[ Music ]
>> In the post war boom times, Seattle hosted a visionary,
somewhat audacious event called Century 21.
And visitors flocked here to glimpse the future.
What they saw on the fairgrounds was exciting.
What they saw just beyond, was exhilarating and a warning.
Lake Washington with no swimming signs, dying salmon runs,
virgin forests, clear cut.
Was this the price of progress?
It was time to rethink, recharge and reinvent.
[ Music ]
>> The gates to the Century 21 Exposition opened
at am on April 21, 1962.
The fairgrounds sparkled, buzzed with optimism and futurism.
After various speeches and a musical salute,
the packed crowds at Memorial Stadium went quiet
as President John F. Kennedy's voice came
over the loudspeakers.
>> I'm honored to open the Seattle World's Fair today.
May we open not only a great world's fair, may we open an era
of peace and understanding among all mankind.
Let the fair begin.
>> He pushed a button and bells rang, flags unfurled and a bank
of howitzers blasted off a 20-gun salute.
Seattle's second World's Fair had begun.
The fair was a feast for the imagination.
Visitors rode the space age monorail, the Bubbleator,
the Sky Ride, and lounged by the magical International Fountain.
Lines formed at the Space Needle for a memorable ride to the top.
Cool exhibits filled the Science Center while the Colosseum
housed the World of Tomorrow, a glimpse into the future.
The fair brought together amazing foreign exhibits as well
as IBM, General Electric and Ford.
Picturephones, robots, computers, jetpacks,
moving sidewalks, air cars, lunar colonies, cordless phones.
It was all there.
And for pure fun, there were amusement park rides,
stage venues, a food circus, even a risque show street
which offered up adult entertainment.
The fair captivated visitors for six months
and attracted more celebrities
than Seattle had ever seen before.
Astronaut John Glenn received a hero's welcome
with his Project Mercury space capsule.
Other guests included Prince Philip of England,
comedian Bob Hope, Richard Nixon, Igor Stravinsky,
Benny Goodman, Ella Fitzgerald, Ed Sullivan and Walt Disney.
But some of the biggest crowds came in September
to see Elvis Presley film scenes from
"It Happened at the World's Fair."
[ Music ]
On October 21, 1962, thousands filled Memorial Stadium
for the closing ceremonies.
President Kennedy was supposed to attend,
but he canceled due to a cold.
Unbeknownst to the fair goers, he was actually dealing
with the Cuban missile crisis.
>> I now officially commit the Seattle World's Fair to history.
>> Almost 10 million visitors experienced Seattle's
and America's vision for the 21st century.
Afterward, the city was left with 75-acres
of civic pride: The Seattle Center.
The iconic Space Needle, the Monorail, the Science Center
and the Coliseum, now the Climate Pledge Arena,
are still with us.
All a legacy to Seattle's leap into the future.
>> When Seattle hotel executive Eddie Carlson dined
in a revolving restaurant nearly 500 ft above Stuttgart,
he grabbed a napkin and sketched an idea.
A slender space needle pointing toward the stars.
Fair planners dismissed Carlson's idea
as too costly and impractical.
But Seattle's business leaders knew the fair needed a symbol.
With no public funds and no available land,
they hunted for space near the fairgrounds
until they found a tiny 120 by 120-foot lot.
Price, $75,000.
Carlson enlisted a team to create a 605-foot tripod,
crowned by a saucer-shaped top with a revolving restaurant.
Five investors raised $4.5 million.
Construction began in April 1961,
barely a year before the fair.
The needle required nearly 6,000 tons of concrete
to anchor it to the ground.
Crews worked nonstop, hoisting the top into place by December,
a remarkable achievement.
When Century 21 opened, the skeptics were silenced.
Born from a napkin sketch and sheer audacity,
the Space Needle rose as Seattle's enduring icon.
[ Music ]
>> When the World’s Fair closed,
after six action-packed months,
what remained was a citywide transformation.
Seattle was still a Boeing town--the Jet City.
The first 727 took flight in 1963, followed by the 737...
and the behemoth 747.
Boeing’s work on the Apollo space program
put it front and center in the race to the moon.
Suburban populations surged.
They doubled in Kirkland, Renton, Federal Way, and Shoreline.
Bellevue also saw a major boost when the 520 floating bridge was opened in ‘63.
Interstate 5 helped drive change, too.
The first two miles opened in Seattle shortly after the fair.
Construction plowed through neighborhoods,
dividing the city.
But despite controversy,
by 1965 it was completed to Everett.
Two years later it reached Tacoma.
The Pacific Science Center established itself as a
world class educational institution.
The Space Needle became the town’s icon!
The Seattle Center, a gathering place for events and celebrations.
Arts, sports, and education flourished.
The Seattle Rep started in ‘63.
A contemporary theater and Seattle’s first Black film festival followed.
The SuperSonics, Seattle’s first modern pro sports team,
debuted in ‘67.
The Seattle Aquarium and the Kingdome were approved as well.
Community colleges expanded and thrived.
New libraries were built.
The World’s Fair put Seattle on the map.
It gave the city an economic jolt,
advanced educational and cultural institutions,
and sparked a spirit of civic engagement.
that seemed unstoppable.
[ Music ]
>> In the mid-20th century,
Washington regularly reelected two
of the nation's most powerful senators.
Their nicknames were Scoop and Maggie.
Together they passed legislation
that benefited all of the Northwest.
Scoop was Senator Henry M. Jackson, born in Everett in 1912.
Maggie was Senator Warren G. Magnuson, born in Minnesota
in 1905, who came west to attend the UW Law School.
Both witnessed and made history.
Jackson passed important environmental legislation before
environmentalists were even a term.
He stood for support of civil rights, tribal rights,
international human rights and Scoop ran for president in 1972
and in 1976 but failed to secure the nomination.
He was a global statesman,
served on the Armed Services Committee
and was a strong supporter of the military.
Upon his death in 1983, the UW Board
of Regents renamed the School
of International Studies in his honor.
Maggie was more liberal than Scoop.
He was also the more powerful, serving as chair
of the Appropriations and Commerce Committees.
Maggie had a close relationship
with Presidents Kennedy, Johnson and Carter.
When Maggie remarried in 1964, LBJ was his best man.
Magnuson delivered the National Institutes of Health,
the UW Medical Center, public television, Amtrak and a ban
on supertankers in Puget Sound.
Maggie passed away in 1989.
Magnuson Park was named in his honor.
Scoop served in the Senate for 31 years, Maggie for 36.
Two statesmen who roamed the halls of power,
bringing opportunities, social justice and leadership
to the people of Washington, the country and the world.
[ Music ]
>> In the soaring ‘60s,
Seattle lived up to the promise of Century 21
as the city’s economy road Boeing’s rising fortunes.
Cold War Boeing built for the military,
for space, and for passenger jet travel.
In 1966, Boeing celebrated its 50th birthday.
And local journalists enthused...
[ANNOUNCER] “Boeing fortunes were never brighter than today.”
-It seemed everyone in the Jet City worked for Boeing,
or Boeings, as the locals’ termed the region’s largest employer.
The annual Boeing bonus check was a feast
for local retailers.
In those go-go years,
each commercial jet order was front-page news.
-Three, two, one... [rumble of engine]
Boeing built the first stage of the huge Saturn-Five rocket booster
to power astronauts to the moon,
design the massive 747, and develop the world’s first
supersonic passenger airliner,
the ill fated SST.
But the global economy stalled
and air travel plummeted.
In 1970, Boeing began a 17-month period without a single jet order.
Then in 1971, U.S. Senate shut down the SST.
Boeing fought bankruptcy and the workforce free fall began.
Over 100,000 workers were laid off.
