As a child, he was stricken with a disease that left him bedridden for months.
When he recovered, his growth was stunted, and his back was curved.
Luckily, his family was wealthy.
He could have coasted and lived a life of luxury…. instead, he challenged himself more than anyone thought possible.
In the process, he became the best-known geologist and surveyor of his era.
The man known as The Little Giant travelled through Western Canada shattering the idea that the land was barren.
He climbed mountains, crossed rivers and slept under the stars.
In the process he documented the lives of the First Nations and showed them a respect few other did.
I’m Craig Baird, this is Canadian History Ehx and today I share the story of a truly remarkable man, George Mercer Dawson!
[TRANSITION]
To understand where you’re going sometimes you have to look at where you came from…
and George Mercer Dawson came from a very impressive pedigree.
His father, Sir John William Dawson left his mark on Canada in a variety of important ways.
He reformed school design and teacher education in Nova Scotia, and those changes spread to other parts of Canada over the next few decades.
If you go into any furniture store today, you’ll be familiar with one of his inventions.
Most notably, the Dawson Desk. Which is now mostly considered an executive option it has a desktop anchored by a file drawer on either side and joined in the back by a modesty panel.
If that weren’t ambitious enough Sir John was also one of the top geologists of his day.
He studied the fossil forests of Joggins, Nova Scotia, which is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
This is where he discovered a 300-million-year-old fossilized skeleton of Dendrerepton — one of the first amphibians ever found.
And that’s not all…
He also discovered the oldest known reptile in the history of life on Earth, which he named Hylonomus lyelli in honour of his mentor Sir Charles Lyell.
In 1855, he became the principal of McGill University. At the time the school was in bad shape. By the time he retired in 1893, McGill was one of the top universities in the world.
And even though It was a life well lived; you may not have heard of him.
Mostly because he was eclipsed by his brilliant son and the reason we’re here today.
George Mercer Dawson was born on Aug. 1, 1849.
He was the second child born to Sir John and his wife Margaret.
A year later his sister Anna, and arguably his closest friend was born.
The two were inseparable, and they lived with the family in his paternal grandfather’s home.
James Dawson valued strict discipline above all else.
But George wasn’t intimidated and as a child he was very close to him.
His father was often away as the Superintendent of Education for Nova Scotia.
So, George went on long walks with his grandfather to look at wildlife, plants and search for fossils.
Along the way his grandfather would tell him stories of what it was like to grow up in Scotland, or how he had survived smallpox, and how he built a career and immigrated to Nova Scotia.
His grandfather passed on a love of the outdoors and a deep desire to understand the world around him.
But George never took to heart his grandfather’s religious devotion.
James saw everything as God’s plan, while George was interested in exploration and explanation.
When George was only six, his father was offered the position at McGill University.
The family packed up and moved to the bustling city of Montreal where George’s life would change forever.
As much as George missed Nova Scotia and his grandfather, Montreal provided a whole host of new experiences.
For one thing, everyone around him spoke French, which George quickly picked up.
And that helped him make friends, which was never really a problem.
George was outgoing and friendly, and over the years he made one of the most important cities on the continent his home.
But that careless joy ended abruptly when he was 11 years old.
One day George was out playing with friends, dreaming up a new game to play when he began to feel strange.
His balance seemed to be off, and he felt his world spin.
On the way to one of the waterways near McGill, his legs felt heavy and a few times he almost stumbled and fell over.
When they arrived, he didn’t feel well enough to go in, so he stayed on the shore, and he held onto a stick to steady himself.
As he watched his friends play in the water, the world suddenly spun like a top and went black.
George collapsed.
His friends ran to McGill to get his father who raced back to his son’s side.
When he arrived, he found George on the ground with a burning fever and rushed him home.
In bed, George was overcome with delirium from a high fever, as his entire body writhed in terrible pain.
The best doctors in Montreal found there was little they could do.
They told George’s parents to prepare for the worst because there was little chance, he would survive.
All they could do was wait.
For three weeks, George was in agony as a fever burned through him.
His eyes were nearly always open, but he saw nothing.
Death was at his doorstep.
But then, something happened those defied expectations.
His grandfather would have called it a miracle.
One morning George… just… woke up.
He smiled at Anna, who had hardly left his side and told her he wanted to go outside.
