Stuart Isett for The New York Times
.
A Holdout Against Developers Leaves a Legacy
Published: The New York Times by William Yardley
December 27, 2008
.
Before construction began on neighboring buildings, Edith Macefield refused developers’ offer of $1 million to sell her house, which was built in 1900. She died in June.
.
SEATTLE — People love to point out Edith Macefield’s tiny house in the old fishing village of Ballard and recount how she refused an offer of $1 million from developers who wanted to buy it. They had planned to level her home to make way for a boutique supermarket and a health club.
.
The project, in faux industrial concrete and steel, is more evidence of change in a city whose growth and economic success over the past two decades have put its modest neighborhoods like Ballard under perpetual renovation.
.
Ms. Macefield had little time for trendy food or fitness. Her interests were opera and Sinatra, Garbo on videotape or the classics in dusty hardback. She had history, too. If she let you in the door, she might recount her escape from a concentration camp while she was an undercover agent for the British during World War II. She might tell of her liaisons, long ago, with men of means and renown.
.
“She was just full of stories and stories and stories about her past,” said Charlie Peck, whose friendship with Ms. Macefield began more than 20 years ago, after she gave him a collection of recordings of Benny Goodman, Paul Whiteman and other bandleaders on old 78s.
.
Ms. Macefield’s refusal to sell her house made the news more than once. In a city knotted over its shifting identity, she seemed a familiar face, old Seattle, vulnerable but resistant to the march of gentrification and blandness. Yet it turns out that Ms. Macefield was writing a different story, and her little house, which still stirs tension, was not all she left behind. It turns out that Ms. Macefield was not so knowable, even to the few people she invited into her life. She was not such a succinct symbol after all.
.
“Everybody that’s come in and tried to talk about this has tried to create that image of her,” said Mike Semandiris, whose family has owned a chili parlor around the corner for more than 70 years. “But she didn’t give a damn about preserving old Ballard. The lady just wanted to live in her house.”
Ms. Macefield was 86 when she died in June of pancreatic cancer. Six months later, her 108-year-old bungalow is cloaked by what will soon become an LA Fitness club and a Trader Joe’s, set to open next year.
.
Inside, bed sheets are still on the living room sofa where Ms. Macefield slept when she could no longer climb the stairs. Ceramic cows ornament the top of every appliance. A few copies of “The Little House,” the children’s tale by Virginia Lee Burton of a country cabin swallowed by sprawling development, are in one corner. People she did not know would drop them off.
.
In a bookcase in a dark hallway there is another book, not well known like the others. In fact, it is unclear whether anyone other than its author has ever read “Where Yesterday Began.”
Ms. Macefield paid to have her novel published in 1994, under the pen name Domilini. It is set against the backdrop of post-World War I Europe.
.
An introductory page begins, “This story is for all those who have ever loved — truly, deeply, irrevocably — and in the thrust of disaster. For some, love simply dies — and one moves on. But for a few, love is as lasting as the ages — despite the impossibilities, the separation, the insured loneliness.”
.
The book is 1,138 pages long, not counting the musical references, from Scottish folk songs to a 1915 work by the English composer Albert W. Ketelbey, and a 16-page glossary of the French, German and Italian phrases sprinkled throughout. “I think it was kind of a love story,” said Mr. Peck, the longtime friend. “I never did read it.”
.
The book is dedicated to “B. Robert Aigner, M.D.,” with no explanation why. Reached by phone at his home in a Seattle suburb, Dr. Aigner, 80, said he remembered Ms. Macefield was a patient, but nothing more.
.
Dr. Aigner, a neurologist, was amazed and amused that Ms. Macefield would have dedicated her ambitious work to him. He had never heard of it.
“I have no idea what I was treating her for,” he said.
She wrote other manuscripts and short stories, and, of course, there are the tales she told the few visitors she invited inside her house.
Ms. Macefield constructed her stories while the city surrounding her rushed to construct itself, while the new condos rose even as the big seagoing fish processors still sounded their horns on their way to Alaska, while the coffee shops became espresso shops and the bars became clubs.
