The Klondike & ‘Klondike Kate’ — 1897, the Last Great Rush
On July 17, 1897, the steamer Portland tied up at Schwabacher’s Wharf in Seattle, and the Post-Intelligencer announced the line that would empty offices and farms across a continent: a ton of gold. There was nearer two tons aboard, hauled out of a Yukon creek almost nobody outside the North had heard of a year before. Two days earlier the Excelsior had landed the same news in San Francisco. Within weeks the last great gold rush of the century was on, and roughly 100,000 people pointed themselves toward the Klondike.
Most never got there. The country between the salt water at Skagway and Dyea and the goldfields at Dawson was a wall of mountains, lakes, and river, and the trip broke men by the thousand. Perhaps 30,000 to 40,000 reached Dawson City; of those only about 4,000 ever found gold, and those who got genuinely rich and kept it numbered in the hundreds. The good ground on Bonanza and Eldorado had been staked before the outside world even knew the rush existed, and the latecomers arrived to a townsite where the claims were gone and the only thing left to mine was each other.
This is the story told not through the lucky few who held a paying claim but through the ordinary stampeders who climbed the Chilkoot’s golden stairs with a year of food on their backs — and through the dance-hall women, gamblers, and saloonkeepers who understood from the start that the surest gold in Dawson lay in the pockets of suddenly wealthy men, not in the gravel. Chief among them was Kathleen Rockwell, the vaudeville performer the North called Klondike Kate.
Kate mined the miners. With her flame dance she became the Queen of the Klondike, showered in nuggets across the footlights of the Savoy. She also bankrolled a young Greek waiter named Alexander Pantages, who took her money and her devotion and then took another woman to wife. The rush that minted theater magnates and Seattle fortunes left Kate, like most who ran to it, holding far less than she had given it.