Judge Orange Jacobs:

“Mr. Denny was a quiet man, but he carried the stamp of truth. He was extremely generous, and as I remember, he possessed a fine mind. In his death I feel a personal, poignant grief.”

Rev. W. S. Harrington:

“D. T. Denny was a man of much more than average ability. He thought much and deeply on all questions which affected the welfare of man. He was retiring and his strength was known to few. But his integrity was thorough and transparent and his purpose inflexible. Even though he suffered, his spirit was never bitter toward his fellows, and his benefactions were numerous. Above all, he was a Christian and believed in a religion which he sought to live, not to exhibit. His long illness was borne with a patience and a sweetness which commanded my deep respect and admiration.”

Samuel L. Crawford:

“A man with the courage to fight for his convictions of right and with a marvelous capacity for honest work—such is the splendid heritage David T. Denny has left to his sorrowing family. When but 19 years of age he walked from the Columbia river to Puget Sound, driving a small band of stock ahead of him through the brush.

"No sooner had his party settled and the log cabin been completed than David commenced looking for more work, and, like all others who seek diligently, he was successful, for early in December of that year the brig Leonesa, Capt. Daniel S. Howard, stopped at Alki Point, seeking a cargo of piling for San Francisco. David T. Denny, William N. Bell, C. D. Boren, C. C. Terry, J. N. Low, A. A. Denny and Lee Terry took the contract of cutting the piling and loading the vessel, which they accomplished in about two weeks, a remarkably short time, when the weather and the lack of teams and other facilities are taken into consideration.

“Other vessels came for cargo and Mr. Denny became an expert woodsman, helping to supply them with piling from the shores. In 1852 Mr. Denny, in company with his brother Arthur and some others, came over to Elliott Bay and laid the foundation of Seattle, the great city of the future. Mr. Denny, being a bachelor, took the most northerly claim, adjoining that of W. N. Bell, and built a cabin near the shore, at the foot of what is now Denny Way. The Indians being troublesome, he moved into a small house beside that of his brother on the site of the present Stevens Hotel.

“In the meantime he married a sister of C. D. Boren, and a small family commenced to spring up around him, thus requiring larger quarters. In 1871 Mr. Denny built a large frame house on the southwest shore of Lake Union, on a beautiful knoll. He cleared up a large portion of his claim, and for many years engaged in farming and stock-raising. He afterward built a palatial home on his property at the foot of Queen Anne Hill, midway between Lake Union and the Sound, but this he occupied only a short time. In 1852, in company with his brother Arthur, Mr. Denny discovered Salmon Bay.

“Mr. Denny was a just man and always dealt fairly with the Indians. For this reason the Indians learned to love and respect him, and for many years they have gone to him to settle their disputes and help them out of their difficulties with the whites and among themselves.

“As Seattle grew, David Denny platted much of his claim and sold it off in town lots. He built the Western mill at the south end of Lake Union and engaged extensively in the building and promotion of street railways. He had too many irons in the fire, and when the panic came in 1892-3 it crippled him financially, but he gave up his property, the accumulation of a lifetime of struggle and work, to satisfy his creditors, and went manfully to work in the mountains of Washington to regain his lost fortune. His heroic efforts were rapidly being crowned with success, as he is known to have secured a number of mines of great promise, on which he has done a large amount of development work during the past few years.

“In the death of David T. Denny, Seattle loses an upright, generous worker, who has always contributed of his brain, brawn and cash for the upbuilding of the city of which he was one of the most important founders.”

DEXTER HORTON’S TRIBUTE.

“‘I have known Mr. Denny for fifty years. A mighty tree has fallen. He was one of the best men, of highest character and principle, this city ever claimed as a citizen. That is enough.’

“By Father F. X. Prefontaine, of the Church of Our Lady of Good Help: ‘I have known Mr. Denny about thirty-six or thirty-seven years. I always liked him, though I was more intimately acquainted with his brother, Hon. A. A. Denny, and his venerable father, John Denny. His father in his time impressed me as a fine gentleman, a great American. He was a man who was always called upon at public meetings for a speech and he was a deeply earnest man, so much so that tears often showed in his eyes while he was addressing the people.’

“Hon. Boyd J. Tallman, judge of the Superior Court: ‘I have only known Mr. Denny since 1889, and I always entertained the highest regard for him. He was a man of firm conviction and principle and was always ready to uphold them. Though coming here to help found the town, he was always ready to advocate and stand for the principle of prohibition and temperance on all occasions. While there were many who could not agree with him in these things, every manly man felt bound to accord to Mr. Denny honesty of purpose and respect for the sincerity of his opinion. I believe that in his death a good man has gone and this community has suffered a great loss.’”

C. B. BAGLEY TALKS.

“Clarence B. Bagley, who as a boy and man has known Mr. Denny for almost the full number of years the latter lived at Seattle, was visibly overcome at the news of his death. Mr. Bagley would gladly have submitted a more extended estimate than he did of Mr. Denny’s life and character, but he was just hurrying into court to take his place as a juryman.

“‘Mr. Denny was one of the best men Seattle ever had. He was a liberal man, ever ready to embark his means in enterprises calculated to upbuild and aid in the progress of Seattle. He was a man of strong convictions, strong almost to obstinacy in upholding and maintaining cherished principles he fully believed.

“‘Mr. Denny suffered reverses through his willingness to establish enterprises for the good of the whole city. He built the Western Mill at Lake Union when the location was away in the woods, and eventually lost a great deal of money in it during the duller periods of the city’s life. He also lost a great deal of money in giving this city a modern street railway system. His character as an honorable man and Christian always stood out boldly, his integrity of purpose never questioned.’

“Lawrence J. Colman, son of J. M. Colman, the pioneer, said: ‘Our family has known Mr. Denny for thirty-one years, ever since coming to Seattle. We regarded him as an absolutely upright, conscientious and Christian man, notwithstanding the reverses that came to him, in whom our confidence was supreme, and one who did not require his character to be upheld, for it shone brightly at all times by its own lustre.’”

SAMUEL COOMBS TALKS.

“S. F. Coombs, the well-known pioneer, had known Mr. Denny since 1859, about forty-five years. ‘It was to Mr. Denny,’ said Mr. Coombs, ‘that the Indians who lived here and knew him always went for advice and comfort and to have their disputes settled. Their high estimate of the man was shown in many ways, where the whites were under consideration. Mr. Denny was a man whom I always admired and greatly respected. He afforded me much information of the resident Indians here and around Salmon Bay, as he was intimately acquainted with them all.

“‘At one time Mr. Denny was reckoned as Seattle’s wealthiest citizen. When acting as deputy assessor for Andrew Chilberg, the city lying north of Mill Street, now Yesler Way, was my district to assess. Denny’s holdings, D. T. Denny’s plats, had the year previous been assessed by the acre. The law was explicit, and to have made up the assessment by the acre would have been illegal. Mr. Denny’s assessed value the year before was fifty thousand dollars. The best I could do was to make the assessment by the lot and block. For the year I assessed two hundred and fifty thousand. Recourse was had to the county commissioners, but the assessment remained about the same. Just before his purchase of the Seattle street car system he was the wealthiest man in King County, worth more than five hundred thousand dollars.

“‘Of Mr. Denny it may be said that if others had applied the Golden Rule as he did, he would have been living in his old home in great comfort in this city today.’”

LIFE OF DAVID DENNY.

“Fifty-two years and two months ago David Thomas Denny came to Seattle, to the spot where Seattle now stands enthroned upon her seven hills. Mr. Denny, the last but one of the little band of pioneers—some half dozen men first to make this spot their home—has been gathered to his fathers; ‘has wrapped the mantle of his shroud about him and laid down to pleasant dreams.’ Gone is a man and citizen who perhaps loved Seattle best of all those who ever made Seattle their home. This is attested by the fact that from the time that Mr. Denny first came to Elliott Bay it has been his constant home. Never but once or twice during that long period of time did he go far away, and then for but a very short time. Once he went as far away as New York—and that proved a sad trip—and once, in recent years, to California. Both trips were comparatively brief, and he who first conquered the primeval forest that crowned the hills around returned home full of intense longing to get back and full of love for the old home.

“Mr. Denny lived a rugged, honorable, upright life—the life of a patriarch. He bore patiently a long period of intense suffering manfully and without murmur, and when the end approached he calmly awaited the summons and died as if falling away into a quiet sleep. So he lived, so he died.

“Few indeed who can comprehend the extent of his devotion to Seattle. Living in Seattle for the last two years, yet for that period he never looked once upon the city which he helped to build. About that long ago he moved from his home which he had maintained for some years at Fremont, to the place where he died, Licton Springs, about a mile north of Green Lake. Said Mr. Denny as he went from the door of the old home he was giving up for the new: ‘This will be the last time I will ever look upon Seattle,’ and Mr. Denny’s words were true. He never was able to leave again the little sylvan home his family—his wife, sister and children—had raised for him in the woods. There, dearly loved, he was watched over and cared for by the children and by the wife who had shared with him for two-score-and-ten years the joys and sorrows, the ups and downs that characterized his life in a more marked degree than was the experience of any other of the pioneers who first reached this rugged bay.

“Mr. Denny was once, not so very long ago, a wealthy man—some say the wealthiest in the city—but he died poor, very poor; but he paid his debts to the full. Once the owner in fee simple of land upon which are now a thousand beautiful Seattle homes, he passed on to his account a stranger in a strange land, and without title to his own domicile. When the crisis and the crash came that wrecked his fortune he went stoutly to work, and if he ever repined it was not known outside of the family and small circle of chosen friends. That was about fourteen years ago, and up to two years ago Mr. Denny toiled in an humble way, perhaps never expecting, never hoping to regain his lost fortune. Those last years of labor were spent, for the most part, at the Denny Mine on Gold Creek, a mine, too, in which he had no direct interest or ownership, or in directing work upon the Snoqualmie Pass road. He came down from the hills to his sick bed and to his death.

“Mr. Denny’s life for half a century is the history of the town. Without the Dennys there might have been no Seattle. Of all the band that came here in the fall of 1851, they seemed to have taken deepest root and to have left the stamp of their name and individuality which is keen and patent to this day.”

“The Dennys came from Illinois, from some place near Springfield, and crossing Iowa, rendezvoused at what was then Kanesville, now Council Bluffs. They came by way of Fort Hall and the South Pass, along the south side of the Snake River, where, at or near American Falls, they had their first and only brush with the Indians. There was only desultory firing and no one was injured. The party reached The Dalles August 11, 1851. The party separated there, Low, Boren and A. A. Denny going by river to Portland, arriving August 22. In September, Low and D. T. Denny drove a herd of cattle, those that drew them across the plains, to Chehalis River to get them to a good winter range. These men came on to the Sound and here they arrived before the end of that month. After looking around some, Low went away, having hired Mr. Denny, who was an unmarried man, to stay behind and build Low a cabin. This was done and on September 28th, 1851, the foundation of this first cabin was laid close to the beach at Alki Point.

