A famous painter happened to be aboard for an 1889 shipwreck in Southeast Alaska

A negligent moment meant the end for a ship and a late-career breakthrough for an artist. It was Aug. 28, 1889, a windy morning at the Loring cannery, roughly 20 miles north of what is now Ketchikan in Southeast Alaska. As the steamer Ancon pulled away from the wharf, the man casting the lines failed to secure those tied to the stern. To deal with a narrow waterway and stiff winds, the captain of the sidewheeler intended to use the connection to swing the ponderous vessel onto the correct course. With the lines unsecured, the steamer instead drifted immediately onto a reef only a couple hundred yards from the shore.

The passengers, largely asleep before the crash, were soon carried to shore. Among them were several dignitaries, including William “Billy” Adams, then governor of Colorado, and Benjamin Fairchild, later a congressman from New York. But the most famous person aboard was painter Albert Bierstadt, who seized upon the passing inconvenience to create a new series of works.

The wreck at Loring was a suitably inglorious end to a notorious ship. The Ancon was built in San Francisco for the Pacific Mail Steamship Co. and launched in 1867. The steamer first served as an oversized lighter, carrying goods and passengers from larger, oceangoing vessels to shore in Panama. In 1872, she was rebuilt, upgraded to handle the open ocean, and subsequently ran a circuit between California and Panama. When that trade dried up, she serviced the West Coast with her first visit to Alaska around 1882. In 1887, she was permanently assigned to the Alaska route.

Before the gold rushes of the 1890s and early 1900s fostered a more robust trade north, the Ancon was one of the few ships that maintained a tenuous connection between Alaska and the rest of the nation. As such, her cargo was always diverse. On the legitimate side, she typically carried tourists, mail, and cannery supplies. On the more unsavory side, she was frequently loaded with Chinese laborers and liquor.

The importation of Chinese labor into the United States was made illegal by the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act, part of a groundswell of anti-immigrant sentiments. Yet, many new Chinese immigrants arrived and departed Alaska aboard the Ancon. In October 1888, the Ancon headed south with around twenty Chinese laborers previously engaged at Sitka. When they stopped at Port Townsend, Washington, a customs agent detained the Ancon and refused to let the laborers disembark. The agent argued that since the Ancon had passed through Canadian waters—despite not stopping at any Canadian port—the Chinese men aboard were effectively new immigrants to America. A judge soon countermanded the agent’s order and allowed those Chinese aboard to leave the ship.

Legally speaking, Alaska was dry for the entirety of the Ancon’s existence. Given minimal enforcement, the reality in the towns and canneries was far different. In early 1887, customs officials seized $2,000 worth of gin (roughly $60,000 in 2022 dollars) bound for Alaska on the Ancon. The bottles were labeled as tonic water. The Daily Astorian newspaper reported, “The custom house authorities are thoroughly wide awake as to these fellows who drink mineral water in Alaska.”

Despite the best efforts of bootleggers, liquor supplies in Alaska towns frequently ran out between steamer stops. As a result, such visits were often accompanied by uncontrolled, inebriated parties. One cannery manager declared that after the Ancon visited, “for twenty-four hours there is simply the deuce to pay with drunken fisherman and crazed people of both sexes. All the manager can do is to select one or two reliable assistants and be on the alert until the effects of the whisky has passed away.”

Albert Bierstadt (1830-1902) likely knew little to nothing about the Ancon’s well-paying sidelines. In the latter half of the 19th century, the Prussian-born painter was one of the most famous American artists. His enduring reputation is based upon his romantic, large-scale landscapes, glowing lighting, prolific output, and influence on a burgeoning conservation movement. His work inspired the creation of Yellowstone National Park, and his 1888 painting “The Last of the Buffalo” prompted the first official count of America’s rapidly dwindling plains bison.

Yet by the time of his Loring adventure, his public appeal had declined in favor of newer artists and approaches. As so often happens, what was once massively popular can become mocked by later generations. In the 1880s, an increasing number of critics decried Bierstadt as outdated and hackneyed. As the critical support declined, so did Bierstadt’s income. He was frequently rejected for exhibitions.

His preparation required extensive travel, particularly in the American West, where he found his favorite subjects. In the fall of 1889, he was traveling through western Canada, hoping for inspiration and to ingratiate himself with the owners of the Canadian Pacific Railway. Unfortunately, forest fires around Banff prevented him from his planned studies. He wound up on the coast at Victoria, British Columbia, and, still determined to work, decided to see Alaska for the first time.

