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A certain flash would occur, and -- all smiles gone -- the people would transfer onto film. Such was the job of Edgar Salad, a photographer of portaits, who would soon receive a commission sending him into the northernmost of Canada, where already hundreds of sweaty men with their hairy backs crouched over were writing the forewords to the great gold rush of Klondike.
"Dawson City, May 5, 1898
To lug with me a camera and 2 month's worth of plates is one thing. And to pass on foot five hundred miles from Skagway to Dawson is another. And to put those together will sum up my feelings so far. As per your commission, I will begin to journal the people (businessmen, farmers, unemployed, drunkards, all the rest) -- the people who have coalesced here in Dawson City to become known simply as miners."
- Pull your hat to the side a bit!
- Like this? Or you mean the left side?
- Like that! And you, move closer to that other guy.
- I'm Terry.
- I want the mountains right behind you three. Wait, I'll move the camera!
- Should I have a pose? What about Tennessee, is he alright, does he need a pose?
- I'm fine, Bill. Take your hat off. It's a photograph!
- Please, please! Stand still now!
The next moments give rise to a picture of three scraggy miners; with Terry and Bill in perfect slouching unison and the ghostly trails of Tennessee squashing off a bug.
- So where's the picture go, Salad?
- Terry! He's a NEWSPAPER man!
- Aha! So the front page?
- I'm on a commission, can't say where they go. Don't know myself. But thanks and good luck with the gold.
"Dawson City, May 11, 1898
Tents make up the city of Dawson. Tents and saloons. In the midst of disarray, housing is at least put up with some geometrical appreciation. Everything else quietly in chaos. Spent most of the week settling down and settings things in order. The camera is working and no more film is needed. I send with this photo, of three miners: Bill, Terry and Tennessee, of Lake Tahoe, and the Mooseskin behind them. P.S. Expect better quality and higher quantity."
Even if you get the frame straight they manage to move their arms. Or ask if the picture's done, when it clearly isn't. Something faster would do, and dreaming of it.
"To Mr. E. Salad, Dawson City, Yukon Territory, Canada.
June 14, 1898.
Appreciate your work. Payment settled."
"Dawson City, July 17, 1898
As the summer progresses the usual morning frost on one's beard grows fainter, and with that the flowers have bloomed, and perhaps we've all got a boost lately. Earth is being dug up and sluices built with growing speed. To that end, some have already left for home after big finds on their claims. Some hire others to do their job. While the rest toil away on their own. I have included a few floral photos to spruce up the usual portraits. Is this trend acceptable?"
- By nomber this whole river's freezed up. You came in the spring, you didn't see the worst. People died there, right there, and there, and there, in those places, broken ice an' currents. Now you take a riverboat but then it was with a canoe you'd made.
Dyea is the port brother of Skagway, leading new miners from America into Canada on their way to reach Yukon. Like Dawson, it's only recently booming.
- Have it so the saloon shows best. What film are you using? It's not color, is it? We haven't painted yet!
- I don't have color. But good gray shades, be assured.
- Take it so the mud doesn't show, aim high. And exclude the common. Hey, you! Sir!
- Pardon?
- Come pose with me! You're the kind of good man we'll serve in my saloon. Stand right there by the door, as if going in. And I'll stand here. Ready, Salad?
- Stay still.
- So, you come from Dawson. How's business there?
- After the photograph, Mr. Miller.
"Dyea, September 8, 1898
Here is the latest set of photographs. Is there still demand for more? I ask because I would like to return home."
Anticipation grows as winter is closer. The old-timers say it regularly sets below -40 from November on. It should be dark all day and food scarce is what we've been told. Had broken the camera, and just in time to receive a new one before the rivers closed. A new model!
- Salad! I should have my picture!
- There's not enough light. All you'd see is black.
- But I figure now's the best time to have my picture. Never got round to it, and I'm gone as fast as the rivers run again!
- No light, Nick.
- Mickey! How many candles we got?
- About two I'd say.
- Is that enough? How many the rest have? Let's gather all so I can have light for my picture!
- You want me to go ask around?
As far as you asked anyone now, we all waited to wake up with spring in sway.
- That enough?
A dirty man glared all out by tens of candles neatly made in disarrange, and he smiled the way you only do if the Yukon winter hasn't got to you. For all I cared the picture was free, and from what I heard the occasion was well remembered.
"To Mr. E. Salad, Dawson City, Yukon Territory, Canada.
May 20, 1900.
Interest in the gold rush is waning. We find it no longer profitable to pay you. We thank you for the magnificent work you have done. Included is your last commission and extra."
Won't miss you.
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A Cure for Insomnia
Posted Jun 12, 2008
An interesting way to write out a story, typical fivefornone fashion. It's a mix of journal entries and shared dialog amongst your many static characters. I like this style, although somewhat confusing, because it gives it a realistic and historic feel to your story.
Even though th... (
read more)
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