by Peter Twitchell
Mr. Jack Hopstad was not only a lifelong friend but a lifeline for me. When I was a boy, Dad visited Olaf, Jack’s dad, and I was introduced to Jack.
Dad immediately called Olaf when his rank in the 3rd Army was upgraded to Private First Class in 1964 and I thought they had to be good friends for Dad to tell Olaf of his proud moment.
Olaf used to stop by our house next to the National Guard barracks/offices next to the seawall at the edge of the Moravian Church’s compound at the Mission Road in the Fifties. Our house was at the Binkley House location in 1963-64.
This was some evenings after Olaf’s bush pilot shift ended.
When Dad died in an accident August 21st, 1965, I was lost as I lost my best friend who I hunted with and did a lot of camping with.
All of a sudden there was no money coming into our family. Mom had an 8th grade education from BIA in the 1920s. She was a homemaker and a great mom and cook. We’d grown up and I turned my attention to Jack who was receptive.
At 16, I figured, the only way to make money was to play music like the Guinn boys called the “Shing-A-Lings”, at dances at the Tundra Shack and Cowan Hut.
I walked over to Jack’s house and he was outside their house. I told him I had a Sears Roebuck guitar and asked him if he had one and he said, “Yeah, I got one – a Silverton in the Quonset.”
He said he had to dig it out.
Next I got John David who liked to play drums. It was the beginning of the instrumental group I named the “Strange Tones”. I did this because we are Yup’ik Eskimos and electronic guitars were not of or tribe, but the drums were.
We last played in 2010 at the “Kuskokwim Fiddlers”. I still perform for public functions in Anchorage and in the Valley with five different bands. The band I played in town I called “The Willow Buds”.
