Arctic

     It was a thrill to see the skyline of Seattle come into view as the ship rounded the point by Fort Lawton.  My folks met us as we were coming down the gangplank.  Checking out our baggage required some time, but we were soon off for a weekend at Port Angeles. 

     Then after a brief trip to California to visit with Dorothy's parents, we established quarters in Seattle.  Upon the return from one of our short trips, there was a note in the mail for us to check with the Seattle representatives regarding the sailing date of the North Star from Seattle.

     The North Star!  That really rang a bell in my memory.  Back in the mid-twenties on one of my Sunday afternoon walks down to the Ballard Locks, I noticed the beginning of a new ship being built.  The sign said, North Star, an all-wooden ship for the Bureau of Indian Affairs to be used in the Alaskan waters. 

     Even back then, anything associated with Alaska was a thrill to me.  Many Sunday afternoons found me walking by the Ballard Ship Yard just to check on the progress being made on the big wooden ship.  I noted the heavy wooden keel, and then saw the ribs as they were put in place.  Finally the hull began to take shape.

     Now after the lapse of some years, I was checking on the sailing date for the North Star with the possibility we might be sailing on board soon.  We received information that the sailing date was set for July 15th at 10:30 a.m.  This was a little earlier than we had planned.

     The first item on the list for our return trip was a piano.  We had been informed that our new school would be right on the beach.  “You can put the gangplank from the ship right onto your front doorstep if you wish,” we were told.  We thought to ourselves that the convenient location was a payback for the twenty-mile portage that had been required in our last assignment.

     We also planned to take with us a year’s supply of groceries and other items.  This called for an afternoon's appointment with a wholesaler.  On other hot summer days we walked from store to store without success, shopping for heavy winter clothing. 

On the morning of July 15th I was up early and took our little Ford coupe out to the dealer in the University District where previous arrangements had been made to sell the car. 

From there we went down to the docks to locate the North Star.  There were several friends and relatives already there to see us off.  Right on schedule, the whistle blew and the longshoremen let go of the ropes and we were off once more for the North. 

The North Star had been built to accommodate passengers as well as freight.  We were loaded to capacity with both.  Dorothy and I had a cabin on the boat deck protected from the wind. 

We located two deck chairs and moved them over beside the door.  This gave us an unobstructed view of the Inside Passage, or should I say an unobstructed review of the Inside Passage.  (We had been on a Canadian Ship two years before when we made this same run as far as Juneau.)  Other passengers soon discovered this sheltered spot from the wind and began moving their chairs to take advantage of the location.

Most of the passengers were teachers.  Some were new, going north for the first time.  Others were government employees, returning after a holiday period in the States.  We found them to be a nice friendly group.  The more experienced ones were willing to help the newcomers.  They reminded me of the group on the Boxer when I was a newcomer going north.  A pleasant chime was heard, interrupting our socializing.  The newcomers looked up with questioning expressions, but the old-timers said, “Oh, there goes the dinner bell.”

The dining room was not large but ample for the number of passengers it served.  It was not formal, as the Canadian ship had been.  The passengers sat themselves in groups.  The new beginning teachers collected themselves in a group as if to protect themselves or to encourage each other in this new adventure on which they were embarking.

Following lunch, Dorothy and I re-established our program of walking the deck for exercise, as we had done on the Canadian ship.  We learned the dimensions of the ship from printed materials displayed on the bulletin board, and estimated how many rounds would equal one mile.

We carried out our exercise routine following each meal.  We were on board for thirty-one days.  How many miles did we walk?  We never figured it out, because there were afternoon snacks and just before bedtime more sandwiches and goodies were to be found in the dining room, requiring more walks afterwards.

Metlakatla, on the Annette Island, was our first stop after entering the Alaskan waters.   Metlakatla is unique in the history of Alaska.  Shortly after the United States government purchased the territory of Alaska from the Russians, a Canadian church colony just over the border in British Columbia met with problems from their home church back in England.  They petitioned our government for a permit to move to the territory of Alaska.  Our government granted permission for them to establish an Indian Reservation on Annette Island.  Under the supervision of their leader, Father Duncan, the colony prospered.

Ketchikan was our next stop.  True to its reputation, it rained the day we went ashore.  We ventured out on one of the docks just to say we had been in Ketchikan.  From the many stores anxious for our business, we purchased a card to send back home.  “It rained the day we reached this shore; Monday it rained a little more, etc.”  

The town was very considerate of its visitors.  It was built on the side of a mountain, street upon street like a large theater with several balconies.  From the deck of the ship, visitors could look up and see all the houses on the back streets.  There was no need to venture out in the rain.  Our ship made three more major ports of call before reaching Juneau, including Petersburg, Wrangle and Sitka.  Sitka was the most interesting from a historical point of view because it was the capital city during the Russian period of occupation.

Entering Juneau felt like we were pulling back into homeport.  It was the third entry for me, and the second entry for Dorothy.  As we slowly came into the harbor, we could tell the other passengers all about town: the big gold mine, where they entered the mountain at the base and then tunneled up to reach the gold, and the old wagon road back of town, where the three bears lived.  Just for fun we pointed out the mammoth tailing dump, resulting from the mining operation, which has been leveled off for a golf course.  In the winter, the sportsmen, I'm told, played using black balls.

The office staff was on the dock to welcome us and take us to the Federal Building where we were introduced to the official headquarters.  Dorothy and I took the opportunity to meet the shipping clerk.  We wanted to check on the possibility of taking our piano into Deering. 

