The North East corner of West Burnside and 10th has been closed off for a while as Powells Books completed a number of construction projects. In addition to 10th street entrance, the Blue and Green rooms have been closed for renovations. I saw the projects had finished this summer and was relived — a scenario where someone at Powells said “we’re not losing any money with those rooms closed, let’s turn them into condos” had crossed my mind.
The old boxed in bike racks are gone, and the main entrance is now all steps, including a new handicap accessible door. The new wide open entrance also makes it easier to dodge the clipboard kids gathering signatures, addresses and money on the steps.
Inside the Powell’s atheistic still reigns — there’s a new lighting system and some new book tables in the Green Room, but it’s still that same linoleum floor. In a sign of the times, it looks like the magazines will not return to the main room (
mainstream magazines are in the raised portion of the Pink room, zines/small press in the Blue room There’s still a small press section in the green room, but zines are still with the Magazines). The cash registers are shifted to a more central location in the room, and the small foreign currency exchange sign is nowhere to been seen.
The other big change is the passage from the Green room to the Blue room has been significantly widened, and is no longer a “ramp going up”.
I’m always a little bummed when a place goes away, but all in all it doesn’t seem like Powell’s is radically redesigning to fit some temporary fad in Portland design circles, or making plans to sell off the building piecemeal to cash-in on the booming speculative real estate market. That’s a small relief in a changing city.
View of the Green room through the new widened doors of the Blue room.
View of the Green room from the front corner.
I dislike driving, but I did enough traveling in the American north east to get used to the various interchange styles and downtown driving rules.
It wasn’t until I moved to Portland that I learned how to easily cope with “No Left/Right Turns” in a stress free way.
This sign is near PSU, and there’s another like it on a 405 exit in NW Portland. I’d heard the phrase “Three rights make a left” or “Three lefts make a right” a thousand times before, but it never clicked as a strategy for dealing with one way streets in a downtown environment. This also led me to realize that, by design, every other street is one way downtown.
So Thank You™ anonymous-city-official-with-an-appreciation-for-information-design.
I walk across the Hawthorne Bridge a few times a week. Sometimes it’s a nice day and I just enjoy being outside, other times I’m feeling claustrophobic and don’t want to jam into a rush hour bus. A week or so ago this small thing reminded me why I like living in Portland.
Cross the bridge west to east, on the south side of the bridge, you reach a point where you (as a pedestrian) need to veer off onto the off ramp down to MLK, and/or take stairs down under the bridge. Hardly anyone (including me) ever does this; we usually scamper across the off ramp, and walk down the narrow shoulder/curb next to the bike lane in order to stay on Hawthorne.
In most other American cities this pattern of behavior would elicit additional pedestrian barriers, and semi-regular visits from the Police for jaywalking violations and fund raising. In Portland? An explicit pedestrian walkway is added, as well as additional improvements to the bike lane with new physical barriers.
I’ve been on the west coast for eight years now — what was once a mecca is now everyday life. Portland has it’s own set of problems and challenges around growth, race, poverty, and class, but little things like this remind me that for all it’s flaws, it’s still a place people want to be, and want to make better.
I still can’t think of anywhere I’d rather live.
Part of my fascination with the Wilhelm Portland Memorial is the combination of the ornate with the mundane, and the unconsidered problems of running an indoor cemetery. This all comes together in the flower rooms.
People bring flowers to graves. Outdoors this isn’t a problem — but how do you leave flowers when a headstone may be 10 feet over your head?
Every grave in mausoleum has a small vase attached to it. On a few of the older historic graves these are a granite extension of the headstone or attached in a permanent fashion — on the newer graves there’s a small ring that holds a detachable vase. These are the vases Tender Branson stole his flowers from.
So that solves the problem of where to put the flowers — but what about people who show up with a full bouquet that’s not going to fit into the small vase? Each floor of the mausoleum has several flower rooms. These are rooms or alcoves with a sink, extension claw for placing the vases, garbage can, and a set of flower clippers attached to the sink via a chain.
These rooms are a time machine through the history of commercial kitchen/bathroom design. Sometimes you’ll have several decades of design trends in a single, frankenstein-ish room.
The flower rooms are a bizarre intrusion of the practical into the otherwise dream-ish world of the dead.
The quality of the light at the Wilhelm Portland Memorial is a considerable part of its creepy spell. You may find yourself in a dark corner, squinting at the indirect light dimly illuminating the corridor. Turn the corner and full panel fluorescence with their faint hum will stare back at you from the ceilings and walls — unless you’re under the moss and rust covered skylights that illuminate sections of the lower floors.
The memorial has 8 floors of tombs, but that’s deceptive. Ground level is the fifth floor, and floors 1 – 4 are carved into the side of a ridge overlooking the Oak Bottom Wildlife refuge. This means when you make a left from the long corridors of tombs on any particular floor into the northern chapel areas, your eyes will be assaulted by sunlight from the full windows in the west facing wall.
This sunlight is also peppered through the twister corridors of tombs via opaque windows. Some are priceless stained glass, others glazed glass or plastic that’d be more at home in a 70s bathroom set.
All this puts your pupils in a contant state of adjustment, and with the slight burning that comes from the scent funeral homes use to mask the smell of formaldehyde and the dead, combined with the smell of formaldehyde and the dead, your psyche is left open to any suggestion the thousands of sleeping dead may have.
While there’s plenty of thrift, vintage, and junk stores to be had in Portland, the single vendor old building jammed to the gills with junk is a dying breed.
View from a close-in SE Portland lot slated for a condo development.
That little Stumptown Annex (not the main store) on Belmont has packed up and moved into the SE Industrial District.
And he grandaddy of all food carts, Potato Champion, has moved daytime operations over to the same area.
Movers have been carting things out of Deco to Disco (1960 SE Hawthorne) for the past few days, and were finishing up in the early evening on Friday when I snapped this shot.
I’m unsure if the business is closing, or just moving. I’ve had my eye on a ludicrous set of lamps with crushed velvet shades in here for years.
This is one of those Portland Landmark buildings for me, and if it’s being torn down for condos I’m going to find Adam Smith’s invisible hand and chop it off.