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RVHS Photo 2002.036.0099. Seattle in April—a time for strolling through blooming cherry blossoms, tuning in to the earliest Mariners’ games of the season, and rejoicing at the occasional sixty-five and sunny afternoon. This month’s recipe takes us back to Rainier Valley nearly a century ago and reflects the spirit of spring gardens flourishing all across the city: Phyllis Macay’s “Famous” Plum Bread. Phyllis Macay was one of many Italian immigrants who lived in Rainier Valley’s old “Garlic Gulch” neighborhood, an area around Rainier Avenue and Atlantic Street, which earned that name in the 1910s because of its large population of Italian immigrants. As Phyllis Macay’s grandchild Vincent LaSelle recalls, Macay had a wonderful garden where she “raised garlic, onions, peppers, tomatoes…In the middle of that garden was a pear tree. And oh! It used to produce pears, I’m gonna tell you that. Then she had five great big cherry trees. Oh man! And one great big Italian prune tree. They would pick the prunes and they’d bring them down to the store and they’d sell them for a pretty good price. They were Italian prunes. Real tasty.” Many of those prune trees—also known as Italian plums—still feed residents of Rainier Valley, serving as a living heritage of the old “Garlic Gulch” neighborhood. Below is Macay’s recipe for plum bread from page twenty-four of the Rainier Valley Food Stories Cookbook, which she created after realizing that she had “a million plums and no idea what to do with them!” Be careful when you make this bread, though, because, like Macay, your friends might soon end up demanding you bring it to every occasion. PHYLLIS MACAY’S NOW FAMOUS PLUM BREAD Phyllis Macay Mix and set aside: ½ cup sugar 1½ cup frozen Italian plums chopped ½ cup dried fruit (cranberries) In a large bowl, separately mix together and set aside: 1 cup whole wheat flour ½ cup unbleached flour 2 Tbsp. wheat germ 1 tsp. baking soda 1 tsp. salt 1 tsp. nutmeg 1½ tsp. baking powder 1 ½ tsp.ground fresh ginger In a small bowl, separately mix together: 1 cup shredded raw carrots 1 cup chopped nuts Lightly coat 2 bread pans with cooking spray and dust with flour. Mix plums into flour mixture well; add carrots and nuts; add 1 Tbsp. vanilla and 2 eggs. Stir well. Pour into pans. Top with whole halves of nuts. Sprinkle with sugar. Bake at 350° for 50 minutes. Cool, then wrap in wax paper. Wait for 24 hours, enjoy or freeze!

What does it mean to feed a neighborhood? In Rainier Valley, the answer stretches back thousands of years, from the Coast Salish people's village gardens along Lake Washington to the immigrant truck farmers, Victory Gardens, and community P-Patches that followed. The faces and the crops have changed, but the impulse to grow food for your community never has. This collection explores how that tradition has taken root and kept growing across generations. Duwamish Canoe with traditional longhouse in background, Cedar River, 1893. Courtesy University of Oregon Special Collections (PH01_BX13_1418) Rooted in the Land   For thousands of years before Seattle existed, the land that would become Rainier Valley was home to the xachua'bsh, or "lake people," a Coast Salish people and ancestors of the Duwamish Tribe, who lived along the shores of Lake Washington and the rivers that connected it to Puget Sound. Their food systems were deeply tied to the landscape. Women gathered salmonberry shoots, bracken fern, wapato, camas, and berries, while men hunted deer and elk and fished the rivers and lake through the fall salmon season. Silver salmon ran through what is now Genesee Creek, which once drained Rainier Valley into the lake, and fish were dried on racks to preserve them through the winter months. “Coast Salish people have lived along the Duwamish River for thousands of years. An estimated 300 Duwamish people lived in what is now the Tukwila area in the eighteenth century. In addition to hunting and fishing, gathering greens and berries, and digging edible roots, the Coast Salish inhabitants took advantage of the river valley's rich soil and raised food in village gardens”(Drosendahl). While the Duwamish People were never granted treaty rights or a reservation, they were forced to adapt as the white settler community grew around them. Despite the constant risk of being pushed off their land, their village at the outlet of Lake Washington and the Cedar River continued, and evidence shows they cultivated potatoes and other root crops there well into the 19th century. By the beginning of the 20th century, however, the construction of the Lake Washington Ship Canal had destroyed many of their food resources, dramatically altering the waterways and ecosystems the community depended on. Most Duwamish people had no choice but to assimilate. The Duwamish Tribe continues to seek federal recognition today. Mrs Chandler with her chickens. The Chandler farm was located between 46th and 47th Avenue on the north side of Ferdinand Street. (RVHS 1993.001.0093) Early Farming in the Valley Settlers in the 19th century also relied on the land. While the proximity to Seattle may have mitigated some, most had to cook creatively. Typically, settlers had to grind flour, preserve their meat by smoking or salting, while canning, drying or pickling their fruits and vegetables. Most settlers kept cows and chickens to have access to fresh milk and eggs. Once the streetcar arrived in 1891, it became easier to access store bought flour. Iceboxes became the main form of preservation until electricity arrived in the valley.  Nim Sok at one of the New Holly P-Patches in 2001 (RVHS: 2002.036.0170) German, Italian, Filipino, Chinese and Japanese immigrants tended to nearly half of all farms by the early 20th century, competing for farmland and markets. Local truck farmers sold their produce to families, grocers and distributors who would sell the produce all over the city. Italian farmers grew crops on small farms and trucked the produce to the market themselves. In 1921, Seattle passed an Alien Land Law, stopping first-generation Japanese immigrants from owning land. In 1923, the law was revised to prevent U.S. born children of these immigrants from being able to hold property in trust for their parents, causing many Japanese immigrants to put their land in trust with a white lawyer or have their farmland taken. For the next three decades, Japanese and Filipino farmers would battle racist laws, land theft, and discrimination. Want to learn more about Japanese farmers and the Alien Land Laws? Check out this article from the Seattle Civil Rights Labor History Project Victory Gardens RVHS Photo - 2002.036.0247 During World War II, Victory Gardens were a patriotic duty to ensure the production of food for the country, while commercial farmers supplied troops overseas. With the introduction of food rationing in the spring of 1942, Americans had a greater incentive to grow their own fruits and vegetables wherever possible. Beets, beans, carrots, cabbage, potatoes, onions, spinach, and turnips were grown in vacant lots, city parks, flower boxes and rooftops. The Victory Garden became a common feature of the urban landscape during both World Wars, as families tried to become self-sufficient to help the war effort and to feed their families. The Victory Garden was, in many ways, the ancestor of today's P- Patches. In 1944, around 20 million gardens produced about eight million tons of food.  By the war's end, half of all the fresh fruits and vegetables in the U.S were grown in Victory Gardens.  Pictured is Theo Nassar with a wheelbarrow in 1942 in her father’s Victory Garden. Nassar recalls this in an oral history interview for RVHS’s Food Stories Project: My dad had a Victory Garden and he grew everything from okra, tomatoes, peas, carrots, you name it… He’d grow these huge sunflowers. He’d harvest the seeds and dry them and we’d be eating sunflower seeds all winter. The neighbor kids thought we were crazy. They’d say “Bird food, that’s bird food, that’s canary food!” - Theo Nassar P-Patches and Community Gardens The P-Patch program first launched in 1970 as a part of the back to Earth Movement for the first official Earth Day event . University of Washington student, Darlyn Rundberg (later Del Boca) is responsible for creating the first P-Patch. The land for the P-Patch was donated by her neighbors the Picardos who owned a large farm in the Northeast Seattle neighborhood of Wedgewood. What started off as a small corner evolved into a 2.5 acre garden and green space.  The “P” in P-Patch stands for Picardo in honor of the family who helped start the program. The Picardo family first arrived in Seattle from Salza Irpina, Italy in the 1890s and settled in South Park then later Wedgewood. The Picardo family farm once covered almost 30 acres and the vegetables they grew were sold at small grocery stores across the city and at the produce stands in Pike Place Market.  Seattle’s P-Patch Program was the largest gardening program in the nation by 1993. As of 2026, Seattle has 90 P-Patches, 25 of which are in Rainier Valley! Check out the list to see the closest one near you ! There are many other community gardens in Rainier Valley, including Wetmore Community Farm. In 2015, Kyla Rudnick began to transform the previously undeveloped Right of Way, owned by the Seattle Department of Transportation. After three years of work it was transformed into a productive gardening and cultural space and officially opened in the Fall of 2018.  