Tonight, July 31, 2009, Jean and I drove over to West Seattle’s Kenyon Hall to be part of – a small part – of Jack Hansen’s wake – a mix of music, reminiscences and food. It will not be the last send off for Jack, who played on every Puget Sound shore (and a few on the eastern seaboard as well) and was cherished by many communities as one of this region’s sharing virtuosos. Another wake is planned for Bellingham, where Jack is remembered for his talents already as a teenager. I first heard him there in 1969 and then got to know Jack through the Fairhaven community on Bellingham’s south side. (It is still there.) Friend Marc Cutler, then of the band Uncle Henry, introduced us. And Marc is still in Bellingham, or near it, and making music. We suspect he will be at the Bellingham send off with his guitar.
Here at DSL (dorpatsherrardlomont) this may be our first Sports Report. We cannot be certain, for although we often do “look back” with this blog, just now we are not inclined to search our own archive. (My how such contradictions continue to pester us!)
Whatever, this is the story of the annual “The Old Ball Game,” also known as the EEE for the “Eskenazi-Eals Extravaganza,” which the founder will explain soon below. Actually, the beginning is remembered vividly. “The Old Ball Game” it is still too young to have a myth of origins. That requires time – three generations, at least.
Our First Sports Report starts with co-founder David Eskenazi’s appreciation for EEE’s “founder’s-founder” Clay Eals. In this we use David to introduce Clay’s longer reminiscence, which follows.
Interspersed will be a variety of photographs – some of them with captions – snapped from this year’s game by Jean Sherrard. And Clay is searching for scenes from earlier ball games as well.
The biggest illustration will be of the post-game player’s-pose last Sunday July 26 at the Alki Playfield. We include with its annotated caption something revealing about the performance of every player. Interspersed in this report are photos of David depicting recent honors that have come his way in his important role as Seattle’s baseball historian.
Bérangère sends us the following delights from the Dordogne:
There are so many ways to be amazed in Périgord; it is a province set with so many natural and architectural marvels, and sometimes we can contemplate them both.
Travel through time in the Valley of Vezère (a site classified Patrimoine de l’Humanité by UNESCO) from prehistory to history. We can discover 1500 castles; many have gardens, but the ones presented are exceptional. Their maintenance costs a fortune; the Eyrignac gardens and the Marqueyssac hanging gardens are classified among the most beautiful in France.
Chateau de Hautefort at the top of the hill is surrounded by a great garden. The most extraordinary part is the jardin à la Française on the south terrace, where we embrace the panorama, and walk through the vegetal domes…
(click on photos to enlarge)
Traditionally, Jardin à la Française are comprised only of green sculpted vegetation; the flowers below at Hautefort are a modern evolution (blasphemy for the purists).
The Eyrignac Manor House gardens were designed in the 18th century by the Marquis de Calprenede. Here is found topiary art at its best; the experience for every visitor is marvelous – what a joy to see the apple trees of a true Garden of Eden!
It was very moving to see one of the gardeners cutting bushes with scissors. The image was symbolic to me; such vast labors to attempt perfection, as in life.
Castelnaud’s garden, dating from the middle ages, is designed in the shape of a cross like a monastery garden.
It is protected by a fence lined by roses, the aromatic plants at upper left, the utilitarian ones upper right; vegetables, lower right, and medicinal herbs lower left; in the center there is an almond tree and vines.
The Jardin de Marqueyssac is 22 hectares big, with 150,000 boxes… What a belvedere in the valley of Dordogne!!! The castle in the distant hills on the left is Castelnaud.
With panoramic views of the Dordogne, the little marvel of Marqueyssac was built just before the revolution. The castle roof was made with lauzes (traditional stones cut for roofs ) and weighs nearly 500 tonnes.
It is very rare for this little weekly feature to get its present before its past, and yet for this comparison I photographed the “now” view of the water end of Pier 70 before I found the “then.” Aboard an Argosy tour boat I prudently recorded everything along the waterfront. That was in 2006 – about. A sign for the law firm Graham and Dunn, the pier’s principal tenant since 2003, shares the west wall with the pier number. Although it is not a perfect match with the “then,” it will do for studying the latest remodel of this big wharf at the foot of Broad Street.
