© 2013 Moria Chappell LLC

All rights reserved.

Tribal Fusion

Portfolio

It is our pleasure to present Tribal Fusion Portfolio, a

series of portfolios focusing on the many facets of the

ever-evolving bellydance genre known as Tribal Fusion.

From visionary dancers and choreographers to

innovative photographers, avant guarde costumery,

ancient artifacts, and dusty locations, we invite you to

explore a variegated kaleidoscope of tribal fusion

imagery.

Tribal Fusion

The

Portfolio:

Malamute Saloon

In this issue of Tribal Fusion Portfolio, we’ll explore the

world-famous watering hole, The Malamute Saloon,

located near Ester, Alaska.

We’ll begin by experiencing the location through the

eyes of Robert W. Service as he sets the scene with his

narrative poem, The Shooting of Dan McGrew.

Then we’ll embark on a behind-the-scenes walk about

with Moria Chappell during her Malamute Saloon

Photoshoot.

Lastly, we’ll look at the Contributors to this issue of Tribal

Fusion Portfolio.

The Malamute Saloon

The

Shooting

of

Dan

McGrew

The 1890s Yukon settlements of Ester and

Cripple Creek, located near Fairbanks,

Alaska, sheltered roughneck prospectors,

weatherworn strangers, ladies of the evening,

and a poet who penned their affairs. The

settlements’ Malamute Saloon became the

setting of a narrative poem written by Robert

W. Service, published in 1907. In 2011, the

saloon became the location of a photo shoot

featuring Moria Chappell. Photos from the

shoot illustrate the poem while showcasing

the saloon, where a “jag-time tune” still

mingles with lust for the “muck called gold.”

Robert W. Service

The Shooting of

Dan McGrew

bunch of the boys were whooping it up

in the Malamute saloon;

The kid that handles the music-box was

hitting a jag-time tune;

Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat

Dangerous Dan McGrew,

And watching his luck was his light-o'-love,

the lady that's known as Lou.

A

When out of the night, which was fifty below, and

into the din and the glare,

There stumbled a miner fresh from the creeks,

dog-dirty, and loaded for bear.

He looked like a man with a foot in the grave and

scarcely the strength of a louse,

Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar, and he

called for drinks for the house.

There was none could place the stranger's face,

though we searched ourselves for a clue;

But we drank his health, and the last to drink was

Dangerous Dan McGrew.

There's men that somehow just grip your eyes,

and hold them hard like a spell;

And such was he, and he looked to me like a

man who had lived in hell;

With a face most hair, and the dreary stare of

a dog whose day is done,

As he watered the green stuff in his glass, and

the drops fell one by one.

Then I got to figgering who he was, and

wondering what he'd do,

And I turned my head — and there watching

him was the lady that's known as Lou.

His eyes went rubbering round the room, and

he seemed in a kind of daze,

Till at last that old piano fell in the way of his

wandering gaze.

The rag-time kid was having a drink; there was

no one else on the stool,

So the stranger stumbles across the room, and

flops down there like a fool.

In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he

sat, and I saw him sway;

Then he clutched the keys with his talon hands

— my God! but that man could play.

Were you ever out in the Great Alone,

when the moon was awful clear,

And the icy mountains hemmed you in

with a silence you most could hear;

With only the howl of a timber wolf, and

you camped there in the cold,

A half-dead thing in a stark, dead world,

clean mad for the muck called gold;

While high overhead, green, yellow and

red, the North Lights swept in bars? —

Then you've a hunch what the music

meant. . . hunger and night and the stars.

And hunger not of the belly kind, that's

banished with bacon and beans,

But the gnawing hunger of lonely men for

a home and all that it means;

For a fireside far from the cares that are,

four walls and a roof above;

But oh! so cramful of cozy joy, and

crowned with a woman's love —

A woman dearer than all the world, and

true as Heaven is true —

(God! how ghastly she looks through her

rouge, — the lady that's known as Lou).

Then on a sudden the music changed, so soft that

you scarce could hear;

But you felt that your life had been looted clean of

all that it once held dear;

That someone had stolen the woman you loved;

that her love was a devil's lie;

That your guts were gone, and the best for you

was to crawl away and die.

'Twas the crowning cry of a heart's despair, and it

thrilled you through and through —

"I guess I'll make it a spread misère," said

Dangerous Dan McGrew.

The music almost died away. . .then it burst

like a pent-up flood;

And it seemed to say, "Repay, repay," and

my eyes were blind with blood.

The thought came back of an ancient

wrong, and it stung like a frozen lash,

And the lust awoke to kill, to kill. . . then the

music stopped with a crash,

And the stranger turned, and his eyes they

burned in a most peculiar way;

In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he

sat, and I saw him sway;

Then his lips went in in a kind of grin, and he spoke,

and his voice was calm,

And "Boys," says he, "you don't know me, and none

of you care a damn;

But I want to state, and my words are straight, and

I'll bet my poke they're true,

That one of you is a hound of hell. . .and that one is

Dan McGrew."

