Life in Sitka

By Dorothy Detray Graber, circa 1941

In November l941, my five-year-old son Robert and I left for Sitka to join my husband Frank, who worked as a welder on the airbase. We spent six days on a cruise ship to reach Sitka. We sailed from Seattle, Washington on a Friday morning aboard the SS North Coast. The North Coast was 320 foot long and had a capacity of 150 first class passengers. The cost was $50 one way or $100 round trip from Seattle. It was a very luxurious ship with thick, richly colored carpets, harmonizing draperies and a baby grand piano giving the observation lounge an inviting, restful atmosphere. The dining room was spacious with tables for parties of two, four and six, and full course meals were served daily and afternoon tea and bedtime snacks were served between meals, all included in the cost of the fare. The ship’s orchestra provided an appropriate musical background during lunch and dinner. We spent two uninterrupted days of cruising to reach Ketchikan.

Mile after mile we cruised a unique water boulevard known as the “Inside Passage”; a succession of sounds, inlets, passages, narrows and channels crested by the many islands that make the Alaska coastline.

We arrived in Ketchikan on Sunday, Wrangell and Petersburg on Monday and Juneau on Tuesday. In each town, we stayed long enough to see and enjoy scenic and historical attractions. We arrived in Sitka, our new home, on Wednesday. We met several families on the ship who were also moving to Sitka.; several were Navy wives with children, joining their husbands who were stationed there.

Sitka is located on Baranof Island and was founded by a Russian, Alexander Baranov, in l799. It is the oldest town in southeastern Alaska. When we stepped off the ship we could immediately feel and see history in this wonderful town. More than once it has had a rendezvous with destiny in the world. Under Baranov, it was the capital of Russian America and later the capital of Alaska for a time. A mansion was built and here the noble Russian governor, officers and their gracious ladies gave balls, which become known around the world.

Yankee skippers called Sitka “the Paris of the Pacific.” At this time in history, San Francisco was still a “mud hut” mission village. Nowhere on the entire Pacific Coast of North America except at Sitka, could a voyager find such cultured living.

On the morning of October 18, 1867, the Russian flag came down and the American flag went up. The United States had purchased Russian America and on that day of transfer, it became Alaska. The modern Sitka that we could see as the boat cruised into the bay was very beautiful. Before walking down the gangplank to any one of the three central wharfs, we had a panoramic view of Sitka. The first large building that caught our attention as we strolled down the main street was the Alaska Pioneer Home. It was a four-story building that spread out in many wings. A senior citizen or pioneer of the Territory could live here we later learned. If a person had money or property, he had to turn it over to the Territory first, but he could live here also if he had nothing. The grounds were landscaped with bed after bed of Alaska wild flowers; it was very beautiful. The only hospital on the island was located on the top floor of this building. The hospital was equipped with the latest in modern equipment. The town people could use the hospital and its fine operating room only in an emergency. Little did I know when I first admired this building that I would have an emergency appendectomy performed six months later. During my stay at the Pioneer Home, I was overwhelmed with the amount of attention I received from the residents.

A nurse explained to me, “Honey, they haven’t seen anything as young and pretty as you in a long time!”

Author Dorothy Detray Graber (right) with a shipmate, headed to Sitka

The business district of Sitka was two blocks long and built on just one side of the street and on the side of the bay. In the center of town stood the log-built Orthodox Cathedral of St. Michael. On the top of the Church was a carrot shaped belfry. Inside the belfry were six bells, and these were the gift of the church at Moscow, Russia. Inside, the many priceless “objects of art” were hauled across Siberia by pack train, finishing the journey by sea.Leaving the business district we could see the Russian Orphanage built in 1843. Next to this was the Territorial School, and it was here our son Robert started school. The Native Alaskans had their own school in their own part of town. Beyond this was the Sheldon Jackson School, maintained by the Presbyterian Board of Missions for the education of native children. Well worth seeing were the Tlingit and Eskimo tools and ornaments in the school’s museum. On the edge of town was the Sitka National Monument Park where, in addition to the beautiful scenery, the Totem Poles are located.

Sitka was a very busy town as the Army and Navy had literally taken over. The Navy was building an airbase, which was opposite to the town of Sitka on Japonski Island, named by the Russians because a shipload of Japanese soldiers was shipwrecked there in 1805. It was here on the air base where my husband worked. Apartments were impossible to rent and we lived in a hotel and took our meals in a restaurant for six weeks.

We were living in the Sitka Hotel the Sunday morning of December 7, 1941, and learned of what happened at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. Sitka had many Japanese families; one family ran the town laundry. Monday morning, the Japanese people were marched through town by soldiers to an awaiting boat.

The Army and Navy families also departed on government ships, back to the States.That Sunday of December 7, our little town went into complete blackout because it was thought that Sitka’s location could be the next target. Partial blackout, 6:00 pm, no unnecessary lights such as porch lights should be showing at any time. Blinds should be drawn whenever lights are on. Homes and businesses must not be left with unattended lights. Complete blackout, 12:00 midnight to 4:00 am, absolutely no lights must be showing during this period. In June 1942, the Japanese were on the Aleutian Island at Kiska, one of three islands on which they landed. I’ll never forget that night; the only lights we had in the hotel were in the hallway and they were very dim. We spent the night in the hall with the rest of the hotel guests, in shock. Our young son pulled his first baby tooth that night, and such an event we all made of this ordinary thing. The next week, all the businesses placed heavy black tarps on the outsides of their buildings. The hotel solved the problem by painting the windows black. What a strange feeling to go outside the hotel at night to the restaurant, or what we thought should be the restaurant, under the tarps.

We found an apartment that an Army family had vacated. Above our yard was the grave of Princess Makeroff, first wife of the last Russian governor. She was an English woman so her grave was in the Lutheran Cemetery, not the Russian. History surrounds one on this island.We had many practice air raid alerts in ensuing months. We kept several packsacks full of recommended necessities: food, clothing and medicine. We had a special place in the woods back of our apartment, and my son and I would go there to wait for my husband. We never knew if an alert was practice or real until we heard “all clear.” The air raid alarm was a continuous blast of all sirens and cold storage whistle; the all clear signal was one short blast of the above. Life was scary, but exciting also. Everyone on the island was aware we had no place to go if we were invaded. We had six miles of road going one way and three miles the other way. Life settled into a routine and I soon learned to shop for fresh fruits and vegetables on the days a boat arrived. There are gentle rains in Sitka, some fog and snow in the winter, but the temperature has reached zero only four times in one hundred and fifty years.

The fishing was a dream-come-true to my husband. We had many wonderful fishing trips.We lived in Sitka two years, and when we were preparing to leave, the old timers, the sourdoughs, told us we would never forget Sitka and we would someday return.

Perhaps some day, when nothing more than the swoop of a gull, the clang of a ship’s bell, the memory of two wonderful years fills our hearts to overflowing, we will return to Sitka, Alaska.

Dorothy was the mother of the publisher, Scott Graber. Her dream came true – at the age of 85, she returned to Sitka in the summer of 2004 aboard a cruise ship.