The Glasshouse Farm That Fed Seattle's Hotels
In 1898, an editor toured a Lake Washington model farm where seven greenhouses and a prize Jersey herd supplied the city's finest tables.
Together with Mr. McDonald, the editor recently paid a visit to the farm of A. F. and L. T. Haas. A number of photographs were taken, from which we have selected three and reproduce in this issue.
To reach "The Ledges" we took a car on the Seattle Street Railway Line to Leschi Park on Lake Washington. The headquarters of the street car company are at the lake end of the line, and in the office we found Mr. A. F. Haas, the manager of the company, and his son, L. T. Haas, cashier and accountant.
The regular steamer running from the Leschi landing to different points on the lake, the "L. T. Haas," was not due to make a trip for several hours, so a speedy launch, propelled by a gasoline motor, was chartered and the trip to the east side made within a short time.
"The Ledges" supplies to Seattle's representative citizens the choicest and most select hot-house vegetables. A specialty is made of cucumbers, lettuce and tomatoes, all grown under glass, there being seven greenhouses, varying in length from 80 to 150 feet, and from 40 to 50 feet in width. A reproduction of a photograph of the largest is shown, filled with lettuce of the non-heading type in pots. Prof. L. H. Bailey, in his well-known work "The Forcing Book," made use of this photograph in a full-page engraving.
The dairy department was particularly interesting and brought forth favorable comment from Mr. McDonald, who was pleased with the well-kept appearance of the cows and the model sanitary arrangements of the stables. Twenty-three head of cattle make up the herd; eight of these are thoroughbred, and the rest are high-grade. The herd is mostly of Jersey blood, the full-blooded animals being all Jerseys.
At the head of this herd is the Jersey bull, King of the Ledges, 45983. He is two years old. Naiad's St. Lambert King was the sire of this bull, and his dam was Crocus of the Ledges. He is a fine-looking animal, and thoroughly representative of the Exile of St. Lambert stock, one of the most famous sires the world has produced, having to his record 62 cows testing 14 to 32 pounds 6 ounces of butter.
A snapshot of King of the Ledges is reproduced on the fourth page, also Lilly Fawn, one of the prettiest animals in the herd. She is a three-year-old, sired by Duwamish, 31535, dam Toltec's Venta Rex, 63476, and produces about 30 pounds of milk that tests a little better than 5 per cent. A number of the other cows have still better records.
It is the intention to enlarge the herd and make it a center of supply of the dairy farms of the Northwest for animals of pure breeding and warranted superiority of milk and butter production. New importations are being planned from the finest herds of the east, and it is probable will include purchases from the farm of Charles Lantz, well known as the owner of the great bull, Golden Blyth.
Down on Western Avenue, among all the stacks of produce that come in, the packages that are from this farm can be easily recognized for their uniformity of style and careful packing. A purchaser looking for the best the market affords is satisfied when he finds "The Ledges" stamp upon the end of the box.
The milk from the dairy herd sells at a fancy price to leading hotels and private families and is declared by those who use it to be the best that is furnished in Seattle.
There is systematic management about "The Ledges," and it is conducted precisely as any business enterprise. It is a practical illustration of the rules of multiplication and subtraction in the conduct of a farm enterprise. It is a credit to the Messrs. Haas and worthy of the reputation it sustains.
“The milk from the dairy herd sells at a fancy price to leading hotels and private families and is declared by those who use it to be the best that is furnished in Seattle.”
The Ledges farm vanished long before Seattle's tech boom, but its story echoes today's debates over local food production and supply chains. The same Lake Washington shoreline now holds parks and neighborhoods, and the idea of a farm feeding a city's hotels feels both quaint and pointed.
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