People
BEST
GENDER-BENDING RECEPTIONIST
Welcome
to Best of Portland 2000. Each year, Willamette Week searches
the nooks and crannies of the city to find the people,
places and things that make our town spin. Sometimes we
don't have to look too far. Our "cover girl" just happens
to man the front desk here at WW central. No, we're not
lazy; we just think he embodies all the qualities that
make living in Portland something to write back East about.
Here's why:
He came to
us by mistake. Eight years ago, Sherman Burell
faxed a résumé to Willamette Dental in response
to a job opening for a receptionist, and it ended up at
Willamette Week. Next thing he knew, he was offered
a position as a dream Girl Friday.
When Sherman
started, he wore the usual jacket and tie. Little by little
his feminine side started creeping out: first make-up,
then wigs and finally heels. "When I first started wearing
that stuff, people didn't completely understand," he says.
"For a while I stopped, and everyone wanted more so I
gave it to them."
His alter ego,
who goes by the name "Charmaine" and resembles a nice,
church-going, psychic friend of Dionne Warwick, holds
a princess title in a now-defunct court in Mississippi
and is in the planning stage for a run at the Miss Gay
Oregon title.
If there were
a sitcom based on the goings-on at WW, Sherman
would definitely be the star. Prone to creating trouble
by playing pranks (telling people that fictitious callers
are on the phone, or pretending to find typos in the paper),
hitting on delivery men and igniting gossip cross-departmentally,
our favorite sticky-note provider redeems himself in two
ways: He has more inherent knowledge about how this place
works than even the owners, and he has a way with the
public. "I don't know a stranger," says the Diana Ross
fanatic. "I see myself as the person next door."
BEST REASON TO PARK
IT DOWNTOWN
 Though
the ritualistic bloodletting more commonly known as downtown
parking is a pain at best, and sheer financial hell at
worst, there's still one reason to venture forth: the
prince of Southwest 2nd Avenue and Columbia Street, Tom
Graham. For six years, parking attendant Mr. Graham
has presided over City Center Lot #53 with a grin
of welcome, encouraging advice and his benevolent farewell
of "See ya, man."
Worn and tan, Graham has a disheveled Cary Grant charm
and infectious smile that can turn the grimace of the
most jaded downtown parker into a goofy "Who the heck
wants to bike anyway?" giggle. All drivers are made equal
in this small asphalt chunk of parking heaven. Graham
shoots the breeze with CEOs and bolsters newbies on their
way to job interviews with equal verve. He executes three-point
turns with the lusty abandon of Andretti and downshifts
to throw in a good-natured flirt to the ladies of the
Marriott and KOIN buildings. (Back off, girls, the 52-year-old
auto angel is happily married.)
"I'll tell ya," he says, hands jingling a set of keys,
"there's probably not 10 cars out of this whole lot that
I don't know the people who belong in them. I know their
kids, their dogs--they're all great people. It makes a
12-hour day go quick." And his loyal parkers concur. As
KOIN worker Kay St. Laurent puts it: "When you see Tom
first thing in the morning, it just starts your day off
right." You can catch Graham at Lot 53 any weekday from
7 am to around 6 pm. Just look for "Tom" stenciled in
blue on a crisp white shirt and, when the sun's just right,
the faint gleam of a halo up top.
BEST VIDEO STORE CLERK WHO DOUBLES
AS AN ACTION HERO
 Anyone
who enters American Family Video (15 SE 20th Ave., 231-0714)
can't help but comment on how clerk Alan Wone looks
like his mug belongs in the movies. Fact of the matter
is, Wone (pronounced like the numeral) is a movie
star. At the tender age of 17, Wone (credited as Alan
Joseph) starred as "Sugarpop," a military academy cadet
and younger brother of a notorious drug dealer in Street
Wars, a B-movie thriller by Jamaa Fanaka, creator
of the Penitentiary series. When his brother is
killed, Sugarpop inherits the family business, vowing
to clean up the 'hood with a ghetto air force. Ask Wone,
now 28, about his experiences in Hollywood and he'll bend
your ear with big-screen stories that will keep you laughing
for days. But make sure you go now, while the stories
are still free, because Wone plans to unleash his own
one-man show--a mix of uptown and downtown (think Eric
Bogosian meets Richard Pryor)--sometime in the near future.
BEST ROLLERGIRL DOPPELGANGERS
 At
the trend-driven retail playland Urban Outfitters
(2320 NW Westover Road, 248-0020), whether it's bell-bottom
pants or beads, it's all about the 1970s. But two 21-year-old
employees, Kristina and Alana, take it to the extreme.
Not only do these two gals dress in dazed and confused
threads, they also roll through the store sporting retro
roller skates. This extreme service orientation is cool
with management, and the fever pitch is catching on with
customers too. "It makes shopping more fun," said one.
And sexy: Kristina (pictured on right), who's the drooling
image of Boogie Nights' Rollergirl, says her favorite
CD is DJ Dimitri From Paris' A Night at the Playboy
Mansion.
Right on!
BEST HANDS-ON WAITER
Joe Guevara is a 28-year-old young
gun you can catch servicing the eaters at Mother's
Bistro (409 SW 2nd Ave., 464-1122). And if, by chance,
he happens to be your appointed wait person, be prepared
for the hands-on treatment. His long fluted fingers, once
trained on violin, swiftly place plates down while simultaneously
picking up checks. Should he spot a fuzz ball on a diner's
sweater, this too is flicked away. The Texas native started
out as a dishwasher and moved up to waiter. He worked
at Besaw's for a year before migrating over to Mother's,
where he's been getting props for the last three months
for his highly personable style. If you like an imaginary
wall built between yourself and the person who's bringing
your food, then Joe is not for you. But if you like the
two-fisted approach, Joe
is your man.
BEST LURE TO THE STAGE
Sadly, Portland theaters haven't learned
how effective a striking poster design can be for advertising.
Even the larger companies with money to burn have consistently
turned out uninventive and uninspired posters that any
number of garage bands have put to shame with their own
clever Xerox fliers filled with clip art and collage.
The only exceptions are the posters created for Johnny
Stallings' lone-actor pieces. Stallings has long used
local artist Rick Bartow to design the striking ads that
tout his performances, from Everything and Nothing
a few years back to Stallings' Walt Whitman piece, Song
of Myself, and, most recently, a one-man King Lear,
for which Bartow created a haunting portrait of the mad
king. As more dull, monochromatic theater bulletins are
taped to windows, it's good to know that one theater artist
is keeping the spirit of Mucha and Toulouse-Lautrec alive.
BEST PR FLACK TO TAKE
FROM THE RICH AND GIVE TO THE POOR
Portland is awash with public-relations agencies, all trying
their damnedest to boost their clients' reputations. With
so much competition for press coverage out there, having
a name people remember can be helpful--ask last year's Best-Named
Flack, Crystal Ball of the Bonneville Power Administration.
But Crystal clearly doesn't have a lock on the catchy-moniker
title. A year of paging tirelessly through press releases
yielded another contender: Robyn Hood of the firm
Gard Strang Edwards & Algridge Inc. "People sometimes
call me back just so they can say they spoke with Robyn
Hood," Hood says. She recently got hitched, but there was
no way her husband (Casey Jones, no kidding) could persuade
her to take his last name. "When you've been Robyn Hood
all your life," she says, "why would you change?"
EATS
BEST SOPRANOS ACCOMPANIST
Sometimes it's hard to live in Portland. The closest
we get to old-school Italian is Paul Newman spaghetti
sauce. So for those in the know, watching HBO's family-values
series The Sopranos and seeing everyone gulp down
some serious New Jersey/Sicilian grub is painful. Thankfully
there's Martinotti's (404 SW 10th Ave., 224-9028).
This Italian deli and cafe helps you augment your increasingly
non-red sauced life. Of special note are the cannoli
shells you can buy there, which are imported from
Italy. It takes just minutes to whip up the ricotta center
and stuff them--then an hour to eat them while watching
Italians stuff themselves on the tube.
BEST DELI FOR MITTELEUROPA
FOOD
Walk into Edelweiss (3119 SE 12th
Ave., 238-4411), the Deutschland-centric deli located,
appropriately enough, in a traditionally German pocket
of Brooklyn, and you see sausage. Bratwurst and weisswurt
are piled up in geologic formations, teetering against
each other. Red-black salamis and hams hang like hunter's
trophies above the heads of the staff and customers, who
respectively sling grub and consume it with industrious
Teutonic efficiency. In one corner, a lunch counter offers
dirt-cheap napalm for your aorta; at $2.49, a sweetly
mild sausage doesn't beat the neighboring Bear Paw Inn's
$.50 Hotdog Monday on price, but this is quality
we're talking about. Every midday, the place packs with
well-marbled Hausfrauen, construction workers and Lutheran
pastors. The surrounding retail shelves groan with German
chocolates, breads, spreads, soups and copies of Der
Spiegel. In the beer case, Reinheitsgebot-compatible
DeutschBiers jostle with the hopped-up pride of the Czech
Republic, Poland (watch out for Okocim--it'll knock you
on your ass), Russia, Belgium and elsewhere. For a lover
of powerhouse Central Euro grub trapped in Vegopolis,
it's a thing of beauty.
