Words are copynpasted from The Seattle P.I., the pics are mine, as she lives only five minutes or so away. Go granny!!
Old Ballard's new hero digs in as retail project envelops her home
86-year-old woman refuses $1 million to sell
By KATHY MULADY
P-I REPORTER
Edith Macefield is stubborn. Man, is she stubborn.
That's what her mother told her when she was a little girl back in the 1920s. It's a characteristic that has followed her all her life. Now that unrelenting stubbornness has won the 86-year-old woman admirers throughout Ballard.
Macefield refused to sell her little old house where she has lived since 1966 to developers, forcing them to build an entire five-story project, which includes a grocery store, fitness club and parking garage, around her.
She was offered $1 million to leave. She turned it down flat.
"I don't want to move. I don't need the money. Money doesn't mean anything," she said last week.
So there she is. Standing at the front door of her 108-year-old house, tossing seeds out for the birds, just as she always has. But now, gravel and cement trucks rumble by, beeping loudly as they back up to deliver their loads. A massive concrete wall looms within feet of her kitchen window. Yellow construction cranes hover over her roof.
A chain-link fence wraps around the 1400 block of Northwest 46th Street. Once there was a scattering of neat homes with front yards and gardens occupied by millworkers and their families
Now the block is in the shadow of the Ballard Bridge, on the way to Office Max and Fred Meyer.
"When she digs her heels in, there is no changing her mind, she is set in her ways," said her friend, musician Charlie Peck, who has known her for more than 20 years.
Ballard residents, lamenting the loss of their blue-collar, Scandinavian-rooted neighborhood as it disappears beneath swanky condominiums, sprawling grocery stores and trendy restaurants, see Macefield as a symbol of the rough-and-tumble Old Ballard, and they cheer her on.
"People with money are going to push wherever they can to get what they can. It is nice to see somebody resisting," said Ben Anderson, who drives by the place on his way to work and first noticed Macefield's little house with the brown, faux-brick siding, a few months ago.
"There was just this lonely house surrounded by the construction pit," he said. "It was obvious in a visual sense that they were trying to force her out."
Scott Clark, the contact person for the developer, declined to comment.
Macefield's house is the last home on the block, but not the only survivor of the past.
Mike's Chili Parlor stands defiantly on the northwest corner of the block, just as it has for 80 years. Fourth-generation chili man Mike Semandiris respects Macefield's pit bull determination.
"We have been neighbors forever," he said. "My father knew her longer than me.
"Everyone asks me about her all the time," he said. "You see her house tucked into the project like that, it is pretty obvious what is going on."
Semandiris said they weren't contacted by the developer. He said his father, who still owns the business, has never been interested in selling.
However, he added: "Edith is more stubborn than us."
Macefield is still weak from a fall that broke three ribs last year. Most of her friends and family are gone. Her 17-year-old Lhasa apso, Mimi, died about six months ago.
"She wasn't a personable dog, but she was my lone companion," Macefield said sadly. "When my dog died, I bawled my eyes out."
For all of her tough talk and cranky attitude, Macefield is full of surprises, and a grudging softness.
She lived in Europe for years, traveled, speaks seven languages, loves opera, follows national politics and writes. She is chatty, and even succumbs to a hearty laugh now and then, despite herself.
She likes old movies, from the 1930s and 1940s. She adores Charles Boyer, Marlene Dietrich and Greta Garbo. Yes, Garbo, the one who wanted to be alone.
Her thick white hair is neatly combed. She wears an autumn-colored acrylic sweater she bought years ago.
Some of the construction workers at the site look out for her, particularly the project's senior superintendent, Barry Martin. He drives her to her doctor appointments and to get her hair done. He brings her a hamburger for lunch and hangs around at dinner time to make sure she doesn't burn herself on a kitchen stove that's older than most of the guys on his crew.
"It's like having your grandmother here," Martin said. "Once you get to know someone, you can't just walk by without saying hello."
She's small and has lost weight recently. Two gold wedding rings she wears dangle on her finger.
She doesn't say much about her husbands.
"Don't ask," she said firmly.
Macefield bought the house for her mother in 1955, and much of the furniture around the same time -- the couch, lamps and table.
According to the King County assessor, her patch of land is now worth $120,000. The two-story, two-bedroom house is worth about $8,000.
Inside, the place is clean and organized. Pictures of herself as a girl, posing with her mother and brother at Alki Beach, stand on bookcases. There are framed pictures of opera singer Enrico Caruso and composer Giacomo Puccini on one wall. A collection of glass animal figurines are lined up along every windowsill and sash. A bookcase is neatly stacked with old movies on video.
She has no regrets about refusing to sell her house. She said she doesn't mind the noise at the construction site. She turns the television up, or plays her opera so loud you can hear it outside.
"I went through World War II, the noise doesn't bother me," she said. "They'll get it done someday.