.
She lived on a street whose other houses had been torn down decades ago. Not only did she have no real neighbors, but she also had no known family. Born in Oregon, she told people she had moved to Seattle from Europe as an adult to care for her mother. Her mother died many years ago, apparently in the house that Ms. Macefield refused to sell.
.
For years Mr. Peck was the person closest to her. They both loved music. He was a divorced father without much money when he met her in the 1980s. Soon he was driving her to appointments, helping get her groceries. He bought her the word processor that still sits on a desk in her house. She became like a grandmother to his sons.
.
“She was a really curious person, but she was always fun,” Mr. Peck said.
By the early 1990s, he said, Ms. Macefield had made him the beneficiary of her estate through a living trust. Now that she is gone, he said he has hired a lawyer to determine his rights. Not that Ms. Macefield had much beyond well-positioned real estate. All Mr. Peck said he knew was that she worked decades ago making deliveries for the Washington Dental Service.
.
In the fall of 2006, as developers were pressing Ms. Macefield, Mr. Peck tried to convince her to sell. She was in the hospital after having fallen and broken some ribs, he recalled, and the sale would have paid Ms. Macefield about $1 million, as well as help her move to new housing.
.
“She just pulled out, right there, at the last minute,” said Mr. Peck, 63. “She didn’t trust them. It really hurt our relationship, too, because she thought I was in bed with these guys.” Mr. Peck has since moved to another part of the state.
.
In February, Ms. Macefield signed a new will that placed her estate in the control of a man she had known well for less than a year, Barry Martin, the senior superintendent of the construction project that was quickly surrounding her. The trailer from which Mr. Martin was overseeing the project was just a few dozen feet from Ms. Macefield’s house.
.
“At first, it was only 10 minutes of your time,” said Mr. Martin, 52, “but pretty soon she’s actually counting on you. And you can’t just walk away.”
He took her to the doctor. Then he took out her laundry. Then he dropped off lunch. Then one night he cooked her halibut and new potatoes and green beans. Then it was three meals a day and then he was changing the liner on her dentures. Then, last spring, Ms. Macefield was told she had cancer. She died at home.
.
Word got out later that Mr. Martin had gained control of Ms. Macefield’s estate. He had made no mention of this when reporters first interviewed him after her death.
.
Some people sniped on the local blogs. Others weighed in at Mike’s Chili Parlor, around the corner. They said Mr. Martin was an opportunist, either a tool of the developer or out for himself.
“I am going to benefit,” Mr. Martin said, standing in Ms. Macefield’s kitchen, his eyes welling more than once with tears. “And that’s the dilemma.”
.
What happened to him, Mr. Martin said, is what had happened to many people who Ms. Macefield let in her front door. He listened to her stories, and while he did not know if all of them were true, he liked that she told them, and he liked her.
.
“Barry’s probably closer to altruistic than opportunistic,” said Mr. Semandiris, of the chili parlor. “I think once he got to know her he was probably into it for the right reasons.”
Given the downturn in the market, nobody thinks the house will fetch anything close to $1 million anymore. Still, Mr. Martin said, he does plan to sell it, to make whatever he can to help pay for his daughters’ college education. He said Ms. Macefield would have wanted it that way.
.
He said he would have to muster the willpower to clean the place out, to gather up all those ceramic cows, to pack up the Puccini and Perry Como recordings. There also is the question of what to do with the stories that Ms. Macefield wrote.
He, too, has yet to read “Where Yesterday Began.”
.
