Westlake: where Seattle goes to fight with itself
Mayor Mike McGinn came in as an insurgent populist. Now he's the latest in a line of mayors to find himself switching roles at Seattle's perennial battleground.
Eric Scigliano
The battle over the heart, soul, and wealth of America has morphed into a scuffle over a half-block patch of decorative pavement in downtown Seattle. Last week Occupy Seattle, a semi-spontaneous spin-off of the ongoing Occupy Wall Street demonstrations against corporate power and economic inequality, occupied — where else? — Westlake Park, Seattle’s meager version of a central commons. The city’s leaders—mainly ex-activist Mayor Mike McGinn, also City Attorney Pete Holmes, a former police-misconduct watchdog — flaunted their solidarity with the demonstrators. Then they declared sternly that they still wouldn’t allow some citizens to appropriate — i.e. camp in — Westlake Park. C’mon down town to City Hall, said McGinn, lots of room, though he stopped short of offering free firewood and RV hookups. Since then, come 10 in the evening, the cops on bikes have massed and swarmed around Westlake to show the flag and arrest the odd recalcitrant protestor/camper.
However sincere the officials' sentiments may be, their insistence on clearing, or sorta clearing, the park was all that was needed to pique the occupiers’ spirits and harden their determination. In the second week of Occupy Westlake, the chanting of the national slogan “They got bailed out, we got sold out!” became less frequent, giving way to the universal standby “This is what democracy looks like!” and more locally focused refrains: “Westlake belongs to us!” “Hey hey, ho ho, SPD has got to go!” “Go home! Go home!” And, briefly on Thursday, “Pigs go home!” I waited to hear a variation on the chant that made me queasy about antiwar demonstrations in high school: “Ho, Ho, Ho Chi Minh, We don’t need Mayor McGinn!”
This focus on Westlake may all seem a like deflating diminution of vision and ambition for a movement that’s been hailed as a late-blooming American Spring. But from a Seattle historical view, it seems all to apt, even inevitable: For nearly half a century, Westlake has been Seattle’s battleground, the Flanders field where demos and plutos, people and wealth, populist and elite forces have fought for domination. And it’s where mayors get caught in the crossfire, though never quite in the same crossfire. At Westlake, each mayor meets his, well, Westlake.
Through much of the 20th century, planners and dreamers posited various central parks and concourses downtown, including a grand boulevard running along the Westlake Avenue diagonal to Lake Union. A 1964 downtown plan placed a pedestrian mall at Westlake’s (and the monorail’s) south terminus. In 1968 what’s now called the Downtown Seattle Association proposed to redevelop the ramshackle, diagonally sliced blocks thee with heftier retail and commercial edifices, plus a small park on the pie slice beside the then-Nordstrom store. The downtown businesspeople proposed something they would later declare anathema: to close Pine Street to traffic between the new park and the development.
Proposals and counterproposals flew over the next few years. In 1975 the city’s community development director, Paul Schell, invited the Seattle Art Museum, then occupying a temporary pavilion at Seattle Center, to move in, but the idea seemed too rich to the museum. The city held an international competition and selected the Canadian developer Mondev to build an imposing hotel-retail complex with parking garage and movie theaters.
This plan became a flash point in the 1977 mayoral race between Schell and TV newsman Charles Royer, who assailed it as “a private shopping mall to be financed in part with more tax money appropriated without a vote of the people,” and vowed to make it a more public space. Populism prevailed. Royer, a political neophyte, won the race. He offered a reconfigured Westlake plan, with the hotel out and the art museum, which was now flusher after its King Tut blockbuster, in. But SAM and Mondev quarreled, and both eventually fell by the wayside. The last plan left standing was all private and entirely unexciting: a retail mall and office tower. Business as usual. The bloom was off the upstart Royer administration.
Populism reared up again, now in opposition to Royer’s City Hall. UW architecture prof Victor Steinbrueck, who’d spearheaded the successful fight to save the Pike Place Market from redevelopment, led a new campaign for a real park rather than mall at Westlake. His group Citizens for Alternatives at Westlake sued. So did several Westlake property owners, seeking to block city condemnation of their shop sites. In 1981 the Washington Supreme Court ruled that the then-prevailing plan was indeed an unconstitutional public-private entanglement. Back to the drawing board.
In 1983 the Rouse Company, which had turned Baltimore’s waterfront, Boston’s Quincy Market, and other troubled urban sites into teeming retail and tourist enclaves, arrived to rescue this one. The following year, the last citizen lawsuit was settled, with the retail mall scaled back to allow a public plaza north of Pine Street, effectively extending the park space. In 1986 construction finally started, and Rouse’s Westlake Mall finally opened in 1988. Many winced at its design, as cheesy as feared. But the town collectively sighed in relief at being done with fighting over Westlake.
