Thursday, December 31, 2009
Seattle may have let pro basketball go to Oklahoma City, but in their stead, we got pro soccer and the Lingerie League's Seattle Mist
click to enlarge
Seattle may have allowed/enabled the SuperSonics to depart for Oklahoma City (!), but in their stead, we do have the pro soccer Seattle Sounders, and, of course, the Seattle Mist of the Lingerie League. The Mist play in the suburbs of Seattle, in Kent--a few blocks from where I grew up. Unlike the departed SuperSonics, the resident Seahawks and Mariners, and the UW's Husky football team, the Seattle Mist actually win!
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Monday, September 21, 2009
Rock Shows in Kent, Washington at Tiffany's Skate-In
Some other bands that played at Tiffany's:
Monday, May 18, 2009
All This Is That Reheated: Square Dance At Kent Elementary
Valley Elementary held two or three square dances a year and they were the coolest thing in town, but the Lettuce Festival, Puyallup Fair (for which we got half a day off school), Kris Kringle Days, and Hydroplane Races were all right up there.
A semi-pro called the steps over a record player or Wollensak tape recorder. Kent was a natural for square dancing; the town was still full of Okies, Clodhoppers, Tarheels, Hayseeds, Rednecks, Yokels, and Hillbillies: my people.
One of the vocals sounded like Tommy Duncan singing. I haven't heard the tune in 40 years. Its lyrics are seared into my brain:
Now you all join hands as you circle the ring
Stop where you are, give your partner a swing.
Now swing that girl behind you.
Swing your own, if you have time to.
Allemande left with the sweet corner maid.
Do-si-do your own.
They we'll all promenade with the sweet corner maid
Singing Oh Johnny Oh Johnny Oh.
Girls wore floofy dresses and boys wore button down shirts with cords or jeans. The adults wore bolo ties and gingham dresses. A couple bales of hay and some other countrified accoutrements were scattered around the gym, along with "refreshments" of soda pop, doughnuts and maple bars.
You got to dance with girls without the potential psychic trauma of actually asking one to dance. They arranged us in a group of partners that changed frequently. However, even those chaste touches and do si dos scrambled our brains with thoughts of girls! The fleeting moments allemanding left, whirling skirts, and whiffs of dime-store perfume all fueled our overheated pre- and mid-pubescent psyches.
I remember square dancing in 3rd and 4th grades, but not so much the 5th and 6th. I do remember seeing The Beatles that year on The Ed Sullivan Show show. I don't know if The Beatles killed square dancing, but after their arrival, square dancing was never quite the same.
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Friday, March 20, 2009
The Greyhound Bus Depot in Kent, Washington: Going To Red's
This photo of Kent's Meeker Street, about three blocks west of the Bus Depot,
was taken in 1945, about 15 years before the events described here. Meeker
Street didn't look much different at all, except the cars were newer.
[Ed's note: I have had this story half-written for a year now. I wanted to find photos of the Bus Depot. None seem to exist. I had always hoped for more details...more information on what it was like...what actually transpired there. Unfortunately, neither my 85 year old mother, or 75 year old mother and father in law--who were denizens of the joint--have been able to further illuminate the story. Maybe they will when they see this in print.]
Before rural and suburban areas around Seattle had a metropolitan bus and train system; before they created the Howard Hansen Dam that would prevent the Green, Black, and White Rivers from flooding the valley in which I grew up, we had The Greyhound and Red's Bus Depot. After my father died in 1964, the Greyhound was how we got around. . .if we got around. Getting around was going to Seattle on the bus at Christmas to window-shop and have a sandwich or sundae at The Copper Kettle, or the Paul Bunyan Room at one of the now defunct Seattle department stores.
Red's Kent Bus Depot, located on Meeker Street, two doors in from Central Avenue, was a magical, male, perfect small town place. Being the bus depot in a 3,000 person [ed's note: in later decades, it would become an 85,000 person city] town meant that you were a hub of activity.
