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For information on the Harriman Retraced Expedition e-mail: harriman2001@science.smith.edu |
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When Edward Harriman collected
the nation's top scientists, artists, and naturalists for a
spectacular expedition to the Alaska territory, he could not
have known the full repercussions of his enterprise. The
original Harriman Expedition demonstrated that its members
had eyes to see either of "two Alaskas" -- one Alaska of
rich economic resources ripe for exploitation and the other
of the kind of awe-inspiring, pristine wilderness that John
Muir felt was akin to a mystical experience. Events from the original
expedition give glimpses of the diverse perceptions and
philosophies of the people aboard the Elder,
illustrating the different ways that Harriman's guests
approached their Alaskan adventure. In late July, the
expedition set up camps on the shore of Disenchantment Bay.
There, John Muir found that if he breathed deeply, he could
smell the wildflowers on the islands from half a mile across
the water. His old friend, John Burroughs, though, thought
the whole bay was "weird," with the birds and flowers oddly
in abundance among desolate "savage" ice. He preferred a
tamer wilderness. But the scientists quickly went
to work on the glaciers, with Henry Gannett and William
Healey Dall mapping the "ice fields" for future researchers,
and teaching Cornelia Harriman and Elizabeth Averell some of
the skills of their professions. The two girls gamely
balanced on the glaciers in their Victorian shoes and long
dresses, intent on being useful and learning something in
the process. From a distance, curious Alaskan Natives
watched Gannett and Dall, their measuring rituals looking
like some bizarre ceremony. Edward Curtis stayed at
Malaspina Glacier to capture the surreal, icy scenes with
his camera, while the geologist G. K. Gilbert and John Muir
marched off to explore the most remote parts of the
bay. Rumors of bear tracks lured
Edward Harriman to the forests with a crew of assistants,
but he came back to the ship late at night with a hunting
rifle that had not even been fired. Bagging a bear was one
of his chief personal ambitions on the trip. There was another type of
hunting going on that day in late July, though -- it was the
Natives' annual seal hunt, a busy event on shore as well as
in the water. Before the bark houses and crude tents built
for the summer months, the women and children skinned the
seals. A sickened Charles Keeler called it "one of the
filthiest, bloodiest places" he'd ever seen, and quickly
turned his back. Edward Curtis braved the odor of rotting
seals to take prints of the Indian women at work, despite
their reluctance to be photographed. Curtis was beginning to
learn how to befriend the Native Americans and overcome
their suspicions of the camera. It was a skill that served
him well on his later documentations of what he called the
"Vanishing Race." But, like Charles Keeler, John
Muir could not go near the site, haunted by the sound of the
hunted seals, who, he wrote, were "barking or half-howling
in a strange, earnest voice." During his many travels in the
wilderness, Muir had come to envision all of earth's
inhabitants as one, and the voices of the hunted seals
sounded to him as if they were mourning. But he seemed to be the only one
to notice. Edward Harriman was bargaining with the Natives
for a sea otter pelt. The otter was nearly extinct, and the
skins brought from three to five hundred dollars apiece.
Harriman, with no bear trophy yet, bought the finest,
thickest pelt that they displayed. On Annette Island, at
Metlakahtla, the expeditioners witnessed the religious
experiment of the Scottish Reverend William Duncan to
"civilize the savage" Tsimshian. With over 1,000 Natives in
his charge, Duncan took pride in introducing his flock, whom
he thought of as children, to capitalism as well as
Christianity. Charles Keeler shuddered during Duncan's
sermon, thinking how, only thirty years before, the
congregation had been "wild cannibals," and now they sat
together as "ladies and gentlemen." John Burroughs noted
that these Alaskan Natives "took more kindly to our ways and
customs and to our various manual industries" than did the
Native Americans he had encountered before. Harriman
observed that if the Tsimshian could be taught to speak
English, "they could be largely used in the development of
the territory." Duncan had put the Natives to work in a
venture that represented his commitment to capitalism as
well as Christianity. Later, beyond Annette Island,
the expeditioners witnessed more economic uses of the Native
population, this time in the salmon cannery. While some saw
it as efficient industry, George Bird Grinnell likened it to
exploitation. At Orca, another cannery discarded its rotting
fish into the ocean, giving the water an oily look for miles
along the coastline. Muir shook his head sadly at the sight
of the men brought up from San Francisco to work for low
wages. "Men in this business," he wrote, "are themselves
canned." The artist Frederick Dellenbaugh turned his back on
the cannery, and set up his easel to sketch the distant
mountain peaks, while Curtis climbed into the mountains to
photograph the view below. Finally, on Kodiak Island,
Edward Harriman bagged his bear, a mother and cub --or, as
John Muir wrote, "mother and child." He finally obtained his
trophy, but Muir could only have been reminded of when he
met his first bear in the High Sierras some decades earlier.
