Betty Arnett: First it's There, Now it's Here

It was a cute little house when we first saw it in 1954, all natural wood inside and out. On that cold winter night, the fireplace flames had danced seductively, reflecting on the knotty cedar paneling. Compared to the bigger and more beautiful homes in Turnagain-by-the-Sea, it had only one bedroom, one bath, a kitchen, and a living room. Not even a carport. But we couldn’t resist it, and it would do for now. Our baby wouldn’t be born until June, and the builder was willing to add another room and a carport come spring. Besides, it was a steal for $10,000. Soon tulips bordered the driveway, a vegetable garden was planted, and two more babies were born. Another room was added.

But on March 27 of our tenth year—1964—one corner of its foundation was suddenly hanging over a 40-foot drop. Much of the surrounding landscape had sloughed away toward the sea as a result of Alaska’s magnitude 9.2 Good Friday earthquake. In less than five minutes, Illiamna Avenue became the new bluff in Turnagain-by-the-Sea. How could a house survive with no water, no electricity, no furniture, and no occupants?

As its displaced residents, we wandered through nearby neighborhoods looking for rentals that would provide temporary shelter until things settled and decisions could be made about the fate of the house. We sought refuge in the parsonage of the Turnagain Methodist Church along with three other families, but we didn’t want to impose indefinitely. We were welcome to stay, so long as we were willing to reside upstairs. No one else dared be that far from the front door with the aftershocks still coming.Then a friend called from the airport saying she was taking her children back to New York to get away from the chaos of reconstruction in the city of Anchorage, and we were welcome to move in with her husband until she returned. What a godsend!

In less than two weeks, the local government offered a staging area by Rogers Park School for the damaged houses in Turnagain. There they would remain until the owners decided what to do with them. Our house was the first to travel there. The move started at 5:30 a.m. the morning of Friday, April 10, and took one hour. Its picture appeared in the paper the next day. We now had a choice: walk off and leave the house that was paid for or take it with us to another property. Further good news came from the military. Free land in south Anchorage was being offered so that earthquake victims could relocate as soon as possible. Small Business Administration (SBA) loans became available at three per cent. It was heart-warming to know our government cared. We felt we could do it: we could situate our house on the gifted property and live there until our financial picture improved.

As the house stood on wooden pilings near Northern Lights Boulevard, awaiting its fate, the first of multiple generations of flies took up residence in the ceiling, under the roof, and between the walls (a long lineage that still lingers in the recessed lighting in my kitchen ceiling). Meanwhile, our friend was waiting for us to move out of her house, so she could bring her family home from New York. Unfortunately, the generous offer from the military got bogged down in red tape at the state level, and it would be three years before the gift of land was transferred to individuals. Meanwhile, earthquake victims were on their own for immediate relocation. Who could wait for Governor Egan’s slow wheels of progress? Our friend needed her house; we needed to move.

Snow still lay on the ground when we viewed the two-and-a-half acres for sale on Upper O’Malley Road. The real estate agent stopped the car after struggling a couple of country blocks to get up the road, saying, “This is about as far up as I can drive in this snow, but here is the first property I wanted to show you.” A big boulder on this hillside property marked the corner of the unnamed road and Upper O’Malley. We climbed up on top of it and took in a fantastic view of Anchorage, its waters, and its mountains, with Sleeping Lady taking center stage. All we could say was, “Wow!”

“Oh, but the lots above have even better views!” exclaimed the seller.

“Yes, but you can’t drive up there.” We paused and let our eyes feast on all that lay before us. With a sigh of pleasure, I concluded, “This is good enough for us.”

Luckily, we were able to rent an apartment at Hideaway Lake, just below this property.The next challenge was to get the house from town up to the hillside. House moving was not a big business in Anchorage, and only one or two movers were to be found. We were given a quote we reported to SBA, only to learn by the time the property was readied for the house, the cost had inflated. (Apparently that bothered us more than it did the SBA.)

Chick Lane, our architect, designed a lower level on which the house was to be placed. The little four-room home we had bought in 1954 was about to become a two-story house with seven rooms, two baths and a deck, plus a carport. While I slept at our friend’s house, my husband sat in the passenger seat of the big house moving truck as it transported our house in the wee hours of the morning. All went smoothly except for stops to lift the overhead utility wires when necessary. It traveled from Northern Lights to Seward Highway, and then south to O’Malley Road, climbing from sea level to one thousand feet into the foothills. The moving truck only jumped out of gear once on a steep grade.

Our home now resides on Hideaway Trail. We no longer fear that our house might fall into the sea.

Betty Arnett came to Alaska in 1952 to work as a housemother at the Jesse Lee Home in Seward. In 1954 she married Russ Arnett and moved to Anchorage, where she became an elementary schoolteacher. After living one year in the 1200 L Street Apartments, they bought a small house in Turnagain-by-the-Sea and lived there until they were “bombed out” by the 1964 earthquake. Their house was moved to the hillside, where they raised three children. Arnett’s roles in Anchorage have been as teacher, Executive Director of Alaska World Affairs Council, and writer. She was instrumental in organizing the Hillside Hikers and Bikers in 1987, which now has a membership of 50 women and a waiting list. Her blog can be found at bettyarnett.com.