The Professional Tramp and His Seven Languages
A recurring visitor to the Post-Intelligencer office earns his keep with tall tales, Shakespearean quotes, and a refined taste for cocktails.
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.
Among the many human oddities who occasionally visit the office of the Post-Intelligencer is a veritable tramp—a man who scarcely conceals the fact that his one ambition is to live at other peoples' expenses. He is a big Scotchman with long brown hair and bushy whiskers. He claims to be a man of education, having been a wheat buyer in San Francisco before being ruined by a rascally partner. Depending on who he is speaking to, he claims to be a former bank president or an ex-newspaper man who speaks seven languages. He frequently quotes 'Bobbie' Burns to sweeten his pitch. Recently, he approached County Treasurer Byron Phelps, who gave him an order for a meal. The tramp's bill of fare, written on the back of the order, was quite specific: a cocktail (15 cents), an oyster cocktail (10 cents), a steak (45 cents), and a cigar (15 cents). He even included a Scotch grace for his meal. He is an expert at his business, and any man who desires to learn the art of wheedling others cannot do better than to study at his feet.
“Some hae meat that canna eat, / And some hae nane that want it: / But I hae meat and I can eat, / And say the Lord be thankit.”
This portrait of a 'professional tramp' captures the era's complex relationship with urban poverty and homelessness. While the reporter mocks the man's 'gullibility' tactics, the narrative also reveals a transient figure navigating the harsh economic realities of the 1890s, rhyming with how Seattle grapples with the visibility and stories of its unhoused citizens today.
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