10 February 2011

Chapter 42: "The Indians Paint the Mill Gray"


Kennecott view 1
A view of Kennecott before the 1925 repainting of the Kennecott mill: In the foreground is the carpenter/paint shop with box cars in front, including a load of lumber and two outside-braced box cars of the type which would have brought the many buckets of gray paint for the 1925 paint job.    --William Taylor Coll, UAF Archives

        
 Deputy Marshal Paddy McMahon stood on the high point of the
scaffold, just above the mill elevator cap, with Bill Douglass and Walter Richelsen.
   
“It certainly was quite a fall from way up here.”  McMahon peered
over the west wall to see for himself, then shuddered.
        
“I see you’ve already examined the pulley system here, and
you’ve concluded the cut is a deliberate one.”
        
“Yes, I was the first to inspect this pulley system.   No doubt
in my mind that the cut is purposeful.”
        

“Unfortunately, Mr. Douglass, that’s not good enough.  It could
be deliberate, then maybe not.  You or one of your men could have just as well
have done this.  Even if it is what you say it is, there is no way to tie it to
the  suspects.  I’ve already interviewed the men who were up here at the time. 
No one was ever threatened verbally or otherwise.  Nothing was seen which ties
any of your suspects to this rope break.   And I have no admissions from any one
of the five suspects. I’ll have to let them go.  I’m officially concluding that
this incident was an accident.  I’ll mail you my report from the Valdez office.”
        
Douglass and Walter Richelsen looked at the deputy marshal in
disbelief.  There was little doubt in any one’s mind that this was no accident. 
The impression both men got was that McMahon was only too eager to close the
case.  The deputy marshal, who also served as the coroner,  walked down the
scaffold ramp, leaving the engineers behind, as he headed back to his speeder.  
An hour later the five men were released from their cell in Cordova.

 Kennecott view 3
The new look of the mill
after the 1925 paint job would have been a startling contrast to what
existed before.   --AK Hst Soc, UAF Archives
       

“Well, that’s that,” concluded Bill Douglass.
        
“It’s time to resume this paint work.  There is nothing more
which can be done here.   Now I’ll have to report this as an accident to the
main office.  They won’t be to happy about that.  Then there’s the matter of all
those men who feel wronged by the death of Henry Jackson, including the two
Chitina Indians who seem to think that they were the intended targets.   I’m
wondering if I shouldn’t just send them back to Chitina.”
        
“Let me assess the situation, Bill.  That may not be a good
enough reason to remove those two.”

“Three.   One of them is a younger brother.”
        
“All the more reason to proceed with caution.  Let me talk with
them first and see how they’re going to handle this.   Now that the
investigation is over, they may just want to leave anyway.”
        
“It’s all yours, Walter.  Take Frank with you when you visit
them.  He knows the two older ones quite well, and has already been down there
to visit them.  He can give you the best idea as to the state of mind of the
three of them.”
        
Walter found Frank up in the map room with Russell Belvedere
working on some new drawings.  The map room was Frank’s favorite place.
        
“Frank, I need to talk with you about whether to retain the
three men we hired for the mill painting crew.   Douglass is considering letting
them go to prevent problems.”
        
“Why, what happened?”
        
“The deputy marshal just left. He concluded there is no evidence
linking those five scoundrels, uh, suspects that is,  who ran off the site when
the accident occurred.  He even implied that one of us might have altered the
evidence.  The deputy marshal said he’ll release them for lack of evidence.”
        
Frank shook his head in disbelief.
        
“They were all shocked, of course and are completely convinced
that the collapse of the platform was a deliberate act aimed at them.  
However,  the two older ones are determined not to let this incident set them
back.  They want to continue with this job until it is done.  Only the mill
job.  Nothing more.  I heard nothing which indicated they blamed anyone else but
those five Cordova men. You could talk with them yourself, if you like.  But
these men work hard and have done quality work.  Chris made one of the foreman,
and he’s driven the crew hard, running unusually long hours and taking lunch
right on the job site. The third one learned quickly and keeps up with the
others. Chris told me they require almost no supervision since they started
repainting the mill. I think we owe it to them to let them remain through this
job.”
        
“You show a great deal of confidence in them, Frank.  I want to
talk with them personally just to see for myself.  Where would they be now?
        
“They’ve been working in the paint shop since the accident,
cleaning up everything down there and making improvements to the place, waiting
for us to decide when to resume the mill-painting work.”
        
“Good, they should be alone then out of earshot of anyone else
if they’re down there.  Let’s go check on them, Frank.”
        
Chris and Ole were on the main level of the shop when the two
engineers entered.
        
“Chris, how are you doing?  The investigation’s over. The
coroner has left. Are you ready to resume work up there on the scaffold?”
        
“This is the most horrible accident I’ve ever seen.  I was right
there, too.  But we have accidents here and life goes on.  I’m ready to
continue. So is Ole and the others.   We’re quite sure we didn’t cause it. The
failure had to be deliberate. We’ll just have to satisfy ourselves with that,
Walter.”
        
“The coroner says otherwise.”
        
