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Posts Tagged ‘Barneston’

Originally published in The Seattle Sunday Times, August 2, 1908

By “W.T.P.”

Suppose you were a policeman with a beat of 700 square miles.

Suppose this included sixteen coal mining towns, where the rough element predominated, and fights, murders, and all sorts of crimes succeeded each other so rapidly that you hardly had a breathing space between.

Suppose you were the only officer of the law in all this district, and that your hours were from 8 o’clock every morning, including Sunday, to 8 o’clock the next.

Suppose your duties had thrown you into desperate fights, open revolver battles, chases that lasted for days at a time through the seemingly trackless woods, and that a dozen times you had been within an inch of your life.

If you could meet all these conditions you would be the counterpart of Matt Starwich, deputy sheriff for the district of Ravensdale, and you would be an “every-day hero.” There are few people in the county who have more deeds of heroism to their credit than this same Matt Starwich. (more…)

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Originally published in The Seattle Times, December 17, 1986

By Jim Simon

You load sixteen tons and what do you get,
Another day older and deeper in debt,
Saint Peter don’t you call me ’cause I can’’t go,
I owe my soul to the company store.

“Sixteen Tons,” by Merle Travis

It has become part of our folklore: the brutal, indentured existence of miners and millworkers eking out a living in sooty company towns. We all know it was a life of oppression.

But don’t tell that to Edna Crews. (more…)

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Originally published in the Seattle Times, November 10, 1963

By Lucile McDonald

When this photograph was taken, water behind the masonry dam was at a low level. Line, about midway up, indicates high water level of the reservoir.

When this photograph was taken, water behind the masonry dam was at a low level. Line, about midway up, indicates high water level of the reservoir.

One of the curiosities uncovered during freeway construction was a tar-coated 40-inch steel pipe laid down the west side of Capital Hill. Two sections were dug out and discarded for scrap, the rest was plugged with cement and left buried in the slope.

Workmen who witnessed removal of this obstacle to the path of progress may not have known they were viewing the penstock which fed Cedar River water into the first electric power plant on Lake Union. The public has forgotten thoroughly the function of a small structure hemmed in by the King County Welfare Department’s medical service office and the City Light’s stand-by steam plant at Eastlake Avenue and Nelson Place.

The building is completely empty except for a table and chairs in a room used as a voting precinct once or twice a year. If you go around in back, you can see where Lake Union once lapped at the base of the rear wall and a tail race poured out water from the Volunteer Park reservoir after its force had driven the Pelton bucket wheel of the old electric generator inside the little building.

The pipes carried the reservoir overflow down the hill, one being the penstock and the other a drain, still in use, that had been relocated at a lower level.

Through these pipes, Cedar River water mingled with Lake Union and flowed out into Salmon Bay before there was a ship canal.

The Cedar has been much manipulated by man. Its water flows into hundreds of thousands of homes and the current it generates partially lights them. It supplies most of the make-up water needed to operate the ship canal’s Chittenden Locks. (more…)

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Originally published in The Seattle Times, April 9, 1980

By Louis T. Corsaletti
Times suburban reporter

The dotted line shows the area to be covered by the communities plan.

The dotted line shows the area to be covered by the communities plan.

TAHOMA-RAVEN HEIGHTS — More than 115 years ago the discovery of vast coal deposits drew settlers to the remote Squak Mountain, Issaquah and Newcastle regions. But now the sprawling reserves of undeveloped land are spawning rapid growth in the 150-square mile area from Issaquah south to Black Diamond.

So last August, King County planners assisting a citizens’ committee began the tremendous task of planning for the future of what is called the Tahoma/Raven Heights Communities Plan area—the largest plan undertaken so far.

A recently prepared profile on Tahoma/Raven Heights shows that between 1970 and 1980, the population has grown from about 19,500 to about 26,000. And forecasts indicate a population of almost 40,000 by 1990. (more…)

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Originally published in the Seattle Times, April 2, 1961

(This is the first in a series of articles which will appear from time to time about lost towns of King County.)

By Lucile McDonald

Overlooking the site of the mining community of Cedar Mountain is a window on the south side of the home of Mrs. Edith Cavanaugh. On the table were deeds to the Cavanaugh land, signed by Presidents Grant and Arthur. —Times photo by Roy Scully.

Overlooking the site of the mining community of Cedar Mountain is a window on the south side of the home of Mrs. Edith Cavanaugh. On the table were deeds to the Cavanaugh land, signed by Presidents Grant and Arthur. —Times photo by Roy Scully.

Lost towns of King County rival in mystery the ghost towns of gold-mine country. The thing about them is that most have vanished without a trace—not so much as a weathered heap of timber or a false-front abandoned store to indicate that at this or that road junction stood a community of several hundred persons.

Any map of 50 years ago or more is sprinkled with place names where nothing to indicate a community exists today. Some of them were swallowed by the Cedar River watershed. Others died from natural causes.

Who could find Taylor, Kerriston, Cedar Mountain, Sherwood, Eddyville, and Barneston today? Who would know about Henry’s Switch, Atkinson, Trude, Holmar, Herrick, Danville, and Durham?

Yet, these names remain on the map, monuments to another time, when coal mines and sawmills attracted population to the foothills of the Cascades. (more…)

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Originally published in the Pacific Coast Bulletin, January 4, 1923

By George Watkin Evans

George Watkin Evans (1876-1951), 1924 Courtesy Seattle and Environs

George Watkin Evans, 1924

There are two principal theories of coal formation, one called the Drift Theory and the other In Situ.

There are advocates of both theories, and personally I believe that each is right within limits. I am of the opinion that some coal beds have been formed in the places where we now find them, whereas in other instances, the vegetable matter which constitutes the coal bed grew in another spot and has been transported by water to the place where we now find the coal.

In the Drift Theory it is assumed that the vegetable matter grew in one spot and a current of water carried the decaying vegetal material and deposited it some distance from the spot on which it grew.

One argument for this theory is that there are many partings of shale and other impurities in some of our coal beds and again some of the coal itself is very heavy in ash. It is reasoned that if the material was not carried by currents and deposited some distance from the place where it grew that the partings of shale and other impurities would not be associated with the coal. (more…)

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Originally published in The Seattle Times, December 27, 1964

By Lucile McDonald

This is the farm near Hobart where Bill Peacock spent his boyhood. The farm now belongs to his nephew. A rail line once ran through pasture in foreground.

This is the farm near Hobart where Bill Peacock spent his boyhood. The farm now belongs to his nephew. A rail line once ran through pasture in foreground.

From high places around Hobart, where Bill Peacock has spent 77 of his nearly 80 years, he can view the new sweep of the Echo Lake cutoff highway and automobiles traveling along it at a fast clip.

The final section penetrates foothill country that not too long ago had only roads made with pick, shovel and wheelbarrow.

Peacock used to travel a long circuit over them once a week making meat deliveries. He believes he was the first person to drive a team and wagon into some of the communities along the Pacific Coast Railroad. The branch line later was torn up and the towns are now defunct. (more…)

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