UPDATE, Friday, July 24th: As reported, this is indeed the last weekend for Burke Shethar at Madrona Ale House. But there's a new owner, according to Shethar: Peter Johnson, and his wife Adrianna, who live in Madrona and own three other pubs around town: McGilvra's Bar & Pub in Madison Park, Finn McCool's in the University District, and The Chieftain on Capitol Hill.
The front line of gentrification, as in most revolutions, is often the most dangerous spot. After a while, the avant-garde is no longer the target of those who (for whatever reason) resist change, but becomes a tarnished has-been, and, like all has-beens, they have to go. Take the corner of 34th & E. Union, long occupied by a pharmacy, where Burke Shethar opened the Madrona Eatery & Ale House in 1995. He was on the leading edge of a transformation in Seattle neighborhoods, from clusters of tiny, service-oriented businesses (dry cleaner, convenience-store grocery, barber shop, gas pump) to broader commercial uses (cafes & diners, clinics, dress shops).
In the intervening years, the neighborhood ale house, well-lighted and family-friendly, found its place in the Seattle landscape. Here, kids could sit in front of a fireplace while dad ordered a fish & chips and a Manny's, and mom waited for a chicken-pesto flatbread and a glass of chardonnay. Shethar's Ale House prospered, as did the businesses around it.
A block away, the venerable High Spot continues to serve robust breakfasts. Across the street, celebrity chef Ethan Stowell has turned a difficult space (three owners in five years) into a mid-price steak house, Red Cow. A street-level winery, Wilridge, is surmounted by a wine-tasting bar that has just renewed its lease. A much-loved dinner house, St. Cloud's, prospers.
Quiet and tree-lined, Madrona is all abuzz this summer by news that the Ale House, essentially neighborhood's anchor for two decades, is being forced to close. The landlord, who lives in Hawaii, doesn't want to renew Shethar's lease.
Without getting too far into the he-said, she-said, this does not appear to be a case of a landlord holding out for a better deal, or wanting to redevelop the property. A not-for-attribution neighbor calls the building owner tone-deaf and out-of-touch; another suspects the landlord has fallen under the spell of a property manager whose primary interest is in writing a new lease (and pulling down a new commission). Veteran real estate agent Tom Graff of Ewing & Clark, who is not involved in this transaction, points out that retenanting a space is extremely expensive. In a case that drew a fair amount of attention on Queen Anne three years ago, a landlord broke four leases (putting 20 people out of work) in order to bring in new tenants at a cost of well over $100,000. If the new tenant is expected to lease the adjacent space (currently occupied by a hair salon) as well as Shether's 2,750 square feet, there would be very high costs to meet Seattle building codes.
Neighbor David Brewster has mounted a petition on Facebook to try to change the landlord's mind, but landlords are a strange breed. Brewster, who lives a block from the Ale House's front door, has a thing for community gathering places. Founding publisher of both Seattle Weekly and Crosscut.com, he was also the driving force behind the short-lived Mark Tobey Pub in the Alexis Hotel; the far more successful Town Hall; and the new Athenaeum: Folio Library project at the downtown YMCA. Brewster's open letter to the landlords states, "We are very concerned about the looming loss of this crucial neighborhood gathering place...The Madrona Pub has been anchoring the commercial neighborhood and the wider residential neighborhood for 20 years. It is that rare place where whole families can gather, where people can watch sports, get good food and good ales as in a European pub."
The first week of July went by without a response, from the landlord or the property manager. The likely conclusion is that Shethar's efforts to renew his lease will fail and that the pub will close by mid-month. Shethar has already scheduled an auction to sell off the fixtures at the end of the month (including the coolers and the valuable kitchen hood) and plans to vacate the property as of Aug 1.
A final observation. They're not universally popular, these neighborhood ale houses. Youngsters don't always see their fire pits and play areas as quiet zones, don't always play well together, or use their inside voices. The burgers are not always what you'd call "gourmet." Yet these unsung local favorites are often welcome alternatives to break-the-bank trendy dinner houses, no baby sitter required. Look what's surviving: Hilltop Ale House on Queen Anne; the Canterbury in Capitol Hill. Coopers in Lake City. The Traveler in Montlake (launched as the Montlake Ale House by none other than Burke Shethar). The next restaurant from celebrity chef John Howie is an ale house in Bothell, of all places. Perhaps the neighborhood ale house will someday be seen as a transitional institution, in the way that early motel chains displaced fleabag motor hotels, or the first craft breweries challenged Budweiser. A good thing, a cultural inevitability, but with a limited life span, not unlike the fern bars of decades past.
In the 20 years of the Madrona Ale House's existence, many of Seattle's sleazy dive bars and beer-soaked taverns, relics of the days when this was a blue-collar town, have been self-consciously transformed into tarted-up, retro-chic lounges. Shorty's, the Comet, Blue Moon. The fishermen's hangouts in Ballard, the saloons in Georgetown, g-gone, replaced by craft-cocktail watering holes. And now, perhaps, the tide has turned again.
"Remember when we used to walk to the ale house, before they tore it down? Now it's all condos and sushi."
Mid-July, still no call backs to Shethar from the landlord or her agent. He has scheduled going-away parties for the 24th and 25th, and an auction for July 28th. A contractor will show up on the 29th if the hood and coolers don't fetch their reserve price. Ever the good boss, Shethar has lined up jobs for his staff with a bar group in Ballard. "The reality is sinking in that this 20-year run is coming to an end," he says, recognizing that he now has to find a job for himself as well.
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