Curt was 'the genuine thing'

By Emily Williamson

This series is a tribute to the West Seattleites, and the first one I would like to honor is Curt.

I never knew his last name. Curt from Leisure Books is how I knew him. I am sad he is gone. Aren't we all?

There is a soul to Seattle, a pioneer, cedar smelling, mossy, wild eyed, genuine essence. There may be chain stores and fast food, but that soul still peers out from such places as Schmitz Park, between the old records at Easy Street, on the few dirt driveways we still have left, the Homestead House.

Curt had that soul. He was the genuine thing.

What was so great about Curt? (The "was" still hurts.) He had the spark. He was charismatic, but most of all, he was a great storyteller. He was like the kid on the schoolyard that could pull a grey rock out of his pocket and make you think it was as valuable as a gold nugget. Not that he was deceptive; on the contrary, he valued the mundane and made it somehow more special.

I often saw Curt as he walked to and from his bookstore, Leisure Books, on California Avenue. Sometimes he would stop in the Trading Company while he waited for his wife. I liked it when he visited. We'd catch up on local news, he'd tell me how business was doing, about old books he'd found. There was a grandfatherly appeal to him. Sometimes he'd talk to me for an hour about such things as metal detecting. Metal detecting? Think about it, that could be considered a very boring subject. But not with Curt. By the time he was done telling me about his fascination with metal detecting, I was so enthralled that I went out and bought one for my mom. No joke.

And he was friendly. Who didn't love Curt? We all did. His knack was that he could relate to anybody, and everybody related to him. He was not pretentious, but something tells me he was brilliant. Maybe it was the gleam in his eyes, maybe because he seemed genuinely happy, or maybe it was because he was a living computer at Boeing before computers were fully in use.

If I were to pick an object I think best describes Curt, I would not pick anything fancy. I would not pick a book, as some may predict, nor would I pick a statue or a computer.

I would pick an old wooden bench in a public place. It would be carved and have worn spots, but it would be durable. Most of all it would be a place to rest, to meet, to enjoy friends and family, or simple sit and observe the beauty of nature.

It would be good.

I would have it situated so that it could look out over his family, which I know he dearly loved, and his friends, such as Don and Susan (I know there are many of you, I just don't know you...) and his customers.

I believe he cherished us just as much as we cherished him.

He was a good one, and I am sad to see him go.

We'll miss you, Curt.

Emily Williamson has lived in West Seattle for 10 years and she can be reached at fuzzycaterpillar@comcast.net