Spilyay Tvmoo
Warm Springs, Oregon
December 10, 1993 PAGES
Hie lives n the Avenue
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Alden "Buzzy" Roberts
years ago, " he says.
By Larry Campbell
Daily News Reporter
On a wood slat bench in front
of the Sunshine Mall, in the gut of
Fourth Avenue, Alden Roberts sat
with his shoulders hunched. He
looked discarded, like someone
who was suDoosed to care about
him had had a change of heart.
He was bundled in two jackets
one he borrowed, one he found
somewhere, Just like the cracked
leather shoes he wore. He must
have combed his black hair at
least once earlier that day be
cause a part was still there, and
the beard stubble wasn't too long
Roberts was awake ana starting
.
to sober up. He was starting to
smile a little, which made his
onyx eyes squint. Even that sick
feeling in his stomach was going
away. "Buzzy," as his friends
know him, was alive lor another
dav and readv for another drink.
Make that a lot of drinks.
THE SLIDE
Roberts is 48, an Eskimo and
an alcoholic. He is a minority
within a minority. Of the 12,000
or so Natives who call Anchorage
home, about 400 are down-and-
outers like Roberts, according to
the Salvation Army's Clitheroe
Center for alcoholism treatment.
Those 400 are scattered all over
downtown. Mountain View and
Spenard, not Just on Fourth
Part 2 of a series
Artists Respond: A
In 1988, the Anchorage
Dally News ran a ten-part
series of articles describing
the bitter social struggles of
modern Native Alaskans.
Native Alaskan artist Susie
Bevins Ericsen was so moved
by the series that she created
a four-piece Installation that
graphically Illustrated her
personal response to the
issues examined in this se
ries. After a solo exhibition at the
Anchorage Museum of Natu
ral History, Ms. Ericsen con
vinced the Visual Arts Center
of Alaska to invite native
artists in Alaska and Wash
ington to respond to the
series. The resulting show
Artists Respond: A People in
Peril" Includes 14 wall
hangings, three framed po
Aldcn Roberts has lived on the street for 1 7 years. He cats at Dean's
Cafe, carves wooden kayaks for pocket money. Mostly he drinks. "I don't
know why I'm alive," he says. "Lucky?'
sits on a bench along Fourth Avenue.
'Sometimes I think the generation after mine Is better
off. . . We had to try to catch up. Some did. Some didn't,
like me.'
Alden Roberts
Avenue, wandering through dark
little working man s bars.
If he quit drinking, Roberts said,
he could probably find a lob, get a
real place to live, feel well all the
time.
But he hasn't quit. So he wan
ders the Avenue, sleeps in the
woods or a friend's bed, feels sick
most of the time.
"I used to try to stay away from
the booze. There was six, seven
months there one time a few
years ago," he said, a big grin on
his face. "Stayed all winter at the
Salvation Army. But that was
winter."
He coughed hard and laughed.
"Summer came, and it was too hot
to stay indoors. Gotta get out. Got
out and saw my friends down here
and I was drinkin' again. Bad
habits."
He was bom in Unalakleet, but
his family moved to Anchorage
when he was 14. Roberts' eyes
brightened when he talked about
his young days the old junior
high downtown, hawking newspa
pers on the sidewalks of the Av
enue when It was a hub for busi-
People in Peril
ems, 1 1 framed photographs
and four sculptures will be
featured in the changing
exhibits gallery at The Mu
seum at Warm Springs from
January 15 to March 11.
Excerpts from the Pulitzer
Prize-winning series are being
reprinted with permission
from the Anchorage Daily
News in order that prospective
visitors will understand the
purpose and context of the
artwork in show.
The Warm Springs commu
nity is invited to submit their
own responses photographs,
letters poetry, artwork, etc.
for inclusion in a display to be
exhibited in conjunction with
the show. For more Informa
tion, contact Exhibits Coordi
nator Roxanne Casey, 553-3331.
"I used to try to stay away from the
ness and professional offices,
stores ana night life. He graduated
in 1959 from Anchorage High.
The slide into the neck of the
bottle really began after that. The
Bureau of Indian Affairs told
Roberts he could go to a trade
school in Chicago and learn draft
ing, maybe even become an engi
neer. Instead, he waded knee-deep
Into the bars and the booze there.
Those extracurricular activities
shoved school aside and seduced
him in Chicago for nine years.
