Grit, Grief And Gold: A True Narrative Of An Alaska Pathfinder

By ANDY BARNETT

Grit, Grief and Gold is an eyewitness account of M.J. Heney's railroad building in Alaska. Whiting was chief surgeon during construction of the White Pass & Yukon Route and Copper River & Northwestern Railway, as well as a good friend of "The Irish Prince of Alaska." This epub includes the original text and photos, an appendix that expands Whiting's account and additional photographs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ANDY BARNETT
• Release date: Dec 22, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301185115

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The Accidental Meeting and the Bargain

It was in the Spring of ‘98, during the mad gold rush to the Klondyke. Three men talked long into the night to a unique accompaniment just outside.

Skagway, the great gateway to the golden Klondyke in the far interior of Alaska, in the full bloom of her halcyon days, was speaking in her own chosen language, running true to form in her usual nightly carousal and dissipation in every form, during her short but checkered career of crime and lawlessness which at once labeled her as the wildest town Alaska had ever seen. The underworld swung into action in the early evening and never slowed down till late morning hours. The mechanical humdrum of the dancehall piano, the piercing scream of the hurdy-gurdy dancer in her drunken delirium, the mournful howl of the frost-nipped Malamute team-dog from the frozen trail of the dying winter, punctuated by the occasional crack of a forty-four, all combined to paint the lurid picture of a typical Alaskan environment. The towering crests of snow-capped peaks in the background, still calmly reflecting the midnight sun of a glorious Alaskan Spring day, silent sentinels of the blue Pacific slumbering far below; the insurmountable barriers against man and beast which had looked down for ages upon this same peaceful valley, suddenly transformed into a veritable hellhole of iniquity, a seething flesh-pot of crazed humanity, through Carmack’s spectacular discovery of fabulous wealth on the Yukon, which started into action the greatest gold stampede in the world’s history.

The Klondyke, some five hundred miles in the interior, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow; not far in a civilized country, but in cruel Alaska—with its hundreds of hardships, the rough, uncut diamond which defied, maimed and murdered the reckless adventurer who dared trespass its rugged surface, which was never fashioned for the comfort and safety of man—much farther. Already the crude Indian trail was dotted with occasional graves of unfortunate victims who had tempted Fate too far and succumbed to its cruelties. Hundreds of dead pack-horses lay strewn along the tragic death-path, grim, mute evidence of the faithful beast which had perished in humble submission to the will of a gold-crazed master; a land which was never planned for horses, many humanely shot, others which had been left to die alone by the trail-side when they could go no farther.

The deep snows of Winter had fallen upon the tragedies of the past few months and buried all beneath a frozen mantle of white, as if to hide in shame the victims of its wrath - Nature’s tombstone over the helpless creatures that had fallen under its cruel hand.

These were some of the things which the three men discussed and planned to better, if possible. But the building of a railway, their plan, in this forbidding country presented even greater obstacles than the present mode of transportation by pack animals; and even though possible, might still remain impracticable from a financial standpoint.

They wanted to know many things which were yet to be learned in so grave an undertaking. They had, as yet, not even seen much of the proposed route from the Pacific Ocean to the Yukon River, and reports were far from reassuring. Here, in this isolated country, thousands of miles from the great financial centers and factories in the States, with no means of telegraphic communication to aid them in emergencies, but instead the slow-going steamers to fall back upon, meant many nerve-racking, heart-breaking delays. This was no country for novices in railway building and they had come to realize that very fact.

They sat at a crude table in one end of the lobby of the St. James Hotel, a corrugated iron structure which boasted handling most of the notables of the trail, and sipped their Scotch and soda in true English fashion.

These three - Sir Thomas Tancrede, an engineer of international reputation from London, who had been sent out by one of its heavy financial concerns, had picked up Graves, the American representative, at Chicago, on his way West, both joining Hawkins, an American engineer, at Seattle.

The situation did not appeal to Sir Thomas, from a casual, off-hand survey. He had never encountered the many forbidding aspects across the Atlantic and here stood face to face with a unique situation in his extensive career in railway building. He had, even now, intimated to Graves an adverse report to London. The latter, an unusually aggressive type of Englishman, begged him to reconsider. Hawkins looked on in silence.

Building a railway, remarked Sir Thomas, is one thing, but maintaining it, especially in a country like this, is another, and I am quite frank in telling you that both will tax to the utmost the best available talent in any country. I have built railways in many lands and under all conditions, but I will admit this one outclasses them all in impossibilities. However, I shall sleep over the situation and talk with you in the morning, and, raising his glass, he hastily quaffed the remaining contents and arose from his chair.