Except it wasn’t done fighting. One issue festered: Whether to close Pine Street, as even downtown’s business grandees had originally proposed, and patch together more semblance of a central park, or keep it open to cars, as they now insisted. Royer’s successor as mayor, banker-turned-city councilmember Norm Rice, wasn’t the first politician you would have expected to stand up to this establishment, whose faithful enabler he’d often been. But he did: In 1990, the bollards went up on Pine Street. Score one for populism.
But this being Westlake, the fight wasn’t over. Downtown turned moribund in the recessionary early 1990s, even as the crack cocaine epidemic hit Seattle like a rock and street drug peddling boomed. Frederick & Nelson, Seattle’s original grand department store, closed, along with I Magnin and several lesser shops. City Hall, developers, and retailers conceived a campaign that would eventually bring Pacific Place, its controversial parking garage, NikeTown, enough other flashy chain retailers to fill a suburban mall, the refurbished Paramount Theater, and today’s nightly hordes of downtown shoppers and revelers. The linchpin was for Nordstrom to move into Frederick & Nelson’s vacant pile. Only if you reopen Pine Street, said Nordstrom, backed by the DSA. Blackmail! hollered the park’s defenders. The Nordstroms and their allies sponsored a ballot initiative, offering Seattle a stark choice: open Pine Street or become Detroit. Citizens believed that threat and, in 1995, voted to reopen Pine Street. Who’s populist now?
For all the squabbles and delays, design compromises and disappointments, construction bungling, and on-off-on flipping of Pine Street’s traffic, Seattle got something it needed at Westlake: a public plaza, a political crossroads, a place for rallies, demonstrations, and the occasional prank or riot. Seattleites turned out in hordes in summer 1992 to cheer Bill Clinton as he surged toward the presidency, and in a more somber crowd in January 2001 to protest George W. Bush’s inauguration.
In between, Westlake’s civic status precipitated one heartbreaking coda to the Pine Street saga. On Labor Day, 1993, an inspired young Job Corps welder-turned-artist named Jason Sprinkle, a.k.a. Subculture Joe, led a team of fellow creative populists in a dazzling prank: In a lightning raid, they shackled the Seattle Art Museum’s Hammering Man with an impeccably crafted nine-foot steel ball and chain. SAM’s director snootily called them “the fabricators of the attachment.” The Fabricators gleefully adopted that moniker and executed more pointed statements in welded Cor-ten. The site for these unpermitted, but increasingly tolerated and even welcomed guerilla installations: Westlake Park, of course. The Fabricators most remarkable follow-up was The Heart of Seattle, a 13-foot anatomically realistic steel heart with a 12-foot knife swinging/slicing through it. Among its intents was to denounce Pine Street’s then-proposed reopening as a severing of the civic heart.
Like what you just read? Support high quality local journalism. Become a member of Crosscut today!











Twitter
Facebook
RSS Feeds
Comments:
Posted Fri, Oct 14, 1:27 p.m. Inappropriate
Thanks for this piece. I always wondered what happened to the artist who created that beautiful ball & chain for Hammering Man. What a terrible waste for him to die by train/suicide.
Posted Fri, Oct 14, 1:32 p.m. Inappropriate
Oh, and once they took down the Bartell Drug store, everyone could see what the developer of Westlake knew, it has a direct view of Lake Union. You can see it from ground level. And it was a public park tragedy, but a retail success story. I remember when the retail core was on the verge of packing up and leaving. The revitalization of this core bit of property saved it.
And the loss of the pedestrian core of Pine street was not as much of a loss as I first thought. It's slow moving traffic can pass through but you can pretty much jaywalk across it with impunity if the traffic is stopped a block away.
Posted Fri, Oct 14, 5:56 p.m. Inappropriate
The before and after pictures of this area is a classic illustration of early 20th century city and late 20th century city. I think this phrase sums it up "at its design, as cheesy as feared. But"
Posted Fri, Oct 14, 10:26 p.m. Inappropriate
Are their any refreshments at the Westlake affair?
Posted Sat, Oct 15, 9:28 a.m. Inappropriate
Thank you for this absolutely fascinating account of how Westlake became so ugly. I bet that most readers didn't know that it was originally a larger chunk of public land that got sold out instead of being a truly inviting public space. I cut up my Nordstrom credit card (what a quaint concept...)over its demand that Pine Street be reopened, and haven't set foot in a Nordstrom store ever since. I imagine the Nordstroms and other retail tycoons are seething over Occupy Westlake because it's "bad for business."
