If you are like me, you don’t accept change willingly. I’m still in a minor state of mourning over the loss of the Pixie Kitchen and the Organ Grinder – the two places that held the most magic for me as a child. A Motel 6 now stands where the Pixie Kitchen stood and the Organ Grinder has become a Super King Buffet. Change may be inevitable, but it isn’t always for the better.

Frankly I’m kind of glad that I had never been to the old Meier & Frank Santaland because it would just be another thing for me to talk about like a sentimental old lady.

The old Meier & Frank Santaland was in operation for some 50 years, delighting children with a kid-sized monorail that made trips around the ceiling of the 10th floor of the downtown flagship store. The monorail made its last trip in 2005 and then that portion of the building was remolded into a boutique hotel because Portland is in desperate need of more boutique hotels for its booming tourism industry. Yes, I was using sarcasm.

Meier & Frank is now Macy’s and Macy’s has brought back the Santaland. On the surface, this seems like a good thing. After all, Macy’s is somewhat synonymous with Santaland. Think Miracle on 34th Street, or the Santaland Diaries, or the big Macy’s parade in NYC where the King of the Shopping Mall Santas makes his annual televised debut. But the purists know that the new Macy’s Santaland is no match for the beloved Santaland they knew as a child and perhaps have taken their own children to.

But I guess we must live in the now and learn to love what is. That’s what all the self-help gurus are always saying anyway. We all know how solid their advice is.

Macy’s Santaland is located in the basement. There is no better way to say that. I guess they figure the children won’t notice the low ceilings.

Once you get over the basement factor, Santaland itself is delightful. They make good use of some of the old Meier & Frank animatronics giving the place a very chic vintage feel. It’s very very pretty and I can imagine that the little kids will just love it.

I can’t tell you much about the Santa himself. The posted signs make it VERY clear that you are not to take a photo of Santa unless you have paid for a photo of Santa. You can’t even get a very good look at Santa unless you are in the photo line because he is tucked away in a small, windowless, low-ceilinged corner – far away from the casual passerby.

I did manage to sneak over to the SantaCubicle for a quick up-close glimpse. Santa was by himself and he looked miserable. Much like the modern day employees of large corporations, I don’t think Santa likes being in such a tightly controlled environment. Santa is there for the enjoyment of paying customers only, not any enjoyment of his own.

But that’s progress for you.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go watch Judy Garland sing Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas while Tootie cries in Meet Me in St. Louis. Christmas nostalgia doesn’t get any better than that.

And if you still find yourself longing for the old Meier & Frank Santaland – you can still visit their website.

Next up – Bridgeport Village Santa
Previous Santas – Pioneer Place, Washington Square, Lloyd Center, Clackamas Town Center

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It seems that Vancouver (yes, the Couve) has a bit of a branding issue. Going beyond the problem of being the other Vancouver, located in the other Clark County, located inside the other Washington, Portland’s largest suburb is beginning a seven month effort to find a new brand.

As a lifelong resident of the area, I’ve got a few ideas — but I thought it might be more interesting to see what you could come up with. Let ‘er rip!

In the meantime, I’m going to be over here, pumping my own gas and buying real Sudafed… although it’s enjoyable, it’s probably not a brand.

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Pete Forsyth emailed me the following article, and asked if we’d post it. Gladly, Pete! Update: Welcome new author Pete Forsyth to our ranks!

Lately it seems that some plan involving a $40 million baseball is the biggest thing we hear about from City Council.

But here’s something that’s much more likely to have an impact on Portlanders’ financial future: a filtration plant slated for construction in the Bull Run watershed. It will cost many hundreds of millions of dollars — maybe over a billion, if you include debt service. That might not hit your property or income tax bill, but it’s expected to DOUBLE your water bill.

TOMORROW, City Council will consider ordinance 1071, which will direct the Water Bureau to continue exploring this issue. But the issue has barely been considered by the public, and there’s been very little media coverage. It’s alarming to see such an enormous expenditure moving forward with so little public deliberation.

