Neighbors battle over the perfect West Seattle view

On a tranquil hill overlooking Alki, Dave and Carole Bauman are looking forward to regaining more of their view of Puget Sound and the Olympics. In the house in front of them, Ron and Lauren Turpen are weighing their options: appeal a judge's decision or tear off their roof.

A King County Superior Court judge took the unusual step this week of ordering the Turpens to replace their pitched roof with a flat one to block less of the view for the Baumans and seven other neighbors.


		Paul Joseph Brown / P-I
	Dave and Carole Bauman, shown in their back yard in West Seattle Friday, won a legal battle when a judge told neighbors who own the house in the background to put a flat roof on it.

For the Baumans, it was a pivotal decision in a seven-year fight that might seem familiar to many Seattle residents. From their deck, the Baumans had one of those uniquely Seattle views of the Sound and the mountains. They fumed as they watched the Turpens' 5,000-square-foot, three-level home gradually go up, even as the neighbors were in court fighting over whether the Turpens' home violated a long-standing deed restriction limiting homes in the neighborhood to a single story.

To the Turpens, though, the decision by King County Superior Court Judge Michael Hayden was confounding.

They'd gotten the proper building permits from the city, and now that their home was nearly done, they were being ordered to replace the roof at a cost of about $150,000.

Their attorney, James Oliver, said he does not know whether the Turpens will appeal. The case seems to typify the growing pains in the city, where majestic views can disappear as quickly as it takes to build a building.

"It seems really unusual that a judge would tear down a part of a house," said Carole Bauman, a retired Minnesota high school dean. She and her husband, Dave, a retired Northwest Airlines pilot, bought their one-story house in the quiet neighborhood in 1997. The house was nothing fancy. But like the rest of the neighborhood, the views are spectacular.

"It's kind of a peaceful feeling," Carole Bauman said. "It's a lovely thing to see the mountains, especially when the sun is behind them and turns them purple." Even with the Turpens' pitched roof, the Baumans still have a panoramic view, but the Olympics and part of the Sound are blocked.

The Baumans and their neighbors along 57th Avenue Southwest have an unusual amount of protection for keeping their views intact.

According to court records, a man named George Gilbert owned a tract of land along 57th and 58th avenues Southwest decades ago.

In the 1940s, Gilbert put restrictions on the lots on 58th Avenue Southwest, like the Turpens' lot, which sits to the west and downhill of the homes on 57th Avenue Southwest, like the Baumans'. None of the downhill homes could be more than one story tall.

The definition of the term "one story" proved to be at the center of this dispute more than a half-century after Gilbert wrote the covenant.

The Turpens' home is built on a steep hill that slopes down to the west. According to court documents, the entry is on the upper level on the east side of the house. Besides the entry and a hall, the upper level has a bedroom, a large closet, a bathroom, a guest closet and a guest powder room. Stairs lead down to a second level.

That level has a kitchen, a nook, and the dining, living and family rooms. Below that, a bottom level has three bedrooms, a utility room, a storage room and a recreation room.

Though their house is considerably larger than the one-story cottages around it, the Turpens argued the layout met the city building code's definition of one story for fire-code applications because of its relation to the rising slope.

In a separate case, another King County Superior Court judge had ruled that the city's building code should define "one story" when interpreting covenants. Based on that ruling, the Turpens believed they were within their rights.

But Pete Buck, the attorney for the Baumans and the other neighbors, argued the code's technical definition of one story did not apply because that is not what Gilbert envisioned as a single story. To see what Gilbert envisioned, Buck argued, all anyone had to do was to look at the small houses he'd built. Before Ron Turpen, a 58-year-old who runs a carpentry business, started building, he tried to negotiate with his neighbors. Court documents reveal that he thought the neighbors' demands to build the house farther downhill on his lot were unrealistic. Being farther downhill would mean his own view would be blocked. He'd also have to change his plans and build a bigger driveway.

Believing he was complying with the law and having tried to work things out with his neighbors, Turpen began building, Oliver said. He kept on building even after the residents sued to stop him.

Bad move, Hayden wrote in his decision.

"A defendant who commences and continues to build a project, while a lawsuit is pending which challenges the legality of such a project, continues at the risk of abatement," Hayden wrote in his decision, signed Monday.

Hayden agreed in his decision the term one story "must be interpreted to effectuate the intent of ... George Gilbert in 1949." The best evidence of that intent, the judge said, are the small houses Gilbert built on a downhill lot.

Carole Bauman said she'd be able to see a little more of the Olympics if the Turpens' roof is flattened.

She added that the suit was about more than just views. "Holy smoke, for a judge to order a roof be torn off is a sign he agrees with us. Just cause you think you can do something doesn't mean you should."

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