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Best
of Portland Redux
BY ZACH
DUNDAS, KATIA DUNN, TREVOR KEARNEY, CHRISTINA MELANDER,
MAC MONTANDON, MATT SCHWARTZ AND CILA WARNCKE
Over the past 14 years, WW has labeled thousands
of Portland personalities, places, events and businesses
the best of their kind in its "Best of Portland" issues.
Ever wonder what becomes of them after that blip of quasi-fame?
Feeling up to a little sleuthing, we went hunting. In many
cases, it was like trying to locate federallyprotected witnesses.
Where's the Best Grocery Clerk from 1988? Forget it, Corno's
closed long ago. The Best Bike Messenger, who in 1987 had
been a courier for 31 years? Not a trace. What we did find
reflected the nature of our growing city. My, how things
change--and stay the same.
1986
 BEST
PROMOTER: MONQUI
Ah, the innocence of days long past. Thirteen
years ago, we sang the praises of a production outfit operating
out of the Pine Street Theater, as it was then called. We
lauded Mike Quinn, a veteran of the University of Oregon's
cultural affairs board, and Chris Monlux, an ex-cop, for
setting fire to a monochrome musical landscape. "Violent
Femmes, Hüsker Dü, Los Lobos and the Replacements
are not hopelessly obscure groups," we opined. "But
in a town shy of alternative media such as college radio
and underground press, you might not get exposed to these
bands without the efforts of Monqui."
Monqui has survived
and, indeed, thrived. The Pine Street Theater became legendary
LaLuna, which played a pivotal role in awakening Portland
to the sonic revolutions that have changed the face of pop.
Alas, earlier this year LaLuna closed and was reinvented
as the Womb, an all-ages club catering to forms of music
that really didn't exist in 1986 and an audience that was
still in diapers then. Such shifts sum up the decade-and-a-half
of musical tumult Monqui has ridden.
"Fifteen years ago, punk rock was not as legitimate as
it is now, and radio formats were completely different,"
says Quinn. "There was one all-ages venue then, and there
are, like, four now. There are a lot more bands, a lot more
records, a lot more shows and clubs."
The years since '86 have seen Monqui host Lollapalooza
when it was the hot summer festival, open a Seattle office
when that city was the capital of the rock world and move
gracefully into an age when the Chemical Brothers and
the Allman Brothers are big draws. How has Monqui survived?
"You just have to be a good culture watcher," Quinn says.
"You read the magazines, you defer to people who have more
expertise in given areas, and then you bet on bands just
like some people bet on horses." (ZD)
 1988
BEST
NIGHTCLUB HABITUÉ: CARLOS CAMUS
Portland nightlife legend Carlos Camus--just
Carlos to the masses, thanks--is right where he's been all
along. Rolling into his mid-70s, Carlos has survived the
transition that transformed his old haunt, Key Largo, into
the super-sleek dance mecca that is the Ohm. Most nights,
Carlos stations himself near his usual table (helpfully
labeled "Reserved for Carlos") and shows off the skills
that won him a national ballroom dancing title in his native
Chile years ago. Granted, with all that water under the
bridge, those world-class skills now find expression in
a sort of frantic shuffle, but any man who can move from
the classic suavity of Arthur Murray to a post-everything
noise manipulator like Pole in one lifetime wins eternal
props from us. (ZD)
1988
BEST
NEW SLANG: GRUB, GRUBBIN', HARSH
Some lingo--awesome, cool--has
the longevity of matzoh. Eleven years ago we tried to bring
readers up to speed, proclaiming grub and grubbin'
(used to praise something that tastes good) and harsh,
i.e., that blows, to be current hip jargon. Grub
dissolved faster than New Coke; harsh limps along
without much impact. Now we've cycled through right on
and dude , still clinging to sweet. Clearly
it's time for an update, but are you ready for ghettofab?
According to a facilitator who works with troubled youth
at a Portland residential treatment center, ghettofab(ulous)
conveys this: "I live in the ghetto, my life kind of sucks,
but basically I'm living large anyway. I'm ghettofab." OK.
Another exclamation popping from the mouths of babes everywhere
is tight. Employed to describe anything really great,
as in, "Briana Scurry's penalty kick save was really tight,"
it's an adjective that seems to have a heyday every 10 years.
