One of the best things about doing historical family research is that you tend to encounter some truly intriguing characters. Long-gone ancestors can get stuck in your brain for all kinds of reasons—murder, mayhem, public embarrassment... And when you find someone with a good story, you want to tell other people about it.
Here's where the trouble comes in. Suffice to say that when it isn't their family, few people care about how some guy founded the town of Nowheresville, Ohio or ran five miles to save his prize cow in the Great Buggy Collision of '08. Trust us. People don't care. Some of us have learned the hard way.
Here at RootsBound, we have learned what people do like to hear about, whether it's their family or not: murderers, villains, weirdos, ridiculous strings of bad luck, and oopsies.
So here we present to you a guy who was notable for his achievements (uh, he has a Wikipedia page, so...), but then had a little "oopsie" of his own.
One of our former clients has French Canadian ancestry that is extensively documented. (Good job, French Canadians.) We were able to trace them back to 10th great-grandparents on this line, and when the pool is that large, you're bound to find a notable swimmer in there. And find, we did.
Enter this guy: Jean Nicolet de Belleborne de Cherbourg-Octeville... de France... de Earth.
Born in 1598, Jean Nicolet left France as a young man after suffering extreme hat persecution. Making his way to Quebec in 1618, he became an interpreter for the French trading body Compagnie des Marchands, a formal monopoly set up by the French aristocracy to control the lucrative fur trade that was becoming established with various Native groups. In case you were worried this post wasn't about beaver furs, rest assured.
Nicolet went to live with a group of Algonquian people to learn their language and culture and help negotiate with the Iroquois. From the best we can tell, the Iroquois had popcorn, which everybody else really wanted, and there were probably some heated debates between various groups about whether the best canoes were made with birch or elm. On second thought, that doesn't sound quite right. Let's let the Algonquian people tell it.
During his nine-year stay in the Lake Nipissing region, Nicolet operated a store where he traded with the Algonquian and Odawa people of the area.
Nicolet's best friends and trading partners, Jacques Kevin McDonald and Francois Dave Foley
Jean Nicolet wouldn't stay put for long, though. Like Dora, he was born to explore. He's frequently depicted in an Asian robe, as he was reportedly always in search of a passage to "the Orient." It is rumored that Nicolet would arrive in Native territories with two pistols drawn, à la The Outlaw Josey Wales, to indicate exactly how much business he meant.
A young Algonquin boy announces Jean Nicolet's arrival by performing the first documented occurrence of The Sprinkler.
In the mid-1630s, he joined up with an expedition that ventured into Huron territory. Recruiting several Huron braves to go with him, he commanded a rather large canoe through the Straits of Mackinack in search of the Northwest Passage. Sadly, he found only beautiful Lake Michigan on the other side. As he continued west through the Great Lakes, Nicolet became convinced he would be able to locate a passage to the Pacific Ocean. Lucky for cheeseheads everywhere, he was a little off in his calculations, and instead of the Pacific he discovered Green Bay, Wisconsin.
Not being a Packers fan, Nicolet explored Wisconsin briefly before turning that canoe right around to return through the Mack-inack Straights towards Quebec City. Home again, he continued to serve as an interpreter between the French settlers and the various local Native tribes.
By all accounts, Nicolet was a good guy. To characterize him simply as a colonizer is a mistake. Sure, he supported the French aristocracy, so he wouldn't have been your number one choice to, say, storm the Bastille, but all-in-all—a good guy. He learned several languages, acted as an interpreter for many years, enabled a bit of diplomacy, and maintained life-long friendships with Native people. He was a peacemaker.
But then... "oopsie."
Jean Nicolet might be a notable swimmer in our client's ancestral pool, but it turns out that he was a poor swimmer in real life.
In 1642, a sudden storm caused his boat to capsize on the St. Lawrence River, and, alas, Jean Nicolet, the famed explorer, commandeer-er of the largest of canoes, could not swim. He drowned and his body was never recovered.
Jean Nicolet, rest in peace. And kids—remember: if you're going to look for a quick passage west to Asia, we say, go for it. But first, learn how to swim.
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