In Seattle's hippest district, the art is public and life is fun

By MARK HIGGINS
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER REPORTER

"Fremont is a state of mind . . . an Imagi-Nation based on the freedom to dream."

-- Fremont's 1994 proclamation of independence

Helen Lane crinkles her nose and rolls her eyes toward a soggy spring sky when asked how much money she needs to break even at the Fremont Sunday Market.

"Uhmmm ... well ... gee ... I'm not sure ... maybe $150?" says Lane, co-owner of Namasté Gardens.

Clearly, a Sunday in Fremont selling perennials, herbs and succulents is not about making big money. So why bother?

"I like the strangeness of it all," explains Lane, who drives in from Bow in the Skagit Valley. "The neighborhood is kind of loose and the organizers don't have a lot of rules. Everyone is out having a good time."

Maybe that should be Fremont's new motto: "No rules, just fun!"

After all, Fremont is the self-proclaimed Center of the Universe, its own Republic.

It created an outdoor Saturday cinema, a "Pagan Hootenanny" called Trolloween, a zany Solstice Parade and Miracle on 34th Street, and a putt-putt golf charity for the Northwest AIDS Foundation, to name just a few community gatherings.

It also created the Fremont Public Association in 1974, which continues dispensing food, shelter and support to the city's poorest residents.

Fremont spawns spontaneity. Fremont sculptor Peter Bevis -- who created a poignant series of bronze castings of animals killed by cars and oil spills -- plans to tow the 61-year-old ferry Kalakala down from Alaska where it was beached and used as a fish processor.

As a way to capture the public's attention -- and raise some money -- Bevis and friends stripped down a recreational vehicle and are welding a "Baby Kalakala" onto the 28-foot carriage. The idea is to license it and take it on the road for special events.

Bevis' grand scheme is to return Kalakala to Bremerton to serve as a floating museum. He and several friends were back on Kodiak Island last month working out the logistics of refloating the art-deco ferry on a high tide in December.

Bevis also is known for creating the Fremont Fine Arts Foundry, which offers artists studios and a cavernous workshop and foundry.

Even Fremont's 48-foot, Korean-built rocket carries the neighborhood battle cry: "De Libertas Quirkas."

The translation, says Roger Wheeler, the Fremont artist and local historian who painted the rocket, is "having the creative opportunity to stretch in odd ways that a place like Fifth and Pine wouldn't allow."

That is Fremont, Seattle's hippest district, a place where dopers, artists, hippies and leather-clad bikers once ruled the streets. But not anymore. All but the artists got flushed out as Fremont cleaned itself up and discovered it could market its own creative juices, helped by a willing media.

"The hipness has kept pace with the yuppiness. But what Fremont has lost is its hard-core counterculture. I do miss that energy," says Wheeler, who grew up in Fremont and has seen its many changes.

What the neighborhood has learned is that a rocket, troll, home-grown art, microbreweries and a bronze statue of communist revolutionary Vladimir Lenin could put the jingle back in local cash registers.

But not everyone is happy. Some residents complain that Fremont's artsy bent may thrill merchants and tour bus operators, but it does nothing for the average resident who must put up with increased traffic and escalating rents and home prices.

While some residents have profited from the neighborhood's success, "not everyone is rising with the tide. There are some who are drowning," says Paul Haas, Fremont Public Association's development director.

"About 10 percent of the folks in North Seattle are struggling to meet basic needs," Haas says.

Continued:

• Working-class roots still present in artsy neighborhood
• Fremont's quirkiness reflected in its art
• Landowner Suzie Burke is a local institution
• No surprise here: Fremont has a colorful history