Here is a LINK to the first of six parts of a documentary made in the late 1970s about four men who hiked the Chilkoot trail to Dawson. It'll give you an idea of what the 1898 stampeders went through for gold.
Jeff Smith
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(Lima News Ohio, September 23, 1898)
CRIME AT SKAGUAY.
Tough Band of Criminals Wiped Out.
Henry Rydstrom Tells of the Killing of “Soapy” Smith -- A Chicago Man Illustrates How Skaguay Was Rid of a Desperado.
Henry Rydstrom, formerly a Chicago man, but now a citizen of Skaguay, Alaska, was an eyewitness of the night in which the notorious “Soapy” Smith was killed in that place by City Surveyor Reed. He stood, in fact, where the desperado almost fell against him when Reed shot him. Mr. Rydstrom has been in Skaguay since last January and has seen the rapid growth of the place from simply a group of tents, constantly being put up and constantly taken away as the migrating herds of humanity came and went. From the start “Soapy” Smith’s reign has been supreme. He had a gang of 29 toughs, all as desperate as himself and all completely under his control. Like the able leader in villainy he was, he had his crew well distributed among the municipal offices and in all places where they could be used to best further his schemes and to afford protection to himself and the gang. “Boss” Tweed never in his palmiest days had such a perfectly and systematically organized band of robbers. There were always three of them in the city council, his first lieutenant was the deputy city marshal and his second officer was the editor of the one daily paper in the town. The others were disposed to the best advantage possible.
Smith was a genius and a general in his line. His place was among the high officials, where he acted as adviser and director in all the affairs of the city. He could easily have been the mayor had he chosen, but that would not suit his purposes half so well as being in the position he occupied. His band was never actually seen in any of the villainies perpetrated, and it was known how useless a task it would have been to try and fasten any of the crimes upon him. But everyone knew he was the leader of the gang just the same. “Soapy,” however, was an admirable strategist and often laid plans for bold robberies that completely deceived the good and honest citizens and invariably proved successful. One of these schemes, which was carried through with masterly generalship, will serve to illustrate the ability of the man as a leader and a campaign planner. There was a Canadian minister in town who was anxious to raise enough money to build a church for his congregation. It was “Soapy” Smith who put him in the right way to accomplish his purpose. He advised the minister to make a personal canvass of the town and solicit subscriptions from the prominent business men. To show his genuine interest in the matter he at once put down his name and really gave up $350 in cash toward the project. This liberal donation had a marked effect upon the “other” good citizens.
They all subscribed liberally, and the minister was gratified that in a very short time he had raised several thousand dollars. But that money was never used to build the church. The minister had no sooner completed his work and had the money in his possession than he was waylaid and robbed of the whole sum. It is a certainty that “Soapy” had his $350 duly returned to him and with a liberal interest added, while the rest of the gang, to the same certainty, profited individually, according to their rank in “Soapy’s” army of robbers.
But such was this man’s power that no one dared openly denounce him. It was bad enough to know that he systematically plundered from the strangers who chanced to land in Skaguay with gold dust, but it was worse when his scheming brain devised plans to rob his fellow citizens and set his band to carry them out. And yet his reign continued, though Skaguay had grown to be a city of 5,000 business men. He was at the height of his power just previous to his being killed. On the Fourth of July Skaguay had resolved to be patriotic and a general celebration was inaugurated. One of the features was a grand parade, and in this “Soapy” Smith was the leader. But even then matters were shaping themselves to bring about his destruction. About the first of July and miner had come into town from the north with some $3,000 in gold. One of the gang succeeded in getting him in town and took him to one of the dens where the robberies were committed. It was Smith’s policy never to use extreme measures when it could be avoided, although a murder or two cut no figure with these villains. The ordinary plan was to get the victim drunk and draw him into a “shell” game and thus relieve him of his money in a “legitimate” manner. In this way, the miner was robbed of his $3,000. He, however, made a vigorous kick and an effort was made to induce “Soapy” to give up the spoils. But this “Soapy” would not do, and the refusal led to his tragic end. For the first time since his reign began he was publicly denounced. There were open and private meetings held and measures were in the way of adoption to depose the “boss.”
On July 8, a large number of the citizens had congregated on the wharf and the city surveyor was just calling upon the people to take some decisive action and drive Smith and his gang out of town, when the desperado himself appeared on the scene, Winchester in hand. He deliberately shot Reed, who fell to the ground, but, wounded and dying as he was, he pulled his pistol and shot Smith in the head, killing him instantly.
