When The Seattle Times asked readers to share their stories from the West Seattle Junction, responses ranged from mentions of places long gone to memories of a community centered around the all-way-walk intersection (and many, many mentions of Husky Deli).
Readers shared stories of establishing family businesses, forming lifelong friendships, of growth, changes and more.
An “act of kindness summed up what the Junction has always meant” to one reader, who encapsulated their experience on the block with a word: “community.”
Here are some of our readers’ stories.
Submissions have been edited for length and clarity.
“My father, Lou Rubin, owned Peoples Drug Store in the 1950s and early ’60s (now the site of Easy Street Records). As a kid, what a treat to have access to a soda fountain and all the comics we could read, as long as we could keep them perfectly clean, crisp and unwrinkled so they could be put back on the comic book rack.”
“Summertime, 1974. I was heading home from an evening out and felt like dessert. I stopped at a small restaurant in the Junction called Phoenecia. The owner greeted me warmly, ushering me to a booth. I ordered a slice of cake from the menu, and the owner Hussein disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a dish of ice cream. I reminded him that I had ordered cake, and he smiled, saying, ‘But this is better, eat!’ I ate.
He asked my name, where I lived, where I worked. He wasn’t threatening in any way, just friendly. We talked, and somehow it came up that I had studied French in high school. His eyes lit up, and he called his wife Inaam over saying that I spoke French! I told him, ‘No, no, no, I don’t SPEAK French, I TOOK French in high school, that’s very different!’ He waved that away, and his wife very excitedly started speaking to me in French. I stumbled through it as best I could. That was the first day of a 48-year friendship. You just never know where a little bit of French will take you. And yes, the rosewater ice cream was better.”
“My mother lived with us near the Alaska Junction for the last few years of her life. She didn’t use a wheelchair around the house, but it came in handy as we headed out to a restaurant, farmers market or even to grab an ice cream cone. Mom didn’t love the idea of the chair, so to make it fun, my husband got her to say ‘whee’ as we tore down the street. Our favorite spot to do that was the all-way crosswalk at the Junction, where drivers would grin when they saw us crossing diagonally, 95-year-old Mom smiling, hands in the air, yelling, ‘wheeeeeeeeeee.'”
— Shelley Goulding and Mike Fitzmaurice
“Jack Miller and Husky Deli saved my sister’s wedding reception! My younger sister was planning for her wedding and reception. A couple days before the wedding, her caterer inexplicitly canceled on providing food and drink for the event. My sister was at a total loss as how to provide a wedding reception on the shores of Lake Washington with no food or drink. She called me in a very distraught state and asked for help.
Fortunately, I had remembered that Husky Deli in the West Seattle Junction had a catering menu. I went into Husky Deli and spoke to Jack Miller about providing food for approximately 100 guests in the next few days. Jack really saved the day by calmly committing to help out and provide trays of food at a very reasonable price. Jack’s assistance made the wedding reception go very well, and we ate leftovers for a couple days. I’ve told this story to many West Seattleites over the years as a way to acknowledge Husky Deli’s commitment to providing great customer service and to lend a helping hand when necessary.”
“When we moved to West Seattle, the Junction appeared to be in decline. There were empty storefronts, and what stores were there included many that didn’t want to be open on weekends when most people would be out and shopping.
As a freelance writer, I volunteered my time to the Junction Association, helping out with promotional ideas. Some took, some didn’t. We suggested banners for the light poles on California and put them up, which helped unify the shopping district. I designed a logo for them back in the days when I did a little design work, though other designs were used as well. But there was the surprise when I walked down the street one day after I’d begun to work outside of West Seattle and looked down — and saw that someone had turned my logo into a ceramic inset into the sidewalk! Even though we haven’t been to the Junction as much since the pandemic, knowing that logo is still in the sidewalk makes me feel as if I’ll always be a part of the heart of West Seattle.”
“In the late ’80s/early ’90s, Snubby’s was the best little coffee shop in the Junction. The scones were delightful and the cookies out-of-this-world delicious. I’ll always be thankful to the owner, Lloyd McIsaac, for his incredible generosity with helping fund my trip to student teach in Hong Kong (he told me I was his Christmas donation that year). His act of kindness summed up what the Junction has always meant to me: community.”
“My first job was at LaGrace Dress Shop, on the corner of California and Alaska. From 1973 through 1976, I learned much working part time while attending West Seattle High School and the University of Washington. In the mid-70s, you could take care of nearly everything in the Junction, predominantly at family-owned businesses, some with features you don’t see anymore.
Food could be purchased at Tradewell, the Fish Market (purchases newspaper-wrapped), Blake’s Bakery, Millie’s Donuts or the Husky Deli. For eating out, there was Vann Bros, the Luck Toy and the Poggie Tavern. There were four drugstores — Bartell’s, G.O. Guy Drugs (with TV tube tester), Morton’s (with soda fountain) and Peoples Drug; three dime stores — Kress (with pet store downstairs), Meredith’s and Wigwam; Terjung’s Studio of Gifts and MacMorgan’s Hallmark. Besides LaGrace, there were several clothing stores — Johnson’s, Margaret’s and Louise North Apparels, Shafran’s, Groves’ and a two-story J.C. Penney — plus, Russell’s and Teague’s Jewelers, Shallit’s Family Shoes and West Side Shoe Repair. You could buy hardware and yard supplies at True Value or Junction Feed and Seed, and furniture at Carlile. And, it was just a few blocks to new-car shop at Gene Fiedler Chevrolet, Andresen Chrysler Plymouth, Huling Brothers Buick or Westside Ford.
