Name: John Steins
Place of Residence: Dawson City
Occupation: Visual artist and studio technician at Yukon School of Visual Arts. Former Mayor of Dawson City (Jun. 2006- Oct. 2009).
How long have you lived in the Yukon? “I’ve lived here for over 35 years. Frightening isn’t it? A classic case of arriving for a summer of fun, work, and adventure and completely forgetting to go back home. Talk about misspent youth!”
What brought you here? “In June 1974, my buddy Jim and I got fed up with city life in Toronto. Adopting Pierre Elliot Trudeau’s advice for young people, we hit the rails--literally--and hopped freight trains across the Prairies as far as we could go. I never told my mother. Eventually, we hitchhiked up into the Yukon after the train tracks ran out. On our way to Dawson, we hit a snag at Stewart Crossing for a few days. No one would give us a ride. We couldn’t understand why two skinny kids with long hair down to their waist and bushy sideburns, standing on the side of the road in the Yukon, would be stranded.”
What keeps you here? “On paper it might appear to the uninitiated that the Yukon is an inhospitable place to live year-round. Of course, we know it’s not true, but there is one big surprise, at least for me: the gravitational pull the Yukon exerts on her inhabitants. For example, getting prepared to actually leave town for a weekend or even a trip Outside is often like mounting an expedition to the moon. This mysterious gravitational force will throw up all kinds of niggling little hindrances, causing me to give pause and say to myself, ‘Do I really need to go anywhere?’ It’s also about the land, the winter, the summer, the water, and, above all, the light. In the evening, the way that gorgeous raking light in the early summer washes over everything is so calming. It puts one in a contemplative or meditative mood.”
Settle the debate for us: what makes someone a “real” Yukoner? “If someone tells me they are born in the Yukon, I will remark on the striking coincidence that I also was born in Canada! There is a certain degree of bravado or bragging rights for having willingly endured many dark and cold winters, floods, fires, and other hardships specific to the Yukon. And, of course, there is a certain amount of pride attached
to telling people down south that you live in the Yukon. Committing to the Yukon makes you a Yukoner.”
What’s the biggest tall tale you’ve told friends or family in the South about life in the North? “At a cocktail party down south, after a few drinks, I might bring up the very unsophisticated topic of outdoor urination during extreme weather and the consequences of trying to do so. A more genteel crowd may hear about what happens to spittle before it hits the ground at fifty below.”
How do you get your friends or family in the South to come visit? “If I wanted people to come and visit, I certainly wouldn’t have moved all the way to the Yukon, right? Kidding aside, family and friends have always visited of their own accord and end up loving it.”
Who is your favourite Yukon character of all time? “My favourite person of the Yukon past would be the late Pa Telep. As youngsters fresh from the city, we wandered into Diamond Tooth Gerties, in Dawson, for the first time in June of 1974. There to greet us at the door and make us feel welcome was an old-timer in a fire-enginered flannel shirt and a Santa Claus white beard, topped off with a set of mischievous eyes that twinkled at us, ‘Put your backpacks down there boys, go on in, and have a good time!’ He pointed to a spot in the corner with his famous walking cane with a big knob and built-in whiskey flask that also doubled as a persuader when a patron needed to be bounced. Consequently, we got to know Pa Telep a little better over time. He was the real deal, a genuine Yukon Sourdough who put us newcomers at ease.”
I wouldn’t change ____ for all the gold in the Klondike. “It’s already too late. The thing I wouldn’t change has already been changed. The Dawson flood of 1979 swept away many old buildings and artifacts that once littered the townscape, creating a picturesque charm that can never be replicated. The crooked boardwalks and overgrown grasses along with alleyways stuffed with old equipment, antique cars, and gold-rush artifacts are long gone. A new page has been turned. One that might be lost and lamented in the future? Who knows.”
