Jane, Don, and Alfred in Guatemala, c. 1959

Jane, Don, and Alf Mangus in Guatamala, c. 1959

Marvin D. Mangus: Photo-Portrait Gallery

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin D. Mangus Paintings from the Gil Mull Collection

Born in Illinois, Gil Mull came to Alaska in 1961 as a geologist working for Atlantic Richfield Corporation. Having been involved in early oil exploration on the North Slope and doing extensive geological mapping in the Brooks Range, Gil is an expert on Alaska's northern geologic history. In addition to working for the oil industry, Gil also worked for the US Geological Survey and the State of Alaska, Division of Geological and Geophysical Surveys, Division of Oil and Gas. He retired in 2003, and moved to Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Marvin Mangus. Photo by Gil Mull,

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Marvin Mangus

Mangus Family Lore: Marvin D. Mangus 1924-2009

Bob Hallinen / Anchorage Daily News Archive 2004 Marvin D. Mangus was among the most highly regarded Alaska artists.

Marvin Mangus, artist and geologist, dies at 84.
Admired artist was also a geologist who helped find Prudhoe Bay oil
by Mike Dunham

February 24th, 2009

Marvin Dale Mangus, one of Alaska's leading artists for more than a half a century and a history-making geologist, died on Friday at Providence Alaska Medical Center. He was 84.
Mangus was widely considered in the front ranks of Alaska painters from the 1950s on. Art historian Kesler Woodward, in "Painting in the North," praised "his energy and openness to new ideas in his own work and that of others."

Artist and former art dealer Jean Shadrach compared him favorably with old Alaska masters like Ted Lambert and Fred Machetanz. "He's (Machetanz's) equal," she told the Daily News in 2004. "And he's never gotten the recognition."

Connoisseurs, however, recognized his talent. He won several local and national awards, was among the first artists to hold a solo show at the then-new Anchorage Museum in the 1960s and was the featured artist for the museum's annual fundraising gala five years ago.
Even Alaskans who care nothing for painting are in his debt for his work as a geologist. In 1947, fresh from earning his masters degree from Penn State University, he joined the U. S. Geological Survey's Navy Oil Unit searching for formations likely to hold oil on the North Slope of Alaska. In 1958 he joined Atlantic Refining Co., endured an unpleasant stint in Guatemala -- "It's hot and sweaty and full of prickly thorns and snakes. Bad snakes," he later recalled.

He returned to Alaska in 1962 as the senior surface geologist in charge of the Arctic Slope. He was part of the Atlantic-Richfield field team credited with finding oil at Prudhoe Bay.
"I took the big iron rod down there and put it in the tundra" making the spot to drill, he said in a 2004 interview, and he was there when the drill touched oil.

He continued to work as a geologist into the 1990s.
His years in the field informed his work on canvas. "When you make a living surveying land and doing things like looking at an outcrop in a river bend for 20 minutes, describing it in minute detail," he told the Daily News in 1990, "things like composition, texture and structure just become basic to you."

Geology paid the bills, but painting was not just a hobby. He took it seriously, studying out of state with several well-known teachers. He was keenly aware of contemporary art trends and employed expressionist and impressionist techniques with his colors and brushwork. His was a bold, even avant-garde style for the Alaska art scene in the decades before and after statehood.
His subjects, on the other hand, were classic Alaskana -- landscapes, cabins, stern-wheelers, pack horses, dog teams, fish camps, images of the vanishing last frontier he arrived just in time to see and record.
"I'm painting an Alaska that isn't here anymore," he told the Daily News in 2004.

By that time arthritis had slowed him down, but he continued to paint at his home in Rogers Park and his work remained in demand. His paintings have been displayed in public and private venues from the Anchorage Museum and Alaska State Museum to the Smithsonian Institution and Corcoran Gallery in Washington, D.C.

Mangus was born Sept. 13, 1924, in Altoona, Pennylvania.  He is survived by his wife of 58 years, Jane, and sons, Alfred and Donald. A memorial service will be at 6:30 p.m. Thursday at Anchor Park United Methodist Church.

Mangus Family Lore: Marvin Mangus in his Anchorage, Alaska home studio




Here's the magnificent Marv in his studio/showroom c. 1980s.

 

Mangus Family Lore: Marvin Mangus in the Yukon

Here's the magnificent Marv doing his field work in the Yukon in the sixties, photographer unknown.

In the summer of 1967, we accompanied dad on one of his field trips to Eagle, Alaska, smack dab on the Alaska/Canada border. It was a long, dusty drive from Anchorage to Eagle (pop. 68). Once there, he had a helicopter at his disposal, so one fine day, judt for kicks, the pilot flew Alf and me to a remote lake where no one had ever fished. Virtually every cast we made brought back a beautiful rainbow trout. It was one of the few times I was able to catch anything than other lost fishing lures.

Mangus Family Lore: Marv in his Prime

That's marvelous Marv Mangus, in the vest, leaning on the helicopter, c. early 1960s, photographer unknown.

Marv looks very relaxed for a guy who'd survived six plane and two helicopter crashes. The topper for me was the bon mot my mother, Jane, layed on me last summer while we were reminiscencing about Marv. It really says just as much about Jane as Marv.

It seems while were living in Calgary, Canada in the early sixties, dad went down in a 'copter crash  somewhere way, way, waaayyyy out in the Canadian wilderness. My dad's boss at Atlantic Refining Company, John Sweet, glumy phoned mom to drop the devastating news bomb, "Marv was killed in the crash."

This is so typical of my mom, who takes real convincing in most matters. She actually had the presence of mind to counter with, "Did you find his body?"

Mr. Sweet, taken aback, admitted, "Well, no, but we know he's crashed."

