He Steered the Runaway Team Into a Water Meter
When the fire department's supply horses bolted near Sixth Street, driver Thomas Dunn held the reins through a breakneck descent and steered the wagon into a water meter rather than let the team drown in the harbor.
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.
A supply team of the fire department, driven by Thomas Dunn, took fright on Yesler avenue, near Sixth street, yesterday at noon, and darted down the hill at a break-neck speed. Though the driver was unable to stop the terrified horses, he clung firmly to the reins and guided the team down the avenue, steering clear of street cars and vehicles. The heavy supply wagon was jerked along, and its bounding sounded like thunder claps, causing pedestrians to scatter like sheep in every direction. At times Dunn was thrown four and five feet in the air, but he never lost his presence of mind, and bravely clung to the lines.
The animals finally brought up with a crash on Yesler's dock. The driver saw that he could not stop them, so, instead of allowing them to dash off the dock into the harbor and drown, he turned them into a huge water meter. The wagon struck the meter and the horses were thrown down.
When the crash came, Dunn was thrown to the dock from his seat and severely bruised about the shoulders and cut on the knees, but, forgetful of his own injuries, he sprang to his feet and in a moment was at the horses' heads, almost before the animals had struggled to their feet. Neither of the horses was fatally injured.
Dunn gave such an exhibition of coolness and courage as is seldom seen and, when he finally stood at his horses' heads, master of the situation, crowds of men, who had witnessed the thrilling ride, gathered about and loudly applauded him.
“Instead of allowing them to dash off the dock into the harbor and drown, he turned them into a huge water meter.”
Yesler Avenue was Seattle's steep commercial spine, and runaway horses were a real urban hazard before the automobile. Dunn's ride—and the crowd's applause—captures a city still small enough that a fireman's bravery could stop traffic and draw a cheering crowd.
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