$89k potty stirs flush of shame

Not long ago, during the final days of the Seattle Monorail, I rolled away a piece of Seattle history:

Former Monorail chief Joel Horn's "ball chair."

Really, that's what they called it. It's one of those inflatable silver balls set on a steel frame, with a little support cushion on the back.

Cost me $10. Cash.

I've never sat in the thing. In my mind, it was like sleeping in the Lincoln Bedroom after the Clintons moved out. Just didn't want to get that close to anything... untoward.

Now we have a shot at buying another piece of Seattle's fine fiscal past: one of five automated public toilets the city installed in 2004 to much gushing, flushing — and what now feels like fleecing.

They cost $1 million apiece and for what? Drug deals. Prostitution. Filth.

The toilets were purchased in the city's pursuit of world-class standing, a nod to the needs of homeless and tourists.

But it wasn't long before no one wanted to sit in them.

Those who did brought company, and more than once I've seen those fancy doors swoosh open to reveal a gaggle of ne'er-do-wells who clearly hadn't washed their hands.

Great for tourism.

In May, the city finally admitted the loos were losers. The toilets are scheduled to close Aug. 1.

On Wednesday, the toilets went up for sale on eBay, with a starting bid — set by the city — of $89,000.

"These things are a deal," said Andy Ryan, spokesman for Seattle Public Utilities. "Of course, you have to move it yourself."

No bids yet, but there's interest from as far away as Calgary, Ryan said.

And why wouldn't there be?

A recorded female voice welcomes you to the toilet and gives instructions in English and Spanish.

Two minutes later, the doors open. Magic.

You just have to ignore the scuffs, the graffiti.

The smell of defeat.

While other cities have been able to supplement their public-toilet maintenance by selling advertising on them, Seattle was prohibited, thanks to a local sign ordinance.

Nor did we charge people to use them, or pay people to monitor them.

"What stuck in people's craw here was the price of these things," Ryan said.

So we're back to a 100-year-old conversation: Where can people go downtown without the city going broke?

But before you answer: Wanna buy a toilet?

I don't have the money to get in on the action, although I did visit the Pioneer Square toilet once.

The door took a long time to close. I hovered, looked around like an escapee scaling a prison-yard fence, heard the flush, washed in a rush and got the hayride out of there.

But if I had 89 grand and a flatbed, I might buy one, set it beside my Joel Horn Ball Chair, and call it the Museum of Seattle's Fiscal Failures.

Send me your suggestions for other exhibits.

I promise not to sit on them.

Nicole Brodeur's column appears Tuesday and Friday. Reach her at 206-464-2334 or nbrodeur@seattletimes.com.

It ain't the Four Seasons.