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This photo of the just-completed Franklin High School was taken from somewhere half-way up Beacon Hill in about 1913. The Rainier Valley streetcar tracks run across the scene along what is now Rainier Avenue. A brand-new, markedly treeless Mt. Baker Blvd. goes from Rainier Ave toward Franklin and swoops around to the left of the school. Thirty-first Avenue cuts from Mt. Baker Blvd. over to McClellan Street, barely visible on the far left of the photo. The ragged stumps in the foreground are remnants of the forest that covered much of the Rainier Valley before the 1890s. Franklin High School began in 1906 as an annex to the first Seattle High School, located on Broadway. The overflow high school program shared space with a primary school at what is now Washington Middle School, but quickly outgrew that building as well. By 1910 the school district had acquired land at the north end of the Rainier Valley for a new high school. When the beautiful new Franklin High opened in 1912, the architects claimed it was “as complete and modern as possible,” and it was hailed as the crown jewel of the Mount Baker neighborhood – community residents even lobbied unsuccessfully to name it “Mount Baker High School.” As the photograph shows, at that time Mount Baker was just beginning to be developed as a carefully planned upper-income community. The Hunter Tract Improvement Company was largely responsible for the distinctive look of the neighborhood today. They hired prominent landscape architects to lay out gracefully curving streets, taking advantage of the topography of the neighborhood and allowing stunning views from many of the building sites. Restrictive covenants required that houses cost $2,000 at minimum ($5,000 for some lots) – a hefty sum in those days. Houses had to be single-family residences, set back at least 25 feet from the street. And, they could not be sold to non-whites. (Though this policy was successfully challenged in court by a valiant woman called Susie Stone in 1909, the Mount Baker neighborhood remained almost exclusively white until the 1960s.) In this photo Mount Baker is in its infancy, with most of its magnificent homes yet to be built. Several of the buildings visible in the photo are still there today, including the square wooden apartment building just in front and to the right of Franklin (today Fire Station #30 is in front of it) and the two houses with M-shaped gables on 31st Avenue. Malmo’s Nursery occupies the land in front of Franklin High School, with its low building in the center of the photo and cultivation grounds stretching to the left. Charles Malmo started the company in the mid-1890s. It was originally based on Capitol Hill at Broadway and Pike, with a nursery and showground opening at 31st and Rainier in 1906. The Polk City Directory of that year describes Malmo & Co. as “wholesale and retail nurserymen, florists and seedsmen and importing jobbers.” The business offices move to the Mount Baker location in 1908, followed shortly by the Malmo family, who lived on Mt. Baker Blvd. Malmo’s Nursery moved to Belltown in 1917, but the family remained in the neighborhood. "Double Exposures" and Rainier Valley Historical Society Photography by Kerry Zimmerman The Double Exposures project was funded by King County 4Culture and by Rainier Rotary.

