
From its inception, Washington Park was known for its large and stately homes. A good example of early homebuilding in the neighborhood is the Walker-Ames Mansion (808 36th Avenue E.), built in 1906, which has served as the home of University of Washington presidents since it was bequeathed to the UW in the early part of the last century. That’s the house pictured above, and here’s how it looks today:
This distinction made a lot of sense geographically, since Madison Park (the City park, that is) was to the east and Washington Park (the City park) was to the west. So how does it happen that today the neighborhood of Washington Park extends all the way to the shores of Lake Washington and perhaps (depending on where you draw the line) even touches Madison Park, the City park that gives our community its name? Isn’t that just a bit perverse?
As it happens, the redefinition of Washington Park is almost certainly an extreme case of neighborhood creep, which over the years was encouraged and abetted by home builders, homeowners, and real estate agents anxious to capture the cachet of a Washington Park address when selling residences located further and further from that neighborhood’s original starting point.
Let me explain neighborhood creep by pointing to what may well be a present-day example of the phenomenon: a successful attempt to market a new residential project, Madison Lofts, as being in Madison Park when the properties in question clearly sit outside of what has traditionally been considered our community. The Madison Lofts is that new brick condo building in Madison Valley located in the 2900 block on the north side of E. Madison Street. Even the City of Seattle (which, as we’ve noted, is somewhat confused about our southern border) recognizes that on the west side Madison Park begins at E. Lake Washington Boulevard. That, at least, is where they erected the “Madison Park/Washington Park Welcome You” sign.
Neighborhood creep is clearly a gradual process, and it probably only works successfully when there’s an affinity between the type of construction in the new area and that of the original neighborhood. In other words, as the area to the east of Washington Park became gentrified, it was perhaps logical and appropriate to consider it part of Washington Park. But the extension of Washington Park eastward probably wouldn’t have been successful if the area had continued to be dominated by bungalows, cottages, and beach houses, as the area “down the hill” from 39th Avenue E. was during much of the 20th Century.
When I moved to Madison Park I accepted the view of a friend who already lived here that to be south of Madison is to be in Washington Park. But I gradually became aware of the fact that not everyone subscribes to this notion. In researching this story I asked local realtors what they thought. Here’s the answer from one well-informed professional: “Washington Park begins at the Reed Estate. I can’t remember what street that is, but I can tell you one thing for sure—Washington Park Tower is not located in Washington Park.”
He’s right, assuming you accept the current view of real estate officialdom, which appears to be consistent with historical usage. The Northwest Multiple Listing Service (MLS) puts the area north of E. Garfield Street (the northern border of the Reed Estate) solidly in Madison Park. The Washington Park neighborhood begins south of Garfield. Just to confirm this position, I checked on the four residences currently listed for sale in the five blocks south of Madison that are supposedly not considered Washington Park. In each case (one of which is a condo unit in the Washington Park Tower) the MLS shows the neighborhood as “Madison Park” and not “Washington Park.” I also talked to a couple of longtime residents of these blocks who agreed that Washington Park starts somewhere to the south, one telling me ‘I grew up right here and didn’t think I lived in Washington Park then--and I certainly don’t think I live in it now.’
So there you have it: the Washington Park Tower (shown in the photo above) does not sit in the Washington Park neighborhood. Here’s how the dividing line looks on an aerial view, courtesy of Bing (click to enlarge):



At this point we’re almost done with our overview, but there are still two additional items left to claim our attention: 1) What about Canterbury? And 2) Where, if at all, does Denny-Blaine fit into the picture?

Nevertheless, Canterbury is clearly recognized by the Madison Park Community Council (MPCC) in its bylaws as a separate enclave on a par with Washington Park and Broadmoor, so why should we be any less generous in our evaluation? Canterbury is obviously a defined Madison Park neighborhood, another enclave.
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And Denny-Blaine?:
Like Canterbury, the MPCC recognizes the neighborhood as being within the Council’s area of representation. But there’s a difference. Yes, it’s true that the Denny-Blaine has no community council; and as we saw in part two of this series, it has been disowned by the Madrona community. Additionally, the City’s Department of Economic Development includes Denny-Blaine in the coverage area for the Madison Park Business District. So Denny-Blaine is part of Madison Park, right?
Not really. The residents there apparently don’t think of themselves as being in either Madison Park or Madrona. And according to current MPCC President Ken Myrabo, the reason Denny-Blaine was added to the MPCC coverage area is not because it is considered part of Madison Park but simply to give its residents representation by a community council. From that perspective, Denny-Blaine might at most be considered part of “Greater Madison Park,” but someone really ought to poll the residents there to see if they agree. The final verdict: Denny-Blaine is not Madison Park.
So that about does it. We’ve now explored the entire geography of Madison Park, and we’ve put to rest the misapprehensions anyone could possibly have on the subject of where Madison Park begins and ends. We now know what enclaves exist within the Park and what the boundaries are of each of these subunits. We’ve completed our definitive review and have emerged from our investigation--5,718 words later--weary but informed. Who could possibly now question our logical and reasoned conclusions?
Well lots of people, probably. Definitions, as we have seen, have been surprisingly dynamic throughout the course of Madison Park history. And, in fact, there’s no real authority on these matters. The City--as we’ve seen--is befuddled, the community councils disagree, and the Park’s residents have their own conflicting opinions. In my months of probing the definition of Madison Park I’ve talked to a lot of people, many of whom had strong opinions. But one well-known realtor was dismissive of the idea that there is any reason for confusion about neighborhood definitions. As she told me (and here I am paraphrasing), ‘It doesn’t make any difference what the City says, the community council says, or even what the homeowner says about what neighborhood their house is in. It’s the real estate professionals who decide these things!”
Well, that settles that!
[Historic photo of the Walker-Ames house courtesy of the University of Washington Libraries.]

Not really. The residents there apparently don’t think of themselves as being in either Madison Park or Madrona. And according to current MPCC President Ken Myrabo, the reason Denny-Blaine was added to the MPCC coverage area is not because it is considered part of Madison Park but simply to give its residents representation by a community council. From that perspective, Denny-Blaine might at most be considered part of “Greater Madison Park,” but someone really ought to poll the residents there to see if they agree. The final verdict: Denny-Blaine is not Madison Park.
So that about does it. We’ve now explored the entire geography of Madison Park, and we’ve put to rest the misapprehensions anyone could possibly have on the subject of where Madison Park begins and ends. We now know what enclaves exist within the Park and what the boundaries are of each of these subunits. We’ve completed our definitive review and have emerged from our investigation--5,718 words later--weary but informed. Who could possibly now question our logical and reasoned conclusions?
Well lots of people, probably. Definitions, as we have seen, have been surprisingly dynamic throughout the course of Madison Park history. And, in fact, there’s no real authority on these matters. The City--as we’ve seen--is befuddled, the community councils disagree, and the Park’s residents have their own conflicting opinions. In my months of probing the definition of Madison Park I’ve talked to a lot of people, many of whom had strong opinions. But one well-known realtor was dismissive of the idea that there is any reason for confusion about neighborhood definitions. As she told me (and here I am paraphrasing), ‘It doesn’t make any difference what the City says, the community council says, or even what the homeowner says about what neighborhood their house is in. It’s the real estate professionals who decide these things!”
Well, that settles that!
[Historic photo of the Walker-Ames house courtesy of the University of Washington Libraries.]
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