Seattle Now & Then: John Cheshiahud (aka Lake Union John), 1904

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THEN1: Cheshiahud (also known as Lake Union John) and his second wife, Tleebuleetsa (Madeline), pose near their cabin in a 1904 portrait taken by Orion Denny, David’s nephew.
NOW1: Duwamish elder Ken Workman stands near the location of Cheshiahud’s cabin at the foot of Shelby Street with an eastern view of Portage Bay.

Published in The Seattle Times online on April 13, 2023
and in PacificNW Magazine of the printed Times on April 16, 2023

A paved path around Lake Union honors a Duwamish chief and his beloved homeland
By Jean Sherrard

In May 1906, while his second wife, Tleebuleetsa lay dying in their Portage Bay cabin, John Cheshiahud honored her final wish. As the Seattle Post-Intelligencer reported, it was “that in her last days … she be surrounded by her kinsfolk … and the friends of her youth.”

THEN2: This blurry photo of the Cheshiahud cabin was taken in late May 1906 during a three-day gathering to bid farewell to Tleebuleetsa on her deathbed. Friends and relatives feasted at plank tables outside.

Lake Union John, as Cheshiahud was known to his white neighbors, sent messengers throughout the Duwamish diaspora, and during three days of celebration and solemn farewell, family and friends came from the Port Madison, Puyallup and Muckleshoot reservations to pay last respects.

A Duwamish chief, Cheshiahud is noted for remaining in Seattle long after the influx of white immigrants. Born circa 1820, he came of age before the settlers’ arrival. In a 90-year life, he witnessed unimaginable change.

His close friendship with a prominent newcomer fueled his drive to remain on ancestral land near his birth village. A sympathetic David Denny (1832-1903) sold him five forested acres on Portage Bay for a dollar.

While hunting, fishing, trapping and occasionally serving as tour guide, Cheshiahud straddled two worlds, one on the verge of certain annihilation.

THEN3: Cheshiahud (left) pilots his canoe in 1885, transporting travelers across Portage Bay, seen here in a timeworn photo. Late in life, testifying in a property dispute, he said, “You white men measure everything: the depths of the waters, the distances of the land, here, there, everywhere. … We Indians come and go and care nothing for measurements.”

Given earlier encounters with white homesteaders, Cheshiahud may have anticipated coming troubles, having narrowly escaped execution by a lynch mob. Denny’s daughter, Abbie Denny-Lindsley, provided the harrowing details in a newspaper account decades later:

She wrote that in 1854, her father, with David “Doc” Maynard and Henry Yesler, discovered the remains of a murder victim in a shallow grave near Lake Union. Advanced decay prevented identification. “When the murder became known,” she wrote, “three young Indians were arrested and imprisoned … although no more guilty than the rest of their tribe.”

An angry mob gathered and hung two of the men. As they strung up the third, Sheriff Carson Boren arrived and ordered them to stop, but they refused. In response, “he cut the rope,” noted Denny-Lindsley (Boren’s niece), “just in time to save [Cheshiahud]’s life.”

Found innocent of any charges, Cheshiahud “never ceased to be grateful” to his rescuer, who happened to be the same person who initially detained him without cause. Leaders of the lynch mob also were tried, Denny-Lindsley wrote, but it “never amounted to anything.”

In summer 1906, distraught after Tleebuleetsa’s passing, Cheshiahud sold the last piece of his Lake Union land for a significant profit, making him one of the wealthiest Native Americans in Puget Sound. He joined his daughter Jennie Davis in Port Madison, where he remained until his death in 1910.

In his honor, Seattle Parks in 2008 opened Cheshiahud Loop, a paved path circumnavigating his beloved Lake Union.


For our 360 video version of this column, head over here.

To boot, a couple of additional photos provide context and location. Thanks to Caleb and Rob Wilkinson for their inestimable help exploring Portage Bay by boat.