Horses hauling logs at Columbia Mill, Columbia, July 15, 1891. Photo property of Rainier Valley Historical Society, Accession Number 93.001.531 Big Trees, Shingle Mills, and Lumberyards From the first logs milled at Henry Yesler’s sawmill in 1853, timber has played a crucial role in the history and economy of Seattle and its surrounding territory. The late 19th century saw the proliferation of logging camps and lumber mills throughout the Puget Sound region. The Atlantic Monthly reported in 1888 that “the timber now standing in Washington territory… is equal to the consumption of the whole United States during the last 100 years,” but warned that “at the rate trees are being cut down, and lumber shipped away from this region, it is a comparatively simple calculation to reckon how long it will take to strip the country bare.” In 1900 lumber was still Seattle’s biggest export, with 340 mills producing 405 million board feet of lumber and 3 billion shingles a year. In the heavily forested Rainier Valley, logging served several purposes. First of all, the industry provided jobs and income to loggers and millworkers, many of them local residents. The lumber produced was used locally to build houses and plank the sidewalks and streets. And, once the electric railway was built in1890, lumber was sent by rail to Seattle, which was rebuilding after the Great Seattle Fire. Logging also produced another valuable commodity: cleared land, which could then be platted and sold by developers. After all, the Rainier Valley, no matter how big the trees, wasn’t an isolated wilderness. With Seattle just three miles (?) north, thriving coal mines in Renton and Newcastle to the south, easy water access, and electric streetcar service, it was prime real estate. Columbia Mill: “The Hand of Commercial Man" Columbia City’s early years saw all these aspects of the timber industry flourish. In 1890, just after J.K. Edmiston built the Rainier Avenue Electric Railway to bring homebuyers to the newly platted town of Columbia, a mill opened just south of town at Brandon Street. Horse-drawn wagons brought the raw logs in; freight cars on the streetcar rails shipped lumber out. It’s not clear how long the Columbia Mill (also known as the Dry Lumber Mill) lasted – while the photos are impressive, the records are somewhat hazy. It is clear, however, that lumber remained an important business in Columbia City. Christopher Hepler, a member of one of Columbia’s founding families, started a lumber company in the 1890s, and the Columbia Shingle Company operated under several different owners from 1903 to 1908, according to the Polk Directory. Even after the big trees were gone and Columbia became part of Seattle’s urban metropolis, lumber companies flourished, providing building materials for new houses and businesses throughout the Rainier Valley. The Lakewood & Mt. Baker Lumber Co. operated at 43rd and Genessese in the 1910s and ‘20s. City Sash and Door sold lumber, mouldings, and millwork at the SE corner of Rainier and Hudson from 1909 to 1926. Other lumber companies included Orvis Lumber in Columbia City (1911) and Stewart Lumber Co., which is still in operation at 1761 Rainier Avenue. When the Young family, current owners of Stewart Lumber, bought the business in 1926, lumber was still delivered to the site by rail, on a spur of the streetcar track that ran right through the building. Harry Kneisley: “An Energetic Hustling Businessman Who Thoroughly Understands His Business” In 1910 the Columbia Lumber Company opened at the southwest corner of Rainier and Hudson. Its founder, Harry Kneisley, was a 27-year-old Midwesterner who headed west in 1905 to attend Portland’s Lewis and Clark Centennial Exposition and wound up settling in the Rainier Valley. His business thrived through the 1910s and ‘20s. In 1924 Kneisley’s biography appeared among those of Seattle’s leading citizens in C. H. Hanford’s “Seattle and Environs: 1852-1924.” According to Hanford, Kneisley was “an excellent type of the energetic hustling business man who thoroughly understands his business.” Kneisley left the lumber business in 1927 and died about 1930. The old site of the Columbia Lumber Company was soon occupied by Shade Foster, an experienced lumberman who remained in business at Hudson and Rainier until the mid-1960s, sharing the site with a series of gas stations, car dealers, and auto repair shops. The office for Foster’s lumberyard was in a little gabled building that is now home to the Busy Bee Market. Taylor’s Mill Big trees survived in the Skyway area long after the rest of the Rainier Valley had been cleared of timber. Taylor’s Mill, located at the foot of Dead Horse Canyon, turned those logs into lumber, after they made the journey down the hill along a wooden chute. The mill also processed timber from across the lake. Sanford Taylor’s mill originally operated at the foot of Leschi bluff, but after a landslide in 1901 he moved the mill on barges to Rainier Beach. Like Columbia Mill and Stewart Lumber, Taylor’s Mill used the streetcar rails for shipping lumber – note the streetcar visible in the lower left corner of the photo. Most of Taylor’s 100 or so employees lived near the mill, many in bunkhouses constructed by the company. The little community was known to the post office as “Tamil.” It had its own restaurant, run by one of the Taylor girls, and a grocery store on Rainier Avenue at the corner of 68th Avenue South. The grocery building is still there – the old Lakeside Tavern, with the sign on the north side still upside down. No other trace of Taylor’s Mill is left today, unless you count Lakeridge Park, better known as “Dead Horse Canyon.” While some say the canyon’s gruesome name commemorates a beloved pet horse who died of dehydration there in 1909, a competing legend says it is named in honor of a team of horses that plunged to their deaths while bringing in a load of logs in the early days of Taylor’s Mill.

