The Rise and Fall of the Mormon King of Beaver Island

31.08.2023 - 20:09 / atlasobscura.com

In the northern reaches of Lake Michigan, the Emerald Isle ferry—departing from Charlevoix at the northern tip of the Lower Peninsula—takes about two hours to reach the lake’s largest island. As it approaches, homes, a lighthouse, and a red-roofed research center pop into focus amid dense forest. Docked boats herald the ferry with honks, and dogs bark from ship to shore. Upon arrival on Beaver Island, a lively community center and welcoming crowd beckon family and visitors ashore. On the island it’s customary to wave, or at least lift a finger, for each passing vehicle—every single one.

“When it’s just us, if someone doesn’t wave to you it’s like, ‘Wow, what’s that all about?’” says generational islander Garrett Cole, in a perfectly worn flannel, with a long white ponytail down his back.

It’s the week of the normally sleepy island’s summer music festival. There are only about 600 year-round residents, and the festival brings more than twice that to the wooded grounds in the middle of the island, where local vendors set up near three side-by-side stages. “What do you call people from Beaver Island?” a musician calls out from the left stage. “Lucky!” someone in the crowd shouts back. “Prisoners of paradise” is another answer sometimes offered.

Amid the sunny days and summer fun, there are hints of another, darker past: a few historical markers between clover-lined fences, and a name that appears repeatedly on a main road, a hotel, and the township itself: St. James. All are named after James Jesse Strang, the self-appointed Mormon king of Beaver Island.

In 1847, the island was only home to a couple hundred people: members of several Anishinaabeg tribes who seem to have had a long history on the archipelago, as well as some Irish immigrants who had arrived a decade or so earlier. Fur trapping, fishing, and lumber were the industries of the island, which was tied to the nearby economic powerhouse of the Great Lakes, Mackinac Island, and its lucrative whiskey trade.

Suddenly, the island found itself host to an outsized figure in Strang, who arrived with a small group of followers that year. By 1850, Strang had declared himself “king.” Over the ensuing few years he attracted some 2,500 followers to this remote place. They farmed and built—and developed a notorious reputation: “one of the most desperate bands of pirates that ever infested American waters,” according to an article in The New York Times, published 60 years later. Strang’s “kingdom” lasted only six years, and disappeared just as quickly—and dramatically—as it had arrived. But the legacy of the pirate Mormon king of Beaver Island is far from settled.

“It’s fascinating, the juxtaposition between reality and folklore,” says Mormon historian and