The Webster House, which stands prominently on Telephone Hill overlooking Juneau’s harbor, may be one of the most important buildings in all of Alaska. Having stood for over 75 years before Alaska statehood in 1959, its nearly 150-year-old foundation and timbers provide irreplaceable evidence of an important period in the development of our Territorial roots.
Its value lies not only in its age, but as a tangible marker to important principles that gained a foothold in Alaska for the first time. The Webster House symbolizes a fresh start for people of many races and a new beginning toward peaceful cultural relations between Americans and Alaska Natives.
For many Alaska Natives, the Webster House also symbolizes important freedom of choice for the first time ever. For some, it was the freedom to escape arranged marriages. For others, it was the freedom to escape multi-generational bonds of slavery and its cruelties, which were stamped out through Christian influence.
Unlike Sitka or Kodiak — settlements built by Russians through violence — from its beginning Juneau emerged as a cooperative effort between Americans and Alaska Natives. Together, they laid the foundations of a new community. By 1924, Alaska Natives became U.S. citizens, cementing the partnership that had started in the gold fields of 1880.
Juneau quickly became Alaska’s first multi-international melting pot. Whether people came from 50 miles away or 5,000, it was the gold hidden inside the mountains soaring above Gastineau Channel that brought everyone together.
John Muir, the Auk Tribe, and contested histories
John Muir, famed explorer and naturalist, was among the first to paddle through Gastineau Channel. In November 1879, he recorded encounters with the Auk Tlingits at their Auke Bay village, the home of their chief a few miles distant, and a small camp along the channel. Muir’s observations, along with those of his companions, described the difficult living conditions of the Auk people, raising questions about what their future might have looked like without the discovery of gold and the founding of Juneau.
Some accounts suggest it was the Tlingits themselves who in the fall of 1880 led Richard Harris and Joe Juneau to the gold that started it all. Regardless of who first located the gold, one fact is not in dispute. By the spring of 1881, hundreds of Alaska Natives and non-Natives had streamed into the area, gathering together on the beach at the base of Telephone Hill in a mutual “Song of Hope.”
Yet today, the history of Juneau’s beginnings — and the role of those early Native and American partnerships — is under attack. Despite historical records showing no permanent Native village on the site of present-day downtown Juneau, some city officials and their consultants have sought to portray Telephone Hill as a symbol of white oppression.
This narrative conflicts with evidence from Navy reports, letters, and eyewitness accounts that show the settlement’s roots were largely cooperative, not hostile. For many, the historic homes on Telephone Hill remain symbols of that fragile but real partnership.
Bulldozers, ballots, and the battle for Telephone Hill
The Juneau Assembly believes Telephone Hill’s historic homes do not deserve protection. One member has dismissed them as relics of “white colonization,” calling the period when those homes were built the “worst part” of our history.
Other Assembly members have expressed that the entire City and Borough of Juneau sits on “stolen land.” Their perspective ignores the 1971 Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act (ANCSA), which extinguished aboriginal land claims in exchange for 44 million acres and nearly a billion dollars in compensation.
The Assembly’s stance has raised concerns that their push to demolish Telephone Hill is less about housing and more about erasing history, which they in turn desire to rewrite. City reports have already reframed the Navy’s interactions with Alaska Natives while omitting records that documented efforts to provide compensation and mediate tribal disputes.
Meanwhile, the economics of redevelopment don’t add up. Consultants estimate new housing units could cost $500,000 to $850,000 apiece, far beyond the reach of affordability. Despite knowing this, the Assembly has rejected the undertaking of a federal historical review, necessary to obtain affordable housing subsidies. This action says a lot about their true motives.
Despite a growing number of citizens rising up in opposition and pointing out these facts, the Assembly continues to forge ahead with their plans to demolish the historic homes under the guise of affordable housing.
If the Assembly really wanted to increase housing in downtown Juneau they would not be bulldozing existing homes. Instead, they would be in discussions with developers to develop their flat, vacant parcels on Whittier Street. A 2022 presentation by the City called the lot at 450 Whittier “a great location for future housing development.”
This debate is about much more than housing. It is about whether Juneau preserves its unique history of cooperation and resilience — or bulldozes it in favor of ideology.
The election is just around the corner, and voters now have the chance to decide whether their leaders will protect the heritage of Telephone Hill, or allow it to be lost forever.
David Ignell was born and raised in Juneau where he currently resides. He formerly practiced law in California state and federal courts and was a volunteer analyst for the California Innocence Project. He is currently a forensic journalist and recently wrote a book on the Alaska Grand Jury.