Red (a/k/a Gordon Mageness) ran the cafe and Bubbins sold tickets and managed the Greyhound side of the operation. Bubbins even wore a green eyeshade, a vest, and a garter on his crisp, white long-sleeved shirt with a perfectly double-knotted Windsor tie. I don't have a picture of Bubbins, but he looked like an older, shorter (!) Harry Truman, well-haberdashed, a little cranky, and very business-like.
A chocolate malt served in a glass identical to those used at Red's Bus Depot Cafe
Red was unusual in Kent for being a life-long bachelor. He had been married early (to whom????), and I remember often visiting our relatives in the Hillcrest Cemetary and we would stop at the joint grave of his children, who either died at birth, or early in life. I remember the elaborate gravestone, in bronze, with lambs on it. [Were they twins? How did they die? Who was his wife??]. No one ever talked about his wife. I don't know what happened with their marriage. Red was the only man we knew who was a bachelor. All I could figure out about being a bachelor was it meant you could own a speedboat, belong to the Elks' club, and go to the barbershop every day for a trim and a shave. He was surrounded by friends at work, ate dinner at the Elks, and even owned a chunk of a racing filly. . .bachelorhood looked OK.
From the time I was about eight years old, Red would frequently have me run over two blocks to Dunham's for iceberg lettuce, tomatoes or onions, or to have Ray Dunham grind 12 more pounds of sirloin. These missions were always good for a quarter and a vanilla malt.
Red's cafe menu listed hamburgers, cheeseburgers, tuna-fish and toasted cheese sandwiches, soup, chips (regular and barbecue), cottage cheese and canned pineapple wheels nestled in fronds of iceberg lettuce, floats and sodas, ice cream cones, sundaes, hot fudge sundaes, banana splits, milkshakes (served in a tall glass along with the "extra" in the metal container), Boyd's coffee, tea, grapefruit, orange, and tomato juice, milk, bottled soda pop (only beer came in cans), and Green River on tap [ed's note: Green River was developed in 1919 by the Schoenhofen Brewery of Chicago as a non-alcoholic product for the Prohibition era. It was popular for many decades as a soda fountain syrup, and for many years, trailed only Coca Cola in popularity].
Watching Red make milkshakes was a sensuous experience. He slapped a spotless and gleaming stainless steel container on the counter and used a polished scoop (that sat in a container under a trickle of warm water) to dig three generous scoops of vanilla ice cream from a three gallon tub, pumped in a stream of chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry syrup, followed by a righteous pour of whole Smith Brothers milk (the dairy my friends Jim, Kathleen and Frances's extended family owned) and a scoop of malt, if you sprang for an extra nickel. He walked over and snapped the metal container into the pale green shake machine with a decisive click, flipped the switch and the medium-pitched whirring began. After an indeterminate, but always perfect, period of mixing, he poured it into a tall glass, and left the rest on the counter.
If you fancied soup, he opened a single-serving size of Campbell's and dumped it into a proprietary Campbell's soup heater. There were usually a few cheeseburgers and grilled cheese sandwiches cooking on the flat steel grill, along with a pile of onions sizzling in a pool of golden fat. Next to the ancient (even then) manual cash register, were candy bars, cigars, snoose, combs, rain bonnets, nail clippers, aspirin, cigarettes, mints, Callard and Bowser's butterscotch, Cadbury's chocolate, Big Hunks, Dots, Junior Mints, Three Musketeers, Baby Ruths, Butterfingers, Almond Joys, Mountain Bars (made in Tacoma), and gum. Across the floor was a rack of newspapers and magazines: Time, Life, Post, Detective Magazines, the women's magazines (Family Circle, Good Housekeeping, and the like), tabloids, Popular Science and Popular Mechanics. I don't think he carried any skin magazines. Playboy had recently debuted in the 60's, but this was more or less a family cafe. He probably kept the Playboys in the mysterious back room).
The bus depot's decor was minimal: a few tattered travel and bus posters, a black and white television, and a large portrait of F.D.R. My father-in-law Pete acquired the FDR poster when the depot closed down. It now resides in his den. There was a black and white TV on the wall (I never saw a color TV until I was in 11th grade at a friend's house).
