October 19-22, 2018

ROCKWELL KENT WILDERNESS CENTENNIAL JOURNAL

100 YEARS LATER

by Doug Capra © 2018

Oct. 19-22, 2018

A mixed day on Fox Island 100 years ago these days – “windy…raw…cloudy…mild…sunny,” Kent describes it. On Oct. 18^th, three men visited Olson on the island, one of them Charles R. Emsweiler, “a well-known guide of this country,” as Kent writes. Now they were gone, and Kent is relieved – though he did enjoy their company and there was nothing objectionable about them but -- their presence “somehow did violence to the quiet of this place to have others about.” Perhaps Kent used the word “violence” because that day, at Olson’s request, Emsweiler had slaughtered one of the goats. For the artist there was something special about their Fox Island trinity – Father, Son, and that holy something or other, Lars Matt Olson. Perhaps it was Kent's reading of William Blake’s poetry – Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience. Kent stands in the middle of that sequence, astutely observing both young and old. Emsweiler was one of those Alaskan old-timers like Olson who had many skills – hunter, guide, fox farmer, miner, sea captain. He was born in Virginia in 1873 – about 45 years old when Kent met him, married to Johanna Eperverier. His wife had died by 1930 when he was lost at sea on his way from the Marmot Island area near Kodiak (where he had an interest in a fox farm) to Seward. Like Olson, Emsweiler represented the authenticity of wildness and freedom, one of those Alaskans he writes about with admiration in Wilderness.

More cross-cut saw work on Oct. 19^th, followed by a blazing sunset with “fire-red in a sky of luminous green.” The next day was clear and cold with a fierce northwest wind. More wood cutting with some painting in between. By now, Kent’s romantic notions of rowing back and forth to and from Seward were gone. With the fierce north wind blowing on Oct. 20, 1918, he watched a small power boat trying to work its way to Seward as it made zero progress. “When we last saw her,” he wrote, “she seemed to be trying to make the shelter of our island or one of the other islands, the while driving steadily seaward.” It was a clear reminder of what could happen to him with Rockie aboard their small dory – even if that finicky engine happened to be working. That night Kent and his son walked to the south end of their beach to see if there was a signal from Seward. Kent was anxious to hear word of the war’s end. For dinner, Olson brought the two some goat chops from the goat Emsweiler had slaughtered. “We could not have told them for lamb,” Kent wrote. It’s telling that Kent accepted and ate the meat since he was a vegetarian. He may not have wanted to insult Olson’s generosity. “As we look across the bay toward Bear Glacier, which is hidden by a point of land,” he wrote, we can see the effect of the north wind sweeping down the glacier, a mist driving seaward. It is nothing less than the fine spray of that wind-swept water.” Note that Kent tells us he can’t see Bear Glacier from his cabin, that it’s hidden by what is now called Callisto Head. Yet, he often moves that glacier around in his paintings so it can be seen from his cabin site.

There comes a day in Seward when we know winter has arrived regardless of the date. For Kent, that was Oct. 21, 1918. The ground was frozen that morning and didn’t thaw all that day as that fierce north wind continued. He and Olson suspected that the men on the gas boat they had seen the day before had made it to Sunny Cove south of them. Oct. 22^nd was grey, cold and windy. More chores, included sawing up a week’s worth of wood and more cabin caulking. They set up their new stove, running the pipe up through the roof. In three days Rockie will be 9-years old. Kent is not only surprised at how much he has grown during the summer and fall, but also at how strong he is at the cross-cut saw. The two pile the brush they have been clearing against two sides of the cabin for insulation. Kent and his son feel good about their home because, as Kent wrote, “Winter is at last upon us, the long, long winter.”

For Kent, the struggles of his inner winter had begun much earlier with all the personal baggage he brought to Alaska. The letters to and from Kathleen combined with those he’s writing to Hildegarde, reveal those inner torments. He still hasn't gotten over those mid-September letters from Kathleen. He's still upset that she seems to rush her letter writing, not finding that sacred time to be with him in spirit. He both chastises Kathleen and tells of his unwavering love for her, how he is tortured by their separation, how he wants her with him on Fox Island. He's writing much the same to Hildegarde. I’m not making judgments by revealing this correspondence, but rather unpacking some of Kent’s relationship with Kathleen while he is on Fox Island and to give some insight into the early years of their marriage. The conflict over his affair with Hildegarde and his troubled marriage didn’t come out of nowhere. There had been other affairs, but the one with Jennie that had begun before their marriage and continued afterward had hit Kathleen especially hard. {Some sources Kent's early love Janet but Kent calls her Jennie in his letters as do official documents.) Kent’s marriage and relationship with Kathleen was complex. They did love each other. Kent loved his children. Kathleen tried to accept that the only way she could maintain their marriage was to at least tolerate his affairs. As her letters demonstrate, that wasn’t easy.

PHOTOS

After the storm. Just like Kent's swing in moods from terribly depressed to wonderfully exuberant -- so too is the weather along Resurrection Bay. We've had about a week of pouring and wind-blown rains that have caused damaging floods in Seward, not unlike the destruction Kent saw in town in mid-September 1918. Even today, after a week of such weather we can wake up to a bay that looks like you see in this photo and the one following that I took at about 11:10 a.m. on Oct. 22, 2018. The three peaks of Fox Island are the right-center of the first photo.  The second view looks up Fifth Avenue with the Seward Community Library right under the snow-covered mountain. Notice, just as Kent writes, the rain that has fallen has turned into snow as it cools at higher elevations. These days we'll watch the snow gradually move down the mountains into town. In the second photo, the second house at left is the old cable house built in 1905 by the U.S. military. This is where Kent would have sent and received his cables. The building has been wonderfully restored.

From findagrave.com

More about Charles. R. Emsweiler's disappearance at sea from the pages of the Seward Gateway. Special thanks to the Seward Library Association for use of the Seward Gateways. With construction of the Alaska Railroad underway, Seward was considered a strategic port during the Great War. Those using the waterfront and wharf were required to have a pass like the one shown here, courtesy of the Resurrection Bay Historical Society, museum and collection.