The Shadow Over Seattle: A Councilman’s Scathing Exposé of Vice
In 1891, a fiery letter from C. B. Bagley to the Post-Intelligencer accused the mayor and police chief of being puppets to the city’s most notorious gamblers and saloon-keepers.
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.
More important matters have occupied my time since the appearance of Chief Monroe's letter in your columns last Wednesday, in which my statements on the floor of the house of delegates were called in question, and some of them denounced as lies. The chief in his communication has lost sight of the matters at issue before the public just now. He is but an incident, a cog in the machine, one of the puppets which dances as the organ is turned. It is of small moment whether there have been thirty-four or a hundred games running in the city, or whether the more pretentious 'houses' or the small cribs in the alleys of Whitechapel respond the most freely with their weekly assessments. What concerns the taxpayers and the reputable people of the city is the extravagance and corruption that exist in the city government.
The writer as a citizen and a member of the city council resents a condition of affairs that permits some of the most notorious gamblers and saloon-keepers of the city to be the daily visitors at the offices of the mayor and the chief of police. He resents the fact that a man, who but a short time since 'ran' two saloons that had the reputation of being among the vilest of their kind on Washington Street, and whose patrons are alleged to have been among the vilest of the vile habitues of that district, should now have control of the police force of this city. The writer resents the fact that it is almost impossible for a reputable citizen to gain audience with the mayor or the chief of police without waiting until some of the pet gamblers and whiskey sellers of the First Ward take their feet off the office desks and themselves out of the office chairs of the heads of the government of Seattle. The writer resents the fact that the four leading officers of the late Republican club of the First Ward of this city should have been either saloon-keepers or gamblers, or both.
Seattle is a hard city to govern, filled as some of its districts are with the abandoned and the criminal of both sexes and all nations; but the open, unrestricted gambling, where all the dishonest practices of the blackleg are permitted and used to accomplish the robbery of the boys, the young clerks, the hard-working miners, loggers and laborers, can be stopped. The bruisers and plug-uglies can be prevented from exercising or exhibiting their brutal or dangerous practices. The occupants of the 'houses' can be compelled to observe all outward forms of decency, and the inmates of the cribs can be compelled to desist from pocket-picking and midnight robbery and murder. If the mayor, the police commissioners and chief of police will perform their respective duties, Seattle can be made a place of reasonable respectability.
“The chief in his communication has lost sight of the matters at issue before the public just now. He is but an incident, a cog in the machine, one of the puppets which dances as the organ is turned.”
Bagley’s 1891 letter captures the perennial Seattle struggle between rapid urban growth, law enforcement, and the influence of money in politics. His frustration with 'the gang and the ring' echoes modern concerns about municipal accountability and the influence of vested interests on city hall policy.
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