Crowd outside Phalen's Grocery during Rainier Valley Fiesta, Seattle, 1915. Property of Rainier Valley Historical Society, Accession Number 93.001.067 In 1915, a grocer named Bill Phalen had a vision: a spectacular celebration that would bring the whole Rainier Valley together. (He also had a lot of friends and a great deal of energy, which is what it takes to make this kind of vision a reality.) The first annual “Rainier Valley Fiesta,” held on June 25th, 1915, started a tradition that continues today with the annual Rainier Valley Heritage Festival. Bill Phalen was a baseball player turned grocer who moved to Columbia City in 1901 and quickly became a community leader, serving as Mayor twice before the town was annexed to Seattle in 1907. As a successful businessman, he understood that a community has to have roads, schools, and a fire department in order to survive. But he also knew that a community has to have fun – together – in order to thrive. There were parades in Columbia City before 1915, but we can be pretty sure nothing on the scale of Phalen’s Rainier Valley Fiesta had ever occurred before. The printed program declared the organizers’ intention “to start a community spirit of oneness,” and ended with this exhilarating command: “From this time on, let all the citizens within the limits of this place, amalgamate as one!” The organizers pulled out all the stops in their pursuit of unity. The event started at 2 pm with a Calithumpian Band riding on a streetcar all the way from Seattle to Renton. This was followed by a Punch and Judy show, pony rides, a merry-go-round, and performances by “the children of the playfields.” From 3 to 6 pm Mr. Cavanaugh’s band played – the program advised listeners to “Let joyfull, weird, and soothing music sounds cause all forgetfulness of care.” An intermission followed, with activities for those “awaiting the hilarity of the night.” At 7:30 pm a Calithumpian Parade marched from Edmunds Street to Kenney Street in Hillman City – and back again, in the fine tradition of small-town parades. The Lakewood Choral Club performed, followed by the Eagle Band, the Tillikum Drum Corps, the Redman Drill Team, and a speech by Seattle Mayor Hiram Gill. The festivities continued late into the night, with musical performances, a Hitt fireworks display, and Lantern Slides. The Street Dancing began at 10:45 pm. According to one report, 20,000 people attended this marvelous event. If you’re wondering what “calithumpian” means, it’s derived from the Greek words for beauty (“kallos”) and noise (“thumpos”) and roughly translates as “big, beautiful noise” – just the thing to get a bunch of citizens amalgamated as one. The Fiesta and its descendant celebrations continued, evolving over the years in response to current events and community changes. For instance, when the Rainier Valley streetcar rails were removed in 1937, the community held a three-day festival to celebrate. The streetcar had ceased operation in January and the rails, sunk in a foot-deep trench in the middle of the road, were now nothing but a road hazard. The celebration included a parade that went from Dearborn Street to Rainier Beach – and yes, back again. Nineteen thirty-seven also saw the first Rainier District Pow Wow, a community festival that took place every year in Seward Park until 1990. Chaired by state representative John L. O’Brien, the Pow Wow featured music and dance, fireworks, pie-eating contests, and the crowning of the Pow Wow Queen and Princesses. These lovely ladies graced many community events, including parades, over the years. John O’Brien himself drove the Pow Wow royalty car in the 1950 Hillman City Christmas Parade, organized by the Hillman City Business Roundtable. (These brave business leaders must be commended for even contemplating a parade in December in Seattle, let alone pulling it off with style!) It’s not clear when Columbia City’s annual parades ended, but they were revived in the late 1970s when Columbia City’s historic district was created. Early sponsors included the Columbia Merchants Association and SEED, then a brand-new organization. The Rainier Chamber took over in the 1980s and has been running the show ever since. Parade theorists – and yes, there are such people – tell us that a parade is a community’s way of showing itself to itself. That has certainly been true of the Rainier Valley Heritage Parade, whose entries promote local businesses, and celebrate the neighborhood’s cultural diversity, and showcase the creative, calithumpian spirit of the Rainier Valley.

