From the desk of Steve Willis, Central Library Services Program Manager of the Washington State Library

The following news article describes what was most probably the shortest jail sentence in Washington State history. This is from the Seattle Daily Times, January 20, 1906:

MINUTE IN JAIL

 SHORTEST SENTENCE EVER PASSED GIVEN TO JOE INCARCERATION.

JUDGE FRATER THINKS HE SHOULD GO TO JAIL BUT NOT STAY THERE.

RESULT OF SIX MONTHS’ LITIGATION IS ONE MINUTE’S INCARCERATION.

“Joe Munch yesterday received from Judge Frater what was probably the lightest sentence ever given a prisoner, that of one minute in the county jail. Those who heard the decision were inclined to take it as a joke of the judge’s, until Munch was hustled off to jail and kept there until the second hand of the jailer’s watch had completed the circle of sixty seconds. Munch was so surprised that he hardly knew what was going on and when released decided that the best thing for him to do was to get away for fear the sight of him should cause the judge to inflict a heavier penalty.”

“Munch is a soldier, on leave of absence. On the thirteenth day of August he found garrison life dull and proceeded to get drunk. A policeman found him in this condition and he was hustled off to the police station. In Judge Gordon’s court he was sentenced to thirty days for being drunk and disorderly, but his case was taken to the higher court.”

Judge Archibald Frater

“Judge Frater decided that while the soldier’s crime was not enough to merit punishment, for the looks of things he ought to be sent to jail, and have a lesson taught him. Consequently Munch was sentenced to an imprisonment of one minute, something which the clerk who makes out the sentence documents never heard of before and which caused much merriment in court house circles.”

Judge Archibald Wanless Frater was hardly a flippant character. He was born in Belmont County, Ohio in 1856 and attended college with Warren G. Harding, who became his lifelong friend. Frater migrated to Tacoma in 1888 and after a short time moved to Snohomish. While there he was elected to the House in 1890 and served as a Republican representing the 44th District for one term.

Frater moved to Seattle in 1898 and was elected King County Superior Court Judge in 1904. The Judge was instrumental in organizing the county’s juvenile justice system. He served in office up to his death on Christmas, 1925.

And what of Munch? He didn’t get to enjoy his freedom for too long. In August 1906 after leaving Fort Lawton he was aboard the transport ship Buford and was shot by a sergeant in self-defense when Munch became unruly and assaulted him. Maybe he needed to have been incarcerated for a few minutes more.

The Buford, AKA The Soviet Ark

A bit of Buford trivia: This ship later became known as the “Soviet Ark” during the post-World War I Red Scare as the United States deported “undesirables” such as Emma Goldman out of the country. Later Buster Keaton used the ship as the main set for his 1924 film, The Navigator.

From the desk of Steve Willis, Central Library Services Program Manager of the Washington State Library

What was a life and death struggle in 1913 became a weird form of recreation in Puget Sound in the 1950s-1960s and then an environmentally taboo practice by the 1970s. I am talking, of course, about octopus wrestling.

Although the story is set near Anacortes, the article was found at random in the Camas Post, August 15, 1913. A note before we start, the term “Devil Fish” was once used to describe the octopus:

FIGHTS DEVIL FISH

Diver is Seized By Octopus in 85 Feet of Water.

Only After Desperate Struggle of 45 Minutes Is Marine Monster Conquered.

“Seattle, Wash.–To fight 45 minutes against a giant octopus 85 feet below the surface of the water, striving desperately to break the relentless grasp of the slimy arms which held him, and at the same time talking over a telephone to his attendants in a scow on the face of the water, telling them of the battle as it progressed, and finally to escape uninjured was the experience of Walter McRay, deep-sea diver, at Alden Banks, near Anacortes.”

“James E. Hill, was in charge of the assistants to McRay, and tells the story of the fight.”

“During the battle with the devil fish Hill stood with the telephone receiver to his ear, listening to the graphic bulletins as they came to the surface from the man ‘on the firing line'”

“The telephones used by divers allow the men underneath to talk to the man on the surface, but the latter cannot reply, and the only encouragement Hill could offer to the diver was an occasional tug on the signal line.”

“McRay was engaged by the Apex Fishing company to examine one of its fish traps on Alden Banks. At the trap the water was about 75 feet deep. He had followed the lead for some distance and was in water about 85 feet deep, when his foot was seized in the vise-like grasp of a giant octopus. At the same time the big, slimy fish emitted a large amount of ink, turning the water in the vicinity absolutely black and making it impossible for the diver to see his assailant.”

“Hill, who was on the surface with the telephone receiver at his ear, heard a slight exclamation from the man below, followed by a violent pull on the line as the diver was thrown off his feet. A few seconds later McRay said over the telephone: ‘Now, keep cool. Don’t get excited. A devil fish has got me.'”

“‘When I heard those words, spoken by McRay as calmly as though he were greeting a friend on the street, my hair stood on end,’ said Hill.”

“‘The octopus, immediately after tripping McRay, had thrown two more tentacles about the diver, one around his body, binding his left arm tightly to his side, and the other between his legs, reaching up his back. The head of the fish was on McRay’s chest.'”

“‘Almost helpless, yet with his right arm free, he was able to draw his knife from his belt and defend himself. Fighting at the great depth of water and under heavy pressure, the strain soon told on the diver, and several times he was on the brink of collapse. Finally the monster fish weakened. It had exhausted its ink supply and was severely wounded. McRay gave the signal and we hauled man and octopus into the boat.'”

“‘When examined by the crew of the scow the octopus was found to have 11 wounds in his body made by McRay’s knife. He measured nine feet in diameter.'”

