Thirty-Three Acres and a Question of Heirs: A Native Estate Argued in Chinook
A probate courtroom fills with White River Indians, most seated on the carpet, as a judge who once rode Chinook jargon as his Pegasus weighs whether to sell a dead man's land to pay his debts.
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.
THE COURT'S CHINOOK.
The Red Men's Trouble in Judge Osborn's Court.
Probate Judge Osborn, who is also a poet, once saddled and bridled the Chinook jargon and rode it as his Pegasus. Yesterday he put his knowledge of jargon to a more practical use than turning it into musical numbers. From morning to the hour of adjournment in the evening his little court room was crowded with Indians, most of whom disdained to take chairs, preferring seats upon the carpet. The matter that brought the aborigines into court was the dispute over the estate of Alvord Jack, who is now a good Indian, being dead.
His administrator, Richard Jeffs, some time ago made application to the court for an order to sell thirty-three acres of land adjoining Slaughter, belonging to the estate, to pay the debts and costs of administration.
This application was resisted by Jim App, who claims to be the sole heir of Alvord Jack. He offers to pay all the debts of the estate if the court finds him heir, and the inquiry is held principally to inquire who are the heirs of Alvord Jack. For this purpose a large number of White River Indians have been summoned as witnesses. Mr. Jeffs, who knows all the Indians, their pedigrees and family histories, was on the stand yesterday afternoon. L. T. Turner appeared as his attorney, and W. R. Andrews, who can speak the Chinook "wa wa" idiomatically, appears for Jim App. The case will probably be on trial for several days.
“The matter that brought the aborigines into court was the dispute over the estate of Alvord Jack, who is now a good Indian, being dead.”
A Native man's thirty-three acres near present-day Auburn, put up for sale to satisfy debts, drew a crowd of White River people into a Seattle probate court to argue over who counted as heir — a quiet snapshot of how Indigenous land passed out of Native hands one estate at a time. The Chinook testimony and the heaps of witnesses are the paper's curiosity; the dispossession at the center of it is the substance.
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