Memorable People from Copper Valley School Days
A few of the many memorable people I met at this school.
Bishop Kaniecki.
A major influence that directed me toward teaching was Mr Kaniecki. He was a Scholastic serving a year in the field before becoming ordained as a Jesuit priest. He was my teacher in many ways. He taught me in the classroom and he taught me in the world. He took students hunting caribou, oversaw our nightly activities in the dorm, even managing a rack of .30-.30 saddle carbines we could sign out for caribou hunting (we had to buy the ammunition). He was friendly but a leader who was a model for my idea of a teacher. Later in life he returned as a priest and flew a small Bush plane (himself a pilot) throughout the small villages of Alaska, landing and saying Mass. Eventually he became the Archbishop in the Fairbanks Diocese of Alaska. Unfortunately, he was guilty of following Catholic administration policies and moved priests guilty of numerous counts of child abuse from village to village. His legacy was ruined and my trust in the priesthood was forever damaged.
Harry Henderson.
Harry was a taciturn but highly creative person in my immediate class. I considered him my best friend, though Harry was charismatic and everyone considered him a best friend. Harry hailed from Valdez, where he was the only child of a couple who were solid citizens of the town. His dad, also named Harry, was a successful fisherman, owning a purse-seiner, a fishing boat used to wrap a net around a school of salmon with a smaller outboard motorboat, pull a rope to close the bottom and hall in the fish. Harry Sr. also built a second home along the Valdez Narrows, from which he would use his boat to harvest mink he had stocked on several small islands outside the narrows. When the earthquake of 1964 hit the area, a wall of water 38 feet high came barreling through the Narrows. Harry Jr lost his dad, their second home, the boat, and their primary home in town, all during 15 minutes.
But I digress. Harry was famous for his actions. Alcohol was unavailable, so he used prune plums, yeast, and a gallon jar acquired at school to make his own “wine”. He took his semi-automatic Remington Nylon 66 .22 caliber rifle and sawed off a piece to make it fully automatic. This was cool… only once. Then it broke and he had to spend months waiting for a new part. He had numerous model airplane gas engines and would create flying objects. He once mounted a small engine inside a Coke can with both ends removed and swung it around pretending it was flying as the motor cranked up. We thought so, but he probably was doing more swinging than flying. His antics kept us constantly in awe of his creativity.
It was Harry and I that violated curfew and met several female classmates in the woods one late night. The girls were seen leaving and frightened. They were apprehended by a night-owl nun and promptly gave us up. They had to mop floors for a week. Harry and I, who had done much of the planning for our Junior Prom night to be held 20 miles away at Blackie’s Diamond Willow Lodge, were prohibited from attending the event. We went rabbit hunting instead (unhappily, no dates, no rabbits).
Since Harry was from Valdez, we crossed paths and shared mutual friends in Valdez during the summer of 1961, 3 years before its destruction. He moved to Seattle, got a college degree in hospitality and ran a successful seafood restaurant in Oak Harbor Washington. There he fished also, supplying his own restaurant using the skills taught to him by his father. I searched and found him on the Internet a dozen years ago, and met him at the CVS reunion of 2014 to return a tie tack he had lent me in 1962. Along with his wife Patty, my wife Patty and I talked the old stories.
Jerry Curry.
Jerry was another friend with whom I roomed during one winter. Jerry was an affable fellow who was known for his love of radios and electronics. He owned a ham radio license (KL7EDK) which he holds today. Many evenings we would monitor distant conversations. I remember the strange sounds of Russians communicating between trawlers in the Pacific, same for Japanese fishermen. Another memory of Jerry was the time he hooked up a small generator to our room doorknob. Anyone clasping the knob to enter would initiate a cranking of the generator and a sizzling tingle on their hand. I remember hiding under the lower bunk bed to skip a rosary service which was done each evening and was mandatory. I was never caught, but later in life I realized that my absence was notable and that the religious folks knew I was not Catholic and tolerated my antics.
Alex Zerbinos.