Constructed in 1901-2 for the salmon packers Ainsworth and Dunn, at 570 x 175 feet it was the first large pier at the north end of the waterfront. Here nearly new, it seems still in need of paint and shows no signs of signs and few of work. On the left, Broad Street makes a steep climb to what is now Seattle Center. The northern slope of Denny Hill draws the horizon on the right. (It is still several years before that hill was razed for the regrade.)
Besides Salmon, through its first 70 years Pier 70 was the Puget Sound port for several steamship companies including the English Blue Funnel and the German Hamburg American lines. Among the imports handled here were cotton, tea, rubber, liquor (It was a warehouse for the state’s Liquor Control Board during Word War 2.) and soybeans. The beans were processed across Alaska Way from Pier 70 in what is now the Old Spaghetti Works, although not for a nutritious gluten free noodle but for glue used in the making of plywood.
Joining the general central waterfront tide from work to play, Pier 70 was converted to retail in 1970. Still far from the central waterfront, it was no immediate success. There was then no waterfront trolley, no Sculpture Garden, and, next door, no new Port of Seattle. By now both the Belltown and Seattle Center neighborhoods above the pier are piling high with condo constructions and conversions and the waterfront foot of Broad is quite lively.
Until the numbers were changed by the military along the entire shoreline of Elliott Bay during World War Two, Pier 70 was numbered Pier 14 – as we see it here, again from off-shore. The roofline of some structures on the horizon are the same as those that appear in the earlier scene. The signs that faced shipping broadcast names that were long familiar ones for Pier 14/70 – Ainsworth and Dunn (barely readable at the top of this west facade), the Blue Funnel Line, and the Dodwell Dock and Warehouse Company.
Many of these names appear also on the Railroad Avenue side of Pier 70 in this view of it sent this way by Ron Edge, who appears in this blog not infrequently as a contributor, often with a “button” we have named “Edge Clippings.”
Certainly the local enthusiasm directed to this year’s centennial celebration for Seattle’s “first world’s fair,” the Alaska Yukon and Pacific Exposition, exceeds that demonstrated for Seattle’s 150th anniversary: its sesquicentennial of only a few years past. The exhibits, web sites, and publications interpreting AYP are a big basket, and it is filling.
An early example is enthusiast-collector-scholar Dan Kerlee’s site aype.com. Dan also gave generous help toward the publishing of historylink’s “timeline history” of the AYPE. Vintage Seattle is another community website that is attending this centennial. Visit www.vintageseattle.org/2008/05/28/hoo-are-you-hoo-hoo and you will discover undated snapshots of the AYP’s Hoo-Hoo building – here on the left – when it was still used by the University of Washington’s Faculty Club.
Ellsworth Storey, the northwest architect admired for his variations on the Craftsman style, designed it for the Hoo-Hoos, not a club for retired Santas but a lumbermen’s fraternity, which used it throughout the fair for banquets and parties in which their love for cats and the number 9 always played some part. Nine house cats helped run the place, curling up at night on any piece of mission-style furniture they preferred. Sculpted black cats with electric green eyes met visitors near the front door.
The more rustic structure on the right was a facsimile of the Hudson Bay Company’s blockhouse at Nanaimo on Vancouver Island. In 1909 the original was a mere 56 years old and a century later it survives as one of the oldest buildings in British Columbia. The AYP facsimile was commissioned by and served as fair headquarters for the Vancouver B.C. Daily World newspaper.
Number 60. At least that is what the announcements for this year’s parade proposed. The first photo shown here may well be of that first kiddies parade sixty years past. If someone takes the time to read through the tabloid North Central Outlooks for the summer of 1950 this may be confirmed. Stan Stapp, long time publisher-editor of the Outlook and also Wallingford’s greatest public historian, loaned me a copy of this record of single-filed kiddies marching west into the intersection of 45th Street and Wallingford Avenue, the neighborhood’s signature cross-roads.
