willamette, october

Milestone P13

So we've reached the penultimate stop on our tour of the Stark St. Milestones, namely Milestone P13, in the 23600 block of SE Stark. The closest cross street is Cleveland Avenue, about a block west, so we're squarely into suburban Gresham at this point. At the corner of Stark and Cleveland is the Olympic Gym fitness club, and the milestone sits in a little landscaped triangle at one corner of the gym grounds. Immediately east of the milestone, Stark is bordered on both sides by one of those grey concrete sound walls. Concrete sound walls are usually a clear sign that a road was widened from two to four or more lanes, probably no earlier than the mid-1980's. The Stark St. Mile Markers mini-blog says of P13: "This stone was rescued by the Gresham Historical Society and reset in 1987." I think the story is that it was knocked down by a thoughtless road crew during the road widening, and the local historical society had to go track it down and find it a new home near its original location.

Updated 9/10/11: Thanks (once again) to the magical Historical Oregonian database at the Multnomah County Library, we have a bit more detail on the rescue of milestone (or "mile post") P13. The May 14th, 1987 Oregonian had a piece about the milestone being restored to its rightful place: "Historic Baseline milepost saved in Gresham":

At the 13th hour of the 13th day of the month, a stone marking the 13th mile east of the Multnomah County Courthouse was dedicated on Wednesday. The ceremony took place at the original site of Milepost 13, now adjacent to the jogging track at McIntire's Athletic Club, 23500 S.E. Stark St.

...

The 133-year-old 13th milepost that was rededicated Wednesday had been lost since it was inadvertently removed by workers during a construction project.

By chance, Gresham residents Rob and Bud Bunting found the hand-hewn stone obelisk in a pile of construction debris.

After the marker was rescued by Jim Chase, former president of the Gresham Historical Society, it was nearly lost again when garbage collectors tried to break it up with sledge hammers and haul it away.

When the Multnomah County road department showed no interest in claiming the milepost, Gresham Historical Society members took it upon themselves to move the 500-pound stone to a storeroom for safekeeping.

Ad the Wednesday ceremony, Gresham Historical Society President Connie Johnson and Multnomah County Commissioner Polly Casterline unveiled the obelisk by pulling off a sheet of plastic.
...

Don McIntire, owner of McIntire's Athletic Club, said he was delighted to have his business located near something of historical significance.

"I promise to do my best to safeguard it," he said. "The first thing we should do is give it a bath."

McIntire said Southeast Stark Street is scheduled to be repaved, after which he plans to build a mound for the milepost marker and accentuate it with a spotlight.

At this point, the idea of a milestone pub crawl kind of breaks down, since there aren't any businesses of any kind nearby except for the fitness club. It would require a flexible definition of "nearby". Or friends who live near the milestone and don't mind hosting roving packs of drunk geography nerds.



You might actually have better luck a mile west of here. Milestone P12 is on the MIA list, sadly, but the neighborhood around its former home (roughly the 21700 block of Stark) is known as Twelvemile Corner. I don't know that area very well either, and I didn't actually stop and look around since there wasn't a milestone to search for. But it's Gresham, so there's bound to be fast food nearby, and probably an old-school tavern or two -- windowless, featuring pool tables and video poker, and full of old-timers who gripe endlessly about the new smoke-free law. Also, Google Maps says that there's an Applebee's due south of here on Burnside. I've only been to an Applebee's once, and I don't want sound all urban and snobby and whatever, but it was just soul-crushing. But maybe you're into that sort of thing, I don't know.

A few blocks further west is the only Portland-area outpost of Abby's Pizza, an Oregon-based chain with stores all over the place except Portland. I'm not sure why that is. Sometimes I get the impression the rest of the state eats a lot more pizza than we do here, but I haven't found any stats to back that up.

In any case, "Twelvemile Corner" is one of the rare geographic names derived from the mile marker system. The only other one I know of is the obscure "11 Mile Avenue" near Milestone P11. There's nothing equivalent to Detroit's Mile Road System. The best known of those is 8 Mile Road, which as I understand it is considered the border between the rich and poor parts of town. Plus it's the state's survey baseline (like Stark St. is), and is also the title of an Eminem movie. As I said, we have no local equivalent.

Revenue Bridge, Sandy River

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Here's one lonesome photo of the Revenue Bridge up near Sandy, where Ten Eyck Rd. crosses the Sandy River. I took this on a day I was checking out other bridges in the area, and I'd originally planned to stop here and take a few photos of it too. But I didn't see anywhere to park, and there also doesn't appear to be any way to walk across safely --- there's no sidewalk, there isn't even a bike lane --- and there's also no convenient place to take photos of the bridge from the side or below, and on top of everything else it's not very photogenic anyway. So I think this one lonesome photo is going to have to do.

