The University District's annual street fair is reputed to be the oldest such street fair in the nation. Today, it's also the first each year of about twenty Seattle street fairs. I wandered into it by mistake this afternoon, and ended up strolling the entire five or six blocks.
Scary to admit, but I well remember the street fair's very first year -- in 1969 (or 1970, depending on who you believe). University Avenue ("the Ave") had by then become hippie heaven, attracting both University of Washington students and a large number of high school students, non-students, former students, wannabe students, and wouldn't-dream-of being students. The Ave -- which a couple of years earlier had been merely a shopping area specializing in bookstores, restaurants, and other businesses catering to the university crowd -- had become what -- to shocked adults -- appeared to be a freak show, a zoo, an exemplar of American decadence, a multi-block cloud of psychedelic smoke.
It was hard to walk a block along the Ave without receiving at least five offers to sell various drugs.
The tradional merchants weren't pleased. And the typical 1969 habitué of the Ave couldn't have cared less about what traditional merchants felt. But some peacemakers apparently decided to effect, at least for a weekend, a reconciliation. Actually, I don't recall exactly who first proposed the idea of a street fair -- to me, it seemed to just happen of its own volition. But the Seattle Times has claimed (in a 1991 story) that it originated "as a gesture of good will between area merchants and "hippie" students and artisans."
My own recollection is that the street fair was conceived by idealistic young people as an alternative to the profit-hungry businesses along the Ave. The concept was to offer goods and services to those who needed them, with payment being a necessary but secondary concern. But my memory is hazy, probably dulled by all the second-hand smoke I inhaled. At any rate, there were lots of psychedelic paintings for sale. Lots of scented candles, homemade carpets, "powerful" healing oils, and the like. There were performers dressed in torn jeans, bright clothes and peasant dresses; in feathers, painted skin, and lots of hair.
Finding myself on the Ave today, not having attended the street fair for years, I was interested to see how the concept has changed. It's changed exactly as you'd expect, reflecting a university world where majors in African-American studies, women's studies, sociology, English, and philosophy have largely given way to majors in engineering, business, computer science, and pre-med.
College kids -- scrubbed and well-groomed, with cheerful smiles replacing the cynical sneers or stoned grins of yesteryear -- stroll along, often with their parents. The merchandise -- most of it still small arts and crafts rather than commercial manufactures -- appears to be made with far superior ability and technique, and is much more tempting to purchase. The food -- much of it now specialty ice cream -- looks delicious and is much harder to resist.
In place of ad hoc musical performances, formal, scheduled musical events are now being offered at a couple of venues along the Ave, featuring local bands and singing groups.
The street corner buskers and solo musicians remain, although today's music is naturally the music of our own era, rather than 60's rock, supplemented by recitals by a few surprisingly talented classical musicians. (I listened for some time to a teenaged cellist, who had drawn an appreciative crowd about him.)
In a sense, today's street fair seems a betrayal of everything the "hippies" of 1969 held dear. The hippies lost; "the Man" won. But, in another sense, many of the social goals of the young people of 1969 have been accomplished. We all became "the people our parents warned us against." And, eventually, so did our parents.
As the years passed, we merely took a bath and cut our hair. And prepared to buy our marijuana at state-licensed stores. As I walked along the Ave, I saw the results.
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