Cayton's Weekly

Cayton's Weekly --- PRICE FIVE CENTS CAYTON'S WEEKLY Published every Saturday at Seattle. Washington. U. S. A. Subscription $2 per year in advance. HORACE ROSCOE CAYTON..Editor and Publisher Entred as second class matter, August 18, 1916, at the post office at Seattle, 'Vash., under the Act of March 3rd, 1916. TELEPHONE: BEACON 3579 Office 317 22nd Ave. South TTHE BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA SUF- FRAGE PLAN A good part of the country is afflicted with a troubled conscience over the Negro question. This is because there is an increasing number of colored people with wisdom enough to see to it that the conscience of the nation gets no rest, is not allowed to go to sleep on the question. If the Negro would only let the American people alone, and stop reminding them that they have done and are still doing him great injustices; if he would only stop making himself a demonstration to them and the world that American democracy is hypocrisy and a sham; if he would only confine himself to proclaiming loud thanks for what opportunities this country affords him, and keeping quiet about the denial to him of natural and common rights the American people would be grateful, the conscience of the nation could go to sleep, and the doom of the Negro in the United States would be sealed. But the Negro is doing nothing of the kind. He is holding up the naked, ugly facts before the face of the nation, no matter which way it turns. He is holding up the mirror to it so that it sees itself as it is. He will not let the nation escape from contemplating its wrong doing; therefore, he keeps the conscience of the nation troubled. And this troubled conscience is not only evident in the North; it also shows itself in the South. In the South they are ashamed of it and hate to acknowledge it, but they can't completely hide it. Our attention was attracted a few days ago to a case of troublde conscience down in Birmingham, Alabama, over the question of Negro suffrage. It might be thought that white men down in Alabama are never conscience-stricken over the question of Negro suffrage; but they are. All thoughtful white men in the South know and realize that they are violating the Constitution of the United States and are perjuring themselves when they defraud colored citizens of the right to vote, and it often worries them. They know it can't be kept up forever, and they wonder sometimes when and how it will end. It appears that five prominent colored citizens of Birmingham wrote a letter to the editor of the Birmingham "News" asking if something could not be done to give to intelligent, industrious members of their race the franchise. The "News" published their letter, and in the same issue Frank P. Glass, the editor, wrote an editorial in response. Mr. Glass wrote in part: "Why may there not be a beginning of an experiment in this matter? For instance, as a suggestion, why should not some representative body of high-class Negroes be encouraged to investigate into the standing and record of several hundred of the best of their race, as they see them? Why could not that body after such an investigation certify the list of some limited number of colored residents to another corresponding committee of representative white men? And then why should not the desultant list SEATTLE, WASHINGTON, SATURDAY, March 20, 1920 of 'intelligent, industrious, honest Negroes' be turned over to the County Registers by that advisory body with a recommendation that the qualifications of the list for registration should be legally passed upon? "This program would be an experiment worth trying. It would not result in any large addition of Negro voters. It would not endanger white supremacy. It could not lead to Negro supremacy, for such a careful process, if kept up, would necessarily exclude a large proportion of Negro residents for years to come. The experiment could be continued for some years, according to the light of results, which would be determined largely by the course of the Negro voters themselves. * * * "It would be a very great stimulus to all Negroes to right living, to character growth, to civic progress." In the language of the street, can you beat it? This Birmingham suffrage plan shows just how far astray a smitten conscience can go, unless it takes the straight and narrow path. We say to Editor Glass and to the other white men of Birmingham and Alabama that there is only one relief for a smitten conscience, and that is the old-time religious one of open confession of sin and determination to sin no more. What excuse could there be for this complicated process devised by Editor Glass? In the first place, there is no body of Negroes in Birmingham "representative" enough or "high-class" enough to be given the power to draw up a list of the colored citizens of that town who should be allowed to vote. And in the next place, there could be no corresponding committee of white men "representative" enough or wise enough or good enough or anything else enough to be given the power of passing on that list. But, we ask again, why all this complicated process, when the State of Alabama has a