Macefield said she was born in Oregon, and raised in Seattle and New Orleans, by her mother and two doting godfathers who shared their talents with her. One was a writer, the other sang and danced, and taught her French.
"I spoke French before I spoke English," she said.
Some wonder at her stories, especially when she hints about her days as a spy and touring with the era's big band leaders. But most admit if she was as incorrigible at 20 as she is now, they could well be true.
"I'm her friend, I never question her," Peck said.
Macefield's trademark stubborn streak pushed her to join the service while still in high school. She told her mother she was going to college.
"I was young and gung-ho to fight for America," she said.
The young woman was already in England when officials found out she wasn't 18 and threw her out of the service, she said.
But in love, she remained in England. Her tenacious spirit kept her going as she raised 27 war orphans. It sustained her after her only biological child died of meningitis when he was 13. And when her husband, 30 years older than her, died at age 57.
She returned to the U.S. to care for her mother until she died. Macefield worked at the Washington Dental Services, when it had its office on Market Street in Ballard.
"I liked the old Ballard," Macefield said. "The new one -- you can have it."
Macefield's house is the last home on the block, but not the only survivor of the past.
Mike's Chili Parlor stands defiantly on the northwest corner of the block, just as it has for 80 years. Fourth-generation chili man Mike Semandiris respects Macefield's pit bull determination.
"We have been neighbors forever," he said. "My father knew her longer than me.
"Everyone asks me about her all the time," he said. "You see her house tucked into the project like that, it is pretty obvious what is going on."
Semandiris said they weren't contacted by the developer. He said his father, who still owns the business, has never been interested in selling.
However, he added: "Edith is more stubborn than us."
Macefield is still weak from a fall that broke three ribs last year. Most of her friends and family are gone. Her 17-year-old Lhasa apso, Mimi, died about six months ago.
"She wasn't a personable dog, but she was my lone companion," Macefield said sadly. "When my dog died, I bawled my eyes out."
For all of her tough talk and cranky attitude, Macefield is full of surprises, and a grudging softness.
She lived in Europe for years, traveled, speaks seven languages, loves opera, follows national politics and writes. She is chatty, and even succumbs to a hearty laugh now and then, despite herself.
She likes old movies, from the 1930s and 1940s. She adores Charles Boyer, Marlene Dietrich and Greta Garbo. Yes, Garbo, the one who wanted to be alone.
Her thick white hair is neatly combed. She wears an autumn-colored acrylic sweater she bought years ago.
Some of the construction workers at the site look out for her, particularly the project's senior superintendent, Barry Martin. He drives her to her doctor appointments and to get her hair done. He brings her a hamburger for lunch and hangs around at dinner time to make sure she doesn't burn herself on a kitchen stove that's older than most of the guys on his crew.
"It's like having your grandmother here," Martin said. "Once you get to know someone, you can't just walk by without saying hello."
She's small and has lost weight recently. Two gold wedding rings she wears dangle on her finger.
She doesn't say much about her husbands.
"Don't ask," she said firmly.
Macefield bought the house for her mother in 1955, and much of the furniture around the same time -- the couch, lamps and table.
According to the King County assessor, her patch of land is now worth $120,000. The two-story, two-bedroom house is worth about $8,000.
Inside, the place is clean and organized. Pictures of herself as a girl, posing with her mother and brother at Alki Beach, stand on bookcases. There are framed pictures of opera singer Enrico Caruso and composer Giacomo Puccini on one wall. A collection of glass animal figurines are lined up along every windowsill and sash. A bookcase is neatly stacked with old movies on video.
She has no regrets about refusing to sell her house. She said she doesn't mind the noise at the construction site. She turns the television up, or plays her opera so loud you can hear it outside.
"I went through World War II, the noise doesn't bother me," she said. "They'll get it done someday.
Macefield said she was born in Oregon, and raised in Seattle and New Orleans, by her mother and two doting godfathers who shared their talents with her. One was a writer, the other sang and danced, and taught her French.
"I spoke French before I spoke English," she said.
Some wonder at her stories, especially when she hints about her days as a spy and touring with the era's big band leaders. But most admit if she was as incorrigible at 20 as she is now, they could well be true.
"I'm her friend, I never question her," Peck said.
Macefield's trademark stubborn streak pushed her to join the service while still in high school. She told her mother she was going to college.
"I was young and gung-ho to fight for America," she said.
The young woman was already in England when officials found out she wasn't 18 and threw her out of the service, she said.
But in love, she remained in England. Her tenacious spirit kept her going as she raised 27 war orphans. It sustained her after her only biological child died of meningitis when he was 13. And when her husband, 30 years older than her, died at age 57.
She returned to the U.S. to care for her mother until she died. Macefield worked at the Washington Dental Services, when it had its office on Market Street in Ballard.
"I liked the old Ballard," Macefield said. "The new one -- you can have it."
posted by Cyemm at 11:54 AM
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