In the midst of World War II, Seattle’s Civil Service Commission struggled with how to classify women who were serving in the WAAC (Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps), WAVE (Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service, otherwise known as the Navy Women’s Reserve), and SPAR (Coast Guard Women’s Reserve). All three reserve units were meant to free men to fight overseas by allowing women to fill their roles at home, but their noncombatant status led to a gray area as to how to categorize them.

In 1940, the City passed Ordinance 69816, which granted leaves of absence to City employees who were in active military service. The Civil Service Commission was unsure whether this ordinance should apply to women serving in the reserve units, and wrote a memo to the Law Department in 1943 looking for guidance.

Corporation Counsel A.C. Van Soelen went back to the federal laws authorizing the women’s units to determine their status. In the case of the WAAC, he cited parts of the act providing that “the Corps shall not be a part of the Army, but it shall be the only women’s organization authorized to serve with the Army, exclusive of the Army Nurse Corps” and that “the Corps shall be administered by the Secretary [of War] through the channels of command of the Army.”

Van Soelen also noted that the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Civil Relief Act was amended to include the WAAC in its list of those in military service. As to WAVE and SPAR, he noted that the law established them as branches of the Navy and Coast Guard. Given this legal framework, Van Soelen found that members of these units “are in the ‘active military service’ of the United States and therefore within the provisions of Ordinance No. 69816, and you are so advised.” Based on this decision, the City’s female employees in military service were granted the same benefits as their male counterparts.

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In a letter to City Councildated October 24, 1919, the Anti-Japanese League called for “radical steps” to curb the increase of the local Japanese population. They feared that “people now living will see the day when the Pacific Coast will be a Mongolian instead of a White Man’s Country.” The letter expresses concern about a supposedly high birthrate in the Japanese community, as well as the fact that Japanese residents were “rapidly acquiring retail grocery stores, Dye Works, and various other lines of business.” Of particular concern was the purchase of a dairy, which the writers felt was sure to lead to unsanitary milk being fed to children.

Attached to the letter was suggested ordinance language for Council to consider. A sample ordinance item read, “That no space in any Market owned or controlled by the City of Seattle be granted to anyone except citizens of the United States, and where a corporation is seeking a site in the Public Market, that no site be granted to any corporation, unless all its stock is held by citizens of the United States.” The league recommended the same license requirements for hotels, rooming houses, secondhand dealers, restaurants, grocery stores, meat markets, bakeries, pool rooms, vaudeville and movie theatres, and transportation services. As the naturalization laws excluded Japanese immigrants from becoming citizens, these ordinances would inherently prevent them from obtaining these licenses.

The League was starting their lobbying at the local level, as they believed that it would take a while for officials in Washington DC to “see the danger as clearly as the Pacific Coast people see it now.” Their ultimate goal was the passage of a national Japanese Exclusion Act, similar to the Chinese Exclusion Act that was already in place. The letter concluded, “It is up to you, Gentlemen, to take the first steps along the lines of self-preservation.”

Notice of the League’s proposed bill was printed in the newspaper, which prompted a local minister, Rev. U.G. Murphy, to write his own letter to Council. In it he took issue with many of the League’s claims about the current Japanese population numbers and the community’s birthrate, saying the League’s numbers were “absolutely ridiculous.” However, his strongest language was saved for criticism of the proposed laws: “To deprive a man of the privilege of citizenship by Federal enactment and then punish him because he is not a citizen…is about the superlative degree of injustice. Such a measure has no hint of the American spirit about it.”

In August 1902, the Seattle Elks Lodge hosted a carnival and street fair in downtown Seattle. This was quite a big affair, extending over almost two weeks and a good portion of downtown. Ordinance 8369 granted the Elks permission to build temporary wooden structures “between Second Avenue and Fifth Avenue, Pike Street and University Street, on Third Avenue, on Union Street, on Fourth Avenue and upon the grounds known as the Federal Building Site and the Old University Grounds.”

Planning efforts were elaborate; the committee doing the legwork even had their own letterhead. The committee tried to plan for every eventuality, including petitioning the city to have a fire engine with horses and men in a designated location on the grounds throughout the event. They even went so far as to get City Council to pass a resolution banning the carrying or use of feather dusters during the carnival, as they were deemed “annoying and dangerous.”

Another resolution was introduced banning any competing “circus or like performance” during the period of the carnival, “except such circus or entertainments of like character as are permitted to exhibit under the auspices of the Elks carnival committee.” However, this legislative attempt at killing the competition was indefinitely postponed and apparently never passed.

In late July, the Elks decided it would be a good idea to invite city officials to participate in the event and sent a letter to City Council asking them to be in a parade on August 19th, which was designated as Seattle Day. Apparently at least some accepted, as another clerk file dated August 18 informed them that five carriages would pick them up at City Hall the next day to assemble for the parade.

