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Excerpts from Rainier Valley Food Stories Cookbook Coffee History Coffee is believed to originate in Ethiopia. One story goes that Kaldi the goatherd noticed that his flock was especially frisky after eating berries from a certain plant. He tried them himself, and experienced the first human caffeine high. Soon Galla warriors learned to grind up the berries, mix them with animal fat, and roll the mixture into balls that could be carried into battle in lieu of food. What a strategic advantage! Along with the physical effects of caffeine in the bloodstream, we must consider the social context of coffee drinking. From its early days, coffee has been associated with an age-old community-building activity: sitting around talking. In the Rainier Valley today you can find many examples of this tradition, from old Somali men sitting in the sun outside the Ayan coffee shop to Starbucks customers in comfy chairs discussing local politics. Coffee brings people together and strengthens our community. Coffee Culture Seattle is known as the coffee capital of the U.S., with latte stands at every gas station and hardware store. But even as Seattle exports its espresso shops to cities all over the world, the Rainier Valley’s immigrant populations import their own coffee traditions. The Ethiopian coffee ceremony, the Vietnamese coffee maker, the Italian espresso machine -- who knew there were so many ways to combine hot water and coffee beans? Yet each method creates a delicious beverage that simultaneously stimulates and relaxes. By the 15th century the Sufis had developed the basic process of roasting and grinding the beans and passing hot water through them, and by the 16th century, coffeehouses had sprung up across the Arab world. In Cairo it was part of a marriage contract that the husband would provide an adequate supply of coffee to his wife; if he didn’t it could be “grounds” for divorce. Early on, coffeehouses were recognized by local rulers as dangerous places where people got together to discuss politics – and they were often shut down by officials who feared the results of these discussions. From the Middle East, coffee spread to Europe, where coffeehouses were again places for political discussion. Today coffee has spread all over the world, and is now an integral part of many cultures. The Rainier Valley’s diverse community offers a fascinating array of coffee traditions. Ethiopian Coffee Ceremony At Ethiopian restaurants and homes, women in long white dresses roast coffee beans in a small pan over a hot plate, then grind them and put them in a carafe. They brew three rounds of coffee in the carafe, each with its own name. The first, strongest round is called “Abol,” the second “Tona,” and the third round is “Baraka.” Aklilu Welemichael, owner of Fasica Ethiopian Restaurant says, “The people in the neighborhood will be together, they will sit down over there and discuss the social aspect of their lives. What happened yesterday? What we can do for the future? That is the place [in] your neighborhood to discuss anything.” Vietnamese Coffee Vietnamese coffee preparation is equally languorous, though the result is quite different. A cup containing condensed milk is topped with a special coffee maker that slowly drips strong coffee directly into the sweet milk. This technique reflects Vietnamese history and geography: all over Asia tea is the dominant caffeinated beverage, but French colonists introduced coffee to the Vietnamese in the 19th century, along with sweet rich pastries to accompany it. Both coffee and pastries “stuck” and remain part of the Vietnamese diet today. Canned milk was used because fresh milk would quickly spoil in the tropical heat. French Coffee, New Orleans Style The French brought coffee to New Orleans too, where canned milk is also a common accompaniment. Edna Fortuné grew up drinking it, literally, at her grandfather’s knee. “My grandpa used to sit at that kitchen table and have his coffee in the morning, and when I’d see him go in there, see, I had to really sneak. I’d just crawl right around the other side where my dad couldn’t see. I’d go and sit right between [my grandfather’s] legs. I’d sit there and wait and be real quiet. Then I could hear when my mom was pouring him his coffee. And I just knew, man, I was gonna get some soon. When my mom would leave the room, he would [say], “Girl, girl.” He’d slip that saucer to me under the table, man. [Laughs] [I’d] drink it and try not to [slurp]. So that’s how I started drinking coffee. I think that’s how we all started drinking coffee. And I love it to this day, and I can go to bed after having drunk a cup right before. Whew. What a tolerance.” Norweigan Coffee Break Karleen Pederson-Wolfe inherited the coffee habit from both her Norweigan father and her Native American mother. “I started my day, every day, at six o’clock in the morning on [my father’s] lap with a little thing of coffee milk. Norwegians drink coffee. So do Natives. I was destined to be a coffee-holic.” Karleen’s sister Shirley remembers the role coffee played in the family’s social life: “Whenever people would come to our house -- the first thing, you’d be offered a cup of coffee.” Drinking coffee together provided a bond within the family as well. Shirley goes on, “Do people take coffee breaks anymore? Like we used to when I was growing up, at ten o'clock in the morning there’d be coffee break. It would be like a quick snack and a short conver-sation. My dad loved to talk. So coffee break time was always a time to [ask], ‘How’s your day going? What did you accomplish so far, what are you going to do next?’ He was very involved in our lives. He knew what we were doing.” Espresso The Rainier Valley boasts at least three Starbucks shops, plus innumerable independent coffee shops and espresso stands. These establishments carry on the Italian tradition of forcing hot water through finely ground coffee beans. The espresso machine was invented by Luigi Bezzera in 1901, and by 1961 the modern electric machine was perfected. Espresso is served straight, or with frothy steamed milk – “latte”. While Bezzera’s goal was to make coffee faster (shortening his employees’ coffee breaks), espresso can be enjoyed as slowly as any other brew, and it provides plenty of opportunity for the kind of community-building public conversations that coffee has encouraged for over 600 years.

"It's hard for anyone, even the most pessimistic of pessimists, to spend more than a few minutes in Central Park without feeling that he or she is experiencing some tense in addition to the present." - Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close Okay, so Central Park’s got a few years on Columbia School, but I do feel this way when I walk through the halls at Orca @ Columbia. The future tense might be a little hazy right now, with the District considering closing the building. But the place is saturated with the past, reaching back through more than a century of teachers, students, and community. The school went up to 8th grade. I don’t know exactly what the students learned in their rows of bolted-down desks, but I imagine the curriculum was heavy on the three ‘R’s. Many kids rode the streetcar to school – some even came by boat from Renton to Rainier Beach and then rode the trolley to Columbia. Columbia School District #18 – which eventually included Brighton, Dunlap, Van Asselt, Emerson, and Muir – paid the streetcar fare. The little town of Columbia – and its school – grew steadily through the turn of the century. The town was annexed to Seattle in 1907, and Columbia School became part of Seattle’s School District. In 1922 the current school building was constructed, and the old building was torn down. The bell from the old bell tower was is now in the custody of the Rainier Valley Historical Society. The school’s enrollment stayed at about 400 through the Depression, even with the addition of a kindergarten in 1936. During World War Two it rose again, as nearby wartime housing at Rainier Vista filled with families, come to Seattle from all over the country for war jobs. The District dealt with the overcrowding first by sending 8th graders to Franklin High, then by opening a temporary Columbia Annex at Rainier Vista. One day in 1942 all the Japanese kids at Columbia School suddenly vanished, sent to internment camps for the duration of the war. Many of those children never came back. The Noji family was a happy exception: Mrs. Noji had been the PTA president at Columbia School before she and her family were declared national security risks. Theo Nassar, who was 3 at the time, remembers her father carrying her on his shoulders over the hill to the Noji family’s nursery on Orcas St., telling her over and over, “They had to go away. They had to go away.” Nassar recalls that sympathetic neighbors held the Nojis’ property on their behalf; it is now the Noji Gardens housing development. Post-war economic prosperity and the baby boom transformed Columbia City and with it Columbia School. Enrollment skyrocketed. In 1958 there were 882 students attending Columbia School, taught by 21 teachers. (For the record, that’s an average class size of 42.) There were 10 portable classrooms lined up along Edmonds Street. Overcrowding was finally relieved when Dearborn Park Elementary opened in 1971. The 1970s and ‘80s were not kind to Seattle’s economy, and Columbia City suffered from a combination of economic decline, increased crime, and white flight. Columbia School’s enrollment dropped, and the District’s 1978 desegregation plan didn’t help matters. Under the plan, Columbia was paired with Olympic View Elementary in Northgate. Columbia students went to kindergarten at Columbia, then attended Olympic View for 1-3rd grade, then came back to Columbia along with Olympic View students for 4th and 5th grade. At least that’s how it was supposed to work. Actually, very few Olympic View 4th and 5th graders signed on for the long bus ride south. In 1989 the Orca alternative program moved to Columbia School from B.F. Day in Fremont. Orca had been sharing the building with traditional classes, and B.F. Day was slated for major renovations. Orca was offered the Columbia building – a long drive for most of Orca’s families. The decision to accept the move was fraught, but in the end the community was excited by the prospect of bringing alternative education to a diverse population. Over the years Orca has made its mark on Columbia School, creating the dance room, the playground, and the Garden, among other improvements. The Garden harbors many stories of its own: it has been the site of much planting and harvesting, cider pressing, chicken chasing, and at least one funeral for a class hamster. It contains solar panels and weathervanes, a giant sundial, and a memorial grove for a former Orca student. Orca has made its mark on the neighborhood as well. Many would argue that Orca’s presence contributed to the flavor of Columbia City’s revitalization in the 1990s. The process continues – with each annual Orca Garden Plant Sale, the school sends out countless seedlings into the yards of its neighbors and friends. With colorful murals broadcasting its joyful spirit to passersby, Orca has become an integral part of the life of Columbia City, just like the original Columbia School way back in 1892. Whatever happens to the site in the future, these stories from the past will remain.

