A side-trip on our visit to Dawson as part of my research for my Historical Fiction novel, A Drink of Darkness
There were two ways to get to the Klondike goldfields during the stampede of 1898. There was the treacherous and shorter (by mileage) overland route from Skagway over the Chilkoot or White Passes, then float the Yukon River from Bennet Lake through Carmacks up to Dawson. This route took longer (4 months on average), and could only be done when the passes were open. It could also only be done by those willing and able to pack the 1000 lbs of gear necessary to cross the Canadian border. The passes were too steep for horses, so the gear had to be packed by hand. It took a person on average 40 trips to lug the gear the 33 miles over the Chilkoot to Lake Lindeman.
Avalanches were common. Once the prospectors crossed White Pass, they built boats at Bennet Lake, the headwater of the Yukon (or Lindeman if they took the Chilkoot) . According to the RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police) over 7,000 boats, some of questionable seaworthiness were built and launched in the spring of 1898. But it was not smooth sailing. They faced the White Horse Rapids. Their choices were to either to shoot the rapids, or pack their gear around. After many rafts and canoes were lost in the rapids, the RCMP decreed that women could not shoot the rapids, but had to hike around. Klondike Kate (mentioned in a previous blog) is famous for having defied this order. She hopped into a raft at the last minute before they could stop her.
The longer route was by steamer from Seattle to St. Michael, then by Sternwheel (Paddleboat) up the Yukon to Dawson. The total trip usually took about 8 days (4 days travel up the Yukon). But in the summer of 1898, the year my main character Helena travels to meet her husband in Dawson City, water levels were notoriously low. The boat trip up the Yukon stretched into over a week. The boats ran out of food as they slogged the 1600 miles to the “Paris of the North.” This still seems like better option compared to 4 months on the trail, but it was expensive. Not only did you still need to have the 1000lbs of gear, you had to be able to afford a ticket on the boats. They were often overcrowded, dirty, unmaintained and got stuck often in the slow, muddy Yukon River.
They also could only run when this massive Northern River was free of ice. Break-up in the spring of 1898 (not necessarily ice-free) was May 8. The first paddlewheels did not get to Dawson until June. The last steamer out with a load of gold was mid-September. Freeze-up was October 31. This was a narrow travel window for those coming to Dawson in the pursuit of gold.
On our recent trip to Dawson we decided to take a tour of
the Sternwheel Graveyard. We heard about it only by chance as we were researching
things to do in Dawson. It is not located in Dawson City, but on the West side
of the Yukon River. To get to the graveyard from Dawson, take the ferry across
the river to the Yukon River campground. You’ll have to park then walk through
the campground, then north along the river bank.
This site by Murray Lundburg has comprehensive information
about the Sternwheeler Graveyard. Murray has been visiting the site since 1990
and has complied pictures of the decay of the wreckage over the years. He has
also done a great job of putting together the known history of the site. Rather
than try to duplicate his work I have included his link below:
You can see information about the 7 ships that were originally believed to have been abandoned at the site, along with an original picture from 1938 of the Julia B (the sternwheeler closest to the Yukon). He also includes a comprehensive list of the boats that travelled the Yukon and the dates they were believed to have been in service. For the purpose of my story, I used the Alice, as I know from references this boat brought the Sisters of St. Ann to Dawson in August of 1898 to work for Father Judge as nurses at St. Mary’s hospital.
Here our some of our photos of the graveyard in August of
2019:
View from the bank of the Yukon:
If you are heading to Dawson and would like a unique
activity, I would highly recommend this excursion. As you can tell from these
pictures, this is a hazardous location with unstable structures. If you chose
to venture forth, please do not enter or climb onto any of the wreckage or take
“souvenirs.” Sturdy hiking boots are highly recommended.
Thanks for reading. My horror novella, the Dark Land is available on Amazon
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The “Tisha” of Robert Speck’s book published in 1976
Some of you who follow my posts about our cabin in Chicken, AK may have read the book, Tisha, written by Robert Speck. This book was loosely based on the life of a real school teacher in Chicken, AK. Her name was Anne Hobbs Purdy.
