If The Trolls Only Knew What The JUPers Do ...
By The S ore
of
Gitche Gurnee
Forgotten communities,
dotting Michigan's northern wilderness,
keep the faith despite forces threatening their extinction.
THROUGH THE GOOD YEARS, MICHIGAN'S FIRST JEWISH SETTLER roasted
fowl over campfires near Mackinaw City, but times of scarcity forced him to survive on cheap pork.
Ezekiel Solomon, a German-born trader, came to Michigan in 1761.
More Jews from Europe followed, gradually establishing themselves as peddlers and retailers in
small towns dotting the Upper Peninsula. They catered to a rugged stock of loggers and miners,
mostly Finnish immigrants prospering off dense forests and mineral deposits below the rust-colored
soil.
One well-known Jewish businessman, William Saulson, was first to promote the idea of a bridge
connecting the Lower and Upper Peninsulas. Nearly 80 years later, Jews named Leon Moisseiff and
David Steinman drafted blueprints matching that vision. Another Jew, Lawrence Rubin, served for
more than three decades as chief of the Mackinac Bridge Authority. He lives in St. Ignace today.
Elsewhere in the Upper Peninsula, Jews won civic elections, owned banks and taught public school.
Their spiritual life sometimes included trips to the mikvah, studies at cheder and weekly Torah read-
ings.
Suburban Detroiters generally respond with shock: Jews lived in the UP? They did and they still
do. Their existence, fraught with challenges, runs deep like the Big-Sea waters. Their history tells
the story of Michigan's northernmost industries, and their future, typical of most lost tribes, hinges
on the staunch commitment of a few.
RUTH LITTMANN STAFF WRITER
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