Henry Pratt

A conversation later in the morning with Henry Pratt, the Governor's executive assistant, suggested a less pious attitude. A big man with a round face and a sly intelligence, Pratt at one time owned a public-relations business in Anchorage; several years ago he served one term in the Legislature, and after that he became a lobbyist on behalf of a firm dealing in trading stamps. He and Tom Kelly, the Commissioner of Natural Resources, supposedly dominate and inform the thinking of Governor Keith Miller. (Although I've been promised a meeting with the Governor, so far I've met him only briefly; he seems to be a pleasant man who sometimes comes to the bar in the Baranof to sing, "Your Cheatin' Heart," with a band that goes from here to places like Whitehorse and Yellowknife.)

When Pratt spoke about the $900 million, he did so with awe and greed in his voice.

"The big question around here," he said, "is who's going to control all that political and economic power."

The Alaska state constitution gives the Governor almost autocratic powers (a reaction to the years of dependence on a distant and unresponsive bureaucracy in Washington), and Pratt gloated unashamedly at the dilemma offered to the present Legislature. The Governor's budget proposal sets aside most of the $900 million in various trust and investment funds, thus preserving the principal and paying expenses with the interest. Even so, the budget is the largest in the state's history ($242 million as opposed to $154 million in 1969); it allocates additional money to nearly every existing government agency or program, and the administration therefore can argue that it is both generous and responsible. Any politician who seeks further appropriations can be denounced as an opportunist threatening to waste the state's substance and exaggerate the condition of chronic inflation. (Breakfast in Juneau costs $3.20, and a short ride in an Anchorage taxi can cost as much as $6.) Governor Miller is a Republican (he filled the vacancy left by Walter Hickel's appointment to the Department of the Interior), and his policy appeals to the conservative bias of many people in the state. It also encourages the financial community in Anchorage on which the Governor must depend for campaign money later in the spring.

Pratt smiled and said, "The Governor's program is so close to the ideal that it's hard to attack. Nobody intended to preserve the $900 million. It just happened to come out that way."

In the Legislature, I said, I'd heard complaints from politicians who felt they'd been cheated out of a chance to take part in the decision.

"Yeah," Pratt said, "I can imagine."

He went on to discuss the future of the state in the optimistic, Rotarian language that I've learned to expect from officials in the state administration. He foresaw unlimited growth in all directions. "Hell," he said, "this country's so goddamn big that even if industry ran wild, we could never wreck it.
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Hammond and Pratt represent the two principal kinds of men that seem to be drawn to Alaska.
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Talking to him this morning in his large office on the third floor of the Capitol, I had the feeling of a man isolated behind his own uncertainty, issuing orders through emissaries (KelIy, Pratt, etc.) and not knowing whether they would be carried out. Like the Red Queen in Alice in Wonderland.

Heis a pleasant man, with long, wavy hair and an open, boyish charm that conveys the impression of wholesome goodness. He chain-smoked cigars to take up the slack in his nervousness, and he seemed to be wholly unaware of the jealousy, paranoia, and greed shaping the ambitions of the politicians in the Legislature. His innocence is that of the nice guy, who, when he blunders into trouble, feels that somehow the whole thing is terribly unfair.

He came to Anchorage in 1957 as a clerk for the Internal Revenue Service, and in 1962 he was elected to the State House. He lost a subsequent election, but in 1966, having moved to Fairbanks and gone into the heating business, he ran for Secretary of State (an office comparable to Lieutenant Governor) and so was elected on the same ticket with Walter Hickel by a margin of 1,300 votes. (A total of 70,000 votes were cast in the 1966 national election.)

I suspect that Miller relies heavily on the word of his advisers, and with regard to the major issues presently confronting the state, he offered nothing beyond the expected political cliches. Of the environmental questions, he said, "We all have mixed emotions.

Henry Pratt

Henry Pratt, executive assistant to Miller explained to the press: