by Alan J Stein

After WWII, the local population surrounding Kirkland started dwindling almost as quickly as it had grown five years earlier. The Kirkland Chamber of Commerce took notice of this and did not like it one bit. How do you get folks to move to Kirkland when all the jobs are in Seattle? Simple. By promoting the city as a bedroom community. Work there, live here. And how do you let everyone know where Kirkland is located? How else? Throw a party!

And throw a party they did. In fact, Kirkland's first summer festival was so big and so much fun, that newspapermen swooped in from around the country. It was broadcast from coast-to-coast over the radio. Newsreels of it were later shown in movie theatres everywhere. All of this frenzy stemmed from one of the events: Pig-swimming races in Lake Washington.

To understand this bizarre media phenomenon, you have to look at the pulse of the nation in 1946. People had just come out of a war which involved many sacrifices and hardships. Prior to that, they had persevered throughout a decade of economic hardship. The summer of 1946 was the first summer in over 15 years that people had a chance to collectively blow off some steam and laugh at the quirky things in life, such as racing pigs in a lake. Art Needham was the chairman for the summer festival committee, but the idea of racing pigs came from Ray Daughters, swimming coach for the Washington Athletic Club. The race was to be one part of the August 17 weekend festival, but once the news outlets picked up on the story, it quickly became the star attraction.

Initially, there were a few complaints about animal cruelty, and a representative from the Humane Society was asked to comment. He visited Kirkland and complimented the committee for the fine handling of the event, pointing out that pigs can actually swim quite well, a fact that most people were unaware of.

Local pig farms, along with other groups and individuals, entered their best swimmers. KOMO radio entered a pig named Omak. Pacific Farms' entrant was Rose of Normandie. The Seattle American Legion enlisted Old Sarge. Ray Daughters signed up his own pig, Salome. Even well-known radio comedian Bob Burns, who joked about his Arkansas Razorbacks on his broadcasts, planned on coming to town and entered his own porker, Wafford. As the race neared, newsmen started covering the city. On July 30 a trial run of four pigs was previewed by newsreel cameras, radiomen, newspaper reporters and photographers. Having newspeople in town over the next three weeks only added to the already growing interest over the coming festival.

One person who remembers the excitement is Trudi Schroeder. She and her husband, Dr Robert Schroeder, were newlyweds who had recently arrived in Kirkland, where Dr Schroeder was starting his dentistry practice. They had just moved into their new home near Moss Bay, when she heard a knock at the door. "I answered it", recalls Mrs Schroeder, "and a man introduced himself as a reporter for the Associated Press. He asked if he could use our phone, and I invited him in. I had just baked an apple pie, and I gave him a piece as he called in his reports from my living room. Here I was, brand new to town and right in the middle of all the excitement.".

Promoters of Kirkland were very excited. The press coverage was extensive. Almost every daily paper in America gave it some mention. Here at home, the East Side Journal pointed out that anyone who reads about Kirkland might even move here and make it their permanent home. The publicity continued to snowball until August 17, when 6000 people swarmed into Kirkland to see pigs tread water and to partake in the festivities. The race was only part of the fun.

A heated contest for Festival Queen had been extensively covered in the local paper. Six organizations had each sponsored a Kirkland girl, and voting was accomplished in a unique manner: A raffle was being held for a shiny, new 1946 Chevrolet along with a washing machine and an electric range. Each raffle ticket came with a ballot that gave you 100 votes for Festival Queen. If you bought a Festival pin, you got 25 votes. It was up to each organization to sell as many tickets and pins as possible to garner enough votes for their candidate. The papers printed the vote totals as they grew each week.

A baby contest was also being held to pick six winners. There were 200 contestants, which would have guaranteed 194 pairs of disgruntled parents, but the sheer number of entrants allowed everyone to take joy in the competition. (Sidenote: Given that the population of Kirkland in 1946 was only a few thousand, you can see how the phrase "Baby Boomer" came about.)

One of the biggest hits was the arrival of the Seattle Police Quartet. Dressed in old-fashioned garb (including handlebar moustaches) and driving a Black Maria they crooned the tune "I've Got a Gal", changing the lyrics to "We've Got a Pig", as they escorted Old Sarge, the American Legion's porcine entrant, to the gates.

Eighteen specially-designed chutes were set up in Lake Washington, 75 feet from the shore. Each of the gates would be operated by, as the newspapers described them, a University of Washington drama department beauty. At the sound of the gun, each of the bikini-clad young women would open a gate, and all 18 pigs would slide into the water.

Which they did, and with a nationwide audience to boot. Bob Ferris, of KJR, handled the play-by-play for ABC radio. Most of the pigs glided smoothly towards shore (at least as smoothly as pigs glide), but Salome and Old Sarge got mixed up as soon as they hit the water. They bumped into each other and The Pig Patrol boat had to grab them after they started heading for Sand Point. The winner of the race was the triumphant Rose of Normandie. She won the race in 45 seconds, which was pointed out to be a world record, considering that this was the first aquatic hog race in history. Second place was awarded to Wafford, and Omak came in third. But the big winner was the city of Kirkland, who basked in the media spotlight.

The rest of the weekend was very successful. A street dance and carnival was held on Saturday evening. 8000 people showed up on Sunday, to see the parade, watch a horse show and witness the crowning of the Festival Queen. Jean Lund, who was sponsored by the Sons of Norway, won with 187,800 votes (and an 11,000 point margin) and was awarded the crown and a diamond ring. Donna Jean Cowan and Donald Etzler both won top honors in the baby contest, and each received a $25 savings account.

Kirkland's first water carnival was also a financial success. The Chamber of Commerce made a profit of $3500, which they immediately used to print a brochure promoting Kirkland as an attractive place for small business, which it would later become. Art Needham soon went on to chair the committee that would raise over $50,000 to build a Living War Memorial stadium on Rose Hill. The summer carnival went on to become a annual event for many years.

And what became of Rose of Normandie? When the local paper covered the race five days later, it was pointed out that "(winning the race) didn't necessarily prolong her precarious hog's life any; she's probably nothing more than a couple of sides of bacon, some ham-hocks, and a dozen pork chops by now.", For some, fame can be so fleeting.

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© 1998 - Alan J Stein