Walk through Toronto’s Cabbagetown neighbourhood and you might stumble upon Doctor O Lane running parallel to Carlton Street. The “O” stands for Oronhyatekha, a Mohawk whose colourful life as a public figure in the late 19th century was unusual for an Indigenous person of that age, taking him from a brief period as a student at Oxford University to building one of the largest fraternal orders (that also sold insurance) in North America.
Born on the Six Nations Reserve in 1841, Oronhyatekha was baptized as Peter Martin. He preferred using his Mohawk name throughout his life, which translated as “burning cloud.” His grandfather, George Martin, was deeply involved in Haudenousaunee affairs during the early 19th century as an interpreter and supported the British during the War of 1812.
After training as a shoemaker in his teens, he encountered a phrenologist (a practitioner of a pseudoscientific field where one’s head size and indentations were believed to indicate intelligence and personality) who determined he was suited for further education. Oronhyatekha left the reserve and studied in the United States before returning to teach.
In 1860 he was chosen to deliver a speech to the Prince of Wales (later King Edward VII), who was stopping in Brantford during the first Canadian royal tour. Accounts vary as to whether Oronhyatekha actually gave the speech, which discussed the long relationship between the Six Nations and the Crown, or whether a written copy was passed along. What is clear is that he met one of the Prince’s entourage, Oxford professor Henry Acland, who became a father-like figure and whom he would name two sons after. After numerous conversations and many attempts to gain sponsorship from various groups involved in Indigenous affairs, he sailed to England in 1862 to enter Oxford to study medicine.
Image showing Oronhyatekha as the captain of the IOF. Taken from a "dedication souvenir" for the Temple Building from the 1890s. Toronto Public Library, CA-1890-DEDICATION-VS.
He only lasted a month. Rumours about incidents while he was a student in the United States, such as his involvement in a student revolt against administrators at Kenyon College, followed him across the Atlantic, while a former ally, Reverend Abraham Nelles, who was a senior missionary at Six Nations, disparaged his moral character by bringing up minor incidents from the past. His sponsorships fell apart, and when he came back, he decided to teach at the Mohawk reserve at Tyendinaga, where his mother had been raised, and to whom he later changed his band affiliation.
Oronhyatekha soon resumed his medical studies through an affiliate of the University of Toronto, earning his licence to practice by 1866, becoming the second Indigenous person to receive one in Canada. Over the next decade he roamed the province, setting up practices in Frankford, Napanee, Stratford, and London, specializing in nervous disorders and respiratory ailments. To attract business and reduce the stigma attached to his Mohawk background, he overstated his medical credentials, especially his time at Oxford. He served as first secretary of the Hastings County Medical Association, and was appointed, based on a recommendation by John A. Macdonald, as consulting physician for Tyendinaga.
A joiner by nature, he participated in many fraternal organizations and temperance societies during his time in London, where his social skills came to the fore. Always able to turn on the charm, he joined organizations, such as the Orange Order, which usually barred Indigenous people.
The most important connection he made was to join the Independent Order of Foresters in 1878. Its rules stipulated that only white males could be members, but he was granted a special dispensation thanks to his Orange Order ties. He later joked that his sponsors “recognized that I belonged to a race which is superior to the white.” Within a year, he was appointed its High Chief Ranger of Ontario.
With the zeal of a religious convert, Oronhyatekha spent the next few years travelling across the province to promote the IOF’s fraternal virtues and insurance benefits. The latter was an important selling point, as fraternal organizations tended the offer the best protections and rates for the working class. It is estimated that when the 20th century began, 40 percent of North Americans belonged to fraternal organizations.
Postcard of the Orphans' Home on Foresters Island, 1906. Wikimedia Commons.
When he joined the IOF, which started in the United States in 1874, it was experiencing difficulties. It was loaded with debt due to the high mortality rate of its members in the southern states. Its treasurer disappeared in 1879 after stealing $17,000.
Oronhyatekha became the IOF’s Supreme Chief during a reorganization in 1881. Relocating the fraternity to London, he oversaw its return to solvency by creating a reserve fund and toughened medical requirements to receive benefits. Welfare benefits were expanded cover disabilities, illness, and funeral costs. Membership exploded, growing from 369 in 1881 to 24,601 by 1890, 102,838 by 1896, and over 275,000 by 1907. Over that timespan, $20 million of benefits were paid out. Beyond the working class, the IOF attracted many important people as members including Prime Minister Wilfrid Laurier and United States President Theodore Roosevelt.
The IOF’s growth was fueled by Oronhyatekha’s persuasiveness. His brash, self-promotional nature was compared to showman P.T. Barnum. Following the order’s move to Toronto in 1888, it presented lavish displays at the Toronto Industrial Exhibition (the forerunner of the CNE). He travelled the world to build up the IOF and his popular speaking engagements stressed the importance of brotherhood and supporting each other through hard times. “He was always elegant and faultlessly groomed,” noted Ethel Brant Monture in her book Canadian Portraits: Famous Indians. “People sought him, for his friendliness was unbounded.”