franchise law which if impartially interpreted and administered will solve the whole problem? The colored citizens of Birmingham and Alabama do not ask for any special allowances for them in the franchise laws of Alabama, nor do they ask for any lowering of th equalifications of the voter. Let those qualifications be as high as they may; let them include the reading and translation of a chapter from the Greek Testament or a comprehension of the Einstein Theory of Relativity, the colored citizens will not complain: provided the qualifications are enforced on all citizens alike. Editor Glass' suffrage plan is a bad one, and would not be a stimulus to all Negroes to right living, to character growth and to civic progress. Instead is would prove only another opportunity for fraud and chicane. Nevertheless, the plan shows that the white conscience of Alabama is not entirely at rest on this question; and as long as the conscience is troubled, there is hope that the sinner will turn from his sinning.—N. Y. Age. Gov. Smith of New York has commuted the death sentence of Theodore Dickson to life imprisonment. Dickson was but sixteen years of age when he killed a young girl on whose life his mother held a $500 life insurance policy. His mother promised him and another boy $100 to commit the crime. She is awaiting trial on a first degree murder charge. The gubernatorial clemency was extended on account of his tender years. Vol. IV., No. 40 EDITORIAL PARAGRAPHS From the primary returns the State of Minnesota is badly in the Wood(s). As we see it the Democratic party has had a House lost, strayed or stolen. Surely, surely George Vandeveer is no less a legal scrapper than he is a fistic one. However guilty the Centralia I. W. W.'s may have been, they got off mighty darn light. Politicians may be whispering Hoover's name, but the press has begun to Lowden things up. Paradoxical as it may seem, Dr. Cooper of Seattle is to be dentalized with a beautiful crown. If Washington Hall had had more hot air last Sunday afternoon there probably would have been more dust raised. Our country is enjoying an age of prohibition and profiteering is endeavoring to share the good things arising therefrom. After all may, perhaps, President Wilson has not been sick at all, but was just setting a trap to catch Lansing in order to let him out. The political storm in Minnesota was almost as disastrous as the one in South Dakota and, strange to say, they occurred the same day. Just think, it cost Newbery almost as much for a seat in the Senate as it cost Uncle Sam for a seat in Alaska, but all good things come high. "Woman is the backbone of society," which must explain why so many women have their entire backbones exposed when society shows itself. Revolutions and rumors of revolutions keep Germany and Russia in states of unrest, but despite their unrest they continue to successfully defy the Allies There certainly is no meat on the bones of the Bull Moose, but may perhaps, President Wilson thinks he will find sufficeneit marrow in its bones for presidential soap grease. With a stunning new Easter outfit it would by no means be necessary for the young woman possessing such to advertise, "boy wanted," for that's why she is so arrayed. Most any profiteer's head in a charger would be a suitable souvenir of the late world war, but the fellow, who sells a pair of shoes that cost but $1.50 to be made and finished, for the shelf, for $18 is of all, the most desirable. Whether or not it was a legal justification deponent knoweth not, but the wife, who offers as an excuse for kissing another man, her husband had frequently kissed other women, shows how one evil begets another. Julius Rosenwald, the Chicago philanthropist, has given $325,000 for the erection of Y. M. C. A. halls in various cities, for colored men. He has also contributed extensively for the betterment of school houses in the South. Taken it all in all, few men have done more than he for the uplift of the colored citizens of this country. ```markdown ``` a ET ey CTH OO RAL NOnRSee SCPe Nee OO eee ane Sea aeee eeaa a ee Ee ee According to Literary Digest, labor leaders are overwhelmingly in favor of prohibition, which, in its opinion, reflects the sentiment of a great majority of the members of or- ganized labor. That sounds good and we verily believe it is just as good as it sounds. Seattle will soon be able to boast of three churches among her colored citizens that will not be surpassed by the chureh edi- fices of any city on the Pacifie coast, yea, if by those of any city west of the Missouri river. You bet your life Seattle is a genu- ine humdinger. It has heen proposed that a meeting be arranged and give the students of the State University of Washington an oppor- tunity to at least look upon the face of the ‘president of the institution, as that seems to be an honor, but few of the students have as yet enjoyed. The Chicago damsel, but twenty-one years of age, yet has legally married twenty-two love-sick swains, may be guilty of too much marrying from a legal standpoint, and yet morally she has done no more in the know- ing of the human animals, of male dis- tinetion