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Literary
January 16, 1926
The Mccarthy Weekly News
Mccarthy, Alaska
What is this article about?
First-person narrative by Margaret Keenan Harrais about four young schoolchildren in the remote Alaskan mining camp of McCarthy who, excluded from older kids' plans for a Siwash drive, decide to form their own rival team. Highlights the community's isolation, diverse heritage, and spirited Americanism amid harsh winter conditions.
Clipping
OCR Quality
95%
Excellent
Full Text
SCHOOL NOTES
The following narrative of the doings of the school children of McCarthy appears in the November number of the magazine "Everyland" published in Beverly, Mass., in the special interests of boys and girls the world over.
We regret that we are unable to reproduce the 'cuts' that go with the article.
Yes, the author (or authoress) is our own Mrs. Harrais!
Editor
THE DAUNTLESS ELEVEN
By Margaret Keenan Harrais
A knock at the door and the soft shuffle of feet. I glanced at the clock, wondering who my late delegation of callers might be. It had been dark so long that I had lost my reckoning on time; but it was only 7.30, in spite of the fact that the lamp had been lighted five hours. Yes, the discarded lamp of your grandmother's days, and even it is a luxury with coal oil at eighty cents a gallon and the sun working only a four hour shift. Alaska is "The Land of the Midnight Sun" in summer: but this was November and lights are blown out at 10.30 in the morning and relighted at 2.30 in the afternoon.
The opening door revealed four eager little faces; but the look of confident expectancy changed to one of uncertainty as they surveyed the cabin with myself the sole occupant.
"Aren't the big kids here?"
"No."
"Haven't they been here all evening?"
"No, why?"
"They told us they were coming over here to make plans for the Siwash drive, but I guess they were just stringing us. You see, they don't want us little ones to tag, but we came anyway. Well, I guess we may as well be going." and the disconsolate quartet turned toward the door.
With the unerring directness of childhood the visitors had read aright the tactics of the other group. It was the old game of hide and seek in which each age attempts to elude the next younger. Having a very good memory of my own childhood days, I felt that the look of hurt and disappointment must somehow be banished from their little faces at once; so I said "Since the others have not honored me with a call, what is the matter with your being the committee and planning with me?
Be seated, please." April sunshine never more quickly dispelled gloom. They poised expectantly on the edges of their chairs and turned upon me four pairs of oddly assorted eyes. There were Norwegian blue with their quiet steadfastness, Russian from the westward Alaskan coast, showing a strong trace of Slavic fire. English--grandson of an English lord--and a combination of Nordic blue in a Polish setting--truly a fine grist of Americans in the making. I continued, "If that is the way the others feel about it, why don't you organize a rival team and beat them?" Would they? The four went out of the cabin with a whoop, eager to begin the contest.
The mining camp of McCarthy nestles or huddles, as you chance to feel about it, at the foot of the great Kennecott glacier and manages to keep on excellent terms with its frigid neighbor. Mt. Blackburn lifts its snow crowned head 17,600 feet into the heavens just north of the camp, and many other peaks form the sky line on all sides. By including all who head in and out of the town for mail and supplies and a few of the oldest and best loved huskies of the streets, one might possibly enumerate one hundred inhabitants. The little white and green schoolhouse set in their midst proclaims it an organized community of homes, though the nearest church is some two hundred miles away. Here Uncle Sam spends over $200 a year for the education of each and every child, no matter what its shade or color, and here a program of loving service was planned and fostered.
There were only eleven children all told; but let no one discount the energy and resourcefulness of that little band, nor their intense Americanism. Uncle Sam is a long way off, yet strangely near because he deals very generously with Alaskans with no state or country government intervening. Born of a direct and forceful people, cradled in the shadow of majestic mountains from whose sides descend mighty glaciers, they gaily hurdle obstacles of climate and isolation without even recognizing them as hindrances.
to be cont. next week
The following narrative of the doings of the school children of McCarthy appears in the November number of the magazine "Everyland" published in Beverly, Mass., in the special interests of boys and girls the world over.
We regret that we are unable to reproduce the 'cuts' that go with the article.
Yes, the author (or authoress) is our own Mrs. Harrais!
