Pill Hill

It seems OHSU has been helping to define Portland since its inception, though the triumphant taming of Marquam Hill wasn't immediate.



In fact, the site we all think of now as a bristle block of various forms of towering architecture sitting firmly on its lofty perch was originally purchased site unseen by the Oregon Railroad and Navigation Company in 1880, where they intended to build a depot, rail yard, etc. Granted, this was before email, film, or even easily portable cameras, but perhaps sending someone to visit the site would have been a good idea. I'd love to have heard the dealmaking that went on before that agreement.




However, the strategic error was eventually to our benefit: a surgeon for the company convinced the railroad to donate the land to the determined but unpredictable cabal of medical professionals who were trying their hardest to pull together a viable medical education program in our region. For a history of their spats, sputters, and giant strides forward, click here. Suffice it to say here that
there was a considerable amount of disagreement in the early years as to how to go about creating a medical school.



That donation of "unusable" land, along with a slightly larger donation from the Oregon Journal editor C. S. Jackson's family, provided the groundwork for the mosaic of a medical campus we know today. The Jackson land was a purchase from Phillip Marquam, a noted judge and onetime largest landowner of Multnomah County, State Representative, and owner of the aforementioned railroad company. Marquam's land in turn had been bought from a claim titled to John Donner, brother to the infamous Donner of the California passes. The head spins.



Here is a link to a photo of the some of the first buildings on the campus.



(As a side note, this page provides a fascinating look at the unrealistic hopes of the original Marquam plans for the neighborhood, terrain be damned. Paper streets indeed.)



Today, of course, Marquam Hill is one of the most recognizable features of our city. And there are more than enough, shall we say, mixed feelings about OHSU's construction of the tram to the South Waterfront to carry on the long tradition of controversy over the necessary growth of the endeavor. But where there's a will, there's a way: it may have been a long and painful process, but the determination of the early planners has come to fruition, though probably not in any way they could have conceived. The architectural and engineering feats of OHSU, Dornbecher, the VA Hospital, and more continue to rise and astound.