He had no memory of the previous three weeks.
But it didn’t take him long to realize that something was wrong.
The physical impact from the disease was immense.
Today, it’s believed he had Pott’s disease. A form of spinal tuberculosis, where a bacterial infection starts in the lungs and progresses to the spine. It is treated through surgery and chemotherapy.
It left George’s spine with a severe curvature that stunted his growth and deformed his upper body giving him a slight hunchback.
The disease also left him with headaches for the rest of his life that made it feel as if someone was crushing his skull in a vice.
From then on George’s freedom disappeared.
There was no more attending school with his friends.
Instead, he was often bedridden and privately tutored.
George has a voracious appetite for knowledge and quickly eclipsed his tutors, forcing his father to hire new ones.
But life was lonely.
As popular as George had been, after the accident his friends visited less frequently until most stopped all together.
All except one.
Dan O’Hara always went to see George.
The two played chess and checkers for hours.
Plus, George always had his sister Anna and his loving family which was always there for him.
They worried about the frustration that comes with confinement, so they brought him anything he needed.
Books, games, even a small printing press that he used to publish a newspaper for home.
For seven years, he spent most of his time in bed.
When he got out, he would often be troubled with headaches that raged for days and sent him back into the darkness of his room.
But slowly George began to heal, and his recovery was helped along by family visits to the coast.
Each summer the cool climate often improved his health and if the weather was nice enough, he could go outside to look for rocks, insects, and anything else that would satisfy his insatiable curiosity.
One summer, his best friend Dan O’Hara visited him.
By then George’s health had improved enough to S attach a buckboard to a horse named Molly, who was considered the most docile horses on the property.
The boys trekked about eight kilometres from home to the water where they had a picnic beneath a tree.
As the tide went out, George got up and immediately went out to collect specimens by prying up rocks.
For a few hours, they filled a sack with black lobsters, crabs, periwinkles and other sea creatures.
But they lost track of time.
Before they knew it, the tide was rolling back in quickly coming back.
As they got back to Molly, they saw that she had been attacked by black flies.
The poor horse had kicked the buckboard to pieces in her distress.
While Dan was frantic about what to do, George knew there was only one option.
Ride Molly back home.
Dan worried about the broken buckboard while George delighted in the fact he was riding a horse.
When they got home, his mother was furious that George had risked injury, meanwhile his father thought it would be good for him to learn how to ride properly.
That summer, George took riding lessons and became an excellent horseman.
It was a skill that would serve him well.
The next few years went on without much consequence.
George was homeschooled by tutors.
When he turned 18, it was time for him to get out, but he didn’t go far.
Since he lived in Montreal, and his father was the principal of McGill University, it was logical for George to attend the prestigious university.
He spent one year at McGill studying English, chemistry and geology.
At the end of that year, George was ready to move on because above all else there was something he desired.
Freedom.
Eight years is a long time to be confined so he decided to leave Canada and continue his schooling in England.
While his parents worried about him going out on his own, they knew he had made up his mind.
Hs father introduced George to Sir William Logan, one of the preeminent geologists in Canada at the time who was immediately impressed by the young man’s drive and intelligence.
He offered to help George into the Royal School of Mines in London.
His father also wrote to his friend and mentor Sir Charles Lyell who was a prominent Scottish geologist and close associate of Charles Darwin, to recommend his son for the school.
George’s father even ordered a special collapsible chair so that his son could sit easily and comfortably at a desk.
All of those efforts paid off and George was accepted.
In September 1869 his family waved at him as he stood on the deck of the passenger ship Lake Erie on his way to England.
George was on the path to freedom.
He arrived at the Royal School of Mines in London and immediately George proved himself as studious and hardworking.
He attended classes on mining, metallurgy, natural history, applied mechanics, and paleontology.
He was focused and particularly influenced by Thomas Henry Huxley.
The professor taught him about f the interrelation between geology and natural history and the importance of scientific facts.
At school he fell in love with field studies because for him there was nothing like being out in nature, among the rocks and specimens around him.
His time at the school was some of the happiest of his entire life and just like before he made friends easily.
He graduated in three years and was at the top of his class, winning the Duke of Cornwall Scholarship, the Forbes Medal and Prize in natural history and the Murchison Medal in geology.
