Madison Valley is harmony of differences
By TERESA TALERICO
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER REPORTER
Diversity gives Madison Valley a character as rich and irresistible as a Grand Marnier truffle from Fran's Chocolates.
To understand this harmony of differences, just look at the juxtaposition of schools, restaurants and neighbors.
There's Martin Luther King Jr. Elementary School, a beloved, struggling public school with a melting pot enrollment, leaky ceiling in the teacher's lounge and a feisty mentality (once in danger of closing, today the school boasts 287 kids). Right next door is the private Bush School, where suburban teenagers wear the latest fashions, landscaped courtyards seem feng-shui perfect and tuitions can climb up to $14,000 a year.
You can eat soup and salad for less than two bucks at Five Loaves, a vegan deli and bakery. Or spend $67 on Maine lobster and foie gras at the posh Rover's restaurant.
On 31st Avenue East, Charles McDade, a 55-year-old retired truck driver, shares the street with Mary Ryan and Tim Killian, a 30-ish couple (he, a marketing consultant; she, a musician) who recently bought a remodeled 1922 home.
Around the block, Ethiopian American merchant Shimeles Edeghilign runs the tiny Awash Grocery.
These contrasts give Madison Valley a flavor residents relish.
"It's a real mix of color, age, income and religion," says Euhania Butler, principal at Martin Luther King Jr. Elementary. "It's a really healthy mix."
Often overlooked as an intersection between better-known neighborhoods, Madison Valley is nestled between the funky, body-pierced Capitol Hill, the affluent lakeview homes of Madison Park and the more modest Central Area.
In the late 1800s, the valley, which was then heavily blanketed by woods, was settled largely by African American families, says Jerry Sussman, a retired history teacher and longtime resident.
They included William Grose, who in the 1880s bought property in the valley and went on to own a restaurant, hotel and barber shop. In the early half of the century, the Madison Street cable car ran from downtown to Lake Washington.
Rather than dip deep into the valley, the cable car went through the neighborhood on a high trestle.
Through the years, the valley grew into a humble enclave for working-class families who could afford the small wooden cottages and stoically tolerated the valley's flooding (which still leads to waterlogged basements and back yards that resemble miniature lakes). With little identity of its own, Madison Valley was generally lumped in with the Central Area or Madison Park.
In the 1970s and 1980s, the valley experienced a brief period of deterioration, but residents fought back. When drug dealers settled in the area and crime rose, neighbors rallied to boot them out in a highly successful block watch program.
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"I want to leave this house to my daughter," he says. "But I don't want to leave a mess here. So I decided to stay and work to make it a better place."
It seems to have worked. Over the past several years, young professional couples and families have discovered Madison Valley, a neighborhood that is, economically, still within their reach, though that is quickly changing.
"A lot of people want to move here because it's affordable," says Mitch Acevedo, owner of Home fx, a home furnishings boutique on Madison Street. "It's the only neighborhood between Capitol Hill and Madison Park that's still affordable."
Ryan and Killian, the young couple, agree. But for them, Madison Valley means more than affordability. They love the neighborhood's close-knit feel.
Killian, 32, grew up on the East Side. He appreciates the valley's ethnic diversity.
"Having grown up in Bellevue and Issaquah, it was kind of sterile," he says. "We love the family feel of (Madison Valley). The access to downtown Seattle is great from here. It feels very vibrant. It was nice to move into a place where children play in the streets and neighbors look out for each other."