IN 1949, ARCHITECTS Naramore Bain and Brady began construction on offices for themselves at the northeast corner of Seventh Avenue and Marion Street. Their new two-story building filled the vacant lot that shows here, in part, in the foreground of the older scene. If I had returned to the precise prospect from which historical photographer Werner Lenggenhager recorded his view around 1947, I would have faced the interior wall of an office that was likely large enough to hold several drafting tables. Instead, I went to the alley between Seventh and Eighth and took the "now" scene about eight feet to the left of where the little boy stands in the older view.

That little boy is still younger than many of us, and he helps me make a point about nostalgia. The less ancient the historical photograph used here is, the more likely I am to receive responses (and corrections) from readers. Clearly, for identifying photographs like the thousands that Lenggenhager recorded around Seattle, there are many surviving "experts." And more often than not they are familiar not only with his subjects but also with the feelings that may hold tight to them like hosiery.

Swiss by birth, Lenggenhager arrived in Seattle in 1939, went to work for Boeing and soon started taking pictures. He never stopped. Several books, including two in collaboration with longtime Seattle Times reporter Lucile McDonald, resulted, along with honors such as the Seattle Historical Society's Certificate of Merit in 1959 for building a photographic record of Seattle's past. The greater part of his collection is at the Seattle Public Library. For a few years more, at least, Lenggenhager will be Seattle's principal recorder of nostalgia.

Paul Dorpat specializes in historical photography and has published several books on early Seattle.