David Denny - Part 3

Fifty years ago today they camped with Chief Seattle on the promontory across the bay. They slept that night under the protecting branches of a cedar tree, and on the morning of the 26th they hired two of Seattle's braves to paddle them up the river in a dugout canoe. They spent that day in looking over the river bottoms, where are now situated the towns of Maple Prairie and Van Asselt. There were no settlements there then, and nothing but giant pines and firs greeted their gaze for miles. It was a wonderful sight to these hardy Eastern men, and as they wished to know something more of the country, Messrs. Low and Terry decided to leave the canoe and depart on a short tour of exploration. One, two and three hours passed and they failed to put in an appearance. In vain did Mr. Denny fire his gun, and yell himself hoarse, but he was compelled to spend the night in the wilderness with the two Indians.
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 DECIDED TO LOCATE.

The next day, however, or to be explicit, on the 27th of September, he was gratified at the appearance of his friends on the river bank. They had become lost the night before, and falling in with a band of Indians, had spent the night with them. Having seen enough of the country to become convinced that it was the place for them, they returned to what is now West Seattle for the night. After the sun had disappeared behind the Olympics, they heard a scow passing the point, which afterwards they found contained L. M. Collins and family, who had pushed on up the river and settled on the banks of the Duwamish.

On the morning of the 28th they decided to take up claims back of Alki point, and on that day started to lay the foundation of the first cabin in King county. Having decided to settle on Elliott bay, Mr. Low determined to return to Portland for his family, whereupon Mr. Den-ny wrote the following letter to his brother and sent it with him:

"We have examined the valley of the Duwamish river and find it a fine country. There is plenty of room for one thousand settlers. Come on at once."

By the time Mr. Low had reached Portland, William Bell and C. D. Boren had also become interested in the Puget Sound district, and therefore Messrs. Low, Denny, Bell and Boren, with their families, hired a schooner to take them down the Columbia, up on the outside, in through the Strait, and up the Sound to Alki, reaching the latter point on the 13th of November, 1851.
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In speaking of those early pioneer days, Mr. Denny said:

"We built up quite a settlement over on Alki, and the Indians of course came and settled around us. No, we were not molested to any great extent. I remember that on one night, our women folks missed a lot of clothing they, had hung out to dry, and I at once went to their big chief and told him what had happened. In a very short time not only were the missing articles returned to us, but a lot that we didn't know were gone.

 WHISKY  CAUSED  TROUBLE.

"In those early days, in all my experience with Indians, I have always found them peaceable enough as long as they left whisky alone. Of course we had trouble with them, but it was always due to the introduction of the white man's firewater, which has been more than a curse to the red man.

"When we reached here, the Indians were more advanced than one would have naturally supposed. We were able to buy berries, fish and game of them, and potatoes also. Great fine tubers they were too, much better than any we had ever been able to raise back in Illinois. In fact I don't know what we would have done during the first two winters had it not been for the Indians.
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"But talk about game," he continued, a glow coming to his face as the old scenes were brought up to him, "why, I have seen the waters of Elliott Bay fairly black with ducks. Deer and bear were plentiful then and this was a perfect paradise for the man with a rod or gun. Never, I am sure, was there a country in which it was so easy to live as it was in the Puget Sound district fifty years ago."

"In coming across the plains, Mr. Denny, were you attacked by Indians, or have any adventures out of the ordinary?" was asked.

"Well," said he meditatively, "we did have one little brush that might have ended with the loss of all our lives. It was just after leaving Fort Hall, in Montana. We had come up to what I think was called the American Falls. While quite a distance away we noticed the water just below the falls was black, with what we supposed were ducks, but as we drew nearer we saw they were Indians swimming across with one hand and holding their guns high in the air with the other. We turned off slightly and started down the trail at a rattling rate. We had not gone far when a big chief stepped up on the bank. He was dressed mainly in a tall plug hat and a gun, and he shouted, 'How do, how do, stop, stop!' Well, we didn't, and after repeating his question he dropped behind the sage brush and opened fire.
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"My brother lay in my wagon sick with mountain fever, and that, of course, materially reduced our fighting force. Had they succeeded in shooting down one of our horses, it would, of course, have been the end of us, but fortunately they did not and we at last escaped them. No, no one was wounded, but it was the worst scrape I ever had with the Indians, and I hope I will never have to go through a similar experience again. It isn't pleasant to be shot at, even by an Indian.

RECOGNIZED THE SPOT.

"In 1892," said Mr. Denny, "I went East over the Great Northern. I was thinking of my first experience in Montana when I reached that state, when all of a sudden we rounded a curve and passed below the falls. I knew them in a minute, and instantly those old scenes and trying times came back to me in a way that was altogether too realistic for comfort. No, I have not been back since.

"Mr. Prosch, Mr. Ward and myself," continued this old pioneer, "had intended to take our families over to Alki today and hold a sort of a picnic in honor of what happened fifty years ago, but of course my sickness has prevented us from doing so. I don't suppose we will be here to celebrate the event at the end of another fifty years, and I should have liked to have gone today.
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Instead, I suppose I shall sit here and think of what I saw and heard at Alki Point just fifty years ago. I can live it over again, in memories at least.

