SEPT. 18-20 PART 2 LARS MATT OLSON, HIS LIFE, AND HIS STAY IN VERMONT WITH THE KENTS

ROCKWELL KENT WILDERNESS CENTENNIAL JOURNAL

100 YEARS LATER

by Doug Capra © 2018-19

Part 2: Lars Matt Olson and His Stay in Vermont with the Kents

Sept. 18-20, 2019

ABOVE – This ad in the Feb. 28, 1897 issue of the Seattle Post-Intellegencer showing Tom Boswell with his peg-leg, attests to the reliability and accuracy of Lars Matt Olson’s memory. What we can’t be sure of, however, is Olson’s assessment of Boswell’s character, although I’ve found another article about him that gives us hints. Boswell was an early and important prospector in Alaska and the Yukon. Read what’s below to learn of Olson’s connection with the early prospecting of the northern frontier.

BELOW – Map of the area discussed in this entry, from Gold At Fortymile Creek: Early Days in the Yukon by Michael Gates (1994)

NOTE – My recent research into Lars Matt Olson has more than hinted at his significant place in the history of early prospecting in the Yukon and Alaska. In these entries about him, I cover that information briefly and with sources, but I don’t have time now to delve deeply into it. It has more to do with Alaska history than with Rockwell Kent. But the connections between the details of Olson’s stories – the ones he tells Kent – attest to the trustworthiness of the old Swede’s accounts. Much of what he tells matches up with known sources, and he may even be mentioned in other sources I’ve not yet located.

OLSON OF THE DEEP EXPERIENCE

PART 2

I'm no admirer of the 'picturequeness' of rustic character. Seen close it's generally damnably stupid and coarse. I have seen the working class from near at hand and without illusion. But Olson! He has such tact and understanding, such kindness and courtesy as put him outside of all classes, where true men belong.

         Rockwell Kent in Wilderness

We are fortunate that Rockwell Kent not only listened to Lars Matt Olson’s stories during his stay with the old Swede on Fox Island – but also recorded the tales in his journal. However, everything in the original journal didn’t make it into the first edition of Wilderness and subsequent reprints. The story below was added by Kent in his 1970 special edition of Wilderness, and you’ll find it in the 1996 reprint by Wesleyan University Press. As you go through that edition with my foreword, you’ll see in italics all that Kent added. Back in 1920, his publishers probably thought information like that only had local interest. They also cut quite a bit about Seward and its specific residents. Kent added it back in. In 1920 he was happy to get the book out, and delighted with its success – he didn’t have the fame to dictate terms to any publisher. He later took great pains to see that his books were printed to his satisfaction. It’s significant that one of the last actions of Kent’s life was to see that Wilderness got reprinted the way he wanted it. Some have questioned why the original foreword to the book by Dorothy Canfield Fisher was left out of the 1996 reprint. The fact is that Kent left it out of his 1970 edition. He was grateful for the help Fisher gave him in finding and acquiring his Vermont property – but as one of his letters to composer friend Carl Ruggles shows – her foreword had more to do with the Putnam’s decision that her name would help sell the book. Fisher had recently returned from France with her family when Kent arrived back from Alaska. She had been aiding war refugees. A popular regional writer and lecturer, she was much in the news at the time. Her foreword along with all the editorial cuts, made the book – despite its subtitle – less of an Alaska book than one about the simple life and wilderness in general and probably made it more marketable.

Back in 1920 and through much of the book’s history, most reviewers, critics and art scholars who wrote about Kent in Alaska, didn’t know much about the territory in general or Resurrection Bay. There was an important Alaska and Seward context to the book and the entire experience that has not been covered. Lars Matt Olson is a part of that setting. He represents a breed of late 19^th century pioneers and prospectors who most often fade into dusty piles of historical ephemera. Their figures and faces may be found in old, unlabeled group photographs. We may discovery their names mentioned occasionally in the local newspaper gossip columns. If we’re lucky we may locate an obituary, an entry in a census document, or a marriage certificate. Olson is one of these individuals, but one who, unknown to historians today, played a much more important role in Alaska/Yukon prospecting history.

