BASEBALL, POLITICS AND ALASKA RAILROADS

BASEBALL, POLITICS, AND ALASKA RAILROADS

“Just a Pleasant Study”

by Doug Capra © 2018

“Has anyone ever tried to analyze social life in a town of this size? It is just the same as social life in any other small town and the people are the same people that one meets in any other small town in all parts of the world. Still, somehow, no great writer seems to have been able to exactly photograph it, although thousands have tried. All of us have got the impression like a photographic plate but we cannot show it. A book dealing with social life in Seward, let us say, would be a delight if it just showed Seward as it really is. But, failing the book, what is the matter with regarding the life itself as just a pleasant study. In a book -- idiosyncrasies, foibles, even failings often look attractive rather than repulsive. It would be fine if we could armor ourselves by looking impersonally at the little thangs that are disagreeable.”

            Editorial in the Seward Gateway, Dec. 18, 1915

“Sailors from the U.S. Cruiser Maryland conduct a battalion drill up Seward’s Main Street in August 1912. In April, while conducting practice maneuvers near Los Angeles, the vessel was hit nine feet below the waterline by a torpedo. A ten-day repair in drydock was expected before it could proceed to San Diego. Later that summer it headed to Alaska. The vessel was a frequent visitor to Seward. The Maryland was in Alaska waters to investigate possible harbors for a naval base and coaling station. Seward was a prime candidate, and the town welcomed the vessel with open arms. While in town, the Maryland received orders to return to Bremerton, Washington to pick up Secretary of State Philander C. Knox and proceed to Japan for the funeral of Mutsuhito, the 121^st Emperor of Japan who had died in late July. (Sylvia Sexton photo from the Michael and Carolyn Nore collection and published with their permission.)

Part I

“…the little things that are disagreeable”

            I don’t hear the expression much anymore, but I recall when I first came to Alaska in 1971 I’d hear people say: “The best view of Anchorage is in the rear-view mirror.” It was most often spoken with a grin (no real animosity) but like most clichés, there was some truth to it. As Anchorage’s population has grown, there remains some truth to the expression today. When I arrived, Anchorage’s population was about 48,000. Today it’s somewhere around 300,000. Some of us in small Alaska towns on the road system are what I’ll call “traffaphobic.” That’s one reason why I live at a place where, if you try to drive past the end of the road, your hat will float.

            I was reminded of all this recently while rereading John McPhee’s Coming into the Country which was published in 1977, first as a series in the New Yorker and later as a book. I was in Alaska when McPhee wandered around the state doing his research, and rereading his book brought back many memories. To my knowledge, he didn’t spend any significant time on the Kenai. He wrote mostly about Interior Alaska – the Willow area, Eagle, Talkeetna, and the Kuskoquim. And Anchorage – which pretty much gets nailed in the book.  McPhee quotes one old timer saying that from its beginning, Anchorage tried to take everything away from other Alaska communities. They succeeded in taking Alaska Railroad headquarters away from Seward, the old timer tells McPhee, and attempted to remove the district territorial court away from Valdez. Those were the days – the 1970’s -- when the “rear view mirror” comment flourished. By 1980, the population of Anchorage was almost 175,000.

            Reading McPhee reminded me of Seward’s ambivalent relationship with Anchorage and the Alaska Railroad. Competitive railroad building in this country is nothing new. Many companies vied with each other. It didn’t begin here in 1915 with the Alaska Railroad, but the competition here was not only between construction companies but also about port access and coal. In 1900, when Seattle promoters John and Frank Ballaine began planning their All-American Alaska route from somewhere at tidewater into the Interior, there were about a dozen other proposals for railroads in the territory. After surveying several possible ports, the Ballaine brothers settled on Resurrection Bay and began the Alaska Central Railway (ACR) here in 1903.

They soon had to contend with the Copper River and Northwestern Railway out of Cordova and its famed builder Michael James Heney (who had constructed the White Pass and Yukon Route out of Skagway to the Klondike Gold Rush) as well as a proposed railroad out of Valdez. In those early days, before Anchorage existed, newsprint insults flew back and forth among Seward, Valdez and Cordova – interspersed with baseball competitions on the Fourth of July. All those other railroad plans failed, and in 1915 the federal government’s involvement with a $30 million budget guaranteed a completed project. With such a deep pocket behind the venture, people knew it would be successful and everybody wanted a piece of the pie. This would not only be the first time the U.S. Government funded a large railroad building project – but even more controversial – when completed the federal government would operate the business. That had never been done before.

