National Geographic : 1960 Apr
for even today the presence of his people lingers on. We use the term "potlatch," the In dian's word for his ceremonial feasts, for our own picnics and parties. A "tillicum" is a friend, today as in times past. A 50 foot totem pole stands as a prominent landmark of Pioneer Square in downtown Seattle. In the 1870's exciting news reached Seattle: The Northern Pacific planned to push its rail road through to Puget Sound. What more logical terminus, Seattleites thought, than their bustling community? Jubila tion turned to chagrin with the announcement that a rival set tlement, Tacoma, on Commence ment Bay, had been selected instead. The townspeople, undaunted, built their own railroad. The route they chose now forms a part of the Northern Pacific's trackage to Walla Walla, 220 miles away in Washington's fer tile wheat belt. Today four great railroads serve Seattle. By 1889 the population had climbed to 33,500. But the city had grown in a ramshackle way; so it was perhaps a blessing in disguise that a pot of glue boiled over in a paint shop downtown one warm day in June. Before nightfall the confla gration which had started so modestly consumed more than An Aerie for Diners: the Canlis' Restaurant A critical palate and forth right tongue landed Peter Canlis (far left) in the restaurant business 19 years ago in Honolulu. When he complained about food served to him in a cafeteria, his piqued host invited him to take over the kitchen and' do better. He did. That success prompted him to launch his own establish ments, first in Honolulu, then in Seattle. Mr. Canlis's guests dine on charcoal-broiled steaks amid glass-walled elegance above Lake Union. Often their vistas include snow crowned Mount Baker and the Cascade Range. A Japanese-American wait ress serves hors d'oeuvres to author Anne Grosvenor Robinson and Dr. Robin son. Mrs. Canlis (standing) greets her guests. 64 acres of the business district. Miraculously, no life was lost, but factories, offices, warehouses, and wharves lay in ashes. Seattle rebuilt itself, and when the steamer Portland arrived on June 17, 1897, carrying a "ton of gold" from the Yukon, a new boom began. Alaska-bound prospectors swarmed into town. They had to be fed, clothed, enter tained, and outfitted for their quest. Steam ers packed them aboard for the voyage north. Ever since, Seattle has enjoyed a commer cial advantage as a gateway city to Alaska. Its Alaska-Yukon-Pacific Exposition in 1909 turned the Nation's eyes toward the area, and its Century 21 Exposition, slated for 1962, boldly sets its sights on the future. The ex position's theme: man's role in the Space Age. The waters around Alaska are now the prin 512 cipal arena of the United States salmon indus try. The Seattle region, especially Salmon Bay, is home base for the Alaskan salmon fleet, and much of the fish is canned and marketed here. No gift we send East is more appreciatively received than a rosy king salmon, ordered fresh for air shipment from one of our im maculate waterfront fish markets. Washed-down Hills Build Shore Pinioned between Puget Sound and Lake Washington, Seattle long seemed limited in potential growth. Steep hills, for all their magnificent vistas, posed further problems to builders. But the operator of the first steam sawmill in the area unknowingly started a trend when he began dumping waste sawdust into Elliott Bay. Gradually the spongy shore evolved into land, expanding the city's site.