Over modern times in Port Townsend newcomers acquiring historic business buildings and residences have attempted to bring public attention to themselves by inventing either a ghost or a history of prostitution for their premises. Prior to the arrival of these enterprising property owners, none of these claims was supported by local history--nor is even legend generally subscribed to.

There was, for instance, the proud new owner of a picturesque 1890s residence uptown (that she had developed into a bed and breakfast) who decided out of the blue that a name she found inscribed somewhere on the premises must have been that of a prostitute. Never mind that the home was in the Uptown District, which always had remained scrupulously free of prostitution and other seamier aspects of Port Townsend society down through the years. The home in question actually had been occupied by a prominent ship captain and his wife during the town's colorful salad years.

Same goes for a downtown building that once housed a tavern operated by Michael DeLeo, a rumor born of the fact that were rooms on the second floor. But such was the case for all of the early business buildings built in the downtown area. Such rooms were generally used for other business offices--or rented as apartments both then and in later years. Some possibly were never used in early years as the town's runaway developmental boom, during which the buildings were erected, screeched to a halt with the great recession of 1893.

I have in my personal possession the city's official fire department map of the city during its lusty hey-day in 1891, showing the occupancy of every single structure, block by block, within the entire city limits (as an aid to firemen in case of fire). All houses of prostitution were identified as "I. F." for "ill fame". The designation is not shown for these particular sites mentioned above--or others speculatively identified as such on occasion these days with absolutely no foundation in fact.

Ever-popular ghosts that have been dreamed up are headed by the so-called ghost of Manresa Castle, the former family home built by Charles Eisenbeis, who had a hand in everything from the local brewery to the Port Townsend Southern Railroad--and also built the Mt. Baker Block. The home and its later add-on was long occupied by Jesuit priests during my own younger years. There was no mention of a ghost (other than the Holy Ghost) on local lips until the premises became a commercial establishment, a restaurant and hotel.

And as I suggested in my most-recent blog, if the Eisenbeis family deserves a ghost, it should be Charles Eisenbeis Jr. wandering the premises of the present Undercity Café. Charles Jr. committed suicide in the basement of the Mt. Baker Block on Sept. 29, 1897, but to the best of my knowledge, his ghost has never become an object of speculation--probably only because relative newcomers and most everyone else know nothing about his life. The following is the edited part of the story I copied years ago from the Oct. 30, 1897, issue of The Morning Leader:

"Cold and still in death, a bullet wound behind his right ear, his right hand tightly touching a revolver, the body of Charles Eisenbeis Jr. was found at 9 o'clock last night, stretched out on the ground in the basement of the Mount Baker block . . . All day yesterday there was a quiet search being made by his friends for young Eisenbeis, for he had disappeared from the grocery store in which he has for several years past been a partner with his father . . . the two Eisenbeis blocks were searched throughout, every room being examined . . .

"Sheriff Hamilton and Henry Bayley discovered the body . . . the single bullet from the thirty-eight caliber revolver had done its work . . . The young man had carefully placed his hat on a block of wood, sat down alongside the block, placed the pistol behind his right ear and fell over dead as the bullet tore through his brain.

"Despondency is given as the cause of the rash act, by those who knew Charles Eisenbeis best. Judge J. A. Kuhn was not surprised to hear of the suicide, and had told the young man's father earlier in the evening that his son would be found dead before morning. Deceased was a member of the city council at the time of his death . . . He leaves a wife and a four year old daughter . . . he carried several thousand dollars in life insurance."

Some years earlier, in 1886, Charles Eisenbeis Jr. had been among advertisers in the Port Townsend Call, as a partner with Herbert L. Burkett in a firm listing "general merchandise, gents' furnishings, shipping and commission agents . . ." I seem to recall having read about the role of an overbearing father in his despondency. I imagine the general recession of 1893 that was a heavy blow to the entire community--especially his father, some of whose many enterprises eventually wound up in bankruptcy--also was a factor.

The other suicide of a prominent early citizen I mentioned in my last blog (and that apparently never has been reported anywhere since 1886 other than in my own book of history) was that of David Charles Henry Rothschild. He came to Port Townsend in 1858 and was engaged first in general merchandising, later in the shipping and commission business. He built the Rothschild family home that now is a Washington State park, in 1868.

I found the Rothschild suicide in an 1886 file of Port Townsend Call that is in my personal possession. The May 1 issue of that year reported: "Last Monday, the dead body of Mr. D. C. H. Rothschild, the prominent shipping merchant of this city, was found lying on the beach south of town, a few hundred yards below the Cliff House saloon. The body was first discovered by two Portuguese laborers on their way to the brickyard. They reported seeing a man on the beach, to Mr. Dickinson of the yard, who immediately started out to investigate the matter. His discovery was at once reported to city marshal Finn. A great commotion was at once created among the citizens. Coroner Wyckoff took charge of the corpse and it was removed to the Court House, where a jury was summoned and an inquest held. The jury found that deceased came to his death by a pistol shot wound inflicted by his own hand, while in a state of temporary insanity. The body was found face downward on the beach, an American Bulldog revolver underneath. The pistol had been placed against the right temple and the bullet passing through the brain came out on the left side an inch higher and passed through the hat. Death was instantaneous as no traces of suffering appeared on the features . . ."

Today's writing style would condense much of this story into something like "death was determined to have been the result of a self-inflicted gunshot wound." No ghost has been reported in the historic Rothschild home, undoubtedly partially due to the fact that historians passed over the family suicide.

An editorial in the same issue of the paper noted that the deceased "had been in ill health for months, being subject to fits of nervous depression and despondency. The family and intimate friends have kept strict vigil over him for some time past and while his death proved a great shock to all, it was not wholly unexpected to many." The courthouse mentioned above was at that time still in the building now occupied by the Leader newspaper. The Cliff House and brickyard mentioned also are described in my 2000 book of local history.

BETTER KNOWN IN LOCAL HISTORY, involving more mystery and consequently more worthy of a ghost, is another early businessman Israel Katz. On January 14, 1917, he left his home at Blaine and Tyler Sts.--without his watch, spectacles or coat--in the late afternoon or early evening and was never again seen. If anyone deserves his own ghost, it should be he--and I believe I've heard that speculated on occasion. However, an aunt and uncle of mine lived in the same house for quite a few years and encountered nothing supernatural. Israel may well have been another suicide, perhaps joining in the waters or Port Townsend Bay a brother Solomon who drowned in 1888 while boarding a ship near Point Hudson. Solomon was one of the founding partners of the waterfront business of Waterman & Katz, of which Israel was sole owner at the time of his disappearance.

Details on the Eisenbeises, the Rothschilds and Israel Katz--along with other suicides, murders and untimely deaths--will be found in my volumes of Port Townsend history, published in 2000 and 2002, and still readily available.

I myself will be eligible for ghosthood not too many years in the future, but I'm going with "do no resuscitate."