Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Harvey Scott, Mt. Tabor



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So here are few photos of the Harvey W. Scott statue, which lurks in a lightly-used, forested area near the top of Mt. Tabor. Don't feel bad if you're unfamiliar with Mr. Scott. Despite the statue's semi-prominent location and grandiose pose, he's more or less a historical footnote. Or maybe "historical speedbump" is more like it. Scott, you see, was an ultraconservative, curmudgeonly editor of the Oregonian back in the Victorian era. When he's remembered at all these days, he's remembered for being on the wrong side of history on a wide range of issues -- public high schools, women's suffrage, that sort of thing. Scott's sister, Abigail Scott Duniway, was a prominent suffragette and the two had a long and bitter public feud. After a long struggle, Duniway became the first woman registered to vote in Multnomah County. It's a shame (if you ask me) that Scott didn't live to see that day and gag on his caviar or something.

Harvey Scott statue, Mt. Tabor

Harvey Scott statue, Mt. Tabor

If you're intrigued by Scott for some reason, you might be interested in his New York Times obit [registration required]. In that you'd be more fascinated than I am -- I'm passing the link along, but I didn't bother to log in and actually read the thing.

Harvey Scott statue, Mt. Tabor

Also, here are two two photos of Scott from the Oregon Historical Society, with little biographical blurbs. The second photo shows Scott posed remarkably like the statue, except wearing a top hat. Apparently it's not the sculptor's fault the statue's so bombastic and pompous. Scott, it seems, really was like that. Except the real Scott was substantially fatter, or so I've heard.

The pose does kind of fascinate me -- from some angles Scott looks vaguely Lenin-esque, boldly leading us into the glorious future (which just so happens to look exactly like the even gloriouser distant past). From other angles -- most angles -- he merely looks like an angry rich guy dismissing his entire kitchen staff after the chef botched his Oysters Rockefeller for the very last time.

Harvey Scott statue, Mt. Tabor

Which brings us to the statue. It's the work of Gutzon Borglum, who's better known for, well, Mt. Rushmore. So it's fair to say this is one of Borglum's more minor works, relatively speaking.

Harvey Scott statue, Mt. Tabor

The statue has fallen into disrepair over the years, and a post at Portland Public Art laments its state of disrepair. The post suggests maybe the Oregonian ought to step in, seeing as Scott used to be their editor and all. Which would be fitting and appropriate, if only newspapers had any money at all to spare these days. More to the point, other than the Oregonian, I can't think of anyone offhand who might be interested in taking up the cause. Maybe the state or county Republican Party would be interested, assuming they still exist, and have any money lying around, and are able to discuss the matter with the city without it devolving into an ugly partisan brawl. Not holding my breath, in other words, and I'm actually fine with the current disrepair. Not for ideological reasons, either, or at least not strictly for ideological reasons; the bird-related corrosion gives it an interesting texture and makes for better photos.

Harvey Scott statue, Mt. Tabor

Harvey Scott statue, Mt. Tabor

Other photos at Portland Ground and Mike's Portland Word on the Street, if you don't like mine.

Harvey Scott statue, Mt. Tabor

In a few previous posts I went on about the importance of not naming things after living people, or putting up statues to them, or generally honoring them in any way while they're still around to enjoy it. That's not quite what happened here -- Scott had been pushing up daisies (or thistles, more likely) for a couple of decades by the time they put up a statue, and gave it prime real estate in the heart of the city. And despite the passage of time, we still ended up with a major monument to a man little remembered and less revered. Oh, well. Maybe a more realistic approach would be to do the opposite of what I've been suggesting: Build monuments and name things based on the immediate impulses and manias of the day, and not try to guess what future generations will make of your efforts. The bits they care about, they'll maintain. The rest will slowly corrode away and go back into the soil. And maybe that's as it should be. I dunno. It's my latest theory, at any rate.

Harvey Scott statue, Mt. Tabor

Harvey Scott statue, Mt. Tabor

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Of beer & novocaine

Spent all morning in one stressful meeting after another, while attempting to fix a bug or two between meetings. And then I spent all afternoon at the dentist. Oh, and I paid taxes today too. I got the full combo today, basically. So now I'm at Tugboat, trying to figure out how to drink beer with a numb upper lip. You get the hang of it eventually. This will come in handy in the future, as I'll be seeing a lot of my dentist going forward.

On the bright side, I can still *taste* the beer, and I'm not dribbling all that much of it, really. And now I can smile again without being all self-conscious about it. So even with the meetings and the taxes and the numbness and the stress -- and the crappy weather for that matter -- despite all of that, it's a beautiful day.

Perhaps you'd like to hear my funny novocaine story, while I'm at it. Back when I was 12 or so, I was having work done in preparation for getting braces a couple of years later on. Had to have a couple of teeth pulled to make room for the others, which required a lot of novocaine. For some reason, we went to the library right after that. So I was sitting in an aisle, reading a book, not noticing what a pitiful drool creature I was. I realized I wasn't alone. I looked up and noticed a mother and child staring at me. Mom to child: "He can't help it, some people are just born that way." Offended, I tried to explain that I'd just been to the dentist, and had never ridden a single short bus in my entire life, and in fact I was in the middle of a fascinating book on astrophysics (seriously) when I was so rudely interrupted, etc. Which came out as "uuugh glurrrgh (drool) mwwghh".

They fled.

So all things considered, my immediate "drinking problem" is really not so bad.

Mmmwghhh.... beeeerrr....




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Monday, March 30, 2009

Vista Bridge


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I haven't done anything with the ongoing bridge project for a while, mostly due to it being winter (even if it's technically spring). I figured I was overdue, then, and I seem to recall there's at least one Gentle Reader out there who actually likes my bridge stuff, believe it or not.

So today's thrilling bridge adventure takes us, well, just over to the West Hills, and the sorta-famous Vista Bridge. Ok, so it's technically called the "Vista Avenue Viaduct", as it carries said avenue over SW Jefferson St., but I still count it as a bridge for somewhat anal and pedantic reasons I'll get to later on. Over time I've learned not to lead off with pedantic crap that nobody except me cares about.

vista bridge, march '09

This post has actually been in the works for a while. I dropped by last fall to do the bridge thing, and realized my camera battery was totally drained, so no photos. Then a few days back I stopped by to try the bridge thing again, took a few photos, but ended up with a drained battery again before I had all the shots I wanted. So I charged the thing back up and went back again. In short, many Bothans died to bring you these photos, so I hope this is good enough, as Iʻm running low on Bothans.

Vista Bridge, March '09

Vista Bridge, March '09

vista bridge, march '09

Walking the bridge isn't a big deal, and I only mention it because that's part of the ongoing theme. The sidewalks are fine, and there are a couple of bays with benches if you're inclined to stop and enjoy the view. Parking can be a problem, in the unlikely event you're driving to the bridge in order to walk across it and back. And waiting for a gap in traffic so you can cross the street is very mildly annoying. I'm kind of grasping at straws here trying to find something bad to say. Maybe biking across could be sketchy, if it was a rainy night and there were a bunch of aggressive cokehead rich twits in enormous luxury SUVs speeding along while yapping on their mobile phones, too busy daytrading or sending somebody's job to China, to notice you there on your bike, especially if you're being a proper tragically hip Portland cyclist and you're wearing all black, you don't have any lights or reflectors on your bike, you aren't wearing a helmet, your trendy fixie bike has no brakes, and you're riding around town aimlessly after chugging a few PBR's. Under those circumstances, the bridge could be on the dangerous side.

Vista Bridge, March '09

Which sort of brings us to the one thing everyone in town knows about the Vista Bridge. The bridge's common nickname is the "Suicide Bridge" due to its supposed popularity with jumpers. Apparently the stats bear this out, and it isn't just an urban legend. I usually work the phrase "not dying" into the titles of bridge posts, but due to the Vista's reputation I figured it would be a bit tacky this time around. Even I have my limits, believe it or not.

