The Ghost of the Seattle Enterprise: Stockholders Escape a Dead Newspaper's Debts
A receiver's long-running suit against 85 subscribers to the failed Seattle Enterprise collapses in court, but not before the paper's brief, fiery life is recalled — complete with a building-bulging press and a strike by its own printers.
The historic case of G. L. Faust, as receiver of the Seattle Enterprise Publishing Company, against H. F. Jones, William Rochester and eighty-five other defendants — an action to collect unpaid subscriptions on stock — came to an end in Judge Langley's court yesterday afternoon by the defendants agreeing to pay their own costs and the plaintiff to dismiss. The contention dates from February 21, 1890, when the receiver made demand on each of the defendants for a balance said to be due on unpaid subscription to the capital of the incorporation.
The publishing company, which was incorporated April 30, 1888, by W. E. Lockwood, H. F. Jones, J. C. Marmel, A. W. [??] and J. F. McDonald, was supposed to have a capital stock of $25,000, divided into shares of $25 each, and the various defendants, it was alleged, had subscribed to the stock. The company was sued in 1889 by Palmer Key, type founder, who recovered a judgment for $196, and in 1891 by Arthur Piper, who recovered a judgment for $1,040.40. Presently the company had wholly abandoned its business, and in January, 1891, went into the hands of a receiver, who brought the action and demanded payment against the stockholders in the sum of the two outstanding judgments.
Four of the many defendants claimed never to have subscribed to the corporation at all, while others admitted having contributed, but without the intention of becoming stockholders. The latter class of defendants answered substantially as follows: That some time in 1888 defendant made a voluntary contribution of a small sum of money, the exact amount being unknown, to H. F. Jones, who was representing the company, for the purpose of enabling it to get a start; that the contribution was made with the distinct understanding that the donor was not to be a subscriber to the stock, was not to have any interest whatever in the company, and was not to be liable for any of its debts. It was further answered that of the 1,000 shares only 250 had ever been subscribed, and that nearly one-half of the capital stock had not been subscribed at all.
When the case came before the court the complaint was hammered to pieces by successive onslaughts by the attorneys for the defense, who compelled the receiver to amend, and to amend. In the meantime the defendants became scattered, some of them died, and one, James Murphy, went to prison for the murder of Phil Dawe. One defect in the complaint was that the receiver had neglected to join all the proper parties defendant, and the result has been that the case was a long time coming up for final hearing, and when it did the amended complaint was only a remnant of the original.
This feature of the case, no doubt, influenced Judge Langley yesterday, when he heard that one of the defendants had died, to ask if he had succumbed to 'this complaint?' Yesterday the court, after listening to argument, sustained a demurrer to the complaint on the ground that it did not state facts sufficient to constitute a cause of action, and after a consultation the dismissal above referred to was agreed upon.
Among the eighty-five defendants are to be found the names of S. H. Piles, [Tracy?] brothers, Fred M. Peterson, J. R. [McKee?], Charles F. Monday, James Hamilton Lewis, L. C. Gilman, Charles T. Terry, B. F. Day, I. J. [Lichtenberg?], K. V. Osborne, [??] Petkovits, some of whom say that their names were added to the list of stockholders without their knowledge, and that the first intimation they had that they were at all connected with the defunct paper was when the receiver demanded that they pay up their 'capital stock.' Both Democrats and Republicans found themselves in the same situation. Yesterday one of the attorneys declared that 'the Democratic party was entitled [??],' but the Republican defendants were unable to see the matter in that light.
The Enterprise was started in the summer of 1888, and survived a few weeks. Frank Mussetter was editor, and Col. Will L. Visscher herald. Both were very forcible writers, and in consequence there was not much news in the paper. It was Democratic in politics, and in local affairs the organ of all soreheads, from the man who wanted church bells silenced to the man who had a grievance against the chief of police. Editor Mussetter had so much Italic type in his editorials that the typographical union charged double price and a half for the composition. Visscher endeavored to report water front news in a humorous style, and was soon persona non grata on the docks. The office of the paper was in the old Stetson-Post block, on Front street, and one night the weight of the press caused the side of the building to bulge out so that the whole force fled for their lives. The paper was finally closed by that remorseless enemy of newspapers with a mission — the typographical union — whose members struck for their pay.
“The paper was finally closed by that remorseless enemy of newspapers with a mission — the typographical union — whose members struck for their pay.”
The Seattle Enterprise lasted only weeks, but its collapse left a tangle of stock subscriptions and a typographical union strike that shuttered the presses. Today, media startups still grapple with the same forces — speculative capital, labor organizing, and the question of who pays when a venture fails. The old Stetson-Post block is gone, but the story of a newspaper that burned bright and died fast feels familiar in an era of digital media churn.
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