Kilbuck Portrait

Amanda's portrait of Donald Kilbuck next to the man himself. Painted in Anchorage, AK, 1998.

Donald & his portrait.

Update: After decades of silence, I've learned the Kilbuck portrait lives! 25 years later (Oct. 2023), Donald sent me a photo of the portrait in its current location in Soldotna; specifically, "Funny River at Little Way's from the Small Plane Airport."

 

May it live forever!

Gill Bros: Brushes with Greatness

Me & Stan Lee, Los Angeles, 2012.

Todd & Charo, Oahu, 1996.

Cat Scan

Machete’s unintended self portrait after she fell asleep on the scanner. In the resulting image, you can discern a couple of paws at the bottom. Suitable for framing.

Machete on the scanner.

[ Originally posted on The Real World…Blogger Style! – August 25, 2007 ]

Smart(ish) / Dumb(ish)

Probably the most intelligent-looking photo I have of myself:

Smart Jon, Alaska, 1998.

Maybe the dumbest photo I have of myself:

Dumb Jon, California, 2004.

Donald's Storage Unit, 1999

Donald visiting his storage unit at the end of the millennium.

Donald's storage unit.

Donald was a perpetual couch surfer who rarely had a fixed address. He would stay with friends or in halfway houses throughout southern Alaska. He kept many of his personal belongings in his van, but he also had a storage unit in Anchorage where he could offload some things when his van got too full. I visited his storage unit with him on several occasions when he needed something and had to dig through several boxes of unsorted items to find it.

DX, Suck It

I don't know if anybody remembers "DX", the late '90s WWF professional wrestling team, but "Suck it!" was one of their catch phrases.

"DX" was also the name of a Japanese (pain relief?) product. 

I guess that's all the information you need to understand this:

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Dec. 12, 2004]

Cantwell

Out in the middle of nowhere, Cantwell, Alaska hosts an annual music festival. It is pretty much just two days of drunken revelry. It's completely unadvertised. People just know about it by word of mouth

It's right off the freeway in a huge open area. The only structures are a stage, a full blown bar, and a line of port-o-johns.

Everybody just pitches tents or lives in their vehicles for the weekend.

Highlights from the year I attended include:

Dancing on makeshift tables.

Passing out & sleeping in the dirt.

Worth a close up.

Me in the chair, Todd standing above, Amanda on the right, & our photographer in my lap.

Here is a collage:

Cantwell collage.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Jan. 18, 2004]

The Drunken Boat

Valdez Harbor, crack of dawn.

Surviving journal fragment, providing a pretty accurate picture of what it was like hanging out with Donald Kilbuck in the late 1990s:

July 1, 1998 - In the early evening, I was surprised by a knock at the door. I looked through the peep-hole and saw Donald Kilbuck laughing his ass off in the stairwell for no apparent reason. He's tired of his job in Valdez and has returned to Anchorage. Further questioning revealed his Native Corporation Check is due so he won't have to worry about work for awhile.

He plans to use the money from his check to ferry his van to Kodiak where he'll stay until his next Native Check arrives. Then he will use that money to deliver himself back to Anchorage. Well, we all need something to do.

I ended up joining him on a spontaneous 6-hour drive to Valdez where he planned to deliver a bag of clothing to his friend, Patrick.

The roadtrip scenery was beautiful as always, but especially so considering the sunny weather, there was none of Valdez's characteristic rain. We rolled in to town around 2:00 a.m. & hung out at Ihe Sugarloaf Bar which is owned by the Village Inn (Donald's workplace for the past month). 

Posted above the bar, for all to see, was a chalkboard with the message, "Today's Specials" painted on the top section of the frame. Instead of drink prices, the board said, "You're In Good Hands With Allstate - Jon D. Gilliom" & then my phone number! Donald's doing obviously. I have no idea how long it had been up there.

I was pleased to learn the bar did not close until 4:30 a.m. & started in on beer by the pitcher. Donald was determined to wait around until 3:30 a.m. & then go wake Patrick up & give him a ride to work (he works at the Sugarloaf too). The bar was a lot of fun & there were a lot of cool fishery workers in town from all over the country.

By closing time, Donald returned without Patrick. Apparently it was Patrick's night off & he did not appreciate the wake-up visit at all. As the bar began to close, a fellow named Chris offered to take us out on his boat, so we bought a six pack to go, the bartender charged us $18.00 for it! He claimed that since the bar was technically closed, he could get in a lot of trouble for selling. We were drunk enough to go through with the transaction.

At this point, we weren't sure if Chris was bullshitting us or not, but we were just going with the flow. Who cares? Sure enough, once we arrived at the dock, Chris pulled the battery out of his car, stuck it in a boat, and we were off.

As the sun came up, we were taking turns steering the boat around Valdez Harbor. It was beautiful and invigorating. When the beer was gone, we returned to the dock, reattached the car battery, and I offered to buy Chris breakfast in exchange for the boat ride. By now, it was after 7:00 a.m. and we were on our way to Sunday morning breakfast at the Totem Inn.