The place was a fascinating mix of blue collar and white collar. Lawyers, merchants, dentists, and judges sat side by side with furnace repairmen, framers, sheetrockers, roofers, and like my Dad and Norm Peterson, Bill Cavanaugh, Al Corkins, Al Simms, and Al Conwell. I remember seeing my future father-in-law--Pete Curran-- there, along with his brother and some of their law partners. They were the guys wearing suits. My dad and his brethren wore overalls, or blue work shirts and jeans. . .usually spattered with paint, mud, or engine grease.
The mayor of the town showed up on occasion--Alex Thorton, who owned a car repair shop a few blocks down Central Avenue. I remember seeing Lou Kerhiaty, who owned the town's Ben Franklin (a/k/a Dime Store), and the Yahns, who owned Edline-Yahn funeral parlor. Kenny Iverson. a friend of my dad's, was the shortest man I knew. He was the only one of our friends who wore a suit. He was a salesman. Of course, the lawyers and funeral directors also wore suits, and some of the businessmen and druggists, and bankers. But most our our family's friends were strictly blue collar. Red presided over a fascinating amalgam of blue and white collar folks.
Although United Parcel Service was founded in Seattle in 1907, I never remember seeing a UPS truck. In those days, Greyhound was what UPS later became. Every bus coming from Seattle and elsewhere carried packages destined for Kent. Auto parts, chemicals, mail order clothes, gifts, and tools all arrived in the Greyhound cargo holds. If you needed a package sent or delivered, you either used the Post Office (as it was then called) or you used Greyhound. They didn't deliver, however. You went to the Bus Depot to pick up your packages: carburetors, bolts of muslin, cartons of books, seeds, and farm implements.
I remember being in the Bus Depot on November 22, 1963. . .and the fellas asking me who would be President now. There were no tears at the bus depot that day, but there was a stunned sort of hush as people watched events unfold on the black and white TV hung on the wall. I knew the name Lyndon Johnson somehow. The bus house gang were Democrats, but Scoop Jackson/JFK defense/blue-dog Democrats. I was awarded a soda for knowing LBJ's name.
The dark oak back-bar was even by the early 1960's looking ancient, with dark heavily-veined, and probably smoke-encrusted wood. The glass-fronted cabinets lining the back bar were filled with soda bottles that looked like they hailed from the 19th century. There was Nehi Soda, NuGrape, Honey Dew (made in the Seattle area), a brand of Sarsparilla, Orange Crush, RC, Dr. Pepper, Shasta soda (another northwest brand), Bubble-Up, Kickapoo Joy Juice, YooHoo chocolate, Seven-up, Pepsi, Coca-Cola, and Schweppes Ginger Ale and Bitter Lemon.
Three beautiful leather dice cups with yellowed ivory dice sat on the bar for low-key gambling. If you wanted to roll the dice for lunch, Red was always game. You got a free lunch, or paid double if you lost. I think the odds were pretty even if you were a regular; it was something to do.
If you were friends with Red (and who wasn't?) in the back room there was a jug. He just might invite you in the back for a "snort." The jug was a half gallon of Canadian Club, or Jim Beam. I can't remember how it was dispensed--did they mix it into the standard drink I remember all adults I knew dranik (the 7 & 7)? Among my people, hillbillies one generation removed from the hills, a drink meant a Seven & Seven, a/k/a, a Seagram's Seven mixed with Seven-up. Or beer. But beer was not really considered an alcoholic beverage. Some of my friends fathers left for work with a six pack in their pickup. When they came home, it was gone, replaced by a fresh "sixer." And they had probably also stopped into the Pastime, The Blinker, The Club, The Moonlite Inn, or The Virginia, to snort one or two on their way home.
____________________________
The closing of the bus depot - In the late 1960's, The Bus Depot closed. Seattle and King County had passed "Metro," a sort of latter day WPA project that finally cleaned up Lake Washington (and did it very well), helped build the dam, and fund a comprehensive King County bus system (and tried to get a subway system passed...the failure of which is one of Seattle/King County's great mistakes). With the coming of Metro buses to Kent, there was no longer a need for a Greyhound bus stop there. If you were taking a bus to a distant place (I took the bus to NYC three times), you took Metro to Seattle and connected at the Greyhound Bus Terminal on Stewart Street. Metro offered Red a job at the Metro offices in downtown Seattle, and he took the job. In later years, I often stopped into their office (I think it was around 3rd and Marion) to say hi to Red, who sold monthly bus passes from a window in the lobby.
