West Central Revival
West Central Revival
by Suzanne Schreiner
The Inlander
One fine morning in January 1905, 82-year-old Spokane pioneer William Nettleton set out on foot for Greenwood Cemetery, which, according to a newspaper account of the time, he had intended to visit "on the first pleasant day."
He didn't get to the pioneer burial ground until the following Sunday — when his family buried him in it.
Early into the stroll from his Mallon Avenue home in the addition he had platted, William Nettleton fell to his death from the Great Northern High Bridge over the Spokane River near Natatorium Park. Most likely, said his doctor afterward, the old man had suffered a heart attack.
"Reckoned among the wealthy men of Spokane," according to the newspaper obituary, the founder of Nettleton's Addition had amassed his fortune by calculating the path of the railroads and then building towns on the lands they made valuable. Before Spokane, he had developed Duluth, Minn., and West Superior, Wis.
Up to his final day, just about everything had gone right for William Nettleton in Spokane. He arrived in 1883 and bought land from the Northern Pacific railroad in 1887.
His timing couldn't have been better. The little hamlet of Spokane Falls was entering a boom in the 1880s as the railroads arrived and inflated the value of the lands they crossed.
The railroads were powerful drivers of economic development, as they acquired congressional land-grant acres along their rights of way, and took every opportunity to promote settlement of the lands to farmers and miners — as did the land speculators and builders who followed in their wake.
The promoters' claims were as rosy and optimistic as the times and guaranteed to entice land-hungry settlers. The pamphlets sang the praises of the bountiful land, claiming "Inland Empire Lands Will Produce Wheat-hay — 4 ½ tons to the acre" and "23,000 cantaloupes to the acre." And nature, supposedly, was not only benign but generous. Not only were there "no crop failures" but "no extreme cold and no extreme hot days." So much so, it was claimed, that "there has never been a sunstroke in this section of the country. "
And it worked.
Spokane's population, a mere three hundred in 1880, mushroomed to 20,000 in 1890 and 37,000 in 1900; by 1909, it had soared to an astounding 120,000.
William Nettleton saw to it that he was in the right place at the right time. In 1887, he platted the 236 acres of Nettleton's first and second additions into 995 individual parcels. The neighborhood was bounded by Mission Avenue and West Summit Boulevard on the north; North A Street and North Summit Boulevard on the west; West Bridge Avenue and the Spokane River on the south; and North Chestnut Avenue on the east.
Because three-quarters of the housing was built between 1900 and 1912, the architectural integrity of neighborhood was there from the beginning. And it remained largely intact, because with the slowing of the Spokane economy after 1911, there was little development pressure for the remainder of the century as land values stalled.
Once the land was platted, it was the builders' turn. Chamberlin Real Estate and Improvement Company built more 400 houses in Spokane, many of them in Nettleton's Addition, using a couple of shrewd strategies.
To put home ownership within the grasp of middle- and working-class families, companies like Chamberlin relied on pattern book homes, which proliferated throughout the United States, particularly from the 1890s to the 1920s. Real estate developers used them as promotional tools; they were also an economical source of ideas for builders.
One brochure from Chamberlin trumpeted that "In the land of plenty where grows the wheat, let Chamberlin build your home." Buyers could choose among several styles of bungalows, some having as few as four rooms.
Persuading renters to become owners was key, and affordable financing was as pivotal then as it is now. A 1909 promotional booklet from Chamberlin explained it to hopeful homebuyers. "Ranging in cost from 1,650 up ... [houses] sell for cash or on terms almost like rent. You can buy as cheap on terms as if you pay all cash."
For a small amount down, Chamberlin urged, money could be diverted from rent payments toward a home. In fact, not to do so would be to trample on opportunity, the pamphlets declared: "There are four things that come not back – the spoken word, the sped arrow, the past life, and the neglected opportunity. Why don't you own your own home? Every one can." It was hard to argue with that. Many took the advice, including Mr. Chamberlin himself, who built his own home on Gardner.
But after 1911, the boom was over and growth in Spokane slowed for the rest of the century. Nettleton's Addition — and West Central — fell into neglect.
