Stamp of history

Wasilla's first woman postmaster and U.S. commissioner recalls her voyage to Alaska and town's past

By COLEEN MIELKE-For the Frontiersman

May Martin Carter is a link to Wasilla's past -- and a link to pre-statehood Alaska.

May served as Wasilla's postmaster for 28 years and U.S. Commissioner for Wasilla from 1944 until statehood. On Aug. 24, May will be 88 years old.

May Martin was raised in Montana, the youngest child of Frank and Clara (Little) Martin. She came to Alaska in the spring of 1940 with her husband, Sydney Rae, and their two children. The family left Helena, Mont., with all of their belongings packed into two vehicles. A six-day boat ride from Seattle to Seward brought them to Alaska. Once in Seward, they boarded the train to Wasilla, where May's husband had lived as a boy.

His father worked in the "mining game" and Sydney was sure that he was going to be able to come back to the Valley and strike it rich someday.

On the train from Anchorage to the Valley, May was approached by the conductor who asked her why she was going to Wasilla. He explained that Wasilla had no hotel or accommodations, of any kind, for women or children. Instead, the conductor suggested that May go as far as the town of Matanuska, which was at the junction of the main railroad line and the railroad spur that went into the town of Palmer. He assured her there was a hotel in Matanuska and that it would be more suitable than Wasilla for her and the children.

Since the family truck, containing all of their possessions, wouldn't be arriving in Wasilla for another two weeks, May thought a hotel stay "sounded pretty good," she said.

The train dropped the family off at Matanuska and the picture immediately looked bleak. The "town" of Matanuska consisted of a railroad depot and a hotel. The depot had no agent and the hotel was closed. May vividly recalls the day she arrived at Matanuska. "It was all too plain that I was in the middle of nowhere without shelter for my daughter and newborn son," she said.

A Presbyterian minister from Palmer regularly met each train. Seeing the situation she was in, the minister asked if he could be of assistance to the young family. He offered to take them to town, but warned them that there was only a men's bunkhouse available in Palmer and it would not be a good place for a woman with children. May decided that she "didn't have much choice and the idea of a men's bunkhouse sounded a lot better than remaining in that wind-swept field at Matanuska Junction," she said.

The minister dropped May and the children off at the bunkhouse dining area, where they waited while he took her husband into Palmer to look for better family accommodations. The minister found a two-room shack that had a bed and a few dishes, and as May put it, "it barely had the basics. I would have gone back to Montana the very next day if I could have, but I didn't have any money."

Instead, after her family was in bed for the night, May remembers, "I made my way out to the outhouse for a good cry." A week or so later, the family moved to Wasilla.

May's husband tried to "strike it rich" for a couple of years but had little luck. Discouraged, he wanted to leave Alaska, but it was too late. May had already fallen in love with Wasilla and didn't want to go back. It wasn't long before May found herself alone in Alaska with two children and all of the challenges that being a single parent, in a frontier, brings.

May quickly landed on her feet with a secretarial job for the FAA in Anchorage. She rented a little one-room apartment "just big enough for a single bed and a bath," but it was home for May and her two children, ages 9 and 3.

A beautiful and resourceful young woman, May was not single long. She fell in love with Pat Carter. May recalls it wasn't easy to find time to get married in those days. The law required a three-day waiting period between the time you applied for a marriage license and the marriage ceremony itself. Pat was in the military and was in charge of transporting prisoners from Valdez to Anchorage. Because there was no road from Valdez to Anchorage, Pat transferred prisoners via the Richardson Highway to Fairbanks and then by railroad to Anchorage. During the Anchorage leg he would visit with May. The couple hoped to get married while Pat was on one of those visits, but his work schedule was such that he had trouble getting the three consecutive days in Anchorage. Finally, in 1943, the couple was married.