ABOVE – Miners at Fortymile in 1895. For all we know, Olson could be in this picture with all these other unidentified prospectors.

BELOW – Fortymile along the Yukon River in 1896, both photos from Gold At Fortymile Creek: Early Days in the Yukon by Michael Gates (1994).

This excursion into Olson’s life isn’t a diversion away from the Rockwell Kent story. To Kent, the old Swede symbolized the freedom, liberty and creative spirit of the wilderness. The old man represented the kind of nonconformity admired by the artist. Kent did complete at least one picture of Olson as did Rockie. On Monday, Dec. 23, 1918 he wrote in his journal: I finished a little picture of Olson and so did Rockwell…I have shown in my picture the king of the island himself striding out to feed the goats while Billy, rearing on his hind legs, tries to steal the food on the way. Rockwell’s picture is of Olson surrounded by all the goats in a more peaceful mood. Olson’s cabin is in the background. The whereabouts of these pictures is unknown. Perhaps Olson kept them in his possession.

Like all storytellers, Olson no doubt exaggerates somewhat – but I’m convinced the essences of his tales are accurate. Many of the newcomers arriving in Alaska during and after construction of the Alaska Railroad (1915-1923), didn’t appreciate the history and experience of old timers like Olson. They gazed forward toward growth, settlement and future statehood. To some, Olson was more of an embarrassment, a symbol and image of a primitive past they wanted to erase. The mythic and romantic was one thing – but Olson was too real. Seward’s old timers and those in other parts of Alaska respected the contribution made by those like Olson. They’d been around long enough to respect what it meant to have prospected the Yukon and Alaska back in the 1880’s.

ABOVE – In 1916 the various “Igloos” of the Pioneers of Alaska met in Seward where this photo was taken. Olson is standing at far right, recognized as one of the oldest living Alaskan pioneers.

BELOW – Olson in his cabin on Fox Island with one of his goats. Photo by Rockwell Kent, courtesy of the Rockwell Kent Gallery, Plattsburgh State University, Plattsburgh, NY.

In his book Gold At Fortymile Creek: Early Days in the Yukon (1994), Michael Gates writes about these early gold seekers: Gold was discovered in California in the late 1840’s. Subsequently, a succession of gold discoveries sparked stampedes to new regions, each one farther to the north. Gold was found in Oregon, then on the Fraser River in British Columbia, then in the Cariboo and on the Stikine River in the central and northern part of the province. One of the results of this series of gold finds was the evolution of a new breed, the prospector. Ever seeking gold, impatient, moving on as new finds turned into productive mining areas, always on the outer fringe of the mining frontier, the prospector was always ahead of ‘civilization.’ It was not difficult for these men to eye the unfilled spaces on the maps of the northwest and conclude that the gold outcrops which had already been found would extend into those voids.

Lars Matt Olson, one of those frontiersmen always on the outer edge, was born in Sweden in January 1848. We know nothing of the first twenty years of his life, at which time he made his way to Liverpool, England and boarded the City of Antwerp, arriving in New York City on June 15, 1868. The next eighteen years remain a mystery. After he landed in New York, he probably headed West, eventually ending up in Montana, Wyoming, Idaho and San Francisco. He told Kent and his son his memories of hearing about the Custer massacre at Little Big Horn in June 1876, and about how trappers could train their horses to lead them back to their set traps, even ones they’d lost. Olson also passed along other frontier wisdom: “When a horse swims with you across a stream,” he advised, “guide him with your hand on his neck, but pull not ever so little on the line or he’ll rear backwards in the water and likely drown himself and you.”

