Myths of the Rune Stone

by David M Krueger

  About a month after Rice’s articles appeared, the Minneapolis Star published additional articles written by supporters of the Kensington Rune Stone. Ralph Thornton, an Alexandria attorney and local historian, accused Rice of resurrecting the “once-dead” hypothesis that Ohman was responsible for the hoax. In doing so, Rice had “cast aspersions” on Ohman, who Thornton described as a “hardworking, kindly, well thought of, and painfully honest Swedish immigrant.” Regarding Rice’s and Holvik’s claim that Ohman endeavored to come up with something to “puzzle the brains of the learned,” Thornton argued that this is not sufficient evidence to prove a hoax. More likely, he said, it was “simply the guileless and understandable remark of a man who, like many others in his day, found himself frustrated by the lack of formal education which so often cramped expression of his native intelligence.”95

  Thornton defended Ohman’s integrity by maintaining that it was unreasonable to think that Ohman could have kept such a powerful secret for more than thirty-seven years. Furthermore, it was illogical to assume that Ohman would have been knowledgeable enough to produce a hoax as complicated as the Kensington Rune Stone: “Was Olof Ohman a stump grubbing, stone picking Swedish immigrant who worked countless hours each day eking out a living from reluctant soil a 19th century dual personality? Was he, unbeknownst to his family and neighbors, also a Latin scholar and philologist years ahead of his time?”96

  Residents of western Minnesota braced themselves in advance of the articles in the Minneapolis Star, which were “not expected to be favorable.”97 A Park Region Echo article criticized Rice for assuming that he could make a definitive statement about the authenticity of the stone inscription:

  Just how a reporter could make an intensive study of the stone without delving into considerable ancient history he does not state. Professor Holand has spent years studying the stone and still has merely scratched the surface in uncovering all the evidence, much of which is buried in Scandinavian records.98

  The author goes on to say that Rice has done nothing more than write “a fascinating story” and assures his fellow Alexandria residents “that nothing new will be uncovered that has not already been thoroughly checked by historians.” A few days after the appearance of the Rice articles, the local Kiwanis Club chapter hosted a meeting with Edward J. Tanquist and Thornton as speakers. Tanquist was quoted as criticizing the Minneapolis paper, stating that it was “spending a lot of money to question the intelligence of Minnesota citizens.”99

  In his articles in the Minneapolis Star, Thornton took a respectful tone in addressing his interlocutors. He stated that Rice had argued “ably” and “colorfully” but that he “failed to deliver a knockout punch.” Thornton was even willing to extend deference to Holvik by giving “due credit” to his sincerity. Thornton’s tone shifted when he spoke before his fellow Alexandria residents and exhibited little patience for former believers in the Kensington Stone. In this venue, he argued that “the Minneapolis Star story was not impressive to intelligent people as it showed many mistakes.” According to Thornton, Rice had wrongly accused everybody associated with the discovery of the stone as being “liars and perjurers.”100 He expressed the frustration of many Alexandria area residents regarding the growing attacks on the city’s civic totem: “Those who reside in Minnesota at times become discouraged with unfavorable publicity given the Runestone and Hjalmar Holand’s devoted study.”101

  When local residents claimed that Olof Ohman had been slandered, they were asserting that residents of western Minnesota had been as well. It is certainly true that various academics and reporters in the urban-based news media had accused rune stone enthusiasts of being anti-intellectual and opportunistic hucksters. However, it would not be accurate to characterize them as victims. Kensington Rune Stone enthusiasts used external critiques of the rune stone and their community to their material and symbolic advantage. Despite Thornton’s claim that “nobody has made a cent of profit from the Runestone,” it is clear that it was a keystone to the local tourist economy. His statement is particularly odd considering that he was a representative of the Chamber of Commerce speaking to a group of businessmen. Similar to Sauk Centre’s civic leaders in the 1920s, Alexandria’s “reputational entrepreneurs” deployed the motif of victimhood to portray rural and small-town Minnesotans as industrious, honest, and morally superior.102 By the 1950s, the by-then-deceased Olof Ohman had emerged as a martyr for rural virtue and united white, western Minnesotans around a story that defined their region as significant in American history and culture. However, the source of that rural virtue was not often articulated in the early twentieth century. It seemed so obvious that it need not be mentioned. By the 1950s, Minnesotans had come to embrace the Christian motivations of the Knutson expedition as outlined by Holand. As will be explained in chapter 5, the needs of the Cold War era required more explicit assertions of religiosity. However, it is first necessary to describe how Catholics took the lead in embracing the symbolic power of a story of medieval adventurers to Minnesota.

