Death to Traitors: The Farmer Who Refused the Oath
Charles F. Gloystein vanished after he refused to join a secret Silver Federation lodge. Washington newspapers called it political murder—but no body was found.
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.
The disappearance of Charles F. Gloystein remains a mystery and likely will for many a day. Until it is cleared and the motive for the cowardly and treacherous crime laid bare, the Silver Federation will rest under a cloud. As the famous Morgan affair damaged the Masonic order—though we believe unjustly—so will the Gloystein case damage the Federation.
Press opinions differed sharply. The Yakima Republic said that if political intolerance was at the bottom of the affair, no effort should be spared to place the blame where it belonged. The Spokane Outburst called attempts to blacken Gloystein’s character “more dastardly than his murder.” The Ballard Searchlight retorted that a man who would stir up strife by posting an obnoxious signboard might also figure in a foul conspiracy. The White River Journal called the abduction and probable murder “one of the worst outrages ever perpetrated in this state.”
Felix Pugh had returned from the Mica neighborhood, where he had been persistently working on clues. “I can only state,” he said, “that hardly a shadow of doubt remains that Gloystein was murdered.” Facts had come to light explaining the warning placard attached to Gloystein’s effigy: “Death to traitors.” Gloystein had gone partly into the Freeman’s Protective Silver Federation. He was told its purpose was to help members during hard times and that no lawlessness was contemplated. Taken to the lodge room for initiation, he soon discovered his error. At the point where initiates were given a chance to withdraw, he refused to go farther and declared his lack of sympathy with what had been revealed to him. “Remember your oath,” came the warning as he walked toward the door.
After he was hanged in effigy, Gloystein told a friend and expressed fear that his life would be taken. About the same time, when he was standing boldly for his convictions and defying the Populists, one political opponent warned him that he had better go slow or he would “go the way of Morgan.” It is believed that this peril was what Gloystein withheld from his wife. The murder conspiracy seemed carefully planned and carefully executed. Had the murderers shot him on his doorstep there would have been no doubt in the public mind. So they took him away and concealed his body, expecting a doubt would be raised, and realizing that until the body was discovered there could be no conviction for murder.
““Remember your oath,” came the warning as he walked toward the door.”
The Gloystein case grew out of the 1890s silver and Populist fever, when rural debt and party loyalty could turn a neighbor into a suspect. Its competing newspaper verdicts—martyr or provocateur—feel familiar in an age of partisan media. Without a body, the case never got the trial that might have settled it.
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