A Printing Office Blunder
A romantic visit to a printing office turns disastrous for a typographer when his fiancée accidentally destroys his hours of labor.
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.
She came into the office smiling, and radiantly beautiful. George, a handsome young typo, and she were engaged; and George had a case. About a galley of solid nonpareil on his case, which he was about to lock up and prove. George, blushing like a girl, shook her hand and called her his lovely darling. She eyed the galley and smiled sweeter than ever. 'Daddy, dear,' she said, still eyeing the galley of nonpareil, 'are those the things you print with?' 'Yes, darling,' said Doddy, feelingly. She swept her taper, jeweled fingers over the matter, squabbling the entire galley. 'Bless you, my darling!' said George, chokingly, the sweat pouring down his face. 'Why, Doddy, dear,' said she, 'it's all in little pieces, ain't it?' 'Yes, love,' said George, gently taking her little hand and leading her towards the door. 'Good-by, darling,' he said. 'By-by; be sure to come to-night.' 'Dear me,' she soliloquized, 'how George loves me! He nearly sobbed when I touched those funny little thingumies!' George, moodily: 'I wish all women were in heaven.'
“George, moodily: 'I wish all women were in heaven.'”
This lighthearted vignette illustrates the extreme physical labor involved in 19th-century letterpress printing, where 'squabbling' (mixing up) a galley of type meant hours of tedious manual labor was ruined. It offers a glimpse into the workspace of early Seattle newspapers, where young men balanced the precision of their craft with the social pressures of the era.
From readers
No comments yet. If you know something about this story — a correction, a family memory, a source — it belongs here.