Bahá’í World/Volume 9/Alaska, Our New Frontier
30.
ALASKA, OUR NEW FRONTIER
BY ORCELLA REXFORD
ALASKA! Our wondrous northland of transcendent surprises, famed in song and story, of gold-rush adventures; hardy pioneers "mushing” over frozen tundras behind dog teams; prospectors from the earth’s far-distant places; and strange, primitive peoples. Alaska! Home of the Midnight Sun, the flashing Aurora Borealis and the North Pole where the weather has its hiding place. A land varying in climate from the soft breezes and foggy weather of Southeastern Alaska, where in summer three kinds of wild orchids grow, to the Arctic circle Where it may be seventy below.
Nowhere is there more surpassing scenery on such a magnificent scale. Hundreds and hundreds of miles of jagged peaks separated by deep and impassable gorges, down which roar torrents from glaciers eighty miles away. In summer when night takes a holiday, the earth is lush with emerald-tinted vegetation, dotted here and there with rainbow-hued flowers on the terrain, even to the edge of the melting glaciers, or they may float serenely in the little turquoise pools left when the snows retire.
Who can describe its wonders or imagine its vastness? Remote as it seems, yet from Juneau in Southeastern Alaska to Seattle is only eleven hours by air-line. Juneau lies closer to Seattle than does Los Angeles. If Alaska were superimposed on a map of the United States, the tip of the Aleutian islands would reach to Los Angeles, on the Pacific coast, while the southeastern tip would end in Savannah, Georgia. Point Barrow would then be over Duluth, Minnesota. Alaska would cover in all about one-fifth of our country. Incredibly enough, in this vast territory of 590,884 square miles live less than 73,000 people (according to the last census), not quite enough to fill the Yale Bowl. Yet Alaska could support ten or fifteen million inhabitants. Perhaps at the conclusion of the war, the population will increase more rapidly, as it gives promise of now doing.
Alaska was closely associated with my childhood, since there were relatives in the family who had been in the Gold Rush and never returned, and these stories were told to me along with other tales of adventure. Thus was born within me a peculiar urge to visit that far-away land, which became with the years almost a compulsion, why I was to learn later. It happened then, as a natural course of events, as the years passed, that a time came when I engaged passage on the boat for the Midnight Sun. Thus three years after accepting the Bahá’í Faith, I not only gratified my earlier craving to visit the Northland, but made the trip as a Bahá’í pioneer.
It was the early part of June, 1922, that this decision was made and I boarded the Alaskan Steamship Line and headed north through the Inside Passage. In and out through wooded spruce fiords we wound, through superb scenery reminding me of the coastal waters about British Columbia; and the snow-capped peaks of the interior were similar to those about Lake Louise and Banff. It was daylight most of the twenty-four hours and we slept little lest we miss “something.” But enchanting as was the scenery, I was equally engrossed with the passengers, for I hoped that there might be some amongst them with whom I could share, not just the beauties of nature, but those rarer treasures of the spiritual teachings of Bahá’u’lláh. So it was gratifying to me that the Purser arranged for me to give a talk to the passengers on the boat on the "message of the New Day” and to spread the teachings that a new civilization had dawned on the earth. Many were astonished at the news, and to those who requested further information, Bahá’í literature was given, which I had carried with me for this purpose.
Leaving Skagway, we passed into British territory travelling by the White Pass Railway over the Saw Tooth Mountains into the Yukon Territory, passing over some of the ground that the Gold Rushers had stained with their blood, fighting the blizzards and freezing winds as they pressed ever onward in their greed for gold. So hazardous was the trip that hundreds lost their lives. We were shown a spot down a precipice where even the horses committed suicide by jumping over rather than to continue on with the privations and suffering involved. How often that is the way in frontier lands! Yet because these pioneers had blazed a trail, today progress has followed in their footsteps and we were able to travel in luxury, while the guide told us of those heroes of 1898.
The trip from White Horse down the Yukon River in a queer wood-burning boat was uneventful except that I was able to give a talk on the Bahá’í Faith coming and going, thus deepening the understanding of those aboard. But tourists are not very promising material, they are not out for serious things. Yet in Lake Atlin at the Inn, on our way back to Skagway while I was giving the Message to the guests, two ladies from Boston who had heard me give it there two years before came to express their pleasure at hearing it again.
