Impressions of Portlandia

One of many bays of books
in Powell's

Until I left home for college, I'd spent my entire life living about fifty miles north of Portland, on the Washington side of the Columbia River.  Portland, to me, was the big city.  Like Manhattan must seem to a kid living on the Jersey shore.

My family would drive into Portland several times a year.  Even before the interstate was built, the distance wasn't so far as be daunting --  but the time the drive took on a two-lane road was enough that we occasionally stayed overnight in a hotel.  We kids trailed my mother around as she did her customary circuit of her favorite large department stores -- Lipman-Wolfe, Olds & King, and -- the true Mecca of shopping, with lunch in the tea room on the tenth floor -- Meier & Frank.  

When we could tear our mother away from shopping, we'd sometimes see a movie in one of the many big marquee theaters that lined both sides of Broadway.  My brother and I occasionally were allowed to avoid the ordeal of shopping by spending a few hours at a strange little theater, at about 4th and Morrison, as I recall, that showed triple features -- the Blue Mouse.

Since finishing law school, I've rarely spent time in downtown Portland.  My last visit for a day was probably in about 2009.

But I'd been feeling restless.  And so, yesterday, I boarded the Coast Starlight at King Street Station, here in Seattle, and took the four-hour train ride down to Portland.  The point wasn't really to tour Portland.  I just felt like riding the rails -- but in a comfortable coach, this time, not in a cold box car.

Lounge car on
Coast Starlight

The train arrived at Portland's Union Station about 1½ hours late -- not a good start for a train on its way to Los Angeles -- which left me barely four hours in Portland before I'd return on one of the regional Amtrak Cascades.  But that was enough time to form some first-impressions about the city.

They weren't all good, but let me give you a couple of the good ones first.  I brag in these posts about Seattle's growing light rail system, but Portland's is amazing.  It seems amazing in part, of course, because it's all above ground, not hidden in a tunnel like Seattle's.  But -- walking around during rush hour on a Friday -- I felt as though I were surrounded by two-unit trains coming at me from every direction. Trains that appeared to be a hybrid between an old fashioned streetcar and Seattle's light rail trains.  And the rail cars were packed with commuters.

Another huge improvement since my childhood days is the development of the waterfront along the  Willamette river.  What was formerly an industrial and warehouse area is now a beautiful walkway and park, fully used by parents and children, tourists, and joggers..  

My primary bad impression was of the street life.  Union Station itself is next to the Greyhound depot, which seems to attract a lot of homeless people and vagrants.  But once past that problem, I still felt a vague discomfort.  Not a sense of danger, just a puzzlement of what people were doing.  I've grown used to downtown Seattle where -- aside from our own homeless panhandlers -- the sidewalks seem bursting with eager young people talking excitedly to each other about Amazon type stuff or advanced computer coding.  They lend a feeling of life and meaningfulness that is contagious, an electricity that is picked up even by an aimless pedestrian like myself. 

In Portland, even in the "nicest" parts of town, where the sidewalks are lined by chic bars and restaurants and expensive hotels,  I was constantly stepping around people, both young and old, who seemed to be simply using the sidewalk as a place to hang out and meet each other.  In Rome, this type of street life is colorful.  In Portland, I found it confusing and slightly irritating.  It gave the city the feel of being a bit run down and derelict.

Olds & King closed in 1960, and Lipman-Wolfe in 1979.  Closed or bought out by chains, which gave them new names.  But the last time I visited, Meier & Frank still presided grandly in its beautiful full-block building in the heart of downtown -- although, even then it was no longer occupying the entire building.  Since then, apparently, Meier & Frank has been bought out by Macy's, and as Macy's comes, Macy's goes.  The polished white, classical building now bears garish "going out of business" signs.  Everything must go, they proclaim -- not just inventory, but furnishings as well. 

Macy's -- the graveyard of great local department stores, including Marshall Field in Chicago and the Bon Marché in Seattle.

Light rail tracks on
cobblestone streets

I saw no remaining place in downtown Portland that would have enticed my mother during her shopping years.  But I found a place -- non-existent in my youth -- in which I could happily shop for hours today.  I refer, of course, to Powell's Books -- a bookstore occupying a full block about three blocks up Burnside from the main part of town.  The store moved to its present location in about 1980, and greatly expanded in 1999.  Although Wikipedia reports that the store has seen some decrease in sales in recent years, it is nevertheless a paradise for book lovers, with books -- new and used commingled -- located in a number of rooms on several levels, each room identified by a different color.

I spent at least half of my short time in Portland wandering about the Powell's maze, finding books I might read some day and having coffee at the small café, located in one corner of the building.  Finding Powell's makes up, in some small degree, for the loss of the beautiful Barnes & Noble in Seattle's University Village a few years ago.

Facebook friends were surprised and appalled that I'd never been to Powell's before.  That's ok.  I'm not ashamed to admit my shortcomings.

My short Portland visit came quickly to an end, and I walked the ten minutes or so from Powell's back to Union Station.  I'll return soon for a more in-depth study of the city.  The Manhattan of my childhood deserves that much from me.