Ch 25, Pt 2: "Buckner to Goodlataw"

Legacy of the Chief, Chapter 25: "Buckner to Goodlataw-1924"

click on picture for larger image: some of these images appear in the book for this chapter.

Green Butte / Mother Lode / McCarthy Creek Road tunnel and bridge:           By the time the two Indians arrived back in McCarthy it was after 10 a.m.   John Barrett dropped them off at the Golden.  They walked down to the Row.  She was there.  Rose practically threw herself all over Johnny. Cap could see that this might take awhile.           “Maybe I should leave you two alone?  I can always go up to the Mecca, I suppose.”           “No, we both need to walk up to the railroad station and telegraph Kennecott.  Rose, can you take my dog, Kay-yew-nee for a while?”           “What do you think I am, Johnny, your wife?   This not really my place, you know.  Madam Kate might not like it, then I’d have to let him go.”           “Do your best. We have work at Kennecott.  If it comes to that, the dog will take care of himself.  He’s been on his own even when he’s been with me these last eight years.   He’ll do fine, but I still am hoping you will keep him here.  It’ll give me an even greater reason to visit you.”           Rose looked at him, placing her hands on her hips.  “You mean to say I am more valuable to you as a dog watcher than as a woman?   Johnny, I don’t know . . .”           “I’m sorry, Rose, I didn’t mean it to come out that way.  But can you keep him here?” He was determined to get her to agree.           “If you two party with us girls tonight.”           “Now you’re talking.”           “Rose, we have to go up to the station and telegraph a fellow named Frank at Kennecott to let him know we’re coming. We’ll come back after that.  Can you get us a couple bottles? We got paid.”           “See you back there Johnny.  You too, Cap.  I’ll get Bubbles for you !”           “We can’t do this more than one night, Johnny.”           “We won’t.  I’ll let Frank know to expect us tomorrow.”           Cap found Rose’s cabin to be cleaned up compared with the last visit.  The place still had a cluttered look, but nothing much different than many of the Chittyna village homes.  Cap did not concern himself with the next day and neither did Johnny.  The liquor was rough, but it did the trick. So did the women.           Cap’s eyes opened.  The sun was shining brightly through the partly-torn window shade.  He focused on a stale-smelling room.  He was on a small bed wearing nothing.  Bubbles had already left.  He couldn’t remember very much.  He pulled himself up from the bed.  There was an empty bottle lying on the floor along with his rumpled clothes. It smelled of booze and stale cigarettes.  He pulled on his heavy pants and wandered out of the tiny room.  There was another next to it.  He pulled the dirty curtain aside.  Johnny was still in there with Rose.  Neither was moving.            “Johnny ! The sun’s out bright !  We better get ready to head for the station.  They’ll be expecting us.”           No movement.  He climbed over the discarded clothes toward the bed and shook Johnny’s shoulder.           “Sla’cheen !  We have to move !           His eyes opened.  Johnny did not appear too pleased to have Cap there yelling in his ear.            “Go away !  Go to the station and send another telegram. I’m not leaving today.”           “Great, Johnny.  Same as last time.”           “Don’t worry, Cap.  Bubbles will bring back another bottle.  She had other business.  Had to leave after you passed out last night. Had to make money. Kate got her.”           “Oh, I have a headache, now !  That’s not what I needed to hear, Johnny.”           “We’ve got plenty of money.  Might as well enjoy it, Cap.  Relax.  We’ll get there later.  Not now. It’s been too long.”           Cap turned and left the cramped room.  He walked out into the sitting area.  There was a card table out there.  A bottle on the table still had liquor in it.  He took a seat and then had a swig from the bottle.            He can walk up there himself and send his own telegram. If I have to be here, then here is exactly where I’m going to be.  I need to get over this hang-over anyway.           Cap began playing solitaire.  The table was a mess.  Cap was angry.  He swept everything beyond the cards and the bottle off the table.  Cups, a candle stick and several plates with unfinished meals went flying.          There.  That’s better. Now I can concentrate on my private little card game.  Someone else can clean up the mess.  That’s what the women are for.           He took another swig.  The door opened, letting in more bright light and cool, fresh air.  It was Bubbles.  She had two large bottles with her. Bradford Washburn 1938 aerial of McCarthy along McCarthy Creek           “Cap, you want to party?  Your buddy paid for this booze. We might as well enjoy it.”           “Might as well.  Join me in a game of crib?  I think I knocked a crib board onto the floor?”           She looked down.  Her face showed some distress.  Then she looked at Cap.           “You’re a very good-looking man.  