Now let us fast forward to the post-WW II era. The authors James A. Cosgrove and Neil McDaniel describe an athletic activity even more bizarre than golf in their book, Super Suckers : the Giant Pacific Octopus and Other Cephalopods of the Pacific Coast (2009):

“The rather strange sport of octopus wrestling had its beginnings in Washington state. Using only snorkelling gear, teams of divers had to repeatedly dive, locate octopuses and try to bring the most animals to the surface, where they were weighed. The activity became quite popular and was even televised with up to 5,000 spectators on hand. Afterward the octopuses were eaten, given to a local aquarium or returned to the sea. In April 1963, more than 100 divers took part and captured a total of 25 giant Pacific octopuses, the largest weighing 26 kg. (57 lb).”

“Bill High, a long-time Washington diver and scuba instructor, recalls the early days. ‘The Puget Sound Mudsharks began the World Octopus Wrestling Championship in either 1955 or 1956. When I joined the club in 1957, the competition was well established. I think the last event was held around 1968. My three-man team took first place in 1961, third place in 1965 and fourth place in 1964. Information about octopuses appeared in Skin Diver magazines from the late 1950s and into the 1960s. My research on the giant Pacific octopus was featured in the December 1971 issue of National Geographic magazine. In the first years the competition was breath-hold only, but by 1960 there was a scuba component. Most of the annual competitions were held at Titlow Beach in Tacoma, Washington.'”

In 1972 the Washington State Dept. of Fisheries released a publication entitled Diving for Octopus in Puget Sound, which begings with: “SCUBA diving for the large octopus (Octopus appolyon or hongkongensis) can be a challenging and rewarding experience. Although the octopus is timid, it does posses the capability to harm a diver, and techniques used in capturing the caphalopod should be known to the prospective ‘octopus wrestler.'”

But by the time the 1970s were over, the recreation of octopus wrestling had died out as Washingtonians became more ecologically aware.

Although Ringo Starr supposedly thought up the song Octopus’s Garden while in Sardinia in 1968, I’m betting the real story is that it first entered his brain in 1964, when the Beatles visited Seattle during the heyday of octopus wrestling. Ringo probably first got the idea when the Fabs were fishing in Puget Sound from their window at the Edgewater Hotel.

Harvey B Giffin army photo

From the desk of Steve Willis, Central Library Services Program Manager of the Washington State Library

Fans of Les Misérables might enjoy the following story, found at random from The Raymond Review, Sept. 3, 1913:

VICTOR HUGO’S HERO REAL MAN

 J.B. SMITH EXEMPLIFIES JEAN VALJEAN

 Is Well Known in Pacific County. Returns Saturday as Harvey Giffin.

 “Victor Hugo’s hero of ‘Les Miserables,’ Jean Valjean, has been exemplified in real life and by a resident of Pacific County, who has during the past five years worked in different logging camps throughout the county as a blacksmith and known to his fellow laborers as J.B. Smith.”

“The scene of Smith’s romance, or Giffin’s, as he is now known and which is real name, was laid in Ohio, from which state he has just returned to again take up his residence in Pacific county, arriving in Raymond last Saturday night bearing with him clippings of his old home papers to substantiate his remarkable recital. His story is most unusual and appears in a Ravenna, Ohio, paper as follows:”

I was living in Belmont county, and in 1904 I was helping the Methodist church raise enough money for a bell. One day when I was soliciting names I went down to the depot to see the boys come in from Bellaire, as I knew they would all contribute to the fund.

 A man by the name of Charles Brandon came up to me and began calling me names. He was drinking, and I paid no attention to him. He asked me what I was doing, and I told him. Then he said he would put the cleaner on me. He came at me with his fist, and I pushed him away. He went away, but in a little time came back, and, doubling up his fist, he began to call me names again.

 Kills the Man

 Then I hit him again, and he fell. I thought he was pretending to be hurt, but went over to him and shook him. He didn’t move, so I ran for a doctor, and after an examination, he told me the man was dead. Everybody around there knew I didn’t intend to kill him, but when I asked the doctor what I had better do, he advised me to go and give myself up.

 I went to St. Clairsville, the county seat, and told the authorities what I had done. I was put in jail, and after four months I was tried and convicted of manslaughter. They gave me a sentence of six years.

 When I had served 12 months, I was paroled by the old board of managers, who said I should never have been sent there. Then I went back to Belmont county to my father’s home. The family of Brandon never blamed me for killing him, nor did they ever put a straw in my way. They knew it was accidental, and done because Charlie was drinking and tried to fight me.

 But there were some fellows there who claimed to have a spite against me because I had killed Brandon, and they peddled tales about me, and laid traps to try to get me into trouble again. My father died suddenly of heart trouble, and after that those fellows worried me more than ever.

 I didn’t want to get in bad again, so rather than run any risks I decided to break my parole and leave the country. I went to Washington, where I followed my trade of blacksmith. I also lived some time in Oregon. I was out there nearly 7 years.

 Becomes Converted

 I was leading a straight, clean life, and became converted to religion. I read my Bible constantly and have read it through six times. After my conversion I thought it wrong to evade the law, and while I was in Idaho I made up my mind to return to Ohio and give myself up to the authorities. I went to the sheriff of the county and told him my story. Then I sent a telegram to Governor Harmon, telling him that I wanted to come back, and have my case settled, one way or another.

 I waited several days, and getting no answer, I telegraphed again. Still I did not hear anything, and the sheriff told me that evidently the Governor did not want to get out requisition papers for me, and that I might go about my business.

 Returns to Ohio

 I went back to Raymond, Washington, where I had been living until last May. Then I felt unhappy and wanted to see my mother and sisters, and after that to come to Columbus and serve out my sentence, if necessary.

 My mother was living in Ravenna, and two sisters and a brother in Akron. When I had been there a day, a fellow saw me and told the police I had broken my parole, so they arrested me and brought me to Columbus. But you know I had intended coming any way in a few days.

 I was brought to Columbus the 23rd of last June, and immediately wrote a statement of my case and sent it to the board of administration and asked to be set free.

 I am going back to mother. She wants me, and I can make her more comfortable. I will follow the trade of a blacksmith or carpenter and can make good wages.