Alex is notable because he was my nemesis. He was a bit of a bully though not a bad sort. His family lived on the campus and he had a young sister who also attended. One early evening as we were leaving the dorm to go to the cafeteria for dinner, he blocked the door, laughing and mocking me. I got angry and called him a “bastard”. Perhaps there was some truth to that name, since he instantly flared and sucker-punched me in the mouth. Blood flowed as a gash opened up. I think he was frightened because I chased him for several minutes but could not catch him. Mr. Kaniecki took me to the small area clinic in Glennallen to receive three stitches. Mr. K offered to set up a gloves-on boxing match to give me an opportunity to set the record straight, but I declined. I still have the scar today. At a reunion in 2014 I met his son, who was a duplicate of Alex at the age I knew him. Today, online, Alex and I are friendly and see each other’s family events via Facebook. He is now an upstanding retired person living in Soldotna, Alaska.
Joe Smelser.
Joe was a true bully, big and with hands that looked like they had permanent boxing gloves attached. He is memorable because I once challenged him when he cut in front of me while we were lined up to take turns using a pinball machine in the boys’ lounge. One inconsequential punch convinced me to avoid him forever.
Barbara Demoski, Judy Snow, Jenny Dayton.
I mention these three for one reason: they were all classmates and all from distant rural villages. They were all close together and I am sure had much to say about me since at one time or another I had interacted closely with each of them.
Barbara was a date for a formal dance and the person I had to kiss on stage for a play called “The Valiant”. It was fun being coached on that kiss by one of the Seminarians (Mr. Howard) in the high school basement. We pulled off a good play in the multi-use gym. Barb seemed more mature than I, and unattainable. She teased me a lot. Today she lives in Upper Michigan with a husband she married many years ago and posts information online in Facebook.
Judy came from McGrath, along with an older sister Pat and a younger brother, Peter. Today Peter paints and writes some quite interesting stories about his experiences in the wilds along the Yukon. He has a nice family and communicates to other Copper Valley students regularly. Judy was more a friendly classmate who respected the fact that I lusted after Barbara and that Jenny had her eye on me.
Jenny Dayton was the quietest one of the class females, but was intelligent and self assured. I think she liked me more than I liked her, but I thought she was a nice girl. She later married and returned to her home in Galena where she became a very active leader in her community, eventually to be elected the head of her “tribe” in that region. She remains friendly and communicates regularly regarding my art online.
Sophie Javier.
Sophie was my first active girlfriend, but not for long. She was petite and pretty and a year ahead of me in school. I was smitten and she returned the favor for a few months. She was the first girl I kissed (not in a play!) and we exchanged notes for several months. When the school year ended, she returned to Dillingham where she lived with her family. The next year she returned as a senior and ignored me. She eventually married the guitar playing sexy guy in her class – immediately after graduation in 1963. Her first son was born soon after. Her husband emerged as an alcoholic and she divorced him quickly. She ultimately went on to an advanced doctorate in metal sciences and became a published science researcher. She seems to have remarried happily, and lives in the State of Washington. Her son died tragically on the street in Anchorage, taken with the same affliction that took his father.
Sister Ida.
Affectionately, but never to her face, called “Smida”. A tall imposing figure in a white habit, Smida ruled the kitchen. We all admired her knowledge and how she could dispense C Rations for our hunting outings or help skin down a haunch of caribou we brought into her large freezer room. She cooked with what was given and saw that we had bread (usually stale) and peanut butter each evening to keep our growing bodies satisfied. On a rare occasion we would be given rabbit stew when we had collected enough snowshoe rabbits from around the school. Always stern but fair, we knew not to argue or cross her, but we also knew she cared for us in many ways, not only physically, but spiritually and by example. As an adult in Anchorage she attended the christening of Patrick at our local church, proud that “Danny” was married to a good Catholic girl. Long after Copper Valley burned down she was the bedrock of the ‘CVS family’ in Anchorage.
Bob Johnson.
Bob was a young volunteer teacher from San Francisco. He was educated in science, so he became our science teacher. Though I have little memory of his class at CVS, I encountered he and his wife Grace at a reunion in 2004. There we learned that he, Robert Johnson, married a woman who went to school in Buffalo with my wife’s sister, Judy Slazyk. Judy coincidentally married a Robert Johnson! We had a lively conversation and learned that Bob and Grace lived in Palo Alto, very close to my son David. Bob was a writer for scientific magazines. My wife and I visited bob and Grace several times in Palto Alto in trips to see our sons nearby.