BEST ELEVATION OF
BAR FOOD
 Your
average pub grub is limited to fries, jalapeño
poppers, limp salad and the occasional artichoke/spinach
dip. Rarely do you see a whole artichoke on any
menu. But Mickey Finn's (4336 SE Woodstock Blvd.,
788-1587; 1339 NW Flanders St., 222-5910), an otherwise
unremarkable bar, serves just that, with your choice of
basil pesto mayonnaise, plain mayo or butter. The artichoke
is a near-perfect, oft-overlooked food. Most appetizers
can't claim to be rich in fiber, potassium and vitamin
C; aid digestion; and pack a meager 50 calories. Stumbling
upon this jolly green giant in a world of jo-jo's is like
running into Chevy Chase at a Christian Coalition retreat.
Except that Mickey Finn's is considering removing the
lordly artichoke from its menu. Seems that brewpubbers
aren't so interested in such fare, and rotting 'chokes
resulting from low demand means management might drop
it altogether. Unite! Eat slow food! Demand artichokes!
BEST PLACE TO GET EXTRA BUTTER
ON POPCORN
Long the bane of butter lovers everywhere, most movie
theaters tend to go easy on the butter flavoring they
sprinkle on the popcorn, which isn't even real butter
most of the time. Not the Moreland Theatre. This
is the spot where they serve a little popcorn with the
butter--real butter at that--and not the other way around.
All you have to do is ask, and the employees at this cozy
neighborhood cinema, located in the heart of Sellwood
(6712 SE Milwaukie Ave., 236-5257), will drench your popped
kernels in so much of the sauce you'll need to eat them
with a spoon. Sure, it's not so good for the heart, but
neither is falling in love, and people do that all the
time.38
BEST WAY TO HEAT UP THE NIGHT
Culinarily challenged? Thanks to Ken Groves, there's
no need to attend cooking classes to make your bland meals
more palatable. Frustrated by his inability to find just
the right seasonings to give his meals that special butt-kick,
Groves set out to create his own blend of herbs and spices.
The result? Ken's Gourmet Kajun Blend, a tasty
mix of seasonings that adds one-of-a-kind flavor to everything
from eggs to barbecue sauces. Most recently, Groves has
added two new blends to his seasoning empire--Gourmet
Blackened Seasoning and Gourmet Gumbo, which Groves says
will provide the perfect "heart and soul" for any good
gumbo. Seasonings are a hobby for Groves, like home-brewing
beer or making jam, and this spice guy plans to produce
even more seasoning blends, as well as some sauces, in
the near future. To find out how to get your taste buds
on Ken's Gourmet Seasonings, and to check out some of
his recipes,visit him on the Web at expage.com/ page/kenskajunspice.
BEST WRITING ON THE WALL
Portland's beloved burrito outpost, La Sirenita
(2817 NE Alberta St., 335-8283), underwent a fancy facelift
this year--not necessarily a bad thing. One lo-fi attraction
at the taqueria that went untouched as the neighborhood
upped its cachet, though, was the message board by the
trash bins. Sure, every freakin' hole-in-the-wall eatery,
yoga studio and gear store has a board where customers
can post notices about lost Lassies or openings for thoughtful
roommates in clean, all-womyn homes, but Sirenita boasts
an above-average assortment of fliers. The provocateurs
behind the Robot Steak House, a clandestine Northeast
rock venue, for example, choose to advertise in only a
few select places--Reading Frenzy and La Sirenita among
them. Gallery-cum-venue outfits such as Itisness also
flier here, but there's more than just esoteric rock on
offer. Information on Ford trucks, English language classes
and little-known vintage shops having relocation sales
is also available. The mix isn't always utterly fascinating,
but it's guaranteed to include notices far more interesting
than your usual punting massage therapists and landscapers.
BEST FORTUNE (OUTSIDE
OF A) COOKIE
The crew at the Woodstock Safeway's
Chinese Cuisine and Deli (4515 SE Woodstock
Blvd., 788-7600) flick both attitude and egg foo yung
with equal panache. Ten-year counter veteran Anna Lee
greets her regulars (a ragtag band with even helpings
of retirees and Reedies) with winks and jibes, while fellow
deli goddess Debra Ryan coaxes newcomers to sample the
(surprisingly) tasty broccoli beef. Stoic Chef Seto oversees
all, only the top quarter of his sweat-beaded brow visible
behind the dull-steel wall of ovens and fryers. The only
drawback: Open 9 am to 9 pm daily, this is the busiest
deli in the entire Safeway district. Expect a longer wait
than you're used to, thanks to Lee's advice for the lovelorn
and extra attention to condiment requests. As Anna says:
"You have eggroll. You too skinny."
CITY LIFE
BEST PLACE TO GET EUROTRASHED
Magazine junkies everywhere converge on Tower Books
(1307 NE 102nd Ave., 253-3116) for a media mix that's
hard to beat. It's the only spot in East County-land where
you can get the latest issues of Spoon, XY and fashion
rags from Russia and Spain. Beyond the racks of obscure
stuff, this place also has a neat little box full of interesting
other reading material suitable for the bathroom or the
beach. A recent look-see conjured up Japanese mags dedicated
to wheels, babes and unusual fashion fetishes such as
hoods made out of Wrangler Jeans.
BEST KISS-OFF TO PEEPING TOMS
People are funny. They decide they want to live in the
middle of it all, amid the hustle and bustle of shops
and people coming to and fro. Then they decide that privacy
is worth something, too. Ah, the contradiction of life.
Take, for example, the woman who rented an apartment across
from hoity-toity hot spot Serratto on Northwest
21st Avenue. Seems that while people were hanging out
waiting for tables or having a drink, they tended to watch
her go about her business in that voyeuristic fashion
that seems to be consuming popular culture these days.
In a brave flip, the woman made a sign that read "My Life
Is Not a Show" and put it in the window. So how ya like
yourself now?
BEST APPARENT FAITH HEALING ON
A TRI-MET BUS
Forget something? The folks at Tri-Met deal with Portlanders'
forgetful nature every day. And it all adds up. Busy commuters
leave 25,000 articles on the bus each year. Usually it's
just the basics: wallets, umbrellas, etc. But some silly
nuts have been leaving their seats without the stuff you
would swear they couldn't live without. Tri-Met official
Bruce Solberg reports that cycling enthusiasts often leave
their rides on the front of the bus after they exit. Better
(or worse) yet, drivers have found hearing aids, false
teeth and crutches. Oddest of all, though, was when someone
walked (?) away without his or her wheelchair.
One can only assume Jesus somehow joined this merry band
of busers and miraculously healed one lucky disabled soul.
No one has ever returned to claim the chariot.
BEST USE OF A PARKING LOT
The sound of raindrops on banana leaves. Painted boat
in misty rain. Full moon locked in lake. No, these are
not just enchanting hallucinations. These are the very
real sights and sounds to expect in Portland's Classical
Chinese Garden, which, once open, will be the largest
authentic Suzhou-style garden in the United States. The
city block outlined by Northwest 2nd and 3rd avenues and
Davis and Everett streets will become a spot for meditation
and rejuvenation in a part of town at one time better
known for its coke and weed than its lotus leaves. The
"Garden of Awakening Orchid," as it is called, should
be a much-needed oasis in Portland's Old Town. Who knows?
Vera and her minions might be spotted high in the garden's
two-story tea house, sipping lapsang souchong tea, surveying
the view and spying out sites for future price and profit
as Old Town becomes the next neighborhood on the PDC's
chopping block.
BEST REASON TO LET SOMEONE ELSE
PUMP YOU
Whenever people complain about not being able to pump
their own gas, you can bet they're not from Oregon. Why
bitch and moan? Gas station attendants in our fair state
are like postal carriers--neither rain nor sleet nor gloom
of night keep them from fueling up your ride. The unsung
heroes of Oregon motorists, gas station attendants keep
the state moving. There are plenty of great petrol crews
out there, but the employees at the former BP turned orange
and blue-balled Union 76 station at 6007 NE Glisan
St. (232-7415) are among the coolest guys ever to fill
up your tank (pictured at right: Michael Nguyen and John
Lynch). No, they don't do a song and dance or offer to
check your oil à la the friendly men of bygone
Texaco stations, but in a world of ever-increasing backtalk
and indifference, these guys give good service--not to
mention their opinions on sports, weather and whatever
the day's topic of conversation might be. Getting gas
never felt so good.