Before anybody goes off on a keep-Portland-weird, home-of-the-world-famous-Suicide-Bridge smugness thing, I ought to point out that most cities of a certain size have a suicide bridge; Seattle has the ginormous Aurora Avenue bridge, for example. If this humble blog had more of a travel budget, and I had more free time, it might be an interesting project to go around profiling the world's "suicide bridges". Although in practice that would probably get depressing rather quickly. And when you told people why you were visiting their fair city, they'd look at you funny and nervously edge away.

Actually I get that reaction a lot, even when I'm not pursuing a ghoulish-yet-dweeby project for the interwebs. Can't imagine why, though.

Vista Bridge, March '09

So I'm not really an expert on the relative merits of various Suicide Bridges, nor do I particularly care to be, but ours does seem as though it's more suited for people who are all gothic or pre-Raphaelite about the process, and who intend to jump for philosophical, aesthetic, ideological, or romantic reasons. People who want to end it all because their hedge fund cratered may want to explore other options.

Around the sightseeing bays, the bridge railing is covered in decorative metal spikes, made of iron and painted green to look like copper. Over the years many of these spikes have been bent over or even broken off. It's easy to imagine that this is the work of generations of distraught jumpers, although garden-variety vandalism is more likely (obviously combined with decades of deferred maintenance). Still, it's kind of an evocative sight.

Vista Bridge, March '09

Vista Bridge, March '09

Vista Bridge, March '09

vista bridge, march '09

I'm not sure why it's so popular. (And it really is, at least according to this 1997 DHS study.) It's not that being over land instead of water makes the outcome more certain, really; above a certain height, water is not appreciably softer than land. Maybe it's that one ends up on a busy street instead of in a river, and one is afraid of drowning or something. Or maybe it gets more attention this way; if one took the plunge and nobody noticed, that would kind of defeat the point, wouldn't it? There's an added bonus here, in that one stands a good chance of plummeting onto a test-driven BMW from the nearby dealership. Which certainly makes a statement, of a sort. That's the problem with BMW's -- I'm sure they're excellent cars in a strictly technical sense, but you become the enemy of all things good in the universe if you even consider buying one, and you're practically begging goth-emo failed-poet types to fling themselves through your windshield.

Speaking as a software engineer, which I rarely do, the one thing I do kind of like about the whole suicide thing is that "Vista Bridge == Suicide Bridge" implies "Vista == Suicide", which makes perfect sense if you've ever used Windows Vista. Microsoft even has something they call Vista Bridge, which is some sort of stopgap widget to make Vista and .NET play evilly together.

So can we stop talking about the suicide angle now? Please? Awesome, thanks.

vista bridge, march '09

vista bridge, march '09

vista bridge, march '09

vista bridge, march '09

vista bridge, march '09

vista bridge, march '09

Now let's get pedantic! I think I've mentioned the bridge vs. viaduct issue before, where the difference is whether the structure crosses water or not. If you look down off the bridge, you don't see any water, and you go, oh, wait, I'm on a viaduct. Or maybe you don't. The bridge also has "viaduct" in the official name, so it would seem like it's a settled matter, and I'm being uncharacteristically imprecise in insisting on "bridge". But really I'm not, and there really is water down there somewhere. This is the spot where Jefferson St. becomes Canyon Road (named for obvious reasons), and in this part of the world there's no such thing as a dry canyon. Buried somewhere beneath the roadbed is half-remembered Tanner Creek, which skulks out of the canyon it once carved, turns north, flows directly under PGE Park, and eventually empties into the Willamette somewhere around the old Centennial Mills building. It flows the entire distance deep underground and mostly forgotten. (A post on Platial shows streetcars tumbling into a sinkhole at 18th & Alder that was caused by Tanner Creek -- which was already flowing in a pipe way back in 1904.)

