Irene Mary Sherman was America’s farthest-north bag lady, a locally celebrated figure born into
a gold-mining family here in 1911. Irene was terribly burned in a cabin fire at age five, and she
bore those scars—both physically and mentally—for life. Decked out in layers of tattered clothes
and hats at eighty above or forty below, Irene was the picture of resilience as she marched around
town in oversized men’s boots, declaring herself the “Queen of Fairbanks.” She was loud and coarse
and drank too much. Always ready to refill the beer mug tied to her waist, Irene lived every day to
its fullest, and was warmly applauded during her Golden Days parade appearances on her three-
wheeled cycle. It was Irene who bestowed love, but in equal measure she received it from the
citizens of the Golden Heart City. Elsewhere she may have been institutionalized for her non-
conformity, but here, Irene was free to live independently, watched out for, enjoying the grace,
goodwill, and financial support of pioneer families and newcomers alike throughout her life.
Not just any bag lady. She was our bag lady.
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