Anchorage Daily News

As far as wakes go, the final Miners and Trappers Ball was short on the visibly depressed. But Alaskans have a strange way of paying their respects.

"Skeeter Bug Ball" was the theme Saturday night, so the dance floor was awash with antennae, wings and proboscises. Giant cans of insect repellent weaved in and out of the crowd. Several SWAT teams were on site just in case.

A trapper came with a "minor" -- a schoolgirl clutching a stuffed bunny. Old MacDonald's Farm made an appearance with its one mad cow. Representatives from Evergreed Drilling showed up in T-shirts declaring "We're full of methane." And there were a couple of pigs from Halli-bacon.

The fashion police were out in force, dressed in dark suits, badges and flashing red lapel lights. They meandered through the crowd, issuing citations for fashion code violations such as "excessive corporeal mass-to-garment ratio," "improper fit -- too big, too small, too painful to see you in" and "failure to properly accessorize."

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no," scolded fashion cop Janyce Nolan upon spying a young couple in skimpy island attire. "I am so sorry, but I do have to cite both of you for some fashion violations. Sir, you are guilty of a Code 122 -- male bulgitis. And ma'am, you are guilty of a 121 -- mammary escapage danger. May I have your names?"

On the opposite end of the party hall, the 30-odd members of the "Potholes Are Us" highway construction crew (from the Anchorage Home Brewers Club), decked in fluorescent orange vests and hard hats, blew whistles and waved turn and detour signs that, if followed, would leave you tied in a knot. A pilot car with no sense of direction led the procession, which blocked traffic wherever it went.

Peggy Galle, president of Miners and Trappers Inc., had to have a little talk with this crew earlier in the evening.

"They were blocking the passage to the bathroom," she said. "They had no permit."

Speaking of no permits, the Pilgrim family from McCarthy showed up, accompanied by a couple of park rangers, a horse and a bulldozer. With the family lined up shoulder to shoulder onstage, Papa Pilgrim stepped up to the mike and launched into a song sung to the tune of the "Beverly Hillbillies" theme:

We're here to tell a story about a man named Hale,

Besides swarms of mosquitoes, there were so many others. The West Nile virus was there. So was the bird flu. The Deshka River Dancers were a hit, performing an Irish step dance number in fishing vests and hip waders.

One guy came as a giant gold nugget. Two lawyers came as a pair-a-legals. Some Freedom fries were there with a lone French fry. And about a dozen people impaled by pipe linked up to form the Natural Gas Pipeline, with hoses tapping into a certain body valve in the posterior region.

Don't get us wrong. Not everyone was acting out or risking a defamation suit. There were official mourners in attendance too, grieving the end of the Miners and Trappers Ball as we know it.

One group of costume contestants called for a moment of silence on stage. Steve Cuin, who in the ball's heyday years would stand in line all night for the chance to buy the very first ticket, carted a huge sign saying, "Thanks for the memories."

Attendance in recent years has been way down. So is the energy of those who work so hard putting the ball on year after year. They recently announced that this 53rd ball would be their last.

A very solemn band in black -- Bob and Jane VonBirgelen, Kim Holland and Abe Ritter -- created their own little dark cloud.

"We're in mourning for this being the last Miners and Trappers," Bob VonBirgelen said.

"We're sad," said Jane.

"Very sad," said Bob.

"But we're partygoers in search of a new owner for the Miners and Trappers Ball."

That explained the "For Sale" signs hanging from their necks.

VonBirgelen, who has been attending for 15 years, has come as Waldo (as in where is he?), Sonny Bono and the tree that did him in, a justice of the Florida Supreme Court, the City of Lights. He thinks the ball is fizzling because this just isn't the same town it used to be.

"I think a lot of people who recently moved here don't identify with the old Anchorage," he said. "They really don't."

"I think it's unfortunate nobody ever says this is for charity," Jane VonBirgelen said. "Most people don't realize that."

It may seem unlikely from the middle of a lively dance floor -- where inflatable people bounce off one another's belly and a woman slow-dances with a piece of earthmoving equipment -- but this bash has always been about charity.

It began as a simple Lions Club fund-raiser in 1951 that raked in something like $100. When the Lions got too busy, their wives -- who later became the Lionesses -- took over and turned it into the largest charity ball in the state. In time, those Lionesses (and a few others) became Miners and Trappers Inc. For years, until about the early '90s, some 3,000 tickets would sell out in a few hours.

Board members say the ball has poured about $5 million into charities and local businesses to date.

Among those making this happen are Adrienne Horacek, who's been at it 33 years. The giant murals and other artwork helping convert the 80,000-square-foot ACS garage into a party hall are mostly her doing. She isn't sure what's going to happen to all the decorations, with themes ranging from the Gold Rush to cabin fever, created through the years. But to think about it too much, she says, makes her want to cry.

Nobody has been at this longer than Florence Schlegel, 81, who has been volunteering since 1955. The night of the ball, her son, Bill, was there to help. Her daughters, Bonnie Schlegel and Pamela Svendsen, flew up from California to help too. There was no way they were going to miss this.

"I don't remember not coming to these balls," Bonnie Schlegel said. "We were raised with it."

But over the years, those willing to be core volunteers have dwindled to 17, all but Neal Haglund and Ron Clark being women. Some have been doing this so long, they now have great-grandchildren.

At last count, putting on the ball required some 30 major committee tasks. Only the group doesn't have 30 members.

"There are lots of people who are delighted to come help us the day of the ball," said treasurer Mary Ann Bush. "We need someone willing to devote time every single month all year long.

"It would be nice to have just one job. You know, I'm the treasurer and I did permits and I did insurance and I did first aid and I did something else -- I can't remember."

And that's how it's been for everybody the past few years. It's no surprise they're tired.

As the evening wore to an end, it was still too early to say how ticket sales had fared. But board president Galle said the ball seemed better-attended this year than last, perhaps because word got out that this would be it.

Or not.

Fourteen-year ball veteran Don Kenyon, who came with his head in a bug zapper, doesn't believe it.

"Somebody will take it over," he said. "This is too much of an institution."

Lots of people feel this way. As devout ball attendee Cuin shouted from the stage, "The Miners and Trappers Ball will rise again!"

And it just might. The only thing certain right now is that this group is finished.

"I keep thinking about who's going to take it over because I really feel like somebody needs to," Bush said. "This is a perfect fund-raising venue for a charity. While we no longer have the people to do it, somebody else does. And there are a couple of groups that have already started to nibble."

It will be up to these women, those who've sunk so much of themselves into this event, to decide which organization, if any, will carry it on. One thing they do know is that they want it to continue to raise money for good causes.

By 2:30 Sunday, with cleanup in full swing, everyone was too tired to feel very emotional about their finale. They're saving all that for later.

Besides, it hasn't really sunk in yet. Everyone's been too busy.

"It's in your head but not your heart yet," said Bill Bush, Mary Ann's husband.

"I think in the next two weeks it's going to soak into all these gals, that we're not going to do this again," Mary Ann Bush said. "This is it. This is the end. And then I think it's going to be real hard."

Reporter Debra McKinney can be reached at dmckinney@adn.com.

WINNING COSTUMES: The names of Miners and Trappers Ball costume contest winners will be published Thursday in the Daily News Hometown section.