"Shots of Portland"

Need A Gift Idea for Christmas?

2008-11-09T03:32:00.000-08:00

The holidays are approaching. Check out the links to the right that will allow you to preview some pages in my book for free. If you are needing to find a unique but inexpensive gift for someone this holiday season, Shots of Portland may be the answer for you.

It wouldn't be Portland if all things didn't eventually come back to liquor

2007-11-30T02:02:00.000-08:00

The new book I have begun is a study of the street names of Portland. More specifically, the history behind those names. I have lived here most of my life, was taught little about the history of my city, so after writing my personal history book about the bars of the city, Shots of Portland, I have moved on to other historical aspects of this town.

I knew most of the names growing up here, but I never gave much thought to lives of those to which many of Portland's streets are named. For this entry, I start with someone quite recognizable, if only in name.

William Sargent Ladd, originally from New Hampshire, arrived in Portland in 1851, at the age of 24. He could not have predicted it, but this gentleman would eventually become the single largest landholder in Portland at one time.

Ladd's first 5 years after stepping off the ship were spent mainly in the liquor trade (shocker). The liquor business is good to him, and in a few years he eventually builds Portland's first 3 brick buildings. By 1854 Ladd expands into grocery stores. By the age of 27, Ladd is elected mayor of the city in 1854 at the age of 27. As his businesses thrived, Ladd would go on to help open Portland’s first Bank, Ladd and Tilton.

Ladd spent the next decade growing his business and family. A wealthy man by 1865, Ladd sells half of his interest in liquor business (perhaps to polish up his image? or just tiring of an industry he practically conquered before the age of 40?).

Ladd began purchasing plots of land on the east and west side of the Willamette River. Today, his most famous plot lies just off of SE Hawthorne, known then and now as Ladd's Addition. In its day, it was known throughout the state as one of the most attractive pieces of residential design most had ever seen... and seeing it is about most would ever be able to do. Ladd built posh homes, with back-alleys for privacy and to keep the cars and horse carts out of the streets within The Addition.

Platted in 1891 just after the first housing bust Portland had ever known, Ladd took what was then 128 acres of tract farm land and built upon it what is now the monument to the man himself.

Though it is rumored he never fully left the liquor business, Ladd overcame that stigma by the time of his death at age 91, in 1893.

Ladd's Addition rose to the height of luxury and comfort in the 1920's, when Portland specially allocated an electric street car line to run down Hawthorne and into the city. A ride that only took 20 minutes.

The next time you happen to hop a street car, or a MAX line, with perhaps your beverage of choice wrapped in a brown paper bag, give some thought to a man who in many ways shaped Portland into the city is has become.

A Summer Burnside Bar-Walk

2007-07-27T17:31:00.000-07:00

I lay on a bed in my one bedroom apartment. It is early July. My place is on King Street, one block up from West Burnside road. Once known as Skid Road for the fact that early loggers used to fall timbers in the West Hills and skid the logs down a path to river. The path eventually became a street when the timbers ran out. And then Skid Road transformed itself into Skid Row for the better part of the 1900’s, where fallen men drank themselves up and down the street.

The leaves on the trees outside my window sway in the evening breeze that always builds this time of night as the sun goes down and the heat from the city draws wind down from hills for several hours. A little known fact: living on the east side of the West Hills you never get to see the sun actually set, except in this time of year, when the Earth is still tilted enough to allow the downtown skyscrapers to reflect sunlight back upon the hills themselves. It is this sunset-reflection from the east that I witness as I walk out of my apartment to my first destination of the evening, The Ringside.

The Ringside bar is dark, brick laden, with waiters and bartenders dressed in the old fashioned "black and whites". It is a class joint, lit only by small candles on the tables and a few overhead lights that shine down upon the shelves of liquor. As a restaurant I hold their steaks in the highest regard, but as tonight is not for eating, I merely order a Manhattan, light a smoke, and stare at the ice in the glass.

Time passes, but the night remains young. Another Manhattan, and then I pay the tab and continue the evening down at the Kingston.

The waitress comes over and I order a Budweiser. On another night I might have been able to recall more about this old building, its upper windows now boarded up. But nothing comes to mind on this night. A sports bar today, the crowd here is more blue-collar, mixed with students. Sports bars have their place, but it isn't my scene, and I leave my bottle half full as I walk out the door.

Station number three tonight is the Marathon Taverna. Half-way between The Ringside and the I-405 overpass, and half way from upper class to lower. This bar has a flavor to it that can only be appreciated after dark. On this night the crowd is older, raw. Most are honest hardworking people, but there is the mixture of aged winos and stool rats that could have been decaying in the haze of smoke probably since the afternoon. I sit and order another beer.

Several beers and many hours later I find myself walking east through the heart of the modern Skid Row. The last bastion in Portland these days where the homeless, hapless, users, pushers, prostitutes and pimps still gather just off the side streets of Burnside.

On NW 2nd I sit myself down on the curb with a brown bag in hand and find myself staring at a brick facade with gold lettering that reads ‘Erikson Saloon’. On this very spot, over 100 years ago, August Erikson built one of the grandest bars Portland ever had. The Saloon took up two city blocks in it early days, and had a bar that boasted to be the largest is the world. It was known as The Working Man’s Saloon, and back in the day that is exactly who it catered to. The loggers, miners, sailors, and dockworkers that all migrated to this house of liquor, gambling, and entertainment. Erikson’s closed in 1981, at that time it had been cut in half, and was a mere shadow if itself. This sign exists as a memorial to the bar.

The sky begins to lighten in the early morning. I drop the bottle in the street. Hail a cab. Time to return to the empty apartment. My walk is over. The city moves on.

The Micro-Brew Revolution and the McMenamin Brothers

2007-07-12T20:02:00.001-07:00

The first Portland micro-brewery to open was the Cartwright on SE Hawthorne, by Chuck Koury. It sold a brand of home brew called Portland Beer. The micro-brew operated from 1979 to 1982, but it was eventually closed because the beer it produced was too inconsistent.

Koury was the first to show that beer could be produced and sold on a small scale. This attracted others to the idea of micro-brewing and selling their own brand of beer. Don Younger, the Widmer brothers, and especially the McMenamin brothers took this idea and gave birth to the Oregon micro-brew revolution.

In the decades since The Cartwright, the McMenamins have established their locations as some of the finest and most original establishments for eating, drinking, taking in a movie, or staying in a room for the night.

1983 - Brothers Mike and Brian McMenamin open the Barley Mill on SE Hawthorne Blvd.

1984 - Hillsdale Brewery and Public House is opened after laws in Oregon are changed to allow beer to be brewed on the same location as it is sold, this becomes the first successful brewpub.

1987 - The first theater-pub is opened in Portland, The Mission Theater. This becomes the McMenamins' company headquarters as well.

2007 - The McMenamin brothers continue to operate 54 brew-pubs in Oregon and Washington, and are in modern times the Northwest's most well-known micro-brewers of beer and spirits.

Timid Childhood Leads to Intriguing Discoveries as an Adult in Portland

2007-07-03T23:47:00.000-07:00

I grew up in Hillsboro, but as a child never ventured much into the city. I was about 25 when I was first taken to the Mission Theater. I saw the movie Fight Club, enjoyed a couple pints of Ruby along with some nachos, and spent much of the time before the film staring around the place wondering how many other historical buildings there might be in this town that I have yet to visit.

Over the next few years, and now back from college, I settled into the city at an apartment on King Street, and began to venture out of those streets in NW, discovering all manner of bars and dives that became for me ritual pilgrimage each weekend.

Far from being the only renovated theater of the McMenamins, The Mission still has a unique charm, but its history is much less charming, than intriguing... in its transformation from church to union hall to movie theater. I could have researched the history and wrote about it myself, but the historians from McMenamins did a much better job than I could have hoped with this piece.

Does anyone out there have any experiences worth sharing about their discoveries in Portland?

