Opinions

Alaskans’ tendency to strong views is rich and well-archived

The name Charles Bunnell probably means nothing to you unless you attended the University of Alaska or lived in Fairbanks. Bunnell (1879-1956) was the first president of the fledgling university, receiving his appointment in 1921. During a tenure that lasted 28 years, he achieved the primary goal he set when he took the job: the survival of the school despite a chronic lack of funds.

Bunnell was a farm boy from northeast Pennsylvania (where Bunnell is pronounced like tunnel) who graduated with honors from Bucknell University in 1900. He should have been on the path to a comfortable life in business or the law but instead took a teaching position at Wood Island — Kodiak — where he provided elementary education to Alaska Natives. Several years later, he moved to Valdez and read law with attorney Edmund Smith.

All this took place in the 20th century, but an early Alaska lawyer traveled as Lincoln did in the 1850s: by steamboat, railroad, horse, canoe, and on foot. The Alaska lawyer also traveled by dog sled. There is no record, so far, that Lincoln steadied himself on sled runners and yelled "Mush" to a team of ornery malamutes.

[Alaska tax battle? Lord have mercy, we've seen this movie before]

Like Lincoln, Bunnell found the law a royal road to politics. In 1914, he ran for Congress as the Democratic candidate, challenging delegate James Wickersham. The entrenched incumbent prevailed handily in an election in which about 8,700 votes were cast.

After the election, the federal judgeship in Fairbanks became vacant, and President Woodrow Wilson, a Democrat, appointed promising young Bunnell. A federal judge was the highest-paid government official in Alaska at $7,500 a year. As a perk, Bunnell had a clerk who built a fire in the courthouse stove before the judge arrived in the morning.

Bunnell served seven years — until Republican Warren Harding entered the White House.

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Bunnell had some big cases, especially cases arising from two closely contested elections involving his former rival Wickersham. But then as now, a federal judge's day was not devoted to big cases. In those days, the territory had commissioners — similar to magistrates — whom judges supervised. These commissioners handled misdemeanors, marriages, divorces, sanity hearings, inquests. They rarely were lawyers. While they usually had some formal education, their most important qualification was readiness to perform the duties. Pay was typically poor. Considerable turnover occurred.

A great deal of correspondence between commissioners and judges still exists in archives, courthouses and private holdings. Recently, a friend forwarded me copies of two letters Bunnell wrote to Commissioner J. Sam Norwood of Jack Wade, in the Fortymile district toward the Canadian border. The letters involve Bunnell's order to move the headquarters of the Fortymile district from Franklin to Jack Wade.

[Guns on campus in Alaska? In 1948, the problem was caribou carcasses]

Bunnell was not happy with J. Sam. For one thing, the telegrams J. Sam sent the judge were too lengthy and thus burdensome to the telegraph system. Officials were expected to keep "their official correspondence within reasonable bounds." Bunnell chided J. Sam for a wire of 630 words. Then Bunnell politely reminded the commissioner, "We must all conform to the rules and regulations and cut our messages down as much as possible."

Turning to another matter, Bunnell said Norwood's quarterly report was being returned for a re-do because quarterly reports should be prepared in duplicate and a commissioner should not sign himself in as the witness to his own report.

Bunnell's tone is that of a weary but polite administrator who has written letters like this before.

He continued as the voice of experience by explaining "You must always bear in mind that many of the people who have been in Alaska for a great number of years make a great deal out of what may seem to you insignificant troubles … hardly worth considering, but I shall depend on you to always meet them with the greatest courtesy and use all the tact possible."

Bunnell concluded, "I think I told you that many of the men in that region are pretty old and may have a slightly different view of life from that entertained by you and me." (This brings to mind Jill Lapore of The New Yorker quoting an early New England almanac: "Years do not make sages. They make only old men.")

Weeks later, Bunnell responded to Norwood's reply to his letter. Norwood told him the people of the Fortymile region were satisfied with the new location of the district headquarters. Bunnell did not believe this. The judge said he had received "a lot of letters" from local folks "far from being satisfied." He added, "I find it very difficult to satisfy the people of the Fortymile and have about come to the conclusion it is impossible."

It is striking that a judge would put this in print. Presumably he kept a wall between his feelings and his judicial behavior. In dealing with cranky Fortymilers, he had to demand of himself the tact he urged on Norwood.

It is also striking that Bunnell sounds so contemporary. An Alaskan's right to gripe shall not be abridged. To this day, that right remains robustly exercised — and not just in the Fortymile.

Michael Carey is an Anchorage Daily News columnist. He can be reached at mcarey@adn.com.

The views expressed here are the writer's and are not necessarily endorsed by the Anchorage Daily News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary@adn.com. Send submissions shorter than 200 words to letters@adn.com or click here to submit via any web browser.

Michael Carey

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

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