“The Wheeling, O., Register of the same date had the following account:”

“That will take some figuring, won’t it? But I’ll get it some way, even if I have to make a full and complete statement of all the facts.”

 This from Harvey Giffin, a former well-known local man, who, back in 1904, killed Charles Brandon, at Neffs, O., and for which he was sent to the penitentiary for a six year term. That was in December of the same year. In December of the following year he was paroled and returned to Neffs, where friends of the man he had killed made it so unpleasant for him that he decided to remove himself from this section of the country and went to the west, thereby violating his parole.

 Never at any time a bad man, Giffin had little trouble in making friends. He is a blacksmith by trade and soon landed a job in Washington state. Being sober and industrious, he worked his way to a foremanship. Then he joined the church as well as two fraternal orders, the Knights of Pythias and the Eagles, all under a name which he assumed when he went west.

 Giffin spent a full seven and one half years in the west before coming back. Immediately after joining his church, however, he determined to give himself up to the Ohio authorities for the violation of his parole, and wired Governor Harmon, then chief executive of the Buckeye state, that he was willing to return if wanted. The Ohio authorities didn’t seem to want him, and after a few months more he returned to Akron to visit his aged mother. An officer there took him into custody and returned him the penitentiary. This was in the later part of June last. A month later his parole was put back in force and yesterday he was handed an unconditional pardon, duly signed by Governor Cox.

 Once again a free man, Giffin came direct to this city where he formerly lived, and after spending a day or two with some old friends at Neffs, he will return to Washington. He hopes to take on his right name when he returns to the people who helped him along there and that is what he means, at the outset, when he states that ‘it will take some figuring.

 The crime for which Giffin was sent up will be recalled by many readers of the Register. Charles Brandon, although getting up in years, was a powerfully built man [line apparently missing] … on the other hand, weighs less than 160. Brandon, the testimony went to show, had been at Bellaire, and upon alighting from the train at Neffs, picked a quarrel with Giffin, who, at the time was making collections from the miners for a bell for a church which had just been built. Giffin, it is stated, tried to avoid a fight, but when Brandon closed in on him he struck him with his fist, Brandon went down unconscious and died a short time afterward.

 To a Register man yesterday Giffin made a statement to the effect that while he had been sorry a thousand times that he was even the indirect cause of Brandon’s death yet he always has felt that Brandon died of heart failure brought on by the frenzy into which he had worked himself, rather than from the effects of the blow. He attributes his pardon to the fact that he was able, in seven years test, to prove that he can ‘make good’ notwithstanding t

he general belief that few men sent to the penal institutions of the country ever rise again.

 That Mr. Giffin had the sympathy of the authorities familiar with the case is proven by the following letter written to his mother by President T.E. Davey, of the Ohio Board of Administration, under date of Aug. 16th, 1913, and which is now in Mr. Giffin’s possession:

 “‘Mrs. Sarah C. Giffin,

161 Spruce St.,

Ravena, Ohio.,

Dear Madam:—

I take great pleasure in informing you that your son will be released today; and will also say that we have never had a case come before us that gave us more satisfaction than his. We are only sorry that he did not confer with us long ago, either by mail or in person. However, ‘all’s well that ends well,’ and will close by congratulating you upon having such a clean-minded son.

Very truly yours,

T.E. Davey,

President.”

Charles Brandon, the victim of the punch, was a 61 year old Union veteran who had survived two POW experiences during the Civil War. According to his pension papers, he was classified as an invalid.

Photo of Harvey’s headstone, Orting, Washington

Giffin, who was in his late 30s during the incident, was not a large man, but he had considerable military experience as well. He had been in the Army in the 1890s and had served in battles in Cuba during the Spanish-American War. But as we saw, once he returned to civilian life events became even more exciting than any military exploit.

Harvey did not stay a civilian for long. He rejoined the Army in 1916, and first served on the Mexican border during the Villa raids and was later sent to Europe during the Great War. He died August 27, 1939 in the Washington Soldiers Home in Orting, Washington.

The short-lived Raymond Review is one of several newspapers from Raymond, Washington available for viewing or via interlibrary loan from the Washington State Library.

[Photo of postcard sent by Harvey to his uncle, James Giffin. The reverse side reads: “Oct. 3 Dear Uncle i ritte you a fine liner i am OK On top of a Mountain on the Borders of Mexico gurding a pass thrue the Mountains with a Machine Gun. i and 2 more felows we got our guns be hind a stone fort we Bilt if Villey trys to come thru a gin we will get some of them. he has come thru be fore we got Machine Guns in different places Harvey Giffin Eight Ohio Inf Machine Gun bo” then “El Paso Texas.”]

[Photos supplied by Harvey’s great-nephew, Terry Magyar]

Colonel Patrick Henry Winston

From the desk of Steve Willis, Central Library Services Program Manager of the Washington State Library

The newspaper on microfilm reel grabbed at random this week holds a tale of “Colonel” Patrick Henry Winston and the Statue of Limitations. Yes, I meant to use the word “Statue” rather than “Statute.” You’ll see why.

“Colonel” Patrick Henry Winston, Jr. was born Aug. 22, 1847 in Windsor, North Carolina, the product of a family line that had also raised Patrick Henry, one of the great orators of the Revolution. Winston’s military rank was not bestowed by the Southern Army, nor was it an honorary title given by Kentucky. In any case he was indeed very briefly a soldier in the Confederacy during the last month of the Civil War. As it turned out, he was the sort of man who enjoyed embracing lost causes and relished the fight.

After being licensed to practice law in 1868, Winston seemed to have trouble finding a star to follow. Although he married and began a family that would eventually  number ten children, it took him 20 years to find a city to settle in– Spokane. And it took him even longer to find a political party to call home. First a Democrat, then a Republican, then a Democrat, then a Silver Republican, then– after a bit it becomes too complicated to follow his allegiances. In the end he was a member of Patrick Henry Winston Party. But by 1896 he was part of the Populist Fusion ticket that swept every statewide office in Washington and he was elected the State Attorney General.

