Courtesy
Madison Park used to be filled with pre-war residents and survivors of the Great Depression. After World War II, many homes became vacant as the shipbuilding workforce moved away. College students, office workers and flight attendants soon moved in, attracted by the great location and cheap rent, blending into the community. At 21, we enjoyed this new environment, often meeting at the Red Onion and the Attic.
The restaurants were as good back then as they are now. Taking a date to the Quality Café in 1950 (where the Attic is today) was a hit, with great roast beef sandwiches on the menu. The drugstore soda fountain served home-style hot lunches. The Bamboo Terrace was the best Chinese cuisine for miles, taking Madison Park by storm, drawing people citywide who formed long lines on Sundays. We would often close the Attic at midnight on a Saturday. With 16-ounce new Buds in hand, we walked to the Terrace and dined until the early summer sun rose, then hit the beach for an early nap.
A few of us used to sit in the big back booth at the old Red Onion, where the kitchen store stands today. Side note: the only thing separating the RO from the Attic was the Dime Store owned by Bill and Ada.
My mom’s uncle, John Swank, owned the Lynnwood Tavern and it featured waitresses in hot pants who served beer. That with the free popcorn from an old theater style popcorn machine made it a destination.
One of the niceties of the area in the ‘60s was having a laundry service, which included folding – once in the drawer, it spoke of how neat a person one was. While dining at Egg Cetera right next door, waiting for self-operated dry cleaning could be done.
Along with the nearly every weekend parties, socializing was accomplished by attending or participating in baseball/football games between tavern patrons since all the bars were closed on Sundays
One evening, while discussing the pitfalls of singlehood in the park, some obvious no-no’s came to mind. If there were several roommates in a house, one should not attempt to date more than one girl unless ground rules were approved. One should not date another roommate’s girlfriend even if they are broken up. One should always ask permission to ask said girlfriend out. Feelings would still linger, so an unwritten rule was to remain sensitive.
With all the bases covered, your reputation takes shape: You like to cook, mix a good drink, and enjoy lots of friends. It doesn’t take much for this status to crumble, however – just one little incident can occur that multiplies by 10 and travels just a little over the speed of light. Your reputation is created, good or bad.
One friend, by all indications, had been getting along very well with a Madison Park gal. He also dated a young lady at work who lived in Queen Ann. There was no worry of a chance meeting. Are you kidding? In 1959, Seattle was small!
He walked into the Attic to meet friends. Members of the Attic Ski Club were occupying the tables in the back room. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness and smoke, he saw his Madison Park number 1 sitting with his Queen Ann number 1. With no exit in sight, he looked for a possible hole in the wall. One of the guys at the table asked him to join them, but he couldn’t even talk. He eventually joined in and said little, trying his best to be invisible. Fortunately, the conversation was centered elsewhere. Sometime later, Queen Anne number 1 went back to her number 1.
The thorny scene also existed in the workplace. My cubicle was some 20 feet from the receptionist who sat at the front of the office. She was a tall blond girl poised with a warm greeting who met and directed clients.
Once in a while, when the red light blinked on the switchboard, she would answer with a smile forming on her lips – followed by a flirtatious laugh. At the same time a project engineer who sat nearby was on the phone with similarly animated mannerisms.
People passing my desk asked if I thought there was a little funny business going on, but I acted dumb, replying I hadn’t noticed and changing the subject. They asked me who I was dating, but acting dumb had become an item for office gossip.
Some mornings, I came in early to work on rushed projects. One day, the receptionist approached me with a grin and asked if I had figured it out. I told her it wasn’t anyone’s business. To distract people from the possibility that her engineer friend, who was out working in the field, had asked me to take her to lunch, which helped curb the rumors about the two of them.
Not long after that, I took someone to lunch, and a girl from the office was in the smoky lounge with another employee. The company should have had a “who’s dating who” roster.
Back in Madison Park the possibilities were endless where to meet someone. A chance meeting at the bakery, the R.O., the Attic, concerts at the park, Seward Park, summer parties, friends with boats, and many more. There were some rules that had to be followed. If two friends had eyes on a specific gal, the other one had to back off or risk getting a black eye or split lip. A roster posted somewhere in Madison Park might make for a convenient match-making tool, as long as the rules are stated.
Madison Park has all the makings of sociability and events that leave happy memories. Our neighborhood has proudly remained a neighborhood where most folks are content to stay.