The Cowcatcher Lifted Her Into the Air, and Then They Took Her Home
An elderly Native woman walking the Northern Pacific tracks below town is swept up by the overland express — and walks away from it, carried off by her mother and son.
Julia, the old Indian woman whose familiar figure is so often seen on the streets, narrowly escaped death on the Northern Pacific tracks today.
Julia, who lives in an old hut on Capital Point, had been in town for some provisions. Her gait was unsteady as she wended her way down the Northern Pacific track, when just this side of the trestle near the point the eastbound overland train came along. Julia made an attempt to step aside, but the cowcatcher caught her, lifting her bodily into the air. She was thrown to the right of the track into a mud bank. The air brakes were applied and the train came to a sudden halt, stopping long enough to see if she was killed, and then pulled up to the station, where a report was made and Dr. Armstrong, the Northern Pacific surgeon, was notified.
No traces of blood could be found. She appeared to be much dazed, but moved her limbs freely, so that apparently no bones were broken. Many people at the station witnessed the accident and ran in crowds to the scene. Officer Taylor was among the first on the scene and sent for a wagon. Upon the arrival of the physician it was found that her condition was not so bad as anticipated. She was removed to her hut on the point.
Officer Taylor, who witnessed the accident, said: "The engineer had whistled at the other end of the bridge, and when he crossed to this side he whistled for the station. Just as he rounded the curve he came in sight of Julia, but before the engine could be stopped the cowcatcher lifted her into the air. She must have been thrown eight or ten feet. While we were waiting for the physician, Julia's old mother, Betsy, and her son hobbled around from the point and took Julia home. When her old mother appeared she did not seem at all concerned, but talked freely in her Indian tongue."
Julia's provisions were scattered along the track.
“Julia made an attempt to step aside, but the cowcatcher caught her, lifting her bodily into the air.”
Olympia's waterfront railroad cut straight through ground where Native families still lived, close enough that an elder could be walking home with groceries when the overland express rounded the curve. The paper calls her a familiar figure and never gives her a surname — she is visible on the street and invisible in the record. That the city's only account of her is a near-death beside the tracks is a reminder of whose names the capital kept and whose it did not.
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