Huber's - The History Behind the Bar

2007-06-28T18:06:00.000-07:00

Huber's was established in 1879 at the corner of First and Morrison as the Bureau Saloon. Its first proprietor was W.L. Lightner. In 1884 Frank R. Huber was hired as bartender. Mr. Huber had tended bar in Portland for many years. In 1887 Frank Huber became a partner with W.L. Lightner at the Bureau and the following year became the sole proprietor.

Jim Louie left his home in Canton, China at age 11 and landed in Portland in 1881. He found work in a bakery, then later worked at the old Peerless Saloon on Alder Street before going to work in 1891 for Frank Huber at the Bureau.

In 1895, the saloon was moved to Washington Street, the name was changed to Huber's, and it became the favorite saloon of the downtown businessman. Huber's moved to its present location, then called the Railway Exchange Building, in 1911.

With the coming of the Prohibition Era in 1920 plans were made to close the bar. But at the urging of Huber's many patrons, Jim Louie decided to convert the saloon into a restaurant. Although Huber's was primarily a restaurant, it was also a speakeasy. Manhattans were known to be served in coffee cups.

In 1979, Huber's celebrated its 100th anniversary of continuous operation. The arched stained-glass skylight, the solid Philippine mahogany paneling, and the tile floor are original fixtures from 1911.

Huber's today is third-generation owned and operated.

Most of this passage was taken directly from the Huber's website.

The 1905 World's Fair - How it Changed Portland

2007-06-27T17:51:00.000-07:00

To celebrate the Lewis and Clark centennial Portland businessmen and politicians grappled political power away from the saloon and brothel owners of the North side and began a city wide clean-up of 'illicit activities' such as gambling and prostitution. These activities were never meant to fully disappear, but by 1905 most were well-hidden from public view as the World's Fair convened in the city. Construction of new hotels and apartment complexes, along with the crackdown on vice in the North Side, meant that many who sought beer and whisky without the threat of violence would do so in the more upscale hotels located on the South side.

The saloons remained prosperous in the North side fueled by the working class men of the city, while the hotels of the South side catered to visitors, local businessmen and most of Portland's politicians.

Today is a different story. The remnants of the old North Side were first replaced with manufacturing and inventory warehouses. Later in the 1990's these buildings were renovated into high-end living and work spaces, known now as the Pearl District. The references to the North and South sides of Portland have virtually disappeared, and more often than not the city now divides itself between East and West, with the Willamette River providing the boundary line.

These photos were advertisements taken from old news clippings around the turn of the century for two of the better known hotels at that time in Portland. These hotels (along with a few others) for many years in the first-half of the 20th century, were the only place people could be legally served hard liquors. It would take new legislation and agreements with liquor distributors in the mid-century before hard liquor was allowed back into the city's taverns and bars.

Smoking Ban Progress into Existence for Portland Bars

2007-06-24T00:32:00.000-07:00

For better or for worse, depending on your viewpoint, here is the latest from our legislature here in Oregon. What are your opinions, should we ban smoking in all bars?

Lapdances are a Consitutional Right for Strippers in Salem

2007-06-24T00:16:00.000-07:00

Well maybe not yet in Multnomah County, but down in Salem and judge has weighed in his verdict on exactly how close is, well, it doesn't matter in his opinion... it is all free speech.

East Bank Saloon and the World Series Sweep

2007-06-21T19:05:00.000-07:00

In 1975 the Boston Red Sox were defeated by Cincinnati in the World Series. It was their second trip to the World Series since the curse of the Bambino began in 1919. Had I been old enough at the time to drive across the Morrison Bridge in 1975, I would have noticed this vacant old building on the East side of the river, a brick mausoleum to past businesses that once occupied the site: a bank, a shoe store, a pharmacy, even a restaurant.

Built in 1896 by Nathaniel West, the same man mostly responsible for the construction of the Morrison Bridge, the East Bank Saloon was resurrected in 1978. The same owners run the Saloon to this day. This bar is a mixture of the old and the new. Original brick still line the walls, antique lamps and chairs fill both bar and restaurant. Yet the East Bank maintains this old world character while also existing as one of the best sports bars in towns.

In 2003 the Red Sox made it back into the American League Championship Series. Their hopes of reversing the curse were dashed in game 7 of that year. When their last out was made, I watched a young man, perhaps of Boston decent, slam his fist into one of the brick walls out of sheer agony for the loss of his team, breaking his hand in the process.

In 2004 I happened into the East Bank for Game 4 of the World Series. There again was this same young man, and on this night that same fist was clenched around a bottle of Bud while screaming and high-fiving everyone in the bar, including myself. The curse was lifted as the Red Sox won the series that night.

While watching the celebration in Boston on the television, and the celebration that surrounded me, I felt neither one way nor the other about the winner and the loser of that series. I simply sat in my booth by the window watching the cars pass down Grand Avenue.

I wondered to myself, if Lovejoy had won that coin toss back in 1843 instead of Pettygrove, and this town has been given the name of Boston instead of Portland, would I have been more excited for the Red Sox on that October evening?

Other recent articles:

Hesitation, Cognac and Consequences at the Sapphire Hotel

Wishing for More than Kells Could Serve

The First Strip Club of Portland

A Little History Behind Paddy's

2007-06-21T12:08:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Paddy's. The building was originally called the Power Building when first constructed. Later in 1888 the 3rd and 4th floors were added as a hardware store. In 1940 the bar became known as the Harbor Bar, and was primarily a gay brothel for many years.

The Harbor bar came with a mezzanine, but in 1979, Richard Stuman, the owner, got rid of the mezzanine. The booths around the windows are actual church pews, but from which church is not known.

The bar inside has two fiberglass pillars that are replicas of the pillars outside of the bar. The bar wall hosts 400 types of liquors. Drinks and food here are guaranteed fresh – due to the fact that this old bar cannot contain a refrigerator large enough - all the better for the customer.

A 25 Cent Coin Toss: Portland is Officially Named

2007-06-19T18:15:00.001-07:00

Many probably already know this bit of trivia, but for those that do not know how Portland was given its name, it wasn't some type of deep, soul-searching process. Basically it was done on a gamble. Portland won, but had it not, we would have been given the name of Boston. Here is how it all went down (taken from the wikipedia article):

The city of Portland, Oregon began as a spot known as "The Clearing," which was on the banks of the Willamette River about halfway between Oregon City and Fort Vancouver. In 1843, William Overton saw great commercial potential for this land, but lacked the funds required to file a land claim. He struck a bargain with his partner Asa Lovejoy of Boston, Massachusetts: for 25¢, Overton would share his claim to the 640-acre (2.6 km²) site.

Bored with clearing trees and building roads, Overton sold his half of the claim to Francis W. Pettygrove of Portland, Maine. When it came time to name their new town, Pettygrove and Lovejoy both had the same idea; to name it after his home town. They flipped a coin to decide, and Pettygrove won.

The Mens Weekend - June 2007

2007-06-18T18:25:00.000-07:00

Each year my friends and I take leave of responsibilities, family, and work and head to some place in Oregon for a week on our own. This year it was the Oregon Coast. 5 days of golfing, poker, blackjack and beer. We all lost our pink ladies by the 6th hole, but we found what is now our golf trophy for the coming years. We paid homage to the Chinook Indians, and we enjoyed awesome tri-tips and wine over the sunset above. As for the rest of the weekend, well that remains between the 5 of us...

Some Posts from the Past

2007-06-11T12:58:00.000-07:00

Another week out of town, another week without posts. Back in seven days. If there is anything about the bars in Portland that you would like to know, that you haven't found so far in my posts, let me know.

Here are some re-posts for new visitors to my blog:

--> Relieving yourself in old Portland

--> What Icons do you find around the city?

--> A shot of history

--> My first time

--> Drunk Driving

Hesitation, Cognac and Consequences at the Sapphire Hotel

2007-06-10T19:36:00.000-07:00

The Sapphire Hotel. It’s an intimate restaurant with a small bar in the back. In the late 19th century legend has it a wise and lovely Indochinese women migrated to Portland from Canada. On this present location she established a warm and exotic environment where only invited guests were allowed for an evening of dining and entertainment. Knowing the right person, or being the right person, and with of course ample cash on hand, an evening at The Sapphire was an experience unlike any other brothels of its time. Providing fine dining, good wine, spirits, and of course beautiful women, many men came away from an evening at The Sapphire with memories that never faded.

