Lurking Around, Down Under

It's only forever
Not long at all
Lost and lonely
That's underground
Underground

History is a fascinating subject for many people. Not that old, musty tired and worn version you sometimes got in grade school when the teacher had been over the same facts and figures so many times that their own boredom rubbed off on the dazed students taking class, but the energized live and in your face variety you get by going and doing. There's nothing like standing on a snowy field in Valley Forge, Pennsylvania looking out over the same view a soldier might have shared two hundred and some odd years before. Or stepping down into the stone dungeons in Salem, Massachusetts coming to a stunned realization of how ugly religious fervor can become. Or looking down onto the deck of the sunken battleship Arizona in the waters of Pearl Harbor.

History can be made to come alive if you let it have a chance.

Going down below is in many cities a lesson in both history mixed with a little pre-Halloween macabre. The catacombs of Paris. The New York subway system. The aforementioned Salem dungeons. The sewer system of Los Angeles -- where the giant ants hid in the movie THEM! The feeling of descending down into the bowels of a city is both intriguing and somewhat frightening at a visceral level. So it was when we started off on our recent evening tour of the Seattle Underground, which explores three different underground walkways in the city's historic Pioneer Square.

The tour, entitled "Bill Speidel's Underground Tour" starts at an old 1890's era saloon. Your host and guide begins by describing a few of the challenges, heroes and villains of early Seattle. Done deliberately tongue in cheek, the story does nobody any favors in reminding the attendees of how some of the planning -- or lack thereof -- ended in mishap (or worse) for the early citizens. This isn't a scary story, nor is it one of truly gifted and heroic city founders. It's a story of human beings, and the unexpected consequences of ill-conceived ideas. That Seattle grew and thrived is itself the heroic story here, because at many points of the tale it seems as if everyone would have been better off packing up and moving to more stable environs.

Stability is the key. Or was, it seems. Urban planning didn't hold much sway in the early days, and the tour does not shy away from the at-times nose-holding results of bad ideas. (The simple reality of high tide versus low tide apparently caught the early settlers of Pioneer Square completely by surprise.)

Bill Speidel, a mid-sixties historian dedicated to the preservation of the Pioneer Square district when it was in imminent danger of being bulldozed under, ran an ad in local papers for a walking tour of the Seattle Underground. He expected a handful of participants, if any. More than 500 showed up, beginning a long tradition of tours and support for keeping the past alive with a touch of humor to guide the way.

Our own tour guide, Shane, did an excellent job of describing the details without making them boring or expected. Along the tour route there are several areas set aside to show the city as it originally was, to make each of the rooms and hallways visited relevant to the modern participant. The learning is by laughing in some cases, but I will admit that I walked away from the tour with a much better appreciation and understanding of the history of Seattle -- with a slight focus on, well, what we in polite company might refer to as "bodily functions", and how the early settlers tried, mostly in vain, to accommodate them (pun intended). Despite what must be thousands of such talks, Shane still tells the tales with humor and more than a little twinkle in his eye. He, and presumably the other tour guides, knows how to bring that history alive and make it both enjoyable and relevant. To quote their own website, the tour...

is a leisurely, guided walking tour beneath Seattle’s sidewalks and streets. As you roam the subterranean passages that once were the main roadways and first-floor storefronts of old downtown Seattle, our guides regale you with the stories our pioneers didn’t want you to hear. It’s history with a twist!

And if the Underground Tour's Marketing Department doesn't convince you, hopefully I will…

http://www.undergroundtour.com/

Which brings me to the second recommendation, and you'll be thrilled that it is mere steps from the Underground Tour's gift shop. Since you'll likely be wanting lunch, dinner, or maybe just a good stiff drink after wandering the underbelly of the Pioneer District, you'll be pleased to note that one of the city's oldest -- belay that, THE oldest -- saloon in the city is directly across the street. In fact, on your tour, you will have completely circumnavigated it as you go from one passageway to the next. 

The Merchants Cafe and Saloon, at 109 Yesler Way in Pioneer Square was a genuinely pleasant surprise. The owner happened to be out in the alleyway behind the cafe as our tour group emerged from the bowels of the city. Dillon -- "That's Dill-ON!" -- saw a couple of us shooting the alleyway and immediately jumped in on the action, hiding behind a bush and pretending to stalk the tour group. (Not many better ways to get on my good side that by playing along.) He mentioned that we would be welcome back after the tour, and that he had "Great Grandma's Chowder" as one of the specials for the night.

Who can resist a cup of Grandma's Chowder, especially coming from a guy like Dillon? Not us, and an hour later we were sitting ourselves down in the center of the wonderfully atmospheric restaurant and bar. Sporting a truly haunting history which matches the classic decor, the cafe is a great place to grab a meal or just a drink. Highly recommended are the chowder -- we had a cup but wished we'd ordered a couple of bowls, to be honest. Bacon, yes bacon, in the chowder!!! -- and the salmon burger named for the Native American who gave the city its name, Chief Seattle. My wife and I both had the Hot Wings Salad, featuring Great Grandma's recipe -- highly recommended if you've got asbestos lips. Really, really good.

