Life In Alaska – Dear Parent Papa And Diminutive Dave (3) – The Wreck Of The SS Alaska – November 1, 1940

Daniel Beck Guion, taking a Selfie with his C-2 Argus camera

Mrs. McCain was insistent that I write you, telling you all about the rubber doll, and all, and I promised her I would, although I would have anyway, even the rubber doll!

Incidentally, Mrs. McCain is going outside (leaving Alaska for the lower 48) next week. She will be away indefinitely, maybe a year. Two of her nieces will take her place while she is gone. Maybe only one will do it, but what the hell! You can’t quibble over numbers.

In these trying times, this little gem of wisdom has struck me with its forcible message, and I pass it on to you:

An historical novel is like a bustle…. A fictitious tale based on a stern reality.

I am back on the ol’ level once again, figuring out sewer grades for the building area.

I suppose Eastern papers heard the echo of the wreck of the SS Alaska out of Ketchikan. Two fellows I know were aboard when she left Seward, one of whom expected to disembark at Juneau, and hence was probably not aboard when she struck the rock. If you had not heard, let me reassure you …. It was not fatal, although I have heard that two passengers have died since the crash, due to injuries sustained at the impact. The ship has been towed to Seattle.

That’s all, unless I feel disposed to add a few more words mañana when I mail this.

Dan

Tomorrow and Friday, a letter from Grandpa to his back-sliders.

Judy Guion

Life In Alaska – Dear Parent Papa And Diminutive Dave (2) – Mrs. McCain’s Birthday Party – November 1, 1940

I have sent the first batch of colored snap-shots to Barbara. After she has received them, she will take them to you with Helen’s projector (if she can) and you will sit and gaze, and say ”OOOhhh!” and “AAAhhhh!” at the beautiful scenery.

I intend to send another cheque with this letter, and expect and authorize you to supplement the balance of our two thirds obligation on the upkeep of the house. That will amount to $12 per month, if Alfred continues to take the majority burden on his shoulders.

I have not yet gotten the cheque, because I have not been to work for two days, due to vacation reasons. I will hold this letter until tomorrow, then.

Danielo Beck Guion and Cedric Duryee Guiob

Mrs. McCain’s birthday party was a complete surprise. By strange coincidence, I was the one who went for her mail the night she got the letter from you. I pointed it out to her. She said, “I’ll let you know what it says after I have read it”.

It was Ced’s duty to keep me at home and awake on the evening of the 27th. It must have been a hectic time for him, because I disappeared after supper. I had gone to a friend’s house to borrow “The Grapes of Wrath” from him, and Ced returned to the room to find me rather absent. Then, when to his relief I came back, I showed symptoms of going to bed; brushing my teeth, etc. He made a desperate attempt to interest me in the Sears Roebuck catalog, and at long last Rose Walsh called upstairs that there was a telephone message for me. When I got downstairs, she said, “I want to see you a minute”, and pushed me toward her open door. Lo! The table was set, and the cake with 22 candles (mistake in placing them) burned brightly, while the group assembled (mostly McCain people) sang happy birthday to me in purposeful but shaky tune.

I was completely non-plussed. And after we had eaten sandwiches, ice cream, and cake, I was further bewildered by the galaxy of gifts bestowed upon me. There was a Sheriff’s star badge, a toy automobile, an orange party hat, made of the finest ripped cardboard, a rubber ball of the most devastating red color, and a handsome, beautifully cellophaned and starkly naked rubber doll!

My maternal instinct welled up in me, and I turned softly away and wept, thinking that alas! Never should I bear a child again, no, nor was I discreet in condemning the fate that mis-sexed me so outrageously.

But I gathered my sorrow and locked it away long enough to eat another piece of cake and open Ced’s gift to me….A shiny leather case for my model C-2 Argus camera.

Tomorrow, the conclusion of this letter. Thursday and Friday I will be posting a letter from Grandpa to his back-sliders.

Judy Guion

Life In Alaska – Dear Parent Papa And Diminutive Dave (1) – This Business About My Vacation – November 1, 1940

We are in the fall of 1940. Dan and Ced have been in Anchorage, Alaska, for about four months. They are both gainfully employed in their fields of interest. 

