Port Selkirk, Alaska, Oct. 11, 97

Dearest and most Beloved Folks:

As you will perceive we are yet about four days from Davison, but we are in no danger to be frozen on the rivers any more. The weather now is beautiful and not very cold just like our November. I am going to copy what I wrote on a map while we could not get at our paper. On the fifth of October, or when we thought was Yom Kippur we went by the most dangerous point of the journey, but we (Sol. and I) walked it, while the people we are with were on the boat. It is called the White Horse Rapid and as I saw our boat shoot through I assure you I lifted my eyes toward Heaven, remembering at the same time that it was Atonement Day and prayed to God to see us safely through and He heard my prayer.

On the second and third we had terrible cold weather and Sol. looked like an icicle on the boat steering. I had a very troubled dream a couple of nights before the fifth about home, which made me cry for homesickness, otherwise we have had no extraordinary hard­ships and in fact if it were not for the eating, which we are not used to yet we would enjoy this just like a yachting trip. We are on the waters all. day from six o’clock until six, and then we camp but I sit nice and comfortable behind a warm stove on the boat.

I don’t suppose you can get a map at home to show you all the rivers and lakes we have passed until now and if we can we will send you one from Dawson. The greatest hardship we are suffering is that we cannot hear from you, our beloved ones, but I hope to the All Merciful God that you are all fine and if we only can find some good prospects to repay us for the parting from you we shall be very happy and content. So far we did not have to dispose of any valuables; we paid only $20.00 duty, saying we had no more. We have enough to eat for almost a year and plenty of warm clothing, so you can see we are missing only the gold finds, but I hope we will have these too in time.

Nothing more for today as my hands hurt from writing on the boat, so I will finish with hopes that God will bless you and keep you all safe and sound for us when we return to you. We both send you a thousand kisses through the air and our heartiest devotion.

Yours,

Parents, Brother and Sister; Sol. & Becci.

This letter arrived in Coudersport Jan. 4, 1898

Dawson City, Alaska. Oct. 17, 189?

My Dearest and Sweetest Ones at Home

Here we are at our destination at last since the 15th inst. just four weeks after we left Dyea. Of course it is hard for us to tell yet how things are out here, but so far we are looking for a room or a Cabin, as we should not like the prospect of living in a tent all winter but as I write Sol. went out to see if he could rent some cabin.

Oct 19, 1897. Though we landed with just one(l) dollar in our pockets we rented a cabin and are going to open a restaurant for a few months until Sol. can go our prospecting or looking for a claim. As I don’t think I shall be able to mail this letter before the first of November, I will write all along before I finish it. Just at present things do not look so bright as they are pictured in the newspapers; I suppose I shall write to Mrs. Toledano myself about her venturing to come out here, but at any rate, Dear Gussie, I should like that you let her know that she should rather try and struggle along as best she can, and if she only makes her daily bread, she shall be satisfied and thank Heaven that she did not come out here, as this beautiful Klondike is only good for very strong and hardworking miners, as any one, who is not brought up from childhood to the hardest kind of labor, is of no earthly use here or all along the trip; as for instance, if you are thirsty, you have to fetch the water yourself from up the hill upon the ice; if you want to sit down, you must know how to pitch your tent and sit on one of your sacks; if you feel, cold, which is very natural for a person in this country, you must have wood. Now this is more easily said than had or to be had; and even if you have money to buy it, and it only cost about $3.00 a log, you must chop it yourself. They sell it in logs and you have to carry it to your tent and chop it up. Now whoever wants to come here should first go into a forest and see if he can chop down a few trees, cut them into small pieces about two feet long, and see how many he is able to do in a day, as one must have fire all day and put wood into the stove every ten minutes to keep it burning. Now why I am saying so much about this wood is because it is no small matter. So far we have had no extra or in fact any kind of hardships, which I should consider such, except the wood chopping, and you might just Imagine what this is, if Sol. actually cried with tears when he did it; and it costs $15 a day to hire a man to do it for you.

