The Perilous Afternoon of a Seattle Homeowner
A classic tale of a homeowner's frustration with construction progress takes a literal turn when he gets stranded on his own scaffolding, sparking a tense negotiation with a neighborhood boy.
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.
A citizen of Second Street has for some time past been greatly annoyed at the slow progress made by the carpenters in building for him a barn, and said carpenters have been highly incensed over his impatience. They left him the other night on a scaffold under the eaves at one end, to which spot he had climbed to see if the cornice wasn't on bottom-side up, and, when he wanted to come down, the ladder was gone—moved around on the side. The citizen looked down upon the cobble-stone alley, up at the sky, and he found himself left. He could have alarmed the neighborhood by one yell, but he didn't care to make a menagerie of himself. He watched the street forty feet away, and finally attracted the attention of a boy. The boy had the situation explained to him, but he couldn't handle the ladder. When he found he couldn't, he sat down on a bundle of shingles and folded his arms, saying, 'Well, I might as well stop around and see this episode close out at reduced figures.' The citizen begged, offered money, and even tried to threaten the boy, but the youth stood his ground. Eventually, a private carriage driven by a man named James passed by; the homeowner hailed him, the boy fled, and the ladder was returned to its place, leaving the homeowner to escape his perch.
“Well, I might as well stop around and see this episode close out at reduced figures.”
The frustration of dealing with slow construction, difficult labor, and the specific chaos of a Seattle housing project is a timeless struggle. Much like today, homeowners in the 1870s found themselves at the mercy of the city's building pace, though perhaps with fewer ladders involved.
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