Archive for the 'In my city' Category

The Balls of Bothell II

One of my early posts was called The Balls of Bothell. The Balls, Darl and Jeannine, lived for many many years on a curve of the busy road that runs around the north end of Lake Washington. I never met them, but like thousands or even millions of people traveling on Wasthington State Route 522 (called Bothell Way on that stretch), my wife and I had become familiar and even attached to their wooden sign, which we looked for and verbally celebrated every time we came around the curve in the highway where we knew it waited to announce their habitation at that place. It said “The Balls of Bothell” in big gold letters, and then in smaller letters beneath that it said “Darl and Jeannine”.

The sign hung from a post at the bottom of the Balls’ driveway. It was there for ages and then one day it was gone. I wrote a blog post about the sign and about our experience of the sign, and wondered what kind of people the Balls were and whether they were aware of how time and the increase in traffic on that once quiet country road had rendered strange such an exuberantly personal and inviting sign. (You know me…just wondering.) I didn’t have a photo of the sign to go with that post, and at the time I had no reason to think I’d ever see it again.

I think the Balls' sign hung about where this new post is. It was a few yards back from the road but the road was not as wide then.

I think the Balls’ sign hung about where this new post is. It was a few yards back from the road but the road was not as wide then. The curve is known locally as Wayne Curve.

If you go to that post and read through the comments that readers posted, you’ll see that old Darl himself eventually got wind of my post and logged in to give a shout out to all his fans, reporting that he still had the old sign and the sad news that Jeannine had passed on a few years earlier. I made a mental note to track him down and ask him if I could come look at the old board and take some photos of it, but I never got around to doing it.

Darl Ball, 1926 - 2013

Darl Ball, 1926 – 2013

Then Darl died, a fact I learned in those same comments when his relatives and friends started turning up and leaving little eulogies to him and Jeannine. One of those people was Darl’s nephew, Bradley Mitchell, who goes by Mitch and in conversation calls his uncle simply “Ball”. Mitch commented to let me know the sign had come to him and that if I wanted to see it I should come over to his home in Kirkland soon, because he was preparing to ship the sign to some relatives out of state who had the Ball surname.

I visited Mitch this past June. He is an interesting character in his own right, having himself many times been the subject of magazine and newspaper articles and television segments because of his large collection of deep sea diving gear and other marine equipment, many specimens of which fill his home. In the relatively small world of deep sea diving gear hobbyists, I’m sure his is a household name. But he clearly lives in a state of constant and enduring admiration of the man he calls simply “Ball,” and while he commented with very few words about anything related to his own celebrity, he was fairly verbose about his uncle’s life and times, and had dragged out for my perusal numerous photos and several paper artifacts from his uncle’s days in the Merchant Marine (Certificate of Efficiency to Lifeboat Man, serial number B71663; Certificate of Service to Able Seaman, serial number A120679; and a temporary American passport issued by the American consul at the East African port city then known as Laurenço de Marques, now Maputo in the People’s Republic of Mozambique).

Young Darl and his Merchant Marine buddies.

Young Darl (far left) and his Merchant Marine buddies.

I took several photos of the photographs he laid out. I spent an hour with him during which he said a lot of things that I did not write down and which I cannot now remember. I do recall him noting several times that Ball joined the Merchant Marine even though he couldn’t swim a stroke. That single fact seemed to represent the very gizzard of the man for Mitch. He also told me, something that may be of interest to history, that his was the third sign the Balls hung, that two others had been stolen over the years. I can’t remember if he said the earlier ones were smaller or larger, but I think they were not all of the same dimensions. It’s my opinion that when the stolen ones eventually turn up in some garage or at a flea market, they should be given to the City of Bothell for museum pieces.

You can read about Mitch in this April 7, 2007 Seattle Times article, and if you catch up with Mitch you can ask him all about his Uncle Darl, how the man went to Texas or someplace to buy a large piece of construction equipment — a crane, I think — and drove the thing all the way back to Seattle to use in the landscape business he’d started after the war. I would have liked to be able to relate more of what Mitch told me about him, since I had openly wondered about the Balls in my earlier post, but it wasn’t the right time and I was not on my reporter game.