Now as to prospecting, you must know how to wield a shovel and a pick; and you must know how to carry your own provisions on your back as you go along, which means about one hundred pounds at a time or to pull a sled with a few hundred pounds on as you never know how long it might take until one comes back to town. Just now Sol. went for wood, poor fellow; I almost dislike myself for using it up; I should like to have one piece almost a day if it could be so. We were talking today how surprised you might be and what “Schlemells” you would call us, if we might have to ask you for money to come home with next summer, and yet, such might just be the case, though I hope to God that things will look brighter after awhile. We could have made a fortune, if we had brought in a few thousand pounds of flour and candles, as the flour sells, that is if you can get it at all, at almost $2.00 a lb.; and one candle for $1.00. We have four hundred lb. flour left and this is our only hope now of making some little money so that we can live in a cabin this winter instead of a tent. Mrs. T. might think living in a tent might not be so bad, but she might think it is an Ocean Grove Tent; no, indeed, these that the people here take along to live in on the way and out here, are just plain canvas with nothing but the bare ground, provided it is bare, for a floor, or else a few rocks and some snow for a bed and mattress. Of course, everybody has his sleeping bag, but yet you lay in these on the ground and the tent overhead. One consolation is that these bags are very warm as they are invariably made of fur or sheepskin.

Since we left Dyea, we had not yet sat or slept any differently than on the ground, as you must know, that one must live that way as there are no hotels on the way or here; and wherever you pitch your tent, there you live. Out here at present you can hardly get a room to live in, as there are not enough cabins in town; they rent for $75.00 to $100.00 a month. We rented one for $150.00 a month but It is a very large one and we will make a restaurant out of it. I shall describe to you how we all lived until we got here. By day we were on the lakes or rivers and at night we pitched our tent, ate our supper, which consists mainly of beans, bacon, bread and coffee; at about seven o’clock we retired, as at half past four in the morning we had our breakfast, and an hour later we were on our way on the waters again; and so on for four weeks from Dyea.

Oct. 20, 1897. probably from the foregoing pages you might think that we are very unhappy, but far from it; we would not want to exchange with our last months at home for any hardships we might really have to encounter, for as yet, excepting the wood getting, as happy and content as we have not been in many years; although we were somewhat discouraged, I say were; but hurrah for the Klondike. Today we had our first deal; we have plenty of everything but no money, so we concluded to sell our fur robe, that I wrote you about. We put out a little sign on paper and before a half a day was over we sold it for $300.00; it cost us $70.00. It was a lynx fur very soft and not heavy, wherein lies the beauty of it; we actually bought it only for an experiment, and we see it brought ood results. We have the first gold dust as you do not, but rarely, get money here. We have enough money now to buy some wood and cooking utensils.

Everybody tells us that in a restaurant, we might have a little mime of our own, as a meal only costs the slight sum of $3.00, and it is not a extra fine one at that; if you ask for a few beans, that goes extra; an apple pie, which sells for about ten or fifteen cents at home, costs $l.50. I wanted to buy a small looking-glass Just big enough to see my face only, and they wanted $3.00 for it, so of course I did not buy it. Sol will write as soon as we will be in the cabin, what merchandise would be best to send in here. Certainly when we get more acquainted we will feel more encouraged, as without a doubt most people here have plenty of money, and they are not stingy with it either. I’ll write again soon.

The reason that some things are so dear just now is, because the steamers that left by the way of St. Michaels in the summer did not come in as the water was to low and they can not come in as the freezes up new; consequently they are short of provisions, mainly flour and some candles; plenty of beef has some in and more is coming, but the miners do not care for beef as much as bread.

Oct. 28, 1897. I shall begin this page rather funny; you would all laugh to see me sitting, writing at the fireside light; first because I rather enjoy the novelty of it, and second because candles are so scarce; besides being $1.50 a piece now, you can hardly buy them for that. We moved into our cabin a day before yesterday, and though it is not quite finished yet, we are far more comfortable than in a tent as it is not near as cold and you can stand up straight; that, you can not do in a tent. Now I will just give you a little instance of Klondike; there is just one tin shop in town, your meat, you must buy by the quarter beef, at the rate of $1.25 a lb.; groceries. excepting sugar or tea, you must actually beg the two stores to sell them to you and then they do not, except if you happen to arouse their sympathy because you are a woman; as a stranger (men) in town can not get any groceries for love nor money.

