“I’ll be home for Christmas, you can plan on me …” goes the famous Bing Crosby tune.
According to the American Automobile Association, a record 107 million people will travel for the holidays this year. Due to the vagaries of Mother Nature, one can be sure not all of them will make it home for Christmas. Especially when the travel is not by automobile, but rather by plane.
Like to Cordova. We all have experienced the fickle fortunes of Alaska flying, especially in the winter. Yet few can match the odyssey of my sister Sharon Ermold, brother-in-law Johnny Ekemo, and longtime Cordovan Mark Steen, who back in 1970 were trying to make the quick trip from Anchorage to Cordova to be home for Christmas.
Their short hop turned out to be a series of long jumps that included a total of 18 takeoffs and landings, magnums of champagne, and Christmas right back in Anchor town.
No wonder the threesome was a bit inconsistent when recalling events of those fateful two days. Even Rudolph with his Nose So Bright would have been confused before this junket was over.
Back then Alaska Airlines was flying Boeing 727’s, and had just introduced Gold Nugget Service, which included flights to Siberia, of all places. The interiors of the planes were decorated in red and gold hues; the stewardesses wore high-neck white blouses, long red skirts, and tall black leather boots of the Gold Rush era. A large Russian samovar was pushed down the aisle to serve hot tea, and wine corks were always popping.
Food service included Russian caviar and other delicacies; drinks were on the house. And, by the way, passengers dressed up too, with men in coats and ties; women in skirts and dresses.
Into this cheerful setting, early on Dec. 24, stepped the Cordova-bound trio. Back then the “milk run” down the coast was also known as “the red eye” special, for it left before 7 a.m.
In those days, Alaska Air always gave passengers a heads-up about the likelihood of landing, and a standard percentage was 40 percent. If it was 50 percent or above, the airlines could be stuck with the tab for housing passengers that over-headed. No flight had made it to Cordova for a couple days, but the threesome, with Bing’s lyrics ringing in their ears, decided to go for it.
Alas, the plane circled socked-in Cordova several times, and then moved on to Yakutat and Juneau. At Juneau, the pilot announced that Cordova passengers could continue on to Seattle, and then catch the flight back up the coast later that evening. Yippee. Two milk runs in a day!
A festive air enhanced by bubbly Christmas cheer overtook the passengers, as they anticipated a marathon flying Xmas Eve bash. The plane landed in Sitka and Ketchikan, and soon after takeoff from the latter the airborne nomads were startled when the pilot announced they might be headed to Reno, as both Seattle and Portland were enveloped in fog.
Johnny, who was carrying a dozen red roses for his mother May Ekemo, plus two David Green fur parkas his father John Ekemo had bought for Johnny’s twin sisters, was so excited about the prospect of gals and gambling that he jumped up to shave and tidy up, only to cut himself with a razor in the cramped bathroom.
Of course, then the plane, carrying Johnny with a gash on his chin, did make it into Seattle. After a brief refueling stop for a couple of cocktails at the airport, they all hopped on the northbound flight, which retraced their steps, and naturally, over-headed Cordova again.
Late that night they all crashed at Mark Steen’s place, and arose early on Christmas morning to try their pilgrimage again. By now, truly red-eyed, they flew by Cordova, and ended up in Juneau. Longtime Cordova insurance agent Harry Nicolet and his wife Lois were on the plane, and he decided to rent a suite at the Juneau Baranoff for the day (and perhaps sell a few New York Life policies) for all the Cordova folks to enjoy until it was time to once more catch the flight back up the coast.
Meanwhile, my dad Don Shellhorn, my wife Sue, and I were getting very good at driving to and from the Mile 13 Airport in whiteouts.
Back then, the terminal was in what is now the TSA Building, and security was very casual. The 727 had a self-contained exit ramp that lowered from the rear of the plane, and folks would routinely walk out to the bottom of the ramp to greet passengers. In fact, Dad had a long red carpet he would roll out as part of special greetings; and in Xmas spirit, in this case, he even had a small Christmas tree whose lights were powered by a long extension cord plugged into an outlet on the terminal building wall.
On Christmas day, as the official Greeting Party waited outside the terminal, Sue recalled hearing, through a cascade of snow flakes, the muffled sound of a jet circling. But it’s blinking red Rudolph light was never visible.
Alas, Santa’s Model 727 Sleigh did not make it in.
When the Xmas Trio landed back Anchorage, the roses for May were wilted, and so were some spirits.
Sharon remembered calling and sobbing in the phone after landing. It would be her first Christmas not at home in Cordova.
Forty-eight years later, Mark Steen still had a different perspective. “Oh that was wonderful trip. I didn’t care how much we flew. It was a dream, flying forever with free cocktails. It was a festive adventure for all of us – except Sharon.”
The good news is that this Christmas no one will have to worry about over-heading Cordova. Alaska Airlines has no flights here on Dec. 25.
And rest assured, Santa’s sleigh, which never overheads, will deliver gifts to good girls and boys, regardless of the weather.
After all, Bing promises: “…You can plan on me…”
