Sound Effect

This week on Sound Effect, we pull up a stool and chat with some barflies. We meet up with Mike Lewis at the Streamline Tavern, and hear about how he physically moved the old bar to its current location. Then we talk to Clint Lanier about why no one seemed to notice the closing of what may be the oldest gay bar in America.

When the print edition of the Seattle Post Intelligencer came to an end in 2009, the reporters who worked for the paper scattered off to other careers. Some picked up other gigs covering news, others went into public relations. Veteran reporter Mike Lewis bought a bar.

Specifically, he bought his bar, a dive called The Streamline Tavern, where he and other reporters used to adjourn to after quitting time at the paper.

One of the realities about bars, like many other businesses, is that at some point, they will probably close their doors for good. This was the case in December of 2015, when a Pioneer Square bar called the Double Header called “last call” for the last time. This is significant, because the Double Header was one of the oldest, if not the oldest, gay bar in America.

An essay:  

I always joke that dark, divey bars are where I'm most at home because that's where I first learned how to talk to people. I mean, we learn speech at a young age, on the mats at preschool, or at home, mimicking our parents. But forming phonemes is different than talking to people.

The most intimidating bar to walk into in Greater Seattle may not be a seedy dive downtown. It might just be a juice bar in an obscure strip mall in Shoreline. What makes Alive Juice Bar so daunting is its owner, Andrew Ho, who’s just as likely to curse out and humiliate his customers as he is to soothe their ailments with foamy fruit & veggie concoctions.

Ho opened the shop eight years ago with his ex-fiance. In the beginning, it was tough.

All of Erica’s heroes liked to drink. Hunter S. Thompson, Molly Ivins … to be an edgy journalist, it seemed like alcohol was part of the job description.

For Erica C. Barnett, alcohol did soon become a thread weaving through her work for magazines and alternative weeklies.

Years ago, not long after Mike Lewis lost his father, he made a pilgrimage to his dad's favorite bar--a place called The Ranch in Modesto, CA. When he got there, he found something he didn't expect: a stool that had been roped off. 

Mike asked about it, and was told it was in honor of Jack Lewis, "a guy who hung out in here who was really well liked." When Mike identified himself as Jack Lewis' son, he heard an outpouring of stories about the kind of man his dad was, and about everything he gave to the people around him.

This week on Sound Effect, urban dwellers try to make it in the country, and a little bit of nature takes root in the city. 

If you live in Seattle, you don't have to travel too far to feel like you are in the country. Yes, there are large P-Patches dotted throughout the city and there are many parks that still feel a little wild, but there is also a 20-plus acre horse farm. It's called the Seattle Farm and it's tucked up against a green belt in South Seattle near Rainier Beach.

Have you ever known someone whose life revolves around their pet? This was the case for the Walker family and their two poodles, Sasha and Bazi. A few days before Christmas in 2017, they took the dogs on their family ski trip.

But when the dogs spotted a few deer and took off into the snowy woods, the holiday vacation turned into a frantic search. As the days passed, and temperatures dropped, hope faded that they would find the dogs alive. All they could do was hope for a sighting--or a phone call.

Rasheena Fountain and Tiffany Adams met at Antioch University in Seattle, where they were both working on their masters degrees.

Rasheena, who grew up on the west side of Chicago, and Tiffany, originally from downtown New York, quickly found they had a shared interest in nature.

Before long, they were helping each other: Tiffany encouraged Rasheena’s newfound love of birding, and Rasheena cheered Tiffany on in her studies.

Living in a city, there are signs everywhere to help organize, control and regulate our behavior.

But, if you’re in Seattle and you keep your eyes peeled, you might happen upon an official-looking directive on sheet metal that tells you something completely unexpected, such as "Caution: If I Could Love Anyone Again, It Would Be You."

Les Zaitz was a reporter for the Oregonian in the early 1980s, when he began covering a  group of people, known as the Sinyasins who were followers of the enigmatic Indian guru, Baghwan Shree Rajneesh.

They arrived in the Northwest with visions of creating a whole new city in the middle of the Oregon desert. They called themselves a religion. Many others have called them a cult.

The story Zaitz was covering soon transformed from a curiosity to an epic drama, complete with massive fraud, betrayal and plots to commit murder. Even Zaitz himself was told he was a marked man.

John Roderick was born in the Seattle area, but spent much of his youth living in Anchorage, Alaska.

“Growing up in Alaska, you’re an American, you know you're an American. But you’re also thousands of  miles away from America. So we fetishized America," said Roderick, who these days fronts the indie band, The Long Winters.

After high school, Roderick decided that the way to see America, and absorb the wisdom and freedom of the open road, was to stick out his thumb and hitchhike across the country.

This show originally aired on April 29, 2017.

This week on Sound Effect, stories of the people we once were. 

Getting In Touch With Your Old Self

Ken Workman is 64 years old, and only ten years ago he found out that he was a descendent of Chief Sealth. He is making up for lost time by immersing himself in the culture and learning the language of his ancestors.