BEST CAFFEINATED FUND-RAISING EFFORT
There is much to abhor about the Diedrich-ization of
Coffee People, from corporate logos salvaged from
a banana republic's propaganda ministry to the muttered
grumbling of the staff. But heil Diedrich! for
the one thing the rebranded chain is doing right. Recently,
a humble ballot appeared on Diedrich counters, asking
hopped-up customers to match a local demi-celeb (and a
few globally known ringers) with the most appropriate
coffee flavor. Is Jonathan Nicholas (pictured below with
former mayoral candidate Jake Oken-Berg) "pleasant &
toasty" or "intense & smooth"? Is Ralph Nader "bold"
or "beefy"? While the wink-wink election packs plenty
of laffs (Ralph Nader is identified only as an "Archimedean,"
whatever that means), the best part is its serious goal.
For every completed ballot, Kommissar Diedrich donates
a buck to the Oregon Food Bank. With each $1 donation
nabbing the food bank $10 worth of food, Coffee People's
witty fund-raiser helps the state's hungry people fill
their own cups.
BEST REASON TO GO TO THE DOCTOR'S
OFFICE
There's nothing quite like curling up with a good book
to transport you away from the slings and arrows of everyday
life--an observation that forms the basis of the Reading
Room of the Old Town Clinic (218 W Burnside
St.). In the past decade, the clinic--which serves some
of Portland's poorest patients--has given away thousands
of children's books to patients and their families. Medical
director Dr. Neal Rendleman started the collection with
his own kids' books and supplements the collection with
trips to Cameron's and Powell's. Titles have included
everything from Charlotte's Web to a first-edition
Horton Hears a Who--which Rendleman dutifully handed
over to an eager young Dr. Seuss aficionado. "For many
of these kids, this is the only thing they own," says
Rendleman. "I wasn't about to snatch it away from him."
Indeed, the Reading Room has proven so popular that it
now includes many books for adults.
BEST WAY TO ACCESSORIZE
A TRASH CAN
In countries like France, aesthetics are
taken seriously. Say what you will about the French (bad
breath, bad manners, bad taste in cigarettes) but somehow
they manage to weave art and civic life (holding contests
to design the best public phone booth, for instance) in
a way that puts us ugly Americains to complete
shame.
But, here in Portland, there has recently
appeared on city streets an object that possesses beauty,
intelligence and wit that any Francophile would die for.
It's a recycling device made by ZIBA Designs for Tri-Met.
Built to attach to the outside of garbage cans, these
objets de trash are capable of holding 30 cans
and bottles at once. The spiffy attachment is a spare,
modern and functional design that is aesthetically pleasing
and perfectly solves the problem you may have faced when
you've had an empty soda can or bottle you're trying to
chuck. You know the drill: too guilty to throw it away,
too lazy to carry it around. So, like any good citizen,
you've left it on the top of the garbage can where
the bottle and can collectors can more easily reach it.
But, thankfully, now this little dilemma is solved. Bottles
and cans are easily put into and removed from the slotted
sidekick, benefiting both those who want to get rid of
a can and those looking for a little spare change.
BEST QUARTER'S WORTH
OF CULTURE
Thankfully,
for discriminating coin-operated candy machine connoisseurs,
the urge for culture and kitsch can be placated at the
same time. Since last summer, the folks at the Portland-based
Gumball Poetry have been stuffing those plastic
bubbles with delicious little chunks of rhyme and meter.
Published quarterly, each "issue" contains around 25 individual
poems--each at the economical rate of 25 cents a pop.
Creator Ben Parzybok and his crackerjack
poetry posse dreamed up the mechanical bards after realizing
that packaged prose could catch the interest of a wider
audience. Portland seems to agree. Six gumball dispensers
are currently poppin' out the poems here in town as well
as a few machines in Washington, Montana and Idaho. Next
up, look for G.P. wildcaps: poetry capsules with miniature
art and sculpture inside by Oregon artists Chris Kelly
and Ezra Parzybok. Gumball Poetry Machines can be found
at Powell's Books (3747 SE Hawthorne St.), Rimsky-Korsakoffee
House (707 SE 12th Ave.), Reading Frenzy (921 SW Oak St.),
Cafe Lena (2239 SE Hawthorne Blvd.), Looking Glass Books
(318 SW Taylor St.) and Fifth Element Gallery and Studio
(404 SW 10th Ave.)
BEST REASON TO GO TO A CITY HALL
POTLUCK
Caterer to the stars" Ron Paul has gone from chef
to chief. Fairly new to his position as chief of staff
for Commissioner Charlie Hales, Paul brings his adept
(and sorely missed) cooking skills to parties and celebrations.
The former owner of Ron Paul's (Northeast Portland and
beyond) has served up dream meals to many a lucky soul,
so it's no surprise that fellow city officials were excited
about the prospect of delightful smells wafting through
their office. Perhaps they didn't quite get the smorgasbord
of delectable treats and nibbly things they crossed their
fingers for, but they at least get a few tastes of sweetness
in the form of the occasional holiday potluck--and even
some lighthearted teasing. Co-worker Susan Deskamp says:
"You'd think we'd all have been fattened up by now, but
he's too busy." And thank goodness. We wouldn't want Portland's
officials waddling into work every day.
BEST CITY OFFICIALYOU'VE
NEVER HEARD OF
Told that city official Gary Blackmer
would be recognized in BOP, the response from a WW
environmental reporter--we will not name her publicly--was
the following:
"Who?"
She's not alone. Though elected citywide,
the Portland City Auditor largely goes unnoticed. He would
make a great ninja--one who fights for what he calls "The
three E's: efficiency, effectiveness and equity."
His job may be dull, but it's important.
Blackmer's there to keep Portland bureaucrats more or
less honest by looking for fraud, waste and abuse. Despite
the fact that Blackmer kicks ass at this task, he is so
modest and selfless that unlike every other City Hall
elected, he does not even post a bio on his website. From
an auditor's perspective, why waste the energy? "You try
and do your best," says Blackmer, "and whatever comes
your way, comes your way."
POLITICS
BEST COMMUNIST FANTASY
OF THE DOWNFALL OF CAPITALISM
Gather round, you little Marxists--there is hope yet.
Check out the intersection of Southeast 7th Avenue
and Madison Street: It's a concentration camp for
all those evil, money-grubbing corporate villains intent
on lashing us to the hamster wheel of consumerism!!! Dozens
of Coke and Pepsi machines, stripped of their destructive
powers, stand trapped in a parking lot, chastened and
helpless behind barbed-wired chain-link fencing. OK, so
it's really just the site of Smitty's Vending Inc.--but
we can dream, can't we?
BEST REASON TO DROP YOUR DONUT
Hidden away from the thugs on the street, on the tippy-top
floor of downtown's Justice Center, sits the Portland
Police Museum (1111 SW 2nd Ave., 823-0019). Before
visiting, you must be "deputized," or given a visitor's
badge. Then, after a quick elevator ride, you'll be met
by a retired police officer who shares curatorial and
tour-guide responsibilities. But don't come here expecting
"Best of Cops" or excerpts from Fox's Scariest Police
Chases II. Started around 20 years ago (near the intersection
of Northwest 3rd Avenue and Davis Street) as the primary
focus of the Portland Police Historical Society, the museum
showcases cop memorabilia including early police uniforms,
badges and an old Harley motorcycle with a sidecar. For
a walk on the wild side, check out drug paraphernalia
and burglary tools--and for a stroll on the totally mild
side, peruse police payroll rosters that reach all the
way back to the 1870s.
BEST-SPOKEN CITY
OFFICIAL
We can't tell you how many times we've had to deal with
Portland's Department of H20 without an adequate
translator of French or the West African languages Wolof,
Fulani and Mandinka. Never again will this be a problem.
City official Daby Diallo has all these bases covered.
His ability in all five languages (including English)
might make you jealous that he will never leave you speechless.
Who needs one of the 35 Spanish-speaking officials when
you can get three African as well as two European languages
all out of one soul?
BEST WAY TO SHOWCASE
A TOXIC LANDFILL
Vive le Cirque! The politically correct
term may be targeted brownfield redevelopment site,
but we're not fooled: The North Macadam Urban Renewal
Area just south of the Ross Island Bridge remains an empty
shell, a reminder of past industrial pollution and capitalist
sins. That's why it was so refreshing to see the Cirque
du Soleil roll into town this past spring and transform
this riverside urban waste zone into a très moderne
fantasy village of white circus tents and avante-garde
performance art. Sure, the Cirque may not be to everyone's
taste, but there is something quite cosmopolitan about
such large-scale extreme architecture in Portland, a city
that finds even the suburban tameness of Michael Graves'
Portland Building controversial. Enjoy it while it lasts,
though: With politicos, land owners and activists still
bantering about the fate of the area, North Macadam could
easily turn into another bland Riverplace or, worse, remain
empty for generations to come.
