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October 14, 2005
Red Alert
by Soren Wuerth

The Spoiled Princess

     When I last talked with Gershon Cohen, a tall, Southeast Scandinavian with bulging eyes, a turbulent beard and a disarming smile, he told me how he had eviscerated a carpetbagger for the cruise ship industry in an on-air debate.

     “This guy boxed himself in from the start,” he said. “He knew he was in trouble.”

     You don’t want to argue with Gershon. Not only has he helped coach some of the best debate students in the state in his hometown of Haines, but Gershon’s topic—a cruise ship tax—is ironclad.

     Other than those few, stylish Alaska Travel Industry Association members (smiling gaily as they zoom—waving—past a Princess Tours bus), who in Alaska would dare say aloud in the midst of company: “Hey now, these people are our frieeeeends!”

     The cruise ship companies bring tourists to Alaska in their boats, keep them in their hotels, pack them into their buses and deliver them to their gift shops.

     They thank us for our hospitality by shitting toxic effluent in our water, polluting our air and monopolizing local business.

     They lie when their giant floating cities hit a whale. They attempt to cover up illegal dumping of poisonous waste. They spend lavishly on political candidates and campaigns (they even subsidized the failed ’98 effort to raid the Permanent Fund).

     What Alaskan, of any stature, would not want to take this reckless, arrogant industry to the cleaners?

     But, alas, there are those who spend a lifetime kissing ass.

     “Our industry is faced with a challenge," said Linda Huston, a Holland America flak at the Girdwood tourism convention (Anchorage Daily News, Oct. 11). She whined that the initiative “will hurt our business.”

     When I think of Huston’s words, I recall those giant white boats, like horizontal skyscrapers, floating up Glacier Bay, one after the other—an assembly line of “business.”

     I think of the way the industry plays musical chairs with small Alaskan coastal communities, sitting in the town that has the least-taxed port when the song of paying your way runs out.

     I remember the men who yelled at us from their bright, orange skiff when we came to close in our kayaks: “Get away from the ship! Move off, please, now!”

     “Hurt,” is an interesting choice of words.

     I recall my $7 an hour job handling bags for Princess. I woke up hungover at 4 a.m. and joined a team of former high school cross-country runners at the Anchorage port. We raced up and down the gangplank, hauling luggage to a waiting van. Next, we went to the airport to offload the suitcases and stack them in front of the ticket counter. It was a huge inconvenience for everyone involved, from the low paid employee to the traveler stumbling over baggage to the ticket agent who, unlike us, may have been protected in her job by a union.

     And, the last time I was there, that publicly financed gift to Big Tourism—the airport train depot—posturing like a lonely elephant caught urinating by a zookeeper. It is always empty when I pass by.

     A challenge?

     You go, Gershon.






Soren Wuerth is perhaps Alaska's best known community activist. He resides in an undisclosed location in rural Alaska and can be reached at soren@insurgent49.com.
- Columnists -

Editor's Desk
by Aaron Selbig

Red Alert
by Soren Wuerth

Alaskan In Exile
by Neil Zawicki

The
Bramble Bush
by Kevin Morford





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in-sur-gent (in sur'jent), n. 1. a member of a group which revolts against the policies of its leadership.