Downtown Seattle: 24 hours in the heart of downtown

The Neighbors project was published weekly in the Seattle Post-Intelligencer from 1996 to 2000. This page remains available for archival purposes only and the information it contains may be outdated. For more updated information, please visit our Webtowns section.

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Downtown Seattle

Photo of man reading at Two Union Square, 10 a.m.

24 hours in the heart of downtown
Watch a fast-paced city as it transforms from Friday workday to weekend

By P-I reporters M.L. LYKE, SUSAN PHINNEY, JOHN LEVESQUE and ROBERT L. JAMIESON JR.

6 a.m.

In an hour, delivery trucks will choke the street in front of Pike Place Market. But now the market is empty, counters bare, with a lone van backed up to the stalls as Memelio and Christina Umipig unload buckets of calla lillies, sweet peas and delicate star gazer lillies grown on their farm in Pacific. Memelio loves the heady, intoxicating smell of the star gazers. "To me, they are like perfume," he says. "Besides, I'm allergic to sweet peas."

6:30 a.m.

Regulars settled into the hard wooden booths at the Athenian Inn at the Market sip a thin cup o' Joe and watch ferries cut silver streaks across Elliott Bay. Waitress Dora Otto holds forth, her plump arms in purple puff sleeves keeping time with her banter. She served Tom Hanks! Rob Reiner! She even got a bit part in a movie. "I'm known all over the world," says Otto, 72. "I can't go anywhere without people saying, 'Don't I know you?' "

7:20 a.m.

Jeff Thomas drills into a marble slab at the Benaroya Concert Hall construction site. The one-inch bit sends up clouds of fine dust in an unending scream. Unnoticed a block downhill, a 26,000-pound, 7-inch-thick man of steel silently raises and lowers a hammer in front of the Seattle Art Museum. It's Hammering Man, a quiet abstraction in a workaday world.

7:35 a.m.

It's peak commuter time at the Metro Tunnel's University Street Station, but where are the commuters? In five minutes, only 25 emerge from the underground bus route. Half wear tennis shoes. Three wear hiking boots. There are canvas pumps and Hush Puppies, but only two pairs of klunky uptown platforms. A woman yawns. This is not New York.

8 a.m.

The flashing lights of Medic 1 reflect in the tired eyes of a bent man standing by the door to the Downtown Emergency Service Center. There has been a fight inside: two men, a bloody lip. One is handcuffed in the back of a squad car. "We'll take down statements from each one and see who makes the most sense," says an officer.

8:40 a.m.

As the monorail train pulls out of Seattle Center headed for Westlake Center, Tiera Chapman sits in the prime seat next to the conductor. She lives in Renton, parks at the center and commutes to her teaching job at the Gene Juarez Advanced Training Salon. She saves more than $100 a month in parking fees -- and the view from the train is great, "especially when the sun comes out."

9 a.m.

"This is a war zone!" yells Michael Graham over the rat-a-tat of jackhammers, the rumble of trucks and the buzzing whine of chainsaws at Sixth and Pine. Every corner of this intersection is under construction: the new Nordstrom, Pacific Place, a new Old Navy store and a renovation for Eileen Fisher, Inc. Sidewalks are blocked, traffic snarled. Dust flies. Graham lives above the mess. He says his ears ring constantly. "Sometimes they start at 4 a.m., although on Sundays they're gracious enough to wait until 7."

10 a.m.

On top of Two Union Square, 60 floors up, the city takes on odd dimensions. Cars are smaller than a baby's finger-nail. The Columbia Tower is the size of an index finger. People zigzagging down side-walks are specks, obliterated with a pinch. Up on top, the security guards tell tall, tall tales -- the sheet of plywood that flew off the roof and through an apartment window, an inattentive Blue Angel pilot who almost drilled his squadron into the side of the tower. "The noise was fantastic!"

10:20 a.m.

Classical guitar plays inside the Gelatiamo at Third and Union as customers ooh over delicate Italian pastries -- zaletti, occhi di bul -- and study authentic gelato created by the cafe's Venetian owner. Will it be miritillo (blueberry), frutti di bosco (mixed fruit), cioccolato (chocolate)? Texture stirs the senses; flavors burst in the mouth.

11 a.m.

Phil Stoiber stands atop a ladder, dusting the top of a heavy gilt frame with a fine, soft brush. In a Seattle Art Museum room of towering landscapes by Thomas Moran, Stoiber eyeballs the tiniest varnish scratches in paintings that may measure 12 feet wide, making sure the only flaws are ones previously documented. In a grandiose landscape of thundering waterfalls, he can locate a single missing pinpoint of paint or a wispy paintbrush hair left behind by the artist.

11:45 a.m.

A wall of Polaroids inside the Sub Pop Mega Mart at Pike Place Market tells of fame, funk, hope, hype and inglorious glory behind Seattle's best-known alternative record label. The photos -- all taken inside the store's original location on Second -- capture everyone from Jeff Ament (Pearl Jam) to The Jesus and Mary Chain. Storekeeper Jack Dourakos remembers when Beck walked in and posed. "I was pretty blown away," says the 25-year-old. "I've been a fan since junior high."

Noon

Gridlock hits Fifth at Olive. The light changes three times before traffic moves. Inching along, there's time to stare at Banana Republic's window of boxer shorts and glare at workers who've closed the center lane for some obscure reason. Left on University heading for Sixth, the traffic stalls again. We crawl down Sixth into a mass of flashing red lights. There's a car fire near Pike. We slide into the cool garage. It has taken 17 minutes to go five blocks.

See the next six hours >>

HEADLINES

Saturday, November 22, 1997

Amid the hustle and bustle, there's a neighborhood with feeling

Downtown's crime rate has risen slightly in recent years

Arts institutions lead downtown uptown (Aug. 20, 1998)

First Avenue steps up

Downtown now the 'cool place to live' (Aug. 21, 1998)

Malls don't have this kind of character (Aug. 20, 1998)

Downtown close but not quite the shopping mecca it aspires to be (Aug. 20, 1998)

Upcoming 'amazing' era of construction could make Seattle truly sleepless (Aug. 20, 1998)

24 hours in the heart of downtown (Aug. 20, 1998)