Community Building
35 W. Main
by Lindsae Williams


Spokane's Community Building opened the year I moved to the city. Like a lot of people in Spokane, I use capital letters when referring to the building. But I use them because this space holds important memories and experiences, things that have subtly shaped the person I am today.

My first visits to the Community Building were with friends who volunteered there; I remember a story about how a few of my friends became trapped on the roof of a building after a locked door slammed shut. I entered the Community Building with little interest, not realizing how much I would love it and how much time I would eventually spend there.

I began to experiment with vegan cooking after going to a show at the Community Building. Owen Hart, a hardcore/grind band from Tacoma, was playing, and someone brought a luscious vegan chocolate cake for everyone to share. The touring bands had also brought a table full of books with them. I remember that I bought two: a collection of short stories by Haruki Murakami and the popular cookbook Vegan with a Vengeance. Over the years since I have progressed from vegetarianism to a fully vegan diet, I have found other cooking guides that I love, but this battered copy is still my favorite.

It was at the Community Building that I later volunteered for KYRS, Spokane's community radio station. I was shy and awkward when I first showed up, and my tasks of reviewing CDs and helping with the music library seemed like monumental responsibilities. But after meeting a few of the KYRS programmers, I was encouraged to submit a proposal for my own radio show – something that included locally-focused interviews, lots of noisy political music (yes, I've played Owen Hart) and a healthy helping of anarchafeminist ideology.

While taking the necessary FCC (that's Federal Communications Commission) test prior to being approved as a KYRS programmer, I met someone who also had an extended history with the Community Building. He had booked shows there, had attended meetings for a local anarchist collective, and was beginning a stint as a co-host of a show that played music I didn't like. And like me, he was shy and nervous and had just left a difficult relationship.

We met again – at other grindcore shows – and I invited him to a friend's vegan Thanksgiving potluck. In spite of our disagreements about music, we found that we enjoyed many of the same bands. We often played identical songs while broadcasting our different shows. Almost a year after our FCC test, we used the lobby of the Community Building to host a small commitment ceremony. We ate vegan red velvet cake, drank tea from vintage teacups, and danced to '80s tunes with our families and friends.

Since I became a programmer for KYRS, I've used the Community Building for other things, too. I've helped host potlucks for vegan groups and hold women's skillshare meetings. I once arranged a clothing swap and bake sale fundraiser for KYRS in the sunlit lobby, and a friend and I just started a small zine library – the Bird's Nest – on the third floor of the Community Building. And when I'm walking through downtown Spokane and need to use the bathroom, or get a drink of water, or simply use a free computer, I walk into the Community Building. It's a place that is there for me when I need it, a place that feels safe and welcoming no matter what time of the day or night I decide to stop by. I love the dim stairways and the slow elevator, the bathrooms with their funny latticed doors and the piano in the lobby. I love hearing the quiet hum of the radio broadcasts, the cooing of the pigeons that nest on windowsills, and the sounds of pedestrians passing on the street below.

Local legend claims that that the Community Building was used as a bordello at the end of the 19th century, and that the ghost of the madame still haunts all three floors. Her name is Isabella, and although I've never seen other programmers and workers in the building claim that she walks the hallways at night, still making sure that everything is order and that no one is too rowdy or disrespectful, I'd like to think that if I ever become a wandering ghost, I'd join Isabella in the Community Building, watching over the place to make sure it is still loved and cherished.


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