Look for a sturdy brick building with tall windows and a red-trimmed door-right in front of you, the sign says “Panama Hotel & Tea House.” Step a little closer-I promise the ghosts here are friendly!
Welcome to the Panama Hotel! If you listen closely, you might almost hear the click-clack of luggage wheels and the soft murmur of travelers from over a century ago. Built in 1910 by Sabro Ozasa-the very first Japanese-American architect in Seattle-this hotel wasn’t just a place to rest your head, it was the beating heart of Seattle’s Japantown, or Nihonmachi. Imagine the early 1900s: the smell of rice and tea drifting from the restaurants, families chattering on their way up to cozy sleeping quarters, and the hustle from businesses setting up shop right inside these very walls.
But the real heart, the real warmth, was in the sento, or bathhouse, deep within this building. Back then, most homes in Japantown didn’t have baths, so the Hashidate-Yu, one of Seattle’s four Japanese bathhouses, became the steamy center of community life. Steam curling through the air, laughter echoing against the tiles, men on one side, women and giggling children on the other-everyone gathered to wash away the day’s troubles and share stories. Can you picture the fog on a cold Seattle night rising off the bathhouse water?
Now, let’s fast-forward to a darker chapter: World War II. With Executive Order 9066, Japanese Americans were forced from their homes and sent to internment camps. Imagine the heartbreak-families with only hours to pack, desperately stuffing their most precious belongings into trunks and suitcases. The Panama Hotel became a safe harbor for these memories, its basement filling up with boxes and suitcases-hundreds of them-left carefully behind by families who hoped, against all odds, to come back. But most never did, their belongings still resting quietly in the basement below you. Don’t worry, you don’t need a key to this mystery; you can peer through a glass panel installed by Jan Johnson, the hotel’s devoted third owner, and see the silent reminders-letters, trunks, everyday treasures-waiting in the half-light below the floorboards.
After the war, much of Japantown faded, but the Panama Hotel endured, lovingly restored to trace the steps of those lost years. It’s not just a hotel; it’s a living tribute. Its story inspired the best-selling novel “Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet,” and today, it’s recognized as a National Historic Landmark and a National Treasure.
Next time you sip tea here, you can picture directors hard at work documenting the hotel’s long saga for “The Panama Hotel Legacy.” In a single spot, you can breathe in more than a century of community, culture, and perseverance-along with just a whiff of jasmine tea. The old sento downstairs is the last of its kind in the United States, quietly echoing with the laughter and whispers of a community that never truly left.
Exploring the realm of the seattle's "japantown" (nihonmachi), japanese bathhouses (sento) or the film? Feel free to consult the chat section for additional information.
