The Opium Evil: How 48 Cans Slipped Past Seattle's Customs Inspector
In 1877, a Seattle paper raged about opium smuggling, corruption in the revenue service, and a den where 'white men, Chinese and Indians' met—a racist panic that echoes today's drug crises.
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 growth and increase of this deadly and deleterious drug in the principal cities of the Pacific Coast is enough to alarm all who are interested not only in the protection of the revenue, but also in the welfare of our youth. We have no hesitation in the statement that in this city is a den where white men, Chinese and Indians all meet on the debasing equality engendered by the use of this nauseous drug. The youth of this city are being contaminated with this pestilence to a greater extent than their parents have any idea of, and such is the increase of the appetite for it that men once acquiring it desire to break off and are unable to do so till their intellects are fairly destroyed.
Again, the revenue is being defrauded to a fearful extent by the Chinese smugglers who travel between here and Victoria, disguised as Cassiar miners. About a fortnight ago, a small steamer plying between Sound ports arrived here having on board a large number of Chinese passengers that had come to Tacoma from Victoria and were supposed to have opium in their possession. Inspector Hyde waited for the boat's arrival and made a search of every passenger who landed, faithfully and carefully, after which he went home to supper. As soon as he was out of sight, two Chinamen came down the wharf and got down into the steamer's fore hatch, where they fished out a small box containing forty-eight cans of opium. This was so thoroughly distributed about town that no two cans could be found in any one house.
The recent seizure of opium in San Francisco, as mentioned in our telegraphic columns, has led to investigations which prove the complicity of the revenue officials in that city with the smugglers. In fact the crookedness of Collector Shannon is no news in San Francisco. He was worth about $350,000 when he went into that office and now a half-million would not begin to "size his pile." His friends say he made his money in stocks, but there are some who know better. An agent of the Treasury Department named Clark was sent out here last year to work up these cases and traced Collector Shannon's complicity in the matter right home to the Custom House doors. He went back to Washington and reported to Secretary Bristow, who made the matter known to President Grant. But Gorham and Sargent were there and looked out for their faithful servant's scalp. The consequence was that Clark was discharged from the Treasury service and Bristow, finding it impossible for an honest Secretary to get along with a dishonest President, resigned his office in disgust.
We make no charge against the officers here for wilful dereliction of duty, for we believe Mr. Webster to be thoroughly conscientious; nor do we doubt the honesty of his subordinates. But we do know that for every pound of opium that pays duty into Puget Sound, three pounds get in without any taxation for revenue purposes. A great degree of vigilance is necessary and Tacoma needs even more watching than this city. The shipments of dried fish from here to Walla Walla are also a mere blind. Not a case leaves here but contains a can or two of opium. Too great vigilance cannot be exercised to check this growing evil.
“We do know that for every pound of opium that pays duty into Puget Sound, three pounds get in without any taxation for revenue purposes.”
Seattle's 1877 opium panic—steeped in racist caricature of Chinese immigrants—rhymes with today's fentanyl crisis, where a lucrative illegal market is met with punitive enforcement and xenophobic blame. The editorial's warnings about a drug that 'once acquired, men desire to break off' reads like a century-old echo of modern overdose headlines.
From readers
No comments yet. If you know something about this story — a correction, a family memory, a source — it belongs here.