The view from Portage Bay looking west up Shelby Street. Cheshiahud’s five acres extended along the waterfront to encompass much of the current neighborhood. Nearby, the city’s Cheshiahud Loop, a paved path circumnavigating Lake Union and dedicated by then-Mayor Greg Nickels on Dec. 3, 2008, is the home of an annual 10K race.
Seattle Mayor Greg Nickels cuts a ribbon to dedicate the Cheshiahud Loop on Dec. 3, 2008.

Abbie Denny-Lindsley’s 1906 account of the near lynching of Cheshiahud:

Seattle Now & Then: the Grand Illusion Cinema, 1937

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THEN1: In this southeast view at 50th Avenue and University Way in 1937, the second floor of this dental building makes up the footprint of today’s Grand Illusion Cinema. A barber shop operates at lower right. Attached to the building at left is a furrier-tailor business topped by a Dutch gambrel roof. Above it is the tower of University Christian Church, built in 1923-1928 and demolished in 2019. (Puget Sound Regional Branch, Washington State Archives”
NOW1: To celebrate the city’s historic movie theaters, 9 volunteers and staff from Historic Seattle stage their annual “heart bomb” during valentine’s week 2023 at the base of the Grand Illusion Cinema. Near the end of its 1937 namesake film, set in World War I, two soldiers speak its theme. “We’ve got to finish this bloody war. Let’s hope it’s the last,” says one. The other replies, “That’s all an illusion.” (Jean Sherrard)

Published in The Seattle Times online on April 9, 2023
and in PacificNW Magazine of the printed Times on April 6, 2023

After 53 years, cozy movie house maintains its ‘Grand Illusion’
By Clay Eals

In a military war, the weapons are guns and bombs, the results often instant, destructive and unthinkable. But in an economic battle, the weapons are dollars, the results frequently incremental, insidious and no less calamitous to the societal soul.

Enter the tiny Grand Illusion Cinema in the U District. Or should we say exit?

NOW: In the Grand Illusion Cinema lobby are posters for “The Grand Illusion” (1937) and, smaller, “Some Like It Hot” (1959). (Clay Eals)

Sharing the name of the famous 1937 anti-war film directed by Jean Renoir, the cozy 68-seat arthouse soon could face the wrecking ball. It’s nestled on the second floor of a funky 103-year-old conglomeration of low-rise retail buildings along hillside 50th Street at its intersection with University Way,

Click the image to see the Kidder Mathews site proposal.

The West Coast commercial real-estate firm Kidder Matthews is asking $2.8 million for the 4,120-square-foot site, zoned for a maximum six floors and destined for apartments. The Grand Illusion holds a two-year lease but could be bought out anytime. To survive, it could be forced to move, to whereabouts unknown.

THEN3A: Randy Finley, founder of The Movie House (renamed the Grand Illusion Cinema in 1979) poses outside the theater in 1975. “I didn’t know enough to be a film guy, but I did love a good story,” he says. “Every place we went to, my audience followed me, and it worked.” (Courtesy Amy Hagopian, The Daily, University of Washington and Patricia Clark-Finley)

Its footprint a former dental office, the theater took root in May 1970 as the vision of perennial University of Washington literature student Randy Finley, who wanted to show films based on great books. He called it The Movie House, he says, “because there was a little house there.”

Quickly it became the home of foreign and offbeat fare, classic and obscure, including festivals featuring Buster Keaton, Harold Lloyd and West Seattle-bred Frances Farmer. When attendance lagged, Finley repeatedly brought in the dependable “King of Hearts” (1966) and “A Thousand Clowns” (1965) to fill the till.

Oct. 28, 1972, Seattle Times, p27.

Each December starting in 1971, several years before “It’s a Wonderful Life” (1946) became a TV staple due to lapsed copyright, Finley screened the Christmas Eve-based classic. He publicly labeled it “the nicest film The Movie House could ever offer.” Routinely, audiences cheered when the film’s ecstatic George Bailey ran through Bedford Falls and shouted “Merry Christmas, movie house!” The annual tradition has lasted 52 years.