At that moment the front door opened, a man entered and, stepping up to the desk, asked for a room. He seemed very tired and bore the unmistakable marks of the trail, but withal presenting a personality and mannerism such as to attract the attention of even the casual observer - and went to his room.

The other three strolled to the clerk’s desk and took the keys to their rooms, Graves remaining behind and casually chatting with the clerk.

By the way, Davis, who was that ambitious-looking young fellow who came in here a few moments ago? he inquired. There was something about him which made me curious, somehow.

Oh, that is a young chap by the name of Heney, came the reply. He just got in from over the trail. Stopped here on his way inside. He went on a scouting trip to see what the chances were for building a railway from here to White Horse Rapids, head of navigation on the Yukon. I told him all I knew, but I’ve only been as far as Lake Bennett, forty miles from here. Guess he won’t be quite so enthusiastic now since seeing it, he added, with a broad smile.

By now the other two had reached the head of the stairway and Graves called them back, informing them of the mission of the stranger.

Do you suppose we could have a little chat with him? he inquired of the clerk; I’d like jolly well to know a few things; he may not yet have retired.

Don’t know, replied the clerk, I’ll go and ask him. He seems like a good-natured sort of a fellow. I’ll go and find out, anyway.

Soon he returned with the information that the stranger would be glad to comply with their request just as soon as he’d washed-up, and he appeared a few moments later looking somewhat refreshed. He smiled amiably as he approached the trio.

Our landlord, began Graves, smiling apologetically, informs us that you have been running a preliminary survey over the Pass. What do you think about it?

Not very much, the way I’m feeling just now, came the reply. I left Lake Bennett at three this morning and they say it’s only forty miles, but judging everything connected with that nice little jaunt, I’d say it was something over four hundred, he added with a smile.

Would you mind telling us more about it? resumed Graves. How about a railroad? Would it be feasible, that is, with plenty of capital to put it over in a hurry?

Well, yes, came the reply, possible and also feasible, with plenty of capital - and plenty of accent on the capital.

By the way, resumed Graves, let’s step over here and talk it over, and they all went over to the same table where the three had talked all that evening.

Once seated, Graves lit his pipe, handed a good Havana to his guest and resumed his questioning. Sir Thomas calmly puffed his cigar, his strong, heavy face beaming with satisfaction in anticipation of something which he’d come a long way to find out, and apparently from the lips of a Napoleon. In his varied career he had also learned to listen, and he now squared himself in his chair and prepared to catch each golden word.

As Graves resumed he became more and more serious, puffing his pipe excitedly at times, unconsciously, in his enthusiasm, becoming more and more interested in his well-informed and courteous visitor, casting frequent glances at Sir Thomas for acquiescence and consent; Sir Thomas remained quiet. Dozens of years of experience had made him a seasoned veteran at this game and he was now enjoying to the utmost this very interesting dialogue becoming more and more convinced that the young gladiator there before him also well knew the game of railway building. He gazed upon his junior through the thick smoke in deep and silent admiration.

Finally, Graves sat back in his chair and meditated in silence, puffing his pipe leisurely, as if to check up on himself in his direct examination for some overlooked point. Satisfied, apparently, he glanced over at Sir Thomas, invitingly, inquisitively, for further suggestions. But the old fellow spoke not a word; he’d absorbed much concentrated food for thought and was now digesting it deliberately. He was accustomed to big things and was not going off half-cocked in this one.

The four sat in silence which was broken only by the din and clatter outside.

Sir Thomas finally raised his arms over his head and stretched himself in evident satisfaction, after the hour’s concentration, his comrades watching him intently, as if to read his final decision. The stranger, relaxing his tired body against his chair, awaiting further service, finally resumed:

Now, to sum up the whole situation, he began, "the entire Yukon country is clamoring for better and quicker transportation at any price. With the present wonderful gold discoveries others are being made almost daily, on tributary creeks to the Klondyke, which promise wealth equal to that of the original discoveries on El Dorado and Bonanza; so, the country will be producing its millions for years to come, apparently. The road once completed, the miners will be paying for tons as compared to pounds at present, to say nothing of passenger traffic; and the present rate of one thousand dollars per ton for the first forty miles by pack animals can certainly be improved upon by rail transportation, and by the end of the first year of construction this can be done. There will, therefore, result substantial returns after the first year, and these will naturally increase as more miles are completed. Aside from the commercial aspects you will have the most scenic railway in the world, as well as a sportsman’s paradise, as added attractions. This will likely require some little international diplomacy, but that can be easily arranged if properly handled. I estimate it will require two thousand men, working double shifts, night and day, Winter and Summer, to complete the job in two years, and the expense will, obviously, run into the millions. The unusual climatic conditions will double the cost of similar work in the States, but your rates will be in proportion and the entire outlay should pay for itself within the first two or three years of operation.