“You mean he’s calling it an accident?  I examined the pulley
and ropes myself, just to make sure it wasn’t us.  That rope was deliberately
cut.  No doubt in my mind about that.”
        
“I agree, but the case is officially closed. We want to get the
job finished, of course, but we’re not going to use a platform like the last
one.   Our engineering  staff will  draw up plans for a scaffold that will
extend all the way up the front west face of the mill.  As soon as we have the
plans drawn up, we’ll get them to you. 
        
Right now we want to interview the three Native painters. 
What’s your assessment of them, Chris?   Are all three of them  prepared to
continue without causing us problems?”


Kennecott view 4
The gray-painted mill
above the General Office, the Staff House and the Superintendent's
Residence.    --Candy Waugaman Collection
       

“Those men were never a problem.  The only incident I’m aware of
was started by Roger Hyde when he deliberately pushed Charles Gadanski, who is
Johnny’s younger brother, off the coach platform.”
        
“I never heard about that incident. Anything more come of it? 
Any altercation?”
        
“Uh, no Mr. Richelsen, nothing came of it.  Nothing at all.
There was nothing after that or before it which came to my attention.  Those
boys are  here to do a job. I believe they want to prove the point that they can
do at least as good a job as anyone here, if not better.  That doesn’t spell
trouble to me.”
        
“Thanks, Chris.  How about you Ole?  Do you have anything to
add?”
        
“I don’t know the men well.  I’ve just observed them at work. 
They even take their lunches to the job to save time and get more work done. 
None of them is an expert painter, but you’d never know. Johnny must have picked
up some tricks from his father Emil when Johnny worked  here last year. I say
keep them on.”
        
Walter and Frank headed over to the open hatch leading into the
basement level.  Down below Charles watched as the two stepped down the creaking
wooden steps.
        
“Johnny,  Frank is here.”
        
Johnny stepped forward from a dark, remote area of the large
basement.  He and Cap were near the far end looking over some paint tools which
they had just discovered.
        
“Frank, good to see you.”
        
“Johnny, this is Walter Richelsen, our chief engineer.  He is
here to ask you some questions.”
        
They shook hands.
        
“I want to see Cap as well, could you call him forward?”
        
“I’m here.”
        
Cap stepped out of the darkness.
        
“First, you should know that the deputy marshal determined that
there is not enough evidence to hold the five suspects in the death of Henry
Jackson.  We’re not happy with that, but this brings the case to an end
officially.” 
        
He watched for the reactions.  The three Indians heard exactly
what they expected.  The news was no surprise. They revealed no readable
expressions.  Johnny spoke for the three of them.
        
“This is just what we expected.  We’ve long ago learned that
your justice is not ours.  None of us hold it against any of you personally.  We
understand. If any of those men were guilty, they will pay anyway, without the
law or any of us stepping in.  If we weren’t part of the crew, someone would
probably have paid for Henry’s death.  But once we Indians are mixed in, the law
turns strange.  It always has. As I said, we don’t blame you for that.  It just
is.
        
“I know why you came here.  You think that now we might
be a problem for the company.  Probably someone higher up wants to send us home.
Maybe even you. We’re not here to make trouble for Kennecott.  Even after what
has happened we still like it here.   We came here to do one job, which is to
paint the mill.  We want to finish that job and then go back to our hunting this
fall.  We work together.  We quit together.   We have discussed this among
ourselves at length and I speak for us all.” 
        
Cap and Charles nodded, revealing no emotion at all. 
        
“Frank, I’m satisfied.  Unless Bill Douglass says otherwise, you
will all remain on the job until it is done.  Are you all quite sure none of you
will have problems working those heights after all of this?”
        
“It won’t be easy for any of us.  I nearly died up there.
Charles never cared for heights from the start.   But we need to finish this and
we will.”
        
“I can accept that.  I am ordering one change, however.  We
won’t be using a hanging platform.   We’ll design a  scaffold for the west face
that will cover all the levels.   That would have been the proper thing to do in
the first place.  We’ll have a design for the carpenters shortly. 
        
“If Douglass gives the go ahead, you’ll probably be able to
assist the carpenters in building the new structure, so the mill face can be
safely painted.  Besides, now we have some extensive roof repair up there, so
the carpenters will be up there anyway.”


Kennecott view 2
The
gray-painted mill in 1925 from track-grade       
--Candy Waugaman Collection
        
Walter looked at  each of them and at Frank. 
        
“Are there any more questions or observations?” 
        
Nothing was said.  
        
“Very good then.  I’m going back to the office to start a design
for the scaffold.  Thank you men.  You’ve done well through all of this.   I
know it has not been easy. You’re doing better than most would under the
circumstances.”
        
Charles decided he needed to add a few words.
        
“That’s because we stick together and depend on each other.  It
makes us stronger.  We are proud to be Indian and proud to be here doing this. 
We know that we can finish the job. We will do it well.  Then we will leave.”
        
Frank smiled at Charles and silently waved at them as he turned
and , followed  Walter back up the stairs..  The three stood there in the paint
shop in silence for some time facing each other in a circle.
        