By late 1971, Boeing employed fewer than 33,000 workers,
down from 150,000.
Layoffs crippled local machine shops,
retailers and restaurants.
The city suffered through the longest deepest collapse
since the Great Depression.
Unemployment was stuck at 17%.
Laid off engineers, machinists, and secretaries
flooded the local job market
and an avalanche of homes, boats, and cars
were offered dirt cheap.
Thousands fled.
Jokesters encouraged the last person to flee Seattle to “turn out the lights.”
Food banks struggled.
Downtown Seattle was shuttered,
dark and empty.
Boeing boom town was now Boeing gloom town.
It would take years for the company town to come back
to a new normal.
>> In the 1950s, Seattle began to awaken to the costs
of the city's rapid growth.
Alarmingly, people couldn't swim at Seattle's beaches
because of unchecked pollution.
Locals began calling Lake Washington "Lake Stinko" due
to the 20 million gallons of raw sewage dumped daily
into the lake by the surrounding suburbs.
Seattle and the other local governments decided to act.
Metro was formed.
But in their rush to clean up Lake Washington,
the Duwamish River, home to most of the city's industries,
absorbed even more of the region's pollution.
Some of the sewage
and stormwater fouling Lake Washington was rerouted
to the Duwamish, leaving the river as a sacrifice zone
that many assumed would never again be used
for swimming and fishing.
People living near the river carried the burden
of highly polluted water as well as fouled air and soils,
with a life expectancy eight years shorter
than the city average.
Residents began to take matters into their own hands.
Residents began to clean up trash from the river
and its creeks and to restore native habitat for salmon.
Leading the effort, Duwamish Valley resident John Beal teamed
up with the Duwamish tribal leader, James Rasmussen.
Together, they inspired a volunteer movement
that led the river to be listed for superfund cleanup in 2001.
Today, toxic pollution
in the river bottom has been reduced by half.
Cleanup is ongoing with the goal of restoring the health
of the Duwamish and the people who fish and swim
in its waters by 2034.
Success will depend on sustaining the political will
to clean up the Duwamish River the way Seattle cleaned
up Lake Washington.
Our history shows us it's possible.
[ Music ]
>> In 1910, Seattle was booming and rotting from the inside out.
Mayor Hiram Gill and police chief Charles
"Wappy" Wappenstein had turned the city into an open town,
where gambling and prostitution thrived
under official protection.
When Wappy's kickbacks and his plan for a 500-room brothel came
to light, public outrage was electric.
In response, reform-minded citizens organized the Municipal
League of Seattle.
Its mission was simple: facts before politics.
League members rated candidates, investigated graft
and published their findings.
A radical breath of fresh air in an age
of smoke-filled backrooms.
The league helped spearhead the creation of the port of Seattle
in 1911, wresting control of the city's waterfront
from private monopolies and placing it in public hands.
It was a bold experiment
in civic stewardship, and it worked.
The port became an engine of trade and an enduring symbol
of what reform could achieve.
Through the creation of Metro to clean up Lake Washington
and the forward thrust initiatives of the 60s,
the league championed clean water, parks, housing
and transit, a blueprint for a greener, fairer city.
In the 70s, league leaders pressed for landmark ethics
and disclosure laws that helped restore public trust.
They also stood for social progress,
supporting school desegregation
and pioneering campaign finance transparency long before it
became fashionable.
For more than a century, the Municipal League has served
as Seattle's civic conscience, evaluating candidates,
spotlighting waste and corruption,
and reminding citizens that democracy demands vigilance.
>> Good government doesn't happen by accident.
It happens when citizens roll up their sleeves and make it so.
>> Jim Ellis was born in 1921.
His life was shaped by adventures with his brother Bob
in the forests and waters of the Pacific Northwest.
Both men served in World War II: Jim in the Air Force,
Bob just out of high school on the front lines in Europe
when he was killed in the Battle of the Bulge.
Jim was devastated.
His new bride, Marilu, encouraged him
to harness his grief and anger
to make his life count for Bob's.
Her words and partnership shaped their lives
and left an indelible mark on the region.
After law school at the UW,
Jim worked for a respected local firm and began volunteering
with the Municipal League in the early 50s.
He came to understand the importance of civic engagement
and bringing people of differing views together
to solve big challenges.
Jim's first major project was very personal.
In the summer of 1958, Lake Washington,
one of his favorite places to swim as a child,
was closed to swimming due to a record algae bloom fueled
by untreated sewage flowing into the lake.
Similar issues plagued the waterfront as industrial runoff
and raw sewage poured into Puget Sound.
Jim brought together a broad coalition of leaders,
creating the Municipality of Metropolitan Seattle, Metro.
In 1958, voters approved funding
for regional sewage treatment and planning began.
Over ten years, construction
of ten sewage treatment plants was completed
and untreated discharges into Lake Washington went
from 20 million gallons a day to zero.
People swam in the lake again.
By the mid-60s, the economy was booming.
The public infrastructure was strained.
Ellis stepped up to lead an ambitious initiative named
Forward Thrust, calling for roads, rapid transit, new parks,
modern airport, convention center and more.
Voters enthusiastically approved most of Forward Thrust.
Unfortunately, Rapid Transit failed
to get the super majority needed for passage,
missing out on major federal funding
for the project's $1.2 billion price tag.
Present day Sound Transit's final tab will exceed
$100 billion.
Mary Lou Ellis brought balance to Jim's life,
raising their four children while being his sounding board
and serving the community despite fighting diabetes,
a battle she lost in 1982.
Jim again channeled his grief into service,
championing Freeway Park and the Washington State
Convention Center.
Then in 1990, Ellis assembled a broad coalition
to create the Mountains to Sound Greenway, balancing rapid growth
with preserving the region's rich cultural history, ecology,
wildlife and recreational opportunities,
earning designation as a National Heritage Area.
A mentor to me and many others, Jim Ellis, who passed in 2019,
had a will to serve, inspiring us to patiently work together
through ups and downs to create a shared vision for our future.
>> Black settlers arrived in Seattle
within a decade of its founding.
The African American population remained small
for almost a century.
When thousands of African Americans moved
to the city during World War II to work in the defense industry,
they encountered a highly segregated society.
Most white property owners refused to rent apartments
to African Americans, and many deeds included legal
requirements which prevented homeowners
from selling to nonwhite buyers.
This led to most of Seattle's new African American residents
to settle in the Central District where they collaborated
with the neighborhood's longstanding black residents
to establish a thriving nexus of culture,
community networks and activism.
As Seattle hosted the World's Fair in 1962
to celebrate the region's technological
and scientific achievements,
black activists implemented public campaigns
that emphasized their exclusion from this progress.
Homegrown civil rights organizations
like the Central Area Civil Rights Committee
and local leaders like Edwin Pratt,
director of the Seattle Urban League,
led efforts to contest racially restrictive housing policies,
hiring discrimination and overcrowded public schools.
Their efforts led the city to pass stronger open housing laws,
implement educational integration policies,
and compelled employers to begin hiring black workers.
Despite some gains, racial inequality remained rampant.
The Central Area Committee for Peace and Improvement,
led by Les McIntosh, fought for increased community control
over neighborhood schools.
In 1968, the University
of Washington's black Student Union staged a sit in,
in the president's office, leading to a major increase
in black student enrollment at the university.
Tragically, backlash to black activism resulted
in the assassination of Edwin Pratt outside his home in 1969.
New black political leaders came to prominence
after the radicalism of the late 60s.
Social worker Peggy Joan Maxie became the first black woman
to serve in the state House of Representatives
and Norm Rice became the first African American mayor,
serving two terms from 1990 to 1998.
Even though black residents had more opportunities in housing,
employment and social mobility,
rising housing costs forced many black Seattleites
to move farther south.
