The Night Colfax Built an Opera House
A secret crew of Spokane masons raised the walls of a new theater in a single night—while the town's electric lights conveniently failed.
For some months past the people of Colfax have heard wild rumors of the intention of the band to erect an opera house some time in the future, but no three persons outside of that organization suspected until yesterday morning that there had been any definite shape to their many plans; but now the institution is an astonishing reality and one of which the city will be proud for many years to come. On Wednesday night there seemed to be something wrong with the electric light plant, and the streets were in total darkness. Inquiries were answered with the intelligence that the engine was out of order and the plant could not be operated. The people were satisfied with this reply and but little comment was made. Now, it seems to have been part of a plot on the part of the band to hide their scheme. Street loiterers had noticed for several days the beginning and progress upon the work of putting in the foundation of the new building on the Codd and Stravens lots north of the First National Bank, and in the few days immense piles of brick and lime had been hauled to the street in front of the place, but it caused little suspicion.
Soon after it got thoroughly dark Wednesday night a force of about seventy-five men were brought in from Spokane on a freight train, and silently nearing the Main Street bridge, armed with hods and trowels, marched to the place and silently began the work of laying the brick upon the new building. As that part of the street was obstructed and the night a dark one, no one passed near the building, and the ruse was not discovered. Stealthily the men passed up and down and along walls and rapidly they sprang upward through the night. By daylight the outside walls were finished, and before any one was astir on the streets yesterday morning the scaffolding was taken down, and there stood in magnificent elegance the proudest opera house in the Northwest.
Men, women and children thronged down the street dumb with astonishment and admiration. It seemed that nothing short of magic could have erected such a structure without causing suspicion of what was going on.
Just before daylight the masons finished their work and silently departed, while their places were filled with assistants, plumbers, decorators, painters, etc., and all day the work went noiselessly on inside the walls. The heavily curtained windows and closely fastened doors were besieged all day by anxious people but revealed nothing. At 7 o'clock a bill poster, armed with a brush, came down the street, stopped in front of the building, put up bills announcing that the Colfax Opera House Company would open with Messrs. J. W. Bryant and C. K. Irwin in the drama "Rip Van Winkle" at the Colfax opera house last night. When the announcement was read a long cheer of approval went up. The record news spread like wildfire, and when at 7 last night the curtain was thrown aside, the house was full.
“It seemed that nothing short of magic could have erected such a structure without causing suspicion of what was going on.”
In 1895 an opera house was a town's bid for respectability and a stop on the rail circuit; Colfax's overnight stunt was boosterism as theater. The building is long gone, but the caper captures the era's conviction that a small Washington town could conjure civic grandeur overnight—if the railroad and the masons cooperated.
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