More My Magnolia: The Place and People I Love
By Barbara Wade Gates
My Daddy, Harold Wade, was raised at his grandmother’s home in South Tacoma and graduated at age 16 from Lincoln High School there. He worked as a logger trimming trees and on a tugboat crew for Foss Tug and Launch Company. He then got a job with Pacific Telephone and Telegraph Company, which brought him to live in Seattle.
Harold Wade and Julia Epley’s wedding portrait, 1925.
Courtesy of Barbara Wade Gates.
Daddy and Mama—Julia Epley Wade—met through an unplanned telephone conversation. They dated, then married on August 15, 1925. After moving between several different rental homes, they decided to start a family when they found a two-bedroom house with a yard in Magnolia on 27th Avenue West.
When Mama discovered she was in labor, she, Daddy, and her parents, Jim and Ellenora Philomina Epley (known as “Lillie”), entered Ballard General Hospital, a white stone building on Market Street in Ballard. It took up a whole block and still does to this day. When Dr. Melgard delivered me, they named me Barbara Ellenora Wade. I had blue eyes, light brown hair, and a light complexion, a little copy of my Daddy. Grandma Epley had said that I was her “birthday present” since we shared the same birth date. Less than three years later, I was joined by a beautiful sister, born at the same hospital on July 23, 1931. She was named Phoebe Lorraine Wade and was always called Lorraine from birth. She had brown eyes, brown hair, and a darker complexion and looked like our Mama.
We had a large extended family that spoiled us with love, as we were the only young children in the family. We enjoyed being together and using our imaginations. Growing up, we made up many games to play. Every night we played “Princess.” I insisted, even if Lorraine was too tired! We were the princesses of the kingdom. We had an imaginary door our “princes” would arrive through, and we would entertain them royally—the scenes we acted out all exercises in imagination.
The two Wade sisters pose for a picture on the edge of their property that bordered Knutson’s Dairy,
seen in the background.
Courtesy of Barbara Wade Gates. Circa 1935.
As I grew up, our family moved near the Magnolia Bridge. One day about 1932 or so, there was a huge windstorm that blew the glass lamp covers off the poles, smashing them to the ground. Daddy wanted me to observe what a powerful force nature could be. So he dressed me warmly and walked me over to view the scene near Piers 40 and 41 (now 90 and 91). He was always showing me new things and explaining how they worked. He was my very first teacher and one of my very best.
Grandma and Grandpa lived on 33rd Avenue West. As their only grandchildren, we visited their Pleasant Valley home frequently. Grandma kept a very clean home. “Stay-overs” included bathing in a huge oval metal tub in the middle of the kitchen. Drying and dressing was done behind the warm wood heater in the corner of the front room. The mica windows in the door helped to contain the warmth in the room and made it nice and comfy; it was always wonderful to be doted on. Uncle Tom, who lived there, used to rock us in a leather rocking chair and sing a lullaby. He would buy us “twin” dresses for many Christmases as well as beautiful dolls. We loved our uncle a lot, as much as he loved us in return.
Grandma and Grandpa Epley’s home on 33rd Avenue West.
Courtesy of Barbara Wade Gates. Circa 1920.
The kitchen had bare wood floors and linoleum. It was old and worn, so it was washed each year and repainted, usually gray. After drying, three sponges (from the sea, I suppose) were used to dab little spots of paint in three colors: white, pink, and green. We had to keep off it for hours until it fully dried. That’s when the bathroom having two doors came in handy, as one was in the front room. During the summer months, some of the many friends and family from other parts of the country would come visit to get relief from the heat. Our house had no extra beds, so Grandma was the host. Usually all the beds were filled, even Grandma’s, so she stuffed the claw-foot bathtub with blankets and her pillow and would get a good night’s sleep in there.
Grandma’s house had a good-sized yard with fruit trees—Bing and Queen Anne cherry, Granite apple, crab apple, and Italian plum—along with gooseberry, raspberry, and loganberry bushes. She also grew rhubarb and horseradish. All produce was put to use for the family foodstuffs—used fresh or preserved. What fun it was to climb up in those trees and hide inside the limbs.
