On Oct. 4, Seattleites celebrated the official opening of Overlook Walk, the first ever pedestrian connection between the Pike Place Market and the new Waterfront Park Promenade. The Overlook, with its 360-degree views of Elliott Bay, Mount Rainier, the Seattle skyline, and Olympic Mountains, is already a must-see.
At the ribbon cutting, Mayor Bruce Harrell hailed the Walk as an example of Seattle’s “shared vision and its innovative spirit.” However, on a somewhat more insightful note, Councilmember Joy Hollingsworth acknowledged that the walkway, built in the footprint of the failing Alaskan Way Viaduct, would never have been possible without commitment from a long list of city and civic leaders.
The city had suffered decades of controversy over replacement of the aging and crumbling waterfront viaduct. Seattle lucked out; it was not saddled with any of the bizarre schemes nor improbable solutions proposed for the waterfront.
The years of debate began decades ago — only shortly after completion of the 2.2-mile elevated Alaskan Way Viaduct along the city waterfront. The double-deck roadway, built in three phases from 1949-59, wasn’t 20 years old when Seattle Councilmember John Miller branded it an “eyesore” and called for its removal. Driven by concern over the roadway’s walling off the central business district from the waterfront and by its potential vulnerability to earthquakes, Miller found backing from his council colleague Bruce Chapman and from visionaries like Planning Commissioner Peter Best.
But it wasn’t until 2001 when the 6.8-magnitude Nisqually earthquake badly damaged the viaduct that serious discussion of replacement began. Talk soon focused a shallow six-lane tunnel, estimated to cost $3.4 billion. Seattle Mayor Greg Nickels, who took office in 2002, was looking to Congress to chip in $1 billion and asked for help from Sen. Patty Murray, who said such an ask “would be impossible.” Nickels next turned to the state which had boosted the gas tax to 9.5 cents a gallon.
As the viaduct developed more cracks with portions sinking as much as six inches in areas near Yesler Way, Gov. Christine Gregoire became more involved, calling for a public vote on alternatives. By then the city had split between advocates of a four-lane shallow tunnel and factions like the Peoples’ Waterfront Coalition that wanted to simply tear down the viaduct and replace it with greatly increased public transportation. That proposal, led by Cary Moon (later a candidate for mayor), was a stretch, given that 90,000 cars a day used the viaduct.
Still that was hardly the end to discussions over viaduct replacement. The vote Gov. Gregoire wanted showed 55 percent opposed to a rebuilt viaduct and 70 percent against a four-lane tunnel.
Then another plan surfaced. In September of 2006, State House Speaker Frank Chopp unveiled his long-concealed pet scheme during a meeting at Seattle City Hall. Chopp’s plan called for a rebuilt structure, higher and twice as wide. It would have had two floors of commercial space, two floor of enclosed highway, three highway lanes each direction, and a top-level park with views of Elliott Bay. His plan — jokingly dubbed “the Chopp-a-duct” — was wildly unpopular; but the speaker was highly powerful and as Cascade Public Media reported Chopp “was a man possessed.”
The Chopp plan reminded some of an even zanier design proposed back in 1976 by a Seattle architect. Klaus Otto Bodenmueller wanted to turn the entire viaduct into a building site. He envisioned an elevated neighborhood with space for a school, housing, retail businesses and an art museum.
The bewildering proliferation of ideas prompted Gov. Gregoire to appoint an expert review committee to sort through possibilities and recommend a solution. The experts favored a risky, expensive, deep-bore tunnel. Finally, Seattle, King County, and the state agreed that it was time to stop debating and move ahead.
That might have ended the controversy but in 2009, Mayor Greg Nickels, who had worked hard on replacement, lost his reelection bid. The new mayor, Mike McGinn, was a long-time tunnel opponent and the issue again went to the ballot. Voters apparently had experienced enough, and they rejected Referendum One, handing McGinn a solid defeat.
After 10 plus years, 700 community meetings, and three votes on viaduct replacement, it was time for a waterfront tunnel to be built. However it would not be a smooth nor glitch-free task. It would take Bertha, the world’s largest boring machine, 29 more months than originally estimated to bore the pathway to house a tunnel.
During Bertha’s accident-fraught journey, the viaduct replacement issue — somewhat incredibly — would again return to the voters. In 2016, Seattleites faced Initiative 123, an eleventh-hour attempt to disrupt years of planning and work. The rogue measure envisioned a park, inspired by New York City’s High Line, to be built on a 400-foot section of the old viaduct. The initiative created a PDA to manage the park and named seven members to a 12-member managing council. Among those specified was Kate Martin, who had conceived the idea. When I-123 reached the polls on Aug. 2, 2016, voters rejected Martin’s idea with 80 percent saying “no.”
The failed vote marked the end of decades of controversy and finally cleared the way to replace the viaduct. Today instead of a noisy elevated freeway, Seattle has an underground tunnel and now the spectacular Outlook Walk, an integral part of the city’s larger Waterfront Park development. The $70-million-dollar walkway, open daily from 7 am to 10 pm, is bordered with native plantings and features a children’s playground and places to sit and enjoy the view.
Still to come in 2025 are public art works, including a Coast Salish sculpture, as well as food and drink concessions. At the Outlook Walk’s dedication, Joy Shigaki, president of the nonprofit Friends of the Waterfront, heralded the walkway as “a million-dollar selfie spot.”
In her dedication remarks, Councilmember Hollingsworth had it right: the Outlook Walk didn’t happen overnight. Opening the city’s waterfront was a years-long effort and many individuals — far too numerous to name — kept us from falling for disastrous schemes. They deserve our thanks.
As a waterfront resident who has lived in a construction zone for the better part of the past twenty years, my neighbors and I fought hard against the LID that we still consider to be of questionable legality and certain unfairness. However, credit where credit is due. The vision and determination of people like Marshall Foster deserves and receives our respect for a finished product that is nothing short of magnificent.
Thanks, Jean. So much history that either I’d forgotten or that predates my 1990 arrival in Seattle and at the P-I.