Rolling Seminar
along the Columbia, to Yakima and Seattle
May 20-25, 2003
Participants: Barbara Andersen, Rula Awwad-Rafferty, Kenton Bird, Nancy Chaney, Mary DuPree, Lauren Fins, Jerry Fischer, Rodney Frey, Patricia Hart, Mark Hume, Walter Hesford, Cheryl Johnson, Jan Johnson, Natalie Kreutzer, Wendy McClure, Bill McLaughlin, Anne Marshall, Elinor Michel, Bruce Mobarry, Sheila O’Brien, Jim Reece, Gary Reed, Nels Reese, Kris Roby, Gundars Rudzitis, Margaret Salazar, & Nick Sanyal. Steve Drown joined group Wed. May 21.
TUE. MAY 20: THE COLUMBIA, AGRICULTURE
6:45 A.M. Assemble, Sweet Ave. Parking lot, University of Idaho
7:00 A.M. Depart, with a quick stop for breakfast bars, coffee, and box lunches from Moscow Co-Op.
7:30 A.M. Kevin
Brackney, a hydrogeologist for the Nez Perce Tribe, accompanied group on the
bus ride from Moscow to Palouse Falls.
He spoke about geology of Moscow-Pullman area, and of diminishing rainfall from
east to west, from the Palouse to the scablands of eastern Washington. Group
engaged in animated discussion at Palouse Falls, where Kevin showed us
stratified colonnades (wide columns of basalt), entablature (narrow pillars)
above them, and fanning columns (like tail feathers) at the top. He pointed out
the Vantage Horizon, a sedimentary layer of impure carbon with subtropical
origins that lies between the Wanapum and Grande Ronde Aquifers, so much in the
news now among locals with concerns about water availability and recharge. Kevin
talked about the ice age about 2-million years ago, when the Purcell Lobe
blocked the Clark Fork River, creating Glacial Lake Missoula. When its 600-meter
depth caused the ice to become buoyant and to be released, a series of massive
floods ensued (~12,600-15,000 years BP), ultimately scouring out the scablands
that we see today. Kevin used the analogy of blind men assessing an elephant
piecemeal, with one feeling its trunk and thinking the animal must be like a
snake, one feeling a tusk and assuming it must be like a spear, one feeling its
massive bulk and insisting it was like a wall, another feeling its leg and
thinking it like a tree trunk, and the last, with its tail in his grasp, equally
certain that an elephant resembles a rope. Like the elephant, Kevin said, there
were multiple kinds of evidence for the Missoula Floods, but no real agreement
on how the landscape in this area came to be. Theories about a series of floods
flew in the face of Bret’s principle of uniformism,
popular into the 1920s, whereby processes of the present were assumed to be the
same as processes of the past. “Fining of sediments,” with heavy-to-light
lake sediments in repeating layers, is evidence of a series of 40-60 floods over
approx. 2,600 years. One hundred twenty individual igneous flows are apparent in
the Grande Ronde basalts. A
sense of scale was pervasive at this place: Human size, relative to the massive
waterfall, tall cliffs, and expansive open space, and human time relative to
geologic time.
10:30 A.M. Departed
Palouse Falls and bade farewell to Kevin. Seminar participants viewed a video
about Woody Guthrie, employed by the
Bonneville Power Administration’s Grand Coulee Dam Project in the 1930s to
write songs about the Columbia River and its dams. His assignment was to write a
song per day over the course of his 30-day emergency appointment. He managed to
write 26, and according to his son, “Nothing was safe from him.” He wrote on
every available surface, including scraps of paper, bags, and toilet
paper…”both sides!” His family said of one who would take on such a
challenge, “(You) gotta be disciplined or gotta be crazy, and he was both.” Guthrie
developed a genuine passion for place and awe for the power of dams and the
Mighty Columbia while engaged in his month-long obsession.
1:40 P.M. Arrive
Celilo Park. Group took box lunches
and followed Warm Springs Tribal Elder
Wilbur Johnson and his daughter Rosie
down to the bank of the Columbia. Celilo Chief Howard Jim unobtrusively observed the activity from his
pickup in the parking lot. Wilbur Johnson began by telling the story of a
swallow who lacked the patience to wait for spawning salmon to arrive, and ate
her own babies instead. Shortly thereafter, the salmon came, and the swallow
vowed to always wait until one day after the salmon arrived before eating any.
Her story was a reminder to the people who came to Celilo to fish that they
should treat the resource responsibly. Elder Johnson also told the
story of Deer, who told Salmon, “You’re my brother. I’ll help you to
survive,” and gave Salmon meat for his jaw to sustain him on his arduous
journey. That
story spoke to the connectedness of all things and to working together, even
sacrificing, for sustainability.
According to Elder Johnson, before the dams, salmon came up the south side of
the Columbia, west from Celilo Falls, because the water was deeper and cooler
there. They would stop to rest in a still, deep pool before challenging the
falls. No scaffolds were to be built there, nor fishing allowed there, out of
respect for the salmon. Neither did Tribal law allow fishing before 6 A.M.,
after 6 P.M., or on weekends. In
a practical sense, Tribal law and storytelling work together to preserve
cultural and natural resources. Methods for constructing fishing
scaffolds were passed from generation to generation. They were built over an
80-90 ft. high x 12-mile long canal along the river. Elder Johnson shared photos
of himself as a boy and younger man fishing at those places, when they received
15-cents per pound for salmon and 3-cents per pound for shad. One article,
including photographs, was from National Geographic. The
specialness of that place is registered historically, in the form of such
documents, in the memories of those who remember Celilo Falls, and in the
imaginations of those of us who hear the stories from those who experienced them
firsthand. Ironically, as Wilbur Johnson spoke, a “Juvenile Fish
Transportation” barge came by, moving the fish to a site below Bonneville Dam.
Mr. Johnson told us, “That’s the biggest mistake they ever made,”
trespassing tributaries so the salmon don’t know where they came from. He
added, “God didn’t create them that way…It’s wrong.” He explained how
science came to bear in the tribes’ legal victories: Hair-thin wires shot into
the faces of anadromous fish proved their birthplaces and provided evidence of
non-Indian over-harvesting asserted by tribes. Mr. Johnson pointed out that
Hells Canyon Dam and Grand Coulee Dam are among those without fish ladders. He
mourned the loss of “humpies,” a line of salmon up to 18” long that swam
up Celilo Falls before construction of the dams. As if to close the circle, he
quietly reminded his audience that the dams are “silting in,” and implied
that Mother Earth will prevail in the end. With palms upward, he rubbed his left
hand under his right, signifying layers of generations, and urged that each one
learn from the ones before. “Listen to the elders,” he said, “to
understand this water…how it flows.” He emphasized the importance of tribal
cooperation, remembering that, “Nobody got stingy over anything.” In the
past, people along the Columbia traded deer, elk, and buffalo. They had “fast
messengers” to communicate news of tribes 300-400 miles away, and the “old
people kept track of things.” They had three major feasts to God each year:
One for salmon (“Salmon is our first food,” Mr. Johnson said.), one for
roots, and another for berries. Tribal members worshipped prior to any harvest. To
Tribal Elder Wilbur Johnson and others like him, spirituality, culture,
sustainable management of natural resources, and a seamless integration of
“self” with “place” flow together like the deep waters of the River.