She wrote her another, based more on her time spent teaching in Eagle, titled Dark Boundary. This was published in 1954, and gave a much darker version of experiences as a school teacher in the territory.
Both versions are worth a read, and from talking with old timers in Chicken, Anne was quite the character. She was born in Missouri on November 10, 1901 and died in Dot Lake, AK on April 15, 1987. The Purdy family still owns property in Chicken. While I will be posting pictures of the “old town” of Chicken, I will not be posting any pictures or locations of the current Purdy family property out of respect for their privacy.
I put together this blog post for those of you who are fans of the book Tisha, but have never made it to Chicken. This will also be the setting for some of my future stories in my horror series (should it become one-rap wood!).
We’ll start the tour with Jack Strong’s house. He had the contract to deliver mail and supplies to Chicken. He is the one who also “delivers” Anne to Chicken at the beginning of the story. His house was the largest and nicest in Chicken, also doubling as the General Store. As you can see in the picture, it has subsided over time into the permafrost.
Maggie’s Roadhouse was the meeting Place for the town, where everyone would come together to gossip. It was also where they would get together after the dances on Saturday nights.
So if you have read Tisha, you know that Maggie was a busy-body and a trouble maker. She didn’t like that Anne had taken in two native kids. She also didn’t like that Anne and Fred (a native man) were flirting with each other. As you can see here, she would have had ample opportunity to spy on Anne at the school house. This plays into several key scenes in the novel Tisha.
Toad is featured in a couple of my blogs. He was one of the last residents to live in Chicken full time before it was finally completely abandoned. He worked for Fairbanks Exploration and stayed on as a caretaker when they pulled out in the 1960’s. He eventually moved to a different place a few miles outside Chicken. Last year he moved to Tok. Only one person lives in the “Old Town” Of Chicken during winter as a caretaker now to prevent vandalism.
Thanks for reading! My horror series The Dark Land and The Devil’s Valley, based on the Athabascan legend of “the People with Tails,” is available on Amazon.
“She is all nerve as she enters the room and surveys the waiting crowd…the dance hall girl is industrious. She is never vacillating or undecided, she is persevering. She does not flit about the room bestowing a smile here a caress there and again a pouting neglect. When she selects her victim, she stays with him. The more marked her favor, the greater is his triumph. He needs her to complete a spectacle of himself as a favored beau…” -1 pg. 56
My historical romance, A Drink of Darkness has been just as much fun to research as to write. Set in the Yukon Gold-rush boom-town of Dawson City in 1898, I have spent a lot of time gathering information about the setting and the people of Dawson.
My Saloon Girl Helena, and my vampire ladies of the night Eve, Bianca and Liz are complete works of fiction, but I drew my inspiration from reality. I used many sources for my writing, but one of my favorites was Lael Morgan’s Good Time Girls of the Alaska-Yukon Gold Rush.
This was one of the first books I picked up when I moved to Alaska 12 years ago, and it is a great resource on these women who were an integral part of pioneering what is still referred to as the last frontier. Her book follows the ladies through the entire rush. My post will stick to a specific location and time period for now. I decided to put together this short blog post to pay homage to this reference and to these unique, real ladies of Dawson City in 1898.
Ms. Morgan uses photo’s from the various archives and stories of these women’s lives to show how they shaped not only the Gold Rush, but Alaska and the Yukon Territory’s fate. It is a fascinating journey through an era where women were forbidden from: owning a Saloon, wearing bloomers, and in some areas prospecting or owning a claim. Prostitution was illegal in the Yukon and Alaska territory, but law enforcement looked the other way and often protected these ladies, seeing the services they provided as a necessary evil to keep the lusts of the men at bay, lest they take it out on “respectable women.” These women came north, often packing their gear themselves over the treacherous Chilkoot Pass or taking the 1600 mile all-steamer-route.
Federal Judge James Wickersham, who presided over Alaska
during this time kept a collection of pictures of these ladies (which can be
accessed via the Alaska Digital Archives). He spoke well of the “Good Time
Girls.”
