Old Yank, the Sequim Inventor Who Rigged His Counter to Sting Thieves
A correspondent visits Professor Watkins of Sequim Prairie, an eccentric mechanic whose inventions ranged from a needle-spring burglar trap to a wooden mowing machine and a windmill made to grind the prairie's wheat.
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.
SEQUM PRAIRIE, CLALLAM CO., W.T. September 2, 1876.
PROFESSOR WATKINS.
In my last I promised to give your readers an account of the venerable Professor of Sequim and his various inventions. As he is known among his acquaintances as Yank, and by his numerous acquaintances as Old Yank, a name he delights in, I will use the short name as being more euphonious and easier written than Professor, and proceed secundum artem to my description. Yank is a natural born mechanic and inventor; a complete specimen of down-east Yankee of the New Bedford breed.
At one time he was engaged in the baking business in Port Townsend, and his pies and doughnuts, his gingerbread and regulation baked beans drew to his shop a crowd of idlers who would sit on his counter and watch an opportunity to pilfer. This drew out the inventive part of Old Yank's nature, and he constructed a row of needles attached to whalebone springs under his counter, with strings leading to distant parts of his shop. When a lounger seated himself on the counter, Yank would pull a string driving a needle with thrilling effect into the person of the offender, who would light out into space at once, and retire with the firm belief that he was an injured party. A celebrated schooner captain named Melvin, the bold and intrepid navigator, once sat on Yank's counter and received a dart from a darning needle that made him leave suddenly. He did not know what had stung him, but assuming a very prophetic look he exclaimed, 'Boys, I guess there's something in this shop besides gingerbread. I reckon it must be gallinipper.'
The next invention of Yank's was after he had moved to Sequim Prairie, which consisted in rigging a common coffee-mill with a wheel and crank and grinding his own wheat into flour. He next invented a wheelbarrow with the wheel in the center like a boy's centerboard. This wheelbarrow can carry three times as much as an ordinary barrow and with a less amount of labor—a really practical and useful invention. He next invented and built of wood a mowing machine which cuts a swath 11 feet wide. This machine has less gearing than an ordinary mowing machine, has driving wheels six feet high and works easily and satisfactorily. All the inventor now needs to make it a perfect success is some capital which will enable him to substitute iron for the wood he has been obliged to use in his experiment.
For several winters past he has employed the long evenings and rainy days in the manufacture of fiddles from the native wood found in the vicinity, such as fir, cedar and bird's-eye maple, and has succeeded in making some instruments of very fine tone, which he proposes to take to Port Townsend during the September term of court.
He next made a patent churn. Then he made a two-wheeled carriage on the principle of the old-fashioned wooden spring chaises, set on a thoroughbrace, formerly so common in Massachusetts. This gig of Yank's is all wood, thoroughbrace and all, and is pronounced the easiest riding vehicle in Clallam county. His last and crowning effort has been to construct a horizontal wind-mill on the turbine principle. He told me he started in to build something to turn the coffee mill to grind wheat, but, said he, 'I made such headway as I progressed in the work that I have exceeded myself, and I find I have power sufficient to turn a set of French burr stones, a saw-mill for small stuff, and a turning lathe.' This wind-mill is a real success, and if he can get a set of three feet French burrs to attach to it, he will be able to grind all the wheat on the prairie, which will be an immense saving to the farmers.
After Yank has completed his mill he says he intends to make a machine for taking bones out of herring, like the machines they have for that purpose at East Machias. This consists of an instrument similar to a jews-harp, which is held firmly between the teeth. The herring is introduced with the left hand and the bones are played out in a stream by the right hand just as one plays on a jewsharp. Yank says it is easy enough to make a machine to bone herring, but he means to invent one to bone shad and porgies. If he succeeds his fortune is made. There is money to be made in every one of his inventions, and if some capitalists would render him the necessary aid to enable him to perfect his machines, both parties would make money by the transaction. But you will see the venerable professor in Port Townsend and hear him talk, which will convince you that what I have said is all true.
“Boys, I guess there's something in this shop besides gingerbread. I reckon it must be gallinipper.”
In an age of venture capital and patent wars, Old Yank’s hand-built machines and search for a backer feel oddly familiar: a lone tinkerer with too many ideas and too little capital. Sequim Prairie is now part of one of Washington’s fastest-growing small cities, but the improvisation he represents—making what you need from fir, cedar, and stubbornness—still colors the peninsula’s self-image.
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