If These Walls Could Speak: A Reflection of the Seattle Sephardic Walking Tour

By Sha'Niya Black

My journey to walking the Seattle Sephardic Tour began with a casual exchange at work. I learned from a co-worker at the Washington State Jewish Historical Society that volunteers were needed. That small moment of conversation opened the door for me to step more directly into the community I’ve been working with for nearly two years as a digital curator and program coordinator for the historical sociaty. In that time, I’ve been welcomed into various spaces within the Jewish community, a community that isn’t my own, yet has shared so much of its history, culture, and resilience with me.

When I first joined, I worked on the Confronting Hate Together project, researching the experiences of the Black, Asian American Pacific Islander and Jewish communities. That project opened my eyes to the deep connections between our communities in Seattle, including the bonds between the Jewish and the Black community. During my time here, I was told about the Sephardic Walking Tour, its history, and the ways it reflects that sense of unity. As my time in Seattle was coming to a close before starting graduate school outside of Seattle, I knew I couldn’t leave without going on the tour—both to learn more about Jewish history here and to reflect on how our stories continue to intersect.

We started the tour at Washington Hall, a building that was constructed in 1908 by the Danish Brotherhood and later became a cornerstone of the Central District, as it opened its doors to the neighborhood’s many communities, among them the small yet growing Sephardic community. In 1973, it transitioned into an African American Masonic Lodge, yet the spirit of the building remained unchanged as it continued to serve as a space for music, performing arts, and community gathering.

Standing outside the hall, I found myself taking in the architecture, the sidewalks, and the surrounding area. It made me wonder: what did this place look like in its earliest days? Who once stood in this exact spot, more than 100 years ago? What are the stories of this place that we might not know of? The thought that these walls have witnessed countless faces and heard a variety of languages was humbling. Washington Hall was only our first stop, and yet its rich history had already left a deep impression on me.

As we moved on, we visited the original sites of Congregation Ezra Bessaroth, the Herzl Congregation synagogue, and several other landmarks. I was struck by how often I had walked these streets without noticing the subtle traces of the Jewish community that once lived here. How had I missed the Stars of David etched into the buildings? The architectural details I now recognize from my job viewing archival photos had once been invisible to me.

We eventually arrived at what was once the Sephardic Bikur Holim synagogue, now home to Tolliver Temple, a predominantly Black church. The temple was originally built in 1929 by Turkish-Sephardic Jewish immigrants and later became Tolliver Temple. Since then, it has been a cornerstone of Seattle’s Black community with a history of advocating for civil rights, offering support to new migrants, and serving as a vital place of worship and gathering. From the outside, you can still see the original architecture and the Stars of David and tablet that adorn the building. As we approached, we heard the sounds of a church choir spilling into the street, such rich, powerful harmonies that evoke personal emotions I cannot begin to put into words.

As a Christian, there’s no sound sweeter to me than that of a choir. My soul feels at peace, and it feels like home. The church leaders invited us inside, and I couldn’t help but smile and dance a little. Though I wasn’t in my home church and wasn’t with my family, I still felt entirely at home, surrounded by people from my community, people who now call this place home, and others in the Jewish community whose parents or grandparents once did.

It’s hard to fully express how beautiful that moment was. When we left the sanctuary, we shook hands with the church leaders and stepped outside to hear more stories about the building. One of our tour guides shared memories of growing up in the area and others joked that if the synagogue had music like the temple does now, they might’ve paid more attention in services; we all laughed. These shared stories, jokes, and memories, all surrounding this single building, were remarkable. The structure holds different meanings for different communities, but the emotions tied to it - love, laughter, and belonging - are universal. Seeing the faces of those on the tour light up as they recalled their own memories and the memories of others were powerful. People of all ages and walks of life passed through these spaces, each experience unique, yet somehow connected.

We visited several other historic sites, but being at Tolliver Temple stayed with me. That building made me reflect: if its walls could speak, what stories would they tell? Would they start with the early-morning families arriving to set up for services? With the children bursting through the doors to meet their friends outside? What were the jokes, the milestones, the moments of joy that happened here, the ones never recorded?

I imagine the walls would speak of change, yes, but also of continuity. Though the faces have changed, perhaps the spirit hasn’t. It was once a place of love and worship, and it still remains that way today.

[Sha'Niya Black is the digital curator at the Washington State Jewish Historical Society. She began her work with the organization as an intern, focusing on Washington’s Asian American Pacific Islander and African American communities. Since then, she has played an integral role in rebuilding the oral history program at WSJHS. She was raised in the Renton-Skyway neighborhood of South Seattle.]