2:30 P.M. Maryhill
Museum. Pacific Northwest entrepreneur and visionary Sam Hill died in 1931,
but his legacy glistens in the form of this grand home-turned-museum,
startlingly perched (next to a replica of Stonehenge) on a cliff high above the
Columbia. Soon after he acquired the 6,000-acre parcel, Hill invited Quakers
from Pennsylvania to come out to farm, but none came. Still, over the years,
Hill’s isolated castle-like bastion of culture (not to mention subterranean
parking and an elevator) enticed the likes of Queen Marie of Romania, sculptor
Auguste Rodin, Alma de Brettsville Spreckels, heiress to the Spreckels sugar
fortune, Folies-Bergere phenom, Loie Fuller, and world famous scientists Marie
and Pierre Curie. The words eccentric, eclectic, and exciting come to mind when one
imagines life at this place in the nineteen teens and twenties.
Sense of Place seminar participants were particularly intrigued by photographs, articles, and other memorabilia reflecting the flamboyant career of Hill’s longtime friend, Loie Fuller, Dancer of the Serpentine. In addition to being an avant-garde dancer, Fuller was a costume designer and textile artist famous for using weighted silk scarves to spin and twirl and entwine herself in gossamer cocoons or metamorphosing herself into an open flower. The semblance of one photographic image, with Fuller wrapped lily-like cone of fabric, would replay again and again during the course of this week’s travels, on a billboard along the roadway, in a painting in an artist’s loft, the bouquet of a Japanese American, a garden at Seattle U, and on the stage at On the Boards. In 1915 Rodin said of Fuller, “(she was) a woman of genius with all the resources of talent.” When she died, an article dated Jan. 1, 1928 said fittingly, “A magician is dead…a butterfly has folded its wings.” Over and over, the exhibits reminded visitors that despite transitory cultural values and widely different talents, personal relationships, enthusiasm for novelty, and shared passion for learning are powerful tools for timeless interdisciplinary creativity, appreciation, and communication.
Sam Hill was responsible for the first paved road in the state of Washington. In his will, he specified that his beloved Maryhill could not be turned into a museum until the highway was paved, and that was accomplished in 1939. True to Hill’s word, Maryhill Museum opened in 1940.
4:00 P.M. Maryhill Winery. Winemaking is an important part of Washington’s economy and viticulture is increasingly more profitable than other kinds of farming. The Washington State Legislature recently approved $1.2M to start the region’s first bachelors degree program in viticulture and enology at WSU Tri Cities. Yakima, Walla Walla, and Wenatchee will offer two-year programs. In a mutually beneficial cooperative effort, private industry will pay for scholarships. For a long time, Washington winemakers were overshadowed those in California and according to the winemaker at Maryhill, “Oregon was tooting its horn for so many years.” For most of that time, however, Washington was producing some very fine wines. His pride (even competitiveness) of “place” was apparent… In this place, the growing season is long, with harvest usually beginning in Sept. (at 23 brix) and sometimes running into Nov. Grapes require very little water, and Maryhill only uses four-hours of drip irrigation per week in the heat of the summer. According to the winemaker, “Grapes have to suffer…(but) that doesn’t mean you want them out of balance.” He told us that Maryhill crushes 400 tons of fruit for 18 separate bottlings of 15 varieties (varietals and blends) of wine. Maryhill grows about 50% of the grapes it uses on the winery’s 70-acre vineyard, and selectively purchases the rest. They spray a sulphur compound to control mildew, but do not use other chemicals. We saw a stemmer-crusher capable of processing 5-20 tons per hour, but that typically processes about 6 tons. Maryhill’s whites are fermented one-week to two months and 1/3 of the Chardonnays are barrel-fermented (with the rest in steel). “We pride ourselves on producing reasonably priced wines,” the winemaker told our group. With that, we proceeded to the tasting room…
6:30 P.M. On the bus to Yakima, Bill McLaughlin spoke about an Army Corps of Engineers (ACE) salmon restoration project with which he and his colleagues were involved. In 1992, Sockeye in the Snake River were declared endangered and Chinook were listed as threatened. In 1995, the National Marine Fisheries approached ACE about a dam study included in the Environmental Assessment. (ACE had been barging fish since 1994, with the aim of getting smolt downstream quickly enough.) Bill’s team of researchers developed a survey that represented 200 communities: People, places, & economic “vision & vitality.” They looked at three options: 1) No change; 2) Retrofit dams with guidance systems for smolt; or 3) Breach the dams. The team found that trade center communities like Boise were the most pro-salmon, while ag communities in the Snake River watershed favored breaching, evidently because they resented subsidized barging (and the resultant ability to have lower pricing) by farmers on the Palouse. The concern/opposition to breaching increased with proximity to the river, especially among Hispanics who stood to lose proportionately more jobs and favored keeping the dams in order to preserve their livelihoods. Communities like Riggins linked their potential for natural resource-based tourism with improved runs of salmon. Bill and his associates devised a community-based forum to increase awareness of the issues, stimulate local involvement, use indigenous knowledge, empower the public through participation, increase the potential for informed judgement, and to make for more democratic participation. Bill and his team appreciated that ACE took them and their work seriously.
7:00 P.M. Checked
into Best Western Peppertree Yakima Inn
7:30 P.M. Dinner at El Mirador. Group was joined by Cesar Ortiz and Jose who were Rula’s students at UI and who provided insight into growing up in Hispanic migrant communities in the Yakima area.
WED. MAY 21: SMALL
TOWNS TO LARGE CITIES, ENVIRONMENT
8:00 A.M. Depart. Historic & architectural bus tour of downtown Yakima & environs, narrated by Kenton. We saw the Larson Building, constructed with mining money in 1928, reportedly with mine tailings in the brick, a reminder of our Silver Valley experience. It was the first air-conditioned building in Yakima. The building enjoys 90% occupancy today. Kenton told us that the Bon Marche, Penneys, Mervins, & Nordstrom recently moved out of downtown to Union Gap, & our group discussed how such moves affect the wellbeing of a city core & subsequent development. The highway paralleled the Yakima Greenway (bike & pedestrian path with playgounds & picnic areas) for some distance. We noted similarities to Seattle’s Burke-Gillman Trail, the developing Chipman/Latah Trails system on the Palouse, Lewiston Levy, Boise Greenbelt, & others.