(Click to enlarge photos)
The rest of the photographs included are from this year’s parade, which like all others was promoted as “All About Kids” by Seafair and our neighborhood’s powers of concern. All about kids – almost. This year, at least, it was also about five old men with beards whom you see in the next photograph. Unfortunately, I can no longer remember who stopped to take my camera and snap it. I was in a state of high anticipation for the parade and very pleased to be posing with the complete retinue or cabal of the parade’s Grand Marshals near the front door of Al’s Tavern off of Corliss. (It was morning and the tavern was not open.) It is there, north and south from 45th on Corliss that the parade’s parts were first staged and then one-by-one sent west on 45th for a six-block procession that took about 15 minutes to walk or roll.
We can pull an imperfect caption for the above photograph from the description made by the parade’s announcer or master of ceremonies from a stage in front of the Wallingford Center. As we rolled by in our borrowed carriage, a 1961 Mercedes convertible coup, (and so only eleven years younger than the parade,) this good humored although confused voice of Seafair described us in an order that also fits how we are posing here from left to right.
“First we have Dick Barnes, Wallingford farmer. Wave Dick. Then we have Pat Dorpat . . . correction. Paul Dorpat, Wallingford walker and public historian. Next is Dick [actually David] Notkin, 25 years at the U.W. [and now Professor and Bradly Chair of Computer Science & Engineering Department], then our very own Charlotte Trelease, their chauffeur. [This is a mistake by half. She may be theirs but Charolette can be seen to be also one of ours, the five guys with gray beards.] And (finally) Nancy the tree lady.” [That is Nancy “Appleseed” Merrill who is responsible for the planting of so many of our new trees along the neighborhood’s parking strips. It was Nancy who produced our parade part, supplied the shinier beards and designed the identifying signs. It was also Nancy who taught us how to wave like festival princesses with just a slight rotating – and not flapping – at the wrist.]
The Seafair announcer then concludes our part, “Nancy wants to remind you to water your trees. These are the Grand Marshals of the 59th Annual Wallingford parade.” At was at this moment from his position on the trunk, David in red expressed for all of us, “I knew we would be great, but I did not know about the grand.”
We were liked – as we gently coasted down 45th, applauded and hailed. Someone shouted to Charlotte, “Can I have your car?” And she called back, “It comes with the beard.” At another point the promenading Nancy walked boldly beyond the Mercedes and briefly in front of it and then return to her position beside its starboard side confessing to all of our great amusement, “I almost ran over myself.” At the intersection with Bagley my friends Sally Anderson and Jay Miller – who live up the block cozily side-by-side – were surprised to see me and shouted their good wishes, which I answered with an order that they kneel, which they did not. In fact throughout the parade no one went to their knees or even bowed for these marshals.
But we were laughed at a good deal, and anything any of our quintet shared with the other four was thought to be funny, and may have been funny by some law of humor relativity in which feeling good encourages the comic vision over the tragic one. At one point I turned around to David and Dick who – you can see – were sitting behind me on the trunk and noted, “Tomorrow this will all be a dream.” David wisely answered, “What do you mean? It is a dream now.” It was a Wallingford version for the Warholesque celebrity dream – this time twenty minutes or six blocks of fame while rolling by our loving neighbors.
Our part in this Kiddies parade was near its end in the concluding motorcade of odd vehicles including one with more Seafair clowns. The parade pictures that follow in thumbnail can all be moused or clicked for enlargements. Most of them were taken by Jean (of this blog) who took a break from his three weeks of running a drama camp at Hillside School in Bellevue. Perhaps he was still buoyant from that other parade, which he so wonderfully recorded and exhibited here, the Fremont Solstice Parade. Other photographers included Ray Burdick, Sally Anderson and myself. If you don’t see these names you know Jean took it.
I nearly missed this parade. Our part started without me for I was away – but not too far to find me – interviewing an old friend about the brilliance of his first grand daughter who was with him. “Off the charts” is how he put it. I also interviewed – and during the parade as we “Grand Marshals” waited to take out part – David, the uniformed actual marshal who was in charge of organizing the pre-parade line-up on Corliss and then releasing the groups one by one down 45th Street.