            Government surveyors considered the same sites the Ballaine brothers investigated years earlier and ultimately selected Seward as the terminus in March 1915. Speculation had been rife as where the terminus would be, and in 1914 a tent city sprouted alobg Cook Inlet at Ship Creek, about 125 miles north of Seward. It soon called itself “Anchorage.” By December 1915, the relationship between Anchorage and Seward was on edge. The thriving port along Resurrection Bay -- founded in 1903 and incorporated in 1912 -- saw itself as the big brother and Anchorage as their infant sibling. The Seward Gateway promoted the town along Resurrection Bay, and soon the quickly growing settlement along Ship Creek soon had its own newspaper. It wasn’t long before the two towns went after each other in the pages of their newspapers. On Dec. 18, 1915, the Seward Gateway editorialized:

“Anchorage seems sometimes to be grieved at Seward. The people over there have got it into their heads that we say the nastiest things about them and their city and harbor. The Gateway, anyhow, has been careful to give the news just as it is and not to go any further. The truth is bitter sometimes, of course, but no one can very well say that Anchorage waters are clear of ice and that ships are sailing there so fast that the longshoremen have to work thirty-six hours a day to clear off the freight. If it would be possible to say that, there would be no necessity for doing so, as Anchorage itself would advertise the fact to the world and then some. Dear Anchorage, we love you so much that we won’t tell lies about you. Hoping you feel the same, Yours Truly.”

            During the next few years, these kinds of exchanges went back and forth between Seward and Anchorage.  The word “coal” doesn’t always appear – but that’s what the argument was all about – that, and which town had the better, most cost-effective port. The government was after the coal fields north of Anchorage at Chickaloon. There were no coaling stations along the West Coast and the Navy’s Pacific fleet desperately needed fuel. The railroads first goal was to push the tracks north to the coal fields. But then, which port would ship it out? In 1915, Anchorage didn’t even have a wharf, and the waterway to the new settlement – Cook Inlet – froze up in winter and was silt-laden in summer. Resurrection Bay was a deep, ice-free port with a wharf and an already thriving economy. The government had also purchased the stock and all 71 miles of track the Alaska Northern Railway (ANR) from Seward to Kern Creek (The first 51 miles had been built by the failed ACR, which had reorganized as the ANR). Build those tracks north to the coal fields, Seward agreed – but at the same time quickly finish the tracks from Mile 71 to Anchorage so the coal could sent by rail to Resurrection Bay and shipped to the Outside.

            Both Seward and Anchorage had a case to make. Seward found difficult to accept that those 71 miles of rails and tunnels were in poor shape with shaky ties and track cutting through treacherous terrain hit with fierce winter weather melting glaciers. It wasn’t merely a matter of adding more tracks to Anchorage. They ended up requiring much rebuilding and maintenance. Anchorage fought the reality of the Cook Inlet tides, the silt and the iced-up winters. Seward claimed it was the better port. Anchorage disagreed and wanted their Cook Inlet port to be the real economic terminus for the railroad.

            Despite its size, in those days the territory itself was like a small town – everybody knew everybody else. Seward was the major port in South Central Alaska. Those leaving for the Outside from Seward would meet up with other Alaskans as the steamship stopped at Valdez, Cordova, Sitka, Ketchikan and other ports. People had time to socialize and get to know each other along the way to Seattle. Behind the nasty words and competition among Alaska towns a close friendships blended with lucrative business partnerships. One senses this relationship in editorials that sometimes appeared almost as afterthoughts following nasty comments -- this one in the Dec. 18, 1915 Seward Gateway:

            “But in all seriousness, Anchorage and Seward should act together. Let each fight its corner and fight good and hard. Just now the commercial organizations of both towns are acting together to get that trail fixed {the Iditarod Trail} and this in the most amicable spirit. If we have spats once in a while that is no reason why we should feel like going to the mat. It is pleasant to see our neighbors so much alive and strenuously kicking. If we remind the citizens of that town that Seward was named the ocean terminal let them not blame us. President Wilson and Franklin K. Lane {Secretary of the Interior} gave us the cue. If anyone should feel peeved it is Seward, for Seward was here first.”

