In the long, proud bloodline of gritty journalists—the Hemingways, the S. Thompsons of the literary world—there was the original: Jack London.
In 1897, at age 21, he sailed to the Klondike in search of gold, and instead of finding a fortune, he picked up a near-fatal case of scurvy. Returning to his native Northern California a little worse for wear and a few teeth lighter, he picked up the pen and never looked back. (As you’d imagine, a running theme in his writings was man versus wild.) For all the love the Gold Rush era gets from the Americana set, there aren’t too many faces that can be put to the name—just anonymous beards and dusty overalls—but Jack London was there, in the thick of it. Looking quite stylish, for the most part.