Glenn Highway lodge celebrates 50 years

EOWYN LeMAY IVEY-Frontiersman reporter

Fifty-some years ago, Ray Grasser built a log inn beside the Matanuska River and at the base of one of the most impressive peaks in the Valley -- King Mountain. During the next decades the roadside lodge would become a popular stopover for travelers making their way along the Glenn Highway and a favorite gathering place for neighbors.

In the summers, the place bustled with wild-game barbecues and shooting competitions, and tourists would stop in for a taste of the "real Alaska." Once winter settled in the valley, traffic would slow, the wood stove would be lit, and locals would come in for the famous "king burgers," hand-cut French fries and some company. As darkness and snow fell, the bar would be aglow with drink, cheer and the occasional gunfight.

A half a century later and not much has changed at King Mountain Lodge. Within those log walls Grasser built so many years ago, visitors and locals alike continue to find a cold beer or a hot cup of coffee, depending on their preference. The burgers, French fries, pies and cinnamon rolls are still homemade, and many nights the bar is still hopping.

The current owner and manager have discovered that this is one of King Mountain Lodge's strengths -- its long history and tradition.

"People come in and they say it looks just like it always has," owner Judy Nix said. This is one of their claims to fame, Nix says -- King Mountain is the oldest continually operating lodge on the Glenn Highway. Others have been around longer, but have been closed down at various times or have burned and been rebuilt. The main, front portion of King Mountain Lodge is original, however.

Nix bought the lodge in 1995 and realized this year that the 50-year anniversary of the place must have come and gone recently. Grasser built the lodge sometime before 1954, so Nix decided it was time for a birthday party.

On Saturday, Aug. 9, King Mountain Lodge will host a potluck barbecue to celebrate the 50-year anniversary. Nix said she's hoping people from around the community will bring different dishes and the lodge will barbecue food, too. Nix said she's expecting some of the motor-biking regulars to show up Saturday, and she's working on lining up a band to play as well. If not, she said, they'll just have to rely on the jukebox.

"We'll have a good get-together out here," she said.

The celebration will continue Monday, Aug. 11, when former King Mountain Lodge owner Cecile Betts will be at the lodge to sign copies of her book, "Reluctant Pioneer." (See related side bar.) The book signing will be from 2 p.m. to 3:30 p.m.

Betts' husband, Jack, bought the lodge from Grasser and the couple operated it from 1954 to 1968. Reading through her predecessor's book, Nix said she was surprised by how the lodge's stories have remained so much the same during the past 50 years.

"Only the times have changed, and the names," Nix said. The tales of nuisance bears and emergency rescues, good friends and hard winters, all rang true for Nix, who describes running a roadside inn in Alaska as both a blessing and a struggle. Nix, her 21-year-old daughter and lodge manager Darryl Dean keep the lodge's doors open seven days a week, 12 months out of the year. In the summer, the hours are 8 a.m. to midnight. In winter they allow a bit for the darkness and don't open until 9 a.m. And under certain circumstances, those hours have been stretched.

"If you come through and you're really hungry and Darryl's in a good mood, he'll probably fix you something," Nix said.

"People got to eat," Dean said as he worked the cash register.

For those just passing through, King Mountain Lodge is a rest stop, a place to get a hot meal and a break from the road. For locals, though, the lodge is a sort of community center. Above the door hangs a wooden sign that declares it the "Chickaloon Performing Arts Center," and while the sign reads as a joke to most people, there is some truth to it. Year-round, the lodge serves as a place for locals to seek out friendship, assistance and entertainment.

"This is where people come to get their water … We have good, pure mountain water and an abundance of it," Nix said.

People also come to the lodge looking for help, bringing their broken bones and emergencies to the front door. Nix, a nurse by trade, jokes she never really retired but instead just doesn't get paid for her medical skills anymore.

Since purchasing the lodge, however, Nix has gotten rid of her ever-accurate nursing watch.

"Everybody here runs on Chickaloon time," she said with a laugh. "Nobody ever shows up on time, rarely even on the right day … I haven't worn a watch in years."

But even with their eccentricities, or perhaps because of them, the people make the lodge, according to Nix and Dean.

Dean is often a one-man show at King Mountain, tending bar, flipping burgers and trying to keep the customers happy. With an impressive chef resume that includes Simon & Seafort's in Anchorage, Dean said he came to King Mountain Lodge in search of fresher air and a life away from the city. He's found that, and he's also found a community full of characters.

"I love the people. They're great -- they're all different," Dean said.

Nix said Dean showed up his first day wearing his full chef whites, including the puffy hat, and for a while he admits that he tried to spiff up the menu with some more unusual fixings. In the end, though, he realized people just wanted their burgers and fries.

So the menu has stayed mostly the same, and instead he satisfies his need for fine cooking by organizing special evening dinners for locals during the winter. Neighbors recite Robert Service poems and pick up their fiddles while Dean dresses in his best and spreads the table with an impressive gourmet meal.

This particular summer day, though, coffee and beer seemed to be the most popular orders. As the evening sunlight warmed the slopes of King Mountain and poured through the lace curtains of the lodge, a local man sat at the caf/ counter, reading the newspaper and occasionally pouring his own coffee. Another regular walked in carrying his worn travel mug, looking to fill it up with some fresh coffee. On a slow day, Dean says, the lodge goes through 16 pots of coffee.

Next door in the bar, a handful of customers sat on their barstools, sipping their drinks. Behind them, posters displayed the recent results from the lodge's annual beef shoot.

Except for the TV going in the background, it could have been 1954.