Vocabulary:
Holdout: noun [C] a person, organization or country that continues to do something, despite other people trying to force them not to
to point out: phrasal verb [M]to tell someone about some information, often because you believe they are not aware of it or have forgotten it
tiny: adjective - extremely small
to level: verb [T] -ll- or US USUALLY -l- 1 to make a surface flat - 2 to completely destroy a building or area
to make way: same as to give way - to be replaced by something, especially because it is better, cheaper, easier, etc
faux: adjective [before noun]not real, but made to look or seem real; false
trendy: adjective INFORMAL modern and influenced by the most recent fashions or ideas
dusty: adjective - covered in dust
hardback: noun [C or U] (US ALSO hardcover) a book which has a stiff cover
undercover agent: adjective [before noun] working secretly using a false appearance in order to get information for the police or government
liaisons: noun - [C] MAINLY US someone who helps groups to work effectively with each other
renown: noun [U] FORMAL the state of being famous
78s: Antigos discos de 78 rotações –(Easier explained in Portuguese)
Knotted: verb [T] -tt- to fast by tying together the ends of a piece or pieces of string, rope, cloth, etc
Gentrification: noun [U] when an area is gentrified (people of high social class, especially in the past)
Blandness: noun [U] lacking a strong taste or character or lacking in interest or energy
turns out: (HAPPEN) phrasal verb to happen in a particular way or to have a particular result, especially an unexpected one
stirs: verb to stir – in this case used figuratively - verb [I] -rr- UK INFORMAL DISAPPROVING to cause trouble intentionally between other people, especially by telling false or secret information
knowable: adjective able to be known
succinct: adjective APPROVING said in a clear and short way; expressing what needs to be said without unnecessary words
chili parlor: A place specialized in Chili - Texans call it ‘A BOWL OF RED’. They think Chili Con Carne was invented in a jailhouse in San Antonio, Fort Worth, Corsicana or where ever (depends on who’s spinnin’ the yarn.)
didn’t give a damn: didn’t care for
pancreatic cancer: Cancer de pancreas (easier explained in Portuguese)
cloaked: noun [S or U] something which hides, covers or keeps something else secret
climb: verb [I] to go up, or to go towards the top of something
swallowed: Past tense of to swallow – verb [M] If something large swallows (up) another thing, it makes it disappear or stop existing separately by making it part of itself
sprawling: verb [I usually + adverb or preposition] DISAPPROVING (especially of a city) to cover a large area of land with buildings which have been added at different times so that it looks untidy
development: noun [C] UK an area of high numbers of people without jobs where the government encourages new industries to start so that more jobs will be created
is set against: phrasal verb to consider something in relation to another thing and compare their different qualities or effects (in this text it means that it is placed against….)
backdrop: noun - [S] the view behind something
loneliness: noun [U] the state of being lonely
sprinkled: Past tense of sprinkle - verb [T] to scatter a few bits or drops of something over a surface
throughout: preposition, adverb in every part, or during the whole period of time
amazed: adjective extremely surprised
amused: adjective showing that you think something is funny
seagoing: adjective [before noun] (of ships) built for use on journeys across the sea, not just for coastal and river journeys
fish processors: Plantas de processameno e industrialização de peixes e frutos do mar (easier explained in Portuguese)
torn down: phrasal verb [M] to intentionally destroy a building or other structure because it is not being used or it is not wanted any more
beneficiary: noun [C] a person or group who receives money, advantages, etc. as a result of something else (neste texto usado como herdeiro)
estate: noun [C] LEGAL everything that a person owns when they die
developers: noun [C] a person whose job involves buying and selling buildings and land, and arranging for new buildings to be built
overseeing: verb [T] overseeing, oversaw, overseen to watch or organize a job or an activity to make certain that it is being done correctly
halibut: noun [C] plural halibut or halibuts a big, flat sea fish which can be eaten (alabote negro)
dentures: plural noun false teeth fixed to a small piece of plastic or similar material, which fits inside the mouth of someone who does not have their own teeth
sniped: verb [I] to criticize someone unpleasantly
tool: noun - something that helps you to do a particular activity
welling: verb [I usually + adverb or preposition] (of liquid) to appear on the surface of something or come slowly out from somewhere
downturn: noun [C usually singular] a reduction in the amount or success of something, such as a country's economic activity
fetch: verb [T] to be sold for a particular amount of money
to muster: verb [I or T] to produce or encourage especially an emotion or support
willpower: noun [U] the ability to control your own thoughts and the way in which you behave; determination
to gather up: verb 1 [T] to collect or obtain several things, often from different places or people
Published: The New York Times by William Yardley
December 27, 2008
.