Every story I hear about Soapy makes my jaw drop! -Roger Smith
"I consider bunco steering more honorable than the life led by the average politician."
Can we bring down the new Soapy Smiths?
I write this from aboard the Celebrity Millennium as we approach the end of the WND Tea Party at Sea conference/cruise. We've spent almost a week now in and about the great state of Alaska alternating between activities that bring to mind the greatness of our country's heritage and the infinitely more impressive greatness of God, our creator; and presentations and discussions that focus our minds on the crisis that currently afflicts our nation's material well-being, and the much greater crisis that affects its moral judgment and character.
Yesterday we visited Skagway, Alaska (the childhood home of Sarah Palin), a town whose historic role in Alaska's gold rush years reflects the gritty admixture of decent aspiration and downright wickedness characteristic of the historical drama of America's frontier life. Where there's gold, there's greed. But where ambition must proceed through hardship, the imperatives of survival can also produce a natural inclination to remember the golden rule and a grateful appreciation for the company of unadorned humanity.
We listened to the saga of the gangster "Soapy Smith," whose nine-month reign of terror and extortion ended with a bullet through his heart once townsfolk developed the backbone to stand up to his thugs. By the time his end came, most of his ruffians had scattered to the cold winds, startled into flight by the mere prospect of regular folk who overcame their fear (and their distrust of one another) to unite against their criminal overlords.
For those nine months "Soapy Smith" and his henchmen and hangers-on were Skagway's "ruling class." They imposed a hefty tax on the inhabitants of Skagway, in exchange for promises of "protection." It was taken out in servility and fear as well as money. His usurpation of sovereignty succeeded so well that he occupied a seat of honor during a visit to Skagway by the president of the United States.
As I listened to the account of this violent con artist's briefly triumphant career, I couldn't help but think of the more pristine elitists who have in our day consummated a far more vast, more cunning and more successful con against the whole American people. In exchange for promises that they would protect people from sickness, poverty and all kinds of discrimination, they have imposed a tax that now consumes a lion's share of the money the nation works for now; and of the credit established by the good faith efforts it has made in the past. The shadow of their extortion projects loom far forward into the future, promising to make all our posterity the wage slaves of these new "Soapy Smiths."
Today they call themselves Democrats, Republicans, liberals, socialists and even conservatives. They've split themselves into ostensibly rival gangs to engage in the mock combats that now pass for political campaigns and competitions. But their alternate victories and defeats are like the rivalry of the feet as the body goes through its paces. When the right moves forward, the left suffers a setback. When the left moves forward, the right falls behind. Their competition seems real enough, until and unless you lift your eyes to the horizon long enough to realize that we are always moving in the same direction: toward great government control, greater elite power and domination, greater destruction of the institutions America's founders put in place to encourage the effective participation of regular folk, the sovereignty of "we, the people."
All the signs indicate that the historic elitist con that somewhere along the way replaced representative politics in America is close to the final payoff. That's the moment when they roll up the con, leaving the hapless mark to realize that he's been skinned. People who still think that this or that candidate from one of the "major" parties will turn out to be the real thing are pitiably destined to play out that forlorn scene. Some people already talk of America as an historic artifact, so sure are they that the American people have passed the point of no return.
There are days when I am tempted to think like them. But then I remember that the tormented people of Skagway, Alaska, eventually signaled their willingness to unite against the little gang that for a time frighted them with the totem of threats and violence. Then I remember that their story is just one of many, repeated again and again in frontier villages and towns from the far north to the far south, from the colonial east to the golden west as America's character found itself in the midst of hope and hardship, in the competition between decent aspiration and elitist greed for power.
Ours is just another episode in the drama. We've reached the point at which the bad guys feel threatened and start to slander and bad-mouth the people who dare to speak out against them. Some shrink back. But even more resent their arrogant slurs and resolve to swell the ranks of the townsfolk gathering to take their stand. Sometime between now and election day in 2012, the gavel will fall that calls them to order. If they respond, ballots, not bullets, will end the pretensions of this generation's Soapy Smiths. And as they fall, Americans will hustle past them, toward the future liberty their decent hope is still determined to preserve.