Rodney introduced an installment from the 1980s television show Northern Exposure involving the origin of community (place) from the views of those who live there. The show introduces us to Ned Svenborg, a 108 year-old man who was 25 years old when he first came to Sicily AK (a fictitious TV town derived from Roslyn WA) in 1909. He tells Dr. Fleshmann, “My whole life’s had a hole in it all of these years and I’m here to fill it.” In response, Dr. Fleshmann complains, “Sicily is a hole in my life.” Thus the tale begins. Ned was a self-described dysfunctional wolf-child, raised by wolves and without any human social skills. He lands in Sicily, a lawless young town without a school or church. Two beautiful, strong young women, Roslyn & Cicily, arrive with the dream of creating utopia, and eventually succeed, albeit at great personal cost, in creating “a community where all are equal, all are valued…freedom.” As is the case with so many of today’s citizens, Dr. Fleshmann was unaware of his community’s heritage. “I had no idea…about the town,” he tells the old man.
As we crossed Bullfrog Bridge, Wendy took the mike and we all knew something was changed as we pulled into real life Roslyn WA. The Northern Pacific needed more coal for fuel, so moved beyond Cle Elum to Roslyn. In the early years, the town grew, but people were born into & died within their cultural niches, evidenced in the segregated cemetery that included sections for blacks, Polish, Veterans, Lithuanians, & four USFS employees killed in the line of duty. The setting was lovely, and after the light rain, visitors were struck by the relative quiet and the sweet scents of growing things. Wendy first studied Roslyn in 1989, when a good number of the houses were abandoned and the population was about 800. A major revitalization followed, and today, quite a few of its residents are Seattle commuters. Wendy estimates that the present population is about 1,500-1,600.
10:00 A.M. Lauren introduced us to Steve Griswald, Senior Forester for Plum Creek Timber Co. & Phil Hess, a private forestry consultant overseeing development of Mountain Star, a 7,500-acre destination resort located between I-90 and Lake Cle Elum on the north side of the freeway, just outside of Roslyn. Plum Creek’s area of management is a checkerboard of forest and railroad-owned sections, with the latter especially obvious in areas that historically offered coal reserves for RR refueling. To make management more efficient, Plum Creek is picking up blocks as they become available. It was particularly interesting to learn about microclimates in Plum Creek’s “Yakima Unit.” The northwest “Alaska Zone” gets 130 inches of rain per year, while Roslyn only gets about 20 inches, and Elk Heights in the southeast only gets 11 inches. As a result, the areas have widely fluctuating timber production, ranging from 8 to 100 million board feet per year over the past 25 years or so. (In comparison, he told us, Fiji, New Zeeland, and Chile have 25-30 year rotations on softwoods, while Washington’s is 40 years and rotation on the east slope of the Cascades is 50-80 years. He also views more restrictive US environmental regulations and higher labor costs in the US as impediments to fair trade.) Mr. Griswald remarked that clearcutting is a “great idea” from the industrial forestry perspective, but “terrible politically,” particularly within view of I-90, with a 3:1 ratio of transient to local population traveling through. (Non-residents, he suggests, are more critical for their lack of knowledge about logging practices.)
Mr. Hess told us that Mountain Star bought the property in 1996 and that he joined the project in 1997. He described the parcel as “land that was destined for development,” largely because it is located within 1-1/2 hours of millions of people in the Seattle area. Mountain Star is party to a binding site plan called the Ridge Agreement, devised between 1997 & 2001, whereby no further law suits may be filed. As part of that agreement, developers will set aside 80% of the land for open space (including golf fairways). They plan to take 20 years to “build out,” and the site will eventually include 4,000 housing units for fulltime and part time habitation.
After we re-boarded the bus, Gundars energized the conversation about responsible logging
practices. Lauren expressed concern
about ostensibly selective harvesting practices, saying that by leaving less
commercially desirable trees on site, timber companies are setting up negative
long term genetic effects on forest health and future productivity. In response
to a question about fire management, she explained that prevention education is
budgeted, whereas firefighting is funded by an essentially open checkbook. With
increasing urban-wildland integration, she said, we are more aware of the
difference between “legal” obligations to fight fires and “political”
ones.
With regard to developments like Mountain Star, Bill talked about land-use planning and changing ways of thinking: nostalgic & static vs. dynamic. Wendy pointed out that “if (people) are included in the process, they’ll have ownership in the future.” We considered the risk that residents of commuter communities (like Roslyn) may not have time to devote to “their” town’s future. Bill anticipates that retirees will take up the slack. Wendy added, “No matter if somebody’s new or old to a place, they become custodian to that place.”
We arrived in North
Bend, where Lauren introduced
2001 Washington State Tree Farmer of the Year, Ron Munro. Ron is a 1961 graduate of the University of Washington
with a B.S. in Forest Science. He manages 210 acres of forest using a 70-year
rotation. In total, 67 families collectively own 435 acres at Crystal Lake, near
Woodinville, which Ron described as “a suburb of Bellevue…a suburb of
Seattle.” They purchased property, including a 40-acre lake, from a defunct
Rod & Gun Club. The neighborhood association formed a management plan,
developed bylaws of their corporation, and in keeping with established sustained
yield objectives, harvest 15 acres each five years. Ron said that the most
difficult part is controlling competing vegetation like salmonberry and alder.
The property generates about $25,000 income per year for the community and all
of the $350,000 revenue has been reinvested in the property for roads, water
systems, and a new clubhouse. Costs have been going up, however, and whereas
income once covered 2/3 of the expenses, it now only covers 1/3. Property value
has increased dramatically too. They have two neighbors: the Dept. of Natural
Resources and a county park. Gundars inquired what would happen to the property without
management and Ron noted that the vegetative variety would increase with more
maple and alder. Nels asked Ron what
message we should take away from his presentation. Because it is a renewable
resource, he said, “It’s not wrong to
harvest timber…It’s not wrong to cut trees down…It can go on forever.”
Back on the bus, we neared Seattle and Mary introduced the Talus Development, marking another forest-urban interface. A prized hiking area for Seattle area residents, it is fast becoming a highly-developed, densely-built neighborhood. From Issaquah to Lake Sammamish, we can see development creeping down to Bellevue and up the nearby hillsides. Suddenly, we are in Seattle.
1:15 P.M. Arrive Pho Bac for an interesting, delicious Vietnamese noodle lunch.
2:15 P.M. Check-in at the grand old Claremont Hotel. Fellow seminarian Steve Drown is there to meet us.
3:30 P.M. Steve provided overview of downtown parks.
4:00-5:00 P.M. Argosy Harbor Cruise, tourists’ view of Seattle and a good way to get to know how locals define themes of place.
