For most of the 1990’s I worked in the Alaskan fishing industry. It was not a glamorous job by any stretch, as most of the jobs up there are nothing like what you see on “Deadliest Catch”. But even when you work in the “safe” areas, people still get hurt and sometimes even die. Corndog was one of those people who died.
“Corndog” isn’t his real name, but that’s what everyone called him. His actual name was Kyle Smith, a young guy who was about 20 years old. I may have called him Kyle the first few times I was around him, but after he got his nickname I never heard him called by his real name ever again.
Kyle became “Corndog” after somewhat of a practical joke. We worked on a large processing ship called the “All Alaskan” and the galley had a small crew of female kitchen assistants, some of which were very attractive. As I remember it, a few of the deckhands prodded Kyle into wearing his tan Carhartt coveralls with a broomstick shoved down the back. There was a few feet of wood sticking up behind his head and he approached one of the before mentioned galley assistants and recited the line that transformed him forever: “I am a corndog. Use me as your tool.”
The deckhands got a good laugh out of this, and Kyle ceased to exist. From that day forward he would be known as Corndog.
Corndog was a goofy and friendly guy who everyone seemed to like. He worked with me as a crab pitcher, and we always had a good time doing the stupid and immature things that young people do. Eventually, the crab season ended and we all flew home.
When the salmon season started up shortly after, many of the crew that worked on the boat during opilio season returned for the salmon processing run. Corndog was one of them, except this time he was a deckhand. His time spent with the deck crew and captain turned out to be a good thing for him, as being a deckhand was a better position than just a processor.
Salmon season came and went, but there were some different plans for the ship afterwards. Instead of the All Alaskan steaming back to Seattle with her crew, the ship was headed to Russian waters for some bonus crab. I was asked to go along for this, and as much as I wanted to I couldn’t because I didn’t have a passport. One of the supervisors, I can’t remember which one, set me up to quickly fly to Seattle and get a passport so I could go. I was part of the crew that flew home after the 1994 salmon season.
A few days afterwards, I saw on the news that the All Alaskan caught fire and was destroyed. But even worse, I found out that one person died in that boat fire. Corndog died in that fire. The man that everyone liked was killed in what is generally thought of as the safest area in the Alaskan commercial fishing industry.
I hadn’t reminisced too much on that time over the past 15 years. The most I thought of it was when I returned to Alaska in the fall of 1994 to work on a different boat and saw the torched remains of the All Alaskan in a bay at Dutch Harbor. More years have passed and the All Alaskan and Corndog have become a distant faded memory.
That has changed in the past few weeks. I don’t know why, but memories of Corndog have inexplicably crept into my mind. I took these memories and went online to see what information existed about the All Alaskan and Corndog.
The passage of time has negative effects on internet information. Unless it’s a really high profile news story, most information slowly evaporates away. I could only find some court documents relating to a lawsuit that All Alaskan filed against 3M claiming their faulty product caused the fire that destroyed the ship.
It was a Google image search that brought me to a forum thread discussing the All Alaskan, the fire and even Corndog. It was in this forum thread where I learned even more details on how Kyle Smith died. The forum member “TheRedDawg” stated this:
The man who died was named Kyle K. Smith, but everyone on the ship knew him as “Corndog.” He was a gentle kid who was the butt of a lot of teasing during the fishing season. I think he was only about 20 years old. He DID die fighting the fire, so I want to give the man his respect. Captain Tom ordered him to gear up and fight the fire as part of the team.
This is what I heard from his fire-fighting partner; they tried to get to the freezer where the fire started, but when they opened the freezer hatch there was a backdraft of flame. Kyle panicked and ran. Even on the weather deck, the smoke was so thick that we couldn’t see from port to starboard. Down below decks, it would have been nearly impossible to find a way out on ones own. No one could find him either.
We didn”t completely abandon ship until well after Corndog”s oxygen would have ran out. He died alone, probably terrified. He did die doing the job he was ordered to do and deserves respect for that.
I haven”t thought much of those times 15 years ago, but reading this account makes me sad. I only knew Corndog for around 6 months, but for some reason he made a lasting impression on me. And I don”t want to see his memory fade away like most everything does. I figure by posting this article, then perhaps there will be something in Google for the next person who remembers Corndog and the end of the All Alaskan processing vessel.
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That’s a touching story. I’m glad you have memorialized him in this blog.