By Georgie Bright Kunkel

A breath of fresh air is available right here in West Seattle at a venue that used to be called the Olympic Heights Club. This neighborhood club was rented for parties and celebrations. How well I know that because in 1960 I rented the hall for our extended family to celebrate my mother’s 80th birthday. My youngest child was not yet two years old and before I could pack up and head out to the hall that day I found myself involved in a serious diaper change.

Luckily our family is a big one and the rest of our family had already arrived at the hall—one managing the kitchen, another laying out place cards. On the wall and on the table nearby were crocheted doilies and lap robes as well as a handmade quilt, pillowslips embroidered with outline stitched flowers and edged with crochet, and handmade stuffed dolls dressed as Dutch boy and girl—all examples of my mother’s handiwork. In those days the big city daily newspaper covered the event and I cherish the
8 x 10 portrait that the photographer produced of my mother and seven of her eight living offspring which appeared with the article in the paper. You would have to rob a bank to get that publicity today.

Now here my friend and I were visiting this same hall that held so many memories. Tunes that were popular from the early 1930s through the 1940s stimulated the toe tapping audience who were even invited to clap and sing along. Believe it or not I had never experienced Pat Wright the gospel legend in a live performance. I was brought to near tears with her emotional rendition of Summertime from the opera Porgy and Bess. The lyrics hark back to the cultural expectations of daddy being rich and ma being good lookin’. I admit, things haven’t changed all that much.

Louis Magor, always the host with the most, has filled this vaudeville hall with many treasures including his friend’s huge cream tone Wurlitzer organ which he even played to accompany a lively silent movie. This organ even produced a drum roll to announce the drawing for free tickets. There are two grand pianos, and even the glass encased pink shoes of a performer friend whose memorial service was held right there at the hall with family members wearing pink shoes in his memory.

Here is a place to shed the smart phone in exchange for real live entertainment for the whole family. Toddlers were playing with their toys as the pianos were expertly played with arpeggios and an occasional glissando. Coffee, popcorn, soft drinks and even root beer floats harked back to the days of the corner drug store. At intermission one could line up for refreshments and go out into the fresh air to exchange pleasantries before returning for the second act of nostalgic songs bringing to mind Fred Astaire tapping on stage or even little Shirley Temple who, believe it or not, is now 84 years old.

Was I becoming addicted to this down home entertainment? Here I was back again for the final curtain of the season when a local church choir sang spirited numbers after their director had entranced the audience with great jazz singing and their former director sang his heart out leaving the audience in awe before the final act enlivened us with juggling magic.

I appreciated this retreat from the sometimes in your face language of Facebook and the conversation about men who are attracted by women’s breasts on Linked In. And with the exhilaration I have after such a hometown vaudeville experience I can dream of really being age 55 like that woman who sat next to me guessed that I was. Everyone in that hall, no matter what age, became young in spirit. And that is what it’s all about.

After the spring break Kenyon Hall will open again with more talent and tantalizing performances. Check it out at the Kenyon Hall website.

Georgie Bright Kunkel is a freelance writer who can be reached at gnkunkel@comcast.net or 206-935-8663