A piece of Seattle history disappears with the demolition of Loch Kelden

TURNS OUT THE mission was impossible.

Readers might recall our caper last March, attempting to visit Loch Kelden to capture one last photo before its approaching demolition. The three-story Spanish Mission Revival mansion overlooking Lake Washington, just south of Magnuson Park, had been completed in 1907 by Rolland Denny, the youngest member of the pioneer Denny Party.

We requested a final tour from the Unification Church, which had used the 1.7-acre property as a domicile and retreat since 1974. With its $6 million sale to developers still “pending,” the church turned us down.

So we took to the water. Accompanied by Rolland’s great-grandniece Maria Denny, we boarded a cabin cruiser and, floating offshore, took “Now” photos of the mansion gleaming over her shoulder.

Demolition was delayed, but sadly only by months.

Days before Christmas, we received news that the end was nigh. Mere minutes remained before the main structure of the house would be leveled. I grabbed a camera and made a beeline to Loch Kelden.

Unattended, I toured the denuded mansion, snapping photos. Soon I was joined by Aaron Blanchard, director of operations of Earthwise Architectural Salvage.

“We removed beautiful fir paneling, pocket doors, leaded glass and stained-glass windows,” he says, along with 8,000 to 10,000 board feet of old-growth wood. Earthwise also saved the mansion’s front door, rumored to contain wood from the original 1851 Denny cabin.

“Incredibly cool,” Blanchard says, “was the horsehair terra-cotta cornice above the door in the shape of a clamshell.” (The clamshell could be a sly reference to infant Rolland Denny’s survival, credited to Duwamish-provided clam nectar.)

After our spring caper, readers expressed shock and dismay over the pending demolition. Many asked how such a historic structure could be torn down without public input. What about city landmark status?

University of Washington architecture professor Jeffrey Karl Ochsner notes that the state Supreme Court affirmed in 1990 a claim by Seattle’s First Covenant Church that landmark designation infringed on religious freedom.

“The First Covenant ruling created a loophole in landmarks law,” Ochsner says. “Now what happens is a consecrated church building owner reaches a deal with a developer while the church is still consecrated. Then they get a demolition permit. This bypasses the landmarks process. Next the church deconsecrates and sells to the developer. The demolition permit transfers along with the property.”

For Maria Denny, the razing feels “like the loss of a family member, and it’s sad to think that a little piece of history is gone.”

Some may quarrel with “little” — in this specific case, and as an example for our city’s future.