As homage to it historical past, The Sapphire is decorated in oriental paper lamps, dim sconces, candlelight, and amongst the upper rafters antique bed stands and bureaus that purvey the atmosphere of the brothel now past.

It was in the modern Sapphire Hotel where I had taken a woman I happened to have been dating for several months. We had met one night downtown at another famous Portland bar, the Shanghai Tunnel. We exchanged numbers. This led to late-night phone calls and eventually a couple of dinner dates. An attractive girl, a few years my junior, we shared much in common. I enjoyed her laugh, and her quick wit and dry humor. Relationships however can be a mystical thing. Sitting across from her and sharing an appetizer, I felt the duality of a head that told me she was something special, but my heart did not seem to equally share in the enthusiasm. To this day I cannot explain why people do, or do not, fall in love. Call it pheromones, chemistry, kismet, or what ever label you wish to apply. You know love when you feel it, not when you think it.

It was before the dessert that I excused myself to wonder up to the bar to order myself a cognac, and for her espresso. It was at the back corner bar, standing there waiting for my drinks, that my eyes were trapped by a striking woman of green eyes and cropped, dark hair, sitting with two of her friends on the opposite side of the bar. Chemistry, or maybe pheromones, I cannot explain it. At that moment my heart came with fire, and while we stared at each other for only a few moments, and as cliche as it will sound, time hesitated. The bartender placed my drinks in front of me but I was not paying attention. She mouthed the word ‘hello’, and I likewise fumbled to say the same back.

Life is peculiar. There are rules that we follow. We follow some of them out of survival and necessity, and others we simply follow without every questioning why we are supposed to behave in such odd manners. Life is what you make of it, each moment you have a choice. As I reached for my drinks, I glanced up one last time at this women with green eyes, soft, rounded shoulders in a black dress and thought about what choices I could make right now, right in that moment. I could have walked over, asked her name, gotten her phone number. I could do this. I could make this choice.

Back at our table I handed my date her espresso. I slunked down in my chair, roiled the cognac around the glass in my hand.

Later I rose from the table that night at The Sapphire with my date. I walked to the door, catching a fleeting glimpse in the large wall-mirrors of this women looking back at me.

Many men once entered this building under different circumstances back in the day, but I couldn’t help think about how always history repeats itself. I never saw the green-eyed women in the black dress again, and weeks later I stopped dating the girl I was with that night.

What could have been, and the choice I made, still linger with me. The Sapphire Hotel has made memories for many men that last them their lifetime, but those memories are bittersweet. Perhaps it is not the head that cements regret into us, but rather the ache of a burning heart, intentionally extinguished by unwritten rules we choose to follow.

West Burnside: Logging the Skid Row

2007-06-09T17:08:00.000-07:00

Typically when you walk down West Burnside these days it can be difficult to image that at one time, not too long ago, all of the West Hills lay barren. Loggers in the late 1800's cleared the Hills, and it was possible to view the naked dirt from the Willamette River to Council Crest.

I grew up here with my people referring to Burnside as Skid Row. Naturally I assumed this came from the congregation of down-and-outers who populated its street and sidewalks. In fact many attributed the name to the condition of the people surviving there. It was not until years later I learned that the origin of the name had a far more interesting story:

(Taken from this site)

This term, which is used to designate the area of town where conditions are poor, originated in Portland and other logging towns in the Pacific Northwest. When they were faced with the difficult chore of dragging felled trees out of the forest to the mill, loggers built "skid roads" – roads paved with "skids," usually railway ties or heavy wooden planks. The loggers discovered that the logs were far easier to move down the roads if the "skids" were greased, and the saying "grease the skids" became a popular metaphor to describe speeding up a process.

"Skid Road" also became associated with the part of town where the loggers typically lived. These areas were characterized by bars and flop houses. The "skid roads" were magnets for poor, often alcoholic, transient workers, said to be "on the skids."

Burnside Street, currently Portland's busiest street, was used as a skid road. Loggers would "skid" logs down Burnside and load them onto boats on the Willamette River. Over time the term "skid road" became "skid row."

Wishing for More than Kells Could Serve

2007-06-08T13:49:00.000-07:00

The first bar I ever legally gained entrance to once I finished college and moved back home was Kells. I had never been to a proper Irish pub and the wall of scotches and liquors was impressive. Kells has been a stalwart of the bar scene on SW 2nd for years.

Kells is a study in dichotomies. On the weekends, and being young, this is the ideal place to meet young people who also seem to have just entered the real world. But if you look closer, as I happened to one night, I noticed also the intermingling of those who, much older, had experienced some of the real world already.

Often they sat alone at the bar or in pairs in the corner booths. One particular gentleman, dressed to the nines in a tailored suite, patiently nursed his drink and scanned the crowd. His face gave a look of a man forgotten, lost, and out of place. A man who probably once entered this bar much like I had on this night, the world in front of him, all things known and assured of himself and the place he would take in this world. But tonight, his face could not hide what I saw, a man still searching for his place in the world. A man seeking to forget that as we grow older, we know less than we ever thought we knew when we were so much younger and self-assured.

While my friends laughed, shared drinks and shots and beers, the lonely man with the tailored suit looked on. I don’t know if he believed in God, but I imagined that he and I shared our own belief in our own fear of living and dying a life too ordinary. I was 22 years old, and I began to wonder if I someday found myself in the same place as this man, could I at least take pride in owning a good suit, if only having lived a life too ordinary?

"Portland is the most oversaturated strip-club city in the world"

2007-06-07T17:55:00.000-07:00

As if those of us here did not already know this. The WW had an article this week highlighting one of Portland's more nefarious industries. Say what you like about them, women and liquor have gone together for over 125 years in this city. It isn't anything new.

Back in the late 1800's the area north of Burnside, known then as just "The North Side", was full of bars and taverns catering to the sailor, miner, and loggers that transitted through Portland on their way to other locations. In many of the taverns and saloons it was much the same; liquor and gambling on the first floor, ladies for entertainment on the second. Erikson's Saloon, perhaps one of the most famous of Portland's history, actually allowed women to dance on stage on the first floor. However, due to the rowdiness of the customers, August Erikson surrounded the stage with electrical fencing when it became available (aside - this feature might have just been the icing on the cake for the movie, Roadhouse).

For many years, much of the money generated here bought alot of political influence in the city. And it was not until the clean-up that came in 1905 with the coming of the Lewis and Clark Centennial that Portland's image of rough, men-only type of town began to relax.

The first Gentlemen's club, as we know them today, was Mary's, began in 1965. Since then the industry has boomed, to over 40 clubs, and at least 500 bars. "Liquor and women, a good combination...", my slight adjustment to the lyrics of Kenny Rogers.

The Evolution of the Ash Street Saloon

2007-06-06T19:45:00.000-07:00

You may have wandered by it. May have even caught a band playing there any night of the week. To me this place epitomizes your typical local bar for bands, loud, old, grungy, and full of people downing beer after beer.

But there is a history to the place. Before the Ash Street Saloon started in 1994, it was a Korean Restaurant, before that a Mexican joint, and long before that it was a bookstore, and sometime around that era a barbershop as well. The place has worn many faces.

There was a restaurant called Hesse’s Café in the 1915 and 1930s next to it, they used to pass out tokens for meals to all the sailors and port workers. It also had a card room in the back that few knew about.

But it all started as the Bickle Building, built in 1885. This was where the Portland City Council would meet up stairs... below was a confectionary (candy store).

Small Anecdote to all this history -- Across the street is the Multnomah Hotel (now an Embassy Suites)… in 1905 a bi-plane took off from the roof (that was a 60 foot runway they say)… in 1996 (likely at the opening of the Embassy suites) the stunt was re-enacted.

