The year was 1933, the depths of the ‘Great Depression.’ Our family had just moved from the corner of the Guide and Axton Rd. to the Axton Rd. about a mile west of what is now Greenacres Memorial Park. In those days, Saturday was the day everyone went into Bellingham to walk the streets and meet your friends, shop at Kress, Woolworths, Penneys, Montgomery Ward, and simply go through our one special store, Wahl’s. Some older people would go down, park their car in the 1300 block of Cornwall Ave. to sit in it and watch the people go by. We always made this trip in our bilious green 1927 Chevrolet.

It was during these weekly jaunts into the city that I became aware of a facility at the corner of the Smith Rd. and Northwest Drive. I notice the Bellingham Herald says that the main building at that time was a hospital. The hospital probably served people who could not afford to go to St. Joseph or St. Luke hospitals in Bellingham, health insurance was not a part of anyone’s life. But the building was distinctive to us as the “Poor House” because behind it up the Smith Rd. were a series of small wooden shacks, probably with electricity but no plumbing facilities, where families lived, the “homeless” of that time not being able to pay rent. If there was ever an occasion to turn up the Smith Rd. to go to the Guide Meridian, we were extremely curious about the people we saw.

Several years later, when it had become more like a nursing home, my Campfire leader decided our group needed to become aware of another way of life. We had made cookies and were going to take them to this facility. How wary we all were before we ever got there. Our anxiety did not decrease after entering the building. It is impossible to explain the difference between the nursing homes now and the way they were back in the 1930’s, the grimness, the smell. It is still very clear in my mind as we walked down the hall, a scrawny little man with no hair on his head, dressed in disreputable shorts, his skinny little legs in a pair of dilapidated bedroom slippers, coming towards us. When he got to our group, next to me, he reached out his hand and touched my face. I was petrified. I learned that he was blind, only aware of shadows, and I was that shadow. It was years before I would go to a nursing home. Our nursing homes today are very upscale living in comparison.

Such a lot to remember, what it was like in North Bellingham in 1933 when I was making those trips each week. The Smith Rd. was simply a 2-lane gravel road, as was the Axton from Northwest to the Guide. Soccer wasn’t even an offering in the public schools. The North Bellingham School was a large white wooden house, the grocery store on the corner was there then (since 1922), and the other corner was Gerard’s Gardens. Greenacres Cemetery was not a part of the Moles Funeral Home in Ferndale. Functioning farms everywhere.

Whenever I remember the past it is always the difference in “money” between then and now. Strawberries from the farms were large boxes 4 for $1 (at least $5 now for 1 box); gasoline was 5 gallons for $1. At our house we had our own cow, our own garden, our own chickens. A stream ran through our place where we could fish. Our moving was because my father who had been following construction work, and there had been very little, had a new job attending the boilers at Darigold Creamery in Bellingham. We had upgraded our home and paid $15 a month. We had been living in the house that is still on the corner of Axton and the Guide Meridian, the rent had been $6 a month but it too had had an orchard, garden, barn, chicken house etc.. We churned our own butter, made our own cottage cheese. My mother was a beautiful seamstress and the suits, etc., that had been a part of her wardrobe when she was young became beautiful coats, skirts, etc. for me. We lived well in spite of the ‘Great Depression.’

The “Poor House” and houses on the corner of the Smith Rd. and Northwest Rd. caught our attention because the people who lived there were living so differently from our experience. That building and piece of property is truly a ‘landmark’ in Whatcom County.

Geneil Chevalier

The following section of Whatcom County Remembered was written by one of our lovely clients Karol Weston in regards to their farm it’s history with the late Elizabeth Carey (Rich’s Mother) and her family…

Elizabeth Carey’s family started the farm adventure in the year 1916 for 2 years. Her family consisted of 6 brothers and 2 sisters and both parents. Elizabeth shared that she was the age of about 6 to 8 at the time, but had lovely memories of the farm. The family rented the farm from Mr. Robertson who at the time wished to sell and return to Russia. Her father was a Marine Draftsman and was short on funds and could not purchase the whole farm and instead just rented.

The farm has the same exciting house, garage and stone house as still stands today, long gone are the chicken coops and greenhouse which once stood there as well. The farm was surrounded with evergreens from the North, East and South. Everywhere you turned was trees. 32nd St was just a skid road for logging, which consisted of a path with gates that had to be opened and shut as you drove a horse and wagon down the road. The main route out of the farm was Douglas St, weaving around toward 24th St and into Fairhaven on a rough path.