Before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor there were a number of American and English warships present at Shanghia, China. Just before the attack both nations removed their ships leaving a small force presence. The English H.M.S. Peterel and the American U.S.S. Wake were the last remaining warships on December 8, 1941, the day of the Pearl Harbor attack (time differences make it December 7, 1941 in Hawaii). Smith had received a telephone call the night before from a Japanese officer he knew. The officer asked where Smith would be the next morning as he wanted to deliver some turkeys for Smith and his crew. The Japanese did the same to other American officers and officials so as to determine where they would be on December 8th. That next morning the Wake was tied up at a pier, it's crew consisted of fourteen (eight of whom were radio operators) and she had been rigged with demolition charges. At 4:00 am she was approached by a large body of Japanese marines. Unaware of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor that had occurred two hours earlier, the crew of both ships were not prepared for the sudden onslaught and were caught entirely by surprise, the Japanese forces taking control within minutes.
The Wake
(Photo courtesy of Dictionary of American Naval Fighting Ships)
The commanding officer of the Wake, Columbus Darwin Smith, the nominal Captain, was at his private apartment onshore in Shanghia. He had been given command of the ship in March 1941. On the morning of the attack he learned from his quatermaster of the attack on Pearl Harbor. Commander Smith rushed to the ship but it was too late. The Japanese had already captured the vessel. Ironically, the Japanese captured one of the radio operators just after he had received news that Pearl Harbor had been bombed. The author of the website believes that, "had the Japanese boarded Wake just a few minutes later, she would have been at battle stations. Not a shot was fired and Wake suffered the ignominious distinction of being the only US Naval vessel captured during World War II without presenting any resistance."
The Tatara (formerly Wake)
(Photo courtesy of NavSource
When Commander Smith arrived at the dock the Japanese would not let him onboard. At that moment the Japanese opened fire on HMS Peterel and Commander Smith witnessed her sinking. Part of what he saw included the Japanese machine-gunning Royal Navy sailors in the water as HMS Peterel sank. The story of the Peterel can be viewed on the same link above.
Commander Smith and his crew were confined to a prison camp near Shanghai and the Wake was renamed HIJMS Tatara and entered Japanese naval service.
Most of the aforementioned work describes Commander Smith's internment. Smith was a truly courageous individual and almost immediately made an escape from the Woosung POW camp. Unfortunately, he was captured and spent a month in the infamous Bridge House, a facility used by the Japanese for interrogation and torture. The Japanese proceeded to try him for the escape and at one point his Japanese "defense attorney" requested that Smith be given the maximum sentence, death. The judge had already been given the sentence by his superiors, ten years in Ward Road Jail (Shanghai) with all of Smith's military and civilian rights revoked. Ward Road Jail was a high security prison from which no one had ever escaped and an escape attempt at this point would inevitably lead to beheading. While awaiting his fate Columbus thought often of family. He did his best to remember every conversation he had ever had with family members. It was during one of these rememberances that he recalled being told he was related to a famous old west outlaw called Soapy Smith. Undaunted by his initial failure to escape, Smith methodically began planning his next escape and went over the wall in September of 1944. Amazingly, by foot (and occasionally sampan) he made his way through 700 miles of Japanese infested territory to Nationalist Chinese troops. Thereafter he was repatriated to US forces. (It should be noted Commander Smith managed his escape to freedom with two fellow comrades, Commander John B. Woolley of the Royal Navy and US Marine Jerold B. Storey)
In 1945 The Wake was captured by American forces. In 1946 she was presented to China and renamed Tai Yuan. In 1949 Chinese Communist forces captured the ship and utilized the ship for unknown purposes. The history of its fate has not yet been learned. As of 2010, no other ship of the U.S. Navy has been named Wake.
Dear Jeff,
Thank you for writing the Soapy Smith book. We will use it in our classes at Wasilla High School [Wasilla, Alaska] and we also have it bar-coded and placed in the library for students to read at their leisure.
Thank you so much. We really appreciate it.
Sincerely,
Donna Hickle
First Emory Alumnus President
Luther M. Smith, Class of 1848
1826-1879
President 1867-71
Luther Smith was the first Emory graduate to preside over the college, and his presidency thus marked a kind of coming of age for the college. A native of Oglethorpe County, Georgia, he received the highest honor of his class when he graduated in 1848. After studying the law and practicing for a time, he accepted President Pierce's invitation to join the faculty in 1852 as tutor in languages. When he assumed the presidency in 1867, he followed the custom of his predecessors in the presidency by teaching literature, philosophy, and religion.