Daniel Beck Guion

Nov. 1

Dear Parent Papa and Diminutive Dave,

After knocking out the old bromides about “Gosh, I’m a heel for not answering sooner”, or other “sole-full” apologies, I shall dash breathlessly to the next paragraph.

Well! Here I am out of breath, and no better off than the first sentence. All of which is extremely appropriate, appearances notwithstanding, because I am deep in the throes of pipe blowing! Now, pipe blowing is likely to convey an erroneous impression. You might be tempted to think it is a contrary smoker. You might even be tempted to think! But the truth of the matter is that I am taking a course in Mining, offered here in Anchorage by the University of Alaska Extension Service, $1.60 for lab manual and blow-pipe. And there you have it! The classes meet five nights per week, two hours each, lecture or laboratory period, to last five weeks. It seems to be a smattering of geology, physical geography, and mining, all fused with a blow-pipe on a carbon block. I estimate there are about 100 people, men and women, enrolled in the course. The instructor, Mr. Dorsh, has been in South America, Bolivia, Chile, Peru, and I have prevailed upon him to invite me to his place some day to talk things over.

Then there is that business about my vacation. Benevolent Uncle Sam has decreed that those of us on a per diem who worked over-time on Sundays in the past, are entitled to a vacation or series of short vacations to make up this time. It has befallen that I get 2 ½ days off per week. Today is the last day of my first vacation. Tomorrow I return to running levels on the Sewer Line. A job I have had for about two weeks, and one which seems to have adopted me. Since the days are growing ever shorter, we needs must go to work at 7:30 AM instead of 8, but we get off at 4 PM instead of 4:30.

That being a good cue to introduce Dan’s Damn Weather Comment, let me say that the sun at high noon is very misleading. It is no higher than a Swede on the water wagon, and broke in the bargain. In fact, at noontime the sun succeeds in conveying the idea that dusk is just over the next foot-hill, and long shadows etch distant mountains to prove it. Yet, the sun slides along above the horizon until about 4:30, then relaxes, and settles in the West. Today was not cloudy, yet the sun did not shine all day, because low fog has covered the land, and last night’s heavy frost still grasps the trees, and board walks, and grasses.

Tomorrow I will post the second portion of this letter and on Wednesday, the conclusion. Thursday and Friday will be a letter from Grandpa  to his back-sliders.

Judy Guion

Life In Alaska – ADG Writes To Mrs. McCain – October 15, 1940

Daniel Beck Guion

Oct. 16   (Rec’d 10/16)

As you may have deduced by the address, I assume the tall runt (Dick) has left for the big adventure. (Maybe the letter was addressed to Grandpa and Dave, but omitted Dick. Since I don’t have the envelope so I can’t be sure.) I hope he keeps you posted for our sakes. (A reference to Dick and his best friend driving to Florida for their own adventure.)

Enclosed please find checque for two weeks labor. ($95.83) Invest it as you think fit, and please advise me as to best method for sending money home.

Snow has come and is on the wane, not really having meant it. Ced and I both own skis, now, and are waiting for a more serious ‘fall’ (8 inches are fast dwindling to nothing). It has not been cold enough for ice, either, except in puddles, and who wants to skate in puddles?

By strange co-incidence I went to the post office for Mrs. McCain tonight and noticed that she received a letter from AD. Lucky woman! (This is the letter sending a check to Mrs. McCain and asking her to arrange a birthday party for Dan –  “Dan wrote interesting episodes, one being the surprise party which Grandpa started with his small check to Mrs. McCain and requesting that she spent it in pinch hitting for Dad on Dan’s birthday.”) Ced and I did not.

But what is this rumor about better cars, when they are built? Who will buy them? How much? Color? Now you can drive out to Seattle and catch a boat north without any inconvenience. Boats run year-round, twice a week, they say.

This is a helluva letter to send home. Better one next time, when I am not in such a hurry.

So long ‘til then,

Dan

I pulled the old second ?  lever in the teeth of a rank or nest of Democrats as have ever clustered under the arctic circle. (A reference to how he voted in the recent election.)