It’s a complex issue, but here are a few points to consider:

• Above all, it’s clear that City Council and the Water Bureau have been strategic in their planning around this issue, but it’s unclear what the motivations are. Many of us feel that a deliberation of this magnitude should be carried out in public.
• The federal EPA has mandated that all municipal water sources filter for a kind of bacteria called Cryptosporidium by 2014. Cryptosporidium is something that occurs in human and livestock waste, so it’s common in most areas. But Bull Run, which originates in a largely undisturbed area of the Mt. Hood National Forest, has consistently tested as being free of this harmful bacteria.
• The City of Portland has pursued an exemption from this mandate, but has been rebuffed.
• It’s unclear exactly what the consequences for failing to comply with the mandate might be. When hundreds of millions of dollars and the quality of our drinking water are at stake, it’s reasonable to consider resisting a federal mandate that does not take local conditions into account.
• Emotions on both sides of this issue have run high, but the Portland Water Bureau and City Council hold all the cards. In the rare media story that runs, like this one, City Commissioner Randy Leonard makes the unfortunate choice of addressing only the most extreme allegations of concerned citizens. What a terrible waste of an opportunity to stoke some public deliberation of the issue! Additionally, the Water Bureau has been unreasonably resistant to sharing documentation of what they’re planning when requested by citizens.
• The issue has an extensive history. In the late 1970s, the U.S. Congress passed a law permitting logging in the watershed. The resulting runoff resulted in mud in our water supply; so Portland fought back. Laws passed in 1996 and 2001 protected the area from logging. See here for more: Bull Run Watershed article from Wikipedia; Joe Miller papers from the University of Oregon; History from OregonWild; Profile of Joe Miller from Oregon Magazine.
• Portland’s water use has DECREASED dramatically since the 1980s, with the widespread adoption of water-efficient appliances and other measures. (See, there’s some good news in here!) Water usage report from Water Bureau
• Suburbs of Portland, and bottling plants, have moved to use water from the Willamette (and, I believe, the Columbia). How do City Council and the Water Bureau want to engage with this issue? Is there a desire to increase our water production in order to supply other municipalities? If so, where’s the public debate on the relative merits?
• This is connected with another issue of recent concern: covering the reservoirs at Mt. Tabor. City Council’s failure to anticipate or engage with public concerns about that resulted costly and embarrassing retreat, though I think the issue is still likely to resurface. Shouldn’t we have the opportunity to evaluate ALL potential major facility upgrades/expenditures by the Water Bureau, instead of piece-mealing them?

In the end, I don’t really buy into the idea, advanced by some people, that this issue is driven by corruption or laziness. But I do think our City government is terribly resistant to the idea that the public has a right and a responsibility to engage with its future in meaningful ways. With the kinds of communication technology and engaged communities that are evolving in recent years, this posture looks increasingly anachronistic…and I fear it will cost us tremendously if our elected officials at City Hall don’t carefully rethink their entire approach to issues like this.

Please take a moment to write an email to each member of City Council. Ask them not to take this action so soon, to be more forthright with their long-term goals in this process, and to seek to advance the public debate. And if you can attend or testify at tomorrow’s City Council meeting, even better! Email addresses and City Council details at the Friends of the Reservoirs site, listed below.

Some further reading:

• Friends of the Reservoirs site
• Wikipedia article on the Safe Drinking Water Act
• Recent blog entry on the issue from Bojack.org

Editor’s Note: Pete Forsyth, a Portland resident and business owner, was a member of the Mt. Tabor Central Yard & Nursery Planning Group, and has studied the history and future plans relating to Portland’s water supply for several years.

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We all have friends who send amusing pictures and fun facts around the web. (Guilty and loving it.) I received one the other day that got the wheels spinning. It’s slightly NSFW, so I’m putting it at the end, after the jump. (Female nudity, FYI. Now you have to look, right?) I tried to find the source of the picture so I could credit them; Googling ‘naked lady logger’ retrieved everything but. (Try it, but it’s really NSFW…) So, the picture is borrowed from an e-mail from a friend, yada yada…

Anyway, back to the subject at hand: Loggers and log trucks.

