PART 2 JANUARY 2 - FEBRUARY 11, 1919

ROCKWELL KENT WILDERNESS CENTENNIAL JOURNAL

100 YEARS LATER

by Doug Capra © 2018

Part 2 – Jan. 2 – Feb. 11, 1918

ABOVE -- The sun with its reflection on Resurrection Bay as it nears setting behind the Aialik Peninsula -- on January 18, 2019. Those are sea ducks, probably Barrow's Golden-Eye, on the water. A hundred years ago on that day, Kent wrote in Wilderness: "Two beautiful days, these last. And to-night the wind blows and the snow falls and it is very cold...I'm hard a work painting by day and drawing at night. Twenty-five good drawings are done." Capra photo.

Olson leaves Fox Island to get the mail and is gone for 38 days -- until February 11^th. In the preface to the second edition of Wilderness, Kent wrote: "I have been asked why Olson...stayed away so long. No reason. There was never much reason for anything. He wanted to." As far as Olson is concerned, he has a very good reason for remaining in Seward. He was waiting for his pension check from the Alaska territory. Kent was partially correct. The mail steamer arrives late with the Christmas mail, but Olson's check wasn't among the letters. On January 14, 1919 (while Olson was away), the Seward Gateway explains why he took so long to return to Fox Island:

"Pensions for men and women of the Territory are held up, awaiting an appropriation from the coming session of the legislature. The pensions are paid in quarterly installments, and the payment due on the first of the year cannot be paid. The next payment, on March 1st, will also have to be passed until the legislature acts. This will place the dependents of the Territory out of money for nearly six months. The drain on this appropriation has been exceedingly heavy during the past year, which carried the total beyond expectations. As there has always been a unanimous opinion among legislators favoring these appropriations, there will be little trouble in securing an emergency appropriation from the legislature."

ABOVE -- The front page of the Seward Gateway on January 1, 1919

That first week of January 1919 Kent is anxious. Olson should have returned – the weather would have allowed it. Several times a day he and his son hike to the south end of their beach on the lookout for the old Swede. The snow is deep and the goats can’t find their browse so they gnaw on the tree bark. Billy gets into Olson’s shed and creates havoc. By Jan.8^th Kent is furious with Olson as the snow continues to fall with mild temperatures. By the 10^th Kent has become more stoical. There’s nothing he can do about Olson and the mail. He delves into his art and illustrated journal. No use writing to Kathleen until he learns how she has responded to his heartfelt anniversary letters. He can do nothing about that either. She’s already read them and has already written her responses to him. All he can do now is wait for Olson and the mail.

                ABOVE -- The front page of the Seward Gateway on January 3, 1919

When you view all the letters at the Archives of American Art website arranged by date – it seems strange. Beginning January 2, 1919, you find a long series of loving yet honest letters from Kathleen to her husband, but no letters from Kent until Feb. 12^th – the day after Olson arrives back on the island with the mail. I must remind readers how difficult it is telling this story because, although I’m reading the letters in the order in which they were written – they were read and responded to many weeks later. So – in order to relate Kent’s narrative of what happened on Fox Island between January 2^nd when Olson left and February 11^th, I’ve got jump ahead to Kent’s February 13^th letter to Kathleen:

                ABOVE -- The front page of the Seward Gateway on January 4, 1919

“Olson left on the 2^nd of January” he writes. “We expected his return on the 4^th. So much hung upon your letters that I felt to write in the meantime would be useless even if more days elapsed. I was deeply depressed. In the letters I had sent you I had put so much love and hope and excluded so much doubt and sorrow that a reaction overwhelmed me. I past {sic} the days in absolute idleness, mourning, passing the shore looking toward Seward, counting the hours. And then at last, after the lapse of many days, I roused myself. Whether you loved me or not I said that I would live. I began to draw. All day and every night I worked with all my power. A little recreation with Rockwell was all I allowed myself, all there was to be had in fact. And I put you utterly out of my thoughts. I lived without a woman in my life. I draw only men. I wrote from time to time a letter to Carl, {Zigrosser} my Rock of faith here, and that was always a relief. Once in a while I’d think of you coldly in a far-off way, sometimes I was sad. On the whole I did not live. I worked. And I accomplished a great deal. All the drawings I shall send you so that you can see. And then at last came Olson and your letters! – That period of my work is ended. I think I shall draw us more. My nights and part of my days shall be for your letters. Count each day’s writing as work at least the value of one drawing. And love the letters more for that.”

“That period of my work” he describes represents a blend of the wonderful “quiet adventure” enhanced by the daily light gain and improving weather – and Kent’s intense work on his art while desperately trying to rid his mind of Kathleen. I’ll cover Kent’s many letters written during February when we get there. For now, some of that “quiet adventure” during Olson’s absence.

 On Wednesday, Jan. 15^th Kent records in his Wilderness: “I have definitely decided that Olson stays for some cause other than the weather, although to-day and yesterday he could not have come. We snowshoed a bit today. Alaska snowshoes are certainly the easiest that ever were traveled on.” The next day he writes: “Well, after to-day there remains no doubt that Olson stays away purposely – unless he’s sick or dead. Rockwell’s theory is that Seward has been totally swept away by a terrible fire, with every man, woman, and child of its inhabitants, I disproved to-night.” How did Kent disprove it? He probably took Rockie to the south end of the beach where they could see the lights of Seward in the distance. Kent speculates in Wilderness that Olson is waiting for his territorial pension check from Juneau and that it hasn’t yet arrived. This turns out to be true.