BEST PLACE TO LUNCH
WITH LIBERALS
Interested in striking a deal on wetlands
protection? Want to eavesdrop on a heartfelt diatribe
about salmon habitat? Curious to learn 1000 Friends' political
strategy? Looking for Mike Houck's autograph? Get ye to
the Bijou Cafe, you political neophyte. Every weekday,
the Bijou (132 SW 3rd Ave., 222-3187) is packed with Portland's
progressive establishment. A political fondue pot, it's
where homebuilder lobbyist Jon Chandler dines with Metro
presiding officer David Bragdon and Elizabeth Furse chats
it up with Bev Stein. Eighteen-year Bijou veteran and
general manager Jim Emrick says it's always been this
way at the cafe, which has been open since the '70s era
of Neil Goldschmidt. He conjectures that in the early
days the social insiders were drawn by the organic food,
and they just kept on coming in. Today, it's an institution
for the mainstream left. "We always go there," says one
green lobbyist. "There certainly have to be cheaper breakfasts
in town, but we always go to the Bijou."
OUTSIDE
BEST WAY TO GET TURNED ON
Fossil fuels are so 20th century. The iMacs of
the energy world are the tall, white wind turbines
located smack dab in the middle of the wheat fields
north of Pendleton. These powerhouses churn out electricity
so clean they make the region's coal and gas plants blush
in shame. The wind project, whose power currently serves
some Portland residents, is the result of a long, unlikely
courtship among enviros, federal agencies, windy-acre
farmers and fellas with bucket utility trucks. Now, whenever
the wind reaches 9 mph in eastern Oregon, 38 turbines
perched on Vansycle Ridge send juice straight to the laptops
of the city folks who choose green power (check out the
insert in your monthly bill). When the wind slows to a
breeze, the Bonneville Dam system loosens its belt and
supplements the flow with hydro power faster than you
can say, "Pass the inhaler."
BEST EXPLOITATION OF CHILDREN IN
THE NAME OF ENVIRONMENTALISM
The Willamette is a nice river; bummer about the raw
sewage floating in it after a rainstorm. Now that the
urban waterway is totally screwed up, the Willamette Restorative
Initiative has called upon the next generation for help.
They asked kids--kindergarten through college--to write
about the relationship between people and the Willamette
watershed. They collected the literature into a journal,
Honoring Our River: A Student Anthology,
intended to raise the guilty consciousness of adults throughout
the valley. The children's work is intensely emotional--angry
and frightened. Katie Finley, age 8, begins her poem thus:
"We're mad at you, Us bugs are mad at you, You pollute
our habitat...." The anthology has such shock value that
the initiative plans a 2000 edition. Those interested
in obtaining a copy of Honoring Our River or receiving
information about upcoming editions can call (503) 585-8789.
For more information on protecting Portland's watershed,
call the Oregon Watershed Help Line, 1-888-854-8377.
BEST PUBLIC RIGHT-OF-WAY
To its shame, our fair city, internationally known for
its efforts to build up empty lots instead of encouraging
sprawl, remains filled with ugly little concrete islands
that exist for no other purpose than to keep traffic flowing.
Kudos to artist Linda K. Johnson and her community
partners for transforming Tax Lot #1S1E4ODD located
at the junction of Southwest Broadway, Broadway Drive
and Grant Street from a muddy 1/10-acre triangle to a
quaint and appealing edible garden with a gazebo, garden
art and, of course, vegetables. The one-year project,
funded by the Regional Arts and Culture Council's new
temporary public-art program called IN-SITU, attempts
to bring attention to orphaned spaces in the city and
our failure to mother them. Visit the site yourself until
April 2001, or call 231-9586 for more information.
BEST REASON TO KEEP LIVESTOCK IN
THE CITY
The City of Portland may be the city that works, but
it's also the city that farms. Did you know you are allowed
to keep a nice coop of chicks in your backyard or a couple
of goats around? Portland says you can. City
Code 13.05.015 part E: Permit Required for Specified Animal
Facility clearly states, "A person keeping a total
of three or fewer chickens, ducks, doves, pigeons, pygmy
goats or rabbits shall not be required to obtain a specified
animal facility permit." For those with enough yard space,
a good fence and a proper coop or shed, livestock can
be the ultimate addition to the urban garden. Think free
range! Think fertilizer! But don't forget to think of
your neighbors. As with other urban pets, care should
be taken to keep noise, smells and other destructive behaviors
under control. And the suits in City Hall may be liberal,
but they are not reckless. Due to the incessant and obnoxious
crowing that roosters are known for, the city of Portland
remains a cock-free zone.
BEST DOG PARADISE
tired dog is a good dog, and one of best
ways to wear your dog out is with some serious park action.
Sure, there are more conveniently located parks, but the
isolation and sheer size of Kelly Point Park, located
at the far western end of Marine Drive where the Columbia
meets the Willamette, is what makes it so great for our
canine friends and their owners. Filled with acres of
wooded trails, grassy meadows and uninterrupted sandy
beach, this park is one of the few in the city where you
can let your pooch romp without having to dodge hordes
of spandex-wearing bikers, nervous dog-fearing families
and vigilant citation-wielding park rangers. Other green
spaces may have their stunning vista points and high level
of social interaction, but Kelly Point stands out as the
most dog-friendly.
BEST LOCAL PRODUCTION OF HITCHCOCK'S
THE BIRDS
Feeding the geese at Westmoreland Park is like
melting plastic straws on an electric heater: dangerous,
yet somehow oddly compelling. One loaf of slightly stale
French pain and nerves of steel guarantee charitable
visitors to the Sellwood-area park a wild game. The downside:
a week's worth of nightmares featuring the shrill honks
and shrieks of a euphoric feeding frenzy descending upon
an unsuspecting victim (you). No joke, these babies are
one ferocious flock of feathered friends. Fun for the
whole family, though--just make sure you settle on a hand
signal that alerts the little ones when to make a run
for it.
BEST REASON TO SHUFFLE OFF THIS
MORTAL COIL
 America
is a death-denying culture that insists on cemeteries
looking like golf courses. Gone are the florid, ornamental
memorials of the past, replaced with utilitarian, ground-level
garden-step remembrances. Yet at the Lone Fir Cemetery
in Southeast Portland, the mourning angels and toppled
pillars (we're not talking about teenage vandalism) of
a gilded age remain to remind us of death's stark grandeur.
Among the monuments is one of the finest pieces of stone
portraiture in Portland, the gravestone of James B. and
Elizabeth Stephens. The first pioneer couple to build
a homestead on Portland's East Bank, the Stephenses were
married for 57 years, dying two years apart in 1887 and
1889. Their shared marker is a 5-by-3-foot marble square
with a naive relief carving of the couple standing hand-in-hand
as they return, according to the reverse inscription,
"back to the elements of the universe." Sigh. Isn't death
grand?
BEST MOTIVATION TO GET YOUR FAT
ASS OUT OF BED EARLY ON WEEKEND MORNINGS
"I don't know why thousands of people don't go on these
trips," enthused one Willamette River paddler last month,
rounding the bend toward Ross Island. It was early morning,
the mist was just leaving the water's surface, and Mike
Houck, über-naturalist for the Audubon Society, was
practicing his bird calls. It just doesn't get any better
than this in Portland, but it seems not many urbanites
venture beyond their cul-de-sacs. That's
just plain laziness. For 20 years the Audubon Society,
the city and Metro have been putting together seasonal
packages of adventures to hand-hold us greenhorns
through the region's waterways and open spaces. The next
trip is a canoe/kayak adventure on the Gilbert River on
Saturday, July 22; the fall series starts Sept. 10. For
the water trips, some canoe experience is necessary but
the pace is slow enough for the clumsy and weak. So rise
up, people of the couch--we have nothing to lose but our
flab. (Prices vary depending on the activity. For details,
call the Portland Park Bureau at 823-5132.)
REST STOP
BEST VIEW FROM A URINAL
From the dizzying heights of the Portland Hilton's 23rd
floor, all of Portland--from the Fremont to Vista bridges
(and, on a smog-free day, the cathedral-like St. Johns
Bridge)--is yours for the price of a single drop of piss.
The men's room at the top of the Hilton (go past
the bar and the old-school Alexander's Restaurant) reveals
both the verdancy of the city and the architectural errors
that blot our geography (i.e., the truly atrocious Fox
Tower). In the evening, the floodlit spires and snaking
lights of cars on bridges filling the twilight sky are
reason enough to excuse oneself from the dinner table
for a late-night leak.
BEST PLACE TO RELIVE A SCENE FROM
DRUGSTORE COWBOY (WHILE
THERE'S STILL TIME)
So you're hitting some of the "Mandarin-style" food at
Golden China Restaurant (1102 SW 11th Ave., 790-9036)
and nature calls. You ask the woman at the counter for
a bathroom pass, and she gestures wordlessly at a nondescript
door. You step through it, you see the craggy faces of
gritty old men, you feel the dark weight of years of hard
living downtown. And it hits you: "Holy shit! This
is totally that hotel where William S. Burroughs imparts
the wisdom of an aging junkie priest to dewy reprobate
Matt Dillon in Drugstore Cowboy!" And you're
right. You have stepped through the looking glass and
into the lobby of the St. Francis Hotel, one of a small
fleet of residential dives keeping it real in the face
of the metastasis of Pearl District values. Local celluloid
hero Gus Van Sant tapped the St. Francis for its echt
noir vibe and made it the fictive home of Burroughs,
who basically played himself in the grungy drug classic.
