The Hidden Anarchist Dens of Old Seattle
A reporter goes undercover into the city's dimly lit saloons to find the radicals, the red-eyed agitators, and the illicit literature that supposedly threatened the order of the growing town.
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.
In the shadow of the business district, the 'World' reporter made a tour of the anarchist dens. These were mostly found in saloons where the air was thick with the smell of cheap beer and tobacco. One typical rendezvous is that of big, blonde, heavy-set Harry Schwab. It is located in a basement at No. 40 First street, in the heart of the city. When the reporter reached the door, Harry Schwab was without, making strenuous efforts to get a cask of Rhine wine down his cellar steps. His wife, a pretty German woman, presided over the bar, and his little girl and daughter behaved themselves with a harmless rocking horse and a primer on the floor. In a dark, narrow passage leading to dimly lighted windows 106 feet in the rear, was a double row of beer tables, each with people sleeping, others drinking, and a few reading. One old beast was snoring, producing a disgusting, guttural sound. With the gin and beer of the bar were a number of anarchistic sorts, including an autobiography of Bebel, his speech in court, letters written by Herr Most, and like trash. The pamphlets sold for 10 or 15 cents, and doubtless at made Herr Schwab a handsome profit. A haunt in the same anarchy line was found at No. 407 Second street. This is a room run by anarchists, where not a drop of beer is sold. The World representative drank Rhine wine across the bar with a man who makes a success of washing his face only every New Year. The saloon is run by M. Beta, and is about the size of an ordinary hall bedroom in a boarding house. The wall is decorated with portraits of William Tell doing the Dr. Chierry act, and one or two other pictures of like quality. Rays of heat from the stove can be felt in every quarter of the room.
“A haunt in the same anarchy line was found at No. 407 Second street... where not a drop of beer is sold. The World representative drank Rhine wine across the bar with a man who makes a success of washing his face only every New Year.”
The Gilded Age in Seattle was defined by a massive tension between the city's rapid expansion and the pockets of radicalism that bubbled in its working-class basements. This report captures the era's classic 'red scare' journalism, profiling local agitators who were essentially treated as public health threats—a precursor to the intense surveillance of labor and political groups that would characterize Seattle for the next century.
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