The sad death of Prince Pomiuk

In the days before television brought people of different cultures into our living rooms, major events often featured living exhibitions of people from around the world.

In my book on Minik, I wrote of the sad results that ensued when American explorer Robert Peary took six Inuit from northern Greenland for exhibition in New York. But that is only one of many sad tales involving the exhibition of Inuit.

In 1892, a group of about 60 Inuit were taken from Labrador to Chicago for exhibition the following year at the World’s Columbian Exposition. From then until 1909, Inuit were exhibited at every major World’s Fair in the United States.

Some Inuit taken in 1892 subsequently returned to Labrador; others remained in the United States. One of the Labrador Inuit was a boy named Pomiuk, about eight years of age.

This Inuk boy has been immortalized as Prince Pomiuk but, of course, he was no prince.

He was the son of Kajuatsiak, a powerful leader in the Nachvak area of northern Labrador, and his wife Aniortama. But when Kajuatsiak was killed by Kolliligak, his mother remarried and gave her three children away to be raised by others.

Pomiuk and his sister Sikepa went to live with the family of Kupa, while his brother Kippinguk went to the family of Kupa’s older brother, Tuglavina.

A Pomiuk advertising card from the World’s Fair. (Kenn Harper collection)

In 1892, Kupa and his wife, Kuttukittok, their daughter Tiguja and the two adopted children, Pomiuk and Sikepa, succumbed to the entreaties of a promoter whose ship went up and down the Labrador coast that summer, and agreed to go to Chicago to be exhibited as part of the “Esquimaux Village” there.

Life in the “White City,” as the fairgrounds were known, was fun at first. Pomiuk was immensely popular and acquired his nickname Prince Pomiuk.

He was expert with the dog whip, which he used to flip coins tossed by tourists. For 50 cents, tourists could also ride a “komatik” — an Inuit sled — but there was no snow and so the sled was drawn on a narrow railway, an idea which must have amused the Inuit hunters.

Then Pomiuk endured a tragic accident. In a game of “kick” — an improvised soccer game — his leg was broken and improperly set.

No longer the darling of the fairgoers, he had to crawl or be carried about and could only sit and watch as his friends continued to entertain the tourists with their whips.

Bilked by unscrupulous promoters, the family tried to return home to Labrador.

In 1894, they got as far as Bonne Bay, N.L., where they had to winter in a house provided for them by the kindly local postmaster.

The next year, penniless, they made it back to Labrador. In the summer of 1895, Wilfred Grenfell, missionary doctor, found Pomiuk living as an invalid with Kupa’s family near Nachvak, “a naked boy of about eleven years, an old reindeer skin thrown over him … and his face drawn with pain and neglect.”

His thigh was broken and diseased. He would surely die if untreated.

Grenfell took Pomiuk to his seasonal hospital at Indian Harbour at the mouth of Hamilton Inlet, then transferred him to Burnt Wood Cottage Hospital, farther up the inlet near Rigolet.

The following May, a Moravian missionary baptized him with the Christian name Gabriel. That fall, he was transferred to Grenfell’s hospital at Battle Harbour.

Pomiuk at Battle Harbour in 1897. (Kenn Harper library)

Charles Martin, children’s editor of a religious paper The Congregationalist, had met Pomiuk at the World’s Fair and heard about his plight. He and his readers contributed financially to the boy’s upkeep.

Pomiuk was finally fitted with crutches in the summer of 1897 while in the care of Dr. Wilway at Battle Harbour. But on Sept. 29 that year, Pomiuk succumbed to the disease that had debilitated his young body since the infection that accompanied his broken hip.

He died in the hospital that had become his home. He was baptized with the name Gabriel a few weeks before he died. Dr. Aspland buried him in the churchyard a few days later.

Charles Martin and his readers wished to provide a lasting memorial to the Eskimo boy who had become their friend through the pages of The Congregationalist.

They continued to provide funds to Grenfell’s hospital, and arranged to have Pomiuk’s bed there named the Gabriel Pomiuk Memorial Cot, a lasting tribute to the sad life of “Pomiuk, a Prince of Labrador.”

When I visited Battle Harbour some years ago, I searched the local graveyard in vain in the hope of finding a headstone or any kind of marker for the grave of Pomiuk.

Taissumani is an occasional column that recalls events of historical interest. Kenn Harper is a historian and writer who lived in the Arctic for over 50 years. He is the author of Give Me Winter, Give Me Dogs: Knud Rasmussen and the Fifth Thule Expedition, and Thou Shalt Do No Murder, among other books. Feedback? Send your comments and questions to kennharper@hotmail.com.