Even now, the lobby of the St. Francis is populated by
salty types who have seen a thing or two, and it's not
hard to imagine the hawk-faced prophet of the world's
underbelly in their midst. If you want this vicarious
thrill, though, you'd better land a table at the Golden
China soon, since the hotel's demolition has been mooted
in discussions of the forthcoming social re-engineering
of downtown's west end. Must get those anachronistic
poor folk out of here, you know.
BEST WAY TO ROOT FOR
THE HOME TEAM
The gastrointestinal misery that accompanies
most sporting events has now been put to good use. In
this year of WTO foibles, there's finally a reason to
toot University of Oregon's horn--and drop our shorts.
Here it is, folks, as advertised in the Ducks football
program: the new, personalized UO Honey Bucket
portable toilet! Molded in regal green and gold and bearing
the official Duck logo, it's enough to give David Frohnmayer
another heart attack. Now each and every schmuck who shelled
out 29 bucks for football tickets can plop down on his
or her very own toilette au Oregon ($65 to rent
per game, or a whopping 350 smackeroos to own a "used"
unit). Screw the $7.5 million Autzen Stadium facelift,
let's wolf down another chili dog. It's about time to
honor our favorite college team.
BEST PLACE TO GET
SAVED
At the Vita Cafe (3024 NE Alberta
St., 335-8233), a trip to the loo is a transport
to the heavenly world of folk artist Howard Finster. Cafe
owner Jim Defeo has his collection of Finster's paintings,
purchased in the '80s, hanging in the bathroom of the
cafe. As the story goes, the Alabama preacher man turned
folk artist had a vision while painting a bicycle: He
should stop what he was doing and dedicate himself to
creating sacred art. The direct poetry of Finster's words
is motivating: "Angels thrill my soul" reads one, and
another, "I saved up my money and time and property to
help people to God. I ask no man for money. I work daily.
Hard." Read the writing on the wall, brothers and sisters,
and find a place to rest your soul.
BEST PLACE TO MAKE SMALL CHANGE
Most public restrooms are now more accommodating than
they used to be when it comes to getting Junior out of
those nasty Huggies and into a fresh diaper--at least
those equipped with Koala Kare changing stations. But
they're still way outside the charming zone. Not so the
brilliant setup at Haggis McBaggis (6802 SE Milwaukie
Ave., 234-0849). The darling Sellwood children's apparel
haven has taken the kid-friendly, playful mood of the
store right into the john, to the delight of parents and
tots. Tiny lamps with beaded tentacles dangle above a
cushy changing pad, mesmerizing the kid while Mom or Dad
does the dirty work. The pleasant space is decorated in
muted greens and bold stripes, and the counter is stocked
with extra diapers, ointment, wipes, powder and aromatic
Aveda cleanser. Now that wasn't so bad, was it, honey?
BIZ
BEST WAY TO UNDERCUT
THE
NEW ECONOMY
Heading east past 39th Avenue on Southeast
Division Street, you'll find Blaisdell Saw (4040
SE Division St., 235-2260) and its clever hand-painted
slogan: "Never a dull moment." This razor-edged pun originated
with Blaisdell's owner, sharp-witted Ted Wille, approximately
20 years ago. But recently, Wille's motto has become a
bit overshadowed. Above his industrial tool-sharpening
and supply shop there currently looms a huge billboard
advertisement for Cars.com. The new, e-commerce company's
ad states bluntly: "Car shopping made easy." How boring!
If this bigtime advertiser just took a peek at the
40-year-old business's to-the-point message below, it
might learn a thing or two about being on the cutting
edge.
BEST PLACE TO TRADE IN YOUR FREQUENT
FLYER MILES FOR MOVIES
Want to pretend you're in France watching Godard like
the French do--in French? Interested in flexing your bilingual
tendencies but not into boring how-to tapes? Moving
Pictures (7700 N Peninsular Ave., 283-3412) is the
answer. Owner Mark Ford has a (France-heavy) foreign fetish
and stocks his video-rental store with masterpieces such
as La Femme Publique and Marquise--sans
subtitles. There are also books and music at this media
center tucked away in North Portland's Kenton neighborhood,
but the real finds are the films that smell of exotic
shores.
BEST WAY TO TAME YOUR INNER CHILD
 Everybody
has a special toy that reminds them of their childhood.
Maybe it's a G.I. Joe (with kung-fu grip!), a robot-in-disguise
Transformer or a Welcome Back, Kotter Vinny Barbarino
action figure. Whatever it is, once it's been chucked
into the trash, a cherished plaything from the past can
be difficult to replace. Enter whiz-kid entrepreneur Mark
Pedersen, a master of reuniting adults with lost toys
from days gone by. Stepping into his store, Dr. Tongue's
House of 3-D Collectible Toys (1408 E Burnside St.,
233-8915), is like jumping through a time warp. At the
aptly named Dr. T's, adults who haven't quite hung up
their Peter Pan complex can search for everything from
Star Wars action figures to Partridge Family
lunch boxes. Pedersen, who named the place after a John
Candy character from SCTV, says his store has often
been confused with the "real" Dr. Tongues--two physicians
who practice medicine in the metro area under the same
moniker. Although he can't write prescriptions, Pedersen
may have the perfect cure for your arrested development.
BEST PLACE TO GET
LAID
Tom and Betty Hughes have recently retired from Mulligan
Mattress Co. (425 NW 9th Ave., 222-3723) in the Pearl
District, but the tradition of specialty-crafted "they
don't make 'em like this anymore" mattresses continues
in this small shop, under the tutelage of new owners Gary
Kramer and his sister, Patty Haywood. They're not exactly
wet behind the ears themselves--their dad was in the bedding
biz, too. "We've been making beds for 36 years," Gary
tells WW. "And we do it all right out here in the
open where people can see." So what makes these trundles
so terrific? Both the mattresses and the box springs are
handmade and filled with cotton. Factory-made mattresses,
on the other hand, are mass-produced and covered in a
cheap outer foam that's not only uncomfortable but wears
away in time, forcing you to buy a new one every few years.
The made-to-spec mattresses at Mulligan's, however, last
a lifetime. As one pleased hard-mattress lover put it:
"It's like sleeping on a stone slab. A really good stone
slab."
BEST PLACE TO GULP IT UP
Connoisseurs of pop have their favorite spots mapped
out for filling up cumbersome 44-ounce paper cups with
syrup-sweetened soda water. And then there are really
adventurous soda drinkers who mix several different flavors--known
appropriately as a "Suicide." But for true fans of the
fountain drink, there is no greater gulp than Strawberry
Dew. An equal mix of Mountain Dew and strawberry soda,
Strawberry Dew is the single greatest soft drink on the
planet. Nirvana-inducing strawberry soda is hard to find;
it's almost impossible to load up on it at a fountain.
You can get the strawberry, sans Dew, at the local Popeye's
Fried Chicken; but the Alberta Street Market (915
NE Alberta St., 281-6388) is one of the few places in
Portland to offer the essential ingredients for Strawberry
Dew. And mark WW's words: Nothing is better for
washing down heat-lamp-warmed chicken, jo-jos and other
deep-fried treats than a Mega Super Big Gulp 44-ounce
Guzzler of Strawberry Dew.
BEST PLACE TO BUY
A VOWEL
In this city, where it rains more than 200 days a year,
we like our board games. Some people pass "Go" and collect
$200; others seek Colonel Mustard with a lead pipe in
the billiard room. For literate gamers, though, it's still
hard to beat the simple war of words known as (drum roll,
please!) Scrabble. But what happens when the dog has eaten
that precious 8-point X, or when the coveted 10-point
Q has been lost among the couch cushions? Don't panic.
Go to Sellwood Peddler Antiques (8065 SE 13th Ave.,
235-0946) and buy a replacement! Nestled along Sellwood's
antique row, the Peddler has a wide assortment of priceless
junk and cheap treasures. But anyone who's heard the desperate
shriek "I need letters!" will appreciate the solace Portland
game players find in knowing backup is there when they
need it.
BEST MOVERS FOR PAT ROBERTSON
"Family Men on Every Van" is the proud motto for All
My Sons Moving and Storage. While owner John Kay isn't
sure where the phrase came from, he says it doesn't mean
that only straight
married men with kids can work for him. Everyone has a
family of some sort, he says.
BEST WAY TO ALTER YOUR EGO
Wig shops usually come in two varieties: ancient relics
feeding the delusions of desperate hair seekers, and vintage-clad
hipsters ignoring you with élan. But Mrs. C's
Wigs & Hair Care Center (707 NE Fremont St., 281-6525)
combines the integrity of old-time service with the funky
fun of wearing wigs for no good reason at all. "It's for
everybody," says its delightfully named owner Rhonda Cabine-Purifoy,
who took over the 27-year-old shop with her brother Will
after their mother, Betty, retired. "We service chemotherapy
patients as well as people just wanting to have fun."
