Economists are routinely accused of practicing the dismal science, but there was nothing dismal about George. He had the unusual ability to make economics visual: As you read him, the world he describes unfolds before you. "The Future of Alaska: Economic Consequences of Statehood" (1962) is one of Alaska's great books in part because of the analysis, in part because of George's storytelling.
In the first chapter, George remembered his 1945 trip north.
"My wife and I entered Southeast Alaska the first time by boat, to my prejudiced mind the only proper way to meet Alaska. Except for the two brief stretches affording a view of the open sea to the westward, we had the feeling of penetrating deeper and deeper through an evergreen-lined labyrinth, the secret of entry and exit known only to the pilot. The intricacies of the passage limited the forward view, keeping the immediate future an unknown until it was upon us, and rapidly blotted out what had been so recently the present. There was a strong impression of time being a concrete, physical thing, something we were passing through by distinct steps representing future, present and past which could be plotted on a map."
This is a man of exceptional sensitivity engaging an exceptional land.
George was born in San Francisco, his childhood home. Ethnic loyalties and rivalries defined his neighborhood, and he was the odd man out among the Italian and Irish kids. His mother was Australian, and his school put him in a special class -- with immigrant children -- where a hapless young teacher tried to eliminate the kids' accents and force them to talk "American." I have wondered if this humiliating experience moved him to identify with the underdog.
Or perhaps it derived from George Burrows, a family friend and former British sailor, who never missed a left-wing demonstration and habitually sang leftist songs written to inspire the masses to rebel.
George went to work in the research division of Standard Oil of California in 1934 to help support his parents. At 17, he was a statistical clerk. "We were in forecasting, working on the company's five-year plan." Forecasting was new in the Thirties. "I learned all the economics I needed to know right there. No theories, just data. We were looking for trends." He eventually earned a degree in economics from Berkeley.
During World War II, he was a staffer in the Office of Price Administration, which did just that -- administer prices. The OPA sent George to Alaska to find out if salmon prices could be fixed. George wrote back, "You have waited too long -- Alaskans won't put up with it."
After the war, George became an assistant to Gov. Ernest Gruening and designed the territorial income tax. Gruening was dedicated to statehood but believed Alaska would not become a state until Alaskans proved they could support their government.
On occasion, he represented Gruening at civic events, the Alaska Native Brotherhood/Sisterhood annual dinner, for one.
"They opened by singing 'Onward Christian Soldiers,' and the evening proceeded under the direction of a council of elders. When there were questions about procedure, they were referred to the elders who quoted Robert's Rules of Order. The elders called the bureaucrats and politicians to a stage where William Paul Sr. (a Native lawyer) would tear them up for their sins of omission in a shaming session. I was the whipping boy for Gruening because with his giant ego, he wouldn't submit to anything like this. I was fined $25 -- the price of the dinner -- for Ernest's sins," George told me.
George attended the Constitutional Convention as a consultant on natural resources, and assumed a consulting role for many years on population dynamics, economic development and Native affairs. He was among the first economists to explore the Natives' role in Alaska life -- and the impediments they faced.
While advocating statehood, George was clear about the challenge the new state would face. The economy was fragile, heavily dependent on federal spending, and while Alaska had the proverbial "storehouse of natural resources," those resources were far from markets. Most of the time, when Alaskans talked about development, they meant subsidized development.
Then came the discovery of Prudhoe Bay, which transformed Alaska in ways the young economist of the Gruening administration could not have imagined. Suddenly we were oil rich -- and behaved that way, doing much good for our people but also wasting tens of millions of dollars.
During his career, George received many honors, including, to his amusement, a listing in "Who's Who" next to Ginger Rogers.
The Alaska George saw from the deck of the Princess Nora can still be found if you board a ferry in Southeast Alaska, but the Alaska he lived in as a young man disappeared during decades of economic and social change which he participated in and chronicled.
George said he put down roots quickly after falling in love with Alaska. We are lucky he did, for we are heirs to his loving commitment to the 49th state.
Michael Carey is the former editorial page editor of the Anchorage Daily News. He can be reached at mcarey@adn.com.
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