The man who saved a lake deserves lasting monument

SEARCH hard for the memorial to "Tommy" Edmondson and it is nowhere to be found. People will say it's the water, the clear waters of Lake Washington that are his legacy. But that's not enough. Testaments such as this and the words about his gift to the region are going to fade too quickly.

Somewhere close to the shores of Lake Washington, there should be a lasting memorial to Dr. W. Thomas Edmondson, who died last week at 83. One early idea among former students is to rename Madison Park in Seattle to Edmondson Park because it's close to where his research into Lake Washington was done.

Edmondson's story has been told frequently and eloquently of late, but is worth repeating here.

In the early to mid-1950s, Lake Washington was dying. Algae blooms were flourishing from chemical discharges into the water. Native species were disappearing. The lake was murky and unappealing. Swimmers, those foolish enough to go into the lake, emerged with unpleasant coatings. By 1960, floating clumps of foul-smelling Oscillatoria algae covered the small bays of Lake Washington. The stuff washed up on the beaches.

Edmondson, even then a prominent biologist at the UW, saw research as the way back. He teamed up with attorney and civic leader Jim Ellis to mount a campaign, based on biology rather than politics, to restore Lake Washington to its early clarity. That clarity was remarkable, even to the first white explorers such as Isaac Ebey who came upon the lake in 1850.

A century later, Edmondson and his crew established a simple gauge of the lake's purity. They put an 8-inch white disc, say the size of a dinner plate, on the lake bottom. In 1950, it could be seen through 12 feet of water. By 1963, the first year waste was diverted from the lake, the 8-inch disc faded from visibility under 3-feet of water.

On a clear winter's day last week, I stood on the public dock on Meydenbauer Bay in Bellevue and flipped a dime into Lake Washington. I could see its silvery flicker spin down toward the mossy bottom and land, clearly visibile, in over 8 feet of lake water.

Next stop was Enatai Beach park, just below the I-90 overpass of the East Channel. Don Henderson was in his office, dressed snug against the cold and looking over the calm lake. A kayaker slid by on the water, slick as an otter. Henderson runs kayak schools and boat rentals at Enatai and farther up the shore in Kirkland at Houghton Beach Park. He's planning a third kayak and canoe rental site on the Cedar River as it flows to meet Lake Washington. Last summer, about 9,000 people took to the water from Enatai in kayaks, canoes and any old thing that floats.

On this cold day without much wind or water disturbance, I could see white speckles on rocks on the lake bottom maybe 30 or 40 feet from shore. You can't see them in the summer because Lake Washington is drawn down 3 feet over the winter to allow for incoming flood water and dock maintenance.

I told Henderson that around 1955, something happened that brought people together to rescue the lake. "I was born in '55," he said. "I heard something about Edmondson. We owe him a lot."

We owe him everything. When pollution was infecting Lake Washington, treated water was pouring into the lake. But the treatment that killed bacteria didn't touch phosphorus that was increasing algae growth. Edmondson found the connection. A multimillion-dollar effort ensued. Thirty years later, in 1987, Ellis remembered telling Edmondson in 1958, "I hope you're right, Dr. Edmondson, because if you are wrong, a lot of us are going to hang."

Amost by accident, Lake Washington got a savior who, in the words of a former student, Dr. Jonathan Frodge, was "world class. He was such an intelligent man - maybe a genius, who can tell. But he had the ability to use science to frame the central issue. The action that came from that changed the shape of Seattle."

What's striking in looking over the legacy of Dr. Edmondson's life is that he wasn't part of the polarity of today's arguments over water purity. It's not a matter of crystal-clear water at any price versus dangerous levels of pollution. It's a matter of balance. Everyone who studied under Edmondson or worked with him says he was never harsh or critical. He wasn't a judge of other people's motives. He just believed in the earth sciences. That belief led him into one of the most remarkable civic endeavors of any region in America.

In 1958, voters created the Municipality of Metropolitan Seattle. Metro's cleanup of the lake cost the taxpayers about $165 million in 1965 dollars. That was calculated at worth $740 million in 1987 and it has to be equivalent to a billion dollars or more today.

"The Lake Washington experience" became a byword among limnologists (fresh water scientists) as the waters cleared. Edmondson and civic pride had won, even if every fragment of the chemical equation that makes a lake live is still not completely understood.

Think about him the next time you're on the bridges. And ask if such a task, reaching to every shore of Lake Washington's cities, could be accomplished today.

James Vesely's column focusing on Eastside issues appears Monday on editorial pages of The Times. His e-mail address is: jvesely@seattletimes.com