The History of Beer in Portland

2007-06-05T18:02:00.000-07:00

This is a great overview of the brewing history in Oregon(thanks to TravelPortland):

Beer Media Kit
The History of Beer in Portland

1852
German brewer Henry Saxer settles in Portland and opens Liberty Brewery.

1856
Henry Weinhard, a young German immigrant, moves to Portland. With a partner – the aptly named George Bottler – he establishes Portland's second brewery, City Brewery.

1862
Saxer sells Liberty Brewery to Henry Weinhard.

1864
Weinhard buys Bottler's interest in City Brewery in what is now Portland's Pearl District. (The modern Blitz-Weinhard Brewing Company, Inc., operated at this site until 1999.) Henry Weinhard's lager becomes famous throughout the Northwest and is shipped as far away as China and Siberia.

The complete history up to 2007 is here.

The Other Bar by the Crystall Ballroom

2007-06-03T17:10:00.000-07:00

Cassidy's was established in 1979, and the bar and restaurant still prides itself on high quality service and the some of the most knowledgeable bartenders in the city. It is among the top favorites of locals.

Though the city ordinance requires all bars to stop serving at 2am, last call at Cassidy's typically occurs around 2:30am all nights of the week.

History about the building and much of the bar was difficult to come by, as I think the owner thought I was scamming him when I asked to take some pictures for my book. He allowed the pictures, but I was not able to get in contact with him later to show him the finished product. Sometimes it goes that way...

History of The Goose Hollow Inn - and Dancing

2007-06-01T19:12:00.000-07:00

"Dedicated to Quality Draft, Fine Food, Pleasant Music, and Stimulating Company. We're also dedicated to extremes of opinion, hoping that a livable marriage will result. If physical violence is your nature, either develop your verbal abilities or leave."

This is the motto the former mayor of Portland Bud Clark adopted when he took over the Anne's Place (formerly known as the Canyon Lunch) in 1967 and renamed it The Goose Hollow Inn.

Clark's first bar, The Spatenhaus, was acquired by the city for development of the Keller Fountain in 1965. The booths within The Goose came from that bar.

Within walking distance of major media outlets and government offices, Clark calls his pub 'Portland's living room'. A place of conversation and debate, where the television is only turned on for the Super Bowl and the World Series.

Notably The Goose was the first bar to allow dancing. A local legislator, who liked to dance after a few beers, had the old law changed when he was told it was against city ordinances.

Lost Lives in Depoe Bay - Remembered

2007-05-31T22:08:00.001-07:00

This past week I attended the 62nd Annual Fleet of Flowers in Depoe Bay, OR. For the 61 years prior, this ceremony has been repeated in honor of two men who died trying to save an ailing troller that was attempting to enter the port in a storm.

Since that October day in 1936, the fishing fleet at Depoe Bay forms a procession out to the middle of the bay. Once there, they lay wreaths in commemoration of all of the men who have lost their lives to the sea, who spent their lives on the sea, and who died in defense of this country.

The Coast Guard now heads this procession of 20+ boats. Click here more information about this tradition on the Oregon Coast.

Jack Bog's Blog - for those that haven't read it yet

2007-05-31T18:15:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to give a quick mention to Jack Bog's Blog right here in Portland. Recently Jack viewed my blog and asked to use one of my images, and now it is up on his site. But aside from the photo, this is one of Portland's best blogs, if you haven't had a chance to check it out, please do so. Jack works very hard to add multiple posts per day ranging from the goings-on here in Portland, its politics, to other interesting information gathered near and far.

Distilled Publishing -- on Vacation

2007-05-24T18:57:00.000-07:00

I found out today that although Powell's Books loved the book and definitely wanted to have it in their bookstores, I am still going to have a challenge meeting their prices given that I am a self-publisher.

As with other bookstores, it has never been a question of the quality of the book or its content, but the price I can offer it to them. Self-publishing doesn't make it easy for the little-guy to break into major retail bookstores. But I am still working to find an alternate publisher (anyone know of any here in Portland?)

The book will remain available through the link here on this blog at the lowest price I can offer. In the past two weeks I have sold more than in the past month, so thank you to those who made those purchases!

For the next week I will be out of reach of the Internet, and most importantly out of reach from my day job. To everyone out there have a safe and relaxing Memorial Weekend. Be back in a week.

Uptown Billiards - The Bar Where John Wayne Drank

2007-05-24T14:38:00.000-07:00

Pool halls still exist within Portland. But on the south end of NW 23rd there exists a small door with steps that lead to a somewhat hidden establishment unlike any other in the city. Perhaps not the most infamous pool hall to ever grace Portland, but absolutely one of the best modern pool halls in the town today.

The bar itself was built in Belgium, and sent around the Cape of South America to San Francisco before the turn of the 20th century.

In 1908 it was put on a stage coach and moved to Paisley, Oregon. Then in 1936 it was put on a flatbed truck and moved from Paisley to Redmond, Oregon. After a well-used existence, in 1994 (and much to the objection from the residents of Redmond) the bar's current owner loaded it onto a U-Haul and brought it to Portland.

In times past, it was customary for bartenders to throw their small change up on the bar at the end of the night. When the bar was detached from the wall in Redmond, people heard lots of clanking from within. They filled two containers with coins dating as far back as the 1910's, including steel pennies, mercury dimes and even a couple liberty half-dollars.

A resident of Redmond told the owner, before she hauled away the bar, that John Wayne once sat at this very bar. Apparently The Duke was filming a movie in central Oregon (most likely this would have been the famous 'Rooster Cogburn', in which Katherin Hepburn co-starred), and this bar was where he spent most of his off-hours passing the time.

Photos from Portland this Evening

2007-05-23T22:58:00.001-07:00

Rain isn't always a bad thing, but it did shorten the walk around the city tonight. There is so much in Portland to photograph, and so very little time these days it seems to get it done right. In any case, thought I would post a couple captures from the evening.

The first is a new condo tower in The Pearl known as The Pinnacle.

The second is from the South Park Blocks, a slightly out-of-focus Lincoln staring down, if you will, on the 4 chief virtues of the Masons located on the refurbished north gallery of the Portland Art Museum. I once attended a lecture in that wing given by Oliver Stone, in the days before the remodel.

"Heart of Darkness" - written with LEGO-style

2007-05-22T19:53:00.001-07:00

I found this the other day in my publisher's bookstore. If you have any familiarity with some of the recent LEGO phenomena (see LEGO Star Wars II), or perhaps like myself you are into writing and self-publishing your own work, you really should check out what Kevin McMillin has put together.

Apocalypse Now introduced me to Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness", which was written in 1902. The movie was a clever adaptation of the original book. McMillin has apparently taken all of these devices a step further, and produced a 120-page book following Conrad's original words with LEGO-enhanced photos. There is a preview feature of some of the pages in his book within the link above.

On-line self-publishing sites still aren't going to upset the major players in the print and publishing world, but ideas such as this, along with the tools the Internet offers today, allow people like McMillin and myself, the opportunity to place our work into the open, to see what echoes back.

The Portland Strip Club Follow-Up

2007-05-22T19:09:00.000-07:00

A week ago I posted a bit about Mary's Club, Portland's first strip club. The post had more to do with a photograph I took of the outside, and a bit of history of the place behind the neon. Many people seemed to take notice, and while Portland still seems to lack a blog dedicated to Gentleman's Clubs (though believe me the thought of a new book/blog dedicated to this subject has been passed around amongst my friends with a great deal of enthusiasm), I wanted to give credit to others (thanks to BarFlyMag.com) who have posted on this matter in the past... it isn't history, but merely some good pointers for those who have never been.

Work still continues on my new book, and to my good fortune there is much available to research... I fear that uncovering the history behind the plethora of Portland's Gentleman's Clubs might prove much more daunting.

But if someone knows otherwise, let me know. I know my friends would buy that book...

Far from the Portland Crowd - but Still Shot Dead

2007-05-21T20:18:00.000-07:00

A couple years ago I drove to the far desert in Southeastern Oregon, and as I have mentioned in a previous post I stayed in the very small town of Frenchglen. Across from the old hotel was this collapsed home.