In 1944, May received a visit from a friend, Mrs. Stanley (Eva Fleckenstein) Herning. Stanley's parents built a general store in Wasilla in 1917 (the store was later purchased by Walter and Vivian Teeland). Eva told May that Howard Wilmoth, the Wasilla postmaster-commissioner, had passed away and she encouraged May to apply for the position. May told Eva, "I don't know a thing about being postmaster or commissioner," May recalls. Eva's response was, "Well, May, you can learn," and that's exactly what May did.

May and Pat Carter lived in downtown Wasilla, across from the community center, which is now the Wasilla Museum. In 1944, their house was one of only three buildings in Wasilla that had running water and a flush toilet.

"My bathroom was very popular with our friends." May said. The couple raised three daughters and a son.

May was postmaster of Wasilla for 28 years and commissioner of Wasilla from 1944 until statehood. If you had business in Wasilla during those years, chances are you met May Carter. She performed weddings, investigated deaths, issued death certificates, embellished coffins for babies, helped people file homestead papers, set fines and jail sentences for fish and game violations, did title searches, recorded leases and transfers, issued license plates and drivers' licenses (May remembers that all you had to do to get a drivers license was to fill out the application).

May recorded gold mine claims, was the probate judge and was a notary. As postmaster and commissioner for Wasilla, May found herself on duty 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

"You didn't get an hourly wage for being commissioner but you were allowed to keep your fees. They had a fee system and people paid so-many dollars for a driver's license and that was my pay. I was allowed to keep up to $1,600 a year," May said. "As postmaster, my wages were based on stamp sales and registration fees.

"The gold mines would send thick disks of gold to the smelters in Seattle and it took $100 worth of stamps to mail them. That was always a special payday for me. The gold disks were wrapped in a canvas bag and fastened with a lead seal and an address tag," May said. "Nobody knew it, at the time, but those gold disks were put right on the mail cart with the rest of the mail. Of course, there wasn't a lot of crime in Wasilla in those days."

May has a lifetime of early Wasilla stories to tell, like the time a man wanted to file his homestead papers. She told him to bring two witnesses and come to the office. May typed up the papers; the witnesses gave their statements of fact; the man paid the fee and happily went on his way. The next morning the homesteader came into the office and told May that on the way home he stopped to help a family with car trouble. "In those days nobody passed up someone who was stalled on the road, you always stopped to help out," May explained.

While the man was trying to fix the stalled vehicle, the goats (which the people had in their car) found their way into the homesteader's truck and ate his beloved homestead papers. The man was devastated. Upon hearing the story, May saw the humor in the situation, and filled out a duplicate set of application papers for the homesteader, at no charge for the second set.

People didn't go to Anchorage for very much in those days. A trip to Anchorage and back was an all day event. In those days, the road went from Palmer to Anchorage on what is now the Old Glenn Highway. The road across the flats, by Eklutna, was so wash-boardy it was hard to stay inside of your car, May said.

"The GIs just poured into this area with their families after World War II. They arrived in every kind of rig you can imagine. You just couldn't believe that they made it up over the Alcan in one piece," May said. "Some of those wives couldn't even boil water when they got here. Some of Wasilla's early pioneers took those young families under their wing. They helped them find corner stakes for their homesteads and the women were taught how to make bread and cut up moose meat. If it weren't for our early settlers, those GI families would have starved to death. Wasilla was like that back then."

Pat Carter passed away in 1991. She describes him as a very kind, generous man with a great sense of humor and a man who worked hard to help people in need. Over the years he was employed by MEA, the Alcantra Youth Camp and Civil Defense among other things. Pat Carter and Frank Smith were responsible for obtaining Wasilla's first fire truck.

Throughout the years, the Carters were very community-minded and served on countless boards, committees fund-raisers and work parties. They donated land to the VFW, as well as land to the city for a small children's park on the edge of Lake Lucille. Wasilla has undergone many changes, but she still feels like Wasilla is home.

She said she approves of the city that Wasilla has become. Ever the diplomat, she added that Wasilla is still a great town, "except for the traffic."