C.I. Shenanigan’s had a good run. What replaces it and when will herald COVID recovery
We’re not much in the monument-raising business these days.
Plus, urban planners aren’t usually the subject of tributes; if they’re thought of at all, it’s usually because of the long-term consequences of mistakes they’ve made. In addition, decisions about urban design often are made by committees through endless memos and meetings, and how do you represent that in a statue?
If ever there was an urban planner or planning decision worthy of commemoration, it would be the person or people responsible for what Ruston Way is today.
These ruminations about Ruston Way were prompted by the news last week that Ruston Way mainstay C.I. Shenanigan’s will not be reopening following the COVID-19 shutdown. Instead the Lakewood company that operated it, which also runs the Ram restaurant/brewery chain, is letting the lease lapse. An “available” banner already has been hung on the property.
That the restaurant is closing isn’t in itself shocking. Thirty-seven years, which was Shenanigan’s run, is a remarkable bit of longevity in an industry notorious for high turnover and short life expectancy. That’s true even in the best of times, and the last five months have been about the worst times imaginable. Plenty of restaurants will not survive the shutdown for reasons having nothing to do with the quality of food or service. The financials, and the prospects for economic recovery, won’t allow it.
Shenanigan’s also was an example of a restaurant concept now well advanced in years. The name itself is reflective of middlebrow, moderately priced eateries — not fine dining, not celebrity-chef establishments — capable of serving multiple audiences such as families, tourists and business meetings, with a goofy name attached (what Anthony Bourdain once parodied as “TGI McFunster’s”) to emphasize the casualness. If the food wasn’t destined to be featured in a “best dishes of the year” in a reviewer’s compilation, it was usually pretty good grub competently prepared in a timely fashion for a reasonable tab.
In the case of Shenanigan’s, the add-on to the value proposition was that view. Man, what a view.
From your table near the window, you could look back toward the port and, on a nice day, The Mountain. You could watch the huge container ships gliding in and out of Commencement Bay as smaller recreational craft of every size and description cruised closer to shore. You could decompress mentally by staring at the water, the tree-covered hills and maybe even see a seal’s head bobbing out of the water.
That there was a Ruston Way along which restaurants could be located to provide diners with such eating experiences is a credit to those who thought of transforming an industrial waterfront of lumber mills and warehouses into Tacoma’s playground.
Newcomers and less-recent arrivals likely enjoy Ruston Way as much as the old timers, but they might not appreciate just how rare it was as a civic amenity.
In the mid-1980s, when Shenanigan’s debuted, downtown was an empty shell and Sixth Avenue was not a happening neighborhood. But Ruston Way was where the city could stroll, jog, roller skate, fish, scuba dive, picnic, dine, car-cruise or just sit and watch the passing human and maritime parade.
In 1928, says a history section on the Point Ruston website, “Tacoma Metro Parks acquired an acre of land along Ruston Way, with the intent to one day build a public fishing area and boat launch. Even into the 1960s, the city’s commissioners had great foresight for Ruston Way’s future development. In 1968, the city purchased more waterfront property to support the idea for Ruston Way as a ‘quality waterfront attraction.’”
Ruston Way has been added to and improved on over the years. The smelter is gone, the smelter stack is gone, and so is Tacoma’s thrill ride of threading the narrow, dripping tunnel under the smelter property (don’t forget to honk your horn at the tight curve at the Ruston end of it, so as not to collide with oncoming traffic). If future generations have been denied that experience, what they’ve gained in the form of usable, enjoyable waterfront is a more than fair exchange.
Such is the appeal of a waterfront venue like Ruston Way that city planners have been trying to replicate it elsewhere, such as along the Thea Foss Waterway. That has in turn set up a long-running land-use debate that the community will get back to once some of the current contentiousness over other issues has settled a bit: namely, what’s the future of that section of the Tideflats.
People tend to flock to waterfront property, but they’re not making any more of it, so if you’re going to have more you’ll have to take it away from some other use. Ruston Way is no longer lined with lumber mills and port warehouses; neither is much of Seattle’s Elliott Bay waterfront.
The enduring popularity of the waterfront for recreation and entertainment makes the future use of the Shenanigan’s property a barometer to watch to gauge when COVID-19’s grip on the economy is truly broken. If a restaurant is going to make it anywhere, Ruston Way, because of its location and built-in audience, would be one of the most promising places. A new restaurant operator there would signal that investors believe a sure-bet location really is that. The longer it sits empty, however, the stronger the indicator that even a location like Ruston Way isn’t enough to overcome the power of the coronavirus to chase customers away.
Ruston Way itself, won’t be any less popular. No physical recognition of the people who made it possible is really needed. Ruston Way, the street, sidewalks, trees, grass, parks, restaurants and people included, is its own best commemoration.
This story was originally published July 4, 2020 at 7:00 AM.