By Guy Span, S.D.

What is it about ancient ferryboats that inspire people to save them, or try at least? Notable successes include the Eureka, which is stuffed and mounted like a trophy fish at the Hyde St. Maritime Museum. Or the Berkeley, posing as a one-boat museum in San Diego with her boiler cut in half, so we can look inside. In Sacramento, we have the Delta King, preserved as a hotel, although it took years of wrangling and many half-hearted attempts to save her. Here in the Bay Area, we have several semi-preserved failures, including the half-sunk Fresno of the famous Steel-Electric Fleet of Southern Pacific (sister to the semi-preserved Santa Rosa, which is tied up at Pier 3). Near the Fresno is the hulk of a Key System ferry. And there are more.

But up in Seattle we have the drama of the Kalakala (kah-LOCK-a-lah), the world’s first and arguably only, fully streamlined ferry. Looking like an inverted old-fashioned bathtub, with streamlined appendages, the Kalakala instantly won the hearts of Seattle’s ferry riders. Affectionately dubbed the "Silver Slug," she served Seattle faithfully from her grand arrival in 1935 to her silent departure in 1967. So unique was her appearance that World’s Fair-goers in 1963 dubbed her the second biggest attraction (after the Space Needle).

The Kalakala was also elegant. She had the Double Horseshoe Café, the Palm Room Bar (including an after-deck area), and a little known, way-below deck tap room, containing showers so the boatyard workers could scrub up, change, and a grab a brew on the way home. Her name is from the Chinook, meaning "Flying Bird" and that was also the name of her orchestra. As an elegant lady, she entranced all that had the opportunity for a moonlight dance special, or even a regular run to Bremerton.

The Kalakala scored a number of firsts. She was the first fitted with commercial radar and still holds FCC License 001. At the time she was built, she was equipped with a huge St. Louis Busch-Sulzer Diesel engine. Until late in the ‘40s, she had the largest crankshaft in service. The only other application for this large an engine was in stationary power plants. But some combination of engine coupling or propeller problems caused a large vibration, noted by riders of the time. In the ‘50s, the propeller was replaced and the vibration dimmed, but was still noticeable.

By the time the ‘60s rolled around, the Kalakala was operating at reduced automobile capacity, as cars had gotten bigger. So in 1967, she was sold to go north as a fish cannery. Protesting her fate, the Kalakala blew a piston and had to be towed out of town, kicking and screaming. For the next seventeen years, the Kalakala served as various fish and shrimp canneries until she was finally abandoned in 1984 by a bankrupt processor. Grounded, gutted, and decaying, the ferry then reverted to the city of Kodiak, Alaska, which tried to sell her.

However there were few interested until Peter Bevis saw her while working a fishing boat in the area. He became enamored with trying to save her and started a volunteer clean up, despite some harassment from the city. By 1992, Peter has founded a non-profit corporation to take title of the vessel and bring her home. And that is precisely what happened in 1998, when the Kalakala, rusted and tired, returned under tow to her home after serving as much time in exile as she did in service. Perhaps that is the reason that Seattle turned out a real homecoming celebration–guilt at letting the iconic ferryboat get away.

But there is more guilt for the Seattle residents, as they then failed to rally behind the foundation and cough up the funds to preserve her. Thus, Bevis was removed from the board of the foundation and it later entered bankruptcy. An auction was held and the ship was recently sold to Charles Medlin for a mere $140,000. According to the Kalakala foundation web site, Peter Bevis said, "I feel like Rip Van Winkle. I went to Alaska to save this icon for the community and when I got back, I couldn’t find the community."

So what happens next? According to the auction house of James G. Murphy Co., Charles Medlin is the winner with a $140,000 bid. Medlin posted the $25,000 deposit, but then failed to deliver the rest of the cash and, according to Terry Moore of the auctioneer, has forfeited the deposit. The Kalakala was then offered to the second bidder at their last price of $135,000 and they declined, perhaps thinking that at a new auction their starting bid of $60,000 would win. The vessel is now offered at $135,000 to the third highest bidder.

Nancy James, speaking as the Trustee, refused to comment. Charles Medlin has not returned Bay Crossings’ phone calls, but according to Peter Bevis, he is a serious bidder. Medlin had approached the foundation two years ago with an offer of $2 million–enough to satisfy the foundation’s debt. But because his plan envisioned bringing the ferry to the Bay Area, the foundation refused. So Bay Crossings asked Bevis if he was happy that at least the bankruptcy would eliminate the existing debt. Bevis then got animated. He pointed out that he had borrowed $1.61 million on the sweat equity in his artist studios to fund moving the Kalakala to Seattle. "Medlin offered us $2 million for the vessel. He has now just bought it for $140,000. You know what’s the difference in this equation? Me."

Peter Bevis went on to say, "I’m done. I can’t set foot on the property, but I still care. It’s like when the best girl you ever knew breaks up with you. You still care, but there’s nothing you can do." So Bay Crossings asked what he was going to do. And with remarkable cheerfulness in the face of disaster, Bevis replied: "Well, I’ve got four offers on my studios. I can drive bulldozers or fish. The Lotto is at $44 million, I can bet on the date the keel was laid, the top speed in knots, the number of scheduled crossings to Bremerton, things like that."