Dear Mr. Filson,

You have asked for my life story. I am a blue checked cruiser. You made me about 1950 and shipped me by Alaska Steam ship to the O. Kraft and Son store in Kodiak, Alaska. I was purchased by Peggy Sutliff. Even then I was expensive, but as you will see, I was a good value. Our life together began on the Flying H ranch where she spent summers with her young children. We cut hay and wood, mended fences, branded calves and herded cattle. Peggy drove a 49 Plymouth station wagon in those days. That was before studded tires so many times we lay in the wet snow installing tire chains. No worries, I’m tough. Mr. Sutliff had a Piper Super cub. I spent about 1000 hours sitting the back seat of that cub. No rear heater! Damn it was noisy. They fished rainbow trout and silver salmon. She killed a deer every year for over 30 years. The freezer was always full and I never missed a trip. Peggy was a Red Cross volunteer starting with injured World War II soldiers. On March 27, 1964 the great Alaska earthquake hit. The ensuing tsunami destroyed the town of Kodiak. She spent the next month full time helping people with food, clothing and housing. There were no phones of any kind so all communication was in person or by radio. Do you know how bad the weather is in Kodiak in March? It rains sideways! You made me of the finest wool so I kept her warm and dry. Speaking of the Red Cross, Peggy was presented the Harriman award for volunteer service. I was NOT invited to the ceremony with Elizabeth Dole in San Diego, California. When Peggy died as age 87, I moved in with her daughter in law. She is a life long Alaskan outdoors woman with her own Piper on floats. No heater at all and still noisy. But, at least now I’m on the pilot in the front seat. My cuffs have been reinforced and buttons re-sewn. I’m good for another 60 years.

Sincerely, Blue Checked Cruiser

P. S. I don’t have hand warmer pockets

I titled my story Current Occupant because that best describes the life of this Mackinaw Cruiser. My dad originally purchased it many years ago, but as soon as I was big enough to fill it out (or at least come close enough to filling it out) I have been grabbing it at every opportunity. That’s pretty much the life this garment has lived. Staying in one closet for the briefest of time until reclaimed by the other. My dad and I go back and forth “borrowing” it. Its become a fun and entertaining tradition. I hope to be the majority owner this winter, but somehow I imagine my dad has other plans!

I grew up in the upper peninsula of Michigan, 40 miles from the straits of Mackinaw. For those of you who don’t know, the U.P. is that peninsula of Michigan that looks as if it should be Wisconsin. It is a place special to itself with its own distinct culture, language, and people. Growing up there were two outdoor items I wanted. One was a Filson Mackinaw, the other a Marble’s knife. The men who I looked up too had these items, they still do. As my family wasn’t in the economic position to have these things, I had to wait.

I purchased my first Filson item shortly after college, a belt. Fifty dollars was a lot to spend on a belt, but ten years later it’s still in use. After a few years, I had acquired a few Filson items, but wasn’t able to afford a Mackinaw yet. Then I was deployed. Anyone who has deployed with the military can tell you, you are really either super busy or not at all. During those slow times we would all dream about life back home. We would look at pictures, tell stories, and dream. I would look at the Mackinaw in the catalog, and dream of wearing it once I was home.

Once back, I made the purchase. My Mackinaw has been on moose hunts in my adoptive state of Alaska. It has been worn over shirt and tie to the symphony. It has crossed the straits of Mackinaw while I was home visiting family. When I wear it, it reminds me of where I come from and what I’ve been through. And being a Filson Mackinaw, I know that it will see the rest of the adventures to come.

Share your own memories about your Filson Mackinaw Cruiser. We want to hear who wore it, where it’s been and how it performed for you. You can include photos or not. If you just want to send a photo, that’s OK, too. We will go through all the stories and select the best. The winner will receive a free new Mackinaw Cruiser. Click here to enter.