Turning Point
But this April, 100 years after William Nettleton's plunge off the Great Northern High Bridge, Nettleton's Addition was nominated as Spokane's 16th National Historic District, and the largest in Washington state.
Zooming by on Ash and Maple at the tattered edge of West Central, with the run-down houses and weedy yards with the occasional abandoned grocery cart among them, the neighborhood is easy to dismiss.
Even lifelong Spokane residents are surprised when they venture a few blocks off the arterials and are presented with a neighborhood of tree-lined streets, block after block of classic old Victorians and bungalows, and all within reach of views of the river, which cradles the district on three sides.
Developer Marshall Chesrown has noticed. His 77-acre Summit development looms large on the horizon. Chesrown also saw the Spokane River Gorge project and the nearby Centennial Trail as big reasons to buy the property. The most ambitious project in West Central since Nettleton's day, the plans call for 1,000 condos and townhouses and 1.5 million square feet of commercial space.
With the advent of the Summit project, the people of West Central are balancing on the knifepoint of development, which offers both opportunity and risk. While it could help create a resurgence of interest in the historic legacy of their neighborhood, the danger lies in the cycle of speculation and tear-downs that rising land prices could invite.
And they know it. The West Central neighborhood council, after all, initiated the long application process for becoming a historic district, with the idea of preserving the neighborhood's character.
Council Member Kevin Brownlee says, "There had been a parade of developers associated with the Summit property, and the neighborhood was not sure what that meant for the adjacent properties, so the neighborhood really wanted to draw attention to the housing stock and the history of the neighborhood, in the hopes of protecting...[it]."
The neighborhood seems to be solidly behind its council.
HUD Success Story
Mary Holloway is a petite elderly woman with short-cropped white hair. Now retired, she was a Head Start teacher in 1986 when a friend told her that she might be able to qualify for a HUD home in West Central that was being offered in a raffle. As a single working mom and a renter, she knew getting a house of her own would be tough. The HUD offer seemed worth a try.
So Holloway submitted a plan for the remodel of the house and demonstrated that she qualified for the $25,000 home-improvement loan that HUD required. After extensive work — including wiring, plumbing, a new roof, complete replacement of the lath and plaster walls and a new paint job both inside and out, she and her daughter moved in during late winter of 1987.
Passersby on Sinto Avenue now see a snug white bungalow with newly planted perennial beds in a front yard shaded by tall street trees. Holloway's front yard doesn't look like anything that could be part of Felony Flats — one of the disparaging names for West Central.
Holloway admits she was taken in by the down-and-out reputation of the neighborhood in the early days. She points to a shed in her backyard where the original garage once stood. She recalls how her neighbors persuaded her to tear it down to avoid the dangers posed by transients who might sleep in it at night.
As a single mother, she knows her neighbors were only thinking of her safety. But as she looks back now, believing her fears were overblown, she kicks herself for have demolished the garage.
Nearly 20 years later, she has no intention of leaving the neighborhood unless illness or age force her to do so. She loves the mix of people of all incomes and ages, including the group home for the mentally ill next door. She is active in the neighborhood block watch, so she knows all her neighbors; she waves to several as they pass by. She thinks the historic district nomination will be a boost to the neighborhood.
Recently, there has been evidence that people are taking notice. Several weeks ago, the neighborhood was papered with flyers from a California real estate firm, offering cash for houses. Mary is sure the Summit development has put West Central on investors' radar and hopes the historic district nomination can help her neighborhood steer clear of speculator tear-downs that could destroy the character of the place she loves.
Holloway's take on the California investors: They were "trying to pick up cheap housing" and "get in while the prices were low." Anticipating the effect of the Summit development, there is a "general expectation that cost of the housing stock will rise as these projects take fruit."
But Holloway also sees young professionals starting to come back to the neighborhood. She's not going to sell her house for a tear-down.
The House Rescuers
Probably the house that best mirrors the rise and fall and, perhaps, rise again, of the neighborhood is Dutch Jake Goetz's old place. Though he almost certainly could have built another stately mansion on South Hill, the mining magnate and owner of the Coeur d'Alene Hotel built his home in Nettleton's Addition in 1907, as did his partner Harry Baer. Dutch Jake died in 1927, and his family sold the house the next year.