Whenever young Bernice Boley had a little money, she’d head over to Vincent’s grocery for some penny candy: this was the 1930s, and a handful of hard candy could be had for just one cent. Vincent’s was right across the street from Whitworth, where Bernice went to school, and when the last bell rang there’d sometimes be quite a crowd. The tiny store occupied the front room of Mrs. Stella Vincent’s house, and it allowed Mrs. Vincent to earn a little extra money at home – no small matter during the Great Depression. The house had two entrances, each with its own porch: a larger public one for the store, and a private one for the family. Inside, Bernice recalls, the store had “glass counters, and things were displayed on shelves. You had to ask for candy at the counter, and they’d put it in a bag for you.” "It wasn't just candy, but that's what I went there for!" Mrs. Vincent’s children went to Whitworth too, and she knew the neighborhood kids well enough to help keep them in line: when Bernice’s little brother tried to buy some candy with a ten-dollar gold piece he had “borrowed” from his mother’s keepsake drawer, Mrs. Vincent called his mother to inquire, “Do you know your son’s in here with a ten-dollar gold piece?” Mrs. Boley was grateful for the call. The City Directory for 1937 lists hundreds of grocery stores in Seattle, at least 80 of them in the Rainier Valley. Tiny groceries in people’s homes served as proto-convenience stores, supplementing the larger grocery stores in regular commercial zones. Bernice’s mother, for instance, did most of her shopping at Keefe’s Grocery in Hillman City (on the northwest corner of Rainier and Orcas). “She probably went there once a week or once every two weeks. Keefe’s delivered sometimes, too.” But she might send Bernice over to Vincent’s once in a while if she ran out of milk or eggs. Places like Keefe’s allowed customers to run up a tab and pay their grocery bill monthly, or when they could afford it. Vincent’s and other “cash groceries” required payment at the time of purchase. Dan Fink remembers at least three different cash groceries in the Mt. Baker neighborhood where he grew up in the 1960s. Danny, like Bernice, was a consumer of penny candy in his youth. He says the Mt. Baker Cash Grocery at the bottom of York Road “was our favorite little store, because it was right on the way home from John Muir School. There was a little old guy who ran that store with his wife, and their son and daughter-in-law also lived right by the store. I used to play with the grandkids. So we stopped there every single day [after school], and then sometimes at night my mom would send us down to the store to get some bread or some milk, instead of going to the big grocery store.” When Dan was about eleven, he and some friends had a memorable experience at their favorite store: “We thought we were pretty smart. We also didn’t like to spend too much money on candy, but we wanted the candy. So we thought the prices were too high. We decided to put up a picket line in front of this little store. We hand-painted some signs that said, “Unfair, Candy Prices Too High.” And we marched in front of his store. This guy was probably in his sixties, and he really got upset. We’re lucky he didn’t have a heart attack. He came out and he was just screaming at us.” Dan and his friends’ foray into political activism did not have the desired effect on candy prices, alas. “No, in fact, I think we might have been not allowed in the store for a while!” The Mt. Baker Cash Grocery lasted into the 1960s: when Danny was thirteen, he bought a twenty-eight cent bottle of bleach there to dye his hair. But by that point most of the small neighborhood groceries – and the larger ones like Keefe’s – had been driven out of business by the new, enormous, car-oriented, lower-priced supermarkets. Vincent’s and the other in-home groceries all reverted to residences – today you’d never know that these houses were once grocery stores. Other former groceries around the neighborhood are easier to spot. A few still serve the neighborhood as convenience stores, but most have been converted into daycares, businesses, even homes. Their odd corner entrances and large display windows reveal their previous incarnations, reminders of the lost world of penny candy, twenty-eight cent bleach, and small-scale local retail.

Hillman City began as a stop on the Rainier Valley Streetcar line in the 1890s. The area was platted by, and named after, the notorious real estate developer C.D. Hillman. Hillman was known for his aggressive, sometimes fraudulent business practices – such as selling lots in the middle of Green Lake to people back East, who then arrived in Seattle to discover that their property was underwater. Hillman lived for a time in the peak-roofed house just behind Lough’s in this photo. Though it was never as populous as Columbia City one mile to the north, Hillman City had its own thriving business district with a real estate office, grocery and hardware store, bakery, tile factory, movie theater – even an opera house. A circular fountain at the intersection of Rainier and Orcas marked the center of the community. Hillman was annexed to the City of Seattle along with the rest of South Seattle in 1907. This building housed a cigar factory in the early 1900s. From 1933 to 1953 Lough’s Grocery and Meat Market operated here, as this 1937 photograph shows. Lough’s was a classic neighborhood grocery store, with salespeople who wrapped up your produce for you, a butcher who made his own corned beef and sausages, barrels full of pickles, monthly grocery bills instead of cash sales, and home delivery service. By the 1950s these establishments were being pushed out by supermarkets, which offered lower prices and minimal service. The 1960s and ‘70s were not kind to Hillman City – though the movie theater stayed in business, showing Asian martial arts flicks. In the 1980s, the Lough’s building became one of Hillman City’s most prominent landmarks, the Hillman City Boxing Gym. Owner Bob Jarvis trained fighters from all over the region, including the young Martin O’Malley. O’Malley’s mother encouraged him to take up boxing because it was “safer than skateboarding.” Jarvis also promoted women’s boxing matches and a controversial “mixed match” between Margaret MacGregor and Loi Chow in 1999. The building recently received a facelift and is now home to Lee’s Martial Arts Academy, providing instruction in Karate and Tae Kwon Do. C.D. Hillman’s house is still there too. “Double Exposures” is supported by the Rainier Rotary Foundation, 4Culture, and the Photographic Center Northwest

