The story of Anchorage’s deadly 1966 Lane Hotel fire and its curious legal aftermath

Part of a continuing weekly series on Alaska history by local historian David Reamer. Have a question about Anchorage or Alaska history or an idea for a future article? Go to the form at the bottom of this story.

For many stories, the end is better remembered than the journey, an inherent unfairness. Richard Reese was born in 1905 in Petersburg. By 1966, he and Bertha Reese, born in 1920, had been married for 30 years, primarily spent in Yakutat. The details of those decades in between are likely fondly remembered by family and friends, recorded in personal letters and photographs, but are more obscured to the public. That September, Bertha broke her arm, and they traveled to Anchorage for medical treatment. They lodged at the Lane Hotel on the corner of Fourth Avenue and C Street.

The Lane Hotel, originally the Crescent Hotel, was a historic building more from age than any notable incident, honor, achievement or aesthetic detail. Built in 1915, it housed one of the first bathtubs in town. Founder Frank Redwood was the first president of the Anchorage Chamber of Commerce. He called it the Crescent because of a deal with the Crescent Company, which distributed cooking supplies: a year’s worth of spices and other products in exchange for the promotional name. In 1939, the hotel was renamed after new owner Harry Lane, also the namesake of Lane Street in Anchorage’s Mountain View neighborhood. Along the way, the hotel grew in halting, ramshackle fashion, from a small boarding house to the full hotel with coffee shop it was in the mid-1960s. The coffee shop was a recent, post-Good Friday Earthquake addition.

As of 1966, Virgil McVicker owned the Lane. On Sept. 11, 1966, the Reeses tried to fly back to Yakutat but couldn’t afford the fare. McVicker extended them credit, allowing them to remain at the hotel. As McVicker later told the Daily News, “I feel bad about it — I feel guilty about that now.”

Early in the morning of Sept. 12, 1966, a small flame ignited in a pile of linen within the hotel. The little fire spread hungrily, in a seeming moment transformed into a full blaze. The first call to the fire department came at 1:16 a.m. Meanwhile, the hotel’s night clerk, John Uhles, ran from door to door, alerting residents. Lost and choking on thick smoke, he surrendered to the reality of the situation and groped his way out the front door to safety. By then, flames blocked the back exits.

The aged, wooden building burned quickly, leaving no hope of saving the structure. Anchorage Fire Chief Victor Bernasconi told the Anchorage Daily Times, “When we first arrived, our first job was to evacuate as many of the persons as humanly possible. We pulled ladders to the rear and sides of the building, and were able to remove seven residents from the windows.”

Anchorage accountant William Walsh was asleep in his downstairs room when the roar of the fire awakened him. He opened his door, thinking to peek into the scene, then leaped backward as flames shot into the room. He donned pants, edged past the fire, and ran outside. McVicker had left a stepladder in the stairwell, meaning to work on the roof later that day. Rather than braving the fires downstairs, one portly guest used the ladder to access the roof. The fire department rescued him from there. A couple of guests escaped by jumping through windows.

Seven firefighters responded to the first alert. Another call brought nine more firemen to the scene. Other off-duty and volunteer firefighters began arriving until 47 of them were fighting the blaze. Two hotel residents were recovered from atop the marquee of an adjoining barber shop. Screams guided firefighters to one window in time to see a woman faint. Captain Jim Dicus and another firefighter raced up a ladder and broke through the glass into the room. Said Dicus, “She would have died — in a matter of seconds, she would have been dead.” Around 2:45 a.m., the conflagration was under control.

Of the 25 guests listed on the hotel register, 14 died, including the Reeses. Most of the bodies were burned badly, far beyond the point of recognition. The horror was reflected in the pale faces of firefighters as they stuffed the remains into khaki body bags. Only three corpses were sufficiently intact for fingerprints. It took three days to identify every one of the deceased.

Albert Kaloa Jr., the Chief of Tyonek village, was the most famous victim, and early rumors swirled that the fire was an assassination. Tyonek had recently sold oil leases on their reserve for $13 million. The first Alaska Federation of Natives conference was primarily funded by Kaloa, making him a key figure on the path toward the settlement of Alaska Native land claims. Gov. Bill Egan declared, “He was a dedicated Alaskan, and he will be missed by all his people.” On a more personal level, he and his wife, who was not present at the hotel, were set to celebrate their 10th wedding anniversary on the day of the fire.