Editor
THE DAUNTLESS ELEVEN
By Margaret Keenan Harrais
A knock at the door and the soft shuffle of feet. I glanced at the clock, wondering who my late delegation of callers might be. It had been dark so long that I had lost my reckoning on time; but it was only 7.30, in spite of the fact that the lamp had been lighted five hours. Yes, the discarded lamp of your grandmother's days, and even it is a luxury with coal oil at eighty cents a gallon and the sun working only a four hour shift. Alaska is "The Land of the Midnight Sun" in summer: but this was November and lights are blown out at 10.30 in the morning and relighted at 2.30 in the afternoon.
The opening door revealed four eager little faces; but the look of confident expectancy changed to one of uncertainty as they surveyed the cabin with myself the sole occupant.
"Aren't the big kids here?"
"No."
"Haven't they been here all evening?"
"No, why?"
"They told us they were coming over here to make plans for the Siwash drive, but I guess they were just stringing us. You see, they don't want us little ones to tag, but we came anyway. Well, I guess we may as well be going." and the disconsolate quartet turned toward the door.
With the unerring directness of childhood the visitors had read aright the tactics of the other group. It was the old game of hide and seek in which each age attempts to elude the next younger. Having a very good memory of my own childhood days, I felt that the look of hurt and disappointment must somehow be banished from their little faces at once; so I said "Since the others have not honored me with a call, what is the matter with your being the committee and planning with me?
Be seated, please." April sunshine never more quickly dispelled gloom. They poised expectantly on the edges of their chairs and turned upon me four pairs of oddly assorted eyes. There were Norwegian blue with their quiet steadfastness, Russian from the westward Alaskan coast, showing a strong trace of Slavic fire. English--grandson of an English lord--and a combination of Nordic blue in a Polish setting--truly a fine grist of Americans in the making. I continued, "If that is the way the others feel about it, why don't you organize a rival team and beat them?" Would they? The four went out of the cabin with a whoop, eager to begin the contest.
The mining camp of McCarthy nestles or huddles, as you chance to feel about it, at the foot of the great Kennecott glacier and manages to keep on excellent terms with its frigid neighbor. Mt. Blackburn lifts its snow crowned head 17,600 feet into the heavens just north of the camp, and many other peaks form the sky line on all sides. By including all who head in and out of the town for mail and supplies and a few of the oldest and best loved huskies of the streets, one might possibly enumerate one hundred inhabitants. The little white and green schoolhouse set in their midst proclaims it an organized community of homes, though the nearest church is some two hundred miles away. Here Uncle Sam spends over $200 a year for the education of each and every child, no matter what its shade or color, and here a program of loving service was planned and fostered.
There were only eleven children all told; but let no one discount the energy and resourcefulness of that little band, nor their intense Americanism. Uncle Sam is a long way off, yet strangely near because he deals very generously with Alaskans with no state or country government intervening. Born of a direct and forceful people, cradled in the shadow of majestic mountains from whose sides descend mighty glaciers, they gaily hurdle obstacles of climate and isolation without even recognizing them as hindrances.
to be cont. next week
What sub-type of article is it?
Prose Fiction
What themes does it cover?
Patriotism
Moral Virtue
What keywords are associated?
Alaska
Mc Carthy
School Children
Siwash Drive
Americanism
Glacier
Isolation
Resourcefulness
What entities or persons were involved?
By Margaret Keenan Harrais
Literary Details
Title
The Dauntless Eleven
Author
By Margaret Keenan Harrais
Subject
Narrative Of School Children Planning A Siwash Drive In Mccarthy, Alaska
Key Lines
A Knock At The Door And The Soft Shuffle Of Feet. I Glanced At The Clock, Wondering Who My Late Delegation Of Callers Might Be.
"They Told Us They Were Coming Over Here To Make Plans For The Siwash Drive, But I Guess They Were Just Stringing Us."
"If That Is The Way The Others Feel About It, Why Don't You Organize A Rival Team And Beat Them?"
There Were Only Eleven Children All Told; But Let No One Discount The Energy And Resourcefulness Of That Little Band, Nor Their Intense Americanism.
Born Of A Direct And Forceful People, Cradled In The Shadow Of Majestic Mountains From Whose Sides Descend Mighty Glaciers, They Gaily Hurdle Obstacles Of Climate And Isolation Without Even Recognizing Them As Hindrances.