He had a good laugh about the story we told him about extending the unloading gangplank up to the front door.  “There will be no problem,” he said, “but it is not quite that simple. We will anchor the North Star out from Kotzebue in deeper water.  One of the merchants has a large power scow.  He has the contract to bring cargo for Kotzebue ashore first.  Then he will make a second trip bringing cargo going to Deering.  The owner of the scow lives in Deering, so I should not expect a problem there.”  He added,  “I think you will like Deering.”

After dinner that night, most of us went to a movie.  When we came back on board, we found the cook had outdone himself, fixing an evening handout for everyone.  We sat up later than usual that night. 

The next morning when the sounds of action on deck told us we had missed breakfast, we found the ship was tied up at Hoonah, one of the largest Indian villages in Southeast Alaska. The cook took pity on us sleepyheads, and set out some warmed-over coffee and sweet rolls.

When Dorothy and I finally made it out on deck for our daily dozen, we located our position, close to Glacier Bay National Park, from the maps posted on the bulletin board.  Most of the interesting view was concealed behind the low mountains.  The icy glaciers in the group of mountains, further back, were the most interesting, and very beautiful in the morning sunlight. 

While we were admiring the beauty of the distant mountaintop, our ship gave a mighty roll to the starboard side.  Recovering, she rolled to the port side.  Where were we now? Clutching the hand railing we eased ourselves along to the posted maps.  Oh, yes! We were leaving the sheltered waters of Southeast Alaska and entering the rolling seas of Alaska.  This was the very spot where three years ago, some of the passengers--very undignified--lost their breakfasts over the railing of the old M. S. Boxer.  The ocean never changes very much, only the ships that sail it. 

Once we had passed through the rough waters of the tiderip, the North Star settled down to a smooth rolling ride on into the harbor of Yakutat.  Dorothy and I had friends from school whose parents lived in Yakutat.  We were looking forward to meeting them, and enjoyed a very pleasant afternoon in the home of Amson and Clifford Axleson.

The North Star left the docks at Yakutat just before sunset.  The large glowing ball slipped gradually below the waves leaving a radiant red sky reflected in the rolling waves for hours.  There were no sailboats to be seen but we could all visualize, “Red sails in the sunset.”  The old weather forecast, “Red at night, sailor's delight” proved true, because we awoke the next morning to an unusually beautiful day at sea.

 From Yakutat our route was not far off shore. The majestic Mt. St. Elias, with its 18,000 ft. peak, dominating the crests of the lower mountains, added a thrilling experience to our trip across the gulf.  It was like a trip through the European Alps from a comfortable deck chair.

We arrived at the Kenai Peninsula and the docks of Seward at last.  A group of sea lions sleeping in the sunshine on a rocky point near the deep-water channel, lifted their heads when the ship blew its whistle announcing our arrival.  They expressed their feelings very definitely in their opposition to being disturbed.  Their barking sounded very similar to dogs’ barking.  I think they were telling us something like,  “Go home!  Go home and let us sleep in the warm sunshine.”

Captain Whitlam said we would be in Seward in two days.  The first thing I was interested in seeing was if our baggage from Iliamna Lake was on the dock in Seward.  “Do you have the baggage for O. E. Arnold, from Iliamna via Hinie Berger?”  I anxiously asked.

“Yes, it is here.  It arrived some time last week and is waiting to go on board the North Star,” they assured us.

“Hurrah for good old Hans Severson and Hinie Berger!  Now we could enjoy the remainder of our “Go North” venture.

A picnic had been planned for the first day on shore.  A bus was taking the group up the highway to some designated place.  However, the business of locating our baggage was a priority for us so we missed the bus and picnic.

About noon, Dorothy and I walked up the street to the little hamburger place that had served me well two years ago when most of the eating places were closed due to the strike.  We weren’t hungry for hamburger, so we had fresh salmon right out of the bay.  We were so glad to be connected back up with our baggage again that we just walked back to the ship and spent the sunny afternoon in a couple of deck chairs, watching the seagulls and the longshoremen loading the cargo on to the ship.

Mr. Hawksworth, whom we all knew from the Juneau office, and a Mr. Lopp, came aboard in the afternoon, bound for Barrow. Both men had been with the Office of Indian Affairs before 1912.  They were making the trip back along the north coast to Barrow just to renew memories of old times.  Mr. Hawksworth had been at Barrow, and Mr. Lopp served in the Kotzebue area.

With the increasing population and the whaling industry, both men could foresee a shortage of natural food (wild game) for the arctic coast.  Together they had suggested the importation of reindeer from Finland, along with a number reindeer herders to help get the project under way.  A large number of deer were secured from Finland and shipped to New York.  From there they were brought to San Francisco via cattle cars and taken by ship to Teller, Alaska.  Mr. Lopp, with the help of the experienced herders from Finland, drove the herd of deer along the coast up to Barrow, a feat that has received very little publicity.

Leaving Seward on schedule, we rounded the Kenai Peninsula and followed a course through the Shelikof Straits (between Kodiak Island and the mainland of Alaska) to Dutch Harbor.  This was the same route the M. S. Boxer had taken three years ago, but it was a different sea than the one we had floundered through back then. 

We tied up to the same cannery dock as before.  There was no wind and the sun was shining.  About sun down, we slipped through the narrow pass on a high tide and were out on the Bering Sea before dark.

St. Michael was our next stop, and then Unalakleet, Koyuk, Elim, and Nome.  There were no docks for ships to tie up to in the Bering Sea, so those going ashore climbed down the Jacob’s ladder.  Many of the passengers did not choose to go ashore at these short stops.  Everyone was ready for shore leave when we finally dropped anchor at Nome.