*************************

Oct. 16

Daear Daad,

Your letter has been one of the most pleasant that I have ever received, which makes life really worthwhile. I got it today, and had not yet mailed this, which is fortunate, because I, too, have some good news …. good to me, anyhow.

We have just learned that from now on we will have to work no more than 40 hours per week at the same salary, which is a tremendous gain. I am running the transit almost entirely now, for Hal, who thinks he might get another job, thus preparing me to fill his shoes if the opportunity arrives. The arrangement on salary: every other week we get 31/2 days off! That should give me plenty of time to see more of the country, although I shall spend more money doing so!

I’m still in a hurry. I have to get to the PO to mail this, after converting my check intoxxxx a money order,

Incidentally, it is yours to spend as you see fit if you find yourself short on cash. I shall have no use for it until some distant date.

Hooray for everything!

Love,

Tomorrow, a letter from Grandpa to Dick, who has arrived in Florida.. On Wednesday, a letter to Lad from Ethel Bushey regarding some great news. On Thursday and Friday, I will be posting a letter from Grandpa to three of his sons.

Judy Guion   

Life In Alaska – Dear Kinfolk – A Grown-up Mid-Western Town – October 9, 1940

Daniel Beck Guion in Anchorage, Alaska

Wed., Oct. 8

(R’cd 10/17/1940)

Howdy, kinfolk,

I suppose that all this newspaper talk about elections and our little brown brothers across the sea (the bastards!) in Japan has gotten you stirred up to a pretty pass, but in perspective, from this squaw’s nest called Alaska, it all seems pretty silly.

The inefficiency of construction which is rampant all over the air base and the rapid pouring of concrete on the runway is due more to the proximity of cold weather than to any threat of invasion.

Your naïve queries, Dad, about light and power in Anchorage are deserving of considerable attention. Perhaps I will repeat what Ced might have told you, since he and I do not collaborate with one another when we write. The most concise way of describing Anchorage is that it is like a grown-up mid-western town. The Anchorage Light and Power Co. furnishes electricity from its plant at Ekluntna. The City water supply is pumped from filtration wells beside Ship Creek. There are several restaurants, cafés, liquor stores, drug stores, soda fountains, dry goods stores, hardware stores, pawnshops, furniture stores, hotels, nightclubs, taverns, houses of prostitution, Doctors, Dentists, Lawyers, Jewelers, Opticians, one paved street, and fewer women per capita than anywhere else in the world. It is both a man’s town and a woman’s paradise. Spinsters, widows, even prostitutes can find themselves a husband apiece without half trying. There are over two thousand men now employed at the air base. The CAA is active in Anchorage, and is employing men. The Railroad employs men. Last week a new arrival in town paid $.75 to sleep in an armchair overnight. The hotels and rooming houses are always full. Exorbitant rates are being charged, and real estate values have soared. Labor is extremely scarce for private hire, every able-bodied man has a job with the Air base etc., and each night the Anchorage Times advertises for more men at the Air Base. There is bound to be a reaction, when prices will careen downward, and hotel rooms will be given away as premiums with each pair of trousers you buy. It has been hinted that such profiteering as is going on now might well result in the birth of a new town nearer to the Army post, which will fold up many dealers in Anchorage.

Appendix to Anchorage’s institutions: Churches, paid Fire Department, Grammar School, High School, five or six Air plane Services, bus lines, railroad, taxi companies.

Prices on standard products are equal to or slightly higher than in the states (cameras, toilet goods, etc.). The bulky things are more expensive, due to excess freight rates (fresh fruits, vegetables, furniture, etc.)

Pennies are seldom seen. It is said that Fairbanks was “spoiled” only recently by the influx of outsiders, before who’s time it was considered picayune to use anything smaller than a quarter! A bar of candy was 2 bits. So was five bars of candy!

What a difference from the state of Washington, where sales tokens worth 1/5 of a cent are used everywhere!

I hope all this gives you a more lucid idea of what Anchorage is really like. At night the street (Main) is aglow with neon signs and streetlights. The sidewalks are never deserted from dawn to dawn. There are night shifts at the Air Base, with buses running two or three times between sunset and sunrise. Nightlife does not quiet down until three or four A.M.