On March 22, 1920, federal agents nabbed a tugboat crew unloading Canadian whiskey on a beach near Edmonds. Prohibition had been in effect for 3 months, and this was the first big raid in the Northwest – the feds seized 100 cases of liquor and arrested 11 people, including a young police lieutenant named Roy Olmstead. Olmstead was fined $500 and lost his job; the incident ended what had been a promising career in law enforcement. From a bootlegging perspective, however, it was Olmstead’s best move yet. Having spent years as a police officer studying the illegal liquor trade and building a network of high-ranking friends in judicial circles, Olmstead was now free to devote himself full time to becoming Seattle’s “Rum King.” Roy Olmstead’s bootlegging empire dwarfed any other liquor operation in Seattle, and many legal businesses as well. Seattle’s Prohibition-era booze was mostly imported from Canada, where alcohol remained legal. Roy Olmstead purchased Canadian liquor in massive quantities, loading it onto ships ostensibly headed for Mexico. (This was to avoid paying the $20-per-case fee the Canadians slapped on liquor shipments bound for the U.S.) As the ships headed south from Vancouver, they unloaded the cargo on islands in Haro Strait for later retrieval. A fleet of fast boats picked up shipments of liquor from the secret caches and delivered them all over Puget Sound, operating on dark, stormy nights in order to avoid hijackers and the Coast Guard. (The Boeing Company manufactured powerful engines for these speedboats – a side business that some say helped keep the company afloat when demand for airplanes plummeted after WWI.) Bruce Rowell, a jazz club manager from Columbia City, recalled liquor deliveries to “The Ranch,” a roadhouse on Hwy 99, north of Seattle. Roadhouses were drinking establishments located on the outskirts of towns; they took advantage of less stringent liquor laws outside city limits and allowed patrons quick access to the highway in case of a raid. The Ranch had the added advantage of proximity to a small beach where Olmstead’s running boats would unload their cargo. With his economies of scale, and without the Canadian fee, Olmstead could undersell other importers by a hefty margin. Eventually he was able to absorb or eliminate most of his competitors. Olmstead never let his rumrunners carry weapons, insisting that “Nothing we do is worth a human life.” So even though hijackers sometimes tried to steal his shipments, the liquor trade in the Northwest was far less violent than in other parts of the country, where turf wars between mobsters often led to bloody events like Chicago’s “Valentine’s Day Massacre.”. Roy Olmstead’s responsible, businesslike approach to smuggling earned him a stellar reputation (along with hundreds of thousands of dollars, of course). A gracious, gregarious man, Olmstead was welcome at Seattle’s best homes and clubs. He and his wife Elsie bought a mansion in Mount Baker (3757 Ridgeway Place), where they entertained in style. Elsie installed a radio station in a spare bedroom, and she read children’s stories over the air every night. Rumors that she used her children’s program to deliver coded messages to rumrunners on Puget Sound appear to be unfounded. Olmstead had little to fear from local law enforcement, as most of the key policemen, prosecutors, and judges were his loyal friends and customers – or on his payroll. Federal Prohibition agent William Whitney, however, developed a personal grudge against Olmstead and determined to bring him down. His agents tried every they trick in the book catch Olmstead out, and eventually resorted to tapping Olmstead’s phones. Olmstead knew his phones were tapped, but figured that since wiretapping was against state law, such evidence could never be used against him. He took great pleasure in using the tapped lines to deliver false leads, along with pointed insults about Agent Whitney himself, disguised as casual conversation. It all came to a head on Thanksgiving Day, 1924, when federal agents broke into the mansion, rounded up the inhabitants, and began making telephone calls. Imitating Olmstead’s voice, Whitney invited all the bootlegger’s friends to come over for a wild party – and bring liquor. Would-be revelers who showed up with bottles and cases of booze were dismayed to find themselves corralled into the parlour at gunpoint. Olmstead, his wife, and dozens of others were arrested that night. In the end 29 people were tried, including Olmstead himself. At the trial, the illegally obtained wiretapped evidence was admitted, much to Olmstead’s lawyer’s outrage. Olmstead, on the other hand, is reported to have laughed uproariously when transcripts of his phony telephone calls were read aloud in court. Olmstead was convicted, but appealed based on the illegal wiretapping issue. Eventually the case came before the Supreme Court, which ruled against him. That wasn’t the end of the story, however. Civil liberties advocates were appalled by the Supreme Court ruling, and the dissenting opinion by Justice Louis Brandeis proved far more influential than the decision itself. “In a government of laws,” Brandeis wrote, “existence of government will be imperiled if it fails to observe the laws scrupulously… If the government becomes a lawbreaker, it breeds contempt for the law.” Thus we have the Rum King to thank not only for keeping Seattle in Canadian whiskey for half a decade, but also for Justice Brandeis’s famous assertion of “the right to be left alone” – and the anti-wiretapping laws Congress later passed to protect that right. Roy Olmstead’s colorful career is recounted in Emmett Watson’s book, Once Upon a Time in Seattle.