"Then he's not dead," she concluded. This is what comes from being a lawyer's daughter -- No body, you say? -- circumstantial evidence -- mere hearsay. As Perry Mason might intone, "Incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial."

Sure enough, Marv had survived and soon effected his own rescue by building an enormous signal fire which was spotted by a commercial airliner. Marv never seemed to have any fear or trauma about flying whatsoever that I can recall.

Mangus Family Lore: The Mangmobile, 1973

In my senior year at East High my dad bought me a used car. As I recall it was a white Chrysler Newport that he paid $400 for. I don't have any photos of the actual car, but I found some scans on the web of a jade 1961 Crysler Winsor that match how I remember the stylings of what soon came to be dubbed The Mangmobile.

This sixties model had rather tastefully proportioned fins, an Astrodome dash, and also a push-button transmission. The real Mangmobile was white, with a snazzy copper colored interior. After doing some  online surfing it seems that the final models of the Winsor made in Canada were sold as Newports, so maybe I had one of those.

The Mangmobile was a very cool ride, but somewhat dangerous; more than once while I was driving full speed ahead and went to turn on the heater or fan (also activated by push-buttons). I came within a whisker of pushing the "reverse gear" button by mistake. Holy stripped gears.

The Mangmobile was a tank. I drove it off a snowy road into a ditch out in the middle of nowhere (and this was before cell phones, you spoiled youngsters) once. After a moment of despair, and assessing the situation, I fired up the Mangmobile again and powered my way back on to the road, no problem.

All hail the mighty Mangmobile.

Here's the stats for the Winsor above that was lsited for sale:

I am a sleek, sexy, 1961 Chrysler Windsor four-door sedan with a 383 C.I. Golden Lion V-8, P.S., P.B., Pushbutton torqueflight, Astrodome dash, climate control, am radio, lighter, and variable speed wipers. Allan original: No rust, Beautiful Interior (96% flawless), hood and trunk paint have oxidation as seen in pictures. Excellent glass, all chrome and moldings still brilliant.

Mangus Family Lore: Full-On Smirk, Anchorage, Alaska, 1965

Don Mangus, age 8 in Anchorage, Alaska, lensed by Alfred Mangus, 1964.

Here I am in all my smirking glory, posed in front of the family Ford Station Wagon. We went on a lot of picnics and family outing adventures in the old Ford. In 1965, it was replaced by mom's beloved 1964 Ford Mustang which she drove until 2007, finally selling it to an old family friend who is a mechanic. Hair stylings by Marv Mangus. Don's fashions courtesy of Caribou Ward's department store.

Mangus Family Lore: Guatemala City 1959

Alfred, Donald, and Marvin Mangus lensed by Jane Mangus, Guatemala City, 1959.

I've been surrounded by art, science, and books my whole life. Those are my father's landscape paintings on the wall behind us. My father always wanted to be a full-time artist, but my grandfather, Alfred R. Mangus (my brother's namesake), was very practical, and so dad became a geologist instead, studying at Penn State.

Marv soon took up painting as a member of the Washington D.C. Landscape Club in his free time, and he was mentored by another member artist there named Roger Rittase. These fifties paint daubers had a direct lineage to Daniel Garber, and they painted in an style now characterized as Pennsylvania Impressionism.

Dad combined his science with his art for an unparalleled understanding and appreciation of whatever landscape he found himself in. On top of that, he was a robust man of adventure, happily exploring and mapping remote regions in the Canadian and Alaskan Arctic, in the jungles of Guatemala, and far-flung lands elsewhere. It was not uncommon for him to be away on a field trip for months at a time and this was during the days of limited communication.

Dad preferred the arid climate of Alaska, but he had many memorable adventures in Guatemala. He would be hacking his way through the jungle with his guides, only to stumble across an ancient, abandoned Mayan pyramid that hadn't been touched in centuries. He also told me he accidentally discovered a Cold War compound where ordinance and vehicles were being stockpiled for the Bay of Pigs invasion of Cuba.

My mother enjoyed living in Guatemala, but Dad was glad to move on. We lived in Guatemala City from 1958-60. Our next stop would be Calgary, Canada.

Mangus Family Lore: Marv and Jane Mangus, 1950

My mom and dad, Marvin and Jane, on their honeymoon in 1950. Since neither one of them admitted to doing any jail time, I believe this shot was taken at the National Zoo, Washington DC's 163-acre zoological park set within the Rock Creek National Park, which now features more than 400 different species of animals. The National Zoo is a part of the Smithsonian Institution, and admission is free.

Mangus Family Lore: Chester H. Gray, 1950

Here's mom at her wedding with her father, Chester H. Gray. Chester was the Corporation Counsel  of Washington D. C. This is the title given to the chief legal officer in some municipal and county jurisdictions, who handles civil claims against the city, including negotiating settlements and defending the city when it is sued. According to Wikipedia, in Washington D.C., the former Corporation Counsel, now known as Attorney General, prosecutes adult misdemeanors and juvenile delinquency cases in addition to traffic and local ordinance violations. What I remember most is that Grandad had a city license plate on his car of "4." The President's was "1," the VP's "2", and so on, so we thought, wow, he 's a real power broker in our nation's capitol.

Unfortunately, he died at the age of 65, just a week after retiring. Since we lived in Guatemala, Canada, and then Alaska, I only got to visit him a few times on vacations. He was the first Grandparent to die. Even so, he made a huge impression on me. He was urbane, loved reading mystery novels, playing cards, chess, and the had a "system" for betting on horses. He smoked, drank dinner cocktails, and he wasn't shy about putting huge pats of butter on his baked potato. Family lore has it that he was an amazingly fast touch-typist, and he learned the law at night school. I believe he got a signed letter of commendation from FDR for his invaluable typing skills in the service. This photograph is exactly how I remember him.