Key players in the progression of the state: their vision brought Alaska to its feet.

• Author: Bohi, Heidi
• Position: 50th Statehood Anniversary Special Section

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Out-of-the ordinary events and developments are commonplace in Alaska's history. And during the past 50 years since the passage of statehood, the state's evolution has been nothing less than remarkable. From a territory where, as Secretary of State William H. Seward said, "the iron bands of government repression" limited Alaska from becoming the "richest and greatest of them all," to a land where, even in the face of impossibility, Alaskans proved greatness is limited only by their ability to want it. Behind each one of these landmark accomplishments have been the keen minds and dogged determination of hundreds of men and women who changed the course of Alaska history one drama at a time. They made personal, professional and financial sacrifices to contribute to growing Alaska into what is today regarded as one of the world's greatest success stories.

HOWARD ROCK

When Tundra Times editor, Howard Rock, left Seattle, Wash., in May 1961, he was returning to his home in Point Hope to commit suicide. Although the rumors floating around the village were that he was a rich and successful artist, in his mind he was going home a failure, prepared to die. A terrible drunk and washed-up painter and jewelry designer whose work had been very well known, he packed with him three bottles of Jim Beam bourbon, hoping to soften the shock of life in his Native village after 12 years.

As the twin-engine Beechcraft got closer to landing, Rock noted with relief that although it was already May, there was still a solid ice pack that hugged the coast, the perfect location for a man to vanish, leaving everyone to question whether he had committed suicide or had just disappeared. But when he arrived in Point Hope and learned from the locals that the Atomic Energy Commission (AEC) was well on its way to implementing Project Chariot--a plan to bury and detonate a string of above-ground nuclear explosions in the harbor near his village--he found in that peril a reason to live. From that low point in his life, Rock, an Inupiat Eskimo, stopped drinking, returned to his first love of painting, and went to work to help his people, ultimately giving Alaska Natives their first voice and uniting them on one front.

As Lael Morgan writes in her book, "Art and Eskimo Power: The Life and Times of Alaskan Howard Rock," "Howard ... forgot the hurts of the world Outside. The shore ice on which he'd planned to die drifted off without him and was soon followed by the rich promise of an Arctic spring."

The AEC told villagers the project was no more dangerous then the luminous dial on a watch. "There were attempts to lull us, the people of Noatak, Kivalina and Point Hope," Rock recounted in a 1972 interview with Morgan. "We were wheedled with rewards of acclaim from science and the peoples of the world if we would agree to go along with Project Chariot. We, the people of the three villages, did not go for the enticements. We chose to remain in our home villages come what may. The love for our homes, however humble, and the deep sense heritage prevailed...."

To facilitate communication among his people and with whites, Rock decided Alaska Natives must have a voice of their own. Major Alaska newspapers seldom carried news of Alaska Natives and showed little concern for their problems. Although he was a well-known artist and was fluent in English, he had no writing experience. When Tom Snapp, the only white journalist...