An Exhibit Of Unintended Consequences

This story originally aired on April 29, 2017.

Ken Workman always knew that part of his family tree was rooted in the Duwamish Indian Tribe. But, being Native American when he was growing up in the 1960s in Seattle was a topic he was told not to share with anyone.

“It was very bad to be a Native American; very bad. It was so bad that Great Grandma

This story originally aired on April 29, 2017.

Sometimes our good intentions in the past can have unintended consequences generations later. That’s the idea behind a new exhibit at the Renton History Museum. It’s all about the Renton High School mascot: the Indians.

This story originally aired on April 29, 2017.

It’s not always easy to come face to face with your past. Sometimes nostalgia is painful.

Dick Rossetti knows this well. He was a DJ for Seattle’s big alternative rock radio station, 107.7 The End, in the late 1990s and early 2000s. He lucked into the job, which is normally a super competitive gig that people who are funny on the air take very seriously off mic. This was not Rossetti. This wasn’t something he dreamed about doing. He was a rock 'n' roll guy.

This story originally aired on April 29, 2017.  

Lane Czaplinski has been the artistic director at On The Boards, a Seattle-based contemporary performing arts organization since 2002. He has basically been working in the arts since he graduated college. But in his senior year of college, a series of unusual circumstances led to him climbing the ranks of one of the most historic and decorated college basketball programs in the country.

This story originally aired on April 29, 2017.

We are changing all of the time. We are shaped by new experiences, people we meet, the work that we do. You might start a career thinking you love what you do - and years later have a completely different opinion.

This is what happened to Father Antonio Illas. He is the pastor for Saint Matthew-San Mateo Episcopal Church in Auburn, Wash. But for more than two decades, Illas was an immigration agent for the U.S. Federal Government.

This story originally aired on April 29, 2017.

Seattle writer Michael Long was a terrible student in grade school. It wasn't that he couldn't do well; it was just that he had no interest in it. Instead of studying or paying attention in class, he would often be caught doodling or staring off into space.

This week on Sound Effect, stories of personal space. We start by sending out host Gabriel Spitzer to a room where he can take release some rage. Then we meet a man who recorded the first known gay country album, and learn how his father encouraged him. We meet a sexual assault victim who reclaimed her space in an unexpected way.

Sometimes, you just want to smash. 

Who hasn’t fantasized about taking out their frustrations with, say, a baseball bat or a sledge hammer? 

Of course, this sort of thing is frowned upon in polite society. But there are places around the country where you can pay money to release the beast within, with some degree of safety and without having to clean up the mess: “rage rooms.”  

Note: This story deals with sexual assault and may not be appropriate for some listeners and readers. 

Erica Dudrow lives in Bellingham, and she says she was never much of a party person. But in 2014 she was dating a guy who liked to hit the bars, and she did her best to keep up. 

One Friday evening they were getting ready to go out, having drinks and indulging in a bit of the rave drug, “Molly.” She hadn’t realized just how intoxicated she was until, on her way to the bar, she began to black out. 

In 1973, in the midst of the Stonewall era, a Seattle band called Lavender Country released an eponymous album. The album delivered radical politics with a country twang, and became known as the world's first openly gay country album.

In this interview, Patrick Haggerty tells Gabriel Spitzer  how the album lived, and died, and lived again. He also explains why the album might never have existed if it weren't for his father--a "hayseed" of a dairy farmer who gave his son permission to be exactly who he was.

Aside from being born, one of the most personal, private things we do alone is to die. Death can be quick. It can also creep along, getting closer as each day passes, as the hours tick by.

Most of us would never think of entering the room of a stranger who is actively dying, unless you’re there to care for that person, or they are a close friend or a family member.

But, this is what groups of singers do all over the country. They are called Threshold Singers.

Bethany Denton used to hike a lot as a kid. Growing up in northwestern Montana, it's just what people did. But as she got older, and as her body got bigger, she stopped feeling welcome in the outdoors. As a self-described fat girl, she noticed that her friends and family gradually stopped inviting her on hikes, and she felt that even short, easy hikes were out of her league.

Our 2018 spring fund drive is underway, and Sound Effect wouldn't exist without the generous support of listeners like you. To make a pledge, click here. For our pledge drive show, we decided to take a look back at some stories that stuck with us throughout the years.

This story originally aired on October 28, 2017.

To say that Seattle musician Lydia Ramsey was raised in a musical family would be kind of an understatement.

“Me and my brothers joke that, like, in order to sit down in our living room, you had to pick up an instrument because it was taking up the chair. And then you’d be like oh, well I’m holding this so I might as well play something on it,” said Ramsey.

This story originally aired on November 7, 2015. 

Dr. Sarah Ballard was one of the very first guests we ever had on Sound Effect. In Newness, Sound Effect's very first episode, Ballard told us about what it feels like to discover a new planet.

Ballard has not only discovered four new planets, she also discovered a new way to discover planets.