NOW3: Randy Finley today. After shedding the Guild 45th, Seven Gables, Crest and other theater holdings in the late 1980s, Finley operated a winery near Bellingham from 1991 to 2017. He’s optimistic the Grand Illusion will find a new home, if need be. “There’s still the University of Washington, and that’s a lot of people,” he says. “It’s a very attractive place for people to live and want something to do.” (Courtesy Patricia Clark-Finley)

The brash Finley (“I know the value of being heard; I made a lot of noise”) eventually built an indie theater empire of 20 Northwest screens. He ceded The Movie House in January 1979 to milder-mannered Paul Doyle, who renamed it the Grand Illusion — not just for the Renoir film, he says, but also cannily for “the medium of movies itself and, some would say, the nature of life.”

After Doyle left in 1997, Northwest Film Forum became the owner, and the theater went non-profit. Today, the development clock is ticking. “We’re biding our time,” says Brian Alter, manager for the past 13 years. “Everybody doesn’t want to see it go away.”

Is that hope the grandest illusion of all?


Thanks to Eugenia Woo, Kji Kelly, Taelore Rhoden, Evan Bue, Jessica Albano, Tracey Gurd, Jennifer Ott, Andrew Weymouth, Amy Hagopian, Betty Udesen, Jake Renn, Amanda Cowan and especially Brian Alter, Paul Doyle, Maitland Finley, Patricia Clark-Finley and Randy Finley for their invaluable help with this installment!

To see Jean Sherrard’s 360-degree video of the “Now” prospect and compare it with the “Then” photos, and to hear this column read aloud by Clay, check out our Seattle Now & Then 360 version of the column.

Below are 12 additional photos and, in chronological order, 41 historical clips from The Seattle Times and Seattle Post-Intelligencer online archive (available via Seattle Public Library) and Washington Digital Newspapers, that were helpful in the preparation of this column.

THEN2: In this 1966 view, facing south, stairsteps reach the structure that connects the site’s two buildings, It serves today as the Grand Illusion Cinema’s entrance and lobby. (Puget Sound Regional Branch, Washington State Archives)
NOW2: At the Grand Illusion Cinema entrance on 50th Avenue Northeast, 13 volunteers and staff rom Historic Seattle display “heart bomb” signs during valentine’s week 2023. (Jean Sherrard)
THEN3B: Randy Finley, founder of The Movie House (renamed the Grand Illusion Cinema in 1979) poses inside the theater in July 1975. (Courtesy The Columbian, Vancouver, Wash., HistoryLink and Patricia Clark-Finley)
THEN4: This southeast-facing view, also said to be from 1937, shows the same building in a different incarnation, with a grocery in place of the first-floor dentistry and a display sign shop on the second floor in the footprint of today’s Grand Illusion Cinema. At lower right, a haircut at the “U” Heights Barbershop, is advertised at 40 cents. (Puget Sound Regional Branch, Washington State Archives)
THEN5: This Feb. 7, 1956, view, facing southeast, shows the same building, with Bud Taylor Flowers and Gifts on the first floor and dentist Harrison E. Young practicing in the second-floor footprint of today’s Grand Illusion Cinema. (Puget Sound Regional Branch, Washington State Archives)
NOW4: Historic Seattle volunteers and staff prepare to enjoy the Seattle-based film “Singles” (1992) at their “heart bomb” photo event at the Grand Illusion Cinema. (Jean Sherrard)
NOW: In the Grand Illusion Cinema lobby, patrons line up to enter the theater. (Clay Eals)
NOW: In the Grand Illusion Cinema lobby are posters for “The Grand Illusion” (1937) and “It’s a Wonderful Life” (1946). (Clay Eals)
NOW: Outside the Grand Illusion Cinema entrance hang two film reels. (Clay Eals)
University Christian Church, which peeks out at the upper left of our first “Then” photo, stands in 2019 soon before its demolition. (Eugenia Woo)
University Christian Church, which peeks out at the upper left of our first “Then” photo, stands in 2019 soon before its demolition. (Eugenia Woo)
May 21, 1970, Seattle Times, p65, first daily newspaper listing for The Movie House.
May 22, 1970, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p66.
May, 22, 1970, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p77.
May 24, 1970, Seattle Times, p46.
Oct. 9, 1970, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p68.
Oct. 10, 1970, Seattle Times, p12.
Jan. 10, 1971, Seattle Times, p36.
Nov. 14, 1971, Seattle Times, p141.
Feb. 5, 1971, Seattle Times, p93.
Dec. 18, 1971, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p15.
Nov. 20, 1972, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p11, Emmett Watson.
Jan. 13, 1974, Seattle Times, p67.
March 10, 1974, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p126.
Aug. 15, 1974, Seattle Times, p16.
April 26, 1975, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p10.
May 16, 1975, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p47.
1975, The Daily, University of Washington. (Courtesy Patricia Clark-Finley)
April 26, 1976, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p10.
May 29, 1977, Seattle Times, p57.
December 1977, View Northwest, p1. (Courtesy Patricia Clark-Finley)
December 1977, View Northwest, p2. (Courtesy Patricia Clark-Finley)
March 3, 1978, Seattle Times, p63.
Aug. 6, 1978, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p71.
Aug. 11, 1978, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p50.
Dec. 13, 1978, Seattle Times, p101.
1978 Seattle Weekly cover. (Patricia Clark-Finley)
Jan. 3, 1979, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p10.
Jan. 5, 1979, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p50.
March 1, 1979, Seattle Times, p22.
1979, Seattle Post-Intelligencer.
Dec. 13, 1981, Seattle Times, p125.
Sept. 9, 1984, Seattle Times, Pacific magazine cover.
Sept. 9. 1984, Seattle Times, Pacific magazine, p322.
Sept. 9, 1984, Seattle Times, Pacific magazine, p323.
Sept. 9, 1984, Seattle Times, Pacific magazine, p324.
Sept. 9, 1984, Seattle Times, Pacific magazine, p325.
Sept. 9, 1984, Seattle Times, Pacific magazine, p326.
Feb. 12, 1989, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p80.
Jan. 17, 1997, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p86.

