A Neighborhood 'Joke' Ends in the Patrol Wagon
A local grocer is held at gunpoint on Rollin Street, only to discover the masked highwaymen are school-aged boys.
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.
Wildy Van Dyke, aged 15, son of George P. Van Dyke, a conductor on the Consolidated Street Railway Company, in company with another boy whose identity is unknown, held up Allen B. Colegrove, the grocer, on Rollin Street last evening and robbed him of $41. Colegrove, by an unexpected movement, put the youthful highwaymen to flight and captured Van Dyke, who returned the money and declared the whole affair a joke. Both boys wore black masks. Colegrove has a store at 323 Rollin Street and lives at 306 Orion Street. Before closing his store last night he put a sack containing $41 in his rear pocket and picked out a bundle of kindling wood to take home. A short distance from the store he saw two persons rapidly approaching and before he realized what was up, one of them shoved a revolver under his nose and exclaimed in real highwayman style, 'Throw up your hands.' Colegrove saw that he was at the mercy of two masked men, or at least he thought them to be men. Like a wise man, he held up his hands. At this point the second highwayman took the sack of money. The idea of losing the money gave Colegrove such a sudden start that he dropped the kindling and made a wild strike at the gun. The move was so unexpected that the inexperienced highwaymen lost confidence and ran. Colegrove chased the one with the money and caught him, only to find he had a mere boy. The patrol wagon was called and the youth was hurried to headquarters.
“The boy iterated his statement that it was a joke, but spoiled his tale a moment later by denying the identity of his comrade.”
This 1894 incident in what was then the outskirts of town reflects a recurring tension in Seattle’s history between the 'booster' image of a safe, prosperous city and the reality of youth crime. While the 'joke' defense is a timeless juvenile excuse, the swift, heavy-handed police response—taking a child to the Chief’s private office—highlights the era's severe approach to juvenile delinquency.
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