The Perilous Midnight Fall into the Seattle Dark
A yard master’s narrow brush with death on a rainy night highlights the hidden dangers of Seattle’s rapidly expanding rail infrastructure.
John McGraw, yard master of the Puget Sound Shore, was brought into a drug store on Main Street about 10 o'clock last night, dripping wet and writhing in agony from ugly cuts on his head and scalp. He fell from a trestle in the rear of a building on Jackson Street and narrowly escaped drowning. It was nearly a half hour before he was drawn out of the water, owing to the difficulty of finding him in the darkness.
“He fell from a trestle in the rear of a building on Jackson Street and narrowly escaped drowning.”
In 1890, Seattle was a city being physically stitched together by dangerous rail trestles and wooden infrastructure, much like today’s city struggles with the rapid—and sometimes perilous—expansion of public transit and housing. McGraw’s fall in the dark is a visceral reminder of the human cost paid to build the foundations of a growing metropolis.
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