Behind the Sign

It was the fundamental relationship with the land more than trade goods and missionaries that defined the growing cultural divide between the First People and the New People over the ensuing decades following first contact. As one of the Swedebs Park displays states, with considerable restraint, “Our way was to live with the land and care for it, but not to ‘work it’ the way traders, missionaries, and the white government thought we should. With the coming of white men, our ancient relationship to land and water changed abruptly. The newcomers curtailed our traditional pursuits — our fishing, hunting, and gathering.”

How the Swimomish came to be among the First People of the Skagit Valley is a story that goes back long before recorded history — but it is one that has been handed down through its telling to generation after generation. It is a story that begins with what those of us New People might recognize as a Noah figure — which, of course, means that a flood is also involved.

Travel across the Rainbow Bridge to the western banks of the Swinomish Slough and look toward Komo Kulshan (aka, Mount Baker). Now, close your eyes and stretch your imagination back more than two centuries ago. The year is 1790, and you are in the village of Txiwúc.

This is the story of a painting by a local artist and member of the Upper Skagit Tribe, and why it seemed like the perfect gift for my wife on her birthday.

The last exhibit featured by the Skagit County Historical Museum in 2020 — before The Great Pandemic put an end to public gatherings — was on the legacy of Henry Klein, the German-born immigrant who founded the first full-service architectural firm in Skagit County, and whose vision defined a design esthetic that has come to be uniquely associated with the Pacific Northwest, even while its “general practitioner” was to become more modestly hailed as “the town architect.” This is his story.