REVISITING THE PARK | Looking for cups o’ joe in the Park?

It was another school day at J. J. McGilvra Elementary School back in the ‘40s, when I woke up early and walked three blocks to Riley’s Café on 43rd Avenue and Madison Street. The frozen grass crunched as I walked, the only sound in those wee hours. 

Riley’s was the only light in that dark morning.

Right at the front door of the café, a group of shipyard workers hovered around someone reading the latest news of the war in the paper.

I wound my way through the crowd to sit at the counter. The scene was frenetic as many stood two and three deep in line to get breakfast. They all ate fast, leaving time for the others to do the same.

One guy with a full cup of joe poured half of it into the saucer and slurped the cooled liquid. Others folded their toast or pancake and submerged it into the cup for added flavor. 

A smoker inhaled, and as he drank some coffee, he exhaled and covered the cup, all the while not missing a word of conversation.

Some grabbed pinches of chewing tobacco and positioned it into their mouths. 

Conversations were lively and usually involved the war. The noise level was loud, but someone could yell, “Ferry!” and it was heard throughout the place. 

Most were bound for Todd Shipyard, south of Kirkland. Boots pounded the floor as everyone ran to the ferry. The whistle blew, and the restaurant was quiet — the only sounds were the plates, cups and silverware being removed. 

Can’t get enough

The morning fix became a real ritual in the coming years. The Madison Park Bakery became so popular that, on Saturday mornings, it was wall-to-wall people, where a few long-lasting relationships were started. A flask of cognac could be seen offered by someone to add a bit of happy to the cup. 

Ella’s was a full café across the street from the now-closed Riley’s. The Kirkland Ferry had also made its last run when World War II finally ended.

The Broadmoor Drugstore (Pharmaca today) served coffee around noon, along with lunch. It was a place for the regulars, mainly. Coffee was a dime, but it was a nickel for refills if you weren’t known. 

It was a place to catch up on rumors, sometimes before the fact. There was a semi-circle counter in the west end of the building. We preteens listened in on some adult conversations and heard new vocabulary. If a cup of coffee was refilled and the brew was now hot, loud expletives were spewed, unbeknownst to us until then. 

Eggs Cetera was the best for breakfast and coffee in the ‘70s, located where Cactus is now. The community table helped form many a friendship. The eggs Benedict and “Wendell’s Wonderful” egg combo were superb.

Coffee break

Finally, someone saw the coffee potential, and the barista and espresso were born! 

The coffee cart selling Seattle’s Best in front of Bert’s IGA was great for a quick Americano or whatever combo you could come up with and pastry to-go while waiting for the bus. Regulars would honk, double-park and get it all to-go. People would stand in front of the cart and socialize for hours on end.

The mini-mart (HomeStreet Bank today), next door to Bert’s, was our only source of bread, milk and eggs on Sundays or late nights, as Bert’s closed at 6 p.m. evenings and was closed on Sundays. They sold lottery tickets and had a large selection of wine and beer.

Tully’s Coffee soon took it over and majorly overhauled the space. It became the end-all of the coffee/social experience. The soft music and carpeted floors created an intimate yet sprightly time with friends.

It now seemed the populace of Madison Park had more than enough options for coffee, but au contraire! The space that had been a Shell gas station was replaced by a restaurant called Peter’s in the Park and then Manca’s. Soon, Mr. and Mrs. Starbucks bought it out, and voila, a flagship Starbucks coffee shop was born. 

Nowadays, there seems to be at least one Starbucks in every neighborhood in every country.

Army-approved

Around 1957, while in the Army, I spent many weekends in Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco, where Army pals and I first experienced the strong brew known as espresso. The coffee machine was huge covering most of the wall! That demi cup of hot java really awakened the senses. 

The finest coffee I’ve ever had was at Fort Ord, Calif. I was on a seven-day bivouac, and it rained most days. Some 150 of us stood in a real downpour at 3 a.m. under a few trees. A Jeep pulled up with coffee containers heated with Bronson burners, and we pulled out our canteen cups crusted with dust, dirt, mud and whatever and filled them to the brim with the best-tasting coffee ever. 

Nowadays, that free or 10-cent cup of coffee is more like a fine wine. A $5.75 grande quad, soy, 10 pumps of vanilla, no-foam latte at 140 degrees will get you where you want to go.

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