Half a century ago, just a youth, I was rummaging through our hall closet and came across a rugged gray and black wool garment. I asked my mother, “Whose coat is this?” She replied, “Daddy’s.” I said, “Grandpa’s coat?” She said, “Yes, it’s a mackinaw. He wanted you to have it.” Grandpa had been the lead foreman of a construction gang that built roads throughout the northwest. They lived in the backcountry, engaged in long days of honest, hard work. Inclement weather was part of the job. I was told that Filson clothing was a staple for these men – loggers, road builders, longshoremen, and market game hunters – it kept them warm and protected from the elements. The clothes took on the status equivalent to the tools such men used on a daily basis: no less important than the axe, surveyor’s maps, compass, firearm, and pocketknife. This was Grandpa’s favorite work coat. It kept out the chill of the biting wind, flurries of tap dancing snowflakes, and daggers of slicing rain. I was enthralled with the strange pocket that covered the entire breadth of the back of the coat. Mother told me this was for holding maps. Once I inherited the coat – Grandpa, though long past, was with me on my journeys, both near and far. I’ve worn it for over fifty years – it has never failed me. It’s been to the docks of Oporto, and the tapas bars of Barcelona…harbor against adverse conditions hustling about the damp alleys of Europe, and apt attire for business in Paris or New York…unflinching cover and warmth, with style, throughout the West Coast – from Los Angeles to Vancouver. A few years back, I traveled to Seattle, Washington. On the waterfront, the fierce winter wind did not penetrate my coat; Grandpa had chosen wisely. I journeyed to its birthplace – the original Filson factory store in Seattle. A friendly salesman said that he hadn’t seen one exactly like it. The mackinaw will probably outlast me before it gives up its ghost. A fine coat indeed – a Filson.

-G. M. Yore Califo

Facing into a frigid torrent of wind, my dog team and I struggled to cross frozen Norton Bay during the Iditarod Sled Dog Race. I in my Filson Mackinaw Cruiser and the dogs wearing natures very best. The worst blizzard in years had pinned us on the ice overnight. I knew we could survive, I thought to myself.But I knew it would be really marginal to try to make it another night. I knew I had to find Koyuk. Like many other mushers over a quarter century of races, I was crowding the boundary that divides safety from injury or death, but I knew I was equipped with the best, and this wasn’t going to beat me. It was minus-27 degree temperature and 60-knot wind created a chill factor of at least 100 degrees below zero — cold enough to freeze exposed skin within seconds. Koyuk villagers judged the storm too violent to mount a rescue. With daylight, I began the drive toward Koyuk, only a few hours and a dozen miles away. The wind scoured them head-on with a gale of ice bits and snow, but I kept moving. My goggles began to frost over. I tried to scrub them out. It didn’t work. Thus I just took them off. As I drove directly into the wind, watching the trail from inside my Filson coat, ice began to clog the lashes of his left eye. I rubbed it with his mitten. Later, I rubbed the eye again. Then again. And then it reached a point where I couldn’t see out of my left eye… Well, I thought, I’ve got my right eye. But then I started having trouble seeing out of my right eye. Just before noon, much of my upper face had frozen — eyelids and cheeks stiff and white, left eye completely useless, right eye beginning to close. It was ugly As I discovered, tiny problems can combine with trail conditions and physical exhaustion to push Iditarod mushers to the brink of fatal danger. However, in the end, thanks to perseverance, a great dog team and my Filson Mackinaw, I made it to the finish line; frostbit face and exhuasted, I didn’t win, but I finished.

When I left home to go to College at WSU in 1975 I didn’t know much but I new it would be cold and there would be ample oppurtunities to bird hunt. So I bought two new items to take with me…..a shotgun and a Filson Mackinaw. I’ve worn out the shotgun over the years but the coat still looks like the day I got it after years of wear. It’s a little tighter now, I can’t layer under it anymore but I still pull the coat out every winter. I fully expect it to last my lifetime. Best article of clothing I ever bought.

Ever Since I turned 14, I’ve owned a Filson Mackinsaw Cruiser. My Dad bought one for me for Christmas that year, he said to me” Might as well have the Best”. I used it as every season came about. Here in Louisville, KY out winters are long and cold. So it keeps me completely safe and keeps the warmth in. Now I’m 20 years old. And I’m a traveling Polaroid photographer. I usually pack up the car with my Filson Medium Field bag and Filson Briefcase and hit the road. And when the season comes my Mackinsaw Cruiser in with me too. Mine is still alive and incredibly well, and one day when my son Levi grows up and can fit into it, he’ll wear it. I realized it was time for a new one when my wrist were showing out of the sleeves. I’m excited to start fresh with a new Mackinsaw Cruiser to build a new story. I’m just glad Filson gives me the opportunity to make that happen.

