After over 25 years in the Yukon, it was time!
My folks went on a cruise and all they brought me was this lousy t-shirt!
When I was a young scalawag in the early ’80s, my Mom and Dad went on an Alaskan cruise. They brought back t-shirts for my brother and I (cue the old saying — My folks went on a cruise and all they brought me was this lousy t-shirt!).
But this wasn’t a lousy t-shirt, it was from the Red Onion Saloon (ROS) in Skaguay, Alaska! A brothel from 1898! How cool was that? I cherished that shirt and took very good care of it. I still have it, it’s over 40 years old now, and it’s in great shape — no holes, the writing is still clear as the day it was printed.
Now, full disclosure. My family emigrated to Canada in the very early ’70s, I was very young and entered on my parents old IMM 1000 Landed Immigrant Document. Over the years, things flopped back and forth between being allowed to have dual citizenship or having to renounce my British citizenship to become a Canadian. I could travel, work, pay taxes — the only thing that I couldn’t do was vote — no big deal!
All that changed a few years ago. My Mom passed away quite suddenly in Spain, where she and Dad had been retired for over 20 years. My passport was expired, I had this photocopy of a certified copy of the old IMM 1000 and I couldn’t just jump on a plane to get over there.
That led to a massive restructuring of my life. I needed a current British passport to get my Canadian Permanent Resident card in order to apply for Canadian citizenship and ultimately a Canadian passport. It was a very long — and expensive — endeavour!
When they all came in the mail, I was itching to take my new ID for a test drive, so I called up my friend Haywire Harry Kern and asked him if he’d be into going to Skaguay with me. I’m so glad that he accepted, and trust me — there is no better guide for a Skaguay first-timer than Harry!
I met Harry in Carcross and jumped into his SUV. On the way down, he pointed out some really cool things, like the spot where the pass sends water south to the Pacific Ocean or north to the Arctic Ocean. He regaled me with fabulous, animated stories of his time working for White Pass & Yukon Railway, long before there was even a highway.
In no time, we arrived at the US Port of Entry and both passed the officer our credentials, in my case, my brand new passport and PR card. The officer looked at them and did a little check on his computer, then asked us, “Please park over there and come inside.” We did as we were told. As we got out of the car, Harry looked at me and said, “It’s either me or you.”
Once we were inside, the officer told me that he couldn’t let me into the US. What? He informed me that, as I was travelling on a UK passport, I’d need pre-approval from the US in the form of an ESTA visa. He gave me a form to show to the CBSA to return back into Canada and sent us on our way. Damn! So close and yet so far!
Harry was great about it. He said to get the visa approved and we’d try again next week. This time at the border, I had to go in and have my biometrics taken and a stamp for the visa in my passport but then we were heading down the hill into Skaguay. Woo-hoo!
Harry was the consummate tour guide. His knowledge of the town and its history is second to none. He drove me around town to see the sights. I recall telling him that my first impression was like a cross between Banff and Dawson City — very touristy but also very Klondike.
Then we headed out to Dyea, where the vast majority of the prospectors of the Klondike gold rush disembarked and started their treks across the Chilkoot Trail to the goldfields in Dawson. We stopped at the Slide Cemetery where the victims of the 1898 Palm Sunday avalanche are interred. That was very spiritual and humbling. I’d never even heard of it, but as we wandered around, I found a marker with S. Atkins on it. My Mom’s name was Sheila.
We drove out onto the flats and right up to the water. It was a cool and rainy day. But being at the ocean has always been very calming for me and I loved every minute. And all of this – the coastal rainforest, the ocean, a mere two hours from my house! And I’d never been?
Well, we got back in the car and headed for the pièce de résistance, the purpose of the trip — a beer at the ROS. I was wearing my 40-year-old ROS shirt and we walked in and sat down at a corner table.
What a great place! The waitress came over and took our orders, I had my usual beer and a shot of tequila and just gazed around, soaking in the character of it all.
Girls in bustier corsets with money stuck in their cups, old pictures hanging on the walls, cruise-ship tourists packed into the saloon, locals chatting loudly about their days and every once in a while, the ‘madams’ would assemble on the stairs and invite tourists for a tour of the brothel. Their mantra of “Where the ladies never miss a trick” is very apropo.
After a little while, this wonderful lady, Deb, came over and introduced herself as the manager. Then she asked me where I had gotten my t-shirt. I told her the story about my parents and their visit some 40 years ago. I told her about my Mom’s passing and wanting to send my Dad a new ROS t-shirt.
She wouldn’t take my money; she just gave me one. She turned to Harry and asked if he was the person posting old pictures of the saloon on Facebook.
Of course Harry whipped out his iPad and started showing her old photos from way back in the ’80s, when his friend Jan Wrentmore had first re-opened the saloon, about the same time as my folks had been there. Within minutes we had, it seemed like, every staff member at our table checking out the pictures and my shirt, which were both older than most of them, I suspect.
All of a sudden our money was no good there. They wouldn’t let us pay for our nachos or drinks, although I did buy a lot of swag from the gift shop. I am still wearing my ROS ball cap to this day. I sent Dad his new t-shirt without telling him that I’d been or that the shirt was on the way. It made my Dad’s day. He loves it!
It was a spectacular day, thanks to Harry and the great folks in Skaguay, I can’t wait to go back! If Pam’s up for the ride, we’ll go together, but if not I’ll ask Haywire again. And just to be clear, the reason that I spell it ‘Skaguay’, is because that’s the way Harry does.
I understand that Jan passed the garter to another wonderful Alaskan business woman, Tracy LaBarge, who owns two restaurants: Tracy’s King Crab Shack in Juneau and Skaguay. Jan has moved on to semi-retirement and runs the Burro Creek Wilderness Lodge which aims to develop hydro electric power for the Port of Skaguay. Those ROS girls never miss a trick!
