Sad News

Sad news sometimes visits Stories of Northern Canada and Alaska.  Sad news visited today. As of February 27, Millie Jones, the living, breathing heart and soul of Carcross, Yukon lives and breathes no more. Her heart and soul, though, will remain part of Carcross forever.

Link to another story “The 93rd came to Carcross”

I’ve shared Millie’s information and stories many times.  In her honor, I’m sharing my favorite of those stories again today.

Millie Jones, born in Whitehorse, grew up in Carcross, Yukon Territory—about as remote a place as the world had to offer. People in Carcross ordered their groceries in bulk–had staples shipped to Skagway and then up to them by the White Pass and Yukon Territory railroad. Clothes came from the Sears catalogue. Millie shared the Carcross school with about 13 fellow students.

The United States Army ‘invaded’ Carcross in 1942. Trainloads of soldiers had passed through on the way to Whitehorse but one day, thrilling Mille and her friends to the core, the trains stopped at the Carcross Depot and the soldiers piled off.

Concerned that their little town had suddenly become a player in a global war, Millie’s elders installed blackout curtains. But the flood of soldiers from the United States fascinated them as much as it did their kids.

The first white men Millie ever saw were black.

Millie thought it wondrous strange to see the southerners from the States shiver in their coats during weather she thought fairly warm.

Mystery piled on mystery. Millie’s mother managed and cooked for the Carcross Hotel, and for reasons the local folks didn’t understand, the Army wouldn’t allow the black troops, in the hotel. Some of the black men came to the back door to ask for water and in time Millie’s mother took to serving them baked goods.

Some of the soldiers carried musical instruments—especially guitars. And the hotel had a piano. One day the piano got rolled to the back porch and one of the soldiers sat down to play.  Some of his fellows picked up their instruments and joined him. A crowd gathered. Millie had never heard anything like the thrilling sound they made.  Seventy-three years later, when she told the story, a wide grin lit up her face and her foot bounced on the floor.

Asked whether she remembered the name of the song they played; she didn’t hesitate. “Pistol Packin’ Mama”.

The jam sessions became a regular event, and one evening as young Millie carried a stack of clean plates across the kitchen, she heard the music start. She whirled to put the plates on a nearby table; missed; dropped the stack on the floor!

Mom was NOT happy.

We love you, Millie. And we will miss you.

Millie’s Obituary in the Yukon News