 Photoillustration by Bruce Andre and John Paxson
by Tim Steury
Seattle, 1960. The latest census had pushed the city's population
over half a million. Labor leader (and former UW regent) Dave Beck
was on his way to prison on corruption charges. Otherwise, things
were pretty good. Those who knew about Seattle recognized it as
sitting in the middle of a glorious natural playground. People had
jobs. But Boeing, lucrative as it was, was the only industry in
town, and some worried that the city had become complacent.
Governor Rosellini thought that Seattle suffered from negativism,
"too much inclination to suppress the confidence that lies
naturally in many of the people."
But then two things happened, perhaps not quite of equal import.
But they were related.
First, the Seattle World's Fair, officially known as Century 21
Exposition, had emerged as a shaky reality, not just a pipe
dream.
Second, Jay Rockey returned home to take over as the fair's
publicist.
As great an idea as the fair was in hindsight, convincing
Seattle that it should, even could, be done was something of a
miraculous feat.
Originating at a legendary, and perhaps apocryphal, martini
lunch at the Washington Athletic Club in 1955, the idea of a fair
soon took the form of a resolution before the city council.
Interestingly, as Murray Morgan points out in his lively and
idiosyncratic history, Century 21, there was no mention of
funding in the proposal, which suggested a 50th-anniversary
celebration of the Alaska-Yukon-Pacific Exposition.
Fortunately, the idea had legs and made its way to the
legislature. Then-governor Langlie signed, with little apparent
enthusiasm, a bill calling for a feasibility study. But if he had
wished the idea would go away, he made a historic mistake. He
appointed longtime friend and UW frat brother Eddie Carlson to
chair the committee that would explore the feasibility of a world's
fair in Seattle.
Carlson, who would soon become president of the Western Hotel
chain, was dogged and bright. Maybe he couldn't walk across Puget
Sound, but he had the determination, connections, and charisma to
bring the fair to reality, against the odds and in spite of what
some saw as a significant part of Seattle's population that was
determined to stay small and out of the limelight.
Things proceeded. A commission was formed. Money was designated
and eventually raised. A director, Ewen Dingwall, was appointed.
Century 21 Exposition became a nonprofit corporation. Seattle was
on its way to being presented to the world with a fair that was not
only fabulous, but made money for the city and investors.
But maybe that's moving a bit too quickly. What started as a
bold vision hit a wall in 1957. A group of civic leaders, including
all the members of the Century 21 Corporation, met for a preview of
the fair. The preview was indeed impressive. But the estimate for
what was proposed came in at $32 million dollars more than had been
promised the corporation by the city and state. Their dismay
precipitated what Morgan depicted as "great waves of discontent,
threatening disaster" during 1959 and 1960.
Let's now return to our second significant event.
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