“The sporting women were of a more robust class than usual among their kind, hence there were fewer cases of venereal disease among them…The women were also younger, more vigorous and independent than those of the same class in the older more crowded communities in the states…” -1 pg. 19
He later went on to say:
“A goodly number of these women yielded to the persuasions of their favorite male customers, quit the life of the dance hall or the bawdy house, and calmly settled down to a quiet home life with their husbands…It quite frequently became my duty as judge to perform marriages for persons of that class and more often that not the marriages were successful.” 1-pg. 51
While this sounds really sweet and romantic, history (and Ms. Morgan’s book) paints a slightly different picture. The hardships and economics of the decisions could be very persuasive. The cost of living was high. Rent on a basic cabin or tent in Dawson could be $30 a month, not counting food. To stay single and in a “respectable job” (nurse, school teacher, secretary were a few of the limited options), these jobs only paid around $20-$30 a month, if that. They were literally skewed to force these women to marry-or to consider less than respectable options.
A saloon girl could make a base pay pouring whiskey of $40 a
week, plus 50% of every drink or bottle she could sell, plus tips. Easily
clearing hundreds of dollars a week if she could hustle and was pretty. Dance
Hall, or “Hurdy-gurdy” girls made a dollar a dance or a drink plus tips—and the
men tipped generously for the privilege. Girls managed to squeeze in over 100
short dances a night. The prostitutes (at least the attractive ones) could make
upwards of $250 a night. Meanwhile marriage was a gamble. Mortality rates were
high. There was no guarantee that a miner would find (and keep) a good claim.
Even if he did, if he happened to die, she could lose the claim, not having the
ability to work it herself.
This sounds cold and calculating, but in a town (and time) where men outnumbered the women by a landslide, these women didn’t come north to find husbands. They came north to make a fortune, just as the men did. And they did it the only way society would allow. I am not going to go into deep detail, if you want that, please read Ms. Morgan’s book, but here are a few of their pictures and stories.
**All of the pictures below courtesy of the Alaska Digital Archives. For permissions on usage of photos, please follow the instructions on their web page: https://vilda.alaska.edu/
Rose Blumkin, The Fairy of Dawson
She worked officially as a Dance Hall and ticket girl at the
Monte Carlo theater (though she couldn’t dance or sing), but her love of fine
jewels and ball gowns (and her police record) suggests she did a lot of work
between the sheets to support her lavish spending. After her stint in Dawson
she moved to Nome with the rush.
Golden Belt
A picture of a belt of gold nuggets commissioned by one of
the “Kings of Dawson” to be made for Rose. From reading Ms. Morgan’s books, the
men, coming into these insane fortunes had little to spend it on other than
whiskey and women. To show their newfound prowess in finding gold, they
lavished it on the good time girls—to the extreme. Their mindset was, if I need
more, I can just dig it out of my claim.
Menawhile, one of my favorite quotes from Diamondtooth Gertie
Lovejoy:
“The poor Ginks just gotta’ spend it…they’re scared they’ll die before they get it out of the ground.” 1-pg. 58
Babe Wallace
While arrested (and fined) for running a house of prostitution, Babe Wallace did well enough that she was able to import a piano to her establishment. She eventually left the Yukon, but died young in 1911.
The Oregon Mare
One of the things that I found highly amusing in my research
was some of the creative nicknames of the ladies: the Swedish Queen, Nellie “the
Pig” Lamore, Diamond Tooth Gertie, etc. I used this in my writing, creating my own
nicknames for my working gals. This is a photograph of a lady known as the Oregon
Mare, real name of Ethel Nellie. A popular prostitute in the early days of
Dawson. She is even mentioned in a Robert Service poem. Considering he got to Dawson
in 1908, long after the initial rush, Ethel would have moved on by then, he
would have known her by legend only.
The Dutch Kid
This is a photo from Judge Wickersham’s collection. He
withheld her real name, only noting that later she became a nurse. Often times
when the ladies would leave the “profession” (and the region), they would do
everything they could to conceal their past. Their husbands and families were
often eager to assist. Some speculate that this lady was actually the first prostitute
into the region.
The Gypsy Queen
As previously mentioned, not all the ladies were prostitutes. Here is a picture of the Gypsy Queen, Mrs. Curly Monroe, wife of a local Saloon owner.
