The Custom House City That Almost Wasn't
A skeptical observer reports on the slow progress and eccentric realities of the newly established custom house in Port Angeles.
We find ourselves still living a somewhat retired life in a secure situation fronting upon a most excellent harbor, and backed by a range of impenetrable mountains. The harbor is a good one, and we have all the benefits of being a port of entry, which may be summed up as follows: Almost every day one or more vessels make their appearance off the head of the spit, and lying to within two or three miles of the city, send a boat on shore, from which the master disembarks, walks up to the custom house, clears his ship, and quits our harbor. James Dillard, in spite of the prohibitions of Victor [Smith], has opened a whisky mill within the sacred limits of the proposed Oberlin of the Pacific. Then we have the hospital—a public institution resulting to us from the custom house—which brings us a population of strapped sailors who board at the hospital and spend their time introducing customs among the Indians. The buildings of the city, exclusive of Indian huts, do not exceed twenty-five. The principal trade of the place is in potatoes and shingles. Considerable excitement has been caused here by a suit for trespass brought in the U.S. District court by Stanton, who claimed the ground before the reservation was located, against all of the parties who have built houses in the proposed Oberlin.
“The city itself is the best illustration of the extent of its resources, and the extent of its resources is the best illustration of the extent of the city.”
Port Angeles was envisioned by local booster Victor Smith as a major Pacific metropolis (the 'Oberlin of the Pacific'), but as this 1863 report notes, it was essentially a small, isolated settlement defined by a custom house and a few huts. The story captures the classic Pacific Northwest cycle of speculative 'boom' townsite promotion meeting the harsh reality of geography and logistics.
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