I grew up in Sandy, Oregon in the 1960s and 1970s, when it was a mill town. With a population of about 1,200, the majority of the town made its living off the timber industry. There were at least three sawmills in the town proper, with others scattered around Boring and Estacada. Several small independent trucking companies lived on our road. Every morning the jake brakes and deep rumblings would call out like a heavy metal rooster. My dad was a night watchman at a sawmill, and my brother-in-law drove a logging truck for a one-man trucking company based in Oregon City.

Dad was older, in his 60s, when I would go to work with him. I loved the smell of the wood, the big sloppy mud-bog near ‘the pond,’ where logs would float until brought through the green chain and prepped for sizing. During slow periods I was allowed to watch the procedure. When it was busy I was told to “get the hell outta the way!” These logger-types were scary dudes. They said jump, I asked how far?

My favorite part of hanging out at the mill was “the burning teepee,” as I called it. Unusable scrap wood would be taken to a large burn pile and incinerated. I’d stand at the base of the burning pyre, tossing wood on and watching it catch. I’d love it when Dad would show me “how to make a real fire!” and toss various organic incendiaries onto the pile until flames would shoot thirty feet into the air. I’d inhale the smoke, loving the delicious buzz of oxygen depletion. Second-hand smoke at its finest. It helped me overcome fear of (and build a respect for) fire.

As the ’70s rolled along, the mills began closing. Dad finally retired, after the mill insisted he work the green chain, perhaps the most rigorous of jobs. An arthritic seventy-year-old, he decided it was time to call it quits. The mills weren’t far behind.

My teen years were spent around my brother-in-law, who had driven a logging truck as long as I’d been alive. His day would start at 2:30 AM, with black coffee until the last run of the day, when he would park the truck and substitute the coffee cup for a stubby of Olympia beer. (“It’s the Water.”) While his behavior would not be condoned today, my mom, a teetotaler, approved of his beer while driving. He was never drunk behind the wheel, but never without a beer either. Her theory being that all that coffee made him high-strung enough. Give the man some sedation!

I was allowed to go on runs with him once in a while. We’d trip over Mt. Hood, or up above Estacada, taking rickety roads back into the deep woods. It was scary enough without a load; attach the corpses of three or four huge trees and that ups the ante even more. We’d rock back and forth in the cab traveling down a one-lane gravel and dirt road, with me praying we didn’t tip over. It was a long-ass walk back to civilization.

Like most long road trips, there was much time for conversation and self-discovery. I’d considered becoming a truck driver; I certainly didn’t want to become a common laborer. Brother-in-law must have read my mind. He told me, “Stay in school and learn something besides trucking and logging. They are a dying breed, and you’re too smart for this.” (I took him at his word, except about the staying-in-school part. I stayed as long as it suited me.) I was surprised at how accurate his predictions were. Mills and logging trucks began disappearing from the Clackamas County landscape. Koch’s Mill, where my Dad worked? It’s now a subdivision. Oja’s Mill? There’s a McDonald’s there, last time I went through town. I haven’t been to Boring in a decade. Harris Mill? Are there any sawmills left there?

My brother-in-law had a particular hatred of the Spotted Owl. He had a recipe for cooking Spotted Owl. Here it is:

1 Spotted Owl

1 large rock

I large pot of boiling water

Salt to taste

Put Spotted Owl, rock and salt into pot of water. Boil for several hours. Drain.

Throw away water and Spotted Owl, and eat the rock.

His kids knew the push-button response just saying Spotted Owl around him would bring, and of course I would have to be a provocateur. I’d walk past him, mutter “Spotted Owl…” and let the fun begin. “Goddammit!” Slam! Bang! He’d grab a wrench and be under the hood of whatever car he was driving, cussin’ and sputterin’ the whole time.