Lucy Lovell
Lucy Lovell was a popular American actress who had toured the London stage and decided to give the north a try. She made her fortune in the Klondike. Unfortunately, she contracted tuberculosis during her tour of the territory. She retired to Arizona and passed away shortly thereafter.
May Stanley
May Stanley worked as a Dance Hall girl, selling whiskey and dances with men (which was legal). Morgan’s research indicates that since her name does not appear in any police reports linked with prostitution that she never worked as a call girl. My character Helena’s job is modeled after girls like her, trying to make a living without selling themselves.
Klondike Kate “The Belle of the Yukon, the Sweetheart of the Sourdoughs” 1-pg 157
And of course, the most famous and bold of the Dawson girls. Born Eloisa Rockwell in 1876 in Kansas. Technically, she didn’t get to Dawson until 1900 (though she would have been in Seattle and Skagway at the time), so I can’t include her as part of my story, but I have to mention her. She made and lost a fortune as a Good-time girl. She was known for putting on quite a show. In one act, she would wear a skimpy leotard and roller skate around the stage (skimpy for the era). In her famous “Flame Dance”, she wore yards of sheer chiffon had fans blow it about her while she shimmed in front of red lights.
Ms. Morgan’s book and the Alaska Digital Archives have been a treasure trove of information on the period. I hope you have enjoyed my post about them and will check out her book and the archives! maybe someday A Drink of Darkness will see the light of day as well…only time will tell!
References
Morgan, Lael; Good Time Girls of the Alaska-Yukon Gold Rush. Epicenter Press, Inc, 1998.
Thanks for reading! My Alaska horror novella is currently available on Amazon:
My research into Dawson City for my Historical Fiction novel: A Drink of Darkness
Gold was discovered in the Klondike in August of 1896 in a small tributary in the sprawling Yukon River. Due to slow communications, the rest of the world didn’t hear about it until July of 1897, after the Excelsior pulled into Seattle with “A ton of Gold.” A million people made plans to head north. Over 100,000 people actually crossed the Canadian border, taking one of few routes to the Klondike gold fields.
They could get to Skagway and take the “short,” treacherous
route over the Chilkoot Pass or White Pass. Too steep for horses, they carried
their 1000 lbs of goods mandated by the Canadian government on their backs. It
took an average of 40 trips over 33 miles to cart the goods over the passes to
Bennet City, where then the next leg was via river. This exercise took almost 4
months to complete.
Or they could take the 1600-mile, more expensive, all-water-route. They would travel by steamer from Seattle to St. Michael. Then they could take another boat up the Yukon. The steamers only ran from June until the end of September, when the river was free of ice. In the summer of 1898, the water levels were at record lows and the steamers got stuck multiple times, stretching the journey from 10 days into over two weeks.
In the summer of 1898, 40,000 people passed through Dawson City. A brash boom-town already calling itself the “Paris of the North.” During its boom from 1897-1899, it would be the largest city north of Seattle and west of Winnepeg. By the time the “Stampeders” reached the Yukon, most of the best claims had already been staked. People had been mining for gold in the region for over 10 years. When miners close by heard of the strike, they quickly moved in and staked the best claims, leaving little to nothing for the men who arrived by 1898.
As I mentioned in a previous post, we writers are often
told, “Write what you know.” I know what it is like to live in Alaska, and work
in the extreme cold (the coldest temperature I have ever worked in was -65 with
WC of -80). I know what it is like to be really remote with no internet, power,
cell service, running water and other basic services. But going back to another
period in time is a completely different story.
For my Historical Fiction, A Drink of Darkness, set in
December of 1898, the peak of the boom in Dawson City, I needed to do some
detailed research to give the story more depth. I used several sources, but
this blog post is going to focus on the archived photographs from the Alaska Digital
Archives. It is a compilation of historical photographs from Alaska’s past,
taken from various resources (UAA, UAF, Alaska’s libraries and records) and
digitized into one location. You can view and search them here:
It is free to view these photos online, but in order to use these photos for a blog or website, permission must be granted from the Archives. You can find the form and instructions to do so like I did on their website.
