By VANESSA HO
P-I REPORTER
Paul Shawver was enjoying coffee on his porch in Alki, basking in a luxurious summer evening, when something horrible jolted him out of his chair.
At least, it was horrible to him: Thunderous, throbbing rap music blared from a tricked-out Nissan parked across the street. Shawver, 69, quickly padded barefoot to the driver.
When Paul Shawver moved to Alki four decades ago, the neighborhood was tranquil. But now he deals with loud, profane rap music rattling his windows.
"I'm gonna ask you real nice this time. I don't want to hear that noise in my neighborhood!" he shouted.
The driver shrugged.
"It's the way we roll. We like the vibrations. It attracts chicks!" said the driver's friend, Tan Nguyen, after Shawver retreated in frustration.
Plus, Nguyen, 21, figured anyone offended had a built-in solution. "They got volume control in their hearing aids!" he said, setting off howls of laughter. Then his friends tossed an empty vodka bottle out of the car and cranked up the music.
Alki in the summer always has been an eclectic brew of humanity, with the only common denominator being skimpily clad. On hot days, droves of teenagers, retirees, toddlers, bikers, volleyball players, bar hoppers, car lovers and dog walkers descend on Seattle's most famous beach, sending locals into profound kvetching about feeling invaded.
But the discontent has reached new depths this summer. In addition to perennial beefs about traffic, parking, litter, drunken fights and surly attitudes, some people worry that the burgeoning restaurant scene will exacerbate the summertime woes.
Some locals say restaurants that serve lots of booze are too noisy. Others think the area's two new restaurants (one just opened; one is about to) will bring more people, cars and partying.
"It's like a whole crowd of strangers camping out in your living room and inviting their friends over," said Peter Stekel, a 53-year-old writer who's lived in Alki for almost 15 years.
"There are a lot of people here. We don't need to encourage more to come."
The complaints highlight the area's growing pains and the perpetual squabble over who "owns" Alki Beach, the site where Seattle's first white settlers landed in 1851. Today, Alki is a jewel of a public park, with a 2.5-mile strip of sand and beach walk and stunning views of downtown Seattle.
But in recent years, a boom in condos has brought more residents into the skinny West Seattle neighborhood. Articles in Sunset and Coastal Living magazines extolling Alki have brought more visitors.
Longtime businesses that served mainly residents -- including the Alki Market and a postal store -- have folded, while restaurants serving throngs of beach visitors are thriving.
When the West Seattle Chamber of Commerce proposed putting up a sign on Interstate 5 to help people find Alki, residents balked. When a small pizzeria applied for a liquor license, some people worried it might contribute to underage partying.
When a large Russian church youth group began meeting at the beach on Sundays, some locals worried that Alki had a "Russian gang problem," until police corrected them.
"For years, West Seattle was this forgotten place that people would come to live to get away from the metro feel," said Patricia Mullen, the chamber's executive director. "(Now) people are saying, 'Wait a minute, we really don't want any more visitors. People don't need to know where Alki is.' People in West Seattle are just absorbing the fact that life as they knew it is changing, and it's a real tough pill to swallow."
People watch cars cruise up and down Beach Drive from the sidewalk at Alki Beach, a summer activity that upsets some area residents.
Along with getting more crowded, Alki also has become wealthier and older. Housing prices have soared, median incomes have shot up and 40- and 50-somethings are the fastest-growing age groups. Condos with a view now go for a half-million dollars and up.
Those changes rub up against the young, racially diverse crowds that often hang out at the beach on warm weekends. By late afternoon, a noticeable shift change occurs in Alki, when parents pack up kids and strollers and a young, fashionable, hip-hop crowd moves in.
On a recent balmy evening, young black men -- sartorially spruced in gold, diamonds, baggy shorts, sports jerseys and mint-condition sneakers, and occasionally adorned with a leashed pit bull -- checked out the parade of women bursting from all things stretchy, tight and low-cut.
Convertibles, motorcycles, low riders, sport utility vehicles and gold-rimmed Hondas hummed on Alki Avenue. A Seattle police mobile precinct -- an RV with a fridge and air conditioning -- sat prominently on the street, flanked by sweaty cops.
