The Only Door Open to Olympia's Hungry
On Christmas Eve 1891, the Tribune reminded readers that St. Peter's Hospital was the city's only refuge for hungry men—and asked for donations of food and clothing.
While Christmas may not bring you the surfeit it did last year, no doubt as it is, your horn of plenty is nearly full.
Just as a gentle reminder, the Tribune suggests that if any one is inclined to be generous of their portion, let St. Peter's Hospital be the recipient. This institution is not only a dernier resort, but the only resort for the hungry of this city. Not a day passes but what more than one mouth is fed gratis, and yesterday the Tribune reporter saw five hungry men, each devouring a substantial dinner—all gratis.
The citizens of Olympia are not in the least aware of the immense amount of charity dispensed by St. Peter's Hospital cheerfully and without the least ostentation. Creed, sect, caste, race, color or previous condition of servitude make no more difference at the doors of St. Peter's than they will at the portals of heaven. Such quiet, good work as this deserves recompense from the public. So send them anything in the edible or wearing line, from a chicken to a quarter of beef, from a baby's frock to an overcoat. 'He that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord.'
“Not a day passes but what more than one mouth is fed gratis.”
In 1891, as now, a hospital served as a de facto safety net for people with nowhere else to turn. The Tribune's appeal for food and clothing anticipates the holiday drives that still stock Olympia's shelters and food banks. It also raises a familiar question: how much of the burden of basic human need should fall to private charity?
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