In addition to being politically active, Winston was a newspaperman. After his single term in office he started Winston’s Weekly, which ran 34 issues from Aug. 22, 1903 (Winston’s 56th birthday) to Apr. 9, 1904. To call it a newspaper is sort of misleading. Actually it was more of an ancestor to what we call blogs today. The paper gave him a forum to proclaim his views (such as advocating the U.S. takeover of Canada, or promoting the Right to Die), tell stories, and exhibit his devilish sense of humor.

John Rankin Rogers, who was elected Governor as part of the 1896 Populist sweep, switched to the Democratic Party in 1900 and was the only statewide incumbent to be re-elected. But only after less than a year into term two, he died in office Dec. 26, 1901. Soon there was talk of erecting a statue to honor the late Governor. Here’s how his former fellow Populist office-holder reacted to this news, Winston’s Weekly, Sept. 5, 1903:

THE ROGERS MONUMENT

Statue of Governor Rogers

“In all ages and in all lands monuments have been erected to perpetuate the memory of great deeds and great men.”

“The statue of Napoleon in his imperial robes surmounts the Vendome Column, that of Lord Nelson adorns Trafalgar Square, and a monument to the memory of Washington towers to the sky in the capital of the country of which he was the father. It is a beautiful custom, not only because it is a tribute to departed greatness and a grateful expression of popular gratitude, but because it is an object lesson calculated to inspire coming generations with lofty aspirations.”

“Happily for our country the names of many of her sons are worthy to be inscribed over the portals of immortal fame. Congress has provided a national pantheon in which may be placed by the states the statues of their illustrious dead, and in the Capitol grounds of many of the states there stand monuments erected by a grateful sovereignty to departed worth.”

“In selecting these subjects of a peoples gratitude and veneration the greatest care should be exercised lest what is now an honored and beautiful custom become one of derision and contempt.”

“The state of Illinois could with propriety erect a monument to Lincoln or Grant; Virginia to Washington, Jefferson, or Henry; Ohio to Wm. Tecumseh Sherman; Massachusetts to Samuel Adams; Pennsylvania to Benjamin Franklin; Oregon to Edward Baker; of Washington to General Isaac I. Stevens, her first governor, a brave pioneer, a distinguished statesman, and a gallant soldier.”

“Upon what theory is it proposed to erect a monument to perpetuate the memory of Governor Rogers? What was there in his life as a citizen or career as an office-holder to justify this greatest popular tribute? Except the fact that he happened to die in office, in what respect did his career differ from that of the ordinary run of governors? He was neither a statesman nor a soldier, nor a poet, nor an artist, nor an orator, nor an inventor, nor a discoverer, nor a philanthropist, nor a pioneer. Even as a druggist, which occupation he followed before entering the field of politics, he failed to make any revolution in the science of pharmacy, and although he wrote some ridiculous books which nobody remembers, he never took rank as an author. As a politician he failed to rise above the level of the every day populist politician of the Omaha platform school, beginning his political career by attacking corporations and ending it by soliciting railroad support. After posing as the champion of popular rights, when the opportunity came to go to the front in the fight against the merger, along with Governor Van Sant, he shrunk into pitiable littleness and played the role of a weak and nerveless trimmer.

“It has become fashionable for small minds to attach themselves to what they believe to be popular events and to make merchandise of them.”

“After the exhibition furnished by the last legislature it seemed that the limit of human folly had been reached and that nothing could ever happen again to shock the common sense of the average person in the state of Washington, but the proposition to erect a monument by public subscription to the late Governor Rogers proves that there is no limit to human folly. If the falling political fortunes of these parasites will be temporarily propped by being attached to the remains of John R. Rogers that is no reason why whole communities should be involved in their folly and great state made ridiculous.”

Winston’s 1899 Biennial Report

Winston died Apr. 3, 1904, and his newspaper died with him, the final issue assembled as a printed memorial by his friends. The Rogers statue was unveiled a few months later on the Capitol grounds, known today as Sylvester Park in downtown Olympia. Historian Gordon Newell commented in his book Rogues, Buffoons & Statesmen (1975):

“The body of John Rankin Rogers was buried in his home town of Puyallup, but the school children of the state donated their pennies and nickels to pay for a very bad statue of a good man and the lifesized figure of a frock-coated Rogers stands to this day in Sylvester park, its back to the old gray sandstone statehouse and its face toward a high-rise luxury hotel across from what used to be Main street. Carved in the granite base is the creed of the old Populist … ‘I would prevent the poor from being utterly impoverished by the greedy and avaricious … the rich can take care of themselves.'”

The Washington State Library has a complete run of Winston’s Weekly available on microfilm including via interlibrary loan as well as Winston’s Biennial Reports as Washington State Attorney General.

William H. Packer

From the desk of Steve Willis, Central Library Services Program Manager of the Washington State Library

William H. Packer was probably among the last living Civil War veterans in Washington State. In his eventful life he was able to strut and fret his hour upon the stage alongside Edwin and John Wilkes Booth, serve in the Union Army, and help found a Socialist Utopian community in Washington State.

Changing his surname from Packard to Packer in order to avoid detection from his family, William enlisted in the Union Army and initially served as a drummer boy but eventually took up arms. He saw quite a bit of action including Gettysburg, Rappahannock, and the fall of Richmond.

The following profile is from page 1 of the March 11, 1921 issue of the Bay-Island News, published in Gig Harbor. The piece was originally printed in the Tacoma Ledger.

BOY ACTOR OF ’59 LEARNS ART OVER

Gig Harbor Man Who Appeared with Booth Studies Stagecraft Here.

“Sputtering gas lights, which cast a yellow glare, floors built on a slope that the audience might have a better view, scenery sections built on flats or rollers, which made a great rumble when brought together in the middle of the stage, and strictly conventional furnishings of the somewhat showy style of the period– such was the stage on which W.H. Packer of Gig Harbor, began in 1859, a boy of 14 years, with Edwin Booth and John Wilkes Booth, a stage career which was cut short by the Civil War.”