As the shore boat took us into the harbor, we noticed several groups working in the sand down near the surf on the beach.  They were very intent on what they were doing.  We learned after we made the harbor landing, that those were gold miners.  Nome was one of the last of the gold rush areas. Gold was discovered in the sands of the Bering Sea near the place that was to become known as Nome about the first of this century. The gold is somewhere off shore in deep water.  Following a storm or unusually heavy surf action, new deposits of gold are found, in small amounts, in the new sand drifts brought ashore.

Eskimos, living on St. Lawrence Island, come over to Nome during the summer months in their large skin boats, known as “umiaks.”  When beached and turned on edge, they made nice shelter tents for living on the beach.  We observed that many of them were camping on the beach when we visited Nome.  The men are known for their excellent ivory carvings. They do most of their work during the winter months and bring their crafts to Nome to sell to the tourists.  I think they did better, financially, than the gold miners did.  Nevertheless, uptown Nome is a prosperous looking community.

Our next move was around the point to Teller.  This was really just a move to the back of Nome since the city had grown over the hill behind the original town. 

From there we moved a short distance to the Diomede Islands.  There are two islands close together: the big island (Russian) and the small island (U.S.A).  The North Star showed no partiality and we dropped anchor in the middle of the channel.  People from the small island came out in their boats to visit us on board. 

While talking with the Government Teacher, we asked if people from the Big Island ever came across the narrow straits.  He said that he didn't know, but that sometimes when the school was showing movies, the schoolroom seemed to be extra full.  Then he added that there were people living along the coastline who frequently came into town.  The people, especially the school age kids, wanted to talk and visit with the passengers.  It was evident they did not have a ship stop by very often.

After dinner the following evening, Captain Whitlam announced that there was a certain line up ahead where we would have difficulty unless we cooperated with Father Neptune.  He requested that all passengers who had never been north of the Arctic Circle retire to their rooms, change into their pajamas and wait until summoned by an escort.  Of course we newcomers cooperated because we did not wish to create a problem out here in the middle of the Arctic Ocean.

Soon there was a tap, tap on our cabin door, and a very deep voice said, “I have come for O. E. Arnold.”

I was blindfolded and led, barefoot, to the social hall.  There, I was commanded to lift my feet, one at a time and step.  I stepped directly into a tub of warm water.  Then I was instructed to reach forth my hand and find . . . what?  My hand came in contact with a small rope stretched about knee high. 

Then the voice spoke again, “You are about to enter the land of endless nights and sleepless days.  Are you prepared to eat the food the land honors you with?  Then lift your right foot high and step over into this famous land.”  I did as instructed and found myself, standing in another tub, but this time of ice and water. 

I was given a small bowl of something and told to eat.  This time it was a feminine voice.  I fumbled in the bowl with my fingers, attempting to get a finger hold on the slimy objects in the bowl.  Somebody impatient with my delay stuffed something into my mouth. 

“Good,” said the voice, “Arctic ice worms, found only on the frozen ice of the Arctic Ocean.  You will learn to like them.”  My blindfold was removed and I was given a card, which read, Father Neptune greets a charter member of The ARCTIC CIRCLE Fraternal Order. 

I still prize the little card.  Framed, it hangs over my desk to this day.  It marks a high point in my career.  As a tenth grade student in High School, I had set my goal to go to Alaska.  As I stepped over the line into the tub of cold ice water, I realized that I had achieved my early goal to “Go North.”  I was so happy that I didn’t sleep very much that night.  I just wanted to stand out on deck and look at the moon reflecting on the water of the Arctic Ocean. 

Dorothy was also escorted down the deck, blindfolded.  I did not warn her of the ice worms, I was a cardholder now in the Fraternal Order.

It was not long after we had crossed the Arctic Circle that we heard the noise of the ship dropping its anchor.  We rushed out on deck to see.  There was nothing there, just more of the Arctic Ocean.  We walked forward and around to the wheelhouse, and then we saw it.  About a mile or more away there was a strip of land and a cluster of houses.  This had to be Kotzebue. 

The shipping clerk back in Juneau had said, “We anchor out in deep water.”  We saw a scow leave the shore and start our way.  Our seamen had removed the cover from the ship's hatch and were down below deck assembling cargo boxes in readiness to be sent ashore. 

Soon Mr. Hawksworth and Mr. Lopp joined us at the railing to watch the progress.  Mr. Lopp said, “I don't see much change. The village looks the same as it did fifty years ago.” 

To which Mr. Hawksworth replied, “Ah, we are too far out to see.  They have three stores now, a hospital, and new Post Office.  There is an airstrip out by the lake and one of the Ferguson brothers has his own personal plane.  That is Warren Ferguson coming out now with his scow.  Warren has a store in Deering too.  We will probably go over to Deering on Warren's scow from here.” 

Mr. Lopp heaved a big sigh and commented, “Yes, I guess they have to keep up with progress here too.”

The scow was alongside the North Star by now, and Captain Whitlam came out of the wheelhouse and announced, “Anyone wanting to go ashore may do so now.  The scow will make a second trip so you will be able to come back.”

We recognized the school before Warren's finger pointed out the area.  It looked just like any number of government school buildings we had seen on our way north, only this one was freshly painted. 

As we watched, the direction of the scow changed and it headed directly toward the beach.  I turned to Dorothy and said, “We are coming in rather fast.  That's the beach right there, and he has not signaled the engineer to slow down.”

There was a slight bump and the front of the scow slid up through the grass almost to the car tracks on the road that ran along in front of the buildings.  We were in Deering, just as the man back in Juneau had said, “at the front door.” 

We heard Warren in the wheelhouse laugh and say, “Scared you all didn’t I?  We do things a little differently up here in the north.” 

