The Prickly Pear That Changed a Life: How a Boy’s Prank in Iowa Sent Him to Seattle

"Yes, I am a pretty old man," said a gentleman present who is a permanent in Seattle under one cloak. "and I never think of my home leaving or my trip across the plains without amusement. I came to this coast in the fifties, and will tell you of how it happened. Our home was on a farm in Iowa, and my father was one of the sternest men you ever saw. He timed every movement and covered all of his actions by method. I was generally getting into scrapes and the governor thought I was a pretty bad boy. Boys used to sneak in around the house to get father's attention and I would often try to make stories and peek through a crack in the wall and see him turn out. He got up regular as clockwork at a certain hour every morning and always when he retired set his boots in a certain spot on the floor. I got so used to seeing him draw on the right boot and then the left every morning that what appeared to me as an inspiration struck me. One night after he had gone to bed and begun to snore, armed with screw driver, screw rod and awl, it was the work of a minute or two to screw that left boot to the floor. I lay awake the rest of the night laughing and imagining the old man's consternation in the morning. I had my eyes glued to the crack in the wall for some time before he got up. But prompt to the minute he turned out and began dressing. When he took the boots I was afraid I would give the game away by laughing. He pulled on the right boot according to his custom and then reached for the other. He gave a fall and then blinked; puzzled; then another unit and his perplexity increased. He finally put all of his strength into it and the sole pulled off and remained fastened to the floor.

The circus was over for me and I scrambled out of bed, gathered my clothes in my arms and skipped. I have never been back since for I knew the governor would never forget it. That's how I happened to come to the Pacific coast and but for that incident I would probably now be an Iowa farmer instead of a successful businessman." Seattle queer what little things change the whole course of one's life.

"Well, I joined a wagon train bound for the coast, and headed westward. We ran out of fresh meat and I decided to take a shot at deer in the hope of shooting deer. After getting tired out, I finally saw what I was looking for, but when I saw the animal I was in so exposed a position that I could quickly avoid observation. I had barely touched the ground when I was up again and I made a straight jump of thirty feet, emitting a blood curdling yell at the same time. Of course that was the last I saw of the deer. I had sat down on one of those prairie prickly pears, and there was a thick beard of the prickles where my person had touched it. I tried to pull them out, but they broke off. Finally I peeled down my nether garments, screwed myself around so I could see what I was doing, and began shaving them off with my hunting knife. Great Scott, how it hurt! I will say that about that.

I was very much upset, as you may imagine, but it finally occurred to me that it was time for my companions to come. So I stopped operations and looked around, and as I did was greeted with a yell from a thousand throats. The whole train had moved up, and all hands had been watching me near at hand. Well, I did not sit down again until every one of those million prickles had festered and come out.

"I stopped in the mountains in Nevada awhile, and one day went out hunting with a couple of companions. We ran across a young grizzly bear about as large as a good sized pig. I drew a bead on him, and simultaneously my companions yelled out to shoot, and started to run. I thought their panic so ridiculous that I fired my charge of birdshot into the bear just to see what he would do. I did not have long to wait. It was just enough to wake him up, and he soon developed a plan of action. And his plan determined mine. I began to get weared and staggered down the mountain. My companions in their best luck just ahead of us. About half way to the cabin I glanced over my shoulder and what I saw was not reassuring. I dropped my gun and if ever I ran I did then. When we got in sight of the cabin in the Chinook at gathering firewood, he saw the procession and got panic stricken. He let a yell out of him, dropped the wood and ran into the cabin and barricaded the door. Well, the first man in the procession ran to the door, found it barricaded, flitted around the corner, jumped onto the roof and dropped through the big log chimney. The next followed suit and so did I. I found the first man in the corner of the cabin for striking the door. This fellow had dropped into a pot of boiling ale became down the chimney and he was the maddest man I ever saw. The bear came to the chimney and we were all mortal fear that he too would drop in that way. He didn't, but he prowled around that cabin for three mortal hours and kept its prisoners. Yes, I have had some rather funny experiences."