“Now, at 76, Mr. Packer is learning modern methods in stagecraft as taught at the Drama Institute last week at the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ clubhouse. Heavy velvet drapes, concealed lights casting a soft, indistinct glow, shaded footlights or sometimes no footlights at all, fanciful settings, such as only a most imaginative mind could evolve, these are some of the changes Mr. Packer has found in the stage of today. But despite the changes, he says he thoroughly enjoyed the institute and believes that he ‘may shift into some sort of play.'”

“Born in Boston, Mr. Packer was attending school there when he had an opportunity to fill an auxiliary role in ‘Hamlet,’ in which Edwin Booth was playing the lead. It was greatly to the envy of his schoolmates that he appeared on the stage at the same time as the great actor. All spare moments following school hours found the boy at the Boston theater, watching every movement, listening to every word of the man whose fame as an American actor had spread throughout the country. A few months later he was given a part in the play in which John Wilkes Booth was then taking the lead.”

Drummer Boy in Civil War

“Then came the Civil War, and Mr. Packer, a boy of 16, enlisted as a drummer boy in the 11th United States infantry. For three years and month he served in the army and on receiving his discharge returned to Boston, where, a short time later, he was married. Mrs. Packer, however had no such admiration for the theater as had her young husband so he gave up his idea of becoming a famous actor and turned his attention to becoming an expert electrician. He and his wife traveled over the United States for a time, the electrician sometimes finding employment in a theater where he gave much time and attention to working out new lighting effects.”

“On their return East, Mr. Packer became head of the city light department at Binghampton, N.Y. Here he continued his experiments in lighting and when Admiral Robert E. Peary returned to the United States after discovering the North Pole, and was to give a lecture in the Binghampton theater, Mr. Packer was asked to arrange the stage.”

“‘That was the hardest job I ever had,’ said Mr. Packer. ‘I wanted to show the Northern lights and a rainbow. I worked on it for a long time but finally managed to get a beautiful effect. Maybe the Northern lights weren’t just right but most of the people had never seen them anyway, so it didn’t make any particular difference.'”

Map of Burley, WA

One of Founders of Burley

“Twenty-two years ago, in the fall of ’98, the wanderlust again seized Mr. Packer and he and his wife started for the Pacific coast. They arrived in Seattle, stayed there for three months and then, with a man by the name of DeArmond, of Colorado, they started to explore the surrounding country. Rich farming land, found not far from Gig Harbor, decided them to start a colony there and, with the advent of a few more families, the settlement was given the name Burley, now six miles from Gig Harbor.”

“Five years ago Mr. Packer’s wife died, just three months before they were to have celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary. Mr. Packer continued to work his little farm until four months ago when he sold his home and moved to Gig Harbor.”

Our earlier profile of the Burley commune in this blog included a map, and on it you can plainly see W.H. Packer had a nice chunk of land very close to the center of the settlement. Packer was appointed the first Postmaster of Burley in early 1901.

According to Charles Pierce LeWarne’s Utopias on Puget Sound 1885-1915, Packer, who had a white beard at the time, was able to use his thespian skills while playing the part of Santa Claus for the community’s children.

William H. Packer died in the veteran’s hospital in American Lake on November 20, 1937. The Bay-Island News changed its title in 1923 and became the present-day Peninsula Gateway. The Washington State Library has both titles available on microfilm here in Tumwater or via interlibrary loan.

From the desk of Steve Willis, Central Library Services Program Manager of the Washington State Library

Monty Python introduced us to the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog, Jimmy Carter repelled an attack of a killer bunny while fishing in Georgia in 1979, and in the B-movie Night of the Lepus (1972) giant rabbits terrorize a small town in Arizona.

But wait, there’s more! As Ed Wood might’ve asked, “My friend, can your heart stand the shocking facts about the KILLER RABBITS OF PASCO?!?!”

Jimmy Carter fighting off a ferocious rabbit

The following article was found at random in the Jan. 6, 1922 issue of the Spokane Daily Chronicle:

PASCO RABBITS ARE “FEROCIOUS”

“WALLA WALLA, Jan. 6–(Special)– Rabbits, apparently inoculated by dogs and coyotes afflicted with rabies, have become so ferocious, according to residents in Pasco, that they have launched an offensive attack against the cedar poles of high power tension lines. These reports come from many sections of the country.”

“Almost unbelievable stories of rabbits attacking dogs and coyotes and in many cases putting them to flight are told by responsible persons in the community. A general alarm has been sounded and many drives against the jack rabbits have been planned. At the R.M. Johnson place Saturday, 66 farmers assembled, but owing to the peculiar antics of the rabbits only 100 could be killed.”

“Many of these, when picked up, were found to be frothing at the mouth, residents say. A call has been sent out urging every farmer to gather Saturday in an effort to exterminate the pests.”

“A precaution urged that hunters wear hip boots to keep from being bitten by rabid bunnies.”

The Washington State Library has a number of titles dealing with the subject of rabies, although many of them focus on bats.

Also among our titles on this topic are a few digital items. Should you be unfortunate enough to encounter and kill a rabid rabbit, the Washington State Dept. of Health has provided a nice visual on how to dispose of the specimen. This serves as another example of how our catalog can be viewed as public service, serving as a central gateway with a controlled subject vocabulary (known as “authorities” by library catalogers) for the many thousands of state publications we have digitized.

