Pole Art 3 part 1: A Further Odyssey and Slight Exploration of the World of the Pole Art Phenomenon

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I won’t exaggerate and say I’ve looked at every utility pole in Portland to bring you the best Pole Art this town has to offer. All I can serve up are examples from my random encounters. The city has the poles inventoried so there is a record of every telephone pole out there but I can’t tell you if this information collected includes details about Pole Art. Consider the people whose job requires them to wave a gizmo across barcodes posted on the poles. Pole inventories seem crazy for an item that would be hard to misplace. The Portland Orbit gets into the spirit of these inventories by focusing on poles graced with Pole Art.

In previous posts I speculated about committees meeting to discuss what constitutes Pole Art. I have to admit that was a warped fantasy, bureaucracy run amok and a lost cause dream to bring legitimacy to Pole Art. At this point, because I’ve done no research independent of looking at poles, there could be some, as of yet, undiscovered Pole Art scholars out there. As far as I know, I am the sole judge and jury of what constitutes Pole Art. I’ll try not to let this power go to my head. I have even made an effort to create a new genre of art formalizing it with capital letters to make it Pole Art. I could distinguish between categories of Pole Art but I prefer to lump them together. Why should there be a difference if someone decides to hang art on a pole while someone else turns one into an object of art with paint or other art supplies? No one wants to organize committees of art experts who would then meet at a Holiday Inn out near the airport to discuss and draft definitions of what determines what is and isn’t Pole Art. Who needs to expound on Pole Art movements and subcategories either? Say no to Post-Pole Art, Modern Pole Art,  Abstract Pole Art or any other possible combination. Let’s keep it simple and call it all Pole Art.

Join me on yet another Pole Art odyssey.

High in the Polls

Here’s one Pole Art secret that will soon be out of the bag. If you are planning to adorn a pole with art hang it high so no one can jump up and swipe it. It may not be as noticeable but that will keep it around longer. The steps necessary to have this art nusiance removed from a public utility pole might include city workers answering calls about potential bothersome Pole Art, scheduling a pole inspection, making a return visit after retrieving the right ladder while also determining when to remove the offending art piece. This example from the Foster-Powell neighborhood looks like a spray painted stencil. It resembles a homage to a science fiction B-movie featuring an overgrown mutant hairy elephant run amok but I’ll leave it up to others to make their own interpretations. The art is nice in it’s subtlety. Once spotted it adds whimsy to an unadorned pole.

The way to make utility poles attractive is to add metal folk art with intricate markings. It’s does compete with pole’s  beat up exterior of flyer remnants and rusty staples but the art on this NE Alberta Street pole distracts from the rough hewn nature of its surroundings offering a unique piece to appreciate.

Pole Count

photo by Graham Marks

Here’s further proof of the importance of keeping track of telephone poles so they’re not lost. Poles are decorated with random numbers, pole inventory bar codes and medallions, the meaning of which is lost on a laymen such as myself. I have a budding interest, along with a low level of expertise, in Pole Art but anything official looking befuddles me. It can’t help imagine someone having to check an awful lot of telephone pole bar codes while also getting a chance to admire some Pole Art in the process.

A Trilogy of Tidings

Utility poles work double duty. They don’t just hold up wires. On other occasions they act like community bulletin boards passing messages. I spotted these signs in the Kenton neighborhood. This artistic sign with its simplistic Pay Attention message had me thinking that if someone really wants me to pay attention they shouldn’t distract me with signs that I’m going to read that tell me to pay attention while requiring me to take my eyes off the road as I’m driving. Find another way to present this information.

On the other hand I still think about Doug and hope he’s no longer lost. The third sign in the photo offers an official warning making me wary of any pole that displays it. This may be the one thing government officials can do to discourage Pole Art artists and keep them away from poles. Posting official, colorful and cryptic signs should keep literate people at bay. The problem is I have no idea what backfeed is so the warning is effective. I don’t want to experience backfeed of any kind. Possible backfeed is as daunting and intimidating as any other form of backfeed could be.

