Roy’s Pancake Corral in Baker, Oregon, promised 16 varieties of pancakes served all day and a western style chuckwagon every evening:
The other location, in downtown La Grande, Oregon, served chuckwagon every day and invited hungry Oregonians to “come as you are,” as opposed to come as you were I guess.
Not big on the professional food photography I take it. Or maybe they were going for the stark, unappetizing look.
Also, a big thank you to Dave Knows: Portland who linked to my previous Burger King post on OregonLive. Tremendous traffic and new readers - for those who found Lost Oregon from the link, welcome aboard. Be sure to subscribe to our RSS feed, too!
Surely you’ve passed the boarded up Burger King on Burnside. The preservationists don’t care [no one saves buildings built in 1977 - it's either too soon or they're not worth saving], it’s been on the market and off the market, and has acted as the “official eyesore” for the area for quite some time now.
But, back in 1978, it was included in the Portland Chapter American Institute of Architects’ Design Awards Program.
Seriously? A design award for a Burger King? That’s a real whopper [cough].
You be the judge:
"The atmosphere was to be such that a man in a coat and tie would feel as comfortable as a student."
"What was needed was a building that would reflect the plaza-like nature of the downtown area."
The cost was $64.00 per square feet and was completed in December 1977.
So, what the heck happened? Not enough traffic? Too much riff-raff? Just out of the reach of the downtown area?
People weren’t having it their way?
And now it sits, abandoned. Click on the image for the larger size, with a not-so-hidden message:
Cat Winterfox [best name ever?] from Spooky Moon Books graciously sent me a couple of Portland-related books a couple months ago. I’d like to publicly thank her. Thanks Cat!
One of the books really caught my eye: a bound copy of the Albina Neighborhood Improvement Committee newsletter called Anic Dope. The book is a compilation of the monthly bulletins published by the committee “illustrating the activities of the Portland Development Commission and the Alberta Neighborhood Improvement Committee.”
According to the committee, the project is “a prime example of how citizens of a neighborhood united in response to the challenge of physical and social decay.”
Of course it’s chock full of photos, some of which I scanned.
The book is a real time-machine of a neighborhood struggling to renew itself, stories about the people who lived in the neighborhood and a definite late 60s vibe.
Much of the book focuses on the new jewel of the hood: Unthank Park. Following are photos of the park being built.
North Haight and Failing before demolition.
Demolition of structures started in January 1966 for the park site.
Corner of N. Failing and Haight and a street diverter under construction.
The roofs for the full size basketball court and the cat walk - the park is 80% complete.
The final phase of contruction.
A quick news search reveals there’s been lots of crime in the park since its inception. One of the most recent articles was from 2001 - then again, that’s a lifetime ago for that neighborhood.
Part two of the post will look at some of the folks that lived in the neighborhood and some more rebuilding photos.
If you live in the Alberta neighborhood [defined in the book as North Vancouver on the East; North Fremont on the south and North Albina on the west] shoot me your address and I’ll see if your home is included - there are tons of shots of homes being remodeled.
I have a pretty strict policy of not using found photos or postcards that might identify someone. So, usually no photos with people. I’m not surprised when I get an email from a sibling, son, daughter, wife or husband identifying their loved one in a photo. That makes me, well, uncomfortable.
For this post though, all bets are off.
I nabbed the below photo from The First Portland Catalogue from 1979.
And man, it’s a fantastic representation of an era and the year 1979. Wicker, pina coladas, Rupert Holmes, wine, and no AIDS. [Your parents weren't listening to new wave or punk rock in 1979. They dug The Eagles, Bread, white wine and dynamite weed. They are lying if they tell you otherwise.]
From the copy, with addendum:
Key Largo’s atmosphere suggests tropical breezes [cheap coke] and romance [unprotected sex] in the presence of palms, parrots, piano and Pina Coladas. [We promise your mellow won't be harshed.]
Located at 31 NW First Avenue and now houses the Ohm Night Club. Seriously.
Click on the image for larger version:
Hey Regal Beagle. The Key Largo drinks your milkshake.
Oregon is a wonderful place to come back to. All it takes is a two-day drive through Wyoming, Utah and Idaho to really realize how special this state is. No offense to Wyoming, Utah or Idaho – the I-84 isn’t supposed to show off each state – it’s supposed to get drivers to their destination more quickly. It does the trick.
Though I have to say I was floored by Laramie, Wyoming. We took a side-trip and spent about an hour there and wanted to spend more time. Here are a couple of photographs I snapped:
Our ultimate destination was family in Fort Collins, Colo. Wonderful town – Old Town specifically. Nicely designed streets, walkable, shops and great local beer made our week very enjoyable. In fact, my sister-in-law has started to blog about her town. Check out Lost Fort Collins.
Other than the speeding ticket in Pendleton, Ore., [90 in a 65 mile zone – my bad] the drive went smoothly. Did I take tons of roadside photos? I did not. This photo, taken in Wasco, Ore., is pretty much the extent of my Oregon photos:
Thankfully there’s Vintage Roadside doing a better job of photo-documeting. It’s run by the dynamic duo of Kelly Burg and Jeff Kunkle who have lovingly documented America’s lost roadside history – both on the website through an online shop and on their Flickr site – which is where I ran into them. One photo that really had me in awe was a night shot of the Hardware store in Westmoreland. I’d driven by it hundreds of times and never noticed the ornate neon lighting. Though they focus on nationwide preservation, my interest [duh] is in their Portland and Oregon efforts.
Anyhow, the Oregonian ran a nice piece on Vintage Roadside today and their documenting of Portland history via their website and now, via video and interviews with Portlanders. Bravo.
A line in the article that caught my eye was the phrase “guerrilla campaign for historic preservation.” I can relate. Folks like Vintage Roadside are single-handedly preserving our quickly disappearing culture through their own DIY efforts, photos, and documentation. I like to think Lost Oregon is doing the same in some small way.
On the Road to Mt. Bachelor. This “dramatic resort hotel placed high on rimrock with breathtaking views of the mountain” featured “boldly beautiful rooms” and the “exciting Red Toe Restaurant and Lounge.” It’s still around and updated with a “Northwest design” look and feel.
I’m no architect expert [obviously, if you've read previous posts you should know this] but this looks more like:
a. A 1970s-era Soviet/communist “re-education” facility.
b. Something from a 1970s movie that’s set in “the future.”
Now a Holiday Inn, the hotel boasted air conditioning, electric heat, heated pool free coffee and and room phones.
Nothing too spectacular - but it should be noted that it was seven miles to Safariland. Which reminded me of Lion Country Safari in Irvine in Southern California. I remember that place well when I was a kid. You’d basically drive in with your car through areas where wild animals would roam. Visitors were always warned to keep their windows up, and yet…every once in a while some jack-ass would get mauled by a lion because they rolled the window down.
Frankly, I thought it’d been more challenging if they wrapped visitors in steak and had them walk through.
