In 1957 I turned 18, joined the Alaska Fishermen’s Union, and hired on as a deckhand on a power scow fish tender owned by NAKAT PACKING COMPANY, a subsidiary of the A&P food corporation. The Rolfy, my new home for three summer months, tendered out of Waterfall Cannery, one of the remaining self – contained canneries situated on remote islands in Southeastern Alaska. In 1959 Alaska became a state, banned fish traps. Gill netters and seiners replaced traps as the source of pink and sockeye canned salmon for the lower 48 states. This transition gradually ended the corporation’s control of the salmon industry.
My story takes place in these ending years, but first join me in Waterfall Cannery, the largest of the canneries located outside of towns like Ketchikan. Tim Olson
WATERFALL CANNERY
Plow through the Skookum Chuck on a fair tide,
turn Rolfy’s wheel to the right,
suddenly Waterfall cannery,
my life’s center for three months
spreads and nestles
in the Ulloa Channel.
A quiet cannery in late June,
becomes a bustling cannery in August
during salmon trap season.
What will the season bring?
A successful season?
One hundred thousand cases of salmon?
Or maybe way less,
expenses not made,
A&P picking up the tab.
What will it be?
Hopes are always high in June.
WATERFALL COMPANY STORE
Every thing worth knowing happens in the company store,
everyone hangs out there, the melting pot of the cannery,
Tendermen sleep on the tenders, the natives in their cabins,
Filipinos in their bunkhouse, the machinists in theirs,
superintendents in homes on the hill.
Company store is open territory,
only place to keep dry,
and bullshit at the same time.
Knives, oilskins, staples, pop, candy bars, playing cards,
Ranier fishermen’s slippers, any length – all EEEE,
plaid wool shirts, Spinnaker shirts,
and more can be charged to my account.
Storekeeper jots down the charges,
on a pad labeled
Ole, Ingvald, Tim, Frank, Harry, Fred.
No hard sell here.
Look, consider, change your mind, why not?
Charge it.
Until September and payoff,
“Did I really spend $450 at the store? No way!”
“Yup,” the bookkeeper tells me.
“You want to see the charge slips?”
Bullshit is the prime staple.
How big would the canned salmon pack be this year?
A paper thermometer kept track daily of the cases.
A buck for a chance at the pot.
If lucky, I guessed
the total number of cases packed
during the season,
I win the money pot.
A rich son-of-a gun.
SALMON - FROM THE TENDER TO THE CAN
THE WEB LOFT
Waterfall’s fishing heart,
Run by Ingvald- who held the keys-
Round bodied, ruddy cheeked,
he knew everything there,
Controlled who got what:
seine nets, trap spillers,
lockers containing gear for each trap
from stoves to oars to mattresses.
Rope of every size:
big seven inchers for spring lines
small lines for tying up spillers during brailing.
wooden heavy planks, new manila,
tarred web, blue stoned seines,
steel weights for traps and leads,
lanterns, corks, kerosene lamps, rusty frying pans,.
Ing checked what came in, issued what went out.
Ing was god here.
MUG-UP IN THE MESS HALLL
EVERYONE WELCOME
To read previous SALMON SUMMER post – click here
I got my introduction to your blog tonight, Tim. I’ll keep checking! Or will I automatically be told of new posts?