Donald & Chris in the cabin.

Chris, our Captain.

We really ordered up at the Totem Inn, but by the time our food came, Chris was face down on the table. I don't think he ate a bite of his breakfast. The restaurant became very full as the Sunday morning crowd was arriving. Chris was drawing a lot of looks and comments. I can't believe they didn't kick us out. Donald and I just laughed and ate as if everything were normal. We were super hungry and not about to leave, no matter how many people were staring.

When we were finished, we carried Chris out. Luckily he was able to vaguely direct us to a friend's house (or we interpreted it that way). We left him laying on the front porch and then began our three hour drive back to Anchorage.

Uncle Jon, 1998

 Uncle Jon dozing in me and Todd's orange chair at our apartment in Anchorage.

Cowboy Fishing

Are there any cowboy fishing enthusiasts out there?

Cowboy Fishing.

I discovered this ad for Cowboy Fishing magazine while browsing through a different magazine in the Anchorage library and thought, "That's a real specialty item!"

From the ad text:

Enjoy a magazine with in-depth articles about cowboys and fish, written by cowboys who love to fish with other cowboys. Subscribe today. YEEHAW!

How large could the audience for this publication possibly be? Do they fish with a lasso?

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Mar. 12, 2005]

Going Digital

While the Internet was not readily available in rural Dillingham, Alaska, where I spent the mid-90s, we did have cable TV, so I kept hearing all about how great the Internet was. At first, it seemed like a fad. Initially, I thought they were just talking about email and that people were overenthusiastic about it. Then you'd hear about kids causing trouble from information they found on the Internet and all the rampant porn. That's when I started getting excited about going online—so much information so easily accessible! In the analog world, you had to really hunt around for things.

When I returned to Anchorage in 1997, the World Wide Web (then commonly known as the "Information Super-Highway") was a mainstream phenomenon, but I still had never used a browser in my life. I was able to self-educate myself in the free computer labs of the University of Alaska, Anchorage.

"Fuck you, ape face!"

My brother was working on a digital scanning project for the campus library at that time, and one day he showed me how the scanner worked, which amazed me. He scanned a random comic book image I had with me and then showed me how easily you could add text. I've saved that image to this very day. It’s the one captioned, "Fuck you, Apeface."

We added that text to the original image. Pretty clever, huh?

Another Gilliom Bros. collaboration was, "Jesus Has Joined the Workforce" (below):

Jesus has joined the Work Force!

Yep.

Econoliner (Road Hog Weekend)

[Originally posted as part of "Road Hog Weekend," on The Real World...Blogger Style!]

When I think of living in Alaska, I think of driving around in a Ford Econoliner from the late 1970s.

My brother Todd purchased our first Econoliner down in Indiana. He added some special features to the original green van, most notably: a set of sexy mannequin legs protruding from one of the back walls:

Todd's customization job.

The legs were eventually removed so he could install bunk beds for his road trip to, and back from, Alaska. I was able to participate in the Green Econoliner's second Alaska trip in 1994 (documented in Van Log '94).

Mel, Laura, me, & Todd: Ready to set off to Alaska.

One of the green Econoliner's cool features was that the walls were covered with yellow shag carpeting. Carpeted walls = comfort:

Carpet.

In Alaska, the green van was more often referred to as the, "green egg van." This is because of a fried egg sticker Todd had adhered to it. People always asked what it meant. They usually took it to be reference to, "This is your brain on drugs." 

The "Green Egg Van" in Seward, AK.

While Todd drove and lived in the green egg van in Valdez, I relocated to Anchorage where I purchased a second, blue, Econoliner from a co-worker. This is the one I accidentally shot a hole in during my first day on a new job.

At the end of the salmon season, when Todd came back through town, the Gill Bros had two Econoliners on the streets of Anchorage. 

Two Gills in two Econoliners.

After that summer, Todd left me the green van and flew back down to Indiana, so I was blessed with two Econoliners.  I drove one and let Donald Kilbuck use the other one. They both made it through my first Alaskan winter. 

The Green Egg van turned back to Todd when he returned the following summer. It was ultimately deserted in Valdez after its transmission went out. Reportedly though, it would still drive in reverse for awhile and Todd tells me they would occasionally take it on a short drive into town in reverse!

The blue van became Donald's and he continued to drive it into the late 1990s when it finally gave up the ghost. By then, it had a steel bar welded to the front, acting as a homemade bumper and a patchy blue pattern from Donald spray painting over rust spots.

Let the Sun Shine: Donald & the blue Econoliner.

The blue Econoliner from my apartment window, Anchorage, 1997.

[Originally posted on The Real World...Blogger Style!, Feb. 12, 2006]

AK Autos

While I'm recalling Alaska, they had two vehicle modifications that I don't believe are common in most of the lower 48 (states).