Bishop Kaniecki.
A major influence that directed me toward teaching was Mr Kaniecki. He was a Scholastic serving a year in the field before becoming ordained as a Jesuit priest. He was my teacher in many ways. He taught me in the classroom and he taught me in the world. He took students hunting caribou, oversaw our nightly activities in the dorm, even managing a rack of .30-.30 saddle carbines we could sign out for caribou hunting (we had to buy the ammunition). He was friendly but a leader who was a model for my idea of a teacher. Later in life he returned as a priest and flew a small Bush plane (himself a pilot) throughout the small villages of Alaska, landing and saying Mass. Eventually he became the Archbishop in the Fairbanks Diocese of Alaska. Unfortunately, he was guilty of following Catholic administration policies and moved priests guilty of numerous counts of child abuse from village to village. His legacy was ruined and my trust in the priesthood was forever damaged.
Harry Henderson.
Harry was a taciturn but highly creative person in my immediate class. I considered him my best friend, though Harry was charismatic and everyone considered him a best friend. Harry hailed from Valdez, where he was the only child of a couple who were solid citizens of the town. His dad, also named Harry, was a successful fisherman, owning a purse-seiner, a fishing boat used to wrap a net around a school of salmon with a smaller outboard motorboat, pull a rope to close the bottom and hall in the fish. Harry Sr. also built a second home along the Valdez Narrows, from which he would use his boat to harvest mink he had stocked on several small islands outside the narrows. When the earthquake of 1964 hit the area, a wall of water 38 feet high came barreling through the Narrows. Harry Jr lost his dad, their second home, the boat, and their primary home in town, all during 15 minutes.
But I digress. Harry was famous for his actions. Alcohol was unavailable, so he used prune plums, yeast, and a gallon jar acquired at school to make his own “wine”. He took his semi-automatic Remington Nylon 66 .22 caliber rifle and sawed off a piece to make it fully automatic. This was cool… only once. Then it broke and he had to spend months waiting for a new part. He had numerous model airplane gas engines and would create flying objects. He once mounted a small engine inside a Coke can with both ends removed and swung it around pretending it was flying as the motor cranked up. We thought so, but he probably was doing more swinging than flying. His antics kept us constantly in awe of his creativity.
It was Harry and I that violated curfew and met several female classmates in the woods one late night. The girls were seen leaving and frightened. They were apprehended by a night-owl nun and promptly gave us up. They had to mop floors for a week. Harry and I, who had done much of the planning for our Junior Prom night to be held 20 miles away at Blackie’s Diamond Willow Lodge, were prohibited from attending the event. We went rabbit hunting instead (unhappily, no dates, no rabbits).
Since Harry was from Valdez, we crossed paths and shared mutual friends in Valdez during the summer of 1961, 3 years before its destruction. He moved to Seattle, got a college degree in hospitality and ran a successful seafood restaurant in Oak Harbor Washington. There he fished also, supplying his own restaurant using the skills taught to him by his father. I searched and found him on the Internet a dozen years ago, and met him at the CVS reunion of 2014 to return a tie tack he had lent me in 1962. Along with his wife Patty, my wife Patty and I talked the old stories.
Jerry Curry.
Jerry was another friend with whom I roomed during one winter. Jerry was an affable fellow who was known for his love of radios and electronics. He owned a ham radio license (KL7EDK) which he holds today. Many evenings we would monitor distant conversations. I remember the strange sounds of Russians communicating between trawlers in the Pacific, same for Japanese fishermen. Another memory of Jerry was the time he hooked up a small generator to our room doorknob. Anyone clasping the knob to enter would initiate a cranking of the generator and a sizzling tingle on their hand. I remember hiding under the lower bunk bed to skip a rosary service which was done each evening and was mandatory. I was never caught, but later in life I realized that my absence was notable and that the religious folks knew I was not Catholic and tolerated my antics.
Alex Zerbinos.
