New Britain herald., 1929-10-08

and Dawson City, when there were q dozen poker games in every saloon, and the players made their bets in pure gold dust, stalking incredible sums on a single draw, showing the gold they'd risked their lives for out on the bare tables to back their luck They've played in such games, these 16; and they still play.
 Play Poker for Burnt Matches
 Poker is a popular game here. The Klondikers play it often-with burnt matches for stakcs
 There was one player here, a few months ago, though, who was differ cnt He came to the farm as Kid" Brown, erstwhile dance hall proprie- tor at Valdez, and a spectacular gambler when the Klondike was in it's heyday He was broke. old and sick when he got here-but he still loved poker, and he used to play gaily with the other burnt-match gamblers.
 Kid Browns down, but he won't be out until the doctor counts ten," he used to tell them. Then he'd explain that he still had an interest in fabulous Wyoming oil properties. Some day, he'd say he would yet be rich. .... They liked 10 hear him. He kept their spirits up even if it was sort of absurd.
 Then, one day, lawyer called to see him. Brown signed certain pa pers and went away with the lawyer A little later it was learned that his Wyoming oil properties had begun to pay. Now he is in Wyoming, worth a quarter of a. million.
 But he was the exception. The rest of them haven't any hope.
 Two Women Among Veterans
 There are two Klondike women here, too
 One is Mrs. Harriet Duryea, grad uate of a famous Boston music school, Her husband is still in Alaska, sending her, from time to time, what money he can, and writ ing hopefully of getting a stake" and coming back to rescue her.
 The other is Mrs. Anne Duran. Her memories Of Alaska are bitter. Her husband, q Wisconsin railroad engineer took the gold fever in '9S. They sold their comfortable home and went to Alaska together. Their two children are buried up there. Her husband failed to find gold, they came back to the states broke. then he died Now she is in the poor farm with the others.
 Tom Carstin, who made his "stake' lugging 5o-pound loads on his back in the biting cold on the Dyea trail, in competition with the starving pack horses. doesn't care much about his presence in the poor farm.
 Lost my family in q fire up Hunkor Creek way. Hunker's near Dawson. Cashing gold away with nobody you love to spend it on ain't what the poets say" he re- marks.
 Then there is Mike Hassott. For seven years he was the prosperous foreman of the rich Alaska Juneau mining properties. He came back to the state wcll-to-do Then he hit bad luck, lost his health, slid into the county hospital-and, final ly, landed here in the poor farm.
 Teeth Don't Fit"
 Mike ScanIon, perhaps, expresses the spirit of the 16. He says:
 ''Tain't good for old folks to be hatchin' round together always. Whoever thought trampin' in the snow over Chilloot Pass, that we'd ever be sittin' on iron hunks in q place like this, complainin' of cheap 1 teeth that don't fit, and so broke l that buyin' a paper is as serious as investin' in q ticket round the world?
 Well, boys. We had our fling. Got more out of it than the fellows that stayed at home nursin' their bank accounts. I've no regrets. And if I had q good sure grub stake ne.st spring I'd be hittin' 1t up for little old creek in back of 1 laines' Mission-I know darned well I there's gold there"
 That's Mike Scanlon's attitude. ! M IoaCn't ,1.-,,4