Tragedy at the wharf: The lonely death of Harvey Burrell
A former county clerk meets a grim end in the Seattle harbor after wandering down to the docks at night.
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.
As the tug Portland was backing out of the slip between the Yesler and Hatfield wharves yesterday morning about 11:30 o'clock, a deckhand who was stooping over near the steamer’s stern was startled by seeing the corpse of a man floating in the whirl of water disturbed by the propeller. A rope was fastened to the body and it was soon drawn out and laid upon the Yesler wharf. The body was identified as the remains of Harvey M. Burrell, until recently an employe in the county auditor’s office. He took dinner Tuesday evening at the home of Ed Chilberg and complained of being sick; he reeled about like a drunken man, though he was not a drinking man, likely due to dizziness. It is thought that he walked down to the Yesler wharf and accidentally fell into the water. He had always had a fondness for the waterfront, as he would sit for hours watching the shipping. He leaves a daughter, aged about 12 years. He was a man of good habits and well liked.
“He had always had a fondness for the water front, for when unemployed, he would sit for hours watching the shipping in the harbor.”
Harvey Burrell’s death highlights the inherent danger of Seattle’s 19th-century waterfront, which was essentially an industrial, open-edge zone. It also touches on the vulnerability of public employees who, in the era of political patronage, often faced sudden unemployment and subsequent economic and mental distress.
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