Prepared by Katie Pratt and Spencer Howard of Northwest Vernacular, Inc. on behalf of the Friends of Mount Baker Town Center with funding provided by 4Culture. The content of this article is from the nomination application for the National Park Service historic national registry. The Mount Baker Park Historic District is significant at the local level under Criterion A in the area of significance of community planning and development. The neighborhood is an early example of a planned neighborhood within the city of Seattle and continues to reflect the developers’ careful design and layout of the addition. The district is also eligible under Criterion C in the area of significance of architecture and landscape architecture as an early planned neighborhood in the City of Seattle. The neighborhood features a significant concentration of intact, well-designed, and constructed early 20th century residences, parks, and boulevards. These single-family houses reflect a variety of period revival, eclectic, and Northwest-based architectural styles, many of which were designed by influential local architects. The parks and boulevards reflect the influence of the City Beautiful movement. PERIOD OF SIGNIFICANCE The period of significance begins with the date of construction of the oldest house (3156 35th Avenue S) constructed within the neighborhood (1900) that is still extant and ends with the formation of the Committee to Revitalize Mount Baker in 1968. By 1968, the neighborhood was fully constructed and little new construction has happened since that date. This period of significance contains the bulk of the development that has occurred within the neighborhood, including the few buildings constructed prior to the 1907 plat of the Mount Baker Park Addition. MOUNT BAKER PARK ADDITION The Hunter Tract Improvement Company platted the Mount Baker Park Addition in 1907 to establish an elite, upper-class, single-family neighborhood with well-designed houses, graciously landscaped boulevards, waterfront access, and a system of parks to provide natural respite for residents. Developers also created deed restrictions to ensure the quality of the new neighborhood. The Mount Baker Park Addition was one of the largest planned communities in Seattle at the time. Despite its early exclusivity, the neighborhood was not immune to social, economic, and racial strife. Over the course of its history, the Mount Baker Park Improvement Club, the neighborhood’s social club, fought particularly hard to maintain the neighborhood’s exclusivity through their Restrictions Committee. Integration in the post-World War II period challenged its early exclusivity and a new and more diverse resident base took root in Mount Baker. The club’s name change to Mount Baker Community Club and its formation of the Committee to Revitalize Mount Baker mark this clear shift in the neighborhood. Early Contact and Settlement The area which now comprises the Mount Baker Park Addition was originally home to the Xacua’bs (hah-chu- AHBSH) or “lake people” – a branch of the Duwamish tribe, a Southern Puget Sound Coast Salish people. Duwamish is an Anglicization of Dkh[W]’Duw’Absh, which means “The People of the Inside” in the Salish Lushootseed language. The inside refers to Elliott Bay, the Duwamish River, and connecting waterways. Lake Washington, which defines the current neighborhood’s eastern boundary, was a significant place in the lifeways of the Xacua’bs, who sited villages along the shores of Lake Washington and fished its abundant waters. The arrival of white settlers in the region disrupted the lives of the Duwamish people and neighboring tribes. Treaties between the U.S. Government and area tribes, orchestrated by territorial governor Isaac S. Stevens, further complicated already tenuous relationships. Early white settlers to live or claim property in the area known today as Mount Baker Park were David “Doc” Maynard (1808-1873) and David Denny (1832-1903). Maynard arrived in the 1850s, staking a claim in the present-day Mount Baker and Rainier Valley area, and Denny purchased land which was later sold to the Seattle & Walla Walla Railroad, who in turn sold the land to Daniel Jones of the Hunter Improvement Company. Areas which include the current Mount Baker Park Addition were annexed by the City of Seattle in 1883 and 1907. The 1883 annexation included the area between S Hanford Street and S Atlantic Street, the northern portion of the Mount Baker Park Addition. The 1907 annexation was part of the town of Southeast Seattle, which appears to have incorporated specifically to petition Seattle for annexation. Southeast Seattle incorporated on July 2, 1906 and included several neighborhoods, roughly bounded by 24th Avenue S on the west, S Hanford Street on the north, Lake Washington on the east, and S Kenyon Street on the south. Despite being annexed, the area remained fairly removed from downtown Seattle until J.K. Edmiston financed construction of the Rainier Avenue Electric Railway, which opened in 1890 and provided transit between downtown Seattle and towns to the south. This streetcar line ran along present-day Rainier Avenue S, just a few blocks to the west of the western edge of the soon-to-be-developed Mount Baker Park Addition. Another streetcar was established by 1896 and extended east from downtown Seattle along S Jackson Street, turning north on 30th Avenue S to connect with E Yesler Way and continued briefly east to the end of the line and the power house. By 1915 only a spur remained at the former north turn on 30th Avenue S, and instead the line continued east to 31st Avenue S which it then followed south to S McClellan Street where it turned east and wrapped around to Mount Rainier Drive S and ended at Hunter Boulevard S into the heart of the Mount Baker Park Addition. This line remained active through 1933. By 1963 this same route was used for the trolley bus line, ending at S Hanford Street and was known as the Mount Baker Route. Easier access to downtown prompted development along the line. New additions were platted, such as George and Martha Taggart’s York Addition (1903) and the Dose Addition (1906) platted by father and son Charles P. and Charles C. Dose. Platting and Construction in the Mount Baker Park Addition As development moved forward on the York and Dose additions to the north, developer J.C. Hunter established the Hunter Tract Improvement Company in 1905 to develop an upper-class, single-family neighborhood. Other officers of the company included Daniel Jones, F.I. Fehren, and C.E. Farnsworth. Jones and Fehren worked as the sales agents for the company out of an office at 117 Cherry Street with an office and on-site manager, Mitchell Phillips, at 34th Avenue S and S McClellan Street (at the site of 3405 S McClellan Street). The company purchased 130 acres of land under Jones, land formerly owned by David Denny. Jones and Charles Dose petitioned to extend the Rainier Avenue Electric Railway, also known as the Rainier Heights streetcar line, to S McClellan Street to connect their new additions to downtown. This extension, constructed between 1911, became known as the Mount Baker Route or line. The Hunter Tract Improvement Company hired George Cotterill of the engineering firm Cotterill and Whitworth to lay out the addition. Cotterill hired landscape architect Edward O Schwagerl to create the landscape design. Their designs for the new addition incorporated recommendations from the Olmsted Brothers’ 1903 plan for Seattle’s parks and boulevards, establishing Mount Baker Park and Lake Washington Boulevard S along Lake Washington and connecting boulevards. In fact, in 1906 John Charles Olmsted of the Olmsted Brothers reviewed the addition’s design at the request of Daniel Jones and recommended deed restrictions to ensure its quality and exclusivity. John Charles Olmsted toured the development area with Cotterill, reviewed the plat layout, and provided a letter report. In 1910, John Charles Olmsted later provided comments on improvements to some of the smaller parks within the plat for the City parks department. The Hunter Tract Improvement Company filed the plat for the Mount Baker Park Addition in June 1907. The plat consisted of 70 blocks over 200 acres. The deeds of sale for parcels within the neighborhood, as was common for the time, did contain restrictive covenants, many of which were based on the suggestions of John Charles Olmsted. These covenants required single-family residences, 25-foot minimum front setback from the street, and minimum construction costs of $2,000 to $5,000 (depending on the lot). The exception to the single-family rule was for a sole commercial building at 35th Avenue S and S McClellan Street. This original commercial building, the Mount Baker Park Garage, featured a garage at grade and a clubhouse above; the Mount Baker Center building replaced it in 1930. Advertisements for the neighborhood emphasized not only the natural beauty of the developing neighborhood, but the envisioned exceptionality of both the neighborhood and its intended residents. One such advertisement in The Seattle Times stated, Your home and surroundings should be on a par with your own character. If your tastes incline toward select society, exclusive environment, lovely landscapes, artistic architecture, congenial companions, accessible location, and surrounding of natural beauties, combined with the best of man-made advantages, you will want to live in Mount Baker Park The neighborhood began to take shape in its first few years, with over 100 residences constructed between 1907 and 1910. In addition to these early residences, key development during these first few years was the construction of Mount Baker Park, several pocket parks, and two boulevards: the 3-block long Hunter Boulevard and the curving Mount Baker Boulevard. Other improvements include macadamized roads and cement sidewalks, curbs, and gutters. The Mount Baker streetcar line was extended south to Hanford Street, providing residents greater access to downtown Seattle by 1911. An important development in the neighborhood was the establishment of the Mount Baker Park Improvement Club in 1908 (the club still exists and is currently known as the Mount Baker Community Club). The club initially concerned itself with promoting neighborhood development, beautification, safety, and public benefits. When the club officially incorporated on January 12, 1910, each property owner within the neighborhood owned one share of stock in the club. 1910-1919 Development continued at a steady pace through the 1910s. Construction occurred throughout the addition during this period, with the largest concentration of residences built along Hunter Boulevard S and 37th Avenue S between S Hanford Street