{There are many books about the Klondike Gold Rush. One of the best is Klondike: The Last Great Gold Rush 1896-1899 by Pierre Berton (1972). Some specific books that may be of interest include Captain William Moore: B.C.’s Amazing Frontiersman by Norman Hacking (1993); George Carmack: The Man of Mystery Who Set Off the Klondike Gold Rush by James Albert Johnson (2001); and Gold Along the Fraser by Lorraine Harris (1984).}

As Gates points out, after the 1849 California gold rush, some prospectors headed north looking for the motherlode. As often happens due to communication, travel and technology -- those who arrived late to find newly discovered grounds all staked. They could work for wages, start a business, or move on seeking their own strike. Many trekked north to British Columbia where they discovered gold on the  Haidi Gwaii (formerly the Queen Charlotte Islands) as early as 1850 and the Cariboo, Fraser and Stuart River rushes in the 1860’s. John Muir traveled to Alaska in 1879 studying glaciers, calling the world’s attention to what later became Glacier Bay National Park and Tracy Arm. Prospectors out of Sitka discovered gold at what later became Juneau in 1880, and a few years later steamships plied the Inside Passage with tourists. As prospectors worked deeper into the area, they established frontier towns at Forty Mile in the Yukon and Circle City in Alaska. Lars Matt Olson was one of these early Alaska gold seekers. These early prospectors were on the ground in towns like Forty-Mile and Circle City when gold was discovered in 1896 at Hope, Sunrise and Nome in Alaska and in the Klondike in Yukon Territory. In Dawson, all of the important ground was staked within a month. It took a year for word to reach the states, and it wasn’t until 1898 that the actual stampede occurred – the Klondike Gold Rush.

ABOVE – A panoramic view of Main St. in Circle, Alaska taken in Sept. 1899.

BELOW – From the Oct. 29, 1896 issue of the Topeka (Kansas) State Journal, an article about life in Circle, Alaska.

Olson first came to Alaska in the early winter of 1886-87, according to what he told Kent. He and partner Louis Brown, a Norwegian named John, and a Tom Boswell arrived in Juneau from San Francisco. Gold had been discovered in Juneau in 1880, and Boswell had been there. Olson and his friends had met Boswell in San Francisco that winter as he flashed around a $7000 poke of gold which he said he got out of Alaska.  Boswell knew the country, Olson tells Kent, and knew where gold was to be found and the party followed his lead. Who was Tom Boswell? Gates mentions him in Gold At Fortymile Creek: In 1882, fifty men came over the Chilkoot Pass to prospect for gold. Twelve of them traveled downriver and wintered at Fort Reliance with Jack McQuesten (this was only the second time McQuesten had someone to talk to during the winter). The part included Joe Ladue, Thomas Boswell, Frank Densmore, and George Powers.

ABOVE – This article – from the Jan. 21, 1887 issue of the Victoria Daily Times (Victoria, B.C., Canada) is in all probability about the Tom Boswell Olson writes about. Olson says he is flashing around $7,000 in San Francisco while the article says it’s $6,000. Close enough! Either the article is wrong, or this is Olson’s style of exaggeration – inflating minor details.

BELOW – The Palace Hotel in San Francisco, 1887.

From Juneau, Olson tells Kent, a steamer took them to “Chilkoot,” a few miles below the present site of Skagway. This may have been the location at the head of the Chilkoot Trail that later became the gold rush town of Dyea. Once there, they met up with other prospectors and decided to travel together. The first two out were men named Carter and Mahon, who were returning to a promising place they had located earlier. Kent interprets Olson’s pronunciation as “Mahon,” but it is probably the Matt Mayon, mentioned by Gates. Olson’s party followed their new prospector friends. They each carried fifty-pound packs with their personal provisions up the Chilkoot Trail, except for one huge Frenchman they called “Napoleon” who also toted three sacks of flour for a total of 150 pounds. Gates mentions a member of that party known as the “Giant.” Also, McQuestion was known as Leroy Napoleon (Jack) McQueston. Along the way their sleds broke, and that evening they consoled themselves with a homemade brew containing “a whole 50 cent bottle of Patent Pain Killer!” From Lake Lindeman, they traveled through Miles Canyon to the head of Hutlinana Creek (Kent calls it Hootalinkwa River).

