The Price of a Prank on the Seattle Frontier
A late-night practical joke almost turns fatal when a nervous citizen, conditioned by the rough-and-tumble reality of the city, nearly draws his pistol on a group of teenagers.
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.
One dark night this week, as one of our citizens was going from his place of business to his home, he approached a suspicious-looking corner where the fence, being built on a bank, would effectually secrete any person around the corner. He walked rapidly, and just as he turned the angle, he was startled by the sharp click of a pistol hammer. He sprang sidewise and made a movement for his own shooting iron, when a loud laugh from some boys discovered that he was the victim of a practical joke. He gave them a talking-to and went home. We might add that boys and others cannot well afford to play such practical jokes, as many people in Seattle carry arms, and they may use them on such occasions before the joke is discovered, and put a quietus on the joker of the most practical kind.
“Many people in Seattle carry arms, and they may use them on such occasions before the joke is discovered, and put a quietus on the joker of the most practical kind.”
While contemporary Seattle worries over policing and urban safety, this 1878 clipping reveals a city where the 'suspicious corner' was a place of genuine, lethal paranoia. The casual mention of citizens carrying sidearms for self-defense and the editor's warning that 'the joker' might be killed highlights how the frontier habit of instant, armed response preceded the city's modern administrative order.
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