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 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.

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.

Random News from the Newspapers on Microfilm Collection: James Fitzgerald, the Human Ostrich

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

“No, sir. This is the West, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”

I was reminded of this quote from the movie The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance after breezing through several old newspaper articles regarding the life and adventures of James Fitzgerald, who was known on both sides of Washington State as “The Human Ostrich.” The facts are very inconsistent from story to story, but each story makes fascinating reading.

It all started when the microfilm reel I grabbed at random for this installment turned out to be the White Bluffs Spokesman, from the now extinct town of White Bluffs. Somehow it seems fitting to this story the town had the word “Bluffs” in it, as we shall see. This article was on the top of the fold for the February 18, 1916 issue:

 Human Ostrich Checks Out

 “James Fitzgerald, once a resident of White Bluffs, and who became notorious after he left here by eating considerable glassware and a hardware store or two, is dead. He was 69 years old and his death occurred a short time ago in the county hospital at Prosser, of dropsical complications.”

“Fitzgerald was a man of unique appearance, being six feet and six inches tall. He had a double set of teeth and could chew glass as easily as most people chew gum.”

“He was operated on in Seattle a few years ago and something like 50 different articles were taken from his stomach. The list included knives, nails, pieces of glass and one ten dollar gold piece. For a time before his death, this ‘human ostrich’ was the star attraction at the Gibbs moving picture show in Richland.”

Both of the Prosser papers covered Fitzgerald’s death. The Independent Record and its rival The Republican-Bulletin repeated the Human Ostrich story, as well as the double set of teeth. But both added that Fitzgerald had been living in the east end of Benton County for several months and had been in ill health for awhile. Also, he had worked in the circus. The latter paper had additional information: Fitzgerald was born in Ireland, and “In his younger days he is said to have traveled with circuses and museums.”

The ten dollar gold piece found earlier in Fitzgerald’s stomach was also mentioned by The Republican-Bulletin: “At the time the operation was made the surgeon doing the work offered his services free if Mr. Fitzgerald would give him what he found. Fitzgerald, however, demurred at this arrangement insisting that he should be allowed to retain the gold piece, and the matter was adjusted in that way.”

As it turns out, Fitzgerald had been the subject of an operation only a few months before, not years, in May, 1915. He died January 17, 1916, apparently having never fully recovered from the surgery.

According to the 1910 census from King County in the appropriately named Novelty Precinct, Fitzgerald was born in Ireland and arrived in the United States in 1884. He was 62 years old in this census, working as a railroad section hand. He never married.

There were several acts in United States history billing themselves as “The Human Ostrich,” performers who could consume anything and did, for a price. It is possible Fitzgerald was the true identity of “The Original Human Ostrich” who was an attraction at Seattle’s Luna Park starting in 1907.

On May 1, 1915 the Post-Intelligencer took The Human Ostrich under its wing (get it?) when the paper ran a long feature article on Fitzgerald after the surgery which resulted in the removal of over a pound of metal and glass debris from his stomach. He told the press he had stopped eating nonfood items a couple years earlier, but didn’t start experiencing severe pain until recently. According to the P-I, the following items were retrieved from the patient’s stomach:

8 knives

1 bolt, two and a half inches long, with a nut on the end

1 dime

1 penny

1 nickel

1 shoemaker’s awl

1 loaded 30-30 Krag-Jorgensen cartridge

1 key

5 pins

9 parts of jack-knife handles

11 knife blades

9 flat springs

4 German silver ring tags

3 nails

100+ bits of broken glass

A photo displaying these items accompanied the news piece. The article did not mention a ten dollar gold coin.

Fitzgerald told the paper he discovered he could eat almost anything without ill effect in 1885 while in Quincy, Illinois. Despondent and unemployed at the time, he ate rocks and shingle nails, hoping it would kill him. But not only did he live, he didn’t suffer any discomfort. He appeared to have made a living out of making bets in taverns based on what he could or could not eat. It is probably safe to assume a goodly amount of alcohol was a major contributing factor in these wagers.

The story said he had lived in Seattle since the late 1890s, “occasionally working in the lumber camps or mines.” The reporter mentioned Fitzgerald’s “rich brogue” and described his subject as “a brawny, big-framed two-fisted man, who stands more than 6 feet tall in his stocking feet and weighs nearly 200 pounds.” No mention of the double set of teeth, although this was included: “With considerable relish Fitzgerald yesterday told how easy it was to eat a beer glass if one were careful about biting off the chunks and to chew them thoroughly. That the habit is not more general seemed strange to Fitzgerald, who was obviously of the opinion that any person could do it who had ambition and the appetite.”