Flowering Pole Art

A display like this one found in SW is never a good sign. It’s a memorial to someone who has perished in the vicinity. There’s no way to know if the pole was involved but it seems like a tragic spot. Pole Art has it’s gray areas between art and memorial.

Crap Up A Pole

A pole consumed with information in that old college bulletin board way blends into a cinematic montage seen through a kaleidoscopic lens. Invitations to DJ nights, stickers, show advertisements pile on top of each other creating layers of crumpled, ragged and shredded paper flapping in the breeze. The pole combined with other urban elements like a graffiti strewn newspaper box and trash can in the Mississippi District have evolved into a living piece of conceptual art.

Help Me…

A cry for help won’t go unnoticed when it’s posted gallantly on a pole on Lombard Avenue. When there’s no one around to offer help to it’s certain to go unheeded. It summarizes my state of mind after being immersed in Pole Art. Bear in mind this is only part one! Part one will be followed by part two next week rather than keep anyone in suspense for longer than necessary. I think it’s accurate to say we have saved the best for last which may have you wondering how we could possibly have topped the images of Pole Art that you’ve already seen. Just wait.

Begin the New Year Wallowing in What Happened Last Year: A Portland Orbit 2017 Year in Review

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Total Eclipse of the heart. Yea, yea.

It was nice to have time during the summer, as brief as it was, to stare at the sun and tour the city by bike with an out-of-town guest. Then it was back to no time between work and pet care. Writing returned to conditions of duress and the need to be write fast with fury but I was glad to have an outlet to continue exploring my interests.

Why the Year in Review? Most of you are thinking that the Portland Orbit has never attempted such a theme, well, we actually did a lame version in 2015 which mostly featured a Perry Mason update. Mainly this is happening because every other publication in the world resorts to this type of thing. People need stuff to read while lounging around their in-law’s place over the holidays. The Pittsburgh Orbit relishes in excellent year-end reviews (don’t wait until the end of the year to catch up) and I’ve enjoyed reading those posts so it occurred to me that it would be fun to write one of my own. I am getting the sense that I don’t get the format so well. This post has the style of a woebegone Christmas letter.

Free drink included.

I can look back through the pages of the Portland Orbit and see what a crazy and weird year has passed. One discovery was the need to move away from short and generic blog post titles. This year it dawned on me that long, engaging titles, like the one associated with this post, bring in readers. Otherwise, I’m grasping at straws. I never know what’s going to capture people’s attention. For instance, it’s a mystery why two of this year’s most read posts had origins in SW Portland. Still analytics and stats haven’t dictated what I should write about. This leaves me feeling obligated to produce something but free to make it about whatever I choose.

I’ll admit 2017 got off to a slow start writing about resolutions I couldn’t keep, snow days and Salt Lake City. Coming off Christmas break is always tough. After that I got back to highlighting artisanal bike racks and the messages people scrawl on their cars. It was great to be able to honor Buddy Holly on the anniversary of his death. My neighborhood has a low-key, unofficial Buddy Holly memorial.

Superman vs Nuclear Holocaust

I can’t over estimate the importance of hitting the streets where the action is. It prompted wild speculation about the menace of Exotic Defacement, that I saw happening on a light pole down the street. Concrete carousing also had me observing the terrific genre of outside art and polite signs people make in attempts to regulate neighborhood car parking. In March, I focused on mundane activities like eating pie, attending government meetings and musing about the meaning of billboards.

This year the Orbit stumbled onto a device involving multiple posts on a certain theme. The Kingsmen’s cover of “Louie, Louie” had guest columnist Will Simmons extolling the band’s virtues which led to my stumbling around Seaside, Oregon searching for the origin of their inspiration. It also inspired me to interview Stew Dodge about the ‘62 Seaside riot and to visit a little known sound wave sculpture based on the Kingsmen’s version of “Louie, Louie.” The sculpture visit brought me downtown where I noticed the city’s Liberty Bell Replica and a prankster’s sign alteration that opened my eyes to the world of humorous sign additions.

Never tire of tire art!

