FEBRUARY 21 - 25, 1919 & PART 2 OF KATHLEEN'S JANUARY LETTERS TO ROCKWELL

ROCKWELL KENT WILDERNESS CENTENNIAL JOURNAL

100 YEARS LATER

by Doug Capra © 2018

February 21-25, 1919 – 2019

Part 2 -- Kathleen’s January letters to Rockwell

ABOVE -- This is what Kent and Rockie would have seen as they arrived at the Port of Seward. Photo circa 1915. Resurrection Bay Historical Society, Seward Community Library Association.

Kent and Rockwell wake up early on Friday, February 21^st all ready and packed to head to Seward -- but, as usual, their engine gives them trouble and needs more repair. Kent works on it but it does little good. They finally get off by 11 a.m. Once out in the bay "the flywheel came loose six times," Kent writes, "the muffler four, and the valve spring fell off and stayed off." As usual their dory leaks but it’s worse than normal, and they have no bucket to bail.  They stop at George Hogg’s camp along Caines Head, an old timer who has frequently helps them out. Hogg isn’t there but Kent knows him well enough to borrow a bowl to bail as they continue on to Seward. Again – another risky trip. Toward Seward the sun shines. Behind them Fox Island is “shrouded in clouds.” Kent notes in his Feb. 23^rd Wilderness journal that the days are “wonderfully fair” in Seward while thick clouds hover over Fox Island with visibly strong winds.

ABOVE -- Photo of Seward looking north from Bear Mountain. Famous travel writer, Frank Carpenter, arrived in Seward in 1915 on a tour of Alaska to explore the route of the new government railroad. Photo from the Frank Carpenter Collection at the Library of Congress. For an article I wrote about Carpenter's life and his trip to Alaska, click here.

They haul their dory high up on the beach and lug their 100-pound, 3.5 Evinrude engine to Olson’s cabin. They’ve been on Fox Island 47 days straight. Kent writes without irony that he finds it refreshing to walk again “the streets of civilization.”

ABOVE -- The center buildings in this photo give us an idea of what Olson's cabin may have looked like. His  sat along the beach, which became federal property after the government purchased the Alaska Northern Railway in 1915 and began construction. They eventually gave notice to the cabin owners to move. Olson was in Valdez at the time and didn't get word. The government confiscated Olson's cabin along with others that hadn't been moved. Kent tells this story in Wilderness. Resurrection Bay Historical Society, Seward Community Library Association.

Kent is conflicted. Part of him is anxious to get home. He misses Kathleen and the children and hopes for a renewal of his marriage. He believes he is a changed man. He and Rocky have both fallen in love with Olson and are enchanted by the beauty and solitude of Fox Island. The “quiet adventure” Kent describes in Wilderness and in the illustrated journals is as real and valid as his often depressing, critical, lonely, suspicious, selfish letters to Kathleen. Loneliness, isolation and exile have resulted in his deep dive into his past life and behavior, especially towards Kathleen. The other side of the coin is creative solitude resulting in inspirational paintings, sketches and narratives. How does he explain his early departure from Alaska? He feels ashamed, guilty, and a failure on the one hand. The Alaska venture was a waste of money, he tells Kathleen. Yet, part of him believes he has emerged from his mad hermit’s cave with his best work. He doesn’t trust Kathleen to be true to him, even though she implores him to believe in her faithfulness. He’s not merely concerned with her having an affair with another man, as bad as that would be. He doesn’t even want her to admire or be admired by anyone other than him. He’s suspicious even of her friendship with his friend George Chappell. She’s told Rockwell that George is the one who has kept her faithful to him. That’s unacceptable. Kathleen’s love for him alone should be her sole her reason for faithfulness to him.

Now, on Feb. 21^st while in Seward, he’s reminded even more of his ambivalence about leaving Alaska so early. “Here everyone is friendly,” Kent writes. This is not like Newfoundland, he has noted several times. Yes, there were some rumors of a German spy settled on Fox Island – but that came from the newcomers, the busybodies – not the old timers and pioneers. They’ve accepted him with open arms. That first night in town Rockie is invited to dine at one house and sleep over at another with lots of children. The youngster goes to the movies at the Liberty Theatre with his new friends. His father’s main concern – “What must they have thought of his underclothes?”

