2026 Find of the Month Archive
Haircut incident
Sometimes we come across folder titles that cry out for further investigation. When we saw a 1971 file labeled “Haircut Incident” listed in Mayor Uhlman's records, we couldn't resist heading to the vault to check it out.
The folder turned out to contain records documenting a dispute about whether firefighter Gary Medica's hair was too long. Witness statements from several officers relayed who had told him to get a haircut and when, allegedly over the course of several days. At roll call on July 4 Medica was finally told to have a fellow firefighter cut it for him right then or be suspended; he refused, saying he would go to a union barbershop when it reopened after the holiday. He served a two-day suspension for insubordination.
The union's newsletter told Medica's side of the story along with a photo of him with arguably not very long hair. He claimed that the first mention of a haircut on June 30 had been a comment and not an order. Actual orders were given on July 3 and 4 but it was a holiday weekend, and he felt it was not unreasonable to go to the barbershop when it reopened on the 6th.
City Councilmember George Cooley read the account in the union publication and wrote to Mayor Uhlman saying he was "astonished" at the case and asking the mayor to intervene. The mayor apparently asked Fire Department officials for details of the incident. They again laid out the timeline and argued that Medica wasn't suspended for his hair but rather for refusing a legitimate order.
In the end, the suspension was upheld. Medica sued the City, asking for his two days' wages to be reinstated and his record to be cleared. The lawsuit claimed it was unconstitutional for the suspension to be instituted without a hearing, but a judge ruled that this was allowed under the city charter.
Baseball trash talk
An exchange of letters saved in the Fire Chief’s General Correspondence series highlights some early trash talk between the chiefs in Tacoma and Seattle. A letter dated July 28, 1933, from Tacoma's Chief Whitaker to Seattle's Chief Corning referenced an upcoming baseball game between department staff from the two cities, to be played on Labor Day at Spanaway Park. He ended with some gentle ribbing:
We realize that you live in a fine city and have a wonderful Fire Department, but as for your football and baseball teams we are doubtful, therefore, I would advise that you give your boys plenty of coaching and practice before Labor Day, or, you may be able to pick up some good players from either Tukwilla [sic] or Kirkland.
Corning did not take this lying down, writing back to Chief Whitaker four days later with a full page and a half elaborating on just how little they feared Tacoma's fire fighters on the field of play. Some highlights:
I believe this matter was referred to the pensioners of this Department... We have little fear and feel confident that our retired men will have little difficulty in disposing of the affair to the satisfaction of all concerned...
Frankly, between us two, I feel you are taking more chances than you should by permitting your men to indulge in these more strenuous sports such as football and baseball. If you will permit me, I would suggest ping-pong, bridge, checkers, or similar light indoor sports...
Above all, do everything possible to maintain what little good-will and prestige you now enjoy from your public. Try to find some other means of giving them a good laugh rather than be accused of deliberately placing yourself in a ludicrous and ridiculous position - where they may be forced to laugh at you rather than with you.
Chief Corning eventually ran out of insults and wound down his letter, writing "Hoping, for the sakes of your families and others near and dear, to receive your apology by return mail," and signing the letter "Sympathetically yours."
Fremont Troll
The Fremont Arts Council applied for a Neighborhood Matching Fund grant in 1989 for a project they called "Hall of Giants" to create a sculptural environment in the view corridor underneath the north end of the Aurora Bridge, an area full of garbage and old mattresses. Their goal was to clean up "a badly littered neighborhood eye-sore and nose-sore" and construct a focal point for community pride. The council proposed a design competition from which finalists would be chosen for neighborhood residents to vote on, with the goal of "creating a tangible piece of art which will hopefully out live us all."
At this time, Fremont was a low to moderate income neighborhood known for its community of artists and its creative ethic. Previous Fremont Arts Council projects included the "Waiting for the Interurban" statue and the blue and orange paint job on the Fremont Bridge. The Hall of Giants proposal was the second phase in the creation of a park near the Aurora Bridge.
Forty proposals were received from artists across the country. Of these, four designs were made into models to be voted on by Fremont residents: an arrangement of living room furniture; an abstract piece using garbage to portray the importance of recycling; four stone musicians on a concert stage, and a troll clutching a Volkswagen. Voting took place at the Fremont Fair in June 1990 and continued through mid-July at locations including the Fremont library.
On July 19, the Fremont Troll was announced as the winning design. Comments from voters included, "Very creative and in the spirit of Fremont," "A bit of whimsy would do everyone some good, besides trolls need homes too," and "It's got a certain Fremontian character to it." Another commenter simply said, "Nice nose."
September 29, 1990, was declared to be Troll Day, with a party to dedicate the site. A poster promised "Music! Food! Dirt! Fun! Shovels! Statistics!" while a press release advertised a troll cake and children's art contest. Organizers reported to the Department of Neighborhoods that the day was a success, with lots of community involvement and media coverage. Neighbors were stopping by every day to check on the troll's progress and take photos; the report noted that "the Arts Council's intent to create a focal point in the neighborhood that helps create a sense of place seems to be working already." With the help of community volunteers, the troll was completed later that year.
Trespassers in the watershed
A folder in the Water Department Central Files documents incidents of trespassing in the Cedar River Watershed between 1955 and 1964. The watershed supplies drinking water to the greater Seattle area and also is a major source for downstream rivers, supporting salmon and other species. To protect the water and the land, the City restricts public access and patrols the boundaries.
Hunting was a major driver of illegal trespassing on watershed land in this period, with the number of incidents dropping off dramatically when hunting season ended. A supervisor wrote, "Watershed sanitation is a year-round job, but the hunting season continues to be the worst period as far as trespass is concerned."
A 1963 memo details an incident that began when a forester called a patrolman to alert him to blood on a bridge parapet and deer entrails in the creek below. The patrolman called in reinforcements and they followed bloodstains on the road to determine which way the trespasser went. A gate guard pointed out a car parked nearby which, when inspected, had animal hair on the bumper. The patrol waited until the man returned to his car, at which point the Game Protector, "using a little backwoods psychology, approached the man and said, 'Well, I guess you know why I'm here.' Whereupon Mr. Forrest admitted the violations."
Others came onto the land to fish, pick mushrooms, or simply to sightsee or take a shortcut. In a 1955 incident, three vehicles were stopped in the watershed. A report notes that the driver of the lead car said his name was Bob Lind, but was discovered to actually be named Walter Roundtree when he was asked for his driver's license. Roundtree had gotten in with an illegal key, "which he said was given to him by a fellow in Kent about three years previously."
Juveniles were among the trespassers, some there to hunt or fish and others seemingly just looking around. One boy, Allen Rice of Seattle, said he was looking for a ghost town. They were usually given a warning on a promise not to trespass again. Richard Dierst of Renton gave his age as 18 when he was arrested for hunting in the watershed, although when he was discovered later to be a minor, his case was dismissed and "he subsequently came in [to see the Sanitary Engineer] with his Mother."
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