Please keep us posted on Dick’s peregrinations… if he lets you in on them. Adios until the next time.

Dan

Tomorrow and for the rest of the week, a long letter from Grandpa to four of his five sons.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Lumbermen At Large (3) – Ced Writes to Sneezy Guion – September 17, 1944

A letter addressed to “Sneezy Guion, Ragweed, Conn.” from you-know-who in Alaska, arrived on the morning of September 11th, which shows pretty good timing, and started the day off right. It’s worth having a 60th birthday to find out what one’s boys think of their old man. Ced writes: “Once again I see by the calendar that the natal anniversary date of pater Guion approaches. This being most likely the last letter from an admiring son to be received in Trumbull before that date, must convey a message of thanks for all you have been to us all, and the very best wishes for you in the ensuing year. I wish that all of us could join you at the dinner table on the eventful day in body as well as in spirit. Be it a comfort to you to know that few up here can rival my record of one letter a week from home. One has the feeling that no matter what happens he can always fall back on Dad and be sure of the best that Dad can offer in the way of assistance. A token of appreciation is en route from the sourdough via carrier pigeon, underground telegraph or some other means of transportation but may not reach you until after your birthday. Last night and today have been a definite prelude to winter. Snow fell quite low in the mountains last night while a cold rain and accompanying wind hit town. I am of the opinion that this winter will be early, with lots of snow but not too severe. Some of the Buick parts have arrived and I start tomorrow putting the transmission together. (Ced next gives an interesting account of his watch repairs, and goes on to say) Now I can fly and keep track of my minutes in the air. The ship I am soloing in is the most luxurious of small planes but to operate the radio one must have a radio operators license so that too I must study for and obtain. In the meantime, I use the lights from the control tower. Eleanor Burnham is doing library work in New York with little children. Helen has gone to Syria on missionary schoolwork. Brad is in the Marines in the Pacific. Rusty (Heurlin) is at Pt. Barrow.” He writes he has completely quit drinking.

DAD

P.S. I found Dave’s letter in my car. See attached copy. This reminds me of the famous Sears Roebuck letter: Gentlemen: I git the pump witch I by from you, but why for Gods sake you doan send me no handle. Wats the use of a pump when she don have no handle, I lose to me my customer. Sure thing you don treat me rite.  I wrote ten days gone and my customer he holler like hell for water from the pump. You no he is hot pumper and the win he no blow the pump. She got no handle so wat the hell I goan to do with it. If you doan send me the handle pretty quick I send her back and I order pump from Myers company.                       Goodby.

Yours truly,

Antonio

Since I write I find the dam handle in the box. Excuse to me.

Tomorrow, a Birthday letter from Dave to his Father. On Friday, Grandpa’s One-Act Play with a look to the future.

Judy Guion

Life In Alaska – Hello, Folks (2) – My Birthday Is Coming – October 3, 1940

Daniel Beck Guion in the field in Venezuela

I know that my birthday is just coming up, so I have decided to be a bold little vixen:

I do not need money.  I have plenty of that.

I do not need clothes.  It costs more to send them here all the way from Conn. then it costs right here in Town, and the cheapest way to buy clothes is to order them from Sears and Roebuck in Seattle.  There is the possibility, if you want to send Ced any clothes, to write to Sears Roebuck in Seattle to send him the stuff directly.

In fact, I do not need anything that can be purchased either from Sears or right here in Anchorage!

You probably think that I am being grandiloquent, and asking merely for holiday greetings and sentiment.  Not so!  I have a very real desire for:

Roget’s Thesaurus

A Dictionary

These two books I have missed more than anything else since being in Anchorage.

I have already purchased a complete set of skis, ski poles, and rig.  I have bought a pair of skates.  I have bought woolen clothing, all from Sears.  I have bought an Argus C-2 camera, 35mm for taking colored snapshots.  I can buy films for it in Anchorage for the price as anywhere else.  So please, if you want to do right by little Nell, send me a Roget  or a Webster!