Twelve years ago, Mrs. C's rescued Gus Van Sant's Drugstore
Cowboy with a hair weave for dewy star Matt Dillon
after the on-set beautician gave him a haircut that didn't
quite match. Ever since then, though, drag queens have
become Rhonda's favorite clientele. "They have such flair,"
she says. "And they're always looking for something that's
a bit more outrageous than the last time."
BEST REASON TO GIVE
THANKS EVERY DAY
Upon hearing the seemingly innocuous word "thanksgiving,"
we carnivores experience a powerful, post-game, Pavlovian
vision: Henry VIII-worthy chunks of fresh turkey piled
high between spongy thin slices of Wonder bread. After
a few days, however, the beloved bird is gobbled up, and
we are once again relegated to the ho-hum alternative
of thinly sliced deli meats from the nearest grocery case.
But at the New Crystal Cafe (316 SW Stark St.,
223-0830), it's Thanksgiving every day of the year. Just
grab a shiny orange plastic tray, sidle up to the Crystal's
quaint cafeteria-style chow line, and salivate like Homer
Simpson as a server hand-slices your meat of choice: turkey,
pork and beef right off the bone. The whole experience
will have you believing the world's greatest grandma was
hijacked for a downtown version of the school-lunch program.
Maybe you don't want to eat these artery-clogging delights
every day, but sometimes a little comfort food goes a
long way.
BEST PLACE TO COP A PEEK WITH YOUR
PICANTE
Everyone has a story about the first time they went to
El Grillo (703 SW Ankeny St., 241-0462). Most often,
it's the one about asking for the restroom and learning
that you'll have to go through the nudie bar to get to
the john. A glance toward the nearby table full of five-o's
assures you that there are many more stories to tell--this
place is covered by so much heat it's like a scene straight
out of Serpico. As odd as it may seem, the best
burritos in downtown Portland--they come wrapped in red
and white paper that reads "Delicious" over and over in
a happy pattern--can be enjoyed amidst the slightly uneasy
standoff between law enforcement officers and the perps
from the immediate vicinity. Portland's men in blue share
the counter with strippers, drug dealers and communards
from nearby Powell's Books. Later at night, the scene
turns a little less cozy, and the man behind the counter,
Roberto, looks like he's put in a hell of a hard day.
But it's still a great place for dinner, particularly
if you sit facing the door and don't mind getting panhandled
by the local color as you eat.
BEST SUPPLY SHOP FOR MAD SCIENTISTS
Greatness lurks in gray and battered containers sometimes.
That unassuming schlep piled next to you on Tri-Met, reading
a sci-fi paperback backwards, might really be a
nobody. Then again, he/she might be a garage genius, spending
nights feverishly constructing the better mousetrap of
the 21st Century under a single flickering bulb. In a
world recently remade by a few onetime high-school nerds
from Seattle, you can't be sure. If Mr. Creepy from the
#4 Fesseden is laying the groundwork for a shining tomorrow
in his spare time, odds are he shops at 'Da Lode Surplus
Electronics (8221 N Denver Blvd., 285-0832). From
the street, this place's ramshackle appearance says "porn
shop" or "front for white-slaving operation"; it doesn't
hint at the menagerie of gizmos and whatzits within. The
long, fluorescent-lit room teems with containers overflowing
with cast-off circuit boards, insect-like switches, compressors
and processors of obscure and sinister purpose. It's like
the belly of a beast that swallowed the last 50 years
of Popular Mechanics in a single gulp. On a recent
Saturday afternoon ('Da Lode is open 4-8 pm Wednesday-Friday,
10 am-5 pm Saturday), a codger sporting a prospector-style
helmet/light assembly fingered an intricate geegaw at
the counter.
"This will be perfect," he said, more to himself than
the clerk. "Perfect." Perfect for what? He didn't say.
URBAN
LIVING
BEST PLACE TO GET
AN EMOTIONAL TUNE-UP
Car troubles suck. Whether your fan belt is slipping
or the transmission falls out of the bottom of your vehicle,
unruly automobiles drain your soul as well as your wallet.
But there is one place that offers emotional and
mechanical healing. From the baskets of New Age crystals
on the counter to the clean bathroom, Tom Dwyer Automotive
Service Inc. (530 SE Tenino St., 230-2300) is the
comfort zone of car repair. The coffee is hot and the
newspaper is current. When your car's problem is diagnosed,
the guys break the bad news to you gently--and honestly--with
a box of tissues at the ready. They will even talk you
through a euthanasia decision as competently as any psychotherapist
or clergyman. And every visit ends with a complimentary
litter bag and car-wash coupon, because a clean car is
a happy car.
BEST PLACE TO MEET CHEF BOYARDEE
If the pastels and plaids of Pottery Barn make you want
to heave, the kitchen supplies at Boxer-Northwest
Co. (438 NW Broadway, 226-1186) might stir up less-nauseating
feelings of domesticity. When, and if, you ever decide
to domesticate yourself, this is a good place to start.
If you think cooking means rummaging through a drawer
full of takeout menus, one trip to Boxer's could inspire
you to learn the basics of food prep. A sale table with
a mix of heavy diner-style plates and cups and saucers
will make you feel like you're eating out even when you're
not. Lining the aisles is a dizzying array of funnels,
spatulas and slotted spoons. And beyond the smaller
tools of the trade, you'll find big, American-made industrial
kitchen products that shine with optimism and integrity
like only good, old stainless steel can. So what if you
will probably never need a professional kitchen mixer?
It's enough just knowing that these Heloise-type helpers
exist. Between the bar-top juicers, the professional soda
fountain drink mixers and the biggest damn whisk you've
ever seen in your life, it's enough to make you turn off
the Food Network and turn on the stove.
BEST FEEL-GOOD TRENDINESS
best of portland In a time when people weather
their furniture to make it look like a family of 10 has
used it for 20 years, a lot of trendy shops have gone
to great effort to bring customers the new old look. But
what about the old, old look--what about real, live recycling?
The Rebuilding Center (3625 N Mississippi St.,
331-1877) doesn't care too much about the worn look offered
at Urban Barn, but the center recycles and resells demolished
building materials such as windows, sinks, bricks and
bookshelves, as well as other odds and ends including
iron fencing and even industrial paper-towel dispensers.
Donating saves contractors and home-improvement buffs
dumping fees and provides a tax deduction to boot, all
the while protecting our landfills from the jetsam of
our consumer-culture Love Boat. Started in 1998 as a resource
generator for Our United Villages, a grassroots nonprofit
to benefit Northeast neighborhoods, the Center is popular
with artists, designers and professional and amateur builders
alike. The selection and prices can't be beat.
NIGHT LIFE
BEST WAY TO IMPRESS CHICKS AND
FEND OFF GAY BLADES
SEat your heart out, Errol Flynn. Now anyone with a pulse,
as well as a spiffy Michelin Man-like protective jumper,
can learn the finer points of epee and foil. A bevy of
international champs and Olympic alumni have set up shop
at NorthWest Fencing Center (4950 SW Western Ave.,
Beaverton, 645-8485). The largest complex of its kind
in the United States, the center is slated to become home
to the U.S. Fencing Training Center. Created by Salle
Auriol Portland, one of the oldest fencing clubs on the
West Coast, the center currently boasts more than 150
members. This summer it will offer a series of camps for
kids and adults (July 22-28, July 29-Aug. 4), so call
soon if Johnny or Jane wants to whup ass with a saber
this summer. En garde!
BEST PLACE TO ADMIRE MANHATTAN
WITHOUT LEAVING TOWN
With its dark hue and cherry twist, a manhattan is always
an attractive drink. But the bar at Dante's (1
SW 3rd Ave., 226-6630) makes it downright devilish. The
former Mongolian Grill's translucent bar top, lit from
beneath by a magma-red glow, makes this nest the perfect
complement to the amber tones of bourbon, sweet vermouth
and bitters. No wonder. The decor of this downtown nightspot
is straight out of the Inferno, making it a wall-to-wall
hell-themed nightspot. It's like a tiki lounge or a sports
bar, with the added pleasure of eternal damnation--the
natural resting place for those Cocktail Nation hellspawn
BEST INVITATION
Sometimes you open an envelope and you immediately
understand where you're going. You know right off what
you will wear and what you will most likely drink. Right
off the bat, you get a sense for the complete essence
of the affair, in all of its still-mysterious dimension.
Whether it's images of skinny kids on roller skates in
front of La Tour Eiffel, a broad-shouldered woman
with a beach ball in a '20s-era bathing suit, or a glamourous
couple in evening wear pulling a wagon along a moonlit
cobblestone street, the invitation transports you to a
time and place that's got a lot more soul than this modern
life. The party could be a glamor-puss soiree, a night
at the Schnitz, New Year's Eve at the train station, or
a rooftop shindig. For excellence in this category, the
outstanding achievement award goes to the graphic designer
behind Pink Martini. Mike King of Crash Designs has
managed, through concert bills and postcards alone, to
create a kind of jet-setter's chic in a city where Tri-Met
on a slow night is usually a safer bet than hailing a
cab on a busy one. With posters and invites as steeped
in intrigue and romance as these, you hardly need to fork
over the cold hard cash for an actual ticket; you can
just stick the concert bill on your fridge or bulletin
board and dig that Paris, New York and Havana are nothing
more than a state of mind. Mix yourself a rum drink, put
on a pair of heels and an old Chet Baker tape, and
voilà, who needs China Forbes?