Among the other victims, Robert Bruce Hoffman, a King Salmon resident, was a civilian carpenter for the Air Force. Hazel Aveoganna Dayo, an Inupiaq woman from Wainwright, was an employee at David Green Furs and previously worked at another iconic Anchorage business, Jonas Brothers. George Ray Batchelor, from Castle Gate, Utah, was a carpenter who had most recently worked for the Federal Aviation Agency and as a civilian for the Army.

Jack “Johnny” Seber Bennett, born in Redstone, Montana, was a World War II veteran and resident at the hotel. Ten years earlier, he nearly died in another downtown Anchorage fire. Bennett fell asleep in a room above a Fourth Avenue bar. His cigarette ignited the mattress. Anchorage police officer Robert Riedel saw smoke, burst into the room, and dragged Bennett to safety.

Norman Frank White, born in Kwigillingok, was a resident at the hotel. David Joseph Amaer was known for selling tapestries in Anchorage. Hazel Minnie Lindstrom (nee Charles), Joseph Daniel Thomas, fisherman Wayne Oscar Markanen and Hattie Mae Jones were also among the deceased.

Mary Ann Williams died in her room. Her son, Zenith Williams Jr., tried to reach her room, but the fire was too fierce. Inside the blaze, with his own hair and clothing on fire, he was forced to abandon her. To save his own life, he leaped through a second-floor window, crashing to the pavement below. He suffered second- and third-degree burns but survived.

The Lane Hotel was a wooden frame building with fiberboard walls and ceilings. There were no firewalls or fire stops in the old hotel, except for one fire stop between the main hotel and a post-Good Friday Earthquake addition. The fiberboard made for excellent kindling, readily consumed by the flames. By dawn, the ceiling and most of the walls were gone, leaving studs pointing into the sky like the dead trees after a forest fire.

Officially — technically — the Lane Hotel complied with all existing building and fire requirements. Previous code violations, as were applicable, were promptly corrected. In reality, the hotel was an ancient tinder box made legal only by grandfather clauses. There were no fire alarms, exit signs with lights, or sprinklers. As of the 1950s, no developer could have built something like the Lane in downtown Anchorage.

From an anonymous letter to the Daily News: “That old grandfather clause looks more and more like something out of the dark ages. It would be the same as telling two old grandparents that ‘the younger people must regard every and all traffic lights and traffic laws, but you can cross our heaviest traffic without any regard for laws or lights or anything else.’”

Midcentury Anchorage particularly suffered from aging building stock of questionable quality, generous grandfather clauses, inconsistent code policing within city limits, and the absence of code enforcement beyond city limits. Still, Anchorage has thus far avoided the massive urban fires that dot Alaska history elsewhere, like the early 1966 fire that ravaged downtown Sitka and leveled the old St. Michael’s Cathedral, the 1941 Seward blaze, or the great Fairbanks fire of 1906 that destroyed 70 buildings. Anchorage has been lucky, and unearned luck at that.

Among some of the more tragic Anchorage fires within a few years of the Lane Hotel disaster: On Jan. 4, 1965, three children died in a Willow Park apartment after playing with matches. On Dec. 26, 1966, Bennie Harrison, his fiancée Alanna Jeanine Shull and her four children died in a home fire on East 14th Avenue. And on Jan. 13, 1970, five people died at the Gold Rush Motor Lodge on Northern Lights Boulevard. More people died from fires in 1966 Anchorage than traffic accidents. The Lane Hotel fire wasn’t even the only deadly fire in the greater Anchorage area that day. The same morning, Virginia Waters died in her Spenard trailer home.

Amid public demand for a response, Anchorage officials began a frenzied reevaluation of existing building standards, fire codes and code enforcement. A new code enforcement team was created emphasizing hotel fire safety. Two weeks after the fire, the city council endorsed a new fire safety program that would force owners of older buildings to install more modern safety features. Fire Chief Bernasconi noted, “In many cases a sprinkler system would be realistic and can be justified in the insurance savings alone.” That is, apart from saving lives.

Yet, as so often happens, the energy for substantive change dwindled as time passed. The code enforcement team ordered the closure of the Central Hotel on Fifth Avenue, but Anchorage City Manager Ben Marsh issued an order allowing it to stay open. Publicly undercut, this code enforcement team disappeared from public view. The changes proposed by the city council would have cost property owners thousands of dollars. In March 1967, the building code committee dismissed a revision of the city building code meant to increase firewall restrictions in hotels, motels and apartment buildings, not even reaching a full council vote.

