Last week, this column covered the curious path of hard-boiled crime writer Dashiell Hammett, who was near 50, sickly, a celebrity and a Communist Party member when he went from Hollywood fame to Army enlistment to his posting in remote Adak. Of course, Hammett was far from the only celebrated author with ties or at least a significant visit to Alaska. From Jack London to freshly minted Pulitzer winner Tessa Hulls, Alaska has lured and inspired numerous writers. Next week’s column will cover two particularly diverse examples: Shel Silverstein and Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. And this week is yet another disparate character, L. Ron Hubbard.

When Lafayette “you may call him L” Ron Hubbard (1911-1986) washed ashore at Ketchikan on Aug. 31, 1940, he was a generally well-regarded author of pulp magazine tales. Today, he is overwhelmingly recognized as the inventor/founder of Scientology, and of shakier reputation. But 1940 Hubbard was years away from Xenu and his volcano, “Dianetics” (1950), the science-fiction novel “Battlefield Earth” (1982), and the maligned film adaptation starring Scientologist John Travolta that bombed in 2000, long may its memory fade.

Back then, he was best known for his prolific writing and numerous pseudonyms. During the 1930s, a heyday of Wild West, detective and other pulpy genre adventure magazines, it seemed like every other issue contained a Hubbard story. His official biographies make outlandish claims that he wrote more than 7 million words during the decade, but the actual output of around 160 articles published from 1933 to 1941 still represents a rather fevered pace.

Hubbard was sailing around Alaska as part of what he grandiosely referred to as the Alaskan Radio Experimental Expedition, though he indeed carried the prestigious Explorer’s Club flag, a distinction typically reserved for scientific expeditions. And Hubbard accordingly claimed he was testing various instruments and methods of radio position finding.

In 2018, the Church of Scientology held an awards banquet for 70 of their most significant benefactors at the Cape Fox Lodge in Ketchikan, part of their pattern to hold events in places where Hubbard visited, worked, or lived. Per the church, Hubbard “came up to study the Tlingit Indian tribes, and send back a finding of the research of the tribes and the ethnological factors of the Indians here.”

Back in 1940, The Ketchikan Chronicle offered a humbler description of his arrival and intentions. “Capt. L. Ron Hubbard, author and world traveler, arrived in Ketchikan in company with his wife aboard the vest pocket yacht, Magician. His purpose in coming to Alaska was two-fold, one to win a bet and another to gather material for a novel of Alaska salmon fishing.” The bet was whether the 27-foot Magician, which Hubbard nicknamed the Maggie, would survive the voyage north. The further reality was a shot engine and empty pockets, meaning a large part of a winter stranded in Ketchikan.

Russell Miller’s critical 1987 biography, “Bare-Faced Messiah,” notes Hubbard’s friends called the voyage “Ron and Polly’s trip.” Miller also quotes Hubbard’s Aunt Marnie: “Ron dreamed up the trip as a way of outfitting the Maggie. His brain was always working and when he was trying to figure out how he could afford to outfit the boat he wrote letters to all these different manufacturers of instruments and equipment offering to test them out.”

Suffice to say, accounts vary. No matter, there is little reason to believe Hubbard and his wife spent months in Ketchikan except for the need to earn enough money for boat repairs and subsequent escape. But a dashing young author, near enough a celebrity as far as locals thought, stood out around town. The 29-year-old writer soon found work with the KGBU, now KTKN, radio station, an announcer and as the host of his own program, “Mail Buoy.” It would be more accurate to say that the station eagerly offered him a position and hoped he would never leave.

Longtime Ketchikan historian June Allen (1929-2016) recalled the opening to the show in a 2005 SitNews article. “Station owner Jimmy Britton’s well-remembered and breathless, asthmatic voice grandly intoned over the airwaves: ‘KGBU brings you the Mail Buoy, a program especially designed for Alaskan boatmen. It is the hope of this station that the exchange of information regarding the sea and ships will be found of benefit to those who wish to brush up on their calling, to those who wish to study the fine art of fighting the sea, and to those old-timers who can help the world to remember how to make all things shipshape and Bristol-fashion by keeping close tally on the data contained in this presentation.’” After describing the host, Britton declared, “Here now is Captain Hubbard,” followed by four bells and a jingle.

True to concept, the show was focused on practical maritime matters, with episodes on “Handling Your Hull” and “Anchors.” Other episodes answered listener questions, such as the “crackling and hissing” static heard on radio broadcasts, which he blamed on older radios and interference from electrical appliances. As might be expected, Hubbard was smooth on air, quick with a story and instantly a popular listen.

He also later claimed that he utilized his radio expertise to assist the FBI in tracking down a Nazi saboteur. No official records have been found to verify this tale, but Hubbard did write a short story inspired by his time in Ketchikan. In “Chee-Chalker,” first published in 1947, a tenderfoot FBI agent unravels a string of murders and uncovers a heroin smuggling ring, while entangling himself with a halibut heiress, as one does. A “chee chalker” is Hubbard’s version of a “cheechako.”

