"Great Scott! Is That Dr. Mary Walker?" — Two Seattle Clerks Ditch Their Skirts on a Dare
A druggist's cashier and stenographer appear on Front Street in bifurcated skirts, betting their boss they'd do it. The town stares; the women report no other inconvenience.
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.
"Great Scott! Is that Dr. Mary Walker?" was the remark heard on Front street yesterday by a well-known citizen, and the cause of the remark was the appearance for the first time on the streets of this city of the new reformed dress, or bifurcated skirts. The young ladies who introduced this style of dress are Miss Corinne Leland and Miss Anna McKachern, cashier and stenographer respectively for the Stewart Holmes Drug Company. They adopted these bifurcated skirts more in a spirit of bravado than anything else, their employers having dared them to appear in such garb, but they have made an innovation which will probably become popular among ladies who are compelled to brave all kinds of weather.
The new gowns are rather attractive and modest-looking, and are a great improvement over skirts in muddy weather. As James Russell Lowell says, "It enables them to reach out and lead," and places the female sex on an equality in that respect with the more favored male sex. The young ladies who start the reform speak in the highest terms of the new style, and say that outside of the incessant staring they experience no inconvenience.
They are usually made of blue or black cloth, and do not consume near so much material as the ordinary dress. It is said that a number of the fair sex will follow the example set by Miss Leland and Miss McKachern.
“"Great Scott! Is that Dr. Mary Walker?"”
Dr. Mary Walker was a real Union Army surgeon who was arrested more than once for wearing trousers; in January 1895 two Seattle shop employees put on bifurcated skirts on a dare from their employer and walked into a staring Front Street. Front Street is First Avenue now, and Seattle is still arguing in offices and school hallways about who gets to decide what women wear to work.
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