Reporter’s Note: The San Francisco Bay Area and the Greater Seattle Metro Area have long been spiritually connected as homes to the tech industry. But the Reporter recently stumbled across an even older thread between the two regions.
The Bay Area typically sticks to names that are Spanish (San Francisco), Anglo (Berkeley), or just geographically descriptive (Oakland). So how the devil did a popular houseboat dock in the city of Sausalito come to bear the name “Issaquah,” the anglicized version of a Pacific Northwest Native American word?
The answer, as revealed by Sausalito historian Annie Sutter in the below excerpt from her upcoming book, comes down to a private ferryboat that left Lake Washington for greener pastures down south:
The Issaquah had quite a history behind her when she was retired from service on San Francisco Bay in 1948. The pretty little 114-foot ferry with twin smokestacks and pilot houses was said to be revolutionary for the times, being the first, and last, privately owned inland waterway, double-ended steam ferryboat. And she sported a maple dance floor. Affectionately known as “Squash,” she was built in Houghton, Washington and launched with great fanfare on Lake Washington in March 1914. With appropriate banners and festivities involving both the mayors of Seattle and Issaquah, as she went down the launching ways, her 9’ draft proved too deep for the lakeshore bottom, and, in front of dignitaries making speeches, Issaquah nose-dived into the mud and got stuck there until the next day. It was perhaps a premonition of things to come, eight decades later.
By May 1914, she was serving ports on Lake Washington, and in between scheduled runs, was used as a floating and cruising dance hall and party center. But in just a few years, competition from the state-owned ferry system put her out of business, and in 1918 Issaquah was purchased by the newly formed Rodeo/Vallejo Line of San Francisco Bay. She was retired from service in 1948 and laid up, “mothballed,” at Vallejo. There are differing accounts of how Issaquah was brought to Sausalito – it may have been one of the active salvors engaged in turning derelict vessels into money making scrap, or perhaps it was the artist Jean Varda, but it was Donlon Arques who ended up with the ferry and settled her into a slot at the side of Gate 6 Road in the heart of all the new activity burgeoning in what had become called “The Gates.”
After two decades of lying at the side of Gate 6 Road, Issaquah became a deteriorated victim of benign neglect and the inevitable decaying of an aging wooden structure. She sagged in the middle — “hogged” it’s called when the middle of a vessel sags — and she sank deeper and deeper into the mud, lower decks awash at high tide, yet was still inhabited by a hardy community of waterfront dwellers. At 114’, the vessel could house 10-12 persons comfortably on the upper deck in small bedrooms tucked away in cubbyholes, and considerably more in flop-house mode, which was often, as past tenants dropped by, and new arrivals settled in. The private accommodations were the two pilot houses on the top. The lower deck, open space where cars had once been carried, was awash at high tide and not used as living space except for one indomitable couple who rigged bunk beds along the bulkheads. It was reportedly very comfortable with amenities such as hot water and a shower, a gas range in the kitchen and luxurious décor with red velvet cushions, and a fireplace by made cutting through one of the smokestacks. However, it was also mentioned that the wind whistled through the planking, and the maple dance floor had curled up, and “the boat was gracefully sinking.”
Progress inevitably crept up to the old ferryboat as developers finally secured permits to build a houseboat marina. In 1977 construction began on a dock that would carry her name, which brought a new kind of waterfront dweller and a new kind of waterfront living; ordered, comfortable, with amenities, utilities, stable walkways, and sturdy gangways. As the dock grew, new vessels were towed into the new berths, some architect designed and custom built, some the same built-upon, haphazard structures that had been there before there was a dock. A new kind of community emerged as professional people, executives and retirees with money to spend got on board, one filled with neatly maintained, whimsical and colorful homes, with shapes ranging from short and boxy to tall and thin and elegant. The dock was lined with bright flower-box gardens and greenery, inhabited by artists and writers, cats and dogs, executives and working folks, seagulls and pigeons and people bonded by a desire to live on the water. Nearly everyone who lived there felt it was just like being on vacation every day.
This story is excerpted from a forthcoming book by Annie Sutter titled “The History of Issaquah Dock.”