A profile published by the Globe in 1896 noted his gracious, unassuming nature towards others. “He never turns anyone away with a short answer, save as ‘no’ is a small word. Everyone who calls upon him may see him, unless the exigencies of official duties and obligations, or in conference, make it impossible to spare even a moment, and may talk to him as long as he has anything worth hearing to say. As a rule it is the visitor who does the talking, unless he be one in whom the chief has confidence, when he will open the doors of his speech and talk freely and most entertainingly.”
His debating skills were also praised; “Calm, courteous, imperturbable, clear and decisive, he is a master in debate,” one English writer observed. “His weapon is as smooth and decisive as a Damascus scimitar; his dexterity in wielding it, and his quickness in watching the fence of an opponent are extraordinary and admirable.”
When the order required more office space, he commissioned architect and IOF member George Gouinlock to design a new building. The Temple Building, completed in 1897 and located at the northwest corner of Bay and Richmond Streets, was, at nine storeys, Toronto’s tallest building for a decade. “‘The Temple’ is a structure that Toronto and Torontonians will ever be proud of,” declared the Evening Telegram. “It will take its place as one of the leading ‘points of interest.’ Until visitors have seen ‘The Temple’ they will not have seen Toronto.” Within a few years of opening, a life-size bronze statue of Oronhyatekha sculpted by Walter Seymour Allward (who later designed the memorial at Vimy Ridge) was placed in the lobby. The building remained a city landmark until its demolition in 1970 — portions of it are displayed in Guild Park, while the statue was moved to the IOF’s later headquarters near Don Mills.'
Temple Building, 1890s. Toronto Public Library, PICTURES-R-1426
The Temple Building also held Oronhyatekha’s extensive collection of historical artifacts which he had collected during his travels. Its items included First Nations weaponry, mummies, and a replica of Westminster Abbey’s Coronation chair in, from which he occasionally ran meetings. The collection later became one of the founding collections acquired by the Royal Ontario Museum.
His holdings were later viewed as an example of how First Nations coped with preserving their culture in an age of assimilation. He spoke Mohawk in his summer home near Deseronto. He supported an effort in the mid-1880s to grant First Nations property owners voting rights whether they lived on or off reserve; he felt denying Indigenous peoples the vote because the Indian Act made them dependents of the federal government was ridiculous, and rejected Liberal fears that the governing Tories would gain a solid voting bloc.
“Every enfranchisement act in the past has made it a condition precedent for an Indian to obtain the right to vote that he should practically abandon his people, alienate them from himself, and destroy any influence he might have among them,” he wrote in a letter to the London Free Press that was reprinted in other cities.
The effort failed, and the franchise wasn’t fully extended until 1960.
Among Oronhyatekha’s last major projects was construction of a home for orphans on Foresters’ Island, a property he had purchased for IOF use near Deseronto. He considered the opulent castle the crowning achievement of his career; he once noted that he’d rather be remembered for aiding orphans than his other accomplishments. Opened in 1905, the home housed around 40 residents and proved a financial drain. By the time the orphanage moved to Oakville in 1908, it accumulated $232,000 in debt. The island was given back to the Mohawks in 2005.
When he died in March 1907 while resting in Savannah, Georgia, Toronto went into mourning. City council met his casket at Union Station. A procession passed by the Temple Building en route to Massey Hall, where 10,000 people viewed his body in state. Another 4,000 attended the official funeral service. The Evening Telegram remembered him as “a unique representative of his country, perhaps the greatest CANADIAN of his time.”
His body was then transported to the Tyendinaga reserve. His grave at what is now known as Her Majesty’s Chapel Royal of the Mohawk Christ Church in Deseronto was covered with two feet of cement to prevent grave robbers from stealing it. There were rumours that medical students were interested in his skull, as it was believed his large head was responsible for his intellect. A blue heritage plaque in his honour was erected in 1957.
Sources: Dr. Oronhyatekha: Security, Justice, and Equality by Keith Jamieson and Michelle A. Hamilton (Toronto: Dundurn, 2016); Prominent Men of Canada: a collection of persons distinguished in professional and political life, and in the commerce and industry of Canada, G. Mercer Adam, editor (Toronto: Canadian Biographical Pub. Co., 1892); Shaping Our Future Together by Marianne Gerdes (Don Mills: International Order of Foresters, 1997); Canadian Portraits: Famous Indians by Ethel Brant Monture (Toronto: Clarke, Irwin & Company, 1960); the June 13, 1896, December 5, 1896, and January 22, 1907 editions of the Globe; the May 7, 1885 edition of the Montreal Gazette; the March 4, 1907 and March 6, 1907 editions of the News; the March 10, 2007 edition of the Ottawa Citizen; the April 3, 1897 edition of the Toronto Star; and the August 27, 1897 and March 4, 1907 editions of the Telegram.