Bits of History Seward Cemetery
In this week’s ‘Bits of History’ with Lee Poleske, we hear the story of the battle to claim the land for Seward’s cemetery in 1927. The first resident to be buried in the new cemetery was long-time Sewardite John Nash, shortly after the grounds were cleared.
We hope you enjoy this ‘Bits of History’ and we invite you to join Lee Poleske on his annual Summer Solstice Cemetery Tour, June 21st at 10:30 PM. You won’t want to miss it!
Bits of History with Lee Poleske – The Jesse Lee Home Farm
In this week’s ‘Bits of History’ we take a look back at the Jesse Lee Home farm. You might be surprised to learn the quantity of produce grown and the amount of livestock kept, where today homes and apartments cluster.
Also of note, ‘Bits of History’ reached the 10 episode milestone last week. We hope you enjoy #11.
Iditarod Historic Trail Alliance Meets in Seward, Friday/Saturday, Public Welcome
Four men with a dog team and sled fully loaded in Seward, Alaska. 1905-1910. Courtesy of Seward Community Library Association
The semi-annual meeting of the Iditarod Historic Trail Alliance will be held May 7th and 8th at the Breeze Inn. The meetings are open to the public and begin at 9am each day. On Friday, May 7th from 5:30 – 6:30pm, a public reception will be held at the Breeze Inn. All are invited to attend and share your thoughts or concerns on the future of the historic Iditarod Trail with the board members (including Sewardites Dan Seavey and Lee Poleske).
The Iditarod Historic Trail Alliance is a statewide, nonprofit corporation chartered to advance the knowledge and appreciation of the historic Iditarod Trail. Its corporate headquarters are located here in Seward, Mile 0 of the historic trail.
Nominations now accepted for Historic Preservation Award
Children salute the flag at the Jesse Lee Home. Photo courtesy of Seward Community Library Association
Seward, the little city by Resurrection Bay, has quite a history. For over 100 years now its citizens have come and gone, lived and died; enriching our sense of place with each life and event. We are fortunate to have such a past behind us, as without the hard work and civic pride of those that came before, Seward would not be the exemplary city it is today.
If you know of an individual or organization that deserves special recognition for their work in preserving Seward history, please take a moment to nominate them for the 2010 Seward Historic Preservation Award.
The purpose of the annual award is to recognize local preservation efforts and to encourage community understanding and appreciation of Seward’s history. The Seward Historic Preservation Commission will choose the 2010 Seward Historic Preservation Award recipients at its June 16th meeting.
If you would like to nominate an individual for the Seward Historic Preservation Award, forms are available at the Library. All nominations must be submitted to the City of Seward by June 1, 2010. Contact the Seward Community Library at 224-4082 for more information.
Seward, Not So Long Ago: A Series of Historical Fiction
About the story:
John Nash, the namesake of Nash Road, lived in Seward from 1904 until his death in 1927. His homestead was located at the head of Resurrection Bay where he had a small farm that was highly regarded for the quality of its vegetables. During his time here he was an active citizen and had many friends. He holds the distinction of being the first person to be buried in the then newly constructed city cemetery (at its present location near the Chamber of Commerce). His funeral cortege was one of the largest to date, with twenty automobiles joining the procession.
Here, we find John Nash in the final days of his life, resting in bed above his store downtown while the band from the Army Signal Corp, recently moved from Valdez to Seward the year before, plays for him from the balcony of Brown and Hawkins across the street.
Peace
John Nash lay in bed. Or most of him did anyway. Below the knees, where his blanket lay in a shallow crease that denied his former length, there were only memories. His feet had been taken from him several years back due to old trouble from Nome, at a time when he had trusted the cold without knowing the country. Soaking his boots, he had stumped his way back to shelter in time to save himself, but the cold driven into him that day never really left. It just crawled around inside him when the weather matched it, leaving holes beneath his skin that couldn’t be touched yet hollowed the bone.
Then one day that cold came out and took his feet with it. But that was old news.
For some time now, he had known that he was dying. Not just growing older – and living beyond the curve that returns to earth, then sky – but starting to say goodbye. His mind had been one of the last to understand this, whereas other parts of him seemed to have known for some time.