Posted Sat, Oct 15, 9:56 a.m. Inappropriate
I took the #33 downtown yesterday (Friday,10/14) with the specific intent to speak with people who I would meet at Westlake. Reading a ripped-in-half paperback (it's lighter to carry) of Nietzsche's "Beyond Good and Evil" on the way down was a good preparation for my encounters. The city presents itself as an ueban concentration of diverse souls who represent the expanse of what so mysteriously comprises the embodied human condition, all warts and haloes of it.
I asked several people about their view of what I see as the absurdity of the "99% that are us" slogan that they were carrying on signs. A woman ended up saying it was just that- a slogan, but was disturbed when asked about the meaning of it, and this fits the situation.
I know that I am undoubtedly "on-my-own" when I ask how the American middle class, when asked to define what it means, can't decide whether to include those making $250,000 a year or not. And then there's the fact that everyone there, including the people obviously sent in by the mayor to do the "you-could-eat-off-of-the-pavement" version of a cleanup with water hoses, which were wielded with obvious intent to discourage anyone from later camping overnight, but even at that early point directed at indicating "who is really in charge here" as we stood discussing the issues at 2:00 P.M. in this commons area, having our discussion interrupted to warn us that they were getting ready to spray down the very area where we were standing talking, even though it was already spotlessly clean. It was actually humorous, as many of these things are, as I commented to one of the workers that I had never seen Westlake center so tidy, and a worker replied "we try", and when I asked if it would continue even after the demonstrations are part of yesterday's news. He smiled. Lucky guy; he's got a job.
But the most beautiful thing about the whole experience was realizing that, despite the fact that even Religion and Art have been commodified along with everything else, answering a question I asked when I 1st graduated from college some 40 years ago, the conversations I had with the demonstrators, who actually include me come to think of it, have not been Commodified, and a kid I was talking to agreed, as I shook his hand and then made my way back home.
Posted Sat, Oct 15, 7:15 p.m. Inappropriate
The size of Westlake "park" eloquently describes the relationship of citizen to consumer in Seattle. We really have no adequate and beautiful public space, just the claustrophobia of tawdry commerce.
Posted Sun, Oct 16, 9:39 p.m. Inappropriate
Protests do not depend on open space. They have a purpose and they will demand what they need as they mature. Why so much erudition on a populist movement? They have only just begun.
Posted Mon, Oct 17, 8:20 a.m. Inappropriate
What a craven history this recalls: Nordstrom, essentially blackmailing a Mayor and city by refusing to locate its new flagship store in the old Frederick's unless Pine Street stayed open between 4th and 5th, thus gutting the park. Now, instead of a grand common center, we have a shriveled and compromised bit of pavement utterly dominated by commerce. Inspiring is never a word you'd conjure up about the space, though that was the dream. It's the reason that even today, in one of my futile gestures, I never drive that part of Pine Street and almost never shop at Nordstrom. A shop should not dictate our public spaces, and shame on us for embracing that dictate.
Posted Mon, Oct 17, 11:18 a.m. Inappropriate
Yes, Westlake "park" and its "park rangers." What a joke. This so-called "park" is a tiny area of pavement in front of a mall, not a park. Who are the "park rangers?" I doubt they're part of the national or state or local park services. More likely some poorly paid rent-a-cops with a dressed up title and no authority or purpose.
Seattle only flouts its ridiculousness by calling this area a park and attempting to cast it as the site where citizens can have their say, or not as in the current case. Condescending to allow those occupying the area to remain deosn't lend any gravitas to this sad and embarassing display. I applaud the impulse behind these "occupy" movements wherever they're taking place, but I don't believe they will bring one iota of change.
As these protests take place far from anyone with any responsibility for the current situation, they leave the intended targets safely protected behind real law enforcement and an establishment that will support them to the death. Better to occupy the lawmakers' offices at all levels and insist that the big bankers be criminally prosecuted and Glass-Steagle re-enacted in order to return some sanity to our economy.
As long as these banker types can get away with this stuff the temptation to continue will trump any twinges of morality any of them may ever feel.
Posted Tue, Oct 18, 7:55 p.m. Inappropriate
Unfortunately Mr. Scigliano confuses portions of the history of Westlake. The proposal to close Pine Street originated in the early proposal to create a four-block pedestrianized superblock--the kind of pedestrian-only mall that failed in almost every city that tried it (for the reasons, see writings by William H. Whyte). Thereafter, the retailers in the area always opposed the closing of Pine Street.
