The Tragedy of a Heartbroken Immigrant in North Seattle
After his sweetheart ended their three-month courtship, a young Icelander attempted to take his own life in a ravine-side garret.
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.
Gutjon Paulson attempted suicide yesterday morning about 10 o'clock, in the garret of a small house on Victoria Street, near Harrison Street, by shooting himself in the breast with a 44-caliber revolver. He stated the cause was the desertion of his sweetheart. Gutjon Paulson is a man about 25 years old, while Mrs. Dorothy Johnson, with whom he was enamored, is a person several years his senior. They both live in the vicinity of Harrison Street, in North Seattle, on the cliff overlooking the bay.
Three months ago, Paulson fell in love with Mrs. Johnson and desired to marry her. His wooing went along smoothly until yesterday morning, when he was seen to come from Mrs. Johnson’s house looking much disheartened. Paulson soon returned to his room in the garret of a one-and-a-half-story house situated on the edge of a ravine which runs down to the beach. Five minutes later, neighbors heard a sharp report and found Paulson stretched upon his back, apparently lifeless. A revolver lay upon the bed near his right hand.
The patrol wagon was called, and the would-be suicide was taken to Grace Hospital. On the way, he cried like a child, lamenting that he was not dead. Dr. Sparling examined him and found that the bullet had entered the sternum about two inches above the heart; miraculously, it missed his lungs and lodged near the spine. Paulson told the doctor that his girl had 'thrown him over' for a man named Mort Borstein, who was coming to Seattle in a short time. Mrs. Johnson, an Icelander like her suitor, confirmed she had ended the relationship but refused to elaborate on the details of their courtship, noting only that she is an industrious woman who owns property in the city.
“On the way to the hospital he cried like a child, and lamented that he was not dead.”
This story highlights the intense social and emotional isolation that often characterized early immigrant life in Seattle. While the romantic dynamics of 1892 seem distant, the precarious nature of the 'ravine' housing in North Seattle underscores the long-standing divide between those who owned property and those renting in the city's challenging terrain.
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