Nevertheless, my main purpose was fulfilled; I got to see the sign again, which was much larger than I had remembered. And because I know there are so many out there who remember it fondly, I provide a couple of pictures of it herebelow, with thanks to Bradley Mitchell for letting me take them and use them.

Mitch Bradley.


Sign Number Three.

Sign Number Three.

Update 29 May 2014: This story never seems to come to an end. People keep commenting on the original Balls of Bothell post. Someone commented today, actually a comment addressed to Mitch (shown above) not to me. But it got me curious, so I did some googling and found a Bothell Reporter obituary for Jeannine that included a small photo of her, which I include herebelow. I don’t have any rights to the material, but I’m claiming “educational purposes”. I thought people might like to see a photo of one of the principles in this strangely ongoing tale. There’s also a Facebook page called “You know you’re from Bothell if…”, where the facilitator posted one of the above photos of the sign, and the comments it drew are very interesting and enlightening. One old Bothellian recalls that a photo of the sign made an appearance on Jay Leno’s The Tonight Show or David Letterman’s Late Night. Also, almost unbelievably, the first “Balls” sign was made by a person named Cox.

Jeannine Ball

Jeannine Ball

Jeannine Ball, 81, passed away quietly in her sleep on Tuesday, September 22, 2010 surrounded by those she loved. Those who loved her know her long battle with illness is over and she is at peace. Jeannine will be remembered for her loving spirit, caring nature, and bright sparkling eyes. A friend to all, she lived in the Bothell area for nearly 40 years. She was an avid gardener who loved her roses and dahlias along with the birds and wildlife they attracted. Jeannine’s indomitable spirit and never-ending sense of humor were an inspiration to all. She leaves behind three daughters, Bobbie Metters, Debbie Rayburn (Buck) and Charnell Morud (Doug) and six grandchildren: Jayson, Katherine, Charles, Tessa, Carey, and Evan. Sisters Jorgia Irish, Sandra Winterburn (Victor) and their families, as well as former husband and friend, Darl Ball, are with her in spirit. All will miss her dearly but rejoice in having shared her life. Jeannine knew the true meaning of love. Her legacy is that she shared so much of that love with her family, friends and everyone she encountered. Services were held Thursday, September 30 at Purdy & Walters at Floral Hills in Lynnwood. To view the everlasting memorial visit Remembrances may be made to Meals on Wheels or other services for seniors.

Following the obituary’s trail, I also found her archived remembrance page on the Dignity Memorial website, where a gallery preserves several dozen pictures of Jeannine taken throughout her life, from childhood to her last days. One of them — and again, I have no rights to it so tell me if it is yours and you don’t want it up here — is this wonderful image:

The infamous pair and their infamous sign. Oh the glee!

The infamous pair and their infamous sign. Oh the glee!

New gargoyle post over on GSGH

I’ve stopped posting the Great Seattle Gargoyle Hunt images and solutions here. I have (at least for the nonce) slowed down with my more personal writing and it was starting to feel to me as though the GSGH posts were taking over my blog.

So I’ve created a separate blog for the GSGH (actually, I did this a while ago), which is here.

There’s a new gargoyle posted there for all of you bloodthirsty hunters. There isn’t any “comment community” over there so it’s kinda lonely, but it’s gotten pretty quiet over here too lately, and anyway I do monitor that blog so if you play you will still be acknowledged. However, I’ve designed it so that the hunt entries will always be separate from their solution entries so that any future inhabitants of earth can play the already solved GSGHs. They just won’t get limericks.

GSGH #12 solution

I thought that Gargoyle #12 might keep even Issy occupied for a while since its location is a little bit off the beaten path of my usual wanderings, but she pegged it as the Eagles Auditorium on the northeast corner of Seventh Avenue and Union Street. Here’s a wider shot of the eagle that posed for our original hunt post:

The west entrance to what is now called Kreielsheimer Place, just one of its many names.

This is another building I have zilcho history with, and in fact I only noticed the decorative eagle on it for the first time when I was out one day shooting city fountains for our Aqua Urbana tour. That doesn’t mean the building doesn’t have any history, and in fact it has been “as busy as Issy” since its completion in 1926, if you’ll allow the minting of a new phrase.

The old Eagles Auditorium has housed A Contemporary Theater since 1995.