The Art Museum at Westlake idea was a brainchild of the Royer administration. Royer beat Schell to become Mayor partly by running against the large Mondev development project at Westlake (a project Schell had supported as the city's Community Development Director. After he won, Royer came back with a proposal to build a new Seattle Art Museum on top of a shopping mall at Westlake.
Victor Steinbrueck had been opposed to the Mondev project and likely favored Royer over Schell because Royer appeared to be campaigning against a giant development project at Westlake. When Royer came up with his scheme for a mixed shopping mall and art museum, Steinbrueck's organization, Citizens for Alternatives at Westlake, fought against that as well. In that fight, which went all the way to the state Supreme Court, the owners of the private properties facing what was then the Bon Marche also joined in to oppose the city's attempt to take the properties by eminent domain to serve a private venture.
After the city lost, it decided to offer the properties it controlled north of Pine Street to developers with design controls to assure the developer project provided certain public amenities. Several development proposals were received; two were serious proposals. This city selected the proposal by the Rouse Corporation.
The original Rouse proposal would have created a kind of glassed in "wintergarden" north of Pine Street, with garage doors on the sides that would have rolled up to allow indoor-outdoor flow of space in good weather. Steinbrueck's group, Citizens for Alternatives at Westlake (by this time, also including Folke Nyberg) brought a lawsuit against this proposal, claiming that the indoor space could not legally be considered true public space. The lawsuit was never tried--the city brokered a deal between the Rouse Corporation and Steinbrueck's group that established an area of public outdoor space north of Pine, and also established that the centerline atrium of the shopping mall would align with the angle of the former alignment of Westlake Avenue.
Steinbrueck died after the deal was made, but before ground was broken for the Rouse project.
Posted Wed, Oct 19, 11:25 a.m. Inappropriate
It's unfortunate that Mike James misstatement of history received an "Editor's Pick." In fact, the decision to open Pine Street was made by voters. Further, Nordstrom's did not say it would not occupy the old Frederick & Nelson building; rather Nordstrom's said its store would be smaller if Pine Street remained closed.
A study of the historical record indicates that the idea to close Pine Street originated with the pedestrianized superblock proposal of the late 1960s early 1970s that was soon determined to be infeasible. Thereafter, Pine Street was always to remain open. The idea of closing Pine Street re-emerged in the years when the transit tunnel was under construction and Pine Street was unusable.
From an urban design point-of-view the closing of Pine Street would have been a significant mistake. One of the points made by Jane Jacobs, and confirmed by later urban analysts and designers, is the need for connectivity in the street pattern (recall Jacobs's advocacy of "short blocks" in DEATH AND LIFE OF GREAT AMERICAN CITIES). Because downtown Seattle has a pattern of one-way streets, closing a single street to through traffic effectively creates a four-block wide barrier to movement. If Pine Street had remained closed the effect would be to create a significant barrier to getting to the west side of downtown -- for example, to Pike Place Market.
Posted Sat, Oct 22, 5:51 a.m. Inappropriate
Nordstrom's is a much bigger asset to downtown than Westlake Park, which is a really lousy rallying spot.
I use the street all the time, happy it works again.
I'm thinking this occupation at Westlake is punishing the wrong people.
Downtown retailers and the people who work in retail are mostly innocent in the root causes of this.
We need people to shop right now for all kinds of reasons. I know some people who have been scared away by this.
The whole show should move over to the bank buildings. The area around Chase would be a good spot for Occupy.
Posted Sun, Oct 23, 7:55 a.m. Inappropriate
Why don't we just close Pike/Pine on the weekends so that people can walk, bike and run downtown? It would connect Capitol Hill and the Pike Place Market. That's what they do in Ginza--one of the busiest commercial districts in the heart of Tokyo. (They also do this in Paris.) Department stores put tables out in the middle of the streets during this time so that people will stick around (and shop) and the whole area is full of families--shopping, playing, and relaxing. I think Ginza is only closed to cars from 10-5 every Sat and Sun, but it's really nice. Most of these families get to Ginza on the metro, though, and don't have to worry about looking for parking. Seattle is so car-centric. The great cities of the world are getting cars out of their urban centers. City dwellers in every other part of the world use public transport, bikes (bike sharing programs), and their own two feet for most of their transportation needs. If we want a vibrant downtown we can't all drive our cars downtown. We either have to design cities around cars or people. It's very hard to have both.
Login or register to add your voice to the conversation.