My BIL passed away the day of the OJ murders. After his funeral, we drank forties and watched the white Bronco car chase.

Something I’m glad he didn’t see? The whole Tre Arrow spectacle, with the burning of the log trucks and the whole living-on-the-building thing. If the cigarettes hadn’t got him, this would have. Truckers are a cliquish bunch, and even rival trucking companies would have rallied around. While he never said it, I know what he would have said, in a quiet, smoke-raspy voice, and it gives me chills.

“It’s a good thing the law got him…”

People hunting for Arrow heads would not have found that one.

A while back, as I was walking through Lownsdale Square by the county courthouse downtown, I saw a fully loaded Peterbilt trying to negotiate the corner by the Portland Building. He made it in one try. How he ended up there is anyone’s guess, but he maneuvered right through, with several cops and bus drivers watching. (And taking notes, hopefully.) I miss the rumble of the jake brakes, and the road dogs with the endless cups of coffee and non-filter Pall Malls. They were a salty bunch, and I learned a lot about life hanging out with them; everything from double-clutching to what to order if I ever make it to a Nevada whorehouse. (Boys will be boys.) So far, the double-clutching has come in handy once. The other? The info is there if I ever need it.

Loggers and log truck drivers were mainly a male-dominated profession, although BIL did point out to his daughter that “Girls can drive truck too.” (She’s an ambulance driver now.) But, after seeing this picture, I begin to wonder if there weren’t more secrets I wasn’t made privy to. I know if the woods had looked like this the days I tagged along, I’d own my own sawmill and trucking company. Industry be damned!

It could explain all the beaver jokes.

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• No Related Post

I sure as heck don’t. I wasn’t even born yet.

Today’s post at deputy-dog.com is dedicated to temporary ski jumps, the kind that used to get erected in stadiums for ski jump exhibitions. And lo and behold, down at the bottom of the page, were two pics from “multnomah civic stadium in portland, oregon”, 1953:

According to the Ski Jumping Hill Archive, this jump was erected by the Cascade Ski Club during the Rose Festival in 1953. The ski jump was built at Civic Stadium, and at its highest point was 47 meters (154 feet) above the field. Four “ice powder machines” cranked out 200 tons of artificial snow, which lasted all week despite some classic Rose Festival weather: warm rain during the evenings.

The winner of the ski jumping competition, after four rounds, was Portlander Arne Hoel, with a best jump distance of 131 feet. This shouldn’t be too surprising, since Arne Hoel, competing for Norway, had finished sixth in the individual large hill ski jump at the 1952 Winter Olympics in Oslo.

Is there anybody out there that actually saw this ramp back in ‘53? If so, leave a comment and tell us about it!

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CIMG1618

The Leftbank projects is, in their words, “the pairing of a building and a vision: the commercial development of a Portland landmark with a community of mission-driven tenants.” It is my understanding that the building was destined for demolition and re-development. Previous to Leftbank, it was a manufacturing building for many years. I can only imagine that over time, the building fell into disrepair. For the past ten years, it has been boarded up, a target for squatters and taggers. Leftbank changed all that. They went in and — aside from cleaning it up and obviously making it a safe and stable building — they reclaimed some of its storied past.

The main room pictured here is huge with 20′ ceilings and amazing plaster work. From the looks of it, this is all original, probably covered up over time by dropped ceilings or wallpaper. The restoration is amazing. Throughout the building, you can see that the design was to reuse, recycle and preserve. Exposed recycled beams, refinished wood floors, original windows repaired and re-used. I bet the contractor and the Rebuilding Center are good friends by now. On the second floor, the arched windows everyone sees driving by have been fully restored. Oh to have that room.

