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For Inupiaq revolutionary Charlie Edwardsen, 'showtime' wasn't just for show

Even in death Charlie Edwardsen made headlines. He died in his sleep at age 71 while on a whale hunt near Barrow, and within hours, he was atop the front page in Anchorage.

For almost half a century, the newspapers referred to Charlie as an Inupiaq "activist." But "activist" fit Charlie like a parka sewn for a smaller man.

In temperament, in spirit, Charlie Edwardsen was a revolutionary following in the footsteps of Fidel, Che and, for that matter, George Washington. He just didn't pack a gun (as far as I know).

I knew Charlie for three decades -- the years after he was the young firebrand in conflict with nearly everyone, Native and non-Native alike, about how many acres, how many dollars should be in the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act.

I did not see him on a regular basis or with any predictability. Suddenly, he would materialize -- in a supermarket, in a bar, on an Anchorage or Fairbanks street. I turned around, and Charlie Edwardsen was smiling at me.

I would be astonished if Charlie had ever put together a resume. Too western, too bourgeois. Besides, a resume implies the resume maker is applying for something, a job, recognition. Charlie already had a full-time job: raising full-time Cain about corporate and government depredations. The recognition followed.

Charlie left writing his resume to others, some of whom suggested he was a shaman. This might explain how a young man with a modest education came out of nowhere to become a power in Inupiat culture and the halls of Congress.

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The collected legends of Charlie Edwardsen could fill a book the size of "The Arabian Nights." Here's one; believe it if you like.

During a dinner with Washington players at a D.C. restaurant, Charlie became inflamed by the arguments and opinions he heard. He became so angry he told himself, "I'll show them," and ripped the tablecloth off the table in one swift pull. Charlie expected the diners to be wearing dinner. Instead, every plate, glass, fork, knife and spoon remained in place. Charlie threw down the tablecloth and stormed out, leaving behind a stunned, silent room.

In my role as editorial page editor of the Anchorage Daily News, I occasionally had formal dealings with Charlie. One time, I invited Charlie and other Native leaders -- none associated with him -- to come in and brief the editorial board on recent developments.

I should have anticipated that for Charlie this was showtime. He got up on step quickly denouncing the paper (a lackey of white imperialism), the uninformed editorial writers, and the Native guests, whom he suggested were self-serving stooges of the power elite. When the meeting broke up, Charlie came over to me, shook my hand, and said, "You sure serve good coffee around here." The coffee accompanying the gathering was terrible. Charlie was telling me not to take showtime personally.

A couple years later, I was on an airplane from Fairbanks to Anchorage. For reading material, I had Richard Brookhiser's biography of George Washington, which I was finishing. I looked around and discovered the guy in the seat behind me was Charlie. We chatted. I told him about the biography and said I would give it to him after landing. We talked about Washington, and I mischievously asked, "Don't you wish you could have lived in those times?" He laughed and said, "Mike, I am living in those times."

This was not showtime. He meant it.

Michael Carey is an Alaska Dispatch columnist.

The views expressed here are the writer's own and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary(at)alaskadispatch.com.

Michael Carey

Michael Carey is an occasional columnist and the former editorial page editor of the Anchorage Daily News.

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