The Tragedy at the Snoqualmie Ford
A day of innocent fun turned to horror at North Bend when a wagon crossing the river was swallowed by the current, claiming a young boy's life.
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.
On Tuesday afternoon, David Batcher, a 13-year-old lad, was drowned at North Bend. A. H. Jose, of that village, who is now at the Snoqualmie Hotel, brought news of the accident. He stated that on Tuesday afternoon, Thomas Little, who drives a team for S. D. Gustin, picked up half a dozen school children who were begging for a ride. Little, a young fellow of 21, then started to ford the south fork of the Snoqualmie at North Bend, intending to clean the wheels of the wagon and the legs of the horses. He drove through the stream once in safety and then started to cross again at a point where the water was deeper. As the wagon rolled in, all of the children but two—a brother and sister by the name of Batcher—jumped out into the shallow water. A moment later, the horses were floundering beyond their depth, and the swift current overturned the wagon. The driver and the two children were thrown into the water. As the wagon was swept down against the bridge, the little girl, who had clung to one of the wheels, came to the top. Her brother, by a singular chance, had caught her by the ankle, and thus drew himself to the surface. He told her to let go of the wheel and he would take her ashore, but she refused. Then he struck out for himself, and the current carried him down and out of sight. Thomas Little, the driver, swam ashore, and then saw the girl still grasping the wheel, though the water swept over her head every now and then and half drowned her. Little plunged in again and brought her to land. A search party was organized for the body of the boy, and some time after midnight it was found in a jam of logs half a mile down the stream. Strangely enough, the body was turned so that the white hand and a little of the arm were sticking out of the water and waving to and fro as the current beat against them.
“Strangely enough, the body was turned so that the white hand and a little of the arm were sticking out of the water and waving to and fro as the current beat against them.”
Rivers in the Cascades remain notoriously dangerous during the spring melt, a fact that modern recreationalists in the Snoqualmie Valley still contend with. While the bustling town of North Bend has evolved from a logging and transit outpost to a suburban destination, the inherent power of the Snoqualmie River's spring surge remains a constant, deadly reminder of the region's untamed topography.
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