The Great Kennewick Snake Hunt
A quiet, sultry Tuesday afternoon takes a turn when the local editor comes face-to-face with a five-foot intruder on a downtown sidewalk.
And some men have greatness thrust upon them. Tuesday afternoon the editor saw a snake and killed it. The afternoon was quiet and sultry, the editor was sober and it was a fine snake as snakes go. It measured five feet two inches in length and was rather heavy set for a snake. It was a very accommodating sort of reptile and held its head still on the sidewalk curb just above King’s store, while being killed. The editor didn’t inquire as to its ancestry or by what right it came to be where it was, consequently little is known of its family tree. It has been named most everything in the snake catalogue from a Boa-Constrictor to a Blue Racer, but nobody presumed to call it a Rattler because it was plain black and had a bald tail. Evidently it was left behind by the Barnes circus. If so, Al. G. can have what’s left by applying to Chief Copeland, who officiated with a shovel at the funeral “somewhere in Kennewick.” We wish to express our thanks to somebody for leaving that iron rod up by that tree but before next snake killing time we wish somebody would cut the chain off the end of it because it rapped our knuckles all same school ma’am ruler.
“The editor didn’t inquire as to its ancestry or by what right it came to be where it was.”
Local news columns of the early 20th century were often defined by these vignettes of civic whimsy, where the editor served as both narrator and town character. While modern journalism has largely shed this personal, informal tone, these accounts provide rare, tangible snapshots of the social texture of the downtown core.
From readers
No comments yet. If you know something about this story — a correction, a family memory, a source — it belongs here.