Are you ready for Grampa's Bawdyhouse?

You will not believe what they
did for fun a hundred years ago!!!

The Bawdyhouse

Or;
The Wild West's Answer to Groundhog Day

by Old Tom

To truly appreciate the humor in those three signs, however, you need to know something of George's history. As an adult, I'm sure you can guess where this is leading. "Come again soon!" indeed. Still, you'll have to bear with me, so I can explain what this has to do with Groundhog Day. Washington was wild territory back in the 1880's. In fact, it did not achieve statehood until 1889, at the tail end of the Klondike Gold Rush. The Northern Pacific Railroad's Stampede Tunnel was still being drilled through the Cascade Mountains, and the Great Northern Railroad was still years away from Seattle. Far across the mountains to the east, wild George was nearly untouched by the Klondike Gold Rush. There was no railroad, just cattle and wheat. Both cattle and wheat were in sudden demand to the west, but Gold Fever still seemed far away. There were wheat farmers and cowboys, and not much else. Except, that is, the Martha Inn.

You could always count on a good time at the Martha Inn. There was nothing unusual about this saloon and bawdy house at the time. Like Las Vegas a hundred years later, you went there to have a good time, and spend money. Nothing unusual, perhaps, but the place did have character. That is, a *couple* of characters: Tom Birthington, the proprietor, and his wife, the madam. Old Tom Birthington was invariably called The Old Man, or Old Birthington; never Old Tom. His wife was referred to as Madam, even by Birthington himself. He once referred to her as the Old Lady; never again.

Part of the town's character, was in making fun of the overly civilized folks from back east. The Martha Inn did its share, beginning with the sign on the wall halfway up the stairs. It proclaimed, "George Washington never slept here, but darn near everyone else has!" Like I said, they were openly proud of what they had to offer. The biggest character of all was Birthington himself. Back in those days without indoor plumbing, it was not unusual for a guy to go a long time without a bath, particularly in winter. Birthington, however, did not bathe the *entire* winter. Given that the cast iron bathtub was outdoors, I can perhaps understand his reluctance. Well, one thing led to another, and with the passing of years it became established that with the first snow melt, Old Birthington would be taking his first outdoor bath of the season. Picture, if you will, several hours of preparation: enough hot water needed to be heated and carried to the bathtub to thaw out that cast iron, and warm it to a pleasant temperature. And then *more* water needed to be heated and carried, for the bath itself. Finally appeared Birthington himself. Being outdoors, he wore his longjohns into the bathtub. Did I mention that he had assistants? The whole staff was there to help. The staff, meaning those ladies of the evening which provided the Martha Inn's famous companionship. Laughing and making a big production of it, they soon had his skivvies stripped off and washed, and Birthington himself nicely cleaned inside and out. I'm sure you can well imagine that this event drew quite an audience. After a long cold winter, what was the first sign of spring? It was the bawdyhouse ladies, all turned out to scrub old Birthington. They put on a show, and business was inevitably brisk that evening. Then came February 2nd, 1886. The Klondike Gold Rush was still a year away, you will recall. In George, Washington, the ground was still frozen, and the date passed without particular notice. Unknown to the folks in George, that was the day the overly civilized folks in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, declared the groundhog had not seen its shadow. That unpronounceable point became the "Weather Capitol of the World." News travels fast. That is, the folks in George heard the story a mere two weeks later. The snow was beginning to melt, and they had their *own* first sign of spring. A week later the bath was poured, Birthington was clean for a day, and spring was officially begun. A year later, in 1887, the town of George was ready. Yes, February 2nd of 1887 was the date of that first trip to Gobbler's Knob back east. But out west another legend was begun. Not on the second, but on the *twenty* second. Henceforth on that date, Old Birthington received his bath with the whole town watching; business was brisk that evening; and Spring was officially Sprung. This tradition lasted well past the turn of the century. Out west, this sure sign of spring remained every bit as significant as the easterners' Groundhog Day. Indeed, a century later, most calendars *still* show February 22nd as the traditional Birthington's Washday.