Check back for a report in 2010. (CM)
1988
BEST
TV REPORTER: CHUCK DIMOND
Chuck Dimond is still steady as a rock. The former
KOIN political reporter isn't in the public eye anymore,
but he continues to stand his ground in his criticism of
the local broadcast media's political coverage. In 1988,
we applauded Chuck D. for his ability to draw out the people
behind the issues. Four years later, he ran unsuccessfully
for City Council. Now the Assistant Department Director
for Strategic Organizational Change in the state Department
of Human Resources, Dimond is glad to have shed television
journalism. "I find bits and pieces of coverage in the broadcast
media that is insightful, but it is increasingly rare,"
laments Dimond. "On almost any front, when you look at the
media today, you find negative perspectives. I would argue
there are positive things out there, too, but we don't always
get that. [The viewers] need a balanced perspective." Dimond
is happy doing whatever it is a person does when their title
is 14 words long and states that he never wants to run for
office again. (TK)
1990
BEST
PLACE TO DESCEND INTO HELL:
THE BATHROOM IN CHAPMAN SQUARE
Nine years ago we reported on the murky puddles,
poor lighting and the knock-out smell of the public bathroom
on Southwest 4th Avenue and Salmon Street, proclaiming it
the eighth entrance into hell. Nearly a decade later, Portland
Parks and Recreation must have reached its slot on their
to-do-list; they fully renovated the bathroom this year.
And what an improvement. Even though it's still constructed
of cold, concrete floors and walls, at least the concrete
is clean, and you don't need an oxygen tank to enter. Granted,
it isn't a place for primping or even a quick after-lunch
between-teeth check, but it's definitely suitable for relief
from the "Mom, I reeeeeally need to go" dance. Interesting
side note about this park: Ever notice the remarkable distance
(about 100 yards) between the men's and women's restrooms?
When the parks were built in 1852, it was the age of innocence
(yeah, right)--and the square was segregated according to
sex. The male park is Lownsdale, the female park Chapman.
(KD)
1991
BEST
NEW MUSEUM: NIKETOWN
In 1991, the Chicago Bulls, led by Michael Jordan,
won their first of six NBA titles in this decade. Equally
famous for his product pitches and athletic prowess, Mike
likes his Nikes--and the shoe ads don't let you forget it.
Lest he think his love unrequited, the good people at Nike
built a shrine of sorts to MJ in the form of a place called
NikeTown. The flagship apparel store opened its doors at
620 SW Salmon St. the same year as Chicago's first championship,
thus completing a perfectly executed synergistic pick-and-roll.
When we made NikeTown a best, we mused, "We're not sure
what exactly it's a museum of--Bo Museum? Wieden
and Kennedy Museum? Sports Personality Icon Museum? But
we are certain it's the best."
We're no longer certain of the flagship store's greatness
as a museum, but the company's interest in selling
clothes and shoes has only increased. By the end of the
summer, there will be 13 NikeTowns in the U.S. and two in
Europe--in Berlin and London--each more intent on producing
merchandise that moves than making moving displays of athletic
ethos. "When we first opened, we definitely thought of ourselves
as a museum; you'd go in and read about your favorite athletes
and about the brands," says NikeTown spokesperson Claudine
Leith. "As we've gone on, we've grown committed to selling
products."
Perhaps most emblematic of this new attitude is the room--dubbed
the "Teen Area"--the Portland NikeTown offers for creating
outfits not meant for any sport exactly, but just for wearing
around town.
Still, there remain some interesting nooks in the flagship
store where one can turn away from the swooshes and ethical
slough of Phil Knight's outrageous fortune to check out
a Terrell Brandon triptych or measure a hand against the
comically large outline of Arvydas Sabonis' mitt drawn on
a basketball.
In 1999, when Jordan suits up in Armani and the Spurs
are the team on top, Phil needs to regroup. As this
year's 13-37 Bulls could testify better than anyone, 1991
was a long, long time ago. (MM)
1991
BEST
LITTLE CITY WITHIN A CITY:
SOUTHEAST WOODSTOCK BOULEVARD BETWEEN SOUTHEAST 40TH AND
50TH AVENUES
In 1991, reader Janis Wigg lauded this stretch
of street for its peaceful mood, free parallel parking,
classic brick architecture and small stores, naming Woodstock
"one of the few areas in Portland that still feels like
a neighborhood." Today, it remains a pocket populated by
many family-owned, independent, down-home businesses. Among
our favorites is Otto's Sausage Kitchen and Meat Market,
which has been located at 4138 SE Woodstock Blvd. for 81
years. Gretchen Eichentopf, who married into the Otto's
family, says, "Everything is here. I don't ever want to
leave. I love the people, love the neighborhood. My husband
lives in the house he grew up in. It's really unique and
fun to have a family business. It's a very close-knit neighborhood."
The Eichentopfs aren't alone. The Lutz Tavern, McCreight
Hardware and Mickey Finn's Brew Pub are all family-owned
operations. Despite a few changes since Otto's first opened
as a butcher shop, Eichentopf remains optimistic. "The neighborhood
has changed over the years. Big businesses come in. You
just have to find your own little niche." (KD)
1992
BEST
BREWER: LEE MEDOFF
During the heart of a national recession, Lee
Medoff proclaimed his post as brewer at the Fulton Brewery
No. 1 on a theoretical list of the 10 most awesome jobs.
