By now, he is almost forgotten. No statue or monument for him, but to us old-timers of the North, he will always be remembered as Eddie Holland -- “the Wolverine.”

Now, what is a wolverine. He is a wolfish and gluttonous animal. But woodsmen and trappers claim that he could be a cross between a bear and a wolf. He is, without a doubt, one of the most cunning animals -- not only hard to hold in a trap, but also hard to skin. The hides are in great demand by the natives. They use it for trim on the hoods--the only fur that will not collect frost on the hair.

Why did Eddie Holland get the name of “Wolverine?” He was honest and had none of the mean traits of the wolverine. The answer is, that he had courage, determination and great strength. To look at him, you would not think that he was the best packer in the district--nay, in the Territory of Alaska. For he was only five feet, five inches tall. 

We became friends in 1925 when I made a trip to Fishhook Inn. I picked up two hitch-hiking prospectors, Ward Strove and the Wolverine. I helped them to put their packs in the car which was loaded with rock samples of gold ore.

It was all I could do to lift the Wolverine’s pack off the ground, but he just picked it up and swung it into the car. 

A few years later, he gave us another exhibition of what it means to have the name “Wolverine.” It was in the spring of the year, the sun was out in all her glory--and snow was melting fast. While we were working on our property, known as the “Highgrade Gold Mining Corporation, located some 4,500 feet above sea level, we looked down towards the Independence Mine. We saw a moving black spot on the snow. 

It could not have been a moose, for a moose would not have been able to make it through snow over 20 feet deep. With snow that deep, no moose could travel. Only a Wolverine could make it, said Patty Marion, and a wolverine it was--a two-footed one--Eddie Holland.

The answer is, that he had courage, determination and great strength.

When he came up to the cabin, we asked him to come in and have a cup of coffee. 

“Never drink the filthy stuff,” he said, and he never did. Nor did he smoke.

“No, boys,” he said, “I have to make it over the pass. Just about getting used to my pack.”

We all looked at his pack which consisted of a 125--pound sack of coal. From his right hand dangled a five-gallon can of kerosene, and under his left arm, he carried a carton with a couple of loaves of bread, cans of milk, sugar and some beans.

If the snow had been hard as it is after a freeze, it would not have been so bad. And if his snow shoes were not partly broken and the webbing enforced with strips of his shirt tail, and if he did not have to climb a steep grade to get over the pass to Purchase Creek, a human being might have made a few miles. But Eddie Holland, the Wolverine, had traveled ten miles already, and made the other four miles before night-fall.

Unbelievable, you say. Wait until I tell you about the next time we found out how much he could really pack. This occurred in early summer, the year after the big snow, when snow slides took out part of the Fern Mine and partly buried Wolverine.

When the boys dug him out, they first thought he was dead. But he soon got up,calmly brushed the snow off his clothes and said, “I lost a good hat, but anyhow, this is the fastest time I ever made it coming down a hill.”

His cabin up in the mountains should have been one of the seven wonders of the world. It was made of logs from eight to twelve inches thick and from eight to fifteen feet long. 

Once, a snow slide took it down when Eddie was in Wasilla. He found another spot in the rocks, and rebuilt his mountain retreat. 

It was there we were sitting one day looking down at samples of his bornite peacock copper and gold ore when one of the boys said, “Hey, look, what’s that?”

Something strange was moving between the large boulders.

“A bear, maybe.”

“Well, it doesn’t look like it.”

“Oh, that’s the ‘Wolverine.’ We kinda expected him, but such a queer looking pack. Well, look what Eddie got this time.”

It was a Lang cook stove. Of course, we helped him to take off his pack. 

As the Wolverine invited us for lunch, I said, “How about giving you a hand setting up the stove, Eddie.” Without waiting for an answer, we started to do so.

“Hey, Eddie, where are the legs of this stove?”

“Oh, they’re in the fire box.”

They sure were. In short order, the four of us had the stove in place. But just before we started a fire in the stove we got another surprise. For the Wolverine opened the oven door of the stove and pulled out a sack of flour. 

He asked me to stay overnight. As I was tired and wanted to see his prospect, I stayed. He made a nice supper but strange as it may seem he would not let me wash or dry the dishes--a courtesy that is always observed by prospectors and miners. In order to entertain him, I told him a story about two traveling salesmen, which always brought a good laugh. But Eddie never winked an eye.

Next morning, however, I heard “Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha,” and I asked, “What are you laughing about, Eddie?”

He said, “Oh, your story, Ha Ha Ha Ha.”

It took him part of the night to get the point of it.

That evening, when we were sitting in his cabin, I said to him, “Eddie, your name is Holland. As you know, I was born in Holland. Where were you born?”

He said that his father was Irish and his mother Norwegian. Once his mother received word from Norway that she had inherited a small estate, so his mother and dad made the trip to Norway by sailing vessel. A storm kept them 83 days at sea. That was the time the Wolverine was born. Thus, in his blood, he had the courage of the Norseman and the fighting spirit of the Irish.

But I best like to remember a piece of paper, yellow with age, hanging on a nail in his log house. After blowing off the dust, I read and learned by heart these lines.

“Give me the trail that winds ahead

That few men’s feet have trod.

A campfire bright, 

And a spruce bough bed,

And faith in the ways of God.

Give me the urge that will carry me on

‘Til my time comes to die, 

And I will never dispute the law

Or the how or the when or the why.”

One of the really great pioneers of our Northland lies buried in the Anchorage cemetery -- Eddie Holland -- the Wolverine.

Printed with permission from the family of
Gerrit “Heinie” Snider.