Black Activists, then and now, have continued
to build upon the foundations of their predecessors
to build a more equitable city.
>> Seattle, a young, remote city, is hardly a hotbed
for arts and culture, such as places
like New York, London or Vienna.
But after almost 10 million visitors attended the second
World's Fair, the arts took off.
>> Nineteen-sixty-two was really the beginning of the flourishing
of the arts in Seattle.
Yes, we had a symphony since 1903, but in '62,
there was an exhibition hall at the World's Fair.
All of a sudden, what happened
in 1962 was we had a symphony orchestra.
>> It was led by legendary music director, Milton Katims,
in a civic auditorium he called the Opera House,
even though Seattle Opera didn't start until 1963.
Pacific Northwest Ballet would follow in 1972.
>> I can't imagine a life without music,
without visual arts, without dance.
And we wanted to give that to the people of Seattle.
>> Major companies in major cities aren't as important
as major cultural institutions are, or for that matter,
major educational institutions.
>> As the region evolved, the arts organizations flourished,
driven by community leaders and philanthropists.
The scope and scale was impressive, with unique
and innovative facilities created to host artists
from all over the world.
>> We became one of the great cultural centers in the country
with a great ballet, great opera,
great symphony hall, wonderful theater.
That's the story of how this city was meant to be.
>> Will tech savvy Seattle continue to support the arts?
Will it find new audiences?
Who will step up to lead arts and culture into the future?
>> Namu, the captive killer whale, was the toast of Seattle.
When Ted Griffin arrived in Elliott Bay with Namu in tow
in June 1965, he was given a key to the city, and thousands
of city residents turned out to greet him.
Griffin had desperately wanted a killer whale for his aquarium
on the Seattle waterfront.
When he heard a killer whale had accidentally been caught
in a fisherman's net in Namu Bay, British Columbia,
he headed north with a backpack full of cash to buy him.
Namu was the world's first captive performing killer whale,
and he sparked a craze for more performing orcas all
over the world.
Puget Sound and the Salish Sea were the primary source
of supply.
Seattle rooted for Griffin as he chased the whales by helicopter
and speedboat, using seal bombs to herd them into coves
and bays he would net off
to make his selection from the captives.
He preferentially targeted the young, the cheapest to ship
and easiest to train, sending them all over the world.
Lolita was the last Puget Sound killer whale still left
in captivity.
She died in a concrete tank in Miami's Seaquarium in 2023
after more than 50 years in captivity,
despite many efforts to save her.
Ironically, it was the capture era that opened people's eyes
to the true nature of killer whales, once thought
of as vermin and shot by fishermen.
Seeing their intelligence and gentleness
up close changed everything for the whale called killer,
now protected and even revered.
The capture of killer whales was outlawed
in Puget Sound for good in 1976.
But by then, the captures had taken a third of the pods.
Today, they remain at grave risk of extinction.
>> Washington spent most of the 20th century
as a political battleground, sometimes red,
sometimes blue, often purple.
It unseated Democratic Governor Al Rosellini in favor
of Republican Dan Evans in 1964.
Ronald Reagan captured the state's electoral votes in 1980
and '84, the last Republican to carry the state.
There's not been a GOP governor in over 40 years.
The changing political complexion has coincided
with changes in how the state lives and works.
Some of it is just math.
Washington state has over 8 million people,
with nearly 5 million residing in the central Puget Sound core.
Over 70% of the state's economic activity comes from this area.
Money plus people equals power at the ballot box.
Gone are the days when Boeing workers
and loggers ruled the voting booth.
Washington is now a high-tech center, home to Microsoft,
Amazon, and Starbucks.
Its younger workforce leans left, very left.
Less than 30% of King County voters voted
for President Trump.
In 2025, Seattle elected a Democratic socialist mayor.
Think of it this way.
Before 1970, the officially nonpartisan Seattle City Council
was overwhelmingly Republican.
Since that time, the population has grown by 2.3 million people.
The Seattle area is younger by almost five years,
way more educated, wealthier, and more diverse
than the United States average, all contributing
to political leanings.
Except for Evans governorship
and the 1994 Republican Revolution in Congress,
the D's dominance has left moderate,
mainstream Republicans,
long part of the state's political ecosystem,
as endangered as the spotted owl.
Some Republicans in eastern Washington are so distraught,
they want to secede from the state and join Idaho.
Seattle hasn't had a Republican mayor in 56 years.
Both U.S. senators Maria Cantwell
and Patty Murray have been in office for at least 25 years.
And before that, Democratic Senators Magnuson
and Jackson held their seats for 36 and 30 years, respectively.
Another 1.8 million people, mostly young and ambitious,
are expected in the Seattle area by 2050.
Will the state become a political battleground again?
Will long streaks of Democratic dominance continue or be broken?
Is another big shift coming?
[ Music ]
>> Born in 1926, the Reverend Dr. Samuel Berry McKinney was
much more than a prominent Christian pastor
and a leading figure in the civil rights movement.
>> And when they get voting rights in Alabama,
they'll be further ahead than we are here.
>> He was also my father and my pastor.
My father's impact spanned more than seven decades
and extended beyond the pulpit of Mount Zion Baptist Church.
He championed human equality and participated in pivotal marches
such as Selma to Montgomery and the march on Washington.
I remember how the realities of his public life spilled
into our private life.
Our telephone lines were tapped.
I witnessed guns pointed at my father.
Even our church was bombed.
Once, I was held at gunpoint for nearly nine hours.
Despite the threats, a deep belief in my father's mission
and in God's wisdom instilled in me a sense of safety,
men like Andrew Young, Martin Luther King,
and my father were propelled
by a purpose larger than themselves.
For his congregation, he was a shepherd
to the world, a civil rights giant.
To me, he was the father who let me stand
on his shoes to learn the waltz.
Seattle honored him by renaming a portion
of 19th Avenue near Mount Zion Baptist Church
as Reverend Dr. S. McKinney Avenue.
My father passed away in 2018 at the age of 91.
A mountain of a man who worked to make Seattle a place
of greater justice, dignity, and opportunity.
So, what's next?
Doing the work, living with purpose, telling the story,
passing the lessons along.
>> Look at a map of the United States.
From New York to Seattle, it's almost 3,000 miles.
And from Washington, D.C. to Seattle, about the same.
Seattle's way up here in the corner.
Distant from the cultural
and political centers of American life.
Far from the influences of tradition and convention,
the northwest has long attracted free thinkers and dissenters,
people who want to leave behind the shackles of normalcy
and pursue unbounded lives.
Some came as early as 1880 and set up colonies
in experimental living in Port Angeles, near Bellingham,
and elsewhere in western Washington.
Many of these colonies were founded on socialist principles.
Political thought drove much of the region's radicalism,
but social and cultural forces were at work as well.
The free love movement flourished.
Its guiding principle was tolerance for every way of life.
Inevitably, though, it was economic circumstances
that fomented the most dissent.
As Seattle and environs industrialized,
unions grew in strength, and so did demand
for better wages and better hours.
The Industrial Workers of the World, a union otherwise known
as the Wobblies, successfully organized strikes and protests.
Sometimes violence ensued.
The Depression era saw a deepening
and strong strengthening of radical activism in Seattle.
In the late 1940s though, the Red Scare put radicals
under suspicion and scrutiny,
culminating in hearings undertaken
by State Representative Albert Canwell's fact-finding committee
on un-American activities.
Radicalism rose again, though.
In the 60s and the 70s, anti-war activists known
as the Seattle Seven were charged
with conspiracy to incite a riot.
Members of the United Indian People's Council occupied Fort
Lawton to assert indigenous claims to the land there.
And members of Seattle's Latino Latina community occupied a
deserted elementary school to create El Centro de la Raza,
the Center for People of All Races.