ABOVE -- Seward children pose along Main Street on a dogsled, circa 1910. Seward is Mile 0 of the Iditarod Trail. During 1918-19 while Kent is in town, mail and supplies is still mushed in and out of Seward. Photo from the Frank Carpenter Collection at the Library of Congress. 

In August when Kent and Rockie arrived, some may have thought the two were crazy to spend the winter on Fox Island with the old Swede. But they’ve managed it. Everyone knew it was risky traveling back and forth in that dumpy dory with the finicky engine – but they made it. Some may have thought Kent wouldn’t last a month – and unknown to them – he almost didn’t. The old timers probably admire his strength and perseverance – his tenacity. Those qualities are worth much on the frontier. He is welcomed by sourdoughs like Dr. J.M. Sloane, a Scotchman, graduate of universities in Glasgow and Edinburgh and a former surgery professor. Sloan relates his adventures in Nome and his confrontation with Stefansson. Kent and Rockie lunch out and later dine at the postmaster’s house – the Roots – where Kent plays his flute as their daughter accompanies him on the piano. “Everywhere people are friendly,” he writes, “{with} limitless privileges and farms offered me,” which includes a cabin at Kenai Lake, about 20 miles north of Seward. He’s offered free housing in Seward – no more expensive hotels. The Chamber of Commerce wants him as a speaker. “Isn’t it ridiculous,” he writes. “But what a contrast to Newfoundland – or New York or any other spot ever landed on.” Just as he's packing up to leave Alaska, all these opportunities open up for him.

There’s no reason why he shouldn’t accept the $2000 backing by Dr. Theodore Wagner. That would be enough to last him through the summer and probably pay Kathleen’s way to Alaska with one of the kiddies. The other two girls could be left with his and Kathleen’s mother. But Kathleen won’t come, for many reasons. Too expensive, she claims. That may be part of it, but she’s enjoying her time in New York – the concerts, cabarets and other outings. Perhaps, although she does love and miss Rockwell, she feels a new freedom with him gone. She is also excited and planning for their trip around New England, when her husband returns, in search of the perfect rural home to begin a new life. Kent is frustrated. On the one hand he writes to Kathleen that he’s made up his mind and is anxious to get home. On the other hand, he hasn’t given up on convincing Kathleen to join him. In mid-February through early March, Kent has Rockie write a series of letters to his mother.

BELOW – Rockie’s Feb. 17^th letter to his mother: “Dearist Mother:- please come because Father will go right back if you donte come. I like to sta hear betr. because in new york or in the kuntry it wod not be so pretti as it is hear. nor have soch a pritty lake to go swimming in. enyhow I kan nat have soch a nice time playing dingo all on frest {forest?} by the lake. Kant you tell some body to take ker of the children. I feal very sory and badly that we will half to go if you dont come.  THE END OF THE LETTER LOVINGLY ROCKWELL

ABOVE -- Rockie's letter from the Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institute. 

As usual, Kent not only brings batches of letters to Seward – 47-day’s worth – but he also spends hours writing new ones. On Feb. 22^nd the steamer arrives with much mail as do other ships during the next few days. Kent notes all the soldiers returning from the war looking cheap in their uniforms, he says, compared with the strong, rustic frontiersmen. “It is true perhaps,” he writes, “that the miserable city slave is set upon his feet by the discipline and experience of army life. But the strong man too often returns, always maybe, much poorer for such dirty work.” And then, interestingly, he suggests something akin to the Civilian Conservation Corps during Depression years. “If the army can be justified by what it does for young men why not draft the common man and make of him during his service a woodsman, a railroad builder, a pioneer, a farmer or a rancher!”

They leave Seward on Tuesday, Feb. 25^th – with a light load. No need for more supplies. “It blew briskly in the bay from the north,” Kent writes. They raced along as the wind heaved them through a white-crested chop with the engine struggling up and down, in and out of the water. That made steering difficult and they drifted off course with the danger that they might not be able to make their turn into their Fox Island cove and be driven out to sea. “But it was great sport,” Kent writes. “Into it we could have made no headway; before it nothing could stop us. And the engine kept right on going! – only as usual it was continually falling apart.” Not wanting to take the chance of stopping the engine to fix it, Kent writes "I spent half the time on my knees holding the tiller in one hand and the muffler nut with a pair of pliers in the other. Rockwell bailed most of the time. The boat leaks like a sieve." Most experienced seamen who know Resurrection Bay cringe when they read this. Frankly, I believe Kent is much more anxious about this than he lets be known in Wilderness. It could have been a disaster.

