The Horseshoe Curse: A 1880 Seattle Fable of Fortune
In the pages of the Seattle Intelligencer, a cautionary rhyme warns that even the smallest superstitions can wreak havoc on a settler’s homestead.
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 farmer traveling with his load, picked up a horseshoe in the road, and nailed it fast to his barn door. That luck might down upon him pour. But every blessing known in life, soon fled his farm and fled his wife. And for any kind of harm, desolation took his farm. His hens declined to lay their eggs, his bacon tumbled from the pegs, and rats devoured the fallen corn. His corn, that never failed before, mildewed and on the floor; his cows refused to eat their hay; his cattle died, or went astray. In short, all moved the crooked way. Next spring a great drought baked the sod, and roasted every pea in pod; the heifer declared they couldn't grow, so long as nature acted so. One morn, demoralized with grief, that farmer clamored for relief; and prayed right hard to understand what witchcraft now possessed his land; why house and farm in misery grew since he nailed up that lucky shoe. While thus dismayed over matters wrong, an old man chanced to trot along. The stranger asked to view the shoe, the farmer brought it into view; but when the old man raised his head, he laughed outright, and quickly said: 'No wonder skies upon you frown—you’ve nailed the horseshoe upside down! Just turn it round, and soon you'll see how you and fortune will agree.' The farmer turned the horseshoe round, and showers began to swell the ground; the sunshine laughed among his grain, and heaps on heaps piled up the wain. And now the worry farmer sings: 'There is two ways of doing things; and when for good luck you would pray, nail up your horseshoe in this way.'
“Why house and farm in misery grew since he nailed up that lucky shoe.”
While this was printed as a didactic folk-poem, it captures the intense anxiety of frontier life in 1880s Washington, where a farmer’s success hinged on factors far beyond his control. Today, that same anxiety is reflected in the housing and labor insecurity facing modern residents, where the 'luck' of a fair rent or a steady job feels increasingly like a game of chance.
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