Legacy of the Chief, Chapter 14: "Johnny Gakona Signs On" |
The fog and mist lay heavily over Town Lake. As Johnny walked down the hill from his village just west of the main town, he could only see the dark outlines of the the depot building and its nearby warehouse. On the siding behind the depot, he could hear the small Kennecott Local No. 74 private train locomotive quietly chugging away. The engineer was heating up the boiler so he would be ready to leave once the Chitina Local ore train arrived from Kennecott. The entire party was housed at Breedman’s Hotel Chitina--the town’s first-class lodging. Johnny speculated that they were probably already enjoying an omelet breakfast. He soon found himself wishing that he too could be part of the elite so he could have a decent breakfast. The other two sizable lodging establishments, the Overland Hotel and the Commercial Hotel were for working men. The three-story Overland was in the middle block while the two-story Commercial was at the western end of Main Street. It was about ten minutes before eight. Johnny had no intention of being late for his appointment with Superintendent Hansen, who the Great Man had said would be waiting for him at the depot. Because no trains were due for hours, Johnny expected to find the station empty except for the station master and the superintendent. The Native hill road ended at Fairbanks Avenue, then it veered over toward Main Street, which was the small business district. He stopped at Jack Palmer’s Place in the Commercial Hotel to grab a quick cup of Hills Brothers. Several of the local railroad depot crew members were sitting at the counter sipping coffee when he entered.
“Johnny, you’re down early.” “Tom, I didn’t expect to see you here either. I think I’ve got a job.” Tom’s expression showed a combination of surprise and then pleasure. “No kidding? Your grandfather came through for you, didn’t he?” “He did? Is that what happened?” “Never underestimate the ways of the wily old Nicolai. He has power few appreciate. Don’t know how he does it, but he somehow makes things happen.” Johnny’s eyes widened when he realized what had occurred the night before. “Grandfather set me up.” “Great old man, isn’t he? Don’t waste your chance, Johnny. Not many in their lifetime get the opportunity you just did.” “You know?” “About the offer for more education? Don’t blow it. You don’t have to sell out to them to get what you want and what we need. You’re Indian first. Remember that.” Another railroad worker, a white man named Jennings looked up at Johnny and nodded before returning to whatever he was reading. Johnny left the restaurant with a greater appreciation of the skill and power which his grandfather quietly yielded. 
The chilly air was more evident as he approached the lake. Soon the fog would lift, undoubtedly to reveal another warm and bright summer day, but right now it felt like fall. He entered the station by way of the rear door to the waiting room on the back end. George Brown was stoking up the fire in the large room to ward off the chill. He glanced up at the Regulator clock as Johnny entered, noting the time as eight sharp. “Good morning, Johnny. Glad to see ya. You’re right on time. That’s good. Mr. Hansen, our railroad superintendent from Cordova, is in my office in the back. Come on in.” They were not expecting me to be on time at all. After all, I’m one of those lowly Indian half-breeds. At least, I’ll bet that’s what they’re thinking. The superintendent was at the stationmaster’s desk looking over some reports. “Mr. Hansen, this is Johnny Gadanski.” “You may sit down, Mr. Gadanski. I have been told to see about finding you work. We have an opening at Cascade, which is a section house south of Tiekel near our long tunnel. It has a crew of four this time of the year and six in the winter when our requirements are greater. It’s demanding work. You want it?”
“Yes, sir. I want to be part of this railroad.” “Very good. Mr. Birch recommended you highly. We want to keep him happy, you know. It is also important that you need to keep us at the company happy. “This railroading is tough business. Most of our crew is Irish and some of them don’t think much of Indians or half-breeds. They’re a tough bunch. You have to be at least as tough as they are. They’ll put you to the test. If I were you, I’d always be sure to put out more of an effort than they do. That’s not easy. They’ll try to work you to death as it is.” Johnny thought about that for a moment. It sounded no different than when he was growing up among the full-blooded brothers and the whites. No matter which way he looked, he was always on the outside--always fighting. “Grandfather taught me to work hard. No one can be tougher than Grandfather. Mr. Hansen, I’ll do my best. I work hard and I fight hard--better than any Irishman I ever met.” “Well, Johnny, if you can back up those bold words, more power to you. I’m sending you down to meet Patrick O’Malley, your new foreman. He’s over at the crew house across from the locomotive repair barn. Take this slip with you.” The superintendent signed the slip of paper he had been filling in as he and Johnny spoke, then handed it to the new hiree. “This is your notice of hire by the company.” “Good luck, Johnny,” George Brown said as he showed him out the door of the inner office. Hansen returned to reading his reports on the desk without saying another word. Patrick O’Malley was sitting with several other burly men at a rough, hand-built table in the mess hall across from the bunkhouse. He looked up from his breakfast when he saw the Indian enter the room. Johnny handed O’Malley the paper Hansen had given him. “Fellows, look at this half-breed fellow who thinks he’s good enough to work with us Irishmen.” The other men looked at the half-breed and then at each other and began to laugh. Johnny looked straight into the eyes of O’Malley. “Just tell me where to begin.” “Fair enough, Mr. Gadanski. You have a nick-name?” “Call me Gakona. Johnny Gakona.” “Okay, Johnny Gakona. You’ll be leaving with me on a gas-powered speeder for Cascade Station tomorrow. O’Riley here will bring you over to the repair barn and get you started learning the ropes. Tomorrow you’ll want your gear ready to go for the ride down the tracks. Shaun O’Riley, this is Johnny Gakona. “Listen, the Cordova Local will be coming in about three hours from now, so go with Shaun as soon as he’s done eating. We have work to do before the train arrives. We can use your help today. It’ll be a busy one. Grab yourself some coffee and wait for Shaun.” It sounded good to me. Not as bad as I had imagined, but it felt strange to be among this group of men with their odd-sounding accents and the loathsome way they had of looking at me. But I was as ready as I could be. I took an empty cup off the counter and filled it. It would be my third cup that day. . About eleven thirty the first whistle could be heard from some point toward the east across the river. Soon a heavy load of ore would be pulling in on a doubleheader. Local No. 70 was pulling a long line of steel flatcars stacked high with 200-pound sacks of ore concentrate. Number 100 was steamed up and ready to meet the train at the Kotsina siding to assist in bringing the full load up the river bank and into the Chitina railroad yard.
Only the year before, the railroad was still using the older and smaller consolidation engines on the mainline. The first of the larger Mikados had not yet arrived. The ore trains pulled by the lighter-weight consolidations were invariably double-headers, while the much more powerful 70-series Mikado-type locomotives eliminated the need for running two engines hooked together, except for the run between Chitina to the top of Kotsina hill and the other heavy grade from McCarthy to Kennecott. The Chitina railroad crew would be switching cars and locomotives, since No. 70 would meet Mainline No. 72 for the continuation to Cordova. What a thrill. Now I was truly a part of the railroad. I was working for the company today on my own--not as part of a larger Native crew. Behind the station, the engineer had Kennecott Special No. 74 steamed up and ready. The private train would have to wait until the Bonanza ore train had arrived. Activity at the depot and repair barn was already in full swing. The sound of the whistle from No. 70 was getting louder.
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