Spring fever had me contemplating Tire Art, what I thought were creepy SW Portland stairs as well as vintage motel signs. Posting pictures of purple paint jobs hardly seems like the makings of a good blog post but how else can one honor Prince on his birthday? There was something satisfying about spending time considering the two pieces of sculptural work of Carlton Bell on the grounds of a SW Portland office park. I’m still on the hunt for more details about this artist.

Getting ready at the Soap Box.

Goofy stuff can cloud my brain and this year was no exception. I considered, more than most sane people ever would, obsolete signs, antenna toppers and obscure bridges and retaining walls. Of course there was the traditional Fourth of July salute to Old Glory. The summer offered a chance to explore, in depth, topics I was long curious about like the art car known as the “Space Taxi” and the Adult Soapbox Derby. In between I went to the Zine Fair, read signs that dogs could never read and stared directly at the sun in a moment of sheer Eclipse Hysteria.

Hop aboard the Space Taxi.

Great times were had when I got to talk to illustrator Kalah Allen,  report on a reading by rock singer Allen Callaci and interview filmmaker Bryan Hiltner about his film retrospective screening. Somewhere in all that I had a chance to obsess over owls and mourn the loss of a dance club. I spent the rest of the year delving into the sidewalk and tree art of the Foster-Powell neighborhood as well as one of its old buildings and displays of protest in the neighborhood. I also investigated a President Kennedy tribute and another possible tribute on Columbia Blvd. Bloggers don’t always take the  holidays off so I continued my Turkey of St. Johns annual post and I wrote about a toy museum for Christmas Day, which, I’d say, seemed exceptionally timely.

Of course and without further ado, the year ended as I wrote this post and began when I officially published it which has made this year in review piece circular in some strange way. Beginnings and endings have blended together like the years but this year comes with a different number that has the feel of a new world opening up to the discoveries that await.

 

Like Toys On Christmas Morning: A Visit to Kidd’s Toy Museum

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“Nobody knows about us,” was one of the last things we heard as we were leaving the Kidd Toy Museum at 1301 SE Grand Avenue. I had gone there with Will Simmons from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania who’s famous for his Pittsburgh Orbit blog. The comment wasn’t made to elicit sympathy, it was a statement that had to do with the museum’s no advertising policy.

It may have been the ninth time I’d heard about it, more on that later, but the tip that got me through the door came from writer Chuck Palahniuk. I had heard rumblings about the place and read about it in Palahniuk’s book “Fugitives and Refugees,” but my preconceived notions of a what a toy museum could be may have kept me away. I imagined being herded into an annoying gift shop filled with precious toys for sale, but no, Kidd’s Toy Museum is nothing like that–a characteristic that cements its low-key charm. Palahniuk recommended the place in a list of Portland must-sees in one of the weekly newspapers making it an opportune place to visit with an out-of-town guest.

photo by Will Simmons

In all my over stimulation resulting from looking through rooms of old toys, I overlooked getting the name of the woman (Julie Kidd) Will and I spoke with as we were headed out the door. She was informative and gracious looking up at us from where she sat in a cluttered office area. I missed the origins of Kidd’s toy collecting mania as it was described because I was slow to turn on my phone’s voice recorder. I recall that Frank Kidd’s collecting bug took off with the buying of a toy on a business trip.

Regardless of the genesis, the museum holds quite the collection of banks, dolls, cars, trains and other odd genres. The collection is grouped by category, housed in glass enclosed cases and lit by fluorescent lighting. We were told that the museum exists in part because an inheritance tax that might have required parts of the collection be sold off. Kidd created a nonprofit to keep the collection together, a nonprofit status that requires the toys be made available to the public.

Kidd owned the museum’s building where there had been a fire from a former tenant’s restaurant. At that point the decision was made to remodel the space for the toy displays. The museum opened fifteen years ago. As crammed full objects as the museum is, it houses only one-third of the collection. Kidd shares the toys he likes the most. Part of the museum’s inclusion of multiple versions of the same of item made sense when we were told that Kidd bought the best examples of what he could. This had Will chiming in, “sometimes three or four.” Many of the banks, are duplicated. Sometimes it’s different paint jobs or different castings that are hard to tell a part. The collection was described as being “generally pre-World War 2.”

photo by Will Simmons

One feature of the museum is how unlike a museum it is. It’s an opportunity to see a well-curated antique toy collection. The displays offer little information like brand names or dates. This minimalism is due, we were told, to the notion that signs would take up valuable display space. Seeing the objects as they are offers visitors a to experience the toys and form their own interpretations.

