If the citizens of Cordova of 1911 were to adopt a slogan, it might be “Take this coal and shove it.”
And shove it or, more accurately, shovel it they did—by the ton.
The brouhaha began back in 1906. President Teddy Roosevelt’s executive order prohibited additional coal mining in Alaska Territory. In swift order, this curtailed the start of coal production in nearby Katalla.
After Roosevelt left office, his successor William Howard Taft, despite many telegrams of protest from Cordova, continued the coal mining ban as U.S. president.
Area Alaskans expressed dismay because they argued the environmental protection orders put the kebosh on railroad expansion and prospects for prosperity in Cordova.
Herein, we’ll consult newspapers of the day for what transpired on May 4, 1911, when, in a manner of speaking, the schist hit the fan.
Cordova residents learned that they now had to purchase costly important coal from Canada while they claimed rich coal fields in nearby Katalla lay undisturbed.
About 300 demonstrators marched to the Alaska Steamship Company’s wharf.
In the midst of the grumbling, a Cordova lady grabbed a shovel and pitched coal lumps into Orca Bay.
Whereupon, a Fairbanks Daily Times reporter said the action caused another female spectator to say that the spirit of the American Revolution “was not dead.”
“Alaskans should show themselves to be men and not (any) longer tolerate injustice,” she said, according to the reporter.
That set many shovels in motion to imitate the famous Boston Tea Party and its slogan against British rule and taxation.
In a flash, tons of coal went into the drink.
A startled employee name Richard Barry began firing off telegrams. He tried Deputy Brightwell, but he was out of Cordova on a case. So, he telegrammed newly elected Fairbanks mayor Austin E. Lathrop who, in turn, sent a telegram to Commissioner Fred Dennet of the general land office.
To wit, the Cordova barbarians were at the gate, or rather the wharf.
Agent Barry pleaded with the crowd, stating they were injuring the coal company, not Taft and the government. He threatened to have the mob arrested.
And when that didn’t stop the shoveling, he summoned the mayor and police chief.
Their shouted commands landed on deaf ears. The coal mutiny continued.
By May 6, 1911, armed deputies patrolled the wharf and streets, noted the Fairbanks Daily Times. A group of men tried to storm the Northwestern when it docked, but deputies drove back the crowd.
Governor Walter E. Clark of Alaska issued a statement asking his constituents for patience. He promised to do all he could to open coal fields for the benefit of the people, reported the Fairbanks Daily Times of May 6, 1911.
Attorney General George Woodward Wickersham, also on May 6, sent telegrams to U.S. Marshals in Alaska to take all necessary steps to protect shipping in Alaska.
Wickersham took issue with Governor Clark’s message of conciliation and sent this telegram:
“Press reports indicate lawless destruction of British Columbia coal at Cordova by citizens claiming to act in resentment of delay of disposition here of Alaska coal matters. You are fully advised of my personal desire and determination to promote Alaskan coal development as promptly as effective protection of public interest will permit. Nevertheless, lawlessness must be suppressed and punished, and you will take vigorous action to this end.”
Flashforward 100 years. The City Council of Cordova commemorated the May 4, 1911 “Coal Party” to draw attention to “the Federal Government’s current stranglehold on Alaska.”
Section Two said this: “. . .The federal government has worsened its stranglehold on Alaska and continues to actively damage not only Alaska’s future but the future of the entire nation through continued misguided policies.”
Section Three urged President Barack Obama and Congress and others “to develop common sense energy policies, land use policies, and other public policies that allow Alaska and the rest of the nation to utilize their abundant energy resources in a safe, environmentally sound manner that serves the best interest of Americans.”
Today, Katalla, once a city of 5,000 and an oil boomtown, languishes as a ghost town 47 miles southeast of Cordova.