As summer moves into fall and we are facing shorter – and hopefully cooler – days ahead, it seems a good time to give the random story generator a spin and see what stories of the past present themselves.
THE REX THEATRE’S pipe organ has been bought by the First Presbyterian Church, with money left by the late Charles R. Wilson and by members’ subscriptions. — Aberdeen Herald, January 14, 1916
SIGNS AT STREET CORNERS URGED — A plan to install street signs at all intersections in the city has been proposed by Street Superintendent Charles E. Pulver. With the exception of a few Automobile Club of Washington signs, giving the route of the Olympic highway, and small stenciled signs on sidewalks, there are no street designations in Aberdeen, Pulver said.
A lack of signs on intersections makes it difficult for strangers and residents to find the various streets, Mr. Pulver said. The cost of installing double signs at each intersection in the city would amount to approximately $1,500. Nine hundred signs would be required.
“Double signs would be placed on each of the far corners of every intersection,” Mr. Pulver said. “This would allow motorists approaching the street from any direction to see the name of the street he is approaching and give him a chance to turn at right angles, if he desires.”
Mr. Pulver plans to submit the plan to the budget committee for action. — Aberdeen Daily World, September 3, 1926
GIRL SETS BED ON FIRE — Then Tells Mother That “It Is Too Hot to Play Upstairs” – What came close to being a serious conflagration with perhaps fatal results occurred yesterday when three-year-old Anna Fowler, little daughter of B.H. Fowler, 213 North H Street, secured a number of matches and going upstairs to play, set the bed-clothes on one of the rooms afire. The tot shortly afterward came down and in her baby language said she didn’t like to play upstairs because he face was burned. Mrs. Fowler a few moments later went into the kitchen to find it filled with smoke. Rushing to her husband she informed him that their house was on fire and Mr. Fowler upon ascending the stairs found the bed a mass of flames. Smothering the smoke as best he could he managed to get the burning bed out into the backyard and save the house. “I did it,” said little Anna, when asked how it happened. Her eyelashes and front hair was badly singed but otherwise the little girl was uninjured. — Aberdeen Daily World, May 24, 1910
FIREMEN RAISE POULTRY — Members of the fire department have gone into the poultry raising business. They first secured a bantam rooster and a hen. The hen has been prolific. Early in the spring she started to set on one egg and the boys, for fun, added five eggs of larger size. The bantam hatched the six chickens – five hens of the white Wyandotte variety and a bantam rooster. These have grown to good size and last week the old bantam came off the nest with a large batch of bantams which she is bringing to maturity. There is promise that she will hatch the third crop before winter. — Aberdeen Daily World, July 19, 1910
HAS BABY FOR ADOPTION — Rev. Charles McDermoth has on his hands for adoption, a male baby but six months old, for which he is anxious to find a home. The child is of good parentage and perfectly healthy. Mr. McDermoth says it is one of the handsomest babies he has seen in some times. — Aberdeen Daily World, June 18, 1913
HOTEL AUTO BURNS — While workmen were drilling a hole in the gas tank of the Hotel Washington autobus this morning in the F & F Garage, a spark from the drill ignited the gasoline, and spread the fire so rapidly as to come near burning the men at the work. The bus, which was just ready to put into service, was damaged to the extent of $500. — Aberdeen Herald, January 9, 1914
CASTAWAY ON CHILLY CLAM BED — Yesterday was a day beloved to seamen gold and white winged boats in fairy flight hovered about the harbor like graceful messengers from some heavenly clime, as Phillip Locke caroled gayly to himself, tripping lightly down the stairs. Little did he dream, as his artistic nature speedily became absorbed in the perfection of his pancake, that sunset would find him shipwrecked on some desert isle with few forlorn comrades to keep watch and ward over helpless womanhood. But such a thing did happen and this is how and where.
As the day advanced to the zenith of dreamy splendor of Pacific coast summer, it came about that the good ship Restless set sail from Aberdeen for the distant coast of Westport, Captain John Perry in command. She was manned by Earnest Fordney, Bruce Fair, Phil Locke, and Percy Perry, in their keeping was Miss Fordney, and Misses France and Miss Maxey. And they sailed and sailed and sailed with favoring wind and sea until the ship went about somewhere in the latitude of Grays Harbor sea, when with a devastating crash she struck – on a mud bank. For a moment – into the mud – Captain Perry stood calmly on the quarterdeck and repeated the words of his immortal ancestor, ”we have met the enemy,” adding in a stage whisper, “and we are stuck.” Fordney and Fair, being lumbermen born, set about building a raft, Phil Locke contributing toothpicks and paper napkins to that end from his perilous perch aloft. Before it could be completed, however, the captain took the sun and discovered that the tide had gone out leaving but the desolation of clam beds around and beneath him. There was no escape. From 1 o’clock or thereabouts until 5 the castaways scanned the horizon for signs of a rescuing tide. Then the skipper decided to take desperate chances in the hope of rescuing two of the young ladies in order that they might return home in time to take this morning’s train. The life boat was manned preparatory to a try for the big dredger dimly visible abeam. To reach the boat, however, it was necessary to carry the young ladies over a waste of sticky mud. The captain waved all volunteers for this task aside and heroically undertook it himself. He performed it gallantly dropping but one of the ladies in the mud. From the dredger a tender carried the rescued to the city. About four hours later the wind and tide brought the Restless back to port with all hands accounted for. Not until the ship dropped anchor did Phillip Locke loosen his grip on the lunch basket. Once assured that all was well he fainted from sheer exhaustion. As a token of appreciation his fellow survivors have presented him an elegant leather facsimile of a sandwich in repose surmounted by the legend, “None but the brave deserve the fair.” — Aberdeen Bulletin, July 11, 1904
Roy Vataja is the son of Finnish immigrants and wonders what exactly an “elegant leather facsimile of a sandwich in repose” would look like.