Before construction began on neighboring buildings, Edith Macefield refused developers’ offer of $1 million to sell her house, which was built in 1900. She died in June.
.
SEATTLE — People love to point out Edith Macefield’s tiny house in the old fishing village of Ballard and recount how she refused an offer of $1 million from developers who wanted to buy it. They had planned to level her home to make way for a boutique supermarket and a health club.
.
The project, in faux industrial concrete and steel, is more evidence of change in a city whose growth and economic success over the past two decades have put its modest neighborhoods like Ballard under perpetual renovation.
.
Ms. Macefield had little time for trendy food or fitness. Her interests were opera and Sinatra, Garbo on videotape or the classics in dusty hardback. She had history, too. If she let you in the door, she might recount her escape from a concentration camp while she was an undercover agent for the British during World War II. She might tell of her liaisons, long ago, with men of means and renown.
.
“She was just full of stories and stories and stories about her past,” said Charlie Peck, whose friendship with Ms. Macefield began more than 20 years ago, after she gave him a collection of recordings of Benny Goodman, Paul Whiteman and other bandleaders on old 78s.
.
Ms. Macefield’s refusal to sell her house made the news more than once. In a city knotted over its shifting identity, she seemed a familiar face, old Seattle, vulnerable but resistant to the march of gentrification and blandness. Yet it turns out that Ms. Macefield was writing a different story, and her little house, which still stirs tension, was not all she left behind. It turns out that Ms. Macefield was not so knowable, even to the few people she invited into her life. She was not such a succinct symbol after all.
.
“Everybody that’s come in and tried to talk about this has tried to create that image of her,” said Mike Semandiris, whose family has owned a chili parlor around the corner for more than 70 years. “But she didn’t give a damn about preserving old Ballard. The lady just wanted to live in her house.”
Ms. Macefield was 86 when she died in June of pancreatic cancer. Six months later, her 108-year-old bungalow is cloaked by what will soon become an LA Fitness club and a Trader Joe’s, set to open next year.
.
Inside, bed sheets are still on the living room sofa where Ms. Macefield slept when she could no longer climb the stairs. Ceramic cows ornament the top of every appliance. A few copies of “The Little House,” the children’s tale by Virginia Lee Burton of a country cabin swallowed by sprawling development, are in one corner. People she did not know would drop them off.
.
In a bookcase in a dark hallway there is another book, not well known like the others. In fact, it is unclear whether anyone other than its author has ever read “Where Yesterday Began.”
Ms. Macefield paid to have her novel published in 1994, under the pen name Domilini. It is set against the backdrop of post-World War I Europe.
.
An introductory page begins, “This story is for all those who have ever loved — truly, deeply, irrevocably — and in the thrust of disaster. For some, love simply dies — and one moves on. But for a few, love is as lasting as the ages — despite the impossibilities, the separation, the insured loneliness.”
.
The book is 1,138 pages long, not counting the musical references, from Scottish folk songs to a 1915 work by the English composer Albert W. Ketelbey, and a 16-page glossary of the French, German and Italian phrases sprinkled throughout. “I think it was kind of a love story,” said Mr. Peck, the longtime friend. “I never did read it.”
.
The book is dedicated to “B. Robert Aigner, M.D.,” with no explanation why. Reached by phone at his home in a Seattle suburb, Dr. Aigner, 80, said he remembered Ms. Macefield was a patient, but nothing more.
.
Dr. Aigner, a neurologist, was amazed and amused that Ms. Macefield would have dedicated her ambitious work to him. He had never heard of it.
“I have no idea what I was treating her for,” he said.
She wrote other manuscripts and short stories, and, of course, there are the tales she told the few visitors she invited inside her house.
Ms. Macefield constructed her stories while the city surrounding her rushed to construct itself, while the new condos rose even as the big seagoing fish processors still sounded their horns on their way to Alaska, while the coffee shops became espresso shops and the bars became clubs.
.
