The Groom Who Didn't Exist
A jilted lover's lawsuit in the Lewis River country unravels a bizarre family scheme to pass a son off as a different man to save the family farm from seizure.
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.
Eight years ago, the Hobbs family moved from Los Angeles to Lewis River. Edwin Hobbs, the son, visited the region and became acquainted with Mary Brase, a young lady living near La Center. He courted her for two years, and they eventually arranged to be married. He bought a farm, stocked it with cattle, and furnished the house. However, when the time came to marry, Edwin claimed it was impossible, promising they would live together and he would marry her soon. Mary finally consented, and they lived as husband and wife from April to August. When Edwin refused to marry her, Mary returned to her family and sued for breach of promise, attaching his property. Finding that an attachment would not hold, she sued for seduction and again attached the property. In the meantime, the elder Hobbs and his son concocted a scheme. They pretended the Hobbs who lived on Lewis River was one William Hobbs, son of a wealthy Los Angeles physician, and a different man than Edwin Hobbs. A deed was made by this 'William' to the elder Hobbs. The seduction case was tried at Kalama last fall, and Mary Brase got a judgment for $1,600. Old man Hobbs then sued to recover the property, leading to a trial where the father tried to prove Edwin and William were different men. He even went so far as to dress his son in a new suit, pad his shoulders, and have him slink into Kalama at night to testify, hoping to disguise him. The defense, however, introduced many witnesses and letters proving that Edwin and William were one and the same. Thus ended one of the most remarkable cases ever tried in Kalama.
“Hobbs in the meantime had doctored the personal appearance of his son by patching hair there, padding his shoulders, and gifting him a newly acquired suit. In this shape he was smuggled into Kalama by night.”
This 1889 drama highlights how families would go to extreme, often absurd lengths to protect property during the rapid development of the Pacific Northwest. While the specific legal machinations are archaic, the desperation of litigants fighting to keep their land remains a familiar struggle in Washington’s history.
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