and S Court Street. During this period, 293 residences were constructed during this period. Construction during this decade was also concentrated along S Mount Baker Boulevard down to 30th Avenue S. Important infrastructure and public improvements occurred during this decade, which would establish the foundation for the neighborhood’s increasing development. Constructed in 1912, the Edgar Blair-designed Franklin High School became a prominent anchor for the addition’s western edge. The Mount Baker Park Improvement Club continued their community involvement during this period, forming committees to promote education, entertainment, public safety, parks and playgrounds, and street and public improvements. Previously occupying the upstairs of the neighborhood’s sole commercial building, the club constructed their own clubhouse next door. The club also successfully lobbied for the construction of a fire station, better police protection, sewer installation, garbage removal, and street paving. As the club sought to protect the neighborhood from “undesirables” it actively campaigned to prevent non-whites and other minorities from purchasing property within the neighborhood, forming the “Restrictions Committee” by 1915. This committee even went as far to draft an agreement between 1919 and 1920 for property owners to sign guaranteeing they would only sell or lease their property to Caucasian; such a practice was common during the early to mid-20th century as racial segregation continued in full force. The club also sought to block non-single family use and construction within the neighborhood. In addition to the restrictive covenants attached to the deeds, there was an assumption that the Hunter Tract Improvement Company would not approve sales to “undesirable” races. However, during this decade, the neighborhood experienced the first cracks in its rigid stance on exclusivity. Two lawsuits were filed in 1910 which challenged these racist actions. First, the Hunter Tract Improvement Company filed a lawsuit against Samuel and Susie Stone and Marguerite Foy. In 1909, Foy, a white woman, had sold a parcel of land within the Mount Baker Park Addition to Samuel and Susie Stone, a black couple. The company sued after the Stones were mid-construction on their new house (3125 34th Avenue S), contesting that Foy and the Stones had intentionally concealed the Stones’ race. Prominent black attorney Andrew Black defended the Stones and persuaded Judge John F. Main of the King County Superior Court to side with the Stones and Foy. The Hunter Tract Improvement Company appealed, but the Washington State Supreme Court upheld Main’s decision. Andrew Black had represented a similar case the same year; David Cole, a black railroad porter for the Northern Pacific, sued the Hunter Tract Improvement Company for withholding the deed to a lot in the Mount Baker Park Addition for which he had already paid. Like the Stone case, the court upheld Cole’s right to purchase property in the neighborhood. 1920-1929 The neighborhood continued to infill through the 1920s, with increased development along S Mount Baker Boulevard, 30th Avenue S, and view lots along Cascade Avenue S, Lakewood Avenue S, Shoreland Drive S, Mount Baker Drive S, and Mount St Helens Place S. By the end of the 1920s, the neighborhood was largely completely built up; 85-percent of the current properties within the nominated historic district were constructed by the end of 1929. In addition to the slew of residential development in the district, a non-residential building was constructed in the neighborhood during this period—the Mount Baker Park Presbyterian Church. The church began as York Methodist, with both Methodists and Presbyterians sharing a building at 34th Avenue S and S Horton Street constructed between 1902 and 1906, just west of the Mount Baker Park Addition. The church grew to have more Presbyterian members and changed its name to York Presbyterian in 1906 then Mount Baker Park Presbyterian in 1910. As the church grew and the Mount Baker Park neighborhood developed, the congregation began to consider constructing a new building and moving to a more central location within the neighborhood. The church first tried to construct a building at 34th Avenue S and S McClellan Street, but several neighbors sued the congregation in 1920 to prevent construction of the church building. The church purchased a different parcel, at the southwest corner of S Hanford Street and Hunter Boulevard S and proceeded with their plans to construct a new building. Discrimination continued during this period and, despite losing lawsuits, the Mount Baker Improvement Club’s Restrictions Committee remained active. The committee disseminated another agreement within the neighborhood for property owners to not rent, sell, or lease to blacks and “Mongolians.” This exclusivity was not limited to the Mount Baker Park Addition; in fact, it was during this period that deeds began to include racial discrimination clauses. These restrictions were affirmed by a 1926 U.S. Supreme Court decision (Corrigan v. Buckley) and, according to the University of Washington’s Seattle Civic Rights & Labor History Project, were “an enforceable contract and an owner who violated them risked forfeiting the property. 1930-1945 The neighborhood was mostly complete by 1930, with limited new construction following the Great Depression and into the 1940s. It was during this period that the neighborhood began to change from a predominately upper-class neighborhood to one with a variety of income levels. The effects of the Great Depression were felt within the district as unemployment rates climbed; the upper class was not immune to the economic distress in the city and nation. The most significant construction in the neighborhood during this time was the completion of the Art Deco Mount Baker Center (1930). The new building replaced the addition’s one commercial structure and was designed by premier Seattle architect John Graham, Sr. The building had retail on the ground floor; tenants over the years included Kefauver & White, grocers; Van de Kamp’s bakers; Barney O’Connor Drugs; and Robert McNamara’s “Bob McNamara Drugs” (beginning in 1939 until 1966). Apartment units were constructed on the upper floor in 1939. One other notable building project during this period was the construction in 1936 of a model house by department store Frederick & Nelson just south of the nominated historic district. The store had the house at 3846 Cascadia Avenue S to display furniture, one of four models scattered across the city. Construction of the house attests to the overall wealth and development in this neighborhood, even amidst the Great Depression, and anchored around the Mount Baker Park Addition. The Rainier Valley interurban line was replaced in 1937 by buses, also called “trackless trolleys;” and the streetcar line directly to Mount Baker was also replaced by buses around the same time. A significant transportation project occurred north of the neighborhood during the late 1930s, a massive bridge to increase eastern access to Seattle. The floating bridge, designed by engineer Homer Hadley (1885-1967) was completed in 1940 for just under $9 million. Upon completion, the Lake Washington Floating Bridge (renamed to honor Lacey V. Murrow Bridge in 1967) stretched 1.5-miles in length and earned acclaim as the largest floating structure in the world and the first constructed of reinforced concrete. The bridge carried I-90 traffic to and from Seattle via tunnels bored under the Mount Baker neighborhood (north of the Mount Baker Park Addition). Although construction did not occur within the boundaries of the Mount Baker Park Addition, it did affect the neighborhood. Many neighbors opposed the construction, seeking to keep their neighborhood quiet and exclusive as construction equipment used S Mount Baker Boulevard and Lake Park Drive S as an access route down to Lake Washington. Discrimination and exclusivity continued in the neighborhood during the 1930s, with neighbors and the Mount Baker Park Improvement Club dissuading non-whites from buying property. The club even went as far to ask the Park Board to develop a segregation plan for Mount Baker Park to prevent use of the park by non-whites. The U.S. involvement in World War II after the bombing of Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, briefly shifted the focus of the club and they did not enforce housing restrictions during this time. 1946-1968 Seattle grew considerably during World War II, thanks to the defense production at local shipyards and Boeing. This growth continued after the war, particularly with the return of young veterans ready to start families. With the end of the war, the Mount Baker Improvement Club returned to their enforcement of housing restrictions, both against non-white residents and multi-family dwellings. The club even hired the Burns Detective Agency in 1946 to investigate and enforce violations of the neighborhood’s housing restrictions. One such fight came to a head during the late 1940s as the club filed a lawsuit against Margaret Connell of 2812 Mount St Helens Place S. Connell, a widow, had started renting out rooms in her large 27-room house to returning veterans and their families. A judge sided with the club in the lawsuit (Gholson v. Connell) and Connell had to return her home to single-family use. Despite the efforts of the club, Mount Baker Park district became more diverse during the post-World War II period. True integration was slow; according to a May 1967 article in The Seattle Times, [T]he integration appears, in some respects, to be extended separation. It often is the block-by-block variety, with invisible lines drawn here and there, rather than everyother-house-in-the-neighborhood integration. As non-whites began to purchase more property within the neighborhood, “white flight” occurred as some white residents sold their own homes and moved. Reductions in the Boeing workforce in 1963 and 1969 also led some property owners to relocate. Long-time resident Gertrude Lewis shared with interviewer Marsha Malkin that, “’Until the 1960’s, only death and disaster would move people from these houses.’” By the mid-1960s, housing prices dropped in the neighborhood and a younger and more diverse demographic began to emerge in the neighborhood. This included an influx of property owners of Chinese, Japanese, Filipino, Vietnamese, and Korean descent. These new residents pushed for change in the neighborhood and the improvement club. Between 1967 and 1968, the club formed a Committee to Revitalize Mount Baker, tasked with developing new bylaws and eliminating racial discrimination. In 1968, the club changed its name to the Mount Baker Community Club to