alfred Barnard

“Mrs Lewis Cumming personally conducted the business for nearly seventeen years, and to her efforts alone is the continued success of the distillery entirely due.”

She had just begun to show her son John the trade when the market suddenly took a dive. It was only a short crisis however and only two years later the distillery entered a decade-long boom again and by 1892 they had outgrown their capacity again.

Elizabeth, now an old woman, realized that the business had become bigger than their family could handle. Just one year later she sold the distillery at just the right time to John Walker & Sons, a blending house that had been a customer for years. She made a lucrative deal too and made sure that none of her workers would lose their jobs. Furthermore she negotiated that electricity was brought to their area – as one of the first places in the Spey Valley. But she didn’t let go entirely, although she herself retired: she only sold under the condition that her son was made board member and would continue to be involved in the business. And she bought 100 shares of the new company, thus securing her family’s fortune.

One year later Elizabeth died, leaving her family with a tremendous legacy and the business she helped to build still flourishing. Until this day every bottle of Cardhu Whisky has a woman on its red label, waving a flag.

Find out more about Cardhu Distillery on their website!

image credits:

1: The first Cardow farm – Link
2: Cardhu Distillery in 1893, ctsy Cardhu – Link
3: Cardhu Distillery, 1846 – Link
4: Elizabeth Cumming – Malt Whisky Trail on Flickr – Link
5: Cardhu Distillery, 1892 – Link
6: Elizabeth Cumming – Malt Whisky Trail on Flickr – Link
7: Cardhu 12 Jahre 40%vol. 0,7l on Home of Malts

Changunak Antisarlook Andrewuk – Queen of the Reindeer

by | Nov 8, 2018 | Mid Modern Period (1750 - 1914), North America, USA | 0 comments

Did you know that Alaska used to be Russian territory? It was only sold to the US around 1870 and suddenly the social landscape changed. Into these tumultuous times today’s heroine was born and against all odds, she became one of the richest people in the state. Hear the story of Changunak Antisarlook Andrewuk, Sinrock Mary, the Queen of the Reindeer.

When Alaska changed government, Changunak was born. Her mother was of the Native Inupiat people and her father was Russian. Likely a merchant or fur trader, he came to Alaska to make money, but returned home once his contract with the trading company ran out – alone. Their fate was not a singular one; when the Russian traders departed, they left behind a new generation of children with mixed heritage.

Changunak’s childhood was never boring. She grew up in St. Michael, a trading post where lots and lots of foreign ships docked and where there was always something to see. She observed the strangest people coming from these ships, dressed in foreign clothing and speaking languages she had never heard before. The girl soaked up everything she saw and before she was past her teens she spoke Russian and English besides her native tongue, Inupiat, and several of its dialects. But not only did she learn about other cultures but also her own. Her mother taught her the ancient ways of her people. She learned about herbalism, how to hunt and set traps and how to tan and sew animal hide, the trades of her ancestors. But most importantly she learned generosity, as was the Inupiat way.

At some point, when she grew from child to woman, she would receive the traditional chin tattoos. Presumably not much later, Changunak met a young Inupiat hunter named Charles Antisarlook, and in 1889 they married. The couple settled in Cape Nome, not far from St. Michael, where they soon met the man who would change their lives. Captain Michael A. Healy was an American who had been sailing the Alaskan sea for more than two decades and served as the only contact to the government for many remote villages. So even though he looked a bit unusual to the Natives, being half black, he was always a welcome guest. When the Antisarlooks met him, he was looking for interpreters to help him document the population of the coastline and upon finding out that the pair spoke English, he hired them on the spot. I suspect that this is when she got the name she was known by: Mary. And soon they set sail on board the USS Bear.

During their travels the Captain once more witnessed the Native Alaskan’s fight against the long, harsh winters, against starvation, and an idea that had been brewing in his head for years finally took form. The Chukchi people of Siberia were herding reindeers, why couldn’t the Alaskans? They just needed to ship the deer over, because at that point there were none in North America. Of course such a plan needed time but in 1892, only two years after he had delivered them back home, the Captain stood at the door of the Antisarlook family once again. This time he asked them to come with him to Siberia to help with the negotiations. And once again they sailed out on the Bear.

Arriving at their destination, they met up with a delegation of Chukchi and soon enough Changunak was called up to translate, being the only one in the party to speak Russian. She could however not fully understand the Siberian dialect, which angered one of the men who struck her right across the face. She did not flinch but instead stood tall, calmy asking in Russian: “Is there anyone who can understand what I’m saying?” Slowly one of the Chukchi raised his hand. “Come over here and help me,” she demanded. And he came and stood next to her. He would translate his comrades’ words into Russian which she then would translate into English for the crew of the Bear. From there negotiations went smoothly and the ship returned to Alaska, having secured 1300 reindeers to arrive over the course of the next four years. The Teller Reindeer Station was opened to teach the Alaskan population how to care for the new animals and husband Charlie began an apprenticeship there. During that time Changunak noticed that contrary to their original purpose, the reindeer were exclusively distributed amongst missionary posts and she complained. Eventually the government gave in to her constant pressure and Charlie and Changunak were the first Inupiat to own their own herd of reindeer.