I started by searching through the archived photos of Dawson. I wanted to get a feel for the layout of the streets and the way the buildings looked. Built at a rapid pace on a muddy turn of the Yukon River, the first year it was mostly tents, yurts and three-sided log cabins. There was no sewage system or electric grid. Most heat was either wood or fuel oil.
Note how the cart is buried up to its axles in the mud. Dawson was built on the mudflats of the Yukon River and extremely prone to flooding. The streets through downtown were unpaved in this period
They didn’t account for the spring flooding of the Yukon River or subsidence into the mud. As time went on, more “permanent buildings” were constructed. However, there were multiple fires. The worst being in April of 1899. Before this, there was no sewage/plumbing system downtown. After this, the new buildings were mostly finished wood instead of log construction. These details are important to my research both in showing the crude conditions in which my main character Helena had to live, but in determining which buildings belong to which era of Dawson. They were also helpful in understanding how people dressed when out on the street.
Note the crude log construction in this photo and the lack of telegraph lines (though there appear to be poles with cable in the background-the system was under construction, completed in summer of 1899). This photo is probably from 1898, before the large fire that devastated the downtown.
It is also critical to note how the hills and river looked.
This land is similar to where our cabin is in Chicken with boreal forests
containing spruce, birch and willow. At roughly the same latitude as Chicken
and Fairbanks, it is also prone to permafrost. Due to all of the mining and
need for wood, the trees were clear cut around Dawson by the winter of 1898,
leaving Midnight Dome, the mountain behind the city, bare to the weather.
The lack of telegraph lines and street lamps indicates the above photo was once again probably from 1898
This is another view of Fronts Street. The better constructed buildings and docks along with the telegraph lines running along the water lead me to believe this photo has to post-date the fire of April 26, 1899 which leveled the waterfront.
I was also able to get an understanding for which businesses and Saloons were actually open the year Helena would have been in Dawson, along with an idea of the location of buildings critical to my plot (the Royal Mounted Police Barracks from which Liam and Zhang break into/out of at one point in the story).
There were fantastic pictures of the boats pulling into
Dawson. I used these, along with my other references to show what Helena’s
arrival into the “Paris of the North” would have been like.
Pictures of steamers waiting to load/unload. Note the tents pitched right next to the river, along with the small boats just left along the shore. In the summer of 1898, boats pulled into Dawson by the hundreds nightly. But could you imagine wintering in the Yukon in a tent? Not to mention, the Yukon is notorious for flooding in the spring. Just ask the residents of Eagle, AK:
Communications/transport of goods/travel
Dawson had a telegraph installed by summer of 1899, but little other communication to the outside world. The Yukon froze October 31, 1898. Steamer travel would have ceased weeks before as the river began to clog with ice (starts to happen beginning of October, pictures I reviewed online indicate mid-to end of September was the last Steamer out). Once the river freezes, the only way to transport supplies was by dog sled. This was treacherous at best, presuming the aforementioned passes were open. Skagway to Dawson was 444 miles over rough trails prone to avalanche, but a few brave souls did it for profit.
This is critical to my plot as well, both stranding Helena in Dawson for the winter (the Yukon typically won’t completely break up until May, with the first steamer arriving from Seattle until June). She then has to survive the boomtown madness. It is also critical to Liam. He needs to contact his brothers in Sitka and his oldest brother Jack, who is on the American side of the border, scouring the gold rush towns of Jack Wade, Steel Creek, Chicken and Eagle. The only means of communication by December of 1898 would have been mail delivered by dog sled.
According to the unofficial census taken by the Mounties, approximately 16,000 people wintered in Dawson, but only 500 of them were women. Something else is stalking the Yukon in the winter of 1898. Something deadlier than typhus or scurvy.
Helena will struggle to resist the Drink of Darkness. The taste is to die for.
Thanks for reading! For my next blog, I will be talking about my research into the real ladies of the night of Dawson City and other boom towns of the Alaska-Klondike Gold Rush.
Our second trip to Kennecott Mines National Historic Landmark and Wrangell-St. Elias National Park.
