Originally published Saturday, November 29, 1997

By SCOTT SUNDE
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER REPORTER

P.J. Scidenstricker, who runs a pet-boarding business on the north side of this town, was showing a visitor Harriet the turkey when all conversation ended.

The roar of an airliner on final approach to Sea-Tac Airport started rattling off the kennel walls at PJ's Pet Ranch.

"You get used to that," Scidenstricker said as the jet passed and the conversation about Harriet resumed.

In the city of SeaTac, you have to. The airport is the central ingredient of life here. It brings in 38,000 people a day to work in this town of 23,000 residents. In addition, 70,000 people use the airport each day.

In this symbiosis, the city of SeaTac reaps the tax revenue that comes with having hotels -- 5,000 rooms in all, second only to Seattle in the state -- and other airport-related businesses. For the price of being an accommodating neighbor, the city has managed to squeeze concessions out of the airport in return for not trying to block construction of a third runway.

The airport has devoured the neighborhoods that once surrounded it.

Before the city incorporated, whole subdivisions north and south of the airport vanished, unable to survive under the punishing noise from takeoffs and landings.

North SeaTac Park took the place of what was once a working class neighborhood to the north of the airport. To the south, land uses more compatible with an airport have sprouted up. Golfers at Tyee Valley Golf Club play around huge red towers that guide incoming planes. Nearby, a federal detention center recently opened and started housing prisoners, who have no choice but to accept airplane noise.

The Port of Seattle, which owns the airport, has begun to buy up 388 homes on Sea-Tac's western border. The port will acquire the houses, demolish them, then bury the neighborhood under tons of fill for the third runway.

Madrona Elementary School on Sea-Tac's southeast side, underscores the nature of the relationship between the airport and its neighbors.

Madrona has 570 kids in its sprawling main building and 11 portables. The south end of Sea-Tac's runway is close enough that a steady stream of jets pass over the school soccer field.

Madrona is part of the Highline School District, which has been at loggerheads for years with the Port of Seattle over noise-proofing the schools.

Negotiations have yet to produce an agreement. So Madrona doesn't have sound insulation. Nor is it air conditioned. A mild day finds classrooms with open windows and the thunder of jet engines drowning out the complexities of multiplication and cursive writing.

It's an old practice in the district, says Madrona Principal Bert Campbell, to teach, stop as a plane passes, then resume teaching.

Familiarity hasn't bred affection.

"It's hard for them to hear me and for me to hear them," says Peggy Brentlinger, who teaches children who need extra help. "It takes away from instruction time. It's a constant interruption."

Yet the airport also is a resource to the school. As many as 75 employees of Alaska Airlines, which has its headquarters and reservations center nearby, are mentors to Madrona students. They eat lunch at least once a week -- though two or three times a week is common -- with students and help them during school.

Airline employees also have held job fairs at the school to help students' parents learn the skills of getting and holding a job. Poverty is common among Madrona families -- close to 85 percent of the students get free or reduced-price lunches, and the school has the largest breakfast program in the district.

Not long ago, executives, including Alaska Airlines Chairman John Kelly, showed up at the school for a painting project. Kelly arrived in a nice pair of shorts, Campbell recalled with a chuckle, that were paint-splattered by the end of the day.

Continued:

• Airport is a noisy fact of life
• Surface traffic also a problem area