Muscular and handsome.  Let’s have some fun. I’ll clean up this mess later.”           Cap looked up at the well-formed, if somewhat plump young lady.  No doubt about it, she was worth the money.           “You mean in the back room?”           “Where else?”           Johnny finally stumbled into Cap’s small room.  He found Cap passed out on the mattress.           “Bubbles ! What happened to Cap?”           “I’m up front playing solitaire.  What did you say?”           “Cap.  He’s passed out.  What happened?”           “What do you suppose?  We had fun. He passed out.  Just when I was getting there, too. Typical man.  He’s a real sweetie, though.  Not rough like I thought he’d be.”           “But did he make it to the railroad station to send a telegram?”           “I don’t think so.  I got here with the bottles and he was right here where I’m sitting playing cards.  He was so cute, too.”           “I better get up to that telegraph station. What about the bottles?  I know you must have brought them, or Cap would be awake now.”           “I brought two. He didn’t need much.  Three shots and he was gone.  The rest is over there by the wash stand.”           Sure enough.  Only one of the bottles had been tapped.  It still was almost full.  Johnny looked at the open one and then thought about Rose.           “Rose, you up?” Abandoned houses at McCarthy, 1960   --Jerry Cleworth photo           “I’m getting ready for tonight, Johnny.  Kate wants money.  You’ll have to pay me to stay here.  I need money for Cap, too.”           “Sure, Rose, if that’s what you want.  Got a bottle of whiskey up here.  Want some before I head up to the station?”           “No wine?  Bubbles, why don’t you get us some wine?  Let the men have the whiskey. We’re on duty here, you know.”           “I know, sis.  I’ll be right back.”           She stood up from the table, leaning so Johnny would notice her full breasts.            “You boys are staying another night or two, aren’t you?”           “We’ll be here, Rose.  We still have money.  I just need to get to the station. Need to let the company know . . .”           “The company can wait.”           Bubbles poured Johnny a large glass.           “Here’s to you and that sweetheart in the back room, dearie.  We always love to have you stop by.  Rose, I’m off !”           “Johnny, don’t go off, yet.  I’ve got some records to put on the Victrola.”           The two of them sat on the coach.  Rose handed Johnny his whiskey glass, then got back up and primped her hair in the mirror.  She intended to keep the two men there as long as the money held out.           It was two days later when the two Indians finally showed up at the Shushanna Junction depot.            “What’ll we do, Johnny?  You never sent a telegram. Neither did I.”           “All we can do is show up, Cap.  After all, his letter gave us five days.”           “But you sent a telegram saying we’d be there three days ago.”           “I did.  I sure hope Frank and the others have a sense of humor.  I’m sure we’re not the first men to do this.  McCarthy is a very enticing place.”           “Rose only kept us there for the money, you know.”           “No she didn’t.  She loves me.”           “She does not.  She took all your money, didn’t she?”           “Not all of it.”           “Not all of it?  We don’t have enough for a night’s stay.  Good thing the train ride is free to all us Indians, or we’d be walking all the way to Chittyna.”           “Rose has to live too, Cap.  It’s just business. Madame Kate. You know how she is.  Tough old broad.”           “No, I don’t know how she is.  I never met her.  But I have Rose figured out.”           “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”           “Well, yes I did.”           “Then quit complaining, Cap. If we still have the jobs, great.  If not, we can always get back on the railroad.”           “Now you’re sounding more like a drunken Chittyna Indian and less like the white men you seem to like so much.”           “Cap, I’m not feeling well enough to argue with you.  Too big a hangover.  Let’s just get to the train. You’re the one who said you heard the whistle. It’s got to be out there somewhere.”           “I can hear that whistle for miles, Johnny.  It’s probably still a long wait.”           The two entered the station at the rail junction and found the telegraph operator busy at his desk.           “Are you the two from Green Butte going to Kennecott?”           “How did you know? ”   Johnny asked, completely taken by surprise.           “You evidently have a friend in high places,” the telegraph operator said somewhat sarcastically.           “One of the engineers--a Frank Buckner--sent a telegraph message authorizing passage for two Indians coming from Green Butte.  There you are.”  Kennecott after abandonment in 1946  --W.A. Richelsen

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Ch 25, Pt 1: "Buckner to Goodlataw"

Legacy of the Chief, Chapter 25: "Buckner to Goodlataw-1924"

click on picture for larger image: some of these images appear in the book for this chapter.