~5:30-7:30 P.M. Steve led guided walking tour of downtown and its parks, beginning at Benaroya Symphony Hall with its massive Chihuly chandeliers, reminiscent of iridescent sea creatures. From there, we went to Freeway Park and the Convention Center, developed in two stages, from 1972-1976 by Halperin & Associates and 1988 by Anna Diogivanna (sp?). With the water feature non-functional, traffic sounds were effectively deafening. (It’s capacity 27,000 gallons/minute would normally be able to disguise sounds of freeway traffic.) We visited Remembrance Park, designed by Robert Mrasi, memorializing war dead in a very real, somber, personal way, connecting us to them and loved ones they left behind. (One quote from a letter home read, “This is too nice a time of year to be fighting a war.”) The setting was at once intimate and public, giving the sense of being physically secure, but emotionally vulnerable. Steve took us down to the Harbor Steps Project, incorporating a lifestyle for residents, an ambiance for merchants and shoppers, and an efficient, aesthetically pleasing means of getting from point A to point B on foot. As we wrapped up our tour, several of us were fascinated by a brick wall in Post Alley, covered with multi-colored chewed pieces of gum, as high as the arm could reach. One among us chose to contribute to the work, but we’re not saying who…
THURS. MAY 22
DESIGN, URBAN ISSUES, & ART
8:30 A.M. Rick
Sundberg & Peter Miller met us at their neighborhood cafe, where they
treated us to coffee & brioche amidst the strains of Mozart. (We would learn
from Peter that the proprietor only makes 12 of the labor-intense brioche each
day, but that he had consented to make 16, just for Peter (and for us) this
drizzly morning. The establishment is open 7-days per week, until 1:00 A.M.) We
proceeded across the street to Peter Miller’s Bookstore, for a take on sense
of place from local architects’ perspectives. “Seattle is a company town,” Peter reminded us. “It
is not unnatural that Starbucks would start here.” Even with Boeing’s
closure, Seattle’s entrepreneurial spirit prevails.
Peter likened the influence to field burning: “That put a kind of nitrogen
in the soil.” The house for which Peter paid $10,000 recently sold for
$400,000 “because it has a view.” “What makes a town? Hold hands. Take
pictures. Dress up.” But to the question, could Costco be made to fit
in Provance?
“No…” Rick talked about threats
of homogenization of cities like Seattle by Gap, McDonald’s, etc. “The city
did have a vision of itself in 1903 (with the Olmstead influence),” he told
us. Seattle envisioned a “network of outdoor spaces and places…” In some
ways, the entrepreneurial spirit in Seattle is in conflict with its vision as city.
Buzz words include “efficiency,” as related to “lack of leadership and
vision.” Seattle has 38 specific neighborhoods, and Rick is undecided about
whether that is “good” or “bad.” It is a city of immigrants from other
countries, but in addition, most residents are from other states. He thinks that
one of the “really wonderful things about Seattle” is that “it’s really
thoughtful about ethnic diversity.” If person ’X’ wants to construct a
high-end building, he/she is eligible for tax breaks and other incentives, but
is nonetheless obligated to contribute to the fund for subsidized housing.
“What else can I say…about who we are?” Rick asked himself. “Well,”
he told us, “we have five good restaurants.” “Two,” countered Peter.
France was fresh in Peter’s memory. “France values the ingredients of a city,” he told us. In
France, he said, after seven years of being in business, it is against the law
to be audited. The logic says that if you succeed that long, you must be doing
something right, and the business already has a foothold in the regional
economy. “It’s much clearer to see it
in Idaho or Montana…this invading army of discounters.” Peter observed
that, “The brilliance of a coffee shop
is that it’s a thread to knit neighborhoods.” He told us that at the
center of Belltown, “the thing that holds it together is a bakery.” Alluding
to the bakery with the memorable brioche, he explained, “It sticks like a
spear in the ground to hold this thing together.”
Anne asked Rick what his hope is for Seattle in the next 10 years. He’d like to see a rapid transit system, wiser handling of small good businesses by the city, and a city council with true leaders willing to make strong statements. Attributing the idea to Virginia Anderson, director of Seattle Center, who worked with former mayor Paul Schell, Rick said, “The way that things really got done in Portland was that there was a back room,” implying that a few concerned people met first behind closed doors to hash out ideas, before presenting them to the public.
10:15 A.M. Seattle Architectural Foundation recently hosted a program funded by private donations and fees from tours, and entitled Earth Dreams, about the debate over density and quality of life. We visited the building’s strangely quiet carpeted rooftop garden for a near view of Seattle’s skyline.
11:30 A.M. Lunch at FareStart with Gary Johnson, Coordinator of Downtown Neighborhood Service Center, and the City’s representative to the Dept. of Neighborhoods. Founded in 1992, FareStart began as a program to provide nutritious meals to Seattle’s disadvantaged. Today, it is an innovative life skills- and job training program for the homeless, teaching food service skills to up to 55 students at a time and 250 students per year. FareStart serves lunches M-F, hosts Thursday Guest Chef Nights, and provides catering and contract meals. 35% of the funding is from participating businesses, 35% from local support, and 30% is from federal grants.
After lunch, in his downtown office, Gary explained that Seattle’s Comprehensive Plan calls for increasing residential growth downtown. An estimated 20,000 people live downtown now. Affordable housing is a problem, and the plan calls for creation of 10,000 more housing units. Parking is also a serious problem and the Denny Triangle neighborhood is the last to have significant surface parking lots. Because in general, Seattle discourages individual vehicles, when leases run out, rather than build parking facilities, high rises are slated on vacant properties. Expansion of the monorail system was approved by a mere 800 votes. Gary told us, “We have a really healthy downtown, macroeconomic conditions aside.” “People do love their neighborhoods…there’s a lot of activism…community gardens…it’s great being in a place (where) people love being here,” he said.
~1:00 P.M. Gary guided our tour of the Pioneer Square area. Waterfall Garden Park (established in 1977) was especially wonderful, with the sounds of rushing water and large mist-loving plants a surprising diversion from the noisy hardscape just outside its walls. Small tables amongst lovely rhododendron blooms were at first glance inviting, then one became aware of the uniformed guard and locking gates. Nancy remarked on some of the ecological, aesthetic, and social benefits of the area’s urban forests.
~1:30 P.M. SoDo
artists’ studios tour, facilitated by Scott
Fife. Once a marshland in the delta of the Duamish River, this part of
Seattle is built on fill. The future of this building and others like it is
uncertain because of re-zoning “probably for hotels and condos,” Scott said.
Fellow artist Genie explained that buildings are taxed at their highest use, so
once the artists’ four-year lease is up, it is likely that they will be priced
out of the space. It was originally intended as an office building, but when the
market declined, it became studios.
“The artists are kind of like the blackberries. We’re the first people in
here,” he said. This sturdy old building is constructed out of car
decking, and pointing upward, Scott marveled, “Those
are huge trees,” as though their previous living existence is still part of
the soul of this space.
~3:00 P.M. Kenton
& I had to tie up loose ends for the reception at Seattle U on Friday, so
hailed a cab near Safeco Field. The driver was a talkative fellow from
Australia. As is so often the case in
casual conversations with strangers, particularly in settings involving travel
and tourism, our conversation focused on
place. Our driver seemed to know something about almost everyplace, and
was interested to learn that we were from Idaho. He recited a few atlas figures
about the state, but seemed most impressed that Kenton was a native and that I
appeared to enjoy letting the wind blow my hair. When we arrived at Seattle U
and requested a receipt, he said simply, “It’s
a gift.” He had to say it twice.