Now – to continue with Kathleen’s January letters to Rockwell:

On Jan. 11^th Kathleen tells Rockwell she’s enjoying the Indian essays he sent her for Christmas, but isn’t specific as to why – which her husband would probably want to know. She’s making dresses, altering dresses for the children. Their maid Bessie’s leg is bothering her again, but she’s nearly finished with another pair of stockings for Rockie. George Chappell invited her to the Palace but it was Bessle’s day off and she had to stay with the children. Kathleen visits Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney who wishes him well and welcomes him back to her studios when he returns. The kiddies are well. She walks with them every day. She writes of problems with her family in the Berkshires. “Give my little boy an extra big hug and kiss for his mother,” she writes. “Oh, darling, I wish you weren’t so far away, it is so hard to ‘talk’ to you way off there.” Kathleen promises to write every night, “no matter how late it is, whether I have been out or not, but some of those writings will be very short, however I know you won’t mind but will rather have them than not at all. I’m longing for another letter from you.”

BELOW – Kathleen includes with the Jan. 11^th letter a letter from little Kathleen and a picture she has drawn. DEAR FATHER I CAN STILL REMEMBER YOU i COT EVERYTHING I WANTEB FOR CHRiSTMAS i HOPE YOU HAD A GOOD TiME ON CHRiSTMAS DAY THE PiCTUPES OF ROCKWELL HE LOOKED TALL. VERY LOVE FROW KATHLEEN -- Letter from the Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institute.

Two days later, on Jan. 13, Kathleen admits she has already broken her promise to write every day. Her actress friend, Kathleen Errol with her friend Jo (Santry?) is in town and Kathleen hosted a party for her. “I had quite a crowd in for tea,” she writes. She made tarts, Bessie made cookies, her friend brought two boxes of candy. The tea was a success. But that evening wasn’t as positive. Kathleen is reminded of what her life could have been if she had not married and had children. She opens her heart and shares with Rockwell all her yearnings and regrets:

“Jo and Kathleen took me out for dinner afterwards; we went to the Palace (or Palais?) Royal and then to Churchills. We had a very nice time, but we were all a bit tired so didn’t get very jolly. I was terribly blue when I got home, and I didn’t want to write you a blue letter. I could have gone into the garden and eaten worms with great gusto last night. It makes me sick and sore to think that I am nearly thirty and will grow old and die without ever having or doing so many, many things that I crave, and have craved all my life. It makes me sore that I have been so good and patient and long suffering all thro’ my youth. People like that never get what they want in this life. For years I really believed I would get my reward in Heaven, as Mother used to tell me; then I believed I would get my reward on earth, now I no longer believe in a reward but feel sure I will die as I have lived, longing for things unattained. Don’t begrudge any jolly times, dear. I must have them, or I shall get bitter.

Perhaps she looks around the apartment as she writes and notes there are none of her husband’s paintings. “I love the paintings you sent Auntie Joe and Mother,” she writes, “and wish at least one of them was mine. The only painting you ever gave me, the one of the Brigus house, I cannot find. You took it to your studio to have it framed for me, now where is it? Also the enlargement of Baby Hildegarde sitting on the table, you took that to have it framed, didn’t you?

Kent won’t get this Jan. 13^th letter until Feb. 11^th when Olson returns to the island after a 38-day absence. It’s a reminder that his wife is not the naïve 17-year-old girl me married ten years earlier. Sometimes in his letters, he treats her more like child than a wife. Indeed, he has raised her, he says. When he does get this letter it awakens him. The tone of his letters change.

On Jan. 14^th Kathleen writes that Mrs. Theodore Wagner came to tea and said she wanted to talk business. She and her husband want to help Rockwell sell his paintings and are willing to finance him so she can stay longer in Alaska. “She wanted to know from me how much money would be needed & about what price you got for your pictures…She wanted to know if a couple thousand would help any and I said it certainly would help.” Seeing how strapped her husband is for money, Kathleen feels guilty – “…what a burden and tax your family is to you…I can’t spend a cent without feeling I am robbing the world of something you, the genius, can give it! Good night, (darling, I miss) you terribly.”

These words are what Kent craves from Kathleen – faith in his work, respect for his genius, understanding of his sacrifice. It’s this change in both of them that drives him home – this -- and his insecure fears about Kathleen’s ability to remain faithful to him.

More of Kathleen’s January 1919 letters in the next entry.