[Rabbit in water image courtesy of the Jimmy Carter Library]

From the desk of Steve Willis, Central Library Services Program Manager of the Washington State Library

My Father was an accountant, and when he wanted us kids to get sleepy and not stay up too late, all he had to do was talk about his job. But before you dismiss the profession of accounting as a boring and tedious vocation, consider this front page story from the Sept. 14, 1911 issue of the Olympia Daily Recorder:

STATE OFFICIAL IN SHERIFF’S IRONS — TRIES ON ANKLET ONLY TO FIND KEY IS LOST

“Another state official was in sheriff’s irons at the court house this morning and secured his release with difficulty, although without bail. F.H. Lieben, member of the state board of supervision and inspection of public offices literally put himself in the toils, not of the law but of the implements of the law, and as he sat ruminating at the ways of folly, swore by the board of the prophet, the sacred bull of Osiris, Anthony Comstock and such other traditional symbols of grace and virtue that if he ever got out this time he never would get in again. Lieben, whose business it is to examine the accounts of public officers to see that they don’t get too careless in office, himself got too careless in the office of Sheriff Gaston, and trying on one of the big leg irons out of curiosity, had his curiosity amply satisfied when he discovered he could not get it off and the key could not be found. And for more than an hour Lieben sat and winced at the jibes of the county officials who dropped in to see the new prisoner, and at the clanking galling ankle iron. Some were for getting him a copy of Byron’s ‘Prisoner of Chilon’ to read for consolation, but Lieben would have none of poetry. He wanted ‘out,’ nothing else.”

“Lieben called on the sheriff this morning about 8 o’clock on a matter of business. While the two were talking Lieben toyed with a pair of heavy leg irons and when the sheriff had his back turned slipped one the anklets on. The irons are worked by a spring lock and Lieben found himself caught tight around the ankle. Explaining how it happened they slipped tighter until they pinched uncomfortably.”

“For a half hour the sheriff conducted an unavailing search for the key. In the meantime pretended news of the arrest of Lieben on a serious charge was spread through the court house and officials gathered to josh him. After trying all the keys in the office without getting one to work, Clyde Duval, the forest ranger, began to file one down but this was slow, so Charles Talcott was called into consultation. While he was making a key Duval finished his and the leg irons were finally slipped off the state officer. He tried his best to cajole the crowd that had gathered and the newspaper men to secrecy but they wouldn’t fall, and so the story is being told all about town.”

Francis Henry Lieben was born Sept. 21, 1860 in Dubuque, Iowa. He was raised in Iowa, Pennsylvania, and Minnesota. In the late 1890s, along with his wife Mary and son Howard, he migrated to Davenport, Washington, where he worked as a bookkeeper. In 1909 the family moved to Seattle.

Lieben found employment as one of the original three board members of the Bureau of Inspection and Supervision of Public offices, which was created in 1909 as a department of the State Auditor. This watchdog trio must have been effective in finding accounting problems in local governments. Someone disliked them enough to get an initiative on the ballot in 1914 to abolish the Bureau. Initiative Measure No. 7, which is found in the very first Washington voter’s pamphlet, was soundly defeated by the voters in 1914.

In a publication describing their mission ca. 1917, the Bureau commented:

“It cannot be expected that governing officers having disregarded the welfare of their constituents will call in examiners to expose their shortcomings.”

“The public spoke after a strenuous campaign in 1915 [i.e. 1914] on Initiative Measure No. 7 in no uncertain way by sustaining the bureau by a large majority.”

“It is to be regretted that designing politicians who know nothing of our work and care less, having never darkened our doors should on account of some personal pique, biennially harass and belittle so important a work as is being accomplished by the Bureau.”

The Bureau existed until 1921, when it was superceded by the Dept. of Efficiency. The Washington State Library has several publications from the short-lived Bureau.

Meanwhile, Lieben served on the Bureau until Jan. 1913, when he became a regular examiner for the State Auditor. He retired in 1932.

In Sept. 1918 his ankle once again made the news. A truck ran over his left foot at the corner of Madison and 2nd in downtown Seattle, and the newspaper thought Lieben might have to have the foot and ankle amputated. A month later his wife Mary died.

He remarried in 1921 and lived a long life, dying in Seattle Dec. 3, 1958, age 98.

A couple of the background characters in the above news article are worth noting. George Gaston (1849-1930) was Sheriff and later Assessor of Thurston County. He was married to a descendant of African-American Tumwater pioneer George Washington Bush. Charles Talcott (1854-1939) was an early Olympia jeweler  who is known as the designer of the original Washington State seal in 1889.

The Olympia Daily Recorder can be counted as one of the ancestors of the current Olympian news paper.

From the desk of Steve Willis, Central Library Services Program Manager of the Washington State Library

It was a criminal story bound to generate headlines. Federal agents storm a mansion in Seattle, the home of a former Governor’s son. In the course of their search they discover a large amount of a white powdery substance hidden behind a sofa and an arrest is made.

It was flour. Around 600 pounds of it.

Here’s the report from the Seattle Daily Times, August 2, 1918:

SEATTLE LAWYER FINED $350 FOR HIDING FLOUR

Pierre P. Ferry, Son of First Governor of State, Offers Compromise Plea.

“Charged with hoarding flour in violation of the food laws, Pierre P. Ferry, wealthy pioneer attorney and son of Elisha P. Ferry, first governor of the state, last night was fined $350 by Judge Edward E. Cushman in the United States District Court. Ferry paid the fine and costs at once.”

“Ferry was the first man to be arrested in Seattle on a charge of food hoarding. He was taken in custody early last month when federal officers found more than 600 pounds of flour behind a sofa in the maid’s room on the third floor of the Ferry residence, and subsequently he was indicted by the grand jury.”

Offers Compromise Plea.

“Arraigned last night, Ferry was permitted by the court to enter a plea of nolle contendere. This is a compromise plea involving neither the guilt nor innocence of the defendant. Speaking for the government Assistant United States Attorney Ben L. Moore declared Ferry should plead either guilty or not guilty.”

“Moore also declined to suggest the amount in which Ferry should be fined or otherwise punished. The government prosecutor merely placed the facts in the case before the court, declining to be heard further than a statement that Ferry either was guilty or not guilty and should be compelled so to plead.”

Denies Attempt to Conceal.