Seattle garnered international attention in 1999
when 40,000 protesters sought to shut
down a World Trade Organization convention.
Hundreds of anti-globalization activists were arrested
in what came to be known as the Battle of Seattle.
Unrest flared again in 2020
after the killing of George Floyd.
In June, a swath of Seattle's Capitol Hill was declared
autonomous by protesters.
And once again, dissent in Seattle made national news.
[ Music ]
>> Seattle stepped onto the international stage
after our second World's Fair
in a city changing race to invent the future.
Along the way, some
of our memorable local icons got exploded.
Characters and institutions got run over by new highways,
or they just got pushed away or faded into memories.
It was the early days of local television.
>> Hi there, boys and girls.
>> I'm a Puget Sound sailor on the old Windberg Four.
[ Music ]
>> Stores large and small.
We still smile warmly at some of our unique characters.
>> Hi, I'm Dick Balch.
How many more to go?
>> Here we go.
>> I saw Bill the Beer Man at every Seattle game I went to.
Yep, a live gorilla in a store in Tacoma.
Quirky landmarks and icons didn't escape either.
[ Music ]
The media landscape changed as well.
Some disappeared.
Some went online.
And who can forget a Seattle original?
Man, I'm much better looking now.
Time marches on and the tide waits for no one.
Something is surely lost.
Something is surely gained.
What we leave behind says a lot
about who we were and who we will be.
That is an ice cream dish those guys are running around with.
>> One more thing to say to you.
Smooth sailing and bye for now.
[ Music ]
>> Seattle has always been a boom and bust town
that has punched above its weight, with aspirations
to become a global economic force
and attain the coveted status of world class city.
In the 1960s and 70s, civic leaders promoted growth, tourism
and urban renewal, including a plan
to redevelop Pike Place Market into office
and apartment towers, hotels and parking garages.
Prominent journalist Emmett Watson, whose career spanned
over 50 years, penned biting commentaries
on Seattle's changing social landscape.
A supporter of the countercultural
and antiwar movements and the pool halls and cheap diners
of downtown, Watson became especially known
for his Lesser Seattle effort, skewering what he considered
to be self-serving business establishment proposals
to sanitize the city of its gritty qualities and remake it
into something more swanky and out of reach
of common working people.
For Watson, lesser was better.
Fast forward to the mid-2000s.
The city is experiencing its second tech boom
and quickly becoming an Amazon company town.
Like in previous boom periods, global attention
and capital flood in, bringing explosive growth
and growing pains.
The past is torn down to make way for the future.
As longtime landmarks, homes and gathering places are shuttered
or bulldozed for upscale development,
the grunge of a funky maritime blue-collar town seems virtually
overnight to morph into a code worshipping corporate
techtropolis of tomorrow.
The nation's fastest growing city sees skyrocketing rents,
a growing gulf between the haves and have nots,
and entire communities transformed.
Neighborhoods like the historically black Central
District, Scandinavian Ballard and queer
and artistic Capitol Hill experience swift
and severe gentrification as residents
and local businesses are displaced.
With echoes of Emmett, many fear
that Seattle's social fabric is being unraveled, losing its come
as you are character and sense of place.
Perhaps the spirit of Lesser Seattle
and Emmett Watson will continue to be invoked as long
as Seattle grapples with what kind of city it wants to be
and how much or how little we allow the past
to inform our future.
>> In the late 1960s to early 70s, the old historic buildings
of Pioneer Square were slated to be bulldozed
for condominiums and parking lots.
Most of these buildings dated from just
after the Great Seattle fire of 1889.
My father, Alan Black, was determined
to save these vintage buildings.
Along with architect Ralph Anderson
and gallery owner Richard White,
they envisioned a revitalized district
with historic low-rise buildings and open spaces
for both locals and tourists.
>> Around the same time, my father,
architect Victor Steinbrook,
led efforts to save the iconic Pike Place Market
from Seattle's powerful financial and political leaders
who wanted it demolished.
They envisioned a glitzy new development
of luxury high rise condominiums and upscale shops.
For over a century, the market has hosted generations
of family-owned stalls, many operated
by immigrants including Japanese and Italian farmers
and merchants who brought unique foods and crafts to the city.
My dad called it Seattle's heart and soul.
>> The 70s were a dicey time to borrow money and take risks
with prime interest rates at 18%.
One of the first buildings to ignite the revitalization
of Pioneer Square was the Grand Central on the Park.
Elliot Bay Books and art galleries
like Foster White opened their doors.
Many other buildings were restored,
and the Pioneer Square Historic District was created
to preserve the neighborhood.
>> But just how was the market saved?
Beginning in 1964, a scrappy group known as the Friends
of the Market was organized to campaign, agitate
and protest the developers
and their political allies at City Hall.
Grassroots volunteers spent eight years resisting.
It wasn't an easy fight, but in November 1971,
Seattle voters resoundingly approved Proposition 1,
which saved the Pike Place Market forever.
>> Both of our dads are remembered as preservationists.
>> They helped save both Pioneer Square
and the Pike Place Market.
Today they are historic --
>> And important places --
>> [In unison] -- for all of us to enjoy.
>> On [foreign name] a long time ago, my grandmother,
Topshablue Vi Hilbert [phonetic] was born on the Skagit River.
She devoted her life to Lushootseed,
the indigenous language of this land.
Her family lived
in the traditional ways of our Skagit people.
And unlike many other children, she was never punished
for speaking Lushootseed.
Her family often welcomed visiting scholars who wanted
to learn about our culture.
One linguist, Tom Hess, recognized how fluent she was
in both English and Lushootseed.
He showed her how to write the language and then handed
over his University of Washington class to her.
She continued teaching for 15 years.
She studied old recordings from the 1950s and consulted
with tribal elders to help keep the language alive.
My grandmother spoke at a variety of events
where she would always speak in Lushootseed.
She became a renowned storyteller
and received the National Heritage Fellowship award.
She created books and videos and later digital materials.
Though she passed away in 2008, we continue her work
through Lushootseed research and host an annual conference
at Seattle University in her honor.
[Foreign language spoken] We miss her dearly.
>> Seattle's long history as a home
for innovative thinking has reached really been a matter
of economic survival.
It kept us relevant.
Seattle has always attracted innovators,
people who didn't quite fit in and wanted
to do something new and different.
And isolation hadn't mattered to the first entrepreneurs drawn
by natural resources and ready markets in California.
The next economic wave built on our position on the Pacific Rim
as Seattle became the largest west coast port
and shipbuilding center.
But resources and shipping would plateau by midcentury,
and Seattle needed new economic drivers.
For many growing industries, distance was irrelevant.
Airplanes and software delivered themselves.
The region became a center for medical research, architecture,
engineering, and other brainy and creative fields
that can be done from anywhere.
Local key companies focused on quality and innovation.
Make the best stuff and your customers won't worry
about shipping costs.
Kenworth made the finest Class A trucks in the country.
Delta Marine built super yachts found around the world.
Medical ultrasound was pioneered at the University of Washington,
giving rise to a large medical device industry.
How cool is that?
Quality and innovation drove another mainstay
of Seattle's economy: retail and hospitality.
John Nordstrom invested his take from the Klondike gold rush
in a shoe store that became a national leader
in service-driven retailing.
Costco focused on high quality merchandise in bulk.
Starbucks saw the appeal of a great cup of coffee
and the magic of providing a convivial third place to enjoy
that coffee with friends.
Innovation extended to the public sector
with Seattle deploying the nation's first bicycle police
and medic one emergency services.
Seattle has sustained its success
because innovators stick around.
Bill Boeing didn't go to Long Beach.
Bill Gates, Paul Allen and Jeff Bezos didn't go
to Silicon Valley.
