Mat-Su landmark crumbles

December 24, 2013
The Lloyd Bell/Doc McKinley barn, December 23, 2013
Story by Mike Weland
Photos by Stewart Amgwert

February 7, 2002
To people of a certain bent, there's something almost mystical about a rough-hewn old barn. I don't know if its born of a love of old craftsmanship, an appreciation for timber rough-shaped with old tools; broad axes, adzes, bits and braces and draw knives, and built into a utile structure upon which our forbears depended on even more than the home in which they raised their family.

It could be, in my case, more elemental, having my first memories of the day to day work that went on in the barn not long before offices and malls became our society's predominant work place.  I can't tell you how Stewart Amgwert came by his love of old barns, only that his love is deep and abiding.

After years spent in stores and offices, I've never forgotten the short time I spent on the family farm in Missouri while dad, who grew up there, was moving his young family to a new military base.

December 31, 2004
I have to admit, having become used to the steel and concrete amenities of military family housing of my vague memory, my love of barns didn't come easy. My grandma told me stories of how the barn and the root cellar struck terror in my three-year-old heart.

I don't remember that, only the time, not two years later, when the barn became magical; the smells of hay and pigs, the motes of dust wafting in the shaft of light shining through the hayloft. The work that took place there. I was allowed to milk my first cow there, shown how to squirt a fresh stream to each of the cats gathered around.

It wasn't until years later, years spent in offices and high rises, that I began to wonder at how an old barn came to be, came to appreciate the craftsmanship, the durability. The appreciation that those old centers of the family were seldom, if ever, built by a family; but that each was the result of neighbors working together to build a community.

You might think that those old barns, so sturdily built, would stand forever, but they don't. When the farms they were built to serve began melting away, the hard work of the pioneers fell pry to neglect and slide into slow but valiant decline.

June 4, 2006
Stewart watched, over the course of more than a decade, the slow decline of at least one such barn, the Lloyd Bell/Doc McKinley barn  on the backside of Bodenburg Loop on Doc McKinley Road in the Butte.

"It’s been sagging more and more over the years," he wrote with obvious sadness yesterday, "but it finally caved in the middle far enough to pull down the chimney."

Most people won't understand his dedication, or why I write so long on the subject, but others will remember, and feel history passing.

That old barn stood strong for nearly a century, sheltering many who helped build the Matanuska.

It stood its time and served well, finally outlived by all it made possible and no longer tended, no longer needed or much appreciated as much more than a curiosity of days gone by.

For whatever reason, people like Stewart remember, and thanks to him, that old barn will be remembered.

He's not the only one.

Helen Hegener, Northern Light Media, created a website telling more about this and other such aged and falling monuments at http://matanuskabarns.wordpress.com.

To see Stewart's unedited photos, visit http://nopeople.com/homepage/Colony%20Barns/falling_in/index.html.

Maybe the passing of that old Mat-Su friend will be eased somewhat by their efforts.
March 31, 2007
March 20, 2010
October 20, 2013