The Palace of Ink and Pine
A satirical look at a new, supposedly 'palatial' three-story printing office in Seattle, which turns out to be just one story above a Chinese wash-house.
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.
Our new three-story printing office has been announced in the columns of the Intelligencer, and the public has been anxiously waiting for a detailed description of the palatial edifice. We passed round by the sawmill, brewery, and Chinese wash-house yesterday to take a look at the wonderful structure in that vicinity which has been so extensively advertised. It is three stories—that’s a fact. That is, it is just one story above the Chinese wash-house, second door from it—giving Higgins a physical, if not a moral, elevation above the Chinaman, of one grade. But then the main entrance to the Intelligencer office is in the second story, on a level with the sidewalk, the first story being below that grade; so it will be seen that if Higgins is above the Chinaman on one side, he can get as low down as the Chinaman on the other. This grand three-story building, which is to be occupied exclusively by the Intelligencer, is one of Yesler’s series of tenant houses which he rents for one per cent a month on first cost, which will make the rent of this building come at nearly or quite $25 a month. It may be a trifle less, as it is built entirely in Cherry street and therefore has no ground rent to pay. It is a grand thing to have a three-story printing office. It is as good as a magnificent show bill to advertise an inferior performance.
“It is a grand thing to have a three-story printing office. It is as good as a magnificent show bill to advertise an inferior performance.”
This 1876 critique of 'palatial' commercial development highlights a perennial Seattle obsession: the tension between grandiose civic marketing and the reality of hastily constructed, often precarious tenant housing. Today, as then, the gap between the polished advertisement of a new building and its actual contribution to the streetscape remains a flashpoint for city life.
From readers
No comments yet. If you know something about this story — a correction, a family memory, a source — it belongs here.