The folks at Seattle U were most accommodating, and the facility was very nice. We enjoyed having a few minutes to visit with Mary Kay McFadden, VP for University Advancement, formerly of Moscow.
Another surreal adventure. Having no luck flagging down a cab for a ride from Seattle U to our evening venue, Kenton & I stopped in at the stately Sorrento Hotel for assistance. The doorman kindly gave us an historic overview of this place that has so clearly become part of his life. He offered to call a taxi, but suggested that we might just as well “take the car,” a late model Lincoln Town Car. Its driver, John, a courteous young man with a surprising 19 years of service at the Hotel had arranged a sabbatical, scheduled to begin the next week, to ride his motorcycle to Florida for an adventure of not entirely determined proportions. His job and the Sorrento will be waiting upon his return.
~4:45 P.M. Presentation by choreographer Mary “Molly” Sheldon Scott and composer Jarrad Powell at On the Boards. Jarrad explained that “Rhythm is about ebb and flow (not about beat). Dancers have a sense of that.” He grew up in Montana, has attended four Crow ceremonies, and told us, “That music is the most powerful music I know.” With the memory of the Schitsu’umsh pow wow still vivid, several in our group nodded knowingly. Jarrad described composers like John Cage as “American desert plants,” not very well watered in their creative surroundings. Molly perpetuated the earthplace simile: “The northwest has a different temperature…time…wavelength,” she said. “The sky was bigger. The sense of land was different…not concretely…tangibly…but it soaks into you.” Jarrad, Molly, and video artist Bob have Centrum in common, Pot Townsend’s residency for the arts, where artists are freed from technology in a beautiful natural place. The “soundscape” for this night’s production of Kingdom will begin with rain, another northwest image. Dancer Corrie Befort described when music, preparation, dialog, and rehearsal come together as “a sense of the whole of it and the universe that you’re inhabiting. You can be the animal,” she said. Molly rephrased the sentiment “Body is language.” Accustomed to rehearsing without musical accompaniment, Corrie remarked, “There’s a lot of revelation when the music comes.” Molly echoed, “(Jarrad) sees what I’m saying,” even when she herself may not.
6:00 P.M. Dinner at
the Mediterranean Kitchen
8:00 P.M.
Performance of “Kingdom” at On the Boards. (A review titled “Modern
dance explores the inner worldly meanings of Kingdom” in the Seattle Times (p.
E3, May 23) says “…eight dancers perform in bright orange dresses with
weighted hems…which make their countless frenzied spins all the more
lovely.” One couldn’t help but be reminded of the lovely Loie Fuller, famed
Dancer of the Serpentine, renowned for making such maneuvers famous so many
years ago.)
FRIDAY MAY 23 ASIAN
AMERICAN COMMUNITY
8:30 A.M. Wing Luke
Museum. One exhibit (reminiscent of Thursday night’s dance performance)
featured a timeless, placeless, transcultural poem by Southeast Asian poet Tran-Thien
Hiep: “In the breath of the breeze I can hear my mother’s lullabies, the
monotonous rain sounds like the rhythm of the hammock…” Another exhibit
pictured Chinese farmers and vegetable peddlers in mining camps in places we
know well: Walla Walla, Spokane, and the Yakima Valley. An upcoming
collaborative effort involves 2 year project with NPS and interviews with
neighbors of Japanese internment camps in Idaho. As we read about those camps,
looked at circa WWII photographs, and listened to 1940s big band music, we
incorporated elements of time, memory, and imagination in our efforts to
understand those places, people, and parts of history.
9:45 A.M. Panama Hotel. Jan and her brother Gary Johnson introduced his father-in-law, Roy Ko of Tri-Cities. Roy’s parents were born in Japan. Roy was born in Bellingham, then moved to Seattle at age one. As a consequence of the Densho Project in 1942, Roy and his family had 10 days to prepare to leave their home for internment at Minadoka, Idaho. He recalled that they were allowed two suitcases each, and for the first time in his daughter Karen’s memory, Roy offered vivid descriptions of life in the camp. He told us that JACL, the only Japanese political organization of the time, advised them to go along peacefully, and for the most part, everyone did. We listened hard for resentment or tones of anger, but heard none. Roy recognized the toll internment took on his parents and the hardships imposed on so many, but as a youngster at the time, he explained, it was a big adventure.
Gary introduced the “other” Jan Johnson, proprietor of the Panama Hotel. Jan told us that in
1907, there were 52 hotels in this neighborhood. (The Panama Hotel began
operating in 1910.) All of the hotels offered retail space on the ground floor
and accommodations upstairs, thus the addresses that included the suffix
“1/2.” Jan takes pride in having restored this place and the history that
has been preserved through her efforts. She knows many names and family stories
that are linked to things in this place, and is excitedly learning more every
day. We were seated around the 20-ft. long heavy wooden table that she made
using her knowledge of traditional Japanese joinery and surplus wood from the
Hotel’s restoration project. In addition, Jan saved wood patches from the
original floor, now restored, to frame old photographs and newspaper articles
about the Panama’s early days. Jan described
the fusion of memories and materials as “all encompassed by its own place.”
As Jan used words to try to explain sense
of place at the Panama Hotel, its
former proprietor, Mr. Kore drove up to
the curb to deliver bundles of iris and white lilies. In a minute or so, that
simple gesture communicated volumes. It
was reminiscent of the Maryhill photograph of Loie Fuller, wrapped lily-like in
a swirl of white silk. Like Ms. Fuller, Jan Johnson is a creative, independent
woman, determined to translate important cultural messages into an accessible
form for widely varied audiences. Ever respectful, Jan Johnson consistently
referred to the elderly former owner of the hotel as Mr. Kore, and the encounter
emphasized connections between cultures and generations, as encouraged by Warm
Springs Elder Wilbur Johnson on the banks of the Columbia.
Like amateur archaeologists about to enter a long-forgotten Egyptian tomb, we followed Jan out the front doors of the hotel, along the sidewalk, past padlocked doors, and down steep rickety steps to the Japanese baths in the basement. Although the Kores installed baths upstairs in the hotel in 1952, the cultural value of communal baths persisted. It was interesting to note what Jan described as a “crossover of cultures.” Wooden locker doors bear Arabic numerals, but they are arranged, Japanese-style, from right to left. Handpainted signs advertsing family-owned Japanese businesses in the neighborhood still hang over lockers in the baths. Jan told us that most still exist and earn her business. While we were there, Karen Ko told her that one of those-- Yesler Hardware-- would be going out of business within the next few weeks, after over 50-years. We sensed that Jan was losing another old friend.
