Alaskans say goodbye to Uncle Ted

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The body of former U.S. Sen. Ted Stevens arrived at All Saints Episcopal Church in Anchorage Tuesday morning, where the late senator will be lying in repose until 8 p.m. Stevens was among five people killed in an Aug. 9 plane crash.

At 9 a.m., a joint military honor guard was assembled outside the church. Stevens' widow, Catherine, his six children and some of his 11 grandchildren were paying their respects. By 10 a.m., mourners had formed a line waiting to enter the church.

Although he had no intention of being the first one through the church's doors, Anchorage resident Michael Munger found himself leading the somber trail of people who felt moved to make a personal appearance to honor of Stevens.

"I had a tremendous amount of respect for the senator and believed he was the greatest Alaskan that ever lived," Munger said.

When he first met the senator in 2002, through his work with Cook Inlet Regional Citizens Council, Munger, the group's executive director, was struck by the senator's energy and drive. "He was just a feisty old guy. I don't think we'll ever see another guy like that," Munger said.

Lindsay Bismark, who lives in Tyonek and is the village's postmaster, made the sojourn to the church with her three daughters in tow. The girls, ages 11, 9 and 8, dressed in blue jeans and Croc sandals, circled around their mom as she snapped photos on her cell phone of the casket's arrival. "We were in town and just decided to come down. He's Alaska's hero," she said.

"He's awesome," said Trinity Standifer, the oldest of Bismark's girls. Asked why she felt that way, she said Stevens did a "whole bunch of stuff," adding "if it weren't for him, we wouldn't have a bunch of the things we have where we live."

Ted Stevens photo gallery

Stevens was a longtime advocate of rural Alaska and fought hard to bring health care, water and even routine mail service to many communities. Bismark never had a chance to meet the senator, but her mother did when, as a child, she received an award from Stevens for helping save the life of a boy who fell through ice. That personal attention -- taking time to recognize people's efforts with a handwritten note, personal handshake or phone call -- is a trait many recall fondly of Stevens.

Denise Morris, executive director for the Alaska Native Justice Center, received a handwritten condolence from him when her sister died, as he had done for members of her staff who had suffered similar personal losses from time to time. Stevens supported the Justice Center by attending fundraisers and lending his name to the group's efforts.

Standing in line as light rain began to fall, Morris told a story of an acquaintance who recalls Stevens helping an elderly widow in a village. When asked what he could do for her, she said she wanted to go fishing, but that since her husband had passed away and her children weren't around, there was no one to drill a hole in the ice. Stevens "went out and got it done," Morris recalled, although she didn't know if Stevens personally drilled the hole or had someone else do it.

Stories of Stevens' unexpected appearances seemingly out of nowhere in Alaska's most remote communities aren't unusual. A few years ago in Barrow, as whaling captain Charlie Hopson was ceremoniously commanding his successful crew to shore, there stood Stevens on the shoreline to greet them. Hopson and his wife, who have been close with the Stevens family for years, travelled to Anchorage for the memorial and funeral service.