Magnolia and Ballard

Douglass-Truth

In a post earlier this month, I wrote of my visit to one of the two Seattle Public Library branches named for a person, Madrona's Sally Goldmark branch. Here's the other one, named for two people: the Douglass-Truth branch in Seattle's Central District.

I walked here last Saturday via a 3-mile loop from First Hill, since I was eager to see more of the neighborhood. My route passed other strongholds of Seattle black culture including Garfield High School and several historically black churches, as well as signs of accelerating diversity in this always-changing area (hipster coffee houses and new apartment buildings). As I arrived outside the library and took a few photos, I saw several other people who look like me (white, middle aged) enter the branch. But once inside, as I settled into the comfortable magazine reading area, two young black men took chairs nearby in our shared community living room.

This branch dates to 1914, and it was originally named for Henry Yesler, the pioneering Seattle businessman and politician whose mansion served as an early home to the Seattle Public Library until it burned in 1901. This was the first branch financed by city funds instead of money from Andrew Carnegie, and, as the SPL website recounts, it served "a hardscrabble area that was home to many newcomers to the city" and "soon became the busiest branch in the Library system."

Although Carnegie didn't underwrite this branch, the original design by architects W. Marbury Somervell and Harlan Thomas borrowed from his traditional floor plan. As the Central District became home to successive waves of new residents, the Yesler Branch continued to bustle until the 1960s, when it nearly closed. Enter the local chapter of Alpha Kappa Alpha, a sorority of black collegiate women, who donated books in 1965 to start what's now one of the largest collections of African-American literature and history on the West Coast, with more than 10,000 items. In 1975, the branch was renamed to honor activists Frederick Douglass and Sojourner Truth, whose portraits by artist Eddie Ray Walker dominate the original upstairs space.

This month, the Douglass-Truth branch marked the 10th anniversary of a 2006 expansion. The project, which doubled the branch's square footage, added a downstairs accessed by a light-filled grand staircase that features artwork by Vivian Linder and Marita Dingus. Outside, a "Soul Pole" totem depicts local history from an African-American perspective. And as all SPL branch libraries do, the branch holds many special events, including story times and homework help sessions.

Beacon Hill, New Holly, Rainier Beach

Columbia, Madrona, Montlake

One of the things I'm enjoying most about this blog is the opportunity it gives me to visit various parts of my city. I've only lived in Seattle for three years, and there are neighborhoods (including one in this post, Madrona) I'd never before seen and others I've only been to a time or two.


Columbia



Columbia branch at dusk

I made my way to the Columbia branch last weekend for a self-publishing workshop provided as part of the Seattle Writes program. About 30 people thronged the downstairs meeting room to hear Beth Jusino explain the nuts and bolts of getting your words into pixels or print. Afterward, I took a seat upstairs to read until the branch closed. (I'm just about done with the wonderful new book You Must Change Your Life: The Story of Rainer Maria Rilke and Auguste Rodin by Rachel Corbett.)


The Columbia branch is another of the six surviving Seattle public libraries among the eight funded by Andrew Carnegie, and it's on the National Register of Historic Places. The original part of the building opened in 1915, and I especially like its large windows and exterior corners -- the latter remind me of a pile of books. A 2003-2004 expansion nearly doubled the branch's size and added several dozen photos by artist Gu Xiong to showcase the neighborhood's rich culture.


Columbia City became part of Seattle in 1907, but it was its own entity before that. According to the Seattle Public Library website, the old city hall held the first local library and its restroom was in a furniture store across the street. Today's Columbia City library is a landmark in one of Seattle's most interesting neighborhoods.



Madrona-Sally Goldmark

Hanging out on the window seat

When I wrote about the Wallingford branch a few weeks ago, I mentioned how tiny it is. The Madrona-Sally Goldmark branch is actually the smallest in town with 1,707 square feet of program area (compared to 2,000 sq. ft. in Wallingford), but it feels a little bigger to me since it has a few more places to sit -- including a delightful cushioned window seat that doubles as a storytime area.


You'd think there's a good story behind this branch's name, and you'd be right. It honors a local activist who convinced the Seattle Public Library to remodel a small brick building that had served as Fire Station No. 12. Originally called the Station House branch, the building was renamed after Sally Goldmark's death. There's all kinds of whimsy in this branch, including a sign on the hand sanitizer dispenser relaying the location of books on germs and microbes (579.3); signs offering branch trivia; and a big, colorful painting by artist Mary Iverson behind the check-out desk.



"The Peaceable Kingdom" is this diverse neighborhood's nickname, and it's also the name of a sculpture outside the library by Richard Beyer. Madrona Elementary School is across the street, and the charming urban village along 34th Street is a block away in the other direction.








Montlake

I ticked Madrona off my library list following an afternoon stroll at the nearby Seattle Japanese Garden -- and a week earlier, I was on the northern end of the same area to see the autumn leaves at the Washington Park Arboretum. I'd been to the Montlake branch on a similar mission this time last year, but not since I'd started this blog, so I paid another visit. This is one of the newest branch libraries in town, marking its 10th anniversary in 2016.

The Montlake branch has a brick and cedar design that echoes many homes in the neighborhood, plus a bi-level entrance flooded with natural light. Artist Rebecca Cummings used this feature to strong effect with a skylight sundial that streams colorful spotlights into the library and marks the sun's passage from spring to autumn. My favorite spot to sit at the Montlake branch is a comfy chair that looks out onto a landscaped area -- and there are some pops of greenery inside the library, too.