The Yukon calls

Robert Service was a dispirited man.   He had failed getting into university, been rejected when he applied for a clerical job, was fed up with farming and uninterested in work that had no prospects.   All he now had was a reference from the Commercial Bank of Scotland.   Fortunately, this got him work.   Meeting a biscuit salesman he had known from his storekeeping days, he was encouraged to walk into a nearby branch of the Canadian Bank of Commerce to ask for a job.   He was hired!   His pay was $50 a month and he lived over the bank where he was additionally employed as guard.   After six months his salary was increased to $60 a month.   He was now sent to the bank's office in Kamloops in central British Columbia.

 

 Kamloops was cattle country with wide open spaces and summer temperatures often exceeding 100 Fahrenheit.   He took to this new life and bought himself a pony which he rode home from many social engagements. He also purchased a banjo which he learned to play.   Books had become something on the back burner just then.   One day he was called into the branch manager's office to be told he was being posted to the Whitehorse branch in the Yukon.   This news was excellent.   The Yukon was a location that said the bank valued him highly.   It was a much sought after placement as far as the bank staff were concerned.   As part of the appointment he received an outfit allowance that led to his buying a coonskin coat.   It was at the end of 1904 that Service took ship for the Alaskan port of Skagway, gateway to the Yukon.   He was to become inextricably linked to the Yukon.   This was the start of an amazing story.

The discovery on the North American continent of precious metals led to strikes prompting "rushes" in Colorado, Nevada and California.   As time went on the prospectors moved north, followed by traders, prostitutes and gamblers.   In 1880 gold was discovered in Juneau in Alaska.   Other finds in the area eventually saw over 200 miners prospecting or operating in the Yukon by the mid eighties.   The Yukon was 180,000 square miles of country named after the river that flowed from 15 miles inland of the Pacific Ocean through a tortuous course of 2,000 miles to join the Bering Sea.   The thickest gold deposit was to be found in the Klondike Valley.   In 1896 George Washington Carmack discovered gold on the Rabbit Creek, later to be renamed Bonanza.   About 100,000 men set out, following the news of the great find.   The real money had already been made by those prospectors who had found the mineral in the first place.   Many men and horses died as they tried to make their way, carrying huge amounts of equipment and supplies.   The Mounties insisted on them taking three months supplies before they would allow them to make the journey.

 

By the time Robert Service arrived to make the journey a narrow gauge railway had been built.  It was snowing so hard that he saw only a little of the scenery from the train.   Soon he arrived at Whitehorse station and was able to find lodgings with his branch manager, Mr Degex.   This was winter and the level of business at the bank was quiet.   Robert was able to spend much time exploring the surrounding countryside, getting to know it well.   Life changed dramatically as spring came and workers poured in for the summer months.  A year was crammed into the four summer months and life was manic.    During the winter, Robert Service, in the prime where fitness was concerned took long walks - not strolls along leafy lanes.   It was hard and challenging but he loved it.   It was easy to get lost in a country inhabited by grizzle Bears and huge moose.   Many have died over the years in this harsh environment.

 

His walking provided not just exercise but material for his later writings.   Although he was a man who relished his own company he began to relish being the centre of attention at social functions.   He was persuaded to become a deacon at the Episcopalian church in Whitehorse.  Minutes of meetings there can be still seen in his handwriting.   But at the regular social functions his renditions of Gunga Din and the Face on the Barroom Floor began to get stale.   He began writing short plays for local performance.   His ability to write was noted by Stroller White, the editor of the Whitehorse Star.   He it was who persuaded Service to write something with a local flavour.   The result was The Shooting of Dan Mcgrew.   It was to launch his amazing career as a poet.

 

 

The Shooting of Dan McGrew

 

THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW by Robert William Service A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon; The kid that handles the music-box was hitting a jag-time tune; Back at the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew, And watching his luck was his light-o'-love, the lady that's known as Lou. When out of the night, which was fifty below, and into the din and the glare, There stumbled a miner fresh from the creeks, dog dirty, and loaded for bear. He looked like a man with a foot in the grave, and scarcely the strength of a louse, Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar, and he called for drinks on the house. There was none could place the stranger's face, though we searched ourselves for a clue; But we drank his health, and the last to drink was Dangerous Dan McGrew. There's men that somehow just grip your eyes, and hold them hard like a spell; And such was he, and he looked to me like a man who had lived in hell; With a face most hair, and the dreary stare of a dog whose day is done, As he watered the green stuff in his glass, and the drops fell one by one. Then I got to figgering who he was, and wondering what he'd do, And I turned my head -- and there watching him was the lady that's known as Lou. His eyes went rubbering round the room, and he seemed in a kind of daze, Till at last that old piano fell in the way of his wondering gaze. The rag-time kid was having a drink; there was no one else on the stool, So the stranger stumbles across the room, and flops down there like a fool. In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway; Then he clutched the keys with his talon hands -- my God! but that man could play! Were you ever out in the great alone, when the moon was awful clear, And the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could hear; With only the howl of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold, A half-dead thing in the stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold; While high overhead, green, yellow and red, the North Lights swept in bars -- Then you've got a hunch what the music meant ... hunger and night and the stars. And hunger not of the belly kind, that's banished with bacon and beans; But the gnawing hunger of lonely men for a home and all that it means; For a fireside far from the cares that are, four walls and a roof above; But oh! so cramful of cosy joy, and crowned with a woman's love; A woman dearer than all the world, and true as Heaven is true-- (God! how ghastly she looks through her rouge, -- the lady that's known as Lou.) Then all of a sudden the music changed, so soft that you scarce could hear; But you felt that your life had been looted clean of all that it once held dear; That someone had stolen the woman you loved; that her love was a devil's lie; That your guts were gone, and the best of you was to crawl away and die. 'Twas the crowning cry of a heart's despair, and it thrilled you through and through -- "I guess I'll make it a spread misere," said Dangerous Dan McGrew. The music almost died away ... then it burst like a pent-up flood; And it seemed to say, "Repay, repay," and my eyes were blind with blood. The thought came back of an ancient wrong, and it stung like a frozen lash, And the lust awoke to kill, to kill ... then the music stopped with a crash, And the stranger turned, and his eyes they burned in a most peculiar way; In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway; Then his lips went in in a kind of a grin, and he spoke, and his voice was calm; And, "Boys," says he, "you don't know me, and none of you care a damn; But I want to state, and my words are straight, and I'll bet my poke they're true, That one of you is a hound of hell ... and that one is Dan McGrew." Then I ducked my head, and the lights went out, and two guns blazed in the dark; And a woman screamed, and the lights went up, and two men lay stiff and stark; Pitched on his head, and pumped full of lead, was Dangerous Dan McGrew, While the man from the creeks lay clutched to the breast of the Lady that's known as Lou. These are the simple facts of the case, and I guess I ought to know; They say that the stranger was crazed with "hooch," and I'm not denying it's so. I'm not so wise as the lawyer guys, but strictly between us two-- The woman that kissed him -- and pinched his poke -- was the lady that's known as Lou.

Here ends today's offering.   Come back later for more about my amazing relative!

A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon;

The kid that handles the music-box was hitting a jag-time tune;

Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew,

And watching his luck was his light-o'-love, the lady that's known as Lou.

 

When out of the night, which was fifty below, and into the din and the glare,

There stumbled a miner fresh from the creeks, dog-dirty, and loaded for bear.

He looked like a man with a foot in the grave and scarcely the strength of a louse,

Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar, and he called for drinks for the house.

There was none could place the stranger's face, though we searched ourselves for a clue;

But we drank his health, and the last to drink was Dangerous Dan McGrew.

 

There's men that somehow just grip your eyes, and hold them hard like a spell;

And such was he, and he looked to me like a man who had lived in hell;

With a face most hair, and the dreary stare of a dog whose day is done,

As he watered the green stuff in his glass, and the drops fell one by one.

Then I got to figgering who he was, and wondering what he'd do,

And I turned my head — and there watching him was the lady that's known as Lou.

 

His eyes went rubbering round the room, and he seemed in a kind of daze,

Till at last that old piano fell in the way of his wandering gaze.

The rag-time kid was having a drink; there was no one else on the stool,

So the stranger stumbles across the room, and flops down there like a fool.

In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway;

Then he clutched the keys with his talon hands — my God! but that man could play.

 

Were you ever out in the Great Alone, when the moon was awful clear,

And the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could hear;

With only the howl of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold,

A half-dead thing in a stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold;

While high overhead, green, yellow and red, the North Lights swept in bars? —

Then you've a hunch what the music meant. . . hunger and night and the stars.

 

And hunger not of the belly kind, that's banished with bacon and beans,

But the gnawing hunger of lonely men for a home and all that it means;

For a fireside far from the cares that are, four walls and a roof above;

But oh! so cramful of cosy joy, and crowned with a woman's love —

A woman dearer than all the world, and true as Heaven is true —

(God! how ghastly she looks through her rouge, — the lady that's known as Lou.)

 

Then on a sudden the music changed, so soft that you scarce could hear;

But you felt that your life had been looted clean of all that it once held dear;

That someone had stolen the woman you loved; that her love was a devil's lie;

That your guts were gone, and the best for you was to crawl away and die.

'Twas the crowning cry of a heart's despair, and it thrilled you through and through —

"I guess I'll make it a spread misere", said Dangerous Dan McGrew.

 

The music almost died away ... then it burst like a pent-up flood;

And it seemed to say, "Repay, repay," and my eyes were blind with blood.

The thought came back of an ancient wrong, and it stung like a frozen lash,

And the lust awoke to kill, to kill ... then the music stopped with a crash,

And the stranger turned, and his eyes they burned in a most peculiar way;

In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway;

Then his lips went in in a kind of grin, and he spoke, and his voice was calm,

And "Boys," says he, "you don't know me, and none of you care a damn;

But I want to state, and my words are straight, and I'll bet my poke they're true,

That one of you is a hound of hell. . .and that one is Dan McGrew."

 

Then I ducked my head, and the lights went out, and two guns blazed in the dark,

And a woman screamed, and the lights went up, and two men lay stiff and stark.

Pitched on his head, and pumped full of lead, was Dangerous Dan McGrew,

While the man from the creeks lay clutched to the breast of the lady that's known as Lou.

 

These are the simple facts of the case, and I guess I ought to know.

They say that the stranger was crazed with "hooch," and I'm not denying it's so.

I'm not so wise as the lawyer guys, but strictly between us two —

The woman that kissed him and — pinched his poke — was the lady that's known as Lou.