reflect open membership to all residents of Mount Baker. However, racial tension continued to occur in the neighborhood and throughout the city and nation and extended to the nearby schools, like Franklin High School. By 1967, black students comprised 19% of Franklin High School’s enrollment. In late March 1968, an altercation broke out in the halls of the school between three students – one white and two black students. The school’s principal, Loren Ralph, suspended the two black students, cousins Charles Oliver and Trolice Flavors. Flavors’ attempts to negotiate his suspension were rebuffed so he contacted his mentor, Carl Miller, a member of the Blake Student Union (BSU) at the University of Washington. Miller, along with other members of the BSU, Aaron Dixon and Larry Gossett, tried to meet with Ralph to negotiate peacefully. When those efforts were denied, the BSU students organized a gathering to peacefully protest. One hundred students, around 40 of which were non-Franklin students, marched into Ralph’s office on campus demanding Oliver and Flavors be reinstated, that a black administrator be hired at the high school level in the Seattle Public School system, that an African American history class be taught at Franklin, and that black heroes be included in the American historical figures featured on the walls of the school. This sit-in at Franklin High School was the first high-school sit-in held in Seattle. Five of the organizers— Miller, Dixon, Gossett, Gossett’s brother Richard Gossett, and Flavors— were charged with unlawful assembly.45 The three UW and BSU students—Miller, Dixon, and Gossett—were tried and found guilty in July 1968. Their case was appealed before the Washington State in January 1971; a retrial was ordered by the court but the prosecutor declined to prosecute. The three were instrumental in forming the Seattle chapter of the Black Panthers with Aaron Dixon serving as the first captain of the chapter. In the aftermath of the sit-in, the Mount Baker Improvement Club’s Franklin High School Committee pushed for a discrimination complaint to be brought against principal Loren Ralph. Significant staff turnover occurred in the fall of 1968 and a new principal and vice-principal were hired. More Recent History Significant improvement occurred in the neighborhood during the 1970s when the Mount Baker neighborhood was selected as the first action area for Seattle’s Neighborhood Housing Rehabilitation Program. This program provided low interest home loans to help property owners repair their houses to meet current building code. Many property owners in the neighborhood took advantage of this program and the neighborhood’s excellent condition and physical integrity is likely the result of such efforts. Little development occurred in the neighborhood, but commercial development expanded to the west of the neighborhood along Rainier Avenue S. A pedestrian overpass constructed in 1976 connected neighborhoods west of Rainier Avenue S with the Mount Baker Park Addition at Franklin High School. The school continued to increase in diversity; and by 1972, the school’s student body was 30% black, 30% Asian American, and 40% white.50 The school, which had deteriorated over time, was designated a city of Seattle landmark in 1986 and a 1990 renovation by Bassetti Morton Metler Rekevics Architects rejuvenated the school’s visual presence. By the late 1980s, the neighborhood had greater diversity in its residents, with neighbors of Chinese, Japanese, Laotian, and Ethiopian descent. Today it continues to have a diverse demographic, but housing prices have continued to climb. Editor’s note: RVHS congratulates Mount Baker Park on its recent National Registry status.

“He kept saying, ‘I want a sweet potato pie like my mother made.’” by Mikala Woodward, Excerpted from Rainier Valley Food Stories Cookbook Rainier Valley Food Stories is a multi-cultural oral history and documentary project about food in the Rainier Valley. The Rainier Valley Historical Society collected pictures, recipes, and stories about food from all the ethnic groups in the Rainier Valley, and published them in a community history cookbook. Here are excerpts from an interview Mikala Woodward did with Ilda Jackson, a white woman who married an African American man in 1955. IJ: I was born in Wapato, Washington which is fourteen miles from Yakima. Came over here when I was nine months old and been here ever since. My dad was a tugboat captain. We were one of the lucky ones, that he did have a job during the Depression. ‘Course they didn’t get paid very often, but he had a job. I went to school [in Seattle], went to Queen Anne High School. Got married in ’42 when the war was declared ‘cause everybody got married. Joycie was born in ’43. Jeannie was born in ’44 and then my husband went in the army and when he came home the boy was born in ’47. That was my first batch. Then my second batch was [born in] ’51, ’61 and ’63. MW: Can you tell me a little bit about how you met your [second] husband? IJ: I met him through a gal at work. She was a marvelous wit. She never said anything risqué or anything – it was just funny, the way she’d phrase things. I just thought she was great. She asked me if I wanted to come by her house and meet some friends, and so I did. I met him when he came with a couple of other people. I looked at him, I thought he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life. And I still do. [Laughs] We got married in ’55, so we’ve been married about forty-seven going on forty-eight years. I think he’s the luckiest man in the world to get me for two dollars. That’s all it cost for a marriage license in those days. [Laughs] Ilda and her husband ran into trouble when they tried to buy a house in the Rainier Valley in the 1950s. IJ: I never had any idea at all that I’d run into anything. I found this house when he was at sea – he sailed for the MSTS. He was gone for two and a half to three months at a time – they went from here over to Yokohama then down to Manila, then someplace else, and then back up to Yokohama and then back to here. They ferried servicemen, their wives, their goods, like if they were being transferred over there to the Orient. Oh, and supplies for the troops. That’s what they did. But, when I found the house, I put a hundred dollars down for earnest money, and [the mortgage company] called me constantly—“When is Mr. Jackson gonna be home ‘cause we want to get the papers signed.” It was through FHA so we both had to sign them. But when his boat came in, and we went down to sign the papers, they looked at him and suddenly they couldn’t handle the loan. But nevertheless we found the First Mortgage Company which took over the loan, because he was a government worker and had been for fourteen years. It was Sparkman and MacLean, by the way, that turned us down. So when they went belly up, I laughed all day. It made my day. [Laughs] MW: So, you weren’t expecting that kind of discrimination. IJ: No, I wasn’t really familiar with all the ins and outs of the differences between the blacks and the whites in those days. I know that the police were really hard. We couldn’t go anywhere. Everybody gawked so that it was embarrassing. Because up until the soldiers started bringing girls home from Korea that they had married, you never saw much of a mixed couple. Just occasionally, and I mean occasionally. MW: Was that hard on your marriage? IJ: Well, he was gone all the time, so I worked, and the kids and I—we were here alone. Then when he came home—no, I guess not. Because we’ve never been the type to drink and carouse or be out and around. We used to take the kids and go to the drive-in movies because that was safe. But other than that, we didn’t do a great amount. I suppose if we’d been the bon vivant type where we were out bumming around we might have run into a lot of it, but we just weren’t. MW: Was this neighborhood pretty mixed at that time? IJ: No. No. My husband was the only minority in the whole block when we first moved in. Down there where that big housing project deal is [Rainier Vista? Holly Park?] , when we moved in here it was a dairy farm. Everybody was all white at that time. But then, things have changed, of course. There were no Orientals in this area either at that time. It was just lily white. MW: So, you’ve seen it really change and change. IJ: Oh yes, yes, yes. Now I’m the minority, so what comes around goes around, I guess. Or goes around comes around. [Laughs] Conversation turns to food… IJ: I like to cook. I like to try recipes. MW: Did you learn any new food from your husband’s family? IJ: Well, my husband’s family lived back in Little Rock. And, no, because I never met any of them unless they came out here. Jack, my husband, he’s never been a cook or anything like that, so when it came to sweet potato pies he kept saying, “I want a sweet potato pie like my mother made.” Well, I didn’t have any idea what he was talking about, because as far as I was concerned sweet potatoes were made for candied [yams] and nothing else. And, so, I made a pumpkin pie. “No, that’s not it.” I made this one. I asked every black girl I knew or anybody from the South for their recipe for sweet potato pie. “No, this is not it, no, this is not it.” So finally I just got mad and quit. And then we went to a picnic and there was a sweet potato pie. And he took a bite and he said, “This is it! This is it!” So, I went to Mrs. Garnett and she gave me the recipe. So then I was able to make them. But it’s not like pumpkin pie at all, I just thought it was. Well, my daughter called me up one day and she said, “I’ve got a sweet potato pie recipe that’ll makes yours look sick.” I said, “I don’t believe it.” So we made them and oh boy is it good. It’s called a custard sweet potato pie. And it is good. They’ve got a whole cube of butter in a pie, you know. Not counting the sugar. Talk about good. Mmm. I had a girlfriend named Lily, she said, “You know, that’s so good it makes you want to go out and hit a tree.” Mrs. Garnett’s Sweet Potato Pie Preheat oven to 350 degrees. 2 medium sweet potatoes 1/2 cup butter 2 eggs 1 1/4 tsp vanilla 1 1/2 tsp nutmeg 1 cup sugar, or to taste 1/4 cup flour uncooked pie shell Bake or boil the sweet potatoes until they are soft. Beat them with the other ingredients until light and fluffy. Pour into pie shell. Bake at 350° for 1 hour. Custard Sweet Potato Pie Preheat oven to 350 degrees. 1 cup yams 1 cup sugar 1/4 cup butter 1 tsp cinnamon 3 eggs 1 can evaporated milk 1 tsp allspice dash salt uncooked pie shell Bake or boil the yams until they are soft. Put all ingredients in a blender and blend until smooth. Pour into pie shell. Bake at 400° for 15 minutes, then turn oven down to 350° and bake for another 45 minutes.