With the help of their partner Stone Soup Gardens, they cleared knotweed and litter and constructed the Spokane Street entrance and garden beds, finishing construction in 2018. Named after the Wetmore family who originally farmed the land, the farm produces over 10,000 square feet of food, including native fruits, berries and mushrooms, which they share with the neighbors in SEED housing and the Rainier Valley Food Bank.  Neighbors working on construction of the Wetmore Community Garden in 2018. Photo curtesy of Seattle Department of Neighborhoods. During the growing season (March - October) the farm hosts weekly open hours, so you can meet your neighbors, pick some veggies and get dirty! Visit Westmore Farms: Wednesday 4:00-7:00 (Mar-Oct) 3025 S Estelle St, 98144 Want to learn more about the history of P-Patches and the Picardo family? Check out this article from Northwest Prime Time Columbia City Famers Market 2015. Columbia City Farmers Market The Columbia City Farmers Market grew out of a single flyer posted at a local library. In 1997, a task force of Rainier Valley residents came together with a clear mission: bring fresh produce into the neighborhood, support local farmers, and draw people into the Columbia City business district, which was just beginning its revitalization. Led by community organizer Karen Kinney, the group was scrappy and skilled, made up entirely of local residents who brought their professional talents to the table. Hmong Flower Vendor at Farmers Market in 2005. (RVHS 2002.036.0247) Zip code 98118 is one of the most diverse in the nation, and the team took that seriously from day one. They produced marketing materials in multiple languages, mapped out outreach strategies for schools, churches, ethnic organizations, and community centers, and worked to make sure the market reflected the full breadth of the neighborhood it served. The goal was simple: make sure everyone had access to fresh, familiar food close to home. It took some convincing to get farmers comfortable coming to the south side of Seattle, but by 1998 the market had found its home at the corner of Rainier and Edmunds and hasn't looked back since. Now part of the Seattle Neighborhood Farmers Markets network, it runs Wednesdays from 3:00 to 7:00 PM on South Edmunds Street near PCC Market, from May through October. Over the years it has grown into a beloved weekly gathering place, hosting cooking demonstrations, live music, and community organizations, including the Rainier Valley Historical Society as we worked on our Rainier Valley Food Stories Cookbook. Columbia City Farmers Market circa 2005. (RVHS 2002.036.0170) Bibliography: Drosendahl, Glenn . “Duwamish Gardens (Ray Carrossino Farmstead).” Historylink.org, The Free Encyclopedia of Washington State History, 12 Dec. 2017, www.historylink.org/File/20494. Accessed 4 Apr. 2026. Grant, Nicole. “White Supremacy and the Alien Land Laws of Washington State - Seattle Civil Rights and Labor History Project.” Depts.washington.edu, depts.washington.edu/civilr/alien_land_laws.htm. Roedell, Michelle. “P-Patch Gardens Take Root in Seattle.” Northwest Prime Time, 2026, northwestprimetime.com/news/2026/01/01/p-patch-gardens-took-root-in-seattle/. Accessed 4 Apr. 2026. "SkEba'kst: The Lake People and Seward Park." Sewardpark.org , sewardpark.org/history/ . Accessed 8 Apr. 2026.

In the early 20th century, small dairy farms dotted the landscape of Rainier Valley, supplying fresh milk to a rapidly growing Seattle. Among the most successful was Rainier Valley Dairy, founded by Smith M. Wilson, whose commitment to quality helped build a thriving local business that would leave a lasting mark on Columbia City and the region’s dairy industry. Rainier Valley Dairy - Columbia City 1920s Rainier Valley Dairy was owned by Smith M. Wilson, who started his first dairy business on Beacon Hill in 1916.  There were many small dairy farms throughout Rainier Valley, but Smith was one of the most successful because of his commitment to the purity of his product. He soon relocated his business to Columbia Street at 4922 Rainier Avenue, on the Northeast corner of Rainier and Hudson Street. Before Wilson moved into the building in 1922, it already hosted a variety of businesses.  When it was first built in 1908, it was home to the Columbia Undertaking Company and then the W.A. Copeland Painting and Paperhanging Company. In 1928, after Rainier Valley Dairy relocated, the building was rebuilt and became Pat’s and Jeff’s Meals and Card Room. After that, it was a popular Ice Cream Parlor for several years until it became the Christian Science Reading Room in the 1950’s. Now it is the home of Tutta Bella Neapolitan Pizzeria. The building was restored during the 1990s with the approval of the Columbia City Review Committee and Seattle Landmarks Preservation Board. It is significant as an intact example of a 1920s commercial block and contributes both architecturally and historically to Columbia City. The Photo shows Smith Wilson’s business and delivery truck at 4922 Rainier Avenue. He is the man on the right leaning against a fire hydrant. Due to the growing business, the dairy moved to Rainier Avenue South and South Adams Street, which became the basis for the Darigold Cooperative Milk Processing Plant that is still operating there today.  The Rainier Valley Dairy was noted for their high-quality milk products that were delivered throughout the Valley. This was indicated by the U.S Department of Agriculture Report of September 30th, 1927. They had a rating of 97.66, which was the highest rating of all the 26 dairies tested in the Seattle area.  In 1929, Wilson merged with the Kristoferson Dairy, which was located just south of Dearborn St on Rainier Avenue. Alfred Kristoferson had started his dairy business in 1898 by rowing across Lake Washington with one-gallon milk cans and a quarter measure, which he then delivered on foot. Smith Wilson, as part of the merger agreement, became an employee of the Kristoferson Company, but no position was created for him. So he left the company, sued Kristoferson and won a settlement. He then decided to run for Seattle Port Commissioner. His platform proposed efficient government and honesty. He promised the community that he would place the interests of the public above politics, personalities and special interests.  He was elected in 1932, served until 1942 and kept his promises.  During his term as Port Commissioner, Wilson acquired and managed University Dairy on University Way. He died of a heart attack while working at the Dairy in 1942 at the age of 49. Bibliography Anderson , Buzz. “Rainier Valley Dairy .” South District Journal , Aug. 1999, Rainier Valley Historical Society . Days Gone By. Seattle Historical Sites Search Result - Department of Neighborhoods (DON) . https://web.seattle.gov/DPD/HistoricalSite/QueryResult.aspx?ID=2089850652 . Accessed 28 Feb. 2026.

Take a stroll through time with this 1908 photo of Rainier Avenue, looking East towards the heart of Columbia City between Edmonds Street on the left and Ferdinand Street to the right. Can you recognize what still stands more than 100 years later? Scroll down to test your Columbia City knowledge! View to the East along Rainier Ave. Photo by Ashel Curtis. UW Libraries, Special Collections, UW31146. The Toby Building – 4850 Rainier Ave S (Built 1907) Legend has it that Simeon Toby planned to build a bank in Hillman City but got off the streetcar in Columbia City to visit a friend and never left. With some persuasion, he opened the bank here instead. Toby’s Bank operated at this corner from 1903 to 1924 before moving across the street. Today, the building is home to State Farm. Phalen Hall – 4864 Rainier Ave S (Built 1892) Originally built by the Knights of Pythias as a two-story meeting hall, the building was purchased by Bill Phalen in 1900. He ran a grocery store downstairs and became a beloved community leader, starting the volunteer fire department, founding a local baseball team, and serving as Columbia City’s final mayor before annexation to Seattle in 1907. A 1941 fire destroyed the second story, but the first floor—protected by a sturdy oak dance floor—survived. Now home to Columbia City Bakery and Gather Consignment. Peirson House – 3815 S Ferdinand St (Built 189) Developer J.K. Edmiston sold Columbia City lots for $300—just $10 down and $10/month—as long as buyers built within a year. This home, owned by former mayor Van R. Peirson (1900–1902), is one of only four original houses still standing from that early wave of development. One of just two remaining homes on Ferdinand Street within the Columbia City Landmark District. Columbia Hotel – 4900 Rainier Ave S (Built 1891) German mason Joseph Hellenthal built Columbia City’s first brick building for his family, later converting it into a hotel. Guests included Buffalo Bill Cody. Over the years, the building hosted a dry goods store, a speakeasy, and a tavern called Slim’s. In 1997, Lottie Motts Coffee Shop opened, helping to usher in a new era of neighborhood revitalization. Today, it lives on as Lottie’s Lounge. 4901 Rainier Ave S (Built 1905 ) Constructed by H. Harlow A. Hastings—attorney, mayor, and early Columbia City resident—this brick corner building has seen decades of neighborhood history. It housed everything from a drugstore and post office to a grocery store and a popular 1950s diner. Currently home to Pagliacci Pizza.

