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Doug Clark: Overnight in the Paulsen penthouse a taste of the high life
That’s the text message I beamed to friends Wednesday when I got to be the first lucky stiff to spend a night in Spokane’s posh Paulsen Center penthouse since the 2007 passing of its longtime resident, Helen Paulsen.
Calling this 16th-floor aerie home, even for a single night, would make anyone feel bigger than Kanye.
Then there’s the view.
The wide veranda and patio surrounding the 2,320-square-foot penthouse offers breathtaking vistas.
Clocktower to the north. Trains rumbling in from the east. Business-core buildings rising to the west. St. John’s Cathedral to the south.
The bright sunlight and clear skies didn’t mar my view any.
As a kid I remember gazing up at the tall building at Riverside Avenue and Washington Street. Back then, the penthouse was lined with trees that gave it a magical look.
Speaking of which, I seem to recall a giant star that shone above it at Christmastime.
After the 1927 death of August Paulsen, a mining magnate of enormous wealth, his widow, Myrtle, decided to spend some of her $3.9 million estate on building the medical/dental center.
As an unexpected bonus, she crowned the art deco structure with a six-room penthouse.
“Mrs. Paulsen’s apartment is said to be one of the finest roof homes west of Chicago,” wrote a reporter for The Spokesman-Review in 1930. “For truly it is a beautiful spot … all riding high as if on a magic carpet or hanging in a huge crystal ball.”
Reality doesn’t disappoint, despite the significant décor changes that have occurred since my original elevator ride to the top.
My only other penthouse visit took place on a June day in 1997. Helen Paulsen herself (then 84) allowed me to become the first reporter in 40 years to snoop around her Louis XV furniture, wrought iron gates and gilded mirrors.
Getting to the eagle’s nest was quite a coup. It took a dozen phone calls to this delightful woman over the course of a year, plus the intercession from a friendly barrister we both knew.
All my second trip took was a wedding.
Well, not just any wedding. Sunday, Allison Guenther, daughter of my good friend, Marianne Guenther Bornhoft, will marry her high school sweetheart, Nolan Erdman.
As long as she was booking the penthouse for the nuptials, Marianne asked if I’d like to use the space a few days earlier for a fact-finding sleepover.
Absolutely, I told her.
My overnighter also took the blessing of Vince Bozzi, publisher of Spokane Coeur d’Alene Living magazine. In addition to his media endeavors, Bozzi has entered the “event-hosting business,” as one reporter dubbed it.
The marriage of Allison and Nolan will be the first since Helen lived here. Not long ago, Bozzi obtained a lease allowing him to rent out the penthouse for meetings, retreats, weddings and the occasional guest.
Bozzi, too, is crazy about the space.
“I’m tempted to live up here like Iron Man,” laughs Bozzi, who also has the Chateau Rive at the Flour Mill for concerts, weddings and other special events.
“I’d have a zip line (installed) from here to Riverfront Park.”
Now we’re talking.
A far cry from the French furnishings of Mrs. Paulsen, the penthouse today has the clean, modern look of a tasteful suite in an upscale casino.
During my stay, I kept migrating to the patio, where I picked some Merle Haggard tunes on my guitar or stared transfixed at the city nightlights.
Many legends have emerged about Helen Paulsen’s long life in the penthouse.
One of them supposedly centers on her distrust of banks. Because of it, the story goes, she kept over a million dollars in cash in a small locked room just off a main bathroom.
According to the tale, family members finally talked Helen into moving the money across Riverside to the Old National Bank.
Which was accomplished one day – via wheelbarrow.
Not true, says Helen’s grandson Cip (pronounced Kip). It wasn’t cash.
It was 10,000 gold Krugerrands.
My favorite penthouse story also involves money, although not nearly so much.
I’m talking about the small change and $2 bill that was embedded in a clear plastic toilet seat that was located in one of the bathrooms.
Helen proudly showed me toward the end of our visit. The seat, she told me, was a favorite of her late husband, Clarence, who died in 1981.
A gag gift from Henry Day, another fabulously wealthy mining tycoon, she explained.
The saddest thing is that nobody can tell me what happened to the famed Paulsen throne seat. After Helen’s death six years ago someone apparently just absconded with it.
The work of some four-flusher, I’m guessing.
Doug Clark is a columnist for The Spokesman-Review. He can be reached at (509) 459-5432 or by email at dougc@spokesman.com.