When the men put the gangplanks out, they reached almost across the road.  The men back in Seattle were close when they said, jokingly, “Right on your front door step.”  They had missed the distance by only about twenty feet.

We were the first ones down the gangplank. There must have been someone in the school building watching, because as we approached the steps, the front door opened and a group of voices from inside rang out,  “Welcome to Deering, Mr. and Mrs. Arnold.” 

We were surprised beyond words!  It was such a contrast to the greetings received in the two previous school assignments.  We could tell that the stove in the kitchen was doing its best because there was the pleasant odor of fresh coffee coming from that direction and the dining room table displayed a beautiful cake, ready to be cut.

Every one wanted to shake hands and greet us at the same time. We wondered who these friendly people were, with this warm welcome.  We had left home with the idea we were going to the far north, somewhere up near the top of the globe, with ice and snow and igloos everywhere.  We surely did not expect to find all these people and the comforts of home!

When the men rolled in Dorothy's piano, there were “Ohs” and “Ahs” everywhere.  There was plenty of volunteer help to remove the crating.  A dust cloth showed up from somewhere to dust off the residues of the trip.  Then Dorothy was asked to play something.  She was up to the occasion.  She sat down and played a couple of toe tapping numbers.

  Warren forgot his responsibilities of unloading the scow and came in to join the party.  He introduced us to his wife, a very attractive young lady, who was here as the chairman of the Welcoming Committee.

There were plenty of volunteers to help with the unloading of the scow, so it wasn't long before Warren backed off from the beach to anchor out in deeper water.  He reappeared at the schoolhouse with the ship's papers for the government cargo and our personal freight. 

Warren did not charge us for transporting the piano from the North Star over to Deering.  He said, “I saw that you moved it right into the schoolroom, so I listed it under government supplies.” 

Our personal bill for the entire trip from Seattle to Deering totaled two dollars per day for the entire trip.  We were quite satisfied with that.

When all of the excitement died down and the on-lookers had left, Dorothy and I had a cup of the leftover coffee, and sat down to plan what to do next.  We did not want to start opening things until we knew where they were to be stored.  Dorothy suggested that we start unrolling our bedding bags first.  Bedding and clothes had been rolled up together in sea-bags.

The bedroom was just off the kitchen, just like the arrangement I had the first year back at Iliamna, except with more built-in cupboard and shelf space.  There were plenty of clothes hangers left on the clothes pole, thanks to the previous occupants.  It wasn’t long before we had emptied one sea-bag and there was one room ready to occupy.  

We soon discovered that Deering was built on a long sandbar with a neat looking front beach line, with swampland out behind.  Most of the houses extended out back, supported by pilings set in a dry riverbed.  (Dry except for the rainy season).  Empty cans, garbage and trash were thrown out the back door to be swept away clean following every rainy spell. 

At the end of the sandbar was an opening into a small river.  The river ran a snake-like course back into the hills in the general direction of Nome.  Following the river as best it could, was an old wagon road that connected some gold mining activity with the seaport town of Deering, hence the wagon tracks in front of the schoolhouse.  The sanitary plan of flushing out from under the houses, extended out over the riverbed, seemed to have been working well for years.

The first morning we were up early.  To start the day, I picked up the coffeepot and reached for the handle of the little pump mounted at the edge of the kitchen sink.  A question ran through my mind,  “Where did this water come from?”  Salt water was out in front, and swamp water, just as close, was out behind.  I could see from the kitchen window that the drain from the sink was emptying out into the dry riverbed.  For safety and good health reasons, I located a large cooking pot and told Dorothy that from now on we would boil all of our drinking water.      

      Following breakfast, Dorothy went down to the Ferguson's store to see Mrs. Ferguson (Nelly). Dorothy and Nelly developed a close friendship from the start.  In response to Dorothy's question about our water source, Nelly said, “Most of the people living on the water front get their domestic fresh water from the spring.  Come, I will show you.”

Dorothy walked with her down to the end of the sand spit. Dorothy saw for the first time the mouth of the river, a stream about fifty feet wide and apparently quite deep.

Nellie said, “See that pipe over there?”  There was a metal pipe about two inches in diameter, extending out from the bank at a convenient height, running a good stream of water.  “That water runs like that all the time, year in and year out.  Most everyone has a small boat and a couple of kegs (small barrels).  They row over, back their boat with the kegs under the pipe, and fill the kegs.  Then they row around to the front beach and carry the water home with buckets.  It's a lot of work but every one has been doing it that way ever since the town started.”

Dorothy had another question, “The boat and oars?” Dorothy had been depending on a boat for the past two years and knew very well that the word oars went along with the word boat.

Nelly was quick with her response. “Oh, that is the school's boat over there,” pointing to a small twelve-foot plywood boat on the beach containing two small barrels and a bucket. Dorothy hurried home to tell me the good news that the school had a boat but she didn't tell me about the two barrels, the pipe and spring until sometime later.

After lunch I went for a walk.  Following the boardwalk down to the end of the sand spit, I saw the mouth of the river.  Then I spotted the water pipe and spring water.  Looking the boats over, I could tell which one with the two empty barrels belonged to the school.  Pushing it back into the water, I rowed across the river and under the pipe supplying the water.  It was no trick.  Growing up in Puget Sound, boats were a second method of travel for me.  With both barrels nearly full, I rowed out through the tide rip created by the current of the river entering the still water of the bay, and on to the schoolhouse. 

I carried the first pail of good water up to the kitchen.  I just couldn’t believe it.  All these years people had been living in Deering and no one had carried out a plan to connect onto that two inch pipe, which had ample flow to furnish every family in town with running water the year round. 

