Thrown to the Four Winds: A Green Lake Car, a Strawberry Wagon and a Dead Horse
Clinton Little is hurrying his berries to market when a Green Lake streetcar comes down the grade and strikes his rig — leaving him with a stitched scalp and his load scattered across the street.
Clinton B. Little, a Green Lake rancher living in Pitner's addition, had a narrow escape from being ground under the wheels of a Green Lake car at Sixth avenue yesterday morning at 4:30. As the event showed, he was freed from a serious predicament with no more serious injury than a cut on the head, although a horse he drove was killed.
Little is a strawberry vendor, and was driving in a brisk trot in order to get his load to town in good season. Just as he reached the front of the Union bakery he saw the car tearing down upon him from the steep grade to the west, and before he could rein up or cross the track his horse had been knocked down and was being pushed along the track. Little was thrown into the air and landed on his head, while the wagon was thrown off to one side of the track. The horse, after having been forced along for ten feet or more, arose, fell down again and then staggered forward, the blood streaming from his nose. In a few moments he was dead.
Little's wounds were at once attended to, a couple of stitches being taken to close a cut in the scalp. The berries, which had been thrown to the four winds, were picked up and taken care of by neighborly residents.
George Robinson, the motorman, says he reversed the lever as soon as he caught sight of the horse. The car, it is claimed, was going all the time it was on the down grade. A low awning, which cut off the view both of driver and motorman, seems to have been the cause of the accident. The car at the time was drawing a trailer, to accommodate Green Lake workmen who come to town in the early morning. It was not injured, and was continued in use during the day.
“The berries, which had been thrown to the four winds, were picked up and taken care of by neighborly residents.”
Before the automobile, Seattle's streets were shared by horses, wagons and electric cars, and a blind corner under a low awning was enough to kill. The argument over who the street belongs to — and who pays when a fast vehicle meets a slow one — is still being had on Seattle's arterials today.
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