In 2007, I made the decision to pack up everything I had and take a job in Alaska working a rotational job in Prudhoe Bay, Alaska. I didn’t know anyone, and had no idea what I was getting into. I moved from an office job in Seattle to a field-based job in the arctic. I can say, without a doubt, it absolutely was the best decision I ever made. And not only for myself, but for others I have met along the way, there is an enduring mystique about the land that is still dubbed: The Last Frontier. Wherever I go, I get peppered with questions about what it is like to live and work in Alaska. Some of my novels are based on adventures I have had along the way, but others are based here in the 49th State. While I have lived here almost 13 years now, I am amazed at how much I still don’t know about one of America’s youngest states.
My Alaska Adventures have become the inspiration for so much of my writing (as you’ll see below), and yet I am blown away by how much I don’t know.
A particular piece of writing advice that writers hear time
and time again is:
WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW.
I think we can all agree that this is a bit misleading, and
really, not very well defined. My perspective is that it means to write from
your life’s experiences and passions. When George Orwell wrote the War of the
Worlds, I don’t think he knew first hand anything about alien invasion, but he
understood people. Ernest Hemmingway wrote incredible novels based on his life
experiences as an ambulance driver during WWI. Charlotte Bronte wrote
passionate Gothic Romance based on her hardships and privations as a child
raised in a poor, rural English parish in the mid-1800’s.
Historical Fiction has always intrigued me, as well as historical non-fiction. It is fascinating to read about characters from the past and imagine what their lives must have been like. We can’t really KNOW what it was like to live in their time and walk in their shoes, but we can research and Imagine.
In my quest to write a series of both contemporary and
historical fiction about Alaska, I have been visiting some of the lesser known
historical sites. This trip, we went back to Kennecott, AK. This copper mine in
Wrangell-St. Elias National Park operated from 1911-1938. It produced 200-300
million dollars’ worth of copper and silver (4.5 tons of copper ore). Owned by
the Kennecott Syndicate, a corporation formed between the Havemeyer,
Guggenheim, and J.P. Morgan Families, it operated 363 days a year. A 96-mile
long railroad project costing $23 million was built from Cordova to Kennecott
to bring the ore to market. Deemed the Can’t Run and Never Will Rail Road
(Copper River Northwestern Railroad—CRNW RR), it ran until 1938, until the mine
was shut down.
My series a Copper Year is set in the roaring 20’s. It’s a
story about a young woman who survived the horrors of WWI France and travels to
Kennecott to work as a nurse. The novels are about her journey from Europe,
across America to Alaska. It then will detail the life of a single, female
nurse in a camp dominated by men. The societal expectation being that she
wouldn’t stay single long. She would find a good husband and settle down,
putting her career aside to raise a family (apparently, they had a rule that
once a woman got married, she could no longer work). No one really takes into
account if that is what she really wants.
This story was inspired by two ideas. One my own work
experience as a woman in engineering working almost always only around men.
Then also my research into the archived pictures of Kennecott. While most of
the women who got married were named in the photographs, the unmarried nurses
were just labeled “unknown nurse.” It was a symptom of the time in which they
lived. They weren’t considered a critical part of the story until they found a
man to marry. Otherwise, they merely faded into obscurity. This gave me the
idea for creating a romance around one of these “unknown women.”
Part of my research has been to dig into not only the photo
archives and written history, but to take actual trips out to Kennecott and do
tours to learn what life was like for the people who lived and worked at the
mines. It is fascinating to learn about day to day life at the mining
operation. The park rangers give daily talks about camp life and the people who
lived here.
We have also taken multiple tours of the Concentration Mill,
Power Plant, and Leeching Plant. These tours can be booked through St. Elias
Alpine Guides. They do a great job explaining some of the back history of
Kennecott and the purposes of the various buildings.
While my story A Drink of Darkness is currently set in
Dawson City, I plan on expanding the series to Kennecott eventually (rap wood
it gets that far). In this case, I will have my immortal vampires Eve, Bianca
(and others) who masquerade as “Ladies of the Night,” showcase the rowdy town
of McCarthy. Sitting at the toe of the root glacier, 5 miles away from
Kennecott, it was also the turnaround point for the CRNW Railroad. Kennecott
was a “Company Town,” owned by the Syndicate, with strict rules, and
technically dry. McCarthy was a boomtown that sprung up to cater to the whims
of the working men. Complete with bootlegging and brothels, a man could work
months for his pay check, walk to McCarthy, then be back at the mines in a week
or two, having blown it all.