We also thought about establishing a sewer system after we saw the two old fashioned outhouses behind the school.  Everyone accepted them as a way of life in Northern Alaska, but it didn't need to stay that way. This was l936 and things could be brought up-to-date.

Before we realized where the time had gone, we noted by the calendar that it was the last of August and school must soon be started, whether we were ready or not.  We had learned to enjoy living in Deering.

The local Friends Church sent a delegation the first week we arrived, asking Dorothy if she would help them with their music.  This made Dorothy happy, because we had both been raised in a similar denomination.  They had the makings of a good choir but needed someone to play the piano and encourage the director. 

Nelly Ferguson and Dorothy became good friends.  Nelly had two young children, a boy and a baby girl.  Nelly couldn’t leave the store unattended so Dorothy would go over to the store, visit with Nellie and play with the children.  It was good for both of them.  Nellie was a graduate of the University of Washington with a similar educational background as Dorothy.  She was born of Eskimo parents living up on the Kobuk River, northeast of Kotzebue.

Nellie’s mother was frequently in the home when Dorothy was visiting.  She had a limited knowledge of the English language, but Dorothy developed a lasting appreciation of the Eskimo culture through a friendship with her.  We learned years later that the young boy in the family grew up and graduated from the University of Washington, following in his mother’s footsteps.  He went into politics and became one of the leading Senators in the State of Alaska, representing the Northern Section of Alaska.

Well, September was here.  There was a little frost was on the ground, warning of things to come. The village celebrated Labor Day the same way as did communities “down below.”  The expression of “down below” began to have more meaning for us as we saw the heavy frost of early mornings on the grass along the roadside.

We could see the top of a small mountain, thirty miles north across the Eschscholtz Bay, which had been pointed out to us on an Alaskan map. “Watch that mountain this winter,” we were told.  “The sun will always shine on that mountaintop when you can't see sunshine anywhere else.  During some of the sunless days, it helps to be reminded that the sun is still shining somewhere.”  That mountaintop, according to the map, was right on the Arctic Circle, thirty miles north of us. 

One afternoon a small fishing type of boat was sighted out to the left of town, obviously intending to stop.  The man dropped anchor and came ashore in his rowboat.  There was only one man on board.  A small boat of this type was seldom seen in these waters at this season on the year. Some of the local people seemed to know him and went down to the beach to greet him as a friend. 

As we later found out, he was a man from Unalakleet, east of Nome, who was successful with growing a large garden.  He had a boatload of vegetables, and was selling them to the villagers along the coast, north of Nome.  Dorothy bought a sack of potatoes, a smaller sack of carrots and a head of cabbage.  She had expected to buy two heads of cabbage, but the one head of cabbage was nearly larger than she could lift.  The school had a storage building just back of the kitchen, but our problem was to keep fresh things from freezing.

September found us ready and willing to start school, but the village council said, “wait until after Labor Day.”  Once again we were reminded how closely we were living to civilization.  On Labor Day afternoon Warren's brother, Archie, flew in with his plane and landed out in front of the Ferguson's store.  In addition to his wife and small child, there was another traveler, the government nurse from the Kotzebue Hospital. 

We knew there was a government nurse somewhere in the area and we had her room in the school all ready and waiting, but this was a surprise.  As Warren said, “We do things a little differently up here.”

Somewhere up in the mountains behind Deering there must have been a rainstorm.  The water in the river was so high that the dry riverbed behind the town was full of water.  I was able to make two trips with the boat and water barrels and maneuver the boat right up to the back door of the school.  I filled both our kitchen reserve tank and the water tank for the clinic.  That was my Labor Day celebration. 

Dorothy helped the nurse get settled into her room and into the clinic.  She was to take her meals with us.  She apologized to Dorothy for coming in on her without notice.  Her headquarters were up the river from Kotzebue at Norvik.

Archie Ferguson, Warren's brother, also lived at Norvik.  The Ferguson Brothers had a second store there, operated by Archie and his wife.  When Archie learned the nurse wanted to go to Deering, he offered her a free ride.  Archie also owned the plane in the company organization.  Quoting Warren again, “We do things a little differently.”    

School opened right on schedule after the big Labor Day weekend.  It was not as smooth an opening day as we had hoped, but we managed.  The nurse wanted to check each child on the day they started school.  We did not know their names or what grade they were supposed to be in.  Dorothy won the day with the new piano, and her experience in leading group singing.  Finally, we somehow managed to get all the students separated into their new grades. 

I had those from the fifth grade and up, and Dorothy had those in the fourth grade and down.  There had been a large eighth grade graduating class last spring and this September there were very few beginners, so the enrollment on opening day was not as large as expected.  Class Picture

In other years, a canvas curtain had been used to separate the two groups.  This plan did not work well for all occasions.  When Dorothy introduced her beginners to the new rhythm band instruments, it was music time for everyone in the room.  Cooperation in scheduling curriculum on the part of the members of the teaching staff was the chief strategy used to get along in a one-room school.

We had not progressed very far into the school year when an emergency developed in the community, similar to the problem I experienced back at Iliamna.  One of the gold miners living at the mining camp a few miles up the river became seriously ill.  There was an airstrip available on which a plane could land, but no way to contact Nome to ask for a plane.  The nurse pronounced the case serious.

Candle, a community fifty miles east of Deering, had telephone connections with Nome.  The brother of the sick man was desperate for help.  All of the local boats in town had been put away for the winter.  As a last resort, he came to me for help.  He knew I had an outboard motor.  If he could locate a suitable boat, would I be willing to run him over to Candle?  Remembering the situation I was in two years ago, what could I say but yes?  We slid the boat into the water, obtained gas from the Ferguson Co. and pushed off.