His fingers first. The way they held a handshake a moment longer. Traced the lines of the opposite hand as they curled in his lap when resting. Moving slower. Touching gentler. As if soaking up the love he’d let fall along the way; telling his story back to him of a life that he was proud of. A life begun so far away along the shore of that great river.
St. Louis. There was a time. He’d been king of the factory, making shoes to spread the nationwide. Making his stake in a town made of money, where the James gang had run wild, lighting up the country when they had a mind to.
Then, Colorado beckoned. “The Silver King of North America.” He’d been titled that once through a fortune made. Yet the same hunger for discovery had driven him North, to pluck nuggets from the beaches of Nome as one would shells some gentle evening. And though he’d read of the dangers lurking, he’d traveled there and done his best, though luck remained behind.
A field of potatoes on Otto Bergstrom's farm near Mile 3, close to Nash's homestead. Photo courtesy of SCLA.
And yet, here he was. For twenty-something years now he had made a life here in Seward, and a good one at that. Three acres he had under the plow once. Beautiful fields of potatoes in flower. That washtub-sized lettuce they’d put on display at the grocery. And to think he had brought it all in across the water, long before they’d built the road; rowing that little boat to town against the wind. Then back against it too.
Funny how one could be thankful for hard times past as life grew short. Memories – all of them – became precious. His life told in pieces. Some missing.
There had been a dream last night; a memory now. The music had triggered the recollection.
He had taken a seat and the music played And the music stopped and still he remained To catch the dying sense of something beautiful, unspoken - There and yet no longer anywhere. He had remained in that chair and said “To hell with this world!” and sought only immersion In the songs they had played and the peace he had felt For the very first time in a very long time, He had chose to do this, to remain where he was So that beauty and truth could but find him at last after never before. And then, Something Different Happened.Dreams.
But there was music. He had watched them file out onto the balcony of Brown & Hawkins, men moving like they’d just entered a church. The band had taken a few minutes to settle, and then with a signal from the director, began to play.
Just, wonderful. Exactly what he’d hoped for. He had never been one to ask much from his neighbors, but then, he was an old man now. Old men were allowed to make special requests now and then; eat ice cream for breakfast too.
Besides, he hadn’t long left.
What was it going to feel like? The passing. He hadn’t thought about it much and then he had – and then he tried to forget and the pain in his chest had become insistent, leading him here. Lying in bed. Wondering if at some moment he would be offered the chance to stop his heart and say goodbye; or maybe death didn’t let you choose. Just one last game of cards before you go. Is that what you said Death?
Long as you keep the music playing. My that was nice. And it was such a lovely day as well. He’d always loved May in Seward. The whole world waking up. Turning green. Everything so full of life and every person, promise. He had asked for this moment, hoping for a chance to remember.
A chance to forget.
The pain in his chest was terrible. Just there. Evilly there for what seemed an age, and he realized now that the pain would win. Not today. But soon.
Today he was going to feel the music as it came running round his room. He would try his best to remember. Try his best to feel again. Just a beanpole kid standing on the bank of his river. Home. Muscles tensed to make the leap.
Out.
Over.
And into the water.
Seward, Not So Long Ago is a series of historical fiction with characters real and imagined from Seward’s past. Much credit is due to Mary Barry and her wonderful collection of Seward history. Ryan Reynolds can be reached at ryanNreynolds@gmail.com
‘Bits of History’ with Lee Poleske – Play ball!
In this week’s ‘Bits of History’ we hear the story of the finest baseball games ever played in the length and breadth of Alaska. The time is 1916 and the Anchorage baseball team has made the arduous journey down to Seward to take part in a 3 game series. Play ball!
Thoughts on ‘White Chicks’
‘A Coupla White Chicks Sitting Around Talking’ Showing at 8pm this Friday, Saturday and Sunday
If you didn’t make it down to the Rae Building this past weekend, you missed quite a show. Watching Rachel Banse-Walker and Linnea Hollingsworth on stage in their production of ‘A Coupla White Chicks Sitting Around Talking’ was highly entertaining. With Linnea playing the part of Maude Mix, a straight-laced suburban New York housewife, and Rachel as an extremely convincing big-haired Texan, these girls kept us laughing right to the end.