Children on Ferdinand Street, standing in front of the future Columbia Motor Co. site, 1903, Hall Summers Pioneer Collection [1993.001.0404] Taking In the View:  A photographer whose eye is on the children provides a record for the history archives of a slice of the Columbia City streetscape in early May 1903, looking north across Ferdinand Street with buildings along today’s Rainier Avenue South, then the Seattle, Renton & Southern Railway tracks, visible on the left. All aboard! The three-windowed gabled house in the center no longer exists (built in 1893). Behind the children is about where we find the Ferdinand Festival Street seating area now. Then, a long-dressed woman walked past vacant property on wooden planks. To the far left, the ornate top of the Knights of Pythias Hall can be seen in the distance, then owned by W.W. “Bill” Phalen. Upon his arrival in 1901, he had purchased the building and opened his Reliance General Store in the north storefront, offering delivery by horse and carriage. Phalen quickly made a name for himself in Columbia and was elected mayor twice. He founded the volunteer fire department, formed a local baseball team, and established the annual summer festival, Rainier Valley Fiesta. Looking again, a little peaked-roof wooden building blocks our view of Phalen’s grocery. Seattle photographer Asahel Curtis’s panorama taken from the west looking across Rainier offers an eyeful. Across from the two-story Columbia Hotel at the southeast corner of Rainier and Ferdinand Street, that small building sits with its storefront plastered with real estate advertising – Right Here Lakewood. Mount Baker resident Charles B. Dodge had replatted Lakewood for sale in 1903 through his Pioneer Square offices. He was also the owner of the property along Rainier where the little no-frills real estate office stood along the streetcar tracks.  Columbia City, Ferdinand St. and Rainier, vacant lot, future home of Columbia Motor Co., Asahel Curtis, Photographer, circa 1908, UW Special Collections, 31146 By 1904 Dodge had married his third wife and lived at the edge of Lake Washington in a home with five bedrooms, four baths, seven fireplaces and two servants. Today’s Lakewood Moorage property was once Dodge’s private boathouse. On the property where the real estate office was plus two lots to the north, the one-story brick Dodge Building was built in 1908 at a cost of $4,000. An early tenant in the southern storefront (today’s Geraldine’s Counter) was Goebel’s Cash Store, conducting business right across the streetcar tracks from the successful W.W. Phalen, Your Grocer. Before their marriage, Henry Goebel and Louisa Schmidt were both immigrants from Germany in the late 1800s and by 1891 Henry was running a grocery in Chicago according to the Polk city directory. The 1900 U.S. Census shows a “ Lizzie ” Schmidt, age 16, working as a grocery saleslady in Chicago which may have put her in the sightlines of Henry the grocer. Their daughter Minnie was born there in 1902 and by 1904 they had all moved on to Seattle, where they operated a grocery on Twelfth Avenue in central Seattle.  By 1905 the Goebels had a real estate contract for property in the City Gardens plat, near Rainier & South Walker Street. They could be found in Columbia City by 1909. Their cash grocery advertised household commodities, i.e., Goebel’s Best Coffee, 35 cents a pound, and Peter Pan brand toilet paper, 6 rolls for 25 cents. Those were the days.  An early Columbia resident, Harlow H.A. Hastings had served as the town’s first attorney in 1893 and mayor later in 1900. Hastings lived east of Rainier, up the hill on Angeline Street with his wife Minnie and their children in a big white house with a picket fence. In 1898 Hastings had Fraternity Hall built on the south side of Ferdinand Street west of Rainier (a parking lot now). A one-story brick building in an art deco style went up on the corner in 1905 (now Pagliacci Pizza, Off Alley and Rudy’s Barbershop) and called the Hastings Block. Old-timers long remembered Studley’s Drug Store there with a marble soda fountain and Tiffany lampshade. “ Just like downtown !” Making front page news in The Rainier Valley Times in September 1918, described as the “ biggest real estate deal in years, ” Henry Goebel had purchased these properties for $16,000. He would be moving the cash grocery from across Rainier into the Hastings Block and using the ground floor of the hall for his warehouse. As an aside, the newspaper goes on to describe Goebel as having “ quite recently improved lots which he owned directly in the rear of his present location by building the modern brick structure occupied by the Clark-Baker Auto Company .” Here the paper is describing what is now known as the Columbia Motor Company Building, built in 1917.   Back to the vacant property on Ferdinand Street in 1903, Henry Goebel had purchased those lots in June of 1916 for $3,000 (with a mortgage) from a man Templeton, of Tolt, Washington. His permit to build a masonry garage there for $4,000 was published in The Seattle Post-Intelligencer in February 1917 and soon The Clark-Baker Company was offering “ skilled Ford men ” for “ a little adjusting now and then ” (Garage-Supplies-Repairs). They were authorized Ford dealers and advertised touring cars, runabouts and truck chassis shipped brand new from Detroit on order, assembly required.   A January 19, 1918, profile of Frank S. Clark, “Representative Men of Rainier Valley”, published in The Rainier Valley Times promotes the new business. The Clark-Baker Company consisted of Clark and his brother-in-law, Harry H. Baker, as partners with their father-in-law J.C. Weinberg also involved. Clark stated they had leased the new Ferdinand Street building for five years and could store up to 25 cars.  Baker managed the mechanics to “give all the service any Ford owner could desire” and Clark handled the sales; he was optimistically planning to order 250 cars for the year August 1917-1918 despite World War I restrictions on steel plus a 5% luxury tax on the purchase of new passenger cars.  Along with two mechanics, Pierre Weiss rounded out the team, a familiar face in Columbia City. Weiss was 15 years old when his father brought the family out from South Dakota in 1905. As a young man Pierre was one of Phalen’s volunteer firemen and played football and basketball with the Rainier Valley Athletic Club. In his early twenties, he ran a confectionery along Rainier Avenue in Columbia City that was said to have included sporting goods along with the sweets and cigars. His June of 1917 World War I draft card has him employed at Clark-Baker as salesman; his wartime service in France would cause but a short interruption until his discharge in March 1919.  Salesman Pierre Weiss standing with Ed Thanom at Clark-Baker Motor Co., 1001 South Jackson Street, October 1920. [RVHS 05.011-02H] After just three years, in August of 1920, Clark-Baker Company announced their move to Tenth Avenue & Jackson Street to sell and service their Fords. A city mechanic, L.E. Thompson leased the space at Goebel’s building on Ferdinand Street for a repair and storage shop. “Let Thompson Fix It” was his motto, offering gas, oils and greases as Columbia Auto Service.  But, wait, in late December 1922, The Seattle Daily Times reported that Clark-Baker would soon be returning to Ferdinand Street. The newly formed Columbia Motor Company with Pierre Weiss as the third partner would offer parts, service, tires and accessories as authorized Ford dealers. It was not long before Clark had made a trip to the Chevrolet factory in Portland to take a look. During the slack season that fall, Clark is quoted in The Rainier Valley Times, “Business in new cars is down because people in the valley are not real car buyers”. That year’s holiday advertisement asked, Why Not a Ford for Christmas?   3806 Ferdinand Street, Columbia Motor Co., 1930 [RVHS 2003.022.0007] Columbia Motor Company became the exclusive Chevrolet dealer for the Rainier District in January 1924, as General Motors challenged Henry Ford’s domination of the automobile market. The Model T had lost the public’s favor. “ Say it with Chevrolet !” was the slogan. The Chevrolet years led into the Dodge-Plymouth years through the mid 1940s. In the 1920s, the Goebels had settled into West Seattle, purchasing and developing commercial real estate, running a grocery at the junction, while leasing out their Columbia City properties.  As for 3806 South Ferdinand Street, after Henry Goebel’s death, Louisa Goebel owned the property until her death in 1967. The property was then inherited by daughter Minnie Foster and Minnie’s daughters. These three women held onto the property through the Boeing Bust until December of 1976, when they sold for $25,000 to a party of four.  And now, Rainier Valley Historical Society’s future home since just earlier this year, giving new purpose to the building, from storing autos last century to housing archives this, bringing to mind an old Columbia City promotion, Watch It Grow!  Project Team members: Katie McClure, John Bennett, and Tim Burdick, on-site - Summer 2025.