Dear Mr. Filson,

You have asked for my life story. I am a blue checked cruiser. You made me about 1955. I traveled by Alaska Steam to the O. Kraft and Son store in Kodiak, Alaska. I was purchased by Peggy Sutliff. I don’t remember what I cost but even then I wasn’t cheap. As you will see, I am a great value. Peggy moved to Kodiak in 1940 to marry her husband of the next 61 years. Our life together started on the Flying H cattle ranch where Peggy took her kids for the summer. We hauled water, branded calves, and put up hay. I spent weeks on horse back herding cattle .Before studded tires, we had to put on tire chains. It was no fun laying in the wet snow putting chains on her old ’49 Plymouth station wagon. But, I kept her warm. Mr. Sutliff owned a Super Cub so we fished Rainbow trout and Silver salmon every summer. I helped Peggy shoot at least one deer every fall for over 30 years. I spent about a thousand hours in the back seat of that cub. It was noisy as hell. On march 27, 1964, the great Alaska earth quake hit. The town of Kodiak was destroyed by the ensuing Tsunami. Peggy had been a Red Cross volunteer since World War 2. We spent the next month coordinating disaster relief to families that had lost everything. You may not appreciate how miserable the weather is in Kodiak in March. It rains sideways. I was O. K. because you made me out of the best wool in the world. Speaking of the Red Cross, Peggy received the Harriman Award for distinguished volunteer service. I was NOT invited to the reception with Elizabeth Dole in Washington, D. C. When Peggy died, at age 87, I moved in with her daughter in law, Page, a life long Alaskan. Page also flies a cub on floats to hike, hunt, and pick berries; still noisy. My cuffs have been reinforced and buttons re sewn. I’m good for another 50 years.

Sincerely,
Blue Checked Cruiser

P. S. I don’t have hand warmer pockets. In my day it was considered lazy to put hands in pockets.

It was the Fall turkey hunt in Wisconsin. November had come upon us all at once – the oaks were speckled with frost and the skies over the North Woods were threatening an Autumn hale flash. The truck was throaty as we navigated the back roads, dusk coming on. Two sons, two daughters and a golden labrador in the bucket seats. My husband, Ed, was at the wheel. I could see his tension through the dark. His hide gloves clutching the stickshift, the collar of his slate Mackinaw pulled high against the chill. I knew what the double breastpockets held – hank of twine, matches, the pearl-handled penknife from his World War II veteran father. That sector of woods is waterfall country. Drops and turns in the rivers lead to crashing walls of whitewater. I was thinking this, just as an icy curtain of mist began to thrash our windows. The kids fell silent. Even Bragg, our lab, had sobered. I knew what Ed was considering. I smiled. “They can make it through the night if we have to.” At that moment the hood growled and I clenched Ed’s arm as he wrangled the wheel to ease us onto the dark road shoulder. Mae, our youngest, had cried out fearfully in the backseat. “We’re alright,” Ed reassured. I grabbed the flashlight as Ed popped the hood. “It’s the serpentine,” I said, taking one look at the mangled belt. The night was in turmoil. Winds and sharp mist beat against our faces and the pine boughs over our heads whipped and snapped. Ed shook his head. “I can’t fix this. Not here.” The road was so dark, the storm so foreboding. But we had blankets, water, and kids with grit. I said so. Ed smiled at my bravado. “I’ll take Bragg and Jike,” he said. “I need you to stay here with the others and a signal light.” We had a terse conference with the kids. Mae whimpered. It was then Ed knelt, and pulled off his Cruiser. He draped it around her shoulders before turning. No one spoke. We waited. We clung to hope. Then we saw a light approaching. Help had returned.

Most folks come to Kalaloch in the beautiful months of July through September, but as a professional forester this is not always the case. In times like these it is always a safe bet to have a Filson on hand. So, on a wet and dreary day on Kalaloch Ridge there I was cruising a timber sale. Thinking nothing of it I grabbed my Mackinaw Cruiser and headed out. The rain was coming down in sheets and the wind was lashing the timber, but for me? I was dry and focused. That’s Filson quality speaking volumes in a lonely place with no room for error. On the coast a Filson is as good as rain gear, and on those fall days I look forward to braving the elements with my Mackinaw.

Share your own memories about your Filson Mackinaw Cruiser. We want to hear who wore it, where it’s been and how it performed for you. You can include photos or not. If you just want to send a photo, that’s OK, too. We will go through all the stories and select the best. The winner will receive a free new Mackinaw Cruiser. Click here to enter.