Author Neil Low and Friends celebrate the recent release of his second novel, Sign of the Dragon (Tigress Publishing, Sept 2009) at Burien’s hottest wine bar, BTB Advertiser Vino Bello, located at 626 SW 152nd Street, in downtown Burien.

Come on in for drink specials, beautiful women and well-told tales until 8:30pm tonight (Fri. Sept. 11th), and be sure to tell ‘em you “saw it on the blog.”

And if you want to get all high-tech and social, follow them on Twitter right now (just tell ‘em @btownblog sent ya):

• http://twitter.com/AssistantThief
• http://twitter.com/TheMasterThief

BTB Advertiser Vino Bello is holding a special Book Signing & Wine Tasting on Friday, Sept. 11th from 5:30pm to 8:30pm with Author Neil Low, who will be signing his new book “Sign of the Dragon.”

Neil Low is a captain with the Seattle Police Department and the agency’s first commander of its new Ethics and Professional Responsibility Section. Other areas he has commanded include: Homicide and Violent Crimes, Internal Affairs, and Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault. He is a Vietnam veteran and a cum laude graduate of the University of Washington’s Bothell campus, where he also wrote for the school’s weekly newspaper, The UW Bothell Commons. A Seattle native, he now lives in Everett with his wife and three daughters.

Here’s a synopsis of “Sign of the Dragon”:

1940 – The eve of WWII. Imperial Japan threatens to conquer Asia and the entire Pacific Theatre. Supplies and support are flowing into the region. Vital to this effort is the city of Seattle. But now, its crucial role in the supply chain is beginning to attract the interest of some shadowy and exotic international forces… Following a tip from his mentor Vic Morrison, young Alan Stewart uses his detective skills to track down Tiger Lee, a sexy American operative on a mission to disrupt the Japanese spy network. Working together, the two set out to eliminate the head of their Japanese rivals: a dangerous samurai whose movements are shrouded in mystery. What begins as a hunt for justice quickly turns into a maelstrom of revenge—and a race against the clock as politics becomes personal and loyalties are tested from every side. Returning to the scene of his first novel, Thick as Thieves, author Neil Low, proves once again that in the shadowy underbelly of a city nothing is as it first appears, and what you don’t know just might hurt you after all….

Here’s a review:

“Here’s the first thing I can tell you about Neil Low’s new novel: There are strong women herein. If you don’t like strong women or stories about them, find another book. The mood of this tale reminds me of the foggy, black and white crime movies of the period before World War II, and that’s not accidental. It’s clear that the author has extensively researched the Seattle of that era and makes that time real to his readers with deft, subtle touches. This story may humor you, and it’s likely to get your juices flowing. But perhaps most importantly, it’s going to make you think, because it has more twists and turns than the catacombs under Chinatown, which Low describes so vividly. And here is something else I can tell you: You will have to wonder if Low’s catacombs are real or if they are stuff of legend and myth. “Ay, there’s the rub,” as someone else who knew a thing or two about telling a good story once wrote.” –Lowen Clausen Author of The River, and First Avenue.

For more information on Neil Low, check out his website here.

Vino Bello is located at 636 SW 152nd St – F in Burien; (206) 244-VINO. For more information, check out their website here.

New York Times best-selling author Robert Dugoni held a book-signing at Burien’s Tin Room Wednesday night, with around 100 fans packed in for a meet and greet and autograph session from the writer of “Wrongful Death,” a suspense novel with many scenes set in this area, including The Tin Room.

Here’s a slideshow from Photographer Michael Brunk:

Click to View Slideshow

To read more of our coverage of Dugoni’s latest book and the scenes set in the Burien area, including a video, click here.

by Scott Schaefer

That’s New York Times best-selling Author Robert Dugoni above on the left, along with Burien businessman Dan House, right. Dugoni has incorporated the Burien area into his latest novel, “Wrongful Death,” including this pivotal scene set in House’s The Tin Room:

Dugoni will be celebrating his creative ties to Burien with a reading and book-signing party at The Tin Room at 6pm on Wednesday, May 6th.