RVHS is proud to honor Estela Ortega as our 2025 History Maker, recognizing her over five decades of leadership in building community, advancing equity, and creating opportunities that have shaped the lives of thousands across Rainier Valley, Seattle, and beyond. Born in Harris, Texas, in 1950, Ortega grew up working in the cotton fields from the age of eight. Those early years, marked by hardship and resilience, instilled in her a lifelong empathy for others and a belief that dignity and justice must be fought for, not simply hoped for. In her early twenties, she became active in Houston’s grassroots movements, organizing for farmworkers’ rights, protesting the Vietnam War, registering voters, and helping underrepresented communities find their voice. Her path led her to El Paso in 1972, where she met fellow activist and Franklin High School teacher Roberto Maestas at a national Chicano conference. That meeting marked the beginning of a lifelong partnership in both life and purpose. Later that year, Ortega joined Maestas and a coalition of organizers in the occupation of the shuttered Beacon Hill Elementary School in Seattle, standing up for the preservation of bilingual education and community programs. Their peaceful protest resulted in the founding of El Centro de la Raza, “The Center for People of All Races”.  Under the leadership of Ortega and Maestas, El Centro de la Raza became a cornerstone for Southeast Seattle, offering support, education, and a welcoming space for people of all backgrounds. Over the years, El Centro has hosted everything from English and GED classes to tenant rights workshops, and cultural events like Día de los Muertos, powwows, and Martin Luther King Jr. Day marches.  When Maestas passed away in 2010, Ortega stepped into the role of Executive Director, carrying forward their shared vision. Under her leadership, El Centro has expanded its reach, most notably through the creation of Plaza Roberto Maestas, a 112-unit affordable housing and community development project that combines early learning, retail, and public gathering spaces in the heart of Beacon Hill. The project stands as a living symbol of what is possible when a community invests in itself. In recent years, Ortega has led the organization into a new chapter with the groundbreaking of Four Amigos – Beloved Community in Columbia City, a mixed-use affordable housing project that will provide 87 homes for families, along with a bilingual child development center and community space. Her work continues to shape a more equitable, inclusive Seattle. Earlier this year, Estela Ortega received the Martin Luther King Jr. Medal of Distinguished Service from King County, recognizing her lifelong dedication to uniting people across lines of race, language, and class. On October 25, Rainier Valley Historical Society proudly honored her as our 2025 History Maker at the 10th Annual Founder’s Dinner, where she was presented with a Proclamation from the City of Seattle officially declaring October 25 “Estela Ortega Day.”

Published in The Seattle Times online on Oct. 9, 2025, Seattle Then & Now Blog on Oct. 9, 2025, and in Pacific NW Magazine of the printed Times on Oct. 12, 2025. Explosive legacy underlies Rainier Valley’s serene hilltop park By Clay Eals THEN: In 1911, haul and sort pyrotechnic materials near shed #17 (right) of then-six-year-old Hitt Fireworks Co. workers on the hill south of Columbia City, bordered by 37th Avenue South and South Brandon Street. ( Museum of History & Industry ) NOW: Katie McClure (front left), director of the Rainier Valley Historical Society , leads a tour through Hitt’s Hill Park on Aug. 22. Others are (from left) Tim Burdick, Renee McCarthy, Aurora Marsalis, Jennie Hubbard, Deb Barker, John Bennett, John Maynard and Scott Hubbard. For more info on Hitt Fireworks Co, visit RainierValleyHistoricalSociety.org . (Clay Eals) In this age of political pyrotechnics, what could be more welcome than a compact, peaceful park with a trail that winds through tall trees and native plants? Inside this blufftop preserve we find no evidence, other than its namesake, that it once hosted an anything-but-tranquil fireworks factory that produced flares and explosions seen, heard and renowned the world over. THEN: Thomas Gabriel Hitt, known as T.G. His family says he was a quiet philanthropist, devoted to his Presbyterian church. ( Rainier Valley Historical Society ) We are in the Columbia City neighborhood at Hitt’s Hill Park, named for Thomas Gabriel (T.G.) Hitt (1874-1958). An immigrant chemist from London by way of Victoria, B.C., he parlayed a childhood fascination for things that go boom into an international business based atop Rainier Valley’s highest slope. In 1905, two years before Columbia City joined Seattle, Hitt Fireworks Co. took shape in what became 26 tarpapered shacks, each hand-numbered in red on galvanized grey signs, and spaced several yards from each other to prevent manufacturing accidents from obliterating the whole lot. A frequent overseas traveler to negotiate deals, Hitt employed up to 200 people on his hill. Products ranged from panoramic set pieces for the 1909 Alaska-Yukon-Pacific Exposition and other prominent fetes around the country to extra-loud “Flashcrackas” and other novelties that fit in the palm of a hand. THEN08: As shown on this 1928 map, the tarpapered shacks of Hitt Fireworks Co. were spaced several yards from each other to prevent manufacturing accidents from consuming the whole lot. (Sanborn Map, Seattle Public Library ) THEN: Workers sort and package “Flashcracka” materials in this undated photo. T.G. Hitt developed the “Flashcracka,” an extra-loud firecracker, in 1916. During World War II, he also produced aerial smoke screens used to camouflage the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard in Bremerton. ( Rainier Valley Historical Society ) His craftsmanship also bolstered Oscar-winning Hollywood films, in the war scenes of “All Quiet on the Western Front” (1930) and the burning-of-Atlanta sequence of “Gone with the Wind” (1939). THEN: The packaging for Hitt’s “Flashcracka.” Note the warning at bottom: “Do not hold in hand after lighting.” ( Rainier Valley Historical Society ) Not all was safe and sane, however. Fiery onsite calamities occasionally made banner news, especially when on May 8, 1922, exploding powder killed 17-year-old employee Nora Bailey. One day later, the suicide of a same-aged female friend was attributed to her demise. Angry locals demanded the plant be banned from the city, but the city resisted, providing that Hitt obey fire-marshal regulations. The heyday of Hitt, also a perfumer and inkmaker, started fading after his accidental arsenic poisoning in the 1930s, says great-grandson Ray Akers, but family continued the enterprise past his death into the 1970s. The company’s arc paralleled society’s love-hate relationship with fireworks, eventually resulting in Seattle banning their manufacture (and, later, their private use) and business moving abroad. By century’s end, invasive ivy, blackberries and rats flourished onsite. Locals including Akers fought back plans for dozens of houses to be built on the 3.2-acre parcel. Open-space advocates successfully lobbied the city to make it a park and volunteered muscle and money to transform it into a natural refuge. Today, the only major noise in the sanctuary comes from periodic jet overflights. The uninitiated would never suspect it once had been home to big bangs and fabricated flash.