"During the first twenty miles you climb some three thousand feet to the Summit, at the international line, but from there on you soon enter the Yukon watershed, with a gradual decline to White Horse Rapids on the river.

During the Winter months you will be handling more snow than earth on the grade, but that is to be expected in Alaska. The most alarming situation is encountered at Mile Fifteen, where the line must necessarily pass directly across the face of a nearly perpendicular wall of granite which has been worn very smooth by ancient glacial action. This lies about half a mile above the valley and the men will have to be suspended by ropes from above in order to chisel a pathway across, before the engineers can make even a preliminary survey. This dangerous situation ends at a deep chasm, but that can be easily spanned. A perpendicular wall of rock arises on the opposite side, which will have to be tunneled. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and this is the only weak link on the whole line. Just beyond the Summit a chain of lakes extends well down into the Yukon Basin, and these can be utilized in Summer for transportation by boats, and in Winter they will be frozen over and serve as solid roadbeds for sledding with teams of horses. The whole situation is extremely unique, as well as difficult, but I would like very much to be the man to build it.

Well, why don’t you do it? inquired Graves, with a merry twinkle in his eye. Heney knitted his brow and looked him squarely in the face, sternly, half angered at the apparent sarcasm. But Graves, catching himself and realizing the slip of tongue, came back with:

I’ll put it in a different way; why not build it?

Heney, still puzzled, coolly awaited an explanation. Graves became very serious, and laying his pipe down on the table, placed his hand on the shoulder of his guest and replied:

Look here, Heney, I don’t mind telling you that we represent Close Brothers, of London, a very substantial concern of whose financial responsibilities you might easily inquire, should you so desire. Now, seriously, would you consider a business proposition? You seem to be the one, and only one, man in the world for this job; you seem to be born to the occasion, apparently. Suppose you take this gigantic proposition upon your own shoulders and put it over for us, say, on a percentage basis - a cost-plus deal; what do you say? casting cautious glances at Sir Thomas and receiving the mysterious and silent nod of consent.

Upon one proviso, came the reply, that I be given an absolutely free hand. Many factors must be considered, some of which are not apparent just now, but which will draw heavily upon the expense account as the work progresses. Emergencies of this character apply especially to Alaska, due to the wide range of weather conditions and extreme isolation, as well as the extra-hazardous character of the work. The greater part of this undertaking requires the use of heavy explosives, and these at sub-normal temperatures, ranging from zero to sixty below for at least four months of the year, which means much unavoidable delay, but worse still, unavoidable deaths and cripplings, so that by the time of completion, we shall have a well-filled cemetery of our own to gaze upon, besides an army of helpless cripples. I believe in paying and feeding my men well, as a business economy, and inasmuch as the element of time enters so strongly into the situation, that is going to add to the column of dollars and cents. The deep snows for at least six months of the year will double the cost of similar work elsewhere. However, this is not a case of a penny-wise and pound-foolish policy; but, I will guarantee to put the deal over in a two-year limit, and that should satisfy you.

Very well, then, replied Graves. Now a steamer got in yesterday from the States and leaves at ten in the morning. We can return on it to Seattle, the logical headquarters for Alaska, and will have some four days on the way down in which to go into further details. Once there, we can arrange finals. Hawkins can remain here and take care of the situation locally.

Michael J. Heney, a young Irish Canadian of much experience in railway building since the age of fourteen, when he began as a mucker, knew the game well. Already, at the age of thirty-five, he’d made and lost a small fortune. When the Klondyke loomed upon the horizon and electrified the entire mining world, he had perceived the necessity of a railway from the Pacific Ocean to the Yukon River, in the far interior of Alaska. Alone, and unaided financially, he’d undertaken a cursory survey of the country, well realizing that eventually a road would be built. With his indomitable energy he had gone over the ground alone and had returned rich in information, and had met, by chance, the very men who were just at that time looking for just such a man as he, and his wonderful ability in that capacity was richly proven by subsequent events.

A veritable human dynamo who never knew the real meaning of the words fear and fail; of keen foresight and a personality which at once commanded respect and admiration. Of