Open House Rocks!

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Here's Rose Egge's report on KOMO's Columbia City Blog, complete with video interviews with former residents and one of the students.

For a blow-by-blow description of the day, see "It Doesn't Exist, But You'll Find It." 

Thanks again to everyone who made this project possible!
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Sneak Preview: 4354 S. Bennett St.

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See Those Houses? Not Anymore.

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Old Whitworth School and Playfield, c. 1965. The two houses along the back side of the playfield, along with five more behind them, were torn down in 1989 to make the school's site bigger.

Please join us this Thursday when we bring them back to life! 


Photo courtesy of Seattle Public Schools Archives
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Open House: June 17th, 3-7 pm

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1910 - 1912: The Houses Are Built

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June 1910

I sighed. I was in fifth grade. My teacher Miss Larson was giving out math homework. I let my eyes stray out the window across the dirt field. I blinked again, but no, I had seen right the first time. Three new houses were being constructed. I mean, I had noticed people with maps and pencils walking around, but this was serious. Carts were pulling lumber up to the site. Men with picks were digging foundations and picking away at junk and debris. Another shock was that the map and pencil people were looking at two new sites. One house, 4435 Dawson, was brand new. It had been built the year before.

June 1911

I looked at my new teacher, Miss Peters. She was deep in conversation with the principal, Miss Hart. I was in sixth grade now, and there were four houses across the field. Normally when Miss Hart was around, we hardly dared to breathe, but today I risked a glance out the window. Two more houses were being built, and the map and pencil people were looking at one last site. Now there would be three houses on Dawson, and four on Bennett.

June 1912

I was looking at my spelling test. Now I was in seventh grade. The last house had been built. Its address: 4350 S. Bennett.

-- Tieran Sweeny-Bender


Evidence: 


1907: New building built for Hillman City School. The building is named after George F. Whitworth, former president of Washington Territorial University and Superintendent of Public Instruction, who died that year. Also in 1907, the Rainier Valley is officially annexed to the City of Seattle, and all its schools, including Whitworth, become part of Seattle School District #1. (Source: Seattle Public Schools Archives)

Emma C. Hart served as principal at Whitworth School from 1907 until 1937. A former student we interviewed told us Miss Hart was "short, nice, and strict." (Sources: SPS Archives, Bernice Sisson interview)

1909: 4435 S. Dawson built.
1910: 4427 S. Dawson, 4458 S. Bennett, 4344 S. Bennett built.
1911: 4425 S. Dawson, 4354 S. Bennett built.
1912: 4350 S. Bennett built.
(Source: King County Property Records, Puget Sound Regional Archives)

Foundations were dug by hand and with horse-drawn equipment as late as the 1920s.
(Source: Rainier Valley Historical Society photo)
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1925: The Ballad of Boyd McGee

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"Ahh... It's a great day to deliver the mail," said the mailman Boyd McGee as he went to his car to deliver the mail. "Too bad my uniform has a big coffee stain on it. I hope nobody notices."

After a long day of delivering the mail, he came to the last house on his route, which also happened to be on his own street. There was just one piece of mail for his neighbor Clara Kohlmeier: a pink letter with hearts on it. Once that was done he went home.

"Ahh... It's a great day to get my mail," said Clara Kohlmeier, a lonely widow, as she went outside to get the mail. When she looked outside she saw her neighbor Boyd McGee put a pink card into her mailbox and walk away. She went to the mail box and read the letter. "It's a love letter!!" she yelled, and ran inside.

The Next Day

"Hey, this goes to me," said Boyd the mailman as he dropped off a big box at his house that was addressed to him. "Well, better bring it inside." He opened the door and put the box on the floor. "Hmm... What is this?" he asked himself. He got some scissors from the kitchen and cut it open.

"I love you!!!!" yelled Clara as she jumped out of the box in a pink dress, and thrust a plate of heart shaped cookies into his hands.

"What? Who? Why are you in a box with hearts... and are you in love with ME?!" he yelled.

"What, you don't love me too?" she asked. "No, I don't," he stammered, shuffling his feet.

"Then why did you give me a love note in the mail?"

"I deliver the mail, not write it."

"Oh..." She took her plate of cookies and walked to the door dejectedly.

"Wait, the letter was from me. I just wanted to hide it. I love you too!" yelled Boyd.