This photo of the just-completed Franklin High School was taken from somewhere half-way up Beacon Hill in about 1913. The Rainier Valley streetcar tracks run across the scene along what is now Rainier Avenue. A brand-new, markedly treeless Mt. Baker Blvd. goes from Rainier Ave toward Franklin and swoops around to the left of the school. Thirty-first Avenue cuts from Mt. Baker Blvd. over to McClellan Street, barely visible on the far left of the photo. The ragged stumps in the foreground are remnants of the forest that covered much of the Rainier Valley before the 1890s. Franklin High School began in 1906 as an annex to the first Seattle High School, located on Broadway. The overflow high school program shared space with a primary school at what is now Washington Middle School, but quickly outgrew that building as well. By 1910 the school district had acquired land at the north end of the Rainier Valley for a new high school. When the beautiful new Franklin High opened in 1912, the architects claimed it was “as complete and modern as possible,” and it was hailed as the crown jewel of the Mount Baker neighborhood – community residents even lobbied unsuccessfully to name it “Mount Baker High School.” As the photograph shows, at that time Mount Baker was just beginning to be developed as a carefully planned upper-income community. The Hunter Tract Improvement Company was largely responsible for the distinctive look of the neighborhood today. They hired prominent landscape architects to lay out gracefully curving streets, taking advantage of the topography of the neighborhood and allowing stunning views from many of the building sites. Restrictive covenants required that houses cost $2,000 at minimum ($5,000 for some lots) – a hefty sum in those days. Houses had to be single-family residences, set back at least 25 feet from the street. And, they could not be sold to non-whites. (Though this policy was successfully challenged in court by a valiant woman called Susie Stone in 1909, the Mount Baker neighborhood remained almost exclusively white until the 1960s.) In this photo Mount Baker is in its infancy, with most of its magnificent homes yet to be built. Several of the buildings visible in the photo are still there today, including the square wooden apartment building just in front and to the right of Franklin (today Fire Station #30 is in front of it) and the two houses with M-shaped gables on 31st Avenue. Malmo’s Nursery occupies the land in front of Franklin High School, with its low building in the center of the photo and cultivation grounds stretching to the left. Charles Malmo started the company in the mid-1890s. It was originally based on Capitol Hill at Broadway and Pike, with a nursery and showground opening at 31st and Rainier in 1906. The Polk City Directory of that year describes Malmo & Co. as “wholesale and retail nurserymen, florists and seedsmen and importing jobbers.” The business offices move to the Mount Baker location in 1908, followed shortly by the Malmo family, who lived on Mt. Baker Blvd. Malmo’s Nursery moved to Belltown in 1917, but the family remained in the neighborhood. "Double Exposures" and Rainier Valley Historical Society Photography by Kerry Zimmerman The Double Exposures project was funded by King County 4Culture and by Rainier Rotary.

Horses hauling logs at Columbia Mill, Columbia, July 15, 1891. Photo property of Rainier Valley Historical Society, Accession Number 93.001.531 Big Trees, Shingle Mills, and Lumberyards From the first logs milled at Henry Yesler’s sawmill in 1853, timber has played a crucial role in the history and economy of Seattle and its surrounding territory. The late 19th century saw the proliferation of logging camps and lumber mills throughout the Puget Sound region. The Atlantic Monthly reported in 1888 that “the timber now standing in Washington territory… is equal to the consumption of the whole United States during the last 100 years,” but warned that “at the rate trees are being cut down, and lumber shipped away from this region, it is a comparatively simple calculation to reckon how long it will take to strip the country bare.” In 1900 lumber was still Seattle’s biggest export, with 340 mills producing 405 million board feet of lumber and 3 billion shingles a year. In the heavily forested Rainier Valley, logging served several purposes. First of all, the industry provided jobs and income to loggers and millworkers, many of them local residents. The lumber produced was used locally to build houses and plank the sidewalks and streets. And, once the electric railway was built in1890, lumber was sent by rail to Seattle, which was rebuilding after the Great Seattle Fire. Logging also produced another valuable commodity: cleared land, which could then be platted and sold by developers. After all, the Rainier Valley, no matter how big the trees, wasn’t an isolated wilderness. With Seattle just three miles (?) north, thriving coal mines in Renton and Newcastle to the south, easy water access, and electric streetcar service, it was prime real estate. Columbia Mill: “The Hand of Commercial Man" Columbia City’s early years saw all these aspects of the timber industry flourish. In 1890, just after J.K. Edmiston built the Rainier Avenue Electric Railway to bring homebuyers to the newly platted town of Columbia, a mill opened just south of town at Brandon Street. Horse-drawn wagons brought the raw logs in; freight cars on the streetcar rails shipped lumber out. It’s not clear how long the Columbia Mill (also known as the Dry Lumber Mill) lasted – while the photos are impressive, the records are somewhat hazy. It is clear, however, that lumber remained an important business in Columbia City. Christopher Hepler, a member of one of Columbia’s founding families, started a lumber company in the 1890s, and the Columbia Shingle Company operated under several different owners from 1903 to 1908, according to the Polk Directory. Even after the big trees were gone and Columbia became part of Seattle’s urban metropolis, lumber companies flourished, providing building materials for new houses and businesses throughout the Rainier Valley. The Lakewood & Mt. Baker Lumber Co. operated at 43rd and Genessese in the 1910s and ‘20s. City Sash and Door sold lumber, mouldings, and millwork at the SE corner of Rainier and Hudson from 1909 to 1926. Other lumber companies included Orvis Lumber in Columbia City (1911) and Stewart Lumber Co., which is still in operation at 1761 Rainier Avenue. When the Young family, current owners of Stewart Lumber, bought the business in 1926, lumber was still delivered to the site by rail, on a spur of the streetcar track that ran right through the building. Harry Kneisley: “An Energetic Hustling Businessman Who Thoroughly Understands His Business” In 1910 the Columbia Lumber Company opened at the southwest corner of Rainier and Hudson. Its founder, Harry Kneisley, was a 27-year-old Midwesterner who headed west in 1905 to attend Portland’s Lewis and Clark Centennial Exposition and wound up settling in the Rainier Valley. His business thrived through the 1910s and ‘20s. In 1924 Kneisley’s biography appeared among those of Seattle’s leading citizens in C. H. Hanford’s “Seattle and Environs: 1852-1924.” According to Hanford, Kneisley was “an excellent type of the energetic hustling business man who thoroughly understands his business.” Kneisley left the lumber business in 1927 and died about 1930. The old site of the Columbia Lumber Company was soon occupied by Shade Foster, an experienced lumberman who remained in business at Hudson and Rainier until the mid-1960s, sharing the site with a series of gas stations, car dealers, and auto repair shops. The office for Foster’s lumberyard was in a little gabled building that is now home to the Busy Bee Market. Taylor’s Mill Big trees survived in the Skyway area long after the rest of the Rainier Valley had been cleared of timber. Taylor’s Mill, located at the foot of Dead Horse Canyon, turned those logs into lumber, after they made the journey down the hill along a wooden chute. The mill also processed timber from across the lake. Sanford Taylor’s mill originally operated at the foot of Leschi bluff, but after a landslide in 1901 he moved the mill on barges to Rainier Beach. Like Columbia Mill and Stewart Lumber, Taylor’s Mill used the streetcar rails for shipping lumber – note the streetcar visible in the lower left corner of the photo. Most of Taylor’s 100 or so employees lived near the mill, many in bunkhouses constructed by the company. The little community was known to the post office as “Tamil.” It had its own restaurant, run by one of the Taylor girls, and a grocery store on Rainier Avenue at the corner of 68th Avenue South. The grocery building is still there – the old Lakeside Tavern, with the sign on the north side still upside down. No other trace of Taylor’s Mill is left today, unless you count Lakeridge Park, better known as “Dead Horse Canyon.” While some say the canyon’s gruesome name commemorates a beloved pet horse who died of dehydration there in 1909, a competing legend says it is named in honor of a team of horses that plunged to their deaths while bringing in a load of logs in the early days of Taylor’s Mill.