Bob Santos, AKA “Uncle Bob,” former HUD Director in the Clinton Administration and author of Hum Bows, not Hot Dogs, now directs the International District Improvement Association, an advocacy agency established in 1969. Its aim is to prevent displacement of residents by preserving the residential neighborhood, or more broadly, as Bob put it, “We are protecting a lifestyle and a culture in this neighborhood.” Bob told us that the group learned the political ropes, learned to be media-savvy, and learned the jargon surrounding architectural terms for externally driven development. When McDonald’s proposed building a fast food restaurant there, the group intimidated them by threatening public embarrassment. The group is officially two agencies, a 501(c)3 and a 501(c)4, to maximize their eligibility for funding sources. He emphasized that they maintain good relationships with the city and county. Bob told us about “SRO’s” (single room occupancy units) in the core of the neighborhood. “This is how most of us grew up,” he said. He shared memories of the Alaskaros, residents who traveled seasonally to work the fishing industry in Alaska. He told us about his father who was a professional boxer in the 1920s and ‘30s. (The story was reminiscent of Bill Wollum’s observations last winter in Wallace concerning 1930s boxer Firpo Bardelli of Burke, Idaho. As important as it was for Firpo to be tough then, his son Fred recently found it important to write an impassioned anti-war letter in the Spokesman Review. “Things change,” Bill said.)
Smith Tower.
While the majority of our group was justifiably engrossed in Bob Santos’
walking tour, Kenton, Wendy, and Nancy broke away to tour Seattle’s first
skyscraper, the 42-story high Smith Tower, opened July 4, 1914. For 50 years, it
was the tallest building west of Chicago, and is still regarded with nostalgic
esteem. Our 60-second ride on one of the last manually-operated elevators on the
west coast raised childhood memories
as golden as the bric-a-brac on the operator’s uniform. When we arrived at the
35th floor, Chinese Room employee Chuck Russell-Coons pointed out
what he imagined must have been
champagne stains on the porcelain-inlaid ceiling. Although we were the only
visitors and it was notably quiet, it was easy enough to imagine ourselves
amidst revelers of some bygone era.
Today, Smith Tower enjoys the security of 98% occupancy, with business leases
running through 2006. One recently married tenant lives on the floors above the
Chinese Room, with unobstructed 360-degree views of the city and its surrounding
mountains, trees, and water. We
stepped out onto the observation platform, to share the vista, and envisioned
the interplay between quaint and modern, insulated neighborhoods and global
commerce below.
11:45 A.M. Top Gun Chinese Restaurant. Wait staff maneuvered wheeled carts between crowded tables to offer choices of delicious, artfully presented authentic dim sum. This restaurant seats 160 people and was packed. It attracts locals and informed visitors.
1:00 P.M. Danny Woo Community Garden and Kobe Park. This neighborhood garden acquired land from the Woo family for $1 per year in 1974 and purchased adjacent property from the county. It is part of Seattle’s Pea Patch Project that added 70-80+ community gardens to the city. Coordinator Steve Badanes holds UW endowed chair named for Howard S. Wright who designed Space Needle and Seattle Art Museum. Steve is also famous for having created the Volkswagen-gripping troll sculpture under the Fremont Bridge. (We were reminded by the troll’s image on his T-shirt that the uncanny likeness they bear to one another was not accidental!) A railroad donated ties for construction of retaining walls and raised beds in the terraced gardens. Grants have paid for planting beds and a van ramp. The tool shed was added in 1989. The garden features a pig-roasting pit and an area for washing and drying vegetables. Gates and retaining walls were constructed in 1991. A 1996 project upgraded stairways. The zoo provides free fertilizer. A student’s thesis added lighting, nevertheless, gardens may be occupied by homeless people and drug dealers at night. For the most part, there seems to be a respect for volunteer-built structures on site. Increased use of the gardens equates with increased safety for users, Steve said. He explained that flowers planted there invite “other people” besides the Asians who have traditionally cultivated every square foot for something to eat. They are starting to allow younger gardeners now too, whereas before, the rule had been that gardeners had to be age 62 or older and live in the district. Changing uses contribute to the “funky spirit (that) makes it so beautiful,” and “it makes more of a community if it’s more diverse,” Steve said.
2:00-3:20 P.M. Eric
Hurlburt, Senior International Trade Specialist with the Dept. of
Agriculture in Olympia, addressed issues of international marketing. He
asked us to imagine being dropped from outer space into a big city like Seattle
or Kobe. Structurally and functionally, they appear much the same, he said, but
are distinguished by different decision-making processes based on distinct
cultural experiences. Eric’s interest in international trade was sparked
by an exchange program between the U.S. and Japan. He told us that 6% of the
population in the state of Washington is Asian, with the greatest numbers from
the Philippines (65,000), Chinese (60,000), Korean, Vietnamese, and Japanese
(36,000). Seventy to 80 percent of all Washington exports and 1/3 of everything
grown in Washington (including wheat, apples, seafood, cherries, pears, and
compressed bales of hay) go to Asian markets. One third of all exports go to
Japan. Interestingly, “more sommeliers are certified in Japan than anywhere
else,” a reaction to the French Paradox (the idea that red wine prevents heart
disease, despite a rich diet). According to Eric, Washington is just starting to
promote its wine industry there. We learned that China produces five times as
many apples as the U.S. and that Washington exports 90% of all apples exported
from this country. With five times the population of the U.S., China only has
1/3 of the amount of farmland, and 8% growth of its GDP. He addressed
environmental influences on food stocks, and gave the example of the demise of
the Olympic oyster, whose larvae were killed by sulfite effluent from pulp mills
in the 1920s. Today, the Japanese oyster is the predominant variety in the
Northwest, and with its introduction came the accidental introduction of the
Manilla clam. Eric spoke about the
homogenation of cultures, and likened monocultures of people to monocultures of
crops. They may grow well under certain conditions, he explained, but die out
when conditions change. The increasing western influence in countries like
Japan is demonstrated by their willingness to establish special legal provisions
allowing companies like Toys R Us and Duncan Donuts to locate there. Eric’s discussion of global transitions was hauntingly similar to
Peter Miller’s cautionary remarks about the influence of Wal-Mart type stores
at the neighborhood scale.
