Alaska Flag: The 13-Year-Old Designer Behind the Design
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The Alaska Flag Was Designed by a 13-Year-Old Boy — And It Remains One of the Most Admired State Flags in America
In 1927, Alaska wasn't a state. It was a territory — vast, remote, and searching for an identity that could hold together its sprawling geography, its indigenous communities, its transplanted gold rushers, its fishermen, and its growing sense that it belonged to no one but itself.
The territorial government announced a contest: design a flag for Alaska. Open to all schoolchildren in grades seven through twelve. Nearly 700 entries poured in.
The winning design came from a thirteen-year-old Aleut boy living at the Jesse Lee Memorial Home in Seward, an orphanage for Alaska Native children and children from struggling families. His name was Benny Benson, and the flag he drew on a piece of paper would become one of the most admired, most recognizable, and most symbolically dense state flags in the entire country.
That Alaska flag — eight gold stars forming the Big Dipper and the North Star on a field of deep blue — still flies today, unchanged. It ranked fifth in a 2001 North American Vexillological Association survey of 72 flags, outranked only by New Mexico, Texas, Quebec, and Maryland. Not bad for a seventh-grader's sketch.
But the story behind that Alaska flag goes deeper than a feel-good contest win. It's a story about how a young Aleut boy distilled the character of an entire place — its sky, its wilderness, its navigational challenges, its indigenous roots, and its aspirations — into something simple, bold, and true.

Who Was Benny Benson?
Benny Benson was born in 1913 in Chignik, a small Aleutian village on the Alaska Peninsula. His mother was Aleut; his father was a Swedish fisherman. When Benny was three, his mother died from pneumonia. His father, struggling and unable to care for him, placed him in the Jesse Lee Home, a Methodist-run facility in Seward that housed Alaska Native and mixed-heritage children.
Life at Jesse Lee was structured, often strict, and disconnected from traditional Aleut life. Many children there had been removed from their communities — some voluntarily placed by struggling families, others swept up in policies that separated Native children from their culture. Benny spent his formative years in this environment, far from the language and traditions of his mother's people.
And yet, when asked to design a flag for Alaska, Benny reached not for symbols of European heritage or American patriotism, but for something older: the night sky, the stars that had guided his people for millennia, and the bear constellation that was indigenous to Alaska long before it was called the Big Dipper.
The Design That Won
Benny's entry was elegant in its simplicity. Eight gold stars on a field of dark blue. Seven stars forming the shape of Ursa Major — the Great Bear, known popularly as the Big Dipper — and one star above it: Polaris, the North Star.
In his own words, written as part of his submission, Benny explained:
"The blue field is for the Alaska sky and the forget-me-not, an Alaska flower. The North Star is for the future state of Alaska, the most northerly in the union. The dipper is for the Great Bear — symbolizing strength."
He was thirteen years old.
What's remarkable isn't just the visual elegance — though the design is undeniably clean and bold — it's the layered symbolism. The flag works on multiple levels:
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Navigational: The Big Dipper points to Polaris, which marks true north. For a place defined by wilderness, exploration, and the need to orient yourself in trackless terrain, this is no decorative flourish. It's a practical tool encoded into identity.
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Cultural: The Great Bear is not a borrowed myth. Bears are central to Alaska — both as living creatures that define the landscape and as spiritual symbols in indigenous Alaskan cultures, including Aleut traditions.
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Aspirational: The North Star representing the "future state of Alaska" was prophetic. In 1927, statehood was decades away. Benny's flag imagined an Alaska that would one day stand as an equal in the union — the northernmost, the most wild, the most itself.
The judges were unanimous. Benny Benson's design won.
What Benny Won — And What He Lost
Benny received a $1,000 scholarship (worth approximately $18,000 today) and a gold-engraved watch. The scholarship funded his education and helped him build a life beyond the orphanage. He later became a diesel mechanic, married, raised a family, and lived quietly in Kodiak, Alaska, until his death in 1972.
But while his flag became iconic — adopted officially when Alaska achieved statehood in 1959 — Benny himself never sought the spotlight. He didn't capitalize on his fame. He didn't tour. He didn't write books or give speeches. He lived a working-class life in the state his design had come to represent.
There's something poignant in that. The boy who gave Alaska its most enduring symbol remained, in many ways, on the margins of the story that grew up around it. The flag became famous. Benny stayed humble.