At the time of the town's establishment, Portland was already a major city and port on the west coast. The gold rush has ended, but there was still much money to be made farming and ranching around the Portland area, shipping these goods out of Portland down to San Francisco or up to Seattle.

But apparently, with the aid of railroad development, some intrepid individuals found their way to the high desert to seek their fortune.

From this source:

"Frenchglen was named after Pete French and Dr. Hugh Glenn who was Pete French's father-in-law. The "P" Ranch was established in 1872 as the headquarters for French-Glenn Livestock Co. Pete French owned 150,000 acres at the base of the Steens Mountain, in what is now known as the Frenchglen Valley. He was unarmed when allegedly shot and killed by Ed Oliver on December 26, 1897 over a fencing dispute."

A Sunday Post After a Weekend of Research

2007-05-20T17:26:00.000-07:00

I spent some time this weekend doing some research for my new book, "The Streets of Portland." I have been learning much about those who first came to Portland pre-1850, and helped to build the economic foundation that would make it one of the most prosperous cities on the West Coast in the 1800's, just behind San Francisco. One of these men went by the name of Couch (for those not from Portland this is pronounced "kooch"), and I will have more on him later.

For now, I am posting this pic of the First Presbyterian Church on SW Alder. It is just down from where I work, and its construction is owed to Couch. I snapped this picture last fall.

Brasserie Montemartre to Re-Open

2007-05-19T23:46:00.000-07:00

It appears that those of us wondering if the Brasserie Montemartre would ever re-open again have some good news. According this article in the Oregonian, renovation on the bar has begun. The upper floors are also being renovated into housing of some type. Condo's I would assume.

Willie, Weed, and the Boys

2007-05-18T19:44:00.001-07:00

Experience and camaraderie. Two parts; both in equal measure. The ability for me to gather inspiration for the stories I write and the photographs I take arise out of the times I spend in activities other than writing and photographing.

Last year my "brothers-bound" (as we refer to one another) and I took what has become the annual pilgrimage to a Willie Nelson concert. This one was held at the not-to-be-missed Konocti Harbor in Northern California. Built decades ago, its a throw back resort to the times when camping in aluminum Streamline trailers were all the rage. Today, even with a new stage, that old dilapidated feel of innocence-lost pervades the atmosphere. The place is a destination unto itself.

To Konocti flock all manner humanity; from the biker gangs, to the tweekers from the hills, grandparents, outlaws, and truckers all intermingle with regular salt-of-the-earth folks from around the country. They all come to pay homage to one man. And though the beer and whiskey flow into the early morning, while strangers hook up in the Jacuzzi Suites, this small edge of Lake Konocti becomes Eden; no fights break out, no one is heard disrespecting another. People young and old gather together around cheap Wal-Mart picnic tables and recount stories from past Willie concerts while toasting one another with plastic cups of the devil's ale.

The picture above was taken in from of Willie's Tour Bus. The following morning, as I soaked myself in the jacuzzi and sipped from a Budweiser, the sun rose over the hills, and I caught a distinct waft of weed emanating from the direction of the bus. Willie Nelson and me, sharing a "morning wake-up" after a most successful evening.

The First (Topless) Strip Club of Portland

2007-05-17T13:29:00.000-07:00

Mary's Club is practically a landmark in Portland since its inception back in 1954, and its addition of topless dancers in 1965. Now Mary's wasn't going to qualify for my book, and this blog isn't about Portland's many "academies of dance" - of which there are many. Still, I liked the grittiness of this shot, and if you haven't been inside, well, some things just have to be experienced.

Which brings up the question: Does Portland have any successful blogs out there devoted to these unique establishments? I know there must be, but I haven't seen one (or rather I have not spent time actively looking)... some one please make a liar out of me. Seems like an easy way to make some coin in this town.

The Burning Bush of Eastern Oregon

2007-05-17T00:28:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I posted a picture from the Oregon Coast. This evening I thought I would display a photo taken from a trip a while back to The Steens in southeastern Oregon. While I shot this with a small Canon P&S, 11 wild horses stood 50 yards behind me. I am sure they were critiquing as well.

We stayed at the hotel in Frenchglen. A small outpost about 30 minutes from the Steens mountains. I have lived in Oregon almost my entire life, and yet it took me 30 years to make it to the far desert of Oregon. It is a quiet and serene place, and I recommend everyone go there at least once.

Start of the new Book Project: The Streets of Portland

2007-05-16T19:38:00.000-07:00

Today marks the unofficial start to my new project, The Streets of Portland. Actually it isn't just me, I have help from a few fellow photogs who are collaborating with me on it. The book will be a historical view of the named streets in downtown Portland, along with accompanying photographs taken from myself, Byron, Rick, and Miles. The next few weeks will be light in terms of work (research and writing - minor snaps of pics here and there), but I am hoping come mid-July to be able to kick the process up a notch or three in time for publishing in the fall.

The Road Less Traveled to the Horse Brass

2007-05-15T19:12:00.000-07:00

Some people are content within the herd. Others are driven by forces within to stray in their own directions.

If you walk far enough down SE Belmont you will come to the Horse Brass Pub. An establishment dedicated to maintaining the true feel of the modern English pub. I sat one early February morning watching football (European, not American) and sharing snifters of aged scotch and cigarettes (for over four hours) with a man who strayed from the herd, the owner of The Horse Brass, Don Younger.

In that morning I learned how the micro brew revolution started here in Oregon back in the 1970’s. A revolution brought about by a group of friends who were strays themselves, men who had the idea of brewing and selling their own styles of beer at a time in which Oly and Blitz were the dominant macro brews of every tavern in Portland. These friends literally all lumped themselves into a car and drove from Portland to Salem to help change some of the antiquated liquor laws of Oregon that prevented the selling and distribution of self-brewed beers. In that car were gentlemen from what became the breweries of Widmer, McMenamin’s, Bridgeport, and of course Don himself.

Throughout the morning Don recounted his life, his failures with previous bars, and some carefully worded aces (a la Kenny Rogers’ “The Gambler”) on what makes a man successful, in life, and in business.

As a stray, perhaps that is why his bar is located so far from the downtown area, or perhaps his love of England led him to a location that is geographically closer to those British Isles.

One of those solid “Aces” of advice made it into my book, Shots of Portland. Others will be posted here in the near future.

A Silver Sunset off the Oregon Coast

2007-05-14T20:11:00.000-07:00

As my new project, The Streets of Portland, begins to take shape it is time to dust off the lens cover... re-learn high-pass sharpening techniques...all the stuff I forgot in the past 6 months while I was busy marketing my book. This photo was taken in Neskowin, OR, a few weeks ago just after the sun had set past the horizon.

A Little bit of Chicago in Sellwood

2007-05-14T17:16:00.000-07:00

Many years ago, the southeast area known as Sellwood was the most populated area of Portland (more populated than Portland itself was at that time). The Sellwood area featured a racetrack, and an infamous bar called the Whitehouse (known for its gambling and prostitution), just off of what is now SW Macadam. The street of Macadam derived its name from the early process of road paving, known as macadamizing. This was the first paved road in Portland near the turn of the 20th century, and tales abound of men racing their horse-pulled buggies down this road to The Whitehouse; an early form of drag racing I suppose.

Within Sellwood itself stood a bar known as the Leipzig, and for years this was one of many watering holes on the southeast side near the bridge. Years later, the original owner would sell the Leipzig to its current owners, with one caveat, the Leipzig sign was to remain, and so it does to this day.

Today the attached restaurant is known as Geno’s. The bar inside was salvaged from a Chicago warehouse by the current owner, and adds a more authentic old-world touch to the atmosphere of the bar (the brass seal from the manufacturer is still on the bar today).

The legacy left behind by the original owner, the Leipzig sign, often makes me consider what drives men to want to create and perpetuate legacies.

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Shooter's Tour!