ABOVE -- Kathleen's January 3, 1919 letter to Rockwell. After she reads his two sincere anniversary letters on New Year's Eve, she believes he has changed and has hope for their marriage. Through mid-January she writes many loving letters. Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

The weather improves, and the light gain is up to five minutes a day. Kent notes in his book: “The day has been glorious, mild and fair, with snow everywhere even on the trees. The snow sticks to the mountain tops even to the steepest, barest peaks painting them a spotless, dazzling white. It’s a marvelous sight. Rockwell and I journeyed around the point to-day and saw the sun again {The headland at the end of their beach to the south on the way to Sunny Cove.} To-night in the brilliant moonlight I snowshoed around the cove. There never was so beautiful a land as this! Now at midnight the moon is overhead. Our clearing seems as bright as the day, -- and the shadows are so dark! From the little window the lamplight sines out through the fringe of icicles along the eves, and they glisten like diamonds. And in the still air the smoke ascends straight up into the blue night sky.” These are the moments that give Kent the strength to endure despite his inner troubles. “These are the times in life,” he had written earlier, “when nothing happens, -- but in quietness the soul expands.”

Artistically, these are among the most productive days for Kent. “I’m hard at work painting by day and drawing at night,” he writes on Jan. 18th. "Twenty-five good drawings are done.” Kent has been reading the King Arthur legends to Rockie, and the boy spends much time outdoors pretending to be Sir Lancelot with his makeshift weapons. On Saturday, Jan. 11th (Kent writes in Wilderness on Jan. 13th) "Rockwell received the order of knighthood. For three quarters of an hour he stayed upon his knees watching over his arms. He was all that time as motionless as stone and as silent. Now he is Sir Lancelot of the Lake and jousts all day with imaginary giants and wicked knights. He has rescued one queen for himself but as yet has none for me." There isn’t a tree stump anywhere near the cabin “that has not been scarred by his attacks with lance and sword,” Kent writes.

ABOVE-- Kent's sketch from Wilderness of Rockie as Sir Lancelot.

Back in New York City on Jan. 18^th Kathleen writes of having dinner with Sterners, then going to the Comedy Club. George Chappell and Carl Zigrosser visit her frequently. George becomes a special comfort to her, a good friend. When his wife Amy can't go, Chappell takes Kathleen to dinner and the theater. An architect at Ewing and Chappell, George is very active in theatrical events and pageants in New York City. He's writes short stories, humorous verse, and lyrics for musicals. Kent becomes jealous and questions George's loyalty toward him and their long friendship. From a Dec. 14^th letter of Kent to Kathleen we get clear insight into what’s happening: “First of all" Kent writes, "I have come to the conclusion to send the enclosed letter to you instead of to George to whom it was written. I’ve decided with a burst of rage and pride that if you can’t do these things for me without there being room for me by friendship with George they’re not worth having. This letter to George will give you an idea of how I feel here at your neglect. If you’re a woman of character you will long ago have realized that I need now unfailing kindness and attention. If you are no better than you’ve shown yourself in some of your letters you’d start a miserable argument about the impropriety of my having written to George in this way. Suit yourself. I’m desperate and any definite decision will be more wholesome for me than your alternating letters of love and hate.” Kent has been asking George to explain to Kathleen what he wants from her – love, admiration, faithfulness, and long and loving letters. But in this Dec. 14^th letter to Kathleen, Kent actually encloses the letter he would have sent to George so his wife can see it. As we’ve seen and will see in the future, Kathleen’s friendship with George becomes an issue with Kent. 

ABOVE -- George S. Chappell (1877 - 1946) in 1910 holding the hand of his nephew, Thomas Huntington Chappell. Family photo from Ancestry.com

Kent settles into his Fox Island routine and thinks less and less of both Olson and Kathleen. In Wilderness he writes on Jan. 13th, “I’m hard at work painting by day and drawing at night. Twenty-five good drawings are done.” Even taking care of the fox and goats develops into a – if not pleasant, at least an acceptable routine. The clear, cold weather continues – “wonderful and terrible” Kent says, with that occasional raging north wind. There is still his stormy inner life, but in his illustrated journal which becomes his book he focuses on his “quiet adventure with Rockie as they enjoy the wonders of Fox Island. Kent is good at compartmentalizing. In Wilderness he frames his often-disturbing isolation positively: “It is thrilling now with Olson absent to reflect that we are absolutely cut off from all mankind,” he writes on Jan. 21st, “that we cannot in this raging sea, return to the world nor the world come to us. Barriers must secure your isolation in order that you may experience the full significance of it. The romance of an adventure hangs upon slender threads. A banana peeling on a mountain top tames the wilderness.” Like Thoreau, Kent wants to live deliberately, to suck the marrow out of life’s experiences, even if the sublimity sometimes frightens him to death. He goes on: “Much of the glory of this Alaska is in the knowledge I have that the next bay – which I may never choose to enter – is uninhabited, that beyond those mountains across the water is a vast region that no man has ever trodden, a terrible ice-bound wilderness.” This is the romantic  “uninhabited wilderness” of the white man – not recognizing that the footsteps of Native Americans have flourished here for thousands of years.

That’s how he frames his situation in Wilderness. In his letters we see the agony, the extreme isolation, the darkness, the desperate need for Kathleen to join him, his loneliness, the sacrifice he believes he’s making for his wife, family, and the world, and the heroic suffering he must endure to produce his art. He won’t accept that this brutal, harsh, austere and indifferent Alaska wilderness has defeated him. It has to be something else. It must be Kathleen’s unfaithfulness, her neglect, her unwillingness to join him in his miserable and awesome adventure.