Excerpts from Rainier Valley Food Stories Cookbook Seattle is known as the coffee capital of the U.S., with espresso stands at every gas station and hardware store. But even as Seattle exports its doubletall-skinny-vanilla-lattes to cities from Amsterdam to Zagreb, South Seattle’s immigrant populations import their own coffee traditions. In this chapter we will look at coffee in its myriad forms across Rainier Valley, from the ancient Ethiopian Coffee Ceremony to the unique Vietnamese coffee maker, to the evolving Italian espresso tradition. The variety is stunning — who would have thought there were so many ways to combine hot water, coffee beans, and dairy products? – yet each method provides the coffee drinker with a delicious beverage that simultaneously stimulates and relaxes. Along with the physical effects of caffeine in the bloodstream, we must consider the social context of coffee drinking. From its early days, coffee has been associated with an age-old community building activity: sitting around talking. In Rainier Valley today, you can find many examples of this tradition. A Brief History of Coffee Coffee is believed to originate in Ethiopia. The story goes that a goatherd noticed that his animals were especially frisky after eating berries from a certain plant. He tried them himself, and experienced the first human caffeine high in history. Soon tribal warriors figured out how to grind up the beans, mix them with butter, and form the mixture into balls that could be carried into battle in lieu of food. What a strategic advantage! By the 15th century, the Sufis had developed the basic process of roasting and grinding the beans and passing hot water through them, and by the 16th century, coffeehouses had sprung up across the Arab world. In Cairo, it was a common stipulation of a marriage contract that the husband would provide a sufficient supply of coffee to his wife; if he didn’t, it could be “grounds” for divorce. Early on, coffeehouses were recognized by local rulers as dangerous places where people might get together to discuss politics – and they were often shut down by officials who feared the results of these discussions. From the Middle East, coffee spread to Europe, where coffeehouses again became loci of political and social discussion. Coffee came to be seen by some as a degenerate beverage, and coffeehouses were places that respectable women would not go. Bach’s “Coffee Cantata” chronicles the woes of a woman who doesn’t want to get married because it will mean giving up coffee. From cowboy coffee made in the campfire, to stay-at-home mothers’ coffee klatches around the kitchen table, to students’ late night coffee binges, to truck drivers’ 32 oz. travel mugs of gas station brew, coffee has spread all over the world and is now an integral part of many cultures. Rainier Valley’s diverse community offers a fascinating array of coffee traditions. Ethiopian Coffee Ceremony: "That is the place in your neighborhood to discuss anything" At Ethiopian restaurants and homes, women in long white dresses roast coffee beans in a small pan over a hot plate, then grind them and put them in a carafe. They brew three rounds of coffee in the carafe, each with its own name. The first, strongest round is called “Abol,” the second “Tona,” and the third round is “Baraka.” Coffee is served with a snack called yebuna kourse – usually popcorn or bread. Aklilu Welemichael, owner of Fasica Ethiopian Restaurant says, “The people in the neighborhood will be together, they will sit down over there and discuss the social aspect of their lives. What happened yesterday? What we can do for the future? That is the place [in] your neighborhood to discuss anything.” Photo: Coast To Coast Coffee Vietnamese Coffee Vietnamese coffee preparation is equally languorous, though the result is quite different. A cup containing condensed milk is topped with a special coffee maker that slowly drips strong coffee directly into the sweet milk. This technique reflects Vietnamese history and geography: all over Asia tea is the dominant caffeinated beverage, but French colonists introduced coffee to the Vietnamese in the 19th century, along with sweet rich pastries to accompany it. Both coffee and pastries “stuck” and remain part of the Vietnamese diet today. Canned milk was used because fresh milk would quickly spoil in the tropical heat. Photo: Coffeeholic House - Columbia City French Coffee, New Orleans Style The French brought coffee to New Orleans too, where canned milk is also a common accompaniment. Edna Fortuné grew up drinking it, literally, at her grandfather’s knee. “My grandpa used to sit at that kitchen table and have his coffee in the morning, and when I’d see him go in there, see, I had to really sneak. I’d just crawl right around the other side where my dad couldn’t see. I’d go and sit right between [my grandfather’s] legs. I’d sit there and wait and be real quiet. Then I could hear when my mom was pouring him his coffee. And I just knew, man, I was gonna get some soon. When my mom would leave the room, he would [say], “Girl, girl.” He’d slip that saucer to me under the table, man. [Laughs] [I’d] drink it and try not to [slurp]. So that’s how I started drinking coffee. I think that’s how we all started drinking coffee. And I love it to this day, and I can go to bed after having drunk a cup right before. Whew. What a tolerance.” Edna says everyone puts evaporated milk in their coffee in New Orleans. “Well, I think it’s a French thing. It’s so rich, you know. Evaporated milk imparts this little nut flavor. It does something really nice to the flavor of your coffee. I never had pure coffee until I got west of Texas. The first time I drank it, I thought, ‘Whoa, this is water with a little coffee in it.’” Other coffee drinking grandfathers made an impression on their Seattle grandkids, including this Jewish immigrant from Europe in the early 1900s: “Grandpa would sit at the head of the table drinking his coffee out of his saucer through a lump of sugar he held in his front teeth. I used to think he did this for the benefit of his grandchildren, but since [then] I’ve learned this was the common way coffee was drunk in the European countries" (This is from Caroline Blumenthal Danz, born in 1892) Norwegian Coffee Break Karleen Pederson-Wolfe’s father passed on the Norwegian coffee drinking tradition he grew up with. She recalls: “I started my day, every day, at six o’clock in the morning on his lap with a little thing of coffee milk. Norwegians drink coffee. So do Natives. I was destined to be a coffeeholic.” Karleen’s sister Shirley remembers the role coffee played in the family’s social life: “Whenever people would come to our house – the first thing, you’d be offered a cup of coffee. And if there wasn’t something to eat being prepared right there, mom would offer you toast and jelly or fruit. Always had a snack. If you went to my mom’s house today or if my dad were here today you’d go over and first thing, “Have a cup of coffee and have a snack.” Sitting together drinking coffee provided a social bond within the family as well. Shirley goes on: “Coffee Break. Do people take coffee breaks anymore? Like we used to when I was growing up, my dad at ten o’clock in the morning there’d be a coffee break. It would be like a quick snack and a short conversation. My dad loved to talk. So coffee break time was always a time to [ask], ‘How’s your day going? What did you accomplish so far, what are you going to do next?’ He was very involved in our lives. He knew what we were doing.” Pioneer Coffee Coffee arrived in Rainier Valley with European settlers in the mid-19th century. This 1910 recipe from The American Woman’s Cookbook is fairly typical: “In preparing tea and coffee it is of first importance to begin right. See that the teakettle is clean, and the water pure. A tea kettle that is filled with lime or other sediment is unfit for use, and water that has stood in the house over night, or for some hours, is impure. To begin, then, rinse the tea kettle thoroughly and fill with fresh water, put on the fire and bring to a boil quickly. For coffee… allow a tablespoonful of ground coffee for every person to be served, and put in an extra spoonful for every five or six persons. If an ordinary pot is used, mix the coffee with an egg, put it in the coffee pot and add to it about a cupful of cold water; set it on the stove and bring to a boil quickly. The moment it begins to boil, add boiling water (about 2 quarts to five spoonfuls of ground coffee) and set it on the back part of the stove where it will keep hot, but on no account allow it to boil, as that destroys the aroma. The coffee will be ready to serve in six or eight minutes after the hot water has been added." Espresso The Rainier Valley boasts at least three Starbucks shops, plus innumerable independent coffee shops and espresso stands. These establishments carry on the Italian tradition of forcing hot water through finely ground coffee beans. The espresso machine was invented by Luigi Bezzera in 1901, and by 1961 the modern electric machine was perfected. Espresso is served straight, or with frothy steamed milk – “latte”. While Bezzera’s goal was to make coffee faster (shortening his employees’ coffee breaks), espresso can be enjoyed as slowly as any other brew, and it provides plenty of opportunity for the kind of community-building public conversations that coffee has encouraged for over 600 years. Photo: Olympia Coffee Roasters

