The Winchester Defense of Beacon Hill
A woman home alone confronts a home intruder with a rifle, forcing a hasty retreat into the night.
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 bold attempt to enter the residence of H. J. McSorley at Beacon Hill last Friday night at 10:30 o’clock was frustrated by the bravery of Mrs. McSorley, who drove off the invader with a Winchester rifle. Mrs. McSorley was alone in the house, her husband being downtown on business. She heard a noise at the front door and, thinking it might be her husband, went to let him in. Due to the late hour, she was cautious and called out, 'Who is there?' A gruff voice on the outside told her to open the door without any nonsense. She realized it was not her husband and refused to comply, asking the man who he was and what he wanted. 'It don't make any difference what I want,' was the reply, 'and you can't fool me. I know that the Youngs live here, and if you don't open that door I will break it down.' 'Well, if you do,' said Mrs. McSorley, 'I will shoot you dead.' With these words, she stepped into the front room where Mr. McSorley’s Winchester rifle was resting in a corner and picked it up. As she looked up, the face of the man who had been at the door appeared at the window. 'Oh, you rascal!' he yelled, but Mrs. McSorley walked toward the window and as the man caught sight of the weapon, he began to swear and disappeared into the dark area.
“Well, if you do, I will shoot you dead.”
A century and a half later, the image of a resident defending their home remains a staple of local civic discourse, though the tools and the context of urban security have shifted dramatically. This story captures the grit of pioneer-era Seattle, where households were often left to defend themselves in areas that felt far removed from the city center.
From readers
No comments yet. If you know something about this story — a correction, a family memory, a source — it belongs here.