BEST PLACE TO SWILL
WITH A TODDLER IN TOW
Parents don't really need an excuse to drink--sometimes
it's a necessary step in maintaining sanity. But a problem
often arises: What to do with the little darlings while
Mommy and Daddy are catching a buzz. Ivy House
(1605 SE Bybee Blvd., 231-9528) welcomes children. Step
inside the cozy dining room, where relaxed parents sip
excellent wines as they dine upon fine food. The kids
wolf down mac-and-cheese before retiring to a nearby playroom.
On busy nights, the playrooms sometimes resemble the Survivor
television show as social Darwinism among the preschoolers
takes root. Usually, though, Ivy House is a fun, hospitable
spot for the entire family. The patio out front is also
a pleasant place to people-watch on a warm summer evening.
BEST PLACE TO GET
FREE LOVE (SOMETIMES)
The Three Sisters Tavern (1125 SW
Stark St., 228-0486) is a gay bar featuring male strippers
who bare it all. The place attracts not only queers but
also the rich and famous, and every so often a wayward
bridal party. For many, this little hole in the wall is
like a warm fuzzy. The atmosphere in the room is so positive
and open that it is, in itself, a wild celebration of
sexuality and men's bodies. It's the kind of place where
if one person runs out of dollars for tips, a stranger
next to him will hand over free bills just to keep the
love flowing. The strippers are also amazingly creative:
One guy puts whipped cream on his thing and lights matches
sticking out of it. There's a jungle gym hanging from
the ceiling for the acrobatically talented, and even though
the place is entirely sweaty and crowded, there's no more
comfortable place on earth.
BEST EXAMPLE OF NEIGHBORLY LOVE
In a climate where every neighborhood association seems
to want to shut down any bar that residents can call a
local ("Oh, the noise! Oh, the drunken debauchery!"),
it's nice to know that shining examples of good neighborliness
still exist. Business to business, that is. If you arrive
at the hopping Delta Cafe (4607 SE Woodstock Blvd.,
771-3101) and find a long wait before you can sit down
to munch its Southern vittles, simply leave your name
and walk a half-block east to the tried-and-true Lutz
Tavern (4639 SE Woodstock Blvd., 774-0353). And lo,
when a four-top comes available, the fine hosts at the
Delta will ring the Lutz's barkeep to let you know. This
excellent tradition isn't as crucial now that the shoebox-size
cafe has expanded into the space that briefly housed the
all-ages venue 17 Nautical Miles, but the place still
gets packed on steamy summer nights. And really, we can't
think of a better waiting room than the Lutz.
BEST PLACE TO SUCK A SQUISHY AT
A PUNK SHOW
Here's one rock venue that has no intention of haggling
with the OLCC to obtain a precious liquor license. The
Meow Meow (527 SE Pine St., 230-2111) would rather
serve penny candy and "squishies." Squishies are what
club owners Todd Fadel and Amy Glenn call Slurpees, those
sugary frozen drinks that turn your tongue unnatural colors.
The duo opened all-ages Meow Meow in late April because
they're doin' it for the kids. "Essentially what we're
trying to do is make it like Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory,
with Jolly Rogers, Peppermint Patties and Air Heads,"
explains Fadel. The club inhabits the warehouse that used
to house Stage 4, and besides booking consistently relevant
and engaging bands, one of its best assets is the bubblegum-hued
teen make-out room. Among the low-slung sofas you'll find
the candy bar, where you can plunk down a buck for a fistful
of Red Vines. They also dole out Popsicles and offer their
$1.50 squishies in flavors ranging from wild cherry to
grape. If you wish they'd carry Pop Rocks, just ask them
and they might.
MEDIA
BEST REASON TO KEEP
A STACK OF DOLLAR BILLS NEXT TO THE REMOTE
best of portland Death-defying pole maneuvers
and an announcer whose deadpan monologues mock the very
notion of emotive speech make America's Hottest
Dancers (midnights Thursday through Saturday on
local cable channels) the best softcore smut-fest to hit
cable TV. This strippers' delight allows club owners to
buy time to highlight their most talented (and flexible)
employees. The brainchild of Scott Moir's video-production
company (no, he's not related to the local movie-theater
family with the sound-alike name), AHD is still
in its pilot stage. So until he signs a big deal with
titty-friendly HBO, Showtime or some nasty Internet site,
dancers will be keeping their clothes on (and, believe
us, this is not always a bad idea). The dancers' outfits
are tame--sleazy but not truly offensive, just the kind
of thing you'd wear when visiting your parents to assert
your independence. But Moir's deadpan delivery of delicious
tidbits like "Lexus' favorite car is the Challenger and
her turn-ons include respect" leave even the most jaded
of booby-bar veterans giggling like schoolgirls.
BEST JAW LINE
 Let's
face it, no matter how much whiz-bang technology our TV
newsies put into the weather broadcasts, most of the time
the pitter-patter of wind patterns has all the excitement
of dinner at Aunt Judy's. But then there's Rob. And that
jaw! KATU-TV's wet-dream meteorologist Rob Marciano
has the mandibles of a young Paul Newman caught in a wind
tunnel. When he wields that little pointer and sucks in
those cheeks, it's not just the clouds that are accumulating
around town; some very concerned weather hags across the
city are sitting with their pillows between their knees
waiting to hear just how wet it will be in the Rose City.
BEST MEDIA SLUTS
At Oddball Shoe Co. (815 NW Glisan St., 827-7800),
a size-12-and-up shoe store, the motto is: "where size
always matters." Well, if you look at the magnitude of
their clippings file from the national media, you'd think
owners Seth and Zac Longaker (pictured below) were both
Deuce Bigalow, Male Gigolo. Following a lucky encounter
with freelance writer Susan Hauser at Darcelle XV, these
"big shoes for big guys" operators have appeared in successive
order in The Wall Street Journal (Hauser wrote
a piece on them), on the Today Show and in Men's
Fitness and the obligatory grocery-line reading matter,
People magazine. According to the boys, all this
attention has not gone to their heads. More likely it's
gone to their wallets. Since they started getting the
star treatment this spring, sales have increased 100 percent.
BEST SOAP BOX FOR
THE TERMINALLY SHY
 Difficulty
expressing your opinion? Try the FOX BOX. Everyone
else is. Cheaper than speech lessons and less disconcerting
than talking to a mirror, Fox Channel 49's interactive
media gizmo lets the public spew forth without ever having
to actually talk to anyone. Designed as a sort of New
Age public forum, the chat-inspiring kiosks flash random
questions on a TV/video screen and dare the onlooker to
answer. By pushing the big green button, each would-be
pontificator gets 30 seconds and a chance to see his or
her mug on the tube later that night. Just like their
prime-time brethren, the 49 crew sludges through five
to six hours of raw and uncut FOX BOX footage each day.
They then select the primo clips for Fox News at 10, where,
for 60 glorious seconds nightly, the nameless rabble of
the Rose City gets its own multimedia soapbox.
How do they pick? "We look for people who have strong
opinions and who really believe what they're saying,"
said producer Laura Layton. And Portland's full of them.
Opinions, that is: From nonprofit group representatives
to would-be boy bands, everyone gets a piece of that promised
Warhol rush. Since their introduction last October, the
FOX BOXes have featured everything from a man looking
for his long-lost son to someone in a wheelchair warning
about drinking and driving to a trio of 6-year-olds musing
on the feminist implications of the WNBA. Portland's FOX
BOXes are located at Music Millennium Northwest, the Rose
Garden Arena and downtown on the lower level of Pioneer
Place.
BEST USE OF BREASTS IN A WEATHER
FORECAST
Anyone who has ever tuned into WB has no doubt caught
a glimpse of weather girl Daria O'Neal and her "there-really-is-a-god"
figure. For those that have never seen O'Neal, think of
the voluptuous beauties that inhabit the world of Russ
Meyer's films--ass-kicking buxotic women who reduce men
to quivering masses of mindless flesh. When she delivers
the weather in leather, O'Neal looks like a meteorological
dominatrix; evoking fear and lust, she could make the
sun rise and tell it when to go down. Decked out in one
of her form-fitting sweaters, O'Neal, who also co-hosts
the morning show on KNRK-FM, is a one-woman heat wave--a
weather goddess to be worshiped. Guess with Daria the
WB stands for "Wow! Boobies!"