Fireworks in Columbia City Thomas Gabriel Hitt, known as T.G. Hitt, was born in London in 1874. He studied chemistry at Westminster College, and in 1898 he began manufacturing fireworks. Within the year, he and his brothers moved to Victoria, B.C., and started the Hitt Brothers Fireworks Company. His wife, Annie, had met T.G. in England just 10 days before he sailed for Canada. They wrote letters for three years before she finally joined him. In 1905, the Hitts moved to Seattle and settled in Columbia City. T.G. started the Hitt’s Fireworks Company on a wooded knoll just south of town; as the business grew, the site became known as Hitt’s Hill. They built a house near the factory and raised four children: Raymond, Dorothy, Wilmot and Marion. Ray Hitt shared his father’s inventive and business talents and took over the business when his father died. Hitt Family Car for 4th of July Parade “The Best Fireworks Obtainable Anywhere” Hitt’s Fireworks became an internationally known company, developing new explosive products every year at their factory on Hitt’s Hill. The operation consisted of a series of sheds rather than one large building, so that accidental explosions and fires could be contained more easily. Hitt fireworks whirled, whistled, fizzed, and flashed. Their best-selling product, the “Flashcracka,” was advertised as “the best fireworks obtainable anywhere, at any time or at any price.” In addition to individual fireworks, they produced spectacular shows all over the country. Hitt fireworks extravaganzas opened the Alaska Yukon Pacific Exposition in Seattle and the San Francisco and New York World’s Fairs. They also produced the show that welcomed the King and Queen of England to Victoria, B.C. in 1939. Closer to home, they presented shows at Sick’s Stadium and at Playland in north Seattle. They created the 4th of July show for Ivar’s until 1974. Their fireworks shows were large-scale productions: for every major celebration, the Hitts built elaborate sets up to 400 feet long, which served as platforms for the fireworks show. The sets carried themes such as “Mt. Fuji,” “Fires of Freedom,” and the “Birth of America,” often with lines of chorus girls and military drill teams performing between the explosions. The Hitt signature grand finale was to blow the set up in a ball of fire, igniting the skies with explosions of color and showers of rockets. Various Ads and packaging from Hitt's fireworks: The Burning of Atlanta Their skill at building, burning, and blowing up sets made the Hitts pioneers in movie special effects. The company produced fire scenes for, among other films, “What Price Glory” and “Gone with the Wind.” The burning of Atlanta in “Gone with the Wind” involved a 40 acre set constructed from used sets (including the gate from “King Kong”) and then set on fire. Flames shot 500 feet in the air and it took three 5,000 gallon tank trucks of water to extinguish the flames after the shoot. All seven Technicolor cameras available in Hollywood at the time were used to film the sequence, capturing 113 minutes of footage at a cost of $25,000. The film was nominated for a special effects Oscar. Gone With the Wind’s epic Burning of Atlanta scene was filmed on Culver Studios’ backlot. Getty Images. A Smokescreen for the Shipyard During WWII, the company manufactured flares and safety supplies for the military. Their most notable contribution to the war effort was the smokescreen over the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard in Bremerton. Throughout the war, the shipyard at Bremerton built ships for the navy and repaired battle ships and aircraft carriers serving in the Pacific. To protect this essential operation from a sneak attack like the one at Pearl Harbor, the Hitt’s Fireworks Company used their knowledge of chemicals and explosive powders to create a smoke screen for the shipyard, hiding it from potential enemy planes flying overhead. Flashcrackas The best-selling retail item was the Flashcracka, which T. G. Hitt developed in 1916. Hitt substituted photographic flash powder, a mix of powdered magnesium or aluminum and an oxidizer. His “flashlight crackers” exploded with a much louder noise than their black powder predecessors. Flashcrackas were a key ingredient in Spokane's annual Firecracker Golf Tournament, held at the Indian Canyon Golf Course from 1936 through the 1960s. In this event, described as "the most tumultuous ear-splitting golf tournament in the world," competitors teed off and played amid a cacophony of exploding Flashcrackas, sirens, bells, and horns. "For golfers it was like playing through a firefight in the streets of Beirut," they wrote. "The booms, bangs, and blasts startled players out of their strikes, shattered their nerves, and helped send their scores soaring as high as a Roman candle" Hitt’s took a certain pride in its role in staging the event, and used footage from one of the tournaments in a promotional film. “They’ve taken the independence out of Independence Day” There were a few explosions at the Hitt factory over the years, with one tragic fatality in 1921. In 1961 the Safe and Sound Fireworks Restrictions made it illegal to manufacture many types of fireworks in Seattle. These regulations hurt the Hitts’ business. Ray Hitt commented, “They’ve taken the independence out of Independence Day.” With fireworks production moved to China, Hitt’s continued to produce lavish fireworks shows until the cost of permits and liability insurance made the shows unprofitable. The last fireworks show the Hitts put on was for Ivar’s in 1974. Hitt’s Hill Today Members of the Hitt family spent years negotiating with property owners, developers and Seattle mayors advocating to preserve the hilltop. These efforts finally paid off after the formation of the Friends of Hitt’s Hill, when the group worked with the Cascade Land Conservancy and the Seattle Parks Department to transform the site of the old Hitt's Fireworks Company into a park. The nearly four-acre property now provides quiet, natural, open space and trails for Rainier Valley residents and a home for birds and other wildlife. Hitt's Hill Park, 2020

Feature photo by Mohammed Kloub. South Seattle Emerald. Bob Ackley: “We named that sausage Texas Hot and it’s hotter than a pistol.” Bob Ackley owned and operated Bob’s Quality Meats in Columbia City for nearly twenty years. He is a third-generation meat man, and his son Jim, who has now taken over the business, is the fourth generation. Bob’s father moved to Eastern Washington from Kansas in 1919. After several years selling meat door to door off a wagon, he opened a meat market in Cowitchie, Washington, near Yakima. Bob grew up in the business: he was ten years old when his older brothers went off to fight in World War II and he went to work with his dad at the meat market. He moved to the Seattle area in the 1960s, worked as a manager at Food Giant and Tradewell stores, and then opened Bob’s Quality Meats in West Seattle. He expanded the business and opened another meat market in Ballard. By 1980 his kids were grown, and the West Seattle meat market was too big for Bob. My wife stayed home. She raised the kids. When they were older, then she wanted to join me, see. And I couldn’t think of a nicer person to help me. We had found out that there was a meat market by the name of Nelson’s Meats, on Rainier Avenue, 4861, right here. And how this come about, now—do you want to hear that little story? Okay. Bob and Louise Ackley at Bob’s Quality Meats, 1989. Photograph courtesy of Bob Ackley. In 1981, I believe, these folks were coming to the West Seattle store, and said they lost their meat man. And, who was that? “Butch Nelson [in] Columbia City.” Well. I thought, “Where is Columbia City anyway?” ‘Course [they] said, “It’s just over the hill,” so a couple of weeks later my wife and I happened to drive by here. And here was this little meat market. There was a men’s store right on the corner, and [the owner] happened to have a key [to the meat market], so, he showed it to us. I said, “How can I get a hold of the owner?” “Oh, her name’s Fran Nelson.” You would have just loved that woman. She was so great. We did everything on a handshake. That’s how we used to do business, see? Bob and Louise Ackley at Bob’s Quality Meats, 1989. So we moved lock stock and barrel over here. We had kind of a mini-Grand Opening, targeting a lot of my West Seattle people, see. Which worked out very well. Then I started targeting the folks over here. The gentleman who owned The Facts paper, he has passed away since, but his son runs the paper