Present Appearance of
Portland-View from River and Hills-Prominent
Buildings -Character of Streets-Albina-Parks-Exposition
Building-Chinese Quarters-Hotel
Portland-East Portland-Cemeteries-Casualties
of Nature-Floods and Fires.
In order to describe a
number of the features of our city, which
need not be treated separately, but without
which our work would be quite incomplete, it
is attempted here to pass through the place
from north to south, giving a running
commentary upon scenes and events as we go,
and to throw in gratis whatever hard fads or
statistics may be necessary for elucidation.
It will be borne in mind that this is a
description of the Portland of today, and
may therefore serve for future reference, as
well as for present information.
A poet of America once pitched upon the
Columbia river and its continuous woods as a
type of solitude. This imperial stream,
although now tracked by steamships and
hundreds of boats, nevertheless impresses
one as still lonely; the small rude
villages, the canneries, the sawmills,
situated in the shade of the forests or in
the clefts of the hills, as yet exert no
influence to trans-form the character of the
river. On nearing the mouth of the
Willamette one finds this air of solitude
still unrelieved. St. Helens, an
old-fashioned spot, possesses a certain
dreamy attraction on its green shores above
its bluffy rocks, but is unable to break the
spell. The wonderfully beautiful islands and
shores of the Willamette at the delta, fail
to betray the fact that white men have been
here for nearly a century. They are marked
with but slight traces of man, unless it be
for the huts of wood cutters, or the barns
of cattle raisers. The wide, open meadow
lands lie uncultivated. The trees along the
shore have been felled but here and there.
The steep impending hills to the west rise
in successive eminences and ridges, hardly
betraying the stroke of an axe. Old, weather
beaten houses on the shore, a few mossy
orchards, sweeping green meadow lands, with
cows wandering and grazing, make, up most of
the picture. To be sure one sees occasional
sections of the railroad line and the
telegraph poles strung on invisible wires,
but hardly a more pristine scene is to be
met with in the world, than on the lower
Willamette, and it gives scarcely an
intimation of the presence of a city. One
would .think Linnton or St. Johns the end of
the way.
From the lower river Portland is scarcely
imposing. It has not amplitude of front to
give it perspective. It could never rival
New York, as seen from its lower bay. It has
not the amphitheatric presence of San
Francisco, or even Tacoma, enabling the
observer to take in the whole picture at one
glance. Neither has it a magnificent sweep
of water to introduce it, like Astoria, or
the sense of infinity from contiguity to the
sea. The hills, still ragged with a forest
broken but not cleared, tower on the
horizon, and form the emphatic portion of
the prospect. On the east side, as one looks
against the face of the rolling plain, giant
stubs of dead trees belonging to the once
imperial forest, rise irregularly from out
of a ground work of picturesque brush and
wild young fir trees that have sprung tip
with the vigor of ancient times, but
ignorant that they have fallen upon an age
no longer benignant to their existence.
The general ensemble of the city as it
slowly discloses itself from behind the bold
shoulders of King's Heights, is still that
of nature untamed, and seems almost to
forbid the idea that a city of 50,000
inhabitants lies between the river and
hills. Nature is here present upon such a
preponderating scale that it may be well
doubted whether the general idea of art, and
the craft of man as the ruling sentiment
will dominate for half a century yet. Even
piling up buildings of many stories in
height, and towers, and lining the rivers
with masts, seems to be but as the sinking
of a river into the ocean-art into
nature-leaving the long circle of hills to
smile or darken as the sky is bright or dim.
On a fine clay the Heights are gay with
greenery or the colored foliage of deciduous
trees; and in the summer flush to pink, or
pale to amber on their exposed fronts. But
more habitually they affect heavier tints,
assuming a dark blue or a sombre purple. A
soft veil of haze, curtain like, frequently
rests over the city, and lies in tenuous
invisible folds on the prominences,
gathering to more perceptible depths in the
cliffs and ravines. The rich verdure, the
stately trees that will always grow, and the
tinted atmosphere, will ever give Portland a
peculiar tone and coloring of her own-not
ruddy or blazing like some tropical or Rocky
Mountain city, but rich, warm and
entrancing.
Wreaths of smoke from a multitude of stacks,
here and there jets of white steam from
almost every building on the water front;
masts of ships, bustling steamers and the
iron bridge, looking in the distance like
the work of genii, at length arouse one from
the powerful spell of nature, and assure him
that he has reached the place. Two great
buildings at Albina demand first attention,
and show upon what a great scale the city is
now working. These are the Portland Flour
Mills and the Pacific Coast Elevator. The
flour mills occupy two immense buildings of
seven stories in height, and turn out a
product that not only feeds our own people,
but goes the world over. Trains of cars run
immediately to their walls. They are the
property of W. S. Ladd & Co.