We bought a stove, second-handed, which I assure you, I would have trouble to sell in a New York junk-shop; it is so old and broken on the top. I bought it for $85.OO. and it cost us $10 to pat up and $8.OO. for pipes; Sol. had. to bring it himself and lend. the man ours and take it there to him before he wanted to part with or sell his. If you happen to be fortunate enough to get somebody to sell anything, you must carry it home yourself; nobody even gives you a wooden box to carry your goods in; you must sled them home. I suppose you will think that I am foolish to write all this, but it all seems so strange that people should have to beg for anything they want to buy.

I do not know if I will have time enough to write to Mrs. Toledano, and if I do not, I should like you to send her a letter of my prayer to her; she should, under no circumstances, undertake to come as mines can not be had so easily any more, and this is not a country where a man or woman, who is not the hardest kind of a laborer, can make any money here, as education or penmanship or in fact any knowledge that is not mechanic is worth absolutely nothing here, because, if you can not work as a woodsman or a miner, a person is lost here except a man who has plenty of money, to bring in a big lot of things, can tenfold his money in less than a year. It is not the goods that cost so mach, as the bringing in which entails a terrible expense; but it pays in the end, as the miners here say, what do we want with gold we can’t eat it, we want grub (which means, food).

Just imagine, we sold our fur robe for $250.00., that is what we asked for it; the man who bought it wanted to give us $150.00 in gold and 50 lb. each of flour and rice and we grabbed at the offer, as we knew then that the 100 lbs. were worth $150.00 that is why we wrote we got $300.00 but he couldn’t get the stuff, so he was to he let off with $250.00 in cash, although we should not have taken $250.00 for the 100 lbs. of rice and flour, if we had gotten it.

You would be surprised how nice one can write by a wood fire; here I have scribbled off three pages and yet I am not in a hurry to finish, for it seems to me as if I spoke to you, My Dear Ones, if I write these things on paper, and yet I knew that it will be a long tine before you read this, or we shall hear from you. My God; when I think of it, I can only sit and cry, how I could ever have undertaken such a thing, and especially as the mines of gold are not to located as easily as they a re represented to be, and it hardly worth while to come out here for the novelty of it, for pity’s sake if you can keep tenderfeet at home, do so. There are lots of people going out on the ice this winter, on account of the lack of food; but yet they will come in again with plenty of money-making goods next spring and naturally they will also come well provisioned, as the boats that came by way of St. Michael cannot possibly bring enough to feed those already here, and so many who are coming. Not alone is food scarce but also everything imaginable that a person needs and wants to live beside eating. Just think, There is not a broom to be bad in town just now; nor a plate or pot of any kind; a cup that costs three cents in New York or maybe five cents with the saucer is fifty cents here minus the saucer, which they have not got at all. I am getting kind of tired so I’ll bid you goodnight.

November 18, 1897.

My Sweet Darling Kidlets.

In about a week we will have Thanksgiving, and I suppose I shall thank God for all the good we are having, though I shall find it very hard to offer thanks for being parted from you, My Dear Ones, as it is the greatest trial I have to endure, and I try very hard to keep from thinking of home and sometimes a few days pass away and I do not look at your sweet faces, because I know my courage and endurance give way, and it is hard for me to again resign myself to the thought and fact of not being able to see or hear you. Two gentlemen are going out on the ice tomorrow, they will take our letters along, and if I had the money it requires to go with them, I should, regardless of the consequences of actually risking my life only so that I could hope to see you soon again, as I am sorely afraid that my strength of stock of forbearance is not equal to the task to only be able to think of my darlings and not once to feel their dear sweet lips on mine. I think I will not write very muck more, as the tears blind me as I am sitting now and thinking that I must have been crazy to undertake it at all; but, My darlings, do not imagine that we are having any hardships at all excepting that we are parted from you, otherwise we have it far better than most Greenhorns (or Checkawkers, as they are called out here) have it in this country, as we have at least a log cabin and we have better prospects to make a little money than others; what’s more, money or no money, if I have to beg my way home next summer I shall do it to see you and I know that you will be glad to have me come even if we do not make any money.

