Joaqlin EstusICT In the 1950s and ‘60s, the “Native church” in Juneau was packed for holiday services. Seven days a week it housed civic and church-related
May 6, 2021
Aak w Wooshkeetaan elder Marie Olson (Kaayistaan) and Ryan Conarro revise an audio script for the Juneau Voices project. Photo by Lillian Petershoare
The anchor is down, and time is of the essence. Tourists stream off of cruise ships and flood the Alaskan capital of Juneau. In a typical, pandemic-free year, more than 1.3 million people scramble to hike the landscape, buy souvenirs, dine on salmon and crab, and learn a little more about the city.
According to the Federal Maritime Commission, only 1% of these visitors will stay the night, hardly enough time to do more than scratch the surface.
“Juneau is a gold-mining town,” says Ryan Conarro, a visiting teaching assistant professor in the University of Denver’s Department of Theatre. “The gold-mining history is vital and integral to what and who Juneau is now. But we felt like while that history is integral, it’s also a familiar history to many of us. There are a lot of stories, particularly of Alaska Nativ
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Take a stroll along some of Juneau’s downtown streets and you’ll find brand new signs with maps and information about each location. But the signs do more than just tell you where you are each one tells an oral history about the place as part of an audio storytelling project called Juneau Voices.
The new signs feature QR codes. Scan them and you’ll be taken to an audio story about the place. (Editor’s note: The QR codes on the signs are currently inactive, but will be ready to scan in early March.)
Ten stories are narrated by people from throughout Dzantik’i Héeni, or Juneau, whose family histories go back generations. The narrators include the late Kingeistí David Katzeek and Erin Tripp, whose Tlingit name is Xáalnook.