Opinions

The Boondoggle Bar: Alaska's governor back to good graces after sparing Knik Arm bridge

My membership lapsed so I stopped by the Boondoggle Bar and Grill to renew.

All eyes were fixed on the custodian hanging a portrait of Gov. Bill Walker in the place of highest honor where we members grab our plates for the 24-hour buffet.

The club president glowed as the handyman proceeded to hang a blue and gold banner proclaiming, "Welcome back, Bill!"

"What's going on?" I asked, completely bewildered. "The last I heard the governor was Andrewed."

At the Boondoggle there's no worse insult than being "Andrewed." It's a ritual which shames someone who has betrayed the town. It gets its name from Andrew Christiansen, the federal engineer who surveyed our streets and personally auctioned off the first lots back in 1915.

Unfortunately Christiansen squandered these noble accomplishments by proclaiming Alaska in general and Anchorage in particular to be a waste of federal money. He went so far as to write in Time Magazine that Alaska was "the spoiled child of Uncle Sam."

This, as the Boondoggle's board of directors likes to put it, "discouraged further government investment."

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Yet, there was Walker's freshly de-Andrewed portrait displayed proudly above the buffet.

As the members drank toast after toast I sidled over to the club president.

"The governor is back in our good graces?" I asked as meekly as I could muster.

"Oh yes!" he exulted. "Our prodigal son has returned. He's back from the dark side of opposing the Knik Arm bridge."

"But Andrewization is forever," I said a bit more boldly. "It's in the bylaws."

"Extraordinary times demand extraordinary deeds," he said, puffing out his chest.

The club secretary chimed in, "The motion at the board meeting was to 'de-ostracize' him but my spell check didn't know the word. So the minutes say 'rehabilitate.' "

My head spun with confusion. I sought the counsel of a vodka tonic and the man who made it, Matt the bartender.

"Sure the governor flipped sides," Matt explained patiently. "During the campaign he opposed KABATA but you can't really hold a guy accountable for what he says under pressure. Besides, how could he know oil prices were going to collapse? By the time he took office the whole world was different. "

"So we keep spending or watch the city melt down" I ventured.

"Pretty much," he answered. "If the only money we earned came strictly from the free market Anchorage would dwindle to a wide spot on a moose trail."

"But what happens when the state runs out of money?" I asked.

"Then the city will die," he said matter-of-factly. "But big spending cuts now will kill us just as dead and they'll do it sooner."

"So it's die now or die later?" I moped.

"Take your pick," said Matt as he wiped the bar to its trademark sheen. "Besides, something will probably turn up. It always seems to in Alaska. You look depressed. Need another drink?"

"I'm not a government employee," I slurred proudly.

"One way or another we all are," Matt sympathized. "Follow the money and drink up. You'll feel better."

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"None of that KABATA money comes to me," I said bitterly.

As Matt poured me a double he said, "You'd better review your business model."

My thoughts stewed in the abundant alcohol. A half hour later The Boondoggle's insights grew apparent even to me.

"We've built a city on government gullibility," I rasped.

"Yep," said Matt. "And it's worked too well to try any smart stuff now."

I glared.

He kept talking. "Your club dues are current, right?"

"Paid in full," I replied proudly.

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"Then you're eligible to sign the petition we will present to Obama when he's in town at the end of the month."

"What's it say?" I asked. "I'm too drunk to read."

Matt pulled out his spectacles and intoned in Shakespearean style. "We the undersigned fiercely independent businesspeople of Anchorage hereby advise, urge and entreat the federal and state governments to protect the unique cultural heritage of Alaska by confining any and all future budget reductions to regions of this great nation which currently pay taxes."

I scrawled my name.

Rick Goodfellow owns and runs KLEF-FM, Anchorage's classical music radio station.

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

Rick Goodfellow

Rick Goodfellow is the founder KLEF-FM, Anchorage’s classical music radio station.

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