Years later, Hubbard said of notoriously vice-ridden Ketchikan, “They have there in Ketchikan, the only stream in the world where the fish and the fisherman go up to spawn. It’s a red-light district. It stretches up around the curve, a very beautiful stream. But the buildings have trap doors — most of Ketchikan is built over water. The fishermen — it’s mostly fishermen that come in there with any money — wear rather heavy rubber boots, and water gets into these boots rather quickly, and they go down rather fast. But when the police do find a fisherman drowned or floating there in the straits without anything in his pockets, they look him over very carefully and say, ‘Hmmm! Suicide!’”

During his radio broadcasts, Hubbard always found a chance to mention that he and his wife were stuck in Ketchikan because Regal Company of Bremerton, Washington, made a defective crankshaft and refused to replace it. Over and over, it was Regal Company’s fault. And when a new crankshaft arrived that December, he was believed it was only due to his on-air admonishments. Regardless, the Hubbards left as soon as the engine was fixed and arrived back in the Lower 48 on Dec. 27, 1940.

In addition to the gifted crankshaft, he also borrowed money around town, for living and repair expenses. Most notably, he owed First National Bank $265, about $6,000 in 2025 money. When World War II began, Hubbard went in the Naval Reserve. The bank thus tracked him down via the Navy. He agreed to pay the interest on the principal but claimed hardships prevented him from paying more. In an Oct. 29, 1942 letter, he wrote, “You are again informed that the reason of non-payment of this note is the sharp decrease in pay which I was willing to take to help my country. Until this war is ended and I can resume my former profession I can make only small and irregular payments.” It is unclear when or if the debt was settled.

There was one last relevant intersection of Hubbard and Alaska. Per an official proclamation by Alaska Gov. Steve Cowper, March 13, 1989 was to be L. Ron Hubbard Day — that is, until interrupted by then-Daily News reporter, and now novelist, Stan Jones. In a scathing article, Jones recounted the many allegations, scandals and lawsuits regarding Scientology, including the claim by Hubbard’s own son that his father created the religion “off the top of his head while he was under the influence of drugs,” the latter from an interview originally published in Christianity Today. “Hubbard Day” was quickly canceled, with the governor deciding he “does not identify” with the church or Hubbard.

Cowper’s press secretary, David Ramseur, told Jones, “Those proclamations come through the press office and I approve them. The governor does not sign off on proclamations unless they’re of enormous consequence. Or of more significant consequence than this.” Ramseur additionally noted that such proclamations were signed by a pen. Therefore, Cowper never actually saw the Hubbard Day proclamation and knew nothing about it. Jones asked Ramseur how much research was conducted before the declaration was approved, to which the press secretary replied, “Not much.”

A Daily News editorial stated, “If anybody in the governor’s press office had known the difference between scientology and Shinola, L. Ron wouldn’t have got a minute, let alone a day.” That said, it continued, “Gov. Cowper could do Alaskans a favor by tossing all those proclamations in his shredder and declaring Monday ‘No More Proclamations Day.’ The governor — and for that matter the legislature — has proclaimed enough.”

Anchorage Mayor Tom Fink‘s press office was more familiar with Scientology or more diligent in their research. They also received the suggestion for a “Hubbard Day” but rejected it out of hand. Fink aide Yvonne Alford told the Daily News, “Part of it, of course, is the controversy that surrounds the Church of Scientology and, further, Dianetics is a commercial enterprise. We do read the information that comes in for proclamations.”

Sometimes, usually, it is for the best that the future is unknown. At the least, it would have complicated matters for the denizens of a small fishing and lumber town to know where their local radio host would go, what he would become. Had he wanted to stay, he would have been welcomed, but greater fortunes awaited. His stint in Ketchikan was relatively brief and of little import, particularly compared to the self-created tumult of the decades that followed. Yet, he never forgot Alaska. References to his time in the north abound in his official biographies, and his Ketchikan tenure is an appreciated aspect of his personal journey. All to say, it proves that the immensity and grandeur of Alaska affects us all, affects every sort of person.

Key sources:

Allen, June. “L. Ron Hubbard’s Alaska Adventure.” SitNews, January 19, 2005.

“Church of Scientology meets in SE.” Sitka Sentinel, April 27, 2018, 6.

Jones, Stan. “Governor Gives Day to L. Ron Hubbard.” Anchorage Daily News, March 9, 1989, A1, A14.

Miller, Russell. Bare-Faced Messiah: The True Story of L. Ron Hubbard.

Persily, Larry. “Scientologists Refute Reports.” Anchorage Daily News, March 14, 1989, B1, B3.

“Whereas and Therefore.” Anchorage Daily News, March 10, 1989, B4.