Alaskans were used to fighting over resources, railroads and baseball. This was nothing new.

Perhaps the 1909 Seward Roughnecks are not smiling in their team picture because they lost that Fourth of July series to Valdez. We may never be able to match names to faces, but here are most of their identities and positions as listed in the Seward Gateway: Finnegan, captain at 2^nd base; Whitney, short stop; McDonald, pitcher; Manthy, 1^st base; Ellsworth, right field; Hickey, left field; Murphy, 3^rd base; and Tolman, center field. (Sylvia Sexton photo courtesy of the Seward Community Library Collection.)

Part II

 “Another gasket job”

The antagonism between Seward and Anchorage that began in 1915 was nothing new. Alaskan towns were used to fighting over resources, railroads and baseball. First run in 1915, Seward’s famous Fourth of July Mount Marathon Race took many years to become the holiday’s featured event.  Baseball competitions prevailed. Beginning about 1905-6, Seward played against teams from ships in port, especially coast guard survey or Navy vessels. The Navy was seeking a West Coast location for a coal station and all coastal Alaska towns wanted the economic boost. Sometimes Seward challenged Valdez or Cordova, and the steamship companies gave special rates so the town baseball teams could travel.

In 1909, it was Valdez’s turn to visit Resurrection Bay.  The holiday fell on a Monday, and Valdez planned to arrive on Saturday for a three-day celebration. But on July 1^st, long after plans had been finalized, Cordova sent two men to Valdez to lure the holiday crowd to their town instead.  Seward and Valdez were outraged at this last-minute tactic. For forty-eight hours they cabled each other, trying to salvage the visit.  They had to decide quickly to either scrap the event, or go ahead despite Cordova’s interference. They decided to continue with adjusted plans.

“Everybody’s cursing Cordova,” the Valdez Prospector wired the Seward Gateway. Cordova officials had tried to manipulate the steamer Portland’s schedule to divert the Valdez visitors there. When that failed, the Portland’s boom suddenly turned up broken, forcing the vessel to Cordova for repairs and delaying its departure to Seward.  “Another gasket job,” moaned the Valdez Prospector, suspecting sabotage. Seward ended up losing the series, but both towns felt they had at least defeated Cordova.

There was a complicated history and much emotional baggage behind this particular “double-cross” by Cordova. Seward, Valdez and Cordova had always been adversaries, but they mostly respected each other and played fairly, since there were many political, social and economic ties among them.  On another level, though, the stakes sometimes got so high that fair play seemed less important. The rivalries among the three towns make up a complex story involving competing railroads to the interior, monopolies and trusts, outside interests controlling Alaska, and at least one violent encounter. Although the towns were not afraid of fierce competition, they generally agreed to leave politics out of social events. Cordova had broken that rule, which revived deep animosities.

Cordova was a company town run by the “Outsiders,” the Guggenheim-Morgan Alaska Syndicate. Towns like Seward and Valdez saw the Syndicate as millionaire East Coast carpetbaggers set on controlling all of Alaska’s economic interests.  By 1909, the Syndicate already owned gold mines, fish canneries, copper and coal lands, railroads and steamship companies. The bankrupt Alaska Central Railway out of Seward had reorganized as and the new Alaska Northern Railway. They would eventually lay seventy-one miles to Kern Creek. Syndicate interests had started a railroad out of Valdez under engineer George Hazelet. They later abandoned the site on the advice of engineer M.K. Rogers for a proposed route from Katalla, near Cordova. They later gave up on Katalla. Meanwhile in 1906, Michael J. Heney -- a man who had actually build a railroad in Alaska, the White Pass-Yukon Railway out of Skagway -- started his own project at Orca Inlet (later called Cordova), hoping to eventually sell out to the Syndicate. He eventually succeeded, and the Syndicate hired Heney as their grade contractor.