“I really thought they’d drop us after all that.  I still held
out hope that the law would do something about Hyde and the others.   The spirit
of Henry Jackson will not rest well now.”
        
“But the danger has passed, Sla’cheen.  We were the
targets, but the evil spirit of death found someone else.  We must give thanks
to Henry’s spirit tonight.  It is certain that at least one of us would have
died had not Henry been there to take our place.”        
        
The men returned to their work in the shop.  Tomorrow they would
go back to the mill and complete the job they had started.  Less than a month
later the mill would have a brand-new look as a light gray building with dark
green trim from the eighth level to the fourteenth.  
        
For the next five years, until a new superintendent finally
replaced the great Bill Douglass, the mill would remain gray, in sharp contrast
to the red buildings around it.  The light gray would serve as a reminder to all
who had been there of the unfortunate and unnecessary death of a well-loved yard
crew foreman--the unintended victim of a criminal act.   In the early 1930s a
new manager looked at the mill and decided it appeared distinctly out of place
with its light gray color.   The new manager, would not last long. He was a
victim of suicide a few months after he left camp, but this unnamed man’s single
obvious accomplishment was restoring the mill to its original color, and erasing
with it the memories of what had happened there only a few years before. 
        
In 1937, the last full year of its operation,  the mill was
repainted one last time, in startlingly sharp red with bright white trim, much
as a corpse gets a fresh make-over before the coffin lid is closed. 
        
For all those who were there at the time, the memory of the days
when the mill was painted light gray would remain as one of the most fascinating
and endearing of times of old Kennecott.  For the gray-painted mill was the
distinctive work of three proud and unforgettable Ahtna Indians. These were the
only Natives who would ever work at historic Kennecott--three young men whose
lives and spiritual beings were forever intertwined with Kennecott Copper and
its Copper River and Northwestern Railway.


Kennecott view 5


The mill was repainted red early in the 1930s. Here it is in all its impressive glory in 1955.


Continue with Chapter 43: "Johnny to Frank"

09 February 2011

Chapter 41: "Henry Takes the Plunge"



four ravens
The four ravens fly overhead . . .



   
  “This north wall took too long for the three of us to
paint, and this is  the easy wall. ”  Johnny voiced his frustration to
Cap and Charles as they sat on the upper level of the scaffold eating lunch. 
Since the painting began, Johnny decided it would save time to bring lunch to
work. The Indians always packed lunches which they took with them after a very
early breakfast in the mess hall.  

          
“But, at least it’s done, Soon-ga. It sure has a nice clean look, even if it took two
weeks.  It does look a little odd, though.  Everything else is red.”
          
“I failed to account for all the window trim work and all that outside bracing we had to work
around.  There’s a huge amount of it.  They should have sheathed it all in
before we ever started this job.  It would have saved a lot of work.  What an
annoyance!”




1912 mill
North face of the Kennecott mill in 1912  --Anchorage Museum of History & Art


         
“There’s even more of it on the south side, Sla’cheen.”
         
“You didn’t have to remind me of that, Cap. 
          
“It took two coats of light gray to cover the dark red underneath. I didn’t figure that in,
either. This job is quite different in some ways than that power plant job from
last year.  But now that it has its second coating,  it sure looks good now.”
          
“I have to wash the paint out of my hair every night, Soon-ga. Good thing the store has
baby oil.”
          
“We use a lot of it, don’t we?  They must really wonder about us in there. I told them they’d
better order more of it.  The stuff does the job, though.  Gets all that oil
paint out. Makes the shower stalls messy, though.”
          
“The only way I could keep the peace was to agree that we wouldn’t use the area until everyone
else had. The others sure don’t like to clean up with our gray paint splashed
all over the place. Must keep the Japanese cleaning crew busy.”
          
“Good thing Roger Hyde and his bunch moved. What trouble makers.”
          
“Yes, Cap. It’s been a whole lot better since Henry moved them to the east barrack.  I was
turning into a real mess. Good old Henry.”
          
Johnny looked east, letting his eyes examine the entire length of the wall.


mill front drawing
Diagram of the west face
of the Kennecott mill as it appeared in 1980   
--Historic American Engineering Record
         

“Everything on the east end is done. We’ll start on the very top area today around the conveyor
head and the elevator cap.   We should have that and those three  cupolas east
of the conveyor head done in another three days.  Then we can move to the front
section we’ve been avoiding.”


“You really trust that rigging, Johnny?”
          
“It looks good.  Maybe Cap and I will take time to give it a dry run today.  I just need
you, Charles, and one other.  We could use Henry for that.”
          
“I’m relieved that those five Cordova men have been working away from us down by the
hospital.”
          
“Yes, Cap.  The farther away from us the better.   I still have a tough time sleeping at night. 
You never seem to have that problem.”
          
“The danger’s still out there.  We need to stay on alert.  I know it’s not easy to stay this
way for so long. On the other hand, it’s kept us out of trouble and we’ve stayed
together.   How’s it been for you, kid?”