Crowd outside Phalen's Grocery during Rainier Valley Fiesta, Seattle, 1915. Property of Rainier Valley Historical Society, Accession Number 93.001.067 In 1915, a grocer named Bill Phalen had a vision: a spectacular celebration that would bring the whole Rainier Valley together. (He also had a lot of friends and a great deal of energy, which is what it takes to make this kind of vision a reality.) The first annual “Rainier Valley Fiesta,” held on June 25th, 1915, started a tradition that continues today with the annual Rainier Valley Heritage Festival. Bill Phalen was a baseball player turned grocer who moved to Columbia City in 1901 and quickly became a community leader, serving as Mayor twice before the town was annexed to Seattle in 1907. As a successful businessman, he understood that a community has to have roads, schools, and a fire department in order to survive. But he also knew that a community has to have fun – together – in order to thrive. There were parades in Columbia City before 1915, but we can be pretty sure nothing on the scale of Phalen’s Rainier Valley Fiesta had ever occurred before. The printed program declared the organizers’ intention “to start a community spirit of oneness,” and ended with this exhilarating command: “From this time on, let all the citizens within the limits of this place, amalgamate as one!” The organizers pulled out all the stops in their pursuit of unity. The event started at 2 pm with a Calithumpian Band riding on a streetcar all the way from Seattle to Renton. This was followed by a Punch and Judy show, pony rides, a merry-go-round, and performances by “the children of the playfields.” From 3 to 6 pm Mr. Cavanaugh’s band played – the program advised listeners to “Let joyfull, weird, and soothing music sounds cause all forgetfulness of care.” An intermission followed, with activities for those “awaiting the hilarity of the night.” At 7:30 pm a Calithumpian Parade marched from Edmunds Street to Kenney Street in Hillman City – and back again, in the fine tradition of small-town parades. The Lakewood Choral Club performed, followed by the Eagle Band, the Tillikum Drum Corps, the Redman Drill Team, and a speech by Seattle Mayor Hiram Gill. The festivities continued late into the night, with musical performances, a Hitt fireworks display, and Lantern Slides. The Street Dancing began at 10:45 pm. According to one report, 20,000 people attended this marvelous event. If you’re wondering what “calithumpian” means, it’s derived from the Greek words for beauty (“kallos”) and noise (“thumpos”) and roughly translates as “big, beautiful noise” – just the thing to get a bunch of citizens amalgamated as one. The Fiesta and its descendant celebrations continued, evolving over the years in response to current events and community changes. For instance, when the Rainier Valley streetcar rails were removed in 1937, the community held a three-day festival to celebrate. The streetcar had ceased operation in January and the rails, sunk in a foot-deep trench in the middle of the road, were now nothing but a road hazard. The celebration included a parade that went from Dearborn Street to Rainier Beach – and yes, back again. Nineteen thirty-seven also saw the first Rainier District Pow Wow, a community festival that took place every year in Seward Park until 1990. Chaired by state representative John L. O’Brien, the Pow Wow featured music and dance, fireworks, pie-eating contests, and the crowning of the Pow Wow Queen and Princesses. These lovely ladies graced many community events, including parades, over the years. John O’Brien himself drove the Pow Wow royalty car in the 1950 Hillman City Christmas Parade, organized by the Hillman City Business Roundtable. (These brave business leaders must be commended for even contemplating a parade in December in Seattle, let alone pulling it off with style!) It’s not clear when Columbia City’s annual parades ended, but they were revived in the late 1970s when Columbia City’s historic district was created. Early sponsors included the Columbia Merchants Association and SEED, then a brand-new organization. The Rainier Chamber took over in the 1980s and has been running the show ever since. Parade theorists – and yes, there are such people – tell us that a parade is a community’s way of showing itself to itself. That has certainly been true of the Rainier Valley Heritage Parade, whose entries promote local businesses, and celebrate the neighborhood’s cultural diversity, and showcase the creative, calithumpian spirit of the Rainier Valley.

Whenever young Bernice Boley had a little money, she’d head over to Vincent’s grocery for some penny candy: this was the 1930s, and a handful of hard candy could be had for just one cent. Vincent’s was right across the street from Whitworth, where Bernice went to school, and when the last bell rang there’d sometimes be quite a crowd. The tiny store occupied the front room of Mrs. Stella Vincent’s house, and it allowed Mrs. Vincent to earn a little extra money at home – no small matter during the Great Depression. The house had two entrances, each with its own porch: a larger public one for the store, and a private one for the family. Inside, Bernice recalls, the store had “glass counters, and things were displayed on shelves. You had to ask for candy at the counter, and they’d put it in a bag for you.” "It wasn't just candy, but that's what I went there for!" Mrs. Vincent’s children went to Whitworth too, and she knew the neighborhood kids well enough to help keep them in line: when Bernice’s little brother tried to buy some candy with a ten-dollar gold piece he had “borrowed” from his mother’s keepsake drawer, Mrs. Vincent called his mother to inquire, “Do you know your son’s in here with a ten-dollar gold piece?” Mrs. Boley was grateful for the call. The City Directory for 1937 lists hundreds of grocery stores in Seattle, at least 80 of them in the Rainier Valley. Tiny groceries in people’s homes served as proto-convenience stores, supplementing the larger grocery stores in regular commercial zones. Bernice’s mother, for instance, did most of her shopping at Keefe’s Grocery in Hillman City (on the northwest corner of Rainier and Orcas). “She probably went there once a week or once every two weeks. Keefe’s delivered sometimes, too.” But she might send Bernice over to Vincent’s once in a while if she ran out of milk or eggs. Places like Keefe’s allowed customers to run up a tab and pay their grocery bill monthly, or when they could afford it. Vincent’s and other “cash groceries” required payment at the time of purchase. Dan Fink remembers at least three different cash groceries in the Mt. Baker neighborhood where he grew up in the 1960s. Danny, like Bernice, was a consumer of penny candy in his youth. He says the Mt. Baker Cash Grocery at the bottom of York Road “was our favorite little store, because it was right on the way home from John Muir School. There was a little old guy who ran that store with his wife, and their son and daughter-in-law also lived right by the store. I used to play with the grandkids. So we stopped there every single day [after school], and then sometimes at night my mom would send us down to the store to get some bread or some milk, instead of going to the big grocery store.” When Dan was about eleven, he and some friends had a memorable experience at their favorite store: “We thought we were pretty smart. We also didn’t like to spend too much money on candy, but we wanted the candy. So we thought the prices were too high. We decided to put up a picket line in front of this little store. We hand-painted some signs that said, “Unfair, Candy Prices Too High.” And we marched in front of his store. This guy was probably in his sixties, and he really got upset. We’re lucky he didn’t have a heart attack. He came out and he was just screaming at us.” Dan and his friends’ foray into political activism did not have the desired effect on candy prices, alas. “No, in fact, I think we might have been not allowed in the store for a while!” The Mt. Baker Cash Grocery lasted into the 1960s: when Danny was thirteen, he bought a twenty-eight cent bottle of bleach there to dye his hair. But by that point most of the small neighborhood groceries – and the larger ones like Keefe’s – had been driven out of business by the new, enormous, car-oriented, lower-priced supermarkets. Vincent’s and the other in-home groceries all reverted to residences – today you’d never know that these houses were once grocery stores. Other former groceries around the neighborhood are easier to spot. A few still serve the neighborhood as convenience stores, but most have been converted into daycares, businesses, even homes. Their odd corner entrances and large display windows reveal their previous incarnations, reminders of the lost world of penny candy, twenty-eight cent bleach, and small-scale local retail.