The bridge is actually very new, less than a year old at the time I'm posting this. Somehow, Clackamas County managed to find the money and then get the project done, without all the endless handwringing that characterizes bridge projects in Portland. The downside of this is that they seem to have produced a supremely uninteresting bridge. What, no "world class" design that we can't possibly afford, even before the cost overruns? What, no endless "visioning process", with hearings and committee meetings with every imaginable "stakeholder", the city promising each and every one of them the moon and stars? How is this possible?

In any case, the bridge is new enough that Structurae has nothing on it yet, although it does have a page about the previous bridge (which it calls the "Ten Eyck Road Bridge"), plus photos. And BridgeHunter lists the old bridge on its page of lost historic bridges for 2009. Calling the previous bridge historic is a bit of a stretch if you ask me. It only dated to 1952, and it doesn't look like it was anything very unique or special. I don't recall ever paying much attention to the old bridge when driving over it, although it's true that I wasn't interested in bridges at the time.

What's more, the old bridge wasn't the original bridge here. Far from it, in fact. There have actually been bridges at this location since the early pioneer days, before Oregon was even a state. And the story behind that also explains the bridge's funny name.

When I was starting to put the post together, I assumed "Revenue Bridge" simply meant that there was a toll charged to cross here at one time. I figured I'd crack a lame joke to the effect that another less likely possibility is that it was just named after someone named "Revenue". Which sounds silly, but it's actually true this time. As this Gresham Outlook story explains, Francis Revenue and his wife were the first pioneer settlers in the Sandy area, circa 1853, and for a time they operated a toll bridge at this location. The bridge was situated on the Barlow Road, the Oregon Trail's scary land route over the Cascades. So it would have been a very lucrative place to own a bridge, right up until the transcontinental railroad went in.

The Sandy page at MountHoodHistory.com includes photos of Mr. & Mrs. Revenue, both looking like they'd just wandered out of the Old Testament. Although that's generally true of people in photos from that era. Something about having to sit motionless for long periods of time while the daguerrotype camera slowly did its thing. The Revenues and their bridge are also mentioned in this account of traveling the Oregon Trail.

And this page fills in a few more details about the Revenues' operation. It mentions in passing that prior to the original bridge, emigrants had to ford the Sandy River as best they could. The Sandy runs fast and cold all year, and every summer it sees a few drownings of unwary swimmers and boaters. So trying to wade across with a covered wagon, a couple of half-starved oxen, and all your worldly possessions would have been challenging.

The Revenues, along with a couple of other family members, are buried nearby.

Still unexplained is the surname "Revenue". It's quite a rare surname, and I don't think I've ever seen it before. I'd imagine it's a case where centuries ago someone was given a surname based on his occupation (see Miller, Farmer, Cooper, Fletcher, etc.), although it's not clear what that would've meant. An archaic synonym for "accountant", perhaps? Royal tax collector, possibly? Or, just maybe, the owner of a medieval toll bridge?

Milestone P11

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Today's episode of Milestone Madness takes us even further east, to the 19800 block of SE Stark. Milestone P11 (the mid-19th Century marker indicating exactly 11 miles to downtown Portland) is, like most of the milestones, located on the south side of Stark. Just west of it is the Stark Market convenience store, and to the east is the Mobile Park Plaza, uh, manufactured home community. The milestone is probably part of the property boundary between the two, come to think of it.

If you're trying to locate the milestone by counting cross streets, be aware that despite the address, the nearest streets to the east and west are both numbered as 197th Avenue. Go figure.



I regret to say that I didn't take any sufficiently closeup photos of P11 to tell whether the yellow on this one is paint or lichen. It's been reported that various milestones show evidence of having been painted either white or yellow at one time. P5 was, and still sort of is, white. But all the yellow I've seen so far has been of natural origin. Maybe P11 is the exception? I guess I could go back and look again, but I think I'll leave this question for other intrepid adventurers, in the unlikely event anyone besides me really cares one way or the other.

One thing worth pointing out is that the historical marker next to P7 lists which milestones are extant and which are lost, and it lists this one as "lost". The Stark Street Mile Markers blog mentions that P11 was stolen some time in the late 90's and later recovered, so that might give us a general time frame for when the historical marker went in.