now. Well, I called him up and I said, “I want to run something in your paper.” So he said, “That’s okay,” he said, “You’re just starting out down here, I’ll put it on our front page for the first three months.” And you know what, doggone it, for the front page, can you imagine, he wanted twenty-five bucks for that. [Laughs] So, you see, he give me pretty good deal. Anyway, that’s how we started off here. I run the ads in the paper for about three months. Now, I also advertised in the South District Journal. And also The [Seattle] Medium. I didn’t put anything in the other papers except just a classified. Then when I got through with [The Facts] front-page things, we went into the back page for about three weeks. Then we didn’t need advertising anymore. That’s all we did. And the wife and I had a very, very successful business down here. Bob’s new clientele was different from the West Seattle customer base, and he quickly adapted to serve the growing African American population in Rainier Valley. In just moving just a few miles over here, I didn’t know what I was in for. [It was] a big change. My supplier said for me to come over here and sell junk. I says, “I won’t do that. I’ve never done that. All I sell is the best I can buy.” He says, “You won’t stay in business.” I said, “Well, everywhere I’ve gone I have.” He says, “You won’t here.” I says, “You know, I don’t believe that. These people deserve to have a good place to come buy decent meat, see.” So that’s what I did. However, [when] I put out some Swedish potato sausage [people said,] “What’s that?” They didn’t know what Swedish potato sausage was. “Okay, what do you like?” “I like somethin’ that’s hot.” So, I proceeded to develop sausages that were hot. I’d make a little bit of sausage and I’d cook some and put it on the counter. And I kept doing that until I hear, “Boy, this is just right,” see. And that’s what I did. Then there was folks that said, “Well, I sure like your sausage, but it’s hotter than a pistol.” So, I made a mild one, see. Basically the same. And then they said, “Well, you know, that’s beef.” But there’s folks that likes a hot pork sausage, you see? So we developed a hot pork sausage. I had some guy send me up some of it from Texas. And I thought, “Boy, I’ll tell you, they buy that down there, their gonna love what I’m gonna fix them.” So I made a real good sausage. We named it Texas Hot and it’s hotter than a pistol. That went over very, very well. We started out with a nothing sausage business to virtually tons of it, see. They’d send back to the South to get [the sausages they liked].We made sausages for the people here. Exactly what they were going back there for. I said, “You not only don’t have to go anywhere, you’re gonna get a better sausage,” see? Which they did. “Get those dad-gummed things loaded on my truck.” The Fourth of July there’s only one thing you think of and that’s ribs, spare ribs. You know what, we unquestionably, without a doubt, have the finest spare ribs you could ever even come close to buying. I have to tell you a little story. This fella I’ve been dealing with for, oh, gosh, twenty years, anyway. His driver, he come in and he said, “Bob, you better come out and take a look at these. I don’t think you’re gonna want any of these things.” I had seventy-five cases of ribs, thirty pounds a case. Now, unfortunately, even Canada has codes, code numbers. Well, they missed mine by one. [Laughs] Yeah, I don’t know what in the world it was [in those boxes]. Anyway, I got on the phone and I called the guy at his home in Canada and I says, “My friend,” I says, “you know the Fourth of July is three days away and I need my shipment and I expect that so-and-so thing down here tomorrow morning.” He says, “You’ll have it.” He says, “I don’t know what went wrong, but I’ll have it for you.” He drove the truck down here. And I had my ribs to start off the next morning, the ones I wanted, see? So this is how we do things. Then there was one time I ordered some ribs from a business acquaintance, a friend of mine, he was in the wholesale business. And he says, “I don’t have all the ribs that you need. I got the kinds you want but most of them are sold.” I says, “Hey, I had these things on order from you, pal.” He says, “Well, you can’t have them all.” I just got in my truck and I just drove right down there to his plant. He got all these ribs stacked up there and I started getting them. The guy says, “You can’t have them all.” I says, “You know what? Every darned one of those has got my name on them, pal.” He says, “No, they don’t.” And I say, “You gonna do something about it?” “Well, no.” “Okay, get those dad-gummed things loaded on my truck.” I had a great big old pick-up, see? I had those things stacked up like you can’t believe. And, boy, I proceeded to come down here with all my ribs, see. Well, by golly, I ordered them. And I don’t take “no” for an answer on something like that. [Thanksgiving is another] very busy time. ‘Course I’ve always bought a quality turkey. I mean, it’s one that costs a lot of money compared to what you get in the supermarket. But they are so perfect, you know. We had a lot of folks where you had your young people working and both man and wife are working. And some of these lovely young ladies didn’t know how to cook. So, I got the finest turkey I could get, and we had a timer put into them. Then no matter how bad a cook you are, you can’t make a mistake on this, you see? I paid extra to have these timers put in, for the size of the turkey, specifically, see? And do you know, that developed into a whale of a business over in West Seattle. Over here, I had to get something for a lot of folks that would work out perfect. But at the same time, we had some folks who said, “I’m from the old school. I don’t want anything in my turkey. I don’t even want a timer in it.” Well, I brought in some nice young turkeys then for those folks. By order only. I mean, you couldn’t [just walk] in and buy a turkey. All I did was just take care of the special orders. Although I always bought extra turkeys—there was two principals and three policemen and one or two college professors that had a memory worse than mine. And they would come in [on the day before Thanksgiving] and they absolutely expected that [there would be a turkey for them]. So I always made sure I had it for them, you know. They’d come in, “I want to get a turkey, Bob,” see? I knew what they wanted and I knew exactly what size they needed. I even had their names on them, see? That’s the neighborhood business! Yeah, I had every single customer—ninety-five percent of them, we knew by their first names, see? For the little kids we always had little bags of things— you know, mom comes in and she’s absolutely about to go through the roof, got three or four kids with her. When they come in here, they were little ladies and gentlemen. They knew, if they were, they were gonna get something, see? If I had candy, I’d give them candy. If I run out of candy, I’d give them potato chips, you know, anything. But I made sure, even the ones that couldn’t afford to give their kids something, I made darned sure they’d have something, see? And you know, those kids, they come in, they got families of their own now. It’s a business that I really enjoy. My dad told me, even when I was younger, he says, “You know, one of these days,” he says, “young man, you’re gonna have to be honest with yourself. You find something you really love and you’ll never work another day the rest of your life.” And that’s what I’ve done, see? Now, your son has taken over? He has taken over. He was in the orchard business. I guess he talked to his mother and he says, “Think Dad might be interested in selling the business?” She said, “Well, hadn’t really thought of it.” So it was dropped. I didn’t hear about that for quite a while, see. Then, I guess, a little later on, he started coming over here from Yakima. He’d call up, and he’d say, “Dad, do you mind if I come over and help you Saturday?” “Sure, come on over,” see. So he come over and then, gee whiz, what’s wrong with this guy? Three weeks in a row he wants to come over and help me on Saturday. Shortly after that he called his mom and says, “Think Dad might be interested in selling yet?” And she said, “Well, you’re gonna have to talk to him about that, see?” So, anyway, we talked. He said he was interested in buying it. And I says, “We’ve been talking a little bit about maybe having some good man take over the business and I can’t think of a better man to take it over than you.” And so we got everything all lined up—we just simply walked out the door and he walked in, see? However, I stayed with him, just off and on to help him a little bit to get started, see? I felt confident he could step into the picture, and it’s obvious that he’s doing very well. And we’re mighty proud of him. This story is excerpted from the Rainier Valley Food Stories Cookbook . Pick up your copy at the RVHS office or order online to explore more local food and history.

