| Was Queen of iP Klondike

By KATE ROCKWELL MATSON

As told to MAY MANN

In Those Fabulous Days at the Turn of the Century, When the Lure of Gold
Brought Thousands of Adventurous Men and Women to the Far North, Kate
Rockwell Joined the Throng—High-spirited, Eager for Riches and Excitement.
Her Beauty, Personality and Talent Won for Her the Title of “Queen of the
Klondike”, and Her Life Has Become Legend in the North—This Remarkable
True Story First Appeared in “Life Story’’ Magazine, and Is Reprinted Here

QUEEN OF THE Klondike dance-hall
girls; wined, dined and feted by the money-
spending lords of the Yukon; sought after
by the rough, tough adventurers of the gold

dust trail; patterned after by the lusty, good--

natured, fun-seeking women of boomtown
Dawson. I was all that at the turn of the
century. Klondike Kate, nineteen-year-old
favourite of the hard-living prospectors of
a get-rich-quick day.

Numerous legends of the fortunes made
overnight in the Frozen North had trickled
down to the States and I had answered the
lure along with dozens of others. I arrived
in Dawson bent, too, on getting gold, but
not with pick and shovel, pan and patience.
I was singing and dancing at the Savoy, and
a skit well received meant pouches of gold
dust—the floral tribute of the Yukon—
tossed at my teet.

Life was wild, the people hardy, and I
loved it. It has been forty-three years since
I performed on the dance-hall stages, but
looking back I would not have traded a
single moment of the time spent in that
exciting era.

As a child, on the banks of the Spokane
River, I would boast to my playmates, “I’m
going to see the whole world when I grow
up.” My life eventually proved my childish
prophecy to be a true one.

I was the stepdaughter of Judge F. A.
Bettis of Spokane, a wealthy political figure.
‘Mother was from the South. I was born in
Kansas in 1892, and I have no recollection
of my own father, for I was only a small
child when mother married Judge Bettis
and we moved to the Northwest.

Broucut Up IN Luxury

Our home was one of the largest and
finest in the city. I had my own governess,
and mother her own maid. I remember
the cook saying to me, “Some day you'll
grow up and be a very fine lady like your

FIFTEENTH EDITION

With Its Permission.

mother and have a great fine house like
this for your own. That is, if you will
learn to mind your manners, Kathleen.”
My father showered luxury on me. How
could anyone imagine that his beloved and
indulged stepdaughter, who was being
groomed to take her place as a society leader

I've done a lot of living since the days when I

was the girl with the flaming hair and the

twinkling feet. I've had fame and fortune, joy,

and heart-break. But I wouldn’t change a minute
of it.

in the city, was destined to become a vari
ety show girl and a Yukon dance-hall queen!

But even as a child I was impulsive and
daring, with not a little bit of the gypsy
in me. For instance, there was the year
Spokane had a big fire and I, a slip of a girl
of eight, invited all of the neighbours whose

homes had been destroyed to our house.
For two weeks every room in the house was
filled with beds for our more than one hun-
dred guests.

I'd play “hookey” from school and treat
my playmates on father’s charge account.
We'd have wonderful picnics on weiners
and pickles from the meat shop. Mother
would discover my charges and promptly
discontinue my credit with the butcher. But
that didn’t matter. I charged cheese, bread
and fruits. When I was discovered, I simply
went over to the bakers and charged cakes.

I loved the outdoors, and was always
dancing on the lawns. I would take a lace
curtain and drape it around me, then dance
under the plum trees in the garden.

I'd take Dad’s trotting horses, and against
any warning, race them and bring them
back in a lather. It wasn’t that I was bad,
I was just imaginative and full of the
excitement of living.

Then mother decided it was more fash-
ionable to place her daughter in a boarding
school.’ All of the best people in Spokane
sent their children to select schools, so I
was despatched to St. Paul’s Academy.
There I argued that mathematics simply
had no place in my scheme of life. I loved
music and rhythm. I’d bribe the other girls
to do my mathematics.

REBELLED AGAINST DISCIPLINE

Even there, under the strict surveilance
of disciplinarian nuns, my gay spirits could
not be regimented. I was always getting into
trouble. During a study hour, I threw aside
my books and began dancing the Highland
Fling. My classmates were delighted at my
daring. The nuns were not. One of them
caught me in the middle of an intricate
kick. “Very nice,” she said. “You can go to
Bath Number Three.” I knew that meant I
was to be locked in the bathroom for the
remainder of the day.

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