Since there was nothing much happening on Anchorage's centennial birthday I stopped by the Boondoggle Bar and Grill to lift my spirits. As usual at the Boondoggle, I got even more than I bargained for.
For those of you new to town, the Boondoggle is where Anchorage businessmen (and now women too) go to mingle with government officials and talk about their next contract.
The place was packed, but the mood wasn't festive. "What's wrong?" I asked the bartender.
"Haven't you heard?" he said. "The Army is pulling 2,000 and some troops out of JBER. That's a lot of payrolls."
"That sounds like part of a master plan to take control of the federal deficit and put the country back on solid financial ground," I parroted stupidly.
A hush fell over the whole bar.
After a painful few moments some guy in a Stetson said "You'd best leave while you can."
"I've been a member longer than you," I shouted. "I've got a membership card to prove it."
"Then you oughta know better!" yelled the man two barstools down. I quit fumbling with my wallet.
"Drinks on the house!" said the bartender as he rang the bell above the bar. "Settle down! Settle down! There's room for all kinds at the Boondoggle."
The crowd considered its options. They could beat me to a bloody pulp and then throw what was left into the alley for the seagulls or they could have a free drink.
It was a close call, but they chose the drink.
The bartender got everyone served and then pulled me aside. "I thought you were a businessman," he said.
"Well, I do own a couple businesses," I told him.
"Then you should know better than to pull a stunt like that," he said. "Do it again and it'll take those 2,000 soldiers just to get you out of here in one piece."
Thoroughly confused I stammered, "But th-th-these sa-same guys I've heard them over and over complain about the feds spending too much money. Waste, fraud, overreach, the whole deal. It's ... "
The bartender cut me short. "Only the overreach applies to Alaska," he said. "If it wasn't for government waste and fraud this whole place would have dried up long ago."
"But the railroad!" I bawled, thinking of what the abortive centennial might have commemorated.
"The railroad was built by the feds and lost millions until the Army came in 20 years later," he snapped. "One way or another we're all government subcontractors. That's why nobody really wants to cut the state budget. Wake up."
I thought I saw an opening so I yelled, "Oil!" and wagged my finger in his face with an "I gotcha now" attitude.
He just smirked.
"If it was up to the oil companies there'd be six or seven guys in Valdez to keep the tankers moving and Anchorage would be left to the moose. Look around. It's the government that keeps our lights on. Always has been. Oil just pays taxes as a cost of doing business. The politicians pass out the money so we keep re-electing them."
"I have never heard anyone put it quite that way," I said.
"And tell no one where you heard it," he said with manner I took to be both threatening and in my best interests. "It's one of those things everybody knows and nobody says. Keep the myth. It beats reality."
I began to get his point.
For 100 years people have talked about diversifying the economy but no one's ever done it. That's why Anchorage is always looking to the future. It's probably best not to examine our past too carefully.
The Centennial Commission was wise not to bake a birthday cake.
Rick Goodfellow owns and runs the classical music radio station, KLEF 98.1 FM as well as The Ghost Tour of Anchorage.
The views expressed here are the writer's own and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary(at)alaskadispatch.com