"Now, young man," concluded Mr. Denny, not unkindly, "please get the names of those early pioneers and the dates right. A Seattle paper published a bit of this history a few days ago, and they got everything all mixed up. This is the story, and should be written right, because if it isn't, the story becomes valueless. I dislike very much to have the stories and events of those early days misstated and misrepresented."

In 1899, Mr. Denny had the arduous task of personally superintending the improvement of the old Snoqualmie road around the shore of Lake Kichelas and on for miles through the mountains, building and repairing bridges, making corduroy, blasting out rocks, changing the route at times; after much patient effort and endurance of discomfort and hardship, he left it much improved, for which many a weary wayfarer would be grateful did they but know. In value the work was far beyond the remuneration he received.

During the time he was so occupied he had a narrow escape from death by an accident, the glancing of a double-bitted ax in the hands of a too energetic workman; it struck him between the eyes, inflicting a wound which bled alarmingly, but finally was successfully closed.
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The next year he camped at Lake Kichelas in the interests of a mining company, and incidentally enjoyed some fishing and prospecting. It was the last time he visited the mountains.

Gradually some maladies which had haunted him for years increased. As long as he could he exerted himself in helping his family, especially in preparing the site for a new home. He soon after became a great sufferer for several years, struggling against his infirmities, in all exhibiting great fortitude and patience.

His mind was clear to the last and he was able to converse, to read and to give sound and admirable advice and opinions.

Almost to the last day of his life he took interest in the progress of the nation and of the world, following the great movements with absorbing interest.

He expressed a desire to see his friends earnest Christians, his own willingness to leave earthly scenes and his faith in Jesus.

So he lived and thus he died, passing away on the morning of November 25th, 1903, in the seventy-second year of his age.

He was a great pioneer, a mighty force, commercial, moral and religious, in the foundation-building of the Northwest.

In a set of resolutions presented by the Pioneer Association of the State of Washington occur these words: '' The record of no citizen was ever marked more distinctly by acts of [227] probity, integrity and general worth than that of Mr. D. T. Denny, endearing him to all the people and causing them to regard him with the utmost esteem and favor."

On the morning of November 26th, 1903, there appeared in the Post-Intelligencer, the following:

''David Thomas Denny, who came to the site of Seattle in 1851, the first of his name on Puget Sound, died at his home, a mile north of Green Lake, at 3:36 yesterday morning. All the members of his family, including John Denny, who arrived the day before from Alaska, were at the bedside. Until half an hour before he passed away Mr. Denny was conscious, and engaged those about him in conversation. 

MARRIED IN A CABIN.

The story of the early life of the Denny brothers tallies very nearly with the history of Seattle. Mr. and Mrs. David Denny were married in a cabin on the north end of A. A. Denny's claim near the foot of Lenora street, January 23, 1853. The next morning the couple moved to their own cabin—built by the husband's hands —at the foot of what is now Denny Way. The moving was accomplished in a canoe.

Though they professed a great respect for Savid Denny, the Indians were numerous and never very reliable. In a year or two, therefore, the family moved up nearer the sawmill and [228] little settlement which had grown up near the foot of Cherry street. D. T. Denny had meanwhile staked out a very large portion of what is now North Seattle—a plat of three hundred and twenty acres. Later he made seven additions to the city of Seattle from this claim. In 1857 it was a wilderness of thick brush, but the pioneer moved his family to his farm on the present site of Recreation park in that year. The Indian war had occurred the winter before and the red men were quiet, having received a lesson from the blue jackets which were landed from the United States gunboat Decatur.

Three or four years later the family moved to a cottage at the corner of Second avenue and Seneca street. In the early 70s they moved to the large home at the corner of Dexter and Republican streets, where the children grew up. In 1890 the family took possession of the large house standing on Queen Anne avenue, known as the Denny home, which was occupied by the family until a few years ago, when they moved to Fremont and later to the house where Mr. Denny died, in Licton Park, some distance north of Green Lake.

Until about ten years ago David T. Denny was considered the wealthiest man in Seattle. His large property in the north end of the city had been the source of more and more revenue as the town grew. When the needs of the town became those of a big city he hastened to supply [229] them with energy and money. His mill on the shores of Lake Union was the largest in the city, when Seattle was first known as a milling town. The establishment of an electric light plant and a water supply to a part of the city were among the enterprises which he headed.

The cable and horse car roads were consolidated into a company headed by D. T. Denny more than a decade ago. In the effort to supply the company with the necessary funds Mr. Denny attempted to convert much of his property into cash. At that time an estimate of his resources was made by a close personal friend, who yesterday said that the amount was considerably over three million dollars, which included his valuable stock in the traction companies. In the hard times of '93 Mr. Denny was unable to realize the apparent value of his property, and a considerable reduction of his fortune was a result. Since then he has been to a great extent engaged in mining in the Cascade mountains, and for the past three years has been closely confined to his home by a serious illness.

Among the gifts of D. T. Denny to the city of Seattle is Denny Park. Denny Way, the Denny school and other public places in Seattle bear his name. D. T. Denny was a liberal Republican always. He was at one time a member of the board of regents of the territorial university, the first treasurer of King county, probate judge for two years and for twelve years a school director of District No. 1, comprising the city of Seattle. [230]

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