Here it began all those years ago…
“Talk not to me of your rights until you have first demonstrated your worthiness through great acts of virtuous responsibility,” Preston Sinclair, American.
Nome, Alaska, USA, 1899
Here are two more of those panoramic photos, this time from Nome, Alaska, when it was only two months old. They built fast back in those days. I suspect it had something to do with gold. The photos were taken in September of 1899, so the town only started construction in July.
Notice that the saloon is one of the first wooden structures while the living quarters remain tents. Goes to show what was really important and what wasn’t. To think what these people went through is incredible. So many hoped to get rich; so many returned poor. Probably the saloon owners made the most money. It must have been a rambunctious time.
Here’s a look at the waterfront.
There is a twin masted schooner there on the beach. Maybe she’s up for repairs or just lying there until her owners want to make the next voyage. Sailing her down through the Pacific must have been quite an adventure. Behind her lies a small steam boat. Again, I note the tents. Must have been a muddy mess.
Photos like these bring ideas for stories. Whenever I travel, I look for flea markets, yard sales, things like that, in hopes of finding old photographs. Each one has a story of its own and sometimes the best one is the one not told, that of the person who took the picture. What did they have in mind when they released the shutter? What was their purpose? Why did they find it necessary to take a picture at that moment? Of course, you can never really know. However, you can create answers of your own to those questions. It’s good exercise for the imagination.
These are the kinds of things history shows us. I only hope we learn something from it.
Privateers and Pirates
As mentioned earlier, I’ve been researching a novel tentatively titled MacMillan Judge, Privateer. The course of this research has taken me through many volumes, a few trips, and into places that I normally wouldn’t go. It has been quite an education into a subject I knew very little about. I’ve examined the circumstances surrounding privateer activity during the American Revolution and the War of 1812. Originally this story was going to be something akin to a swashbuckler. However, I came to believe that the people who performed heroically during these two wars deserved better. They are entitled to a representative character who upholds the ideals of the new nation as well as his own private convictions as to what it means to command a vessel of war. I say vessel of war as opposed to warship because the privateer typically used a converted merchant ship or one built for speed rather than brute force. Below is a photo courtesy of the United States Federal Government of the Pride of Baltimore, the type of Balitmore Clipper on which MacMillan, Judge will sail.
This is a tricky subject because privateers operate under a letter of marque granted by the government under which they sail. Their activities would normally be considered piracy, but the letter of marque gives them privileges normally reserved for standing navies. A privateer raids merchant ships, attacks other nations’ warships, and shells their land forces. However, in the course of these dangerous forays, any salable goods or vessels captured are subsequently sold and the proceeds go to the privateer. Therein lies the rub: the privateer is a money-making venture as much as it is a military affair.
Of course, when the United States declared independence (and later in the War of 1812), they didn’t have much in the way of a navy. They faced the most powerful naval forces the world had ever seen, those of the British Empire. The solution was to empower private individuals to take great risks in order to create some semblance of a marine force. According to some of the books I’ve read, this was a very effective method. Benjamin Franklin was an investor in a privateer ship during the revolution, as were many others of all walks of life. The privateers racked up a string of victories that would be amazing even by today’s standards. One particular ship captured six vessels in six days right under Britain’s nose in the English Channel. Another privateer sent a letter to Lloyd’s of London, bravely stating that the the British Isles were under his blockade. That’s a bold statement from a man aboard one ship. But the letter was posted at Lloyd’s and insurance rates skyrocketed.
But what about that sticky question of outright profit in the course of the war? Are these people really just pirates by another name? From what I’ve learned I would have to say, no, they are not pirates. Pirates, despite our Disney version of them today, were not the happy go lucky bunch looking for treasure and a cute place to drink rum. Pirates murdered their way around the world until allied forces hunted them down. The American privateers caused their share of casualties and made their profits, but they did not indiscriminately attack neutral ships. At the same time, when the war was over, they ceased their activities and resorted to non-combatant trading.
One way to look at the privateers is to think of their prizes as a method of payment. Instead of receiving a salary, they collected money from successfully attacking the enemies resources. It saved the United States Treasury a bundle and created a number of highly successful businessmen in the process. Many of these people invested their money in the growing economy of the United States, which only furthered progress in a place that was still a backwater when compared to Europe.
I’m looking forward to writing MacMillan Judge, Privateer. Our Mr. Judge is going to be the thinking man’s warrior, not a Disney-fied hero who dodges grapeshot and dances about the deck. First I have to finish Under A Blue Flag, which is the sequel to An Island Away, but that’s another story that I’ll be talking about soon.
Coca-Cola Corner
Here’s a photo from a corner in Slatington, Pennsylvania, USA. I’m not sure what the name of this place is, either Kurt’s Korner or Homeslate Sports Bar. Kurt’s has the sign above, but Homeslate shows up on the Coca-Cola painting on the wall.
Doesn’t matter. I’ve driven past this place about three hundred thousand times in my life. Okay, not that many but I grew up a couple of towns away and this place was frequently on my route to somewhere else, especially when fuel was cheap. Ah, those were the days, sometimes.
As might be gleaned from the name of the town, Slatington was once surrounded by slate quarries. It was a prosperous business for a while, especially before the advent of asphalt shingles. All those roofs of a growing America needed something to keep the rain off of our ancestors. Of course, nothing lasts forever. The slate pits filled with water after they were abandoned.
I’ve been known to crisscross the northeast United States in search of such places. Sometimes I find people who were alive during the glory days of these old-time industries. They love to chat about the past. Often times they explain unique solutions to everyday living that were actually commonplace in an age before computers and modern appliances.
As mentioned before, I’m going to start photographing these people and writing down as much of what I learn from them as is practical. At the moment, I can’t remember where, but various historians are taking oral histories from people in order to build a record of the past that is from many more first-hand sources. It seems like I’m duplicating their efforts. Nonetheless, why not? In the first place, those who have gone before me deserve a record of their accomplishments. Second, who knows what comes of such writing? I remember my early days in Aruba. Plenty of people told me stories about the island and their lives. Then, some years later, I was writing An Island Away. If not for the people I met there, the story would never have come about.
Just like the Coca-Cola tagline, my thinking is that life… “It’s the real thing.”
The Bent Page 
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