The building now is called Kreielsheimer Place and houses ACT Theater (sic), which, because people have always insisted on appending the word “theater” to its acronym, has given in to common usage and must now pretend that its acronym does not mean anything, or at least that it does not already include the word ‘theater’ — an untenable turn of events for the dwindling race of strict grammarians, equivalent to a normal person’s zombie apocalypse.

The hall in earlier days, around 1926. This is the southwest corner of the building, or the northeast corner of Seventh and Union. Image property of Museum of History and Industry.

But where were we? Oh yes, we were about to go back in time. But I’ll let the National Park Service repeat what’s on their “Seattle: A National Register of Historic Places Travel Itinerary” web page, since it’s so evocatively told:

On February 6, 1898, a group of theater managers met to discuss some business matters. The men decided to take a walk along the tide flats, and upon reaching the shipyards, settled upon some pilings, where the conversation took a philosophical turn. Combining their ideas on democracy and brotherhood, it was decided that an organization should be formed to reflect this spirit, an organization called the “Seattle Order of Good Things.” Later renamed the “Fraternal Order of Eagles,” the society’s constitution asked its members to “make human life more desirable by lessening its ills and promoting peace, prosperity, gladness, and hope.”

I don’t know anything about the Eagles, except that I met and danced with my wife at a folk dance in a hall that they built in Ballard, so for that reason alone they’re okay in my book. I find the above vignette actually very moving and while I know that some of these fraternal organizations surround themselves in great secrecy and wear funny hats and develop secret handshakes and assume austere titles for themselves, I think if they’re also achieving in any measure the goals they set for themselves in their original constitution then they’ve done well.

Eight hundred members of the WPA (Works Progress Administration) raise their hands in a yea vote to continue a strike in 1937. For the naysayer behind his hat in the front row, his vote is something he'd rather not have his neighbors find out about in the morning paper, a reminder that extraordinary courage used to be required of ordinary people at regular intervals. Image property of Museum of History and Industry.

The building was, I think, a hotel at some point called the Senator, although I have no more information than that and don’t know when that might have been. In the 1950s it passed into the hands of the Unity Church of Truth, which did its thing there until 1960, and from the mid-’60s until 1970 it hosted many musical acts, including Leon Russell, the Grateful Dead, John Mayall and Jethro Tull.

Here’s a shot of the avian decoration above the south-facing entrance on Union. Thanks again for playing, Issy. Every time you (or anyone else) win one of these hunts, I learn something about my town I didn’t know before.

This Eagle is slightly smaller and its wings are stretched out to its sides rather than upward.

GSGH #13 winner limerick

I’ve been really busy lately (in a good kind of way) and I haven’t even done the solution post for Gargoyle #12 yet, but I promised Issy another limerick for #13 so I thought I’d best get to it. Our resident slayer has put up two more crisp wins. Gargoyle #13 turns out, as Issy rightly declared, to be on the Caroline Kline Galland Building on the southwest corner of Second Avenue and University Street.

Gargoyle #13. I included some of the building's name because I had thought this hunt would be harder.

Although I have taken a few photos of it both intentionally and incidentally I know almost goose-egg about this structure. The only history I have with it is that I fell in love with a painting called “Oakley Doakley” by Idaho artist Jerri Lisk, which hung until it was sold in the Patricia Rovzar Gallery, which occupies the corner space at the street level. (The gallery rotates its artists and it just happens that Lisk is the featured artist again as I write this, so if you’re curious you can stroll by and have a look at her style.)

One of Seattle's early steel-frame buildings. Not having to rely on brick or stone for load bearing enabled exterior walls with larger windows. Hey, perfect for art galleries!

What’s in the name? The Bavarian-born Caroline Roseberg wed two men, first the successful Seattle clothier Louis Kline and then the retired successful San Francisco merchant and Seattle philanthropist Bonham Galland, outliving both of them. She had Max Umbrecht design this little investment for her, supposedly in 1906, though I can’t figure out why, if that’s really the date of design, the lions’ medallions clearly announce “1905”, unless building supply companies sold year-old lions back then the way shops sell day-old loaves of bread.