“One thing about having an enemy so close is that we’ve been more together and more like
the Indians we were taught to be by grandfather.  I feel the danger out there
somewhere too.  Since this started we’ve hardly even talked to anyone else --
except Henry and the boss, Mr. Jensen.   I’ve felt more like a true Native out
here than I have since grandfather passed on.   It’s been worth it for me.  You
sla’cheen  have given me a good experience here.”
         
“I hope we can keep it that way.”
          
Cap looked up and noticed the lone Raven flying overhead.  Then another and another.  
          
“They’re starting to gather.  We need to stay ready and stay close together. Keep away
from those others down there as much as possible.  All of them.” 
         
Johnny and Charles both nodded, for they could read the signs


1955 mill


The mill in 1955: It had taken on this appearance in 1923 when the last of the additions to the
mill--the water flotation system--was completed.  --UAF Archives
         

The three were on the highest level painting when Johnny spotted Henry coming up the scaffold. 
Henry reached him at the top of the west face, right where the two rigs for
lowering and raising the thirty-foot-long platform were located.   The platform
was very basic. It consisted of two planks on the floor with double hand rails
all around it  The platform was hanging over the edge at the very top, having
been recently tested by the carpenters and then pulled back up to the loading
level.
         
“Henry, you came at the right time.  We’re about ready to start working our way down this
west face wall on the new platform.  I want to test it.”
          
“That’s why I came up here.  When do you expect to start scraping and painting on this
section?”
          
“Two more days and we’ll be done up here on the roof.   Then we want to tackle this five-level
job, working from the top down. The building front is only 34 feet wide and
presents no obvious problems all the way down as long as the rigging works as
intended.”
         
“I want to try the platform myself, Johnny, before you guys do.  Chris should be up here in a
moment with his new assistant carpenter, Ole Oleson.”

Chris Jensen personally oversaw the building of this contraption, and Ole helped build it.  So they want
to test it again with us.  I’ll do the first dry run.”
          
By this time, Charles had worked his way down to the rigging area from back of the roof near
the cupolas.  He was followed closely by Cap. 
          
“Ole Oleson. What kind of a name is that?”
          
“Some of those Scandinavian names sound kind of funny. I’m sure Ole’s gotten more than his
share of ribbing over that name, but he’s a good guy.   The carpenter shop has
always been Norwegian.  Management likes them there, just like they prefer the
Japanese for the cook and waiter jobs. Speaking of that, there they come now.”
         
“I’ll go down with you on the first run, Henry.  After all, there’ll be two of us on it when
we start using this thing,”  Johnny insisted.
          
“Are you sure?  I think we need to test it with the weight of just one man first.  Then we can
add the second.   We want to know it works right.  What if the line tangles up?
What if the platform’s too weak, or too heavy?”
          
Johnny thought about that for a moment.  “Henry, your argument makes sense.  But I’m still
going down with you.”
         
“If you insist.  Jensen and Oleson!  Good to see you way up here.  Thrilling place isn’t
it ?   Are you here to test this out with a real dummy on it?”
          
“You’re speaking for yourself, of course,” Jensen responded. 
          
“Sure, but we all know that.  Well now’s as good a time as any.”
          
Cap and Charles had been watching the men working at the new hospital addition where the framing
work was beginning to take shape.  The workers down there had begun looking up
in their direction toward toward the rigging.
          
“It looks like all you do is work this down a little at a time with these double pulleys.   Is
that all there is to it?”
         
“That’s all it takes.  Couldn’t be simpler,”  Ole replied.
          
Henry gingerly stepped aboard near the center.  The ropes tightened and the platform twisted
around a little, then stabilized.
          
“Man, a fellow could really get dizzy on this thing,” he said while smiling the whole time. 
Henry was probably the last man to get unnerved by any kind of physical danger
except perhaps for Cap or Johnny.
         
“Johnny, go ahead and climb on.  All of a sudden I don’t feel like I want to be on this
thing by myself.”  He was still smiling as he moved over to the south end of the
narrow platform, pointing Johnny to the north end.
          
Johnny stepped aboard. The four men in front of the elevator cap began lowering the platform in
stages.  It started out very smoothly, just as planned.  Cap and Charles were on
the southern pulley while Chris and Ole were on the northern one.  Then Cap
caught something out of the corner of his eye.  The five men at the hospital
addition seemed to be backing away.  Even from the great distance, he caught the
movement.  He yelled to the Norwegians.
          
“Up, up, pull the rig up!  Johnny, Henry, grab the ropes!”
         
As he yelled the word “grab,” there was a loud snap on his side as the rope went flying by
him, leaving him holding a useless rigging.  He ran toward the other rigging
held by the two Norwegians, trying to reach the rope.
          
Henry was directly below Cap and Charles when the double rope snapped and broke loose.  He
instinctively reached for the rope which was coming for him, and found himself
falling through the air still trying to grasp for the rope.  Johnny clutched the
rope on his side, just as the platform gave way under him, dumping his partner
off the rig.   The planking then broke loose heading straight for the roof
below, following Henry who was now free-flying toward the first mill roof, four
floors below.  Johnny grabbed the double rope tightly as it swung around.  
There was nothing below him, as the entire platform fell away, freeing itself
from the one remaining double rope still attached to the overhead rigging.  Just
above him the four men were working frantically to pull Johnny’s double rope
back up.  
          
