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When I was a kid growing up in Kirkland, we spent a lot of time at the old 鈥渇ive and dime鈥� store on Lake Street called Richardson鈥檚. It seemed like we found a reason, or an excuse, to visit there at least once a week.

My siblings and I bought each other Christmas presents there, and it was where my parents always got me one of those crummy Halloween costumes that came with a tiny mask and a cheap plastic smock announcing the name of the character 鈥� 鈥淔RANKENSTEIN!鈥� 鈥� who you were poorly trying to impersonate. In the spring and summer, the front of the store was loaded with flip-flops, inflatable kiddie pools and plastic bucket-and-shovel sets. And I can鈥檛 even guess how many packs of baseball cards I bought there 鈥� the kind that still came with that brutal, brittle and dusty pink 鈥済um鈥� 鈥� when they sold for 35-cents a pack.

The store dated to at least the 1940s, and though it had been slightly updated over the years (and had become part of the 鈥淏en Franklin鈥� retail collective), it was something of a living museum. As late as the early 1980s, a casual visit to the store felt like a trip back in time at least 30 years. The bulk candy counter and sewing notions on the main level. The toy department and the goldfish and pet parakeets downstairs. It was always possible to dig a little bit into any section and find inventory that was several decades old.

At the time, probably because my mom was something of an unwitting amateur anthropologist, we knew the place was odd. We reveled in its anachronistic feel, which, of course, couldn鈥檛 really last once the Fred Meyers and Pay n鈥� Saves of the world started to proliferate all over the Eastside in the early 1980s.

Richardson鈥檚 went away around 1984 or so, but I still have soothing dreams, about once a year, that I鈥檓 walking those familiar aisles. What does it say about me, I wonder, that I still dream about a store that closed more than 30 years ago, but that was at least 30 years out-of-date when the 鈥淐losed” sign was flipped in the front window for the final time?

I鈥檝e been thinking about Richardson鈥檚 frequently these days. It seems like there are fewer and fewer of these throwback places left anymore, even for someone looking only to travel back to the 1980s.

However, in spite of the all the changes lately in and around Seattle, I believe that there are at least few places left that offer this form of pedestrian time travel.

Here, then, is a non-scientific, non-comprehensive list of 鈥�10 or so Places that Have Changed the Least in the Seattle area over the past 30 years.鈥� Do you know of others? Add yours to the list by commenting below!

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Suzzallo Reading Room

The University of Washington feels like the city鈥檚 biggest construction site these days, with major work underway in almost every corner of the 1895 campus. One stillpoint in all the tearing down and building up is the , unchanged since 1926.

Bathrooms at King Street Station

The King Street Station I first visited in the 1970s was a seedy and exciting place. The original glory of the decorative ceilings and much of the ornamental fixtures had been removed or covered up, and, looking back, the whole place had a sort of Soviet feel (which made it a perfect place to ride Amtrak of that era). One relic remained then that made a deep impression on me and that I can still vividly recall: a neon sign at the base of the escalator that said, 鈥淓LECTRIC STAIRS TO JACKSON STREET.鈥� Much has changed in the past decade to restore to its original appearance, especially in the main waiting room. One element that seems to resist change is the men鈥檚 room. Last time I was there, it felt like I鈥檇 gone to relieve myself back in the 1970s.

The Athenian Restaurant at Pike Place Market

I first set foot in the for lunch with my sister, my dad and my Aunt Jadwiga on a rare (for my family) dining out experience in 1980. In the intervening years, I鈥檝e gone back several times per year for breakfast. Even though the Athenian appears, famously, in 鈥淪leepless In Seattle,鈥� I can鈥檛 spot any significant changes. Other than the higher prices on the menu, of course.

Honorable mention here for several spots within the Pike Place Market that also feel pleasantly stuck somewhere in the past, and for the roadhouse on Mercer Island.

Fremont Troll

Seattle is bursting with public art, thanks in part to the city鈥檚 revolutionary program that first began in the 1970s and called for public art to be included in every public infrastructure project. The , which was completed in 1990, has changed very little, and is one of perhaps dozen similar publicly-accessible works of art that lend a certain amount of continuity to the look and feel of many Seattle neighborhoods.

Honorable mention in this category goes to the at Magnuson Park.