The menu is a hoot, the food is delicious and the people were all friendly, helpful and well into the atmospherics of the place. Dillon's done an excellent job re-invigorating the place with an eye toward the past and a well-considered, flavorful menu. And being just a genuine and great guy doesn't hurt. 

Certainly worth an extra side trip, but even more fitting if you've just clawed your way up from down below.

http://www.merchantscafeandsaloon.com/

Look, Don't Touch!

One of the great pleasures of visiting some destinations is the ability to, in a way, touch history. Whether that touch is physical, metaphorical or imaginary us really an effect of the destination.

For example, it's possible to touch history, stylized and reasonably rose-colored, at places such as Disneyland. Step into the park and be immediately immersed in late nineteenth and early twentieth century imagination. It's a game of let's pretend, but a good one and fun to do. Inauthentic, perhaps, but did the country ever really exist in that spirited Eden from movies like THE MUSIC MAN? Was Paris truly like VICTOR/VICTORIA? No, but that doesn't mean we cant indulge in a bit of nostalgic legerdemain to make world just a bit more fun.

The D'Orsay

For the physical touch, there are such attractions as Williamsburg in Virginia, the California Missions along the West Coast, or a walk through the Vieux Carre in New Orleans. The buildings are genuine, and the historic atmosphere palpable. In Europe the opportunities are even more profound with such places as Notre Dame in Paris or, ancient of ancients, the Colosseum and Forum in Rome. Standing in what was once the audience's viewing stands, your hands resting upon a section of rock which may have once echoed the cheers of some long-forgotten battle is an astounding experience if you take the moment and pause to listen.

But it is the  metaphorical touch that is, at times, the most impactful to an open mind.

Look, don't touch

What do I mean by the phrase "metaphorical touch"? I mean that feeling you get while gazing at an item of antiquity. The Declaration of Independence, visible only through a climate controlled window, for one example. A Faberge Egg in a glass display case for another. Chances are you're not going to be able to rest your mitts directly on either one of those two priceless items, but in your mind you have a specific representation of them both. You know what they represent, and therefore the tactile element isn't necessary to your appreciation of them.

A sight to behold

Many museums, for good reason, maintain policies regarding our interaction with the more fragile items from our collective past. It was our good fortune, recently, to visit two of the best collections of Impressionist art anywhere in the world: The Musees d'Orsay and l'Orangerie in Paris.

Despite the tight relationship between the two venues, I was struck, and a little disappointed, by the policy differences between the two when it came to photographing the exhibition -- or even the museum itself when it came to the d'Orsay.

Certainly the protection of the works must take priority. At no point would it be acceptable -- particularly in this technological world of ours, in which we know precisely what destroys pigment or the physical groundings of a piece -- to allow a practice which is known to damage the art. The majority of museums in the world understand the desire for the viewer to take home a bit of the experience of seeing such great works. In most cases, this means a photograph of the work, taken by cellphone or camera, which can go into a family scrapbook or be shown to friends who would, themselves, salivate at the chance to stand before a van Gogh, or Renoir, or Degas.

Communing with Architecture

Living History (The Vatican)

Unfortunately, as is often the case, the actions of the few dullards among us causes the need for stricter regulations. In this case,the complete prohibition against photography in the d'Orsay. The actions of a handful of patrons -- those who, at some point of their viewing of these great works, decided that the regulation against flash photography did not apply personally but only to others -- have now ruined it for the rest of us. As a photographer...and perhaps even moreso as a fan of great art...I find myself deeply angry with this. My memory of the visit is all I have (unless, of course, I purchase the forty dollar keepsake volume in the museum's store), and those pictures are essentially lost to me for lack of a visual representation.

(I do not, in any way, begrudge the D'Orsay -- or any other museum -- their dime for the book. Art books are excellent investments.)

(As a reasonably honorable photographer, I know I can be relied upon to photograph the works in a non-damaging way. Sadly, based upon experience, I'm in complete agreement that we cannot be trusted as a crowd.)

Art Appreciation Day

But it's our unique ability as a species to want to see these things, to experience them and, yes, to bring a bit of them home with us. To our knowledge, no other animal keeps mementos to help them rediscover, recall something they've experienced. To see a picture, to touch an object, to recall a scent. Things that mean something and somehow comfort us  by reminding us where we've been and where we might want to go next.

This will lead us full circle, the appreciation of history and historic events can be a lot of fun, and it's a way to reconnect with ourselves or our roots or even just our interests. It's that time taken to stop and appreciate that which has gone by that gives us an important perspective. That's the sort of thing that can tell us where we've been...

…and maybe an indication if just how much further we can go.

An actor goes about her character's chores in Colonial Williamsburg