“Former Federal Judge C.H. Hanford, who, with Alfred Battle and J.L. Corrigan, represented Ferry, contended that the defendant had not been guilty of an attempt to violate the spirit and intent of the law and had made no effort to conceal the flour. He said Ferry did not know he held an unlawful amount of flour until so notified by federal agents.”

“Judge Cushman said that while he did not countenance food hoarding, if the country was at a point where it was starving such an offense would call for harsh punishment and the rule of guilt or innocence demanded. He said he was thankful that time is not here.”

Flour hoarding was considered a crime in the United States during most of 1918 as the country mobilized for the Great War. The U.S. Food Administration apparently was seen as the enforcement agency. One curious publication in the WSL collection from this era is The Bride’s Cook Book, which takes wartime food rationing into account. A USFA official writes in the preface, “By following the Wheatless and Sugarless recipes contained therein the Housewife is performing a patriotic duty in the conserving of Food so necessary for our Allies and armies abroad.”

Pierre Peyre Ferry (1868-1932) was a successful Seattle attorney and capitalist. Here’s a WSL connection: his brother, James Peyre Ferry (1853-1914), had served as Territorial Librarian 1880-1881.

The Pierre P. Ferry house, scene of the crime, still stands today and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. I believe it was listed in spite of the flour caper, not because of it.

[Ferry portrait from: The Cartoon : a Reference Book of Seattle’s Successful Men (1911)]

E. F. Boucke

From the desk of Steve Willis, Central Library Services Program Manager of the Washington State Library

By day he was a respectable insurance salesman, a churchgoing man. But by night he was one of the most dangerous criminals Seattle police had seen, performing “dark deeds of the wildest type.”

Eugene F. Boucke, born around 1865, appears to have surfaced in Seattle around 1900-1901 as a carpenter, but quickly took up the occupation of insurance salesman. His secret activity of “sallying forth at night on deeds of depredation” was revealed to the public in the following article from the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, April 12, 1903:

A DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

E.F. Boucke, Alias Forrest, Brought from Sacramento

ACCUSED OF ROBBERY

Police Declare Dual Life of Crime and Seeming Respectability Will Be Laid Bare

IMPUTE MANY DARK DEEDS

“E.F. Boucke or E. Forrest, the man the police accuse of leading a double life, one of seeming respectability and religious pretensions, and the other of crime, which startled and terrorized the community, has been brought back to this city from Sacramento, Cal., by Detective Lane of the police department, arriving yesterday morning. Boucke is charged with binding, gagging and blindfolding the Blick family at Green Lake, while he, with a companion, robbed the household of money and valuable possessions, some of which he later gave to his wife–to the woman with whom he ran away–and placed in jewelry stores and pawn shops.”

“The police regard Boucke as one of the most remarkable criminals with whom they have had to deal. They say they trace his hand in highway robberies, in such crimes as that committed in the Blick home, when the inmates were threatened with cremation in case they did not reveal the hiding place of money, and in dark deeds of the wildest type. All the while he was respected as a business man and bore the appearance rather of a minister of the gospel than of a daring criminal.”

“Finishing a series of crimes of the most extravagant nature, the police say they have evidence that Forrest, as he was known here at the time, abandoned his wife and three children, to travel under the still different name of Tennant to San Francisco in company with Lena May Molitar, a woman about whom little good is known by the detectives and police officers. The two went to Aberdeen and thence to California. In San Francisco Boucke became an insurance agent, as he had been employed by an insurance concern in this city.”

Detectives Get Wise

“By chance the detectives learned of his whereabouts after they discovered his alleged connection with the various crimes which they were investigating. The San Francisco authorities were instructed to arrest the man and word soon came that he had been taken by the police of Sacramento, where he seemed to be living with his paramour as man and wife and under the name Tennant. He admitted he had left his Seattle wife, but declared he was forced to do so through her Christian Science vagaries and his unpleasant domestic life.”

“Requisition papers were procured on the Governor of California and Detective Lane started immediately after the fugitive. He feared some trouble might be encountered there in bringing the prisoner northward, but this was done without incident. Boucke maintains that he is innocent of any crime, asserting that his change of name was due to his desire to conceal his identity and whereabouts from his wife.”

“It was to cover an alleged shortage in his accounts and also to secure money to lavish on the woman who had found favor in his eyes that Boucke was led to live his life of duplicity, say the police, appearing to the world during the day as a man of exemplary character and sallying forth at night on deeds of depredation. These officers declare they have almost positive proof of the acts which they impute to the man under arrest.”

“Boucke was in the employ of an insurance company having offices in the Arcade building. He is of dignified and reserved mein and from his appearance would scarcely be termed a dangerous man.”

His Victims Women

“Nearly all the robberies charged to Boucke were from women. A sort of epidemic of crime was begun when a woman was held up in one of the suburban districts and relieved of her jewelry, and soon after one or two similar highway robberies were reported. Then the Moore home was entered on Thirty-second avenue and $750 worth of jewels and money was taken, while the aged Mrs. Moore and her grandson, merely a lad, were bound to their chairs and pillowslips were placed over their heads. A $30,000 shawl of ancient weave was missed by the robbers.”

“Not long after that another woman was nearly killed with fright on entering her house when two men jumped from a closet and bound and gagged her, while her valuables were stolen. Soon after that the Blick robbery occurred. In the meanwhile between these affairs there occurred a number of highway robberies and other crimes of lesser magnitude.”

“Toward the latter part of this epidemic it was suggested to the police that Boucke might have some knowledge of the operations which seemed to be connected through their similarity, but the detectives at first scoffed at the idea. They could not find that Boucke’s associates were of a bad type, and as far as could be learned his life was as it should be.”

Pawned Jewelry the Clew

“The intelligence that the man might be the highwayman forced itself on the minds of the police officers through finding at a jeweler’s a nugget pin which had been taken from the Blick home. The jeweler stated that there was something in the manner of Boucke to cause suspicion when he left the pin to be repaired. A few days later a physician in conversation with Detectives Lane and Adams remarked the prevalence of crime and said a man of his acquaintance had pledged a watch with him, and incidentally had remarked that the police were trying hard to find the robbers, while he could lay his hands on them at any time. This man proved to be Boucke.”