Bon March茅 Parking Garage on Third Avenue

Seattle鈥檚 grand old Bon March茅 department store continues to morph and shrink into a 21st century version of something that I鈥檒l reluctantly acknowledge is now known as Macy鈥檚. Meanwhile, across the street (or, across the 6th floor skybridge), the built in support of the store back in 1960 is refreshingly unchanged. Sure, there are rental car companies is operating there now, and the coming and going and paying has all been automated. Still, it鈥檚 easy to drive up and down the narrow ramps of this behemoth and easily be transported back at least 50 years.

Crest Movie Theater in Shoreline

The dates to 1949. Even though its original single-screen auditorium has been parsed up into several smaller theaters, this movie palace remains a cheap throwback to at least 1980, when it underwent its most recent 鈥渞enovation.鈥� My favorite feature is hand-painted the 鈥淣O LOITERING鈥� sign near the entrance to the men鈥檚 room. No matter how you slice it, the Crest is one of the area鈥檚 few surviving, relatively unaltered vintage movie theaters.

The gets honorable mention in this category.

King County Courthouse

The and the adjoining City Hall Park are a representative sample of, hopefully, dozens of public buildings and public parks around Puget Sound. The metal detectors at the front door of the courthouse are relatively recent additions, but much of the interior of the main lobby and the various elevator lobbies on the upper floors remain fabulously unchanged. Old-timers remember when the top floors of the courthouse, now the offices of King County council members, served as the King County Jail. Even today, a ride in the elevators there can be an eye-opening experience, as one comes face-to-face with an eclectic mix of those with business to attend to at the county鈥檚 civic headquarters.

Meanwhile, City Hall Park聽 has kept its 鈥淢uscatel Meadows鈥� vibe going as long as I can remember. Other great and mostly-unchanged outdoor public spaces include Seward Park; the meadow at Discovery Park; and both sides of the Ballard Locks.

Alweg Seattle Center Monorail

It almost became a museum piece when, for a few years, plans were underway to build a public monorail system from West Seattle to Ballard. Fortunately, this is still hard at work, chugging back and forth from Westlake to Seattle Center. Sure, it鈥檚 crashed and burned a few times, but its mostly invisible safety systems have been upgraded without harming the Century 21 vibe. For my money, the look and feel, and the overall Monorail experience, is one of the least-changed transportation systems in Seattle. Or, maybe anywhere. This particularly relic scores extra points for the cool slalom course created for drivers by its row of pylons along 5th Avenue.

Battery Street Tunnel

It鈥檚 hard to appreciate the design and functionality of the doomed Battery Street Tunnel when traffic is moving at full speed, but the frequent slow traffic gives even the most distracted driver a chance to absorb just how high-tech this underground thoroughfare was when it first opened back in 1954. Enjoy it while you can! This time tunnel goes away for good early next year.

Memorial Stadium

Other than the pedestrian plaza out front that鈥檚 been converted to a lucrative parking lot for the Seattle School District, the 1947 Seattle High School Memorial Stadium is probably the biggest, best-preserved and least-changed public place in downtown Seattle. Plans call to replace Memorial Stadium with a big new facility, but there鈥檚 no funding in place as yet, and this sports-themed tribute to Seattle School District alumni who made the ultimate sacrifice in World War II might still have a fighting chance to be saved.

Eckstein Middle School

It鈥檚 been a few years since I set foot in the gloriously 鈥淢idcentury Modern鈥� in Seattle鈥檚 Ravenna neighborhood for some kind choir concert, but I vividly remember that the auditorium was beautifully untouched, and, though somewhat dilapidated feeling, the interior and exterior of the building remained in most of its now somewhat faded glory. Best of all, the men鈥檚 restroom felt like a museum dedicated to plumbing of the late 1940s, with remarkably intact sinks and other vintage porcelain fixtures.

Exchange Building

There are just a handful of vintage buildings in downtown Seattle whose public spaces (lobby, elevators, etc.) remain fairly unaltered (or, in some cases, have been lovingly restored). My favorite example of these is the 1929 , but the Smith Tower 鈥� or, name your favorite 鈥� is a close second. I still remember the day back in the 1980s when I stumbled into the Exchange Building鈥檚 glorious lobby, and felt like I鈥檇 discovered King Tut鈥檚 tomb, right there on Second Avenue and Marion Street. Another outstanding example in this category is the fabulous (and nearby) ; if Seattle ever had 鈥淢ad Men,鈥� they would鈥檝e worked in this awesome 1958 structure.

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