Among the catalogue of Yellowknife's influential, historical or significantly prominent figures, you will not find the name Larry Galt.
A prominent public figure, politician or poet, an artist or aristocrat, he was none of those things. What he was, was a kind, caring father and friend who is gone far too soon. As it often is with the good ones,
the young and the innocent, Larry was taken by that selfish son of a bitch that we call cancer.
As if a consolation, the son of a bitch took him quick, in two weeks, he was gone. He was not alone when he passed, he had hundred of friends, far and wide, many who journeyed to be by his side, and
were fighting in his corner, in their prayers, in their thoughts, just as he has done for so many of us in times of need, or just in time.
Larry came north to Yellowknife to seek out a new life and adventure from that offered on the farm in Red Deer, Alberta. Not knowing what lay ahead, Larry charged north with a dear friend, Kent Bissel,
in the early 1970's. He found that he fit in best in and around the old town, and pulled a cork with many who's legacies are also part of the
mystic we call the wood yard.
Many a friend, both living and dead, have sat on a shitty old lawn chair, an old couch or a stump around a roaring fire, long since banned,
sharing a drink from a jug with Larry on a buggy summer's night in the wood yard. Unknown to them, they were setting the stage for tourists
staring from a mini bus, in awe of the same shacks and shanties they then called home.
Larry quickly earned a fitting reputation in the mining industry as a top-notch line cutter, staker of claims, bush rat, swamper, air strip builder,
camp maintainer, the list goes on. His farm life work ethic made him employable to many an outfit. Before long, Larry was at home in the
bush, and loved the peace it gave him from the demons that would, on occasion, visit him in town to pull a cork or pop a pill. He trapped with
his friend Carl for years, or did what was needed in the bush to get by. His battle with the cork came to an end in 2003, when he dove into
sobriety with the gusto only Larry knew. He held the line with pride every day but talked about how the demon was only a drink away. He
went on to help others gain and maintain sobriety. The demon hated him and his many accomplishments. Those who he helped, loved him.
A lasting legacy of one man, who, albeit, unknowingly, made the city what it was and in part, still is today. He beat back many things in his life, winning most battles, loosing few, but fighting hard and fast to the end. What he did was, no matter the odds, was fight for the good in people, the things around him he deemed important and the things that made him smile,
right up to the end.
You will not find his name among a long ranging list of locals who made a difference in the community, in terms of epic or everlasting
contributions. You will not find a street named after him, although there should be.
What you will find is a long, burning record of personal achievement, a long wide-ranging growth of character, a slow progression towards
the molding of the Yellowknife persona as we know it today, and in years past.
More important than a monument or building a bridge, Larry shaped and improve the lives of so many. His real legacy is, through laughter,
through tears, through good times and bad, is that he affected the lives and souls of Yellowknife. His unwavering love for his friends was
second only for his kids, Isaiah and Leah.
He, and what he and others like him represent the real legacy of Yellowknife. He was what it needs, what it deserves and he and the others like him are what Yellowknife has been given.
Larry was my friend, long live the King.