If the quality and character of a community could be judged by the passers-by you encountered on city streets, then late-night Burlington at the start of the 20th century might have offered the first hints of an approaching apocalypse.

But that may be a misguided impression, created simply because the newspapers of the time seemed to delight in tales of the unusual citizens who wandered the city’s nighttime streets.

In those days, if a police reporter at the Gazette or the Hawk Eye was facing a late-night blank space on Page 3, he had only to step onto the streets to find a wealth of reportable weirdness.

At a distance of 125 years, the lasting impression of Burlington’s wild side population is that you couldn’t find  people that strange unless you set a trap for them.      

There were, of course, the boisterous drunks entertaining the hard-pressed police force, and the ladies of the night who provided a carnal sparkle to the dimly illuminated Main and Jefferson streets.

There were also the railroad track layers battling rafting crews in the Lower Town, while the levee provided a convenient resting place for those that had been overserved at the town’s numerous refreshment establishments.

Many of the characters that roamed city streets are now forgotten or remembered only in yellowing police reports or coroner’s findings. But a few names have defied the intervening years to flesh out that colorful era.

For instance, there was Jimmie Hickey, a legless bootblack who made his home in a packing box in the alley next to the Zephyr hotel. Hickey was a former railroader who lost his legs on the installment plan.

The first leg was lost one day when he fell between the cars. The second leg was removed one night when he fell asleep on the tracks and was run over by a freight.

Hickey had a nasty temper when in his cups and threw a mean crutch at short range.

Abe White sold newspapers on the streets and was almost blind. He had lost one hand when it was chopped off in an especially vicious street fight, but White never explained the details of that encounter.

“Redheaded Annie” was a tough woman even by street standards. But she was also known for being a great “dresser” who was careful of the company she kept. She was frequently in police court and was referred to in the newspaper as a “sassy and unrepentant wench.”

A personal favorite of the reporters and much of the community was Irene McPike, better known as “Scatterwater.” McPike was a community institution because of her willingness to help even the most downtrodden.

But she also had a temper and was quick to take offense when young boys yelled “Scatterwater.” That nickname was attached to her by a fireman because she often turned up at blazes where she instructed the firefighters “to scatter a little more water over here.”

McPike was also known to have a great right arm and an unerring aim. She occasionally ended up in police court when, during a late-night foray, she would bean an obnoxious drunk with a well-thrown stone.

“Col.” Alexander “Tug” Wilson was a bulky red-bearded Scotchman who wandered Burlington’s nighttime streets carrying a gunnysack filled with street finds. He made his home in a packing crate on the levee and was plagued by young boys who bombarded his box with stones.

Wilson claimed to be an inventor who had created a perpetual motion machine, and he often visited saloons to collect money for his patent. He was also a regular at the Hawk Eye offices, where he often caged a nickel for a “luf of bread.”   

The Young brothers, Dick and Lyman, were an especially vicious pair of levee loiterers who also often made the newspaper. Dick was known as “Richard Chesterfield” because, in spite of being illiterate, he insisted on using big words — usually in a meaningless context.

His brother earned the nickname of “Peg” after his leg was taken by a shotgun blast after a disputed dice game.  

The colorful collection would eventually include Charlie Morris, better remembered as “Scoopendike.” He was one of the more recognizable citizens of the Willow Patch — a collection of beached cabin boats gathered north of town. Unlike many of his peers, Scoopendike was considered harmless and made the newspapers because of his long memory of Burlington’s past.

 Scoopendike, Scatterwater and Tug Wilson all played their part in creating a reputation for Burlington that may still linger. But they also made life easier for newspaper reporters when a colorful article was needed to fill out a late edition.