A Carpenter Walks to the Hospital to See His Sick Wife and Vanishes
After the fire, Gordon had cared for four children with typhoid while his wife lay in the hospital. On Sunday he left to visit her, said he was going straight home — and was never seen again.
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.
WHERE IS MR. GORDON?
A Carpenter's Mysterious Disappearance — Foul Play Feared.
Gordon, a carpenter, who before the fire had been living with his family at Fremont, lost his home in the conflagration. His wife was ill, and after the fire he applied to the general relief committee for assistance, saying that she was suffering from typhoid fever and that he had to care for four little children, the eldest not over ten years of age. The relief committee had Mrs. Gordon taken to the hospital, where every attention was given her, and she is now convalescent and in a short time will be able to return home.
In the meantime the children contracted the disease, and Mr. Gordon again asked assistance of the relief committee, saying it would be impossible for him to pay his wife's hospital dues and at the same time employ nurses to take care of his sick children. The committee engaged Mrs. Josephine Barstow, living at Fremont, to care for them, and she took them to her house and cared for them until they were convalescent. Mrs. Kelly, of the city, was then engaged to relieve Mrs. Barstow in her nursing, and after caring for them until one week ago she left, and Mrs. Debeau was engaged by the committee to care for the children until they fully recovered.
Yesterday afternoon Mrs. Debeau came to the relief headquarters and informed the committee of the mysterious disappearance of Mr. Gordon. She said he had been at the house with the children continually since they were taken ill, with the exception of a day occasionally when he worked a few hours at his trade, and that he left them only under these circumstances, or when he came to see his wife at the hospital.
On Sunday Mrs. Debeau says he left the house saying he would be back in an hour or two, that he was going to the hospital to see his wife. He visited his wife at the hospital, and talked as cheerfully and naturally as ever to her, and when he left at the end of an hour's visit he said he was going right home. That was the last seen of him, and it is thought that he has been foully dealt with, although he is not known to have an enemy in the world, and as he is a poor man it is impossible that he could have been murdered for his money.
The fact of Mr. Gordon's being a sober, industrious man, greatly attached to his wife and children, dispels any belief among his neighbors that he has deserted his family in their affliction.
Following is a good description of Mr. Gordon, and anyone having seen him since Sunday, or knowing where he is at present, will confer a great favor upon his friends and afflicted family by leaving word at either the relief headquarters, the police headquarters or the hospital: Age between 30 and 35 years; height 5 feet 8 inches; weighs 130 pounds; dark hair, grey eyes, and closely cropped dark sideburns. He was usually dressed in a dark suit of clothes with a blue linen shirt, and would pass anywhere for a well-known contractor or any other live business man.
“He visited his wife at the hospital, and talked as cheerfully and naturally as ever to her, and when he left at the end of an hour's visit he said he was going right home. That was the last seen of him.”
Gordon's story captures how thin the margin was for a working family in 1889 Seattle: one fire, one illness, and a household tipped into dependence on a relief committee. His disappearance — a devoted father who leaves a hospital saying he is going home and never arrives — turned a tale of survival into an open mystery that the paper could only end with a physical description and a plea for word.
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