Perhaps the most impressive part of the performance was the dialogue. The fact that Linnea and Rachel are close friends helped them keep the words battering back and forth at a blistering pace, with the Texan twang and Yankee etiquette battling against each other. I must compliment the stage decoration as well however. I would never have pictured the Rae Building as a Better Homes and Gardens kind of place, but there it was; a picture perfect kitchen complete with fresh baked cookies. The crew did an amazing job.
So make sure you have a night free this Friday, Saturday and Sunday as there are only three more showings. 8pm at the Rae Building at the corner of 3rd and Railway. And as Hannah Mae Bindler would say, “Y’all shore don’t wanna miss it!”
General admission is $10. $8 for Students, Seniors and Seward Arts Council members.
‘Bits of History’ with Lee Poleske – Goodbye Santa Anna, Hello Engine No. 1
This week’s ‘Bits of History’ is dedicated to the fine and amiable citizens of Valdez. Thank you for not tossing our locomotive into the bay when you had the chance.
‘Bits of History’ with Lee Poleske – First Sled Dog Race in Iditarod
Join us for this week’s ‘Bits of History’ as we hear an account of the first sled dog race held in the city of Iditarod, Alaska.
‘Bits of History’ with Lee Poleske – 1/2 Ton of Gold Dust Comes to Town
In this week’s ‘Bits of History,’ a half ton of gold dust arrives in Seward from the Iditarod mining district. You can bet they went a little slower than Lance Mackey. Enjoy!
‘Seward, Not So Long Ago’ – A Series of Historical Fiction
The following story was based on the December, 1918 journal entries of Rockwell Kent during his stay on Fox Island. I am especially thankful to Doug Capra for his research and insightful introduction to the Wesleyan University Press publication of Kent’s ‘Wilderness.’
Drafts
-
‘The cider!’
Kent’s body jerked then fell, his brain having given the order to leap from the covers then rescinding it a fraction after; remembering the bitter cold beyond. The task before him would require some planning.
He lay there in his bed, the shock of surfacing quickly from a pleasant dream, only to suck deep the air of icy currents whistling through his cabin walls rapidly fading. Pleading for the comfort of his tender flesh, his eyelids would not shake the heavy sleep he owed them, and so he watched the wind grotesquely dance about the floor and lay still.
Resurrection Bay, Courtesy of Seward Community Library Association
Oh, if not for the cider, he could remain in this nest! But no, that wasn’t true. Their food stores were in danger as well from this wind – this howling wind! The whole world he knew this night, it seemed, stood now bracing northward; polished shoulders bent against the screaming heavens in resolute, seemingly defiant complacency. And if such were the powers of slumbering mountains, to stand and wait through unchecked fury, how then could naked, fragile man endure?
He prayed that coals still burned inside his stove.
Beside him, young Rockwell began to squirm. Only nine and yet here he was. Growing into a fine young man on this grand adventure. The older Rockwell considered tossing him from the nest to feed the ravenous stove this frigid night – what a wonderful foundation of character that would build! – but no. The jugs of cider in perilous danger of becoming apple juice popsicles required far more dedicated hands than a child’s, and this should remain his chore to bear. Besides, the boy looked so peaceful burrowed there. Read more
‘Bits of History’ with Lee Poleske – Seward, the Capital of Alaska!
This week’s ‘Bits of History’ with Lee Poleske features an editorial from the Seward Gateway, published on January 11th, 1921, concerning moving the territorial capital from Juneau to Seward. Enjoy!
Musty Book Rescue League
BY RYAN REYNOLDS
‘In any group or class of children, there will be some who for temperamental or physical reasons do not participate regularly in the usual team games.’ –Bernard S. Mason
Years ago, when your stomach hurt and your brain felt fuzzy, your new shoes didn’t fit and the shorts were too short, the group showers were scary and your towel always smelled — you never placed first, the sweat stung in your eyes and the big kid with neck whiskers would punch you for no reason; didn’t you ever, just sometimes, wish that maybe you could skip gym class?
Group sports aren’t for everyone you know.
Did I mention I love sports? Well, I do now at least. But it wasn’t always that way. The truth is, growing up in our sports-obsessed, Winners vs. Losers culture can be a real challenge; one in which the toughest battles fought are by those who never even make it to the sidelines. Or care to sit in the bleachers.
