Alfred Clayburn Atkey

Al Atkey's homeless lifestyle has been a source of amazement and frustration to his friends and family for most of his life.When not staying at Anchorage-area shelters, he often travels on a bicycle with many of his possessions in shopping bags hanging from the handlebars.A sister in Canada suggests that Al might have a form of autism. (Photo by Marc Lester / Anchorage Daily News)
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While waiting for Loussac Library to open, Al cools off by pressing his cheek against an air vent. (Photo by Marc Lester / Anchorage Daily News)
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The more you know about Al Atkey and the way he lives, the more you realize it's a miracle he's living at all.

Maybe you've caught a glimpse of him out there in Anchorage traffic, an almost-60-year-old man, inordinately bundled, rolling along on a dark, icy night on a bicycle burdened with bags.Or maybe you've seen him on one of his journeys up north, somewhere between here and the Canadian border, inching along with so much stuff piled upon his bike and person that he looks twice his size.Maybe you've watched a 40-ton semi blast by him on a tight, shoulderless curve and realized he didn't look so big after all.

This is the downside of being fearless.Even in the dead of winter, with the pavement slick and hedged in snow berms, Al goes.
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Even off the bike and in town, Al is hard not to notice.
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Al realizes his "filing system" is a little odd.

"It works because I don't have anything better," he explained."I'm not exactly like everybody else."

Wearing a sizable portion of his possessions does have practical applications.

"A bear would have a nightmare trying to get through all this," Al grinned, patting his chest.

With all this baggage heaped around and about him, Al appears unapproachable, like a man with little to say to the rest of the world.Quite the contrary.Peel off the layers one by one and you'll eventually get down to a small, balding, 140-pound man with one remaining monolithic tooth who may have trouble remembering your name but can recite obscure facts and statistics, especially regarding classical composers, until your brain turns numb.He talks and talks and talks, rapid-fire, sometimes finishing sentences, sometimes not, sometimes making little sense and sometimes making more than most elected officials.

Reference librarian Michael Catoggio has known Al for about 20 years and has always been impressed with the way his mind works.
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Through the years, Catoggio has listened to Al describe many conceptual books.
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Al's incessant talking, passion for classical music and corny moneymaking schemes have endeared him to many and driven others who see him coming to run and hide.Al can make you laugh, think or pull your hair out, and sometimes all these things at once.

Those who have tried to help him fit in, to find a real home, to dress like everybody else, usually give up in frustration.But no one who's looked beyond the layers has come away empty-handed.They've all learned something from Al, even if in the long run they've felt depleted.Al has offered a glimpse into a world radically different from their own, challenging how they view things.And over time, they've come to accept him as is, a man who, like a lot of homeless people, is just using what skills he has to survive.

A RAMBLING RAMBLER

Never say never.So obviously, so anyway.OK, another thing is, well ... So the point is, there isn't a point.

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That's Al when he's talking skimble-scamble.

People ask me what do you need?You need some water?You need some food?How are you fixed for clothes?And on and on and on.I get all kinds of questions asked of me.
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That's Al when he's not.

Numbers fascinate him, particularly 43."That's my magic number," he says.He was born in '43.

If the San Francisco 49ers were instead the 43ers, it would be Al's favorite team.If a composition lasted 19 minutes, 43 seconds, it would be among the ones he loves most.The number 43 even draws him to Janis Joplin, in spite of their radical differences.She drank, he doesn't.She loved raucous music, he doesn't.But she was born in 1943, and so was he.

One of Al's most recent accomplishments was coming up with 43 ways of classifying music.

"I spent seven years trying to figure this out.What are the 43 ways?Most of them are self-evident because they allude themselves to obvious certainty, right?Every one of them is very logical."

Like classifying music according to the age of the composer.
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Al's moneymaking schemes are legendary.Starting a catering detective service for companies looking to hire a food-service outfit.Or selling nickels, which, unlike pennies or quarters, are "an easy commodity, and economical for investment purposes."

One of his latest has to do with his turning 60.His plan is to invite everyone to his party on June 11, then sell tickets to what he promises to be an even bigger bash for his next monumental birthday.

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Al does not take or want any kind of welfare, says Janet Long, director of Social Services at Bean's Cafe.
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"It's exciting," Al says, "like starting a meal from scratch."

Sometimes money comes to him in strange ways.Like by just wearing his glasses.They're entirely wrapped in wads of duct tape, lenses threatening to pop out on the floor.People take one look at them and give Al money for new ones.Only this moneymaking scheme backfired one time when a guy threw Al's glasses out a car window and Al had to go back and retrieve them.

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Alfred Clayburn Atkey was the highest-scoring two-seater pilot in World War 1, meaning he shot a lot of enemy out of the sky.A Canadian, he earned Britain's Military Cross for "conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty," according to a 1918 issue of the London Gazette.As a fighter pilot for the Royal Flying Corps, he tempted fate in the skies the way Al tempts his own along highways.