After graduation, George returned to Canada and immediately set out to work.
With his high grades and his father’s connections, it didn’t take long for George to find a position as a professor of chemistry at Morrin College in Quebec City.
While money was good and he enjoyed teaching, George once again sought freedom away from the confines of the classroom.
He wanted to get out into the field.
In 1873, he got that chance.
The British North American Boundary Commission hired him to survey the border between the United States and Canada.
Half a century earlier in 1818, the boundary west of Lake Superior had been established along the 49th parallel.
When Rupert’s Land transferred to Canada in 1870, the two countries decided that a boundary was needed, and the land had to be surveyed.
Efforts to establish the actual line didn’t begin until 1872 when a commission was formed.
The Canadian government tasked George with the job.
He was to collect anything of scientific value, search for any mineral veins and examine and test soils.
George was also told to mark water supplies and take note of plant and animal life along the way.
If you’re a long-time listener, you’ll remember that at the time, Canada was attempting to build a railroad across the continent to connect British Columbia to eastern Canada.
Knowing where resources such as water, timber and coal were located would be highly beneficial for plotting the railway’s course.
Excited by the opportunity, George packed supplies for the long survey including tents, rifles, buckets, pans, horseshoes, sails, plant presses, a telescope, compass and barometer.
Like most young people, he was also at the forefront of the new technology, so he made sure to include photographic equipment including a black tent and chemicals for processing photos.
He was one of the first geological surveyors to take a camera with him and became one the first to photograph our country.
With all the preparations completed boarded a train in Montreal in August 1873.
It would take him through the United States to Wisconsin.
From there he took a long trip on a stagecoach to the Lake of the Woods and the base camp of the British Boundary Commission.
It took one month, but by September George was ready to venture into the Canadian West.
He would be joined by a Metis man named Begg, and a Cree named Spearman who would act as guides.
The men worried about their companion’s short stature and hunched back, wondering if he would survive in the wilderness.
It didn’t take them long to realize that George had incredible perseverance and will.
They came to respect him, especially after George quickly learned to speak Cree.
By the time they were done for the year, Spearman named George ‘skookum tumtum’ which meant, George was a strong, tough man, who was brave and cheery.
Spearman added that anytime George needed a guide, he would be there for him.
George went home to Montreal for the winter of 1873 and brought with him many specimens he collected.
It delighted the professors at McGill.
He spent the rest of the busy winter cataloguing and writing, then George went back west in the spring to continue surveying.
George first saw the Rocky Mountains at the end of July 1874.
He wrote home to his sister Anna,
“Here we are camped at the western end of the west butte of the three, with the Rocky Mountains in sight. The Rockies are about 115 miles distant, and on a clear day are beautifully defined and show great white patches either of snow or some light-coloured rock.”
As George reached the foothills, he ventured off on his path to explore.
He climbed to the top of a small mountain.
At the summit he stared out at the land, and he fell in love.
Later he would say he felt the Rockies belonged to him.
And their love affair would continue but first he returned to Montreal at the end of October 1874, to finish his work.
But he would be back.
George Dawson may have been tasked with surveying the 49th parallel, instead he went above and beyond.
He completed a report covering 1,287 kilometres long and 128 kilometres wide that combined geology, natural history and geography.
In late-1874, George published the Report on the Geology and Resources of the Region in the Vicinity of the 49th Parallel.
It may not be a catchy name, but it is now considered a classic of Canadian geology.
George discovered that the land was prime for settlement, which went against the long-held claims by the Hudson’s Bay Company that it was barren.
His report ignited a major settlement of the west.
It also caused the Canadian Pacific Railway to reroute the railway.
Instead of going north through the Yellowhead Pass near present-day Jasper, the railroad would go through Calgary, Banff and the Kicking Horse Pass towards present-day British Columbia.
The landmark report gave George newfound notoriety.
He joined the Geological Survey of Canada, an agency responsible for surveying the country while developing natural resources and protecting the environment.
It is the country’s oldest scientific agency and was one of its first government organizations.
And as soon as George joined, much like Bilbo Baggins, he was off on a new adventure…
His destination? British Columbia.
George was tasked with surveying Haida Gwaii, formerly known as the Queen Charlotte Islands.