While in Dawson, I was invited to be an entertainer at the Festival of the Midnight Sun, given by the Ladies of the Golden North. It is not often they have the opportunity to have professional talent. Through this experience I met the editor of the Dawson Daily News, Mr. Charles Settlemier, who gave me many fine write—ups about the Bahá’í Faith. He had met Mrs. Imogene Hoagg and Miss Jack, the first Alaskan pioneers who had visited there many years before. I met many people who recalled having heard of the Message through them, yet I never met any people in my travels who had embraced the Message, owing to the fact that these teachers could not remain long enough to deepen the consciousness of their listeners. But some day others will follow in the footsteps of the pioneers, and nurture these seeds sown through love and sacrifice.
As a result of the newspaper publicity and the acquaintances made at the Midnight Festival, the door was opened for me to give a Sunday afternoon lecture to 550 people, some of whom walked twenty miles from the Gold Creeks in the Klondike to attend. Though these people had found the wealth lying in its streams, they now seemed equally desirous to mine the real riches lying hidden in the spirit. Could I have remained longer, I would have had a thriving class.
When I reached Juneau, a tea was given for me by the Governor’s wife, to whom I had a letter of introduction from a mutual friend in the “States.” Many of these ladies attended the series of my private lectures, which were sponsored by a local organization. These were well attended opening the way for me to "give the Message” to several hundred people. Here I learned not only that Mrs. Hoagg and Miss Jack had preceded me, but also that work had been carried on here for a number of years by a Miss Green of Washington, D. C. Thus quite a number in my audience were already familiar with it. I had intended to remain here for the summer, but Destiny willed otherwise. One day I met a passenger from the boat who described another section of Alaska to me in such glowing terms that I decided to continue my journey "westward” and to see the “rest of Alaska.” Thus a few days later I was again aboard a boat, heading on a four or five-day journey across the Gulf of Alaska to the Seward Peninsula.
If I had been enraptured with the scenic wonders I had beheld on my trip to date, they were added to in equal measure by the stupendous glacial scenery in Prince William Sound, in the Gulf of Alaska. Here was a glacier three hundred or more feet high, three miles wide extending back into the interior for a hundred miles, a mass of moving, greenish blue ice.
Again I gave the Message of Bahá’u’lláh
to the passengers on the boat, and met many
people who were later of assistance to me
when we arrived in Anchorage. One of
these was a friend of Captain Lathrop, one
of the most prominent citizens of the
territory and owner of a chain of theatres, who
engaged me for a week’s entertainment at
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each of his theatres. The entertainment
drew capacity houses. At the conclusion of
my week’s work I delivered the Bahá’í
Message to a crowded theatre of over five
hundred people, which was most remarkable
considering that the town only had about
twenty-eight hundred people at the time.
The Anchorage Times gave me many write-ups and was very helpful. It was a most receptive audience, as I found all these Alaskans to be. They seemed closer to the reality of life, owing to the isolation of the districts where many of them lived and the loneliness of their lives, which gives them ample opportunities to read and meditate. Somehow they seemed shed of superstitions and petty prejudices, and a spirit of brotherhood was in evidence.
Prior to the opening of my entertainments at the theatre I had asked the management to introduce me to some of the prominent ladies of the town. It was after one of the evening shows that I was presented to Mrs. Jack Robarts, who was an Alaskan pioneer, having come to the North during the gold-rush days and had been part of the life of the many mining camps. For many years she had lived in Fairbanks and had played the stellar role in a local stock company. Strangely enough I discovered that I was not unknown to her, that she had read a number of my articles which had been run in a recent magazine, and at that very moment had one of them pinned up in her study, on which was my photograph. We had, therefore, from the start many mutual interests, and she took me for an after-theatre chat to the studio of Sydney Lawrence, Alaska’s famous scenic artist, famed for the painting of Indian caches, and Mt. McKinley. Here she planned out the week’s entertainment for me which was initiated by my attendance at a large ball, my partner being Dr. Gayne V. Gregory, head of the largest dental clinic in the territory. Next the President of the Women’s Club gave a tea for me, and I addressed her club.