We had some cold days already, 32 degrees below zero, but I do not go out much so I don’t feel it and Papa does not seem to mind it near so much as we thought he would. I was just reading or rather trying to read what I wrote, to Papa, and all I can do is to finish this as quickly as possible, with the hope that you are good and obedient to your kind uncle and aunt, and that you do not give them to much trouble; and I shall pray to the Almighty every day to lead me strength to feel resigned to my fate until we shall be able to come to you and He in His Mercy to keep you safe and well and from all evil. God bless you, My Sweet Ones; give my love to Uncle and Tante, as I cannot write any more so good-bye until we see you again.

Your devotedly loving,

Papa and Mamma

Dear Deiches:

I see that my wife did not write to you how we are getting along, so I want to say that our business was very good; the first two weeks we made about $350.00 in the restaurant, but this week is slow again; we only make expenses. Today I took another place in a good location, and if everything goes right I will make some money this winter yet. The weather is nice here though it was 32 degrees below zero today for a few hours. I am writing this on November seventeenth and I expect to see it much colder before long.

If you can send me some goods through somebody, who would go on the ice in April, there is a fortune to be made on any goods; 800 pair of rubber boots would be the thing, they can be sold at $25.00 per pair, and so with everything else; good bye to you, will write with next mail.

Sol.

This letter arrived Coudersport Jan. 4, 1898

Dearest Darlings:

Our landlord is going out on the ice tomorrow morning and he will take this letter, which I hope will reach you very soon. I presume that you have by this time received all our letters we sent to you, or at any rate, that you have heard from one of us, that we are safe and sound and although sadly disappointed in our hopes and expectations, yet we do not feel so despondent any more as at first. Papa is away these last two days (up the creek) as they say here, looking at some claim that he intends to buy a half interest in.

As you know we are running two restaurants, one of which pays very nicely although this week has been quite dull, but the first two weeks we made a nice few hundred dollars, and we are buying provisions all along at $1.00 a lb. for everything that is or belongs to food, as flour, lard. and even salt, etc. and yet it pays. I should have been glad to let you know the result of papa’s trip but I don’t think that he will be back in time before this letter goes away.

We have had very severe weather here already such as 58 below zero and although I was not out of doors I almost froze in bed., in our fur sleeping-bag; but papa was out on the street in the coldest day and he don’t seem to mind it near as much as we all thought he would; I was out already when it was 48 below, but you may be sure I wrapped up so that barely one eye was out of the shawl. I wonder how long a time it will yet be before we can hear from you our sweet Treasures; it is a very fearful thing to be in a place where one can not hear from the outside world for such a long time especially when we have left all that is precious to us, behind us; but I will not begin again to give rise to my despondent thoughts as it makes me weak in body and soul and I know that I shall have to endure it yet many a long month before I shall begin to hope to see you; I even refrain from looking too often at your sweet and precious faces. Oh; if I could only know that you are all well, how happy and content I should indeed be, even out here in this uncivilized country, but since I have had that awful dream about one of you, my darlings, I have been a thousand times more restless; but I hope to hear from you all very soon and whenever you do write I want each one of you to write something.

Dear Gus. and Schamshu:- I shall write only a few words more to you as I am very tired and the accommodations for writing are such here that I have stiff fingers even now from the pen. I mentioned before about Sol’s going up the creek; he bought a lay, that means fifty per cent of all the gold that might be dug out by three men from now until May 1, and of course it is just a chance; if we will be fortunate we might get for our share maybe $25000. and on the other hand it may not be worth enough to pay for the three men at the rate of $15.00. a day, but it is in the very best location and on the best creek, Eldorado; but yet it is all a matter of luck; the claim next to us might be worth ever so much and yet the next to this may not pay at all. We shall certainly hope for the best; at any rate Sol. could have made $600.00 at once if he wanted to take a partner on his lay. I really do not care to write more about this for fear maybe that when he comes back it may not look so bright and I have to send this letter before he returns; so I don’t want you to be disappointed in our next letter if it should not be within expectations. I shall finish as it is late and I want to retire. Please remember to give the boys Cod Liver Oil. I am as ever

Yours will all my heart & soul

Becci & Sol.

This letter arrived in Coudersport Jan. 28, 1898.

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