A casual encounter with Cordovan Rob Eckley outside Laura’s Liquor Shoppe over the Christmas holidays triggered a flashback to tragedy. Eckley, who enjoys cooking and fine cuisine, asked about a recipe for “fattigmann” that he had received from Kristy Wilson. How to prepare this Scandinavian delicacy, particular to the Christmas season, was credited to Fina Ekemo, who happened to be both Wilson’s and my wife Sue’s grandmother.
Sadly, not long after Christmas 68 years ago, Mrs. Ekemo and three others perished in an airplane accident near Mile 32 on today’s Copper River Highway.
Details of the tragedy appeared in the January 18, 1951 Cordova Times. While reading this account, keep in mind that back then work had just begun on extending the Copper River Highway beyond the Mile 13 airport, and it was a narrow gravel bed over the railway right-of-way that reached only to Mile 17. From then on, it was still the abandoned railroad tracks of the Copper River and Northwestern Railway.
Tragic Accident Takes Four Lives
Pilot’s efforts of no avail; rescuers arrive too late
A tale of tragedy and heroism is the story of the air accident which took the lives of four Cordovans last Saturday afternoon, Jan 13.
After leaving here, the Cordova Air Service plane piloted by Bud Richardson, winged its way up the Copper River Valley, headed for Valdez, via the route believed to offer the better weather conditions. Shortly after leaving the field a radio report from Richardson said everything was O.K. That was the last heard from him until Monday when rescue parties were returned to Cordova with the tragic story of how the four passengers were unhurt in a forced landing on the Copper River, but were frozen to death before rescuers arrived on the scene on Sunday.
Richardson, pilot of the crashed plane, had wrapped all his passengers in wing and engine tarpaulins and started to walk for help to a trapper’s cabin five miles distant. He fell through the ice and was wet to the waist. Reaching the cabin, he wrung out his trousers and warmed himself a short time and then started out again, intending to hike to Mile 13 if necessary, for help. He had to turn back when a trapper’s trail cut off away from the river, and he realized he would never be able to break the trail such a distance in the severe cold and wind. He then returned to the cabin where the rescue party found him later.
The victims were:
Mrs. Fina Ekemo of Cordova, widow of one of the original locators of the copper ore that became the famous Kennicott Copper mine. She is survived by three daughters, Mrs. Elmer White and Mrs. Pete Lovseth of Valdez, and a daughter Mrs. Otto Ramm, of San Francisco, and two sons, William of Cordova and John of Valdez.
Mr. and Mrs. B.R. Dyson, formerly of Cordova, were the founders of the clothing business now known as Flynn’s Clothing Store. They sold the business to the present owners and had made their home Outside for the past several years. They are survived by one daughter, Mrs. Howard Burch of Valdez.
The fourth victim was Ernie Cruz, a resident of Valdez, and longtime employee of the Dayville Cannery.
In a statement made by Merle K. Smith, president of Cordova Air Service, he said, “We assumed that we might lose another plane, but the pilot Steward Starbuck and a rescue party made up of Dr. R.B. Coffin, Richard Davis, Karl Barth, and Charles Simpler never hesitated a moment when asked to assist. They were picked for their knowledge of the area and woodsmanship which later proved invaluable in the 25 below temperatures and 80- to 90-mile winds.”
Although Starbuck made a miraculous landing near the crashed plane with the rescue party, it was quickly apparent there was nothing more that could be done for the occupants of the ill-fated craft.
A takeoff attempt with the party was unsuccessful and it was decided that the four-man party would walk to the cabin where Richardson had been sighted, while Starbuck got off to find a place out of the wind to land the plane.
The second take-off attempt was successful but shortly after a violent squall proved too much for the plane. It crashed and rolled over several times. Starbuck was unhurt and spent the night in the remnants of the plane. The next day he made his way to the cabin where others of the rescue party had spent the night with Richardson.
All rescue parties and the two pilots were evacuated by air early Monday morning.
The crash brought to an end the 18-year safety record built up by Cordova Air Service. CAA officials investigating the accident were unanimous in their praise of Cordova Air Service rescue attempts which were far beyond the call of duty.
A second rescue party had been flown to McKinley Lake and reached the Mile 27 Cabin at about the same time the first party did.
In commenting on the trip from the crashed plane to the cabin, a member of the rescue team declared it was impossible for any not present to imagine the weather conditions: the cold driven by the high winds which froze their eyes shut; the drifting snow which made it impossible for them to see even their own feet as they trudged the weary miles to the shelter of the cabin.
Cordova Air Service has arranged with Glen Williams, Buck Loomis, and Sam Christiansen to bring out the bodies of the victims as soon as weather permits.”
By pure coincidence, years later I had an opportunity to hear accounts of this amazing sequence of events from two participants in the rescue efforts.
In 1970, I crewed on the seiner Lena C with Pete Lovseth, Doug Morris, and none other than Stewart Starbuck. The Cordova Times story does not mention that Starbuck was a fighter pilot in World War II, nor go into detail regarding his takeoff from the crash scene. “When we tried to takeoff with everyone on board, it was blowing so hard I was afraid it would flip the plane over”, said Starbuck. “So instead, all of them held the wings down as I faced into the wind prior to takeoff.”
Plus this tidbit regarding his crash: “A gust of wind caught me at 27 Mile, and I actually ended up going under the steel span bridge there prior to crashing and rolling over several times.”
In the late 80’s, I crewed aboard the Pt. Countess with Captain Charlie Simpler and his sons Tom and Bob. Charlie was still tough as ever, and he and I were the first ones up to brew coffee prior to rattling the rest of the crew out of their bunks. “Anyone who has been out beyond 27 Mile in the winter knows how the wind can howl out there”, he said, “but this was as bad as we had ever seen it. “
And I still remember his description of their apparel: “Fisherman’s rain gear over as many layers of wool as we could wear.”
Three days of tragedy and heroism, from fateful days 68 years ago — brought back by an innocent question about a popular Scandinavian Christmas dish, made by Fina Ekemo — whose life began in Norway and ended in Alaska.