  Chapter Four

  Our Lady of the Runestone and America’s Baptism with Catholic Blood

  No doubt you have heard about Our Lady of Lourdes. And Our Lady of Fatima, too. Perhaps you’ve even heard about Our Lady of Guadalupe. But I’m sure you haven’t heard about Our Lady of the Runestone . . . I’d like to think of her under another title, Our Lady of North America.

  —Father Vincent A. Yzermans, “Special Title of Bl. Mother Is Our Lady of the Runestone” (1954)

  In the aftermath of the national publicity generated by the visit of the Kensington Rune Stone to the Smithsonian Institution in 1948, Minnesota’s Catholics leaders voiced their opinion about the controversial stone. Editors of the St. Cloud diocesan newspaper argued that the artifact should be permanently displayed at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington “rather than remain a local tourist curiosity in Alexandria.” Because of “the Catholic historical implications” of the Kensington Rune Stone, it would best “advance the cause of history and the Catholic Church in a much more practical way in Washington rather than in Alexandria.”1 By the mid-twentieth century, the famous artifact had become more than a symbol of ethnic, racial, and civic identity. Local Catholic leaders used the rune stone to claim Minnesota as a uniquely Catholic place and to demonstrate that Catholics were true Americans.

  As noted in the introduction, Holand gradually revised his narrative to explicitly emphasize the Christian motivations of the Norse explorers. As academic critiques mounted and ethnic support wavered in the 1920s, this new emphasis extended the popular appeal of the rune stone to those who would not otherwise be interested. Anchoring Holand’s claim is an obscure royal document from 1354 that describes an expedition commissioned by King Magnus of Sweden. According to the document, Magnus received word in 1348 that the Norse Christian settlement in western Greenland had been abandoned. The king was troubled by this news, but was unable to respond at the time because he was preoccupied with a campaign to seek converts in Russia. In 1354, the king received additional information that the Greenlanders had given up the Christian faith and had become “idolaters.” According to Holand, Magnus was “greatly disturbed” and decided to take action. He appointed Paul Knutson, “a good Catholic,” to lead an expedition to search for the lost Greenlanders, who, Holand theorized, had sought refuge on the North American continent. King Magnus addressed Knutson and his men before they departed:

  We ask that you accept this, our command with a right good will for the cause, inasmuch as we do it for the honor of God and for the sake of our predecessors who in Greenland established Christianity and have maintained it to this time, and we will not let it perish in our day.2

  Holand summarizes what he saw as the true reason for this expedition: it was an endeavor motivated “not by greed of gold, but born of brotherly love and hope of saving human souls.”3

  Although there is no evidence that this expedition was ever carried out, King Magnus and Knutson’s men
were Catholic. The Protestant Reformation, ignited by Martin Luther and others, did not reach Scandinavia until the mid-sixteenth century. The Catholicism of pre-Columbian Nordic explorers in North America was either de-emphasized or ignored by most Americans, particularly Swedish- and Norwegian-American Lutherans. Rasmus B. Anderson makes no reference to the Catholic identity of Leif Eriksson in America Not Discovered by Columbus and cites the death of Leif’s brother Thorwarld as the “first Christian” to die in America.4 Such omissions were not merely accidental. There is a long tradition of anti-Catholic rhetoric among Norwegian- and Swedish-American writers who touted Leif Eriksson as the true discoverer of America. In his 1892 book Nordmannen i Amerika, the Swedish-American journalist Johan Enander said that Leif Eriksson’s contributions to American history had not been recognized owing to the influence of Italian Americans and the pope. According to Enander, they had created a cultural environment in the United States where it is “considered High Treason” to question the historical orthodoxy that Christopher Columbus had discovered America.5 As one historian observes, writers such as Anderson and Enander “had tapped into a powerful vein of anti-Catholicism” that aimed to fortify the Protestant origins of the United States.6

