James Frederick Dawson and Trouble With the Curve

 

James F. Dawson

The Cultural Landscape Foundation

In 1902 the city contracted with the Olmsted Brothers to have a grand plan drawn up for a system of connected parks and boulevards.  Automobiles had come to Seattle just two years prior but the Olmsted Brothers were sophisticated in their thinking when compared to some others.  Their vision acknowledged that the horse drawn buggy was on its way out and that “pleasure drives” in automobiles were the future for Seattle.  The shoreline of Lake Washington was a great place to build yet-to-be-planned parks and to locate such a grand connecting roadway with its pleasing and complex curves.  In 1904 they sent partner James Frederick Dawson to Seattle to review plans, document progress and ground truth their planned visions for the city. 

1904 - ONHS - Image by J.F. Dawson

Madison Street Trestle Out of View To the Right - Lake Washington Blvd Descending On the Left

In August of 1904 construction began on the first section of roadway before the plans had even been finalized.  That road started at the east end of the Madison Street Trestle and descended north along the hillside that was tightly squeezed between the deep and wooded ravine to the west (today referred to as Washington Park Playfield) and previously platted land between what we refer to today as Washington Park Playfield and Broadmoor. 

Backing In at Big Southern Butte

Every year at this time I think about that hang gliding trip that I went on to Utah with Roger (Black Weasel), Dan (Dangerous Dan), Robbie (Mr. Natural) and his dog Kona (Frisbee Scumbag). My moniker was Jon Boy. That trip was full of brotherhood, adventure, chills and thrills. September spurs us to get in touch to reminisce and this year we ask ourselves, “Could it really have been 41 years ago today”? 

So many stories and new acquaintances came out of our time together and many of the pilots we met told us of amazing flights that were being had at Big Southern Butte in the Idaho desert. We had read stories about the place and knew that there had been some fatalities there but we always rationalized that pilots who died had done something stupid that we would avoid. Since Big Southern Butte wasn’t too far out of our way we decided to stop there and fly. 

Driving north beyond Pocatello we turned onto a secondary highway. It was dark and after a while we turned off onto a dirt road and followed it, dodging jack rabbits and potholes. I would guess that it took about an hour on that dirt before we came to Frenchman’s Cabin where we would crash for the night. All we could really see in the headlights was a ragged log cabin, and an even raggedier shelter for livestock, a couple of piles of junk and log fence. It had to be the place and we were beat so we grabbed our sleeping bags and started for the door. 

Wanted: Dead or Alive

 Originally published 9/14/2021

Be on the lookout for Notch Ear.

He is wanted for Criminal Trespass, Burglary, Mayhem, Willful Damage and Destruction.

He was last seen leaving my garage with an empty peanut bag which he blatantly discarded in the street.  The contents of the bag have not been recovered.  Additionally, he tore apart a pile of Styrofoam chunks that had been neatly stacked awaiting recycling and scattered them around the garage.  He is well-known in the Ridgecrest Neighborhood for leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. 

If you see Notch Ear or any members of his gang do not attempt to apprehend him.  He is a cheeky little bastard and should be considered armed and dangerous. 

He is a Vandal, a Hun, a Visigoth, a Barbarian at the gate, clamoring for blood and bent on destruction. 

 

Just waste the mother.

Search for the Good Road Lunch Room

Courtesy of Gordon Macdougall

While Interlaken Blvd may “officially” be just outside of the Montlake Historic District you would be hard pressed to convince any Montlake Free Range Kid that Interlaken, Louisa Boren Park or any part of “The Ravine” was not their turf.  With that mindset I began trying to find the site where a Montlake icon, the Good Road Lunch Room, had stood. 

It’s well known that Interlaken Blvd follows the general route of the Seattle Bicycle Path that was laid out during the 1890’s.  Many have reported on that so I will leave you to sort through those resources.  The Good Road Lunch Room is mentioned in all of those narratives but the exact location has never been located to my satisfaction.  We know that it was somewhere between Roanoke and 24^th, but where? 

REI - When Hang Gliding Was Mainstream

An abridged version of this narrative first appeared in the January 2003 edition of the Oz Report. You probably didn't know that REI was once a Northwest powerhouse in hang gliding sales and instruction.

REI got into the hang gliding business by purchasing Chandelle Northwest from a gentleman named Ken Greenwald ~1974-1975. Ken had returned from a very profitable season of fishing in Alaska and had some money burning a hole in his pocket so he decided that selling hang gliders would be a fun way to get rich. I’ve never been completely clear on whether he came up with the idea himself or if he had help but in the early ‘70’s hang gliding was exploding. It was being touted as the inexpensive sport that any man or woman could safely engage in to experience the freedom of flight.

It sounded foolproof so Ken started the company and opened up an amazing shop in downtown Seattle. He leased a great showroom in the old Commission District near the ferry terminal. The business was located in the northeast corner of the Maritime Building and had plenty of large plate glass windows to display gliders.

Birthdays, Baseballs and Goose Eggs

 

I celebrated my 9th trip around the sun by gorging on cake and ice cream followed by a roller-skating party at Ridge Roller Rink in Greenwood with my Montlake School buddies Pip M, Scott M, Jeff W, Mike S, Ray B, Marc G, Bobby A and Lester R.  Being fairly new to the neighborhood I didn’t realize how blessed I was to have been accepted by such a solid crew of Montlake kids whose parents had raised them right.  I'm still in touch with two of those "kids" today. 

Lord of the Flies / King of the Carp

 1/1/2006

The Plan

The plan was hatched in Donnie Carlson’s storage area. 

His house sat at the corner of Boyer and Everett Ave. E.  Everett Avenue sloped about 75 yards down to Portage Bay where it dead ended at the remains of a rickety dock surrounded by cattails and Lilly Pads.  The dock had been the sidewalk for a houseboat community that was displaced by the building of the 520 viaduct. 

Donnie’s house was built on the hillside with the main floor at ground level on one side and the exterior basement door at ground level on the opposite.  A deck off of the living room extended over the basement door and the deck supports provided the main framing and footprint for the storage area.  The walls were enclosed using translucent corrugated fiberglass panels.  Access from outside was through a light wooden door that was held shut with a screen door hook.

The area was used for storing outboard motors, oars, life jackets, seat cushions, fishing poles, reels, nets, tackle boxes, lawn mowers, rakes, garden tools, large mysterious olive drab canvas things of unknown purpose.  Interesting artifacts were stacked, slung and hung everywhere in this 8’ x 10’ space and emitted intriguing smells that really got the juices stirring in this young boy.  The mingling scents emitted by jars of salmon eggs, cheese bait, vinyl seat cushions, well-aged fishing creels, air-dried kapok life jackets, motor oil, gasoline, dried grass, army surplus pup tents with just a hint of rodent pee filled me with wonder.  My God, what a magnificent smell.  The light that filtered through the fiberglass paneling played across salmon flashers, trout lures, odd floats and old jackets that were suspended from the rafters.  This was a cathedral and any boy who entered was overwhelmed by the possibilities.  It was in this temple that Donnie unveiled the prize given to him by his Grandpa. 

In his hand he held a green trident spear tip.  Four sharp prongs, each finished with a barb, all set into an elongated cap designed to fit over the end of a shaft.  He held it out to me and smiled.  It was beautiful, dangerous, wicked, perfect!  I was transfixed.  What more could a boy want?  Without any idea of how I would use it I knew that I had to possess one and it had to be soon.