"The impression from where I stand is the homeowners say 'Alki is out of control; you've got to do something.' And it's a whole bunch of black and Asian kids, looking hard, making too much noise, into that young, MTV-driven culture," said an officer on beach patrol.
"That intimidates a lot of the folks. To them, it looks like gangsters," said the officer, who didn't want to be identified. Occasionally, he said, there were fights, drinking at the beach, crowds blocking the bike lane and pit bulls getting loose.
A bicyclist pulls a skateboarder down the sidewalk at Alki Beach along Beach Drive. Young people flock to the 2.5-mile beach in the summertime to hang out as tricked-out cars cruise along -- which also block traffic for people who live in the neighborhood.
"But usually, they're doing nothing wrong," he said.
Jose Thompson, a 21-year-old longshoreman hanging with his friends -- most of them sporting impressive gold chains and grillz -- said they liked to check out the girls and cars.
"When it's hot out, that's the calling," he said. "This is what makes Seattle." But he understood the irritation of some residents with the party scene.
"If I was old and lived next to a beach and was just trying to relax, I'd be acting grumpy," he said. "But you got to understand: They did the same thing back in their teens."
Police say Alki doesn't have a gang problem and that most beachgoers are law-abiding. But they have responded to residents' complaints with a heavy presence on hot days -- with officers often racking up overtime pay.
The presence seems to be working. Many residents say the crowds are better behaved this summer than last year, but the grumbles haven't totally stopped. Many longtime homeowners -- who insist they're not misanthropic, bigoted or intolerant -- say they bought before Alki became such a hot destination. And they're tired of the nuisances that come from young, rowdy crowds.
Recent Puyallup High School grads Ty O'Bryant, left, and Geoff Nelson toss a football while balancing on a piece of driftwood at Alki Beach. The growing popularity of the scenic park in the summer is hitting a nerve with some of the neighborhood's longtime residents.
When Shawver moved into his modest, fenced house a half-block from the beach 40 years ago, the neighborhood was tranquil and affordable, he said. Now, profane rap lyrics rattle his windows, people toss beer cans in his yard and drunken revelers urinate on his flowers.
"I feel invaded," he said. "I feel disrespected. It's getting worse. It's louder."
A few younger residents are fed up, too. "(Alki's) awesome ... in the wintertime," said 30-year-old Katie Hastings, who has grown frustrated by "mean" visitors. She has witnessed fights, bottle throwing, verbal tirades and car prowls.
Resident Larry Carpenter says the summer crowds bring parking headaches, prompting a neighborhood effort to establish a residential parking zone.
"It's almost like cars wall-to-wall. They park around the corners; they block sidewalks," he said. "It's like watching a wild bird who sees the sun and says, 'Oh my God, I'm going to get out of my car and leave it wherever I can!' Bam!"
Watching the quarrels over parking spaces is akin to "watching cockfighting," he said.
Police Lt. Steve Paulsen, of the Southwest Precinct, said the vast majority of nuisance calls don't stem from the restaurants. But some locals are still unhappy with the scene catering to young beachgoers -- by staying open later, offering live music and serving up lots of killer mojitos.
Their complaints might not have much heft, if they didn't dovetail with a vigorous agenda by Mayor Greg Nickels to lessen the effect of noisy clubs and bars on residents citywide. The planning department also has begun chastising restaurants that morph into bars in some residential neighborhoods.
As a result, Alki has come under the scrutiny of City Hall. In recent months, city investigators slapped two popular restaurants -- Duke's and the Celtic Swell -- with a new set of conditions to heed, after deciding they were really acting as bars at night.
The city also fought a liquor-license application by Slices, a small pizzeria, after a handful of residents fumed that pizza with beer and wine might lead to more noise and underage drinking.
But that's some people.
Carolyn Roper, a 33-year-old blogger who writes often about Alki, said she's looking forward to the opening of the next new restaurant, Cactus, and that noise and crowds are part of the deal when you live at the beach.
"Sure, you're going to hear people walking past your house," she said. "But you're going to hear that wherever you are, unless you live on a farm."