“About seven years ago, Foo Fighters announced they were going to play a small, intimate show at The Showbox and that tickets to the show would be sold in-person only at Easy Street Records. So naturally, I raced over to the Junction to get in line. As I waited in line over the next four hours, I got to bond with fellow line-standers over our Foo stories. Someone from Zeeks Pizza brought a few pies to nourish us as we waited. At one point, one of the Foo fans went to a nearby store and bought a couple cases of Rainier Beer that may or may not have been illegally consumed on the street by those of us standing in line. In the end, I was about 50 people too late to get my hands on tickets, but it didn’t feel like a total loss. It was a shared experience with fellow music lovers in the city.”
“When I was 7, we moved from Fairbanks, Alaska, to West Seattle, where my dad, a pharmacist, and mom bought what became Morton’s Rexall Drugs. Over the years, both of my parents became actively involved in the business community. I worked at the store after school when I was in junior high, doing all sorts of odd jobs. I dusted shelves, checked off orders, put out stock, worked at the checkstand, etc. Once I was old enough to drive, I delivered prescriptions, too. Morton’s had a snack bar, complete with hamburgers, sandwiches, soups, milkshakes and ice cream (including my favorite — peppermint candy). Customers waiting on prescriptions would be given a wooden nickel, redeemable for a free coffee, soft drink or ice cream. The snack bar became a local hangout for the lunch crowd and kids after school. Dad and I frequently delivered prescriptions on our way home at the end of the day. Free delivery throughout West Seattle was just part of Morton’s service. My dad retired and sold the store in 1993, but I still frequently run into people who remember the store and my dad, Mort.”
“Back in the 1990s, I had a plethora of jobs. I fancied myself a photographer. I also had a love for bicycling. I had a 14-mile loop around West Seattle I rode to keep fit. I passed many of the West Seattle murals, including one entitled, ‘The Junction.’ As I rode by, an idea popped into my head. Why not photograph cyclists appearing to ride out of the mural and onto the street? The photograph came out pretty well. It ended up as the cover shot for the March 1991 issue of Northwest Cyclist. The mural is still there near the intersection of California Avenue Southwest and Southwest Edmunds Street.“
“When I was 11 (1971), my favorite store was Kress, located in the Alaska Junction (the building currently houses the Matador and JaK’s). You could smell the popcorn which was kept in a glass cabinet right up front just as soon as you walked in the door. The place seemed enormous to me at the time, with a main floor, upstairs and a basement where they kept all the toys.
That Christmas, I felt pretty grown-up walking in with my $8 or so to buy presents for the first time. While I don’t remember exactly what I got for everybody that year, it did take the whole eight bucks. When I finished up my shopping and got in line to pay the cashier, I started actually listening to the Christmas music that had been playing over the store speakers. At that moment, ‘Silver Bells’ came on — probably the Johnny Mathis version. As I listened to the lyrics, the words, ‘It’s Christmastime in the city,’ and, ‘Soon it will be Christmas Day,’ really got through to me — I still remember the feeling that came over me and stayed with me all the way home. That was quite a few Christmases ago, but the memory comes back to me every time I hear ‘Silver Bells.'”
“I am in the fifth grade. It’s the spring of 1968, and I’ve saved enough money to add a car to my collection. The bicycle is called into action, and I cycle to the Junction, the busy heart of West Seattle.
I pass Husky Deli, resisting the call of a cone, then cross that wonder of wonders, the Walk-All-Ways. A half-block north, I reach my destination: the West Seattle Speedway and Hobby Shop. Once inside, I hear the whir of slot cars racing around the curvy tracks in the back of the shop. In addition to slot cars, Freon-powered Vashon Valkyrie rockets and models of the Starship Enterprise beg me to take them home. I ignore their pleas, as it’s the rotating display of Matchbox cars that led me on this 2-mile expedition.
The cars are numbered, and I know most by heart. I’ve lusted after No. 8, a Ford Mustang, for months. But my heart sinks when I see it’s been sold. Then two other cars catch my eye: a gleaming-silver Rolls-Royce Phantom Five and a bright-red E-Type Jaguar. Which one was it to be? I point out No. 28 to the cashier, pay my $2, and become the proud owner of a Jag.”
“The Junction got it’s name from the two trolley lines that met at that point. The tracks and trolleys were removed in the ’30s, replaced by electric buses. The Junction has changed a lot over the years. My father, born 1916, remembered the horse-drawn truck at the fire station on Southwest Alaska Street. The horses grazed over the hill. When an alarm rang, they ran to the station and stood in line to be hooked to the truck. The hospital was in the Junction, on the second floor, southeast corner. It wasn’t big, but it served the community well back then. I was treated for a cut there in the ’50s. Jefferson Square was named for the elementary school that occupied the site. We had everything we needed at the Junction: a Penney’s, Kress five and dime, A&P Grocery, Ernst Hardware, Chevrolet, Ford, Buick and Chrysler dealers, Granada Theater, all just memories. Husky Deli is still there; great ice cream. Before the high-rise bridge that replaced the drawbridge, we never felt isolated. In fact, the common joke was, ‘If we didn’t like someone, we could raise the drawbridge and not let them in.’”
The opinions expressed in reader comments are those of the author only and do not reflect the opinions of The Seattle Times.