Because for all the pride in every championship – the buckets of sweat scattered across the fields and courts of glorious, refereed conquest that will echo into eternity – it’s just that well, they pave those roads to glory with the flattened egos of spatially challenged kids that struck out at baseball tryouts. We may not like the sound of it, but there’s some truth there.
Sure, I know organized sports are supposed to teach kids important, lasting values like teamwork and dedication, about honor and integrity, and they do – for the athletes at least. But sports teach other lessons as well. The kind you won’t find poster’d on the locker room wall with a photo of Michael Phelps smiling upon you.
Lessons like: Don’t cry where people can see you. You run funny. Books have adventures too! Didn’t you say you were good at math? That swelling should go away in a week or two… At least you beat the fat kid!
If anything, as modern sports can amply prove, perhaps it’s the skinny/chubby/awkward kids who really carry forward the athletic ‘values’ they learned in gym class on into adulthood. Because while the banner across our Coliseums may read ‘It’s not whether you win or lose, It’s how you play the game,’ they forget to mention that those who don’t get picked for kickball can have just as much fun on the swing set. Or catching grasshoppers.
My point is, I think there’s been something missing in school athletics for a while now. Read more
Sunday’s Skijor Race will be at Trail River Campground (Mile 24) at Noon
This report just in from Madelyn Walker:
Due to wave height on Bear Lake (no I am not kidding) our run Sunday February 21 has been moved to Trail River Campground (about Mile 24 Seward Highway). It will be about a 4 mile run. Race start at noon – we will be there and available for registration by around 11. Dan skied it today and its holding up nicely. Due to spring-like conditions, we will only have a one dog class.
Our thanks to Jason Aigeldinger for grooming and holding this trail together and the Forest Service for allowing us to use the site last minute. Below is Jason’s trail report from today-
The temperature at Trail River is 35 degrees, it is raining lightly. The winds have died down in the past two hours and the trail is holding up pretty well. Expect a fast, forgiving surface ideal for skate skiing. Also, if you are into it, please sign the log book located on the SNSC kiosk located in front of the gate at the head of the trail. The USFS is trying to get a bead on how many folks use Trail River. Your participation is greatly appreciated. Don’t fear the rain and enjoy the false spring corn snow. Enjoy.
‘Bits of History’ with Lee Poleske – Part 3 of the Wada-Lowell Expedition
In this week’s ‘Bits of History’, Alfred Lowell and Jujiro Wada have returned to Seward after successfully passing over the route from Seward to the Iditarod gold fields, and have submitted a report on their findings. Enjoy!
Important Update regarding the Mayor’s Cup Race this Saturday!
THE MAYOR’S CUP RACE HAS BEEN CANCELED DUE TO LACK OF SNOW. However, the evening activities on Saturday at the IMS building and the Sunday Skijor race will continue as planned.
Schedule of Events for the
Celebration of the Wada-Lowell Expedition Centennial
Friday, 2/19 – 7pm, the Musher Mixer at First National Bank. All are welcome for snacks and refreshments as this year’s racers in the Mayor’s Cup will be paired with their dog teams.
Saturday, 2/20 — Mayor’s Cup Race at Seavey Corner on Old Exit Glacier Road. Starting at noon, join us for free hot dogs around the bonfire as the race festivities begin. The race will follow at 1pm. After the Mayor’s Cup, there will be Kid’s Fun Races with 1 or 2 dogs for the little ones.
7pm – An evening program will be held at the IMS building celebrating the centennial of the Wada-Lowell Expedition. Featured will be a description of the expedition, the accomplishments of the Iditarod Trail Blazers and a video presentation of 2004 Iditarod Race.
Sunday, 2/21 – UPDATE! The Skijor Race will be held at Trail River Campground (about Mile 24 of the Seward Highway) and will be a 4 mile, single dog run. The race starts at noon, with someone there to register with by around 11am.
The current trail report for Trail River Campground: The temperature at Trail River is 35 degrees, it is raining lightly. The winds have died down in the past two hours and the trail is holding up pretty well. Expect a fast, forgiving surface ideal for skate skiing. Also, if you are into it, please sign the log book located on the SNSC kiosk located in front of the gate at the head of the trail. The USFS is trying to get a bead on how many folks use Trail River. Your participation is greatly appreciated. Don’t fear the rain and enjoy the false spring corn snow. Enjoy.
