This is a story of rebels. Long heard as whispered tales and half rememberings, a tale imbued with spirits… Those of rowdy pioneers and those far more ancient, who dwell amongst the misty forests.
Spirits wander here.
The dense canopy of evergreen boughs permits little light from the fading sun. Cool mist drifts amongst the lush, dewy underbrush. A soft mossy floor dampens nature’s sounds. Distant ocean’s rumble lays faint but strong upon the twilight quiet. At forest’s edge, the land falls steep and rocky into the sea. Dark waves of midnight blue crash against the island’s jagged crust. A boat, low and dark and quiet, motors past. Lights extinguished, it moves as a stealth sea beast, motor grumbling to the crescent moon. Aboard this ship Prosper sets alight his pipe, steady grip on the worn wooden wheel. Callused hands on-deck stuff glass bottles in fiber sacks, the amber liquid sloshing, mimicking the sea. Practiced fingers sew black weights inside and join bag to bag to bag. Standing sentinel amid dark green firs, the spirits watch as silent smugglers disappear into the night.
100 years ago, in 1920, the beauty of the Puget Sound lent backdrop to an epic saga. Fire and brimstone prohibitionists had succeeded in their quest to outlaw alcohol. For the hardworking industrious folks who called Seattle home, that simply wouldn’t do.
Ambitious men took to the waters of the Puget Sound, paying a visit North of the border to purchase alcohol from their Canadian neighbors. In the dead of night, on stormy seas they’d ‘jump the line’, darting in and out of coves, wary of prowling Coast Guard ships.
Quietly they’d weave through the San Juan Islands and down to secluded beaches near Seattle. ‘Swampers’ waited on the shore in early morning darkness to load the alcohol into trucks and automobiles.
Stash houses, warehouses, and underground caves served as a temporary home for the illicit product until it was delivered to the city’s speakeasies and wealthy private clients.
Roy Olmstead and his gang smuggled more alcohol into the United States than anyone else on the West Coast. At its peak his operation was smuggling 100s of millions of dollars in illicit booze. Doggedly pursued by Prohibition agents, Olmstead built an empire, employing an army of smugglers, paid off cops, lawyers, accountants, salesman, phone operators, and one young genius inventor.