That's about all I can recall. There is only so much a ten year old's memory can dredge up through a forty-five year old filter.
Other stories about Kent, Washington that have appeared here:
Square Dance At Valley Elementary
Foot Washing Baptists & The Catholic Devils
Cruising the Renton loop with a keg of nails
My Pathetic Political Career
Growing Up In Kent, Washington: Tarheels, Hayseeds, Hillbillies, and Crackers
Uncle Guy, more hillbilly cred, and living a good life
Fishing With The Old Man
Uncle Romey
It Can Happen Here: Japanese Relocation Camps, 1942-1946
More on the El Rancho Drive-in in Kent, Washington
Snack bar ads, intermission countdowns, and the El Rancho drive-in
Four more images of Kent, Washington in the 40's and 50's
Kent, Washington's Meeker Street 1946
Too good to leave in the comments: Scooter and the Hell's Angel Heavy chug-a-lugScooter and $2 all you can drink beer day at the Sundowner circa 1973
My Grandma's tavern in Carnation, Wash.
My Dog Slugger
Hucking Eggs in Kent, Washington
Home-made Hillbilly Toys
Square Dance At Valley ElementaryFoot Washing Baptists & The Catholic Devils
Hillbilly Cred
"Chicken Thieves Busy in Kent And Vicinity"
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Monday, June 09, 2008
Growing up: Hillbilly home-made toys
click young John/Jack to enlarge
If you've read any of these growing up stories, you remember I grew up poor. That didn't necessarily mean we didn't get toys (which my parent's generation would call "store-bought"). We did get toys for birthdays and Christmas, and in between, we played with toys my dad made (he also built boats, bikes, and even campers). There are a few he made I can't quite remember, but I know they involved bobbins, and wooden thread spools. He could create dozens of objects from rope. His Navy days had left him a master knotsman, and some of my favorite toys were his ropework. Here are some of the toys he made, and we played with. This is only a small part of his toys--the others are lost somewhere in the haze floating over the Green & White River Valley.
The Paper Hat. He could fold several styles of paper hats from newspapers. One was the one below--almost a Papal hat; another was a skull-cap sort of affair; and he could also create an excellent Pirate Hat as well. E-how tells you how to make your own, if you'd like to take a crack at it.
Dad also made several varieties of bathtub or pond motorboats. The illustration below shows one of his standards.
This was no work of genius, but he also made us tin can telephones (and tin can puddle jumpers):
One of my favorites was the Monkey Fist. It wasn't that useful if you weren't climbing mountains or tossing a rope from a ship, but it had this heft and symmetrical coolness that made you want one. We always had one tied to the dinner bell on our back porch (how tarheel is that? How many of you had a "dinner bell?").
There was a very simple toy called a Buzz-toy, that John, Sr. called a "zippo." This was possibly my most beloved toy. I could even make one myself when he showed me where to find the cord. He always used a kind of hybrid thread, with cotton and some sort of synthetic like nylon. You could really get these zippos zipping! If you had a strong cord, you could really get these things moving, and it generated a great low, rumbling whirring sound:
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
"Chicken Thieves Busy in Kent And Vicinity"
Painting "Chickenthief" by Key West artist Mario Sanchez
click to enlarge
Every once in a while, I like to dig into the history of Kent, Washington, where I was born and lived for 19 years. This article comes from a microfiche of The Kent Advertiser-Journal, dated July 25, 1929). Interestingly, I worked for a year at a chicken hatchery in Kent--Westland Hatchery, which was torn down at least 20 years ago. This story, charmingly, uses the word "weenies" for hot dogs, and treats the use of sulphur--however it was used--as something a contemporary reader would immediately grasp. I still don't know how the sulphur was used. What I liked best were the number of grammatical howlers piled on top of the stylistic lapses.