Word about the museum doesn’t get out due to that lack of advertising. It was explained that, “people locally don’t tend to know we’re here. People from out-of-town look for things to do.” Word of mouth comes from a woman who runs a North Portland candy store who recommends that people visit the museum. People are sure to mention when the “Candy Lady” sent them.

As we were running out of conversation we were given a quick lesson in advertising. Our museum contact told us what she’d learned in an advertising class. She explained that you have to see something three times before you actually see it and three more times before you act on it. The math means you have to see something nine times before you do anything about it. The number nine stuck in my mind. It seemed as good an explanation as any as to why I had lived in Portland for nine years before l made it to Kidd’s Toy Museum. Don’t let it take you that long.

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I received a comment that made a good point. It should be noted that the museum is open weekdays from 9am to 5pm. It has no weekend hours.

Note: There are items on display at the museum that some might find controversial. At a time when we’re offering wishes of good will to all mankind I made a decision not to delve into this aspect of the collection. I may visit it at a later time.

Keep your rabbit hole dive going with this excellent article from the Smithsonian Magazine. Yoi!! You might have to cut and paste.

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/travel/weird-important-artifacts-portlands-antique-toy-museum-180955887/

The Foster Files: Some Not So Subtle Pleas to Save Foster Road

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While house sitting in the Foster-Powell neighborhood this summer I became fascinated with what looks like a grass-roots campaign spearheaded by a local business taking on the mighty City of Portland. The store caught my interest when I was walking toward it on Foster Road. I was experiencing the neighborhood for the first time. As I walked, I soaked in the area’s atmosphere, looking over the businesses, the side-streets, walking past restaurants and then I saw a building with murals. These were sure to be scenes of old Portland, I thought. When I was close enough I saw that the murals were of a tower and castle which made sense given the business name EuroClassic Furniture. I presented information about my confusion for the Save Foster Road campaign a couple of posts ago. I was concerned about the area with some of the buildings appearing shabby even as I noticed new life in the places I’d passed. The subtitle of the banner declared the cause:  SAVE FOSTER and Keep 4 Driving Lanes.

I have no say in this battle. I don’t know the area but I can sense how change feels threatening and the powerlessness people experience when city leaders make decisions. I understand the side of those responsible for the banner and the signs in the furniture store windows. This is a business that represents itself on-line as a proud family owned establishment that celebrating 80 years in Portland. The window signs reveals as much of the story as any homemade posters can. Their handwritten script with thick and thin lettering has a folk art feel. Capitalized words blare their rally cry. A message addressing councilman Dan Saltzman as “Uncle Dan” urges street plan opponents to call him and it includes a phone number. Another sign expresses the desires of a mysterious Mr. Magoo who “wants Foster to stay just the way it is.” The sign says “we all agree with him!”

Window posters explain that the project is a waste of gas tax money and will “mess up” Foster Road requiring more fuel for cars stuck in traffic back ups while increasing pollution in the area. Another poster warns how jammed traffic will get. Cars will be “backed up for many blocks,” it says. More signs beg for a compromise asking the city to make Foster Road safe without inconveniencing the people who drive on it.

To offer background information let me refer you to information gleaned from a news broadcast that aired May 3, 2016. The project involves reducing Foster Road from four lanes to two with a center turn lane and wide bike lanes. The reporter, speaking in front of EuroClassic Furniture for the late night broadcast, explained that people were, “speaking out and making signs” in protest. With emphasis he pointed to the EuroClassic Furniture window signs noting they were “Bright Neon Green Signs.” I was struck that these signs were written in a block letter style–different from the ones in the windows as of early September of this year. More facts included a mention of 1200 accidents resulting in 8 deaths in the past decade. The Portland Bureau of Transportation estimated that the lane reductions would only increase commute times by three minutes. As a sidenote, I’d be curious to know what physics equation allowed them to make that estimate. The report ended with a quote from then Commissioner Steve Novick who said, “The city is doing it because we want more parts of Portland to be places where it’s safe for kids to walk and bike to school.”