It may be of interest to know that my latest obsession is to study Ethnology,  Anthropology, and Sociology as soon as I have earned enough money to go to School.  Wolf!  Wolf!  The people say.  Perhaps.  Time will tell.

I shall begin to send home to be invested toward School.  Beginning this month, I plan to send at least $100 per month.  Your judgment, Dad, is better than mine in such matters, and I should like you to decide whether to put it into Home Bldg. & Loan or some securities, or just put it in the old sock.  And if you have any need for it at any time, you have full authority to beg, borrow, or steal it.

I still have no objections to Dick’s or Dave’s writing to me, nor have I any objection to anybody’s writing to me.

Dick, you rat, if you head for Florida let me in on the trip as it progresses.  You want to keep a day-by-day record of it for posterity.  It is more fun to read over such a journal in later days than it is to live it!  Take it from an old Peregrine.

Adios,

Tomorrow and Saturday, I will be posting more of the Venezuelan Adventure – Daniel Beck Guion – Venezuelan Letters.

Judy Guion

Life In Alaska – Hello, Folks, – Dan Writes “First, The Weather” – October 3, 1940

Dan and Ced have been in Anchorage, Alaska, for five months. They have both found jobs in the field that interests them.

Dan and Ced with the Willys they drove to Seattle and then sold. They then took a ship to Anchorage, Alaska.

This stationery was probably a gift from Grandpa and printed by Guion Advertising Company.

Oct. 3

Thurs.

Hello, folks,

First, the weather.  A letter from me with no mention of the weather or the season would be a Mexican hairless dog without fleas (I fooled you there, you thought I was going to say a Mexican hairless dog with the mange, hee,hee).  The weather, then, is turning gradually colder, with disagreeable rainy days holding their share of the lime-light.  We have not had many frosts yet, although we can expect snow any day.

Sunday last Ced and I were invited to dinner at the Bragaws, no doubt instigated by Florence and the Duchess.  After capacious maws had served inadequate bellys, we innocents were introduced to the shady subterfuges of poker, and were duly fleeced.  Out of the ruins came this ray of cheer:

In Alaska’s ample carpet which spreads over her soils, grows a little green plant, from beneath which peep the small red berries blessed with the pre-fixe “cran”. these cranberries are reputed to be far superior to Cape Cods bog berries, and this reputation is well-founded in native Alaskan lore.  Everyone says they are more tasty than store cranberries, so it cannot be gainsaid.  I, myself, have partaken of the superior fruits, and pronounce them, with a little coaching from the side-lines, to be far superior to Cape Cod’s bog berries, and more tasty than store cranberries.  Not expecting anyone to take anyone’s word for it, the Bragaw household has offered to send you a box of these so-called Cranberries to see for yourself.  You boil them with sugar.  Some people cook them with a “Thanksgiving Dinner”.  The Bragaws are planning to send only the cranberries, but this whole affair really belongs to Ced who discovered the Bragaws in the first place.  I’m just mentioning it in case he forgets to, because he is been working overtime of late, putting “dope” on airplane wings, and getting a dandy jag over it, into the bargain.

This introduction is my tactful way of bringing up the subject of gifts.  You know how people have birthdays and Xmases with alarming regularity, and how the custom has arisen whereby you say your prayers and don’t bite your fingernails for a full week before, and are duly rewarded with presents you would have gotten anyhow ….. well, that is just what I am getting to. 

Tomorrow, I will post the rest of this letter.

Judy Guion

Friends – Dear Ced – Walrus Hunting And Salable Items – September 2, 1944

This is the second letter from Rusty to Ced,  mailed in Barrow while Rusty was staying there.

Sept. 2, 1944

Dear Ced,

Winter came yesterday with strong N.W. wind and snow. Ice, which had left, formed up to shore again. USN freighter Spica with part of ship’s company at oil base is at PT Lay. Skeddled  in time to duck crushing ice. First freighter of season which everyone is waiting for left Nome two weeks after we did. It comes from Seattle with years supply of grub and fuel (1400 tons) for Barrow. Got as far as Wainwright and had to go back to PT Lay. Most unusual summer here since  Charly Barrow ever remember.