He had spent many years away from his close-knit family so this time he encouraged his brother Rankine to join him.
At the time very little was known about the islands beyond the fact that they were home to the Haida people.
The Geological Survey of Canada wanted to know what plants and animals were in the island’s forests, and if minerals could be mined.
The brother’s first stop was Victoria B.C but when they arrived mid-May 1875, the ship that was to take them north nowhere to be seen.
Their departure date — May 15— came and went.
Eager to get going, George found an old ship named The Wanderer at the dock.
The ship’s sails were rotten, but George hired the ship on the spot and ordered Captain Sabotson and his crew to replace them.
Everything seemed to be in order until the day of departure.
George found Captain Sabotson drunk and fired him on the spot.
Then, like an absolute boss, George lit his pipe, took command of the crew and ship.
He sailed The Wanderer out of the harbour and piloted the ship all the way to Haida Gwaii.
George had so far lived a life of adventure but his brother Rankine, had spent most of his life in the urban comfort of Montreal.
He had a difficult time adjusting to his new rustic home on the island.
At one point he looked in an old building with a large totem in front and saw human bones and jumped to the conclusion that the Haida were cannibals.
George had to explain that the totems were sacred and that he should not walk inside as the building was likely a burial site.
Eventually, George confirmed that it was a mortuary totem and inside the building were the sacred bones of great chiefs.
Rankine had a tough time understanding the Haida culture and throughout this time he often expressed disgust at their customs and habits.
George would often chastise Rankine for his narrow view.
He respected their hosts, which wasn’t unusual.
While surveying Canada, he often spoke with local First Nations to learn more about them and the land.
Rather than seeing Indigenous People as uncivilized, George saw them as knowledge keepers of the land and arguably some of his greatest teachers.
He would go on to openly criticize the government for its efforts to assimilate or segregate First Nations.
That respect meant he also learned things other surveyors didn’t.
In Haida Gwaii, the people trusted him enough to share with him their legends.
He was allowed to take their picture and even guided him to places where no other white person had gone before.
George only spent a summer with the Haida, but he went on to write a book about them and his photos provide a record of their lives before white settlers arrived.
After the summer with the Haida, the brothers returned to Montreal where George struck up a relationship with a woman.
The two fell in love but despite George’s growing fame, wealthy family, cheerful personality and incredible intellect, all her parents saw was a short man with a slight hunchback.
She didn’t want to disappoint her family and cut off contact with George completely.
She went on to marry someone her parents approved of meanwhile George was heartbroken, and he never again pursued a romantic relationship again.
To deal with the pain, he dove back into work.
The Geological Survey of Canada asked him to travel back to present-day Alberta to map the coal fields in the Badlands.
Joining him on the survey was a young scientist named Joseph Tyrrell.
If you grew up in Alberta like I did, that is very familiar to you as it appears in the Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology in Drumheller.
He is also an important person to me.
In 1894 he stumbled upon the biographical recollections of David Thompson, my favourite historical figure.
Using Thompon’s 11 books of field notes, 39 journals and maps, Tyrrell brought Thompson back to the public consciousness decades after the great explorer died.
Would we know of Thompson if Tyrrell hadn’t done so? We’ll never know but I am very thankful.
Anyways…back to today’s story.
Tyrrell would join George Dawson on his latest survey.
And George was a determined man, who had no patience for anyone who didn’t pull their weight.
He was a perfectionist who moved at a quick pace.
Often so absorbed in his work, that he could seem standoffish.
Tyrrell was not a fan of his new boss.
Things started out rocky when George gave Tyrrell his first task — a pace survey.
It involved walking long distances alone while counting each step taken.
Tyrell would have to multiply the average number by the length of his stride to determine distance.
As he was counting, George came by on a horse, engrossed in his work.
He didn’t acknowledge Tyrrell at all.
It irritated the young man.
He couldn’t understand how George could become outgoing and friendly once work was done but ignored him during the day.
Unbeknownst to him, George invited Tyrrell to look over his specimen collections and give his thoughts.
Tyrrell quickly realized it wasn’t personal and quickly learned to respect George who often had twice the difficulty he had but never complained.
He did his job, and he did it well.
All George expected from others was the same.
Tyrrell noted that George never asked anyone to do anything he would not do himself.
