The Riviera of the Sound

A friend observed over coffee the other day that Ruston Way, with it's tourist attractions, recreation sites, upscale restaurants and the downtown-to-the zoo paved trail, is the Riviera of Tacoma.  Looking at the rest of Tacoma, he might have a point.  But it's not saying so much.

Ruston Way was named, probably, for its northern terminus, which used to be the town of Ruston.  Now the terminus is Point Defiance. Some might suggest it's time to rename the thoroughfare "Point Defiance Way."

The town of Ruston was named for Old Man Rust, who owned the smelter (didn't he?).  Rust is dead, and so is the smelter.  Anybody who knew Rust is dead, too.  So who'll complain if we rename Ruston Way?  Or for that matter, the town of Ruston?  Yeah, yeah, there's probably a couple of geezers who actually worked at the smelter, who aren't so arsenic-addled that they might bitch.  So how much taxes do they pay in Tacoma?  How many votes do they cast for Tacoma's City Council? 

If we don't call it Ruston Way, I don't know what we would call it.  Maybe one of those fancy-schmancy real-estate developer names, like Vista-view.  Hell, you idiots, vista already means view!  You just named your street Vista-Vista!

There's already a Waterview Road.  It's on the uphill side of the railroad tracks from Ruson Way, with great views of the Sound.  And the Sound of the railroad tracks.   Nice trade-off, real-estate-wise!

Legend has it there is a house off Waterview Road, or Street, or Drive, whichever, that was built entirely of contraband logs that had broken away from log rafts and piled up along Tacoma's shore.  (You haul a tractor down there early on a Saturday morning, haul the log up the street and under the tracks, then up Waterview.  Once home, you whip-saw the Weyerhaueser brand off the end for firewood, and notch the log for your dining-room wall.)

The house has a great, covered patio whose columns are old, concrete lamp posts discarded by the City of Tacoma and dumped along the shore, so the truck drivers could save themselves a run to the dump and have more time for an afternoon break at the Harbor Lights. 

At the other end of the patio, stone blocks hold back the hillside.  Clear water dribbles over them,  from natural springs that flow beneath the streets of the North End..  The sculpted stones came from old, burned-out buildings along Pacific Avenue and Broadway.

The springs fill an adjacent pond created with giant cedar logs, also hauled from the shore.  Lamp posts hold up a small, timbered bridge over the pond.

Last time I heard, a doctor lived there.  He was getting a bit addled in his retirement, but don't we all?

That's what I've been told.  As a former newspaperman, of course, I believe everything I've been told.  So should you.

So should the historic-society wonks.  If any place in Tacoma deserves to be on the Register of Historic Places, that one does.  It's got a rock or a slab of sidewalk or a lamp post from damn near every day of Tacoma's history.  At least until somebody made the city quit using Ruston Way for a dump.

And while they're at it, how about taking a look at that name, Commencement Bay?  That's a real geographical catch-phrase.  Chamber of Commerce, thanks a lot!