The Town That Owes Nothing: Oakesdale’s Fiscal Miracle
While other municipalities drown in debt from the boom years, this small Washington town boasts a cash-rich treasury and zero bonds.
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.
OAKESDALE, Wash., April 4. — Oakesdale claims the proud distinction of being the 'only unincorporated town in the whole country that has no outstanding indebtedness, either warrant or bonded.' Like the village blacksmith, the town 'looks the whole world in the face' for it owes no man a cent.
In this age of warrants and bonds such as this is remarkable and one of which the citizens and city officers may well feel proud.
Oakesdale never issued any bonds. At one time the city was large warrant indebtedness and during the years following the boom the warrants 'went begging' at 15 cents on the dollar. This was large, the effect of extravagance during the boom period when there was a reckless expenditure of the funds but in recent years this has been liquidated and today the city has more than $1000 in the treasury and this will be materially increased before the end of the present year, when the four saloons at Oakesdale will pay into the treasury $100 for licenses.
The Force of Habit.
'If we could rouse her from this apathy,' said the doctor, 'there might be some hope. If she could be made to speak we might make her realize her condition and get her to make an effort to save herself.'
He turned to the husband, who knelt by the bed his haggard face buried in the white spread.
'You understand her so well,' said the physician, almost irritably. 'Can't you say something or do something that will arouse her from the stupor? Isn't there anything that you could do that would awaken her?'
A look of hope lightened the husband's pale face. He rose without a word and left the house.
It was midnight. The watcher beside the bed heard the rain pelting against the window panel and the wind rattling around the corners of the old home. A step sounded on the walk table. In another second there was the click of latch key fumbling uncertainly in the keyhole of the front door. The restless turning of the sick woman's head upon the pillow stopped suddenly. She seemed to listen.
The door opened and the unsteady steps came along the hall. The husband entered the dimly lighted room and felt his way among the chairs.
His wife's eyes were open now. Her lips twitched once or twice, then parted.
'John, where have you been until this hour,' she said faintly.
And they knew that she was safe.
Oakesdale’s financial prudence stands in stark contrast to the modern housing crisis, where municipal debt and speculative real estate development often drive up costs for residents. While Oakesdale paid off its debts by taxing saloons—a revenue stream largely gone today—modern cities struggle with balancing budgets amidst soaring property values and infrastructure needs.
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