Rie Muñoz, the well-known Alaskan artist, died on April 6, 2015. Although she’s gone, her experiences are not lost, from her first memories in Holland and assisting with the Allies’ WWII efforts, to journeying to the Last Frontier and blossoming into the beloved artist so many Alaskans have come to know. During the last five years of her life, Muñoz penned “Rie’s Memoirs” to relive all her old adventures and keep her memories sharp. Her son, Juan Muñoz, decided to share his mother’s memoir with the Empire so the public could read about her rich life experiences. This is an excerpt from “Rie’s Memoirs” from sections “Alaska!” and “The Sunday Press” reprinted with permission. The full memoir is available in a PDF format at riemunoz.com. More excerpts to follow in upcoming Neighbors sections.

I was getting more and more intrigued with visiting Alaska, and decided to take a voyage up to Southeast. I booked passage on the Canadian Princess line, and, toward the end of May 1950, I departed from Victoria, Canada.

Needless to say, I had the most marvelous time on my voyage. It was even more fun having a college class of about 30 geology students onboard. The Princess Pat arrived in Juneau on June 1. I had gotten up early and was already on deck by 6 a.m. It was a most wonderful day. Warm, sunny, snow-covered mountain peaks on either side of the channel. There, nestled between Mount Juneau and Mount Roberts, lay the town of Juneau, population about 7,000 people.

As we approached the dock, my mind was racing, “What a gorgeous town, setting, mountains, sparkling ocean. What a great place to live. Oh, if only I lived here . . . I should try!”

I decided to go ashore for the seven hours it would take the ship to go north to another town and return. Perhaps I could get a job and a place to live. “Maybe I’m out of my head,” I thought. “Maybe, maybe I should try. Why not? YES, I’m going to try!”

I ran back inside to the dining hall and had a huge breakfast, then to my stateroom, took a quick glance in the mirror, picked up my purse with my boarding pass and went down the gangway. I went to the downtown Juneau business district and started looking for a job. The first place I went was the Sunday Press. The only one there was the editor, Dorothy Pegues, typing away. She offered me a seat, and I told her of my experience in the Army working with one other WAC on a bi-weekly newsletter. This seemed to be good enough for her and, to my surprise, she hired me! She later admitted that it was my honesty about my lack of experience that got me the job.

My next step was to find a place to rent. I decided to look in a nice neighborhood. Most residential areas seemed to be up the hill from the city center, accessible by numerous long stairways. I decided on an area that looked the most appealing and climbed up the 7th Street stairs to the top. I had chosen well; it was lovely area at the summit of a hill. The other side dropped into Evergreen Bowl, which had a baseball field, swings, swimming pool, and two tennis courts. On the far side ran Gold Creek at the base of a huge 2,000’ cliff going up to Mt. Juneau. All this was visible from my location.

It was Sunday morning, and the area was totally still except for a large woman hanging up her laundry. I walked over to her and said “Good morning!” I then asked her if she knew any houses where I could possibly rent a room.

“Yes,” she said immediately. “I have a room.”

She took me inside her house and signaled me to be quiet as her husband was still sleeping. We tip-toed through the room where there was heavy breathing and the occasional snore and proceeded on to a room that I rented for $5/week. The room was really a walk-in closet and the bed was narrow, but so was I. The walking space next to the bed was about a foot. At the far end of the bed was a table and chair. Also on the far end of the wall was a small window that looked down on Evergreen Bowl at the base of Mt. Juneau. The room was perfect for me and I handed over the first week’s rent of $5 to my landlord, Mrs. Tapani.

In no time at all, the rental arrangement became even better still. Mrs. Tapani, who asked me to please call her Leela, weighed about 200 pounds and loved to cook. Within a week, I had a standing invitation for dinner. I felt the least I could do was to offer to dry the dishes, but she would reply, “No, God is up there in the cupboard, and he dries them.” Leela’s husband was Waino. Both of them were Finns and were part of a large community of Finns who lived in Douglas on the other side of the channel from Juneau.

Leela and Waino were simple and extremely nice people to live with. Waino was a janitor and cleaned the state capitol building. Leela liked to play piano and did so very well. On Sunday mornings, she would walk over to her neighbors’ house, the Engstroms, and would walk in their door. Nobody locked their houses back then. The Engstroms, usually still in bed, would hear her sit down at the piano and start playing classical music. They would stay in bed, listening and enjoying it.

The Sunday Press

My main job at the Sunday Press was selling ads. Every week I would cover both sides of the street, going from store to store asking the owners if they wanted an ad in the next Sunday’s paper. The merchants, all local people, liked me. And I liked them. Most often they didn’t want an ad, but they would always offer me a chair, and we would have a pleasant chat with or without a cup of coffee. In the long run, most of them became personal friends.

