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ELY, Minnesota — Tucked away on the edge of northeastern Minnesota, Ely is a mere speck on the map of the United States of America. Yet this end-of-the-road town near the U.S.-Canada border is a huge attraction for thousands of tourists. Its popular claim to fame is the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, a million-acre expanse of picturesque and pristine wilderness dotted with more than 1,000 lakes.

Beneath Ely’s picture-perfect ambience lies a little known facet of glory, a deep-seated military tradition. Per capita, this tiny town of 3,800 souls may well have contributed more personnel to the uniform than any other place in the country. In 2004, some 150 Ely men and women were enrolled with the defense forces, according to Ely Mayor Frank Salerno. And no fewer than three dozen of them were deployed in the war zones of Iraq and Afghanistan.

“Ely has always prided itself as a town of red, white and blue,” said Salerno, alluding to the hues of the American flag. “A strong sense of patriotism runs in the blood of its natives.” He was not exaggerating.

Nothing testified to Ely’s heroic tradition more tellingly than three memorials in front of the Ely City Hall in the heart of town. Etched on St. Cloud grey granite were the names of 67 men of Ely who gave their lives in World War I, World War II, the Korean and Vietnam wars. More than 50 of them fell during World War II alone, including Pearl Harbor, a record of which perhaps no other place as small as Ely can boast.

“Since World War I, the Ely community has been distinctive as a warrior clan,” said Bob Cary, a popular 82-year-old newspaper columnist and one of a few surviving World War II veterans of the 2nd Marine Division. “Any other place will have a hard time matching its track record of soldiering.”

Dick Zahn, 72, a burly, mustachioed ex-Navy sailor who participated in action in Korea and Vietnam, concurred: “Generations of Ely natives have kept up this (tradition) of serving the uniform,” he said. Zahn’s own example drove his point home. All three of his brothers were soldiers and his 23-year-old grandson, Silas Simon, was serving in an Air Force fighter squadron scheduled to leave for Saudi Arabia in early 2005. Instances of brother-sister duos serving in the defense forces also were not uncommon in Ely.

“A dream come true”

Todd Weinzierl exemplified the keeper of time-honored tradition. At first glance he came across as one of the wilderness-bound young tourists who flock to Ely on weekends. But his T-shirt was a giveaway, emblazoned with the words “Operation Iraqi Freedom: Ready, Willing, Able.” A sergeant with the Army’s 3rd Signal Brigade, Weinzierl, 27 on September 1, was home on a two-week break from combat duty in Iraq.

“Donning the uniform was a dream come true,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. His grandfather was with the Navy during World War II and one of Weinzierl’s uncles was a Vietnam veteran. Six months after Weinzierl graduated with a degree in Web design, he didn’t think twice before signing up with the Army.

War stories have always been a part of local folklore. Little wonder, then, that many a native turned up to (honor) “their kid” in a war zone at an open house Todd Weinzierl’s parents organized. Nor was it surprising when Ely witnessed a public outpouring of grief at a memorial service for Bert Hoyer, a member of an Army reserve unit and alumnus of local Vermilion Community College, who was killed in Iraq three weeks before he was due to return home.

Ely’s deeply rooted patriotism dates back to its first wave of immigrants. Anne Swenson, an old-timer and publisher of the weekly Ely Echo newspaper, put it in perspective. The military tradition “has much to do with the immigrants in the late 19th century” who came to work in the iron mines, she said.

They were Finns, Poles, Italians and Slavs, most of them miners and loggers. Most of them left their homelands to escape famine or conscription into the German and Russian armies before World War I. “They were physically tough and rugged people,” noted Bob Cary. They had to be. Ely is an inhospitable land back then with extreme winters of minus 60 degrees Fahrenheit.

“The immigrants preferred to be (U.S.) soldiers to show how grateful they were to their new country. They felt proud to be Americans,” said Swenson. That underlying sentiment, according to her, became the source of the patriotism that is “so phenomenal” today.

“The settlers thought they owed it to their adopted homeland” to defend it, said Mayor Salerno.

The trend gained impetus during the Great Depression of the 1930s when President Franklin Delano Roosevelt created the Civilian Conservation Corps, a quasi-military organization that recruited thousands of unemployed young men, many of them immigrants, to build roads and bridges in undeveloped areas of the country. After World War II broke out, many members of the corps were drafted into the military. Nearly 1,000 of Ely’s residents served, including 54 who didn’t return home alive.

The Ely veterans recalled how many of them fought against their own kin during World War II. For instance, Zahn, a German immigrant, was an American sailor while two of his uncles were among Hitler’s troops.

“As immigrants bequeathed the spirit of patriotism to their next generations, the military tradition became a way of life in the Ely community,” said Zahn.

But patriotism was not the sole reason (for joining the military) in recent times. According to Swenson, “In the last decade or so there have been fewer job openings in Ely.” Most of the mines, at one time a source of well-paying jobs, had closed down, and those that remained open were running with minimal manpower due to increased use of technology.

An array of benefits that comes with military service was a major pull factor, a situation that Todd Weinzierl endorsed. “Combat duty is risky but you also make much more money in the form of special allowances,” he said. “I probably couldn’t have got a better paying job.”

Some see patriotism waning

Some of the Ely veterans rued a waning spirit of patriotism. “Parents are no longer inculcating an abiding sense of patriotism into their kids,” said Zahn.

Nevertheless many townspeople fiercely swore their unwavering support for the military after the City Council adopted an anti-war resolution (early in the Iraq war) that raised the hackles of veterans, who interpreted it as non-support for the troops. The dispute caused such a row the City Council had to beat a hasty retreat and rescind the resolution, which was pushed through by an anti-war women’s organization.

Though the anti-war lobby was muted, the City Council took damage-control steps to put to rest the rancor the spat created. The mayor sent letters and badges to the Ely soldiers on combat duty abroad. “It was an expression of solidarity” on behalf of the citizens of Ely, he explained, “to let them know that we are solidly behind them.”

Bob Cary was more emphatic. “We are not addicted to war but if push comes to shove there is no other option,” said the veteran who plays the drums in a local musical group.

Ely veterans organized in the local chapters of the Veterans of Foreign Wars and the American Legion also were taking steps to reinforce Ely’s soldiering credentials. Credited with erecting memorials to the natives who died in the Korean and Vietnam wars, Zahn focused his efforts on adding another to commemorate those who took part in Operation Desert Storm. (The City Council approved the plan.) In addition, he was the lynchpin of fundraising activities for retired soldiers and their families, leading the local VFW chapter to raise $6,200 in a single day for the Children’s Miracle Network.

The veterans “are powerful examples of unswerving loyalty and patriotism and we honor them by remembering,” said Zahn. “We must remind our future generations of the rich legacy of valor and sacrifice.”

Clearly, for the people of Ely, the call of duty meant much more than a glorious military tradition.