Two years later their herd had doubled and now Charlie’s two brothers had become herders as well to help them out. They build their own reindeer station in the small settlement of Sinuk or Sinrock, which is where Changunak’s more familiar name comes from: Sinrock Mary. Their herd was now one of the largest in the country and that winter the government asked them for a favor. There were people trapped in the ice and they asked for them to send their herd up there to save them from starvation. Following the Inupiat principle of generosity they decided Charlie would go North with a large part of the herd while Changunak would keep house. It was a hard winter. Seal and fish were scarce and she could not afford to lose a single deer, who knew when her husband would return – if he would.

Her husband did return, albeit two years later around 1900, with 100 deer lost and in terrible health. He had contracted the measles and despite her care, he died quickly. Changunak did not have time to grieve long though. She had just buried her husband as word arrived that she might not keep her herd, being a woman and all. Finally she won the right to keep half of the couples 500 animals. But her troubles were far from over. In 1902 the gold rush had arrived in Alaska and miners were flooding the small settlements, taking the reindeer as easy ressources. Parts of Changunak’s herd was stolen to serve as packing animals or shot for food and their remains left to rot on the tundra. The officials were worrying that soon her entire herd would be gone and decided it would be best to take the animals from her and move them farther north to safer ground. But Changunak would have none of it. Instead she went south with her stock, resettling in the village of Unalakleet.

Safe from the miners, she was now confronted with another problem: word had gotten out that the Reindeer Queen was widowed and suitors lined up. Everyone wanted to get their hands on the biggest herd in the state and thus the woman it belonged to. She refused them all. But not only the suitors wanted their piece of the cake, Charlie’s brothers too claimed that the herd belonged to them; they referred to the ancient Inupiat ways according to which the widow only gets what the brothers give her. She reminded them that they were living under white man’s laws now and according to those the woman inherits the man’s property. The legal battle went on for seven years but eventually she won. She was now the undisputed owner of the largest reindeer herd in the entire Arctic.

Changunak did marry again eventually, a tall, quiet hunter called Andrew Andrewuk. This time her husband did not take any part in the reindeer business and under her proficient management her herd grew to 1500 animals at its peak, making her a true Queen of the Reindeer. And she passed on her craft. As she did not have any biological children, she adopted orphans as epidemics were decimating the population and taught them all she knew. Continuing to follow the tradition of generosity Changunak never turned away anyone in need and shared everything she had with those less fortunate. Thus she became known not only for her success as a businesswoman but also as an important and beloved member of the community.
In 1914, when she was nearing her fifties, her children could barely remember a time without reindeer and it was then when the last big catastrophe hit. The Inupiat and other tribes were forbidden from selling reindeer to the white population to secure their livelihoods, but one white man, Carl Lomen, managed to get his hands on a herd anyways, through a Finnish herder to whom the restrictions did not apply. Immediately he began building a business American-style, steadily driving the Natives out of business. Changunak lost her best herders to him and her best customers, she began losing animals as she could not supervise them all at once. And again she began to complain, rallying the other deerkeepers to do the same. Fifteen years they fought, then the Great Depression came along and prices plummeted, Mr. Lomen was in financial trouble. Finally in 1937 his herd was sold and the Reindeer Act was passed, which forbids anyone except for Alaskan Natives to own reindeer in the territory.

Now almost 70, Changunak realized that the world around her had changed fundamentally. There were fewer and fewer reindeer now and she became too old to care for her own herd. Two of her grandchildren moved in with her to lend her a had. She became known as the village elder who had known the Russians and people would bring her hides to make into shoes, the way her ancestors had done it, the way her mother had taught her.

On a winter’s day in 1948 Changunak Antisarlook Andrewuk, Sinrock Mary was pronounced dead. She received a communal burial and is remembered dearly by her community, not only as the Reindeer Queen, but also as someone who kept the Inupiat way alive against all odds. Until this day whenever reindeer are seen in the north people think of her. And sometimes people say they can still see her large herd roaming the hills.

image credits:

1: “My Great-Great Grandmother Sinrock Mary (1870 -1948)” – Jodi Velez-Newell’s Eskimo Heritage Page
2: “Reindeer Committee with Esther Oliver, Sinrock Mary, Mrs. Willie Aconran [sic] with children, Clyde and Pauline, Kliktarek [sic] corral,” 1938 – © Anchorage Museum (AMRC-b75-175-161)
3: “Sinrock Mary and Esther Oliver. Klikiktarek [sic], Alaska,” 1938 – © Anchorage Museum (AMRC-b75-175-160)
4: “Sinrock Mary. Klikiktarek [sic], Alaska,” 1938 – © Anchorage Museum (AMRC-b75-175-158)

Granny Lum Loy – Surviving Three Cyclones and a War

by | Jun 20, 2018 | Australia, Contemporary (1914 - today), Mid Modern Period (1750 - 1914) | 0 comments

This is the story of a survivor. Adopted and sent to a faraway land, she made it her home while keeping her cultural heritage alive. She built up several businesses and survived many a catastrophe, all while founding her own family. I present to you: Lee Toy Kim, later known as Granny Lum Loy.

