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A blog by Bill Hess

Running Dog Publications

P.O. Box 872383 Wasilla, Alaska 99687

 

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Wasilla

Wasilla is the place where I have lived for the past 29 years - sort of. The house in which my wife and I raised our family sits here, but I have made my rather odd career as a different sort of photojournalist by continually wandering off to other places to photograph people and gather information, which I have then put together in various publications that have served the Alaska Native Eskimo, Indian and Aleut communities.

Although I did not have a great of free time to devote to this rather strange community, named after a Tanaina Athabascan Indian chief who knew Wasilla in the way that I so impossibly long to, I have still documented it regularly over the past quarter-century plus. In the early days, my Wasilla photographs focused mostly upon my children and the events they participated in - baseball, football, figure skating, hockey, frog catching, fire cracker detonation, Fourth of July parade - that sort of thing. 

In 2002, I purchased my first digital camera and then, whenever I was home, I began to photograph Wasilla upon a daily basis, but not in a conventional way. These were grab shots - whatever caught my eye as I took my many long walks or drove through the town, shooting through the car window at people and scenes that appeared and disappeared before I could even focus and compose in the traditional photographic way.

Thus, the Wasilla portion of this blog will be devoted both to the images that I take as I wander about and those that I have taken in the past. Despite the odd, random, nature of the images, I believe they communicate something powerful about this town that I have never seen expressed anywhere else. 

Wasilla is a sprawling community that has been slapped down hodge-podge upon what was so recently wilderness of the most exquisite beauty. In its design, it is deliberately anti-zoned, anti-planned. In the building of Wasilla, the desire to make a buck has trumped aesthetics and all other considerations. This town, built in the midst of exquisite beauty, has largely become an unsightly, unattractive, mess of urban sprawl. Largely because of this, it often seems to me that Wasilla is a community with no sense of community, a town devoid of town soul.

Yet - Wasilla is my home and if I am lucky it will be until I grow old and die. Despite its horrific failings, it is still made of the stuff of any small city: people; moms and dads, grammas and grampas, teens, children, churches, bars, professionals, laborers, soldiers, missionaries, artists, athletes, geniuses, do-gooders, hoodlums, the wealthy, the homeless, the rational and logical, the slightly insane and the wholly insane - and, yes, as is now obvious to the whole world, politicians, too.

So perhaps, if one were to search hard enough, it might just be possible to find a sense of community here, and a town soul. So, using my skills as a photojournalist and a writer, I hope to do just that. If this place has a sense of community, I will find it. If there is a town soul to Wasilla, I will document it. I won't compete with the newspapers. Hell no! But as time and income allow, it will be fun to wander into the places where the folks described above gather, and then put what I find on this blog.

 

by 300...

Anywhere within a 300 mile radius of Wasilla. This encompasses perhaps the most wild, dramatic, gorgeous, beautiful section of land and sea to be found in any comparable space anywhere on Earth. I can never explore it all, but I will do the best that I can, and will here share what I find and experience with you.  

and then some...

Anywhere else in the world that I happen to get to, such as Point Lay, Alaska; Missoula, Montana; Serenki, Chukotka, Russia; or Bangalore, India. Perhaps even Lagos, Nigeria. I have both a desire and scheme to get me there. It is a long shot. We shall see if I succeed.

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Tuesday
Aug102010

Barrow Whalers season opener, part 5 of 5: Fran Tate treats victorious whalers to hamburgers at Pepe's North of the Border Mexican Restaurant

DateTuesday, August 10, 2010 at 1:29PM

Fran Tate, the lendary founder and owner of Pepe's North of the Border Mexican Restaurant who once handed Johnny Carson the gigantic ivory penis bone of a walrus, known here as an oosik and then told him what he was holding, invited the Whalers to come to her restaurant for free hamburgers - as she always does when they win.

Joash Tiflin entered looking good in his Mickey Mouse hat.

Lawrence Kaleak and Trace Hudson did a little victory celebration dance.

Fran entered to see how many whalers still needed a hamburger. Several did who had already eaten one. I blew this picture, but I will use it anyway.

Sitting opposite Mickey Mouse is Emmanuel Samuelu, whose blood is Samaon, Ulu Tuai, whose family originated in Tonga and Robert Brulette, Alaska Native.

Jessie Sanchez had recovered enough to happily join in the feast,

Micah Adams accepts his plate.

Adrian Panigeo, dining victoriously at Pepe's.

When Ben Jones received his second burger, one would not have known he had already eaten one. Dougie Kanayurak has cleared his plate, save for two pickle slices.

 

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Reader Comments (4)

they sure look victorious...hamburgers well deserved

August 10, 2010 | Unregistered Commentertwain12

Pretty Exciting Game! Go, Blue!

August 10, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterWhiteStone

Catching up here. Great "in the life" photos as usual. Appreciation to you Bill!

August 10, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterMichelle

Go Whalers! Great pictures of an exciting game. I hope they do just as well the rest of the season. Fran could have brought a whole truckload of burgers and those teenaged boys would have finished off every one. Thanks for bringing us to the game.

August 11, 2010 | Unregistered Commentermocha

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