The Lane Hotel fire was not simply a tragedy; it was a crime. As of September 1966, Charles Thessen was a 35-year-old unemployed cook, a few months removed from a stint in the Air Force, which was how a New Jersey native washed ashore in Anchorage. He was also a serial arsonist, seemingly compelled to start fires. Otherwise, he likely would never have been caught for the Lane Hotel deaths.

A month after the Lane Hotel fire, Thessen embarked on a firebug spree around town. On Oct. 9, 1966, at 10:22 p.m., firemen responded to a call about a fire set in the stairwell of the Westerner Bar on Fourth Avenue. Minutes later, they were dispatched again to a trash can fire in the men’s restroom of the Alley Cat Bar on C Street. A trash fire in an alley between B and C streets followed about an hour later.

At 12:23 a.m., the arsonist was at the Palomino Club, Sixth Avenue and Ingra Street. He pulled off part of the back wall to light a fire, using cold weather starting fluid as an accelerant. At 1:06 a.m., there was another call, this time for a trash fire at the Polar Hotel on East Fifth Avenue. And eight minutes later, a call came in for a fire set in an empty beer case at the Hi Hat Club on Fourth Avenue.

After such a public crime wave, Thessen’s capture was more a matter of when than if. Private Robert Daugherty, a young off-duty soldier, became the hero of the hour. Daugherty told the Daily News, “I was in a car parked in front of the Palomino Club waiting for friends when I saw a man drive up and carry something to the back of the club. He turned in a few minutes and drove away.” He continued, “I though his actions were peculiar, so I took a good look at the car and the driver, but could not see the license plates.”

With his suspicions about as high as they would go, Daugherty entered the bar and informed the bartender. Working together, they found and extinguished the fire at the back of the club. The soldier alerted the fire department, then continued a personal hunt for Thessen’s car. He and Fire Marshal Jack Hughton spotted the car at about the same time, and Thessen was quickly captured. Residents of Tyonek subsequently honored Daugherty at a banquet and gifted him $100. The Army awarded him the Army Commendation Medal for Meritorious Service.

Finally, in custody, Thessen quickly admitted to the Palomino Club fire and nine other local arsons. However, he hesitated to confess to the Lane Hotel fire. Fourteen deaths meant a significant difference in charges between the Palomino and Lane fires. Officers also linked him to several previous fires, including at the Elmendorf Air Force Base Officers Club on Jan. 15, 1965; the Broaster’s Restaurant on July 16, 1965; and the Outpost Bar on July 25, 1965. Thessen had previously worked at both Broaster’s and the Outpost. More than two days after his capture and after several intense interrogations, Thessen confessed to the Lane Hotel arson.

With 14 lives lost, the Lane Hotel fire is still the deadliest mass homicide in Alaska history. It was also the first case in Alaska to test the use of Miranda warnings, following the landmark U.S. Supreme Court ruling in Miranda v. Arizona that previous summer. In short, that case established the need for law enforcement to inform suspects of their constitutional rights before an interrogation. Anchorage police read the warning to Thessen, then he signed a waiver acknowledging that he had been apprised of his rights.

In July 1967, Thessen was unsurprisingly convicted on 14 counts of manslaughter. Prosecutors sought first-degree murder charges, but the jury was not convinced that Thessen intended to kill anyone. Superior Court Judge Hubert Gilbert sentenced Thessen to 14, 20-year stints in prison without a recommendation for parole. Three of those sentences were to be served consecutively, while the other 11 sentences were set to run concurrently. So, 60 years in prison.

Here is where the story gets a little strange. Fires happen. We can all understand that. Crimes happen. We may not always understand their causes or appreciate a given rationale, but we can all understand that crimes will happen. Punishments for crimes are understandable. Yet, the legal aftermath of the Thessen case is harder to understand, confounding in its twists.

Thessen’s attorney appealed the sentencing to the Alaska Supreme Court. He argued that there was only one crime — the arson — and that the multiple manslaughter convictions violated Thessen’s protections against double jeopardy, that no one will be tried, convicted or sentenced for the same criminal violation. To the very great surprise of many, the Alaska Supreme Court agreed. In a split decision, the court reduced Thessen’s sentence to a single 20-year term in 1973.

Justice Robert Boochever wrote in the majority decision that the Alaska Legislature had failed to distinguish between simple arsons and arsons “in a dwelling house and arson in a multiple-person dwelling.” As he saw it, the courts could not “increase the punishment for a single act beyond the maximum authorized by the legislature.” In this way, the mass homicide was a single crime and not an accumulation of homicides.

