Mansion's mystery is solved; opening safe not all it's cracked up to be

Seattle's historic Stimson-Green Mansion was decked out for the holidays -- the century-old chandeliers were gleaming, roaring lions flanked the blazing main fireplace and the wedding champagne was flowing.

But a massive black and gold safe stuck into the staircase wall leading to the Turkish-themed smoking room drew him away from the post-vows merrymaking.

The safe hadn't been opened, he was told, for about 20 years. The combination had been lost.

The mystery intrigued him. Toye started to fiddle with the big tumbler in the middle of the solid metal door. He explained to his curious 5-year-old son that fancy folks in the olden days used safes to store their valuables. He kept spinning the dial as the rest of his family and friends toasted the bride and groom.

For kicks, he asked a passing staff member for some information about the mansion, wondering if it could hold a clue.

The mansion was built in 1901 for timber baron Charles D. Stimson. Businessman and banker Joshua Green and his wife, Laura, later lived -- and died -- in the home, which was in their family for more than six decades. It was bought by Stimson's granddaughter, Priscilla "Patsy" Bullitt Collins, almost 20 years ago.

The English Tudor landmark home has been restored to its original condition -- the dark wood beams that crisscross the ceiling are well-burnished; custom-built furniture still graces the grand entry. Portraits of stoic-looking men and ringletted children peer down from the walls. The home belongs to the non-profit Washington Trust for Historic Preservation and is used for special events.

Following his hunch, Toye spun through some numbers associated with the mansion. Nothing. He flipped their order. Nope.

He paused to think, perhaps channeling the clever nonchalance of his favorite international spy. He juggled the digits some more.

Bingo!

The heavy door swung open.

"There was nothing in there but a light bulb," Toye said yesterday from his home in Lake Oswego, Ore., just south of Portland.

"And a key, too," chimed in his son, Corbin. The safe, about 5 feet tall and 2 feet wide and deep, only held empty wooden shelves and drawers.

No jewels, furs, deeds or other mementos. But it was still exciting.

"I'm an avid fan of all the James Bond movies," he said. "It was all of that. You're all dressed up and it's a gala event and people are milling around and you start playing around. I'm sure it all went to my head."

"We're still quite shocked over it," said Gillian Faulkner Baumann, general manager of the mansion.

Baumann said she'd been told the safe was empty, but that a theme of the house is to let guests explore all the nooks and peek into closets and furniture. This was one spot no one could poke into.

An industrial engineer by trade, Toye said he loves puzzles -- except for the Rubik's Cube -- he never could solve that. And his foray into safecracking really came as a lark -- the secret to the mystery was simply the First Hill mansion's street address.

"No formal training whatsoever," he said. "Just typical lockers in high school."

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