Construction was scheduled to happen way back in 2016 but hasn’t happened yet. It looks like it’s now scheduled for the spring of 2018. It’s not too late to call Uncle Dan.


 

 

 

The Kennedy File: A Mysterious Memorial Not So Hidden in a Hedge

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I was trying to remember how I saw the plaque dedicated to John F. Kennedy. From what I recalled it had been in the middle of a hedge. This made no sense because I don’t make a habit of looking into hedges to find hidden plaques.

I had been looking for a place to park in SW Portland around 19th Avenue last June while taking a picture of an overpass for my much maligned and ill-fated blog post titled “Walls and Bridges.” I took two pictures that day, a close up of the plaque and another of the street sign on the corner so I could remember the location which is the corner of SW Spring Garden Street and SW 19th Avenue. Being on another assignment didn’t leave me time to linger. In the months since I’d seen the plaque, my memory was murky as to how I spotted it.

Returning for more photos four months later, it was obvious. I didn’t happen upon the plaque. I couldn’t have missed it due to a section of the bush having been cut away to reveal the minimal memorial attached to a moss-covered rock. There isn’t much to the engraving but it make its Kennedy tribute honorably. It lists his name, his year of birth and death and includes the St. Clare Boy’s Club–no doubt the group involved in creating the memorial.

It’s interesting to be reminded that Kennedy was born just over a hundred years ago. The plaque too seems like it’s been around a while with its chipped upper right corner. It soldiers on as a longstanding tribute to our fallen president.

I spoke with Laurie at the church office by phone. She wanted to help but the plaque was a mystery to her. She brainstormed about finding a parishioner who has been around long enough know the story of this Kennedy memorial. She thought there might be information in the office that she would pass on. At press time I hadn’t heard back which doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying.

I can’t promise an exciting story. It seems basic. The St. Clare Boy’s Club was looking for a way to honor John F. Kennedy. It’s a safe bet that this took place soon after he was assassinated. I could only imagine what it would have been like to experience a president being killed in office. The idea of it happening so close to the Thanksgiving holiday seems to amplify the emotional impact. This plaque must have been a way to begin the healing process.

So there you have it—another cliffhanger. Online research also revealed a Kennedy memorial at the Grotto. Investigation into all of these Kennedy related matters will continue into next year when we reopen the Kennedy Files and solve all the Portland area Kennedy mysteries.

The Turkey Of St. Johns Part 3: Here’s Looking For You

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Last night I thought a great many things. Thanksgiving time always has me reflecting on an old memory. I’ve done the thinking for all of us. It adds up to one thing: Another year where I haven’t found the Turkey of St. Johns–that mysterious creature I spied years ago. The identity of this bird has eluded me year after year.

Now you’ve got to listen to me. If I keep searching every year I have a good idea of where I’m going to end up. Nine times out of ten I’ll end up in the looney bin because people will become concerned about a man stumbling around St. Johns mumbling about a turkey.

I’m saying it because it’s true. We all know this turkey, whether in legend or lore, it belongs to St. Johns. My outcry is for this gobbler’s whereabouts. It has become a part of my work and a reason to keep going. If I don’t find this turkey I’ll regret it, maybe not today or the day after Thanksgiving but soon and for the rest of my life.

We’ll always have the Turkey of St. Johns. That turkey will never leave us, that turkey is with us in spirit regardless of whether anyone has a recollection of this bird. I’ve got a job to do. I’ll continue my search. Where I’m going you won’t be able to follow. I’m no good at being noble but it doesn’t take much to see the problem of trying to find a turkey I once spotted in someone’s front yard doesn’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday we’ll all understand that. Now, now…Here’s looking for you Turkey of St. Johns.