BEST REASON TO STAY
ON TOP OF THE NEWS
For a city the size of P-town, there's an
unbelievable number of news anchorwomen-reporters who
are total, full-on babes: Cam "What a Dish" Johnson, Brenda
"Babe" Braxton, Reed "Hot Stuff" Coleman and major hottie
"Li'l Kim" Maus, to name a few. But the stone-cold foxiest
female of the local broadcast honeys is KOIN-TV's Kelley
Day. Anyone who has ever tuned to Channel 6 during
the late-night news knows whereof we speak. Who cares
about Middle East peace accords, proposed MAX expansions
or the latest Keiko update as long as Day is flashing
that million-dollar grin? The babe-alicious Day could
announce a full-scale nuclear attack and still ignite
the fires of lust in the loins of her viewers.
BEST SQUARE PEG ON A ROUND DIAL
 Uncle
Mort stabs the air when he talks, and his eyes run
a little wild. His voice gets loud, cracking with passion.
He's a human triple bypass, basically. You have to wonder
what drives this affable Tri-Met driver, who greets the
bus-riding public with a persona he describes as "Ralph
Kramden meets Arlo Guthrie," to such extremes. Well, it's
obvious: "Monday Monday," the Mamas and the Papas song
that rules mainstream oldies radio with an iron fist.
"No one in the world wants to hear that song one
more time!" Uncle Mort proclaims. "And KISN, they'll
play that song on a goddamn Thursday! Again and
again!"
This steams Uncle Mort to no end, mostly because he takes
his oldies radio so damned seriously. For 17 years, the
one-time law student has taken his holy war for the true
sounds of the '60s to the airwaves with his show Rockaholics
Anonymous, a three-hour Monday-night showcase on KBOO
90.7 FM. Now Uncle Mort, who learned the dark arts of
rock and roll listening to weird Mexico City radio stations
in his expat youth, wants to impose his vision on a radio
dial rife with stale, easy oldies. Mort has devised a
whole new radio format called RadioSixties.
His unofficial motto describes RadioSixties as "The Future
of the Past," and he's already spreading the word to station
management around Portland. "RadioSixties is for people
who love old rock and roll but are sick of oldies stations,"
Mort says. Indeed, he wears on his sleeve his contempt
for the way '60s songs now make it to the airwaves. He's
especially hard on KISN (97.1 FM), slamming the station
for its cautious repetition of soft-boiled pop.
"They're on a death march," he says. "They pushed me
to do this. I can't believe that they'd have the gall
to play the songs they play, over and over again, and
pretend to be happy about it. They play songs like they
were trying to break a hit. I'm sick of it, and from talking
to people, it turns out I'm fairly typical. I mean, I'm
a fanatic, but I'm fairly typical."
The self-styled fanatic admits he's "still trying to
figure out what door to knock on," and he's already been
turned down, with varying degrees of politeness, by a
couple of stations. Undaunted, he insists that RadioSixties
could out-perform any other oldies format.
"I could blow up this market. Even when I get into my
weird stuff--and Uncle Mort can get a little weird--people
will still know it's good, old-fashioned '60s rock. It's
clear to me that I could be a smash hit."
And what does he mean, he gets a little weird? Without
giving away the military secrets of RadioSixties, Mort
talks excitedly about plumbing the catalogs of stars like
the Stones--or even the Mamas and Papas--for obscurities.
Maybe, just maybe, the format would let some buried gems
shine.
"You and me, we've been bounced around a little bit,"
he says, a conspiratorial shine to his eyes. "There's
a limit to how many first-love, dumb tunes we can listen
to anymore. With '60s music, there's a lot of meat on
the bone if you know where to look."
ARTSY
FARTSY
BEST "FIGHT" AT A
BLAZER GAME
After the Trail Blazers' last playoff game
this season, fans wanted to beat the entire team with
a flaccid headband. Bloodthirsty fans, however, may be
satiated by the hilarious fight that local author Karen
Karbo describes in her latest novel, Motherhood
Made a Man Out of Me (Bloomsbury USA, 288
pages, $23.95). In Karbo's story, a hugely pregnant woman,
Mary Rose, becomes enraged when she sees Ward, her baby's
father, seated across the arena with his supposedly estranged
wife. The confrontation is as ugly as one of Shaq's bricked
free throws and ends with Ward shoving Mary Rose, who
grabs a handful of a nearby vendor's red licorice SuperRopes
to break her fall. She then begins whacking Ward's head
with the candy. "This is amazing, I know," Karbo writes,
"but check any highlight reel for the season and you will
see it. TV adds 10 pounds. Mary Rose looked so stupendously
pregnant that it seemed impossible she was not carrying
a full-grown teenager. Ward cowered. He covered his face
with his hands, shiny with pinkish scales of his eczema."
Too bad all Blazer games aren't this entertaining.
BEST REASON TO GET MUGGED ON MILWAUKIE
AVENUE
If you can stand to miss out on mysterious, hotdog-shaped
"food" spinning on greasy metal racks at 7-11 next time
you're on a snack run in Sellwood, ditch the chain-store
scene entirely and drive (or walk) a few blocks to the
independently owned Milwaukie Market (4401 SE Milwaukie
Ave., 235-0512). Owner Chester Yeom is far friendlier
than the sulky cashiers at those other convenience stores,
and he has an impressive Polaroid picture collection of
his loyal, regular customers mounted above the checkout
counter. It started with one instant shot of a customer
about to move away; soon all the regs wanted a place on
Yeom's wall of fame. Some of the photos depict smiling
patrons alongside the kindly owner, while others document
the relationship histories of those who come here for
beer and snacks on a daily basis. Saying cheese isn't
the only way to get involved, though; customers can also
contribute old out-of-state license plates to the growing
collection on another wall.
BEST 'ZINES FOR INDUCING BAFFLEMENT
AND AWE
The great thing about 'zines has always been their knack
for cracking open the hermetic world views of their self-publishing
creators. Unfortunately, the aftermath of the mid-'90s
'zine revolution has seen the advent of entirely too many
gooey, navel-gazing ruminations on boyfriends, girlfriends,
the secret mysteries of love, etc. Fortunately, a few
determined trainspotters continue to document the depths
of their own obsessions for a small but grateful public.
To wit, a pair of Portland 'zines, Thumb
and The Journal of Ride Theory, enlighten
on subjects you may not have known existed. Thumb,
the project of hump-busting experimental soundsmith Eric
Mast, has devoted entire issues to home-built instruments
and, most recently, painfully obscure electronic musicians.
JORT, meanwhile, continues its inquiry into the metaphysics
of amusement park rides (other forms of motion are covered
too, but mostly amusement park rides) with its most recent
issue. Tracing the theme "Bad Ideas," Dan Howland's 'zine
chronicles a number of half-baked notions in automated
transport and amusement, and also savages the Disney empire.
Cool, eh? Thumb is available at Ozone Records,
while you can hit up the good people of Reading Frenzy
for a copy of JORT.
BEST PARADISE FOR FACT FREAKS
For many of us, facts are as important as food. Whether
it be definitions in Webster's or entries in Who's
Who, our mania borders on being a rarefied form of
autism. For the true fact addict, the Literature Room
on the third floor of the Central Branch of the Multnomah
County Library (801 SW 10th Ave., 248-5123) is nirvana.
There are the usual revered items--The Oxford Companion
to the Theater and The Oxford Companion to Literature
(known among the initiated as "Hartnoll" and "Drabble,"
respectively, in honor of the editors)--but there's also
a plethora of esoterica, including The Gaelic Lexicon
for Finnegan's Wake, The F. Scott Fitzgerald Encyclopedia
and, the greatest find of all, The Frankenstein Catalog:
Being a Comprehensive Listing of Novels, Translations,
Adaptations, Stories, Critical Works, Popular Articles,
Series, Fumetti, Verse, Stage Plays, Films, Cartoons,
Musical Recordings, and Sheet Music Featuring Frankenstein's
Monster. This last should also be known by its editor:
Professor Glut.
BEST USE OF IRONY
TO MAKE A FASHION STATEMENT
The Mullet: The most feared anti-fashion
statement to emerge from the 1980s. To many people, this
hairstyle, also known as the shlong, is not only hideous
but also threatening--at least from an aesthetic standpoint.
One Portland resident, however, thinks there is more to
the short-on-top, long-in-back atrocity than pickup trucks
and wife beaters. Mark Yokoyama recently cut his
hair into a mullet, on purpose! While you might
think he donned the 'do for an upcoming visit to Coos
Bay, the brave Yokoyama is in fact subjecting himself
to urban ridicule for his ongoing filming of a mullet-mentary.
He claims that his is the first documented ironic mullet:
"Irony is a dominant mean in our culture; there comes
a point where you can dress ironically, and ironic hair
is just a greater commitment to that." Yokoyama may sound
pretentious (he's careful to point out that he, unlike
the white trash who typically sport mullets, attended
an "East Coast, Ivy League school"), but he has a point:
Haircuts do, of course, reveal something about those who
wear them. The mullet is just one way to straddle the
line between the reckless, long-haired abandon of one's
youth and the clean-cut adult world of the close shave.
In addition to Yokoyama's flipped-out flick (and Mark
Wahlberg's hacked-up hair in an upcoming, still-untitled
movie about metalheads), the crest of thi |
