John Michael (Jack) Sadusky, 98, died April 13, 2025, in Seward, Alaska, of natural causes. He had lived in Seward for 78 years, arriving by steamship in 1947.
Jack was, as his granddaughter described him, an “amazing” man. He built the house where he and his wife, Nancy, raised their children. He could fix virtually any broken thing, and items that didn’t meet his standards he re-designed. He helped establish one of the first union health insurance plans in the U.S. He held a pilot’s license and took part in many search and rescue missions. He served on the Seward City Council from 1964-1966. His skills as a crane operator put him in demand throughout Alaska and as far away as Korea. He and Nancy were hospitable, almost without limit.
Jack Sadusky was born September 25, 1926, in Mt. Carmel, Pennsylvania, the only child of Domicella (Raulinaitis) Sadusky and John Edward Sadusky. He grew up in Mt. Carmel and was drafted in 1945, serving part of his time in occupied West Berlin. In 1946, as he was returning to the U.S. on a troopship, he came across a book, “We Live in Alaska,” by Constance Helmericks. That book made him determined to see Alaska for himself: for the rest of his life, he credited a book he read by chance with setting him on the path to Alaska.
He made it to Alaska in 1947, and decided to try life in Seward just because “it looked like a nice place,” as he later told one of his daughters — and on the day he arrived he was offered a job longshoring on the city dock. Before long, he made a trip back to Pennsylvania, to marry his sweetheart, Nancy Lorraine. The two were married in November 1948, and soon headed back to Seward.
Over the years, Jack and Nancy had four children: John, Diane, Nancy, and Tami. In the mid-1950s, Jack built the house where their children grew up. He hunted the moose and caribou that fed his family; his children regarded beef as exotic. He bought a small plane, and, for a while, headed the local Civil Air Patrol.
Around 1950, Jack and a handful of other Seward longshoremen helped pioneer one of the first union health insurance plans in the U.S. Jack recalled working hard to persuade many of his fellow union members that having a small amount deducted from their paychecks for insurance — “about a nickel an hour” at the outset — would later translate into a major benefit.
Jack worked steadily on the city dock from the time he arrived in Seward, first as a longshoreman and then as a crane operator. Then, in March 1964, the largest earthquake ever recorded in North America devastated Seward and destroyed the city’s port, which until then had been one of Alaska’s major shipping hubs. Jack’s livelihood was gone overnight.
But he was, as one of his daughters put it, “extremely capable,” and he was soon offered a new job: as a traveling crane operator. He helped rebuild bridges and docks damaged by the earthquake. Later he was in demand for jobs throughout Alaska and as far away as Korea.
His work took Jack away from home part of the time, but he and Nancy maintained their life in Seward. They opened their home to the world, welcoming friends and acquaintances; college roommates of their children; relatives of those roommates; cousins and in-laws. They would press food and drink on guests “before they could even take their coats off,” as one of their daughters remembered. For decades they hosted a 4th of July picnic, inviting friends and neighbors and pretty much everyone they met at Seward’s downtown July 4th celebration — and sometimes it seemed as if the whole town had accepted the invitation.
They also both loved dancing. As teenagers they had danced to jukebox tunes, and they continued dancing at every opportunity throughout their lives. And they were good: one friend described their dancing as “a thing of beauty to watch.”
Jack would also take on just about any repair project. Probably the largest was leveling the house after part of it subsided during the 1964 earthquake: he used pole jacks to hoist the sunken part, made forms to hold the walls, and calculated how much concrete was needed to level the house. More than 60 years later, the house is still level.
And his family and friends knew where to look for him, when they couldn’t find him anywhere else: in his basement workshop, where he often had “several projects and little inventions” underway simultaneously, as his granddaughter discovered. Tools and drawers filled the back wall — and Jack could pinpoint the location of every bolt, nut, and washer in those drawers. Hundreds of broken or poorly designed things ended up in Jack’s workshop over the years. His family believed that if Jack couldn’t fix it, it wasn’t worth keeping. In the basement he also created, among other innovations, his own wood-burning home-heating system.
One visitor described Jack as “the most interesting man I ever met.” His family agrees. Jack’s wife, Nancy, and granddaughter, Gemma Liles, died before him. He is survived by his children, Diane Liles and husband Bill of Colorado Springs, Colorado; Nancy Masuda of Honolulu, Hawaii; Tami Sadusky and husband Mike Anthony of Kirkland, Washington; and John William Sadusky and partner Linda Leask of Anchorage; his grandsons, David Masuda of Honolulu and Christian Masuda of Loleta, California; and his cousin Patricia Coleman of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
No memorial service is planned. But remember that Jack was always willing to lend a hand to anyone who needed it — so if you get a chance, lend someone a hand. And if you’d like to make a donation in Jack’s honor, consider the Sadusky Endowed Fund for Diabetes, Kidney and Transplant Research at UW Medicine.
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