Plenty of room at the Hotel Cornelius

I can't help it.  When I see a place like this, my curiosity gets going.  I was taking a walk through downtown the other night and trying out a few blocks on Park along which I very rarely travel.  That's when I saw this wall in its state of curious half-repair (or half-disrepair).  I know some people would recognize it immediately, but I'm still learning the ins and outs of this town, and that's enough lack of knowledge to keep me running to research the things that grab my attention.


So, what you're looking at is the northeast corner of the old Hotel Cornelius, on the corner of Alder and Park.  I actually first noticed it because of the gorgeous copper Mansard roof, and the quirky graffiti just above the Southwest corner of it.  The graffiti didn't keep my attention for long, though.  As I continued up Park, this palimpsest of a wall called me to stop and try for several pictures, fighting against the waning light.  The seven story building had obviously not been used for a while; many of the upper windows show signs of dereliction.  However, as you can see below in a photo taken a day later and in better light, it's really only the street level of the building which seems to be strongly affected by the incomplete renovation.  Looking up, you can see many clear signs of an older elegance.  Maybe this is because the P:ear Gallery moved out of the ground floor a few years back, or maybe it was an unfinished project of the folks at TMT Development who until fairly recently were planning to renovate the building to use as another downtown boutique hotel.

The proposed Alder Park hotel was to be a modern interpretation of this historical structure rather than a true restoration, because, as reported in the Daily Journal of Commerce in 2008, there wasn't a whole lot of data on the original appearance of the hotel other than a few pretty postcards. And, by all accounts, the passing decades had not been kind to the interior.  Alas, last year our favorite recession got the better of the plans, and TMT backed out of the project, putting the building up for sale.

What were these postcards, though, which provided the inspiration?  You can see reproductions about midway down this page on pdxhistory.com.  In the article linked above, it said that the coffered ceilings in the lobby were the only major original feature which could be salvaged.  Certainly, the postcard makes them look worth saving.  Today, though, they're hidden from public view.  The original entryway has been covered, and today's main entrance is topped by those ubiquitous dropped ceilings of 20th century renovations.  This is what the area currently looks like--please forgive the glare, as I took the photo with my iPhone though the plate glass of the door.

Still, though, it's lovely to think about the early history of the structure.  Built in 1908, the Cornelius was part of a string of hotels erected to address the growing demands of the entertainment district.  The architect was John Bennes, known locally for his rococo Hollywood Theatre.  The hotel was marketed by its proprietor, W. C. Culbertson, as "The House of Welcome," and its sister hotel, the Hotel Seward, was  "The House of Cheer."  According to the Official Hotel Red Book, rooms were $1.25 a day (or $2.00 with a bath), and a major selling point was the hotel's proximity to the trolley lines and the new Elks Temple.  The 2004 Portland Midtown Blocks Historic Assessment notes that the structure was one of the earliest skyscrapers in the area, and exemplifies many of the new building technologies (fire-resistant concrete!  terra cotta!) of the early 20th century..

Speaking of baths, European or otherwise, one thing a lot of long-timers around here like to note is that in the 70s and 80s, the building's basement was the site of Continental Baths, the gay bathouse mentioned in the Tribune article linked above.  According to the 1999 Gay Portland Walking Tour, the Continental Baths featured "erotic black-light drawings on the walls, an orgy room, jacuzzi, and a number of individual rooms for private assignations."  An ad reproduced on the same site promises that there was "always a hot time" to be had.

Oh, and that black covering and tantalizing peek of brick which originally got my attention?  According to the DJC article linked above, it turns out that, when moving the original entrance, someone covered the east-facing wall with stucco, damaging the brick underneath to the point where it all needed to be replaced.  Minor mystery solved.  I'd like to think that, someday, someone will finish the repairs.