Seward Iditarod Trail Blazers presents the 17th Annual Mayor’s Cup Race – Saturday Feb 20th at 12pm at Bear Lake
Photo credit: Jim and Susan Pfeiffenberger
Novice mushers and professional dogs will meet for the 17th annual Mayor’s Cup Race on February 20th at 12pm. This year, the race will be held at the South End of Bear Lake instead of its usual location at Seavey Corner. There will be a bonfire and hot dog roast starting at noon, with the race following at 1pm. Be sure to bring the kids because after the race, there will be a special Kid’s Fun Race for the little ones.
Again, the race will be held at the South End of Bear Lake this year UNLESS this warm weather persists. Keep an eye on Seward City News for updates of a location change back to Exit Glacier Road only if there’s water on Bear Lake.
Seward Iditarod Trail Blazers
17th Annual Mayor’s Cup Race, 2010
Willard Dunham, Mayor
Drawing: 7:00 pm First National Bank, Friday, February 19th.
Race: 12:00 noon Bear Lake, Saturday, February 20th
Alternate Location: Old Exit Glacier Road
The public is invited to all events.
Sponsor Musher
1. First National Bank Teresa Roy
2. Ace Hardware Chad Carol
3. Gateway Chevron Helen Stewart
4. Seward Ship’s Drydock Evelyn Howell
5. Harbor Hotel Kris Volker
6. Shoreside Petroleum Rob Buck
7. Library/Museum Project Ryan Reynolds
8. Wells Fargo Bank Angela Duncan
9. Harmon Construction Amanda Magnuson
10. IdidaRide Sled Dog Tours Saphia Seavey
11. Kenai Fjords Tours Rodney Roemmich
12. TelAlaska Clinton Paul
13. Major Marine Ron Long
14. Petro Marine Felipe Campello
15. Polar Bear Plunge Toni Henderson
16. Seward Fisheries Seth Tripp
17. City of Seward Jean Bardarson
Kids fun events to follow race.
Dog Team suppliers: Seaveys and Foreman.
More info: Linda Sewall 224-3581
Dan Seavey 224 3518
‘Seward, Not So Long Ago’ A Series of Historical Fiction
The following story was based on an actual event, as reported in the ‘Seward Gateway’ on April 23, 1915.
Resurrection
The rain fell steadily past the window of the Pioneer Hospital, sending the last few mounds of rotten snow that hid from the April sun in a laughing headlong rush down the mountain. From his perch there on Millionaire’s Row, in the fourth stately house on the left once across Lowell Creek, Dr. Romig watched the lightening sky across the bay from the bedside of his newest patient with tears in his eyes.
Yesterday, in a place most unexpected, he had been witness to a miracle.
_____________________
View of Millionaire's Row, Courtesy of the Seward Community Library Association
An urgent call for the doctor’s assistance had reached him Friday evening as he was reading in his office, holding the treasured family Bible that had been a present from his father; the one he’d carried with him that day years ago when he left Illinois with his young bride Ella Mae and set out for Alaska to begin his work as a medical missionary.
First to Bethel, where he witnessed the cruel sufferings of communities cut deep by the slow horrors of tuberculosis; traveling by dog team across the frozen waters of the western ocean to lend a hand where help was needed. He and his wife had raised three children there before leaving, taking a chance on starting his own practice in San Francisco; then watching it burn in the fire of aught-six. Read more
Musty Book Rescue League
It’s time to honor a commitment.
Over the past year or so, from the shelves of the library, to the depths of the book sale, to chance meetings in dimly lit secondhand shops; I’ve been a lucky man. There are over 60 books now that I have met, fallen for, and written about for Seward City News. What started as a quest to highlight the eccentricities of that wonderful little library downtown, has become something more – something else. A fire-breathing stallion to gallop across the tattered, coffee-stained pages of the published histories of all things unusual. A peculiar smelling time machine to universes where those that fail to macramé are flogged in the village square. An ostrich-powered unicycle that runs on the dreams of lost jelly beans that lie beneath cushions of overstuffed couches. A…
Well, you get the idea.