Seattle has built something quite remarkable.
An environment that attracts innovators with a stickiness
that keeps them here to reinvent over and over.
>> The 1974 Boldt decision changed everything
for local Native Americans.
Up until that time, the state
of Washington had generally treated salmon fishing
as if it was theirs and theirs alone,
casting local Native Americans aside.
But the Medicine Creek treaty of 1854, which seeded
over 2 million acres of land in South Puget Sound of the state,
gave tribal nations in western Washington the right
of taking fish at all usual
and occasionally accustomed grounds and stations.
However, when tribes exercised their treaty rights,
they were regularly arrested by state game wardens.
>> We fished every day.
We continued to fish.
We'd fought them every day.
We never gave up.
>> Back in the 1960s, the state of Washington said, "Indians,
you have to stay on your reservation and fish."
And for us here, we knew that in that treaty it gave us the right
to fish, hunt and gather in all of our usual
and accustomed grounds.
>> The fish wars took place in the 1960s and 70s
on the Nisqually River at Frank's Landing,
where there were fish ins, standoffs, warning shots,
arrests and ongoing threats as state authorities
and native fishermen faced off.
The tribes refused to back down.
The conflict headed to court
and eventually Judge George Hugo Boldt ruled
against Washington state's claims.
>> What Judge Boldt decided was 50% went to the tribes,
50% went to the state, which leading up to Boldt in --
in this case, it was a 98% to the state, 2% to the tribes.
>> The importance of the Boldt decision, one,
it recognized tribes as sovereign nations
and as governments, but it also, it made us co-managers
with the state of Washington.
And for us as Indian tribes, this river, the salmon, the air,
the water, everything
that mother earth gives us, that's who we are.
>> Determination was the key to their long fight.
Others like Willie's father, Billy, as well as Al Bridges,
Herman Johns, and Don and Jack McLeod,
demanded their treaty rights again and again.
So, did Janet McLeod, a descendant of Chief Seattle
and Puyallup activist Ramona Bennett.
In the face of repeated arrests and fines,
they refused to back off.
Billy Frank Jr. became the leader and public face.
>> He dealt with seeing the struggle
that our people went through.
And he'd always tell me, "Son,
as long as this river is still running and flowing,
we have a chance to bring balance back."
>> This helped get us on a better track
to honoring the treaty, protecting the resource
that is critical to all of us.
>> Billy Frank Jr. passed away in 2014.
His statue now graces the halls of Congress in Washington D.C.
where he represents the state of Washington,
a testament to his courage and determination.
>> The river free flows for a reason
since the beginning of time.
The creeks, the habitat, that's the beginning.
It's alive.
[ Music ]
>> In the late 1970s, Seattle was best known
for airplanes, timber, and rain.
That was about to change.
When Microsoft relocated from Albuquerque
to the Puget Sound region in 1979, it was still a small,
ambitious software company.
Returning to Seattle was a homecoming for the two founders.
Paul Allen had grown up in north Seattle's Wedgwood neighborhood,
the son of a librarian and a schoolteacher.
Bill Gates grew up in nearby Laurel Hearst.
They both attended the exclusive Lakeside School.
What attracted Bill and Paul wasn't just geography.
It was possibility.
Seattle offered access to technical talent,
proximity to major universities,
and a culture open to experimentation.
It would become the soil in which one
of the world's most influential companies would grow.
>> We had no idea exactly how fast the rocket
of home computers was going to take off
and how our software was going
to become an amazing part of that.
>> As Microsoft expanded through the 1980s and 1990s,
its impact on Seattle deepened.
The company's software, MS DOS, Windows
and Office became standard tools in homes, schools
and workplaces around the world.
Rapid growth followed.
Thousands of engineers, coders and researchers moved
to the region, transforming suburban communities
like Redmond and reshaping the local economy.
At a time when Seattle was vulnerable
to Boeing's economic downturns,
Microsoft provided stability and growth.
Economists began to describe a multiplier effect.
Each Microsoft job supported many more, across construction,
retail, education, and services.
The company didn't just create wealth.
It anchored an ecosystem.
>> From the beginning,
Microsoft's vision was expansive.
>> Well, a computer on every desk and in every home.
>> That vision aligned with Seattle's emerging identity
as a city of innovation.
As Microsoft matured,
it attracted other technology companies,
from startups to global giants.
Amazon, located in Seattle in 1994,
so it could access Microsoft talent.
Seattle turned into an international tech hub,
one defined not just by products, but by ideas.
Microsoft's influence also extended into civic life.
Through philanthropy, volunteerism, and partnerships
with schools and nonprofits, the company
and its employees invested heavily in the community.
Today, Seattle's global reputation as a center
for technology and innovation cannot be separated
from Microsoft's rise.
The company helped redefine the city economically,
culturally, and globally.
What began as a small software firm,
became a catalyst for transformation.
And in growing alongside Seattle,
Microsoft helped shape the whole region
into the future it now inhabits.
>> Seattle's rich cultural diversity is on display
in the Chinatown International District.
Generations of immigrants from China,
Japan and the Philippines helped build a vibrant community here
for more than a century.
But this multicultural expansion was not without controversy,
beginning with its name.
This neighborhood has always been called Chinatown.
>> There's more than Chinese living here.
>> For decades, community leaders fiercely disagreed
about how they to reflect the many ethnic enclaves
living here.
The city's urban growth plan finally settled the feud
in 1999, naming the neighborhood the Chinatown International
District, or the CID.
The region continued to grow in prominence
as the 1960's civil rights movement paved the way
for Asian American activism in Seattle.
Through the years, Asian Americans with roots in the CID,
won the right to represent their communities
and make a mark in history.
Another great source of pride, legendary actor Bruce Lee.
In the early 60s, he attended the University of Washington
and taught martial arts in the community.
That same decade also brought major controversy as growth
and construction ramped up.
The city built I5 through the middle of the neighborhood,
splitting it in half
and creating what is now known as Little Saigon.
The community was up in arms again in the 70s
after Seattle citizens voted
to build the new Kingdome right next to the CID.
>> That public attention really spurred the rebirth
of the neighborhood in the 70s.
And we see that even today, that each period,
there's a renaissance and then there's a lack of attention,
other downside, impacts.
And then community has to rise up again.
>> The community's troubles continue today.
Racism during the COVID pandemic led
to multiple attacks on Asian Americans.
>> Stereotypes began to emerge
about Chinese carrying this thing called Kung Flu.
And so, a lot of folks started avoiding neighborhood.
>> Little Saigon continues to battle the impact
of being cut off from the rest of the CID.
>> The concentration of, I think homelessness
and drug activity is more visibly seen in Little Saigon.
>> These public safety challenges led Seattle's CID
to be named as one
of the country's most endangered places in 2023.
But activists remain resilient.
>> For Little Saigon, even though we're dealing with a lot
of redevelopment challenges, I see those as also opportunities.
>> I have faith that there's a bright future ahead.
>> Will it be enough to save this historic community?
[ Music ]
>> As prosperity came to Seattle from the railroads,
the Klondike Gold Rush and World War II,
the developments provided a value more than money.
It brought time, time to enjoy this rare part of the globe
and time to enjoy each other.
For a long time, Seattle had minor league baseball teams,
the Indians and the Rainiers.
A minor league hockey team, the Totems,
warmed many winter nights.
But when the NBA opened its season in 1967
with an expansion franchise called the Super Sonics,
it could finally be said Seattle was a big-league city.
In 1968, voters authorized $40 million
to build a dome stadium called the Kingdome.
When it opened in '76, the stadium rocked
with the brand-new Seahawks.
Baseball finally took hold with the Mariners in 1977.