His iron spirit earned him the respect of those around him including Tyrrell.
Later in his life, he stated that George Dawson taught him more than anyone he ever worked with.
The two parted ways after that survey finished, and everyone went back to their lives.
George, however, began preparing for his next trip which would take him north to an area that was virtually unknown but would soon become the centre of the universe.
At least for a short time
George Dawson was headed to The Klondike.
Over the previous decade, George had travelled constantly into Western Canada.
He wrote several acclaimed books about his experiences and was made the assistant director of the Geological Survey of Canada in Ottawa in 1883.
He then served as acting director from 1885 to 1886.
But much like in his youth he longed to be outdoors. In 1887, je joined his friend William Ogilvie, on a trip to the present-day Yukon where there were rumours of gold.
They were tasked with marking the Alaska Boundary.
On April 22, 1887, they left Ottawa on the new Canadian Pacific Railway and journeyed to Victoria.
From there, they traveled to the mouth of the Stikine River.
By mid-May, they were on a steamboat on Telegraph Creek headed to Dease Lake, British Columbia.
They finally reached their destination in present day Pelly Crossing, Yukon, at the end of July.
As they journeyed up the Yukon River, George saw gold glittering in the rivers.
With his understanding of geology, he knew there would be much more gold further up the river.
Like a modern-day prophet George said there would be a gold rush where they were one day
And it would dwarf all others.
Ogilvie wondered why he didn’t mine the gold himself and become unfathomably rich.
George shared that his most loyal childhood friend, Dan O’Hara had asked a similar question.
George said that he was happiest in the wilderness and that everything he ever needed could fit into a canoe.
And much like he did with the Rockies, George fell in love with the Yukon.
It never wavered, or waned and over the course of the next three years he returned multiple times to complete his surveys.
His work produced some of the first maps of the region.
But the administrative duties back at the Geological Survey of Canada in Ottawa were requiring more of his time.
As the 1890s progressed, the field work trickled down until 1895, when he was appointed the director of the Geological Survey of Canada.
He would be the third man to hold the title.
A year later, a Tagish man named Keish found gold in Rabbit Creek, a small tributary of the Yukon River.
With his sister Shaaw Tlaa and her husband George Carmack, they sparked the Klondike Gold Rush.
Suddenly, the untouched land beloved by George Dawson was now the destination for 100,000 prospectors from around the world hoping to strike it rich.
George’s maps, which he had painstakingly created years earlier, were worth as much as sheets of gold.
He could have easily sold his maps for a fortune, but he never did.
He shared his knowledge freely.
Nearly every day during the height of the gold rush, people came to his office seeking advice on where to mine. He gave them advice and sent them on their way.
When he had time, he conducted some minor surveys out west, but now his job was mostly to direct others while he handled the administration and political side of things.
In 1898, the Royal Geographical Society honoured him with a gold medal.
Two years later, he was elected the president of the Canadian Mining Institute.
He also lobbied tirelessly for the government to provide funds for a Geological Survey of Canada’s museum.
In February 1901, it was granted, and today that museum has evolved into one of our greatest museums: The Canadian Museum of History.
A month after achieving his fundraising goal he battled acute bronchitis.
A day later, the man known as skookum tumtum, the Little Giant, lost the fight.
The man who had defied the odds his entire life, died at 51 years old on March 2nd, 1901.
He outlived his father by only 15 months.
The Halifax Herald wrote,
“He was one of the cleverest scientists in Canada and his services have been of the greatest value to the country.”
George Dawson’s fascinating and inspirational story was over, but he inspired a chapter in someone else’s.
When the Klondike Gold Rush kicked off, George’s friend William Ogilvie was in the area.
He was still working as a government surveyor, that’s how he met Joseph Ladue who was building a boomtown.
The flood of people coming in from the outside world needed accommodations and
Ladue asked Ogilvie to survey the lots of this new town for him.
He would also be charged in settling any disputes that may arise over the parcels of land.
Ladue offered Ogilvie anything he wanted.
Ogilvie agreed but said that since his salary came from the federal government, he just wanted one favour in return.
Ladue asked what it was.
Ogilvie told him to name the new town after a friend he considered to be the finest man he had ever known.
Ladue agreed.
Within a year, 17,000 people were living in that new community.
Which was named…Dawson City.
