Best Acts

Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, and see the greatest shoe on earth! When Danny Eskenazi was growing up in Seattle, he often visited his grandfather's downtown shoe store. For nearly 30 years, Isaac Eskenazi kept a pair of giant boots in the window. The shoes belonged to Robert Wadlow, an 8-foot-11-inch tall man who traveled on the lecture circuit in the 1930s and stopped in Seattle at the Pantages Theater. When Isaac relocated his store in the 1960s, the boots mysteriously disappeared. That started Danny on a lifelong search for these Holy Grails of Giant Shoes. To this day, he continues to search (there is a $1,000 reward for the return of Wadlow's boots), and along the way he has acquired an enviable collection of giant shoes. In 1997, he generously donated his collection to the new Giant Shoe Museum (Old Seattle Paperworks, 1501 Pike Pl, 623-2870; lower level of Pike Place Market), setting the hurdle higher for other Seattle philanthropists. The coin-op museum is a marvel, and the only one of its kind north of San Francisco. A dollar's worth of quarters will pay for all three of the peep shoe's exhibits. The painted facade is an homage to the tradition of lurid, colorful circus posters from the early 20th century. Sven Sundbaum, one of the Northwest's most respected sign artists, created the facade, cast the bronze eyepieces, and built the cabinets in which Seattle's Shoes of Mystery sit, shrouded by velvet curtains. The Giant Shoe Museum carries on the Seattle tradition of humorous, creative hucksterism. From Henry Yesler to Ivar, there's always been a secret stream of eccentricity running right below the surface of mild-mannered, financially responsible, Scandinavian Seattle. The museum is sponsored by the Society for the Preservation of Oversize Footwear, one of Seattle's most exclusive clubs. Danny said, "People are amazed by roadside attractions-like the Fremont Rocket, Hat and Boots, and the statue of Lenin. It's obvious that, as a society, people need more local goofiness, more things that distract them from the daily grind. The Society's mission is simply to demand equal time. . . ."

Check out the rest of the critics' picks: clerks, beats, spots, wonks, geeks, and bites. Or, go to the 1999 Best of Seattle main page.