Fire takes out the power plant at Kennecott, July, 1924   --Special Collections, UW           “I expected this letter to come sooner, Cap.           “Barrett won’t be happy, especially since other men had been leaving as well, but it’s time to go, Cap.”           “What about Kay-yew-nee?  They probably won’t allow him at Kennecott.”           “I know they won’t.  Dad already told me.  I’ll have to leave him with Rose.”           “Will she take him?”           “I don’t know. I can only ask.”           “We’ll have to let the boss know in the morning.  Then we can walk the nine or ten miles into McCarthy tomorrow.”           “Dad will never get any better.  I’ve seen him so little in these last few years.  At least now I will be able to be there to help.”           The two ate a last late meal served by Harry.           “You two leaving tomorrow.”           “I never told anyone. How would you know?”           “Harry know. Fix something special for you.”           “What have you got cooking for us, Harry?”           “Salmon and rice with tea. Fix veal cutlet for others earlier.  This just for you.”           “I’ll miss you, Harry. You’ve taken good care of us.”           “No miss Harry.  Just appreciate good cook. You work hard in mine. Deserve good food.  Bosses happy.”           “I haven’t told them yet. They won’t like it.”           “Barrett and Harrison will understand.  Happy to get month work out of you.”           “We’re out of here early, Cap.  We’ll need to work our way down the goat trail. The tram won’t be operating that early.”           “I figured as much.  Steep drop, but it looks like the trail goes all the way down.  At least Kay-yew-nee can follow.”           “I want to be at the boss’s office by seven to sign out.”           “So, you two are quitting?”           “Jacob ! How did you know?”           “I could tell. Seen it dozens of times.  The men get restless.  Next thing you know, they’re gone.  Harry always knows.  He tries to fix them a special last meal.” Manager's house at Green Butte --Special Collections, UW           “Harry’s amazing.”           “We think so. Wouldn’t trade him for anything.”           “Let us tell Barrett ourselves, if he doesn’t already know.”           “He doesn’t. Leaving early? The tram doesn’t operate until eight, you know.”           “We’re taking the goat trail down. Want to be there at his office by seven.”           “Good luck.  It’s tricky. Good working with you guys.  You did fine here.”            Johnny could hear Cap sleeping in the overhead bunk.            At least he’s handling it well. Nothing seems to ever bother him. Wish I could sleep like that.  Hope we’re not walking into something we can’t handle.  Oh well.  Been there before. Just nothing quite this big.  What could be larger than Kennecott?           The two were up earlier than the rest of the crew.   At about 5 a.m. they tortuously worked their way down the dangerously steep bank.  It was not really a goat trail, but a bear path.  The dog was happily following along, sniffing the air from time to time checking for predators.   It took nearly two hours,  but the pair showed up in time to find Barrett in the lower mess hall having coffee. waiting for breakfast. He knew right away that the Indians were leaving.           “I hope this is not because of something we did to you?” I can see that you are on your way out of here. We’ve been happy with your work.  If anything, you’ve helped our production by shaming some of the others into working harder.”           “You have a good camp here, Mr. Barrett.  The other workers have been fine, especially  Jacob and Harry.  No reflection on you or the camp.  The both of us have been happy with the work here.   It’s just time to move on.  We have jobs at Kennecott.”           John Barrett raised his eyebrows.           That can’t be right.  It’s been an unstated policy from the beginning over there that there won’t be any Indians hired.  Something strange is going on.           “Well, you two are really going places.  What an accomplishment to land work up there.”           “We thought so. It helps to know one of the engineers.”           “You do?  Which one?”           “No one important. He just seems to have the ear of the superintendent there.”             “You can always come back here, if things don’t work out.  I don’t blame you for moving on to Kennecott.  I have to admit they pay better and I hear the food is excellent. I hope it works out for you.   I have a feeling it won’t be easy, but then both of you have proved to be an unusual team, so who knows?”           “I feel badly about leaving like this.”           “I’m sorry to lose you two, but that’s nothing new around here.  Even Kennecott has a tough time holding onto help for very long.  That’s just how it is.  No point in any of us getting upset about it.              “Sit down and have some coffee while I go to the office and work out your pay.  You can have your breakfast here before you leave.”           “Josephine!  We have two more for breakfast here.”           “Your wife’s still here?”           “Oh, she’s been in and out.  Can’t seem to keep a good cook down here.  I need Harry in the upper camp.  He keeps the crew well fed.”           “We know.  He’s special.”           “How was the trip down the bear trail?”           “It doesn’t go where we thought. It wound around that creek.  Went way upstream before turning around. Took a long time.”           “So I’ve heard, Cap.  East Fork trail winds a long way. No bears?”           “Not with Kay-yew-nee along.”           “Oh yes.  The dog.  I hear he’s kept the bears away from the upper camp.  They’re real pests up there.  Down here, too.  We have to watch the horses carefully.  Don’t want to lose any to a bear.  So far, so good. Well, I’ve got to get at the paperwork.  See you a little later.  Don’t plan on walking out, by the way.  I’m taking you into McCarthy.  Have to go in anyway.  Might have a new cook and some new crewmen coming in on the train.”           They were alone at the large dining table.  Mrs. Barrett was in the back preparing breakfasts for them.  The others had already eaten.           “What do you think, Cap?”           “About Barrett?  He really surprised me.  This has been a good camp.  I have good memories from here.  Good place.” Above: lower Green Butte Bunkhouse, c. 1925.  Below: GB bunkhouse ruins, c. 1984.             Continue with "Buckner to Goodlataw," pt 2

