There is a story I promised to tell you a while ago, and here it is, the Charleston mystery. The mystery first reared its ugly head on a bus ride a year ago. The driver was one of those who announce the name of each intersection. And as we neared the stop at Charleston and California, he said "Charlestown."

Did I hear right? What did he say?

Then he said it again. "Charles-TOWN."

I thought he must be a new driver, someone not from these parts. I was about to correct him when I noticed the street sign. I was aghast. It did indeed show the street I'd known for 40 years as 'Charleston', was actually named 'Charlestown.'

But it's not 'town' I said to myself. It's 'ton!' It's TON!

After I got off the bus I took a look at the sign in front of the nearby restaurant. 'Oh my', I thought to myself, it read Charlestown Street Cafe, not Charleston Street Cafe. Then, when I looked at the condominium across the street, I uttered a sigh of relief. I felt vindicated. It was called "The Charleston." But it was a short lived vindication. For as I walked down the street I took a look at each street sign I passed, signs I'd never paid much attention to before. And as I did I began to think I was in an episode of the Twilight Zone. They all said "Charlestown."

How did this happen? Has some sinister force mucked with our street names? Has some typo made by the street sign department been foisted on us as the truth? It's Charleston, as in the dance and the chew! Isn't it? If not, then I've been living a lie. If it is, then I have to wonder what other street names they've changed, messing with our collective minds. Could that silly name 'Fauntleroy' be another example? Did some city worker, painting street signs 70 years ago, come back from a three-beer lunch and paint 'Fauntleroy' instead of 'Leroy' in big font? I couldn't let this pass. I had to find out what happened to Charleston. I had to find the truth.

I started my quest by looking at the old map in the 1987 edition of the Herald's 'West Side Story'. But this map, dated 1907, called it 'Market Street.' So that was a dead end, but I was not willing to give up. (Yes, I probably do have too much spare time.) So I hopped a bus to town and forced myself to enter the most un-inviting library entrance on the planet, the revolving door on 4th Avenue. I stepped into one of the baby-poop-yellow elevators, and rode to the ninth floor, where I started wading through the moldering pages of old reverse directories. I started with 1966, the year I came to West Seattle.

The street was listed as Charlestown. Damn!

I went further back in time, two whole decades, to a directory dated 1946.

Charlestown. Damn!!

I decided I might as well go for broke. So I put the pedal to the metal on my time machine and reached for the oldest directory, dated 1925.

Charlestown. Damn!!!

It looked as if I was wrong after all. (It happens every now and then, just ask my wife.) But the interesting thing was that, even though all the listings spelled the street Charlestown, the maps in several of the directories spelled it Charleston.

I felt vindicated again, sort of. For if I placed my trust in the old mapmakers, and not the type setters and street sign painters then my sanity was not in question. So I decided to do that. I decided to believe I haven't been living a lie. So I am now certain that there are quite a few 'W's that need erasing from a bunch of street signs. But let's not bother telling the folks at Charleston Street Caf