March 16, 2001, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p99.
Dec. 11, 2001, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p35.
Dec. 11, 2001, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p36.


Aug. 14, 2002, Seattle Times, pC6.
March 30, 2003, Seattle Times, Pacific magazine, p178.
March 30, 2003, Seattle Times, Pacific magazine, p179.
March 30, 2003, Seattle Times, Pacific magazine, p181.
March 30, 2003, Seattle Times, Pacific magazine, p180.
March 30, 2003, Seattle Times, Pacific magazine, p182.
March 31, 2004, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p39.
March 31, 2004, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, p40.
Nov. 27, 2022, Seattle Times, p28.
Nov. 27, 2022, Seattle Times, p29.


Seattle Now & Then: For April Fool’s, a newcomer’s guide to Seattle’s quirky codes

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Salisbury Cathedral

Published in The Seattle Times online on March 30, 2023
and in PacificNW Magazine of the printed Times on April 2, 2023

‘Meet me at the Pig’: A newcomer’s guide to Seattle’s quirky codes
By Jean Sherrard

Forty years ago, on our honeymoon, my girlfriend and I — oops, “wife” was still a new and foreign concept — stopped in Salisbury, England. Hiking ancient Roman roads, we encountered a friendly gent.

“Are you a local?” we asked.

“Oh no,” he confided, “I was born four miles from here.”

Today, to help relative newcomers navigate potential April Fool’s foibles, our crack “Now & Then” team shares some quirky codes and stubborn semaphores from “Then” days that persist in the “Now.” Of course, only a small subset of Seattleites can truly claim lifelong residence. For the rest, here’s a helpful cheat sheet.

Grammar and pronunciation

Telltale tyro signs include adding definite articles to freeway names. It’s never “the 5” or “the 405.” Plain I-5 and 405 suffice. And “just Puget Sound,” says writer Adam Woog. He also recommends learning to pronounce a few place names. Puyallup (rhymes with “you gallop”), Sequim (“Skwim”) and Duwamish (“Doo-WOMM-ish”) for starters. Try not to giggle when old-timers occasionally still say, “Warshington.”

