Reflections of life in Hope

Photo courtesy Lisa Augustine The author and her parents, Ervin and Joyce Rheingans, arrived in Hope, Alaska in 1937 to mine gold.

By Lisa Augustine
Special to the Turnagain Times

My parents, Ervin and Joyce Rheingans, arrived in Alaska in 1937 seeking fortune in a gold mine on Resurrection Creek, above the tiny town of Hope. They mined at various locations there for several unproductive seasons, and spent one long, cold winter trapping with the Mathison brothers on Chickaloon Flats. Mom cooked for the mining crews, while Dad did shovel work and operated an old dragline found abandoned at Sunrise, which the fellows “borrowed” and relocated. When I came along in 1939, I was named Arlene Maxene, but the miners dubbed me The Dragline Kid. We lived in Hope, and we lived in Hope!
Our one room log cabin stood directly across the street from Doc Nearhouse’s store (now called the Seaview Café). After the 1964 earthquake, it was moved up the road, across from Sourdough Dru’s gift shop. Dad and his younger brother, Willy, built the tiny cabin that still stands across from the cafe. We had no running water, no electricity, no indoor toilet, no telephone, no doctor, and certainly no TV.
In the early 1940s, Hope was home to 75 intrepid souls—give or take a few. Most of the men made a meager living in mining, trapping and/or road work, but we pretty much lived off the land. Moose and other wild game, fish, baked beans and sourdough hotcakes filled our bellies. Everyone had lush gardens and did heavy canning; wild berries provided delicious jams, jellies and pies. My folks raised chickens. We weren’t exactly gourmets, but we never went hungry.
For most of us, a trip to Seward was a once-a-year adventure and often included visits to the doctor and/or dentist. Denny McCart’s Hope Truckline hauled freight and mail back and forth to Seward, and Bob Mathison’s scow made occasional trips across the Arm to Anchorage—ever mindful of the dangerous bore tides. But we Hopeites usually preferred to stay home, nestled in the mountains, enjoying the peace and quiet.
Even when war came to Alaska, we sat tight. The US Army visited from Seward, bringing gas masks and unsettling news; it was feared that at any minute the enemy would come marching over the mountains on their way to Anchorage. We settled in and prepared to fight; but thankfully, we never had to. Mining was discontinued during the war years, so Dad worked for the Bureau of Public Roads when his health permitted.
We amused ourselves in the winter (summers were too busy for much frivolity) with community ice skating and sledding parties. What fun to join neighbors gliding across the frozen flats or shrieking down the hill into town on a sled or toboggan while the Northern lights ripped across the sky. Potlucks at the Hope Social Hall were great social occasions, usually followed by dancing. Hometown musicians playing guitars and fiddles provided foot-stompin’ music, while Sourdoughs, trappers, miners, wives, and a dozen or so little kids whirled gaily across the floor.
My family left Hope in the spring of 1948, among the first to drive the new Sterling Highway to Kenai where Mom served as Postmaster for thirteen years. Dad was her postal clerk, along with Ruth Grueninger (another Hope transplant). I finished school in Kenai and moved Outside. I’ve lived in many places, but Hope was my first home. My roots are there. I’m proud to be a gold miner’s daughter from Hope, Alaska.

Lisa Augustine wrote “The Dragline Kid”, an historic memoir filled with true tales of early Alaska adventures. It is sold at the Hope/Sunrise Historical Society and other outlets. You may order the book directly from the author: Lisa Augustine, 857 Wildomar Lane, Lincoln, California, 95648, LTAuggie@wavecable.com.