Hillman City began as a stop on the Rainier Valley Streetcar line in the 1890s. The area was platted by, and named after, the notorious real estate developer C.D. Hillman. Hillman was known for his aggressive, sometimes fraudulent business practices – such as selling lots in the middle of Green Lake to people back East, who then arrived in Seattle to discover that their property was underwater. Hillman lived for a time in the peak-roofed house just behind Lough’s in this photo. Though it was never as populous as Columbia City one mile to the north, Hillman City had its own thriving business district with a real estate office, grocery and hardware store, bakery, tile factory, movie theater – even an opera house. A circular fountain at the intersection of Rainier and Orcas marked the center of the community. Hillman was annexed to the City of Seattle along with the rest of South Seattle in 1907. This building housed a cigar factory in the early 1900s. From 1933 to 1953 Lough’s Grocery and Meat Market operated here, as this 1937 photograph shows. Lough’s was a classic neighborhood grocery store, with salespeople who wrapped up your produce for you, a butcher who made his own corned beef and sausages, barrels full of pickles, monthly grocery bills instead of cash sales, and home delivery service. By the 1950s these establishments were being pushed out by supermarkets, which offered lower prices and minimal service. The 1960s and ‘70s were not kind to Hillman City – though the movie theater stayed in business, showing Asian martial arts flicks. In the 1980s, the Lough’s building became one of Hillman City’s most prominent landmarks, the Hillman City Boxing Gym. Owner Bob Jarvis trained fighters from all over the region, including the young Martin O’Malley. O’Malley’s mother encouraged him to take up boxing because it was “safer than skateboarding.” Jarvis also promoted women’s boxing matches and a controversial “mixed match” between Margaret MacGregor and Loi Chow in 1999. The building recently received a facelift and is now home to Lee’s Martial Arts Academy, providing instruction in Karate and Tae Kwon Do. C.D. Hillman’s house is still there too. “Double Exposures” is supported by the Rainier Rotary Foundation, 4Culture, and the Photographic Center Northwest

The history of bread goes back some 30,000 years, to the hunting and gathering phase of human development. Fast forward a few tens of thousands of years to 1891, and a local version of civilized society crafted by Columbia pioneers began to materialize. Lumber and shingle mills as well as the railway attracted workers who needed their daily bread. Historical records indicate several locations for bakeries along Rainier Avenue between Edmunds and Hudson Street, the two-block stretch originally designated as the business district. Frank Goetz was the proprietor of Columbia Bakery at 4855 Rainier Avenue beginning in 1914. The building was vintage 1899, a two-story wood frame commercial-residential structure. A bakery as early as 1901, it utilized a brick oven heated by burning cord wood in the baking chamber. The ashes were raked out and then the dough put in to bake. Mr. Goetz advertised “Large Cakes, Pies and Cookies Baked Fresh Every Day.” In the late 1920s this building was razed to make way for the brick clad building we see today and refer to historically as the Calvert Bakery building, where William Calvert baked breads and cakes until about 1930. About this time, Claude McNabb left Colorado with his wife Florence and children Frank, Frances, Dorothy and Claude Jr., known as “Bink”. Claude was headed north to Alaska to start a bakery but after arriving decided “that was no place to raise children.” He soon returned to the University District in Seattle where he owned and operated the Mity-Nice Bakery on the Ave. In November of 1931 a burglar fled the bakery with $7 in loot as pajama-clad Claude pulled the trigger of his revolver five times. By July of 1933, C. H. McNabb was looking for a small bakery to buy or lease, in or out of Seattle. The Columbia Electric Bakery at 4863 Rainier Avenue became that bakery and the McNabbs moved to Columbia City. At 4863-65 Rainier Avenue stood the two-story Knights of Pythias building. While the building originally featured an ornate false front with turrets, these decorative elements had been removed by the 1930s. The upstairs community gathering space had become known as Phalen Hall, named after W.W. Phalen who purchased the building in 1901. Bill Phalen, mayor of Columbia City in 1905 and again in 1907, was a successful businessman with “W.W. Phalen, Your Grocer” in the north storefront on the first floor (4863 Rainier). In the late 1930s, Columbia Electric Bakery ran Saturday specials for lemon filled and three-layer vanilla, chocolate, caramel, or coconut cakes. Also offered were assorted sliced deli meats and cheeses, Claude’s home-made mayonnaise (bring in your own container), and their own hand-dipped chocolates - stiff competition for Nick Vamkros’ Confectionery just one building to the south. Claude was also known for his rye bread crusted baked hams - customers made special requests for the cracklins left in the pan. The Columbia Electric Bakery was a union shop and Happy Cook, their first baker, was known as Cookie by the youngsters. The McNabbs lived blocks from the bakery where Claude left the family home in the early hours to begin his work day. Florence went in later, often walking home in the evenings after closing. Daughters Frances and Dorothy began working at the bakery afterschool and on Saturdays as cashiers waiting on trade. Son Frank helped with the doughnuts. But it was on Easter Monday, April 14, 1941, that the Columbia Electric Bakery really made the news. At 3:44 a.m., Battalion Chief Lincoln Johnston of Hillman Fire Station answered the first fire alarm and shortly thereafter the McNabb family heard a knock at their door. It was a man alerting Claude the bakery was on fire. Last Resort Fire Department archives reveal the two‑alarm fire started when creosote condensate on a smoke pipe ignited as the pipe overheated. The fire spread inside the walls to the other occupancies, up into the attic and through the roof. The fire was determined under control at 4:19 a.m. While the first floor of the building suffered the least damage, the Columbia Electric Bakery’s oven was ruined. Repairs were made to the building and a new roof was built over the first floor. Phalen’s Hall suffered extensive damage and the upstairs wood floor would host dances no more. A new oven was bought for the bakery and the smoke damage cleared out. In August of 1941, Claude McNabb baked the wedding cake for his daughter Dorothy’s marriage to Roy Nornholm at Columbia Congregational Church. In 1942, Claude and Florence McNabb sold the Columbia Bakery and moved to Point Mugu in California after Claude Jr. graduated from Franklin High School and was accepted for naval air training in 1943. They joined Claude’s sister and husband to manage a restaurant, motel and gas station there. Frances McNabb continued her work at the bakery with the new owner, Louis Bock who had recently arrived from Yakima, and Happy Cook is rumored to have become the manager. Mr. Bock sold to the Jack Alman brothers at some point and it became the Columbia Bakery & Coffee Shop by 1958. During the 1970s and 1980s, La Bakerery was in business and eventually, the Gather Consignment shop we know today opened its doors at 4863 Rainier Avenue South. Many thanks to Dorothy McNabb Nornholm for sharing her family memories of the bakery. Our condolences for the loss of her sister Frances McNabb Stowell on June 13, 2015. Frances was a 1939 graduate of Franklin High School, and was employed as a line cook at Franklin High School’s cafeteria for many years before retiring. Frances continued to live in her Rainier Valley home on Myrtle Street for 60 years. She was an active member of the Rainier Valley Historical Society. Also thanks to Galen Thomaier, Seattle Fire Department Historian, of Last Resort Fire Department for providing information from their archives about the fire.

Audio recording, John Parker describing the Model T Ford he built up from parts of several cars during the 1920s. https://soundcloud.com/rainier-valley-history/10005098-john-parker