Now he says, "I drink mostly wine and whiskey," explaining
the ramifications of his career change since we noted his
way with yeast and hops seven years ago. The erstwhile brewmaster
has expanded his repertoire of alcohol stewing and for the
last year has been distilling wine and liquor at the McMenamins
Edgefield distillery. Not too surprisingly, Medoff is as
much in love with his current job as his old one. "What
I'm involved in now is pretty fabulous." In addition to
his day job, Medoff is also part owner of Beaumont Wines--just
to cover all the bases. When asked about the influence of
his WW recognition, he chuckled, "It was embarrassing!
It kind of took me by surprise. I had a lot of people coming
by to look at me." Medoff didn't seem overly concerned at
the prospect of renewed notoriety, though. He knows that,
to paraphrase the ubiquitous commercial, it's all about
the brew. (CW)
1993
BEST-PROFESSOR-POET-CHEVALIER:
SAMUEL DANON
You can't suppress the snicker. In 1993 we gushed,
"Danon has taught at Reed since 1962, where he has inspired
and enlightened students and colleagues." But Samuel Danon
has since taken his Casanova image too damn far. Four years
later, Danon, who was made a knight of letters by France
in 1992, found himself in the thick of scandal--and on the
cover of WW ("Screwed," Oct. 29, 1997). The story
detailed a $4 million lawsuit brought by visiting professor
Frédéric Canovas against Reed College in 1997.
The claim? That Danon repeatedly and aggressively sexually
harassed the young professor. Canovas' lawyer, Greg Kafoury,
recently informed WW that Reed College settled a
few days before the case went to trial for "an undisclosed
amount of money." Canovas, whose contract went unrenewed
shortly after the case, recently landed a job at Arizona
State University. Danon continues in his tenured position.
(KD)
1996
 BEST
UNUSED NIGHTCLUB: THE CASTLE
Just ask Kafka's bewildered hero in his novel
of the same name: The Castle isn't the easiest place to
get to--but it is pretty cool once you get there. Wretchedly
squatting at the corner of Southeast Glen Echo Avenue and
River Road in Gladstone, the Castle's doing what castles
do best: eroding. A cement foundation peeks through the
chiseled, granite facade. A vast parking lot fills with
rainwater and turns into a shallow moat. A marshmallowy
roof is dotted with open vents; gaping, glassless skylights
offer a murky view into a void of dust, paint cans and what
might once have been a bar. Two of the rooftop's stone crenels
prop up a young sapling, begging to be photographed, framed,
entitled "Decay" and sold in the Pearl. In 1996, at which
time this decrepit structure had gone unoccupied for over
a decade, we named it Best Unused Nightclub. Dreaming of
a princely renovation, we speculated that the skeleton would
make a haunting joint for acoustic acts, but alas, this
once-hopping venue is now reduced to being a practice wall
for novice graffiti artists "Word," "Mad," and "Ill." Sad.
But the virtually siege-proof Castle would be perfect as
a pool hall, restaurant or headquarters for a cross-river
raid on the estates of Dunthorpe. Until then, we recommend
the Castle to the sullen, the displaced and the arty. Come
on down, kids. We'll be on the roof, wistfully kazooing
Edvard Grieg's "In the Hall of the Mountain King." (MS)
1997
 BEST
CUSTOM-BUILT LINGERIE: AUNT JANIE'S PSYCHODELICATES CUSTOM
BRASSIERES
Only two years ago, we waxed on about Aunt Janie's
funky, anti-Victoria's Secret bras. This Portland diva continues
to custom-tailor her brassieres to reflect the essence of
any and all breasts. "I usually create bras based on people's
personalities," she explains. Among her favorites: The Venus
Guy Trap, crafted for a Canadian woman who proudly displayed
a plastic, bloody, severed hand dangling between two vaguely
Eve-like leaves. Although Aunt Janie recently attended a
bra show in Seattle, her passion these days is creatively
dressing something else: Ziebe, her four-foot-long lizard.
In pictures Aunt Janie turns into cards (available at Wham,
617 NW 23rd Ave.), Ziebe proudly wears, among other things,
a smoking jacket. "I've always been into anthropomorphizing
my animals," said Aunt Janie. "Ziebe is just much more willing
than any of the other pets I've owned." Ziebe seems, in
fact, to be more Aunt Janie's assistant than her model.
"At the Seattle show," she says, "Ziebe and I danced the
tango to a song my friend wrote for us: 'Cha-Cha Iguana.'"
(KD)
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Willamette Week | originally
published July 21, 1999
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