Alaska has 'Grand Larry Street' but nothing named for Jay Hammond

In Alaska, we seem to forget history as soon as we make it. Our place names reflect that progressive amnesia.

We still haven't named anything for Jay Hammond, the late two-term governor many Alaskans would nominate for sainthood for starting Alaska Permanent Fund dividends. Nor have we used the names of Alaska Constitution writers Vic Fischer or Irene Ryan, or of Frank Reed Jr. or Arliss Sturgulewski, who helped shape Anchorage, or many deserving others.

We do have the Walter J. Hickel Parkway, Eisenhower Corridor and Rasmuson Center, honoring a governor, a president and an Anchorage mayor and philanthropist. But because officials bestowed those new names on facilities without taking away the old names, they didn't stick.

The Walter J. Hickel Parkway is Minnesota Drive and O'Malley Road. The Eisenhower Corridor is the couplet of A and C streets. And the Rasmuson Center is the Anchorage Museum. Bet you didn't know that.

Plenty of street names reflect the character of Anchorage without honoring anyone. We don't take ourselves too seriously. We have Back Road, Curvi Street, Entry Way and Alaska's Best Place. These are all from the municipality's official address list. As are Helluva Street, Outta Place, Twolots Circle and Twenty Grand Road.

Off Old Seward Highway, Calamity Court and Contrary Court are connected by Long Street and Short Street (which seem to be about the same length). We also have Humble Court, Lazy Street, Mellow Place, Dicy Circle and Runamuck Place.

[Come up with a great Alaska street name, then prepare to battle thieves]

Geographically, we have High Place and Higher Terrace, as well as West End Road, Road's End Circle, Trail's End Road, End Street and Devils End Drive. And for our cute and cuddly wildlife, we have Honey Bear Lane, Little Bear Place and Baby Bear Drive. (Also Bunnyshoe Circle, Doggie Avenue and Muddy Dog Circle.)

I knew a hockey player who lived on Baby Bear Drive. He didn't like telling people his address.

We have streets named for people, including some community leaders, but more streets have first names only, which may represent the land developers' kids. Just about every name is taken, from Babs Court to Wyatt's Windy Road. On the east side we have Norman Street, Norm Drive and Norm Circle, which meet at the corner of Norm and Norm. As well as Grand Larry Street, which must have a story behind it.

I realize I've gotten sidetracked but I really enjoyed looking at this list.

The point is that Anchorage grew rapidly, particularly in the early 1980s, and land developers slapped up street signs as fast as they could think of names. History was the last thing on their minds. I live in a subdivision that uses space-related names, for no apparent reason, including Galactica, Shuttle, Orbit and Starlite (every time I drive by that one, I wonder why they didn't spell it correctly).

We've done better with parks, where naming often involves a more thoughtful process. Lyn Ary Park is named for Russian refugee Lyn Ary, whose old homestead makes up the park and much of the Turnagain neighborhood. Balto Seppala Park is named after Leonhard Seppala's lead dog. Thanks to the Anchorage Parks Foundation, both parks have interpretive signs explaining their past.

Our Anchorage schools generally are well-named too, for people from many walks of life and ethnicities, as well as political figures. Bartlett and Dimond high schools and Gruening Middle School are all named for men with major roles in Alaska statehood.

It surely would have galled Ernest Gruening, a territorial governor and U.S. senator, and probably the most influential Alaskan of his century, to have his name on a middle school while his rival, Sen. Bob Bartlett, got a high school. Gruening was known for caring about such things.

Anthony Dimond was a judge and territorial delegate to Congress. Besides his positive contributions, he led opposition in Congress to opening Alaska to Jews threatened by the Holocaust. But he won the naming sweepstakes, with Dimond Boulevard, the nearby high school, shopping center and many businesses sharing his name.

Arriving first helps. By the time Dimond left Congress in 1945, the area that bears his name was still a forest miles out of town. Later leaders, some much more important, had to rely on renaming, which often doesn't work.

[Read the Anchorage Park Foundation directory of park names and history]

The Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport is better known than the Eisenhower Corridor but I've never heard anyone call it "Stevens," as they do LaGuardia in New York or O'Hare in Chicago. The name also demonstrates the risk of honoring a living person, as Stevens was convicted of a felony and then cleared before dying in a plane crash — all after the airport was named for him.

Three of our mayors received perfectly fitting naming honors. The Tony Knowles Coastal Trail remembers a mayor whose emphasis on quality of life transformed the city. George Sullivan's name was added to an arena and a power plant, fitting for his era of fast growth.

The John M. Asplund Sewage Treatment Plant is named for a mayor who built the sewers that allowed Anchorage to become a major city and set its patterns of growth. Endearingly, having the sewage plant named after him was his fondest wish.

The University of Alaska has had many recent opportunities to name new facilities but often sells the name rather than honoring an Alaskan. Alaska Airlines got a deep bargain on the name of the $106 million UAA sports center, paying $1 million in cash and about half a million dollars per year in sponsorship, mostly for travel, for 10 years.

By comparison, Rasmuson gave the museum more than $50 million.

In the case of Hickel, his name was simply given to the wrong road.

The Dalton Highway to the Arctic was named for James Dalton, an engineer and oil man. In the winter of 1968-69, as governor, Hickel pushed through a road on the same route that became a mud hole and national scandal, mockingly called the Hickel Highway.

Hickel thought that as long as he had to take the abuse, he should have gotten his name on the real highway. I think of that when I see those Walter J. Hickel Parkway signs on O'Malley Road.

This column has been corrected. An earlier version referred to Frank Reed Jr.  It should have referred to Frank M. Reed.

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