  Hjalmar Holand produced this booklet in 1959 for the Runestone Museum of Alexandria. Copies were distributed to museum visitors and other tourists visiting the area.

  The Catholic identity of Viking explorers was not ignored by Catholic historians such as John Gilmary Shea, who starts his 1855 volume on Catholic missionaries in the United States with the chapter “Norwegian Missions in New England.” Shea claimed that the Catholic church was the first European institution in what was to become the United States, and this argument would be further bolstered by Holand’s rune stone.7 In contrast to the Lutherans Anderson and Enander, Holand often noted the Catholic faith of his Norsemen, and Minnesota’s Catholics took notice. Although Minnesota’s Catholics were largely of German and Irish ethnicity, it did not stop Catholic bishops, priests, and laity from becoming some of Holand’s strongest allies in promoting the authenticity of the Scandinavian stone.

  Claiming the Rune Stone as a Catholic American Artifact

  The first and most prominent Catholic to endorse the Kensington Rune Stone was the St. Paul Archdiocese bishop, John Ireland. Ireland attended a Minnesota Historical Society meeting in December 1909 where Holand and other rune stone supporters gave presentations in favor of its authenticity. The archbishop was quoted in the next day’s St. Paul Dispatch stating that he believed the Kensington Rune Stone to be an authentic medieval artifact because its inscription contained a phrase that was “characteristically Catholic.”8 Ireland was referring to the inscription “AVM save [us] from evil.” He interpreted these letters to indicate the phrase “Ave Virgo Maria,” which is the first part of the “Hail Mary” prayer and the last part of the “Our Father” prayer.9

  It is significant that Archbishop Ireland took the time to attend the Minnesota Historical Society meeting given his other commitments at the time. A week after the meeting, Ireland wrote an apologetic letter to diocese churches for not fulfilling his promise to administer confirmation in their parishes owing to the many and “burthensome” issues that had occupied him in recent months.10 It is not explicitly clear why Ireland made it a priority to learn more about Holand’s rune stone, but there are reasonable possibilities considering the history of Catholics in Minnesota and Ireland’s vision for American Catholicism.

  St. Paul Archdiocese Bishop John Ireland, 1908. Photograph by Golling Studio. Courtesy of the Minnesota Historical Society.

  Although Minnesota has a reputation for being predominately Scandinavian and Protestant, Catholics have had a long and significant presence in the state. In 1660, French Catholics were the first Europeans to explore the region that became Minnesota. Many of Minnesota’s most prominent place-names are associated with early Catholic missionaries such as Jacques Marquette, Lucien Galtier, and Louis Hennepin, who named the famous Minneapolis waterfall after his patron saint, St. Anthony. French-speaking missionaries and traders were drawn to the area in search of Indian converts and animal skins. Jesuit priests had some success converting Ojibwe, Dakota, and Métis (persons of mixed Indian and French ancestry) to the faith. Catholicism was virtually the only expression of Christianity in the region until Protestant missionaries and settlers began to arrive in the mid-nineteenth century.11

