The Agatha Smith Cemetery

Archibald Smith came to Olympia in 1883. He appeared as a wealthy merchant from the East coast. Although publicly an upstanding man of the community, behind closed doors Archibald was a jealous, drunken, and cowardly man; his corrupt soul hidden well behind expensive clothes and a dignified affect.

One day as he strolled along Capitol Way, Archibald spied a radiant girl leaving a shop, and soon set about convincing the prosperous owner of the Olympia Mercantile to give his daughter's hand in marriage. Agatha was her name, and truly she was a most beautiful, vibrant, and vivacious young woman. They were married on October 31, 1884 in a well-attended ceremony. Sadly Agatha nor her father ever suspected that such a fine, upstanding man of the community could harbor such malevolent evil within.

On All Hallows Eve, nearly everyone in Olympia attended the wedding feast, celebrating with hard cider from Nathanial Rutledge's nearby orchards, and a keg of rare Barbados rum purchased from a visiting Russian trading yawl anchored in Budd Inlet. As a matter of courtesy, Archibald invited the young and handsome captain of the vessel to the wedding. Tragically, Captain Vladimir Pachinko accepted the invitation.

The wedding celebration carried on late into the night. The young Russian fancied dancing with Agatha, and they did so several times, whirling gracefully to the fiddle's song. Archibald refused to dance, instead drinking from the rum keg all too often. As he drank, his jealous nature steadily emerged. As he continued enviously looking on, Archibald's blood began to boil as his deluded, drunken mind imagined his bride being whisked away by the dashing captain. Suddenly, a vile plan unfolded in his twisted mind.

Wearing an innocent smile, Archibald approached the Captain, inviting him to stay after the other guests had departed, to "Share a fine brandy". Captain Pachinko immediately agreed. Within the hour the last of the guests departed. Archibald commanded his sweet, innocent bride to retire to their marriage bed, while he would entertain his Russian guest. She dutifully complied as the two men withdrew to the study for the cigars and brandy.

"To my bride!" Archibald cried as he lifted his snifter and turned to a freshly painted portrait of Agatha adorning the wall behind Vladimir. As the young captain turned to toast the painting, Archibald drew a knife from his waistcoat and viciously stabbed the defenseless man in the back some 26 times. Then mounting the stairs, a leering, twisted grin upon his face, he murdered his precious, young bride, stabbing her repeatedly in the same fashion. Panic and cowardice then overtook him, and Archibald Smith slunk away into the night seeming to escape the hangman's noose.

An officer of the Olympia constabulary discovered the gruesome scene the next morning. Agatha's grieving father buried her in the Old Olympia Graveyard that once stood on this very land. Over the years, the horrific murders were all but forgotten. But twenty years after committing his grisly crimes, driven by guilt and madness, Archibald Smith returned to his wife's grave. In a fit of pique, he dug up her coffin, and upon seeing Agatha's desiccated corpse, hung himself in a nearby tree. Surely Hell holds no more deserving soul than Archibald Smith.