REVISITING THE PARK | Able to leap tall buildings

There was the radio, but it was censored.

We did have the weekly reader at J.J. McGilvra school called, “The School Newspaper.” It painted a colorful concept of the world, but nothing about air-raid drills, blackouts or any rumors regarding enemy submarines sending balloons to our coast, with explosives attached. If anyone found a balloon, we were told not to touch the apparatus and run to tell an adult.

Since there was no TV yet, let alone computers, it was easy to become housebound. Winter days were short enough, but to add blackouts — by turning out the lights and pulling window shades — was really getting tiresome. Even our cars had special hoods so as not to be seen from above.

Our homeroom teacher explained just enough about the war for our young ears and gave us a positive outlook for the future. About the time they lifted the blackouts, we were given a day downtown by ourselves.

The only time I remember being downtown before then was to see a dentist in the Medical/Dental Building on Olive Way. I had little time or inclination to notice the buildings around me. The only concern I had at that time was a needle the size of a 16-penny nail about to be stuck into my gums. 

Out on our own

About to embark on a real treat, three of my friends and I met at 42nd Avenue and Madison Street on a Saturday, bound for the big city. We boarded the big bus and plunked down a bus token worth 7 cents, then ran to the rear, far away from the driver’s ear.

At each stop, passengers boarded and found their seats. Most seemed serious or had no expression — it was probably due to the war.

When we approached Third Avenue and Union Street, we pulled the cord to stop. Exiting, we stood to the side and stared up in awe at the incredibly tall buildings that all but disappeared into the morning fog.

On our way to The Bon Marché, we noticed many store windows were empty due to war shortages. Inside, we found the hobby department, where once model airplanes were sold with gas Olson engines; now, they were powered using strands of rubber bands that took forever to wind for a very short ride.

Workmen were constructing something that would take shoppers floor to floor without having to climb stairs: the escalator.

Having a whole day meant we could go to a movie. We had quite a few theaters. One was the Music Box, where I was going to take a date in the ‘70s to see “Love Story” but talked her out of it, saying, “Look across the street! The Blue Mouse is playing ‘Where’s Papa’!” It was one of the funniest movies I’d ever seen.

Right down the street, on Third Avenue and Union Street, was the Winter Garden, and across the street was the Coliseum. On Seventh Avenue and Olive Way was the Liberty Theater, and just across the street was the original El Gaucho restaurant.

Around Fifth Avenue and Stewart Street, the Orpheum Theater stood, and it was one of the biggest in the city. Saturday matinees were filled with us kids stomping our feet, eager for the movie to start — a near-deafening sound.

One of the more popular theaters was the Palomar on Third Avenue and University Street, where vaudeville played on Saturdays. One-legged dancer Peg Leg Pete and sidekick, Sammy Davis Jr., performed. There were two feature cartoons, news reels, coming attractions and vaudeville — all for 50 cents on Saturdays.

On Third Avenue, between Pike and Pine streets, the Colonel Theater could be located because of its proximity to the doughnut shop next door. A machine squirted dough that — after being submerged in hot oil — became big, glazed doughnuts. What kid would not prefer hot, glazed doughnuts for a real balanced lunch for 5 cents each?

We prided ourselves on having seen just about everything Downtown Seattle had to offer, except for First Avenue, which was a specific no-no.

Accordingly, we turned onto First Avenue just far enough to get into a penny arcade. In the rear was a tall box with viewing windows; on the side, a scantily clothed girl stood. Two of us peered with one eye through the window, standing on our tiptoes, while a third turned the crank. It was just about to get interesting when a disclaimer came on, stating, “Please deposit another nickel.”

Between the doughnut machine and this machine, our cash flow was diminishing.

Alas, it was time to board the No. 11 Madison to head back home to the park.

Back to the future

In 1956, Al Wallen a fellow ironworker told me while working on scaffolding, “I’m going to quit after this job. Look around (he pointed south to north) — Seattle’s all built!”

A few years ago, I took the bus downtown to join friends for lunch. When I exited the bus at Third Avenue and Pike Street, just like 65 years ago, it struck me how high and close to each other the buildings were — some so high they blocked the light for others.

Our city has definitely changed and with all those yellow cranes, and it doesn’t appear it will stop any time soon.

I must admit I am excited to see the changes that may happen to Seattle’s waterfront and all around Lake Union, but I will definitely need a map to get there.

RICHARD CARL LEHMAN is a longtime Madison Park resident. To comment on this column, write to MPTimes@nwlink.com.