The Elevator is a new enterprise, and a
building has been erected this summer at a
cost of about $1,000,000. It was established
by a capitalist of Minneapolis, F. H.
Peavey, who is the principal owner. Mr. E.
C. Michner is the resident partner and
general manager. Mr. D. P. Brush is
superintendent. All of these gentlemen are
thoroughly acquainted with the methods of
handling wheat by elevator, and their
enterprise undoubtedly marks a new era in
the method of shipping cereals. The elevator
is an enormous structure, built upon deep
water of the river on a foundation of
piling, which, however, is being filled in
with earth at a cost of $20,000. It is 375
feet in length over all by 70 feet in width,
with a height of 150 feet to the peak. It
has a capacity of 1,000,000 bushels, being
fully up to the eastern elevators in all
dimensions. By its eight shippers, or
sixteen elevators, eight cars may be
unloaded at once, in about fifteen minutes
time; and two ships may be likewise loaded.
It is furnished with eight separators and
cleaners, with a capacity of 3,000 bushels
each per hour. There are also sixteen scales
of a capacity of 60,000 pounds each. It is
in every respect furnished with the latest
appliances, such as steam shovels, and is
adapted to handling in bulk or in sacks. The
entire building is lit by 178 incandescent
electric lights operated by an engine and
dynamos on the ground; and is protected from
fire by Worthington pumps.
Albina itself strikes one with the general
weight and importance of its operations. It
lies-so far as the business portion is
concerned -upon a low tract of land about
the level of high water, but twenty-five
feet above the low stage. It is most
admirably adapted to railroad work, and is
the terminal of the O. R. & N. line. Here is
seen upon the plat a labyrinth of tracks,
long trains of cars, the immense brick
round-house with twenty-two stalls; the car
shops of brick, the largest more than 400
feet in length, and 60 feet to the peak,
with arched doors and roofs furnished with
windows for admission of light. A brick
chimney of 156 feet in height, an engine of
500 horse power, and two other shops of
large dimensions, afford means of repair and
of manufacture.
Almost the whole river front of Albina is
occupied by wharf buildings as much as 200
feet deep, with arching roofs as much as
fifty feet above the water. They rest on
piling set systematically and of selected
smooth, uniform logs. The business part of
the town, aside from its great works, is of
rather mean appearance, of cheap temporary
structures, small sized and of inferior
architecture. The residence portion is built
well back on the face of the bluff or on the
plain beyond, and has attractive school
houses and churches and many pretty
cottages. On the river bank is the saw mill
of John Parker & Co., with a capacity of
about 30,000 feet per day.
On the lower part of the city opposite, on
the west side of the river, one notices the
bone yard of the O. R. & N. Co., where old
skeletons of mighty ships-or shallow river
crafts-lie white and dry on the embankment.
Scant trees, usually shaking in the river
breezes, of such deciduous growth as balm or
oak, lend grace to an eerie looking shore.
There are various river crafts tied up or
moored along, or hauled up on the sand, some
of which are occupied by families whose cook
stove smokes ever curl and blow, and whose
red and white garments washed and hung out
to dry, ever flap in the breezes. Weidler's
great saw mill, a mammoth, whose dust and
shavings gild the shore for many a rod,
whose corpulent logs float idly in the boom,
awaiting the time of their dissolution, and
whose tall chimney smokes silently, and
whose engines still puff white steam, also
draws a long gaze. It is next up the river
from the " bone yard" or place where
steamboats out of service are moored and as
an establishment, ranks as one of the old
standbys. Other lumbering establishments,
wharves, warehouses, ships, and such
amphibious buildings, huddle farther up. All
this lower city front for many a mile is raw
and wholly utilitarian, not a shingle or
pile ever having been set for beauty or
symmetry. Nevertheless, there is an immense
attraction about it, like the grim,
unassuming comeliness of rocks; and if kept
a little cleaner so as not to offend the
senses by a variety of ill odors, would lure
one to long vigils and reveries in its
environs. Behind the river bank lie the
lagoons, green with slack water and aquatic
plants, earthy smelling, and crossed and
recrossed by trestle roadways and railway
tracks. A great work has been done in
filling the upper end of Couch lake, making
the ground look for a long distance as if it
had been the battle ground of the
Titans-indeed of the modern coal-smutted
dump-car hands of Titanic energies.
From these somewhat uninviting parts, one
passes westward up the long streets, meeting
with an area of manufacturing
establishments, and gradually finding
himself in the midst of a middle class of
cottages, mostly unpretentious, but
comfortable and occasionally displaying
signs of ambition. This passed, one is led
rapidly on by the sight of grand and
imposing residences in the distance, of
costly strucure and splendid ornamentation.