His Aleut heritage, meanwhile, was rarely centered in retellings of the story. Early accounts focused on the "orphan boy" narrative — the plucky kid who won a contest. But Benny wasn't just any orphan. He was an Alaska Native child navigating a system designed to assimilate him. And the flag he designed drew from a worldview that predated American expansion into Alaska — one rooted in the land, the sky, and the animals that defined it.
Why the Alaska Flag Still Works
Most state flags are terrible. Cluttered seals on blue backgrounds. Text that can't be read from ten feet away. Design-by-committee compromises that satisfy no one and inspire nothing.
The Alaska flag works because it obeys the first rule of vexillology: simplicity. A child can draw it from memory. You can recognize it at a distance. It's bold in silhouette.
But it also works because it's specific. It doesn't try to represent everything. It represents Alaska — the northern sky, the wilderness, the navigation by stars, the ever-present sense that orientation matters here in ways it doesn't elsewhere.
And it works because it came from someone who understood Alaska not as a political abstraction but as a lived place. Benny Benson was Aleut, orphaned, growing up in Seward surrounded by mountains and ocean. When he looked up, he saw the Big Dipper not as a quaint myth but as a real pattern in a real sky that people used to find their way.
That authenticity — that rootedness in place — is what makes the Alaska flag more than just a pretty design. It's a true symbol, in the deepest sense of the word.
The Cultural Weight It Carries Now
Today, the Alaska flag appears on everything from state buildings to coffee mugs to hoodies worn by Alaskans living in the Lower 48 who want to signal where they're from. It's on float planes. It's tattooed on shoulders. It's flown at fishing lodges and on front porches in Anchorage and Fairbanks and tiny villages accessible only by plane.
It also carries meaning for Alaska Natives, who see in it a rare example of indigenous influence on state identity — not imposed from outside, but chosen, celebrated, and enduring. Benny Benson's heritage wasn't incidental to his vision. It was central.
The Alaska state song, "Alaska's Flag," written by Marie Drake, was later adopted to honor the design. It's sung in schools across the state. The flag and the song together form a rare cultural pairing — a symbol and a hymn that actually resonate, that people know, that matter.
In a political era where symbols are constantly contested and renegotiated, the Alaska flag remains broadly unifying. It belongs to everyone in the state, but it came from a specific boy with a specific background at a specific moment — and that particularity is what gives it weight.
Displaying the Alaska Flag Today
Whether you're an Alaskan living far from home, a visitor who fell in love with the Last Frontier, or someone who simply admires great flag design, the Alaska flag makes a statement. It's a flag you can display with pride not just because it represents a place, but because it represents good design, a compelling origin story, and a vision of place that resonates beyond borders.
Flying the Alaska flag at home — especially if you're from there — is a way of keeping a connection alive. It's a signal to neighbors. It's a reminder of mountains, midnight sun, northern lights, and the kind of weather that builds character. It's also a tribute, whether you know it or not, to a thirteen-year-old Aleut boy who saw something essential in the stars and put it on paper.
Frequently Asked Questions
Q: When was the Alaska flag officially adopted?
A: The flag was officially adopted on May 2, 1927, as the territorial flag, and it continued as the state flag when Alaska became the 49th U.S. state in 1959. No changes were made to Benny Benson's original design.
Q: What do the stars on the Alaska flag represent?
A: The seven stars form the Big Dipper (Ursa Major), symbolizing strength and the Great Bear. The eighth star is Polaris, the North Star, symbolizing Alaska's northern location and its future. Together, they also serve as a navigational guide — the Big Dipper points to true north.
Q: Why is the Alaska flag considered one of the best-designed state flags?
A: It's simple, bold, and instantly recognizable. It avoids the common pitfalls of state flag design — no cluttered seals, no text, no complex imagery. It ranked 5th in a 2001 survey by the North American Vexillological Association, ahead of 67 other state and provincial flags.
Q: Was Benny Benson recognized for his design later in life?
A: Yes. In 1963, Alaska's legislature honored him officially, and he was celebrated at statehood events. However, Benny lived quietly and humbly in Kodiak, working as a mechanic and raising his family. He passed away in 1972.
You'll find the Alaska flag in multiple formats in our Alaska flag collection — from durable outdoor flags built for the elements to indoor presentation sets perfect for homes and offices. Whether you're displaying it out of heritage, admiration, or love for a place that got its flag right the first time, it's a design that deserves to fly.