My contemporary horror novella (currently available on Amazon), The Dark Land is also set in the area. This novel was inspired by the remote wilderness areas of the park, and local Athabascan Legends.
Thanks for reading. Stay tuned for more book reviews and Alaska adventures!
A genre in literature that seems to be really popular at the
moment is “Time Travel Romance.” I think everyone has answered the question,
“If you could go back and meet one famous person from the past, who would it
be?” I think that is the beauty of not only the idea of time travel, but
Historical Fiction in general. The chance to imagine what it would have been
like to meet the heroes of the past. We cannot travel back in time, so we use
our characters as a means to interact with our heroes and idols vicariously. In
my current work in progress, a Historical Fiction titled A Drink of Darkness, I
do some of this. I detail some of the history and people of the Yukon Gold Rush,
having my fictional characters meet with real people from history.
I had the great fortune to beta read Danielle Ancona’s By Immortal Honor Bound, a Historical Romance last March (now available, see link below). Her novel puts a twist on Angels, Gods, Demi-gods, and Alchemy. Danielle and I met via social media, and both have a strong interest in STEM. I promise that my detailed review will be coming soon.
After reading her novel, I asked if it would be okay if I wrote a short piece inspired not only by her work, but one of my heroes from the past. Here is my take on her male protagonist, Malachi meeting a famous character in history outside of Danielle’s novel.
Lae, New Guinea, July 2, 1937
She beamed one last broad smile at Malachi as Fred extended
his hand to help her onto the Electra’s silver wing. She mouthed, “Bye!” and
climbed up.
“Goodbye Amelia, may Hermes and Nike bless your journey, and
see you safely to Howland Island,” he whispered to himself as he smiled and
waved his goodbye in return.
The steady 10 knot wind whipped their flight suits in the
morning sun as they climbed in the plane. Everyone moved away as the Lockheed’s
engines roared to life. The propellers blurred and hummed in the morning wind.
The plane bounced along the rough tarmac, making a brief
circle, then picking up speed for its take off. The heavily fueled plane
gleamed in the sun like a silver coin as it lifted from the ground, speeding
the two brave souls within eastward on their historic journey.
Malachi stood with the assembled group of workers,
reporters, airmen, even local New Guinea tribesmen watching as the Electra
became nothing more than a dot on the horizon. Malachi’s own back throbbed, as
his angel wings ached to span and soar into the sky after her. To be free on
the morning wind, gliding over the deep blue Pacific. His heart swelled with
pride, watching these brave humans achieve something that made both the
Celestials and the Seraph jealous, the techniques and skills of flight.
Something in the past reserved only for the birds and immortals.
Though Amelia wasn’t the soul he had been searching for these last four centuries, it had been a true pleasure meeting and getting to know the bold and charming female aviator. He had many reservations about this plan to fly around the world at the equator, especially after her last crash in Hawaii. But he couldn’t dissuade her.
A peal of familiar laughter on the wind raised his hackles. A shiver ran down his spine. He turned to see
Gideon standing behind him, silver eyes scanning the skies as he shook his head.
“When will these foolish mortals learn,” Gideon asked,
toying with a length of something in his hands. “Flight is only meant for those
who can take the fall.” The rage that had been boiling in Malachi’s guts turned
to ice when he recognized what Gideon held in his hands. A length of antennae—from Amelia’s plane? No!
Malachi looked back to the sky, heart pounding. The silver
Electra was no longer visible against the broad expanse of blue. Malachi sent
out silent prayers not only for Amelia’s sake, but to Thot and to Raphael,
letting them know of Gideon’s presence on Lae.
“What have you done?” Malachi demanded.
“Me—nothing. It’s
not my fault the tarmac here is so rough. Or that you had to just get involved
with and bring your curse upon her
mission. And it’s not my fault she is so eager—so desperate to be the first
that she left behind the CW Transmitter equipment in Miami to save fuel. It’s
her own pride that will be her downfall, like so many zealots. Not. Me.” His
smile smug as he twirled the antennae like a baton. “Go ahead, Malachi the
Fallen. Do it. Draw your sword. Try to strike me down here in front of all
these people,” Gideon challenged.
