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       |             THE MONTREAL GREEK TIMES GOPHER NEWS SERVICE             |
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                                     August 2026                               
       
       The Greek presence in early Quebec
       
 (GIF) article photo
       
       By Dimitri Papadopoulos
       
       
       Along the wharves of the St. Lawrence, where ocean ships once unloaded
       their crews into the river towns of Lower Canada, the Greek story in
       Quebec began in quiet, carried ashore by sailors whose names slowly
       dissolved into French and whose grandchildren would grow up knowing
       little of the islands their forebears had left behind. That hushed
       beginning, traced today through worn church icons, parish records and
       the memory of old families, is the thread running through one of the
       most intriguing chapters of Hellenism in the Americas: the question of
       when, and how, the first Greeks reached the shores of Quebec, and the
       slow assimilation that nearly erased them.
       
       The difficulty begins with the records themselves. A precise date for
       the first Greeks in the greater Montreal region remains, by most
       accounts, beyond reach, owing to the absence of clear and specific
       documentation. Their presence can be followed only through the visible
       marks they left behind, a christened child here, a Hellenized surname
       there, an heirloom passed down through generations. The prevailing view
       among researchers and historians holds that the arrival of the first
       Greek immigrants in the province of Quebec, and in Montreal in
       particular, began around 1843. The earliest Greeks in Montreal, whether
       they came as registered immigrants or slipped ashore as stowaways, were
       overwhelmingly men of the sea. Many married into the local population,
       most often French-Canadian women, and over time altered their names.
       With each passing decade their ties to their origins thinned, until they
       were absorbed into the wider society and effectively vanished as Greeks.
       
       That pattern was set down decades ago by the educator and historian
       George Demetrios Vlassis, whose English-language volume “The Greeks in
       Canada” appeared in Ottawa in 1953 and remains a foundational reference
       for the community’s early history. “No one can speak with certainty
       about the first Greeks of Quebec,” Vlassis wrote, in a passage rendered
       here from the Greek. He went on to observe that from the early 17th
       century onward many arrived as sailors, lingered for various reasons in
       the ports along the St. Lawrence, married and were completely
       assimilated into the local French population.
       
       The idea of a Hellenic footprint on these shores well before organized
       migration finds its boldest illustration far to the west. Ioannis
       Phokas, a navigator from the Ionian island of Cephalonia born in 1536,
       sailed in the service of King Philip II of Spain under the name Juan
       de Fuca, and in 1592 explored the broad strait that today separates
       Vancouver Island from Washington state and forms part of the
       international boundary between Canada and the United States. The
       Strait of Juan de Fuca still carries his name, and he is widely
       regarded as the first Greek to set foot on what is now Canadian soil.
       His voyage, recorded by English chroniclers and confirmed two
       centuries later by the survey of George Vancouver, places a Greek
       mariner on the Pacific coast generations before the river towns of
       Quebec heard their first Greek voices.
       
       The most evocative evidence from Quebec itself survives in an account
       preserved in the community’s archival press and compiled by journalist
       John Coconas. It concerns Vasilis Kranidiotis, described in the
       account as among the few whose presence in the province reached back
       to the late 18th century. In the winter of 1908, Kranidiotis set out
       from Sorel, the river town where he had lived for many years, in the
       company of the painter Spyros Athinaios and a companion named Nikolas
       Tagaras, intending to seek their fortunes in another city. Their
       carriage crossed the province to the northwest, and in heavy weather
       the driver, Spyros Kranidiotis, lost control of the horses. One animal
       broke loose and bolted onto a large farm, and the three men followed
       onto the property to recover it.
       
       The owner came out to his front step to see what was happening. The
       travellers, fluent in French after their years in Sorel, explained
       themselves and mentioned, among other things, that they were of Greek
       origin. At those words the farmer, known locally as Monsieur Eustrat
       Thaken, lit up with joy and told them that his own father had been
       Greek, a man who had died many years earlier.
       
       Thaken, then past 75 and born in Saint-Antoine, Quebec, spoke of
       his father with deep affection, recalling a man loved and
       admired throughout the district.
       
       While his guests sat inside his manor house, Thaken withdrew into the
       inner rooms and returned holding a very old icon, the names of its
       saints faded in Byzantine lettering. It was an image of the Three
       Hierarchs, Basil the Great, Gregory the Theologian and John Chrysostom,
       the three fourth-century church fathers honoured in the Orthodox
       tradition as patrons of faith and learning. The icon had belonged to
       Thaken’s father, a sailor who, in all likelihood around the middle of
       the 17th century, had carried it across the Atlantic and up the great
       river, a small portable sanctuary that outlasted the man, his language
       and even the memory of his homeland.
       
       Other traces point the same way. Across Franco-Canadian society, and
       especially in the towns strung along the St. Lawrence, a number of
       Hellenized or altered Greek surnames survive as quiet markers of
       forgotten origins, lending weight to the view that Greeks were
       present in Quebec well before the 17th century. These families
       married, raised their children in French, lost contact with their
       roots and dissolved into the founding population of the colony,
       leaving fragments of their names behind.
       
       The archival photographs that accompany the original feature capture
       the human texture of that long arc. In the formal, sober poses common
       to the period, groups of young immigrants and families stand and sit
       before the camera, the men in caps and the women in long dresses, a
       child clutching a white pitcher in the foreground of one image and
       parents cradling infants in another. They are portraits of a community
       in the making, a people learning to live as both Greek and Canadian on
       the banks of a northern river.
       
       By the 1981 census, Canada counted more than 154,000 people of Greek
       origin, some 49,000 of them in Quebec, with the overwhelming majority
       living in the greater Montreal area.
       
       In the next issue of THE MONTREAL GREEK TIMES: The first
       Greek families of Montreal.
       
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