The Sonics moved in too, and under coach Lenny Wilkens,
won Seattle's first big-time pro championship in 1979.
>> Three, two, one.
And the Super Sonics win their first ever NBA championship.
>> For a few years, all the teams flourished
in the concrete shed.
At the University of Washington, the football team
under coach Don James in 1991 shared a national college
football championship.
In 2004, the WNBA Storm won the first of four championships led
by Hall of Fame point guard Sue Bird.
The Sounders won championships in 2016 and 2019.
And the Kraken arrived in 2021.
In 1995, the Mariners beat the legendary New York Yankees
in the playoffs.
Yankees owner George Steinbrenner blamed the raucous
indoor crowds for the defeat.
The Mariners leveraged superstar Ken Griffey Jr.'s popularity
to build Safeco Field, now known as T Mobile Park.
The Seahawks made their first Super Bowl appearance in 2006.
Supported by the rowdy fan base called the 12s, they returned
in 2013 to the big game with a legendary Legion of Boom.
The Denver Broncos stood no chance, losing 43 to 8.
On a frosty February morning, two days later,
more than 700,000 people poured into downtown streets
to celebrate the city's pinnacle sports achievement.
And in 2026, they did it again.
Build a better franchise.
Build a better stadium.
Yes, Seattle will come.
Perhaps no other city comes together
for its team so intensely.
If the Mariners ever get to a World Series,
50 years and counting.
>> My, oh, my.
>> Fort Lawton was a military installation in Seattle
that became surplus property in the late 1960s.
Senator Henry Jackson proposed a public park.
But when news broke that the land would be transferred
to the city without its original inhabitants, the Duwamish,
having the opportunity to reclaim it,
Seattle's Native community mobilized in protest.
Led by activists Bernie Whitebear and Bob Satiacum,
negotiations with the city initially failed, prompting them
to turn to direct action.
On March 8, 1970, Native activists took over Fort Lawton,
entering from multiple directions by climbing fences
and scaling the western bluff overlooking Puget Sound.
They raised a tepee and campsite inside the fort.
In front of a raucous crowd, Whitebear proclaimed --
>> We, the Native Americans, reclaim the land known
as Fort Lawton in the name of all American Indians
by the right of discovery.
>> Despite the presence of military police in riot gear,
Resurrection City lasted three weeks
and received strong support from local Native organizations,
particularly the American Indian Women's Service League.
Supporters provided food, supplies
and visibility for the cause.
On April 2, following arrests and mounting pressure,
the activists shifted tactics from occupation to negotiation.
These negotiations proved successful.
Joyce Reyes and Bernie Whitebear,
representing what became the United Indians
of All Tribes Foundation, persuaded the city
to recognize the importance of this land
for Seattle's native community.
Twenty acres were carved out of the 534-acre property and led
to the creation of the Daybreak Star Indian Cultural center,
which opened in 1977 in Discovery Park.
Still active today, Daybreak Star hosts annual events
like the Seafair Indian Days Powwow
and remains a lasting symbol
of Seattle's Native American activism.
The battle for Fort Lawton put Seattle on the national map
for Native political action.
>> My father, George Tsutakawa, was a Japanese American Nisei,
born in Seattle in 1910, the son of a businessman.
He's well remembered for his fountain sculptures,
which he felt embodied the natural cycle of water falling
as rain, rising as mist.
George attended school in Seattle until age 7,
when his family moved to Japan.
He spent ten years in Okayama, near the Inland Sea,
which he loved for swimming and fishing,
much like the Puget Sound waters he later enjoyed.
My father preferred drawing and art rather
than the family's import-export business.
So, at age 16, he was disowned and sent back to Seattle.
He studied art at Broadway High School and the University
of Washington while working and living
in his relative's produce stand
at Rainier Avenue and Jackson Street.
As he was an American citizen, he was drafted
into the U.S. army in World War II and taught Japanese language
in the military intelligence school.
He visited his sister's family, incarcerated at Tule Lake Camp
in California, and was introduced to Ayame Iwasa,
a noted student of Japanese traditional dance.
She came to Seattle in 1947 to marry my father.
It was an arranged marriage.
Dad taught at the UW School of Art for more than 35 years.
My parents had four children, Gerard, Deems, Marcus and me,
all of whom entered the arts, and they settled
in a large home overlooking Lake Washington.
Here he designed and built more
than 75 fountain sculptures found in the U.S.,
Canada and Japan, as well as creating oil
and sumi-e paintings of mountains, forests and the sea.
My father passed away in 1997, but his fascination with water,
rain and mist lives on forever in his art.
>> Talented people have always flocked to Seattle for jobs
in aerospace and technology, driven by new challenges
and the freedom to invent the future.
Some were misfits and rebels,
people who trusted their crazy ideas and wanted
to do things their way.
A creative explosion followed, but it didn't stop there.
In architecture, Callison and NBBJ reimagined how stadiums
and public spaces could better serve fans and citizens.
Paul Allen unleashed Frank Gehry
to boldly redefine what a museum looks like.
Dale Chihuly wowed the glassblowing world.
The city was full of what-ifs.
A tiny gaming company, Nintendo, created a character named Mario
and changed the world.
Others followed.
Art Wolfe built on a great Northwest photography tradition,
showing people nature as never before.
An inspired German named Trimpin integrated sculpture and music,
creating exhibits that delighted young and old.
In graphic design, Tim Girvin artfully created new calligraphy
and packaging concepts that wowed Hollywood and the world.
Gary Larson and Lynda Barry reinvented cartooning
with biting commentary on modern life.
In advertising, who could ever forget Roger Livingston's quirky
Alaska Airlines commercials?
>> I got a 9 a.m. flight.
>> No problem.
>> Good.
>> What airline?
>> Alaska.
>> Alaska?
>> Or the work of Terry Heckler, who created beer ads
that are still talked about and imitated to this day.
TV could use more of them.
Many others contributed to this creative explosion.
Tom Robbins, Mark Morris,
Octavia Butler feeding off the energy and freedom in the air.
People have always moved here
to explore not only the vast wilderness and waterways,
but their own passions and ideas.
What are you waiting for?
[ Music ]
>> The history of a city can shift suddenly or hang
on to a status quo, unable to find the leadership
or community consensus to shake it up.
Sometimes it takes an earthquake.
Like the shattering Nisqually quake in the winter of 2001
that damaged the Alaskan Way viaduct.
The destruction that day was the spark for dramatic change.
Seattle tore down that damaged viaduct and replaced it
with an underground tunnel carved
by a massive boring machine called Bertha
and created finally an extraordinary new waterfront.
A rebirth of our city's front porch.
The new overlook walk from Pike Place Market
to an expanded aquarium gives us one of the city's best views.
And it's free.
But as in much of urban history, there were also frustrations,
blunders and political campaign promises that failed.
Major misses on Seattle's calendar.
See the Commons.
That dream of a central park in South Lake Union.
Rejected twice by Seattle voters.
And before that, the chance
for a comprehensive rapid transit system, north and south,
out to Ballard and West Seattle and across to Bellevue.
All 75% funded with federal money was also turned down twice
in 1968, again in 1970.
Major defeats for Jim Ellis and other city leaders.
It would be another quarter century and hundreds
of gridlock commutes before local voters would finally say
yes to a rapid transit system in 2008.
This time with only 10% federal funding.
Waiting costs us.
The system now will take over 35 years to build
and cost over $100 billion.
But let's close with an upbeat note.
Where the Commons might have been, we find MOHI,
the Museum of History and Industry,
and a transformed South Lake Union neighborhood,
now the heart of Seattle's technology boom.
And though forward thrust flopped on rapid transit,
it gave us new parklands, a new Seattle Aquarium,
improvements at Sea-Tac Airport.
