Marlin "Mike" Thomas Williamson
June 17, 1926, Oregon — February 11, 2013, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Marlin “Mike” Thomas Williamson was born in Corvalis, Oregon on June 17, 1926. He was the youngest of the 5 children of Emma and Charlie Williamson. He lost his mother when he was 3 and grew up with his father and siblings, Lloyd, Beaula, Harry and Chuck. The Williamsons were a lively, good-hearted bunch. They learned young to work hard and take care of themselves and each other. As Mike would say, they were “as independent as a hog on ice”.
In Oregon, Mike learned early to hunt, fish and trap. He told old stories of how he would go out spotlighting with his friends and then on the way home, they would distribute the bounty to families who needed the meat. Mike’s freezer was always full of something good to eat. As much as he enjoyed the challenge of hunting, Mike was never needlessly cruel or wasteful, although he did hold a special distaste for Bears. “The only good bear is a dead bear.”, he would say.
Mike had logged with his father using horses. Soon, he began working as a log truck driver and formed a partnership with his friend Neil Holbrook. This was in the days before power steering or engine brakes. Each load required binders of chain and cable to be tossed up and over the logs which required incredible strength. During his entire career, he never took a sick day; nor missed a hunting season. Hunting trips to Eastern Oregon were a yearly ritual, accompanied by old friends such as Fred Anthony and others.
Mike married Frances Jenkins on February 17, 1945. Frances was born into a larged family in Yoakum, Texas October 30, 1927. By 1935 the family was living in Oregon.
Mike was a devoted provider and Frances always had dinner waiting for him when he came home from work. Tragedy struck when their two small children, Sandra Lee and Tommy, perished in an accident in 1947. Their devastation only abated when their adopted son, Zonnie Lee, was born in 1958.
Perseverance, strength and improvisation were integral to Mike Williamson. For example, he needed a barn on a 40 acre parcel near Eugene Oregon that he acquired from his father. So he built himself a barn; a big barn. As a truck driver in Oregon, Mike always worked on his truck himself. When Zonnie was old enough, Mike always took him to the truck shop on Saturdays when the maintenance was done. Later, in Alaska, Mike kept a reputation of being able to make do with whatever he could scrounge from his junk pile, or the city dump. It was either “fix it” or “fix it so that nobody else can fix it”.
Mike drove truck for Austin Logging in Gold Beach, Oregon for many years. When the boss, Glen Austin, retired in 1968, Mike drove a dump truck for Dale Wood. Dale had a son who went to Alaska to work on the North Slope. He was planning a trip to visit his son and suggested that Mike meet him in Fairbanks. Mike bought a 20 foot camping trailer and, with Frances and Zon, headed north to Alaska in May 1969.
Mike fell in love with Alaska. Driving back from Seward, he decided to take a left turn to go to the end of the road in Homer. At the end of the Homer Spit, he was talking to the locals at the Salty Dawg. They told him that there was logging going on across the Kachemak in Jakolof Bay. The wages were incredible, plus overtime. He would fall timber until a driver position opened.
Mike flew over to Jakolof, Frances and Zon waited on the Spit to bring the pickup and trailer over to Seldovia on the Tustumena. In Seldovia, Jack English arranged for Mike to park the trailer near the Russian Orthodox Church. The unused utilities there had been established for the urban renewal workers after the 1964 earthquake.
Hunting season came along and Mike brought home his first moose, and a new freezer to put it in. Frances and Zon were old hands at cutting and wrapping. There was always an ample supply of moose, goat, sheep, fish, crab and clams in the Williamson freezer. Mike sought out the old timers to hear their stories. He listened eagerly as Frank Raby, Steve Zawistowski and Herb Lindersmidt told of their early days in Alaska. Mike made friends with the younger generation, Jim and Tom Hopkins, Doug Giles, and Lowell “Doc” Suydam to name but a few. Everyone knew that Mike was a good man to go hunting with, as long as you could keep up the pace!
The logging companies in Jakolof came and went over the years. Mike was always there to drive. When the logging eventually ceased, Mike, now in his sixties, went to work as a deck hand crabbing. He made several trips to Cook Inlet and the Bering Sea. Mike was also available to drive dump truck for Jim Hopkins in Seldovia and Dwight Glanville in Homer. Eventually, Mike settled down to fur trapping in the mountains above Jakolof and Seldovia.
Mike’s formal education ended at eighth grade; however he never failed to learn what he needed to accomplish a task. He could figure the value of a load of logs or gravel, double-check his time book, build roof trusses and negotiate rental and sales agreements for real estate. He loved to read old magazine articles about Alaska. Mike enjoyed the explanations of modern science and technology that Zon would bring home from his studies at Stanford University.
Zon, now known as “Tsuri”, had settled in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania in
1987 and once or twice a year he and his family would come back to
Seldovia for extended visits. Mike’s beloved Frances had passed away in
2001 and he was not interested to travel outside Alaska. When his health
failed in 2010, the decision was made to bring him to Pittsburgh for
care. Living with his son, near five grandchildren and eight
great-grandchildren in an Orthodox Jewish community in “civilization”
was Mike’s final great
adventure.
Mike passed away peacefully on Monday morning, February 11, 2013. To the end, he was aware that he was loved and cared for by family. Mike was not an overtly religious man and in the tradition of the old-time loggers, he was always referring to his deity one way or the other. He used to say that, when on top of the mountains hunting goat, he expected it was as close to Heaven as he would ever get. However; judging by his accomplishments, his good name and the love and respect showered upon him by friends and family, Heaven surely has acquired a new resident Mountain Man.