1. Champagne glasses (with Space Needle stems) used on opening night of the fair
2. A ticket book, with individual tickets for fair exhibits
3. An official Space Needle beanie, whose top shakes like a maraca
4. A commemorative egg timer on a piece of wood (of course!)
5. Porcelain salt and pepper shakers
1,000,000: number of dollars the City of Fife offered Seattle to move the Space Needle to its downtown
600,000: number of dollars the City of Seattle paid for the monorail in 1965
500,000: total number of Belgian waffles sold during the six months of the fair. Stacked, they would have been higher than 70 Space Needles.
In the winter of 1962, my Cub Scout den had taken a field trip to the top of the Smith Tower, then one of the tallest buildings west of the Mississippi. We went to the observation deck, where we had an unobstructed view across downtown to a strange spire that was rising near Queen Anne Hill. It was the Space Needle, and the now-familiar tripod tower was up, but the top house was still under construction. I can still see the partial disk in my mind’s eye.
June 1–October 16, 1909: Seattle’s first world’s fair, the Alaska-Yukon-Pacific Exposition, takes place (see photo above).
1954: City Council member Al Rochester proposes the idea that Seattle host a world’s fair to mark the 50th anniversary of the A-Y-P.
February 19, 1957: The World’s Fair Commission receives authorization from Washington Governor Albert Rosellini to hold a fair in Seattle in 1960.
“I don’t dream big.” Having grown up with art-loving parents on teachers’ budgets, Davis takes a practical approach to buying art, seeking out emerging artists who aren’t yet represented by particular galleries. She often buys work directly from artists at open studio tours and art walks. On a couple of rare occasions she has spent $1,000 on a piece, but she much prefers to stay in the $100–$500 range.
The as-yet-unnamed Knute Berger history of the Space Needleby Knute BergerTo be released in spring of 2012 Seattle magazine’s own editor-at-large is also the writer in residence at the Space Needle. He penned this history of the Needle in his office on the Observation Deck.
Since its construction, we’ve been decorating the Space Needle to commemorate special occasions.
A crustacean ascended the Space Needle in October, 1985 as a publicity stunt for Fish and Seafood Month.
Paul Gauguin is known the world over for the vibrant paintings he produced while living on Tahiti and the Marquesas Islands. But the “primitive” objects that inspired him, which he sometimes referenced visually, are often glossed over in discussions of his work. Not so with Gauguin & Polynesia: An Elusive Paradise, the new show at the Seattle Art Museum.
Too often, music that has the power to soothe a savage toddler meltdown is tooth-achingly sweet; downright intolerable for adults. Not so with the new release by Portland-based musician Laura Veirs.
Her new kids’ album, Tumble Bee, is filled with spirited American folk classics, charming lullabies that meander into minor keys and a even a yodel or two. Tumble Bee is proof that good music is always cool, even if it’s a few centuries old.
One of the heavy hitters in Seattle’s booming “kindie rock” scene is branching out into books. West Seattle’s Caspar Babypants (aka Chris Ballew of the Presidents of the United States of America) has teamed up with his wife, artist Kate Endle, to release two kids’ books, complete with sweet sing-along songs.
The Seattle world’s fair of 1962 is fixed in civic memory: the Space Needle, the Science Center, the Monorail. But just as interesting as the fair that was is the fair that wasn’t. The Century 21 Exposition had many possible incarnations that remained on the drawing board. So consider this column the opposite of Elvis Presley’s Century 21 film. Call it: “It Didn’t Happen at the World’s Fair.”
Although technically it didn’t get its start here, the burger has become the ultimate American dish, and I love seeing how the iconic sandwich has evolved in different cities across the country.
In L.A., you’ll invariably find an option served with a pile of avocado slices.
In Wisconsin, land of plentiful beef and cheese, cheeseburgers come with a practically obligatory side of cheese (and are often speared with one of those miniature paper American flags on a toothpick).
Looks aren’t everything, but in the world of finance, they can be a key to success, according to Scott, a 57-year-old Seattle-area certified financial planner and wealth manager. Though things had been going well at work, Scott was worried about losing his edge. He’s physically very fit—a nationally ranked athlete—but until recently, his eyes sported noticeable bags, and his chin had spread enough that “when I smiled, I looked round and roly-poly,” he says, sighing.
On one of the last warm summer days of 2011, a construction crew put up the black steel tower of a pile driver in the extreme northwest corner of the parking lot just north of CenturyLink Field. Within days, a reciprocating WHAM! bounced among the brick and sandstone walls of Pioneer Square, as if the workers were announcing a turnaround for the beleaguered neighborhood.