than multiplied thousands — of other women, and, from our viewpoint, no more guilty of real crime. In firing Tom Murphine after he had tendered his resignation or was in the act of doing so, Mayor Caldwell exhibited a political littleness that could be styled, pig- headediess We are no particular admirer of Tom Murphine, but whatever his faults or shortcomings may be, the mayor added nothing to his laurels by kieking this dead man You may think you have the world by the tail and with a down-hill pull, “*Mistah’’ Mayor, but, beware, the rapids are below you. Team Hugh Caldwell, don’t you know, and hell will pop before Togo. [ve fired Murphine first of all, and other heads are soon to fall Murphine T knew had already quit, but then T wanted him to hit,, and so au dead man 1 did kiek, that T could soothe my conscience quick. So take notice all ye office-holding slaves as I intend to lay you in your graves. With an iron hand | am going to rule, Seattle’s offiee-holding school. TI, the man from Tennessee, will tell all Washington what to be. My bands will play, ‘‘AIL hail the chief,’ and you will dance or come to grief. “PIANO”? MAKES QUEER MUSIC Africans ware oa .music-loving people, though in a native African village there is not much to be had that will produce sounds of a harmonious nature. There the musical instruments are of the crudest kind. Even if the African musician has the real musical gift, with his very best effort it cannot be displayed creditably on the crude instruments at hand. The Afriean ‘‘piano,’’? ungainly looking as it is, shows a good bit of ingenuity both in its construction and its manipulation, so that the sounds blend in some sort of musi- cal strains. There are usually 18 to 20 ‘keys’? in the makeup of an African piano. Each is of polished wood 3 to 4+ inches wide and 14 to 15 inches in length. Under each key is a gourd attached by means of a resinous gum or an application of cement very durable when it hardens. A half cir- cular strip of flexible wood holds all in place. The gourds are of different sizes. Two sticks, like drum sticks, are used by the player, one in each hand; and the play- ing is done by pounding with the sticks upon the keys, each of which, when struck, gives out a different sound. In some of the villages of Africa where missionaries dwell, the ‘‘piano’’ drum, for that is what it really is, serves as the chureh ‘‘bell,’’ to summon the peopfe to the services. If manipulated by the native evangelist, which is often the case, the call to prayer and praise rings out with all the lusty musical (?) sounds his vigorour pounding ean bring from it.—Selected. THE JINGOES JINGLE My Muse refused to work last week, be- cause his think tank sprung a leak, and so the Weekly was quite flat, to those who loved his tet-a-tat, but now old Muse is out again and hopes to raise particular Cain, before he takes another rest, from posing as a public pest. He knows his jingo has no sense and as wobbly as a split rail fence, but, it often sounds quite well, if accompanied by a dinner bell. I told him he a poet was, which surely ruffled up his fuz. ‘*Why, bless you, sir’, he quickly said, ‘‘all poets are as surely dead, as Ole Hanson and his pals, who seized Seattle’s street car valves. Yes, just as dead as Mister Man, who operates the White House can, and calls himself the president, of our U.S. Government. This Jingo which L write for you, is, all the same, poetic tripe, and only holds a lot of stuff, that passes out with quite a puff. If in life you wish success and your ef: forts roundly blessed, to all you meet good jingo sling, and always dodge the real thing. Walt Mason and Jim Montague, write nothing but poteie glue, for daily papers and the press, from whieh the pub- lic get no rest, but to the writers Jim and Walt, come loads and loads of shining malt, to pay them for their rotten rot, without a point or pleasing plot, but that’s the kind of stuff that wins, along the road that’s full of bends. A poet I ean never make, but tingling jingo is my take, be- cause this is a humbug age and jingo writ- ers fill the stage. I'll come again next Saturday, if you will only raise my pay, but then, like now, poetic rot, will oceupy my writing pot, and Milton in his grave would tum; to brand that pot a poet’s urn.’”’ Now you have heard my writing Muse, who lost his weekly jingo fuse, so keep your eyes upon the nail and listen for his jingo hail—H. R. Cayton. THEN AND NOW If all the good old tales are true, the cave man, when he went to woo, Would grab a rail, and club his frail Until she learned to love him. The maiden, so the stories say, when courted in this curious way Was quiet content to wed the gent, And thought the whole world of him. If we could woo in such a style, our court- ships would be well worth while; We needn’t slave and serimp and save For candy, shows and flowers. It wouldn’t need a ring or pin, a charming lady’s heart to win, We’d take a rock and tap her block, And lo! She would be ours! But if we tried to win a maid as did the hs cave man, we’re afraid She’d turn on us and fume and fuss And make things quite unpleasant. This theory of courtship may be suited to an elder day, But just the same, it’s not a game, That’s safe to play at present. And we suspect, if truth were told, that even in the days of old, ‘When cave men tried to win a bride, By bending saplings double Across her pretty little head, that he instead of getting wed More often got an awful lot Of beating for his trouble. —Jim Montague. ROADS TO HAPPINESS If you would be a happy man, you must control your greed, eat rice and mashes of bran, and other cattle feed. For if your health is on the blink, you cannot happy be; be careful what you eat and drink, and you’ll be filled with glee. “Our graves we’re digging with our teeth,” the men of science say, and soon we’re laid the sod beneath, because we sidestep hay. Man fills himself with lucious pies and steaks that look sublime, and then he doubles up an dies, long, long before his time. Eat . @ turnips and a dish of slaw, avoid the roast beef lures, and drink rainwater through a straw, and happiness is yours. Cut out for keeps the movie show, the ribald film and reel, and to the lecture ware- house go, and hear some wise man spiel. Last night I yawned for three long hours while old Professor Kurds turned loose all kinds of verbal showers, and painted things with words. It gave me willies in my soul, and fantods in my head, and while he sprung his rigmraole, I longed to be in bed. And yet I knew my course was right, it’s good to hear men preach; and when I tod- dled home last night my conscience was a peach, And if your conscience is O. K., and right side up with care, you’re happy as a clam, I say, though you may talk despair. This truth is ancient, hoar and grap, and yet it’s safe and sane: To be unhappy is the way true happiness to gain. A lot of foolish, gilded boys blow in their ample wage for all the cheap and gilded joys of this besotted age. The wise men’s rede, the poet’s rune, are handed them in’ vain; they never save a picayune against the day of rain. The truer joys of life they miss, for gilded bricks that shine; they never know the wholesome bliss of having scads in brine. The wise youth shuns the Great White Way, and pickles every yen; he does with- out things every day to save the iron men. He wears his clothes until threadbare, and hats that should be canned, and walks nine miles to save the fare a street car would de- mand. He eats an onion or a leek and thinks such luncheon fine; he earns twelve shining bucks a week, and of the twelve saves nine. He misses all life’s joy and light, its flavor and its fizz; but when he counts his dimes by night, true happiness is his. And when he’s saved a goodly roll, an auto climbs his frame, and then the sexton digs a hole in which he ends the game. Same lawyer gathers in his mon, and softly sighs, ‘‘Poor chump! He cut out all there is of fun, and merely hit the dump.”’ Alas, how little lawyers know of happi- ness and joy, the joy that has no taint of woe, the bliss without alloy! How little lawyers realize that misery is glee, that only sore and weeping eyes pure happiness can see! How little lawyers understand the ecstasy we know, when we go trotting hand in hand with forty kinds of woe!—Walt Mason. No Chieken—A certain surgeon who was No Chicken—A certain surgeon who was very young and also rather shy was invited to dinner by a lady who was at least fifty, but frivolous enough for twenty. At dinner she asked the young surgeon to carve a chicken and, not having done so before, he failed lamentably. Instead of trying to cover his confusion, the hostess called atten- tion to it pointedly by looking down the table and saying loudly: “Well, you may be a very clever surgeon, but if T wanted a leg off I should not come to you to do it.’’ “No, madam,’ he replied politely, ‘but then, you see, you are not a chicken.’’—Los Angeles Times. Why Men Go Wrong—A certain rector just before the service was called to the vestibule to meet a couple who wanted to be married. He explained that there wasn’t time for the ceremony then. ‘‘But,’’ said he, ‘‘if you will be seated I will give an op- portunity at the end of the service for you to come forward, and I will then perform the ceremony.’’ The couple agreed, and at the proper moment the clergyman said, ‘‘ Will those who wish to be united in the holy bonds of matrimony please come forward ?’’ Whereupon thirteen women and one man proceeded to the altar—The Argonaut. “The school mistress is interested in you, dad.’’ ‘‘How’s that?’’ ‘‘ Why, today, after she’d told me six times to sit down and be- have myself she said she wondered what kind of a father I had.’’