My real reason for writing today is to thank a very special woman, Nancy Rekow. Through the magic of the internet, Nancy came across a ‘Weird Book’ piece that I had written back in November of 2008 about her book, Minnie Rose Lovgreen’s RECIPE FOR RAISING CHICKENS. (If you’d like, you can read that piece here.)
Recently, a Third Edition of this wonderful book has been published through NW Trillium Press and Nancy was a little surprised to come across my column, especially considering that her book had been out of print since 1975 after a small publication of only 21,000 copies. Luckily for Seward, one of those early editions found its way here.
I’d like to share with you what she wrote:
Hi Ryan,
Yesterday accidentally randomly fortuitously I happened internetly upon your “Weird Book of the Week” piece mentioning Minnie Rose Lovgreen’s Recipe for Raising Chickens. Happenstancely, I am the person who knew Minnie Rose, tape-recorded her words, hand-lettered them, enlisted an illustrator farmer/friend, located and created/self-published that book back in 1975. And that subtitle, “The main thing is to keep them happy”–those were her exact words when dictating a part of the book, a section on what to feed one’s chickens. Obviously those words could help us navigate life, so I seized upon them and said, “Minnie Rose, that’s your subtitle.” And so it was.
Anyhow I’m writing to tell you that in May, 2009, my partner and I re-published the book in a 3rd Edition. It had been out of print since the late 1980’s (having sold 21,000 copies in the 70’s and 80’s). Basically it’s the same exact text, with some added endorsements and some excerpts from Minnie Rose’s rather dramatic life story, Far As I Can Remember, which I also tape recorded and which we plan to publish early next year.
Your Nov., 2008, article may be the most unusual reference to the book ever. We’re entranced by your terming it “weird” which it obviously is somewhat, though not at all to those hordes of chicken raisers ever invading the country. And as you probably realize, Minnie Rose’s advice is really practical as well as lively and unique. She was quite a storyteller.
Anyhow, we want to send you a complimentary copy of this new edition. So please let us know your address. Naturally the book is yours gratis, though obviously we’d be most appreciative if you praised it somehow–maybe by sending us a blurb, posting/writing something, reviewing it for Amazon or elsewhere, mentioning it to bookstores, having your library system order it–or whatever springs to mind. But, regardless, you deserve this new edition simply for writing your story of the weirdness. And incidentally, since I’m now in the throes of learning to blog (starting from scratch) I now identify with that poor chicken lost and hungry in the wilderness of night!
Best wishes,
Nancy Rekow (& Everett Thompson)—editors
Nancy, you’re too kind.
But the best part about it? Yours truly is now the proud owner of my very own copy of the book, reminding me of why I was so captivated by it to begin with. Nancy’s work is a tribute to a way of life, and a source of knowledge that so many of us only view with faint curiosity as it fades before our eyes, passing with those that lived during perhaps the greatest century in history.
This is exactly what keeps me motivated to continue writing about books such as this. Through the many ‘weird books’, to the few odd ‘bookpiglets’, and now here, with the MBRL, the defining thing of every book I write about is that wonderful feeling one gets from holding one of these aging volumes in your hands, and sensing the love that led to its creation. Love that didn’t worry about what people might think, or the critics might chatter. Love that said yes to ‘weird’, knowing that sometimes, it’s what’s different in this world that matters most of all.
Certainly, Minnie Rose knew that.
Thankfully, Nancy Rekow did as well.
The Musty Book Rescue League is dedicated to increasing awareness of the forgotten treasures found on bookshelves and in boxes across America. If it looks odd and smells funny, the League is here to help.
Bits of History – Part 2 of the Wada-Lowell Expedition Centennial
This week’s ‘Bits of History’ continues our celebration of the centennial of the Wada-Lowell Expedition. In this episode, we hear a report from the two men after they have successfully passed over the route from Seward to the Iditarod Country, and have sent a telegraph from Kaltag. Enjoy!
p.s. Happy Marmot Day!
‘Seward, Not So Long Ago’ A Series of Historical Fiction
Thaw
This was not the life Arthur Becks had dreamed of. Trudging home through the snow, the legs of his trousers a sodden, clinging mess below his knees, where tired wool met cracking leather, this very night he had finally come to the unfortunate conclusion that he was not a happy man. For more evenings now than he cared to remember, he had made this cold, lonely walk back to the smoky little hole in the ground where he slept, fitfully, if at all, and lately, the pitiful habit of timing the syllables of every foul word he could remember to fall like rain from a cloud of gulls consumed him.