After he had sent one of the marching corps with his repeated advice “Enjoy the parade,” I approached him and asked, “How’s the size of this year’s parade?” With the political grace of someone who knows to answer a question from both sides, he replied, “Actually it is pretty much similar to the rest of the years. I think we have a couple more units this year. It’s about the same size. It’s grown every year. I’ve only been a marshal for a couple of years now, but as far as I know this is one of the older parades that we do. At last count there are about forty neighborhood parades. They begin near the end of March and continue to the end of September.”
At this point David’s mother, who was also in a nautical Seafair uniform, came forward and embraced me. I recognized her, and immediately thought – but did not ask – perhaps it was she who promoted me as a non-working marshal. I asked her, “You are really in charge here aren’t you?” She answered. “Oh no-no. David and Kate are in charge. (I did not see Kate although I had corresponded with her earlier.) I am in charge of their support groups.” It seemed like quibbling to me.
So I turned to David again, and without asking he answered, “Mom is the HMIC, the Head Marshal in Command.” Then someone – perhaps his mom – sent a signal to a small device strapped to his shoulder. It was time to release the next group – Family Works was its name – down the promenade. He advised, “You should be ready to go. Have a great parade. Have a great parade.”
The Alaska Yukon and Pacific Exposition’s official photographer, Frank H. Nowell, was not the only commercial camera working the fair grounds and – in this week’s subject – its perimeter. Here with the useful caption “O.A.C. Cadets in camp – A.Y.P. Expo. – Seattle June 5th 9 – 09” the unidentified photographer has named the part of her or his subject that might pay for the effort of recording it: the cadets themselves.
The Oregon Agricultural College Cadets’ tents have been pitched just outside the fair grounds in the wide lawn northeast of the Administration Building, the first building raised on the new “Interlaken campus” in 1894-95. In 1909 it was still one year short of being renamed Denny Hall.
Thanks now to Jennifer Ott who helped research historylink’s new “timeline history” of the AYPE. I asked Jennifer if she had come upon any description of the part played in the Exposition by what Paula Becker, our go-between and one of the authors of the timeline, capsulated for us as “those farmin’ Oregon boys.” Ott thought it likely that the cadets participated in the “military athletic tournament” which was underway on June 5, the date in our caption. Perhaps with this camp on the Denny lawn they were also at practice, for one of the tournament’s exhibitions featured “shelter camp pitching.”
Jennifer Ott also pulled “a great quote” from the Seattle Times, for June 12. It is titled “Hostile Cadets in Adjoining Camps,” and features the Washington and Idaho cadets, but not Oregon’s. Between the Idaho and Washington camps the “strictest picket duty was maintained and no one was admitted until word was sent to the colonel in command, who was nowhere to be found. This meant that no one was admitted, except the fair sex, the guards having been instructed to admit women and girls without passes from the absent colonel.” And that is discipline!
LEWIS AND CLARK HALLS
When the University of Washington’s first dormitories on the new campus were constructed in 1899, they were arranged to give students inspiring views of Lake Washington and the Cascade Mountains. Most of the university presidents that UW president Frank Graves canvassed for recommendations on dormitories advised against them, usually on the grounds of hormones.. They would be hard to control. A minority, however, saw the spiritual side of students staying on campus. Because students had to endure long and overcrowded trolley rides between the school and the city, there was – both students and regents agreed – “a remarkable lack of college spirit.”
Graves estimated that in 1899 there were, at most, accommodations for 30 students in the homes of Brooklyn (the name then for the U District). Graves’ hopes that neighborhood churches might set up dorms came to nothing. Truth was, Brooklyn had more cows than citizens, and their free-ranging habits were so annoying that the school fenced the campus with barbed wire. When the students moved into their new Lewis (for men) and Clark (for women) halls in January 1900, they had their own cows corralled behind the dorms. The 130 men and women shared a dining room – and the milk – in the basement of the women’s dorm.
The president advised his married faculty to follow his example and invite students home so they might “ become acquainted with good homes and learn the usages of the best society.” But when Graves made an unannounced inspection of the women’s dorm while investigating charges of lax discipline, he found their rooms generally “unkempt.” The coeds responded by marching around campus and singing a parody of their president to the tune of “We Kept the Pig in the Parlor.”