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The following "Northshore
Citizen" column appeared in the Earlier
battles in Bothell
So, you thought the present
day backbiting and infighting within the new Bothell City Council has
created a stir of considerable consternation in this community? Three
events between 1900 and 1910 were probably the first to put Bothell in
the local history books – any one of which could provide the theme to
replace that Revolutionary War Battle reenactment the planners of the
city Fourth of July celebration have staged at the Park at Bothell
Landing these past many Independence days. None of the three were
particularly patriotic, but certainly do speak to the maverick,
independent nature of those who populated Bothell at the turn of the 20th
Century.
First for consideration could
be the brief visit in 1902 of the notorious Harry Tracy whose reign of
terror was legendary statewide. Or, consider the lashing the city’s
first newspaper publisher received after writing a scathing editorial. A
more jocular theme could be built around the first ordinance passed by
the town’s first elected council.
In its early days, Bothell was a rough and tumble community. The
murderous outlaw Harry Tracy escaped from the Oregon state penitentiary
on July 2, 1902, made his way to Olympia where he commandeered a launch
and its crew and made his way up Puget Sound to Ballard and eventually
to the settlement of Wayne (site of today’s Wayne Golf Course in
Bothell).
Tracy
had been incarcerated for shooting his partner in crime, David Merrill,
in the back. Tracy was a man possessed of wit, intelligence and
courtesy. And, a gun. The night of his escape, Harry Tracy most likely
slept in a barn or clump of bushes overnight, and wasn’t seen until
shortly after 3 p.m. on July 3. During
the night, posses had formed, and dozens of men scoured the woods north
of Seattle. Governor Henry McBride, who happened to be in Seattle in the
midst of all the newspaper coverage, authorized a militia and also
offered up a $2,500 reward for Tracy, dead or alive. Heading for Bothell in a pouring rain Tracy had been reported seen trudging along the East Side rail tracks of the Seattle, Lake Shore & Eastern Railroad, his rifle slung over his shoulder. A posse of three deputy sheriffs and two newspapermen was quickly formed and boarded the Madison Park ferry to Kirkland and proceeded to walk through a pouring rain towards Bothell. After a lengthy search, newsman Louie Sefrit spotted a fresh footprint. Before he could alert the others, Tracy’s head popped up from behind a stump and he began firing, the first shot grazing the cheek of newsman Karl Anderson, knocking him flat. The next shot caught deputy Charles Raymond, mortally wounding him. A fierce exchange of gunfire ensued, with Sefrit taking a round. Tracy sent volley after volley at his pursuers, one shattering the weapon of deputy Jack Williams, turning him into a bloody mess. As the men tended their fallen comrade, Tracy stole off into the woods. The whole battle had lasted less than three minutes. The deputy’s wounds were such that the others abandoned the scene for the Bothell Hotel where Williams could receive medical attention. The desperate Tracy was not done that day. Before he was to escape east over the Cascades, Tracy had shot and killed two more law enforcement officers after forcing his way into a home in the Woodland Park-Fremont area and insisted he be fed and provided with fresh clothes.
As to any reenactment of this moment in Bothell history, I’ll nominate for deputies Rudy Plancich, Bill Sharpe and Paul Cowles. Certainly the Reporter newspaper’s manager Jeff Andrews and King County Journal reporter Jeff Switzer would do well as the gun-toting press members of the posse at Wayne. The Sammamish River trail and the proximity of the Park to Wayne Curve would make this a natural, if not unusual reminder of life around here 126 years after Independence Day, 1776. Now, as to the other two events, recalling the dangers of newspapering or turning a huge, hairy pet loose on Main Street without a leash. Bothell was incorporated on April 14 of 1909. Three days later, residents got an eyeful of incivility after a local newspaper publisher wrote a scathing editorial about poor performance at the local post office. The town’s assistant postmistress took umbrage at this insult and horsewhipped the man right on Main Street. Whipped
into shape? Better
for me to do the reenactment of the Tracy shootout than the
horsewhipping and fighting involving publisher Bill Guernsey of the Bothell
Sentinel. I wouldn’t want either of the Jeffs I volunteered above
to get any ideas about who could play a role in this drama.
When the town council met for the first time in 1909, the first
ordinance was enacted to prohibit townsfolk from walking their pet
gorilla on Main Street unless kept on a leash. The late Betty Keeney,
Bothell’s city clerk, made an exhaustive study in the 1970s to see if
that ordinance was ever repealed – without conclusion.
Maybe our present day city council would like to demonstrate its
incessant preoccupation
with “process” and review the propriety of 800-pound gorillas
roaming unleashed in downtown Bothell.
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The The
weekly Past
'03 columns... |
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John
B. Hughes |
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Hughes
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Hugo
and (425) 482-4076 |
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