We recently caught up with Dugoni, along with longtime Burien resident and businessman Dan House (aka “Dan the Sausageman,” and yes, his name was purposely misspelled in the book as “Hause”), and spoke with both about Burien, writing, and the importance of using authentic locations in a story.

House asked Dugoni why he chose to set the novel’s main character David Sloane’s home in Burien, and why he included The Tin Room.

“Burien is a very interesting place,” Dugoni said as he sipped an iced tea. “On one hand you’ve got this relatively remote, rich area with gorgeous views and beautiful waterfront homes, while just up and over the hill there are pockets of poverty. I just love the contrast, and the possibilities it allows for a mystery are tremendous.”

Another reason Dugoni may have decided to include The Tin Room could be because it’s located next to House’s other retail business, “Dan the Sausageman.”

“One time I was driving through Burien and I saw this odd red neon sign that said ‘Dan the Sausage‘ and I just had to stop,” Dugoni laughed. “I parked, went inside and spoke with an older woman (Dan’s Mom Chirlee) who pointed out that the sign actually read ‘Sausageman‘ but because it was bent to go around a corner it looked like it only said ‘Dan the Sausage.’ I thought that was very unusual. Then I ate at The Tin Room and that was it.”

Dugoni, who makes his home in Kirkland, has family ties in Burien and often spends summer days down on the beach at Three Tree Point. This is his third novel, with the previous two being “The Jury Master” and “Damage Control.”

Here’s the synopsis for Wrongful Death, along with some early reviews:

Acclaimed attorney David Sloane (from the New York Times Bestseller, The Jury Master) agrees to take on a wrongful-death claim with a strong emotional tug. Beverly Ford, the widow of a national guardsman killed in Iraq is convinced her husband perished under nefarious circumstances. Sloane soon learns that established case law makes the prospect of victory over the federal government nearly impossible. When Sloane discovers that other members of Ford’s platoon have died under suspicious circumstances since returning to the U.S., he suspects a conspiracy to conceal the truth. In a battle for justice, Sloane must keep himself, and those he loves, from becoming the next casualties.

Mixing the suspense of a Grisham legal thriller with the political angle of a Baldacci. Dugoni is knocking on the A-list thriller door.
- Booklist

Page-turning action…
- Publishers Weekly

An entertaining thriller. Good guys to like, villains to hiss, windmills to attack.
- Kirkus

And here’s a publicity video produced for publisher Simon & Schuster that showcases some Burien areas – see if you can identify any:

Here’s Dugoni’s bio:

Robert Dugoni was born in Pocatello, Idaho and raised in Burlingame, California. Growing up the middle child in a family of ten siblings, Dugoni jokes that he didn’t get much of a chance to talk, so he wrote. By the seventh grade he knew he wanted to be a writer.

Dugoni wrote his way to Stanford University where he majored in communications/journalism and creative writing and worked as a reporter for the Stanford Daily. He graduated Phi Beta Kappa and worked briefly as a reporter in the Metro and San Gabriel Valley Offices of the Los Angeles Times before deciding to attend the UCLA law school. Dugoni practiced law full-time in San Francisco as a partner at the law firm, Gordon and Rees and is currently of counsel for a law firm in Seattle.

While practicing law he satisfied his artistic thirst studying acting at the American Conservatory Theater in San Francisco, appearing in equity and non-equity shows throughout the San Francisco Bay Area. His longing to return to writing never wavered, however, and in 1999 he made the decision to quit the full-time practice of law to write novels. On the 4-year anniversary of his wedding, he drove a u-haul trailer across the Oregon-Washington border and settled in Seattle to pursue his dream.

For the next three years, Dugoni worked in an 8 x 8 foot windowless office in Seattle’s Pioneer Square to complete three novels, two of which won the 1999 and 2000 Pacific Northwest Writer’s Association Literary Contests.

Recently we’ve been posting excerpts from longtime Burien resident, architect, artist and now author Alexander Sasonoff’s recently-published autobiography called “Growing Up in Rat City and Beyond.”

Also note that Mr. Sasonoff will be holding a book signing at the Elliott Bay Brewhouse & Pub on Saturday, Dec. 13th, from Noon to 5pm. The address is 255 SW 152nd Street in downtown Burien.