Ch 24, Pt 4: "Green Butte Copper"

Legacy of the Chief, Chapter 24: "Green Butte Copper-1924" , pt 4, conclusion

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North face of the Green Butte upper bunk house, circa 1980.   --HAER           “This is the real country of Nicolai.  He probably climbed this very ridge looking for debae.”           “Sheep?  Yes, we’re close to Tsedi Denyii.  It was his favorite place.”           “I feel close to him and all those who came before him up here.  It’s like they’re right here with me.  Maybe they are.           “But being up here at Green Butte or down there in McCarthy, I still can’t help feeling like I have an intruder in my father’s house.  I try not to let those feelings enter, but I am always reminded of how those graves at Eskilida Camp were disturbed.  What would keep any of these men from doing something like that?  They have no understanding of where they are or who we are.  We’re the Native people. but they don’t care.”           “I think some of them do, Cap”           “Not in the same way we do. They have no roots.  They are lost.  Lost men who do not know where they are from or where they are going are desperate men.  I think any one of them would turn on us in a moment.”           “My Dad is one of those men, Cap.”           “Did he raise you?  No, he did not.  Did he live in your village? No, he did not. He lives in the white man’s world. He always has. It is the world of the syndicate.  It is Kennecott.”           “Kennecott is just a name.  Don’t give it power it does not have, Cap.”           “Kennecott is those men who let our graves become disturbed and even robbed.  It is the men who tried to cheat Nicolai and Billum and who still try to take from us what is ours.”           “Cap, you cannot create a monster like that.  It will eat you if you let it.  Like the hex.  Nicolai’s Curse.  It feeds on itself and its creators. Kennecott is also people like Frank.  Frank is with us. I know he is.”           “Frank is with Kennecott.  He works for Kennecott. He answers to Kennecott.”           “I sure hope you don’t let any of them hear this, Cap.”           “I only say this to you, Sla’cheen.  I would not even say this to the other Natives, because they would only see the hate.  We have to take part of what the white man has brought here for ourselves.  We can’t fight them by staying away from them.  They can try to ignore us, but we can’t ignore them. We have to face them as one. We were born to walk together, Sla’cheen--you and I--so we could help our people.  Together we have power.  If we are separated, we are doomed. Nicolai said so.”           “You knew all along that I would insist you come with me to Kennecott, didn’t you Cap?”           Johnny smiled, then knocked Cap off his seat.  Cap leaned up on his elbows from the rough, wooden floor and laughed at Johnny.            “I did not know. I only hoped.  Since McCarthy, I have not been so sure if we could keep working together.  We’re still here. We need to go there.  To Kennecott. It waits for us.  I can’t tell you why, but we both have to go there.”           Johnny helped Cap back off the floor.            “You didn’t hit me back, Cap.  You could have knocked me over easily. You let me knock you down, didn’t you?”           “I did.  No point in proving something you already know.”           “You’re a boxer, Cap. That’s what you are.  That Cordova promoter wanted you to travel to the states to fight.  You’re that good. We all know it, too. You need to go there. You’d make us all look good.”           “This land around us is  part of what we once were and still are.  But out there is a strange world I do not understand.  I choose to stay here in ‘Atna’  tuu Ts’ itu’. ”           “Someday you may go out there to box.  But if you never do, I’d sure understand, Cap.  I feel the same way about Chittyna and Nicolai’s land of Denyii Tsedi, but a part of me wants more than just this.  Going to Kennecott may be the key. It may be the way to get wherever it was I want to go.  I just don’t know where that place is yet.”           “At one time the Great Man made me an offer to see that I get more education. At least I think that’s what he meant.  He mentioned it once again when we were playing billiards at the Mecca.   He did not forget after eight years.”           “I know.  I guess I’ve known that ever since you told me about your billiards game with him just before you got the railroad job. I wonder how Schee’ ya would have felt about that.”           “Grandfather?  He never told me in so many words, but Stephen Birch did.  Grandfather wanted something more for me.  He made some kind of arrangement with Birch. I just don’t know exactly what was in the deal.  I’ve often wondered about that, because I’m not so sure I’m up to it.  Many of our own won’t listen to a half-white anyway.  What good could I do for them?”           “He’s Stephen Birch, not the Great Man.  I wish you’d stop calling him that.”           “Birch?  He is the Great Man.  He brought the railroad, developed the mines, changed everything.  Maybe it did not work out that well for us, but he knows how to make things work.”           “That’s very white of you, Johnny.”           “I just admire people who make things happen. We can’t live in the past, Cap.”           “We can’t forget it, either.”           “We won’t Cap.  I promise you that. Anyway, Schee’ ya  seemed to like Birch, but he was no fan of the syndicate.  He was intrigued by the railroad, but not pleased with everything it brought in.    And he seemed to be impressed by the way they built Kennecott, while resenting all that ore leaving without benefiting us.  So it’s not like it was a matter of black and white for him, either.            “All I’m sure of is that he wanted us to remember  who we were and do the right thing by our people, including getting a white man’s education.  He pushed me into that, just like I shamed you into learning how to read well.  I’m still who I always was. I’m Johnny Gadanski, grandson of Nicolai just like you.   I may be half-white, but I still feel 100 percent Indian.  It’s not easy being a half-breed, you know.”           Cap  stopped playing cards and looked at Johnny thoughtfully.           “I know it’s been tough for you all your life.  I sometimes wonder how you can possibly know who you are.  Yet I know where your heart was.  You don’t have to tell me.  I wouldn’t be out here at all if not for you. You probably saved me from becoming another drunk by insisting that I come along.” Cap Goodlataw as a young man, c. 1910           “Hey, Cap, you started this yourself by convincing George Brown to hire you.  Then you followed me to Cascade Station.  You can’t know how much that meant to me.  I almost gave up on myself until you showed up.  You gave me the power I needed to continue being who I am.  I enjoy challenging these white men.  Maybe you haven’t noticed, but many of them aren’t nearly as smart as either one of us.  I notice you keep silent to hide your intelligence, but you’re every bit as smart as I am and probably a lot wiser, which was why you’ve never bored me.  I wish the women I have known were as smart as you.”           “Smart women?  I don’t know about that, Johnny. Doesn’t sound like a good idea to me.”           “Anyway, that fellow Frank over there at Kennecott is one of those more intelligent white men.  He doesn’t seem to have any prejudice in his heart. He even stuck out his own neck to get me hired there.  That’s probably never been done before. Not for an Indian.  Imagine what it would be like if the two of us could work there--if only long enough to prove the point that we can work anywhere in our own country--and just as well or even better than anyone else.”           “You’re asking a lot from Frank.  He’ll probably be tearing his hair out when he gets your letter.   But I don’t want the white men to feel too secure that they can run all over us in our own country, so I guess I’m still with you on this one as well.”           “You better be, because we’re going.”           “Haven’t you guys eaten yet?”           “Harry!  Cap, look who came up the stairs to check on us.  It’s the Chinese cook himself.”           “I’m an American just like you.  You boys need to eat.  I have pot roast on  stove.  Never mind me.  I fix you dinner. You keep talking.”           “No moose meat, Henry?”           “It is moose meat. How you know?”           “Henry, I’ll love you forever.  How did you get your hands on . . .”           “We Chinese have our ways.  You two need to eat. Hard work in mine.”           “Cap, you haven’t said anything!”           “Okay, Johnny. Harry, good to see you!  Let me help. You need Indian to fix moose meat.”           “No Indian.  Chinese-American cook well trained.  You just sit. I fix!”           Cap looked out the window to the west. The far canyon wall was now black.  Overhead the stars were coming out.  Somehow the time had slipped by.  It was hours past dinner time. Since the men had first arrived in mid-July, the daylight hours had diminished considerably.  The time had arrived where it was getting dark at night again.  It was also one of those rare August nights when the Aurora Borealis makes an early appearance.           As the two young men carried on their conversation while enjoying a late dinner of moose roast, the lights began to dance overhead, just as they had fourteen years before when Cap, Johnny, and Charlie  sat on the grassy hill at Taral listening to their Schee’ ya  tell them Nicolai’s Raven Story of Creation.  The two men were too busy eating to notice it.           “Harry, this is great.  You make a tender moose roast that might just put my mother’s to shame.”           “Sla’cheen !”            “Well, it’s good, anyway.”           “No need to tell Chinese-American.  Harry knows he is good cook.”           Harry brought over two tin cups and filled them with hot tea.           “I leave you now. Hot tea in pot on stove.  Dessert on counter. Chocolate cake tonight.  Very good. Almost gone. Don’t love Harry. Just appreciate good cook. Good night.”           Harry disappeared down the stairs to the cook’s quarters.           “Johnny.  No one beats your mother’s cooking.”           “It’s not that good, Cap.  That Harry really did a great job with this meat.”           “Can’t say that to the whites.  Can’t admit someone else can do it better.”           “Harry’s Chinese.”           “You know what I mean.”            Cap glanced outside and finally noticed the Aurora Borealis.             “Yaykass ! It’s the Yaykass, Sla’cheen.  Just like at Taral, except it has come early!”           “You mean when grandfather told us the story?”           “Yes, that’s when I think it all started.  He told us the story and it’s never been the same since.  Maybe it’s Schee’ ya. View of a rock glacier on Porphyry Ridge from above the upper Green Butte camp.   --HAER-American Memory Continue with Chaper 25:  "Buckner to Goodlataw"

Ch 24, Pt 3: "Green Butte Copper"

Legacy of the Chief, Chapter 24: "Green Butte Copper-1924"

click on picture for larger image: some of these images appear in the book for this chapter.