During his brief administration, Smith fostered a vigorous religious life on campus and strongly emphasized the "character-building" qualities of the college community. In general the college prospered under his care, with an average enrollment of more than two hundred. His concern for the financial condition of the college prompted a fund-raising drive, though it resulted in nothing like the $500,000 endowment he thought necessary. He was not averse to taking the trustees to task for what he thought of as too-small imagination and insufficient attention to the need for money. Proposing to begin building a large endowment, Smith curtly admonished the trustees, "The guardians of the institution should become familiar with the idea and promptly take the matter in hand." Perhaps because of such differences over finances, perhaps because of differences over the curriculum, which he wanted to expand and liberalize, in November 1871 the board voted him out of office and replaced him with Osborn L. Smith, the professor of Latin who was no family relation to Luther M.
Curiously, it was during Luther Smith's administration that the Board of Trustees first considered moving Emory College to Atlanta. At a meeting of the board in November 1867, the Rev. G. J. Pearce, a newly elected trustee, made the suggestion, which was quickly referred to committee and, a few days later, voted down, with the "deliberate judgment that the further consideration of the measure proposed is unadvisable."
Source: A Legacy of Heart and Mind: Emory Since 1836. Gary S. Hauk, PhD

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U.S.S. Jefferson Randolph Smith NCC-29402)
Sulek-class Federation Starship
Captain, Tatyana Troftmov
Year 2268
Not far away, silent in silent deep space, Federation resource exploratory vessel Jefferson Randolph Smith cruised at Warp Factor Four, her sensor net spread wide in search of Dilithium, that rare and refractory mineral that powers the warp drive, indeed the Federation itself...but more about dilithium a little later. Just now, aboard Smith, the captain was also having one of those days.
But then, thought Captain Tatyana Troflmov, as she sipped her blue orange juice, it always seemed to be one of those days.
The rest of Smith's officers were at the restroom table with Captain Trotimov. The first officer, a Withiki named Tellihu, had his broad, red-feathered wings draped over the back of his chair, he read a freshly printed newsfax with his left hand and ate a mushroom omelet with his right. Tellihu had had eggs for breakfast every morning of Smith's mission, four hundred and sixty-six days so far, and it still seemed to Captain Trofimov vaguely like cannibalism.
Science Officer T'Vau had finished her soya salad and was looking at a chess set. Not playing with it, not touching the pieces, just looking. T'Vau's hair was dangling over one pointed ear, and there were vinegar-and-oil spots on her uniform blouse. For a Vulcan, the Captain thought, T'Vau was really a slob.
The three of them were all the officers aboard Jefferson Randolph Smith, and also all the crew, just as this compartment was not only the mushroom but the common room and the recreation room. Smith NCC-29402, Sulek-class) was a ship of the Resources Division, Exploration Command, designed to seek out -- no, not what you're thinking -- seek out minerals, especially dilithillm, at the lowest possible cost.
It was actually not such a small ship, really quite roomy given its crew of three. And Starfleet Psychological Division had been very aware that a crew of only three for a mission of twenty to twenty-eight months must be carefully chosen for compatibility.
PsyComm recommended that a special battery of crew-relations tests be designed.
The test designers were hard at work and expected to deliver a preliminary report no later than six months from now. Until then -- well, somebody had to bring in the dilithium.
Captain Trofimov came from Reynaud II, a thinly populated planet on the Cygnus-Carina Fringe, without much space trade. Trofimov had decided very young that she was not only going to enlist in Starfleet and get off Reynaud II, she was going to get every millimeter as far off Reynaud II as Starfleet went. Exploration Command seemed like just the thing. The recruiter showed her trishots of the big mining ships, like Dawson City, and the planetformers, like Robert Moses, vessels bigger than starships, bigger than stargazes, and Trofimov knew that her destiny was sealed.
Only too right, she thought.
Tellihu finished his omelet, stood up, and said something to the wall in the whistling Withiki language. Pleep, the wall said, then Fling. Tellihu took out what looked to Trofimov like an ice cream cone filled with birdseed and went out of the room nibbling it, dipping his wings to clear the doorway.
He does it deliberately, the captain thought. He'd eat worms if he thought he could get away with it.
She looked at T'Vau. The science officer picked a kelp strand out of her salad bowl and chewed on it idly, still watching the chess set. Finally she reached out, picked up a pawn, turned it over in her fingers, then put it back on its original square.
Trofimov finished her juice without looking at it, and left T'Vau to her, uh, game. As she went into the corridor she thought, I'll bet it's never like this for starship captains....