Hell no she won't go
SEATTLE - The little old lady who lives in a little old house is stubborn in a very BIG way.
Edith Macefield, 86, has refused a $1 million offer from a developer to move out of her 108-year-old farmhouse to make way for a commercial complex.
"I don't want to move. I don't need the money. Money doesn't mean anything," she said recently.
Instead, the five-story project is being built around her, ringing the death knell for her once-thriving, blue-collar neighborhood.
Macefield's house is the last on her block, though there's a restaurant nearby that's staying put as well. Gravel and cement trucks noisily work around them, and a tall concrete wall stands within feet of Macefield's kitchen window. Construction cranes hang over her roof.
"When she digs her heels in, there is no changing her mind. She is set in her ways," said Charlie Peck, a friend for more than 20 years.
Macefield has lived in the two-story, two-bedroom house since 1966. It has been assessed at about $8,000 on land worth about $120,000.
She said she has no regrets about refusing to sell and simply drowns out the construction noise by turning up the television or blasting opera so loud you can hear it outside.
"I went through World War II, the noise doesn't bother me," she said. "They'll get it done someday."
Construction workers watch out for Macefield, particularly superintendent Barry Martin. He takes her to doctor appointments and to the hair salon. He brings her lunch.
"It's like having your grandmother here," Martin said. "Once you get to know someone, you can't just walk by without saying hello."
Edith Macefield, 86, has refused a $1 million offer from a developer to move out of her 108-year-old farmhouse to make way for a commercial complex.
"I don't want to move. I don't need the money. Money doesn't mean anything," she said recently.
Instead, the five-story project is being built around her, ringing the death knell for her once-thriving, blue-collar neighborhood.
Macefield's house is the last on her block, though there's a restaurant nearby that's staying put as well. Gravel and cement trucks noisily work around them, and a tall concrete wall stands within feet of Macefield's kitchen window. Construction cranes hang over her roof.
"When she digs her heels in, there is no changing her mind. She is set in her ways," said Charlie Peck, a friend for more than 20 years.
Macefield has lived in the two-story, two-bedroom house since 1966. It has been assessed at about $8,000 on land worth about $120,000.
She said she has no regrets about refusing to sell and simply drowns out the construction noise by turning up the television or blasting opera so loud you can hear it outside.
"I went through World War II, the noise doesn't bother me," she said. "They'll get it done someday."
Construction workers watch out for Macefield, particularly superintendent Barry Martin. He takes her to doctor appointments and to the hair salon. He brings her lunch.
"It's like having your grandmother here," Martin said. "Once you get to know someone, you can't just walk by without saying hello."
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