The Daily Commute: A Seattle Tragedy and the City's Growing Pains
While Seattle leaders focused on the expansion of railroads and the promise of the Seattle, Lake Shore & Eastern Railway, a grieving mother buried her child, marking the harsh reality of urban development in 1887.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
The little son of Mrs. Tribble, who was so severely burned Wednesday evening, died yesterday morning from the effects of his injuries. The funeral will take place today at 10 o'clock, from the residence of Mrs. Wellman, on Second street. Meanwhile, in the city's race toward progress, the Seattle, Lake Shore & Eastern Railway Company continues its construction. Mr. Sorber’s piledriver, the Tyan, was yesterday engaged in driving piles between Clise's Wharf and the Commercial Mill for the railroad’s path through the area. Spikes and other editorial material belonging to the Seattle, Lake Shore & Eastern Railway Company are also being laid on scows at the Queen Dock, preparatory to being towed to South Seattle.
“The little son of Mrs. Tribble, who was so severely burned Wednesday evening, died yesterday morning from the effects of his injuries.”
In 1887, Seattle was a frontier boomtown tearing itself apart to make room for the infrastructure of the future, often at a terrible human cost. Today’s headlines regarding Seattle’s constant construction, the displacement of residents for massive transit projects, and the struggle for safe, livable density reflect the same friction between the city's rapid growth and the lives of those navigating its streets.
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