The Senator, the Booster and the 39 Gambling Halls
A Spokane millionaire refused to clean up a vice-ridden building because, he said, Tacoma would happily take the business.
Lewiston Journal: Senator Frye stepped in to shake hands with the club a few evenings ago. The conversation naturally turned on home industry, whereat the senator, who is the prince of story tellers, remarked:
“I was in Washington at Spokane Falls last year and was entertained by one of the local boomers. He was a patriarchal old fellow with a long beard, who looked like a deacon and was worth five or six million dollars.
“He took me out to drive behind a fine pair of horses and showed me the town. One of the objects that attracted my attention was a very long building—a tremendous affair, one of the longest buildings I ever saw in my life.
“‘How many gambling games do you suppose there are in that building?’ asked my friend, the patriarch.
“‘Give it up,’ said I.
“‘Thirty-nine of ’em,’ said he in a triumphant tone.
“‘Gracious!’ said I. ‘And how many bars?’
“‘Thirty-nine.’
“‘Now, look here, my friend,’ said I: ‘You must destroy that thing, or it will destroy you.’
“‘What do you mean?’ he demanded.
“‘Mean? I mean you ought to drive it out of town.’
“‘Good God, senator,’ said he, ‘if we lose it, Tacoma’ll get it!’”
““Good God, senator,” said he, “if we lose it, Tacoma’ll get it!””
The anecdote captures the booster logic of 1890s Puget Sound: vice was a revenue stream, and civic rivals would happily seize what a town rejected. Spokane and Tacoma were locked in a growth contest in which morality often lost to the fear of losing business to the next city.
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