Here’s part three of “Growing Up in Rat City and Beyond” which can be purchased online for just $13.04 by clicking here (makes a great gift for anyone who lives or works in this area).

Part III: White Center Businesses and Amusements

Walter Coy owned and operated the only theatre in White Center called Coy’s Center Theatre. When he first started, he operated out of a storefront space next to Olberg’s Drug Store. Later he built a nice theatre on Roxbury St. between 16th and 17th S.W. Mr. Coy always said his profit margins were better selling popcorn than what he took in through the ticket window. On Saturdays there was a continuing serial that never seemed to end. The hero or heroine was always left in a near-death situation at the end of each episode that prompted one to come the next Saturday to see what happened.

Oren Artlip had a meat market and grocery store on the N.E. corner of 16th S.W. and 98th Street. He participated in the annual celebrations called White Center Days. Oren would provide a side of beef for roasting over a fire pit, which slowly turned on a spit. Later in the evening it would be carved and served to anyone willing to pay the plate price. With no money in pocket, I was just a drooling bystander.

I attended a small church on Holden Street where Oren taught a Sunday school class. He made us memorize all the books of the Bible and various verses. After I was discharged from the Army in 1951, I enrolled at the University of Washington to study architecture on the GI Bill. I received a stipend of $75 a month for expenses. It was never enough and Oren would let me charge my groceries at his store. At the end of the month when I received my check, I promptly paid him. It was very kind of him to help me through my five years of study in the School of Architecture.

All kinds of events took place during the White Center Days celebration. A boxing ring was set up and participants were encouraged to get into the ring blindfolded, one hand tied behind their back and the other hand was fitted with a 16-ounce boxing glove. It was usually a bunch of younger guys that were coaxed into the ring. When 8 or so volunteers were put together they entered the ring. At the sound of the bell everyone started flailing about trying to knock someone down. Once down, you had to get out of the ring. The last one standing won a monetary prize of around two dollars. One such event I remember well. A kid named Royce Natole was very short and ended up in the ring with some big guys. He was a feisty redhead with a face that was covered with large red freckles. The big guys kept swinging over the top of him. It got down to Royce and one of the big Ridley brothers. Royce couldn’t knock the big guy down and Ridley kept flailing the air over his head. He finally took the thumb of his 16-ounce glove and raised his blindfold and then popped Royce with a blow knocking Royce out of the ring.

Since my friends and I were always short of money, we devised a plan to sneak into the theatre. Located behind the building was an exit near the screen where heavy curtains blocked the light that might come in whenever the door was opened. We would knock on the exit door outside and some kid would sneak over and let us in. Crawling under the seats toward the lobby, we would pop up slowly in some empty seats somewhere in the middle of the theater. This went on for weeks until one day we got caught. We were all hauled up to the lobby, ostensibly to be reprimanded. To our surprise, the big brother of one of our friends was working as the manager. He just talked to us and then let us back into the movie but from then on, we found ways to earn enough money to pay our way.

While Oren’s Market was of good size, the surrounding neighborhoods were dotted with Mom and Pop grocery stores. I can think of about eight within a six-block radius of our home. There were no big superstores like we have today so all weekday shopping was done at the store closest to home, which in our case was Martha’s Grocery store. Saturdays, however, were reserved for a trip downtown to the Pike Place Market. Years later, the biggest store I’d ever seen was built by Safeway on the corner of 16th and Roxbury. It was the talk of the town for it was the first supermarket with grocery carts and checkout stands and for all of us who only knew the Mom and Pop stores, miles of shelves filled with every food product imaginable. It was new and very special.

There were no television sets or portable phones in those days so we would listen to our favorite radio programs in the evenings. They came one after another over the span of two or three hours—Terry and the Pirates, Little Orphan Annie, The Shadow, The Green Hornet, Popeye, The Lone Ranger and many others. It was easy to be so entertained. The wonderful thing about these programs is you had to use your imagination—unlike today where everything is visual. However one program my father wouldn’t allow us to listen to was Gang Busters. He was opposed to violence of any kind.