Reception at Seattle University: Three of us (Kenton, Rodney, and Nancy) took a taxi from our hotel to Seattle U to set up for the reception. Remarkably, the ride only took 12-minutes, even during rush hour. Our driver was as amazed as we were! The conversation included whether taxi drivers in Seattle were unionized. He indicated that efforts were in the works to try, and he was enthused by the prospect of being a leader in the movement. The conversation was a reminder of Seattle’s long history with union activities. The evening’s weather was pleasant and the campus setting, beautiful. Lush carefully-maintained gardens surrounded the glass-walled Student Center were we met. Alumni and friends of the College greeted one another warmly and reflected on still powerful connections to the University of Idaho, Moscow, and the Palouse. Our group brought photographic images of the year’s on- and off-campus activities, including seminars and guest speakers. The fellows took turns describing the program and its relationships to the curriculum. One by one, seminar participants stood up and eloquently explained how powerful experiences of the past year have been for them personally and professionally. Time, memory, and imagination were integral components of this rewarding evening. Even among residents of a city the size of Seattle, recognizing faces in glossy UI promotional publications or being familiar with places in our Sense of Place photographs did not seem at all strange. Neither did it seem unusual that Ben and Linda Marra, photographers from Seattle who had participated in Nez Perce pow wow activities at UI, would greet us with hugs…like old friends, or that two of the guests, Val and Barry Burgess (formerly of Moscow), would invite the entire busload of us to their boat house on Lake Union. Upon reflection, however, memories of the evening would seem surreal. We disembarked from the bus on a narrow driveway of a road, along the eastern shore of the lake. A light fragrance in the air was sweetly reminiscent…of something. Golden light emanated from a few windows, and quiet voices and strains of music could be heard from waterfront residences. We stepped onto the narrow dock that serves as a floating sidewalk between rows of boat houses. It was dark, but we could make out familiar touches of home: Potted trees, suspended bicycles, and trellises draped in flowering vines, but other “yard objects” were not so familiar: kayaks, oars, floatation devices. Not Kansas, for sure. Val’s and Barry’s home was just across the lake from where Tom Hanks filmed Sleepless in Seattle. The Space Needle practically looked like it was in their front yard. For as near as the brightly lit skyline seemed, it was unexpectedly quiet. We stepped through their door and into another realm. A fireplace glowed in the living room. Regulation scale overstuffed furniture beckoned. Rich red-hued woods spoke of aesthetics that smell good, invite touch, and exude visual depth, warmth, texture, and connectedness to materials of the earth. Their home office held the usual trappings of computers alongside not so usual antique musical instruments and nautical accents affixed to periwinkle walls. An arched window framed the cityscape across the water. Val’s quilting room led to a spacious deck, where several in our group gathered to talk and look and imagine life out there. It took several gentle urgings from those who would have us re-board the bus to convince the rest that it was time to leave. It was very late when we arrived back at our hotel, but some of our group delivered stacked trays of reception leftovers to homeless people in Pioneer Square.
SATURDAY, MAY 24
NEIGHBORHOODS. FOOD. SEATTLE CENTER.
9:00 A.M. Neighborhoods & Parks. Architect Susan Boyle provided narrative for a guided bus tour of her place. “All of my adult life,” she said, “I’ve lived within five blocks of Lake Union.” She described Seattle’s history as “a boom and bust economy.” Seattle invited industry. Utilities are publicly owned and power is cheap, Susan explained. As we drove along Lake Union, she noted that houseboats were hooked up to sewer lines in about 1970. The Eastlake houseboat docks are “still very sort of Bohemian,” she said. She spoke admiringly of Serifina Restaurant, across the street from where we stopped to look at architectural examples of Japanese modernism and public art. Even the bus stop was a work of art. A scull served as its roof, with Asian-influenced cross beams of iron oars. Words above reminded us, “Water is water.” A sign below, inlaid in the concrete sidewalk at the intersection of E. Boston St. and Eastlake Ave. taught us, “Parasite worms in ducks and geese.” Eastlake used to be contiguous with Capitol Hill, Susan observed, but they have since been divided by the freeway. Today, the neighborhood is delineated by the lake, freeway, bridge, and narrowed space. County design review procedures require various public amenities with development, including residential and commercial spaces and green spaces like parks. Susan pointed out Seward Park School, dating from 1898 & 1905. Speaking of parks, trails, and dog parks she said, “As the City densifies, we need these open spaces.” That need continues to inspire neighborhood activism. Susan told us that railroad yards in Portland were part of the brownfield development that became the Pearl District. (She didn’t explain the derivation of the name, but it’s easy enough to imagine the sand-to-pearl oyster analogy.) Similar efforts are underway in Seattle. Policy set forth in Washington’s Growth Management Act has had the effect of allowing wealthy, powerful neighborhoods prevent construction of multi-family housing units (NIMBY effect), contributing to densification of the city’s core. Many of us were intrigued as we drove by the aluminum-framed vintage ferry, the Kalakala, still strangely charming—even grand in a funky sort of way-- in its present state of disrepair. As we observed a moving drawbridge, Susan remarked that although they are occasionally annoying, they are reminders to drivers about what makes this place so special. Another special, identifiably Seattle place, is Gasworks Park. Designed in the 1970s by landscape architect Rich Hague (sp?), the space has awesome vistas, open expanses for kids to roll and tumble and fly kites, mysterious industrial structures, sheltered spaces for intimate conversations, flats and hills, grass and trees, public art, trails for biking, skating, walking, and running, and parking spaces. Children were wading in artist-created hard cast rivulets among astrological symbols around a sundial. Two young men were flying radio-controlled model gliders, launched boomerang-style from the hilltop. Spinning like a hammer thrower, then releasing the craft quickly, like one might toss a Frisbee, one of them watched his 10-ounce alter-ego with the four-foot wingspan soar over the lake as he deftly controlled its dips and dives with toggles and dials. Asked whether he’d had any encounters with birds, he described having been “in a thermal” with an eagle once. “We spiraled up…up…up,” he recalled vividly, motioning with his arm. He described the experience with the clear imagery of one who was up there, part of that glider, communing with eagles…and we remembered how vividly tribal elders told us their stories. We reboarded the bus for the Fremont District, which Susan said had the reputation of being “the center of the universe.” Susan described Fremont as self-consciously fashionable and increasingly gentrified. Art and architecture become one where large scale sculpture fuse with buildings, wrapped like contorted growths around tree trunks. Under the Fremont Bridge, the famous troll’s eye glows silver, eerily like the bronze sculpted gaze of the bag lady near Freeway Park. After posing for pictures with Professor Badane’s likeness, our bus passes a rescued statue of Vladimir Lenin, whereupon, Gundars, temporarily retrojected to the ‘60s, pipes up with, “Oh…That (Lennon)!” En route to Ballard, we pass a blocky, unimaginative Fred Meyer store, known locally as “the big box.” It floats in a sea of asphalt parking lot, a monument to the demise of pedestrian-friendly storefronts. As we enter Ballard, Susan tells us that at the turn of the century, 87% of the population here was Scandinavian, an influence that persists to this day. We stopped for lunch and window-shopping among an eclectic assortment of delis with hard-to-find imported Scandinavian foods, secondhand shops, book stores, and a place that serves up Chai and psychic readings. The local street tree program helps tie it all together.
Discovery Park. After dropping Susan off, we proceeded to Discovery Park, home of Daybreak Star Indian Center, that holds a 99-year lease on the site. The park was an invigorating expanse of dense vegetation and winding trails, with vistas of the city (for those who could find the view points). Large leaf maples with dinner plate sized leaves beckoned us back for the colorful show in the fall.
Northwest Folklife Festival, at Seattle Center offered all sorts of multi-cultural, multi-sensory experiences. Foods and crafts and colorful attire abounded. People danced. Energetically, gracefully, seductively, hilariously, spontaneously, expressively, they danced. With more venues than the biggest circus—and admission by donation, no less—it came together for the 32nd year. We heard (and sang) sea shanties, were transported by storytellers, intrigued by physical humor of elderly Inuit women, awestruck by Paul Allen’s Experience Music Project, tapped toes to fiddle tunes, and were charmed by local highschoolers in formal wear on their big Space Needle dates. Strangely, we kept bumping into other folks from Moscow! All within easy walking or Monorail distance from our hotel.