Last Sat boys got three Walrus and one 12 foot polar bear. By Sunday they went out and got seven more Walruses. Sorry I missed both hunts. If ice drifts north they will go out soon for whale. Have been promised two hunts and to fire whale gun. Natives will have plenty to eat, if whale is brought in, for the winter.

Sending you some ivory buttons for woman’s coat – one knife and mukluks and blanket. Paid sick boy at Nome $15 to carve latter for me. It is not very good work. Got it to help poor kid out. He was in bad way and don’t think he will pull through.

Morry Danford said he was not much of a salesman. Sent him a few things to sell as a tryout. Said he would turn them over to you if he could not dispose of them. Bought them when they were salable through Bureau of Indian Affairs. It was this work of natives I was going to get for you, however, when you sent money I went back only to find they had shut down on selling them – all went to Juneau after that for prices to be upped down there. Get them from Morry first chance you have and keep them for yourself or do what you wish with them. The two seals should be kept together, old man that made them would not sell them unless they were kept together ________ ________________.

Am picking up a basket or two for you soon – whalebone baskets, only place where they are made is here.

How did bracelet turnout or have you not received it yet? Asked to have Walrus head joining piece made solid without head out away from ivory as Alec Melik has been making. Let’s hear when you receive it.

Did you also receive your pictures – Kodachrome? Your letter in mail first chance I get.

Bye now or cheerio!

One more thing:

As the “Rawshian” men of the mighty Soviet Union have taken Romanian airfields, there is no necessity for drive through Dardanelles – hence turning point of war has already come, however, not as I expected. Should have figured on Russian ability to get there first, for not doing so I lose the bet.

Yours till Moscow falls, and best to everyone.

Rusty

Here’s a different link to learn more about Rusty Heurlin, a family friend for all of his adult years.

http://www.alaskannature.com/Rusty_Heurlin.htm

Here’s another link to see some of his work.

http://vilda.alaska.edu/cdm/search/collection/cdmg3/searchterm/Rusty/field/all/mode/any/conn/and/cosuppress/

Tomorrow and Friday, two letters from Marian to the family in Trumbull letting them know what is going on with the Lad Guions.

Judy Guion 

Friends – Dear Ced – Rusty Heurlin And The PBY – August ?, 1944

This envelope contained three letters, the first written in August, 1944, and the second on September 2nd and the third on September 6th, 7th or 8th.  This is the first letter. 

Close-up of sketch at the top of the letter

Barrow, Alaska

August   ?

Dear Ced,

How is the old junk dealer. Sure thought about you yesterday and you would have been in your 7th heaven had you been in my gang yesterday.

Rusty’s sketch of Pt. Barrow in the letter

Barrow as you know is some 12 miles from sand spit known as Pt. Barrow. The point is low, about 2 feet above water and runs out to a shape like  (see sketch above)  so man’s feet can stand in marks as described, but then the sand is running into the water.

A visual and the history of the PBY – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fMJw8845P1o

About 2 miles east of said point a narrow spit ends and a lagoon begins. It was in this lagoon where PBY flyers anchored said plane at western edge and went for a walk to oil drilling quarters (tents) between Pt. B and Barrow. Next day they returned to find plane wrecked by storm and on eastern tip of spit inside lagoon. It was wrecked beyond repair, $25,000 shot to hell.

With permission to get some wire from it for picture hangings a bunch of boys found me offering transportation to the plane. We took with us wrecking bars, hammers, pliers, screwdrivers, wrenches (Stilson etc.) two axes and three hacksaws. It was a fine day for pirating and the sea smooth as glass. It was close to shore on way to point. We shot at random,  sitting on bow of boat – seals and ducks. Going eastward around the point we soon could see our prize beached about in center of spit. On landing, each man took tool from boat he was best trained at using. I got a heavy but badly nicked axe and a hacksaw, jumped to shore with 10 Eskimos and the schoolteacher (tried to get minister to join us at Barrow but he gracefully backed out of mission). We attacked plane from all sides, then within, and then the fun began. I cut several holes in sides of fuselage to throw our booty out of. Two small boys were delighted to stay outside and pile up the stuff as it came out of these compartment holes. After working diligently for eight hours which was a constant banging and squeaking of hammers, axes and wrecking bars, well the old PBY looked as if it had several bombs go off inside of it or that it had come down after going through much concentrated flack. We removed chairs, sinker boards, magnetos, batteries, 50 unknown gadgets, some 35 coils of wire, nuts, bolts, very light bombs, floating bombs, aluminum,  this and that and two boys hack sawed the two ______ of pear-shaped shutters to machine gun nests out of which they will make a kayak. The pontoons will soon be turned into kayaks also. The wing had all kinds of gadgets. I got my wire and the _______________.  We returned loaded to the gunwales, as nice a picnic as you ever went on. You sure would have liked the pickings knowing this booty,