Alfred, who passed away in 1971, was also a journalist and a concert pianist -- an overachiever, some might say.It's a little haunting to see old photographs of him in his fighter-pilot days; it's like you're looking at a younger, more conventional Al.

The path Al has chosen has been hard on his family.As George speaks of his older brother, he sounds frustrated, resigned and even a little hurt.

"He's never called to say, 'Gee, you have any kids?What are their names?Can I say hello to them?' "

The last time he saw Al was in 1981, when he loaned him money for the last time, $100 at 12 percent interest.Al calls once every few years, but George doesn't expect to ever see him again.

ROOM TO WANDER

The story of how Al ended up in Alaska has a couple of versions.One is that he was rolling a tire he hoped to sell along the Alaska Highway when a soldier from Eielson Air Force Base pulled over.

"He said, 'Where are you going with that tire and all?I'm going up to Alaska; want a ride?' I said, 'Yeah, the tire needs a ride,' and he got a kick out of that."

Al rode with him to Fairbanks, stayed about a year and a half, then found work in Seward.By the early 1980s, he'd settled, relatively speaking, in Anchorage, working a variety of odd jobs from shoveling snow to yardwork to delivering newspapers.Most who hired him in those earlier years describe him as a very hard worker.

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Al was volunteering on the Tony Knowles mayoral campaign.She decided all Al needed was a little help and he'd be on his way out of homelessness.

The Shortells opened their home to him, inviting him over for meals, to watch ball games and to celebrate the holidays.

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Linda thought one thing Al really needed was decent clothes.So she gave him several of her husband's suits.Al was appreciative.He then disappeared for several days.When he returned, she learned he'd headed up the highway to stash those suits somewhere in the woods.

Besides the Shortells, Al has worked his way into the hearts of many of Anchorage's prominent citizens.The Anchorage Symphony Orchestra practically adopted him.For years, Al set out refreshments during rehearsals and did other backstage chores in exchange for free concert tickets.And every single member of the Shimek family has tried to help Al, from matriarch Violet Shimek, who first hired him to do chores at the old Fifth Avenue Records, through the grandchildren, according to Skipper Shimek of the Metro Music & Book store.
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Longtime Metro manager Susan Hoefner, who had an especially soft heart for Al

British Aces of WW1 - Alfred Atkey
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Alfred Atkey
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Name: Alfred Clayburn Atkey
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In 1906, Alfred Atkey's family left Toronto to pioneer western Canada. From Minebow, Saskatchewan, Atkey returned to Toronto as a journalist for the Toronto Evening Telegram.On October 19, 1916, he enlisted in the Royal Flying Corps as a probationary Second Lieutenant.By September 1917, he was a bomber pilot assigned to 18 Squadron, flying the D.H.4, and on his way to becoming the highest scoring two-seater pilot of World War I. In his fitness reports, he was described as an "expert in gunnery, bombing, photography, reconnaissance."

In May of 1918, Atkey assumed command of "A" flight in 22 Squadron.He switched from flying the D.H.4 to the Bristol F.2B.For his gunner and observer, he chose Lieutenant C.G. Gass.Together, they were a deadly team, shooting down 29 enemy aircraft in less than one month.On one occasion, their "Brisfit" was so badly shot up that Gass had to crawl out onto the lower wing to counterbalance the aircraft so that Atkey could fly it back to base.
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In an epic dogfight known as "Two Against Twenty," Atkey and Gass, together with John Gurdon and his observer, John Thornton, encountered 20 German scouts during the evening of May 7, 1918.
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In the battle that followed, Atkey and Gass shot down five enemy aircraft while Gurdon and Thornton shot down three.Two days later, Atkey and Gass again shot down five enemy aircraft in one day.

On May 7th 1918, Canadian pilot Alfred Atkey from 22 squadron with observer Charles Gass along with John Gurdon and observer Anthony Thornton were patrolling in their Bristol F2bs.
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During the ensuing melee, Atkey and Gass shot down 5 enemy aircraft, while Gurdon and Thornton destroyed 3 before they managed to return to their base.

Alfred Clayburn Atkey - World War I Fighter Ace Dec 2005Alfred Clayburn Atkey was the highest scoring two-seater pilot of World War I. In May of 1918, Captain Atkey and Lieutenant Gass, as a team shot down 29 enemy aircraft in less than one month.In an epic dogfight known as "Two Against Twenty," Atkey and Gass, together with John Gurdon and his observer, John Thornton, encountered 20 German scouts during the evening of May 7, 1918.
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In the battle that followed, Atkey and Gass shot down five enemy aircraft.http://www.theaerodrome.com/aces/canada/atkey.html