The Tillicums' Trick: How a Political Machine Fooled Tacoma's Democrats
A secretive faction called the Tillicums manipulates primaries, places decoy tickets, and doles out patronage jobs to tighten its grip on Pierce County politics.
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 Tillicums are arranging to hold their primaries. Men suitable to serve the Tillicums are directed to the Democratic headquarters in the Wallace building, and if they are found all right their name gets upon a ticket to be voted for by the Democrats in the various precincts. In the city the Tillicums will place two tickets in the field, in order that the Democrats may think they, and not the Tillicums, are having some voice at the polls. But out in the country, especially, the Tillicums are having a scramble to secure delegates even who will attend the county convention. In some precincts Democrats are scarce, and in one precinct it is said the lone Democrat will have to vote for himself as a delegate, and then issue a proxy to himself to represent the other delegate.
The Tillicums are thrifty. They are making the most out of the government's action in allowing bonded goods to be guarded by them at the Interstate fair. Besides three inspectors, there is a messenger, an 'executive clerk' and a stenographer and typewriter. Today Tom Mahr, of North Yakima, who is accused of writing some very foolish letters calling for donations to the Democratic pot, à la George Hazzard, turned up here, and the Tillicums, through Collector Saunders, have ordered him to go to work as a 'relief' inspector guarding the bonded goods.
Collector Saunders has rewarded patience to 'the queen's taste' in distributing the bonded goods guards. J. Tennant Steeb, who heretofore received nothing, 'but did not kick,' got the executive clerk billet, and August Cultum, who was let out in the cold all along the line when the big plums were dropped, was given an inspectorship.
The order is out tonight for the Tillicums to make it appear that they are keeping hands off county nominations. Their slate, however, is as follows, and after the nominations are made it will be seen the Tillicums were not slighted by themselves: Sheriff, Bill Kelley, of Sumner, although Coroner Hoski will keep his finger in the pie until he is renominated coroner; prosecuting attorney, of Rainier, who will be securely nailed to the cross; assessor, Sam C. Slaughter, ex-city comptroller, although Assessor Doherty still insists he has a mortgage on the renomination; treasurer, W. O. Rowland, whom George Hazzard wanted to bring out a year ago; auditor, Ketner, to be renominated because he is the only man standing a ghost of a show of winning; Billy Ryan will be renominated for clerk, and White, of Steilacoom, will get the surveyorship, if he will accept. If every man is snowed under, as the Tillicums secretly fear, they will say: 'We had nothing to do with it.' They are not in politics when there are no offices to distribute.
“In the city the Tillicums will place two tickets in the field, in order that the Democrats may think they, and not the Tillicums, are having some voice at the polls.”
Political machines like the Tillicums were a common feature of late 19th-century American politics, using patronage and procedural tricks to maintain power. Their methods—decoy tickets, backroom deals, and jobs for loyalists—still resonate in debates about transparency, party control, and the influence of unelected operatives in local politics.
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