The straight skinny about the big white house

Wallyhood correction:  the address of the big white house on Wallingford Avenue is 3519, not 3522.   I know this well because I lived there for nearly ten years.  Also, the house was not sold in 2000, because its second floor occupant, Dr. Joseph Scardapane,  proudly owned it from a few years before I moved in in 1975 until he sold it last year, 2012.  He also purchased the small house to the south, because he did not want an “ugly modern apartment” to block his view of downtown.  And now, all is churned earth.

When Joe purchased the house, he turned it into a 4-plex.  His “advisor” was long-time Wallingford resident, Stephan, a gentle, Jack-of-all trades from originally from Iceland.  Stephan knew a team of Norwegian carpenters, and they instilled Joe with a love of frugal craft.  Later, Joe hired me for architectural work, and I butted heads with the Norwegians more than once about design details.

Some personal history regarding the house:  I lived in the 375 sq. ft. two room apartment on the northwest corner of the first floor.  I think it was unofficially called the “student” apartment.  I happily lived there as a graduate student, and later as a newly-wed, for nine years, until my late husband, Bill, and I upgraded to the “huge” (800 sq. ft.) apartment to the south. My petite apartment winked at a view of the Cascades and Space Needle.  The south apartment had a view of Everything.

Joe, a family doc, lived upstairs.  He would frequently invite me up for a gin and tonic, and I would be in awe of the panoramic vista from his home.  He was a very fair and generous landlord, only raising my small apartment rent once, from $95/month to $100. Pets were not allowed, but early on, he relented to allowing my illegally adopted kitten, Agatha.

When Bill and I moved to our own precious house, only seven blocks away, it was a bittersweet leaving.  John, a friend and fellow architect, had moved into the “student” apartment.  He had recently gone through divorce mediation Maryland and was looking for something temporary.  He continued to live there for 30 years, until he had to move last summer.   We enjoyed a farewell lunch before he moved to Florida, and he caught me up on the 3519 gossip.  Joe was returning to his native East coast for good.  Furthermore, he had sold the house plus the cottage next door to a developer:  be prepared for drastic change!