After that came an assortment of owners and some hard times for the neighborhood. But Connie and Howard McGavran believe in the neighborhood.
"We're house-rescuers," Connie McGavran says. In 1990, the McGavrans rescued Dutch Jake Goetz's house from demolition at a sheriff's auction. The neighbors, however, had had enough. They wanted the scary tenants out and the old wreck torn down.
The toilets were backed up and filthy, utilities had been shut off because the owner, in jail, had failed to collect rents from the tenants of the seven apartments into which the house had been sliced. Dutch Jake's place testified to how far the neighborhood had fallen.
The McGavrans, undeterred, moved in, gutted the place, made good on the back taxes and utilities, paid off another lien holder, and gradually persuaded the neighbors that better things were in store for the old house.
Today, the house is painted an exuberant lipstick red that Dutch Jake would have approved of. Inside, almost every square inch has been lovingly painted, wallpapered, refloored, restored and refitted — all of it done by the hands of Connie and her contractor husband Howard.
The McGavrans are well aware of the Felony Flats rep but insist that the neighborhood is safe. They raised their kids in it; they feel safe walking all over it, even at night.
They have two dogs — though the McGavrans claim that their pit bulls are more like lap dogs. In any case, they point out, it's the tiny black cat who came as a stowaway in the carriage house that is the boss of everyone, including the pit bulls.
Connie McGavran is sure the historic district nomination will finally bring "a little of the respect that the neighborhood deserves." People will have to shed their prejudices and realize, as she does, that her "underrated and undiscovered" neighborhood is, "a little jewel right in the middle of the city."
Howard McGavran is hard at work on the carriage house, which now houses his workroom and tools. Like Connie, he thinks all the years of work have been well worth it, as is the neighborhood.
"We chose to live here," says Connie. "We don't live here because we can't live anywhere else. We picked the neighborhood and we picked the house. We intend to stay here for a very long time."
The Newcomers
Lee and Melinda Talley moved into the neighborhood when Melinda accepted a residency at Sacred Heart Hospital.
They considered places as far-flung as Connecticut and Texas, but both grew up in small towns in eastern South Dakota, and they "didn't want to move to a big city."
When they came to town to buy their first house, realtors kept steering them to the South Hill. "We saw a lot of nice homes," Melinda Talley says, but mostly "out of our price range." Lee adds, "I don't think I ever felt very comfortable down there; it didn't seem like a great match."
When their realtor was immobilized with an injured knee, the Talleys found themselves on their own. Eager to put apartment life behind them, the couple "just started driving around." They happened onto the SpokanebyOwner.com Web site and found their home in June 2004.
"We kind of bumbled into finding this neighborhood," laughs Lee Talley.
After their offer was accepted, they were invited to a going-away party given by neighbors for the departing owners. To the Talleys, that set the tone for the neighborhood.
"We know all our neighbors," Lee Talley says. "It's a very comfortable place to be."
Melinda adds, "The biggest thing that attracted us was that we're so close to the river. Being from rural settings, we need to be able to get away and see the horizon a little bit."
The Talleys like the new bridge that links the Summit neighborhood to the Centennial Trail system. "It's a wonderful addition to the neighborhood," Lee says. "We take advantage of it."
He compares Spokane's approach to the river with Sioux Falls, S.D., another river town. Although the river and falls are lovely, he points out that Sioux Falls hasn't taken advantage of land along the river, noting it has no greenway or park.
"Spokane," he says, "has done a better job of that." Easy access to Riverside State Park and Downriver Park is "a real attractive feature to being in this neighborhood."
Like their neighbors, the Talleys look at the historic district nomination as a way of raising the neighborhood's profile, offering some protection to its historic character, and dispelling the old "Felony Flats" image.
Though career demands might force them to leave when Melinda finishes her residency, "we love it here," Lee says. "We could see ourselves here for the long term."
Now wouldn't old William Nettleton be delighted to hear that?
Suzanne Schreiner has been The Inlander's editorial intern this spring. William Nettleton photo courtesy of the Northeast Minnesota Historical Center.
My Blog
Jun 9, 2005
