When History Wasn't Divine

Even though poking through history and archives can be fun, there are a few downsides. One that I've briefly mentioned before, and came across again a few days ago, is looking at something historic, but knowing what tragic things are going to happen soon.

I wrote before about going through the University of Washington's Three-Quarters of a Century at Washington, which includes an appendix of all UW alumni up to the 1941 publishing date. One of the things I noted then was all of the Japanese names, and that when the book was published, those former students didn't know what was coming soon--Pearl Harbor, the U.S. entering World War II, Japanese internment camps. This is especially poignant in the northwest because the west coast was designated an "exclusion zone," so the Japanese citizens--almost definitely including all those UW alumni still in the area--were rounded up by the thousands and sent to various internment camps in the western United States. At the time the book was published, though, just months before Executive Order 9066 allowed them all to be taken from their homes, were they excited to see their names listed as UW alumni? Were they still looking for their first real jobs out of college? Were they working in downtown Seattle? Courting sweethearts (possibly whom they met at the UW) or starting families? And how many more were not yet alums, but were still students at the UW, attending classes in the same Raitt building where I read and discussed When the Emperor Was Divine in an English class?

Then a few days ago, someone posted in the LinkedIn Historians, Librarians and Archivists group a link to a video on YouTube: "Rare Vintage 8mm Film: PS 74, Buffalo, NY - Halloween, 1932." The film shows young kids, many in their charming Halloween costumes, walking in the neighborhood and to school. Watching it, you think about how cute they are, how simple and yet wonderful their costumes are (No vinyl/plastic Iron Man costumes there!), and wonder whether they're excited about Halloween and what fun they might have that night.

But then one of the comments caught my eye: Lost & Found Travel says "I can't help but think that these 10-year-olds are going to be 19 in 1941." And then I stopped in my tracks, and did some math. Yeah, these little mischief-makers could very well be 19 in 1941. Going off to war. Those adorable cowboys or princesses, flappers, toy soldiers and court jesters are going to have their worlds turned upside-down, and some may not make it back to see their old school again. That toy soldier could have turned into a real soldier, and who knows what fate awaited him?

It's times like that and going through the UW alumni directory that I think maybe looking back at history isn't fun. It's one thing to know that war happened, and in a specific year and other details like that, but when you put 10-year-old faces or recently-graduated names to the concept, it becomes so much more disturbing.

 


Some extra links for you:
Japanese American internment (Wikipedia)
When the Emperor Was Divine (Wikipedia)

Hot town, summer at the MOHAI

To celebrate summer and the holiday weekend, my mom and I decided to head down to the Museum of History & Industry again to see what's new since it opened in December. It was a beautiful, sunny Seattle summer day, so what better way to spend it than on South Lake Union, taking in some history?

I think we both had the theory that since we were already there when it opened, and spent 15000 hours walking through it, this visit would be a much quicker trip. Indeed, we even had three stops planned for after the museum; however, the only one we actually got around to was the one that was five blocks away. So, here's my tip for anyone who enjoys history and is planning on visiting MOHAI more than once: plan for just as much time on your subsequent visits as you did on the first! With revisiting your favorite exhibits, playing at spots you couldn't get to the first time, and new games and exhibits, you're going to get sucked in for just as long every single time.

We knew going in that we were going to go back to the Seattle's past-and-present film and Seattle's Great Fire. In fact, the Great Fire was going to be our first stop, until I saw the theater for the other film and veered her in there. Even on the second or third viewing, the music is so great! All those great Seattle musicians! We agreed that the film is put together so well that it makes us feel proud to be from here. My mom even wondered if you could feel that way about any other city. (I think probably so, as long as the film about the city is edited and narrated well, but it's just so easy to feel proud to be from the Seattle/western Washington area! All of the technology and innovations from here, the music, and the breathtaking scenery...)

After that, we went through each floor rather haphazardly. We went in the general chronological direction, but having seen so much of it last time, there were portions we knew we could either skip or go through quickly. But one place we weren't going to skip was the Great Fire film. Even on the second (or third?) viewing, we still loved the singing typewriter and glue pot (with its Scandinavian-accented "I'm yust a glooo pot."). I think that's going to be a destination every time we visit.

But here's the best part of the day's trip: new games and exhibits! Already! I figure some of them were probably things that were there the first time but that I couldn't get to, or were things that they were planning on putting in but hadn't been able to by the grand opening. But still, they were new to me! Fun!

The most fun one was one I'm sure wasn't there in December: at the end of the "World City" wall (I believe we were still in that area) was a section about authors from the northwest and books that take place in the region. But! There are two interactive kiosks where you could "write" your own book about the area! You choose the words for your title from a bunch of options (but your title can only be x words long; I had to edit mine a couple of times), then select artwork that you want to use. Next, you write the synopsis of your "book": you have the choice of either writing it completely on your own, or being guided, which reminded me of Mad Libs. Once you're done with your book, you're asked if you want to display your book on the wall of books created by other visitors, as well as real books by local authors or about local areas. That was pretty cool, seeing my "book" pop up on the big screen for everyone to see. And then! the kiosk lets you read about the real books, and it even gives you a list of recommended books, based on the book you created! How crazy and cool! I was seriously amazed when I saw the recommended books. I felt like a little kid, amazed that the machine could read my mind or something :)   (Ah, fun museums, they can make everyone feel like a kid.) Not only was I impressed by the fun of creating my own "book" and seeing it displayed, but I was also just flabbergasted by how many different ways this one kiosk could be used: a game of making your own book, a learning center about local authors, a learning center about locally-based books, and a book recommendation machine. Four birds with one stone! One very fun stone! MOHAI people, I've said it before, and I'm saying it again: You're amazing.  (Can I come work for you? If not, can I just come live in your museum?)

*sigh*

The next fun thing that I didn't do in December (but I think this one was there then) was the Neighborhoods game. I was looking at the Boeing display when my ears suddenly perked up at the unmistakable notes of "Soul Bossa Nova" in the distance. I followed the tune until I found, off in a corner room in one of the exhibit areas (the 1960s, perhaps), a touch-screen with a colorful and fun-looking image. It had a map of the Puget Sound region, with groovy shapes representing different neighborhoods; at the bottom of the screen was the word "neighborhoods." The fun thing about that is that each letter comes from a picture taken around the region. For example, the first thing I noticed was that the R was the Rainier R. If you touch the letter, the full picture pops up, so you can see the complete context of the one letter. When you close the picture, the letter's picture changes to a different one, so you have a new version of the letter! (On the way home, I was giggling to myself because I kept seeing the real-life version of many of the letters in the "neighborhoods" image.)

When you touch one of the actual neighborhoods on the map, an information box pops up, telling you about that particular neighborhood and any comments visitors have left about that area. That was cool, but then my mom pointed out that there was a game you could play! Ooh, more games! Okay, let's play. Similar to the Shaping Our City area, the screen asks you multiple-choice questions about your preferences. These questions were things like where you'd rather go if you only had an hour to spend (watching a band, walking along the waterfront, etc.), which mode of water transportation you prefer (yacht, sailboat, kayak, etc.), what type of restaurant you prefer (a cafe, take-out, etc.), what type of named neighborhood you'd rather live in (one named after a person, one named after geographical features, etc.), things like that. At the end, it generates a neighborhood that's perfect for you, and one that isn't. Mine actually came out pretty good. If you know the region well enough, you kind of get a feeling for what neighborhood(s) the game is thinking you might like, or which neighborhoods each option would lead to. At one point, I thought it was going to tell me I should live at Green Lake or downtown, which would be fun, too. But in the end, it gave me the U District. Perfect! Me, the UW, the artsiness and eclecticism of the Ave... yeah, the game got that one right.

Other exhibits in the museum are already rotating, which shouldn't have surprised me, since it's been open for over six months now. The third floor's exhibit room is now the museum's "Still Afloat" feature about houseboats of Seattle. Here were mini layouts of houseboat fronts (e.g. the front door and front lawn of the boats), a little diorama of waterfront (minus the actual water) and a houseboat (The diorama was even completed with trash under the water level, like bottles, cans, and a toilet, as well as seashells.), and big, bright magnets that kids (of all ages :D ) could use to create their own waterfront scene on a magnetic wall. Items on the ground floor had also changed (the UPS truck has been moved out and a logging truck has been moved in, but not in the same location), so I wonder if even those larger items, which seemed like they'd be permanent, will rotate. I guess I'll have to go back in a few months and check ;)

All hail! O Washington! Thy sons and daughters sing glad acclaim

Part I:
In the 1920s, Alderwood Manor, about 15 miles north of Seattle, was a patch of land of tree stumps, logged by various companies looking to take advantage of the untouched timber in the Puget Sound region, and not much else. That decade, the Puget Mill Company began selling tracts of land to people looking to start a new life out west. The big industry that Puget Mill Company promoted for the newcomers? Chicken-raising. Alderwood Manor became the nationwide leader in the chicken and the egg industries, shipping their products all across the country.

By the late 1920s and the 1930s, Alderwood Manor was becoming populated, but was still pretty vacant. Transportation to nearby cities was spotty. The Seattle-Everett Interurban ran through Alderwood Manor, giving residents easier access to Seattle to the south and Everett to the north. Roads, though, were dirt and full of holes, and cars were still a luxury and something the neighbors gathered around to wonder at. Even though the town was growing and transportation technology was advancing, Alderwood Manor was still a semi-isolated town in the woods up north.


Part II:
The University of Washington was founded in 1861. Originally in what is now downtown Seattle, the campus was moved to its current location between Lake Washington and Lake Union in 1895. For decades, the UW was the college in western Washington. From the 1910s to the 1940s the campus significantly expanded, adding buildings, a quad, and the impressive Suzzallo Library. By the 1930s and 1940s, the college was well-established and included many schools of study and highly-respected professors. In 1946, the UW's medical school opened, and is now one of the top-ranked medical schools and facilities in the country.


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Even if you don't know me, if you've read this blog you might have guessed that I'm a purple-and-gold UW fanatic. I'm mesmerized by pretty much everything related to the University of Washington. Thus, when I found a copy of Three-Quarters of a Century at Washington, a 1941 book that includes a list of all UW alumni up to that point, listed both alphabetically and by city, I rushed to buy it.

If you've read this blog you know that I volunteer at a local historical group, in part transcribing oral histories. You can guess now that those histories come from the Alderwood Manor area, that little chicken-farming region north of Seattle in the early 20th century. I'm always a little flabbergasted when I transcribe the interviews to hear who went to the University of Washington. Their interviews go from "We had no roads. We had no car. We walked on dirt paths/roads. We had the Interurban for a while" to "I went to the University of Washington" ... 15 miles away, without decent roads or transportation? That amazes me. At least one interviewee has said that s/he carpooled with a nearby resident who either attended or worked at the UW. *Two* people from this little tree-stump place, both having the Seattle campus as their daily destination!

So imagine how my worlds collided when I flipped through Three-Quarters of a Century at Washington and saw "Alderwood Manor" listed as one of the cities of alumni. Of course, then, I had to read all of the names of Alderwood Manor residents, mentally ticking off the names I recognized, giving double-stars to the ones whose oral histories I'd transcribed. It made me feel like I've carried on the tradition of UW alumni in the area, even though I graduated long after those particular Alderwood Manor residents. It also made me feel proud to (sort of) know those local alumni of my school. They have good taste in academics :)

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And then, flipping through the Y section of the alphabetical index, I stumbled across column after column of Japanese names, like Yamamoto. I knew the Seattle area had a lot of Japanese residents back then, and the UW had a lot of Japanese students. But I happened to think of what year that book was published--1941. And I couldn't help but think, "You poor people. You don't even know what's about to happen to you." It was a very sad thought.

Days of the Trolley

Two interesting and related little pieces of local history came across my Inbox within 10 days of each other, and I felt like sharing them:

Rails to Rubber: 1940 Seattle Streetcar and Trolley Bus Film
Interurban trolley was the height of local rail travel