The Complicated Legacy of Harry Morgan
A Tacoma businessman known for operating theaters and gambling houses dies, sparking a defense of his character and quiet philanthropy.
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.
Tacoma reports the death of Harry Morgan, one of the most widely known men in the city. He had been subject to severe, life-threatening illnesses, and two weeks ago suffered a spell that neared fatal. Though he rallied, he suffered a relapse and died yesterday morning. Harry Morgan was a man misunderstood by those who did not know him well and misrepresented by many who did. He owned a variety theatre with an attached saloon and gambling house, which detractors spoke of as a place of gross excess, yet he did not allow the suggestive performances often seen in theatres attended by first-class audiences. He owned the gambling house but never touched the implements of gaming, and the saloon was managed by others. Personally, he was abstemious. His enemies overlooked that he owned ranches, employed large numbers of men, and controlled one of the largest shingle-mills in the state. They never hinted that he built the finest race track in Tacoma with its grandstand and fair buildings, or that he established the 'Morning Globe' newspaper. They never mentioned that he supported four to six families or gave generously to charity, often secretly. He leaves a devoted wife and a charming, innocent little daughter, and held the confidence of the solidest citizens who preferred his word to that of his traducers.
“The great, and good, and merciful God, the Omniscient Creator, knows well the difference between such and Harry Morgan, and in the day of reckoning they will find on his credit page of the Book of Life a summing up which they will wish they had.”
The defense of Morgan as a 'misunderstood' business operator who was essentially a pillar of the community echoes contemporary debates over how we weigh the moral failings of local power-brokers against their economic contributions. It serves as a reminder that the loudest critics of a man's character in the 1890s were often ignoring the very real payrolls those men provided to the working class.
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