The War-Ready Chief of Ballast Island
Grandson of Chief Seattle, 'Tyee Peter' rallies his followers to defend the U.S. against Chile—and reflects on a history of misunderstanding with the military.
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.
"Tyee Peter" is a well-built, gray-haired Indian of uncertain age who is at present living in a tepee on Ballast Island with his six wives and twelve children. He is chief of the Neah Bay and Tulalip Indians, numbering about 500 braves, and his home is at Neah Bay. He was at police headquarters a few days ago, and obtained permission from the chief to remain on the island until the arrival of his son, "Sleepy Jack," with the family schooner. The old Indian had been in the city two days, having come down to do his season's trading.
"Tyee Peter" is a grandson of Chief Seattle. He is highly offended at the attitude maintained by the boastful Chileans toward the United States, and he is anxious to volunteer his services and that of his 500 braves in the event of war. Yesterday afternoon, "Tyee Peter" entertained his encampment with a long harangue in Chinook, working himself into a frenzy. "Uncle Sam has been very good to my people," he told his followers. "I will offer Uncle Sam our services—600 fearless men—and who then can stand against us?" And every buck within hearing jumped to his feet and yelled, "Nawitka!" (Yes!).
"Tyee Peter" was very anxious to join General O. O. Howard's forces during the Indian wars. However, when he arrived to offer his services in 1881, he had sought liquid courage in a pint of whiskey. When he reached the general, he was so intoxicated that it required two soldiers to help him stand. The general scowled and asked, "Where do you live?" Upon hearing Peter had five wives, the general dismissed him. "Peter, you go back to Port Townsend and look after your wives," the general said. Peter was then dumped into a badger hole to sober up, an indignity he never forgot.
The story captures a moment of intense regional jingoism in 1892 that feels uncomfortably modern, as the U.S. hovered on the brink of conflict with Chile (the Baltimore Crisis). It also highlights the erasure of Indigenous voices and leadership by 19th-century military figures—a persistent theme in Seattle's history.
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