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Previous Turkey posts:

https://portlandorbit.wordpress.com/2015/11/26/the-turkey-of-st-johns-part-1/

https://portlandorbit.wordpress.com/2016/11/23/the-return-of-the-turkey-of-st-john

The Portland Orbit returns December 9th with another edition of The Kennedy Files. 

The Kennedy Files: Kennedy on Columbia?

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There’s a loneliness to the concrete bust in the front yard of a house on Columbia Boulevard across the street from the Humane Society. I’ve spent years driving past the sculpture that casts his gaze across the bustling four-lane roadway. I can’t remember the first time I got a good look at it but it was in a car going 40 miles an hour. I imagine I thought to myself when I spotted the bust, “that’s John F. Kennedy.” Every time since then I’ve looked for the concrete replica because of this resemblance. The Kennedy hair, the Kennedy face and the Kennedy torso, although I can’t say I’m all that familiar with the torso; it all seems a match. I have not confirmed whether it is Kennedy. There’s a tiny twinge of doubt that has me considering that the bust could represent an legendary Oregonian who happens to look a lot like our 35th president.

The bust sits in front of an old house, the kind of place suited to someone’s grandparents. I was motivated to finally take pictures when a for sale sign popped up in the area. It had me wondering if this section of Columbia Boulevard was going to be redeveloped. The house sits between a similar house and one with a garish paint job that once headquartered a private dancer club. It’s a safer bet that the club was targeted for sale and demolition with the two houses remaining in their awkward placement along this industrial thoroughfare. Update: I saw no evidence of a for sale sign on a recent visit.

At Halloween time I dropped by because the bust had been dressed in a costume. On that visit I noticed the base of the sculpture included elk carvings. This created my initial doubt. The appropriate images would have been a PT-109 boat or something symbolic of the Kennedy essence. Sure the Kennedy family has a compound in Maine but there was never a legend, that I heard, associating John Kennedy with an elk or even a moose.

Detail: bust base elk.

After my usual speculation I’m ready to make my case that the bust is Kennedy. Then I’ll make a case that the bust isn’t Kennedy. Of course this goes against everything Perry Mason stood for–I mean trying to argue both sides of the coin is a bit of a conflict unless we’re talking about a two-headed nickel which make no sense because Kennedy is on the 50 cent piece.

The most Kennedy aspect to the bust is the hairstyle. It’s exact. If that was a popular hairstyle at any point in time and for anyone else then I could see the statue being someone who was sporting the Kennedy hairdo back in the day. The hairstyle is singularly representative of one person and one person only: John F. Kennedy. Maybe, I want to believe it’s Kennedy because my roots are in the state of Massachusetts and I grew up on the Kennedy mystique.

img_8042

As to why this may not be Kennedy lies in whether the face of the bust captures the JFK identity. It’s close enough for anyone taking artistic license but the shirt with the pockets threw me off. Any image of this president should depict him looking presidential–in a suit. Any other representation has the feel of the guy being out of uniform.

All of this has the Portland Orbit pledging a year-long investigation into this matter. There will be actual research, phone calls, letters and a door knock if necessary to find out the true identity of this bust. You’ll have to wait until the next anniversary of Kennedy’s passing for an answer. In the meantime the Kennedy Files will return next month to cover a bona fide Kennedy tribute.

The Foster Files: Can the Phoenix Pharmacy Rise Again?

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I was walking down Foster Road during a house/dog sitting gig when I saw a large banner on the side of a store. What I could see as I approached read: Save Foster Road. The buildings in the area appeared run down so I assumed the sign was a plea to bring attention to the area. The structure I later learned was the Pharmacy building caught my eye. I admired the curve of the architecture and I could tell it was historical but it felt abandoned.

The Pharmacy building from the other side of the street.

When I reached the banner, I realized Save Foster Road was a different campaign than what I thought. While writing stories about this area I had forgotten about the building. I had been immersed in sidewalk paintings and art trees in the neighborhood but the Pharmacy came back into my consciousness when I saw a photograph posted on the Hidden Portland for the Curious group on Facebook. Jason Pedegana, an illustrator and designer who runs a Facebook site with tons of historical photos, swooped in with information and more photos. The building came alive in my imagination. I saw it in its heyday and sensed its place as the hub of the neighborhood. For a moment it wasn’t suspended in the stasis and decay that I had perceived from the other side of the street.

