A Desperate Plunge from the Coal Bunkers
A delirious man, suffering from the effects of alcohol, jumped forty feet from the Oregon Improvement Company's coal bunkers into the sound, surviving the fall only to be hauled back to shore.
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.
At 4 o'clock yesterday afternoon, a solitary individual, of a sailor-like appearance and wild and excited in manner, appeared on top of the bunkers of the Oregon Improvement Company. From his appearance it was evident that he had been tarrying long at the wine cup and had finally, through over-indulgence, become possessed with delirium tremens. Suddenly he started toward the edge of the coal bunkers, muttering, 'I'll take the shortest way.' The water was 40 feet below where he stood; but this did not prevent him from making the jump. The heavy form of the man crashed down like a flash, struck the water, made a great splash, and then sank like a cannon ball. People watching the exciting scene thought the man would never return to the surface, he remained submerged so long; but finally he came up puffing like a porpoise. The water brought the inebriate back to his senses, and he was rescued by means of a skiff which was fortunately close at hand. The would-be suicide proved to be John Sorenson, first officer of the American bark, which has been lying at the Oregon Improvement Company's coal bunkers for nearly a month past. During this period he has been intoxicated nearly all the time. Captain Boyd, of the Oregon, took charge of the inebriate and after putting dry clothing on him turned him over to a police officer, so that he might be cared for and kept out of further trouble. Sorenson has a family at his home in Alameda, Cal.
“The water brought the inebriate back to his senses, and he was rescued by means of a skiff which was fortunately close at hand.”
This 1888 incident on the Seattle waterfront highlights a time when the city's industrial edge was a chaotic, dangerous place where transient laborers and sailors often faced crises without modern support systems. Today, the site of the old Oregon Improvement Company bunkers is vastly transformed, yet the human struggle for sobriety and safety on the docks remains a perennial, if evolving, urban issue.
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