REVISITING MADISON PARK | Curbing haste and waste in Madison Park

Madison Park has always maintained that small, friendly village appeal lacking in other areas in Seattle. It has always been laid-back no matter what was happening in the rest of the city.

In the late ‘40s, traffic was nonexistent; packs of friendly dogs roamed freely, sometimes laying in the middle of the street on the warm concrete. Neighbors watched as we kids played baseball on 41st Avenue and Newton Street, using manhole covers as bases. We’d wave to the occasional car going by, knowing most by sight.

Grocery stores were never stocked like they are now, even though there were five stores in the area. People had to shop at each to find scarcities like toothpaste or bananas; now, we find most everything we need at Red Apple.

Our neighborhood was consistent in its draw for blue-collar workers; now, we’ve managed to grow in population, inviting all kinds of tycoons. There is now the element of hastiness on the way in and out of the Park.

A glimpse of the future?

Imagine this slightly exaggerated scenario: It’s a great sunny day — a top-down day! Behind the wheel, laptop computer open to the right, phone wedged between shoulder and ear, you approach the stop sign at 41st Avenue and Madison Street. While searching for a music station on Pandora you take a quick look left and all is clear. You slip around the corner, and out of nowhere, a woman whirls a flag yelling, “This is a crosswalk!”

The latte spills in your lap and is not a warm, fuzzy feeling at all. You press hard on the gas to get this person far behind, when you hear a crunching noise and see that you have just crushed your cell phone.

After arriving at the job, there is the realization that the annoyed crosswalk woman is the daughter of the department head where you work. When a workmate asks, “So how’s your day going?” the feeling is of complete humiliation.

In the days of old, if you needed to talk to someone you stopped at the pay phone between Madison Park Hardware and the cleaners. Sure, you needed to park and pay a whole dime to make the call, but at least the effort allowed for focusing on the task at hand.

All this hustle and bustle instills a vision of the future. Before, we had A.B.C. window stickers in our cars, allowing certain amounts of fuel; in the near future, these stickers could be used for zones and certain times to leave for work. Miss any of these time slots and police at 38th Avenue and Madison would issue citations.

The automobile, being a status symbol for people, will always be driven, despite the cost of gas at $11.38 a gallon. You would get a designated time to fill up.

Entering the freeways would need to change. Metering one car at a time works now, but soon cars would be held in an area where drivers are at the ready, with padding and helmets. Traffic on the freeway would be stopped as an officer dropped a flag, and the eager motorists merge rapidly.

Bridge traffic would need some adjustments. We’ve all had to wait for the bridge to open and close. Turning off the engine, we join the crowd to see what has to be a huge craft creating the delay. To everyone’s dismay it’s a lowly sailor, with his 14-foot sailboat and a 1.5-horsepower motor. He waves without apology, with the crowd waving back, minus a few fingers.

In the future, all small craft would be tethered to a huge tug. When the bridge opens, the tug would give it full throttle to open water. Those that make it through wave in delight; some bail and others upright their crafts.

As for our beloved beach and the ability to swim — that, too, would be controlled. There would be an initial fee, and swimmers would be in designated, roped-off areas.

The singular nervous lifeguard in his boat would blow his whistle, and the first group from Zone 2 would rush to the water, crushing several flotation devices — ducks, alligators and two swans. Again, the lifeguard would blow his whistle and Zone 42, which has waited all day, would take to the water as Zone 2 leaves.

Water hooligans

With our current water shortage, the officials are watching. Those with green will pay; if your yard looks like hay, it’s OK.

One dry year, the city mandated that on certain days only one side of the street could water their lawns; the next night, the other. Late-night lawn sprinkling hooligans were spotted and ticketed or at least reprimanded.

The future will hopefully prove to be managed without too much ado.

After trudging over huge potholes in the roads, many of us are getting caught in the middle of intersections when the light has turned beet-red. There is no shortage of horn-honking in these parts; this particular quandary does need addressing.

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