2007-05-14T13:17:00.000-07:00

While I was not able to make it this weekend, my cousin managed somehow to get backstage at the Shooter Jennings concert down in Santa Cruz on Saturday. For those who aren't in the know, Shooter is the son of Waylon Jennings, and if you don't know who he is, then maybe you know his theme from The Dukes of Hazzard (though that is probably a lowlight of his career if you are a true fan). And if you still don't know what TV show that was, there is nothing to see here, move along.

Father's Day: Give the gift of Portland from a different angle

2007-05-14T00:45:00.000-07:00

Just reminder that Father's Day is just around the corner. If you are looking for something out of the ordinary to give Dad about the city of Portland, why not my book, Shots of Portland? The prices have been reduced, and there are only 4 weeks left!

The Freemason Lodge that Serves Liquor and Culture

2007-05-13T00:42:00.000-07:00

Tucked away on the east side of Portland on Stark Street you will find a small strip of businesses. One of the buildings occupying this block is a split level bar known as the Goodfoot (a James Brown reference no doubt). Upstairs you find a pool hall with classic pinball machines in the corner. After 8pm each evening the downstairs will open all days of the week, hosting local musical acts in a basement atmosphere, where the candlelight dances on the tables and the blue-lit bar serves drinks throughout the performances.

For me, Portland is a city of transformation. Bars with music acts alone are all well and good, but the unique aspect of the Goodfoot is its Last Thursdays, where local artists display their works around the red felt tables that stand on hardwood floors once the domain of an old Freemason Lodge. Still today the faint markings of the t-cross and sextant can be seen on these floors, the symbol of the Masons.

After a couple of pints, and tilting one of the pinball machines, I settle into a corner booth on the upper level to purvey a scene of locals that drift in between the pool players, drinks in hand, eyeing the paintings hung on the walls that surround the pool room.

A variety of people live in this neighborhood, many appear to be local. The First Thursday crowd of the modern Pearl District are nowhere to be seen. I find myself asking, is this a place where art imitates life, or life imitates the art? Music from a bass guitar riff rumbles against the wood floor as the band takes the stage below. In a bar full of people, I am left alone in my corner, at yet with no one at my table, I feel oddly at home. The Goodfoot represents all that is wonderful about Portland. This place doesn’t simply want to just cater alcohol to its customers; it offers a voice in Southeast Portland. Part art gallery, part social gathering place, part musical display.

The Goodfoot has its own personality. In my booth I hear its voice asking me, “What do you have to contribute?” And my response, is nothing more than to take a mental snapshot of a new breed of bar, and reply back with, “Do you think I have it in my soul to become a new breed of man?” The answer returned is silence intermixed with the sounds of cue balls, clinking glasses, and snare drums from below.

Bar as Time-Machine in N Portland

2007-05-11T01:39:00.000-07:00

As a child I remember watching re-runs of the 70’s World War Two television series, The Black Sheep Squadron. Loosely based on the real life Marine VMF214 fighting squadron led by the infamous Gregory “Pappy” Boyinton, the television show became much of what I identified with life during the war on the islands as the military hopped from one piece of rock to another in victories over the Japanese air and naval fleets, until the final invasion of Okinawa and the eventual dropping of the bombs. From this television series as a child I visually stereotyped typical mess halls as boarded-up shacks and small dusty buildings with bamboo siding and thatched roofs. Places where beer was served that only contained 3% alcohol, and finer liquors were left to the smuggling and fermenting ingenuity of the men in the field.

According to my grandfather who served in the second war and was part of the invasion of Okinawa, the safer locales of Honolulu and Oahu had many drinking establishments that featured this typical Polynesian decor of bamboo and fishnets, much of what I associate today with your typical Tiki bar.

Back in the 1800s the Alibi was established along the dirt interstate road in North Portland. Then known as The Chat and Nibble, it provided a horse-and-buggy stop for those on their way to or from Portland. Much later in 1947 Roy Ell bought the business after spending some time in the Hawaiian Islands and retrofit the decor to match that Polynesian style which remains today.

Tiki bars are not common in the Portland area, and thanks to recent developments of the light rail this historic bar with the flashing Alibi sign in twinkling lights has become one of the more well known bars in Portland.

Dark, tropical, and impeccably decorated in the Polynesian fashion, not only does the Alibi offer any variety of umbrella drinks and a host of colorful and loyal locals, it also offers me a chance to imagine a foregone era that I am too young to properly appreciate.

As I have never been to war, never picked up a rifle, and have never been placed in harms way, after downing a few cocktails my mind will turn to thoughts of what life must have been like for veterans of the Pacific War like my grandfather, and what an oasis these lone thatch-and-boarded bars must have offered to the fighting men who put their lives at risk so that my generation could nestle into a booth next to neon dancing hula girls and order Mai Tai’s and Rum punches.

For me the Alibi is more than a bar, it is a time machine. Certainly more ornate that anything that existed during the war, it still provides a reminder of the sacrifices my grandfather made during his call to duty, and it makes me grateful that when I finally walk out the door in the evening, with that twinkling Alibi sign above me, the worst thing I will face the next day is rush hour traffic and the evening news.

My first commercial photo at Southpark

2007-05-08T23:10:00.000-07:00

About a year ago, while I was running around like a mad man gathering photographs and content for my book, I happened upon the bar at Southpark. After the owner saw my photographs, she purchased this one (the second one down on the page) for her website. I was proud of that shot. I believe the bartender in the pic is still there. I reccomend to all to drop by the bar on a late evening, it is a great place for quite atmosphere and first class drinks. And if you're into wine, they have quite the cellar selection.

Portland Changes throughout History - but the Drinking Remains

2007-05-08T19:11:00.000-07:00

To celebrate the Lewis and Clark centennial Portland businessmen and politicians grappled political power away from the saloon and brothel owners of the North side and began a city wide clean-up of 'illicit activities' such as gambling and prostitution. These activities were never meant to fully disappear, but by 1905 most were well-hidden from public view as the World's Fair convened in the city. Construction of new hotels and apartment complexes, along with the crackdown on vice in the North Side, meant that many who sought beer and whisky without the threat of violence would do so in the more upscale hotels located on the South side.

The saloons remained prosperous in the North side fueled by the working class men of the city, while the hotels of the South side catered to visitors, local businessmen and most of Portland's politicians.

Today is a different story. The remnants of the old North Side were first replaced with manufacturing and inventory warehouses. Later in the 1990's these buildings were renovated into high-end living and workspaces, known now as the Pearl District. The references to the North and South sides of Portland have virtually disappeared, and more often than not the city now divides itself between East and West, with the Willamette River providing the boundary line.

Highlighted in this post are two advertisements taken from old news clippings around the turn of the century for some of the better-known hotels at that time in Portland. These hotels, for many years in the first-half of the 20th century, were the only place people could be legally served hard liquors. It would take new legislation and agreements with liquor distributors in the mid-century before hard liquor was allowed back into the city's taverns and bars.

Will the Brasserie return?

2007-05-03T19:17:00.000-07:00

The Brasserie Montmartre, site of some good jazz and stiff drinks (if you knew the right afternoon bartender), has been closed nearly a year now. The final word I had was there was to be a major renovation of the upper floors into new condominiums, and The Bra itself was to get a major facelift. Does anyone know if it will return?

You Never Forget Your First...

2007-04-26T23:20:00.000-07:00

Barely out of college but living on my own, a good friend of mine called me up one day and asked me to meet him at the restaurant down by Union Station. Up until this time in all my years in Portland, I had not once set foot near that train station, let alone the restaurant that was located within it.

The minute I was walked in I knew there was something different about this place: red high-back chairs in lounge, a large dining area filled with people who looked as old as my grandparents, and a lounge-singer playing piano beside the bar. The performer was a musician by the name of John Gilmore. It wasn't too long after our initial visit that he would join us for a drink each night, recounting tales about his father who produced many of Frank Sinatra’s hits when at Columbia records, his experience at meeting the Chairman of the Board himself while at UCLA, gigs he played, commercials you might recognize him from, and generally being an overall generous host. An outstanding artist in his own right, John still takes any and all requests from the audience; from the Rat Pack to Lionel Richie.

