Little Ada points at the sign on PNA’s Community Woodshop that says “Dedicated to Bill Fenimore”
By Amanda Coba, PNA’s Membership and Outreach Manager
The smell of fresh sawdust. The hum of conversation over the whir of tools. In the middle of it all, a little girl in a blue dress, Ada, looks up to a workbench, eyes wide with curiosity as she explores the PNA Community Woodshop her grandfather helped bring to life.
Bill Fenimore, PNA’s former Facilities Director, was more than a builder. He was a dreamer, a designer, and a neighbor who believed “there’s always room at the table, and if there isn’t, build a bigger table.” He passed away in 2023, but his vision of a creative, welcoming space for everyone is alive in every project built here today.
At the PNA, we call people like Bill Legacy Makers – neighbors whose work shapes the past, inspires the present, and builds the foundation for what’s next.
Building the Woodshop on Values
Bill was a thoughtful man, a creative problem-solver, and a believer in the power of community. Born in Nebraska, his creative spirit pulled him west to Seattle. While working as an ironworker during the construction of the Mariner’s Kingdome, he suffered a serious accident when a tall rebar tower fell—bringing Bill down with it.
Throughout a grueling years-long recovery, he used a small settlement and a doctor’s dispensation to complete several internships and enroll at Cornish College of the Arts. There, he managed the woodshop, began teaching classes, and eventually became a full professor and the facilities director, all without ever graduating from college. He spent over 20 years at Cornish, a place where he found joy in teaching, mentorship, and learning alongside his students.
Bill joined the PNA in the early 2000s. Kate Fenimore, Bill’s daughter and Ada’s mother, shared that he had never even written a résumé before. He walked into the interview for the Facilities Director role and said, “You would be lucky to have me. Here I am. I’ll take the job.” And he was hired.
PNA Executive Director Christi Beckley described him as “the perfect culmination of all things PNA.” He was known for his dry humor, practical jokes, and his role as Pancake Boss at the Annual Members Meeting. Bill’s partner Deb Everson shared that, “Bill loved going to work because it felt like high school where he was going to hang out with his friends. He would gauge success in life by being able ride his bike to work… which he did to the PNA.”
His understanding of design influenced even the most practical parts of his work. “Even stuff that seems very nuts and bolts was still about values,” said Kate. “Like the elevator project—how do you make a space accessible? How do you make it so everyone can use it easily and feel welcome?”
When the PNA was redoing the entrance sign of the blue building, Kate explained that her father understood, “If it’s confusing, people think this isn’t my community center. The more that you can make that legible and welcoming and feel open and obvious to people, the more they can feel at home.”
Bill also cared deeply about sustainability and preservation—wanting old buildings to feel light, beautiful, and environmentally sound. Kate shared, “He thought about all the ways people would interact with a space, how to make it comfortable, and how to plan for the long term.”
Bill cared deeply about sustainability and preservation.
“We wanted a place that looked like you could do creative work but wasn’t so precious you couldn’t get it dirty,” – Kevin Kane utilizing PNA Community Woodshop
Mobilizing Community
“Through the Woodshop, his goal was to create a creative community; not just a place to come and work but… he believed we were doing this together to help each other out.” – Christi Beckley
Kevin Kane, now PNA’s Board President, was an architect consulting with the PNA during the elevator installation for the brick building when he first met Bill. The two went on to collaborate closely in conceptualizing and building the Woodshop.
After the COVID shutdown restrictions eased, Bill and Kevin were the first to return. They built out the space, installed cabinets, procured tools and equipment, and made it functional and welcoming. Together, they established the rules, created safety classes, and laid the foundation for a shared community space.
Deb explained that Bill had the special gift of “reflecting back to people what great qualities they had…he was like a mirror.” This gift allowed him to motivate folks to put their special skills to use. Bill’s circle of handy friends came to help paint, install lights, and host work parties. He mobilized volunteers to build the space. “He was a true community builder,” Kevin said.
The Woodshop reflects the PNA’s “Make-Do” ethos. “We wanted a place that looked like you could do creative work but wasn’t so precious you couldn’t get it dirty,” Kevin shared. “Bill helped people learn the things they wanted to learn and make the things they wanted to make—he created a place where you can learn with other people and in the process get to know them.”
Until the very end of his life, Bill was still planning. Kevin shared that Bill was working in the Woodshop one week before he passed away.
“I’m so glad it all fell into place just in time. There were moments when it looked shaky, like maybe it wouldn’t happen. I’m so glad he lived to see it clearly lifting off,” Kate said.
Today, the Woodshop is a place where high school students learn basic carpentry, retirees restore old furniture, and parents work side-by-side with their kids to make birdhouses or cutting boards. It’s a space where skills are passed down, confidence is built, and connections are formed over the shared satisfaction of turning raw material into something beautiful and useful.
A Space for Everyone
“The thing that is so remarkable to me about the Woodshop—and the timing—is that it’s completely the marriage of the two central themes of my dad’s life: community and design,” Kate shared.
Today, the Woodshop is a thriving community hub run by a devoted group of volunteers. PNA members take a series of safety classes and are then granted access to the tools, camaraderie, and knowledge sharing available in the space.
Kate shared one last anecdote to explain her father’s uniquely human approach to design. Bill’s favorite book was A Pattern Language, a classic tome of a book about furniture and physical spaces and how those things work in our brains to feel connected and at home. In a gifted copy for his granddaughter, he wrote, “Ada, this book is for you. It seems like a book about design, but it’s really about how we care for each other.”
Honoring a Legacy Maker
Bill built more than a Woodshop — he built a community. His dedication lives on in every shared project, every skill passed from one neighbor to another, and every smile of accomplishment from someone trying a new tool for the first time. And because of neighbors like you, Bill’s dream is still growing. It takes ongoing funding for tools, safety training, and community classes to keep this space open to everyone. Your support means the next generation — like Ada — can discover the joy of making something with their own hands.
The tools are here. The space is ready. You can help keep it open and thriving. We invite you to give today, in honor of Bill, and all the future builders to come.
The Power of Community: Legacy Makers Campaign supports the full breadth of PNA programming – from childcare to senior support, from social connection to community action. You may designate your gift to the PNA Community Woodshop, or like Bill did, give to support the PNA’s greatest need.
Thank you for your support.
Bill Fenimore left a legacy of community care. Let’s keep going in his honor.
Our Goal: $100,000 Help us get there!
The Power of Community: Legacy Makers fundraiser supports the full breadth of PNA’s work – from the Greenwood Senior Center, Memory Loss, and Village programs to community meals and community spaces like the Phinney Center Campus and beyond. Your generosity helps us continue creating welcoming places and meaningful programs for all neighbors at every life stage.