Anchorage Film Caper: The Night I Braved the Basement

Anchorage Film Caper, a funny story of suspense, memories and teenage bravado with an unforgettable punchline.

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The Story

There was someone lurking in the dark, empty corridor
of the spooky abandoned building in downtown
Anchorage, Alaska… or was there?

With a 16mm film can clutched tightly under my left arm.
And a 357 magnum in my shaky right hand. I was ready
for action as I nervously made my way to the KTVA
channel 11 TV station film processor located in the all but
empty basement of what was left of the downtown
McKinley building following the 1964 Great Alaskan
Earthquake.

At 19 years of age, I went to work at KTVA channel 11. It
was after the earthquake and the downtown McKinley
building, where KTVA and KNIK-FM were located, had
been badly damaged. Following the quake, the building
was unoccupied except for the studios and offices of
channel 11 and KNIK-FM radio where both were located
on the building's first floor.

Not long after the earthquake, homeless people, drunks,
and others would sometimes make their way into the
building.

One night during KTVA's 10:00pm live news, an
intoxicated man actually managed to make his way into
the TV studio where he parted the curtains and stumbled
onto the live TV news set. The man saw the lights and the
cameras pointing at him, and said “huh?”, then turned and
left the same way he stumbled in. And all on live TV.

My Anchorage caper began one late afternoon.
Franklin Butte, the station's Chief Engineer, handed
me a metal film can containing unprocessed 16mm news
film and told me to take it to the film processor which was
located in the depths of the building.

I wasn't thrilled with the idea. But I took the film can and
started for the basement when Frank stopped me with
“hold it Mike… you may need this” and with that, he
handed me a leather holstered 357 Magnum pistol.
Wide-eyed I asked “what do I need this for?”
Frank shrugged his shoulders and said, “there may be
drunks, burglars or who knows what down there”.

I managed a hard gulp, turned and started for the door to
the basement, trying to act like what Frank had just said
didn't bother me. But it did. A lot.

A few minutes later as I reached the door to the
basement, my imagination had kicked into high gear. What
if I opened the door and someone was hiding in the
stairwell? I nervously reached out and grabbed hold of the
door nob.

Slowly I gave it a turn.

Gradually I opened the door and peered into the beginning
of the stairwell. The few shafts of dim light played games
with my teenage mind. It looked like I was about to
descend into the bowels of a dark, terrifying world.

Quickly I stepped into the stairwell, put the film can
down on the floor, then stood back up and strapped on the
gun holster. I bent back down and snatched up the cold,
metal film can, took a deep breath and started my slow
descent. One reluctant step at a time.

In no time, I found myself in an all too dark, dusty and very
vacant hallway. I was breathing hard as I pulled the trusty
357 Magnum out of its holster and pointed the barrel
toward my imaginary terror.

Then just like all the detectives in movies and TV
shows, I started making my way down the hall, darting
from side-to-side, pasted myself up against the wall at
each corner of every hallway. Then I would jump out from
the wall with my trusty gun in hand and still raised.

Like an idiot, I did that all the way down one hallway and
then the other. I don't know how, but I eventually found
my way to the film processing room.

A strange sort of relief came over me as I ripped open
the door and ran into the room where I quickly and
nervously threw the 16mm film can on the counter, spun
around and ran back out into the hall.

Then I ran as fast as I could like the scared chicken that I
was. I ran down the halls and then up the stairwell as fast
as my wobbly legs would carry me.

At the top of the stairwell once again, I grabbed the
door knob, pulled the door open as fast as I could and
leaped into the lobby like a gun-toting ballet dancer.

I was safely out of the basement, composed myself as
best I could and even unbuckled the gun belt in case
someone saw me.

Moments later I was still breathing hard, but I was safely
back in the KTVA studios.

What a combination for disaster. A dark, earthquake
ravaged, vacant building, a nervous, gun-toting 19-yearold
idiot and whoever the poor soul was that my teenage
imagination might encounter.

Thankfully, I was never asked to return to that spooky
basement again. But I still have nightmares. Only now I'm
the Anchorage, Alaska version of detective Sam Spade…
no one would dare bother me.

The End

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