During the week of my lectures at the theatre, it became a nightly practice for Dr. Gregory, Mrs. Robarts and myself to meet at Sydney’s studio for discussions on subjects, which I felt would lead up to my giving them the Bahá’í message, reserved for my concluding lecture.
It was after this lecture that Dr. Gayne V. Gregory came to me with a beaming face and told me, “As you were talking, from the platform, I turned to my roommate with: ‘That’s it, just what I have been seeking, that which puts God into our ideas.’ I am so grateful to you for bringing the message of Bahá’u’lláh to me, and I accept Him as the new revelator.” My cup of joy was full, for here, amongst the many hundreds to whom I had offered life’s greatest gift, was the first one ready to accept it. But God had prepared him over a long period of time for this great privilege. It was a relief to find one who was ready to accept without questioning and argumentation. It was as if one day he looked at the blossom on a plant and later discovered the fruit, as a matter of course. Very shortly after, Victoria Robarts accepted; so they became the first man and woman believers in this part of Alaska, or perhaps in the whole country. (Since I had no way of knowing whether others had accepted at the time Miss Jack and Mrs. Hoagg visited here, I qualify this statement.) Certainly there were no Bahá’ís in Anchorage at this time.
Dr. Gregory was born near Missoula, Montana, of pioneer stock, his grandfather being the first settler of Salem, Oregon, who at one time had as his farm the present city of that name. His mother had come west in covered wagon days, and was one of the first to embrace Christian Science. She studied with one of Mary Baker Eddy’s original disciples and therefore was known as one of her “granddaughters.” In spite of intense family opposition to these new ideas, she became a practitioner and lecturer and traveled throughout the western country winning converts to the new faith. Her young son was greatly attracted to his mother’s teachings and was one of her most ardent disciples. He later was a reader in one of the Churches. Since he had never had an orthodox church training, the new ideas of the Bahá’í faith were easier for him to accept.
In 1904 Dr. Gregory, who had been practicing
dentistry with his father in Butte,
Montana, moved to Valdez, Alaska, where
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he made his home until he moved north into
the community which later became Anchorage,
the headquarters of the Alaskan Railroad.
The town was first called “Ship Creek”
but about 1916 was incorporated and the
name was changed to Anchorage, because
ocean-going vessels came up Cook’s Inlet,
or Turnagain Arm, and anchored at the
docks at the foot of the town. The town
was beautifully situated, encircled by high
mountains on a high plateau, with a view
of Mt. Susitna, an extinct volcano, across
the bay; and in the distance the ever white
top of Mt. McKinley, 200 miles in the
interior, was visible. It had two lakes within
easy reach of the town and automobile
highways built to them. Because it was
protected by the Alaskan range from the
coastal storms, the climate was rather equitable
here. Here Dr. Gregory, after several years
of private practice, finally merged his
practice with that of another dentist and a large
dental clinic was opened to serve this part
of the territory, which is still in existence,
although Dr. Gregory sold his interests in
1924, when he retired from active practice.
At the conclusion of my engagement at the theatre in Anchorage I was booked for a similar series at the theatre in Fairbanks, up near the Arctic Circle. I had made many friends during my short stay in this little city of the north and was loath to leave, but as I had carried on some class instruction on the Faith for these two ardent Bahá’í believers, I felt that I was leaving something definite behind me. I had planned to return from Fairbanks over the automobile highway to Valdez and so would not come back this way. Our hearts were sad over the pending separation, as these people seemed to be part of myself, yet it was such a short time ago that we had met. But I was soon to be made aware of the compulsion that had urged me to come north, for a few days before my departure I had a dream in which it was revealed to me that I was not going to leave here but was to become the bride of the young doctor, who was Alaska’s first Bahá’í believer. So I was prepared the next day when he came to me and told me that he, too, had experienced something similar and asked me to marry him. He had wanted to ask me very early in our acquaintance, but owing to the fact that I was a professional woman and my heart was in the spreading of the Bahá’í Message, he did not think it was expedient to limit my activities to a small town on the top of the world. However, I felt that this problem of my future activities was one that time would take care of; so I left for Fairbanks, with a very happy heart, setting my wedding date a few days after my husband’s birthday, November 16, 1922. (It was now the last of August.)
In Fairbanks, I again spoke to crowded houses, and wound up my week’s entertainment by giving the Message to about three hundred people. As I could not remain for ”follow-up work,” I could trace no results to this effort, but many seemed attracted.
Returning to Anchorage I gave another lecture on the Bahá’í Faith, and gathered a few students about me whom I continued to teach about the New Civilization.
Anchorage had many remarkable citizens for so small a community, many of whom later attained fame in the "States.” Among these was Dr. Gregory.
We left Anchorage shortly after for our wedding trip to the Pacific Coast, leaving Mrs. Robarts to carry on the Bahá’í instruction in our absence.
In July of 1923 we returned to Alaska where I again took up my Bahá’í work with the view of establishing a center in Anchorage. I gave another lecture in the theatre to a crowded house and started with a class of sixty. Those who had accepted the faith raised $60 and we sent it to the Temple Fund, as we wished Alaska to have a share in the erection of the Bahá’í House of Worship.
For a month I conducted a daily column in the Anchorage Daily Times on the Bahá’í Teachings. These were read all over Alaska with great interest and I distributed literature to those who wrote in for it.
Since Alaska is a shifting population, I
found it rather difficult to establish a center
there. Many of those whom I had first
attracted had moved away or had passed on.
So by the end of 1924 when we were ready
to depart for the "States,” having sold our
interests, the group had dwindled to nineteen
students whom I turned over to Mrs.
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Robarts to deepen in the faith. But it was
not so very long after that she too moved
“outside” to the "States” and, with no one
capable of carrying on the teaching, the
group finally scattered until few of the
original group were even living in Alaska.
In the fall of 1925 Dr. Gregory and I longing to visit our Guardian, Shoghi Effendi, decided to go abroad; so motoring to New York we placed our car aboard ship and spent several months touring France, Switzerland, and Italy. I gave several lectures in Paris.
In January of 1926, while we were touring Egypt, the invitation came to visit that blessed spot, Haifa. How overjoyed we were to think that at last the wish of our hearts was to be fulfilled, for I had long felt the need of consulting with out beloved Guardian about our work. We were with him eleven days, during which time there were no other pilgrims present. For this reason it was permissible for Dr. Gregory to have the supreme blessing of an audience with the Greatest Holy Leaf, one which was seldom granted. She expressed her joy at meeting the first Bahá’í pilgrim from Alaska to visit the Holy Land. She remarked, ”I hope as you have been a pioneer in Alaska in a material sense, in the future you will pioneer in the spiritual field. It is fine to have your wife to work with you; in this companionship you are like the two wings of a bird and can fly perfectly.” She gave him a vial of rose-water. How exalted he felt to be in the presence of the greatest living woman in the world! Those days seemed like days spent in heaven with Shoghi Effendi and the charming ladies of the household. We returned to America with greater inspiration to carry on our work which was crowned with greater success than ever. When the call came a few years ago for a new set of pioneers to go to Alaska to establish the cause there in the very town where we had labored so indefatigably, there was a great tug at our heart strings. How we longed to return and to finish the work we had begun! What would have been more fitting than that Alaska’s first Bahá’í believer should return and harvest the crop of the divine seed sown so long ago! But the way did not open for us to offer ourselves. We felt that our work there was finished and that others could carry on better there now. Our hearts rejoiced when the news came that Janet Whitenack, a New Yorker who had come to Fairbanks, had accepted the Faith. She had met Honor Kempton, and although she had previously heard the Message, was to be confirmed as the first Bahá’í believer in Alaska under the Seven Year Plan. Then when recently the news came that through the efforts of Honor Kempton and Frances Wells, Anchorage now had a Bahá’í community we were overjoyed. Strange how life is! A few months before Mrs. Wells went north, Victoria Robarts who has lived in Los Angeles for many years, assisted her at Big Bear to form a community.
Alaska now has the eyes of the world turned on it as our new frontier, not only in a material sense but as our new Bahá’í frontier. May Bahá’u’lláh continually bless and confirm the efforts of these faithful pioneers. When the war is over, may we again pay a visit to that land of pleasant memories and visit that community of the Greatest Name in Anchorage!