The Caroline Kline Galland Building shortly after it was completed, with the kind of massive overhanging cornice that invariably seemed like a bad idea after an earthquake. The construction date is listed on records as 1906, but the lions and I have our doubts. Image courtesy of University of Washington Libraries.

Ms. Galland died childless only a year or two after the building was completed, and all of her many real estate holdings — except this building — were sold to fulfill her wish that her wealth “may bring to the lives of the aged men and women … the greatest degree of contentment and happiness in their declining years.” Annual income from the Galland building was used to build the Caroline Kline Galland Home for the Aged and Feeble Poor, which, according to a Samis Land Company document I dug up from 2007, was at that time still operating in Seward Park and still equipped to care for 205 residents. The document is here and it includes a lot of interesting old photos which are unfortunately very low resolution, but it’s still worth a look.

This angle from a parking tower up the street shows the top floor with its outdoor patio. I can't tell from earlier photos if this was original or added later. If anyone knows, say.

It’s no surprise to me that this building turns out to be a Samis building. Sam Israel bought the building in 1969 from the trustees of Galland’s estate, the Seattle Title and Trust Company. I wonder if it was because like Galland, Israel was a philanthropist who had a passion for helping fellow Jews. I once heard this about Sam Israel, though I don’t know how true it is or isn’t: he bought up a lot of old properties in Seattle and sat on them. He didn’t improve or update the properties but he wouldn’t sell them either, which made developers crazy in the 1960s when they were tearing down the old brick and stone city to build a new one in sleek concrete. I heard that he’d keep the roofs in good repair to protect the investment, but he was deaf to tenant complaints and appeals for other improvements. He channeled the rent money from his properties into charities that benefited Jews and the nation of Israel.

It's kind of an odd duck, really, Chicago at the front with some winking Frank Lloyd off the side of the top. From this angle, the top floor looks integral to the original design. Someone please invite me up.

During Israel’s later years, the old properties around his were all torn down and the lots redeveloped and the streetscape of Seattle changed gaggingly for the worse, but the buildings Israel owned are now civic treasures. Thank you Sam for your miserly refusal to stoke the engines of Progress, and thank you Caroline for your many gifts to humanity, including this belioned building.

And thanks to Issy once more for your unflagging enthusiasm in keeping the game afoot. Here’s another limerick for Seattle’s winnin’est gargoyle hunter.

That Isabelle is quite a gal, and
she found our last cat on the Galland.
A gargoyle she’ll tether
regardless of whether
it’s footed or finnéd or talon’d.

Great Seattle Gargoyle Hunt #13

The Great Seattle Gargoyle Hunt continues with a thirteenth gargoyle, even though hunt #12 is at the moment of this writing still unsolved. This shot includes a few extra clues, because hey, I don’t want this to be agony, I want it to be fun. For rules of play see the first entry, here.

Where is this 107-year-old lion? Use the comments to submit your answer…or even your silly wild-ass guess. No answer that includes a Seattle location is invalid (it may be wrong but it won’t be invalid). Throw out a guess and see what happens.

Gargoyle #13

Just look #5

I know. I’m working on it. In the meantime, here’s a Just Look, a shot I took last November. It’s a little bit forlorn, but I find myself attracted to such views. I think some of the forlornity of it comes from its showing the outside of a stadium, which is the wrong side of a stadium to be on. A stadium is built to house a big party of fun, so even if there’s nothing happening in one the view of the outside of it naturally promotes a feeling of being left out. Or maybe that’s just the mindset I carry around. Come to think of it, yeah, I’m sure that’s it.

A mopey shot, in case you were feeling too chipper.

GSGH #10 solution

Our tenth installment of the Great Seattle Gargoyle Hunt took forever to be solved. Apparently, no one wanted to be seen as lunging at such an easy win. I finally had to beg readers for someone to please just toss it out there. Past winner Marni responded with the correct answer because she can’t stand to see me suffer. Here’s a wider crop of the contest image:

Gargoyle #10, as it were.

Marni commented correctly that the gargoyle for contest #10 is an element of the Cobb Building on the northwest corner of Fourth Avenue and University Street. Below is a shot I took last spring showing most of the building, with the Indian heads visible around the exterior of the ninth floor.

The Cobb as it looked when I strolled by in May 2011.