The building is one of the last remaining buildings from Portland’s Black Jazz history. The Dude Ranch, a jazz club that saw many of the greats perform, used to reside in the building back in the heyday of this neighborhood. Most of that period was bulldozed to build the Memorial Coliseum. Talking with a Leftbank associate, she informed me that the Dude Ranch was actually on all three floors throughout its history. It kept getting busted by the Portland Police for interracial mingling, so they would move from the first floor to the second floor and re-open. Then to the third floor. I wonder if they ever got to the roof. I did…

The highlights of the night for me were A) the building itself and B) Upright Brewing. I’m a sucker for old buildings and old architecture and reclaimed anything. Put a 30yr old beam in front of me and I’ll see a garden structure waiting to be build. Upright Brewing is Portland’s newest brewery and are housed in the basement. Currently, you can find them on tap at a few locales in Portland. They are specializing in traditional Belgian style beers, so keep an eye out for them, they are playing in an area of brewing not many brewers are willing to go. There are rogue bacteria and yeast at play in that there basement. And their beer is pretty darn tasty.

So great to see an old venerable Portland building reclaimed and reused for something other than condos. I’m thankful for being invited. If you’re down there, drop on by. There is a cafe and the brewery will offer you tastings…all you have to do is ask. Also, there are space left available for lease if you are looking. Such a great location.

Here’s a shot of the building prior to Leftbank doing their magic. As you can see, it needed some TLC:

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This Saturday, May 9, the annual Laurelhurst Art Walk kicks off at 10 a.m., running through 5 p.m. The Art Walk provides an opportunity to walk, bike or ride your llama down the lovely tree-lined streets of Portland’s historic Laurelhurst neighborhood and gawk without the fear of being labeled a voyeur.

laurelhurst boundaries (click to enlarge)

The concept behind the Art Walk is simple: neighborhood residents who fancy themselves craftspeople and artists take one day out of the year to open up their front yards, garages and homes to display their wares, offering up the opportunity for you to take a little hand-made gem home. Our family has taken advantage of the Art Walk for several years –it’s an enjoyable excursion.

While nearly all the work comes from the residents of the neighborhood, some houses also feature hand-crafted goods from other artists. Whatever the case, there’s plenty of great stuff to see and you simply cannot find a more enjoyable environment in the city to shop. While cash might be tight these days, it’s always nice to have an opportunity to get up close to the work of a talented group of people.

• View a list of artists based on their location in the neighborhood, or…
• View a list of artists by name, or…
• Download an Art Walk map, enabling you to plan your trip.

I highly recommend downloading the map, because it features a handy coupon for a free cup of coffee at the Bakery Bar, which just gets better and better the longer they put their roots down on NE Glisan.

The Backstory

Featuring one of Portland’s most beautiful urban canopies, the Laurelhurst residential neighborhood was created in 1909 when the Ladd Investment Company sold its 462-acre Hazelfern Farm to the Laurelhurst Company for $2 million. The Laurelhurst Company platted a residential development of 144 acres, which was the start of the neighborhood that we know today.

1909 plat map of the first (NW) quadrant of Laurelhurst (click to enlarge)

The roots of the Laurelhurst neighborhood started in 1869, when William S. Ladd began buying up land that would eventually include the Laurelhurst neighborhood. The largest parcel (320 acres) came from the purchase of Thomas Frazer’s Hazelwood Farm in 1869. Additional surrounding parcels were purchased in 1873 and 1876. This collection of properties became the Hazel Fern Farm, one of three farms owned by Ladd, who also co-owned five other farms.

When Ladd passed away in 1893, the winds of change rolled in. Ladd’s estate was finally settled some 15 years after his death (on May 26, 1908). The Ladd Estate Company was formed soon thereafter to manage the family’s real estate holdings. In 1909 the Hazel Fern Farm land was deeded to William S. Ladd’s son William M. Ladd, who then formed the Ladd Investment Company. On April 24th, 1909, William M. sold the land to the newly formed Laurelhurst Company for $2 million.

The Laurelhurst Company was incorporated for the express purpose of developing the Hazel Fern Farm property. The name “Laurelhurst” was given to the new residential development by one of the founders of the Laurelhurst Company who was intricately involved in the development of the Laurelhurst neighborhood in Washington, and wanted to bring a similar vision to Portland. As the first houses were erected, the City of Portland purchased 31 acres within the development for $92,000 to construct Laurelhurst Park.