In a fiery dissent, Chief Justice Jay Rabinowitz wrote, “The majority would apparently uphold separate manslaughter convictions had Thessen burned down fourteen houses, each containing one of his victims. Under that analysis a person convicted of fourteen counts of manslaughter under those circumstances is more culpable than a defendant who causes the death of one person by burning down one house. The majority thus seems to reward the defendant for the efficiency of his criminal behavior, by defining the offense in terms of the number of physical acts which produced the unlawful killings.”

This remained the precedent in Alaska for a decade. The Alaska Supreme Court reaffirmed the Thessen ruling in 1980 with the Richard Sund case. In 1978, Sund killed three people in a drunken driving accident. He was convicted on three counts of manslaughter and, as per the Thessen precedent, given only one sentence for all three counts. Five years in prison with 3 1/2 years suspended.

Chief Justice Rabinowitz again dissented. He wrote, “Here Sund has transgressed positive law and taken three lives. Thus, I think it of paramount importance that our courts adhere to legislative determinations and reaffirm these norms by imposition of convictions as to each separate manslaughter committed by Sund. Society’s interest in the sanctity of each individual’s life is not to be overlooked, even if the ultimate imposed sentence does not result in a longer period of incarceration of Sund.”

In 1982, Rep. Ramona Barnes pushed through legislation that specified separate sentences for each homicide victim. This standard was tested with two unrelated cases. James Dunlop was convicted of two counts of manslaughter after killing two pedestrians with his vehicle. Ozzie Thomas was convicted of three counts of assault for a drunken driving incident where he caused a chain-reaction collision involving three other vehicles, including a school bus. In both cases, the Alaska Court of Appeals overturned the multiple sentences as per the Thessen precedent. In 1986, the Alaska Supreme Court heard the cases and reversed its stance, admitting that it had erred with Thessen. The decision logically noted, “When several deaths or injuries occur in the course of a single incident, the offense prohibited by the statute has been violated several times over.”

This leaves Thessen himself. The anguished reader may wonder what happened to Thessen specifically and justice in general. While the 1973 Alaska Supreme Court ruling served drunken drivers who committed multiple homicides, it meant little to Thessen himself. He was stabbed to death at the Leavenworth penitentiary in Kansas on June 27, 1974.

Key sources:

Anonymous letter to editor. “Grandfather Clause.” Anchorage Daily News, September 20, 1966, 4.

Brown, Nellie. Letter to editor. “Lane Hotel History.” Anchorage Daily News, September 30, 1966, 4.

“City Issues Permission for Hotel to Stay Open.” Anchorage Daily News, November 11, 1966, 5.

“Committee Dumps Fire Code Query.” Anchorage Daily Times, March 8, 1957, 2.

Cook, William D. Letter to editor. “A Bit of Law History.” Anchorage Times, November 5, 1988, B5.

“Council Backs Tighter Fire Safety Plan.” Anchorage Daily News, September 28, 1966, 1, 2.

“Court Sets Sentence at One Term.” Anchorage Daily Times, April 13, 1973, 6.

“Fire had Vivid Impact on Men Who Fought It, Searched Debris.” Anchorage Daily News, September 13, 1966, 3.

“Firemen Tell of Rescues.” Anchorage Daily News, September 23, 1966, 5.

“Four Victims of Fire Still Unidentified.” Anchorage Daily Times, September 14, 1966, 1, 2.

“Hotel Fire Toll Hits 14.” Anchorage Daily Times, September 12, 1966, 1, 2.

“Identity of Lane Fire Victims Moves Slowly.” Anchorage Daily News, September 13, 1966, 1, 3.

Jones, Sally W. “Cops Recall Days With the Man Called ‘Rat-Eyes.’” Anchorage Daily News, May 5, 1974, 4-5.

O’Totten, Mary. “Lane Hotel Met Safety Requirements.” Anchorage Daily News, September 15, 1966, 1, 2.

“Policeman Credited with Saving Life.” Anchorage Daily Times, May 14, 1956, 1.

“Rash of Fires Alerts Police for Arsonist.” Anchorage Daily Times, October 10, 1966, 1.

“Soldier Receives Tyonek’s Thanks.” Anchorage Daily News, October 23, 1966, 3.

State v. Dunlop. 721 P.2d 604 (Alaska Supreme Court 1986).

State v. Souter. 606 P.2d 399 (Alaska Supreme Court 1980).

Thessen v. State of Alaska. 508 P.2d 1192 (Alaska Supreme Court, 1973).

Toomey, Sheila. “Drunken Drivers’ Sentences Affirmed.” Anchorage Daily News, June 15, 1986, B1, B3.