“A. A. Denny, Low, Boren, Bell and C. C. Terry arrived at Alki Point, joining D. T. Denny. That made a happy little family, twenty-four persons, twelve men and women, twelve children and one cabin. In this they all resided until the men could erect a second log cabin. By this time the immediate vicinity of the point had been stripped of its building logs and the men had to go back and split shakes and carry them out of the woods on their backs. With these they erected two ‘shake’ or split cedar houses that, with the two log cabins, provided fair room for the twenty-four people.

“During that winter the men cut and loaded a small brig with piles for San Francisco. The piles were cut near the water and rolled and dragged by hand to where they would float to the vessel’s side. There were no oxen in the country at that time and the first team that came to Elliott Bay was driven along the beach at low tide from up near Tacoma.”

SURROUNDED BY INDIANS.

“The first winter spent at Alki Point the settlers were almost constantly surrounded with one thousand Indians armed with old Hudson Bay Company’s muskets. This company maintained one of its posts at Nisqually, Pierce County, and traded flintlocks and blankets with the Indians all over Western Washington, taking in trade their furs and skins. The Indians from far and near hearing of the settlement of whites came and camped on the beach nearly the whole winter.

“In addition to the Indians of this bay the Muckleshoots, Green Rivers, Snoqualmies, Tulalips, Port Madisons and likely numerous other bands were on hand. At one time the Muckleshoots and Snoqualmies lined up in front of the little cluster of whites and came near engaging in a battle, having become enraged at one another. The whites acted as peacemakers and no blood was spilled.

“In those days the government gave what was known as donation claims, one hundred sixty acres to a man, and an equal amount to the women. In the spring of 1852 the Dennys, Bell and Boren, came over to this side and took donation claims. Boren located first on the south, his line being at about the line of Jackson Street. A. A. Denny came next and Bell third. Shortly after D. T. Denny located, taking a strip of ground from the bay back to Lake Union and bounded by lines north and south which tally about with Denny Way on the south and Mercer Street on the north. Later Mr. Denny bought the eastern shore of Lake Union, extending from the lake to the portage between Union and Washington.

“Mr. Denny’s first house on this side of the bay, built presumably in the spring of 1852, was located on the beach at the foot of what is now Denny Way in North Seattle. This was a one-story log cabin. It was on the bluff overlooking the bay and the woods hemmed it in, and it was only by cutting and slashing that one could open a way back into the forest.”

MR. DENNY’S FARM.

“Some time later Mr. Denny begun his original clearing for a farm at what is now the vicinity of Third Avenue North and Republican Street, and also in the early years of residence here—about 1860 or 1861—built a home on the site of what is now occupied by modern business houses at Second Avenue and Seneca Street.

“It seems to have been Mr. Denny’s plan to work out on his farm at Third Avenue and Republican Street during the dry summer season and to reside down in the settlement in the winter. The farm at Third Avenue and Republican Street grew apace until in after years it became the notable spot in all the district of what is now North Seattle. After the arrival on the coast of the Chinaman it was leased to them for a number of years, and became widely known as the China gardens. Mr. Denny does not seem to have planted orchard to any extent here, but at Second and Seneca he had quite an orchard. Forming what later became a part of the original D. T. Denny farm was a large tract of open, boggy land running well through the center of Mr. Denny’s claim from about Third Avenue down to Lake Union. This was overgrown largely with willow and swamp shrubs. In ancient times it was either a lake or beaver marsh, and long after the whites came, ducks frequented the place. The house built at Second Avenue and Seneca Street by Mr. Denny was a small one-story structure of three or four rooms.

“In 1871 Mr. Denny built another homestead of the D. T. Denny family at this place. It was, after its completion, one of the most commodious and important houses in the city. This house was built overlooking Lake Union, instead of the bay. The site selected was on what is now Dexter Avenue and Republican Street. This house still stands, a twelve or fourteen-room house, surrounded by orchard and grounds.”

BUILT A NEW HOME.

“Mr. Denny lived at the Lake Union home until just after the big fire here in 1889, when he began the erection and completed a fine mansion on Queen Anne Avenue, with fine grounds, but he did not long have the pleasure of residing here. The unfortunate business enterprises in which he soon found himself engulfed, swept away his vast wealth, and ‘Honest Dave,’ as he had become familiarly to be known, was left without a place wherein to rest his head.”

These tributes also recite something of the story of his life:

“He was one of the original locators of donation claims on Elliott Bay, within the present limits of Seattle. The two Dennys, David and his brother, Arthur, now deceased; Dr. Maynard, Carson D. Boren and W. N. Bell, were the first locators of the land upon which the main portion of Seattle now rests. All of them, save Boren, have passed away, and Boren has not lived in Seattle for many years; so it may be said that David Denny was the last of the Seattle pioneers. Of his seventy-one years of life, fifty-two were passed on Puget Sound and fifty-one in the City of Seattle, in the upbuilding of which he bore a prominent part.

“With his original donation claim and lands subsequently acquired, Mr. Denny was for many years the heaviest property owner in actual acreage in Seattle. Most of his holdings had passed into the hands of others before his death. In his efforts to build up the city he engaged in the promotion of many large enterprises, and was carrying large liabilities, although well within the limit of his financial ability, when the panic of ten years ago rendered it impossible to realize upon any property of any value, and left equities in real property covered even by light mortgages, absolutely valueless. In that disastrous period he, among all Seattle’s citizens, was stricken the hardest blow, but he never lost the hope or the energy of the born pioneer, nor faith in the destinies of the city which he had helped to found. His name remains permanently affixed to many of the monuments of Seattle, and he will pass into history as one of the men who laid the foundations of one of the great cities of the world, and who did much in erecting the superstructure.