Lower bunkhouse at the Green Butte Mine, McCarthy Creek           The fog began to lift by the time the three men left the two-story log building which both housed and fed men at the creek level.  The Indians were now officially working for Green Butte Copper Company.           “I had no idea the line would be this high, Cap.”           “We don’t have a fear of heights, remember, Johnny?”           “Yeah, Cap.  I just can’t believe how far up this line runs.  Look up there.  You can barely make out anything.”           “It’s still foggy, but I can see a building hanging on the cliff wall, Johnny.  Strange place to put a building.”           “That’s a snowshed, Cap.  It covers a portal that leads to the center area of our mine.  We have a back-up generator in there.  Don’t want to lose our lights or compressors, you know. So, which one of you goes first?”           “I’ll go first, boss.”           “Okay, Johnny.  I’ll follow Cap.  Wait for me at the tram head.”           Up they went, a cable distance of 2,800 feet to the main level of the mine.           “Cap, look at this! The view up here is spectacular, even through the fog.  I wonder when it will clear up enough to see across the canyon?”           “Should be soon. The fog is lifting quickly, now.” Green Butte tram view of lower camp on McCarthy Creek--University of Washington Special Collections           “Oh, hi again, boss.  Great view up here. I have to wonder what possessed those prospectors to work their way up to nearly inaccessible places like this one in search of gold.”           “Copper.  It was copper.  But it could just as well have been gold. Good question, Johnny.  Let’s head toward my new barrack toward the south and I’ll try to explain it to you.           “All the paying copper in the Nizina district seems to occur only at these higher altitudes.  The good copper runs in almost a straight line from the Erie to the Nicolai Prospect and possibly even beyond.  It was those early prospectors over at Nicolai who figured that the Nicolai probably was just an indicator of a much greater copper pay streak which had to lie somewhere in the area.”           “We know that only too well.”           “Right, you’re grandsons of old Nicolai himself, you said?”           “You mean, Chief Nicolai, Tyone of Taral.”           “Tyone?”           “He was the supreme chief, boss.  The tyone was the chief of chiefs in the Copper River.”           “I’ll bet he regretted ever showing the location of that place.”           “It wasn’t really his to give, Mr. Barrett.  We needed to save ourselves from starvation.  Grandfather bought our people some time.  He ended up getting a lot more than that, though.”           “Well, you two are here.  Some of you Indians obviously survived.  And you learned to read our English language.  Not bad.”           “And write.”           “Yes, Mr. Barrett.  We’re here.  We wanted to see what the big deal was about all this copper.  You white men have gone to a lot of trouble to get at it.  Was it really worth it ?”           “I don’t know.  This mine never really did much more than provide a living. I  realized that this particular spot lay along the line.  I hiked up here the hard way back then in 1906.  Sure enough, there were exposed copper veins along the cliff.  I  staked these claims.  But the real heroes were Clarence Smith and “Tarantula” Jack Warner who found the other end of this long line of copper vein at Bonanza.   They were also the ones who staked the Mother Lode, which is three miles up this creek.”           “Not to take it all away from you pioneering prospectors, but I hope you realize that the Nicolai Prospect was in my grandfather’s old sheep hunting country.  Your copper mining activities ended that.  Our people never come up this way anymore.”           “These claims fall under federal mining laws.  They are rightfully mine.”           “Rightfully?  How can you say that?  No one gave any of you title to this land.           “As for Smith and Warner, they’re the only ones who became famous.  It all really started with us--the Natives. If we’re not going to benefit from all this, at least you should give our grandfather more credit for his part in making you white men rich.”           “Us white men? All of us?”           “I mean you white men.”           “Cap, he wasn’t one of them.  I’m sure Barrett doesn’t appreciate this.           “Don’t let Cap get you too upset, Mr. Barrett.  We still want to work here.”           “That’s all right.  I understand, I think.  I can’t promise you anything special. But you have jobs here now. I’m not one of those rich white men like Cap thinks I am.  I’m just another small business owner who’d really like to get rich off this mine.  That’s why I still have it.”           “We came here for the work and the adventure, Mr. Barrett.  We’re following the words of our grandfather. He and others before him long predicted the coming of those of you from other lands.”           “He did?  That was easy to predict.  The Russians were here before us for a good century.”           “Yes, but we drove them off.  Nicolai told our people it was useless to stand in the way of the white man, but he meant you Americans.  But we’re not letting you miners and the rest of you settlers run wild up here, either.  It’s still our country.  We won’t leave.  This is the home of our ancestors.  They are all buried here.  Someday we’ll be buried here.  We’ll see that when you’re done here that you will leave us a land we can still live in.”           “Seems fair to me, Johnny.”           “Don’t take us for granted and we’ll try not to disappoint you.  We know that in some way things have changed forever. We’ll survive this.  It’s our way to adapt to change.  After all, we’ve lived here thousands of years. No one else can make that claim.”           “What Johnny says speaks for me as well.  