I also ought to have taken more photos of the trailer park next door, or at least the entrance to it. It's got quite the wannabe-grand entrance, flanked with lions and what were probably fountains at one time. It would be a good subject for a series of moody indie Holga photos, if you're into that. Although from the few people I saw in the few minutes I was there, it seems like many area residents are elderly, so if you're here too long taking photos someone's likely to call the police. And this far east is Gresham, not Portland, so I don't know what their policy is on tasing people who look vaguely suspicious. Also, someone connected with the place is a Republican donor, which I mention just so you know you are no longer in the commie pinko part of SE Portland this far east. But you probably knew that already, or guessed as much on the drive here.



If you'd rather not drive -- whether for ideological reasons, or because you're hitting all the milestones as a pub crawl -- the nearest TriMet stop is just east of here (stop id #5477, served by bus #20), at the corner of Stark and ... drum roll ... 11 Mile Avenue. Also, the Ruby Junction MAX station is at 197th & Burnside, a short walk due south of here.



Well, that more or less concludes this stop on the tour. I don't know this part of town that extensively, so if you're doing a milestone pub crawl there aren't any establishments around here that I can recommend from personal experience. But hey, when you're an intrepid urban explorer, sometimes you just have to go find your own damn beer. If you have an iPhone, there's probably an app for that.

Milestone P9

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Yes, o Gentle Reader(s), it's time for yet another milestone. This time we're visiting P9, at the 15800 block of SE Stark St, on the south side of the street. Similar to milestone P6, there isn't a cross street right at this point, and the stone is on a long block between 157th and 160th. The Stark Street Mile Markers blog gives the exact address as 15802, but it seems to be a bit west of there, more of a 15780, if we're going to be really anal about these things, which we are. It's next to a garage building on the west end of the U-shaped Victoria Gardens apartment complex. There's a Trimet stop a few steps west of the milestone, stop ID 5450, served by eastbound bus #20. So it's between the bus stop and the first curb cut for the apartments, which should narrow it down to a stretch of maybe 15 feet or so.



I should point out, however, that this isn't a very nice part of town. Where "nice" is what everyone says when they really mean "affluent". It's a little west of Rockwood proper, but the same basic demographics are at work here. I mean, nobody's going to drive by and randomly shoot you or anything while you're looking at the milestone, probably. I'm just mentioning this just so you know not to expect picture-postcard Portland around these parts.

The main danger, actually, is having your car towed if you park at the apartment complex while checking out the milestone. East Multnomah County is ground zero for predatory tow truck companies, and I understand the company listed on the sign here is especially notorious. Turn your back for just a moment and your car's gone, and it's all 100% legal. So heed the sign and just park on a side street or something instead.



You know how our elected officials like to prattle on about how ultra-Euro-fancy Portland supposedly is? Generally that's just marketing talk, intended to attract tourists and upscale condo buyers. But increasingly we resemble Paris in at least one respect, in that we're developing our own ring of les banlieues. Like Paris (and probably a lot of other European cities), poor people and minorities are increasingly squeezed out of the central city, by housing prices and government policy, and they typically end up in a belt of inner-ring suburbs, areas that tourists and local residents alike have no reason to visit. Except for the occasional milestone, I mean. When the mayor goes on yet another of his fact-finding trips across the Atlantic, there are parts of town he isn't interested in seeing, and his hosts aren't interested in showing him, and nobody brings it up, and everyone's happier that way. So it's out of sight, out of mind, problem solved.



I'm not exactly accusing the city of doing this deliberately. They may be cynical enough, but I'm not sure they're clever enough. It's that we go to a lot of trouble to have a nice central city like the Europeans do (or we imagine they do), and as a result we get the same (possibly unintended) side effects that they've got. I mean, Rockwood is no Clichy-sous-Bois, and we don't have packs of rioters going around torching cars or anything like that. I'm just saying there are certain interesting parallels, and the equivalent situation in Paris hasn't exactly turned out well, has it?

nightflyer

In case you're curious, the origin of the phrase "fly by night" is explained here, and it's got nothing to do with being airborne. I'm told, by people who should know, that actually flying by night requires a bit of skill, especially in bad weather.

FWIW.

palms, fourth avenue

Here are some of the palm trees the Portland Development Commission planted in Old Town a while back. They're supposed to be of a cold-tolerant variety, by palm tree standards. As far as I know they haven't died yet, though they haven't exactly become an invasive species either.

These palms were supposed to help gentrify the area, I guess by making the rich Californians feel at home and want to buy luxury condos right here. Sadly (for the project), gentrification sort of hit an invisible barrier at NW Broadway, and nothing much ever happened further east between Broadway and the river. Maybe someday the area will transform into a sleek, upscale enclave, but I wouldn't bet on it anytime soon. It's been Skid Row since the days when sailing ships docked at the foot of Couch Street, after rounding Cape Horn to get here. A coat of paint and a few anemic palm trees won't be enough to erase 150 years' worth of bad mojo. They keep trying, and nothing ever seems to pan out, almost as if there's a curse at work here.