Back when the Pearl District was just a gleam in greedy developers' eyes, there was some discussion about daylighting the lower reaches of Tanner Creek, at least for the stretch where it flows through Tanner Springs Park. As it turned out, the land was too polluted to dig into safely, so daylighting was regretfully dropped.

As I see it, it's not the creek's fault that people shoved it into a culvert. And as modern, eco-pious West Coast types, we really ought to give a nod to the genuine natural landscape now and then. That's my argument, and I'm stickin' to it.

vista bridge, march '09

I haven't found a great deal of history about the bridge, but there was a previous bridge here before the current one. The current bridge replaced the earlier Ford St. Bridge, which I understand was a notoriously rickety wooden structure. There's some debate about the origin of the "Ford" in Ford St., some arguing that it honors Henry Ford and the Model T. Others argue the name predates the automobile, and some speculate it refers to fording Tanner Creek. Both of those arguments make way too much sense to actually be true; I suspect the name honors some unremembered minor pioneer or inconsequential real estate baron, this being the West Hills and all. There's an intersection right at the south end of the bridge, and the side street on the west side of Vista is "SW Ford St. Drive", which I guess is a remnant of the old road. Ford St. Drive is gravel most of its length, and it winds around for a surprising distance before dead-ending into a barbed-wire fence near where US 26 goes into the tunnel, at what looks like some kind of utility co. facility -- although that may just be what They want you to think.

vista bridge, march '09

Couple of historical images to pass along: An artist's rendering of what the then-proposed bridge would look like; and an old photo of streetcars on the bridge.

vista bridge, march '09

Other items from around the interwebs:

vista bridge, march '09 Vista Bridge, March '09

Horse Trough Fountain



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It's been a while, and I'm trying to remember how these photo-expedition posts work again, so I thought I'd start small. Partly because it's easy that way, and partly for extreme contrast with the previous glitzy Vegas-o-licious post. So today's adventure takes us up to NW 31st & Thurman, home to Portland's very own Horse Trough Fountain, one of the more obscure corners of the city Water Bureau's aqueous empire. That last link is the only mention of this fountain anywhere on the interwebs, at least that I can find. Until now, obviously. This is quite a dearth of info. You'd think there'd at least be a historical marker nearby explaining what the fountain is and how it got here, but I didn't see one. That's sort of a shame, but it also makes this post easier to write.

The Water Bureau's list of fountains doesn't include it, I guess because people can drink out of it. That makes it a big drinking fountain, instead of a small "real" fountain, apparently. There are also facilities for horses and dogs. If a fountain provides water for horses and dogs but not people, like the Thompson and Skidmore fountains, it counts as real. If people can drink out of it but nobody does, and the drinking part is usually broken, and it also includes allegorical nekkidness, like the Shemanski Fountain, it's real too. If it's full of chlorine, and you can run around and wade in it, but not drink it, it's real, like the Keller Fountain. Whatever the criteria are, the Horse Trough apparently doesn't meet them. Well, that or they just forgot about it. I can see how that could happen.

If this location looks a bit familiar, it's because I was here a few months ago taking photos of the Thurman Street Bridge just across the street. The fountain might have been intended for the use of horses pulling the city's old horse-drawn streetcars, way back in the early 20th century. The bridge did carry streetcars at one point, so it's a working hypothesis, at least, and I can't find any sources that prove me wrong.

I don't remember noticing the fountain the last time I was here, even though I was right there across the street from it. Part of that, I'm sure, is that it's just not very big or imposing. And my powers of observation aren't always the greatest, especially when I'm in a hurry, which I was. But it's also true that I wasn't doing fountains at the time, so it just sort of didn't register. This time I stopped and took a few photos, but it felt like people were looking at me funny and wondering why I was taking photos of their little neighborhood drinking fountain. I don't know if that impression was true or not, but I eventually quit and went away. So anyway, enjoy, or whatever.

Horse Trough Fountain, 31st & Thurman

Horse Trough Fountain, 31st & Thurman

Horse Trough Fountain, 31st & Thurman

Horse Trough Fountain, 31st & Thurman