Then I ducked my head, and the lights went

out, and two guns blazed in the dark,

And a woman screamed, and the lights went

up, and two men lay stiff and stark.

Pitched on his head, and pumped full of lead,

was Dangerous Dan McGrew,

While the man from the creeks lay clutched to

the breast of the lady that's known as Lou.

These are the simple facts of the case,

and I guess I ought to know.

They say the stranger was crazed with

"hooch," and I'm not denying it's so.

I'm not so wise as the lawyer guys, but

strictly between us two —

The woman that kissed him and —

pinched his poke — was the lady that's

known as Lou.

The Shooting of Dan McGrew was first published in 1907 in The Songs of

the Sourdough. The poem served as the basis for the 1998 novel, The

Man From the Creeks, by Robert Kroetsch, and was the inspiration for a

1949 song "Dangerous Dan McGrew" by Guy Lombardo and His Royal

Canadians.

The story was referenced in the song “Put the Blame on Mame” sung by

Rita Hayworth in the 1945 movie Gilda, which claims that rather than

being shot to death, Dan McGrew was slain by Mame's "hoochy-coo"

dance.

The poem was also seminal in creating the now cliché saloon

showdown: the stranger, the dangerous card player, the sultry saloon

girl, tension mounting via piano playing, lights out, gunshots, lights up—

slain men.

The poem's artistic influence surfaced again when US President Ronald

Reagan and Canadian Prime Minister Brian Mulroney performed an

alternating recital of it in both private and public meetings. The poem

was one of Reagan’s favorites, so much so that for his Congressional

Memorial Service, Senator Lisa Murkowski of Alaska included the poem

in the Congressional Record in honor of the former president’s love for

the poem and for her state.

Mal

amu

te S

alo

on

Pho

tosh

oo

t

The Saloon

The Fleur de Lys Wall

The Storage Building

The Porch

The Bath House

The WAGON

The Cabin

The Truck

The Shack

con

trib

uto

rs

Cover Art  

Model    

Moria  Chappell    

Moria  Chappell  graces  stages  around  the  globe  bringing  the  exquisite  art  of  Tribal  Fusion  Bellydance  to  its  utmost  in  elegance,  darkness,  and  intensity  of  expression.    Tribal  Fusion  is  an  eclectic  expression  of  the  moves  and  emotions  born  from  the  lands  and  heart  of  the  Middle  East  and  beyond.        With  an  underpinning  of  the  old  and  the  authentic,  and  by  infusing  antique  jewelry,  textiles,  and  musical  instruments  which  connote  the  essence  of  these  ancient  cultures,  an  American  ear  for  industrial  rebellion  is  then  juxtaposed  and  layered  atop,  thereby  weaving  in  the  contemporary  myth,  styles,  and  beliefs  of  a  modern  era.    Moria  creates  her  whimsical  mixture  of  enchanting  darkness  by  embodying  the  mythos  of  a  modern  industry  with  the  legends  of  a  forgotten  ancestry.    Her  work  is  detailed  and  enigmatic,  heralding  from  a  childhood  of  Bohemian  upbringing  where  value  was  placed  on  beauty  and  the  truth  of  artistic  expression.  

Poem  

Robert  W.  Service    

“The  Shooting  of  Dan  McGrew”    

Robert  William  Service  was  born  in  1874  and  died  in  1958.    Known  as  "The  Bard  of  the  Yukon,”  Service  grew  famous  for  his  poems  “The  Shooting  of  Dan  McGrew”  and  “The  Cremation  of  Sam  McGee,”  works  penned  for  his  first  book,  Songs  of  a  Sourdough.    Although  extremely  popular,  his  poems  were  considered  “doggerel”  by  the  literary  set.  

Born  in  England,  he  moved  to  Kilwinning,  Scotland  at  the  age  of  five  to  live  with  his  three  maiden  aunts  and  his  paternal  grandfather.    There  he  composed  his  first  verse,  a  grace,  on  his  sixth  birthday:  

God  bless  the  cakes  and  bless  the  jam;  

Bless  the  cheese  and  the  cold  boiled  ham.  

Bless  the  scones  Aunt  Jeannie  makes,  

And  save  us  all  from  bellyaches.    Amen  

As  a  young  adult,  Service  moved  to  Canada  where  he  was  hired  by  a  Canadian  Bank  of  Commerce  in  Victoria.    The  bank  officers  sent  him  to  Kamloops  in  the  middle  of  British  Columbia.    He  lived  over  the  bank  and  dressed  for  dinner  in  Victoria,  and  played  polo  in  the  horse  country  of  Kamloops.  

