Tragic Drowning of a Teamster
A Seattle teamster's solitary night ends in the chilling waters beneath the Commercial Street bridge.
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.
It was learned yesterday that the family home of J.B. Showalter, the teamster whose body was found on the tide flats Tuesday night, is at Snohomish. He has a mother, two sisters, a brother and a stepfather living there. Yesterday, his brother, W.C. Showalter, who is an expressman, telegraphed instructing that the body be shipped to Snohomish on the first train. There is no doubt but that Showalter fell off the Commercial Street bridge while under the influence of liquor. He had been seen about the saloons on Washington street with several companions, all drinking and having a high time generally. At 12 o'clock his companions deserted him and he strolled into a saloon at 531 Commercial street and went to sleep in a chair near the stove. He was awakened by the bartender at 1:15 o'clock. He walked out and said: 'I guess I'll go down to the stable and go to sleep.' He was accompanied by a large Newfoundland dog. In about fifteen minutes the dog returned alone, entered the saloon, smelled about the chair in which his master had been asleep and, with an anxious whine, ran outside again and disappeared. The fact that the watch found on the body had stopped at 1:34 indicates that Showalter had really started for the stable, and in the darkness had fallen off into the water and drowned. He was 28 years of age and unmarried.
“In about fifteen minutes the dog returned alone, entered the saloon, smelled about the chair in which his master had been asleep and, with an anxious whine, ran outside again and disappeared.”
The waterfront tide flats mentioned were eventually filled in to create the industrial landscape of today's Pioneer Square and SODO districts. Showalter's story—a solitary death following a night out—remains a grim, familiar urban rhythm in the city's history, punctuated by the loyalty of his Newfoundland dog.
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