There were several days when I actually wrote copy. All the other newspapers in Alaska would send us their daily or weekly newspapers and vice-versa. The Sunday Press ran a weekly column, called “Happenings across Alaska.” It was my job to write one paragraph about each newspaper’s news or events for our “Happenings” column. Among the stack of newspapers was one from Chehalis. I included this newsworthy article from Chehalis, even though I knew it was a town in Washington State. I guess the editor thought I would catch my own mistake, but, after about a month, she gently clued me in: Chehalis had seen its final entry in “Happenings across Alaska.”

My next blunder, I think my last, was in the advertising department. Besides making the rounds selling ads, we also had a printing department open to the public. People would come in for our printing services. I sat at the front desk so I would assist them. One day an attractive early-to-middle-aged lady walked in and told me she wanted some cards printed. I got out the proper order form and, with pencil in hand, asked her what her name was. She said it was Claire and then gave me her address and phone number. I asked her what her last name was and she said that wasn’t necessary. I assured her that the ad wouldn’t cost any more. I pressed her for her last name again. At this point, the editor, who sat behind me, said in a most peculiar voice, “RIE.” I then figured out that she was advertising for a “pick-up date,” and I pressed no more. We finished the order with her contact information and she said thank you and left. Dorothy Pegues, bless her heart, said nothing.

Besides getting to know all the merchants, I also befriended the ski club members and became a member myself. Most members were my age, in our mid to late 20s. Even though it was summer, the ski club got together once a month in the off season to “Keep up our spirits with spirits!” This amounted to a monthly beer bust.

Life was really good. Practically every day I congratulated myself for “jumping ship.” I had a fun job. After living in the walk-in closet and having regular dinners with the Tapanis, I was now sharing a house with another gal and that was working out great. I was getting to know all the merchants and members of the ski club and was having numerous dates. Peter was a regular who took me salmon fishing on week nights. Others, I joined for hikes up Mount Roberts, movies, parties and also on fishing trips.

An artist’s beginnings

In 1950 in Alaska, I was more inspired than ever to paint. And I did. A few months after I arrived, Juneau had its annual art show. There were about 19 serious artists in Juneau then, but anyone could enter. There were no judges; however, the limit was three submissions per artist. I enthusiastically entered and, to my great delight, sold all three! At the time, this was the only open annual art show in Alaska, and several artists from Anchorage and Fairbanks entered as well. Usually the show had well over 100 paintings.

One of the “serious artists,” Jennie Werner, changed my life when she told me I should try painting in watercolors or caseins. I might enjoy it, she said. Furthermore, there were many advantages. Caseins and watercolor paints were much cheaper than oil paints. Watercolor paper, too, was much less expensive than canvas. She continued: “An unfinished watercolor takes only a few minutes to dry, and you can slip it back in your portfolio, whereas a wet oil painting you have to carry by hand very carefully so it won’t smudge.” I was convinced to give it a try.

Some of my favorite impressionists painted in watercolor. Their subject matter less traditional, more informal, more everyday scenes with everyday subjects — a woman ironing clothes, a farmer at work in the field, a maid setting the table and so on. The last oil painting I did in Juneau was of a mountain with a mountain goat in the foreground. I sold it to a neighbor. It wasn’t long before I became known as a “serious artist.”

Becoming a Muñoz

My first Christmas in Juneau, the city ran a contest for merchants on Franklin Street to see which store could have the best Christmas window. I turned in a beautiful snowy winter scene, but my window did not win a prize because I had failed to put in Santa Claus or a Christmas tree. My next assignment was to paint a Christmas scene on the mirrors behind the bar in the Baranof Hotel. One evening, while I was busily working on that, a ski club member and good friend I’d once dated several times, Art Kimball, came in with another man. Art introduced me to him: “Rie, this is Juan. Juan, Rie Mounier.” That started a romance that evolved into marriage. We were married by Justice of the Peace Gordon Gray on Jan. 20, 1951, with Art Kimball as the best man. We celebrated the wedding by having dinner at Mike’s Place in Douglas — the best steak house in Juneau at the time. Juan played the slot machine and hit the jackpot, winning $60. I moved in with Juan in his Douglas Quonset hut.

We then found an old dilapidated boathouse on 150 feet of waterfront, with access to the North Douglas road. When we handed the check of $700 to the realtor, Bob Druxman, he smiled and said, “Now you can spit in anyone’s eye.” In our spare time, Juan and I fixed up the boathouse so we could move in. Art Kimball offered to put a window in one of the walls as a house-warming gift. He showed up one day to do the task. He brought the window, hammer, nails, level, square and started the job. When he finished a few hours later, we all stood back and admired the work. We then noticed that the window was at an obvious tilt. Upon a second look, we realized that the window was the only thing level, and the house was crooked, so it remained.

• Muñoz (Aug. 8, 1921- April 6, 2015) was a prominent artist and longtime resident of Alaska.

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Rie smiles as she gets her picture taken while working on her art.