By  the  fall  of  1904,  the  bank  sent  him  to  their  Whitehorse  branch  in  the  Yukon.    Throughout  this  period,  Service  wrote  verses  peppered  with  gutsy  stories  yet  his  personal  life  remained  that  of  a  polished  gentleman.  

Photo shoot  

Photographer    

Kim  Hudson    

Kim  Hudson  hails  from  the  land  of  the  Midnight  Sun  and  currently  lives  in  Las  Vegas  with  her  husband  and  two  children.    While  being  a  homeschooling  mother,  she  also  runs  180360,  a  company  offering  photographer  services  which  include  environmental  portraiture  and  lifestyle  sessions.  

In  addition  to  photography,  Ms.  Hudson  likes  growing  and  making  her  family’s  food,  visiting  new  places,  running,  yoga,  hiking,  and  listening  to  records.  

She  can  be  found  on  the  web  at  www.180360.com.  

 

Portfolio  

Editor  &  Graphic  Designer    

Dahna  Lorrain  Koth    

Dahna  Koth  serves  as  Marketing  Director  and  Fellow  of  the  Mythic  Imagination  Institute.    In  this  capacity,  she  produced  and  co-­‐wrote  with  Honora  Foah  over  a  dozen  full-­‐length  radio  programs  and  continues  to  serve  as  creative  consultant  for  Mythic  Imagination  Magazine.  

Ms.  Koth  is  also  Director  of  Creative  Services  for  the  international  business  group,  DLK  Ltd.    As  a  writer  and  creative  director,  her  clients  in  corporate  communications  and  business  theatre  have  included  Fortune  500  companies  such  as  Coca-­‐Cola,  BellSouth,  Eli  Lilly,  SAAB,  Ritz-­‐Carlton,  Delta  Airlines,  Cingular,  and  Nortel  Networks.  

Prior  to  joining  DLK  Ltd.,  Ms.  Koth  was  Creative  Director  for  two  of  the  nation’s  top  corporate  communications  firms,  PGI  and  The  Jack  Morton  Company.    At  Conduit  Communications,  she  served  as  Vice  President  of  Marketing  &  Development  specializing  in  television  programming  and  joint  venture  relations  with  New  World  Entertainment.  

For  seven  years,  Ms.  Koth  worked  as  Development  Project  Manager  for  the  Dollywood  Company  where  she  focused  on  the  development  of  a  world-­‐class  resort  for  Dollywood,  a  $4.5  million  themed  dinner  extravaganza  called  Dixie  Stampede,  as  well  as  Dollywood  theme  park  expansions.    After  leaving  Dollywood,  she  was  commissioned  by  Dolly  Parton  to  write  two  movie  scripts,  and  by  Dollywood  to  write  two  musicals.    

 

Location  

Author    

Katelin  H.    

The  Malamute  Saloon    When  I  was  a  little  girl,  my  parents  didn't  read  me  the  typical  princess  fairytale  bedtime  stories;  I  was  a  Sourdough,  an  Alaskan.    The  poems  and  ballads  of  Robert  Service  were  spun  to  life  as  I  nestled  into  a  swirl  of  downy  rest.    “The  Cremation  of  Sam  McGee”  was  a  favorite...  a  tale  of  sled  dogs  and  friendships  only  the  Yukon  could  build.    But  the  story  I  always  wanted  to  hear  was  “The  Shooting  of  Dan  McGrew'...  a  cold  blooded  murder,  a  dusty  piano,  and  a  Lady  that's  known  as  Lou.    The  setting:  The  Malamute  Saloon.      Most  childhood  bedtime  stories  are  set  in  fictional  places  with  fictional  characters.    The  Malamute  Saloon  was  not  only  a  real  place,  but  a  place  that  I  knew  and  loved.    My  father,  the  bartender;  my  mother,  the  honky-­‐tonk  piano  player.    This  place  is  legit.    Sawdust  floor,  swinging  doors,  bar  stools  worn  with  years.    The  memories  (now  20  years  old)  still  fresh  as  new  fallen  snow.    Huskies  howling  at  the  Northern  Lights  and  the  crunch  of  peanut  shells  under  mud-­‐caked  boots.    I  couldn't  think  of  a  place  more  suited  to  raise  a  child.    And,  mark  my  words,  the  best  custard  you'll  ever  eat.  

Editorial   Note:   The   Malamute   Saloon   is   spelled   at  least   two   different   ways:   Malamute   and   Malemute.    We   opted   to   use   “Malamute”   since   that   is   the   way  Robert   W.   Service   spelled   it   in   his   poem,   and  therefore  adjusted  other  spellings  for  consistency.