Sun.
May 25. Parks, Paths: Ethnic Communities & Art.
9:00
A.M. Susan Boyle joined us
again for a guided tour of the Olmstead system of neighborhoods, parks, and
campus. (Oddly, we began our tour by encountering another Wheatland Express bus
at the corner of 4th & Jackson. Like good friends attached to a
common place, we waved!) The result of a National Parks Service grant to connect neighborhoods in the International
District, support columns of the freeway underpass on
Jackson between 9th and 10th are painted bright red
and yellow and adorned with graphics of giant koi. As we drive past Pho Bac,
Mary pointed out that we were “back where we started.” Susan
began her narrative by telling us that Frederick Law Olmstead III was renamed
that at age 12, and likened that act to “branding,” presumably because his
father foresaw his legacy. The Olmstead brothers were renowned for recognizing
the value of open space, including “borrowed scenery,” or views of distant
vistas. They had a tradition of naturalized plantings and curvilinear drives to
enhance the topography and to look “natural.” In 1903, John Olmstead was
quoted in the Seattle PI as having said, “I
do not know of anyplace where the natural advantages for parks are better than
here. They…will be, in time, one of the things that will make Seattle known
all over the world.” Susan pointed out “beautiful houses in poor
condition” in the Central District, and spoke affectionately of the wealth of
ethnic heritage there. She showed us the older multi-story wood-framed houses on
large lots, some grand verandas draped with wisteria, as though part of a movie
set. We drove through Seward Park and saw evidence of tent caterpillars, as in
Discovery Park on Saturday. Susan remarked that Seattle has seven off-leash dog
parks. The side panel on a construction truck parked in front of one house
fronting Lake Washington read, “Rehabitat Northwest,” evidently a takeoff on
place attachment to the Pacific Northwest and the popularity of fitting into
natural “habitat.” Susan described the connectedness of landscape and
hardscape, structures and vegetation as “integration of landscape and
building.” It was particularly evident in Leshi Park, where grand old homes
were secured to their lots by lush vegetation, including the much-admired
blue-flowering evergreen ceanothus. (Regrettably, that variety is not hardy in our place
in Moscow.) A surprising number of houses in this area had red tile roofs. In
general, architectural styles were quite variable, however, and Susan observed
that, “eclectic historicism is common in Seattle.” We proceeded
through the Broadmoor District, with the cachet of its golf club, through the
University of Washington Arboretum. When we were stopped briefly by a
“drawn” drawbridge on Montlake Blvd. over the Lake Washington Ship Canal,
Susan quipped, “This is that great
inconvenience that reminds us (of place).”
She observed that the bridge operator’s copper-roofed office was Gothic
Revival… Susan pointed out the perspective for many Eden-like postcard
representations of the City, promoting Seattle as a distribution center. (Not
all of those publications were geographically accurate, however!) As we entered
the campus-proper, Susan pointed out new construction, and said that its
metaphorical expression of structure, discipline, and rationality fairly
represented the computer science and engineering departments that will be house
there. The Faculty Center, constructed in 1961 is a modern contrast to the
observatory, constructed in 1895.
10:30
A.M. Burke Museum. London
Plane trees, like those in Pioneer Square, line the broad campus boulevard
leading to the Burke Museum. Inside, I encountered a mother and son discussing
an exhibit of Inupiaq fishing gear, donated to the museum by the woman’s
father who acquired the fish gorges and net weights when he surveyed the North
Slope in the 1940s. She was explaining living
history: The connections between people and places, individuals and community,
and a grandson’s generation with that of his grandfather. Other
exhibits showed examples of Northwest potlatch
gifts, like those we received at the Schitsu’umsh Pow wow. Another exhibit explained that by 1900, Northwest ceremonial
art that told family histories was largely replaced by art for sale to
outsiders. At one display, museum visitors could listen to oral histories and
storytelling in the original language of the Upper Skagit. In the lobby, we were
introduced to former Moscow residents whose daughter we saw dance in the
performance at On the Boards. An exhibit on the Cordilleran Ice Sheet asked,
“Where’s Washington?” and reminded us of Kevin Brackney’s presentation
at Palouse Falls.
12:30
Lunch (on our own) in the U
District.
2:00
Uwajimaya. What an exciting
international experience! We were treated to the spectacle of an entire aisle of
nothing but noodles, bins of unfamiliar produce, wonderfully strange aromas from
the deli, and so many choices for our anticipated picnic dinner at Vantage.
En
route, Nels spoke on transportation.
He observed that our visit was not representative of traffic in the Seattle
area, which sometimes requires two hours to get from SeaTac Airport to downtown
at rush hour. He recommended a book by Mark Hinslow on the city state of
Seattle.
Talus. Self-described as high density clusters sensitively blended with
trails, wetlands, and other open space, Talus is not gated, but is isolated by
virtue of a single entrance. It reminds one of the idyllic hoped-for utopia of
Hidden Springs, near Boise. The published promo materials touted it as
“fulfilling the land’s destiny,” and promised that “a mountain habitat
becomes home.” Prices range from $230,000 and various sections advertise
dwellings as being in the “Low 400s,” “Low 500s,” etc.
Vantage. We stopped in the park for a picnic supper and reflective discussion.
Mary
wondered what each of us took away from this trip.
Sunlight danced through the trees onto faces like a spotlight on the speakers.
Appropriately, in this park, we were sandwiched between birdsongs and traffic
sounds from the freeway across the river. Margaret:
A sense of possibility. Natalie:
(Quoted) One person can make a
difference and two can make a miracle. Mary
was reminded by street art paving to look
up and look out. Sheila
said she was left wanting for smaller neighborhoods in Moscow, and more
connections like neighborhood coffee shops. Wendy
said that she was struck by the number of people making (non-monetary)
contributions to their communities, and added, “Moscow used to be like
that.” Rodney took away stories and narrative, including new stories and
preserved stories. Lauren wondered,
“How do we teach our kids to be aware…that place
is important?” Pat addressed the
problem of placelessness. She
explained that we live in a company town (Moscow/UI) and have visited company
towns in the course of our rolling seminars: Cd’A Casino, Wallace, and Seattle
with its military/industrial contracts, globalization, boom and bust company
economy… Bill thought that we might
consider “social injustice” instead of placelessness, per se.
Mary
asked the group to identify gaps.
Walter: The Mariners. Margaret:
Sephardic community. Kenton:
Religious communities. Elinor:
Afro-Americans. Rodney: Youth. Rula: Ethnic minorities. Nancy:
Peers (Academics, middle class, Caucasian, etc. to isolate place as a variable). Anne:
Planner. Barb: Relationship between
hinterlands and urban center. Kenton:
NW literature. Sheila: Filmmaking. Bill:
Folks in the “computer power force.”
9:20
Home to Moscow.