Nothing is known of her early childhood, besides that she was born around 1884 in Shekki, southern China. Together with another girl named Lee Leung See, she was adopted by Fong Sui Wing, an entrepreneur who soon set sails to Australia with his new daughters in tow. They arrived in Darwin, Northern Territory, in 1898. The destruction a cyclone had wreaked the year before was still evident, but the small family did not lose courage and went to work. Soon their first grocery and general store was founded in the heart of Darwin’s Chinatown. Three more stores in the area would follow. Although she had never had a formal education and only spoke the Sze Yap dialect of her people, Lee Toy was able to work in her family’s Darwin store, having taught herself to read and write Cantonese. There she forged connections to the locals, slowly learning the language of her new country.

In 1901, when she was around 17, she met mining engineer Lum Loy and fell in love. In no time they were married and moved south to Pine Creek. Five years later their only child was born, a daughter they named Lizzie Yook Lin. After her husband died in 1918, widow Lum Loy moved her small family back to Darwin where she hoped for a better education for her daughter. And Lizzie did not disappoint her, working herself to the top of the class. Being a single mum wasn’t easy though, but she had a plan. She rented ten acres of land and single-handedly turned it into a mango orchard sporting about 200 trees she had all planted herself. In time her plantation grew into a fruit enterprise, exporting mangoes to the western part of the country.

In 1923 her daughter married prominent Chinese businessman Chin Loong Tang and they went on to add two more stores to the family business and nine children to the family itself. This would be the foundation of one of the largest Chinese families in Darwin, making her the matriarch. Now known as Granny Lum Loy, she continued her fruit export business for over ten more years until she decided to sell her orchard in 1935. The growing family returned to their original home in Darwin, where Chin Loong went off to attend business in Hong Kong, leaving the family café in the hands his wife and her mother. When her son-in-law returned, Granny Lum Loy found herself a little bored and purchased another block of land, this time turning it into a chicken farm. Every day she went from her house in the city to the outskirts of town, tending to her chickens and collecting the eggs, which she then sold to a local café. This was also around the time the second cyclone happened.

Then the war came. After the Pearl Harbor incident, her family evacuated Darwin and fled. Granny Lum Loy refused to leave. While she was on her daily morning visit to the Chinese temple however, a bomb hit Darwin in February 1942. Even though she still did not want to leave her home again, she saw that it was the most sensible thing to do. She reunited with her family and together they fled further south. Arriving in Alice Springs, Adelaide, they made a temporary home there, using their talents to set up a vegetable and fruit shop. After two years, her family decided to move to Sydney and Granny Lum Loy decided to go with them. It should not be a pleasant stay. Shortly after giving birth to her ninth child, Lizzie Yook Lin complained about pain in her kidneys and died in August 1945.

Only one month later the war ended and the family returned to Darwin. Granny Lum Loy was shocked to find her hometown in ruins, the land firmly placed in the government’s hands and Chinatown about to be demolished. The landowners were compensated for their lost land, although not exactly fairly. But our clever Granny managed to save her family’s property – albeit at the cost of her chicken farm. This was to be the last time she moved places in the remainder of her long life. Her grandson built her a small house and she proceeded to establish a wonderful garden on her property, growing many tropical fruits – yes, mangoes too. The third cyclone in her life should come in 1974. In the morning after the storm when people carefully began to move outside and oversee the damage, a figure could be spotted in the remains of her garden. It was Granny Lum Loy, 91 years old at the time, who was already beginning to work on its restauration.

She became a prominent figure in Darwin’s social landscape, the Chinese gardener lady in her traditional clothes. So prominent indeed, that in 1979 painter Geoff la Gersche created a big portrait of her. She was overwhelmed. After all, in the China of her memory only emperors had their portraits painted! Her death one year later, when she was about 96 years old was mourned by many. Marking the end of an era, her funeral was the largest one the town had seen and would see for many years.

image credits:

1: National Museum Australia: Harvest of Endurance Scroll (Collection interactive) – Entrepreneurs
2: The Canberra Times  Sa, 1 July 1989: “The women from the north: larger than life but unknown” – Link (archived article)
3: “Mrs Lum Loy” © Northern Territory Library (PH0044/0058)