A follow-up P-I article on May 25 explained how Fitzgerald had become a national celebrity in the medical community. Dr. Don H. Palmer was the operating surgeon. The King County Medical Society wanted the patient to appear before them for more examination and questions.

It would seem Mr. Fitzgerald never quite recovered from the surgery. He died less than a year later, and is buried in Prosser’s Odd Fellows Cemetery. I could make another wordplay here, but that would be in bad taste. (That was a double-score two-in-one-sentence set of puns in that last line!)

White Bluffs, the town hosting the newspaper article that started this whole little trail, ceased to exist in 1943, when the federal government took over the area as part of establishing the Hanford Nuclear Reservation. Exactly when, why and how long Fitzgerald lived there is unknown.

If you have any information on this interesting character in Washington State history we would love to hear from you.

 

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

Found in The Seattle Telegraph, Nov. 13, 1894, p. 8:

THE COUNTY BOUNDARY

 Twelve Men in Judge Humes’ Court Define It.

 ILLEGAL WHISKEY TRAFFIC

 Defendants Take Refuge Behind Technical Bulwark and Escape Penalty for Their Crimes — Some Groundless Fear That the Verdict May Affect the Election Count of Martin Creek and Wellington.

 “A jury in Judge Humes’ court yesterday acquitted Pat Cunningham of the charge of illegally selling liquor at Wellington, a small town on the Great Northern railway, away up in the Cascades, just at the foot of the west side of the switchback, apparently on the ground that Wellington is not in King county. A great sensation was caused by the verdict, as the greater part of the now famous Martin Creek precinct is situated on land that the jury in this case decided to be part of Kittitas county, to the east of King. It seems that last June the county commissioners discovered that a thriving business in wet goods was being done up in the Cascades, which was not bringing in any revenue to the county and they complained to the sheriff, who sent his deputy, W.B. Woolery, up to investigate the matter. Woolery found a couple of saloons running wide open, and arrested the owners, charging them with selling liquor without a license. Yesterday morning he testified to that effect, and was followed by Nathan Beman, deputy county auditor, who swore that no license had been issued to the parties, and the prosecution closed.”

“Charles F. Fishback, counsel for the defense, then called A.B. Palmer and W.L. Sanders, who had been members of a surveying party in that part of the country. They testified that Wellington is in range 13 east, township 27 north, and that the code of Washington designates the southeast corner of township 27 north range 11 east as the northwest corner of King county, which will leave Martin Creek and Wellington in Kittitas County. The jury were only out a short time before arriving at their verdict. The general opinion among lawyers is that jurors have a natural disinclination to convict men charged with such offenses and seized this straw on which to bring in a verdict of not guilty, and that on any more important case the verdict would never be sustained.”

“The truth of the matter, according to those who know, or claim to know, is that the legislature meant to set the boundary line of the county on top of the mountains curving far to the east.”

“When the verdict was brought in, the prosecuting attorney moved to dismiss a similar case against James Manson, which was granted by Judge Humes.”

“While the verdict has the effect of releasing the men charged with the crime, it cannot be taken as having any effect upon the recent voting in those precincts, or in any way disturbing the results of the election. It is the belief of prominent lawyers that on appeal such a conclusion or contention would not hold for one minute.”

“Charles Anderson, the surveyor who has made repeated surveys in that part of the country involved, says he knows in which county Martin Creek and Wellington are, and yet, strange to say, he refuses to give up any information he has on the subject. A number of newspaper men met him on Second street yesterday afternoon and asked him if he made a survey of the country. ‘Yes, I have made it,’ he said, ‘and know where it lies as to counties, but I am going to keep quiet about it for a while; I won’t say anything now about it.'”

As it happens, I found in the Washington State Library’s impressive cartographic collection a copy of Anderson’s new map of the county of King, State of Washington from O.P. Anderson & Co., a surveying firm that perhaps employed the Charles Anderson quoted above. The map dates from 1894, the same year as the trial. In this map, Wellington is very clearly in King County, near the point where it borders Snohomish and Kittitas.

The town of Wellington later became infamous in 1910 when an avalanche wiped out a train and killed over 90 people.

Judge Thomas Jefferson Humes, a Mark Twain lookalike, later became Mayor of Seattle, driving reformists crazy as he was tolerant of the city being wide open as the gateway to the Klondike gold fields.