“In the enthusiasms of early life the ambitious men and women of America turn their faces toward ‘the setting sun’ and bravely assume the task of building homes in uninhabited places and transforming the wilderness into prosperous communities. Those who undertake such work are to be listed among God’s noblemen—for without such men little progress would be made in the development of any country.

“For more than a hundred years one of the interesting features of life in the United States is that connected with pioneering. The men and women of energy are usually possessed with an adventurous spirit which chafes under the fixed customs and inflexible conservatism of the older communities, and longs to take a hand in crowding the frontier toward the Pacific.

“The poet has said that only the brave start out West and only the strong success in getting there. Thus it is that those, who, more than a half century ago, elected to cross the American continent were from the bravest of the eastern or middle portion of the United States. Many who started turned back; others died by the wayside. Only the ‘strong’ reached their destination.

“Of this class was the small party which landed at Alki Point in the late summer of 1851 and began the task of building up a civilization where grew the gigantic forests and where roamed the dusky savage. Of that number was David T. Denny, the last survivor but one, C. D. Boren, of the seven men who composed the first white man’s party to camp on the shores of Elliott Bay.

“It requires some stretch of the imagination to view the surroundings that enveloped that band of hardy pioneers and to comprehend the magnitude of the task that towered before them. It was no place for the weak or faint-hearted. There was work to do—and no one shirked.

“Since then more than fifty years have come and gone, and from the humble beginnings made by David T. Denny and the others has grown a community that is the metropolis of the Pacific Northwest and which, a few years hence, will be the metropolis of the entire Pacific Coast. That this has been the product of these initial efforts is due in a large measure to the energy, the example, the business integrity and public spirit of him whose demise is now mourned as that of the last but one of the male survivors of that little party of pioneers of 1851.

“The history of any community can be told in the biographies of a few of the leading men connected with its affairs. The history of Seattle can be told by writing a complete biography of David T. Denny. He was among the first to recognize that here was an eligible site for a great city. He located a piece of land with this object in view and steadfastly he clung to his purpose. When a public enterprise was to be planned that would redound to the growth and prestige of Seattle he was at the front, pledging his credit and contributing of his means.

“Then came a time in the growth of cities on the Pacific Coast when the spirit of speculation appeared to drive men mad. Great schemes were laid and great enterprises planned. Some of them were substantial; some of them were not. With a disposition to do anything honorable that would contribute to the glory of Seattle, David T. Denny threw himself into the maelstrom with all of his earthly possessions and took chances of increasing his already handsome fortune. Then came the panic of 1893 and Mr. Denny was among many other Seattle men who emerged from the cataclysm without a dollar.

“Subsequent years made successful the enterprise that proved the financial ruin of so many of Seattle’s wealthy, but it was too late for those who had borne the brunt of the battle. Others came in to reap where the pioneers had sown and the latter were too far along in years to again take up the struggle of accumulating a competence. His declining years were passed in the circle of loving friends who never failed to speak of him as the personification of honesty and integrity and one whose noble traits of character in this respect were worthy of all emulation.”

The following is an epitaph written for his tomb:

“David Thomas Denny, Born March 17th, 1832, Died Nov. 25th, 1903. The first of the name to reach Puget Sound, landing at Duwampsh Head, Sept. 25th, 1851. A great pioneer from whose active and worthy life succeeding generations will reap countless benefits.”

“He giveth his beloved sleep.”

The early days of the State, or rather, Territory, of Washington produced a distinct type of great men, one of whom was David Thomas Denny.

Had Washington a poet to tell of the achievements of her heroic founders and builders a considerable epic would be devoted to the remarkable career and character of this noble man.

At the risk of repetition I append this slight recapitulation:

The first of the name to set foot on Puget Sound, Oregon Territory, September 25th, 1851, he then evinced the characteristics more fully developed in after years.

He had crossed the plains and then from Portland proceeded to Puget Sound by the old Hudson Bay trail. He landed at Duwampsh Head where now is West Seattle, and there met and shook hands with Chief Sealth, or old Seattle as the whites called him. He helped to build the first cabin home at Alki Point. He alone was the Committee of Reception when the notable party landed from the “Exact.” He ran the race of the bravest of the brave pioneers.

Beginning at the very bottom of the ladder, he worked with his hands, as did the others, at every sort of work to be found in a country entirely unimproved.

A ready axman, a very Nimrod, a natural linguist, he began the attack on the mighty forest, he slew wild animals and birds for food, he made friends with the native tribes.

He builded, planted, harvested, helped to found schools, churches, government and civilized society. Always and everywhere he embodied and upheld scriptural morality and temperance.

Many now living could testify to his untiring service to the stranded newcomers. Employment, money, credit, hospitality, time, advice, he gave freely to help and encourage the settlers following the pioneers.

He was Probate Judge, County Treasurer, City Councilman, Regent of the University, School Director for twelve years, etc., etc. He administered a number of estates with extreme care and faithfulness.

David T. Denny early realized that Seattle was a strategic site for a great city and by thrifty investments in wild land prepared for settlements sure to come.

After long years of patient toil, upright dealing and wise management, he began to accumulate until his property was worth a fortune.

With increasing wealth his generosity increased and he gave liberally to carry on all the institutions of a civilized community.

David T. Denny gave “Denny Park” to the City of Seattle.

Denny school was named for him, as is perfectly well known to many persons.

As prosperity increased he became more active in building the city and lavished energy, toil, property and money, installing public enterprises and utilities, such as water supply, electric lights, a large sawmill, banks, street railways, laying off additions to the city, grading and improvements, etc., etc.

