Mark Twain in the Northwest
 One
hundred years ago this week Mark Twain came to Puget Sound on a
speaking tour that was to carry him around the world.
He
has been credited with saying:
"The
pleasantest winter I ever spent was one summer on Puget Sound."
The
quip has Twain's tone but no one has ever cited the time and place
of his uttering it. And considering what happened to Twain while
he was here it's unlikely that he would recall his visit with much
pleasure.
Twain
arrived here dead broke. His publishing house had failed during
the Panic of '93, leaving him $70,000 in debt. His two most recent
books, Pudd'nhead Wilson and The American Claimant, were financial
flops. His wife was a semi-invalid and two of his three daughters
were seriously ill. He professed to dislike lecturing, saying the
same old things night after night, but a world speaking tour
seemed to offer his only hope of paying off his creditors.
And
even that hope seemed dim. His friend Henry H. Rogers, one of the
major figures in Standard Oil, warned that he could think of no
instance in which a man past 58 had recovered from financial
failure. Twain was 60 at the time.
When
Twain's party reached Portland from his home in Elmira, N.Y., on
Aug. 3 he had cleared $5,000 from his cross-country lecturing. But
prospects in Oregon and Washington seemed dim. The Pacific
Northwest was still mired in the post-Panic depression. Bankers in
every town claimed they knew the whereabouts of every double-eagle
gold piece in the community.
Worse,
it hadn't rained since the Fourth of July. The wet side of the
mountains was experiencing drought and forest fires. There were
great conflagrations in the Olympics, smaller outbreaks throughout
the area. Choking smoke hung over the whole region. The sun hadn't
been seen for days. Twain, who contributed to the pollution by
smoking his usual 10 cigars a day, was suffering from a nasty
carbuncle on his neck, a heavy cold and sore throat. He was
scheduled to give six lectures in 10 days before sailing from
Vancouver for Australia.
In
Portland he drew a full house. In Olympia, where he faced
competition from a Women's Christian Temperance Union convention
and an amateur play, the turnout was so small that the editor of
the Standard scolded his readers for their disinterest in culture.
Twain's
Tacoma appearance filled the Tacoma Theater. After the performance
he was honored at a confabulation hosted by the Tacoma Press Club
and, long after midnight, was regaling his hosts with "I-used-to-be-a-newspaperman-myself"
stories. One listener said that if the theater talk had been worth
a dollar, this was worth at least eight.
In
Seattle, facing competition from a performance of "Pinafore"
aboard "a real man-of-war" anchored off Madison Park in
Lake Washington, an electric fountain display at Madrona Park and
a concert under Japanese lanterns by the First Regimental Bank, he
nearly filled the Seattle Theater.
By
the time he reached New Whatcom and Fairhaven on Bellingham Bay he
was exhausted. When the mayor of New Whatcom called at the
Fairhaven Hotel to pay his respects he found Twain in the bridal
suite, "wrapped in the arms of Morpheus and a luxurious
quilt."
His
lecture that night was given in the Lighthouse Theater on the
fourth floor of a building with no fire escape. Smoke from nearby
fires filled the room. After the lecture it was realized that no
one had planned a reception. Keys were found to the Fairhaven
Businessmen's Club but when Twain asked for a hot whiskey someone
had to run to a Greek restaurant, wake the proprietor and get him
to boil some water. It cooled by the time the messenger got back
to the club. Twain pronounced it satisfactory and asked for
seconds.
On
reaching Vancouver Twain was so hoarse he almost canceled the
lecture. Since it was to be the last before leaving for Down
Under, he soldiered on.
Then
he learned that the steamer Warrimoo had run aground at the
entrance to the Strait of Juan de Fuca and would require repairs.
That
enabled Twain's manager to book another lecture in Victoria. The
tug Charmer, chartered to take the Twain party to the provincial
capital, lost its way in the prevailing haze and arrived five
hours after the lecture was to start. Twain gave the talk the next
day.
Small
wonder then that he was asked, as he boarded the Warrimoo, whether
he had enjoyed the local scenery, Twain said he had seen nothing
but the ground he walked on and it looked pretty much like any
other ground. Then, catching himself, he said, "But really,
your scenery is wonderful. It is quite out of sight."
In
light of all this, I find it hard to believe that Twain ever
described his summer here as the pleasantest of winters.
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