He came back to Anchorage,
glanced at the Job prospects and
kept on drinking. Somehow it made
the whole fast-paced world Just a
bit easier to bear.
"Sometimes I think the genera
tion after mine Is better off," he
said one evening, nursing a cup of
scalding coffee. He batted his eyes
slowly, like old men do. "I mean,
they're more in step with what's
going on now, more up to speed,
you know what I mean? I mean,
people around my age, we weren't
used to having so many others
around, rushing around all the
time. We had to try to catch up.
Some did. Some didn't, like me.
"I'm an alcoholic. I drink Just too
hard. My whole family does. I've
been down here 17 years and seen
53 of my friends die, including one
of my brothers. I don't know why
I'm alive. Lucky?"
Roberts said he's been rolled and
robbed, sick and dirty. Gashed his
arm one time fighting gang of
young toughs in an alley. He fell in
the urine and mud in the dark and
the arm got infected. "Swelled up
to look like Popeye's arm." he said.
The last time he quit drinking
was in 1980, when he spent 18
months In prison for knifing a
man. The last real Job he had was
in 1979, working in a cannery at
Dutch Harbor.
MEET ANOTHER DAY
But Roberts gets by. Bean's Cafe
is always there to hand out meals.
He carves sometimes, turning little
lumps of wood into kayaks with
seal hunters aboard, spears poised.
"Good way to make a quarter,
instead of panhandling. I would
never go on welfare. I don't like
asking people for handouts." Other
times, he just hangs around his
booze. There was six, seven months
drinking buddies. Somebody's
always got a bottle and is willing to
share a little nip in the alleys and
alcoves around the downtown
malls. Up the Avenue, down the
Avenue, all night long.
Then he wanders off to sleep
somewhere. One night it might be
the Brother Francis Shelter, if he
isn't too drunk and get there early.
Sometimes it's a friend's house in
Spenard.
Sometimes it's down by Ship
Creek, among the willows along the
railroad yard.
"You don't get cold if you Just
keep warm and dry. Just keep
away from rusty nails and cuts and
Woody on hand for poetry reading
Warm Springs author, poet and
artist Elizabeth Woody will be on
hand for a poetry reading and
book-signing on December 1 1 and
12 in the changing exhibits gallery
at The Museum at Warm Springs.
Woody, whose painting and
lithographs are currently featured
in The Museum's Tribal Member
Tundra Crossing' That school was hundreds of miles
Something happened to me away,
As I made my way across the tundra. A government school.
I started out as a happy Eskimo boy,
Living free; hunting, fishing, and The messenger said the government
trapping. would
I learned how to pick the right greens Take good care of me until I had
and berries; finished school,
Draw and carve Eskimo legends, Or became old enough that the
Gather eggs, government
And speak Inupiat. Was not responsible anymore.
I had free access to the outdoors.
I roamed the land as a nomad, My parents asked the messenger
I could live in minus 31 -degree weather "When will we see him again?"
With the wind blowing. The messenger's answer,
I was free as the wind, with no bound- "The government does not transport
aries, children
No impact studies, From the school to the village.
No surveys, You should be happy.
And no disease. Your child will be receiving an
education.
Then one day, someone came by the Wait until he is finished,
village Then you can see him again."
And brought a piece of paper
Which said that I had to go to school, I stayed at the school for nine years.
And If my parents did not send me to I lost all my Native ways.
school, Today, as I sit here with my bottle of
They would be violating and breaking wine,
the law. A derelict,
The messenger said that in order for me I say to myself,
to grow up "Something happened to me
As a law-abiding citizen, acceptable in As I made my way across the tundra."
society. Frd Bigjim
I must go to school. Seagayuk
there one time a few
bites. Other human beings bite
sometimes. Fights and stuff, you
know.
"Am I happy? Naw, I'm sick all
the time. I'm miserable. I'm a
dyin' man. Thought I was gonna
die last week.
"But I figure, gotta keep on
goin'. Meet new people and keep
out of trouble. Meet another day."
Then Buzzy groped around in
the big inside pocket of his long
overcoat and pulled out a bottle
of Night Train, a cheap wine. He
glanced over his shoulder, then
wrapped his lips around the
bottle neck and snapped his head
back.
Art Show, has published two
volumes of poetry and is featured
in several collections, including
Talking Leaves" and "Circle of
Nations."
Poetry readings will begin at
11:30 a.m. and 1:30 p.m. each day.
For more information, contact
Jeanne Thomas, 553-3331.
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