She lived on a street whose other houses had been torn down decades ago. Not only did she have no real neighbors, but she also had no known family. Born in Oregon, she told people she had moved to Seattle from Europe as an adult to care for her mother. Her mother died many years ago, apparently in the house that Ms. Macefield refused to sell.
.
For years Mr. Peck was the person closest to her. They both loved music. He was a divorced father without much money when he met her in the 1980s. Soon he was driving her to appointments, helping get her groceries. He bought her the word processor that still sits on a desk in her house. She became like a grandmother to his sons.
.
“She was a really curious person, but she was always fun,” Mr. Peck said.
By the early 1990s, he said, Ms. Macefield had made him the beneficiary of her estate through a living trust. Now that she is gone, he said he has hired a lawyer to determine his rights. Not that Ms. Macefield had much beyond well-positioned real estate. All Mr. Peck said he knew was that she worked decades ago making deliveries for the Washington Dental Service.
.
In the fall of 2006, as developers were pressing Ms. Macefield, Mr. Peck tried to convince her to sell. She was in the hospital after having fallen and broken some ribs, he recalled, and the sale would have paid Ms. Macefield about $1 million, as well as help her move to new housing.
.
“She just pulled out, right there, at the last minute,” said Mr. Peck, 63. “She didn’t trust them. It really hurt our relationship, too, because she thought I was in bed with these guys.” Mr. Peck has since moved to another part of the state.
.
In February, Ms. Macefield signed a new will that placed her estate in the control of a man she had known well for less than a year, Barry Martin, the senior superintendent of the construction project that was quickly surrounding her. The trailer from which Mr. Martin was overseeing the project was just a few dozen feet from Ms. Macefield’s house.
.
“At first, it was only 10 minutes of your time,” said Mr. Martin, 52, “but pretty soon she’s actually counting on you. And you can’t just walk away.”
He took her to the doctor. Then he took out her laundry. Then he dropped off lunch. Then one night he cooked her halibut and new potatoes and green beans. Then it was three meals a day and then he was changing the liner on her dentures. Then, last spring, Ms. Macefield was told she had cancer. She died at home.
.
Word got out later that Mr. Martin had gained control of Ms. Macefield’s estate. He had made no mention of this when reporters first interviewed him after her death.
.
Some people sniped on the local blogs. Others weighed in at Mike’s Chili Parlor, around the corner. They said Mr. Martin was an opportunist, either a tool of the developer or out for himself.
“I am going to benefit,” Mr. Martin said, standing in Ms. Macefield’s kitchen, his eyes welling more than once with tears. “And that’s the dilemma.”
.
What happened to him, Mr. Martin said, is what had happened to many people who Ms. Macefield let in her front door. He listened to her stories, and while he did not know if all of them were true, he liked that she told them, and he liked her.
.
“Barry’s probably closer to altruistic than opportunistic,” said Mr. Semandiris, of the chili parlor. “I think once he got to know her he was probably into it for the right reasons.”
Given the downturn in the market, nobody thinks the house will fetch anything close to $1 million anymore. Still, Mr. Martin said, he does plan to sell it, to make whatever he can to help pay for his daughters’ college education. He said Ms. Macefield would have wanted it that way.
.
He said he would have to muster the willpower to clean the place out, to gather up all those ceramic cows, to pack up the Puccini and Perry Como recordings. There also is the question of what to do with the stories that Ms. Macefield wrote.
He, too, has yet to read “Where Yesterday Began.”
.
