The Forgetful Pioneer: A Seattle Character Remembered
Before he became a fixture of the city's early business history, Isaiah Waddell was known for his generous spirit, his roller-boy antics at the local press, and a legendary inability to find his own place of business.
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.
Isaiah Waddell, better known as 'Ike' Waddell, who died on Monday at the age of 59, was one of the oldest and best-known residents of Seattle for many years. He came to the city in 1868 and started a little tin store and plumber shop on Mill street, at the head of Commercial street, where he was joined in 1870 by Z. C. Miles. From the small beginning made by Mr. Waddell sprang the great house of Z. C. Miles Co. Mr. Waddell was a man of most generous impulses. During the early days of journalism in Seattle, when the Intelligencer was printed on the old Ramage press, S. L. Maxwell, its founder, was compelled to depend upon help to assist him in the mechanical department. Mr. Waddell would often close his own place of business to work as a 'roller boy' on publication day. He became known as the most forgetful man in town. One day he left his store to do some work, and passing a saloon, he left his tools outside and went in to get a lemonade. When he came out, he could not remember whither he was bound. He called a small boy and said: 'Sonny, here's 10 cents. Go down to Waddell & Miles' tin store and ask Mr. Miles where Mr. Waddell is.' The boy took the coin, arrived at the store, and told Mr. Miles: 'Mr. Waddell is up on the corner and he gave me 10 cents to come here and ask you where he is!' Mr. Miles, amused, told the boy: 'Tell him he is up at Joe McNaught's.' The boy brought the answer back, and Mr. Waddell went on his way rejoicing.
“Tell him he is up at Joe McNaught's.”
Isaiah Waddell's story captures the informal, interconnected nature of Seattle's Pioneer Square in the 1870s, where business and social life often blurred. His 'forgetfulness'—and the community's gentle handling of it—stands in stark contrast to the hyper-professional, high-pressure real estate climate that defines the same geography today.
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