In 1983, Portland’s Chinatown was, by all accounts, a real shithole.
Peppered with empty lots, boarded-up storefronts and dealers pushing
cocaine and heroin as casually as a grocery store clerk might ask
“paper or plastic?”—it was a part of town best avoided altogether. It was in the heart of this dubious neighborhood that George
Touhouliotis, a 36-year-old Greek immigrant and former cab driver with
a fondness for poetry and rebellious youth culture, opened an equally
dirty bar called Satyricon...