We went out the mouth of the river, which helped us to make headway through the white water surf.  It was about six o'clock and well after dark as we fought our way out.  The bay had a rolling swell but there were no breakers once we were out in the open water. 

About two o'clock a.m., we were running low on gas so we decided to try making the beach through the white water.  With the help of the oars, we caught a good “roller” and slid right up on to the sand like professionals.  Collecting some dry material, we soon had a good fire going.  Consulting our watches, we figured we could take a little time out.  I stretched out in front of the big log, on which I had been sitting, and soon was fast asleep.  How long I slept I do not know, but I became aware of something going on between the log and me.

I jumped up; the back of my coat was on fire.  Thinking fast, I threw myself down and rolled the fire out in the sand.  A live coal had evidently popped out of the fire and landed between the log and me and started the fire.  Fortunately I had brought an extra shirt along but my new winter coat and best wool shirt were ruined. 

After putting out what was left of the fire, we checked our watches and decided it was time to push off.  We made it through the breakers all right and the motor took off on the second pull.  It was getting daylight as we started up the river.

Candle was up the river about as far as the tide water line.  A phone was located and George called emergency in Nome.  In less than a half-hour, a plane landed on the field at Candle.  Notice was sent to George's home via short-wave radio that the plane was on the way to Deering and to bring the sick brother down to town.  Harry, the motor, and I were flown back to Deering and arrived there just about the same time as the sick man from the mining camp. 

Years later my brother, Liston, who went by the nickname Arnie, was working with a man named, Brown.  They were working for the same Telephone Company.  One day Brown said, “Arnie, do you have a brother named Ellis up in Alaska?  Do you know he saved my life one time?”

Once school got under way, things ran along very smoothly.  All of the children lived within the community on the sand bar. There must have been some early rain in the hills behind the town because there was water behind the houses most of the time. I could bring the boat with its two barrels of water around back of the houses and right up to the kitchen door. 

We learned of a good dog sled for sale, so we invested in the beginning of a dogteam by buying the sled.  When the neighbors saw we were interested in starting a team of dogs, we had several offers to sell.  We bought a lead dog and two other dogs for ten dollars each.  Soon we added two more, bringing the total number up to five.  Then, for days, we were busy in the evenings making dog harnesses.

Snow began to fall about the first of October.  It wasn’t long before there was snow enough to try out our new sled and team. The dogs were all strangers to each other so it required a little patience to induce them to work along side of each other without a little ear chewing now and then.

The lead dog we purchased turned out to be an intelligent, experienced leader and knew his gees (right) and haws (left).  They all knew whoa (stop). 

The old wagon road, following the river back into the hills, became our training ground.  On Saturdays we made a run of a mile or more up the road.  Then we gradually began to explore new areas on top of the hills.  When the salt water in the bay out front became frozen to a depth considered safe, we made longer trips on the smooth ice.  It did not require many trips until we had a working dogteam.

We became aware of the short days when lights were required in the middle of the afternoon in the schoolroom.  We had a series of Coleman lamps using a central supply tank, under pressure, which furnished fuel to the ceiling lamps throughout the building by means of small copper tubing.  They gave satisfactory light but were lit individually with a flaming torch.  They were a source of worry to me because I considered them a serious fire hazard.  On my first requisition to the Juneau Office, I recommended installing a small gasoline motor and generator as our source of light.

Thanksgiving came on schedule with a day or two of vacation. We were both glad for the close cooperation of the local Mission Church in explaining the history of Thanksgiving Day.  Dorothy helped the Church with putting on special music for the occasion.  Her rhythm band was well organized by this time, so she invited the parents in for a concert on Wednesday afternoon.  They were pleased to see and hear their youngsters perform.

The two days following Thanksgiving were not vacation days for the principal teacher.  The weather turned cold and stormy, so we could not take the team out for their usual run.  They were happy to curl up in their warm doghouses and let the wind blow and the snow drift over their shelters.       

From the first of December we began counting the days until the shortest day of the year.  Due to a mountain range directly to the south of us, the sun did not come above the horizon for a few days, but we did not notice the darkness.  The Coleman lamps were on most of the time. 

The teaching program for the most part was directed towards preparing for a Christmas program.  The community expected a program and the older students were looking forward to a good time.  The local Ferguson store was well prepared.  One item we had overlooked in our grocery order of last July was Christmas candy for the school kids.  Nelly Ferguson told Dorothy the store was well stocked with Christmas candy so there would be no problem when the time came for Santa Claus and his bag of goodies.

Christmas was only one week away and we had no Christmas tree.  The houses along the strip began to look like Christmas, the Church had looked like Christmas for some time, but the school did not have a Christmas tree.  What was I, as principal teacher, going to do about the problem? 

One afternoon following the school day, two young men who were former students, stopped by the school.  Their opening remark was, “Would you like to have a Christmas tree for the school?”  Would I! They sounded like Santa himself speaking.

“Okay.”

They said, “ten dollars?”

“Okay,” I said, and they took off.  About the same time the next day the young men and a dogteam stopped at the front door of the school with a beautiful evergreen tree just the right height for the schoolroom.  They had made a round trip of about forty miles up into the mountains back of town and found a beautiful tree for our Christmas.  The upper grade kids asked if they could stay after school and help decorate it.

By six o'clock Christmas Eve, there was standing room only in the schoolroom.  The curtains were pulled right on schedule and Dorothy's little folks led off with her rhythm band performing “Jingle Bells.”  With the first notes, the program was a success.  Santa arrived right on schedule, stomping the snow from his boots, with his loud and cheery, “Ho, Ho, Ho,” setting the atmosphere for the rest of the evening.

