Reed canyon, early fall

The four acre Reed Lake, which takes up a good portion of the canyon, is purportedly "the oldest naturally occurring lake in Portland", though whether or not it's actually natural has been debated over the years. It's all part of a land donation from the erstwhile William Ladd, and there are traces of the former agricultural purposes of the land strewn throughout the Reed campus.
The canyon has at various times held the aquifier for Ladd's cattle, a wildlife refuge, a fish hatchery, two bath houses, and an outdoor swimming pool.

Today, it's an urban oasis, as well as a valuable site for Reedies interested in some hands-on natural resources studies.

Hawthorne Bridge

Sometimes casual internet research turns into a banquet of riches. I'm just going to share the bounty a bit.

Portland's bridges are kind of like a gaggle of siblings in a family you love for taking you in. Each one has its own personality and appeal. The Hawthorne bridge holds the place of the older sister who has a fondness for fine art and music but not a lot of accumulated wealth to show for it. She's aged gracefully, and though her tastes are slightly archaic and out of touch with today's youth, she still resides as the cool, beautiful, and funky aunt whom all the nieces and nephews love. I even have a fondness for the wheelhouse (is that what it should be called?) shown here.

100 years old this year, the Hawthorne Bridge is the "oldest operating vertical lift bridge in the United States." This Multnomah County site also notes that most of the lift system is still original, other than the electrical and control systems, which I'd just as soon have updated every century or so, thank you very much. It replaced two earlier Madison Street bridges.

Here is a picture of some of the men responsible for this beauty.

This link provides a view of the old trolley bus which used to cross the bridge before the Max took over that kind of transportation. It can be seen about midway down the page.

This page provides, amongst other great old views of the waterfront, two WWII-era photos of the bridge, one of which shows a huge ship (it looks too big to be a barge-- one of the Navy's victory ships constructed around here?) passing through.

And finally, although I'm sad to say that I didn't get to go to the recent centennial celebration which had the middle lanes of the bridge covered in grass for a benefit picnic, I did find this contemporary representation of Hawthorne appreciation. See? Even the noisy, restless kids at the table find a lot to love.

So... pass the wine?

Too good not to link

Far before my time, but so part of the Oregon character.

Vortex Baptism

Ahavai Shalom cemetery

Located atop a hill full of cemeteries, the Avahai Sholom cemetery is now overseen by the Congregation Neveh Shalom, into which the small former congregation was enveloped in 1961. Congregation Avahai Sholom originated in the Southwest Jewish community in 1869, but finally bowed to the inevitable mid-20th century South Portland civic "progress" which razed hundreds of homes in predominantly Jewish and Italian enclaves.

One surprising bit of trivia: 1980s actress and tragic stalking victim Rebecca Schaeffer is buried here.

Great Northwest, I hardly knew ye...

By now, the demise of the Great Northwest Bookstore in South Portland is familiar news. Owner Phil Wikelund,local bookstore proprietor since 1973 (!!) had found a way to survive with the changing times by moving most of his business online, but that doesn't mean things were easy for him: due to increasing expenses and decreasing profits, he had let his insurance on the building lapse, meaning the May 2 fire was a total loss. Last month, local supporters had a benefit at the Crystal Ballroom to raise funds for the demolition of the 120-yr-old structure.



The bookstore was housed in what is still known as the Fourth Presbyterian Church, it's original intent (though I have come across one source saying it was first referred to as the Christian Fellowship Church, I haven't been able to find that information repeated elsewhere). Early in its life, it housed the South Portland headquarters for a group called "The People's Institute," an organization dedicated to bettering the lives of single mothers and their children from 1912-1915, notably a time of interesting social status for women. Later, before Mr. Wikelund took possession, it housed various different organizations, including the long-term tenant Union Gospel Mission.



But, as many know, The Great Northwest Bookstore wasn't the only resident of the church last spring. The "unofficial poet laureate of Portland," beat poet Walt Curtis, had been living downstairs as well. It's only fitting to include a poem here which he recently recounted to the Willamette Week:

At the edge of the dream there’s a curl of smoke and flame
It’s a love letter sent long ago
The lovers are lost in the phantom of time
Nothing remains except ashes in the rain.

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.

...You can see forever (from Portland Heights)

And if it's a bit hazy, you can still see pretty far.