Mr. Carey and his sons delivered produce daily on a route throughout the Southside of Bellingham. What they didn’t sell by the end of the day they would venture to downtown Bellingham to sell or to the Fair Market. The Holiday Meat & Grocery on 20th and Harris would also purchase their produce and sell it in their store.

On the farm they raised strawberries, raspberries, loganberries, parsnip, spinach and much more…. The stone house they used as a cooler for storage of their produce. The water supply to the farm for irrigating was supplied by the creek flowing above 32nd St from the upper Samish Hill area. The water would flow into a reservoir and then was gravity fed by a pipe to the garden area. The watering system ran along the top of the garden and would flow into the long overhead pipe sprinkling system which is still used today…. the pipes maybe still used today, but gone or some of the old problems which once disrupted it….

Elizabeth recalls on day in early October when her father noticed that the irrigation water flowing was brown and muddy. This was unusual so up to the reservoir he went. His first thoughts were that some kids where playing in the water, boy was he shocked when he realized that it was not kids, but instead two black bears frolicking in the reservoir. The walls where then built up higher to keep the bears out and the water clean.

After two years the family could no longer rent the farm. The farm was purchased in 1933 by Joe and Ann Bertero , carrying on the business of growing vegetables. The Stone houses, house and garage still stand today just as they did in Elizabeth’s time. New greenhouses have been replaced by new owners and the farm’s deep roots just keep growing. In Karol Weston took over the farm, then in 2007 the Weston Brothers. The Weston brother’s now share the pleasure of working the farm and growing for a better and healthier tomorrow.

Last Thursday morning I opened my Herald to the large black headline “Fountain Galleria to close.” My audible response was: “How can that be, I was just there yesterday?” The Fountain District has been one of the anchor points of my life since March of 1951, 57 years, when my husband and I moved into our new home on East Maplewood Ave.

Those anchors have been the Fountain Drugstore, George’s Meat Market, Hall’s Bakery, Fountain Motors, Fountain Hardware, and Griffith Furniture. Each having dependable services, hard to find anywhere else.

The Fountain Drugstore in 1951 was a small sort of variety store, with a drug department. For years all of our drug needs were met there. It even carried clothing. One of my favorite pictures of my son was taken in 1956, plodding up our driveway in an adoreable red jumpsuit, a gift from his Godmother, from the Fountain. Everyone asked where it came from, it was a new thing. At this time the store was located next to George’s Meat Market in the building next door to the present parking lot. Whatever you needed, everyone used to say “you’ll find it at the Fountain,” be it some sewing notion, small hardware items, candles, gifts, baking dishes; you name it, it was there. Then they expanded, building the present building. Again, the saying was true.

After expanding, during the Christmas Season there was a sleigh in the basement complete with a real, live, well-dressed Santa Claus. Another special memory: My son had arrived at the age in the 1961 Christmas Season when Santa was very questionable to him. One Saturday we were shopping at George’s Meat Market, and as we came out the door a car was parking across the street. The door opened and Santa got out of the car, beautifully groomed, and headed for the Fountain Drugstore. When he saw my son, he waved and yelled, “Hi Chuck.” Chuck WAS impressed, Santa remained a reality that year. Santa knew him because his kids went to Parkview School too.

The Fountain has grown constantly over the years in their offerings. Want to learn to decorate a cake? The Fountain. The best in baking equipment? The Fountain. Cards for special occasions? The Fountain. Lovely gifts of all kinds, handbags, jewelry, chimes, Christmas decorations, toys, etc., etc., etc. It has been my tradition to give my great nieces and nephew a Christmas ornament each year. Where do they generally come from? The Fountain. Where else would you find a crystal motorcycle the year the nephew added a motorcycle to his life, or a mandolin, guitar, drum, etc., when he was in a band? The Fountain.

That is why last Wednesday I stopped there for a candle, a certain color and texture. Had been to several other places and found that no one carried candles anymore. I also picked up a Valentine. As I stood at the checkout stand, a young friend with small children came up beside me. I commented, “This is the store that has everything you can’t find anyplace else.” She commented: “Their toys are wonderful.”

How else could I respond the next morning when I read, “Fountain Galleria is closing”?

When I saw my young friend in church, Sunday, I commented on this fact. She hadn’t read the paper. Her response, “Oh, they have such wonderful toys!”

Only the name has changed, “Fountain Galleria,” they have always given excellent service and products. For me it is not the end of a chapter, along with the demise of several of the other anchors in the Fountain District, it is the end of an era.

Geneil Chevalier