On the bright side, the puny little trees mean that the interesting parts of the tree are easier to photograph, so I guess that would be one upside.

Pics: Monterey Bay Aquarium

Some old vacation photos from the Monterey Bay Aquarium, from February '08. I'd just gotten my current camera, and I didn't really have the hang of taking low-light photos, so relatively few came out decently. The aquarium itself is very cool, even if I can only show you a few bits of it. I'm sure one or two other people out there have taken photos and put them on the interwebs, if you want to see more than what I've got here.



A while back I went through and picked a few out that I thought were acceptable, and even got to the point of uploading them, but I never quite put a post together. I think I just forgot or something. So I thought I'd just go ahead and remedy that now...

vegas: the view from the deuce

Although Las Vegas's Deuce bus mainly serves tourists, it turns out that taking photos from the bus is kind of a problem. If you manage to get a seat at the front of the upper deck, you get an unobstructed view facing forward. Otherwise you'll be peering through a sort of mesh over the windows. Seems that the outside of the buses are covered with large ads, and this is what they look like up close, from the back.

There's nothing you, as a passenger, can do about this. So you can either grouse about it and be unhappy, or you can choose to regard it as a "special effect" and see what you can do with it. Hence the photos you see here.

From the archives: Peninsula Park

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A few oldish photos of NE Portland's Peninsula Park. They're old photos (July '07) and not really that fabulous either; in my post on "Disk #4" (a small modern sculpture in the park), I griped that all the other photos I'd taken of the park totally sucked. Since then I've learned enough about tinkering with photos to bring them up from "Teh Sux0r" all the way to "Meh". Or possibly I'm just fooling myself. Either way, here they are. I took the photos for the "River Spirits" post the same day, and if I didn't gripe about the light in that post, I really ought to have done so.

The main reason I'm posting these now is the fountain, actually. And now I can cross it off my todo list. It's pleasant but not really that fascinating as far as fountains go, and I figured I wouldn't end up with substantially different images if I went back, so I went ahead and used the old photos.

Don't let my lack of enthusiasm give you the wrong idea, though. I thought the fountain and rose gardens and the park as a whole were quite nice, and reviewers on Yelp seem to adore the place, for whatever that's worth.




One historical tidbit: The parks bureau website refers to the park's previous owner, one "Liverpool Liz", as a prominent local businesswoman, while failing to note exactly what business she was in. Others, less coy, have taken up running historical tours based on the life and business pursuits of a certain lusty Liverpudlian. It's one of those things everyone can have a nice chuckle about so long as it happened in the distant past and involved people with colorful nicknames. The same people would probably not be thrilled if someone tried to open a new horse racetrack + bordello megaplex in their neighborhood. It's weird how the passage of time takes the gritty edge off just about anything. Like the whole business with Shanghaiing sailors in Old Town. That's the one I really don't get. I take a fairly libertarian view of the other stuff, but romanticizing kidnapping is kind of a stretch.




Back during the 80's, the surrounding neighborhood was extremely sketchy. Or at least the local media presented it that way, with constant Blood vs. Crip gang warfare, and crack dens on every street corner. I assume it wasn't quite so lurid in reality, although it sounded scary enough that we never ventured in from suburbia to come see for ourselves and look at the roses and so forth. Which we probably would've done otherwise, as we were always being dragged to the more famous rose garden up in Washington Park. I seem to recall reading (but can't currently find) a contemporary description of the place that gave it the full Mad Max treatment, saying something to the effect that this was a historic but run-down rose garden, sadly located in the heart of a Beirut-like 24/7 no-go zone. If you really must go, only go during the day, and in a large group, preferably with an armed escort, and definitely update your will first. I may be exaggerating slightly, but only slightly.




So I have to wonder how society, a century from now, will look back at those days. I wonder if the 1980s will someday get the same treatment we now give to the rough-and-tumble bits of the 19th century. Maybe there will be a museum, meticulously restored to look like an authentic crack house circa 1988, with period music and decor. Possibly there will be historic reenactors, sort of like those guys who get a thrill out of putting on Civil War costumes and pretending to shoot each other. I mean, say what you will about the 80's, but the Civil War was wayyyy more nasty and bloody. It would be ridiculous to argue otherwise, no matter how fancy the clothes were back then. So if we can gloss over that, we can gloss over anything. Giving the 80's this treatment sounds ridiculous now, but someday when nobody's left who remembers the era, and people's imaginations are free to roam and focus on the colorful parts and just make stuff up out of thin air, it's anyone's guess how things will turn out.