Johnny looked down directly into Henry’s terrified eyes looking back into  his as Henry fell
rapidly away holding onto a useless rope which was no longer connected to
anything.  Then Henry struck  the top section of roof -- severely buckling the
corrugated iron roof.  His  body bounced wildly off the first steep level, then
he hit the second roof,  bouncing off it as well and  on down -- not stopping
until he hurled over the lowest roof -- gaining  speed on the rapid series of
plunging levels all the way to the ground.  Finally, Henry’s body catapulted off
the last roof which towered  high over track grade, his body twisting through 
the  twenty-five  remaining feet of  space before  landing in a bloody, mangled
mass  between the railroad tracks.  The large planking chased his plunging body
all the way down.   Both boards collided together then crashed on the ground
right over his badly mangled body.
          
Thirteen stories up the four men were completely engaged in saving Johnny.  They pulled
him as rapidly as humanly possible to the scaffold landing.  While the
Norwegians continued holding the rope, Cap and Charles grabbed Johnny and pulled
him over the top of the platform.  Cap stood up and looked down toward rail
bed.  Several men had already arrived way down there. They were pulling the
boards off the body.   But Cap could tell from thirteen floors up that Henry was
gone.   His serene spirit had departed. 
           
Cap glanced toward the hospital in time to see the five men heading quickly away from the
accident scene, passing the west barracks as they ran south down the tracks. 
Then Cap collapsed over Johnny and Charles -- mentally and physically exhausted.
The two Norwegians, likewise fell over themselves. The men on the roof were
completely drained.   Overhead the ravens were circling, three of them landing
on track grade near the remains of Henry, while the fourth landed on the roof
above the three Indians and the two Norwegians. 
          
Someone sent word to the tram operators, and both tram bucket lines stopped.  The tram
tenders ran down the paint platform heading toward the top of the roof at the
elevator cap where the five men lay in a state of shock.   Johnny was shaking
badly, as was his brother Charles.   Cap just lay there.  The Norwegians were
practically beside themselves.  All five were helped onto their feet  and led
one-by-one back down to planking to the tram terminal landing on the rear end of
the mill.  Someone sent for the superintendent’s truck, which one of the
engineers drove up the hill to retrieve the five men for a check-up at the
hospital.  Though no one on the roof had been injured, the doctor wanted to
check on every one of them.   There was nothing which could be done for Henry.
          
Superintendent Douglass ordered the mill temporarily shut down.  The five men from the roof top
were released from the hospital, but Dr. Gillespie ordered all of them to be
sent to their rooms. Chris Jensen lived in one of the new cottages on the south
end.  His wife was summoned to pick him up.  Ole Oleson had a room in the west
barrack, as did the three Indians.  The four men were to be carefully escorted
to their rooms.   Douglass assigned two of the yard crew men from Henry’s
original crew to keep a check on them.
          
Bill Douglass walked down to the hospital to meet with all the men before they were sent
home.  He found none of them to be particularly communicative, but Cap finally
looked straight at him and told him what he needed to hear.


pre-1925 hospital


The hospital prior to the addition in 1925    --Anchorage Museum of History & Art
          
“It was no accident.  Those four men you hired from Cordova, it was them. I saw them watch
us as we loaded Johnny and Henry on  the platform.  I was on the rig with
Johnny’s brother, and Chris and Ole were on the other rig.  When it gave way,
those Cordovans  ran off from the hospital annex where they were working.  The
ropes must have been cut on one side.  I think they  expected Johnny and me to
be the first ones on the platform.  Those men hate us Indians.”
          
“Thank you for telling me that Cap.  I’m sending the three of you back to your rooms for a rest
after this.  Are you in the all same room?”
          
Cap nodded.
          
“Good.  Greg Turner will escort you over there.  I’ll have him check on you.  If you need
anything let us know.  No, let me know.  I’m going back to the office now
to begin dealing with this.  I’m very sorry this happened, and we’re all shocked
about the loss of Henry, whom we considered one of our own.  He will be greatly
missed.  I guess I don’t need to tell you that.”
          
Johnny finally found the strength to talk.  “Is Frank around?”
          
“He’s up at Jumbo.   I’ll send for him.  I know you and Cap mean a lot to him.  He’ll be
over there at the barrack when he comes down off the hill.”  
         
Douglass grabbed each man’s hand, shaking with each of them, then turned and headed for
the office.
         
The stenographer was at her station waiting for Douglass when he walked in the door.
           
“Camille, we’ve had a very bad fatal accident.  Except I don’t think it was an accident. 
Send a telegraph down to McCarthy and see if you can locate the constable, would
you?  Tell him that the five men we hired last on the yard crew may be headed
that way and should be apprehended.  Get their names from personnel. Notify the
Marshall in Valdez as well.  I’ll be in my office.”
          