For the next couple of years we spent our time at Wilf's as regulars. Our Manhattans would be waiting for us as we arrived every Friday, John would take our requests, and in those times we lived on top of our world. Times have changed for us since then, some friends have come and gone... and however soul-crushingly sentimental this may be - those days of good friends, cigarettes, Maker's Mark and The Chairman's 'Wave' are mine...to my final round.

Founder Wilf Nofield established the restaurant in 1975, and today his three daughters (Adele, Candace and JoAnne, who all manage the restaurant) preserve his legacy.

A Call from Florida

2007-04-23T17:42:00.000-07:00

This week I am down in the capitol of Tallahasse on a business trip. The only true nightlife I am able to find are the ever-circling moths that dash about the street light in the parking lot of my hotel as I stagger back from the office at an ungodly hour. As for the bars, though I have not had time to bend an arm in one, I can tell you there is a lot of flavor down here. Catering to both locals, and the Gator alumi.

Things these past weeks have been so-so, McMenamins loved my book, they thought it was great and asked to carry it. The problem however, my book is self-published, making it rather costly to produce on-demand. Unfortunately the price which would have allowed McMemanins to carry the book, would have cost me money, an no where near a break-even. Breaking-even I might have gone with, after all this experience was about creating the book and sharing it. I was never in it for the profits. But time goes on, and soon you might find some copies of the book soon at a local art dealer on SW 10th and Morrison, by the MAX stop. Even if you wouldn't buy it, flip though some pages, and let me know.

The word apparently is getting out as well that I am seeking other like minded individuals to collaborate with me on my next project. It wont be about bars, but I am thinking of something devoted to the streets, and street life in Portland, both from today, and days long passed. If you might be a writer, artist, or photographer and would like to join in this adventure, let me know. I have been contacted by a writer and two photographers to date.

Here is a shout to a website for a photographer who might help on this new collaboration:

www.portlandground.com

Back in a few, and warmer days are ahead.

Spaceroom

2007-04-13T21:45:00.000-07:00

From my book:

Every city has a bar that is tucked away from the downtown. A bar where local music bands come to toast themselves after a successful set. The Spaceroom is such a place. A look inside with the walled murals of downtown, the sun rising over Mount Hood, the token black-light stars, moons and hanging Saturn-like sphere over the main bar, and you know you are someplace out of the ordinary.

One night at the Spaceroom I met up with some friends in a local Portland band, Western Aerial. Stiff drinks are the norm here, especially when one knows that a good tip on the first round will ensure no water seeps into the rounds to follow. Back in the corner booth I sat listening to the guys talk about their newest CD release gig that night at Dante’s, the vibe of the crowd, the favorable reviews and mentions in local newspapers.

The groupies, of course, come and go. Still, I occasionally find myself making conversation with one for a minute or two until they discover I am not in the band, and the flirting subsides.

It is a testament to the unknown currents of life, of how one can be down-trodden one minute, and the next on such a high because you are watching people you know and care about do something extraordinary with their lives.

Even if they never are able to conquer to world, I find myself energized from the vibrations that resonate from our corner booth this night. And in this bar, a homage to mystic dreamscapes, spacescapes and stars, I drink with my friends... to my friends.

Fiction from The Slammer in SE Portland

2007-04-04T18:52:00.000-07:00

It’s twilight on a late June evening as I sit in a bar in Southeast Portland known as The Slammer. This time of year, twilight lasts a long time, and I live for the coming of the darkness. Nursing a whisky and noshing on some homemade fries, I gaze across the river to an area now known more infamously as the Pear District. A very upscale, gentrified part of Portland that has risen like a steel and glass phoenix from the abandoned warehouses, canneries, and breweries of old Portland.

Years ago, back when The Pearl was more of a decrepit oyster, a few bars began to spring up in the back streets of lower Northwest Portland and Chinatown. It was here that I was out one night with a couple of friends and a place called the Low Brow Lounge, dark interior with stiff drinks and none of the pretentiousness often found today. After a few solid hours of cocktails and beers, it was decided we should drive back home, after all it was only a Tuesday and of course we had to be at work in 7 hours. In my younger years the days of the week meant nothing when it came to going out on town, such is youth.

Arriving back at the car and realizing that I, the most sober of us three, was still a little too intoxicated to get behind the wheel, the gods of sour mash spoke to my ear. In those days the streets of the lower Northwest were often deserted of cars and people. Old train tracks, boarded up buildings and cobble-stone roads could still be found. So with the advice of the sour mash gods I popped the back of my trunk and pulled out my Callaway Big Bertha driver and a handful of golf balls. Now mind you, at 23 I had been playing golf for almost ten years. And has my buddies looked on, and without any way possible to place a tee into the cobble stone, I placed the ball “on the deck” (as it is known in to golf community when hitting a driver without a tee). The first two shots were a little thin, and skipped down the roadway several blocks, ping-ponging occasionally from one side of building to another.

The third ball I caught pure, the driver never touched the cobble-stone and the ball sailed in a straight direction until we all lost site of it in the darkness and mist that was falling. At that moment one of Portland’s finest just so happened to have witnessed this feat of skill, and on went the siren and lights.

When asked by the officer what I was doing, I simply explained that under my current level of inebriation I thought it better to sober up with a little drunk driving rather than performing the more thoughtless act of operating a motor vehicle. I even showed him where there were I left no skid marks on the sole of the club, that I had caught each ball flush which truly was a feat of skill given my current condition. Evidently this officer was not a golfer. Handcuffed and placed into the back of the squad car, I was hauled away. Not for drunk driving, just mere public intoxication.

Now as I sit here this evening in The Slammer (a home that was the sole survivor of a demolition of an upscale housing district back in the 30s or 40s to make way for wider roads and the redistricting of new business areas) I recount my narrative to the bartender. She tells me the ironic story of how a Portland police officer back in 1978 bought the bar and renamed it The Slammer. While he was only able to keep the bar a year, the name stuck and the new owners proudly display it on the sign out front.

I ask her how many strokes under par a jail-bird is worth, but she only gives me look that says she thinks I have had one too many. It is now dark and the lights of the glass towers of the Pearl show brightly. I might consider taking another swing out on the clean asphalt of Stark Street, but fear of hitting a transplanted Californian in the head with a Titleist shuns away this thought. I drink my whisky and try to think other places within the urban boundaries of Portland where I could still drive drunk, but a decade has past, Portland has changed. Too many people now dwell in the city, so I comfort myself in the basement of a home that has stayed the test of time and progress, happy to watch twilight disappear.

**This story was cut from my book in the editing process.

Two for the road...

2007-04-03T12:27:00.000-07:00

I just dropped off a couple copies of the book to former Mayor of Portland Bud Clark, (owner of The Goose Hollow Inn)who purchased them from me last week. Every customer helps, right? Thanks Bud!

What others are saying about my book

2007-03-21T19:20:00.000-07:00

Another Portland blogger was kind enough to check out my book, and in turn I must say thanks by posting her review here. Divebarwife also provides some interesting tales from other areas of the Portland bar scene, click the link below for her blog:
Divebarwife

Waiting for my first big sale

2007-03-21T18:09:00.000-07:00

Today I dropped off my book at the McMenamins' headquarters Portland. Within a week, I will know whether they will purchase the book for their hotel bookstores, or whether they will not.

Evening Shots of Joe's Cellar

2007-03-16T00:25:00.000-07:00

Just posting, this late evening, an early twilight shot from my book of Joe's Cellar in NW Portland.

Beer Relief in Old Portland

2007-03-12T19:06:00.000-07:00

Don Younger is the owner of the Horse Brass. He sat down with me last winter for an interview over snifters of scotch. We talked for over four hours, and from him I learned a great deal about the history of many of the bars in Portland. With the coming of St. Patrick’s Day, I was reminded about a fascinating anecdote I learned about the past of many of Portland’s oldest bars.

