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via 'what makes the pie shops tick' at flickr.com
artist's rendering; via kiro-tv
american institute of architects—seattle
My pals at HistoryLink.org have put together a weighty historical coffee table tome called The Future Remembered.
It’s all about the Century 21 Exposition, the Seattle world’s fair that began 50 years ago this April.
It’s 300 pages of insightful prose and luscious pictures concerning what is still probably the single most important event that ever happened here in Software City.
It’s proof of what a physical book can still be—an object of desire. (And a handy blunt instrument, should you need one.)
It gives you most of the individual subplots of the fair’s story, from the miraculously perfect design of the Space Needle to the erotic puppet show (by the future producers of Land of the Lost!).
These sub-stories are woven around a main narrative line, about a cabal of squarer-than-square civic boosters who pulled off a staggering feat of a spectacle, something that melded both high art and mass entertainment into one vision of a sleek modern tomorrow (that mostly still hasn’t shown up).
And it even turned a small profit, and left a 74-acre arts-and-recreation campus in the middle of town.
You should all look it up, check it out, even get one for your very own.
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Indeed, there’s only only one small mini-gripe I’ve got with the document.
There’s a two page spread saluting “Women At Century 21.”
It honors Gracie Hansen (the brassy small-town hostess who ran one of the fair’s burlesque revues), Laurene Gandy (wife of fair exec Joe Gandy and a tireless worker for both the fair and the subsequent Seattle Center), and the other male execs’ wives (billed collectively as “Our Fair Ladies”).
But one prominent woman is not mentioned in the spread. Or in the entire book.
Dr. Dixy Lee Ray (1914-1994) was a marine biologist, a UW prof, and a science-ed host on KCTS.
Ray worked as a “science advisor” to the United States Science Pavilion at the fair. In this role, she was the pavilion’s chief spokesperson to the local media.
She then became the first head of the pavilion’s post-fair entity, the Pacific Science Center.
From there she became the highest ranking woman in Richard Nixon’s Executive Branch (running the Atomic Energy Commission).
From there she successfully ran for governor in 1976 as a “flag of convenience” Democrat.
Then she proceeded on an anti-environmentalist agenda, alienated just about the entire state Democratic Party, and lost her re-election bid in the 1980 primary.
Ray left behind a lot of political opponents.
And, admittedly, her later role with the Science Center held more authority than her role with the Science Pavilion.
But she should not be written out of the fair’s history.
filmfanatic.org
vintage postcard via allposters.com (prints just $14.99)
myonepreciouslife.wordpress.com
As an entire region continues to impatiently await the promised, wondrous Snowtopia hinted at on Sunday but only teased about in the two days since, here’s some beautiful flakes of randomness for ya.
And finally, I will have a new product announcement in this space tomorrow. It’s something all loyal MISCphiles will want to have for their very own.
grouchymuffin.com
Don’t ask me how or why, but I’ve again gotten volunteered into performing at this year’s Seattle Invitationals, a contest for Elvis Tribute Artists (ETAs). It starts at 8 p.m. tonight (Sat. 1/14/12) at the Experience Music Project within Seattle Center. Be there or be Pat Boone.
1975 opening; from onelifetolive.wikia.com
(Again this year, I’ve been drafted into participating in the Seattle Invitationals, a contest for Elvis Tribute Artists (ETA; and yes, that acronym is used within this particular scene). In keeping with the 50th anniversary of the Seattle World’s Fair (and of It Happened at the World’s Fair), this year’s edition is under the Space Needle at the Experience Music Project, 8 p.m. Saturday. Be there or be Fabian.)
Once again, the Space Needle held a fireworks spectacular to ring in the new year. It almost makes me forgive ’em for their role in the Chihuly gallery fiasco.
This year’s boom-boom lasted a healthy eight minutes, with a vast array of colors and effects.
My wishes for the year to come:
Besides my current contract job deep within the belly of the publishing beast (now on week 12 of what was to have been 7.5 weeks), I’m coming off of a horrid and still undiagnosed chest thang that had me coughing and hacking like hell.
So I’ve been spending most of my non-working hours resting, not preparing blog posts.
Here are some random links I’ve been saving up.
A state of being defined by lack, self-oppression and ultimately the judgment of others.
a teenage pugmire as 'count pugsley'
Before he gained national cult fame as “the world’s greatest living Lovecraftian writer,” Wilum Hopfrog Pugmire already had several other claims to fame.
He’d played the costumed mad scientist “Count Pugsly” at the Jones Fantastic Museum in Seattle Center.
He’d published Punk Lust, a literate and intimately personal zine chronicling his life as a queer Mormon, doing restaurant work to support his obsessions with punk rock, horror fiction, and Barbra Streisand.
He’d been a constant figure on the local music scene, sometimes appearing at events in goth-white face paint with ruby red lipstick.
Finally, in recent years Pugmire’s horror fiction has risen in stature, from a few short stories in scattered anthologies to full-length, limited edition books.
He hasn’t been very visible lately. He was stuck at home, taking care of a dying mother.
Now he’s the patient. He’s reportedly now in a Seattle hospital, dealing with a worsening heart condition.
Several days ago he wrote a blog post announcing his retirement from writing. In it, he described his condition as follows:
I have been extremely ill for over a month, and it doesn’t seem like I’m gonna get better any time soon. Tonight has been one of the worst nights. I think my ailments are a combination of heart disease and lingering bronchitis. One of my ailments is coranary arterial spasms, which happens usually when I recline in bed and try to sleep–they jerk my body and produce a little yelp, making sleep impossible so that I am a zombie moft of ye time.
I know no more about Pugmire’s condition at this time. Will Hart, at the horror blog CthuluWho1, is keeping track.