Douglass sat down at his large desk.   He tipped back his oak chair, then swung around to the
window which overlooked the tracks.   He reached over and picked up his private
phone, dialing up the head engineer at Jumbo.
          
“Vern?  Yes I’ve halted operations down here at the mill because of a very bad fatal
accident.  Except it may not be an accident.   A man fell most of the way down
the front face of the mill.  Yes, can you imagine that?  Horrible thought, isn’t
it?  Well, it really happened, right off the very front, from the elevator cap
all the way down.”
          
“You probably know him.  Yes, Henry Jackson, our yard man.   Find Frank Buckner and send him
down here, would you?  Yes, right to my office.  Run the tram long enough to get
him down here.  Come to think of it,  I want all you engineers down here.
We need to look at this carefully.”
        

new 1925 hospital
The Kennecott hospital afterthe addition, 1925        --Anchorage Museum of History & Art


Continue with Chapter 42: "The Indians Paint the Mill Gray"

Chapter 40: "The Sla'cheen and the Warning"


Bonanza
tram terminal at the Kennecott discharge station & mill    
--Candy Waugaman Collection
          
          
Henry Jackson looked over his five new crew members.  
          
“Roger, I understand you knocked down one of our men while he was standing on the coach
platform of the train yesterday.”
          
“What difference does that make?  It was a damned Siwash  I knocked over.  Besides, we
got ganged up on.”
          
“Yes, so I heard.  I really feel sorry for you guys.  Five to one in your favor, and you
got ganged up on. I’m going to give a piece of advice to all of you.   It does
not matter to me or anyone else what you think of any man or group of men here. 
That’s between you and them.  But if you start a fight--and you definitely
started that one Roger--we have a problem.  If anything like that 
happens again, we’ll run you all off. 
          
“I wouldn’t be calling those Indians “siwash” either, if I were you.  It sets them off.  You
have to work with them,  so watch your language.
          
“It’s best if all of you stay clear of the Indians.  They’re the paint crew, and those two
older two do work that puts most everyone else to shame.   Our yard crew serves
as the support for them, so let’s do our part. By the way, that guy Cap who
downed all five of you is a champion boxer.  We put him up against someone much
bigger who thought he was really good.  He had to leave. Cap’s no one to
mess with.
          
“We have several loads of lumber to haul up to the aerial tram loading dock. Let’s get to
work.”
          
Johnny, Charles, and Cap stood in the paint shop looking at the newly painted gray
floor. It was finally dry.
          
“Well, Cap, the floor paint sure improves the place. That spilled red just didn’t look good. The
old floor needed painting anyway.  Still smells like wet paint, though.”
          
“This is where dad worked all these years?”
          
“This was it, Charles.  Except for the paint cans we had to haul out of here it was a very
neat shop.   He left it ready for the next job.  How are you with heights?”
          
“I’m not like you, Johnny.  I’d prefer to stay on the ground.”



old sawmill
The original Kennecott
sawmill was probably the oldest building on the property since it was
needed in order to construct the other early log buildings and then to
cut lumber for the frame structures. Image taken in 1907.  --AMHA
By 1912 several frame
structures had been constructed on the Kennecott site. Here you see a
load of lumber at the sawmill that would eventually become a carpenter
and paint shop

1912 sawmill
        
“Cap and I will need you on a temporary platform with us which the carpenters are building along
the top of the mill.   You don’t need to get way out there with us, but you’ll
still be way up there.  You think you can do it, Charles?”
          
Charles looked at Johnny, then Cap, then swallowed hard, hesitated and finally answered.
          
“I’ll anything you need, big brother.  That’s what I’m here for.  I really don’t like heights,
but I’ll go out there if that’s what you want.”
          
“That’s what I thought.  The scrapers, brushes and extensions are all here.  We’ll take those
and a can of thinner each and walk on up there.  By now the carpenters and
laborers should have already started.”
          
Johnny examined the platform, which was being extended from the far northeast corner of the top
of the mill as planned.  The yard crew had brought up some eight-foot ladders as
well.   He followed along the platform as far as it went, inspecting the
condition of the old paint.
          
“Henry, this area down here will need scraping.  I’ll leave that to your crew while the three
of us begin at the back end of the mill on the  Jumbo tram terminal side.”
          
The three of painters set up for the job.   Johnny sent Charles  to the shed for a five-gallon can.  Cap worked the lid open and began stirring.  Johnny examined
the color. It was a very light gray. He shook his head.  The back end of the
mill required only minimal scraping.  He set his brother and Cap to work on the
small scraping job while he brushed on the first of the new light-gray paint
along the wall where the platform started.
          
Henry Jackson wandered over to look at the fresh red paint and was startled to see light gray
being applied.
          
“Johnny!  What are you doing?  Where’d you get that?  It looks like floor paint!”
          
“I guess no one told you, Henry, that this year the mill building is gray.  Yes, this is it. 
Gray paint.  The management says gray and gray it is.”  He gave a wink toward
Henry and continued. 
          
“Management is never wrong.  We all know that.  If that’s what they want, we sure have enough
of it stacked up here, though no one bothered to tell me it was light-gray
paint.  Not that I need to be told.”
           
Henry wandered back up the scaffold toward the front of the mill.  Johnny smiled at Cap, who
gave him a discreet, knowing look.  They had become a party to the inside
knowledge of a goof by management and both intended to keep it that way.
          
Johnny kept a wary eye on the yard crew, not trusting any of the new ones from Cordova.   The
crew went on as though the Indians weren’t there.
He remained on alert,
expecting nothing but evil from those men.
          
The carpenter crew under Chris Jensen kept the yard crew busy running back and forth for
material.  The scaffolding was going up much more rapidly than either Johnny or
Chris had expected.   By the end of the day the carpenters had extended it all
the way down the north wall, then wrapped it around the front, just over the
roof of the elevator cap.  This was the critical point where the  platform
cables would be anchored that would lower Cap and Johnny down the west-facing
wall from the twelfth floor to the eighth.  It was a long drop.  If one were to
fall straight down from the top level,  he would hit the first roof five stories
down.   If he did not crash through there, he would  roll down a long series of
six steep roofs all the way to track grade, where a final twenty-five foot drop
would surely finish him off.
          
The three Indian painters walked gingerly down the two plank-wide platform to the front of
the mill.  The platform stopped short of the northwest end of the building. At
that end the men had to climb an eight-foot ladder which led to the platform
over the top of the elevator cap.  This was the top level of scaffolding. It
continued around the thirteenth floor level, finally ending at the rear of the
conveyor cap.  This was the highest level, immediately behind the elevator cap.
It topped the building off at the fourteenth level.  Johnny looked at the
scaffold work.  It was well-anchored and appeared adequate to  support the
cables which would be attached to the narrow front end of the mill.


1980 mill profile
Kennecott mill profile as
of 2005   --Historic American Engineering Record
          

“I’m not sure how they’ll do the rigging, but this platform looks like it should do the job.”
          
Charles, from this very high vantage point was looking south in the direction of the west
barrack, which appeared very small from the top of the mill.  He realized with
some trepidation that  he had never been so high up in his life.  Cap looked
down the Kennicott Glacier toward the distant Chugach Range and was pleased. 
Fortunately, there was almost no wind.  This was no place to be in the face of
gusty winds, even though the temporary hand rails the carpenters had installed
at this high level seemed quite stable.
         
“The carpenters did well,” Cap observed.
          
“Yes, they took on this job quickly and expertly from what I can see. This is much better than
anything I would have done.  But that’s Chris Jensen. He’s reputed to be the
best in the territory. Looks good.  Let’s head back.  They passed by the painted
area, which had reached the point where the Jumbo tram terminal angled to meet
the Bonanza tram.  These two tram terminals met each other at the back of the
mill in a Y-formation. The mill was built in a straight line with the Bonanza
tram, which headed straight east, while the Jumbo tram met the mill at a
thirty-degree angle from the northeast.  Over the next week the painters would
finish the north wall.  Then the dangerous hanging platform work over the high
west face of the mill would begin. 
          
In the evenings after work the billiards tables were kept busy.  Johnny found himself challenged
by Roger Hyde, the man he had struck in defense of this brother Charles.  Roger
was no match for Johnny at pool.  He only played Johnny to try to unnerve him. 
Roger Hyde had an obvious chip on his shoulder.  The next man to challenge
Johnny was Kevin James, then Scott Sommers, then the other two who had been
knocked down by Cap.  For some reason, the five men had chosen Johnny, rather
than Cap, as their first target.  Cap and Charles sat on a nearby bench watching
it all.
          
Each man shot in a hard and angry fashion. They routinely made a point of following each other
in a game of nerves against Johnny, subtlety revealing their grudge against all
three Indians.  Johnny could see the unmistakable predatory look in the eyes of
each of these men.  They talked with other whites in an attempt to turn as many
of them against the three Indians as possible.
An electric charge ran
through the air whenever the men played against Johnny. They never challenged
Cap.  Only Johnny.  After a few days of this psychological warfare, Johnny had
enough. When he saw Roger Hyde enter the room, he left, followed by Cap and
Charles.  The three never left each other’s sight.  They never returned to the
billiards tables while Roger Hyde and the others remained in camp.
          
“They’ve run us out of the billiards hall, Cap.”
          
“Better that, than out of camp.  Let them have the place. Who needs it? We can do other
things.  Let’s play some poker.”
          
“Sound’s good to me, Cap. Hope you’ve got betting money.”


West Bunkhouse


West
Bunkhouse in recent years --Historic American Engineering Record
        
It was stuffy and hot in the room, as an early dry summer turned into a very hot one. Johnny
pulled off his heavy shirt first.  He was already sweating, but this was partly
due to his own anxiety after that pool game.  The window view to the  north
includes all of the mill top where the painting was now underway.  He looked up
toward the new platform which was wrapped around the top of the building.
          
“One of these days the white men will make a comfortable shirt.  These are fine for work, but
they’re sure not very comfortable.  Like wearing canvas.”
         
