January 3, 1959 - The Forty-Ninth Star

Snow blanketed the streets, muffling the sound of hurried boots as people streamed toward the steps of the capitol building. The American flag flapped in the icy wind above, soon to be redesigned to include a 49th star. Alaska—long viewed as a distant, rugged territory—was now officially the forty-ninth state of the Union.

Twelve-year-old Anna Takak, her parka hood lined with wolf fur, stood in the crowd with her father, David Takak, an Inupiat veteran of World War II. He’d come down from Nome for the historic day, proud and wide-eyed. Around them, families, miners, trappers, fishermen, and native elders had gathered—some cheering, some solemn, all aware that something irreversible was happening.

“Papa,” Anna said, clutching her father's gloved hand, “do you think they’ll put Alaska on the new map at school?”

David chuckled, a low, warm sound in the freezing air. “They better. We’ve waited long enough.”

A man stepped forward onto the capitol steps. It was Territorial Governor William Egan, who had long fought for statehood. Cameras flashed as he unrolled a telegram from President Eisenhower and read it aloud.

"Now, therefore, I, Dwight D. Eisenhower, President of the United States of America, do hereby proclaim the admission of the State of Alaska into the Union on an equal footing with the other states..."

Cheers erupted, echoing across the snowy streets and into the frozen pine forests beyond.

David raised his fist in the air. “We’re Americans now, Anna. All the way.”

Anna looked up at him. “Weren’t we Americans before?”

David paused, then crouched beside her, snow crunching beneath his knee.

“We were, but not in the way that counted. We had no voting power in Congress. No real say in what happened to our land, or our people. Now… we get a seat at the table.”

Near them, Grandma Lena, a Yupik elder wrapped in a seal-skin kuspuk, leaned on a cane carved from caribou bone. She tapped it on the ground.

“Long ago, we lived here before there were borders,” she said, her voice firm. “Then the Russians came. Then the Americans bought this place, but didn’t ask us. Now we’re part of their country, finally—officially. But remember, child,” she said, turning to Anna, “this land is still ours. Always.”

Anna nodded slowly. She didn’t fully understand what was changing, but she felt the weight of it—like the heaviness of the air before a blizzard.

Fireworks burst in the night sky, lighting up the mountaintops with red, white, and blue. The townspeople danced in the snow, sang folk songs, and shared salmon stew and fry bread around bonfires.

Anna and her father walked quietly back to their lodge. She looked up at the flag above the capitol.

“Papa,” she asked, “do you think we’ll be the last state?”

David smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Maybe. But if not, Alaska will always be the biggest—and the boldest.”

As they walked under the northern lights curling above them, Anna squeezed his hand. The night felt like a beginning. A new star had been lit in the sky—and it belonged to Alaska.

That night, after the fireworks faded and the crowds drifted home, Anna lay wide awake in the loft of the small inn where she and her father were staying. The wooden walls creaked in the cold, and the glow of the northern lights filtered through the frosty windowpane.

She turned to her father, who sat near the stove, carving a small figure out of driftwood.

“Papa?” she asked softly.

He looked up. “Mm?”

“What will change now that we’re a state? Will Nome be different? Will the white people listen more?”

David Takak paused his carving. He was quiet for a long time before answering.

“I hope so,” he said. “We’ll have senators now. A vote in Congress. Maybe better schools. More money for roads. Maybe more people will pay attention to what’s happening to the villages. But it doesn’t fix everything.”

Anna sat up. “But everyone seemed so happy today. Like everything would be better now.”

David nodded slowly. “Hope is powerful, Anna. But it’s just the beginning. Statehood doesn’t mean we stop working. It means we can start asking louder.”

He handed her the carving. It was a tiny ptarmigan, wings tucked, eyes alert.

“You’ll have more chances than I ever did,” he said. “You could become anything—a teacher, a lawyer, even a congresswoman.”

Anna laughed. “Me? In Washington, D.C.?”

“Why not?” he said, with a grin. “You already ask more questions than most of them.”

The next day, Anna and her father visited the Alaska Territorial Museum, which had set up a special exhibit about the journey to statehood. A photograph caught Anna’s eye: it showed a group of Native leaders testifying before Congress in the 1940s, demanding fair treatment and representation.

“Who are they?” she asked.

The curator, a kind woman named Mrs. Hayes, smiled. “Those are the ones who started this whole thing. People like Elizabeth Peratrovich. She was Tlingit. She spoke out against racism and helped pass the Anti-Discrimination Act before most of the U.S. even talked about civil rights.”

Anna leaned closer to the photo. The woman in it looked fierce and calm at the same time.

“She kind of looks like Grandma Lena,” Anna said.

“She acted like her too,” David added. “Strong. Unafraid to speak truth.”

Anna looked around at the rest of the exhibit—maps of the land purchases, photos of miners, homesteaders, military outposts. But her gaze kept returning to the Native faces. For the first time, she saw that her story wasn’t just beginning—it had always been part of something bigger.

-

Years later, when Anna Takak did indeed walk the halls of Congress as a representative from Alaska, she carried that same wooden ptarmigan in her coat pocket. And when reporters asked what inspired her to serve, she always said:

“I was there the day Alaska became a state. I was just a girl in a fur parka, holding a flag in the snow. But my father told me that day I had a voice. And once you know that—you never stop using it.”

Elsewhere: Washington, D.C.

In the Capitol, politicians debated the implications. Alaska had long been a strategic military asset, especially during the Cold War. Its vast oil reserves, fisheries, and position near the Soviet Union made it invaluable.

Senator Bob Bartlett, one of Alaska’s most persistent advocates, turned to his colleagues.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “this is not the annexation of a wilderness. It is the recognition of over 200,000 Americans—native and settler—who have lived, worked, and defended this land for decades. It is time.”

Historical Synopsis

On January 3, 1959, Alaska officially became the 49th state of the United States when President Dwight D. Eisenhower signed the statehood proclamation, following Congress’s passage of the Alaska Statehood Act of 1958. Alaska had been a U.S. territory since its purchase from Russia in 1867, but for decades its residents sought statehood in order to gain full voting rights, more control over natural resources, and stronger representation in federal policy.

Movements for statehood gained momentum after World War II, when Alaska’s strategic military importance became clear. Supporters—most notably Delegate E.L. “Bob” Bartlett and territorial governor Ernest Gruening—campaigned vigorously for equal standing with the states. After years of political debate, Cold War considerations and shifting congressional attitudes finally aligned to make statehood possible.

With Eisenhower’s signature, Alaska entered the Union, gaining representation in Congress and full participation in federal governance. The transition marked a significant expansion of the nation’s territory and affirmed Alaska’s growing political and economic importance.

^{This story is based on documented historical records and contemporaneous accounts}

Works Cited

Eisenhower, Dwight D. Proclamation 3269—Admission of the State of Alaska Into the Union. 3 Jan. 1959. The American Presidency Project, https://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/documents/proclamation-3269-admission-the-state-alaska-into-the-union.

Heinrichs, Waldo. Threshold of Freedom: Alaska Territory 1912–1959. University of Alaska Press, 2005.

“Alaska Statehood Act.” U.S. Congress, 7 July 1958, https://www.govinfo.gov/content/pkg/STATUTE-72/pdf/STATUTE-72-Pg339.pdf.