We’re not your cigar-store Indians, Barrett.  We’re real people. Treat us the same as anyone else and we’ll show you and your other men what real work is.  We can follow directions and we can work.  We worked hard on the railroad for eight years.  We’ll do the same for you--for a while.”           The three of them arrived at the new, two-story frame barracks.            “Jacob, these are our new workers. This is Johnny Gadanski and Cap Goodlataw. Meet the foreman.  This is Jacob Harrison.  Jacob, I’m going in to check progress on the main stope.”           “I’ll go with you, Mr. Barrett.  Harry!”           The Chinese cook appeared from a lower stairway.           “Harry, set these guys up with a room, would you?  I’ll be back for them soon.”           “Guys, wait here at the barrack while I accompany Mr. Barrett.  Have some coffee from the pot on the stove over there.  I’ll be back shortly.”           The two bosses headed up the hill through the covered walkway to the main portal, leaving Johnny and Cap in the rustic mess hall with the Oriental cook.           “Boys, pick up your bedrolls and follow.”           He led them up the stairs to a single room with two beds.  TOP: bunks in the abandoned upper Green Butte camp; LWR: GB upper camp kitchen, both shots taken  ~1984         --HAER           “It’s all yours. Set yourselves up.  The coffee is on downstairs, just as the boss said.  See you for lunch.”           Harry turned and swiftly headed down the stairs, leaving the two Indians alone.            “Sometimes I think you say too much, Johnny.  You were sounding almost too white.  I’m not sure I want them to know all that much of what we’re thinking.”           “Cap, I sometimes wonder myself if I’m saying too much.  But I need to draw some kind of line without scaring them off.  That would do nothing for us.   Right now we need men like Barrett just to let us in the door. Remember, George Brown?”           The two new Indian miners began their first day of underground work as apprentice powder men and muckers immediately after Jacob Harrison returned. The Green Butte copper, like that at Kennecott, was found in the Chitistone limestone on a bedding plane  angle of about thirty degrees tilting toward the northeast. It followed that the  main haulage tunnels were thirty-degree inclines, cut along the base of the bedding plane where the productive Chitistone limestone contacted the basalt base of the Nicolai greenstone.   As in most mines which use incline tunnels, the Green Butte haulage tunnels were tracked for moving the ore to the surface in skips pulled by electric motors.  Alongside the skip tracks were wooden stairs leading to the various levels.  Green Butte had eight levels at hundred-foot intervals.            The two apprentices absorbed much about mining and miners during the month they worked at Green Butte. It became obvious to the two that there was little likelihood that the Green Butte would become a major producer.  It seemed a miracle that it was operating at all, given the small amount of production which occurred while they were there. As a result, working at the Green Butte did not hold much interest for the Indians for very long.             They were joined the second day by the Siberian mutt, just as Johnny had predicted.   This was grizzly bear country. Most of the crew was quite happy to have a large dog at camp who would help to keep the bears at bay. Kay-yew-nee never lacked for scraps.  It was a small and friendly camp, but the Native team found themselves getting restless after only two weeks.           On the beginning of the third week,  while Cap was pushing an ore bucket out the main adit just above the upper camp barracks he looked toward the sky to see a large amount of heavy black smoke coming from the northwest.           C’eyuuni lede’! No. Too close for that.  Must be Kennecott. They’re losing something they value. Nicolai always told us to look toward the sky for the smoke.  It is a sign.  Something is changing.   Soon it will be time to leave.           Cap ran back into the tunnel.  Johnny was at the top of the incline.           “Sla’cheen! It’s smoking heavily out there! Come, see!”           He rushed down the tunnel toward the entry at the covered stairwell.            “I thought at first it must be Wrangell smoking, but it’s too close.  It has to be Kennecott!”           “I hope it’s not the whole camp, Cap.  Maybe it’s a nearby forest-fire.”           “Look! The smoke is already clearing.  Someone is knocking down the fire already. It can’t be that big.”           “Let’s hope not, Cap.  Father still works there.  I’d like to have a chance to work there, too.”           It was three days later when Jacob brought in the letter.           “Cap, it’s from that man I met last year at Smitty’s.  Frank the geologist.”           “The one you beat at pool?”           “I beat everyone at pool, Cap even you.”           “Don’t get too cocky, arrogant one.  I just might surprise you one day.”           “Was Frank that Kennecott engineer?”           “Yes, he writes that he works for a man named William C. Douglass.  Name sounds familiar.  Now that I think of it, he mentioned that name to me back in Chitina. He writes that Father is growing too ill to work much longer.  I knew that already. We saw him, ourselves.           “Listen to this, Cap. Frank wants me to work at Kennecott where I can be closer to my father.”           “What about the smoke?”           “I’m getting to that, Cap.  It reads: ‘Due to a recent  fire which took out the power plant and one cottage there is now plenty of extra work available.  The superintendent has agreed to hire you.’           “He means me.”           “What about me, Sla’cheen?”           “I’ll send back word that you’re here.  He doesn’t know you, but I’ll ask him to hire you as well.”           “You sure?  What if they say no?  They may not want any other Indians there. If you ask them to take me, they may not want you there, either.  Your father’s dying.  You need to be there.”           The two were resting at the top of the covered stairwell, which led down to the upper barracks.  The dog was beside them as usual. The sun was going down over the ridge but the sky still had bright streaks of color as the canyon below fell into cold, deep shadows.             This was a one-shift mine. The day was over. The others were down in the barrack having dinner.             Since the sken’nie first arrived the crew had been driving the main incline farther down into the Chitistone layer in search of ore which was not to be found except in disappointingly small showings.  Rumors of an impending camp closure were rampant, but management remained adamant about continuing the search for copper.           Cap focused on the rock glacier facing him from along the west wall of the canyon.  There were no formations  like this anywhere near Chitina, but Jacob told them rock glaciers existed everywhere in this part of the country, especially up and down Bonanza Ridge.  This one extended from nearly the top of the east face of Porphyry Mountain, which was 6,375 in elevation, all the way to the creek bed--a vertical drop of about 4,000 feet. The leading edge of the glacier was being cut by the action of the fast moving waters.   The McCarthy Creek road crossed over the top of the rock glacier toe as the trail worked its way northward up the canyon. There was no room elsewhere to place the road.  View of upper Green Butte looking WSW toward Porphyry Mountain just beyond McCarthy Creek canyon    --HAER-American Memory           “You don’t really need me here, Sla’cheen, but I’ll go along if you can find a place for me. I’m not yet ready to return to Chitina. I like it way up here.  Very peaceful.  No family arguments.  No drunks lying all over the place. ”           Johnny’s eyes followed the rock glacier to the narrow part of the steep-walled canyon in the direction of Mother Lode.  It would soon be dark enough to see the lights from the upper camp reflecting off the south face of Marvelous Ridge.  The camp itself was masked by Independence Ridge. In the distance above Mother Lode camp was the nearly 7,000 foot-tall Bonanza Peak--the tallest point on the ridge.           “Cap, if you and I were to stand up there, we could probably see hundreds of miles.  That’s the peak we saw above Kennecott from the tracks.  It overlooks this area like Spirit Mountain watches over Nicolai’s country from Bremner to Chitina.  We need to climb that peak one day just to see what’s up there.           “I said we.  We’re a team. Inseparable, I hope. Do you think I came all the way up here in the middle of the white man’s world to work by myself?  You’re my Sla’cheen.  We’ve always worked together.  It wouldn’t seem right for me to be up here without you.”            “I wasn’t sure, Johnny.  You know I wouldn’t be here by myself.  These men at Green Butte seem reasonable, but Kennecott’s different. It’s huge.  I’d never go there without another Indian to back me up. But it’s a lot more than that.  I’m too used to working with you to work way out here without you.”           “I’ll write Frank a letter and see if I can get you hired along with me.  If not, I’ll try to get Dad to just come back home to Chitina.  Maybe Mom will take care of him there.  I don’t want him to die alone at Kennecott.”           The two pulled themselves up from their sitting position on the waste ore dump. They slid their way down the long pile to the back of the barracks. In the process, they knocked several small rocks loose, which began catapulting down the hill toward the buildings below.  A number of them smacked into the back of the barrack. There were no windows at that level on the back side of the structure.           “I guess we could have taken the covered stairs, but this was faster and more fun. We sure sent a lot of rocks flying.”           “I wouldn’t want to try to climb back up that loose pile, Johnny.”            “Cap, I’m gong to pen a letter to Frank Buckner.  I’ll bet he’ll take you.”           They entered the mess hall. The dining table had been cleared off already.  It was too late for dinner.  The two usually ate their meals after the others were finished.  The cook was used to their habits and did his best to accommodate the two.            Johnny sat down at the long table to compose the letter while Cap pulled out a deck of cards and began playing solitaire.taire.           “You know, Sla’cheen, maybe I should just go back home.”            “Not just yet.  Once we’ve tried Kennecott, then we’ve done what we set out to do.  What else is there up here except the goldfields of the Nizina?  Those are just small operations, like this one.  Maybe even smaller.  But Kennecott stands alone.”           “Have you thought about leaving the country, Johnny?”hnny?”           “Yes, Cap, I have.  I think someday I will.  Maybe soon.  This is a great experience being up here.  All the better that you’re here to keep me company and work with me. But who wants to muck rock or set rail all their lives?  I know you don’t”           “No, not really.  I have often wondered what’s really out there beyond those mountains.  I know what I’ve read, but reading about it and seeing it are two different things.”           “But would you go, Cap?”           “Probably not.  I belong here.  I’d climb that peak with you, but that would be about it.  I can take just so much of white society.  Then I get upset. This was the only land I know and I feel very attached to it, even out here.  Maybe more so here.”           “Here?  Really? Chitina is so far away from here.” Green Butte Mine adit. In the distance is Bonanza Peak and Potter (Mother Lode) Gulch. --HAER Continue with  "Green Butte Copper,"  " pt 4, conclusion