Then came 1893, the black year of trade. Thousands lost all they possessed. David T. Denny suffered a martyrdom of disappointment, humiliation, calumny, extreme and undeserved reproach from those who crammed themselves with securities, following the great money panic in which his immense holdings passed into the hands of others.

He was a soldier of the Indian war and was on guard near the door of Fort Decatur when the memorable attack took place on January 26th, 1856. The fort was built of timbers hewn by D. T. Denny and two others, taken from his donation claim. These timbers were brought to Seattle, then a little settlement of about three hundred people. There he helped to build the fort.

Many persons have expressed a desire to see a fitting memorial erected to the memory of Seattle’s “Fairy Prince,” Founder and Defender, David Thomas Denny.

I feel the inadequacy of these fragmentary glimpses of the busy life of this well known pioneer. I have not made a set arrangement of the material as I wished to preserve the testimony of others, hence there appear some repetitions; an accurate and intimate biography may come in the future.

Logically, his long, active, useful life in the Northwest, might be divided into epochs on this wise:

1st. The log cabin and “claim” era, in which, within my own memory, he was seen toiling early and late, felling the forest giants, cultivating the soil, superintending Indian workers and bringing in game, killed with his rifle.

2nd. The farm-home era, when he built a substantial house on his part of the donation claim, near the south end of Lake Union, obtained cattle (famous Jersey stock of California), horses, etc. The home then achieved by himself and his equally busy wife, was one to be desired, surrounded as it was by beautiful flowers, orchards, wide meadows and pastures, and outside these, the far-spreading primeval forest.

3rd. Town-building. The west end of the claim, belonging to Louisa Denny, was first platted; other plats followed, as may be seen by reference to Seattle records. Commercial opportunities loomed large and he entered upon many promising enterprises. All these flourished for a time.

4th. 1893. The failure of Baring Bros., as he told me repeatedly, began it—theirs being the result of having taken bonds of the Argentine Republic, and a revolution happening along, $100,000,000.00 went by the board; a sizable failure.

Partly on account of this and partly on account of the vast advantage of the lender over the borrower, and partly through the vast anxiety of those who held his securities, they were able to distribute among themselves his hard-earned fortune.

“A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment and wounded him and departed leaving him half dead.”

The Deficiency Judgment also loomed large and frequent and his last days were disturbed by those who still pressed their greedy claims, even following after his death, with a false, unjust and monstrous sale of the cemetery in which he lies buried!

But he is with the just men made perfect.

Law, custom and business methods have permitted, from time immemorial, gross injustice to debtors; formerly they were imprisoned; a man might speedily pay his debts, if in prison!

The Deficiency Judgment and renewal of the same gives opportunity for greedy and unprincipled creditors to rob the debtor. There should be a law compelling the return of the surplus. When one class of people make many times their money out of the misfortunes of others, there is manifestly great inequality.

The principles of some are to grab all they can, “skin” all they can, and follow up all they can even to the graveyard.

“THESE THINGS OUGHT NOT SO TO BE.”

5th. In the end he laid down all earthly things, and in spite of grief and suffering, showed a clear perception and grasp of justice, mercy and truth.

CHAPTER IV
THE FIRST WEDDING ON ELLIOTT BAY.

Concerning this notable occurrence many interesting incidents were recorded by an interviewer who obtained the same from the lips of David Thomas Denny.

“On January 23rd, 1895, Mr. and Mrs. David T. Denny celebrated their forty-second wedding anniversary—and the anniversary of the first wedding in Seattle—in their home at ‘Decatur Terrace’ (512 Temperance Street), Seattle, with a gathering of children, grandchildren, relatives and friends that represented four distinctive generations.

“One of the notable features of the evening was the large gathering of pioneers who collectively represented more years of residence in Seattle than ever were found together before.

LOUISA B. DENNY

“What added interest to the occasion was the historical fact that Mr. and Mrs. Denny were the first couple married in Seattle, and the transition from the small, uncouth log cabin, built forty-three years ago by the sturdy young pioneer for his bride, to the present beautiful residence with all its modern convenience in which the respected couple are enjoying the fruits of a well spent life, was the subject of many congratulations from the friends of the honored host and hostess who remembered their early trials and tribulations. All present were more or less connected with the history of Seattle, all knew one another’s history, and with their children and grandchildren the gathering, unconventional in every respect, with the two-year-old baby romping in the arms of the octogenarian, presented a colossal, happy family reunion.

“The old pioneer days were not forgotten, and one corner of the reception room was made to represent the interior of a cabin, lined with newspapers, decorated with gun, bullet pouch and powder horn and measure, a calico sunbonnet, straw hat and hunting shirt.

“A table was set to represent one in the early fifties, namely, two boards across two boxes, for a table, a smoked salmon, a tin plate full of boiled potatoes, some sea biscuits and a few large clams. Such a meal, when it was had, was supposed to be a feast.

“Many other relics were in sight; a thirty-two pound solid shot, fired by the sloop-of-war Decatur among the Indians during the uprising; a ten-pound shot belonging to Dr. Maynard’s cannon; a pair of enormous elk’s horns belonging to a six hundred and thirty-pound elk killed by Mr. D. T. Denny, September 7th, 1869, in the woods north west of Green Lake; the first Bible of the family from which the eldest daughter, Miss Emily Inez, learned her letters; an old-fashioned Indian halibut hook, an ingenious contrivance; an old family Bible, once the property of the father of David T. Denny, bearing the following inscription on the inside cover:

“The property of J. Denny, Purchased of J. Strange, August the 15th, 1829, Price 62-1/2 cents. Putnam County, Indiana.”

“Also a number of daguerreotypes of Mr. and Mrs. D. T. Denny in the early years of their married life, taken in the fifties, and one of W. G. Latimer and his sister.

“All these and many more afforded food for conversation and reminiscences on the part of the old pioneers present.

“An informal programme introduced the social intercourse of the evening. Harold Denny, a grandson of the hosts and son of Mr. John B. Denny, made an address to his grandparents, giving them the greeting of the assembly in these words:

“‘O fortunate, O happy day,’ The people sing, the people say, The bride and bridegroom, pioneers, Crowned now with good and gracious years Serenely smile upon the scene. The growing state they helped to found Unto their praise shall yet redound. O may they see a green old age, With every leaf a written page Of joy and peace from day to day. In good, new times not far away May people sing and people say, ‘Heaven bless their coming years; Honor the noble Pioneers.’

“The chief diversion was afforded by the sudden entrance of a band of sixteen young men and women gorgeously dressed as Indians, preceded by a runner who announced their approach. They were headed by Capt. D. T. Davies who acted as chief. The band marched in true Indian file, formed a circle and sat down on the floor with their ‘tamanuse’ boards upon which they beat the old time music and sang their Indian songs. After an impressive hush, the chief addressed their white chief, Denny, in the Chinook language, wishing Mr. and Mrs. Denny many returns of the auspicious occasion.

“Mr. Denny, who is an adept in the Indian languages, replied in the same tongue, thanking his dark brethren for their good intentions and speaking of the happy relations that always existed between the whites and the Indians until bad white men and whisky turned the minds and brains of the Indians. The council then broke up and took their departure.

“The marriage certificate of Mr. and Mrs. Denny is written on heavy blue paper and has been so carefully preserved that, beyond the slight fading of the ink, it is as perfect as when first given in the dense forests on the shores of Elliott Bay. It reads as follows:

“‘This may certify that David Denny and Louisa Boren were joined in marriage at the residence of Arthur A. Denny in the County of King and Territory of Oregon, by me in the presence of A. A. Denny and wife and others, on this 23rd day of January, 1853. D. S. Maynard, J. P.’

“Another historical event, apropos right here, was the death and burial of D. S. Maynard early in 1873.

“The funeral services were conducted March 15, 1873, by Rev. John F. Damon in Yesler’s pavilion, then located at what is now Cherry and Front Streets. The funeral was under the auspices of St. John’s lodge, of which Dr. Maynard was a member. The remains were escorted to what is now Denny Park—the gift to the city, of Mr. David T. Denny—and the casket was deposited and kept in the tool house of that place until the trail could be cut to the new Masonic—now Lake View—cemetery. Maynard’s body was the first interred there.

“Miss Louisa Boren, who married Mr. David T. Denny, was the younger sister of A. A. Denny’s wife and came across the plains with the Denny’s in 1851.

“The house of A. A. Denny, in which the marriage took place, was located near the foot of what is now Bell Street, and was the first cabin built by A. A. Denny when he moved over from Alki Point. Seattle was then a dense forest down to the water’s edge, and had at that time, in the spring of 1852, only three cabins, namely: C. D. Boren’s, the bride’s brother; W. N. Bell’s and A. A. Denny’s. Boren’s stood where now stands the Merchant’s National Bank, and Bell’s was near the foot of Battery Street.

“At first the forests were so dense that the only means of communication was along the beach at low tide; after three or four months, a trail was beaten between the three cabins. David lived with his brother, but he built himself a cabin previous to his marriage, near the foot of Denny Way, near and north of Bell’s house. To this lonely cabin in the woods, he took his bride and they lived there until August, 1853, eking out an existence like the other pioneers, chopping wood, cutting piles for shipment, living on anyhow, but always managing to have enough to eat, such as it was, with plenty of pure spring water.

“In August, of 1853, he built a cabin on the spot where now the Frye Block stands and they passed the winter of 1853 there.

“In the spring of 1854 he built another cabin further east on the donation claim, east of what is now Box Street, between Mercer and Republican, and they moved into it, remaining there until near the time of the Indian outbreak.

“Mr. Denny had acquired a knowledge of the various Indian dialects, and through this learned much of the threatened outbreak, and moved his family in time back to the house on the Frye Block site, which was also near the stockade or fort that stood at the foot of Cherry Street. During the greater part of the winter of 1855 the women in the settlement lived in the fort, and Mrs. Denny passed much of the time there.

“After the Indian trouble was over the Denny’s moved out again to their outside cabin. The Indians making the trouble were the Swunumpsh and the Klickitats, from east of the mountains; the Sound Indians, the Duwampsh and the Suquampsh, were friendly and helped the whites a great deal. Sealth or Seattle belonged to the Suquampsh tribe and his men gave the first warning of the approach of the hostile Indians.

“Mr. and Mrs. David T. Denny have had eight children, four daughters and four sons. One son died shortly after birth, and all the others grew to maturity, after which the father and mother were called to mourn the loss of two daughters. Two daughters and three sons survive, namely: Miss Emily Inez, Mrs. Abbie D. Lindsley, Mr. John B. Denny, Mr. D. Thomas Denny and Mr. Victor W. S. Denny.

“The sons are all married and nine out of ten grandchildren were present last evening to gladden the hearts of Grandpa and Grandma Denny. The absent members of the family group were Mrs. John B. Denny and daughter, in New York on a visit.

“‘People in these days of modern improvements and plenty know nothing of the hardships the pioneer of forty years ago had to undergo right here,’ said Mr. Denny.

“‘Nearly forty years of life in a dense forest surrounded by savages and wild beasts, with the hardest kind of work necessary in order to eke out an existence, was the lot of every man and woman here. It was a life of privation, inconveniences, anxieties, fears and dangers innumerable, and required physical and mental strength to live it out. Of course, we all had good health, for in twenty-four years’ time we only had a doctor four times. Our colony grew little by little, good men and bad men came in and by the time the Indians wanted to massacre us we had about three hundred white men, women and children. We got our provisions from ships that took our piles and then the Indians also furnished us with venison, potatoes, fish, clams and wild fowl. Flour, sugar and coffee we got from San Francisco. When we could get no flour, we made a shift to live on potatoes.’

“In speaking of cold weather, Mr. Denny recalled the year of 1852, when it was an open winter until March 3, but that night fourteen inches of snow fell and made it the coldest winter, all in that one month. The next severe winter was that of 1861-2, which was about the coldest on record. During those cold spells the pioneers kept warm cutting wood.

“The unique invitations sent out for this anniversary, consisted of a fringed piece of buck-skin stretched over the card and painted ’1851, Ankuti. 1895, Okoke Sun.’ They were well responded to, and every room in the large house was filled with interested guests, from the baby in arms to the white haired friend of the old people. Pioneers were plenty, and it is doubtful if there ever was a gathering in the City of Seattle that could aggregate so many years of residence in the Queen City of the West on the shores of Elliott Bay.

“Arranged according to families, and classing those as pioneers who came prior to the Indian war of 1855-6, the following list will be found of historical value:

“Rev. and Mrs. D. E. Blaine, pioneers; A. A. Denny, brother of D. T. Denny; Loretta Denny, sister of D. T. Denny; Lenora Denny, daughter of A. A. Denny; Rev. and Mrs. Daniel Bagley, pioneers of 1852, Oregon, Seattle 1860; Mrs. Clarence B. Bagley, daughter of Thomas Mercer, 1852; C. B. Bagley, pioneer, 1852 Oregon, Seattle 1860; Hillory Butler, pioneer; Mrs. Gardner Kellogg, daughter of Bonney, Pierce County 1853; Walter Graham, pioneer; Rev. Geo. F. Whitworth, pioneer; Thomas Mercer, 1852 Oregon, Seattle 1853; David Graham, 1858; Mrs. Susan Graham, daughter of Thomas Mercer; Mrs. S. D. Libby, wife of Captain Libby, pioneer; George Frye, 1853; Mrs. Katherine Frye, daughter of A. A. Denny; Sophie and Bertie Frye, granddaughters of A. A. Denny; Mrs. Mamie Kauffman Dawson, granddaughter of Wm. N. Bell, pioneer; Mr. and Mrs. D. B. Ward, pioneers (Mrs. Ward, daughter of Charles Byles, of Thurston County, 1853); Mrs. Abbie D. Lindsley, daughter of D. T. and Louisa Denny; the Bryans, all children of Edgar Bryan, a pioneer of Thurston County; J. W. George, pioneer 1852; Orange Jacobs, pioneer of Oregon.”

In another chapter it has been shown how D. T. Denny was the first of the name to reach Puget Sound. Not having yet attained his majority he was required to consider, judge and act for himself and others. Like the two spies, who entered the Promised Land in ancient days, Low and Denny viewed the goodly shores of Puget Sound for the sake of others by whom their report was anxiously awaited.

As before stated, Low returned to carry the tidings of the wonderful country bordering on the Inland Sea, while David T. Denny, but nineteen years of age, was left alone, the only white person on Elliott Bay, until the Exact came with the brave families of the first settlers. From that time on he has been in the forefront of progress and effort, beginning at the very foundation of trade, business enterprises, educational interests, religious institutions and reforms. From the early conditions of hard toil in humble occupations, through faith, foresight and persistence, he rose to a leading position in the business world, when his means were lavished in modern enterprises and improvements through which many individuals and the general public were benefited, said improvements being now in daily use in the City of Seattle.

One of these is the Third Street and Suburban Electric Railway, built and equipped by this energetic pioneer and his sons.

The old donation claim having become valuable city property, the taxation was heavy to meet the expenses of extravagant and wasteful administration partly, and partly incidental to the phenomenal growth of the city, consequently both Mr. and Mrs. D. T. Denny have paid into the public treasury a considerable fortune, ten or twelve thousand a year for ten years, twenty thousand for grades, six thousand at a time for school tax and so on—much more than they were able to use for themselves.

A fascinating volume would recount their hunting adventures, as all, father and sons, are fine shots; game, both large and small, swarmed about the present site of Seattle in the early days.

Indeed, for many years the bounty of Nature failed not; as late as 1879, ruffed grouse or “pheasants,” blue grouse, brown and black bears were numerous seven or eight miles north of Seattle, a region then untenanted wilds. The women folk were not always left behind on hunting expeditions, and the pioneer mother, and daughters, too, quite often accompanied them.