1. Studded Tires - Every year, everybody swaps their tires for winter tires which include dull metal studs to maintain traction of frozen roads.

Tire stud informational display.

People sometimes use chains in the continental states, but the studs are better for long-term daily use (winters are a lot longer up there).

They're an extra expense, the unused set of tires (studded in summer, regular in winter) requires storage space, and changing them is another annoying task on the To-Do list every 6 months or so.

2. Engine Heaters - Alaskan vehicles come equipped with a small heater in the engine; it plugs into an extension cord and is necessary to prevent the engine oil from freezing overnight. So, the cars have little plugs coming out of their grills. It's common practice to plug in the car at night during the coldest couple of months of the year.

In Anchorage, modern apartment complexes had electrical outlets available on posts located in the parking lot, one for each parking space.

In Dillingham, we would run an industrial extension cord from the house to the van.

Here is a photo of me changing a tire on the ice, using a lever made from firewood to assist my piece-of-crap jack:

Changing a tire in a frozen driveway.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Dec. 29 2004]

Walk Dude

Dillingham, Alaska, when my brother Todd and I were there (1995–1997), was a very secluded part of the world—it still is, I guess, but internet availability probably changes a lot. When I was there, we had no internet, though we did have cable TV, so we weren’t entirely disconnected in terms of information, even back then. It was certainly physically disconnected, though. There were no roads to or from Dillingham; it was more of a hub town for a handful of scattered Yu'pik villages and a boat harbor with access to Bristol Bay. No fast food, though there were a couple of restaurants, bars, and grocery stores.

One year, our supervisor directed us to participate in the local parade. We drove the company van through the streets of Dillingham. While we didn’t have it together enough to create a proper float, we felt we should haul something, so we put an old Nordic Track exercise machine on the flatbed trailer and hauled that behind us. Our supervisor created a wooden figure which we all referred to as the “Walk Dude.” We added a few balloons and some signage to identify ourselves, and we were good to go.

The company van.

The "Walk Dude."

Signage, balloons, and brother Todd.

Driving into town.

It may not have been the most impressive parade float to ever see the light of day, but it served its purpose and it was hilarious. The weather was also terrible for a parade which made the whole endeavor ridiculous.

Once we hit town, there was a pretty good turnout:

 We threw out so much candy. The kids loved it.

 

It was pretty fun hauling a muddy balloon-decorated Nordic Track through town on a flatbed and throwing candy to the crowd.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Dec. 11 2004]

Death to Tyrants

When we were living in rural Alaska, my brother Todd and I decided to celebrate one particular 4th of July by building and burning a tyrant's effigy. He had a balloon head and a body stuffed with straw. Went up in flames good, like a tyrant should.

Here's pics:

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Jan. 4, 2004]

Potato Launcher

Probably our most outrageous source of entertainment in Dillingham was the potato launcher.

Our boss built it from PVC pipe—just the right diameter to snugly fit a potato down the barrel. At the base, he attached a wider plastic chamber with a screw-off cap, where we’d spray in the “fuel”: Aqua Net hairspray. (It worked great until they changed the formula; after that, we had to switch brands. The key was finding something flammable.)

He rigged it with an old electric grill starter and a bolt inside the chamber, so all it took was pressing a red button to send a spark across the chamber and ignite the hairspray. We kept a broomstick handy to use as a ramrod whenever a potato didn’t quite fit.

When you hit the button, it let off a loud bang that echoed through the trees, and the potato launched with surprising velocity. My supervisor once speculated that a direct hit could break a man’s ribs.

Potato Launcher.

Taking aim.

Todd prepares to launch a potato.

We used to set up targets in the backyard and fire the potato gun at them—usually an old trash can lid propped up with rocks.

That was one of the perks of living in the middle of nowhere. There’s no way we could’ve gotten away with that in a suburban neighborhood without drawing the attention of the neighbors—and probably law enforcement.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Dec. 17, 2004]

Aleknagik

Besides fishing, you could also screw around in watercraft on Lake Aleknagik, though that was often incorporated into fishing as well.

Our crew, most days.

Skif Pilot Jonnie.

 One section of Lake Aleknagik featured the wreckage of a WWII barge which we enjoyed climbing around on.

The old barge.

Todd welcoming us aboard.

Glen tying anchoring our skif to the barge.

Fishing off the barge.

Fishing off the barge was amazing, the river's current would momentarily trap the salmon against the barge and you could look right down at them. Theoretically, the salmon wouldn't even have to bite, it would not be difficult to just snag them with your hook ("snagging" is illegal by the way, it wasn't uncommon for Fish & Game to check your fish to make sure they were hooked legally in the mouth).

It was also fun to explore the barge, though most of it was flooded. I don't know any of the barge's history, except that it was from WWII and that it was too expensive to remove and dispose of it. As of the mid-1990s, it had just been sitting there for fifty years or so.

Remains of a WWII era bathroom.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Dec. 21 2004]