as the doctor squeezed the ball and watched the gauge.
“How’s it look?” I asked.
“See that you don’t get too heavy,” he said. That did it. Removal of the lard would have top priority.
After filling out forms in duplicate and triplicate, after swearing not to overthrow the government and swearing solemnly that I never had been or was presently affiliated with a Communist or Fascist Party, after indicating my preference for Kodiak, I was told to report again in two days. Okay, then, two days to be a tourist—to see Seattle with new eyes.
I spent the rest of the day in a waterfront aquarium and finally in a theater, where I saw The Wild North, a movie about a desperate man in some of Canada’s roughest mountains.
Cars sizzled along the street in a steady rain, their lights glistening on the pavement. People hugged close to the buildings as they hurried along the walks. The rain felt good hitting me in the face. Just for a change of pace, I stopped in a bar to have a few drinks. I sat at the bar with a young, homesick soldier. He was drinking beer because there nothing else to do. The place was full of people with nothing else to do. Women were waiting to be picked up. I didn’t want that kind of trouble.
“Don’t stay in here too long,” I said to the soldier. “They’ll keep looking better and better.”
Usually I walked upstairs to my room instead of bothering the clerk to take me up in the elevator. Tonight, I was later than usual. I noticed the handle to the closed door leading upstairs was missing. Was this a precaution against unwanted guests? The only way up was the elevator.
When I opened my room door, I found a note had been slid under it. Lonesome? it read. You don’t have to be, you know. There was a number to call. Now, who had put it here? I hesitated, then slowly tore up the note and tossed the pieces into the wastebasket.
I brushed the curtain back and looked down on the street. There were lots of lonesome people in this world.
I hoped Kodiak was the paradise I heard it was. I intended to work hard, play hard, and save my money. When I saw my family again, I’d be richer, both in money and experience.
July 16, 1952
Dear Dad, Molly, & Mrs. Millet:
This is only going to be a short letter. I took off without my Marine Corps discharge. Everytime I go away, although I check and recheck my gear, I always manage to overlook something. Because I will probably need it when I get to where I am going, would you please send my discharge to me by the fastest way possible? I think you will find it in one of the trunks at your place…. Mail it to:
GEORGIAN HOTEL
ROOM 307
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON.
I went over to the Naval District Headquarters and inquired about Civil Service jobs in Alaska, and much to my satisfaction, found a few laboring jobs open…. The woman at the desk told me I had the job as long as my physical did not in any way reject me. I have to sign a one-year contract and as far as I know, I will be in Kodiak, Alaska. The pay is just under $2.00 per hour.
Please hurry along my discharge. Hoping all is well.
Love to all,
Sam
I HAD BEEN EATING IN THE Sportsman’s Cafe. The food was excellent, and I enjoyed sitting at the counter and watching the chef do his job. I have always been fascinated by people doing things well. Harry Mae, the chef, had many orders going at the same time. His movements were flowing, and he wasted none of them. He was tall with sunken cheeks, deep-set eyes, and features like Abraham Lincoln.
This particular evening was slow when he placed the steak platter in front of me. It must have been obvious to him how I savored the brown-crusted, red pieces of beef.
“How’s the steak, bud?” he asked, leaning on the counter.
“Best ever. You can cook my grub anytime.”
He dumped more salad on my platter. Then he got a piece of pie and a cup of coffee and came around to sit beside me. We sounded each other out. I was enjoying his company and hoping that customers would stay away for a bit.
“You have to go down deep for king salmon,” he said. “Bounce three and a half ounces of lead off the bottom and ripple a sewed herring along about a foot above it. Picture three hundred to four hundred boats trolling the bay. You sock into a big king and then he starts his run. All them lines out there. You bring him to the boat, and you’re a fisherman.” He pointed to a picture of himself with a sixty-four pounder he had caught. Then a chance remark revealed that he had been to Kodiak.
“How’s the fishing up there?”
He grinned. “Tie a rope on a broom handle,” he said. “That’s all the gear you need. Wait till you see that water. So clear you can drink it.” He got up as a group sauntered into his restaurant.
I smelled the sweet scent of the woman before I saw her. Her hair was a tumble of black brown curls, snapping with glints of copper, and bouncing on her shoulders. She sat a few stools away from me, tipped her head back like a sunbather, and her hair shimmered. Her knitted suit hugged the swell of her breasts and communicated the mold and movement of every muscle. She moved a leg to cross over the other. I glimpsed her calf muscle roll and bulge against the nylon. The idealist part of my nature still controlled the animal. I didn’t hear her voice. She was just a beautifully alive creature that entranced me, that made me linger over my coffee like an old man watching the glory of a sunset. She never looked my way at all. If she had, I would have turned crimson.
STATEMENT OF LIVING AND WORKING CONDITIONS
U.S. Naval Station, Kodiak, Alaska
26 November 1951
GOVERNMENT: The U.S. Naval Station, Kodiak, Alaska, is under regular Navy jurisdiction. All civilian employees are subject to Seventeenth Naval District and regulation, including naval discipline, during their presence on the station, whether during or outside regular working hours.
GENERAL: The station is part permanent and part temporary. It might be termed to be in “Pioneer State” without paved streets, walks, etc. Prospective employees should not expect metropolitan conditions.
CLOTHING: Civilian employees should provide themselves prior to departure from the United States with heavy clothing for winter, rain clothing, and overshoes for both winter and summer. Work clothing, rain clothes, and overshoes and boots are obtainable in the town of Kodiak. Prices for all of these articles are higher than in the States.
BEFORE I LEFT FOR KODIAK, I needed some gear, so I bought a suit of neoprene rain gear, a Filson cruiser jacket, and several sets of Duofold long-john underwear. I was beginning to feel like an Alaskan before I even got there.
My departure date was approaching fast. At the Alaska Recruiting Office I filled