Evidence that taxes, properly handled, can fund investments
that build communities and a better civic future.
>> As Seattle grew into an urban metropolis, its relationship
with the surrounding environment evolved.
Early settlers exploited coal,
timber and salmon for huge profits.
An approach to nature very different
from the sustainable practices of the Coast Salish people.
Later in the 20th century, as the settlement became a city,
Seattleites' appreciation for the natural world began
to surpass the drive to misuse the bounty around them,
giving Seattle an unusual distinction as a city
where people moved to in order to become closer to nature.
The natural wonders of Mount Rainier in the North Cascades,
Puget Sound and its islands, the Olympics and innumerable rivers,
lakes and streams gave rise to growing communities
of outdoors people who developed a lifestyle around nature.
After its founding in 1906, the mountaineers grew rapidly.
In 1935, they co-opted their money
to purchase high quality outdoor gear directly from Europe.
And REI was born, joining local outfitters Eddie Bauer
and Filson in supplying the region's hikers, campers,
skiers, hunters and fishermen.
Other retailers followed.
K2 getting started on Vashon Island in 1961, JanSport in '67,
Outdoor Research in '81.
Since the islands, hills and forests were dotted
with summer camps, campgrounds and ski slopes,
state and national park systems and organizations
like the Washington Trails Association emerged to care
for the shared spaces.
In 1978, Outdoors for All began its work to expand accessibility
to anyone who wanted to connect with nature.
At the same time, local schools increasingly began
to require outdoor experiences in education
as part of the curriculum.
Nearby urban parks provided opportunities to get lost
in the woods, to swim, fish, or launch a canoe
without ever leaving the city.
The result?
A thriving metropolis in a vast forest nestled between water
and mountains, where people defined themselves not
by the work they did, but by the trails they walked.
>> September 1966.
The Seattle Times headline warned,
"Seattle Homosexual Problem Out of Hand."
The police chief reported crimes, gay bars surging
in Pioneer Square and an influx of homosexuals.
Mayor Dorm Braman responded.
>> A certain amount
of harassment might discourage the inflow
of these people to Seattle.
By whatever means, this we must accomplish.
>> For decades, Seattle's lesbians,
gays and transgenders had suffered two labels.
An 1893 state law called them criminals
for certain sexual behaviors deemed against nature.
And a city ordinance banned anyone appearing
in the dress of the other sex.
Psychiatry turned them mentally ill.
Even being suspected could risk a job or a family.
True, a vibrant bar life had developed
by 1966, but it was hidden.
The Times article would help launch
that hidden community in an open movement.
It would target changes in government, medical practices,
schools, churches, the recognition of families, sports,
the arts, celebrations of pride, even city geography
as different neighborhoods became safer LGBTQ spaces.
By the 1970s, lesbians would be creating bookstores
and food co-ops.
>> It was just such an exciting time for lesbian women.
>> One activist, Jan Denali, recalled.
Two gay men also launched Seattle Gay News in 1974.
The criminal and commitment laws fell.
Cal Anderson became the state's first openly gay legislator.
And the AIDS epidemic would produce even more organizing,
especially in people of color communities.
Others challenged marriage laws.
It would take 16 years, but in 1994,
Seattle's Domestic Partnership ordinance would finally offer
legal protection to LGBTQ couples.
>> Congratulations.
>> Thank you so much.
>> The state followed with same sex marriage recognition
in 20112.
National figures emerged in sports and the arts.
Resistance always remained.
The 1978 initiative overturned Seattle's civil
rights protections.
There was a Vatican punishment for Seattle archbishop
who welcomed LGBTQ Catholics and a referendum
to cancel the new marriage law.
And in perhaps its most ironic rebuke to Mayor Braman's order
to discriminate, in 2014,
Seattle would elect its first openly gay mayor,
followed by its first openly lesbian mayor.
The LGBTQ movement had changed Seattle forever.
>> The great Northwest has always been a hotbed
of musical talent and innovation.
Jazz, folk, rock, hip hop.
Maybe it's the rainy days and the long winter nights,
but as the saying goes, when words fail, music speaks.
So, it's no surprise that out of nowhere in 1959,
a new local company, Dalton Records, emerged
and quickly scored huge radio hits
by several local teenage groups.
The Fleetwoods, the Frantics, the Blue Notes and Adventures.
Then in 1960, the Wailers recorded "Louie Louie,"
which became the Northwest's signature rock and roll song.
And to this day, fans still have fun debating the mysterious
muffled lyrics.
Now, Northwest rock was really on a roll.
And more hits followed by the Kingsmen, the Sonics,
Merrilee Rush and the Turnabouts.
And Paul Revere and the Raiders.
Not to mention the 1960s iconic rock guitarist,
Seattle's own Jimi Hendrix,
one of the greatest guitar players of all times.
Along with me.
The 1970s and 80s brought exciting changes.
New professional recording studios, new record companies,
and lots of big hit songs by Seattle rockers.
Heart, I know those guys, and Queensryche,
the folk singer Danny O'Keefe,
and Tacoma's blues band, Robert Cray.
Successful new record companies also arose.
Nastymix Records broke through with hip hop hits
by Sir Mix a Lot, while Sub Pop Records sparked the grunge rock
era with key records by Nirvana and Soundgarden.
Also gaining fame were Seattle's Pearl Jam and Alice in Chains.
The Crocodile Cafe in Belltown became the center
of the music universe.
More recent times have seen a steady stream
of Northwest talents finding widespread success,
including Macklemore, Modest Mouse, Death Cab for Cutie.
The Fleet Foxes, Brandi Carlile, and others.
While every regional music scene experiences the usual ups
and downs and the Pacific Northwest has seen them both
over time, the teenage spirit of rock and roll itself never dies.
[ Music ]
>> Some cities grow up, others grow out.
In the 1960s and 70s, the Seattle region chose out.
It spread out like a latte spilled across a table.
New freeways sliced through forests and farmland.
I5 connected Seattle, Tacoma and Everett,
405 cut through Bellevue.
A second floating bridge jumped across Lake Washington.
Now, people could live far from work.
Suburbs popped up everywhere.
Shopping malls covered old farms.
Housing developments and schools paved over forests.
You needed a car to get around.
Many neighborhoods blocked black families
and minorities from buying homes.
Only white people could buy.
The region wasn't just divided by distance;
it was divided by race.
That kind of discrimination is illegal now,
but the effects remain.
For those who could buy, this was the American dream.
Cheap houses, a commute by car, and steady work.
Over the decades, all those cars created massive traffic jams.
And as the region kept spreading, people watched farms
and forests disappear.
Paradise was being paved over.
In 1990, leaders implemented the Growth Management Act.
They drew a line around the metro region.
Inside the line, cities from Bremerton
to Sammamish, Marysville to Tacoma.
New homes and businesses had to go there.
Outside, farms, forests and parks,
mostly off limits to developers.
Protecting those forests came with a catch.
As more people moved here, the region had
to build up instead of out.
That meant taller buildings squeezed inside the boundary.
It didn't go as planned.
Many people liked their neighborhoods the way they were,
and they passed rules that made it harder
to build new homes quickly.
So, for many years, developers built fewer homes.
Demand exceeded supply, prices skyrocketed,
and housing got wildly expensive.
Recently, leaders tried something different.
They made it easier to build small apartment buildings,
townhomes, and backyard cottages.
And then there's Sound Transit's light rail.
Put housing near train stations,
and people can get around without cars.
So, where do we go from here?
Do we change land use laws so more housing gets built?
Protect neighborhoods, protect nature, make room for everyone?
There's no easy answer in a region surrounded by mountains,
rivers, and big bodies of water.
How this region looks in the future depends
on what today's young people decide matters most.
