Two Miles East of Puyallup, a Father Searches Under the Wheels
A boy playing on a Northern Pacific crossing was struck and killed when the overland, making up lost time, swung around a curve.
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.
John William Owens, the son of John Harrison, a farmer living about two miles east of Puyallup, was cut in two yesterday by an overland train.
Before reaching McMillan the overland was running slow behind a construction train. When the construction train went into a siding the overland shot ahead to make up lost time. About two miles from Puyallup the train swung around a curve and bore down upon a child that was playing on a crossing in front of a small shack. The engineer called for brakes and threw the engine over with such a sharp jerk that the passengers on the train were well shaken up in the cars, but the child was struck and ground under the wheels.
When the train was stopped the father, who had rushed out of his cabin, was searching under the trucking for the body of his little one. The child had been run over at the small of the person and presented a horrible sight. The body was put together and carried to its home on a board. About one hour was consumed before the train proceeded on its way.
Passengers say the engineer made a wonderful effort to save the child's life, but could not have succeeded under the circumstances.
“"When the train was stopped the father, who had rushed out of his cabin, was searching under the trucking for the body of his little one."”
In 1894 a farmhouse siding east of Puyallup sat a few feet from a main line with no fence, no signal and no crossing gate — a child on the tracks was a matter of time. The same corridor still carries freight and Sounder commuters through the valley, and the arguments about fencing, crossings and speed through small towns have never really gone away. What the item preserves is not the statistics but the image of a father on his hands and knees under the trucks.
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