When the bear refused to run from him, he simply stood and
stared it down, hoping that the "human stare would finally
overcome the beastly one." Muir walked away with his life,
and with the knowledge that, as he repeatedly wrote, the
inhabitants of the world are as one. These anecdotes -- only a few of
many from the original expedition -- give a portrait of the
compelling, powerful personalities on the original Harriman
Expedition, from Muir the naturalist and conservationist to
Curtis perfecting the art of his photography, to the
scientists with their measuring and hunting, and finally to
Harriman, bringing in trophies like the sea otter pelt --
trophies somewhat like the expedition itself. In these brief
vignettes from over a century ago, we can see the
conflicting interests that drove the expeditioners -- Muir
who wanted to preserve the wilderness and Curtis who sought
to preserve the human faces in photography, to those who
looked at the land and its resources for how white
"civilization" could use them. It underscores the enduring
vision of two Alaskas. Despite the disputes engendered by
such various visions, the expedition had lasting
impacts: John Muir made a life-long
friend of Edward Harriman, who helped him in pushing through
conservation measures in Congress. In 1905, upon winning
protection of the Yosemite Valley through Congressional
legislation, he wrote ". . . we might have failed to get the
bill through the Senate but for the help of Mr. Harriman,
though, of course, his name or his company were never in
sight through all the fight." In addition to the important
connection between Muir and Harriman, the expedition
produced thirteen volumes of scientific reports that have
been a long-standing resource for information about Alaska.
It took C. Hart Merriam some twelve years of work to
complete the project. Grove Karl Gilbert's volume on his
studies of glacial dynamics was particularly
ground-breaking. In terms of the research of the animal
life, the ornithologists' artwork was extraordinary,
documenting new species of birds. The expedition also helped
to launch Edward Curtis's career through his deepened
friendship with George Bird Grinnell, who encouraged him to
photograph the Native American peoples. Curtis's volumes of
photograph compiled in The North American Indian are an
invaluable legacy. Another, perhaps less known, contribution
is the artwork of Robert Swain Gifford, Frederick
Dellenbaugh, and the young ornithologist Louis Agassiz
Fuertes, who would earn the reputation of the "twentieth
century Audubon." These are enduring legacies of the
original Harriman Alaska Expedition. One thing that endures, of
course, is human nature -- with its dualities and
contradictions. We will probably be looking at problems
ensuing from our vision of the two Alaskas for a long
time.
Sources Charles Keeler Family
Papers, Bancroft Library, Berkeley, California John Muir, John of
the Mountains: Unpublished Journals of John Muir, Linnie
Marsh Wolfe, ed., (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company,
1938) William H. Goetzmann
and Kay Sloan, Looking Far North: The Harriman Alaska
Expedition, 1899 (Viking, 1982) Souvenir Album, The
Averell Harriman Collection, New York, New York The John Burroughs
Journal of the Expedition, The Huntington Library, Los
Angeles California The Southwest Museum,
George Bird Grinnell, diary of the expedition Yale University, New
Haven, Connecticut, William Brewer Pocket Field Journal and
Frederick Dellenbaugh, diary of the expedition C. Hart Merriam, ed.,
Harriman Alaska Expedition, 13 volumes (New York:
Doubleday, Page and Company, and Washington, D.C.:
Smithsonian Institution, 1901-1914
For information on the Harriman Retraced Expedition e-mail: harriman2001@science.smith.edu
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