During nice weather, there was a man who would drive a horse and cart down the alley behind Grandma’s house. He would slowly come through the alley calling, “Any juuUNK?” That got us leaping out of the trees and running down to greet him. He had all sorts of interesting things in his cart like old rugs and broken chairs; you never knew what folks would be giving him to cart away.
Lorraine and I would join Grandma in the brambles on the hillside across 33rd Avenue West. We picked oodles of wild blackberries and tried not to get caught eating them. Grandma had a special plan for the harvest. There was a huge crock waiting up in the attic at the edge of the stairs. Those berries would be mixed with lots of sugar and then placed in the crock, occasionally tended to until it became blackberry wine. Grandma then put it in some lovely flasks and stored it in her cupboard. On some nights, we were given soda crackers with butter and a sip of blackberry wine mixed with water to help us sleep.
Grandma had many jobs in her lifetime—she was an Olympic Hotel maid, she washed and ironed clothes, she babysat for several neighborhood children. Her biggest calling was as a midwife in Magnolia. I learned from schoolmates that many of them were delivered by “Lillie Epley.” Touching so many lives, she made lifelong friends.
Lillie Epley wearing “widow’s weeds” after her husband, Jim, died. Photo by Julia Epley Wade, circa 1935.
Courtesy of Barbara Wade Gates.
One of Grandma’s friends in particular was named Higgie Van Dusen. Her hair was dyed jet black, and she was small and slender. She had two sons, Eddy and Ted Higgenbotham. Her second husband had the last name Van Dusen. Higgie had moved from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and she spoke fluent French in the Acadian dialect from that area. Grandma was raised in Kasota Township, Le Seuer County, Minnesota, by a French-Canadian mother, and she continued studying French after she was taught by Catholic nuns. The two women got together at Grandma’s house, drank tea in their rocking chairs, and talked for hours until Higgie took the bus home to Interbay. Daddy would sometimes stop by to visit, and when he went into the house, he’d hear all the French chatter. It became clear to him one day that he was the topic of their conversation! He found someone to help him learn a little phrase in French and spurted it out during the two women’s discussion. I never knew what it was he said. But, after that day, no more French was used in front of Daddy!
I was about three years old when we moved to a house on the edge of a cow pasture owned by Knutson’s Dairy, on 33rd Avenue West near West Barrett Street (1). Our next-door neighbors were the Holmans. Elmer Holman was a Seattle fireman, his wife was named Jessie, and his daughter, Audrey, was six months older than me as she was born April 1, 1928. We were constant playmates, even making mud pies to throw at each other. The property near that pasture was used in the 1950s to build Catharine Blaine Junior High School. The houses Audrey and I had lived in still existed, but in a different location. The houses were moved to be across from the clinic at the east end of Magnolia Village, near the business district.
“First public conceptual drawing of the combined Blaine facility, included in ‘FACTS...’ report.
September 28, 1949.”
Image and caption source: Courtesy of Seattle Municipal Archives, #5801-01, 37/6 in Whitney Mason, “A New Idea: Blaine School and Community Center,”Magnolia: Midcentury Memories, p. 246.
“House-moving was still going on in the 1960s on Magnolia.”
Image and caption source: Ken Baxter, 1963, University of Washington Archives, Special Collections, #UW40088, in “A New Idea,” p. 253.
Friends and neighbors of my childhood originated from all over Europe—England, Ireland, Germany, Italy, and Russia. Neighbors attended a marvelous Easter feast hosted by Mrs. Tulinsteff and Mrs. Torohoff. There were endless dishes loaded on a large table. Each dish was hand decorated, and they looked beautiful and tasted delicious.
I discovered the Samsons and Kelseys were actually my cousins! Jim Larkin, an airplane pilot, lived across the street with his wife who was an Epley, and could possibly be a cousin through Mama’s family. When Jim was flying near our street, he would “buzz” us with his single engine plane. We always waved back to him.
Another childhood friend, Evelyn Urch, became my walking partner to and from school; she lived on 28th Avenue West. One day, I was only a few blocks from home while walking back from Magnolia Elementary School (maybe kindergarten or first grade) when a man came up to me. He had some small cakes on a wood tray strapped around his shoulders. He asked if I would like a sample. Well, I had just been told by my Daddy not to take anything from a stranger! I screamed, ran up the stairs of the nearest house, and rang the doorbell. The lady let me in and called my mother, who came and brought me home. An hour or so later, the same man came to our door. He was from the Langendorf Baking Company and was going around offering samples of a new pound cake made by Langendorf. I was so shocked, and so was that poor man. There was still no way I was going to try that cake, not after Daddy’s warning. It makes me wonder what was going through Mama’s mind at that moment!