“The mountain,” when it’s out. Robin Walz offers the following meteorological advice: “If you can see the mountain, it’s going to rain. If you can’t, it’s already raining.”

The mountain

Though we are surrounded by mountains, “the mountain” refers only to Rainier. Historian Robin Walz suggests a handy conversation starter: “The mountain is out today.”

(Column partner Clay Eals notes that when he was young and the mountain was “out,” as in the above photo, and when his mother, Virginia, would drive him and his brothers across the Mercer Island floating bridge, she would point south and exclaim, “Get out your ice-cream spoons!”)

Cars and trucks roostertail along I-5 in a rare spring “downpour.” Frustratingly, there is no wiper preset for Seattle rain.


Former Port of Seattle commissioner Peter Steinbrueck observes that while many other large cities have more rainfall than Seattle, we have more words for it, including “mist, sprinkles, showers, drizzle, sleet, snowy mix and downpour.”

Photo archivist Ron Edge stands patiently at the corner of 145th and 15th on Shoreline’s border, ignored by a friendly scofflaw recently arrived from New York City.

On the road

“We don’t know how to drive,” insists column founder Paul Dorpat’s friend Pam Heath, “particularly at four-way stops.” But she and photo archivist Ron Edge agree on jaywalking. “Just don’t walk,” demands Edge. Heath adds, “I’ve seen folks at crosswalks waiting for the light to change at 2 a.m. Did I mention it was pouring rain? And they didn’t have umbrellas.”


Don’t need ’em. Stalwarts revel in “liquid sunshine.” Wags jest, “It’s a dry rain.”

A bronze statue of beloved TV clown J.P. Patches in Fremont do-si-do-ing with partner Gertrude. Their theme songs: a divinely silly William Tell Overture/“Dance of the Hours” medley performed by Spike Jones.

Kid stuff

Carol Wilkensen (Seattle-born on April 1) suggests arrivistes seek out YouTube clips of J.P. Patches or Stan Boreson, two bright stars of local children’s TV. Boreson’s home-spun ditties include the apropos: “Zero dacus, mucho cracus / hallaballu-za bub. / That’s the secret password that we use down at the club.”

At the Pike Place Market, locals meet “under the clock, by the pig.”

Places we visit — or don’t

“The Market” (never “Pike’s Market”) where we meet “under the clock” or “by the pig,” suggests Vanya Sandberg.  Visits to the top of “The Needle” are rare.

At nearly $30 a trip, locals rarely visit the observation-level “saucer” section

All preceding suggestions need be taken with a shaker of salt. And it’s time to fess up: I’m not a Seattle native. This April Fool was born miles away — in Renton!


No locals wait in line at the Market Starbucks–what’s more, it’s a mystery why anyone would!

Only visitors wait in line at the not quite “original” Starbucks, says Pam Heath

Below we also add a few more helpful suggestions from our locavore correspondents. Please feel free to send in a few of your own!

I remember we called soda “pop.” Friends back East have commented on this repeatedly over the years. Might be a thing in the West generally, not just PNW.
How about “liquid sunshine”?
The following aren’t turns of phrase, but are certainly more well loved locally than elsewhere.
Idaho Spud candy bars:
Idaho Spud copy.jpg
The entire line of Brown & Haley candies:
Mountain Bar.jpg
The Rainier beer commercials (specifically the motorcyle noise “raaaaaiiiinieeeeeer beeeeeeeeer”
The phrase, “The mountain is out!
Also applets & cotlets, Frangos…
“Meet you by the pig” is DEFINITELY for locals. At the market, got separated from my French friends. They insisted they were waiting by the pig. It turned out they were at another pig, in a pkg garage, maybe on Western, nowhere close to the fish market. (There’s more than one pig near the market??!!)

There are a few words that are at least west coast local when I grew up.