Many moons ago, my children, the white father Arthur Denny donated for the Territorial University a big slab of the hillside beside Elliott Bay, of which he owned the central part. It became known as the Metropolitan Tract. In old birds-eye maps you can see University Street charging up the hill only to be interrupted halfway between Third and Fourth by the grounds of the original Territorial University building, which had four columns to its portico and a distinguishing belfry.

A crop from the 1878 Bancroft birds-eye. The Cobb stands in what is here shown as an undeveloped corner of the University's tract, and partly on top of Fourth Avenue, which at that time jogged around the tract further west than it is now.

A crop from the 1884 birds-eye by H. Wellge. I really should have included these in the Olympic Hotel piece (GSGH #11), since the Territorial University building sat where the Metropolitan Theater and eventually the hotel's motor entrance were built.

A crop from the Hughes birds-eye of 1891. Now that the Plymouth Congregation Church is installed on Third and University (light red, just left and below center), it's a good time to segue to the next photo...

Plymouth Congregational Church on Third Avenue, built in 1891, and the Cobb up on Fourth. Compare with the birds-eyes above, and you'll be able to place the Cobb's location back through history. Fourth Avenue was previously where the alley between the church and the office building appears, but has been moved east up the hill to remove the jogs in it. Photo by Asahel Curtis used with permission, courtesy of the Lawton Gowey collection via Paul Dorpat, with thanks.

The university moved over to Portage Bay where it blossomed into the huge affair it is now. By early 1909, the Metropolitan Building Company, which was developing the downtown acreage on behalf of the university, felt that Seattle had reached the point where it could begin to “centralize various classes of business” the way other major cities did.* Accordingly it drew up its plans for the Cobb as a building “to be given over to physicians and dentists”. The building was designed (by Howells & Stokes) and equipped to maximize its appeal to practitioners of the healing arts. It was finished in 1910 and billed by the Seattle Times as the “finest physicians’ and dentists’ building that has ever been erected in any part of the world”.

The Cobb (left) and its sibling the White-Henry-Stuart Building, circa 1915. Image property of Museum of History and Industry. The WHS was sacrificed to make way for Rainier Tower, the famous "pedestal building".

In case prospective tenants needed the idea of a physicians’ and dentists’ building hammered home, a medallion was placed above the door that depicts a profile of Hippocrates. It’s still there. His name arcs above his profile in Greek capital letters (ΊΠΠΟΚΡΑΤΗΣ), so that people like me tend to see the word Innokpathe, which still works in a way, because to my mind it suggests “enough suffering”. (I know, sorry, I’ll stop.)

The medallion over the entryway is a profile of Hippocrates (click any of these images to enlarge, as usual). The Indian head shown below is in the glowing lit vestibule partly visible to the right here.

An envoy representing the austere assembly nine floors above. This one hangs in an external vestibule which is open to the public all the time. Note the depth of the relief.

One of the terra cotta Indian heads is available for study at close range. It’s in an exterior vestibule to the right of the front entrance on Fourth. I don’t know if this was an extra chief, or if this is one that was removed from up above at some point, or if it was always meant to be here or what. It shares the vestibule with a bank machine, but I think the vestibule is not original to the 1910 floorplan. I think there were retail shops in this space, perhaps as late as my own time. If anyone knows, please say. The sculpture is larger than it looks here, a good six to eight feet tall. I wish I had had the presence of mind to stick a tourist in front of it for scale.

I’ll leave you with several more shots of this arresting edifice, one from a bunch that Paul Dorpat sent over when I told him what I was up to (his own treatment of the Cobb in his Seattle Times “Now & Then” series is here), and two that I shot earlier this year.  Thanks to Marni for delivering the winning ID, to Paul for historic photo support, and to Pedro for digging up some great old newspaper clippings on the building.

The men trading next to the cart at the left edge don't seem to realize or care about the sweeping changes overtaking the neighborhood. Rent's going up, guys! Image courtesy of Paul Dorpat.

The southeast corner of the Cobb against the City Centre Building (née Pacific First Centre) a few blocks away.

One of the Cobb Indians holding on to the last sunlight of the day.

*According to J. F. Douglass, secretary of the Metropolitan Building Company, quoted in an article in the Seattle Times, March 28, 1909.


The Great Seattle Gargoyle Hunt


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