We next moved to a house at 2919 West Hayes Street, which went straight down to Magnolia Park and Magnolia Boulevard. The brand new West Garfield Street Bridge (now Magnolia Bridge) was built, which made it easier for Daddy to get to work. The neighbors there included some great families. On the lower corner were the Punnetts, and down 30th Avenue West were the Samuelsons, Watkins, and Whites (Harold White had a panel truck and delivered candy to local stores). Another family named Aspen lived on the street behind us. They had two children, Ben and Marilyn, who were about the same ages as Lorraine and me. When we started school at Magnolia Elementary, Miss Entz was the kindergarten teacher; in that era, women were required to be unmarried in order to become teachers.
“Kindergarten students at play at Magnolia School.”
Image and caption source: MOHAI, Seattle Post-Intelligencer Collection, Seattle, #PI24614, February 1942, in Clint White, “A Child’s-Eye View,” Magnolia: Making More Memories, p. 197.
Miss Entz was wonderful and taught for many years. Each child had a blanket to nap on, graham crackers to snack on, and a cup of milk to drink each day. Ben Aspen would walk to and from school with me, and when we parted at the corner to go to our respective homes, I invoked a family tradition of depositing a goodbye kiss on his cheek. Many years later, I discovered Ben became an airline pilot and married a woman named Barbara! School buses were added on Magnolia during my time at Magnolia Elementary School. Daddy bought bus tokens for us, and the rides made it easy to make more new friends.
It was wonderful to watch Magnolia Bluff grow and evolve over time. Daddy would take us up on Magnolia Boulevard where we could sit on benches under the madrona trees. Magnolia Bluff was named after these trees when geographer and surveyor George Davidson mistakenly thought they were magnolias (2). South of Grandma’s home was a swamp contained in an entire block south of West Ruffner Street and east of 34th Avenue West. It was eventually drained so that duplexes, densely zoned with four units to a lot, could be built. They had upper and lower units rather than side-by-side ones. I believe they were rented by military families stationed at Fort Lawton during World War II in the service of the Army, Navy, and Marines. Once, our family picked up a British sailor who was stationed on a ship at Pier 41 (now 91) and needed a ride into town. He mentioned that he felt we Americans were very “homely.” Lorraine and I silently gasped—we were insulted! But what he actually meant was that he felt “at home” with us.
When I was 14 or 15, I worked at Magnolia Pharmacy (3). It was a bustling place. I learned how to make the sandwiches and do the “drugstore wrap,” securing the sandwich tightly in wax paper, in mere seconds. Egg salad and salmon salad sandwiches were big sellers. It was fun when young readers would stop in after school and eagerly browse the new arrivals of comic books, which were kept on a rack below a front window. Later, it would require at least a purchase of a Coke or Green River to be able to sit at the counter and read. Some customers at the counter were a bit “different.” One older lady would come in and order a coffee “with cream.” After pouring, it seemed to be more like “cream with a little coffee.” She would take her coat off to reveal bare arms, as she had cut off the sleeves of her dress, still showing what was left of the sleeves. Our neighbor across the street on the south corner had a lovely little dog. They would walk to the pharmacy every day. He would order a coffee for himself and a single scoop ice cream cone for his dog. The one mile walk must have helped keep that dog healthy and fit.
The Hiram M. Chittenden Ballard Locks were located between Ballard and Magnolia, just east of Fort Lawton. Out-of-town company enjoyed visiting “the Locks,” as we called it. We could walk there by going north on 34th Avenue West, crossing Government Way—which led to Fort Lawton—and taking a woodsy path with some zigzag steps to get there.
The soda fountain at Magnolia Pharmacy, circa 1940s.
Image source: By Roger Dudley. Courtesy of Werttemberger family, in Barbara Wade Gates, “Valley Girl,"
Magnolia: Making More Memories, p. 140.
After Grandma passed, the house on 33rd Ave West was rented for a short while, but because it was inherited by my mother, it soon became our family home. That meant changing Lorraine’s school to Lawton Elementary, and mine to Queen Anne High School, which our mother had also attended. Otto Luther was the same principal for both generations.
Daddy decided to raise chickens at the new house. He built a perfect chicken house, entirely fenced, with nests that were built up waist-high so the eggs could be easily gathered. The baby chicks were bought from a business on Rainier Avenue, a few miles south of Magnolia. The chicks were on a table in the attic dormer. It had two-by-fours for sides and a light above to keep the chicks warm. They got down from the attic a few times and climbed the bedspreads onto our beds. When the chicks were grown, they moved into their new home outside. Daddy was teaching us a lot in those days. We were taught how to keep the chicken house clean and replace the hay as needed. We gathered eggs every day and placed them in saved cartons. In our little red wagon, we took the eggs to houses in the neighborhood and charged fifty cents a dozen.
Sometime later we acquired a kitten, Taffy. He was a cream-colored male with white accents, a cute pink nose, and yellow eyes. He would join Daddy in the mornings by sitting on the toilet and watching him shave. A popular radio show during that time, Fibber McGee and Molly, was a favorite of our family, so Daddy began calling him McGee—asking about his day, what did McGee think about this, having a general conversation about that. The name stuck, and the cat was known by that name from then on. McGee was an outside kitty and would come home when he was called, or when we tapped a fork against his can of food. He loved spending time with us and slept at the bottom of our beds. He even let us put him in a doll cradle under the doll sheets and blankets, and he would go to sleep that way. He loved going in the car, sitting on our shoulders, and riding in a shopping bag with his paws hanging over the edge. He even chased dogs away from the yard!
One day, just after my seventeenth birthday, I was visiting with my friend Peggy. She was on the phone with a Marine sergeant who wanted to go out with her. She didn’t want to go out with him all alone, so she asked the sergeant if he knew someone who would double-date with her friend Barbara. He grabbed the first soldier who walked along, and that Marine was Bob Gates. The sergeant put him on the phone so I could speak with him. The date was made and lightning struck. Bob and I enjoyed almost every ensuing day together. One night, as he kissed me goodbye before my ten p.m. curfew, he said “Would you marry me and be the mother of my children?” Wow! Of course my answer was yes.
Barbara Wade and husband-to-be, Bob Gates, standing on 33rd Avenue West across from the Wade home.
Image source: By Harold Wade, 1946. Courtesy of Barbara Wade Gates.
Bob’s discharge date was looming, so my folks made plans for a small wedding. At the time, their house was raised off the foundation to build a new basement, so the ceremony was held in a house on Queen Anne Hill. I dressed in a white suit, blue blouse, and white hat and shoes. Bob bought me a lovely orchid corsage to wear to complete the look. As I started on my bridal journey, Daddy carried me off the ledge of the front porch and down to the car. Because it was a small venue, and only a few could attend, I was driven around to the neighbors to show off my bridal outfit. Everyone wanted to be part of my day. Mrs. Knight was bedridden but was so happy I could show her how I looked. I wanted everyone to feel included. So many of those neighbors had watched as I grew up in Pleasant Valley, and they were my lifelong friends. They all sent love and good wishes as I drove off to begin my brand-new life as bride and wife. What a legacy of Magnolia to take with me. I will never forget.
Barbara Wade Gates was born on November 1, 1928, and considers herself 96 years young. Her previous article, “Valley Girl,” was in Magnolia: Making More Memories. A recent catch-up conversation with Monica Wooton sparked a renewed flood of memories within Barbara, so she began writing a lot of them down. It was transcribed and edited by her daughter, Luanne Atwood. They both enjoyed reviewing her past, along with all the laughter they shared while recounting the events of her life. Magnolia will always be a permanent part of the woman Barbara grew to be.
Notes
-
Monica Wooton. “Rural Magnolia: A Pastoral Place,” Magnolia: Memories & Milestones, Magnolia Community Club, 2000, p. 66.
-
Bob Kildall. “How Magnolia Got Its Name,” Magnolia: Making More Memories, Magnolia Historical Society, 2007, pp. 26–28.
-
Barbara Wade Gates. “Valley Girl,” Magnolia: Making More Memories, pp. 132–143.