Valdez didn’t take their abandonment lightly. Promoter Henry D. Reynolds raised $200,000 – much from local residents – to build his Alaska Home Railroad out of Valdez. Alaska Governor John Brady supported Reynolds, which later got the politician into trouble from the Secretary of the Interior for backing a commercial enterprise. But Brady’s enthusiasm was understandable. Despite all their differences, if most Alaskans had one thing in common it was animosity toward Outside interests like the Syndicate – and Reynolds exploited that sentiment. He had tremendous energy and charisma. He hired workers from Seattle and sought funding from various sources; he stared his own weekly newspaper to promote his project; he purchased a shipping firm to complete with the Syndicate owned steamers; and he opened a Valdez bank. He refused to be intimidated by the Syndicate, even antagonizing them at one point by sending a ship to their Katalla port attempting to entice 300 of their workers to Valdez.

Like John Ballaine with his Alaska Central Railway, Reynolds moved too fast with too little financing. In those days it was a race to see which company could be the first to get the tracks to the coal fields and beyond. Everyone knew there would be only one victor. Reynolds confronted the problem Alaska has faced throughout most of its history. Only deep-pocket Outside interests had enough capital to even attempt huge construction projects. Alaskans didn’t have the capital – and even if they did – once the resource is extracted where do you market it and at what cost? Alaska’s climate and rugged terrain was challenge enough without even considering the politics.

Historians have taken both sides in evaluating the positive vs. negative influence of the Alaska Syndicate. Though caricatured as an octopus with tentacles squeezing the life-blood out of Alaska, J.P. Morgan is said to have expressed philanthropic interests while the Copper River Railway being surveyed. He is quoted as charging his workers to pay attention to agricultural possibilities. “If those pioneers want to say there after the told is mined out, I’ll build a railroad in there for them,” he’s quoted as saying. “I don’t care a damn what it costs me, or whether I get a cent  of the investment back. I’d like to make it possible for them to remain. John D. Rockefeller has built churches and Andrew Carnegie libraries, as their monuments. I am going to build a railroad to benefit those Alaska pioneers as my monument.”

Reynolds over-extended himself with his Valdez railroad and failed a last-ditch attempt to raise enough money to save himself and his project. He resigned his chairmanship in January 1908 and in April was indicted for mail fraud and misrepresentation. He broke down, was adjudged insane, and the charges were dropped. But before Reynolds’ psychological and professional collapse -- and while his Alaska Home Railroad out of Valdez faced bankruptcy in September 1907 – some of his workers had a violent confrontation with the Copper River Northwest Railway at the Keystone Canyon.

From the Sept. 26, 1907 issue of The Winnipeg Tribune (Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada)

From the Los Angeles Times, May 1, 1908

Part III

 “It would take a Constitutional amendment to purify Alaska”

The Keystone Canyon is a narrow gorge that leads to Thompson Pass out of Valdez along the Valdez-Eagle Trail/Road. The Morgan-Guggenheim Syndicate had abandoned their Valdez route for Katalla and later Cordova, but still claimed the right-of-way they had graded. Michael D. Reynolds had quickly moved into the vacuum in Valdez with his Alaska Home Railroad. In September 1907, Reynolds organization was near bankruptcy and he was under pressure get through the pass. George Hazlet, running the Syndicate operations, got U.S. Deputy Marshal George Perry to deputize two Syndicate employees – Edward C. Hasey and Duncan Dickson – to guard the pass and intimidate Reynolds’ workers. But they were warned to be “…patient, take it cool…” while protecting the rights of the Copper River and Northwest right-of-way.

Reynolds’ men were determined to get through the pass. After all, they reasoned, even if the Syndicate owned the grade right-of-way, they didn’t own the Keystone Canyon itself. Now their sole purpose was to obstruct the competition. Although Marshal Perry had agreed to deputize the two Syndicate men, he was concerned. “See that Dickson and Hasey don’t exceed authority and get into trouble,” he wired U.S. Deputy Marshal James Lathrop in Valdez. Lathrop was also concerned. He wired back: “I am satisfied Hasey has overstepped his authority. Hazelet is not trying to hold canyon but only his grade. I advise you wire Hasey and Dickson to be careful and don’t involve this office. Also wire Hazlet to same effect. I look for no trouble over there of any nature. It is simple bluff.”