The history of bread goes back some 30,000 years, to the hunting and gathering phase of human development. Fast forward a few tens of thousands of years to 1891, and a local version of civilized society crafted by Columbia pioneers began to materialize. Lumber and shingle mills as well as the railway attracted workers who needed their daily bread. Historical records indicate several locations for bakeries along Rainier Avenue between Edmunds and Hudson Street, the two-block stretch originally designated as the business district. Frank Goetz was the proprietor of Columbia Bakery at 4855 Rainier Avenue beginning in 1914. The building was vintage 1899, a two-story wood frame commercial-residential structure. A bakery as early as 1901, it utilized a brick oven heated by burning cord wood in the baking chamber. The ashes were raked out and then the dough put in to bake. Mr. Goetz advertised “Large Cakes, Pies and Cookies Baked Fresh Every Day.” In the late 1920s this building was razed to make way for the brick clad building we see today and refer to historically as the Calvert Bakery building, where William Calvert baked breads and cakes until about 1930. About this time, Claude McNabb left Colorado with his wife Florence and children Frank, Frances, Dorothy and Claude Jr., known as “Bink”. Claude was headed north to Alaska to start a bakery but after arriving decided “that was no place to raise children.” He soon returned to the University District in Seattle where he owned and operated the Mity-Nice Bakery on the Ave. In November of 1931 a burglar fled the bakery with $7 in loot as pajama-clad Claude pulled the trigger of his revolver five times. By July of 1933, C. H. McNabb was looking for a small bakery to buy or lease, in or out of Seattle. The Columbia Electric Bakery at 4863 Rainier Avenue became that bakery and the McNabbs moved to Columbia City. At 4863-65 Rainier Avenue stood the two-story Knights of Pythias building. While the building originally featured an ornate false front with turrets, these decorative elements had been removed by the 1930s. The upstairs community gathering space had become known as Phalen Hall, named after W.W. Phalen who purchased the building in 1901. Bill Phalen, mayor of Columbia City in 1905 and again in 1907, was a successful businessman with “W.W. Phalen, Your Grocer” in the north storefront on the first floor (4863 Rainier). In the late 1930s, Columbia Electric Bakery ran Saturday specials for lemon filled and three-layer vanilla, chocolate, caramel, or coconut cakes. Also offered were assorted sliced deli meats and cheeses, Claude’s home-made mayonnaise (bring in your own container), and their own hand-dipped chocolates - stiff competition for Nick Vamkros’ Confectionery just one building to the south. Claude was also known for his rye bread crusted baked hams - customers made special requests for the cracklins left in the pan. The Columbia Electric Bakery was a union shop and Happy Cook, their first baker, was known as Cookie by the youngsters. The McNabbs lived blocks from the bakery where Claude left the family home in the early hours to begin his work day. Florence went in later, often walking home in the evenings after closing. Daughters Frances and Dorothy began working at the bakery afterschool and on Saturdays as cashiers waiting on trade. Son Frank helped with the doughnuts. But it was on Easter Monday, April 14, 1941, that the Columbia Electric Bakery really made the news. At 3:44 a.m., Battalion Chief Lincoln Johnston of Hillman Fire Station answered the first fire alarm and shortly thereafter the McNabb family heard a knock at their door. It was a man alerting Claude the bakery was on fire. Last Resort Fire Department archives reveal the two‑alarm fire started when creosote condensate on a smoke pipe ignited as the pipe overheated. The fire spread inside the walls to the other occupancies, up into the attic and through the roof. The fire was determined under control at 4:19 a.m. While the first floor of the building suffered the least damage, the Columbia Electric Bakery’s oven was ruined. Repairs were made to the building and a new roof was built over the first floor. Phalen’s Hall suffered extensive damage and the upstairs wood floor would host dances no more. A new oven was bought for the bakery and the smoke damage cleared out. In August of 1941, Claude McNabb baked the wedding cake for his daughter Dorothy’s marriage to Roy Nornholm at Columbia Congregational Church. In 1942, Claude and Florence McNabb sold the Columbia Bakery and moved to Point Mugu in California after Claude Jr. graduated from Franklin High School and was accepted for naval air training in 1943. They joined Claude’s sister and husband to manage a restaurant, motel and gas station there. Frances McNabb continued her work at the bakery with the new owner, Louis Bock who had recently arrived from Yakima, and Happy Cook is rumored to have become the manager. Mr. Bock sold to the Jack Alman brothers at some point and it became the Columbia Bakery & Coffee Shop by 1958. During the 1970s and 1980s, La Bakerery was in business and eventually, the Gather Consignment shop we know today opened its doors at 4863 Rainier Avenue South. Many thanks to Dorothy McNabb Nornholm for sharing her family memories of the bakery. Our condolences for the loss of her sister Frances McNabb Stowell on June 13, 2015. Frances was a 1939 graduate of Franklin High School, and was employed as a line cook at Franklin High School’s cafeteria for many years before retiring. Frances continued to live in her Rainier Valley home on Myrtle Street for 60 years. She was an active member of the Rainier Valley Historical Society. Also thanks to Galen Thomaier, Seattle Fire Department Historian, of Last Resort Fire Department for providing information from their archives about the fire.