-- Ronny VanderVeen


Evidence


While there was a mailman named Boyd McGee who lived at 4425 S. Dawson in the 1950s and a “janitress” named Clara Kohlmeier who lived at 4427 S. Dawson in the 1930s, other than that this cinematic love story is pure fiction.
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1931: Jane Hildahl Comes Home

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I answer the phone and a woman’s voice says kindly, “Mr. Hildahl?”

“Yes,” I respond.

“I’m calling to inform you that your wife will be coming home from the hospital today.”

“Thank you very much,” I told her. She said goodbye and hung up.

They told me Jane would be coming home sometime this week. But I didn’t think it would be today. I’m due at the fire station in ten minutes. Normally you have to fill out a request three weeks in advance if you want to change your schedule, and it costs you 10 merits every time… Merits I’ve lost for being late… Three times in the last month. Could I help it that my car wouldn’t start? Or that my clock was set to the wrong time? Now all I can do is hope the Chief is in an understanding mood.  I pick up the phone.

“Operator,” came the familiar voice on the line.

“I would like to speak to Fire Station 28, please.”

“All right. One moment please.”

The phone rings and then: “Hello, Fire Station 28.”

“This is Sidney Hildahl calling.”

“Sidney!? If you don’t hurry up, you’re going to get a demerit!” I recognized the voice of my friend Paul.

“I know, Paul!” I told him what was going on. “I need to talk to Chief Fitzgerald, please.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want,” he said in a sarcastic sort of way. “Chief! Come down here for a second!” he yelled from the receiver. I waited nervously.

“Hello?” said the Chief’s low voice.

“Hello, sir, it’s Sidney Hildahl.”

“Sidney Hildahl!?!? You’d better be here in five minutes, or I will give you a demerit!”

“Um, yes sir. I was wondering if I could have the day off because my wife is coming home – “

“You have to file three weeks in advance for a schedule change!” he yelled into the receiver.

I never had much hope. I mean, this is the guy who made me give him the empty roll of toilet paper before I got a new one. But I stuck with it.

“No, Mr. Fitzgerald, my wife is coming home from the hospital and I am staying home!”  I yelled back. I could almost hear his blood boiling as I quickly hung up.

-- Irene Bowen


Evidence


1931-1943: Sidney Hildahl is listed at 4350 S. Bennett. His wife Jane is listed there until 1935.


Source: Polk's Directories


1931: Sidney Hildahl requests a transfer to Station 28 in Hillman City: "On account of my wife ill health I would like to be transfered to a station nearer my home, so that I could put in more time at home, as she is very nervous and iratable."

Source: Seattle Fire Department personnel records, Municipal Archives

Our information about Chief Fitzgerald came from an impromptu interview with a current Station 28 crew, followed by a telephone conversation with Galen at the Last Resort Fire Department. We were told Chief Fitzgerald wouldn't give you a new lightbulb unless you turned in the burned out one, nor a new roll of toilet paper unless you turned in the empty cardboard tube. Because of strict policies like these, he was known for returning money to the City budget that had been allocated to the Fire Department but not spent. We were also told that he was a great man and an inspiring leader. Irene had to decide how to portray him in her story based on these differing perspectives.

Station 28 used to be on Orcas Street, just four blocks from Sidney Hildahl's home. Photo of Station 28 c. 1916 courtesy of the Rainier Valley Historical Society


Addendum

Another student wrote an entirely different narrative based on this same handful of clues. That there are sometimes many different ways to interpret the scanty available evidence is something professional historians wrestle with all the time -- but rarely do they give their imaginations as much free rein as twelve-year-old Ronny did in this case. Before sharing this story, we want to make it absolutely clear that Ronny wrote it as a creative exercise, not as an attempt to describe actual historical events, and that we have no reason to believe it reflects any reality remotely related to the Hildahl family.

Work and Wife

I was forty years old, and I was tired of work. I wanted a way to get rid of the two things I hate: my wife, and work. I thought long and hard about this, and I came up with a plan. I would slip poison into the coffee that I will make. I will serve the coffee to both of us, but I will “accidentally” drop my cup. She will drink her cup and get very sick. Then I will have an excuse to leave work. She will eventually die, and I will leave work because of “sorrow” and I will be free and live happily every after.

-- Ronny VanderVeen
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