—Philadelphia Evening Bulletin. THE PASSING THRONG Last week I congratulated myself for never having been in but one street car wreck and came out of that without a scratch or a jar, the daily and weekly press of the city to the contrary notwithstanding, but at the time I neither knocked on wood or crossed my fingers, and, according to the supersititous, some calamity was bound to befall me. For two days I escaped and I was about to congratulate myself again for having completely outgeneraled the goofs, when on Sunday morning I scanend the jury list for April and found my name was among those drawn. Escaped from a wrecked street car to be drawn on the jury for thirty days and I felt like saying, Oh, Street Car, where is thy sting? I have lived in Seattle for thirty years and have never sat on a jury, not because I trumped up an excuse to keep from doing so, but because I have always operated a one-man business, which would undergo great suffering if I were not constantly with it. The late Judge Robert Brook Albertson excused me from jury duty on such a plea and I trust it will work on this occasion * * * A fair-sized audience listened to J. A. Hassell tell about the glories of the Black Star Line and the achievements of the Negro from the time that memory of man runneth not to the contrary, and he told it eloquently as well as intelligently, and I said, Amen to all he said, so far os spreading out and becoming a factor in the world's work was concerned, and I fully coincided with him in the advisability of buying stock in the Black Star Line, if you and each of you, consider it a good business investment. But as I listened to his earnest appeal for the good of the concern, for which he came there to talk, it occurred to me, why not "let down your bukets where you are", by opening a small business in the community in which you reside? Why cross the continent to benefit yourself, when you can do so at home? Multiplied hundreds of Japanese are doing business in and about Seattle and doing business with the white population, who at heart bear them no good will, but in spite of that they are succeeding. The white man would just as willingly, and probably more so, trade with colored folks, if they would open up small business houses as do the Japanese. Cease chasing the end of rainbows for fabled gold mines and dig down where you are. * * * Many of Seattle's colored colony witnessed the change of chief executives of the city with more or less forebodings as well as misgivings, for they believed a man assumed the duties of mayor of the city, who was more or less unfriendly to them. Of course I know the mayor of a city has little or no opportunity to show any direct unfriendliness to the colored folks any more so than to any other distinct class, but they know as a rule a white man from the South seldom, if ever, loses an opportunity to do the colored man a gross injustice, in this however, Claude C Ramsay, one of the county commissioners, is a most brilliant exception I am not sure that Mayor Caldwell made the remark about colored folks that has been attributed to him, but even before that was published, the colored citizens, almost with one accord said they wanted no Tennessee mayor for Seattle The colored citizens want to see men elected to executive positions, to whom they can go with whatever troubles they may have and be cordially received, which is not characteristic of the southern white man. I trust, however, that the colored folks will experience no more civic annoyances under Hugh M. Caldwell than they did under Gill, Cotterill, Hanson or Fitzzgerald. * * * James H. Woolery is again chasing criminals, and, believe me, they will be chased. In days long gone by Jim Woolery was one of the prominent men of this community, having been twice sheriff of the county and equally as long chief deputy sheriff. While sheriff, Woolery had no coolred men as deputies in his office, yet to my personal knowledge he was a true and tried friend to them, and this is another brilliant exception of the southern white man always being against the colored man as Mr. Woolery was originally from Tennessee. At the time Woolery was sheriff of King county there were two colored attorneys here. Allen A. Garner and Con. A. Rideout, and they surely had a friend at court. * * * I understand Joel F. Warren is to be continued as chief of police of Seattle, and I am very glad of it. Some weeks ago my attention was called to a very objectionable picture in front of a movie house and I was forced to appeal to Chief Warren to have it taken down, which he did as soon as he heard the nature of it, and as in this instance, so in others, when colored citizens had just cause for complaint. But, be it remembered, that he acts just as quickly in other abuses as the above, which makes of him a very efficient official. The colored citizens here or nowhere else ask no special protection or consideration, but when taken a mean advantage of they appreciate the official that will say to their traducers., "thus far and no farther", and this Chief Warren seems to have the backbone to do. In this connection I want to say Inspector Bannick is a most able and worthy second to the chief and the colored man will get just as square a deal with Claude Bannick in charge as any man that ever wore the badge of authority. * * * The addresses of Mrs. Talbert at the Mt. Zion Baptist Church last Thursday and Friday evenings were, in a way, masterpieces and the over-crowded house enjoyed her every word. She is truly a most talented woman and everything that she said was something worth hearing and I am very proud of her, not so much on account of her color—the spirit of clanishness—but because she is so well informed and possesses such rare ability, despite the fact she is colored. I regret, however, that the white citizens of this community never seem to feel sufficiently interested in the noted colored speakers, who from time to time visit this city on lecture tours, as they say things of as much, if not more so, interest to the white man as the black man. In Portland, Oregon, I am told, the white citizens turn out in large numbers to hear meritorious colored speakers, not quite so well in Tacoma as in Portland, but not one in Seattle and yet no place on the Coast needs it more than does Seattle. "The only true study of man is man," wrote a poetic sage and if the white man is desirous to know the colored man he should try to learn all about him from himself. * * * One day this week I met Edward F. Meyer, whom I have known for a good many years, and after our usual friendly greetings he told me he and his family would soon sail for China, where he would be connected with an industrial concern, which would be directed by J. F. Duthie. Since I first met Mr. Meyer in Seattle he, like everybody else, has had his ups and downs, but, I am glad to say, more ups than downs. Despite the fact that he possesses a master mind in his ilne, yet for many years his color or class designation has been a handicap to him, but that he seems to have completely overcome. Some years ago he was employed by the government and while holding that position, one of his downs came, but with a mind like his it was impossible to keep it down and when J. F. Duthie & Co., began the shipbuilding game in Seattle Meyer was put in charge of the store room and so successfully did he handle it that when the firm closed out their plant in Seattle and decided to go into business in China Meyer was employed to go thither and assume even a more responsible position with the China firm than he had held in Seattle. However, what I want to get out of all this is, despite the colored man's class handicap, if he is able to deliver the goods, some white man will give him a chance. Every colored boy and girl should endeavor to make of himself or herself a specialist in something. Know more about some one thing than the average person and you are absolutely certain of more or less success in the affairs of life. The boot black, who is an artist at his business, has the Latin and Greek graduate, without a specialty, skinned three ways for election in the way of making a living for himself and family. There necessarily must be some brainy persons, scholars, if you please, among us, but in order for the colored man of the United States to overcome the almost universal opposition to him, on account of his color and previous condition he must specialize, he must do things better than the average white man, and, if he does, like Mr. Meyer, he will be given lucrative employment in spite of himself. * * * There is a Paige in my history that fully explains my present money shortage and as much as I dislike to look at it, yet I do not seem to be able to either cut it out or blot its words, and yet it frequently affords me a great deal of pleasure, but it often happens the things that give us the greatest amount of pain are the most precious to our hearts. * * * When I was a boy, I wondered what would happen to me when I was twenty-one. When I was twenty-one I wondered what would happen to me when I was sixty. When I was sixty I wondered what would happen to me when I was eighty and then I suspect I will wonder then why something did not happen to me from the cradle to that time. In other words, the most of us live in horror of some calamity befalling us at every stage of the game, and if something does not happen, we wonder why in the duce it did not happen. Saved.—Friend—“Were you ever lost in theh woods?” Batch—"Almost." Friend—"Who rescued you?" Batch—"Nature." Friend—"What do you mean?" Batch—"The wind was blowing so hard that the girl didn't hear me when I proposed."—London Blighty. ATLAS POOL HALL Under New Management Wishes You a Happy New Year FELIX CRANE, Manager 1212 Main Street Seattle You Are Welcome GREAT NORTHERN POOL AND BILLIARD HALL Cigars, Tobacco and Soft Drinks. BOYD & WILLIAMS, Props. 1032 Jackson St. IN THE SUPERIOR COURT OF THE STATE OF Washington, for King County.—In Probate. In the matter of the estate of Frank DeLao, Deceased.—No. 26763. Notice to Creditors. Notice is hereby given that the undersigned has been appointed and has qualified as Executor of the estate of Frank DeLao, Deceased; that all persons having claims against said deceased are hereby required to serve the same, duly verified, on said John DeLao or his attorney of record at the address below stated, and file the same with the Clerk of said Court, together with proof of such service within six months after the date of first publication of this notice, to-wit, within six months from and after the 7th day of February, 1920, or the same will be barred. Date of first publication February 7th, 1920. JOHN DE LAO, Executor of said Estate. Address 701 Leary Building, Seattle, Washington. E. H. GUIE, Attorney for Estate. 701 Leary Building, Seattle, Wash. February 7th, March 6th, 1920.