Many of these are set upon whole blocks,
beautifully decorated with trees, turf and
flowers, and supplied with tasteful
drive-ways. One notable feature of Portland
here first seen, is the elevated or terraced
blocks, making the level of the lawn a
number of feet above the streets, giving a
somewhat regal aspect to the whole premises.
Some of the more palatial of these edifices
occupy double blocks, the cross streets not
being run through. Among those of the
spacious and magnificent West End are houses
costing about $20,000 to $50, 000-some of
them $90,000 each-of three and four stories,
and mainly in the Queen Anne style. It is
upon the swell of the plateau that these
fine houses begin to appear, and the views
from their upper windows and turrets are
extensive. For ten blocks back-16th to 26th
streets-or even further, and from about N
street southward to Jefferson, or some
twenty streets, the region is, by popular
consent-and still more by prevailing
prices-forever dedicated to dwellings of
wealth and beauty. The streets here are, for
the most part, well paved and delightfully
ornamented, but not overshadowed by trees.
The houses are projected and their
accompanying grounds are laid out on such an
ample scale, and there is so little
crowding, the sun and sky have such complete
access that one is much impressed with the
general air of elegance and taste: There is,
of course, none of the marble and stony
grandeur of New York or Chicago, of the
splendor of Euclid Ave., in Cleveland, or
the lavish adornment of Jackson street in
Oakland, California, or the pre-eminent
extravagance of the palaces of the money
kings of Nob Hill, in San Francisco; but for
substantial comfort and tasteful display the
west end of Portland has few rivals. It is,
moreover, devoid of superfiness, or
niceness, but is wholesome and neat. The
general spirit of this portion of town might
be distinguished from the streets or avenues
of other cities, in that the separate houses
appear to be built independently and with
reference only to their own needs and
entirety, while the others referred to are
more often constructed as complete streets,
each edifice being planned and laid out with
reference to the rest, and as but a part in.
one continuous whole. The characteristic of
Portland in its residential quarters will
probably prevail even when the city attains
its largest population, since the
irregularities of ground and peculiarities
of situation will necessarily modify the
architecture, and, to quite an extent, at
least, make each dwelling a complete whole
in itself.
On the environs of this region toward the
north are two buildings very worthy of note.
One of these is St. Vincent's Hospital,
under the charge of the Sisters of Charity,
among the cottages and shops toward the
Lake; and the other the Good Samaritan
Hospital, on 21st and 14 streets, much
nearer than the other to the hills. The
latter was established in 1875 under the
Episcopal diocese, but chiefly by the labors
of Bishop Morris. It, like St. Vincent's,
has a substantial building three stories
high, including basement and 75 feet wide,
by a length nearly twice as great. Both St.
Vincent's and the Good Samaritan make
amends-to some extent at least-for the evil
deeds of the men stealers and body
destroyers that lurk along the North Shore.
The Bishop Scott Military Academy on 14th
and B streets, founded by the first
Episcopal bishop of the Pacific Northwest,
the medical college near by, the stately
block of houses of Mrs. Judge Williams, and
a multitude of handsome dwellings adorn the
bulge of the plateau on the other hand. The
steep hill to the west is rapidly being
cleared of its logs and brush and fine
houses are ascending its sides, and perching
upon coigns of vantage and in sunny plats on
their uneven slopes.
B street, running up from Couch's Addition,
is the natural boundary of North Portland on
the south, following for the most part the
depression of Tanner Creek, and further on
over to King's Creek. Between this and
Jefferson street, some ten blocks, the land
has, owing to the irregularities of the
ground, and the little winding vale of the
creek, been left lying in large, and often
irregular blocks, some of which contain an
area of as much as five acres. The lay of
the tract is romantic and delightful in the
extreme. The creek forms a sunken valley,
with little meadows on either side, which
have been, and to some extent are still
occupied by the Chinese for garden purposes.
Ash trees, weeping willows, and various wild
shrubs have been suffered to grow, and the
winding lines of this depression, cut by
water, form a most grateful rest from the
strict angularity of the streets as laid out
by man. Upon the west side the hill climbs
rapidly, but not abruptly out of the cleft,
going steadily and confidently toward the
Heights. On the way its looks back,
figuratively speaking, somewhat lovingly,
certainly very gracefully, and makes no such
violent assent as the sterner hills to the
northward and southward. It is no breathless
climb, but an easy ambling gait. The big
plats, grassy and set with small trees, lie
wide, with but few houses, but those present
large and stately. That of Mrs. Gaston on
the first swell, and a cluster near form a
handsome group. On the northern side of this
hill front a tract of some five acres is
occupied by the residence and grounds of
Mrs. H. D, Green, the house, whose
delightful architecture and adornment is
almost submerged in a wealth of beautiful
trees. Her large hot-houses, filled with the
finest of exotics, are a mark for the sun
and a gnomon to the whole city upon which
they look down.