The Phoenix in its’ heyday.

At the risk of committing the ultimate sin of lazy journalism, I offer up some historical information that Jason posted  on Facebook:

“The roughly 7500 square foot building constructed in 1922, was once home to the Phoenix Pharmacy. Built, owned, and operated by John Leach who lived with his wife on what is now the Leach Botanical Gardens, the pharmacy was centered at the core of the community, considered a gem, and attracted many people to the area. It was actually RE-built by Leach, as the previous owner had tried to burn it down, twice. Hence the name “Phoenix”.

The glory days of VHS.

People chimed in with comments and a more complete story of the building formed through descriptions of past tenants, a doctor who had an office in the building, a video store that sold phones, which seemed to be one of the last tenants, and there was a mention of the second floor having two apartments. Other comments revealed that Buck Froman owns the building. If you ever need an in-person, oral history of the place you can talk to him at his stove shop a couple of buildings down.

Happy pharmacists!

I asked the person we were house sitting for about the Pharmacy building when he returned. He told me the building had been unoccupied since he moved to the area in 2004. I felt an emptiness hearing that. My hope is that cool buildings find new life even when circumstances make it challenging. It’s understandable that renovation costs for seismic upgrades, wiring and plumbing are potentially prohibitive to attract a tenant.

There is plenty of behind the scenes activity going on to preserve the building. A Facebook group, Foster the Phoenix, is devoted to these efforts. Someone associated with the group commented that the city has been involved in looking for ways to get the building back to it’s former glory. A mural was added to the first floor offering a sense that people are looking out for the building.

A ghost sign haunts back.

I admit I’m weirdly nostalgic for things I’ve never experienced in Portland, real street cars, old movie theaters and unique, classic buildings. These days most drug stores are part of a corporate chain so I appreciated the history of this pharmacy that thrived with a staff of happy pharmacists. The story goes beyond Leach’s successful business to the legacy he left behind with his botanical garden. I’m hoping his Phoenix Pharmacy rises again.

The photographs, with the exception of the first and last that appear in this post, are from the City of Portland Archive. Thanks goes to J. Pedegana for his historical input and for bringing photos and this subject matter to my attention. I would have sought more information from him but I ran out of time.

UPDATE:

https://www.koin.com/local/multnomah-county/phoenix-pharmacy-building-to-be-resurrected/

 

 

 

 

The Foster Files: The Super Hero Tree

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Just a regular tree.

At first glance it looks like any other tree. People pass by every day and don’t notice a thing. Like other street trees in the Foster-Powell neighborhood this one on SE 64th Avenue has branches, a trunk and leaves. Within the canopy are objects that, with a bit of imagination, combine to create scenes that tell a story, albeit one that has the feel of a failed attempt at a DC or Marvel movie.  Perhaps the unread, failed screenplay for the project featured an evil Tree Lord but he’s no where to be seen. I may have arrived too late, with the Tree Lord having fled after leaving the remaining characters frozen and stuck in the tree.

This trunk contains visions of Dino Wars.

Scattered items allow a story to be pieced together, including relics of past Dino Wars, with Old Glory surviving the fray.

Blame it on the Gamma Rays.

Helplessness is not a trait I like to see in my Super Heroes. They’re strapped down by the decorative Christmas lights. While cheery and soothing at night and in season, they now appear menacing. Superman seems the most active as he thrashes away at unseen gamma rays in hopes of freeing himself.

Captain America gets fuzzy.

Captain America stands aimless on an old gray hoverboard. The string of lights remain tight around his chest offering him no chance for escape. Hovering in static perpetuity won’t allow him an opportunity to flee the tree.

Lot of good that hammer does you.

Thor seems the most burdened. A light cord binds his waist while his hammer hand is wrapped up at the wrist. This is a cliff hanger in suspended animation. I’d like to think that it won’t end but plastic weathers and Christmas lights break. Thor’s freedom might come as the result of a lost limb. Our Super Heroes play a waiting game.