Malachi seethed, hands itching to either draw his sword or
materialize flame against the leader of the Seraph. As it was, they were
getting sidewise glances not only from some of the remaining airmen on the
tarmac, but several of the local tribesmen. They whispered in low voices in
their unique dialects, pointing at the two angels as they squared off in the
morning sun.
“You won’t win this, Gideon,” Malachi insisted. “When will
you see that all of your Seraph plans to stifle human innovation have failed? I’m
not the Fallen, you are.”
“Please. Your arrogant Celestial leaders are green with envy over human flight. When DaVinci dreamed up his flying machine in the Renaissance, even they hoped he was just a one-off.”
“They were obviously wrong, as are you,” Malachi said, hands
on his hips.
“Well, good luck scouring the Pacific,” Gideon said, tossing
the antennae in the air. Malachi caught it as Gideon turned and melted away
into the nearby foliage.
Malachi clutched at the piece of wire, heart aching. Amelia, no. He thought to himself as he scanned the skies once more. Head hanging low, he walked toward the ocean, willing Thoth and Raphael to meet him.
Is it my fault? Is she
going to die now because I reached out to her, hoping she was the one? Should I
have backed away when I realized she wasn’t?
He crouched down near the water’s edge watching the waves
wash back and forth.
“It will be alright, old friend,” a voice said, as a hand
touched his shoulder. He looked up to see Raphael standing over him. “This is
not your fault.”
“I want to go after her, at least help her,” Malachi said,
broad muscled hands motioning eastward.
Raphael closed his eyes. Malachi’s heart sunk.
“Her fate was cast long before you met her,” Another voice
answered in his stead, “I know it hurts, but you may not intervene.” Malachi’s
head swiveled to see Thoth standing to his other side, but not in his usual
form, with his hooked Ibis beak-head. He stood before him, as a human Guinea
tribesman shaman. Crimson, blue, black and white paints obscuring his face,
dark skin gleaming in the bright sun.
Malachi dug his fingers into the wet sand, biting his
tongue. He looked skyward once more.
The elaborate bracelets adoring Thot’s wrists rattled as he pointed
his hand in the direction Amelia’s plane had disappeared. “Fear not. You
answered Gideon correctly. While Amelia will perish, her spirit will not. Her
legend will live on. Men and women alike, will be inspired to innovate and take
to the skies.” His voice softened. “Nike will smooth her passing, and escort
her personally to Hermes who has already built her a throne so she can sit
beside him in the heavens.”
“Can I at least—see—” Malachi began to say.
“No,” Thoth, God of Judgment decreed. “You must trust in
this.”
Malachi nodded, biting his lip so hard he could taste blood. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked out over the ocean. He and Raphael stood vigil together on the beach until the rest of the world heard the news they already knew. Amelia Earhart’s plane had lost radio contact, and had never reached Howland Island.
I have always admired Amelia Earhart. A true pioneer, and a
woman far ahead of her time. More than 80 years after her plane disappeared
over the Pacific Ocean on the last leg of her attempt to circle the globe at
the equator, it is still one of the greatest unsolved mysteries of the 20th
centuries.
Inspiration for this particular scene came from a video of
her last take-off from Lae, New Guinea on July 2, 1937. This video shows both
Amelia and Fred fit and smiling as the board the plane and take-off. Through
analysis of the video, there is some thought that she may have lost her belly
antennae mast during the take off over the rough runway. There were reports
that a length of antennae was found on the runway sometime after. This would
have potentially contributed to her inability to receive clear voice radio
messages. She also left behind critical CW transmission equipment, as she and
her navigator were not proficient in its use, in an attempt to save fuel. These
and other factors contributed to their inability to reach Howland that fatal
July.
I first read about the analysis of the video here on the Tighar Project website, but the video was difficult to view/download.
My favorite Amelia Earhart tribute song from when I was a teen. Hey, had to include this as it fits with both Danielle’s book and my article. Enjoy rocking out.