The 'Corpse' Who Sat Up and Ran for the Bay
A wharf loafer mistaken for a corpse startled undertakers when he sat up in the receiving box, bolted for the water and fled uptown.
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.
At 1:30 o'clock yesterday afternoon a telephone message from the coroner announced to Bonney & Stewart that a corpse was at the Columbia Puget Sound depot. The dead wagon was driven to the station at the City dock, and the first object that met the eyes of the undertaker was the motionless form of a man stretched out on the edge of the wharf. The receiving box was taken from the wagon and placed near the body, the usual crowd of curious people watching the proceedings with interest. The limp form was placed in the box and a sheet thrown over it. The lid was put on and with an undertaker at one end of the unpleasant looking box and a young man at the other the march toward the wagon was begun. Just as the wagon was reached an unexpected occurrence took place. The lid rose and a pale face could be seen. The bearers of the corpse dropped their burden and looked aghast, the crowd fell back and doubted their senses. The undertaker took off the lid and looked at the man. His eyes were open, but they had a vacant stare. The undertaker felt his pulse and realized the man was alive, but hated to give up the case. Addressing the dead man, he said: 'The coroner said there was a corpse here and, as you come nearest to filling the bill, you must consider yourself dead.' He paused a moment and continued: 'If you can dig up $10, I will give you a certificate of life.' The corpse slowly and mechanically went through every pocket and finally produced 25 cents. This he handed to the man in the tall black hat. During the operation of searching he came to a sitting posture. Now he looked at the crowd and then at the dead wagon. His brain seemed to suddenly work, his eyes grew large, his hair came up like that on a fighting cat's back. He sprang from the box and jumped for the water. A man grabbed him and saved him from going into the bay. Like a frightened hare he started uptown and, as he disappeared, over 100 men were roaring with laughter. Fifteen minutes later, the dead wagon arrived at the undertaking rooms with the body of the man who was drowned at Kenton.
“The coroner said there was a corpse here and, as you come nearest to filling the bill, you must consider yourself dead.”
Then as now, Seattle's waterfront was a place where the living and the dead could get mixed up in the daily rush. The story captures a city with precarious institutions—coroners, undertakers and wharf laborers all improvising—and a darkly comic sense of mortality that still fits a port town.
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