>> Seattle's first gold rush started in 1899,
when a ship full of gold arrived from the Klondike.
Everything changed overnight.
The second gold rush started almost a hundred years later.
As is often the case, Amazon was founded in a garage in Bellevue.
In less than 20 years, it became Seattle's best-known company,
beyond Boeing, Starbucks, Costco, and Microsoft.
Founder Jeff Bezos left his New York investment firm job in 1994
for the Internet gold rush in the Northwest,
hoping to snag some of Microsoft's tech talent.
>> Time is the most precious commodity
in the late 20th century.
>> There were seven employees in '95.
Over 200 by '97.
Online orders poured into their Seattle warehouse,
which soon shipped more than 10,000 books daily.
If they could sell books that way,
why not sell every everything from A to Z?
Amazon transformed the way people bought everything.
For some, their Kindles were as popular as books.
Amazon Prime offered same day delivery.
People talked to Alexa like it was a member of the family.
By 2021, Amazon was the state's largest employer.
A thousand dollars' worth of Amazon stock in 1997 turned
into roughly $2.25 million by 2025.
Over a thousand people a week started moving into the area.
Seattle's average home price nearly doubled
between 2007 and 2025.
Parking lots turned into high rises
and old warehousy South Lake Union became Amazon town.
Bezos became worth more than 250 billion by 2025.
It's a remarkable ongoing gold rush.
It changed Seattle and the world in many ways.
Some good, some bad.
Revolutions never go backward.
>> Techtown blues?
Seriously?
Seattle, city of relentless optimism,
is somehow singing the blues?
From an airplane window or a ferry crisscrossing Elliot Bay,
Seattle appears its usual showy self.
Behold, new buildings set against stunning scenery.
A town of gleam and glass.
A picture of prosperity.
Who can imagine a sad,
bluesy tune when strolling the new waterfront?
For more than a century, city leaders dreamed up new ways
to put Seattle on the map.
It was the ultimate, "Be careful what you wish for."
We got bigger, bolder and bruised.
During the 2010s, a thousand people a week moved in for jobs
at Amazon, Microsoft and other companies.
Startups spun off spectacularly.
By 2026, the city had jumped too far
out in front of its paddle board.
Layoffs by the thousands of companies
that once couldn't scoop
up talent fast enough, swept the region.
All those high-paid tech bros boosted businesses
and government coffers
and contributed mightily to income inequality.
Housing, rideshare, restaurant prices soared.
A generation of Seattleites doubted a future
in their expensive hometown.
Boxy new apartment buildings overwhelmed leafy neighborhoods.
Traffic gridlock marred livability.
From the pandemic onward, tents filled,
then spotted parks and sidewalks.
Businesses boarded up, rusted, busted RVs lined city streets.
Homelessness became third highest in the nation.
Crime rose significantly, before a recent dip.
Seattle has always had its ups and downs.
Tech is cyclical too.
One moment of reckoning came in 2018,
when Seattle's leaders tried to not only find someone to blame
for growth, homelessness and lack
of affordability, but someone to tax.
The city slapped new taxes on large businesses.
Amazon pointedly shipped thousands of jobs to Bellevue.
AI, an even more potent economic driver, forced a new mindset.
Big tech meet big reset.
Amazon and Microsoft collectively shed 45,000
positions worldwide in nine months.
Another Boeing bus?
Hardly. Like many places, Seattle has been better
at riding a boom than managing its drawbacks.
If the city now seeks relief from the gloom, relative gloom,
to be fair, inspiration arises from an ability
to learn from past mistakes.
A reboot is likely.
In a city close to nature, salmon serve as a metaphor.
Even with their own existential challenges, silvers, sockeye
and kings still course through Seattle's waterways.
Their example reflects our own powerful Northwest instincts
and pluck to maneuver around obstacles
and propel forward again.
>> If you love Seattle, you must love it on a winter day.
The dark at 4 o'clock, the low ceiling,
slate gray skies, the gloom.
Here is water, not as an artist would paint it
or a poet would celebrate it, but as we live it
in all its clammy essence during the shortest days of the year.
The city has endured many metaphorical winter days
over the last 175 years.
Fires, earthquakes, busts that followed booms,
people without homes, riots of discontent.
The turn off the light suggestion
to the last person leaving Seattle.
That famous last person sign was in 1971.
Since then, metro Seattle has gained more
than 2 million people.
In its first days with a name and a grid,
this place was a squat
of Midwestern exiles huddled on mud flats.
Skid Row, the original.
Now, we're a big, loud,
sprawling hub of 4 million people.
In hindsight, we probably shouldn't have built a freeway
through the heart of Seattle or lopped off all those hills
or constructed a giant concrete sports dome that we blew
up before it hosted a Super Bowl team or a World Series winner.
Or made it a crime for the largest city in the world named
for a Native American,
to ban those same people from living here.
For a time, we also got too big for our bridges,
including the floating ones.
We took in Amazon, now the largest private employer,
but never quite made it part of the family.
Not yet. To the city that gave the world REI, Boeing,
Nordstrom, Starbucks, Microsoft, the University of Washington,
Quincy Jones and Jimi Hendrix, it takes a little time
to win a permanent seat at the table.
The challenge through the length of this century,
as it was for the previous hundred years,
is to craft a city to match the setting.
No simple task.
The setting, of course, was the easy part.
Our inheritance from nature.
On one side, the Salish Sea.
On the other, the second largest natural lake
in the state of Washington.
All of it surrounded by mountains with year-round snow
and no small amount of envy.
Who could screw that up?
We did. Several times.
But we'd never been one to mope.
We shrugged and took in more people.
They keep arriving, these aspirational Seattleites,
for what is still to come.
We are a young city with a young person's attitude.
A place with more tomorrows than yesterdays.
A why not city.
A room to fail city.
A sketch a Space Needle on a cocktail napkin city.
A city with a motivating chip on its shoulder.
"Out there?"
they ask from somewhere far away.
"On the distant edge of the continent?"
No, here. The place we call home.
>> They say history is who we are
and why we are the way we are.
In this three-part history of Seattle,
we have explored the events, people and environments
that helped shape this region,
calling on a carefully curated team of historians, authors,
scholars and eyewitnesses
to write the stories in their own style.
We've covered over 14,000 years, from the Ice Age
through first contact up to the present,
in over 90 short historical documentaries.
It's been over 11 years in the making, a labor of love.
We've seen times of great progress,
stubborn challenges, mind boggling change.
So many great stories were left out because of time, budgets
and the limitations of broadcast TV.
History is made every day.
We hope you, the viewer, will continue with our quest
to unearth the stories we've missed
and tell the new ones in the future.
We are all storytellers, one way or another, and we challenge you
to keep our region's history alive with your own films,
scripts, recordings and stories.
It's been an honor to share these short films,
and we hope you will be inspired
to discover why we are the way we are.
History teaches us everything, including the future.
Will we learn from our mistakes?
We'll see.
>> "To Love a Place: For Seattle."
Begin with songbirds, salmon wrens and blossom
of the wild sweet rose.
Feed your love, let it grow.
Love the low, slung, clouds heavy with their precious cargo.
Love the face of the mountainside glowing
in the early evening light.
Love the monochrome shine of winter skies.
Love the seashore's dance of waves,
those eternal chorus lines with skirts of frothy lace.
Love the delicate fingers of rain tapping
out their lonely songs on foggy windowpanes.
Love rain as it finds its way into every shade
of blue and green and gray.
Love the cycles to which our lives
and habits of time are tied.
From morning mist, we learn to rise.
While the stream is proof that every raindrop finds its path
through the city and to the sea at last.
To love a place, become the place and let it love you back.
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>> Funding for, "Seattle:
A History in Short Stories" provided by.
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