P-I REPORTER
Paul Shawver was enjoying coffee on his porch in Alki, basking in a luxurious summer evening, when something horrible jolted him out of his chair.
At least, it was horrible to him: Thunderous, throbbing rap music blared from a tricked-out Nissan parked across the street. Shawver, 69, quickly padded barefoot to the driver.
When Paul Shawver moved to Alki four decades ago, the neighborhood was tranquil. But now he deals with loud, profane rap music rattling his windows.
"I'm gonna ask you real nice this time. I don't want to hear that noise in my neighborhood!" he shouted.
The driver shrugged.
"It's the way we roll. We like the vibrations. It attracts chicks!" said the driver's friend, Tan Nguyen, after Shawver retreated in frustration.
Plus, Nguyen, 21, figured anyone offended had a built-in solution. "They got volume control in their hearing aids!" he said, setting off howls of laughter. Then his friends tossed an empty vodka bottle out of the car and cranked up the music.
Alki in the summer always has been an eclectic brew of humanity, with the only common denominator being skimpily clad. On hot days, droves of teenagers, retirees, toddlers, bikers, volleyball players, bar hoppers, car lovers and dog walkers descend on Seattle's most famous beach, sending locals into profound kvetching about feeling invaded.
But the discontent has reached new depths this summer. In addition to perennial beefs about traffic, parking, litter, drunken fights and surly attitudes, some people worry that the burgeoning restaurant scene will exacerbate the summertime woes.
Some locals say restaurants that serve lots of booze are too noisy. Others think the area's two new restaurants (one just opened; one is about to) will bring more people, cars and partying.
"It's like a whole crowd of strangers camping out in your living room and inviting their friends over," said Peter Stekel, a 53-year-old writer who's lived in Alki for almost 15 years.
"There are a lot of people here. We don't need to encourage more to come."
The complaints highlight the area's growing pains and the perpetual squabble over who "owns" Alki Beach, the site where Seattle's first white settlers landed in 1851. Today, Alki is a jewel of a public park, with a 2.5-mile strip of sand and beach walk and stunning views of downtown Seattle.
But in recent years, a boom in condos has brought more residents into the skinny West Seattle neighborhood. Articles in Sunset and Coastal Living magazines extolling Alki have brought more visitors.
Longtime businesses that served mainly residents -- including the Alki Market and a postal store -- have folded, while restaurants serving throngs of beach visitors are thriving.
When the West Seattle Chamber of Commerce proposed putting up a sign on Interstate 5 to help people find Alki, residents balked. When a small pizzeria applied for a liquor license, some people worried it might contribute to underage partying.
When a large Russian church youth group began meeting at the beach on Sundays, some locals worried that Alki had a "Russian gang problem," until police corrected them.
"For years, West Seattle was this forgotten place that people would come to live to get away from the metro feel," said Patricia Mullen, the chamber's executive director. "(Now) people are saying, 'Wait a minute, we really don't want any more visitors. People don't need to know where Alki is.' People in West Seattle are just absorbing the fact that life as they knew it is changing, and it's a real tough pill to swallow."
People watch cars cruise up and down Beach Drive from the sidewalk at Alki Beach, a summer activity that upsets some area residents.
Along with getting more crowded, Alki also has become wealthier and older. Housing prices have soared, median incomes have shot up and 40- and 50-somethings are the fastest-growing age groups. Condos with a view now go for a half-million dollars and up.
Those changes rub up against the young, racially diverse crowds that often hang out at the beach on warm weekends. By late afternoon, a noticeable shift change occurs in Alki, when parents pack up kids and strollers and a young, fashionable, hip-hop crowd moves in.
On a recent balmy evening, young black men -- sartorially spruced in gold, diamonds, baggy shorts, sports jerseys and mint-condition sneakers, and occasionally adorned with a leashed pit bull -- checked out the parade of women bursting from all things stretchy, tight and low-cut.
Convertibles, motorcycles, low riders, sport utility vehicles and gold-rimmed Hondas hummed on Alki Avenue. A Seattle police mobile precinct -- an RV with a fridge and air conditioning -- sat prominently on the street, flanked by sweaty cops.
