"In the long run men hit only what they aim at. Therefore, though they should fail immediately, they had better aim at something high." -- Henry David Thoreau
George's North Slope & Sophie's Oyster Bar -- that's all one restaurant -- was packed when I went to visit George Malekos in Eagle River, Alaska. It was the first day of the Iditarod International Sled Dog Race, the classic 1,049-mile marathon from Anchorage to Nome, and it seemed as if the whole town had come to George's for breakfast before the arrival of the dog teams.
Eagle River was just a spot on a map when Malekos started cooking hamburgers out of a small, leased trailer 14 years ago. The business has grown since then: Today he employs 114, seats 1,500 patrons a day in three different dining rooms, and boasts the biggest chandelier this side of Anchorage. And Eagle River has become a town. There's not much paving yet, except the main road and George's parking lot, but the population is up to 30,000 and growing. There are churches and schools, liquor stores, a small shopping mall, and Little League teams -- one of which George sponsors.
I thought of George Malekos a lot as I completed my three months on the road. Like most of the entrepreneurs I met, he sees himself as a loner, a rebel who dared to follow his own solitary path. But there was a transformation along the way. He set out for the frontier -- and ended up at the center of a new town. What began as a search for independence and freedom blossomed into interdependence and community.
America is filled with entrepreneurs like George Malekos, men and women helping to build the future. They are the new pioneers, immigrants and children of immigrants, rebels and refugees, dreamers of every age and color. They find their frontiers not just in Alaska, but in Kansas City and Silicon Valley and New York as well. They are the builders.But they create more than just new companies; more, even, than new products and new jobs. They also create new human connections, new ways of joining people together to meet our common needs.
That is how America has always been built, by pioneers, coming together to push back the frontiers.
"So the state trooper says, 'If you fear for your life or the lives of your patrons, shoot the son of a bitch." -- George Malekos
George Malekos started George's North Slope restaurant in 1971.
I had been cooking up at the ARCO drilling site on the North Slope, and I came down here to look around when I had some time off. We stopped in Eagle River to get ice cream cones. There were no buildings here -- just this Tastee Freez and a little cafe up by the bowling alley, the Owl Cafe.
I always knew that sometime in my life I wanted to do something. This light bulb came on in my head and I said, "It can't miss." A restaurant, right in the middle of town. Why doesn't anybody see it? My friends thought I was nuts, but I could see something. I only had $3,000, but I found this trailer I could lease, and a piece of property I could get on a handshake.
I can remember calling the state troopers 15 years ago saying, "I got a group of motorcycle guys out here and I don't know what to do with them." The trooper said to me, "Do you own a gun?" I said, yeah. He said, "Do you know how to shoot it?" I said, yeah. He said, "If you fear for your life or the lives of your patrons, shoot the son of a bitch." There was more than one night I spent up on the roof with a shotgun. Nobody was going to run me out of here. Period. But since I started the restaurant, we've created our own borough out here. We elected our own mayor. We started our own police force.
Sometimes I half-believe it was ignorance that kept me here. There have been times, sir, when I wished I could burn this son of a bitch down. A guy has to be crazy to stay up here in all this snow and ice. I don't know if I can explain it.
Alaskans have changed. That is why you see my restaurant with wallpaper and curtains and chandeliers, as opposed to the trailer it was many years back. I used to have a mud hole in front of my restaurant. Then as I got busy, the mud got so bad, I put a piece of plywood over it. It would be nothing to see people stepping out of Cadillacs and getting their high heels wet to come in and eat my hamburgers. They didn't mind. They had to cross a mud hole to go into their houses. But we've got some paving now; we've had it for three years.
There are still lots more things for me to build. This town could use a hotel. Something modern. Something nice. Start with 80 rooms, banquet rooms, lounges. Maybe build a parking garage, someday, underground. Someday, this town is going to need a parketing garage.
"You'd find Spam that had come in '74, '75, and '76, because Seattle knew the natives ate Spam." -- Allan Gallant
Allan Gallant was the consultant who arranged the sale of Northern Commercial Co. from a Seattle-based conglomerate to Community Enterprise Development Corp. of Alaska, a community action group.Since the sale, he has served as CEO of the renamed Alaska Commercial Co., headquartered in Anchorage.
We're the most visible institution in the lives of the people we touch.We're the bank, the finance company, the fur-buying agency, the retailing and social hubs of the village. Our company started in 1867, when Russia sold the territory to the United States. It is the oldest company in the state, general merchants in the classic sense of the word.
By 1977, the owners in Seattle wanted out. It was an old, old company with old people in it, and they weren't making any money. They didn't care. The company was run on the basis of, "We know what those natives want, and we're going to ship it in once a year by barge when the water breaks." You'd find Spam that had come in on '74 barges, '75 barges, and '76 barges, because Seattle knew the natives ate Spam and Dinty Moore Beef Stew.
We believed that the company could be expanded dramatically, but we had no idea how far we could take it. When we bought the company in 1977, there were 9 stores doing $10 million. My projections were $20 million to $24 million with a few more stores. Instead, we have 23 stores, and we're doing $60 million.
We believed we could run up the business and run up the profits, but we had major social goals as well: the employment and development of natives, lower prices, and better service for the people. All of those noble goals, and the fact of the matter is, we did every one of them.And I just convinced by board of directors to sell 33% of the company to the employees.
"Not everybody is out there lighting fires and stealing transistor radios." -- Rafael Collado