Before Dorothy and I become aware of what was coming next, the men began moving the chairs and school desks back against the wall.  “We want to dance a little,” they said.

Dorothy looked at me and I shrugged my shoulders.  “I don't have any music,” Dorothy said. 

I told her, “Just pound out some rhythm like you do for the kids, they don't need songs with words.”  As soon as she sounded a chord on the piano, two or three of the young adults picked up some of the rhythm sticks the little kids had been using and joined in with the rhythm of the music.  They made a good impromptu orchestra.  The music went on until almost midnight.

Afterwards Nellie told Dorothy how nice it was that she kept on playing.  Usually after a program, many of the villagers went somewhere and drank, and that didn’t do anything for the spirit of Christmas.

The week between Christmas and New Year was a pleasant vacation for us.  We had been pushing every day since we had arrived, trying to get everything done. Now we just sat back and took things easy.  The first class mail came once a week; also some magazines and second class reading material arrived occasionally. 

What we liked best was the short-wave radio connection between Deering and Fairbanks.  The Ferguson Company was well equipped with short-wave radio sets, operated primarily by their wives.  They also had contacts with a purchasing agent in Fairbanks.  Any item they did not have in their local stores, they could radio in for and have sent out on the next plane coming this way.  For example, we had roast turkey for our Thanksgiving dinner and fresh bananas for our Christmas dinner.  Was it a little expensive?  Yes, but we were not buying gasoline for the car or paying high rent while living up here.

On the first Saturday after the New Year celebration, there was a knock on the schoolroom door.  Opening the door to see who was knocking, I was surprised to find the mayor of Deering standing there.  Out on the path was the Deering counsel: the assistant chairman, secretary, Chief of Police and Deputy Sheriff. 

Before I could say good morning, the mayor said, “We want you to come with us.” 

“Okay,” I responded, “let me get my coat.”  We started off in single file: Mayor, Assistant Mayor, Secretary, Chief of Police, Deputy Sheriff, and I brought up the rear.

Talking over his shoulder as we marched along, the Mayor said, “There is trouble in that house up on the hill there,” pointing to an igloo-type house to the right of the school. 

“The granddaughter, Jane, lives alone with her grandmother up there.  Jane has been drinking and is threatening to kill her grandmother.  She also said she was going to shoot anyone coming up the trail, intent on stopping her.  We are going up there to arrest her.” 

I looked up at the dome-shaped house with a window in the roof and imagined a strong fortification on the hilltop commanding all approaches.  The snow was about knee deep with a trail leading directly to the only entrance.

Igloo

As the procession continued up the trail, I noted that one or two of the men had firearms.  For once, I was glad to be the last man in the line.  When the lead man was within shotgun reach of the door, they stopped.  Then all, to the man, stepped to the right of the trail and bowing oriental style, motioned for me to take the lead. 

Me, why me?  My knees almost failed their duty.  I wanted to show the “white feather” and run home, but I couldn't run.  I represented the Federal Government and the good old “Stars and Stripes.”  Without showing any outward sign of fear, I walked straight up the trail to the house.  Instead of knocking at the door, I stepped to one side, and climbed up to the top of the house, and tapped on the window.  I announced who I was, and asked if I could come in and chat with them a little. 

Hearing no reply, I retraced my steps back to the entrance. This was a typical Eskimo igloo, with a tunnel out in front for an entrance.  As expected, this snow tunnel was also the doghouse and the dogs were all at home keeping warm.  Speaking in English, I told the dogs to just to sit tight and keep their mouths’ shut, and I wouldn’t bother them. 

Coming in on my hands and knees, as I had to do because of my size, they may have thought I was just another big dog coming in to keep warm.  They pushed over closer to the walls and didn't even growl at me.  The tunnel ceiling was a little higher by the inside door so I could almost stand upright.  I pushed open the crating-wood inside door, and stepped into the room.

Jane was sitting on an upturned apple box with a 12-gauge shotgun in her lap. Grandma was sitting on the floor across the room from her.  There was no one else in the house.  Without any formal greeting, I walked over to Jane and said, “Give me the gun.”  She handed the gun to me.  I took the gun, opened it and removed the two live shells. Putting the shells in my pocket, I stood the gun up against the back wall.

Then grandma got into the act.  Speaking in her native language and using her hands, she indicated Jane had something in her pocket.  Standing in front of Jane, I imitated the same motions with my hands that grandma was making.  Jane got the message and reached into the pocket of her parka and handed me a box of shotgun shells.

I opened the box and saw there were two shells missing.  I removed the two live shells from my pocket which I had taken from the gun and replaced them in the vacant spots in the box and closed the lid. 

Grandma was still not satisfied.  With her hands she indicated Jane should stand up.  I reinforced grandma's demand that Jane stand up.  Lo and behold, Jane had been sitting on two very sharp butcher knives.  Somehow, while picking up the two knives, the situation struck me as very funny and I began to laugh.  Grandma had a good laugh too, clapping her hands.  I turned to grandma and said, “Well, we won that one didn’t we?”

The local officials and law officers must have been listening at the entrance, because when they heard Grandma and me laughing, they pushed the door open and came in.  I told them they could take over now.  Returning back down the hill by myself I thought, What a strange job for a teacher.  I don't recall reading about anything like this in that class of teaching methods back in school.  As Warren Ferguson says, “We do things a little differently up here.”

As the sun gradually returned, the temperature dropped.  February and March were extremely cold months, but there were no windstorms.  The two-inch water pipe extending from the bank on the opposite side of the river continued a full stream of water.  I transferred the two barrels from the boat to the sled and used only three dogs to keep our domestic water tank filled. 