___________________On June 20th, Deputies Seidel and Latimer answered a call at the A.C. Frye & Co. at the foot of Pike St. and Railroad Avenue and arrested Joe Metland and W. H. Tulip. [Ed's note: I grew up near Railroad Avenue, where both sides of the tracks were "the wrong side." However, there is no Pike Street in downtown Kent. The name must have been changed sometime between 1929 and 1960].
Joe Metland was selling at the time to A. C. Frye & Co. 27 Rhode Island Red pullets and 5 Rhode Island hens that were taken the night before from Mr. Robert Wooding. R.F. D. 1, Auburn.
Metland admitted taking the chickens and showed the place where he had taken them.
He also admitted taking chickens from H. J. Hart, July 15th, 1929. They took 44 springers. They took 29 colored hens and nine light hens from Mr.s George C. Clark July 18th at night or the morning of the 16th.
Metland showed all three of these places and admitted that he and Tulip together stole the chickens. Tulip does not admit it.
The man that weighed in the chickens and bought them at Frye's from Metland and Tulip is Steven Elson, at the intersection of Railroad Avenue and Pike Street. The bookkeeper is L. Magerstrom at the same place.
On July 15, 1929, Deputies Frank Seidel and Latimer answered a call on Ninth Ave So. between King and Weller [Ed's note: This seems to refer to a Seattle address] to a Mr. shoemaker's Poultry House. They found two men, one giving his name as C. H. Brandon, which is not his true name.
His true name they learned is Lawrence Frisco. The other man gave his name as Dae Hodgins. They had a Dodge truck and a crate of chickens with about twenty Rhode Island Reds and one or two speckled chickens in the bunch.
These chickens, we learned later, belonged to a Mr. Farnscomb, Route 11 Box 526. They arrested the two men and took Frisco to jail: and took Hodgins with them in the car.
Hodgins took them to Mr. Farnscombs place and showed where they had gotten the chickens the night before and poisoned two dogs. One of the dogs belonged to a Mr. Gills and the other one to Mr. Harber -- both across the street from Mr. Farnscombs. They used weenies with arsenic to poison the dogs and have some of the weenies as evidence. They are kept in the county morgue ice box. . . .
On July 10th they went to Wid Evans and stole eight chickens and poisoned the dog. Evans lives at Rt 3 Box 195, Kent.
About June 17th they stole 26 Rhode Island Reds and used sulphur to take the chickens from Mrs. M. C. Smith. Rt 1 Box 133, Auburn, Washington.
On June 19th they took 35 chickens and used sulphur in this case from Al Glenn, Auburn Fish Hatchery, Auburn, Washington.
On the 6th of July, they entered Mr. C. G. Hunter's Rt. 3, Kent and took 30 chickens the first time. On July 8th they got 15 chickens and cut the fence and poisoned three dogs using hamburgers and strychnine.
One June 24th they went to John De Leo's place, Rt 2 Box 92, Renton, Wash., and took 43 mixed chickens and drained the gas tank of his car.
A day or two after that they poisoned a dog in Coalfied of Mrs. L. E. Peterson and drained their gas tank and also poisoned a dog there belonging to Louise Meramakos.Mr. H. Tuttle, Rt. 11 box 525, Seattle, had a pet rooster that he gave to Mr. Farnscomb and this rooster was stolen with the fifty hens, July 15th, from Farnscomb's and was identified by Mr. Tuttle and Mr. Farnscomb at Mr. Shoemaker's Poultry House in Seattle on july 15th. mr. and Mrs. Farnscomb identified the chickens. The man that bought the chickens from them or weighed them in is Leo Haverty, 508 9th Ave. So. and the bookkeepers name, who reported by phone to Mr. Latimer, is C. A. Toppenfus, 508 9th Ave So.
On the 16th day of May, Eugene Johnson and Jack Powell and Lawrence Frisco went to Samuel Stewarts, Rt. 2, Bothell, and took 3 white Leghorns and a kit of tools from a new Ford car, a grease gun and crank with 25 cents worth of potatoes and a new spare tire.