At the gas station located just around the corner from our house, a big event to watch was the arrival of the Gilmore gas tanker. The giant truck was highly polished and elaborately decorated with all kinds of banners and flags and pictures of lions. It was like watching the circus roll into town. The driver would employ a great deal of drama as he set out to entertain the crowd of young boys that would gather to watch. He would drag out the hoses and proceed to fill the underground tanks as we kids ran up to touch the truck and marvel at all the colorful banners.

The pumps that were used to dispense gas had a glass cylinder with measurements marking the number of gallons set on top of a metal one and gas was pumped by hand up into this glass container so that one could see how much gas he was about to purchase. This had to be done by the mechanic on duty or by one of the ladies working in the grocery store. When the proper measure of fuel appeared, it then flowed by gravity through a hose inserted into your tank or container. The hose formed a loop so when it was put back into the holder, there was always some gas left in the loop of the hose. The pumps were locked up at night, with some gas always left in that loop. This excess fuel caused a near disaster, as I will explain later in my story.

You can own your very own full copy of “Growing Up in Rat City and Beyond” by clicking here and ordering online today – it’s a great read, and it makes for a great gift!

Also, if you’re a local history buff, have you considered joining the Highline Historical Society? We’re members, and we encourage all our Readers to join this great non-profit today!

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by Scott Schaefer

Last week we posted the first excerpt from longtime Burien resident, architect, artist and now author Alexander Sasonoff’s recently-published autobiography called “Growing Up in Rat City and Beyond.”

(Side note o’trivia: the office we occupy, located in Olde Burien, was designed by Mr. Sasonoff!)

Here’s part two of “Growing Up in Rat City and Beyond” which can be purchased online for just $13.04 by clicking here.

Part II: A Trip To White Center

White Center straddles the county line with the business district being both in Seattle and King County. It is a composite of various commercial establishments, surrounded by single-family housing occupied by blue-collar families. It received its name in 1918 with a coin toss between a Mr. White and a Mr. Green. Had the coin flipped over one more time, I might have grown up in Green Center.

At the age of six, eye level is about three feet six inches from the ground. This gives one a different perspective of the world. Walking about in White Center, I could easily peer under the swinging tavern doors of which there were many. The raucous laughter and other sounds that emanated from within aroused my boyish curiosity. It seemed that every other store front was a tavern. The heavy smell of beer wafted out through those doors and filled the air. Whenever I smell beer today, memories of early White Center flood my mind’s eye.

Many years later, while serving in the Army, I met a guy named Fred who had been in the merchant marine. We were both stationed at Fort Monmouth in New Jersey and while having a friendly conversation he asked where I was from. When I told him I hailed from White Center, he then surprised me with the following story: His ship had pulled into Seattle and he had asked his mates where was a fun place to go in the city. They told him to head for White Center. He hailed a cab and asked the cabbie where would be the best spot to have a drink. He was dropped off at the Glendale Tavern, an old well-established watering hole frequented by locals who often got into fights and did not cotton to strangers. One of them was an off-duty policeman that patrolled the area and tried to keep things somewhat orderly. The cop was about six feet six inches tall and his real name was Tommy Tucker.  Of course it wasn’t long before he was nicknamed Tiny. The owner of The Glendale was a very large, buxom woman named Ma Ritchie. (She tended bar there and many years later was to come into my life as a personal friend.) But, back to the story with Fred. He walks through the swinging doors and as soon as he is inside, someone punches him in the face. He is sent flying backwards and out into the street. He struggles to his feet and starts for the door again when, BAM! he is hit again and lands in the street again. At this point, Fred decided that he’d had enough, called for another cab and went back to the ship. That was what he remembered about White Center. I had no idea that I lived in such a famous place. In those days dislikes and disagreements were settled by your fists, not with guns as is the case all too often today.

Roxbury Street was the designated county line that separated White Center from the City of Seattle. The north half is in Seattle and the south half in King County. Roxbury runs east-west and was a graveled road from 16th Avenue to Olson Place, which leads me to the following story: Billy Campbell’s dad had an old 1934 Studebaker which was a flat charcoal color. It was built like a tank. Billy’s dad would let him use the car on occasion. A lot of us neighborhood kids would pile into it and go for joyrides. At this particular intersection, Billy took the corner too fast. The car slid sideways on the gravel and took out a row of mailboxes and just missed a power pole. The right front fender and the headlight were damaged. It was the last time Billy’s dad let him use the car. It was fortunate that there were no injuries.

