Skip to main contentThe Schnoz remembers fondly those days when the State of the City address heralded big ideas. Building a new engineering school at Portland State University. Holding the line on the urban growth boundary. Capping 405. (OK, they weren't all good ideas but they were ideas, nonetheless.)
But in these dark days, it's come to this: the leader of Oregon's largest city, begging for Cheetos.
The Nose wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it himself, but there she was. Vera, the masterful mayor, who once kept the rising floodwaters at bay. Who rescued Civic Stadium from decay. Who, just a year ago, unveiled a grand River Renaissance.
Standing before the City Club last Friday, this self-same Vera paused during her State of the City speech to ask Portland's movers and shakers to extend a welcome to Mark Rodocker.
Who?
Don't feel bad; that was the Nose's response, too. As the indomitable mayor explained, her guest of honor was vice president of sales for Frito-Lay. Vera had truly exciting news. The fine folks from Plano, Texas, who bring you everything from Ruffles to Cracker Jack, are thinking of locating a regional sales office in Portland. Better yet, she said, such a move "has the potential to provide a number of well-paying jobs."
And just in case the highly conditional prospect of a career in marketing munchies didn't wow the City Clubbers, Vera salted the deal by announcing her good pal Mark had brought enough enriched cornmeal products for everyone! That's right, waiting on tables outside Multnomah Athletic Club ballroom were free Fritos.
Now, because the Nose let his City Club membership lapse years ago, he's relegated to the "public seating" section during these civic gigs, far from the pasta plates. And seeing how the mayor was only halfway through what would be a 50-minute speech, the Beak decided to sneak a peek at Rodocker's delights.
The Nose bypassed the familiar foil bags of chips and bolted right for what looked like a collection of tennis-ball cans. To the Nose's utter amazement, it turned out to be a revolutionary development in hydrogenated foodstuffs, such as Doritos Mini 3D's¨ corn snacks and "dangerously cheesy" Cheetos Asteroids¨.
While examining the handy nutrition facts on the side of the label (a quarter of your suggested daily sodium intake in just one can!) the Nose noticed something on the bottom of the Go Anywhere But Hungry!ª container. It was a pair of those triangular recycling symbols, one with the numeral 2 inside, the other with a 7.
Now the Nose, being a good Portlander, loves to tote his jugs and jars to the curb each week. So, he wondered, what would happen if he tossed his Go Go Go!ª container in the yellow bin? A quick call to our friends at Metro's recycling hotline provided the answer.
"It would probably get picked up," said the friendly advisor, "but it won't get recycled." But what about the words "please recycle" printed just below the Frito-Lay trademark? What about those numbers?
The No. 2, she explained, stands for high-density polyethylene, welcomed by recyclers. But No. 7 stands for "other," which, the Nose learned, is trouble. "That tells me the high-density polyethylene is mixed with something else," she said. "And that makes it garbage."
It seems like it was only yesteryear that Portland made headlines by banning styrofoam food containers at restaurants. Critics were furious, warning that McD's and Burger King would abandon the city. But the fast-food joints learned to love cardboard, and Portland furthered its reputation as a place interested in promoting business, but not every business.
The Nose realizes these are tough times for Vera. As she governs a city now making headlines for its unemployment rate rather than its ecological ethos, those potential 150 Fritos employees look tempting (even more so after the city pushed 430 Columbia Sportswear employees across the county line last year). But, given where those Go Go Go!ª containers are going to end up, do we really want to be known as The City that Snacks¨?
WWeek 2015