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THE ASTORIAN • SATURDAY, JULY 27, 2019
OPINION
editor@dailyastorian.com
KARI BORGEN
Publisher
JIM VAN NOSTRAND
Editor
Founded in 1873
JEREMY FELDMAN
Circulation Manager
JOHN D. BRUIJN
Production Manager
CARL EARL
Systems Manager
WRITER’S NOTEBOOK
From Alaska to the Pacifi c Northwest
I
n much the same way
that it’s a good idea to
assume anyone you
talk to here may be related
to nearly anyone else you
might mention, it’s also
fairly safe
to assume
they have
some
connec-
tion with
Alaska.
A desir-
MATT
able new
WINTERS
book,
“Tin
Can Country: South-
east Alaska’s Historic
Salmon Canneries,”
drives home the strong
bonds between the great
state of the north and the
Pacifi c Northwest.
Edited by Anjuli
Grantham with indi-
vidual chapters by top
historians and experts
including my friend,
the legendary Karen
Hofstad, “Tin Can
Country” chroni-
cles the golden age
between 1878 and
1949. In that time,
canned salmon was
one of the world’s
best and most afford-
able forms of pro-
tein. Fortunes were
made and sometimes
lost in the adventur-
ous harvest of Alas-
ka’s bounteous salmon
runs. Lavishly illustrated — largely with
rare materials donated for posterity by
Karen to the Alaska State Museum —
the book explores all the ways in which
salmon produced a good living for gener-
ations of Alaskans, Washingtonians and
Oregonians.
It would be impossible to overstate the
strength of linkages between the Colum-
bia River communities and Southeast
Alaska. One of my best Naselle friends
is there right now, running a shore-based
seine with his two teenagers. These long
commutes to Alaskan fi shing jobs go back
a long way: Astoria’s M.J. Kinney started
a cannery on Chikat Inlet in 1882. Cutting
Packing Co., San Francisco-based but
with a huge presence in Astoria, got into
Alaska canning in 1878 in Sitka. Aber-
deen Packing Co. of Ilwaco opened a can-
nery at the mouth of the Stikine River in
1887.
The most vital local relationship with
Alaska was formed just before the turn of
the 20th century, when Aberdeen Pack-
ing and Kinney became two of the seven
component parts of Astoria-based Colum-
bia River Packers Association. CRPA
immediately began mounting expeditions
to the Bristol Bay fi shery that famously
engaged the whole Astoria commu-
nity in preparations for departure of the
three-masted St. Nicholas. The fi rst years
were perilous, involving dozens of per-
sonnel sailing in time for the spring runs
with a hold full of tin sheets and solder to
make cans, cooking retorts, fi shing gear
and supplies ranging from cooking oil to
cigars. Ships returned stuffed to the gills
with full cans, which were labeled here at
home before being sent off to consumers
throughout the nation and abroad.
The names of other Alaska operators
like Astoria & Puget Sound Canning Co.
and Alaska-Portland Packers’ Association
give away their Columbia River nexus,
while in other cases you need to have
studied local history to know that Alaska
Fishermen’s Packing Co. was based in
Astoria, that Booth Fisheries’ West Coast
operations were anchored here, and that
F.C. Barnes got his start canning oysters
and salmon on Willapa Bay. The Hume
brothers — vastly prominent in 19th cen-
tury salmon and shipping — made a for-
tune on the Columbia and in Alaska, and
are remembered with an Astoria street
name.
I’ve made my point: A one-of-a-kind
book about canning fi sh in Alaska is one
we should care about — at least we fanat-
ical fans of early Northwest industries.
Fishing — along with farming, forestry
and mining — is what kept our families
alive.
Families and heritage
Families and heritage are themes that
‘Tin Can Country’ draws upon the
expertise of many who have intensely
studied the Alaskan salmon industry.
cares about salmon, Alaska and regional
history. From Chinese cannery workers
to the pragmatic art of salmon can labels,
there isn’t an aspect of this delicious busi-
ness that isn’t explored. Chapters pro-
vide background on the complex politics
of salmon harvests and conservation, for
example mirroring the debate in Washing-
ton and Oregon over fi sh traps versus net
fi sheries, a sometimes-vicious argument
that still echoes today.
Karen Hofstad Collection/Alaska State Museum
The Alaskan salmon business relied on diverse ethnic groups for various aspects of
fi shing and processing. The book is richly illustrated with one of the nation’s most famous
collections of related artifacts, donated by Karen Hofstad to the Alaska State Museum.