For the history buffs among you, check out this excellent, general historical overview of the neighborhood.

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Hung far low

Originally uploaded by dieselboi

I just read over at the Portland Mercury that the Hung Far Low sign is actively being restored and will return to its original location. The PDC, Portland’s little own gold card, is pitching in $12,000 towards the renovation and the owner is looking to raise an additional $18,000 to get the sign restored and returned.

I’m glad others have nostalgia about such ornaments. If we’re keeping the buildings, keep the signs.

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As I get older, I try not to fall into the stereotypical trappings, like resisting change. I don’t necessarily believe things were better ‘when I was a kid.’ As we adapt and improve, setting the stage for the next generations, we need to remember where we’re coming from and who got us there. The generations before me gave their all so I could have the freedom to express my opinions, here and elsewhere. There is a monument to those people: Portland’s Memorial Coliseum.

Now, the Rose Garden is a nice place, but it sucks as a rock concert venue. Heresy, I know, but I like rock concerts LOUD, feel it in your chest, arrhythmia-inducing loud. One shouldn’t go to an Ozzy concert, be able to yell “Turn it up!” and have people turn and look at you.

The Coliseum isn’t like that.

My first adventures at Memorial Coliseum were in the early 1970s, attending Jehovah’s Witness conventions. With the close proximity of Lloyd Center we had a place to sneak off to, but we’d still have to make appearances, to be accounted for. One time, standing around wishing we were anywhere but where we were, an agitated fellow kept giving us the stink-eye as he made call after call at a pay phone. Another mischief maker (and lifelong friend) decided we needed to liven up church, so he went to the change slot and hawked up an ugly green surprise. When Stink-Eye Cranky Pants came back, he shot another daggerish glance our way and made a couple more calls. When he finished, he absent-mindedly checked for extra dimes in the coin-return slot. Watching him rid himself of the glob was a juvenile’s delight. We fully expected him to blow a gasket and chase us, but he took it well. Our heads nearly exploded trying to keep a straight face.

How can you tear down memories like that?

Jackass behavior aside, I’ve had a lot of fun in that old building. In 1978 I attended my first heavy metal concert: Jethro Tull. (Yes, Jethro Tull is heavy metal. Just ask Metallica, or the Grammys.) It started decades-long traditions. Every band worth its salt had to be seen, and I gave it my best shot. Black Sabbath, Deep Purple, Iron Maiden, ZZ Top, Judas Priest, Van Halen, Moody Blues, Cheap Trick. (Power went out for about ten seconds during their set. It was like a plane crashing when the power surged back on.) I saw Page and Plant, Metallica, Ozzy a bunch of times. (To name them all would be a wish list of what I think KGON *should* be playing, instead of endless Queen, Bob Seger and Steve Miller.)

After the Rose Garden opened, concerts got quiet. Maybe I was going deaf? It didn’t make sense; I could converse when the bands were playing. At the Coliseum, if you wanted to communicate with your date, you got up close and spoke loudly into her ear. Healthy? Maybe not, but I know of no one who went to rock concerts for the health benefits. I believe the mantra of the age was Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll. We did our part to keep the faith. Must have been that religious training…

I’d given up on going to concerts, for the most part. I could get more concussive effects on my home stereo. Then I saw Tool at the Coliseum. My faith in rock and roll had been restored. Like a dangerous version of Pink Floyd, they assaulted me visually while pummeling my brain with the most beautiful aggression imaginable. The best part? The bass notes rattled my ribcage, and the drums bitch-slapped my brain. This! This is what I remember! This! This is what I like! Since Pink Floyd is no longer touring, or even playing, my musical loyalties changed. I had a new favorite band.

The last time Tool came around, I took my nephew. It was his first concert, and my first concert without a bunch of cerebral amenities. Know what? It was still ‘rip your face off’ good, and a lot easier to remember. (Fewer bathroom trips as well. You can only rent beer.)