Audio recording, John Parker describing the Model T Ford he built up from parts of several cars during the 1920s. https://soundcloud.com/rainier-valley-history/10005098-john-parker

Audio recording of John Croce recollecting the Italian School from the Garlic Gulch neighborhood in the 1930s.

Interview of Jack Collier by Buzz Anderson from 1994.

The song "Carry Me Back to Columbia City" sung by the Columbia Pioneers at the 1973 annual meeting.

They came down from Beacon Hill, from the Central District, and from the valley floor. Most came by foot with a friend or two. The children came to learn the language of their parents in a small building on Valentine Street behind the New Italian Café in the heart of Garlic Gulch. The Scuola Italiana Dante Alighieri, its official name, was set up by the Italian community in the 1930s to provide the formal training in Italian that was difficult to provide at home. Many immigrant families continued to speak their regional dialect, if they spoke Italian at all at home. According to Italian-American businessman John Croce, Mussolini sent a teacher over and this teacher was paid by the Italian government. We kids all spoke dialect Italian at home; at the school we learned how to speak correctly, read and write, pronounce, and all that. We learned how to sing Mussolini songs. We didn’t care. We didn’t care about Mussolini. We learned about the good Italian language, the verbs and all that stuff. Lucy Colarossi Salle walked the few blocks from her home near Judkins Park with a girlfriend twice a week for the after school sessions. She remembers performing in a Christmas skit for parents: In the play, the teacher had me conjugate the verb “to be.” And I was supposed to make a mistake in the play, and then say “Oh, no, no!” and then correct myself. Lucy Salle recalls that some of the boys were “mischievous,” setting off firecrackers in class. John Croce testifies to a more serious incident. Alvie, he got up and in Italian says “I hate you” and shot the teacher with a starter pistol and the guy collapsed on the floor. I was there! Then he ran out of the damn school room and he went and stayed in the woods. We had a shack up in the woods that we built out of scrap lumber. The teacher got the Italian consul, went to Alvie’s old man and Alvie’s old man was looking for him for a week to beat the hell out him. Finally Alvie come out of hiding and the old man whipped his butt. He couldn’t go back to the Italian School after that! Sometime after this episode, the professore returned to Italy, now on the verge of war. For a time, a female teacher, “a gal from the neighborhood” according to Lucy Salle, taught the children. For reasons both political and geographic, the little school in the shadow of the coming freeway did not survive into the 1940s. After the war, classes continued for a time in a borrowed classroom at the Coleman School and at Deaconess Settlement House on Atlantic Street. Caption: Christmas at the Italian School. Luce Salle is at center left, hand in coat pocket. Professore Bovio stands in the back on the left side. The cabinet is draped with the flag of the Kingdom of Italy. Photo courtesy of Lucy Salle. Listen to the audio of John Croce.

A culinary history of the Rainier Valley going back 100 years with recipes and stories from our multicultural community. This project began with a two-year multicultural oral history project based on food, using Rainier Beach High School students and adult volunteers as interviewers. We wanted to use the universal topic of food to reach out to the many different ethnic and cultural groups in the Rainier Valley. We also worked with teen photographers from Youth in Focus to document some of the stories we uncovered.