Banking the fires in our stoves at night, we kept the schoolroom warm and the living quarters were also warm when we got up in the morning.  Most of our work was indoors so with good lights, we did not notice the weather outside. We were glad, however, when the hours of daylight and later the hours of sunshine began to match up with traditional daylight hours back home.

 The midnight sun, taken every 15 minutes on the longest day of the year.

The month of June finally arrived and with it the end of the school term.  The end of the school term also included making the annual report to the Juneau Office.

In the return mail from the Juneau Office was a surprise letter which did not excite us much, but to which we gave a lot of serious thought.  We liked Deering and were very happy there.  The Juneau Office complimented us very nicely about our work, but due to changing policies beyond their control, the Deering School was being reduced to a one-teacher school. 

This translated into one of us being dropped from the pay roll, or they would be happy if we would accept a transfer to a larger community and a three-teacher school farther north, namely Wainright, which was four hundred miles north of the Arctic Circle.  The North Star would pick us up in August and take us to Wainright.  We had a week to talk it over and consider all of the angles.  On the morning of the last day before the mail was to go south again, we sat down and wrote our acceptance letter.  Yes, we would be packed and ready to go four hundred miles farther north when the North Star came by in August. 

What were we going to do now?  August was two months off.  We could not make a short trip back home.  Travel was too expensive when it all came out of our own bank account.  We settled on two months vacation in the Sub-Arctic, doing what was necessary to maintain the school-building, etc., but taking advantage of the location to have a good time.

Our first project was a trip over to Kotzebue with our dogteam. The winter's ice was still firm in Eschscholtz Bay. The Alaska Highway Commission, earlier in the spring, had staked the sled dog trail across the bay, a distance of thirty miles, for the safety of travelers.  We were tempted to try the trip. One of our neighbors urged us to take four of his elderly dogs.  He said they were badly in need of exercise and thought the trip would do them good.  He was half-way right.  They looked good in the team.  So with his four big dogs and our five younger dogs we looked really professional as we left town the following Monday. 

The trail was well marked. An older Eskimo man had been staking it every year for thirty years for the Alaska Road Commission.  Beginning at the steps of the local hotel, the red tip lath stakes were set every hundred feet.  The job was so neatly done that when you stood on the steps of the building, you could see a fine red line drawn across the bay formed by the red tops of the stakes standing directly behind the other.  Not a single stake was out of line for thirty miles. It was a work of art.

Our departure was smooth and uneventful.  We were proud of our nine-dogteam.  The leader picked up the trail by the red stakes and the well-trained dogteam took off across the bay.  I was conscious of everyone watching from their doorways, but we made it in style.  The trail was smooth, and with nine dogs that were eager for exercise, we could both ride, taking turns standing on the back runners of the sled.  The sun was beginning to set as we pulled up on the beach in front of the trail shelter furnished by the Road Commission.

The shelter was a simple tarpaper structure with a raised platform across one side for sleeping and a sheet metal stove.  There was plenty of driftwood outside, so I cut some wood and started a fire so Dorothy could get the coffeepot going while I took care of the dogs.

By the time the little sheet metal stove was heated up, the shelter was nice and warm.  We were camped right on the Arctic Circle up against the little mountain peak we could see from our schoolroom window back home.  In the warmth and comfort of our shelter, we unrolled our sleeping bag, and were soon snoozing away like the nine dogs just behind the building.

We were up early and ready to be on the trail at daybreak.  It was another thirty-five miles into Kotzebue, only this was to be overland among the sand hills along the coast.  There was plenty of snow and the trail had been well used during the past winter so it was still in good condition.  As the sun began show signs of dropping down below the horizon, we came around a bend in the trail and there was a big sign showing just above the snow level, reading “K0TZBUE.”  We had arrived. The last time we had seen the same big sign was from the deck of the North Star, a mile or so out to sea.

We had driven right over the top of the Post Office building without knowing it was there.  We kicked the snow a little around the base of one of the supports and sure enough there was a roof peak and a building down there.  We tied our team to the end support of the sign and went looking for the entrance.  We walked around, on the hard packed snow, to the other end.  Someone must have been busy all winter with a shovel because there was an excavation with steps down to the front door of the building. There was no one there because it was after hours and the door was closed and locked.

We drove on a short distance and there was the school, standing clear of the snowdrifts.  We knocked on the door of the living quarters, and there was Mrs. Starling, wife of the principal. She had been expecting us all afternoon to fly in with Archie Ferguson, not knowing we were “Arctic Dog Mushers.”  Harvey, her husband, soon put in his appearance.  We had traveled together last summer, coming north on the North Star.  We both had put in our year up north, so there was a lot to talk about, right from the start.

First I found a good place to stake out my dogs so they could eat and sleep in peace.  Kotzebue was the largest town north of the “Circle”, and at this point the town was relaxing after the winter's activities and was waiting for the summer work to open up.  Archie Ferguson made weekly trips into Fairbanks with the U.S. mail but there were few passengers traveling this time of year. 

On Thursday there was some real excitement in town.  A large Ford Trimotor came circling over head looking for a place to land.  They looked the landing strip over, but it was too short for the large plane to land.  Some men in Warren Ferguson's store ran out on the ice and signaled them to land on the ice in front of town, which they did.  The passengers turned out to be a medical doctor and his wife, a nurse, and a government man from Washington D.C. on their way to Barrow, Alaska.

The weather report for the far north did not look good so they had put down in Kotzebue.  “Where was Kotzebue?” was the first question the pilot asked as he climbed down from the large plane.  Apparently he was a