On July 15th, when Deputies Seidel and Latimer arrested Laurence Frisco and Dave Hodgins, they searched their car and found in the right hand side pocket two thirds of a bottle of strychnine which Hodgins told the deputies was the strychnine that was used to poison Farnscomb's dog. He told them that he rented a house form Mrs. Johnson at Coalfield Washington. They proceeded to this place and he showed them the remainder of Mr. Farnscomb's chickens and also thirteen chickens that belonged to Mr. H. H. Hunter, Kent.
Other stories from All This Is That about Kent, Washington (red=best of All This Is That)
Kent, Washington
It Can Happen Here: Japanese Relocation Camps, 1942-1946
More on the El Rancho Drive-in in Kent, Washington
snack bar ads, intermission countdowns, and the El Rancho drive-in
All This Is That reheated: Hucking eggs in Kent, Washington
A Blog for Phil Kendall
Four more images of Kent, Washington in the 40's and 50's
Kent, Washington's Meeker Street 1946
Too good to leave in the comments: Scooter and the Hell's Angel Heavy chug-a-lug
Scooter and $2 all you can drink beer day at the Sundowner circa 1973
Fishing With The Old Man
Uncle Romey
Uncle Guy, more hillbilly cred, and living a good life
My Grandma's tavern in Carnation, Wash.
My Dog Slugger
Hucking Eggs in Kent, Washington
Square Dance At Valley Elementary
Foot Washing Baptists & The Catholic Devils
Hillbilly Cred
Growing Up In Kent, Washington: Tarheels, Hayseeds, Hillbillies, and Crackers
Cruising the Renton loop with a keg of nails
The Time I Got Drunk With Roy Rogers
My Worst Jobs: 50 Tons of Sand
My Pathetic Political Career
Defensive Daydreaming (the second poem in these links, and one of my favorites)
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Monday, December 17, 2007
It Can Happen Here: Japanese Relocation Camps, 1942-1946
In our war hysteria, we didn't want any Japanese Americans near the west coast. They would form cells and assist soldiers and pilots from the motherland in attacking The Pacific Coast. The number of Germans and Italians placed in the camps is only a fraction of their total population compared with the Japanese, virtually all of whom were locked up.
After the war only about thirty families returned to the valley area. I remember the Miyoshis, Yamadas, Nakaharas, Koyamatsus, Hiranakas, and Okimotos. Some of them got back into farming (not on their old farms, which had been confiscated and sold). I worked on the Yamada's farm a couple of springs, cutting and boxing rhubarb, and I worked for a couple of weeks on Kart Funai's farm one summer, bunching radishes and scallions.
Sinclair Lewis wrote a well-known novel "It Can't Happen Here," and Frank Zappa penned a song by the same title. As you can see, and as you just read, it can
click to enlarge
Link to an earlier, and far more detailed, post on the internment camps, and the story of the Japanese-Americans in Kent, Washington. A link to an article here explaining how this might have happened (Growing Up In Kent, Washington: Tarheels, Hayseeds, Hicks, Hillbillies, and Crackers).
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Monday, September 10, 2007
Four more images of Kent, Washington in the 40's and 50's
This is perhaps the most ignominious picture of Kent, Washington to have ever appeared. The photo was taken days after the Pearl Harbor bombing, and shortly before the entire Japanese population of Kent was rounded up and shipped off to concentration camps (a/k/a relocation centers) in Idaho and California. I do not know who the moron pointing to the sign is, but I suspect he was still around when I was young and roaming the streets of Kent. I have seen this photo on more than one blog and web site. It is often used on sites about the internment camps, and about discrimination against the Japanese.
Click to enlarge this photograph of a pond and house 24804 128th Place SE in the middle 1950s. This site is very close to where my Uncle Romey's doomed "farm" was, and not far from my Great Aunt Ruth's place (about which I remember little except for her amazing fields of blueberries). It is also close to where my fabulous friends Dave Hokit and Maureen Roberts live, near Lake Meridian (which was ringed with one room cabins and fishing shacks when I was young). In his memoir of growing up in West Seattle, the poet Richard Hugo wrote about going on vacation to Lake Meridian every year, renting a cabin, and fishing for trout.
