YES, I’VE GONE BACK to a certain sleazy tabloid. It’s just on a penny-ante freelance basis, and it’s in really tiny type buried back in the classifieds, but it’s there.
It’s an examination of some of my not-so-fair city’s surviving real-estate relics.
And here’s some of the first batch of these pieces.
In 1907, the world’s first stand-alone filling station was built south of Pioneer Square by the old Rockefeller oil trust. That place no longer exists, but other early examples of the form still stand–the Madrona Automatic art studio (formerly Kriegel’s Texaco), 1435 34th Ave., and Sig’s Barber Shop (formerly the Eveready Gas Station), 2103 3rd Ave. Both attempted to fit in with their neighborhoods, via small, decorative buildings that neared the sidewalk on at least one side. Their beauty recalls a time when the car culture was new and promising to fit in with its surroundings. As we’ll see in future installments, drive-up architecture didn’t stay that way for long.
The automobile has become the most powerful single icon of American life, but the neighborhood full-service gas station has had its ups and downs. In the ’70s, when oil shortages caused a major industry consolidation, a lot of smaller stations closed. In the ’90s, when oil gluts caused another major industry consolidation (still underway), more smaller stations closed. Some were demolished; others were refitted to new uses. The Olive Way Richfield (later Arco), closed in the early ’80s, was remodeled to fit a dry cleaner in its former office and service bays. A storefront addition was added later, leaving only the former Arco sign.
As the gasoline biz consolidated in recent decades, some neighborhood fuel-station/garage combos switched to only selling gas (and convenience-store treats) or only providing auto parts and repairs. The Arco-AM/PM combos exemplify the former; Japanese Auto Clinic (6th and Denny) the latter. Richlen’s Super-Mini (23rd and Union) has a more complex history. It began as a Shell station with service bays, then became a gas-and-convenience-store outlet, then became just a convenience store, and more recently started selling (Exxon-branded) gas again along with drive-up espresso and “Kick’n Chicken.”
For some six decades, from the ’20s thru the mid-’80s, the old Union Oil Co. of California supplied its Union 76 stations from a sprawling pipeline terminal and tank farm at Elliott and Broad, just inland from the waterfront. Union Oil later split into two companies; one of the successor firms, Unocal, has spent several years cleaning up the former terminal site of the fuels, greases, and chemicals that had seeped into the ground. Now that it’s officially clean enough for redevelopment, the city and Paul Allen are planning to turn it into a “sculpture park.”
Seattle builds Boeing planes and big Kenworth trucks, but once we also built passenger cars. Specifically, the legendary Ford Model T. Around 1917, about halfway through the T’s 19-year production run, Henry Ford had so fully regimented the car’s manufacturing process that he decided to build regional assembly plants, hoping to shave shipping costs. This stoic structure near Fairview and Mercer stopped making cars during the Depression, but survived as a printing plant (making, among many other things, regional editions of TV Guide). It’s now a Shurgard storage warehouse.
TOMORROW: The cyberkids are alright.
ELSEWHERE:
