The Disappearing Postmaster of Columbia City
Dr. J. Henry Johnson leaves his wife, his post office, and his medicine practice behind, citing a life that was 'a perfect torment.'
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.
The town of Columbia, a few miles south of Seattle, was thrown into a state of excitement yesterday when it became known that Dr. J. Henry Johnson, the druggist, school clerk, justice of the peace, and postmaster, had suddenly gone away, deserting a young wife to whom he was married only last September. He left his business in good condition, has no debts, and the cause of his sudden disappearance was explained in a letter to his assistant: 'It is impossible for me to stand to live any longer with May. My life is a perfect torment. I have not been happy one whole week since we married. I have done all in my power to keep her in a good humor, but without success so I have concluded that I would rather go away and leave her everything I have, except about $50 I have in hand, which will take Winnie and I out of the country.' Dr. Johnson had arrived in Seattle a year ago from Indianapolis and had opened a drug store in Columbia. He leaves behind his wife, who is reported to be prostrated over the disappearance.
“I had as soon be dead and in hell as live in hell.”
Columbia City was a distinct town before being annexed into Seattle; today it remains a vibrant neighborhood along Rainier Avenue. While the dramatic, sudden abandonment of a spouse and public office by a local official is rare, the high-stress, itinerant nature of life in late 19th-century boomtowns often led to such abrupt personal ruptures.
From readers
No comments yet. If you know something about this story — a correction, a family memory, a source — it belongs here.