The Ancon left Port Townsend, Washington, on Aug. 12, stopped at Victoria, where it picked up Bierstadt, and continued north with stops at Wrangell, Juneau, Douglas, Killisnoo, Sitka, Glacier Bay and Chilkat. Late on Aug. 27, it pulled into Naha Bay at Loring. As the passengers slept, the crew loaded 13,000 to 14,000 cases of freshly canned salmon.

The Ancon struck the reef around 3 a.m. The captain waited until dawn, around 6:30, before unloading the passengers. The steamer was listing by then, and some passengers were forced to exit their cabins by the windows. By 9 a.m., the falling tide had exposed the ship on the rocks, and the strain soon broke her apart. To top it off, it was also raining.

No one died or was seriously injured. The passengers and their luggage were swiftly deposited on the shore of the tiny settlement. One of them described Loring as consisting of only “about two dozen cabins, with the cannery and wharf.” Despite the wreck and weather, the passengers were reportedly in high spirits, thankful for their safety and eagerly devouring a breakfast prepared by the erstwhile Ancon crew.

For most of five days, everyone was crammed into those few dwellings. On Sept. 1, the steamer George W. Elder arrived, which deposited them at Port Townsend three days later. Loring residents eventually dismantled most of the Ancon, with much of its wood repurposed for shelters and the wharf. Even the cargo was salvaged.

Bierstadt spent those days in Loring feverishly working on the beach. He wrote to his wife, “It was a narrow escape. The steamer brought us back after 5 days living in Indian huts and salmon canneries. I was busy all the time and have 60 studies in color and two books full of drawings of Alaska.” Most importantly, he assured her, “I am doing good things, and it will pay.”

The gem of this work was a painting of the wreck itself. Produced that year, “Wreck of the ‘Ancon’ in Loring Bay, Alaska” depicts the steamer listing in Naha Bay. Bierstadt’s works are typically defined by their attention to detail, rigorous composition and luminosity. Here, however, the scene presents a muted tone and lacks any foreground elements other than the water. The small amount of visible land is ill-defined. The skies are gray and overcast. Instead, the painting captures the mood in the wake of drama, of the melancholy peace after a loss. Nancy Anderson and Linda Ferber, in their 1990 book Albert Bierstadt: Art & Enterprise, declared, “‘The Last of the Buffalo’ and ‘Wreck of the Ancon in Loring Bay, Alaska’ mark the high point of Bierstadt’s late career.”

While his Alaska studies were an artistic achievement, they failed to revitalize his career. The rejections continued, as when judges declined to place his works at the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago. In 1895, he declared bankruptcy, and when he died in 1902, he was largely forgotten. In 1947, the “Wreck of the ‘Ancon,’” which failed to sell during the artist’s lifetime, was donated to the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, where it still resides.

Bierstadt and his works languished in relative obscurity until revived by a series of retrospectives in the 1960s. Artist aside, the “Wreck of the ‘Ancon’” is a unique record for a specific time in Alaska history.

Key sources:

Anderson, Nancy K., and Linda S. Ferber. Albert Bierstadt: Art & Enterprise. New York: Hudson Hills Press, 1990.

Baigell, Matthew. Albert Bierstadt. New York: Watson-Guptill Publications, 1981.

“Chinese Landed.” [Kansas] Emporia Weekly Republican, October 25, 1888, 1.

“Deck and Dock.” San Francisco Examiner, March 24, 1887, 7.

Hendricks, Gordon. Albert Bierstadt: Painter of the American West. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Incorporated, 1974.

Hutchinson, Elizabeth. “A ‘Narrow Escape’: Albert Bierstadt’s Wreck of the ‘Ancon.’” American Art 27, no. 1 (2013): 50-69.

Kiffer, Dave. “A Famous Artist Runs Aground in Loring.” Sit News, February 13, 2007, sitnews.us/Kiffer/AlbertBierstadt/021307_bierstadt.html.

[Untitled article on the Ancon]. [Oregon] Daily Astorian, May 3, 1887, 3.

“The Women of Alaska.” San Francisco Examiner, December 21, 1888, 1-2.

“Wreck of the Ancon.” Vancouver Daily Word, September 4, 1889, 1.