ABOVE AND BELOW – Photo source https://postalmuseum.si.edu/gold/bennett.html

Carter and Mahon were not anxious for Olson’s party to follow, not wanting to share an earlier find. Caching their supplies a few miles from the river, both parties started prospecting its banks. Along with Boswell, Olson was the only one with any mining experience. John had been a trapper, so both he and Olson had a good supply of traps with them. Louis had been a fisherman and goose herder. Boswell seemed useless and Olson and the others were getting sick of him. He had been in the country before, however, and was an experienced prospector – but he had only brought a 25-pound sack of flour and some bacon, and was always sponging off the others. Boswell headed upstream alone while Olson, John and Lewis headed down. They caught up with Carter and Mahon who showed them a spot they had abandoned earlier. Take it if you want it, they told Olson, so his party panned out about eight dollars a day for a while, but decided to move on. Boswell prospected the opposite side of the stream, hoping he would be asked to join the others. One day, waving his hat, he shouted across the creek: “Come on, boys, we’ve struck it rich.”  His find yielded $16 a day, but Boswell demanded a larger share for finding it. The others refused.

ABOVE – Map of the Klondike Gold Rush area.

BELOW – Stampeders climb the Chilkoot Pass out of Dyea near Skagway, 1898.

“If you stake this claim,” Olson told him, “we’ll move on. If you don’t stake it we will; but make up your mind.” Boswell decided to stake it, so they left, following a respectable distance behind Carter and Mahon to yield them first rights of discovery. Louis and John both found good spots and staked them. Once they reached Carter and Mason, they turned back and met up with Boswell – who now had a different attitude. “Look here, boys,” he told them. “There are four of us and only three claims, but let’s work them together and share alike. To be sure, I have no grub, but since one of us has no claim let the man who can best handle a boat go down the river in the spring and bring up grub.”  The best boat handler was Boswell himself. Winter would arrive soon, and savvy prospectors knew that working in groups was not only safer but could also ward off loneliness. Boswell’s proposition seemed prudent, so Olson, John, Lewis, and Tom Boswell decided to stay together for the winter.

As I saunter down Olson’s path to the lake and call out his name, I can imagine both Kent and Rockie spellbound as the Swede related this tale. This special place at the end of the trail still belongs to the old Swede and I believe his spirit resides here.  The Cheyenne remind us to speak the names of our loved ones aloud after they’ve passed.  Otherwise, they say, you’ll go crazy as your tongue swells up – and then you’ll die.  I’ve always known him as Lars.  “I’m heading your way, Lars,” I say.  “Don’t let me interrupt whatever you’re doing.” 

He’d often walk this path to get his fresh water from a nearby spring, which spilled down the mountain. Each winter, he’d lower his bagged summer pink salmon catch (Humpy salmon) into the lake for storage.  As he needed fox feed, Olson wandered to the lake for fresh water and to chop out the bags of salmon. After I announce my presence I stop talking and listen.  I can hear him lecturing one of his angora goats that followed him down the trail. Olson loved those goats. Many years ago Virginia Darling, daughter of T.W. Hawkins, told me she recalled as a child watching Olson weeping while telling one of the store clerks the story of how one of his goats had gotten into a can of paint, eaten some, and died.

I know that Olson talks to himself often as well as to his goats and fox, to the pink salmon as he catches them, to the river otters and the porcupine, to the orca who rub their bellies on the beach, to the bald eagles, and to the Black-Billed Magpies and Steller jays. Sometimes I detect a murmur, a wisp of his words carried by the wind rustling above through the spruce and cottonwood.

OLSON'S STORY CONTINUED IN THE...

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PART 3

THE LIFE OF LARS MATT OLSON

AND HIS STAY IN VERMONT WITH THE KENTS