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 BEST
NO-TRESPASSING SYMBOL
Forget hackneyed dwarves, ditzy gazing balls
and pie-crust-frill birdbaths. Even if your patch of heaven
is the size of a postage stamp, with a lick of gumption,
a pile of pipes and a blowtorch you can imitate Tim, owner
of the well-adorned lawn at Southeast 71st Avenue and BoiseStreet.
He welded an endoskeleton of a T-Rex nearly to scale
and, with room to spare, planted a regulation flag pole,
a genuinely ferocious guard dog and a satellite dish the
size of the Apollo space capsule. Just think of the money
you could save on Halloween candy.
BEST
PLACE TO TALK TO THE ANIMALS NINE STORIES ABOVE GROUND
In 1997, WW slammed the Mark O. Hatfield
United States Courthouse (1000 SW 3rd Ave.) for being
pure government pork--expensive, unnecessary and opulent.
We haven't changed our minds, but since we're stuck with
the building, we might as well enjoy it as much as possible.
The best place to start is the ninth floor, where a doorway
leads into a magical world filled with vivid sculptures
of owls, dogs, cats and beavers in suspenders. That's right,
beavers in suspenders. The sculpture is the work of New
York artist Tom Otterness, who, along with 250 other artists,
submitted his proposal for inclusion in the massive project's
art budget. While the fountains in the main lobby are magnificent
and the quotations etched into walls are inspiring, Otterness'
work wins the award for most, well, unusual. Here's part
of his description: "Justice, an owl, sits atop a tree under
assault from all directions. A serpent creeps up the tree
while a beaver gnaws through the trunk below; in the confusion,
a paper and computer flee the scene." But words can't really
do Otterness' creation justice. Take a trip over to the
courthouse and check it out for yourself.
BEST
TREE DOCTORS
Trees, like diversity, get a lot of lip service
in Portland. Luckily, there are some folks who back up their
easy-to-come-by green words with spendy good deeds. For
the past five years, volunteers for Save Our Elms
have been protecting the health of 267 American elms in
Ladd's Addition. Thanks to their "community inoculation"
program, the historic Southeast Portland neighborhood hasn't
lost a tree to Dutch elm disease since 1995. The inoculations--administered
by drilling, injecting and then plugging the holes--are
administered to about a quarter of the neighborhood's trees
every four years. The process isn't cheap. At $132 a tree,
this year's effort cost $11,880. The City of Portland kicked
in $2,000, but the rest came from private contributions.
 BEST
TRELLIS
Sometimes it seems like we've fully arrived at
cookie-cutter consumerism. Dressed in the same Gap chinos,
we decorate our houses according to Martha Stewart's latest
palette, appointing back yards with the same redwood lattice
trellis available at every home and garden mega-store in
town. If you find this '90s Pleasantville homogeneity
alarming, it's a relief to run across the sinuous rusted
archway in Amy and Mark Hardin's side yard (Southeast
63rd Avenue and Rhone Street). The Hardins commissioned
artist Bernhard Masterson and collaborated with him on two
abstract forms that intertwine like tree branches overhead.
It stands just above a small rise of rockery, leading to
a ramp-like path to the back garden. "We wanted it to be
metal, and we needed an entry, but a gate felt too unwelcoming,"
Mark Hardin says.
BEST
HOME IMPROVEMENT THAT GREW A PERSONAL BUSINESS
When landscape designer Chris Tinkham bought
a house at 3754 SE Madison St., near one of Southeast Portland's
busiest corners, he seized the chance to showcase his handiwork.
Creating privacy and a thing of beauty, last autumn Tinkham
erected a black-and-tan riverstone retaining wall that
proved so irresistible, he began advertising before the
project was finished. From the very start, Tinkham has received
constant interest and accolades. The touchability of the
stones, their hypnotic smoothness and the way they transmute
in the rain make this retainer a far cry from recycled concrete
walls. Tinkham hand-placed every single stone. He used two
wons of rock, which he bought from Interstate Rock Products
in Vancouver at $20 per ton. The project took almost six
weeks to complete. Painstaking work? Maybe a little, when
he inlaid the top with black Mexican beach pebbles. Busy
now? The wall is his greatest advertisement; with his truck
parked alongside, Beautiful Bones and Purple Stones Landscape
Design and Construction (736-0087) gets plenty of business.
 BEST
NEST
It's like something out of a storybook--Sylvester
and the Magic Pebble or Superman even. On the
front lawn of the duplex at 2917/2919 NW Thurman St. rests
a giant nest cuddling an enormous egg. Of course
it's not a real egg--dinosaur casings probably weren't even
this big--but a rock so precisely shaped like an egg that
we can only surmise that's why its owners have it on display.
For the hordes of runners en route uphill to Forest Park,
the nest is a welcome distraction, prompting fairy tale
reveries to help cushion the pain.
BEST
EVIDENCE THAT SOMEONE READ HILLARY CLINTON'S BOOK
Hidden behind the car dealerships and noodle houses
of Southeast 82nd Avenue lies a nouveau Old World piazza.
In 1993, Father Mike Maslowsky took charge of St. Anthony's
parish. At the time, the parish was losing members, and Maslowsky
had five acres of land on his hands. He envisioned a church
like those in Italy, not on the fringes of life, but at the
heart of a community. Believing that function follows form,
he led the design of the St. Anthony Village (3618
SE 79th Ave.) which, when finished, will include housing for
seniors, an Alzheimer's patient residence home and a child-care
center. In the middle of it all is the piazza and the church,
a vital part of the neighborhood. The village's reflecting
pool and landscaped gardens are a slice of peace among 82nd's
fast-food joints, junk shops and strip clubs.
BEST
SEAT FOR EXPATRIATES BACK AT HOME
If you've been spoiled by the sunny life in France,
you may find it unpalatable to eat indoors upon returning
home. In the land of topless beaches and Nutella, virtually
every cafe has outdoor seating, made all the more pleasant
by its placement on pedestrian-only thoroughfares. Portlanders
will eat their lunches sitting on lousy, splintered crates
as long as they're situated in the fickle sunshine, but
for those with discriminating taste in the areas of gastronomy
and aesthetics, try the sidewalk at Southpark Seafood
Grill & Wine Bar (919 SW Taylor St., 326-1300).
On treasured summery days, sun rays glance off the Park
Blocks and flirt with the canvas maize umbrellas and bachelor-button
blue and yellow chairs bordering the restaurant's exterior.
Sure, alfresco dining is fairly commonplace in this temperate
town, but a smattering of tipsy tables mere footsteps from
tailpipes is so gauche. And we don't mean Rive Gauche.
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Willamette Week | originally
published July 21, 1999
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