Karen Hofstad Collection/Alaska State Museum
Wooden salmon crates like this protected
the contents of 48 one-pound cans
and generated a market for the lumber
industry. A transition was made to
cardboard in the mid-20th century. This
crate’s markings are a reminder of the
strong connections between Alaska and
Western Washington state.
permeate “Tin Can Country,” which in
less-sensitive hands could have been noth-
ing but dried-out fi sh tales. Appropriately,
it begins with an essay devoted to the fact
that respecting salmon and making a liv-
ing from them long predate white settlers
and corporations.
Fred Hamilton, who was the oldest
living Haida man when interviewed in
2017, was 12 when he started fi shing in
1933. His grandfather, George Hamilton,
founded the North Pacifi c Trading and
Packing Company in 1878 in the village
of Klawock. His native ancestors started
fi shing back in the tangled roots of time,
and Alaska’s original inhabitants still play
active roles in the industry.
Grantham writes, “Today, the Craig
and Klawock boat harbors are full of
salmon boats. … Some of the boats are
owned and crewed by members of the
Ghaanaxh.ádi clan and the descendants of
George Hamilton, including Fred Ham-
ilton’s grandchildren. When these fi sh-
ermen leave the dock, they pass over the
remnants of (ancient) fi shing weirs. They
can look up to see … the site of Alaska’s
fi rst cannery. And they will catch salmon
descended from the same stocks their
ancestors stewarded for millennia, and
their more recent ancestors packed into
the Klawack Brand salmon can.”
The chapter on Petersburg concen-
trates on the role of newcomers from Nor-
way. “The Pacifi c Northwest was teem-
ing with Norwegian immigrants at the
turn of the twentieth century, and they
knew fi shing,” Sue Jensen Paulsen writes.
“Many had come from rural Norway and
were skilled at prying a living from rocky
northern coasts. Gaining a foothold, they
sent for families and friends, and settled
in Petersburg. As the town grew, families
put down roots as deep as cannery pil-
ings.” Some settlers bought home sites
from the Pacifi c Coast & Norway Pack-
ing Company. A 1920 Shriner convention
centering on the Sons of Norway Hall
featured a rendition of “Bow Down to
Petersburg” sung to the tune of the Uni-
versity of Washington’s fi ght song.
Being part Norse myself and know-
ing of author Hofstad’s long career in
Petersburg, I found this chapter especially
charming, but nearly every page of the
book has items of interest to anybody who
Epic collection
There’s no getting around the fact that
many who buy “Tin Can Country” will do
so to get a glimpse of Hofstad’s remark-
able collection of cans, photos, labels,
stencils, boxes and other ephemera. She
is one of an elite handful of preeminent
experts on the Alaskan salmon business.
Her collection — half a century in the
making — has to rank among the top 10
on the West Coast. By giving her stuff to
the Alaskan public and leading the way on
this book, she has ensured that essential
memories will survive.
The editor didn’t necessarily choose
to feature the rarest labels, but most will
be unfamiliar to non-cognoscenti. For the
few of us who are deep into the fi eld, the
Rainbow Brand label on page 11 is a treat.
Used by the Metlakahtla Industrial Co. —
partly funded by Tsimshian villagers — it
features fairly accurate artwork depicting
the cannery shoreline in about 1900.
“There’s so much history in here
of Southeast that people have no idea,
it’s amazing,” Hofstad told an Alaskan
reporter. “It’s just [wide-ranging]; it cov-
ers every facet.”
While Alaska salmon remain compar-
atively abundant, the industry is much
changed, with consumer preferences hav-
ing strongly switched to fresh or frozen
instead of canned. Hofstad notes only four
canneries operated in Alaska’s Southeast
last year.
“The future is uncertain; the past was
complicated,” Grantham says to close
the book. “Now is the moment to cherish
salmon and the life and cultures that they
have created for us. Now is the time to
recognize the struggles and contributions
of Alaska’s salmon people. Now is the
time to plan for our mutual survival.”
Matt Winters is editor of the Chinook
Observer. Only 1,500 copies of “Salmon
Can Country” were printed and fewer
than 300 remain unsold. Contact Karen
Hofstad at 907-518-1400 to order one.
‘A ONE-OF-A-KIND BOOK ABOUT CANNING FISH IN ALASKA IS ONE WE SHOULD CARE ABOUT
— AT LEAST WE FANATICAL FANS OF EARLY NORTHWEST INDUSTRIES. FISHING — ALONG
WITH FARMING, FORESTRY AND MINING — IS WHAT KEPT OUR FAMILIES ALIVE.’