Nancy Drew is my alter ego – I love a mystery!  Mystery books are at the top of my reading list and, yes, I read Nancy Drew mystery books when I was growing up in the 1950s.  A mystery involving local history is high on my list too.  On February 21, 2025, I donned my Nancy Drew sleuthing tiara and went to Rainier Valley Historical Society to investigate!  Could I solve “The Secret of the Forgotten Boxes?” Vintage boxes full of memorabilia, found along Seward Park Ave. Who owned the boxes? Where did the boxes come from?  How did they get to the office of the Rainier Valley Historical Society?  Julie C. found the boxes many years ago on the east side of Seward Park Avenue, south of the Kline Galland Home, while she was out doing errands.  It appeared to her that the boxes were waiting on the side of the street to be picked up by a garbage truck.  She just couldn’t leave them there!  Julie took the boxes home – she says she loves stuff like this and collects way too much of it!  The boxes sat for a time at Julie’s house (I don’t think she ever looked at the contents, or just barely).  Then the boxes went to a storage unit where they remained for some 12 years.  This year – 2025 – Julie cleaned out her storage unit and the boxes made their way back to Julie’s house.  Now, after all these years, the thrill of finding the boxes and bringing them home was gone!  Julie contacted Becky Corpuz, RVHS board member, with the hope that RVHS would be interested in the contents or that we could find the original owner, especially since the boxes were found in Rainier Valley.  RVHS knows that I love to do research – people, property records, local history, and such.  “Let’s get Teresa!” On a cursory view at the office, I found letters and greeting cards addressed to a family in Ballard.  Interestingly, it was the Robert W. Anderson family, but no relation to me.  We didn’t see any quick connection to Rainier Valley, so the boxes came home with me to Issaquah for further research.   Lillian Logar Anderson’s Ballard address. Now what?  I emptied one box at a time and looked for hints.  Some letters and greeting cards were addressed to Mrs. Robert W. Anderson -- not at the Ballard address but instead in care of the Logar family in Ravensdale.  Aha!  It was much easier to search for “Logar” than “Anderson"!  I would later learn that the correspondence was sent to Mrs. Anderson there after she was married and was visiting at the Ravensdale homestead.  That’s where I found her maiden name – Lillian Logar.   One of my favorite search tools is ancestry.com , especially for past generations.  By the next day, I had found a Logar Family Tree on the ancestry website!  From there, I was able to send a message to the family tree owner: February 22, 2025:  “Hello. I am writing about Anton Logar from Ravensdale, Washington. I see that you shared a photo to his family tree. I have recently learned about the Logar family through a box of discarded memorabilia (mostly greeting cards) that was found near Lake Washington in Seattle a couple of years ago. Are you related to the family?” I didn't hear back from my message for a few days.  In the meantime, I continued searching the ancestry website for more hints.  Somehow I figured out that Gary Habenicht was related to the family of Robert W. and Lillian Anderson (Gary is a nephew).  Google search: I found Gary through his association with the Black Diamond Historical Society.  I left a message with BDHS and Gary called me. On February 26, 2025, I received this message from ancestry.com : “ Hi Teresa. Yes. Anton is my great-grandfather. He had five daughters; one of which is my grandmother. I would tend to believe that the box of memorabilia you have was from my great-aunt’s home, Lillian Logar Anderson. She lived near the lake south of Seward Park area. I would be happy to take them off your hands. The Logars were an amazing family and I know that many of my traits came from them. I look forward to hearing back from you.”  The message was from Kimberly B., Gary’s niece, who maintains the Logar Family Tree on the ancestry website. Boxes are united with Lillian’s ancestors. It didn’t take long for the puzzle pieces to fit together.  Gary and I talked on the phone; Kimberly and I emailed.  Mystery solved!  Gary's mother Bertha Logar Habenicht was Lillian Logar Anderson's sister.  Gary's niece Kimberly is related by way of her father Wallace Habenicht who was Gary's brother.  Kimberly was my contact on ancestry.com .  We made a date to get together on March 25 at Gary’s house in Maple Valley. It was wonderful to meet Gary and Kimberly – over banana bread, while we sat at the dining room table, they opened the boxes to a flurry of mementos from days gone by, most of which they had never been seen before.  They looked at every single thing in the boxes and were reminded of their family history through 100s of greeting cards for every occasion (birthday, anniversary, Christmas, Easter), a few letters, school valentines given to Robert and Richard Anderson (Robert & Lillian’s sons) in the 1930s, grade school report cards from St John’s, original baptismal certificates, two locks of dark auburn hair, a veil, one baby shoe, and more. They learned some delightful things too -- Lillian was known as "Chickadee" by her husband Robert.  He put "Chickadee" on the envelopes of most of the greeting cards that he gave to his wife.  We think we have pinned down why the boxes were found where they were, but we can't figure out the timing/year.  Lillian's son Richard lived at 7920-1/2 Seward Park Ave S and Lillian as a widow lived with him.  That address is between Kenyon St and Budd Court.  That's where Julie found the boxes, on the parking strip waiting to be picked up by a garbage truck.  We looked at King County Property Records to see when the house was sold, but the year didn't match up with Julie's finding the boxes -- which was at least 12 years ago.  We're thinking that they got squirreled away somewhere in the house and eventually were found and disposed of on Seward Park Avenue -- or so they thought! Gary kept a few things that meant something to him. Kimberly, who lives on Bainbridge Island, took the boxes with her and will deliver them to Robert and Lillian Anderson’s granddaughter Dana who lives in Kingston.  Robert and Lillian had two sons, Robert and Richard, who are both deceased.  Robert was Dana’s dad. Finding the descendants was a satisfying end to a story nearly lost to time. The two vintage boxes, once discarded on the street, had carried more than just old photos and letters—they held forgotten fragments of a family’s past. Thanks to a bit of persistent sleuthing, by Teresa, those fragments are now back where they belong. “A thread of personal history can be lost forever were it not for folks who grab the thread just in time to revive something so important to piecing together family history,” Gary reflected with gratitude. And in this case, that thread was rewoven into the fabric of the Habenicht family. Note: Rainier Valley connections to the Lillian Logar family: Even though the Logar family settled in Ravensdale and Gary’s family was in Maple Valley (Gary Habenicht is a Tahoma High School grad), at least one Habenicht attended Franklin High School around 1918. The family lived in Columbia City at the time, on both Ferdinand and Hudson Streets. Teresa also learned that Kimberly’s mother was Aldine Lorraine Maletta, a branch of the Maletta family tree that includes Carmen Maletta, whose family had barbershops in Garlic Gulch! A small world. Thank you, Teresa, for your thoughtful research in connecting the vintage boxes with its descendants. Your efforts have helped preserve a meaningful piece of family history, RVHS. Logar family L-R: Anton, Mary, Kathrine, Lillian (owner of vintage boxes), Margaret Kokal Logar, Anna, grandson Wallace Habenicht, and Bertha Logar Habenicht (Gary’s mother) . (Photo Ancestry.com)

The building at 5608 Rainier Avenue has stood at the heart of Hillman City for over a century, bearing witness to generations of change. American Theatre, 5608 Rainier Ave. S., Hillman City, “Dante’s Inferno.” (Puget Sound Regional Archives photograph, 1935). Opened in 1921 as the American Theatre, it served as a beloved neighborhood movie house and performance venue, offering affordable entertainment within walking distance for local families. Over the decades, the theater evolved with the community—becoming the art-focused Beaux Arts and later, in the 1970s, the Toyo Theater, which screened Japanese-language films for the area. My parents, John and Mary O’Brien, both grew up in Hillman and fondly recalled the American Theatre’s heyday. My father, who discovered a love of drama early in life, earned free tickets by handing out flyers to promote upcoming shows. For my mother, a frequent moviegoer during the war years, walking to the local theater was a welcomed alternative to riding the bus downtown. The ease of access made it a cherished part of daily life for many families. Today, more than 100 years later, the building begins a new chapter as Black & Tan Hall—a vibrant, community-driven music venue and cultural space—continuing its legacy as a gathering place for art, expression, and connection in Rainier Valley. Black & Tan Hall, 5608 Rainier Ave. S., Hillman City, operating since 2024. Black & Tan Hall is a cooperatively-owned performance venue that serves as a vibrant cultural hub for the community. Rooted in a legacy of racial integration and musical excellence, the Hall takes its name from the “black and tan” nightclubs of Harlem—venues that welcomed patrons of all races during an era of legal and social segregation. Seattle’s own Black and Tan Club, once located at 12th and Jackson, thrived for nearly fifty years and hosted legendary performers such as Ernestine Anderson, Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Charlie Parker, and Gladys Knight, many of whom would jam late into the night at Black-owned clubs after playing to segregated audiences downtown. Today, Black & Tan Hall continues that tradition of inclusivity and creativity with a full calendar of live music events from Thursday through Sunday, featuring jazz, blues, salsa, R&B, gospel, and more alongside delicious food. Black & Tan Hall is a community-powered space dedicated to fostering a local economy rooted in art, culture, and opportunity. With a mission to build an equitable, people-centered environment, the Hall champions the diversity and resilience of the neighborhood through programming, job creation, and celebration of local voices. Black & Tan Stage - Photo from Black and Tan Facebook Page.