  In addition to the many Norwegian, Swedish, and old-stock American Protestants who settled the vast tracts of land the U.S. government acquired from the Dakota in 1851, Catholic pioneers also had a strong presence in early Minnesota. Irish-born Catholics numbered more than 20 percent of the state’s foreign-born population in 1860.12 German-speaking immigrants made up the largest number of Catholics in Minnesota. Although Germany is known as a birthplace of the Protestant Reformation, immigrants from Catholic regions such as Bavaria and the Rhineland settled in large numbers in central and southern Minnesota. By 1905, Stearns County, just to the south and east of where the rune stone was unearthed, could boast that 67 percent of its foreign-born immigrants came from Germany, and around 86 percent of the county residents who claimed a religious affiliation identified as Catholic.13 Germans were the largest foreign-born group in Minnesota between 1860 and 1905, when Swedes took over that distinction.14 By the beginning of the twentieth century, Irish immigration had slowed significantly. The masses of Italian Catholics arriving in the United States at the turn of the century did not venture to Minnesota in large numbers. In 1909, Archbishop Ireland was likely concerned that Scandinavian Protestant churches would outpace the growth of the local Catholic church.

  Archbishop Ireland had long expressed interest in converting Scandinavians in Minnesota despite their widespread rejection of the Catholic church.15 Given the similarity between Lutheran and Catholic views on dogma and sacraments, Ireland considered Scandinavians to be “fruit ripe for the Catholic picking.”16 In a letter to Baltimore’s Cardinal James Gibbons in 1889, Ireland requested help in recruiting Scandinavian priests for his diocese. He told Cardinal Gibbons that the St. Paul diocese had made “serious efforts” to recruit Scandinavian priests, but it could point to only one Norwegian convert, George A. Arctander. Ordained to the priesthood in 1896, Arctander served St. Paul-area parishes up until his sudden death in September 1909. Following the loss of his lone Scandinavian priest, it is possible that Ireland attended the December meeting because he hoped the Kensington Stone could ground a new strategy to persuade Lutherans and other Protestants to return to the pre-Reformation church.

  Archbishop Ireland was keenly aware of the long history of anti-Catholicism in the United States and he aimed to prove to the nation’s Protestant majority that Catholics were patriotic Americans.17 The mid- to late-nineteenth-century influx of Catholic immigrants into eastern cities ignited fears among many Americans that the dominant Anglo-Saxon Protestant culture was at risk. Protestants feared that Catholics were a threat to American democracy and they often accused Catholics of having primary allegiance to the pope rather than to the U.S. government. During the 1840s, Protestant nativists rioted, burning Catholic churches and killing residents of Irish neighborhoods in urban centers such as Philadelphia. Anti-Catholicism framed the platform of the Know-Nothing political party of the 1850s and was evident in the rhetoric of the 1884 presidential campaign, where one Protestant minister warned voters of the threat of “rum, Romanism, and rebellion.”18 Anti-Catholic sentiment was institutionalized in organizations such as the American Protective Association, which sought to place limits on non-Protestant immigration. Based in Clinton, Iowa, this organization had particular appeal among Scandinavian immigrants in the Midwest and reached the peak of popularity during the 1890s.19

  Although it would not be fair to say that Catholics were actively persecuted in Minnesota, they were in the cultural and political minority. It appears that Catholics had limited political success, at least at the state level, until later in the t
wentieth century. Just a few months before Ireland attended the rune stone meeting, a Swedish-born Lutheran, Adolph Olson Eberhart, had been elected as governor. The first Catholic governor, Rudy Perpich, would not be elected until the 1980s.20 This suggests that Catholics were still somewhat at the margins of statewide political power in the early twentieth century.21 Under Ireland’s leadership, however, Minnesota’s Catholics were gaining in social status. In 1909, Ireland oversaw the construction of two cathedrals in St. Paul and Minneapolis and he could boast there were two Catholic seminaries and two Catholic colleges in his diocese. He also oversaw the Catholic Truth Society, which sought to educate the public about the basic teachings of Catholicism through the distribution of literature, to deliver “prompt and systemic correction of misstatements or slanders against the Church,” and to publish “reliable news about Catholic events.” Catholic leaders counted the organization successful in “breaking down anti-Catholic prejudices.”22 Despite these accomplishments, there was one area of Catholic ideological work that needed attention: establishing a Catholic presence in the discourse of American history and, especially, Minnesota history.