Seward was not unaware of all this controversy. Gold rushes had created the towns of Nome and Fairbanks and the rail builders had altered their targets. Though all kinds of resources were the objectives – coal was still a driving factor. The Alaska Central Railway had pushed 51 miles of track north, but President Theodore Roosevelt’s withdrawal of coal lands and designation of the Chugach National Forest in 1907 combined with the company’s lack of capital, caused it to go bankrupt. It reorganized as the Alaska Northern Railway, and the tracks continued north. Between Fourth of July and Autumn baseball competitions, Seward rail builders followed activities in Valdez and Cordova closely.

On Sept. 25, 1907 at Keystone Canyon, Alaska Home Railroad workers carried tools and clubs as they trooped dangerously near, perhaps even across the Syndicate’s grade. Hasey, protected behind a rock outcropping shot three of them, killing Fred Rhinehart. Alaska’s new governor, William Hoggatt, was sympathetic to the Syndicate and he hurried to Valdez. He wanted the Valdez railroad men indicted, but U.S. Atty. Nathan V. Harlan refused. Harlan indicted Hasey for murder and assault but not Hazlet, due to the advice of his deputy prosecutors, W.T. Scott and L.V. Ray. Ray’s involvement in the trial got Seward’s attention. A prominent Seward citizen, Leroy Vincent Ray served six term as mayor and was elected to Alaska’s first Territorial Senate as its first President.

It would be difficult to find an untainted jury in Valdez, so the case was moved to Juneau. All these federal officials were appointed and the U.S. Government had interest in getting to the coal fields – so the Justice Department sent Secret Service Agent E.P. McAdams to Alaska to aid the prosecutors and prevent corruption. The year before, McAdams had been in Tennessee working on a federal contempt case. One newspaper described him as shrewd and pains taking, “one of the best-known officers in the Secret Service.” His duties they said, “carry him from the Atlantic to the Pacific oceans.” McAdams reported back to Washington in February: “It would take a Constitutional amendment to purify Alaska,” he wrote, and warned that even the Juneau jury could be tainted and that the whole trial atmosphere was “terrible.”

Governor Hoggatt attacked and later dismissed Harlan, calling him a drunkard, claiming his connection to the Valdez railroad contractors represented conflict of interest, and blaming him for not preventing the violence. “It seems to me Harlan and his sort should be removed at once,” President Roosevelt wrote, “and steps taken to provide men who will prosecute leaders on both sides in the recent troubles in Alaska…” Later, when Roosevelt learned how much Hoggard had interfered with the case, the President wrote: “It seems well-night impossible to be sure that we have got a decent man in Alaska.” As the trial progressed it became clear to all involved that Washington, D.C. eyes were observing. McAdams was certain they could win the case against Hasey if they could get an honest jury. Hasey’s defense team often conferred with the Syndicate’s law firm, and called the prosecution “a pair of old grannies.”

 Hasey’s defense team had as a witness Valdez railroad worker M.B. Morrisey who claimed some of the Valdez men were armed. That may have been true as confirmed by other witnesses, but the Syndicate provided Morrisey a salary and other money which he spent freely and used to bribe other witness. That tainted his testimony. He later disappeared “to parts unknown.” Shortly before the trial opened in April 1908, lead prosecutor Asst. U.S. Attorney W.T. Scott died suddenly. Judge Royal Gunnison appeared hostile to the defense, and they referred to him as “the most ignorant fool that ever sat on this or any bench.” Ironically, as the trial ended, the world’s attention focused on the Keystone Canyon in a different way. Everyone was excited about the New York-to-Paris automobile race. The intent was to challenge the canyon along the Valdez to Eagle Road. “Should the autos succeed in getting through Keystone Canyon,” one newspaper noted, “the next piece of scenery to surmount will be Thompson’s Pass at an elevation of 2700 feet.” In early April, however, Jules Clerfayt who headed the French drivers received a telegram from Fort Liscum at Valdez stating that the Kenstone Canyon wasn’t open and that “it would be impossible for any automobile to get through there.” The race was rerouted across the Pacific by steamer to Japan, the across the Sea of Japan as the autos headed to Vladivostok.

Hasey was acquitted of murder but later found guilty of assault with intent to kill, the jury finding that his gunplay had been “unnecessary and unreasonable.” He was sentenced to eighteen months at McNeil Island off the Washington coast. His attorneys wanted to appeal, but the Syndicate urged him to complete his sentence, guaranteeing him full pay and benefits while in prison.

Reynolds’ Alaska Home Railroad went bankrupt amid its own charges of corruption, and the Syndicate’s reputation improved mostly because its contractor Michael J. Heney, known as “the Irish Prince” – the only successful railroad builder in Alaska. Everyone admired his narrow-gage White Pass & Yukon Railroad from Skagway to Whitehorse, and had confidence that he could do it again. The Syndicate was headed to the Kennecott copper, but they stated their intention to continue the tracks all the way to the Yukon River. There was even talk of heading to Nome. Seward took note, and the railroad race continued amid politics, dances and baseball games. There would be no second-place award. The first one to the Interior would win all.  As it turned out, the Syndicate stopped after they reached the copper mines in 1911, and by that time there seemed little hope for the struggling Alaska Northern Railway out of Seward.

But the U.S. Navy in the Pacific desperately needed coal, and there were no coaling stations on the West Cost. Most of the coal came from back East via rail or by ship all the way around Cape Horn – the Panama Canal had yet to be built. More and more the federal government started wondering how they could get to those coal fields north of Ship Creek and Knik. And then another Alaska controversy erupted in 1909 within a national trust-busting culture already suspicious of monopolies. It would, of course, involve unethical access to federal coal lands and, of course, the Syndicate would be connected. This time U.S. Forest Service Chief Gifford Pinchot went to war with U.S. Secretary of the Interior Richard Ballinger.

The Baltimore, Feb. 27, 1910

Part IV

The Pinchot-Ballinger Controversy

In March 1909 when President William Howard Taft replaced Theodore Roosevelt’s Secretary of the Interior with Richard A. Ballinger, conservationists were disappointed. Ballinger quickly restored three-million acres Roosevelt had protected to private use. Most Alaskans were delighted. Gifford Pinchot, appointed head of the U.S. Forest Service in 1898 by President William McKinley, accused Ballinger of favoring private trusts with access to Alaska coal fields. That coal issue would, of course, involve the Chugach National Forest and the Morgan-Guggenheim Alaska Syndicate working on their railroad out of Cordova. Taft tried to placate both sides, exonerating Ballinger but at the same time affirm Pinchot’s conservative position.

            In 1910 Pinchot rebuked Taft openly and asked for congressional hearings. He was immediately fired, which alienated Republican progressives and led to a split the party during the 1912 Presidential elections. Congress held hearings, Ballinger was cleared but chastised for favoritism and misuse of natural resources. Seward didn’t appreciate Pinchot’s conservationist agenda, especially regarding coal. At the same time the town didn’t welcome Ballenger favoring the Alaska Syndicate. During the controversy between Ballinger and Pinchot, the Alaska Northern Railway (ANR) out of Seward struggled. When Pinchot visited Alaska in the Fall of 1911, he arrived in Seward aboard the Northwestern. As he headed along the gangplank to shore, the Coleman Hotel house dog, named Bruiser, “hot-footed it for a coal pile, grabbed a chunk of coal between his teeth, and when the distinguished visitor stepped upon the dock, deposited it at his feet. ‘You’re all right,’ was the comment of the ex-forester, as he patted the dog on the top of the head.” Even the canines were against him, Pinchot must have thought.

            On the Oct. 1911, a special agent for the U.S. General Land Office showed up in Seward. W. J. Lewis mission was to investigate land issues and charges of excessive rates on the ANR. Lewis had worked in Alaska a number of years and had traveled the rail tracks out of Seward as early as 1908.  In 1911 he reported that the condition of 71 miles of track was “very bad indeed.” The only maintenance done was some repair early in the season. There were no section gangs as with most railroads. “After a storm,” he wrote, “when logs, trees or rocks are found on the track, the car stops while the employees and passengers get out and remove the obstacles.” A ride on the ANR could be quite an experience: “So rickety is the road becoming that the gasoline car rocks and sways as though she would never keep the rails. Timid passengers declare that if they ever get home they will never ride the car again. But they have so far had no accident, probably due to the caution with which the car is driven.”

            In 1912 Alaska became a territory and the federal government began seriously looking into opening the Interior with a railroad. Taft had sent an expedition to Alaska to consider a possible terminus. They came back with suggestions, including Seward and Cordova. Woodrow Wilson became Presidential in 1912. The need for a railroad into Alaska’s interior became more important. Wilson sent another team to investigate rail routes. An act of March 12, 1914 required the government railroad terminate on an ice-free harbor on the south coast of Alaska. In March 1915 Wilson selected Seward as the new Government Railroad terminus. Seward not only had a deep, ice-free harbor, but also 71 miles of track that would provide access to the resources of the Kenai Peninsula, and the ANR owners were willing to sell at a fair price.

            The Interstate Commerce Commission estimated the railway had invested $5,250,800 as of June 1912. The Alaska Engineering Commission purchased the railway for $1,157,399. “The commission acquired not only the terminals and physical properties of the railroad, but also – a very considerable value in the work which been done by the formal Alaska Northern Railway at various points along Turnigan Arm,” according to documents. But the government got much more. What has often been neglected is that they obtained “the benefit of the studies, maps, profiles which they had prepared as a result of their field surveys form Seward to Fairbanks over the entire present adopted route of the Government railroad and of the Matanuska Branch line.”

Much of this was due to the vision and work of John Ballaine and his Alaska Central Railway surveys. The government made their first payment to the ARN owners in Aug. 1915 “when litigation over the title had ceased.” The final payment of $650,000 was made on in June 1916 “at which time the government came into full possession.”

            But Seward’s selection as the terminus may have had as much to do with politics as it did with location and other factors. Perhaps it was connected with Valdez and its Keystone Canyon right-of-way shooting, and Cordova with its connection to the Ballinger-Pinchot coal controversy. In an era of trust-busting and public sentiment against monopolies, perhaps Valdez and Cordova had too much negative political baggage. There had been corruption with the Seward railways as well, but compared to the Prince William Sound projects, Seward may have been safer political ground. At least it the railway out of Resurrection Bay wasn’t connected with the J.P. Morgan and the Guggenheims.

            On July 24, 1916, Joseph P. Cotton, a federal attorney and member of the Alaska Engineering Commission, left Washington, D.C. to inspect construction progress of the Alaska Railroad. The report he submitted on Oct. 1, 1916 is enlightening. Now that Valdez and Cordova were no longer competitors, Seward had a new rival -- the growing town of Anchorage along Ship Creek. They not only fought over coal and port access == but also on the baseball diamond.

The Decatur Herald (Decatur, Illinois) Dec. 23, 1915

Part V

“Pioneers in Arctic Town Ice-Locked – Turkey’s Held in Seward.”

On July 24, 1916, Joseph P. Cotton, a federal attorney and member of the Alaska Engineering Commission, left Washington, D.C. to inspect construction progress of the Alaska Railroad. Now that Valdez and Cordova were no longer competitors, Seward had a new rival -- the growing town of Anchorage along Ship Creek. Cotton noted the antagonism between Anchorage and Seward, and strongly suggested they get along. At the heart of the dispute was the primary port to ship out resources -- one commodity in particular dominated.

“Coal was the key to Alaska,” Lone E. Janson writes in her book, The Copper Spike (1975). “Coal was the source of power to run the railroads and to smelt the copper. Coal was heat. And coal provided fuel for ships of the U.S. Navy. Without coal, Alaska was effectively locked up.”

The spat between the two ports had started in 1915: “The truth is bitter,” the Seward Gateway proclaimed on Dec. 18, “but no one can very well say that Anchorage waters are clear of ice and that ships are sailing in there so fast that the longshoremen have to work thirty-six hours a day to clear the freight.” Two days before the 1915 Christmas one Outside headline read: “Pioneers in Arctic Town Ice-Locked – Turkey’s Held in Seward.” The rest of the story followed: “Fifteen hundred men, pioneers building the government Alaska railroad, are ice-locked in Anchorage, America’s newest frontier town, waiting to resume work with the first appearance of the northern spring…thousands of tons of freight for Anchorage, including a supply of turkeys meant for holiday feasting, is being held at Seward, while the road builders have to content themselves with canned goods and dried meats…the steamers Admiral Farragut, Northwestern, Kansas City and Alliance, carrying cargoes for the new port were forced to return to Seward.” Navigation into Cook Inlet had closed earlier than expected in 1915.

There would be plenty of turkey in Seward that Christmas. Resurrection Bay wasn’t iced up. Quickly build those tracks to the Chickaloon coal fields north of Anchorage, Seward agreed. But then quickly connect them to the 71 miles of track already out of Seward so the coal could be shipped to an ice-free port. Cotton’s report stated: “The evidence on this point {ice conditions} is rather conflicting, some witnesses claiming that there are periods during every month when the harbor {Anchorage} can be entered with safety.”  Not true, the Seward Gateway wrote. And everyone knew that even in summer, if the Port of Anchorage was to be kept safe for shipping, it had to be dredged. Studies showed dredging to be feasible but expensive. In his report, Cotton recommended that $250,000 be authorized for dredging to be done by July 1917. Furthermore, there was only a temporary dock at Anchorage that had cost $25,000. “All passengers and freight delivered at Anchorage,” Cotton wrote, “transfer from ship to shore by lighter. That is highly inconvenient and dangerous to passengers…Lighterage is always costly and because of tidal conditions at Anchorage lighterage there is particularly costly and difficult.” Merchants in Anchorage were not happy, Cotton reported, “as it now costs them about as much to get their goods from ship to shore at Anchorage as it does to bring them up from the States. Often it costs more.”

In addition, the coal from Matanuska couldn’t bear lighterage costs at Anchorage and still be shipped outside for profit. Even the cost of a new wharf to eliminate lighterage (which Cotton estimated at $250,000), as well dredging and other factors, would make any profit prohibitive. The expense of shipping the coal to Seward and building a new wharf there would also prevent a cost-effective venture. There were no substantial markets for the coal on the rail line. Perhaps the Juneau mines and the Copper River Railroad could be a market, but not in sufficient quantities. The main market would be the U.S. Navy, that’s why naval vessels were canvassing the coast for suitable coaling station.

While Cotton was in Alaska, the antagonism between Seward and Anchorage emerged in the newspapers of both towns. Cotton noted these squabbles and tried to bring the adversaries together: “A prominent attorney, who is visiting Anchorage, and who is interested in Alaska,” the Seward Gateway wrote, “suggests to the {Anchorage}Times that Anchorage and Seward bury the hatchet, let bygones be bygones, and work in harmony, to the end that both towns shall grow and prosper.” That sounded like a good idea but the energy and aggression had to be released somehow.

Well – there was always an athletic battlefield – the baseball diamond. The two towns had faced each other back in 1916 for the championship of this part of Alaska. Seward won that series.  Their feud had gotten worse by 1917 so another three-game series seemed appropriate, and this time it would be in Anchorage on the last three days of July, a Sunday, Monday and Tuesday.

“Great enthusiasm has been aroused over the series among old timers in Alaska,” the press reported, “and among forces employed in the construction of the United States railroad. Bets estimated at $25,000 made the stakes even higher. In today’s money that would over $600,000. The stakes were so high that both Anchorage and Seward recruited semipro players from Seattle. The Vancouver, B.C. press reported that 6000 spectators in Anchorage watched Seward win the first game 4 to 3 in 11 innings on Sunday, July 29. “Several crack players from the south” participated, the newspaper noted. Anchorage took the lead with two runs in the first inning, but Seward came right back and tied the game. Neither team scored until the 11^th when Anchorage scored one run and Seward two to win.

On Monday, July 30, Seward won the second game taking the series. The two Seattle players, Beem and Coughlin, figured prominently in the outcome, newspapers said. Shortly after the series ended, the two were drafted into the army.

The Great War ended in November 1918 and work continued on what people later called the Alaska Railroad. It was completed in 1923.

Several sources were used for this series. I wish to especially acknowledge William R. Hunt’s “Golden Places: The History of Alaska-Yukon Mining, With Particular Reference to Alaska’s National Parks” published in 1990 by the National Park Service, Alaska Region; and “The Copper Spike” by Lone E. Janson.