Aqua Theatre not soon to be forgotten

Becky Sokolow was passing by, as thousands do each day, the hulking gray grandstand tucked away along the southern shore of Green Lake when she was struck to say what she had long thought. She asked her walking mate, "I wonder how many people even know what that's about?"

How many people know that the concrete bleachers there represent a sliver of what used to accommodate 5,500 spectators? Did they know how the long stage created a crescent-shaped pond between it and the spectators? Did they know about the floating orchestra pit, or the Aqua Darlings, or that Led Zeppelin once opened for Three Dog Night there? Or that famous actors came to perform under the spotlight and moonlight? How about Bob Hope doing his monologue while in a boat being rowed by a former Seafair Queen?

Well, they will soon, now that Sokolow's grass-roots committee, Friends of the Aqua Theatre, received a $3,316 grant from the city last month. The money will help, along with donations and volunteer hours, to design and affix to the structure two 3-by-6-foot signs displaying photographs of its heyday.

The signs should be up at least by next summer, in time for Seafair's 60th anniversary. The Aqua Theatre will always be connected to Seattle's annual summertime festival because the city so wanted the Aqua Follies — a "swim musical" act — to be part of the 1950 Seafair that it took only a few days to secure city permits and only 75 days to construct the facility.

Now the committee needs to hear what others consider to be the images that most represent the flavor of the venue and times. So it has called a 7 p.m. July 9 meeting, in Room 2 of the Phinney Neighborhood Center at 6532 Phinney Ave. N. Sokolow hopes the turnout is as diverse as her committee of volunteers: some who have detailed memories of the theater and some who are appreciating its history for the first time.

Sokolow grew up in Seattle, where she still lives, and her father, Ralph Rosinbum, designed sets and directed and produced performances there during the 1950s and '60s. She even scored a small part in one of the plays.

She had ruminated for years about doing something to preserve a slice of the theater's history. One of her friends finally suggested she apply for a matching grant through the city's Department of Neighborhoods. Sokolow did after taking a leave from her art-teaching job with the Seattle School District and last month received notice the city was backing the project.

Seattle's Neighborhood Matching Fund, which began in 1988, has helped more than 3,500 projects get off the ground. Anne Takekawa, a project manager of the fund, says the goal is to strengthen neighborhoods by providing a cash award for projects that spur neighbors to work together.

Sokolow has combed collections at the University of Washington, the Museum of History & Industry and the Seattle Public Library. Her father also kept a trove of photographs, some autographed by stars who performed there, and clippings — including one showing Bert Parks, in town to headline a play on the stage, giving Hope a trophy for attracting the biggest Aqua Theatre audience to that date.

The Aqua Follies performed there for a couple of weeks each summer from 1950 to 1965, offering a slapstick medley of divers, dancers and synchronized swimmers doing vaudeville-style skits and aquatic feats.

According to Historylink.org, the venue reached its apex in 1962, thanks to the Seattle World's Fair draw of tourists from around the country. Performances included a three-day jazz festival, a weeklong Bob Hope gig, "Annie Get Your Gun" with Gisele MacKenzie, and "The Music Man" with Bert Parks.

The venue fell into disuse, however, after that as Seattle grew up. The last show belonged to The Grateful Dead in 1969, when city inspectors found defects in the structure and determined it was unsafe. Most of the stands were torn down in 1979.

What's left of the bleachers is used by runners gutting it up and down the steps, spectators at rowing events or walkers just enjoying the lake view.

Sokolow believes they should at least know what's missing.

Richard Seven: 206-464-2241 or rseven@seattletimes.com