“Thus the connection was established, and almost at every turn the detectives were confronted with more evidence against the insurance agent. About that time the latter left the city, and for several weeks all clews were lost, until a letter was received by the Insurance company which said he intended to make up the deficiency in his accounts and would send the money soon. The name of Tennant was signed and an address in San Francisco was given. The letter stated that the writer was doing well there and did not wish to return to Seattle.”

“The specific charge of robbery is made against Boucke in a complaint and a preliminary examination will be held shortly. The detectives are trying hard to locate the accomplice and believe they will make an arrest or two very soon.”

According to the State Auditor’s 8th Biennial Report (1905), Washington taxpayers paid a grand total of $46.20 to transport Mr. Boucke back from Sacramento to Seattle.

On Dec. 29, 1903, Boucke was handed a 16-year sentence for robbery by King County Superior Court Judge W.R. Bell. Boucke applied for a pardon from Gov. Mead in Aug. 1905, but was turned down. The State Board of Pardons released Boucke in 1908, and after that point he vanishes from history.

From the desk of Steve Willis, Central Library Services Program Manager of the Washington State Library

Yes, I would agree that the telegraph operator profiled in the following article didn’t get out much. A very unusual story found in The Tacoma Herald, July 21, 1877:

Spirit Telegraphy

“PUYALLUP, July 16, 1877.–It was my privilege to visit the office of a telegraph operator a few days ago, and witness some rather novel performances. It was the old story of ‘Spirit manifestation’ repeated. The claim was that the operator ‘could hold telegraphic communications with disembodied Spirits, without the use of wire and battery.'”

“Once comfortably seated in the office, the operator, with whom I was well acquainted, and whose honasty [sic] every one admitted, began to perform his mysterious feats. His manner of proceeding was as follows: He took a common comb and rubbed it with his hand. He then took a silver half-dollar and called for a spirit by sounds, in the same manner as he would do in the use of the battery and instruments by striking the back of the comb, the call being made in this way: he placed the back of the comb to his tongue while he held in the other a pencil to write down the answer. Directly the muscles of the tongue twitched in regular order, which was taken for sounds and the twitching being interpreted to indicate an answer he wrote, ‘Old Moore.'”

“He asked again by telegraphic sounds ‘Where are you?’ The answer came, ‘In hell.’ ‘What are you doing there?’ “I am here to learn to do well.’ Feeling that we were a little nearer the infernal regions than was comfortable we concluded to dismiss Old Moore and call again. In fact we felt a little discouraged that after our many efforts to get to heaven we had brought up in speaking distance of the very place above all others that we wished to shun. Ugh!”

“The next answer was from the spirit of a well known and universally beloved Christian lady who had died in the neighborhood only a few months ago. She said she was in heaven. She was asked whether she would like to speak to me. The reply was ‘No.’ ‘Do you desire to come back to this world?’ ‘Ha! ha! ha! I do not care about it.'”

“At this juncture our proceedings were interrupted by a call from the instrument and we had not the opportunity to continue.”

“These peculiar experiences were had by the operator for several days past. Among the Spirit Telegrams received by the same mode as above, was one that ‘the Russians would be defeated by the intervention of England.’ Another, that ‘the Indians would break out in the Puyallup Valley inside of three days; and that they would shoot this operator for the first man.’ These and many more communications were had. It is impossible to give but these few specimens.”

“In trying to account for this curious phenomenon we noted: 1. That the operator was naturally of a nervous temperament to begin with. 2. He remained in his office nearly all day, and slept there at night. 3. His bed and office were charged with electricity, and his system almost bathed in it from day to day. 4. Under these circumstances, he heard of nothing and thought of nothing but the ‘click, click, click’ of the instrument all day long. 5. Anxious to catch the sound and read the messages as they came to or passed through the office, his nerves become interested in telegraphy also. 6. The habit of hearing and reading these sounds became so strong that his nerves were capable of producing them involuntarily. 7. The mind– unconscious to the operator– controlling this nervous twitching, words and even sentences were formed. And so you see that the wondrous mystery and fearfulness which seemed to hang over this office are all dissipated. Overstrained nerves, under the influence of electricity, produced this wonderful phenomenon.”

“In proof of the theory advanced above, we would urge two reasons. The one is that these strange communications would not cease when the question asked was answered. They would continue right along, changing the subject every sentence or two, and talking the while about unheard of things. This shows that it is the twitching of the nerves. The other is that the communications would cease in the middle of a word or sentence, and then begin something else.”

“Whether this thing has been made plain and comprehensible here, I cannot tell. I only wish to show that no spirits had anything to do in the matter. Like many of the ‘spiritual performances,’ it is fully accounted for in my mind by the over excited nerves of the operator. The best thing for him to do is to quit his spirit telegraphy, and stay in his office as little as possible, bathe frequently and take all the outdoor exercise possible; or else he may sustain permanent injury to his health.”

Weird with a beard, man. The telegraph operator’s very original method of communicating with spirits is made more curious by the fact he apparently was not attempting to do this for profit, thus excluding him as a candidate for the frauds of that era as exposed by P.T. Barnum in his book, The Humbugs of the World : an Account of Humbugs, Delusions, Impositions, Quackeries, Deceits and Deceivers Generally, in All Ages (1865). Barnum had a particular dislike for those who claimed to possess some form of spirit communication.

The reporter’s attempt to explain the telegraph operator’s behavior reads like an early try at developing a psychological profile, adding yet another fascinating twist to this story.

The Tacoma Herald, published in “New Tacoma, Wash. Ter.” had a short life, 1877-1880. WSL has a nearly complete run available on microfilm and like the rest of our newspaper titles, can be acquired through interlibrary loan.