Page 377:  "Hobo Night.  It was Hobo night at the Yukon Bar in Seward. I had heard a couple college students who worked at Icicle Seafoods call it "the church of Hobo" since he played every Sunday night.  The Yukon is about three blocks from Resurrection Bay. Hobo Jim, Alaska's rebel folk singer, has made his living for a couple of decades playing the saloons, festivals, and fairs in every fishing village, town, and city in Alaska. He came to Alaska as a hitchhiker, looking like Che Guevara. In the 70s his shoulder length hair and full beard were as black as a Greek fisherman's. His last name is Varsos; his father is of Greek descent, his mother Scottish. His beard may be mostly gray, but he can still outperform just about everyone, playing before five thousand or seventy-five. He is such a gifted entertainer that listening to his CDs isn't enough. He enchants people; the audience has more fun than they can remember, even when he's yodeling. I've seen him sing and play guitar for three hours straight, threatening to take a break but never doing it. Before the night's over, he'll probably be singing from on top of a table.

     Some people followed Hobo around in Alaska the way people Outside follow the Grateful Dead. Wherever he was playing, Homer, Soldotna, Palmer, Seward, or some biker bar near Girdwood, they showed up. Some people have been going to his shows since they were 18-year-old cannery workers just planning to summer in Alaska. Now they're in their late 30s, they never went back to wherever they came from, and they've been fans of Hobo's all this time."

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- Looking for Alaska, Peter Jenkins (2002). Macmillan.