Many years ago, prize fighting in Seattle was severely limited by permits, licenses and other legalities, hence a boxing ring was constructed on the county side of Roxbury Street. Prizefights were held there attracting a rough and rowdy drinking and betting crowd. The ring was built by Hiram Green and later converted to a roller-skating rink still in operation today. There were many prizefighters from this working-class area. One of them, Al Hostak, held the middleweight championship of the world. After his retirement, Al tended bar for many years at the Epicure restaurant up the street from the Glendale Tavern. This establishment was there for many years and was well attended by locals. I remember fundraisers held there for Washington’s Governor Rossellini.

Harry "Kid" Matthews

Another fighter, Harry Kid Mathews, lived on the city side of White Center. The Kid went on from White Center to fight the famous Bostonian Heavy Weight Champion of the World, Rocky Marciano. Unfortunately, he was knocked out in the second round. Still Mathews career as a boxer was significant. He knocked out 43 opponents in 49 fights, fighting in three different weight divisions, including heavyweight. My former wife’s family was well acquainted with Kid Matthews and we used to party at the Angle Lake Plunge. The Plunge was a place not far from White Center where one could bring his own liquor, pay a cover charge and dance to live band music. Mixers for drinks were purchased for a nominal fee.

Another one of my neighbors was a fighter named Jackie Moore. Jackie fought in the lightweight division and gained notoriety there. His dad was a retired prizefighter and used to teach neighborhood kids the fundamentals of boxing. Jackie’s dad worked at the Frye packing plant in Seattle. He wielded a sledgehammer to put down beef cattle. It wasn’t pleasant listening to stories about his work. It was the Frye packing plant that was damaged when one of the early B29 bombers crashed into it.

Next week: part three of our continuing exclusive excerpts of “Growing Up in Rat City and Beyond”!

by Scott Schaefer

Alexander Sasonoff is a longtime Burien resident whose acronym could easily be “AAA” – Architect, Artist and now…Author.

Just don’t call him if your car breaks down (although he could probably fix that too…).

Sasonoff, an accomplished local architect, grew up in neighboring White Center, and has just released an autobiographical book called “Growing Up in Rat City and Beyond” which he has generously allowed us to post exclusive excerpts from right here on the White Center Blog.

Sasonoff’s book takes readers on a gritty, often humorous journey from his earliest days in “Rat City,” starting when his Russian immigrant family moved here in 1936, through his childhood growing up in a tough neighborhood, playing in swamps, hanging out with boxers, getting fresh milk for 10-cents a jug from “Frenchie’s Farm” and much more.

Here’s part one of “Growing Up in Rat City and Beyond” which can be purchased online for just $13.04 by clicking here.

Part I • The Move to Rat City

The Move

As I sat in the front seat of the moving van clutching my cat, Reezhik, I had mixed feelings about moving to the house my parents had purchased near White Center. I was leaving all of my friends at F.A. McDonald Grade School as well as the other kids in my neighborhood. It was 1936 and the Boeing Aircraft Company was hiring workers. My Dad landed a job there.

The drums of war were starting their death rattle in Europe and the U.S. government ordered the construction of thirteen B17 bombers. These same thirteen bombers were flying into Hawaii when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. It was a typical gray overcast day in Seattle. We were moving during a mid-school term so I would have to start all over again with new friends. Many good memories were being left behind. We lived across the street from lower Woodland Park. There were many picnics in the park and on the shores of Greenlake. Visits to the zoo will always be with me.

The driver of the moving van hated cats and threatened, if the cat got loose, he was going to throw him out the window. I tightened my grip on Reezhik. He made me sit as far from him as possible so I was squeezed up against the door panel with my brother, my Dad sat in the middle. I could not convey the threat to my cat but the cat must have sensed the hatred and did not move. Our dog, Spot, had already been safely transported to his new home.

