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.

"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.