Neighbors Would Revive Licton Springs -- Small Park In North Seattle Was Ancient Healing Place

Before the Licton Springs neighborhood was swallowed by Seattle's northward sprawl, farmers would bring ailing livestock to dip injured limbs into mineral springs that became the area's best-known landmark.

Could the rust-colored spring water heal the sick? ``I don't know,'' says Cat Newsheller, who's lived in the neighborhood for more than 15 years. ``But you know how people are. If they believe it, then it works.''

Newsheller, 33, a Red Cross first-aid instructor, may have some reservations about the springs' power to heal, but she is a staunch believer in her neighborhood and the power of community activism.

She believes she and other residents in the North Seattle neighborhood can and should have a strong voice in the evolution of Licton Springs, a low-key community facing increased construction of multifamily housing and a growing amount of traffic.

Lately, Newsheller's convictions have been paying off. The newly formed Licton Springs Community Council is publishing its first newsletter - Licton Springs Currents - this week. Newsheller, who approached the city's Office of Neighborhoods about founding a community council for the area, is the group's first president.

Licton Springs is bordered on the west by Aurora Avenue, on the north by North Northgate Way, on the south by North 85th Street, and on the east by Interstate 5.

Licton Springs Park is roughly in the center of the area. The springs form a stream and flow into marshy ponds in the park. Before white people settled there, the springs were a healing place.

The ``painted waters'' contained iron, sulphur, magnesium and other minerals the Native Americans believed had medicinal powers.

After Northwest pioneer David Denny built a cabin there in 1870, white settlers also journeyed to the springs, hoping to be healed. They came in buggies and wagons to immerse themselves and their animals in the springs.

They'd also bring home barrels of mud and mineral water.

Until recently, the Licton area remained a frontier in Seattle's neighborhood political arena. It was one of the few unorganized neighborhoods in North Seattle.

Newsheller's roots in Licton Springs date to 1957 when her parents, Gerda and Rudy Newsheller, bought a two-story house at North 95th Street and Wallingford Avenue North.

She now lives with her husband, Stephen Jencks, a few houses away from her parents' home. Her sister Sue lives on the northern edge of Licton Springs.

Involvement in Licton Springs' emergence as a neighborhood force is something of a family project. Cat wrote all the items in the community council's newsletter, and Sue typed the letter.

Cat Newsheller says the community council also is helping area residents feel as though they have more say in their community.

The group's meetings have grown from about 10 residents who attended the first meeting in May to gatherings that can attract more than 100 people.

``We're finding out that we can get things done,'' Newsheller says. ``If one person complains about something, usually no one listens. But if I have a group behind me, we get things done.

``We got these benches painted,'' Newsheller says, pointing to a vanilla-colored wooden bench in Licton Springs Park at North 95th Street and Densmore Avenue North.

Newsheller, who walks her dog Skagit in the park daily, has big plans for Licton Springs Park.

Most of the mineral springs have been covered, but one remains visible. Rust-colored water oozes from a hole on a slight hill at the park.

The spring, ringed with concrete, glistens dully. Weeds and branches mix with the rusty water. A hiker unaware of its history would hardly suspect people would travel miles of rutted dirt roads just to bathe in it.

Now, Newsheller and some other residents want to free it. ``And maybe, just maybe,'' she said, ``we can get the other springs uncapped.''