Alex is notable because he was my nemesis. He was a bit of a bully though not a bad sort. His family lived on the campus and he had a young sister who also attended. One early evening as we were leaving the dorm to go to the cafeteria for dinner, he blocked the door, laughing and mocking me. I got angry and called him a “bastard”. Perhaps there was some truth to that name, since he instantly flared and sucker-punched me in the mouth. Blood flowed as a gash opened up. I think he was frightened because I chased him for several minutes but could not catch him. Mr. Kaniecki took me to the small area clinic in Glennallen to receive three stitches. Mr. K offered to set up a gloves-on boxing match to give me an opportunity to set the record straight, but I declined. I still have the scar today. At a reunion in 2014 I met his son, who was a duplicate of Alex at the age I knew him. Today, online, Alex and I are friendly and see each other’s family events via Facebook. He is now an upstanding retired person living in Soldotna, Alaska.
Joe Smelser.
Joe was a true bully, big and with hands that looked like they had permanent boxing gloves attached. He is memorable because I once challenged him when he cut in front of me while we were lined up to take turns using a pinball machine in the boys’ lounge. One inconsequential punch convinced me to avoid him forever.
Barbara Demoski, Judy Snow, Jenny Dayton.
I mention these three for one reason: they were all classmates and all from distant rural villages. They were all close together and I am sure had much to say about me since at one time or another I had interacted closely with each of them.
Barbara was a date for a formal dance and the person I had to kiss on stage for a play called “The Valiant”. It was fun being coached on that kiss by one of the Seminarians (Mr. Howard) in the high school basement. We pulled off a good play in the multi-use gym. Barb seemed more mature than I, and unattainable. She teased me a lot. Today she lives in Upper Michigan with a husband she married many years ago and posts information online in Facebook.
Judy came from McGrath, along with an older sister Pat and a younger brother, Peter. Today Peter paints and writes some quite interesting stories about his experiences in the wilds along the Yukon. He has a nice family and communicates to other Copper Valley students regularly. Judy was more a friendly classmate who respected the fact that I lusted after Barbara and that Jenny had her eye on me.
Jenny Dayton was the quietest one of the class females, but was intelligent and self assured. I think she liked me more than I liked her, but I thought she was a nice girl. She later married and returned to her home in Galena where she became a very active leader in her community, eventually to be elected the head of her “tribe” in that region. She remains friendly and communicates regularly regarding my art online.
Sophie Javier.
Sophie was my first active girlfriend, but not for long. She was petite and pretty and a year ahead of me in school. I was smitten and she returned the favor for a few months. She was the first girl I kissed (not in a play!) and we exchanged notes for several months. When the school year ended, she returned to Dillingham where she lived with her family. The next year she returned as a senior and ignored me. She eventually married the guitar playing sexy guy in her class – immediately after graduation in 1963. Her first son was born soon after. Her husband emerged as an alcoholic and she divorced him quickly. She ultimately went on to an advanced doctorate in metal sciences and became a published science researcher. She seems to have remarried happily, and lives in the State of Washington. Her son died tragically on the street in Anchorage, taken with the same affliction that took his father.
Sister Ida.
Affectionately, but never to her face, called “Smida”. A tall imposing figure in a white habit, Smida ruled the kitchen. We all admired her knowledge and how she could dispense C Rations for our hunting outings or help skin down a haunch of caribou we brought into her large freezer room. She cooked with what was given and saw that we had bread (usually stale) and peanut butter each evening to keep our growing bodies satisfied. On a rare occasion we would be given rabbit stew when we had collected enough snowshoe rabbits from around the school. Always stern but fair, we knew not to argue or cross her, but we also knew she cared for us in many ways, not only physically, but spiritually and by example. As an adult in Anchorage she attended the christening of Patrick at our local church, proud that “Danny” was married to a good Catholic girl. Long after Copper Valley burned down she was the bedrock of the ‘CVS family’ in Anchorage.
Bob Johnson.
Bob was a young volunteer teacher from San Francisco. He was educated in science, so he became our science teacher. Though I have little memory of his class at CVS, I encountered he and his wife Grace at a reunion in 2004. There we learned that he, Robert Johnson, married a woman who went to school in Buffalo with my wife’s sister, Judy Slazyk. Judy coincidentally married a Robert Johnson! We had a lively conversation and learned that Bob and Grace lived in Palo Alto, very close to my son David. Bob was a writer for scientific magazines. My wife and I visited bob and Grace several times in Palto Alto in trips to see our sons nearby.