Letter FromnMinnesotanby Allan C. CarlsonnAmerican and British negotiators ofnthe Treaty of Paris, attempting to setnthe northwestern boundary of the newnUnited States, agreed on a hne followingnRainy River “to the Lake of thenWoods, thence through said lake tonthe most northwestern part thereof.”nAnother 60 years would pass before annaccurate map, astronomical calculations,nand political compromise wouldnsecure U.S. claim to a peninsula ofnroughly 100 square miles jutting outnfrom Manitoba and above the 49thnParallel.nSeparated from the remainder ofnMinnesota by a large body of waternand surrounded on the other threensides by Canada, the Northwest Anglenenjoys a kind of isolation that is rarelynfound in continental America today.nUntil a decade ago, it could only benreached by plane or boat. Today, an40-mile drive through Manitoban forestsnand a new township dirt road linknthe Angle to civilization.nThis relative isolation has kept thenAngle in a kind of time warp. Indeed,nits 60 year-round residents, mainly ofnSwedish and Norwegian descent, arentoday living out themes more attunednto the mid-19th century than to thenage of computers and Purple Rain.nThe frontier remains a reality here.nNature is not something to be protected.nRather, it is to be respected,nfeared, and used. Log cabins are beingncut out of the forest, raised up by thenhands of those who will live in them.nTrees are felled along the peninsula’snnorthern coast to make room for newnsettlers. Yet the great northern forest ofnbirch and pine—beautiful, beckoning,nprimitive—seems barely to noticenthese activities of mere men.nNew residents, especially those withnchildren, are welcomed with enthusiasm.nThe Angle’s one-room schoolhouse,nthe last to be found in Minne­n42/ CHRONICLES OF CULTUREnCORRESPONDENCEnsota, needs children. A chill hadnspread over the community a halfndecade earlier when the building hadnbeen closed, the number of pupilsnhaving fallen below the minimum requirednby the state. Yet a new generationnsoon rose up, and the school’snreopening, in a new structure built bynthe parents themselves, was a cause fornrejoicing. The community and thenpublic school are, at least here, stillnone.nThe Angle has a church. Althoughncalled St. Luke’s Lutheran, the congregationnlong ago cast off all ecclesiasticalnties. Northern Minnesota is homento a number of Lutheran sects, smallngroups of congregations that have splitnoff from the larger Lutheran entitiesnover varied, yet deeply felt, theologicalndisputes. St. Luke’s fits the independentnmold. Unbeholden to bishops ornbureaucracies, the little congregationnhas its own eclectic style of worship,none that would shock the professors atnthe Chicago Seminary. Part FriendsnMeeting, part evangelical testimony,npart hymn sing, worship services showna refreshing vigor.nThe lay preacher on a recent Sundaynwas Mike Rasmussen, who, withnhis wife and three small children, runsna small fishing camp. His text camenfrom Ecclesiastes 9: “Let your garmentsnbe always white, and let yournhead not lack the oil of gladness. Livenjoyfully with the wife whom you lovenall the days of your vain life which Henhas given you under the sun—all thendays of futility; for that is your portionnin this life and in your work at whichnyou toil under the sun.” Childrennwere a great blessing and a greaternchallenge, he said; divorce and brokennfamilies, great curses. Women shouldndress to please their husbands. Mennmust respect their wives, call them byntheir first names, show them theirnlove. Marriage and family were ordainednby God.nOf course, sin coexists with holinessnon the Angle. Yet here, it has almost anheroic dimension, taking on the quali­nnnties of a morality play. Gossip this Julynstill surrounded a man who went bynthe name of Nels. A fishing guide innthe summer, he cut contract timber onnIndian land during the off season. Forna number of years, he had lived withnan Indian woman, without benefit ofnwedlock, and had fathered a son bynher. Yet she took to drink. Nels, meanwhile,nhad developed an acquaintancenwith the schoolteacher. She invitednhim and his woman to attend thenchurch. The latter declined, but Nelsnbegan coming to Sunday services and,neventually, Wednesday evening Biblenstudy. Within a few months, he hadnbecome a Christian. He left his Indiannwoman and soon thereafter marriednthe teacher in a Christian ceremony.nRace relations on the Angle meansncontact between whites and Indians.nTwo-thirds of the land on the Angle isnowned by the Red Lake (Ojibway)nIndians, yet none of them live there.nThey merely lease out the land tonenterprising white woodcutters. Instead,nresident Indians are foundnacross the Angle Inlet, in Canada.nFrequently, though, they cross thenunpatrolled border seeking gasoline,nmedical care, or drink. Quiet suspicionnstill governs most such contacts.n”Drunken Indians” is a frequentlynheard epithet. With only one or twonexceptions, one Angle resident added,nthe Indians had no ambition, weren’tntrying to improve themselves, livednonly day to day. The clash of culturesnwas real.nYet the economy on the Angle is notnhealthy. Most people live simply here,nwhile tourism—the principle industryn—is down. Fishing is still good onnLake of the Woods and catching one’sndaily limit of walleye a plausible task.nThe big-time fishermen, once thenmainstay of the Angle, have movednnorth into the thousands of fly-in,nvirgin lakes of Manitoba and Ontario.nAlso damaging is a new Ontario lawnrequiring persons staying in Americanncamps but fishing in Canadian watersnto buy a $3 “user’s permit” each day.n