Interest revives West Seattle community center

Martha Mallett approached the stage, silver hair coifed, pink jacket hugging her waist. There was no hesitation in her step. She was 81 and wore her age with pride.

How many times had she stood in this spot at the Highland Park Improvement Club in West Seattle? The community center, among the city's oldest, had been like a second home to Mallett for more than 50 years.

To think that a year ago it was near collapse. And now, on a Sunday in mid-November, they were celebrating its 90th anniversary.

The comeback gave her a shiver. As the crowd waited for her to speak, Mallett, known as the poised and sharp club officer, the one who never had to search for words, faltered.

"Tears automatically come to my eyes," she said, finally. "I just can't help myself."

The Highland Park Improvement Club, on Southwest Holden Street, was once the nexus of community for residents. The name itself spoke to the overall mission: improving neighborhood life.

When the club formed in 1919, there were no sewers or sidewalks. People moving to the new area realized they needed to band together to lobby the city for services.

Socializing played a big role, too. The club was where you'd go for dinners, dances and card nights. Romance bloomed over Bingo games; weddings took place under the club's wood-frame roof.

Then, about five years ago, officers started to notice a disturbing trend: Membership was dwindling. After a peak of 160 people in the early 1990s, only 20 members were part of the club in 2004.

Quite simply, everyone was dying.

"It seemed like we were always going to someone's funeral," Mallett said.

Many longtimers, sensing the last act, were ready to put the club to rest. They sought counsel on how to donate the property. In early 2008, the president proposed dissolving the club and got support from other veteran members.

Then, the unexpected happened. Some of the newer — and younger — members got inspired to save it.

Secretary Julie Schickling, 54, and a Highland Park resident since 1992, sent out a neighborhood-wide e-mail.

"This is the beginning of the end," she wrote in her Feb. 18, 2008 message. "We need a significant core group of people ... (to keep) the club alive and take it in a new direction."

A spark ignited. Soon, Schickling said, people started coming to meetings and investing in the building. The dance floor was refinished and structural improvements made. Members held wine tastings, dance classes and yoga classes to attract newcomers.

Announcements went out to Highland Park's more than 6,000 residents, urging people to come and meet their neighbors, said Kay Kirkpatrick, treasurer. A New Year's Eve bash is now being billed as the place to be Dec. 31.

Another bonus: The building is walking distance for many, Kirkpatrick said. Highland Park is mostly residential and doesn't have a central core. Why not make it the club?

The efforts seem to be paying off. Membership, which costs $10 a year, is starting to rise, with 110 people now on the roster, Kirkpatrick said. Sixty percent are part of the "new generation," she added.

At the anniversary gala, accordion music played as more than 100 people sipped sparkling wine, chatted and laughed. Mothers arrived with sleeping babies on their chests; toddlers danced in all directions, pausing for a bite of food before hurrying off again.

The hall was decked out in candles, shiny tablecloths and crepe paper. Meeting minutes from the 1930s lined the walls, their details pointing to simpler times.

Carefully typed notes showed, for instance, a Mrs. Rossner reporting on the urgent matter of a stop light at West Marginal Place and Spokane Street. At another meeting, club members learned that one of the Saturday dances had netted a substantial profit of $95.

For Mallett, the club was where she and her husband, Bob, spent a good deal of their married years. He was president and played drums for the club's three-man band. Mallett became secretary in 1958, back when her two sons were in grade school.

She later served as president, vice president and took on the role of secretary again for 12 years because "no one else wanted to do it," she said.

After her husband died in 2006, she leaned on her friendships here even more. Letting the club die, too, seemed unthinkable.

On stage, looking into the sea of faces new and old, Mallett felt a surge of hope.

"It took many, many, many people to make this day happen," she said. "And this day is happening."

Sonia Krishnan: 206-515-5546 or skrishnan@seattletimes.com