I could not read the last bit of this letter, written in tiny letters all around the edge of the page. Rusty’s handwriting is difficult to read. For more information on Rusty, check out these links:   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magnus_Colcord_Heurlin     and see some of his art work at    https://search.yahoo.com/search?fr=mcafee&type=A211US679&p=Rusty+Heurlin 

Tomorrow, another letter from Rusty to Ced.  On Wednesday, I’ll be posting a letter from Marian to Grandpa. Thursday, a letter from Grandpa to all five sons and on Friday, a letter from Biss to Ced, the only brother not at home.

Next week, I’ll be posting more letters from Dan while he was in Alaska. I have just gotten these from his daughter, Arla.

Barrow as you know is some 12 miles from sand spit known as Pt. Barrow. The point is low, about 2 feet above water and runs out to a shape like                so man’s feet can stand in marks as described, but then the sand is running into the water.

A visual and the history of the PBY – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fMJw8845P1o

About 2 miles east of said point a narrow spit ends and a lagoon begins. It was in this lagoon where PBY flyers anchored said plane at western edge and went for a walk to oil drilling quarters (tents) between Pt. B and Barrow. Next day they returned to find plane wrecked by storm and on eastern tip of spit inside lagoon. It was wrecked beyond repair, $25,000 shot to hell.

With permission to get some wire from it for picture hangings a bunch of boys found me offering transportation to the plane. We took with us wrecking bars, hammers, pliers, screwdrivers, wrenches (Stilson etc.) two axes and three hacksaws. It was a fine day for pirating and the sea smooth as glass. It was close to shore on way to point. We shot at ______ sitting on bow of boat – seals and ducks. Going eastward around the point we soon could see our prize beached about in center of spit. On landing each man took tool from boat he was best trained at using. I got a heavy but badly nicked axe and a hacksaw, jumped to shore with 10 Eskimos and the schoolteacher (tried to get minister to join us at Barrow but he gracefully backed out of mission). We attacked plane from all sides, then within, and then the fun began. I cut several holes in sides of fuselage to throw our booty out of. Two small boys were delighted to stay outside and pile up the stuff as it came out of these compartment holes. After working diligently for eight hours which was a constant banging and squeaking of hammers, axes and wrecking bars, well the old PBY looked as if it had several bombs go off inside of it or that it had come down after going through much concentrated flack. We removed chairs, sinker boards, magnetos, batteries, 50 unknown gadgets, some 35 coils of wire, nuts, bolts, very light bombs, floating bombs, ______ this and that and two boys hack sawed the two ______ of pear-shaped shutters to machine gun nests out of which they will make a kayak. The pontoons will soon be turned into kayaks also. The wing had all kinds of gadgets. I got my wire and the _______________.  We returned loaded to the gunwales, as nice a picnic as you ever went on. You sure would have liked the pickings knowing this booty,

I could not read the last bit of this letter, written in tiny letters all around the edge of the page. Rusty’s handwriting is difficult to read. For more information on Rusty, check out these links:   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magnus_Colcord_Heurlin     and see some of his art work at    https://search.yahoo.com/search?fr=mcafee&type=A211US679&p=Rusty+Heurlin 

Tomorrow and Wednesday, , the other two letters from Rusty to Ced.  On Thursday and Friday, I’ll be posting two letters from Marian to Grandpa. 

Judy Guion