"The impression from where I stand is the homeowners say 'Alki is out of control; you've got to do something.' And it's a whole bunch of black and Asian kids, looking hard, making too much noise, into that young, MTV-driven culture," said an officer on beach patrol.
"That intimidates a lot of the folks. To them, it looks like gangsters," said the officer, who didn't want to be identified. Occasionally, he said, there were fights, drinking at the beach, crowds blocking the bike lane and pit bulls getting loose.
A bicyclist pulls a skateboarder down the sidewalk at Alki Beach along Beach Drive. Young people flock to the 2.5-mile beach in the summertime to hang out as tricked-out cars cruise along -- which also block traffic for people who live in the neighborhood.
"But usually, they're doing nothing wrong," he said.
Jose Thompson, a 21-year-old longshoreman hanging with his friends -- most of them sporting impressive gold chains and grillz -- said they liked to check out the girls and cars.
"When it's hot out, that's the calling," he said. "This is what makes Seattle." But he understood the irritation of some residents with the party scene.
"If I was old and lived next to a beach and was just trying to relax, I'd be acting grumpy," he said. "But you got to understand: They did the same thing back in their teens."
Police say Alki doesn't have a gang problem and that most beachgoers are law-abiding. But they have responded to residents' complaints with a heavy presence on hot days -- with officers often racking up overtime pay.
The presence seems to be working. Many residents say the crowds are better behaved this summer than last year, but the grumbles haven't totally stopped. Many longtime homeowners -- who insist they're not misanthropic, bigoted or intolerant -- say they bought before Alki became such a hot destination. And they're tired of the nuisances that come from young, rowdy crowds.
Recent Puyallup High School grads Ty O'Bryant, left, and Geoff Nelson toss a football while balancing on a piece of driftwood at Alki Beach. The growing popularity of the scenic park in the summer is hitting a nerve with some of the neighborhood's longtime residents.
When Shawver moved into his modest, fenced house a half-block from the beach 40 years ago, the neighborhood was tranquil and affordable, he said. Now, profane rap lyrics rattle his windows, people toss beer cans in his yard and drunken revelers urinate on his flowers.
"I feel invaded," he said. "I feel disrespected. It's getting worse. It's louder."
A few younger residents are fed up, too. "(Alki's) awesome ... in the wintertime," said 30-year-old Katie Hastings, who has grown frustrated by "mean" visitors. She has witnessed fights, bottle throwing, verbal tirades and car prowls.
Resident Larry Carpenter says the summer crowds bring parking headaches, prompting a neighborhood effort to establish a residential parking zone.
"It's almost like cars wall-to-wall. They park around the corners; they block sidewalks," he said. "It's like watching a wild bird who sees the sun and says, 'Oh my God, I'm going to get out of my car and leave it wherever I can!' Bam!"
Watching the quarrels over parking spaces is akin to "watching cockfighting," he said.
Police Lt. Steve Paulsen, of the Southwest Precinct, said the vast majority of nuisance calls don't stem from the restaurants. But some locals are still unhappy with the scene catering to young beachgoers -- by staying open later, offering live music and serving up lots of killer mojitos.
Their complaints might not have much heft, if they didn't dovetail with a vigorous agenda by Mayor Greg Nickels to lessen the effect of noisy clubs and bars on residents citywide. The planning department also has begun chastising restaurants that morph into bars in some residential neighborhoods.
As a result, Alki has come under the scrutiny of City Hall. In recent months, city investigators slapped two popular restaurants -- Duke's and the Celtic Swell -- with a new set of conditions to heed, after deciding they were really acting as bars at night.
The city also fought a liquor-license application by Slices, a small pizzeria, after a handful of residents fumed that pizza with beer and wine might lead to more noise and underage drinking.
But that's some people.
Carolyn Roper, a 33-year-old blogger who writes often about Alki, said she's looking forward to the opening of the next new restaurant, Cactus, and that noise and crowds are part of the deal when you live at the beach.
"Sure, you're going to hear people walking past your house," she said. "But you're going to hear that wherever you are, unless you live on a farm."