The Runaway Horse and the Vanishing Whiskers
A local man's vanity is literally snatched away by a runaway horse during a dramatic street rescue in downtown Seattle.
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.
I was standing on the curb yesterday when suddenly there was a shout, and a horse tore around the corner. Gunning, who was nearby, ran into the street, seized the horse, and checked him in his flight. He was no featherweight, you know, but he caught the horse's bit and came down hard, making a dent in the pavement. The beast reared for its ear and caught a whole mouthful of Gunning's whiskers. Gunning kept pulling for two minutes before we could loosen the horse's hold on his face. When we finally dropped the horse, Gunning dropped down, faint from the pain, with all the whiskers gone from one side of his face. He was a changed man, and the local press gave him a terrific round of applause. It embarrassed Dick awfully; he is so modest, you know.
“The beast reared for its ear and caught a whole mouthful of Gunning's whiskers.”
This story offers a glimpse into the physical hazards of pre-automobile Seattle, where horses were the primary and often dangerous mode of transportation. It serves as a reminder of the everyday chaos that defined the city's streets before modernization.
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