It took about two hours in the lumbering moving van to get from Green Lake to our destination. We arrived without incident. The house was located on a double lot so there was plenty of space to play. Fruit trees abounded, there were apple, cherry, pear, plum and peach throughout the yard.

The oldest portion of the house used to be an office for a logging company that had cut all the timber in the area years before. It rested on a log foundation with the rest of the house added later. The newer portion had a very strange concrete foundation. I believe the basement was dug out after the house was constructed. The concrete was stepped and appeared to be about two feet thick. There were no sewers in the area and all of the streets were gravel. The sewage system was a simple cesspool that we all were warned to stay away from for fear of the wood planks collapsing.

Years later this area was sewered and after that came paved streets and sidewalks. My brother, Leon and I shared one bedroom while my two sisters, Vera and Ireda shared another. Later, we refurbished the attic creating two more bedrooms, so eventually each of us had our own room.

The house had only one bathroom. The water was heated by a coil of pipes in the wood burning furnace and kitchen stove. In the summertime there was never enough hot water generated by the kitchen stove. It was too warm to fire up the big furnace. Kettles of water were heated atop the kitchen stove to supplant the weekend baths. To save hot water, my brother and I used the same bath water.

This became a greater problem when our cousin moved in with us after being freed from a Japanese prison camp after the war. My Dad used to call me into the bathroom to wash his back. He sat in the tub while shaving. On one such occasion I asked him why he did not have any gray hair. I had noticed everyone getting on in years had gray hair. He answered me in Russian, “Ya vsegda moyu golavoo s holodnoi.” Translated, “I always wash my head with cold water.”

As the years passed and when I was in my twenties, washing my hair with cold water, I burst out laughing at the realization that he was telling me to keep a cool head. In that old house we finally had an electric hot water tank installed and there was much rejoicing.

Next week: part two of our continuing exclusive excerpts of “Growing Up in Rat City and Beyond”!

The Highline Historical Society is sponsoring a very special presentation this Sunday, Aug. 10th, from 2pm–4pm at SeaTac City Hall (4800 S. 188th, SeaTac – map below) with Henry Friedman, author of the 1999 memoir “I’m No Hero: Journeys of a Holocaust Survivor.”

Some elements of the discussion will include:

• Friedman will recount his adolescence and coming of age under the unspeakable horror of Nazism.
• When the Nazis overran their home near the Polish-Ukrainian border, the Friedman family was saved by Ukrainian Christians who had worked for them at their family farm in the nearby village of Suchowola.
• When the Russians liberated the family after 18 months in hiding, Henry, just short of 16, made his way with his family to a displaced persons camp in Austria.
• In the camp, he discovered sex, money, and the intricacies of the black market.
• Like many other Holocaust survivors, he found it difficult to examine the past.  However, his sense of obligation to bear witness eventually overcame his painful memories and his feelings of survivor-guilt.
• In his “I’m No Hero” presentation, Mr. Friedman confronts with unblinking honesty the pain, shame, and bizarre comedy that were his passage to adulthood.

Audience:  Middle School through Adult, due to some mature content.

This should be a very interesting and informative event.

You can read Friedman’s book online here.

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Bonnie at The Yarn Stash tells us that they’re very excited to have world-renowned Author Debbie Macomber slated to appear in-store this coming Wed. July 23rd, from 3:30pm on at their store located at 615 SW 152nd Street.

According to Debbie’s website:

Debbie Macomber has written 160 novels, including BACK ON BLOSSOM STREET, SUSANNAH’S GARDEN, A GOOD YARN, THE SHOP ON BLOSSOM STREET, BETWEEN FRIENDS and the Cedar Cove series. She is one of today’s leading voices in women’s fiction. A regular on every major bestseller list with more than 100 million copies of her books in print, the award-winning author celebrated a new career milestone in September 2007, when the latest in her Cedar Cove series, 74 SEASIDE AVENUE, scored #1 on the NEW YORK TIMES, USA TODAY, Publishers Weekly and Bookscan bestseller lists. Her popularity is worldwide with her books translated into twenty-three languages.

The Yarn Stash is located at 615 SW 152nd Street in downtown Burien:

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