For example, we stand in line, not on line (like at the Market Starbuck’s). We certainly don’t queue or queue up (except me, having watched too many British PBS series).
And we drink pop, not soda. (Or is pop a Southern thing? It’s what I grew up calling it, raised by Texans.) Soda is what I drink with so-so bourbon.
Definitely not Pike’s Market. Pike Market or the Pike Market are barely OK, but mark you as an outsider.
We know how to say Puyallup. Also Duwamish. Sequim. Even Pshyt. Spokane. Tulalip. Uwajimaya.
The difference between cedar and Doug fir?
King County was named for a slave owner and was re-named for MLK (first county in the nation to do that, I think).

Ever notice on TV or in movies, Seattle is the place furthest from anywhere else. Like a family member lives in Seattle, or moves to Seattle. Frasier came to Seattle because it was as far away from anywhere else which could still be considered civilized. This has faded out, perhaps, thanks to the tech worker influx.

We would never do the Underground Tour. Do locals ride the Wheel? Certainly don’t go to the Market Starbuck’s. Nor Bruce & Brandon Lee’s graves. Or Jimi Hendrix.

Aurora and 99 are used interchangeably, which may confuse some non-natives. In the South Country is Pacific Highway S also ID’d as 99?

We slide through stop signs. Generally, we don’t know how to drive, things like four-way stop rules. On-coming cars that for no good reason wait for you to turn left before they go (not like when on-coming traffic is backed-up and they aren’t going anywhere anyway). What the heck? The Seattle Nice.

There’s definitely a passive-aggressive thing about driving the speed limit in the inside lane. “I’m doing the speed limit, why should I move over?” I don’t see that elsewhere.

I have seen people waiting for the light to change before crossing – at 2 am. Not crossing against the light in general is a give-away.

Pedestrians are NOT the lowest form of life.

Schooners, not half-pints.

The Needle is used at least as often as the Space Needle. The Center, not Seattle Center. The Regrade, not Denny Regrade or the Denny Regrade.

How we pronounce “route.”

Skid Road.

Sodo. And why it’s called that.

The King County Airport is still Boeing Field.

We hate the cruise ships. Or at least the boatloads of tourists they eject daily in the summer.

The Mountain, not Mount Rainier.

  1. Zero dacus, mucho cracus / hallaballu-za bub / that’s the secret password that we use down at the club/ Zero-dacus, mucho-cracus / hallaballu-za fan / means now you are a member of KING’s TV club with Stan.” And No Motion Shun” This was our go-to TV program in the fifties and sixties. Stan played the accordion – He inspired my first expression of musical interest and within minutes my parents bought me one. They said I would be popular at parties. I was. But theirs not mine. By the way No Motion Shun was the name given to Stan’s lethargic dog named after the Slow Motion IV, the hydroplane that set a speed record. No one outside of locals have ever heard of Stan or No Motion Shun. Speaking of hydroplanes…
  2. Miss Thriftway, Miss Bardahl, Miss Wahoo, Miss Hawaii Ki, Miss Pay n Pak, Miss Budweiser etc. were all household names for the hydros we worshiped as kids. If you were to mention Bill Munice or Miro Slovak to anyone outside of Seattle, they would have no idea who you were talking about. Still on Hydros…
  3. Thunder Boats. This was the name all hydros were given for the deafening sound they made from unmuffled Alison and Rolls Merlin 3000 hp engines. It was wonderful! If you said to an outsider “let’s meet at the Pits”  they would immediately know what you were talking about. It’s now the Stan Sayres Memorial Park. We watched the hydros from:
  4. The Floating bridge (the name before the 520 bridge was built but lasted for a long time). After 520 was as built it remained The Floating Bridge for “natives” and 520 was “the toll bridge” ($.35 tolls. No one took it because it was too expensive).
  5. Pill hill was, of course, the name given to the hospitals on Capitol Hill.
  6. For those with money they might going to the Golden Lion for dinner. It was in the Olympic Hotel and featured décor (highly inappropriate at any time in history), of the British Colonialization of India. The waiters even wore turbans. Back to kids TV programs…
  7. Wunda Wunda is my name.oh boys and girls, I’m glad you came. We’ll have fun and we’ll play games. Won’t you play with me?
  8. If you owned a boat in Seattle in the olden days, Doc Freeman’s was your place to buy gear for your boat. It seemed like everyone owned a boat. “Boating Capitol of the World” we were called. Sadly, this landmark went the way of Hardwicks, Jensen Motorboat Company and many others, but long before.
  9. Kalakala was the go-to ferry to Vashion Island as I remember. An awesome ride with its classic rattle and Art Deco streamline design. Outside of Seattle few would know about the Kalakala.
  10. If someone today asks me where Lowe’s Store is located I tell them it’s down where Sick’s Stadium used to be, until I realize they are either too young or not from around here.
  11. Let’s meet at Dag’s. Dag’s was the favorite before Dick’s and Burgermaster for a cheap burger, fried and a shake. It’s long gone but those of us of a certain age remember it well.
  12. The Aqua theater at Green Lake
  13. Chubby and Tubby where we bought cheap Xmas trees, shoes and jeans. It was a favorite place to go for discounted everything.
  14. Boo-boo and Fifi, Duh..
    (Jean comments: Rob and Carol are recalling Bobo, our local–and beloved–gorilla. Not to be confused with Yogi Bear’s adenoidal sidekick Booboo)
  15. Maynard hospital named after David Maynard, Seattle pioneer. Where Carol was born.
  16. Armory now MOHAI.
    (Jean comments: Of course, R&C are referring to the Naval Reserve Armory.)
  17. RH Thompson expressway. Few outside of Seattle would remember this transportation mistake, but if you lived around here this was a big deal in the 1960’s.
  18. Mossback was often how my parents described what it was like living in the rainy, cold  (mossy) Pacific Northwest. Of course, it’s also what conservative, curmudgeons are called as well but I believe we defined it differently back then. Although, I’ve definitely developed some curmudgeonly qualities as time marches on –  to go along with the moss!
Hmmm giving some thought to this, I can easily identify non-Seattle natives by a number of traits, behaviors such as those impersonal footwalkers who never look at you, let alone give a friendly “hello” as they pass by and are the same people who like to complain about the so-called “Seattle Freeze,” which we real natives know as a unusual cold wind that blew in from somewhere else!

Another dead giveaway is “Pike’s Market,” which of course is confused with “Pike’s Peak,” and has nothing to do with the Pike Place Market.

And our neighbor state to the south of Washington is mis-pronounced “Ore-gone.”

People not from here are under another big delusion that it rains alot in Seattle. In fact, many other large cities such as New York City, Boston and Washington DC receive more rainfall than Seattle does, which just have more names for than most other places, including “sprinkles, showers, drizzle, sleet, snowy mix, and downpour.” People from the east and other cold places usually like to wear scarves,  heavy wool button down overcoats in winter, which are unnecessary, impractical for drizzle, and can make you too hot in our mild climate even in winter.

Then there’s the Seattle hipsters, so into the “lumberjack metro“ look, beards and all, particularly popular among high income techies who can afford $350 flannel shirts from Filson’s, once the working man’s Alaskan outfitter established in Seattle in 1897 during the pioneering days of the Klondike Gold Rush.


I come from somewhere else. In fact, several somewhere-elses.

But I have lived in Seattle for 50 + years among many friends and family who were born and raised in Seattle.  I’ve heard tell of it all. Wunda Wunda, JP, Stan, thunderboats, Sick’s, Dick’s, Dag’s, Beth’s, the Market and more.

I’m now claiming some historic chops with my half-century of residence and my long proximity to those folks born here. 
So, may I add a reference to the brilliant game show spoof, “Pike or Pine?”, and a huge appreciative shout-out to “Almost Live” for thinking of it?

This question often comes into my head when I’m navigating to destinations on those two streets. And I laugh. 

Which reminds me of a pervasive and useful sentence for getting around the downtown core, “Jesus Christ Made Seattle Under Pressure”.

Translated it refers to the correct sequence of proper-named streets, two by two, south to north: James, Cherry, Columbia, Marion, Madison, Spring , Seneca, University, Union, Pike and Pine.

This trick saw me through my delivery days when I worked at the venerable sign shop, Balliet Screen Graphics.

JOHN WILLIAMS  (once a Seattle tour guide)