As I outline in my book, Shots of Portland, throughout the late 1800’s and early 1900’s Portland was a town for men. The bars and saloons catered to their every vice, and women were strictly prohibited in the bar (upstairs women of a certain profession were encouraged, of course). Plumbing however was not a regular fixture in Portland until after 1900, and in some bars it came even later. With all those men drinking, there would obviously be a need for to dispose of their borrowed beverages. The solution many bars opted for was to direct the run-off of water from the West Hills under their establishments. These culverts often ran directly through the bar itself, where iron-grates covered the running water so that men could stand at the bar, and when the occasion called, could relieve themselves without having to go out into the muddy streets. In many bars such as Jake’s Crawfish, and Jake’s Grill, Don relayed to me how the grates were eventually replaced with tiling once the modern flushable toilet was invented.

The next time you saddle up to an old bar in the city, and there is that nice terracata tile covering that area in front of the bar, stop and think about how much times have changed from 100 years ago.

More stories from Don Younger to come in the future…

Icons

2007-03-06T20:15:00.000-08:00

Drinking, for many, can be close to religion. And when I think of religion I naturally turn an eye toward the Icons of faith: the Christian cross, statues of Buddha, the Star of David, the Hindu cow, Egyptian obelisks.

Years ago my friends and I worshipped at the Lion’s Head pool table at Joe’s Cellar on NW 21st. A place where it was dark even in the afternoon, you could find Hank William’s Jr. on the juke, Crown-and-Cokes for $3, and it was just dank and smoky enough to keep the trendies away. Today it seems you can hear Cash or Williams anywhere in the city, that old jukebox at Joe’s has been replaced by something neon and digital, and trendies have established a home there on the weekends.

Times change, and a new generation arrives in the city every summer. But I still find time to make it back and pay homage to the Lion’s Head table for 9-ball every now and again.

Where are your Icons in this bar town? Feel free to share your photographs...

------------Shameless plug for the book, Shots of Portland. -----------

A Shot of History

2007-02-21T20:37:00.000-08:00

This month I would like to thank all of those in Portland who have purchased a copy of the book. Due to many requests, I am also offering the book in a standard size, along with the current deluxe size. Click on the links below for more information about the lower pricing of the standard size book. And thank you to those who are still helping to get the word out. -Distilled Publishing
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Walking around Portland it is relatively easy to catch glimpses of the city’s past. Intermixed among the glass-towers are the brick-and-mortar buildings from a century or more ago. The streets we walk on, and the trains we ride stand in testament to the many chapters in Portland’s history. In my book, Shots of Portland, I attempted to provide some illumination of this history, by using the lens of the bar and saloon culture that once served the citizens of this city. Below is an offering of information I gathered during my research for my book, some which I included in the book, and others I did not:

In 1852 Henry Saxer established the first brewery in the city, the Liberty Brewery.

In 1885 the Bickle Building was constructed. You might have been there if you caught a band lately at theAsh Street Saloon, which is located in the first floor of the building. When it was first opened this was where the Portland City Council convened.

In 1888 Henry Weinhard, now owner of Portland’s largest brewery, offers to pump beer to the Skidmore Fountain via the fire department’s firehouses. Fearing people might poke holes in the valuable fire houses for their own personal taps, the city vetoes the offer.

In 1895 August Erikson establishes one of the most well known bars of its time, boasting a bar that measured 684 feet in length.

The term used to describe the mixing of gravel with sand and tar to pave a road is called “macadamizing”. Hence Portland’s first street is given the name, Macadam. Once completed, many men spent their evening racing their horse and buggies down this road to the infamous White House, a saloon known for gambling and prostitution located near the Sellwood Bridge.

The Multnomah Hotel (now better known as the Embassy Suites Hotel on SW 3rd) was the site of a famous stunt pre-dating Evel Kineval. In 1912 a daring pilot assembled a bi-plane on its roof and flew it safely off the building, with a run-way of only 120 feet. The stunt was re-enacted in 1996.

In 1910 the Seward Hotel opens as one of the most respected art-deco constructions in the country. Guarding the building above the top floor stand multiple robots (a feature most people today fail to notice). The Seward later become the Governor Hotel, and its front desk would later become the main bar where drinks today are served at Jake’s Grill.
In 1912 the Mallory Hotel opens, and with it came the famous Driftwood Room. Now known as the Hotel Delux, the Driftwood serves to this day.

In 1914 Oregon established the Prohibition of the sale of alcohol. Many bars and saloons shut down. Some survived by becoming juice bars (with speak-easies in the back). If you ever find yourself at McCormick’s on SW 1st, take notice of the large metal juicer at the end of the bar. This is the original from that time period, and is still used today. Prohibition in Oregon was repealed in 1933.

Of course this only covers the era leading up to World War Two. Future posts will cover the post-war decades. Any comments or questions about Shots of Portland? Post them here. Any pictures of older bars from the past? Please feel free to share them here!

R.I.P.: The Rose and Raindrop

2007-02-19T19:55:00.000-08:00

The building that housed the Rose and Raindrop is long on history, and another chapter in that book was ended a few weeks ago when the bar closed its doors. In 2006 I had the opportunity to sit with the owner of the Rose and Raindrop, Tom Field, to discuss his bar for my new book. The following came from that discussion:

When first constructed in 1890 in what was then not officially Portland but the city of East Portland, it was the largest brick structure in either city. Over the years the building played host to a vaudeville theater, a nickelodeon, and a movie house in its lower floors. The upper floors had 36 rooms available for sleeping (and not much else). Under the building, there are a series of the famous old “shanghai” tunnels connecting the Rose and Raindrop to other old buildings in the immediate vicinity. But perhaps the most intriguing fact in the history of this building comes from the two large brick ovens that sit today in the building’s sealed basement. With large rusted-metal doors, the ovens stand in testimony to the crematorium that once operated in the building. The ovens were of course used to cremate the corpses.

At some point in its history, starting probably in the 1940’s, business in the lower floor exited the building and became nothing more than storage space for old junk accumulated from the various hardware stores along Grand Ave.

The day before the famous Columbus Day storm in October 1962, two brothers sharing the last name of Burns purchased the building. These brothers are likely familiar to many in Portland, known better for their Burns Bros. truck stops. The next day when the storm hit, the entire roof the building was blown away. The brothers spent many years reconstructing the building according to its old 19th century style. They added a brand new upper floor in 1977, remodeling the 36 sleeping rooms into 12 apartments. On the lower floor the junk was cleared-out and in the space was constructed a new restaurant and bar called Digger O’Dells, the first eating establishment in the building.

Come 1998, another famous brew man in Portland by the name of Don Younger (current owner of the Horse Brass, who I also interviewed for this book and will be expanded upon in a future Barfly article), along with Mel Hickman, took ownership of the bar and changed the name to the Rose and Raindrop – a name taken from the a combination of the city’s alter-name, the City of Roses, and the fact that Portland is known for its rain. The bar was later purchased by Tom Field and operated until 2006.

And as of this writing, rumor has it the rent was upped, and the R&R could not contend… so who had the cash to meet the ante? U.S. Bank, of course…

You can check out a preview of the first 15 pages of my book here. In the coming weeks (provided people want to read it) I will have more material about the drinking history of Portland and the bars that contribute to that history today. In the meantime, give this lowly author your thoughts on his book, the topic, or just the general state of drinking and book-writing in Portland. Until then...

Portland's Bar Book

2007-02-18T03:04:00.000-08:00

This entry marks the beginning of the Distilled Publishing blog. Distilled Publishing, LLC, was founded in 2006. The first book we published is a coffee-table book about the bars of Portland entitled, Shots of Portland.

The book took the entire year of 2006 to produce. It is 118 pages of history, photographs, and anecdotes about some of the better known bars in the city.

The purpose of this blog is of course to help promote the book, but it time the hope is that the blog will become much more than just a marketing vehicle. Print on-demand publishing is gaining wide acceptace and is becoming economically sound. While I will continue to post content that was gathered for the book (but edited out due to length), I would also like to open up discussions for those interested in pursuing a collaboration with Distilled Publishing in other book projects.

Until the next post, feel free to check out the book (a preview of the first 16 pages is available when you click on the link above) and please let us know your thoughts.