The Shell That Survived the Fire: A Seattle Man’s Close Call with a Civil War Artifact
An eccentric local resident discovers a live cannonball in his firewood, leading to a terrifying explosion that sends him tumbling down a hillside.
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.
While clearing timber on one of our most prominent citizens' lots near the hills overlooking our city, a little incident occurred which is frequently told and laughed at the expense of one of our most prosperous citizens. One afternoon, a quantity of logs gathered together at a place up and lighted into a fire. One of said logs had been a tree growing near the spot. The shell was in and during that time one of the six-pounder shells, sent whizzing over the hills from the U.S. sloop *Decatur*, to terrify the 'redskins' there. It struck the log and entered it very heart; but did not explode. The tree grew on, and, in time, the shell was effectively buried beneath its surface. So when it became a firewood, thrown into the fire for room, the shell was still intact beneath its outer surface unknown to the workmen.
The gentleman in question, who was one of the neighbors of the fire, being unable to resist that way during the evening, and it being rather cool, the warm, glowing fire, crackling and burning away so comfortably, worked like a magic on his fancy, and he could not resist the temptation to step over into the lot and warm up under its radiant glow. He sallied over to the fire and was soon standing alone to the glowing blaze, enjoying himself as well as possible. Presently, all of a sudden, out went the shell, sending the logs flying in all directions, and pieces of iron and shot whizzing about his head. The shock was so sudden and unexpected that it pitched him head first down the steep declivity into the mud and amid a confusion of old roots, gathering himself up nimbly, he started at breakneck speed down the hill, tumbling over logs, roots, and stones, and could hardly make out for a while where the deafening shot came from, nor was any one done.
It is reported that Mr. Moore's title to the lot was not entirely clear, but this incident serves as a vivid reminder of the hidden dangers lurking in our growing city's landscape.
This 1877 account of a Civil War-era cannonball exploding in a Seattle backyard highlights how the region’s rapid development often overlapped with its violent military history. Today, construction projects in Seattle still frequently uncover unexploded ordnance or historical artifacts from the era when the U.S. Army maintained Fort Lawton and other installations along the Sound.
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