Into this primeval wilderness, to a mineral spring known and visited by the Indians in times past and called by them Licton, came the father, mother and eldest son to enjoy all they might discover. The two hunting dogs proved necessary and important members of the party by rousing up a big black bear and her cubs near the spring,—but we will let the pioneer mother, Mrs. Louisa Denny, tell the tale as she has often told it in the yesterdays:

“We were out in the deep forest at the mineral spring the Indians call ‘Licton’; the two dogs, Prince and Gyp, treed a black bear cub in a tall fir on the farther side of the brook, a little way along the trail; the hunters pressed up and fired. Receiving a shot, the cub gave a piercing scream and, tumbling down, aroused the old bear, which, though completely hidden by the undergrowth, answered it with an enraged roar that sounded so near that the hunters fled without ceremony. I sat directly in the path, on the ends of some poles laid across the brook for a foot bridge, very calmly resting and not at all excited—as yet. My boy yelled to me, at the top of his voice, ‘Get up a tree, mother! get up a tree, quick! The old bear is coming!’ Hearing a turmoil at the foot of the big tree, where the dogs, old bear and two cubs were engaged in a general melee, I also thought it best to ‘get up a tree.’ We dashed across the brook and climbed up a medium sized alder tree—the boy first, myself next, and my husband last and not very far from the ground. We could hear the bear crashing around through the tall bushes and ferns, growling at every step and only a little way off, but she did not come out in sight. The dogs came and lay down under the tree where we were. Two long, weary hours we watched for Bruin, and then, everything being quiet, climbed down, stiff and sore, parted the brushes cautiously and reconnoitered. One climbed up a leaning tree to get a better view, but there was no view to be had, the woods were so thick. We crept along softly until we reached the foot of the big fir, and there lay the wounded cub, dead! The hunters dragged it a long distance, looking back frequently and feeling very uncertain, as they had no means of knowing the whereabouts of the enemy. I walked behind carrying one of the guns. Perhaps I was cruel in asking them if they looked behind them when they tacked the skin on the barn at home! However, it was certainly a case of discretion better than valor, as one weapon was only a shotgun and the rank undergrowth gave no advantage. It seemed to make everybody laugh when we told of our adventure, but I did not think the experience altogether amusing, and I shall never forget that mother-bear’s roar. They have killed plenty of big game since; my two younger boys shot a fine, large black bear whose beautiful skin adorns my parlor floor and is much admired.”

This is but one incident in the life of a pioneer woman, the greater portion of whose existence has been spent in the wilds of the Northwest. In perils oft, in watchings many, in often uncongenial toil, Louisa Boren Denny spent the years of her youth and prime, as did the other pioneer mothers.

“What a book the story of my life would make!” she exclaimed in a retrospective mood—yet, like the majority of the class she typifies, she has left the book unwritten, while hand and brain have been busy with the daily duties pressing on her.

A childhood on the beautiful, flower-decked, virgin prairie of Illinois, in the log cabin days of that state, the steadfast pursuit of knowledge until maturity, when she went out to instruct others, the breaking of many ties of friendship to accompany her relatives across the plains, the joy of new scenes so keenly appreciated by the observant mind, the self-denials and suffering inevitable to that stupendous journey and the reaching of the goal on Puget Sound, at once the beginning and the ending of eventful days, might be the themes of its opening chapters.

Her marriage and the rearing of beautiful and gifted children, in the midst of the solemn and noble solitudes of Nature’s great domain, where they often wandered together hand in hand, she the gentle teacher, they the happy learners, green boughs and fair blossoms bending near—yes, the toil, too, as well as pleasure, in which the willing hands wrought and tireless feet hastened to and fro in the service of her God, all these things I shared in are indelibly written on my memory’s pages, though they be never recorded elsewhere.

AND WHILE SHE WROUGHT, SHE THOUGHT

Many times in the latter years, spoken opinions have shown that she has originated ideas of progress and reform that have been subsequently brought before the public as initiative and original, but were no less original with her.

Mrs. Louisa Denny was a member of the famous grand jury, with several other women of the best standing; during their term the gamblers packed their grip-sacks to leave Seattle, as those “old women on the jury” were making trouble for them.

For many years she was called upon or volunteered to visit the sick, anon to be present at a surgical operation, and with ready response and steady nerve complied.

Generous to a fault, hospitable and kind, in countless unknown deeds of mercy and unrecorded words, she expressed good-will toward humanity, and the recipients, a goodly company, might well arise up and call her “Blessed.”

A separate sketch is given in which the life of the first bride of Seattle is more fully set forth.

CHAPTER V.
LOUISA BOREN DENNY, THE FIRST BRIDE OF SEATTLE,

Was born in White County, Illinois, on the 1st of June, 1827, and is the daughter of Richard Freeman Boren and Sarah Latimer Boren. Her father, a young Baptist minister, died when she was an infant, and she has often said, “I have missed my father all my life.” A religious nature seems to have been inherited, as she has also said, “I cannot remember when I did not pray to God.”

Her early youth was spent on the great prairies, then a veritable garden adorned with many beautiful wild flowers, in the log cabin with her widowed, pioneer mother, her sister Mary and brother Carson.

She learned to be industrious and thrifty without parsimony; to be simple, genuine, faithful. In the heat of summer or cold of winter she trudged to school, as she loved learning, showing, as her mind developed, a natural aptitude and taste for the sciences; chemistry, philosophy, botany and astronomy being her especial delights.

Of a striking personal appearance, her fair complexion with a deep rose flush in the cheeks, sparkling eyes, masses of heavy black hair, small and perfect figure, would have attracted marked attention in any circle.

Her temperate and wholesome life, never given to fashion’s follies, retained for her these points of beauty far beyond middle life, when many have lost all semblance of their youth and have become faded and decrepit.

Her school life merged into the teacher’s and she took her place in the ranks of the pioneer instructors, who were truly heroic.

She taught with patience the bare-foot urchins, some of whom were destined for great things, and boarded ’round as was the primitive custom.

Going to camp meetings in the summer, lectures and singing schools in the winter were developing influences in those days, and primitive pleasures were no less delightful; the husking-bees, quilting parties and sleigh rides of fifty years ago in which she participated.

In 1851, when she was twenty-four years of age, she joined the army of pioneers moving West, in the division composed of her mother’s and step-father’s people, her mother having married John Denny and her sister Mary, A. A. Denny.