The Tragic End of a Seattle Art Teacher
After struggling to establish her art classes in Seattle, a young California woman takes her own life using poison purchased at a local drugstore.
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.
Last fall Edith Ewing, a young lady, probably 19 years of age, came to Seattle from Oakland, Cal., where her parents reside. She was well educated, and had chosen art as her chief vocation, and had come to Seattle to open a studio and support herself by teaching painting. She came with letters to Mrs. J. J. Post, Mrs. Geo. W. Stetson and others here. She at once traded her home with Mrs. Post and organized her art class. She had been very quiet, a unassuming woman who paid strict attention to her own business and let other people's affairs entirely alone. For the past two or three weeks Miss Ewing has at times appeared despondent and several times has spoken of her art to teach not being successful in a pecuniary point of view as she had anticipated. Finally she concluded to return to her home in California. On Monday morning she went down town and paid up some little bills she had contracted during the month, among which was a small account at Mr. Oleric's drug store. While there she said to the proprietor, 'Oh, by the way, Mr. Oleric, I want to get an ounce of strychnine. The housekeeper, Mrs. Blaine, asked me to get it for her.' The druggist, being quite well acquainted with the young lady, proceeded to put up fifteen grains of the poison for her. As he did so he said in a jocose way, 'Ever since I sold that laudanum to Julius Leifman I have been careful who I sell poison to.' The young lady did not show the least agitation, but took the little package and left the store. During the afternoon Mrs. Blaine, the housekeeper, went to Miss Ewing's apartments, and chatted with her for some time. Shortly after leaving she heard the young lady utter a scream. Mrs. Burke, a neighbor living in the block, ordered a hot foot bath and a strong emetic. The young lady flatly refused to take the emetic, saying that she had taken it in order to die. Dr. K. L. Smith was sent for, but the deadly drug had done its work of destruction, and five minutes after the doctor arrived, poor Edith Ewing breathed her last.
“I want to get an ounce of strychnine. The housekeeper, Mrs. Blaine, asked me to get it for her.”
This story reflects the era's lack of mental health resources and the isolation of newcomers attempting to build careers in a rapidly developing city. Today, Seattle continues to grapple with similar pressures of economic displacement and the struggle for young professionals to find their footing in a high-cost environment.
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