In 2007, Dad wrote a letter to my brothers and me—a brief, three-page overview of his life from 1950 up until just before our mother died. It was a condensed version, if you will, highlighting important moments in his life as a young man, a husband to our mother, and a father to his first family.
You’ll see quotes throughout where I’ve inserted italicized excerpts from that letter. I’ve done my best to follow the timeline and history as he remembered it. The rest I’ve cobbled together from the dates, names, and locations he jotted on his slides.
I don’t claim these sources to be 100% accurate from a historical perspective—but from a personal perspective? They’re as true as it gets. What more could one ask for?
My parents were both from Connecticut and met in high school. Dad went off to college in Montana but lasted only one semester before deciding it wasn’t for him. He took off for the Alaska Territory—first in 1950 and again in 1952—working just outside of Anchorage and then up near Mount McKinley (now officially Denali) as a laborer on road construction crews.
From Dad’s Letter, 2007:
“My first time in Alaska was in 1950 and consisted of one week in Anchorage and the balance of the time at Yakutat. My trip then to Anchorage was via Canadian Pacific Steamship from Vancouver to Juneau via their coastwise freighter service that took 125 passengers and stopped at many small ports that I learned were known as Dogholes. From Juneau to Anchorage was via Pacific Northern Airlines DC-3 that had to land at Elmendorf because the runway at Merrill Field was not long enough and the International airport was just under construction.”
He even saved his steamship ticket
I found it tucked into one of his old photo albums. Front and back.
A small, worn artifact that says, “Yes, I was there.”
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Anchorage, 1950
Here are two photos Dad took of downtown Anchorage, shot from 3rd and 4th Avenues.
Check out the cars. The clothes. The storefronts.
It’s a snapshot of another time—just before Alaska became a state, back when it was still known as the Last Frontier in every sense of the word.
Downtown Anchorage 1950 – 4th Avenue
Downtown Anchorage 1950 – 3rd Avenue
1952 – The Second Trip North
In 1952, Dad returned to Alaska for the second time. Here’s another excerpt from the letter he wrote us:
“Your mother and I had last seen each other in early January 1952. I secured employment with the Alaska Road Commission and for several weeks was at their camp at Rainbow, south of Anchorage, on the road being constructed.”
“I was then sent to their camp at Slime Creek, between Cantwell and McKinley Park, working on a brand-new road connecting the two points. The job was a D-8 push cat operator, 10 hours per day, 6 days per week, with housing and meals furnished at no cost and 6 people to a Wannigan (cabin). The camp had 30 people.”
This excerpt always stayed with me—his quiet, matter-of-fact way of describing such a rugged, physically demanding life. It’s hard to imagine now: six men to a cabin, isolated between wilderness points most of us have only seen on a map, building roads that didn’t yet exist.
Crew at Sline Camp, near Cantwell, Alaska
This photo was taken at the Alaska Road Commission camp near Sline Creek in 1952. That’s Dad on the top step in the doorway, wearing a blue shirt.
Check out the cook in the lower right corner—he looks like he just stepped out of central casting for a 1950s frontier kitchen.
Fun fact: Sline Creek was commonly misnamed as Slime Creek on early maps—a mistake that stuck around long enough to end up in a few official records (thanks, Wikipedia).
I doubt those cabins had any insulation, not much for heat and no housekeeping service
Cantwell, Alaska – construction crew 1952
I’m betting that was fresh meat for a few meals
Downtime
D-8 push cat
Constructing new road connecting Cantwell and McKinley Park
Mt. Denali aka McKinley and Wonder Lake
Mt. McKinley National Park – sightseeing on day off
Fireweed at Kachemak Bay
Alaska Nellie – what a character
Mt. Susitna (Sleeping Lady)
Seward Highway – outside of Anchorage (the red lines in picture are from damage to the slide – I left all slides as they were)
The Seward Highway
Completed in 1951, the Seward Highway runs 125 miles (201 km) from Seward to Anchorage, passing through the Kenai Peninsula, Chugach National Forest, Turnagain Arm, and the Kenai Mountains.
We drove this road a few times when I was growing up, but I don’t recall ever hearing that Dad had worked on it. Seems like the kind of detail he would’ve mentioned—then again, he wasn’t one for sharing.
The Seward Highway extends 125 miles (201 km) from Seward to Anchorage. It was completed in 1951 and runs through the scenic Kenai Peninsula, Chugach National Forest, Turnagain Arm, and Kenai Mountains. (wikipedia)
Turnagain Arm, Just Outside Anchorage
It may not have the most inspiring name, but the view? Absolutely breathtaking. Towering mountains, shifting light, and tides that rise and fall up to 40 feet—some of the largest in the United States. At low tide, the arm transforms into a broad mudflat etched with winding stream channels.It may not have the most inspiring name, but the view? Absolutely breathtaking. Towering mountains, shifting light, and tides that rise and fall up to 40 feet—some of the largest in the United States. At low tide, the arm transforms into a broad mudflat etched with winding stream channels.
The name Turnagain comes courtesy of William Bligh—yes, that William Bligh of HMS Bounty fame—who served as Sailing Master on Captain Cook’s third and final voyage. In their search for the Northwest Passage, they sailed up this waterway only to be forced to “turn again,” just as they had at a previous inlet. The name stuck. (wikipedia)
Curious about the bore tide phenomenon here? It’s worth a read: alaska.org Turnagain Arm Bore Tide
Turnagain extends in an east-west direction, and is between 40–45 miles long. It forms part of the northern boundary of Kenai Peninsula. Turnagain is characterized by remarkably large tides of up to 40 feet (12 meters) which are the largest tides in the United States. At low tide, the arm becomes a broad mud flat, cut by the stream channels. (Wikipedia)
The journey continues.
Dust off another box. Load the next slide. Let’s keep going.