Folk peacocks–the anti-super hero.

What I’m attempting here is an appreciation for anyone who wants to decorate anything. It’s not really a critique on drab neighborhoods where the lone decorated tree stands out. No one expects all the neighbors to be hard at work pouring every bit of creativity they can muster into yard art, tree art and pole art on the off chance that I might stroll by and see this brilliance through my bug eyed, quivering peepers but I will find these subtle explorations of found art camouflaged in street trees when they appear and sing their praises.

The Foster Files: A Feat in Feet

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To begin this series I must be upfront about being a transplant. It’s may be obvious. With all the other people who have moved here it’s not necessarily a bad thing. My ten years of living in Portland feels like a badge of honor. It takes the sting out of being a newcomer because I’ve hung on and I’ve lived a bit of local history. I write out of my interest in Portland and the opportunity it presents to make discoveries and learn the history of the area. The transplant comment came from someone on Facebook. It felt like it was alluding to cluelessness on my part. All I had done was write about Portland’s Liberty Bell. I discovered it’s existence years after living here. The Liberty Bell was a new discovery for me. I couldn’t figure out why it took me so long to stumble upon it. The thing was hidden in plain sight.

One of my recent discoveries has been SE Foster Road between 50th and 72th Avenues. My phone tells me this is part of the Mt. Scott-Arleta and Foster-Powell neighborhoods[1]. I had not explored this part of Portland before visiting with some friends living in this area with an out-of-town guest. While driving through this section of town to get to the Gorge this summer, I had a look around. There were run down buildings, different businesses and restaurants–a part of the city I was experiencing for the first time. Weeks later I got a chance to explore the area when I dog/house sat in a house off Powell Boulevard.

The foot prints arrived out of nowhere.  They were spotted on SE 72nd Avenue heading towards Foster Road from Powell Boulevard. The prints were noteworthy for their uniformity and being more artistic than realistic. Visually they seemed to be blaring out as if something from an out-of-this-world wilderness had visited the area. Nothing breaks up a dog walk like giant foot prints. Most sidewalks are undecorated, dull concrete. I stopped, took in the oversized, clawed images, grabbed a few pictures and moved on. The foot prints brought me a moment of brief joy and entertainment.

Someone jazzed things up around this neighborhood. I couldn’t tell if this was a tribute to Bigfoot hunters or if it spoofed them. An argument could be made that it has nothing to do with Bigfoot. Then again a Bigfoot expert could tell me if Bigfoot prints reveal long toenails and yeah, of course whether these are authentic. The image of any big feet makes me think of only one thing–a big foot. It can’t be simpler. I’d have to be a biologist to determine if the prints were specific to an ancient species of some sort. It’s possible another type of statement entirely is being made.

The prints congregate from two directions, mingle together then head under a chained and padlocked gate. One always has to wonder why research for the blog posts on the Portland Orbit is rare. Where is the investigative reporting, the knocking on doors which in this case would have involved high jumping a gate? In this situation it is obvious. Initially, I didn’t notice the locked gate. It was revealed in one of my photos. If I had charged towards the house to get answers and the story behind the prints, I would have been stopped in my tracks by that locked gate. Besides I was doing my dog walking duty at the time. I would also admit to being uncomfortable with the possibility that whatever made those foot prints could be real and living in the house.

I was at risk of confronting a big footed being but it makes more sense that the work was done by friendly, foot print makers, at least I’d want to believe they’d be good natured and fun spirited. It’s more of the attitude that’s reflected by the whimsical nature of the foot prints. It is possible that someday I may get a lead on the story behind the prints. In fact, I rely on sleuths and the hope that there is someone out there who knows more than me and can provide me with answers that I can pass on in another post. But hope isn’t facts. Until I get them, I’ll hold out in hopes they arrive. All I offer now is some, somewhat mysterious, and marvelous footprints that appeared out of the blue in an unfamiliar neighborhood.

[1] It has to be obvious to anyone who lives in that area that SE Foster Road runs through the neighborhoods of Foster-Powell and Mt. Scott-Arleta.