The Most Italian Town in Michigan

Caspian — Statistics and demographics. Don’t fall asleep! You must believe me when I tell you it isn’t all boring. There are all sorts of strange bits of data hidden deep in the bowels of the U.S. Census. And it’s those little pieces of data which represent real people with real stories, which, when viewed together, tell the story of a people.

Iron County. It’s in the western U.P. and borders Wisconsin. It follows central time. It has a population of about 11,631 and a population density of 10 people per square mile. In contrast, Wayne County has a population density of 2,930 people per square mile. It’s heavily forested, very hilly, and there are a lot of Italians.

You can’t tell who the Italians are in Iron County. They aren’t new immigrants. They came here to the north a long time ago, learned English way before we were born, and blended into the American scene in the early 20th century. But, nevertheless, they are here.

Of course, over the years, many married other Americans of other ethnic backgrounds and the old-world ethnic divisions blended down slowly. This is, ultimately, the story of the new world.

Still, the census takers make note of what ethnicity people claim, and according to the most recent data we have, people with Italian ancestry make up 11.3% of Iron County. The tiny village of Caspian just south of Iron River is a staggering 26.6% Italian, making it the most Italian village in Michigan.

For some more downstate reference, those of Italian descent make up 3.6% of Wayne County and 0.9% of Detroit.

How in the world did Italians find their way all the way up to this far-flung corner of the Upper Peninsula, a place so very different from the boot of Italy, more than a century ago?

Mining.

When we think of the U.P. nowadays we think of snowmobiles, side-by-sides, black flies, and pine trees, but for about a century, from the mid-1800s to the mid-1900s, mining was a huge story in the U.P. Copper and iron were the most commonly sourced. The Keweenaw Peninsula produced a ton of the world’s copper, rightfully earning it the nickname “Copper Country,” which has stuck with it until today. But down in the Menominee Range cutting through Iron County, Iron was, of course, their primary quarry.

The Italians of Iron County ended up here because the mines needed workers and the Italians needed jobs. It’s a tale as old as time, or at least as old as the industrial revolution. But mines don’t last forever. Eventually all the good stuff is dug out of the ground and all that’s left is dirt. So the mine shuts down, the jobs disappear, and the people who needed the jobs go somewhere else.

This story played out all over the region. There are lots of old mining ghost towns littered across the Keweenaw and the western U.P. These places were once booming but are now completely subsumed by the northern woods with graves crumbling in the undergrowth.

But not everyone left Iron County or little Caspian when the Bristol Mine closed its doors. Yes, the population decreased by about 50% in Caspian, but the fact that so many people in this region still claim Italian heritage is a testament to the fact that some did stay after the jobs left.

I wouldn’t say driving through Caspian feels like Little Italy circa 1924, but there are lingering signs of the Italian migration and settlement here. Downtown, at the corner of Brady and Caspian, there’s a tank near a VFW memorial with names of local soldiers who fought and died in the terrible wars of the 20th century. Those names are Italian.

Over on Berkshire Avenue there’s a ranch with both an American and Italian flag flying high on a pole in the front yard. On the edge of town, where Morgan Street meets McGillis Avenue, there’s an old brick building teetering on the brink of dilapidation with the name “Italian Society Duke of Abruzzi” at the top with the dates “1914-1929” near the roof above. There’s a plastic picnic table out front near the road and a bocce ball court next door with the colors of the Italian flag painted on wood walls.

This old building was once a lodge. Named after the Italian Explorer Prince Luigi Amedeo, Duke of Abruzzi, it was founded by Italian miners as a community center to help support new arrivals to Caspian.

The door to the lodge is held closed with a little hinge on a loop. Crime isn’t a big concern here. While we were outside looking at the bocce ball courts a car pulled up, a guy got out, walked up the stairs, flicked the hinge, opened the door, and asked if anyone was there. When no one answered he closed the door and walked back to the car. The woman in the driver’s seat told me they sell furniture and other antiques here. They are open in the summers, from Thursday to Saturday, 10 a.m.-3 p.m. We were there on a Wednesday.

This very Wes Anderson-looking brick building on the edge of Caspian in Iron County is a pointed physical symbol of the story of Italian migration and settlement in the U.P. I’m sure it was very busy here on McGillis Avenue on a Saturday night in 1919 during the height of migration and mining. But now no one comes. There’s no need for a community center to help integrate new arrivals when there are no new arrivals. These 20th-century lodges were always a means to an end wherever they were, existing to help facilitate an easy transition to a new life in the new world.

I recently heard someone claim the U.P. was the last frontier. I don’t know if that’s entirely true, but there is something frontier-like about the place. The feeling of being on the periphery of something. The ghost towns that fell without any fanfare, forgotten like the dust. The people that came and then went somewhere else. The people that decided to stay and ended up becoming something different than who they were before.

I suppose that’s the story of the frontier and the big story of the new world and America. And in a very micro-sense, it’s story of Caspian and Iron County.

Caspian may be 26.6% Italian, but it’s 100% Yooper.