Vocabulary:
Holdout: noun [C] a person, organization or country that continues to do something, despite other people trying to force them not to
to point out: phrasal verb [M]to tell someone about some information, often because you believe they are not aware of it or have forgotten it
tiny: adjective - extremely small
to level: verb [T] -ll- or US USUALLY -l- 1 to make a surface flat - 2 to completely destroy a building or area
to make way: same as to give way - to be replaced by something, especially because it is better, cheaper, easier, etc
faux: adjective [before noun]not real, but made to look or seem real; false
trendy: adjective INFORMAL modern and influenced by the most recent fashions or ideas
dusty: adjective - covered in dust
hardback: noun [C or U] (US ALSO hardcover) a book which has a stiff cover
undercover agent: adjective [before noun] working secretly using a false appearance in order to get information for the police or government
liaisons: noun - [C] MAINLY US someone who helps groups to work effectively with each other
renown: noun [U] FORMAL the state of being famous
78s: Antigos discos de 78 rotações –(Easier explained in Portuguese)
Knotted: verb [T] -tt- to fast by tying together the ends of a piece or pieces of string, rope, cloth, etc
Gentrification: noun [U] when an area is gentrified (people of high social class, especially in the past)
Blandness: noun [U] lacking a strong taste or character or lacking in interest or energy
turns out: (HAPPEN) phrasal verb to happen in a particular way or to have a particular result, especially an unexpected one
stirs: verb to stir – in this case used figuratively - verb [I] -rr- UK INFORMAL DISAPPROVING to cause trouble intentionally between other people, especially by telling false or secret information
knowable: adjective able to be known
succinct: adjective APPROVING said in a clear and short way; expressing what needs to be said without unnecessary words
chili parlor: A place specialized in Chili - Texans call it ‘A BOWL OF RED’. They think Chili Con Carne was invented in a jailhouse in San Antonio, Fort Worth, Corsicana or where ever (depends on who’s spinnin’ the yarn.)
didn’t give a damn: didn’t care for
pancreatic cancer: Cancer de pancreas (easier explained in Portuguese)
cloaked: noun [S or U] something which hides, covers or keeps something else secret
climb: verb [I] to go up, or to go towards the top of something
swallowed: Past tense of to swallow – verb [M] If something large swallows (up) another thing, it makes it disappear or stop existing separately by making it part of itself
sprawling: verb [I usually + adverb or preposition] DISAPPROVING (especially of a city) to cover a large area of land with buildings which have been added at different times so that it looks untidy
development: noun [C] UK an area of high numbers of people without jobs where the government encourages new industries to start so that more jobs will be created
is set against: phrasal verb to consider something in relation to another thing and compare their different qualities or effects (in this text it means that it is placed against….)
backdrop: noun - [S] the view behind something
loneliness: noun [U] the state of being lonely
sprinkled: Past tense of sprinkle - verb [T] to scatter a few bits or drops of something over a surface
throughout: preposition, adverb in every part, or during the whole period of time
amazed: adjective extremely surprised
amused: adjective showing that you think something is funny
seagoing: adjective [before noun] (of ships) built for use on journeys across the sea, not just for coastal and river journeys
fish processors: Plantas de processameno e industrialização de peixes e frutos do mar (easier explained in Portuguese)
torn down: phrasal verb [M] to intentionally destroy a building or other structure because it is not being used or it is not wanted any more
beneficiary: noun [C] a person or group who receives money, advantages, etc. as a result of something else (neste texto usado como herdeiro)
estate: noun [C] LEGAL everything that a person owns when they die
developers: noun [C] a person whose job involves buying and selling buildings and land, and arranging for new buildings to be built
overseeing: verb [T] overseeing, oversaw, overseen to watch or organize a job or an activity to make certain that it is being done correctly
halibut: noun [C] plural halibut or halibuts a big, flat sea fish which can be eaten (alabote negro)
dentures: plural noun false teeth fixed to a small piece of plastic or similar material, which fits inside the mouth of someone who does not have their own teeth
sniped: verb [I] to criticize someone unpleasantly
tool: noun - something that helps you to do a particular activity
welling: verb [I usually + adverb or preposition] (of liquid) to appear on the surface of something or come slowly out from somewhere
downturn: noun [C usually singular] a reduction in the amount or success of something, such as a country's economic activity
fetch: verb [T] to be sold for a particular amount of money
to muster: verb [I or T] to produce or encourage especially an emotion or support
willpower: noun [U] the ability to control your own thoughts and the way in which you behave; determination
to gather up: verb 1 [T] to collect or obtain several things, often from different places or people
Postagens
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário