Arts and Entertainment

Sadly, book on Mounties isn't exactly Sergeant Preston

Law of the Yukon

By Helene Dobrowolsky; Lost Moose; 248 pages; 2013; $19.95

As a young child growing up near Seattle in the early 1970s, I spent many hours watching reruns of "Sergeant Preston of the Yukon" on television. Despite being filmed far from that location and offering a highly romanticized vision of northern life (something I was unaware of at that age), it first kindled a fascination with the subarctic that would eventually draw me here in my 20s. It also instilled a heroic vision of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police that in my 50s I still find hard to shake.

Thus it was a bit of a disappointment to learn that even at the height of the Gold Rush, crime rates in Dawson City and the rest of the Yukon Territory were remarkably low, and that the Mounties who were there to keep it that way spent a good deal of their time engaged in mundane bureaucratic tasks necessary for the overall functioning of the far-flung region since no one else was around to do them.

In "Law of the Yukon," Whitehorse historian Helene Dobrowolsky's recently revised and reissued account of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police's activities during their first century in the northwestern corner of Canada, we learn that, "Mounted Police relied on extensive patrols to keep track of the people and activities in their area. Patrols served a number of purposes: Mounties delivered mail, checked in on the ailing and infirm, ensured isolated cabin-dwellers weren't suffering from want, and checked that woodcutters, homesteaders and prospectors had all the proper permits. From early in the century, the police were also game wardens, noting wildlife movement and enforcing game regulations."

In other words, the Mounted Police served as a one-stop shop for the basic duties of a government that was otherwise slow to arrive in the region.

Beginning of Mounties

As for fighting lawlessness, "The very presence of the Mounted Police deterred wrongdoing. For their part, the police prevented crime by checking out suspicious characters or troubleshooting potentially tricky situations."

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The Mounties apparently took the role of being officers of the peace seriously and were largely successful at it. This was good for residents of the Yukon even if it did leave Hollywood scrambling for storylines.

As we learn from Dobrowolsky, the Northwest Mounted Police were initially formed in 1873 and soon after donned their trademark red tunics. They were sent to western Canada to bring order to the region and keep Americans from encroaching on Canadian lands. In 1894 Inspector Charles Constantine led the first foray into the Yukon, and his subsequent report resulted in 20 officers being assigned to the region under his command the following year.

When the Mounties arrived, the Yukon was sparsely populated. Nearly all the inhabitants were Natives, although a few white prospectors and fur trappers could be found. The detachment arrived in the nick of time, however. Gold was struck in 1986 and word soon spread. By 1898 thousands of would-be miners -- mostly Americans -- were flooding the region.

Fortunately Constantine had foresight and managed to get reinforcements in place ahead of the rush. Owing to the lack of a clear border between Canada and Alaska at the time, coupled with disregard for Canadian sovereignty on the part of many new arrivals, it fell to the Mounties to establish check stations coming into the territory and collect government duties on any gold that was removed. It was hardly the stuff of grand drama, but it alerted prospectors and the opportunists who followed them that someone was in charge.

People, places and dates

As we now know, the Gold Rush was short lived. Towns that sprang from the permafrost before the turn of the century sank back down soon afterward. The few newcomers who remained might have come for the gold, but they stayed for the lifestyle.

From then until the onset of World War II the Yukon was home to pioneers who largely drew their living from the land. The Mounties became the fabric that held the broadly dispersed inhabitants together. They traveled widely and dropped in on homesteaders. To quote Dobrowolsky again, "Most people welcomed the break in their isolation and gladly gave the visiting Mountie a meal and a bed in return for news of distant neighbors and the world outside."

Much of this book is composed of people, places and dates, and it does get a bit dry at times. Dobrowolsky pays tribute to some of the key historical figures. These included Maj. Gen. Samuel Steele, who shepherded the Yukon through the Klondike Gold Rush, establishing needed services for the influx of gold seekers. Louis Parê was a surgeon who provided some of the earliest medical care to the region. Anna DeGraf crossed Chilkoot Pass carrying her sewing machine and made fur coats for the Mounties. Jack Dempster located the bodies of a lost patrol and was later the namesake for the Dempster Highway connecting the Yukon to the Northwest Territories.

The book is also heavily illustrated with pictures from the eras it covers, including early photos of Dawson and Whitehorse, a dramatic shot of a flotilla of prospectors crossing Lake Leberge, Native villages, scenes of daily life and a great picture of a dog team parked in front of a sternwheeler frozen into the ice.

Dobrowolsky carries the story all the way to the brink of the new millennium, discussing interactions with Natives, the role of women, the use of dogs for patrolling, a few key cases (especially the famed Mad Trapper calamity), the modernization that came with construction of the Alcan Highway and more. It isn't Sgt. Preston, but it does give readers a sense of the critical importance of the Mounted Police in the Yukon's past and present.

David A. James is a Fairbanks writer and critic.

David James

David A. James is a Fairbanks-based freelance writer, and editor of the Alaska literary collection “Writing on the Edge.” He can be reached at nobugsinak@gmail.com.

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