The parade seemed to have been the City’s last official interaction with the carnival planners, save for one final document: in October, the Council passed a resolution requesting that the planning committee be asked to take down a bandstand which was erected for the fair and was still standing two months later.

Comptroller File 159643 contains a July 8, 1938, letter from Mrs. Ellie Barnhart of White Center complaining about fireworks being shot off near her home in White Center. She begins by declaring, “I am a tax payer…and I want protection.” The letter notes that she wrote with the same complaint the previous year, but that “nothing was done because the Police were not here just at the time of the shooting.” She states that this year fireworks began on May 1, “and will no doubt last till Christmas, if something is not done about it.”

Also in the file is a petition on the same topic signed by Mrs. Barnhart and about 30 other White Center residents. The petition asks City Council “to afford us some abatement of the Fireworks nuisance, which is upsetting our nerves and making us ill…We have repeatedly called the Police Department, only to be told they can do nothing unless they can apprehend the culprit committing the act. By the time the Police Car can get from West Seattle the noise is over.” The petitioners felt the problem was worse that year due to the sale of both fireworks and liquor south of the city limits.

The police department sent two officers to talk to Mrs. Barnhart on July 14, at which time she reported that no fireworks had been shot off in the past two days. The memo which documented this contact also reported that investigations showed most of the fireworks were being bought and exploded outside the city limits, which were two blocks south of Mrs. Barnhart’s house.

Seattle Municipal Archives image number 165653

In 1960, officials from the Century 21 Exposition were in discussions with Seattle city officials over the construction of a 550-foot tower “to be used for restaurant purposes” on the grounds of the upcoming World’s Fair. Joseph Gandy, president of the Exposition, claimed that the proposed structure would be “of tremendous excitement, interest, and value” to the fair, and opined that it would become “one of the greatest tourist attractions in any metropolitan civic center area.” He said that the design of John Graham & Company had been chosen, and that “the engineering that has gone into this design has been very substantial.”

Cheerleading for the project aside, there was much negotiation to be done about how to proceed with the project, and particularly its funding. Gandy pointed out that while title to the land belonged to the city, financing for its construction would need to come from private, not municipal, sources. Gandy suggested an agreement whereby the city would issue revenue bonds to finance the construction, which would then be purchased by private funders, and then would grant the funders a 20-year operating concession for the tower. He stressed that “time is precious if we are to see to it that this tower is actually constructed and in operation during the Exposition.”

Asked for his response to the proposal, the city’s Superintendent of Buildings Fred McCoy expressed some reservations about “the desirability of authorizing a private company or corporation to construct such a facility,” and wanted to be sure any agreements were clear that the lessee “would assume all responsibility for construction, operation and maintenance.”

However, McCoy’s main concern was what would happen if the lessee failed to make the project financially successful, obliging the city to take it over. He wanted to be certain the city would not become responsible for a “550-foot high white elephant” Space Needle.

Clerk File 14547 contains the following report from Police Chief John Sullivan, dated April 24, 1902:

“I beg leave to report to your honorable body that on the night of April 23rd, 1902, H.H. Wilkins Jr. and a party of friends entered the Goo Goo Saloon and Concert Hall, on the southwest corner of 2nd Ave. South and Main streets, in this city. He drank a glass of beer and in a few moments was taken sick. A waiter came rushing up, gave him a glass of seltzer sour, and told his friends to take him out. As soon as they reached the sidewalk with him he became unconscious. Dr. DeSoto, who happened to be in the vicinity, applied restoratives, and Wilkins was brought to the police station. Dr. Bories was then called to attend him, and, after an examination, said that Wilkins had been given a large dose of chloral, and had it not been for the prompt attention given him by Dr. DeSoto he undoubtedly would have died.

James Sloan was picked up in the same place about two hours afterwards in a dazed condition, undoubtedly suffering from the effects of chloral, claiming that he had been robbed of fifteen dollars.

This report is made to your honorable body in order that you may take such steps as you deem best in the premises.”

The Seattle Times filled in more details about Sloan’s case, saying that a patrolman had noticed him inside the saloon in a “dazed condition” and left to call a patrol wagon to take Sloan to the police station. When he came back inside, Sloan was gone, and the bar’s occupants “professed not to know what had become of him.” About 15 minutes later, the patrolman found Sloan “in a box, where he evidently had been placed by some one.”

The Times reported that at the ensuing trial against the proprietors of the Goo Goo, a former bartender testified that chloral poison was kept behind the bar to mix in the drinks of “customers who happened to exhibit any large sum of money on their person.” However, the defense attorney got the victim Wilkins to admit that he had drunk whiskey earlier in the night and wasn’t feeling well all evening. Despite the two doctors’ testimony that they believed Wilkins’ symptoms to be from poison, the judge ended up dismissing the case.