This is what the area surrounding Kent proper looked like when I was growing up. It does not look like this now, even as far out as Cumberland, Black Diamond, Ravensdale, Enumclaw, Lester, Four Corners, or Hobart. Those are the Cascade Mountains in the distance. One thing that hasn't changed: the pale grey to leaden nimbostratus clouds that have hung over my head most of my life.
Another flood in the Green River Valley. When I saw growing up, we had floods in the Valley every year. The valley was fed by several rivers. The White River and the Green River flowed out of the Cascade foothills to the east, and joined in a confluence near downtown Auburn. From there, the river traveled north and was met by the Black River (an outflow from Lake Washington) near what is now Tukwila. The combined rivers formed the Duwamish River which flowed (and still does) north into Elliott Bay.
South of the White/Green river confluence, was the Stuck River which flowed to Commencement Bay in South Puget Sound. The Stuck and the White rivers flowed so near to each other that during spring floods, the two rivers would sometimes merge, spilling water far to the north and south.
I grew up two blocks from the Green River. The floods never reached our house, but usually came right up to the block before ours. I do remember seeing moving vans roll up and haul people's furniture away when a flood was about to strike. That would be for people who could afford it. Most of us poor folk couldn't. We hung in, got out our prams and dinghies, and crossed our fingers. The floods ended in 1962 when the Howard Hanson dam was built upstream:
The Howard Hanson dam. The dam was built to save the farmers, and us, the hapless lowland residents of Kent. What really happened was that the valley was now safe for industry. And the rest, as they say, is history.
---o0o---
Friday, September 07, 2007
Kent, Washington's Meeker Street 1946
This photograph shows Kent, Washington's Meeker Street, in 1946. . .seven years before I was born. I lived in the same house at 534-4th Avenue S. (at Crow Street), six blocks south of Meeker Street from the day I was born until 1971. Meeker Street didn't look much different in my youth, except the cars were about ten years newer (1953 Packards, 1957 Chevies, and Mercury Monterey squad cars). Even today in 2007, most of the same buildings exist on Meeker Street. Meeker Street was home to Shoff's Sporting Goods, Blessing's Jewelers, Dave Leonard's (R.I.P. -- he died a couple of months ago) Rexall Drugs; Grunstead's cafe; The White Spot Tavern, Red's Greyhound Bus Depot and Grill, the Big Bear Grocery store, the Cohen's hardware store, the Kent Barber Shop, J.C. Penney's, the Bible books store, the Club Tavern, The Pastime Tavern, Don Bell's Insurance. and the Ben Franklin five and dime store.
--o0o---
Monday, February 26, 2007
More Memories Of Kent, Washington: The Internment Of The Japanese Families
Many Japanese farmers had dairy farms until the price of milk plummeted after the Great War. Those farmers jumped into vegetable and berry farming, and their truck farms were profitable. They sold produce in Seattle, at farm stands, and shipped lettuce and cabbage to the east coast.
In 1930 there were about 200 Japanese families farming in the White/Green River valley. In 1942 during WW II all Japanese people in the White/Green River Valley were ordered evacuated from this area and were detained at the War Relocation Camp at Tule Lake, California. They lost their businesses, farms and personal belongings. They lost everything in the war hysteria.
In our war hysteria, we didn't want any Japanese Americans near the west coast. They would form cells and assist soldiers and pilots from the motherland in attacking The Pacific Coast. The number of Germans and Italians placed in the camps is only a fraction of their total population compared with the Japanese, virtually all of whom were locked up.
Monday, December 20, 2004
Hucking Eggs in Kent, Washington
For a couple of years, one of our favorite pastimes was hucking eggs at cars. Not that we were particularly destructive, but we were boys, and destruction was part of our makeup...whether it was instilled by nature, or nurture. Eggs were the perfect vehicle--a dozen cost fifty-three cents, they wouldn't kill anyone, didn't dent sheet metal, and did no real damage to the finish of those 50's and 60's behemoths with leaded, toxic, permanent paint.
- They drove on obliviously, or tapped their brakes and kept moving.
- They stopped and maybe got out, checked the egged fender, and drove off.
- They went completely ballistic; crazy as a s**those rat; or went for their shotgun.