Even as a child, L. Jane Hastings, who died March 25 at the age of 96, designed a life of purpose.
Growing up in West Seattle, she wasted no time setting goals and setting out to achieve them, smashing barriers and expectations of the eras along the way: At 9, in 1937, she knew — knew — she would become an architect.
From there, her well-designed milestones fell like well-aligned dominoes: By 1952, Hastings had accomplished Goal Number One: She graduated with an architecture degree from the University of Washington (working simultaneously to pay her tuition), where she was the only woman in her class. She checked off Goal Number Two in 1953, becoming only the eighth licensed woman architect in Washington. Goal Number Three (visit Europe) took a brief detour when an official rejected her plan to serve as an architect for the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers because he was concerned about her working with men. (Hastings’ comeback, which she might or might not have said out loud: “Fella, what do you think I’ve been doing?”) So she adapted her route (but not her fundamental goal) and became a recreation director for American troops overseas.
Back in Seattle, through decades of determination, resilience and talent, Hastings built her architecture firm, The Hastings Group; an award-winning portfolio of more than 500 projects, most in Seattle and the Pacific Northwest; a part-time teaching career at what was then Seattle Community College; a loving marriage with UW Architecture professor Norman Johnston; and a global network of colleagues and influence.
She was a leader with the American Institute of Architects, locally, nationally and internationally, in every sense of the word: the first woman president of the Seattle chapter, the first woman Chancellor of the College of Fellows, the first person awarded the Northwest and Pacific Region Medal of Honor. In November 2023, she wrote her first book, “The Woman in the Room: A Memoir.” Local author events sold out, with waitlists almost as long as an inventory of Hastings’ accomplishments.
Kate Krafft, who worked for Hastings and eventually co-edited that memoir, considers herself fortunate for meeting Hastings at SCC nearly 50 years ago, as Krafft was considering her own career in architecture. “Her help, enthusiasm and basic kindness certainly propelled me both professionally and personally,” Krafft says. “She was a tremendous role model — as an architect, a devoted volunteer, a world traveler and adventurer, and as a true friend. Plus, she was just a lot of fun!”
Hastings passed away after a brief hospitalization, with family members from Seattle and Alaska at her side, and everyone who knew her as “Jane” at a loss.
“Jane was building things her whole life: innovative houses, an incredible career — and especially connections among people,” said Denise Clifton, a former Seattle Times staff member and the co-editor of Hastings’ memoir. “For those of us fortunate to be part of her circle, she had a tremendous impact and will be deeply missed.”
Hastings’ architectural impact extends to UW’s Cunningham Hall, which she remodeled in the early 1980s (and, though she didn’t design it, the Norman Johnston and L. Jane Hastings Gallery at the UW College of Built Environments is named in the couple’s honor); a 1950s-era hangar and production facility at Boeing Field; the award-winning 1991 Flaming Geyser Bridge, which she worked on with sculptor George Tsutakawa and others; and a towering collection of archived Seattle Times/AIA Home of the Month stories featuring distinctive residences she designed in celebration of all things Northwest. (Just a few: Her Karrow House received a National AIA Honor Award in 1971; the Laurelhurst home she shared with Johnston, notable in part for its emphasis on energy efficiency, earned an AIA Seattle Honor Award in 1977; and the Quam House was the Seattle Times/AIA Home of the Year in 1968.)
“Jane … followed her dream of becoming an architect and never hesitated to help others entering the profession,” Krafft says. “Early on in her own career, she hosted gatherings of young women architects — just as architect Elizabeth Ayer had done when Jane was a student at UW. So her legacy is a string of skilled women architects, along with all the lovely homes she so thoughtfully designed.”
In her memoir, Hastings recalled assorted stumbling blocks — and her nimble navigation over them — on her purposeful path to building an admirably well-designed life: “At times, I avoided telling people what I did because they did not believe me or would think I was involved with some type of an arts and crafts project,” she wrote. ”In the 1950s and ’60s, women just didn’t design and build homes. But I did.”
