The Constable Who Walked Off With the Diamond Ring
A $150 raffle at a South Second Street barber shop ended before the drawing could begin when a creditor arrived with a writ of attachment.
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 CONSTABLE WON THE RING. His Writ of Attachment Froze the Winning Ring Ticket.
There was a crowd of disappointed and astounded sports Monday night at Zempel's barber shop on South Second street, who, after waiting patiently for the occurrence of a raffle for a diamond ring, watched an officer of the law walk off with the bauble in his possession.
The ring was the property of one M. Rosenthal, who had decided that the most remunerative method of disposing of it was to have a raffle. Accordingly he had tickets, representing a valuation of $150, printed, and for several days he circulated these among his speculative acquaintances with a fondness for jewelry.
Last night was the time set for the raffle, and at 8 o'clock a considerable number of ticket holders were on hand. Rosenthal was a little late, but in a few moments showed up smiling, with the diamond sparkling on his finger.
As the sequel proved, a creditor of Rosenthal's, one Henry Simmons, who held an unpaid promissory note, got wind of the proposed raffle and took advantage of the opportunity to insure the payment of his claim. When Rosenthal appeared with the ring it had to be passed around among "the boys" to be examined and admired. The drawing had hardly begun before a special constable, with a writ of attachment from Justice [name illegible], took possession of the ring while serving the writ, and before the astonished sports could move their breath he had disappeared out of the door with the diamond in his custody.
“Before the astonished sports could move their breath he had disappeared out of the door with the diamond in his custody.”
Raffles and prize drawings still sit in a legal gray zone, and debt collection remains a high-stakes contest. In 1895 Seattle, a creditor could turn a public drawing into a courtroom seizure in minutes—a reminder that a prize is only as secure as the claims against it.
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