Duck Island on Green Lake is new home to monolith

A man claiming to be one of the people responsible for the mysterious monolith that first appeared, then disappeared from Magnuson Park says it was stolen from that spot before it surfaced again yesterday at Green Lake, on a small, remote bird sanctuary called Duck Island.

As it has done every day of its brief existence in the public eye, the dark-gray 9-foot steel rectangular structure attracted its fair share of visitors, inviting comparisons to the shrieking black monolith in Stanley Kubrick's classic 1968 film "2001: A Space Odyssey."

Caleb Schaber, a 27-year-old Ballard artist, said a group of about 15 people, members of a loosely organized group called "Some People," planned the monolith's appearance at Magnuson Park on New Year's Eve, but had nothing to do with its disappearance Wednesday morning and relocation to Green Lake.

He said he wants it back, but has no means to remove it from the island, which sits about 50 yards from the lake's northwest shore.

The group had been planning the monolith project for several months. They raised money, hired someone to build it - someone who Schaber said prefers to remain anonymous - and planned its appearance at Magnuson Park's Kite Hill.

Placing it there involved a number of steps, carried out over two days. On Saturday, they mixed the concrete in a wheelbarrow, poured it into a rectangular hole near the top of the grassy hill and set four hollow tubes in the concrete. The 350-pound monolith, which was built with four pieces of rebar protruding from its base, was brought to the site the next evening, Schaber said, and the rebar was set inside the tubes with epoxy.

The rest is history.

People and pets flocked. News crews converged. And city parks officials obliged. "It's whimsical and creative and interesting," said Seattle parks spokesman David Takami. "We're enjoying it like other people."

Christopher Williams, Green Lake park manager, said the monolith's new location is actually safer than its old one. Duck Island is off limits to park-goers, and there is no easy access to it.

"We're going to leave it there, hoping that whomever left it there will pick it up eventually," Williams said.

"It's great that we've gotten such a good response," said Schaber. "We're very happy we got to send a positive message from Seattle."

That's one of the group's intentions, said Schaber and another member of "Some People," identified only as Honky The Clown.

"This town takes itself too seriously, and we're trying to change that," Honky The Clown wrote in an e-mail. "It's nonsense, beautiful nonsense.

"Pondering the monolith has given the citizens of our city joy and childlike wonder. Not many things can do that anymore."