Of course, this was no help. If anything, it made the dragging nights seem colder still, for without a crackling fire in your heart and the flash of a toothy smile to keep despair at bay, any sourdough could have told him he had better change his ways, and soon. Back south in the easy country you might be able to curse your way through life and win (if you could call it that) but not here. Not this place. Alaska was a proud and beautiful lady who wouldn’t stand for such nonsense. Be you listless tramp or mighty General, your love for the land was what kept you alive and well up here, welcoming another day.
One had to love this country with their heart entire, for many a grave or steamship berth held bodies that sought a mistress only.
Arthur Becks, it seemed, was steadily trudging his way towards one of the two.
Courtesy of Resurrection Bay Historical Society
There were nights however, if the ship had come in or there was a birthday party – or perhaps one of those occasions where, when pulled from the crying wind by the steaming herd of declining minds an exodus from lonely residences was made tangible – where on those nights the Northern Saloon where he worked could be a deafening collection of light and laughter; the drunken flames of lanterns casting a shadow of the happy mob upon the wall.
Those were the nights that Arthur liked.
The shadows especially he had been scolded many times for watching, not that Ed, the owner, realized this was what he was doing as he seemed to be staring blankly when he should have been hard at work clearing the bottles and mopping their contents. But for some reason, Arthur was fascinated by those shapes.
It might have been that he was lonely, for the figures he watched dance upon the wall, however grotesque or incongruous they might have been, were to him his chance to be part of something. Part of a family; a group of friends; a winning baseball team; really, whatever his imagination wished upon that shifting mass of human shapes that only grew more delightfully absurd as the night wore on and the numbers grew, their motions altered.
To Arthur, seeing his own portly shape melting seamlessly into that greater human body, those moments where he was connected to something larger than himself were the closest thing to bliss he’d known in years. Sure, there was that time in Ballard where he’d held court with cards and then, having walked away with a small fortune, spent the next two months in this lovely velvet hideaway with a gal named Persia; but those days of newly discovered wonders ended suddenly, and painfully, once his wallet had been drained, his heart left aching.
Sometimes Arthur wished he’d never known the good life. It just made the nights some hours longer.
But back to the matter at hand, about that slow trudge home, the thing was, to make people shadows, and therefore find that happy feeling, well, you had to have people. This was why Arthur had taken to cursing his way home, to sit by the fire in his dirt-covered hovel and curse some more. With the holidays gone, and the sun still some hundred earthen turns away from warming the frozen land around him to at least some semblance of the world he once knew, Seward had become a place where lonesome men did not fare well. Robbed of easy company, the bottle all too close at hand, the darkest days of winter, Arthur was discovering, were truly heavy loads to carry.
Certainly, this soggy weather wasn’t helping.
Once he’d reached the cabin (Ah, a rare joke…) he unwound the piece of heavy cord from its locking peg and stooped to shuffled inside.
This was home.
Whipsawn boards laid slantwise around a low pit dug into the ground, covered with more boards, a few logs for support and then earth upon the whole, constituted this winter-weary old soul’s shelter from the world about. It wasn’t really a home so much as it was a chance; a chance to face another day.
Perhaps it’s clear why Arthur cursed.
If he hadn’t of been so broke, if that job with the railroad had worked out like he thought it would, he would have been eating steak in San Francisco this winter, pinching gold dust to pay his way and having a fine new pair of boots polished every morning. But instead, as dreams sometimes are, his vision of drawing just enough wage to get outfitted to prospect and then heading into the mountains to find his fortune, crumpled under the weight of circumstances.
Steak and boots were only dreams these days; the Alaska not imagined hardly the fairy tale that once he’d sworn was true.
Slender rays of light came through the cracked old stove now firing hot, while Arthur, knelt before it, feared to turn his back to the heat and face the all too familiar figure that waited, quietly, there beside him.
You again? he muttered.
The shadow found a bottle; slid to dirt.
‘Seward, Not So Long Ago’ is a series of historical fiction, with characters real and imagined from Seward’s past. Ryan Reynolds can be reached at ryanreynolds@gmail.com
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