A Labor Day Skirmish at the Salvation Army
A reveler celebrating Labor Day early finds himself in a brawl after a nap at the Salvation Army barracks.
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.
A. Anderson stayed out to celebrate Labor Day in advance last evening and drifted into the Salvation Army barracks on Jackson Street, where he went sound asleep. At the close of the exercises, one of the brethren patted him on the shoulder and disturbed his slumbers. Anderson did not seem to understand where he was and acted in an objectionable manner, whereupon the brethren remonstrated. Whitechapel whisky had evidently commenced to work, for Anderson struck from the shoulder and disabled his adviser. The racket that followed attracted the attention of Officer Glasscock, who forwarded Anderson to the police station. Some one called him a name, to which he objected, and the scene that followed was exciting. Jailer Noble, Captain Hogle, and Detective Cave were the objects of his fury, and for over two hours he raved about his cell, swearing like a pirate. He agreed to keep it up for twenty-four hours, but fell asleep at 1:00.
“Whitechapel whisky had evidently commenced to work, for Anderson struck from the shoulder and disabled his adviser.”
Jackson Street in Pioneer Square was the epicenter of the city's nightlife and social relief efforts in the 1890s. This story illustrates the era's frequent friction between the city's burgeoning temperance movements and the hard-living culture of the laboring class.
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