“I don’t feel right with those Cordova men around, Sla’cheen.  They’re troublemakers. 
All of them.  Trouble.  We have to be on guard wherever we go around here.”
          
“They ran us out of the billiards hall, but so far we’ve been able to eat in peace, at
least.”
          
“That’s because all the white men have learned to stay clear of us when we’re eating.  I give
them my most ferocious look, and they leave.”
          
Johnny couldn’t help laughing upon seeing the look Cap revealed.          

“You’re very good at it, Cap.  Who needs a vicious guard dog when we have you?”
          
He laughed until he started coughing.

          
Charles remained completely and blissfully detached from all this.  He
sensed something wrong, but remained unconcerned.  He was fascinated with the
place, especially the mill building.  He stood up next to his brother and looked
out at the mill for the longest time.   Then he looked down.  Below was yet
another long line of ore cars being loaded for the return to Chitina.  
          
“I was six when the first train came through our town from Kennecott, though back then I think
they called it something else.”
          
“It was Bonanza then.  There was no Kennecott, just the Bonanza Mine.  The other names came
later.  Now there are five mines, including that weird Glacier mine which really
is a glacier, though it’s a rock glacier.  Never heard of those rock glaciers
before, and I grew up around here.    We’re part of the first generation to see
this operation almost from the beginning, at least the railroad end of it”
          
“Yes, big brother--Soon’ga
          
“No, Skeel’eh, call us sla’cheen.  You’ve earned that,” Johnny interjected.
          
Charles looked very pleased at that and continued.


W Bunkhouse North face
Profile of the north face
of the West Bunkhouse   --HAER
         

“What I was starting to way was that none of us were up here back then.  I always wanted to
see the place where so much ore came from.  Now I’m finally here.  I’m working
here, just as Dad did.  He would come down from here to visit us,  but not very
often.  He said the family could not visit him up here.  Now he’s gone and we’re
here.”
          
“Some of my friends, even some of your friends, may criticize me for this, but I like it
here.  Especially because you, my sla’cheen , are here.  I would not want
to be here otherwise.  I’ll never forget this.  You, my older skeel’eh
went to the trouble to include me.  I’m not ashamed to be here at Kennecott with
you.  I love it here.  I don’t pay any attention to those evil men, because I
know deep inside me that this is really our place. That’s why the thought
of them doesn’t bother me.”
          
Johnny was still sweating.  The beads were slowly running down around his chest and back.
          
“You make me feel hot.  I know it is stuffy in here, but not that hot.”
            
He looked at Cap, who was now pulling off his own heavy shirt.  Charles did likewise. The
three of them sat down in a small circle on the floor on top of their potlatch
blankets,  facing each other, feeling very Indian,  very much a part of each
other, and at the same time very much alone. 
          
“This is like being in the sez’el without the fire,” Charles observed.
          
“Yes, Sla’cheen, and like in those old days when we shared the sez’el with
our grandfather Nicolai, now it is I who want you to keep silent.”
          
Cap never spoke.  He stared straight ahead into space somewhere between 
Johnny and Charles.  Charles felt particularly connected to himself as an Indian when Cap
was around. Cap had a very strong spiritual quality about him much like that of
Nicolai or Doc Billum.
           


I really miss Shee-ya.  It felt so good to be around him. So safe. So magical.  Like
anything was possible.  He was great.
Cap has become what Shee-ya was.
          

Cap was beginning to feel the same sense of anxiety as Johnny had.  But the three of
them felt safe in the small circle. They took great comfort in each other’s
presence.   Johnny was anxious by nature.  He would always be the first to tense
up and this would show in small ways, such as his tendency to perspire, though
he rarely revealed any physical fear.  Johnny prided himself in that.  He was a
natural daredevil.
          
A sense of alarm was slowly seeping into Cap’s inner being.   Johnny and Charles were
facing him in the circle and could not see through the window.  Cap was
temporarily brought out of his trance by something at the top of the mill that
presided in silence over everything in camp.  There it was, a solitary raven
flying in a circle high above.  Then there were two.  Then four. His sense of
danger was confirmed. The three of them were no longer alone at Kennecott.  Now
there was a spirit with them.  Cap sensed it was evil.  The three leaned in
toward each other, all gradually falling into a trance which lasted well into
the evening.    Charles fell over onto his blanket first.  Like the others, he
stayed in that position until morning. .  Johnny fell over next,  also falling
onto his own blanket where he remained perfectly still until morning. Cap was
the last to fall, remaining in his trance flat on the floor just like the others
until morning.  Once again he found himself walking the tracks in the blinding
sunlight.  This time he was completely alone.  Something was moving toward him
at a rapid speed.  He was unable to leave the tracks.  He could hear that hollow
sound of a train whistle. What was it really?
           
When the three finally emerged from  their  room in the morning, they would all be operating as
one, ready for whatever danger might lie out there, and as completely in tune
with each other as three sla’cheen could be.                     

Ron in W Bunkhouse
The author on the second
floor of the West Bunkhouse in 2005



Raven