And now, they want to tear the building down, because it’s not used enough. To do what? Build an undersized structure that will sit unused 90% of the time? Don’t we have that already? At least MC has a roof.

Now, I love the Beavers. (Baseball team reference.) I don’t get out to see them as much as I should. Would I see them more at a new stadium? Probably not, though I might buy better seats. The lower bowl at PGE Park has those infernal cup holders where my knees go, and I end up teabagging the person in front of me. Since that rarely ends well, I just sit in the bleachers. You know, up there on the planks where they lease you twelve inches of real estate. For that, we paid (and are probably still paying) $38 million. That was just a few years back. (cough *Enron* cough) I don’t mind them continuing to improve PGE Park, and really hope they make for more comfortable seating, but we shouldn’t have to lose MC to do that.

Demolishing a hearty building with a ton of history to dig an open-air pit that will probably fill with Willamette River water during rainy season sure is a bright idea. If you want a Eurasian feel to your event? Maybe we can host winter water sports, or the world buzkashi playoffs. Ideas?

Someone suggested building a stadium and keeping MC. I’m all for that, if it can be done. Memorial Coliseum hosts the Portland Winterhawks, and is great for smaller-ticket sporting events, like high school and college basketball. It has a roof.

It’s a place of a million memories for me, and I would hate to see it go.

Besides, Tool needs a place to play when they come to town.

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There was quite a bit of fuss at Pioneer Courthouse Square yesterday. A bunch of folks got together to celebrate the 25th Birthday of Portland’s Living Room. They even had cake.

While 25 years is pretty impressive, right across the street is a building that could scoff at such a puny accomplishment. Construction on Pioneer Courthouse itself began in 1869, with occupancy beginning in 1875. It’s the oldest Federal building in the Pacific Northwest, and the second oldest Federal building west of the Mississippi River. Heck, it’s been a National Historic Landmark longer than Pioneer Courthouse Square has been in existence (since 1977).

Pioneer Courthouse in 1875 – thanks to the Oregon Historical Society

The Courthouse was designed by architect Alfred B. Mullett, who was the Supervising Architect of the Treasury from 1866 until 1874, and must have been pretty good at it. The many Federal buildings he designed include the United States Mint in San Francisco.

In 1902 a major expansion and interior remodeling of the Courthouse nearly doubled the basement and first floor and created the two wings at the second and third floors. The Courthouse housed the U.S. Post Office and U.S. District Court until 1933 when both were moved to new quarters. The Pioneer Courthouse was again renovated, ending in 1973, for use by the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit.

Another renovation, this one somewhat controversial, was undertaken in 2003. This time the post office was removed from the courthouse, five secure parking spaces were added to the basement for the Court’s judges, and seismic upgrades in the form of base isolators were installed under the building. The $23.4 million renovation was completed in 2005.

You can see a beautiful slideshow of the renovation here.

According to this article on the renovation, the careful attention to preservation of existing features throughout the courthouse was, at least in part, due to budgetary constraints:

With most of the budget taken up by earthquake proofing, the rest of the work had to be done in an extremely cost-efficient manner. As a result, adaptive reuse became the theme. For example, the original scrolled lighting fixtures were protected in place during construction and later retrofitted with energy-conserving compact fluorescent bulbs. Whole rooms were recycled into new uses, while maintaining their essential historic character. The former post office and mail sorting room became a new main entrance and expanded, state-of-the-art law library.

Although most sources online refer to the renovation being complete in 2005, if you walk downtown you can’t help but notice that the old building has been shrouded in scaffolding and plastic sheeting for what seems like years. The exterior stonework is getting reconditioned, cleaned, and patched. Lord knows what they’re doing to the cupola behind that wall….

So here’s to the grand old lady of Portland, a building that has silently watched over the city for 140 years. Thanks to her facelift, she doesn’t look a day over 70.

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