Stray Snapshot

  Today's Stray Snapshot is the counter of The Original Hotcake House. I have been going to this place since I was a couple weeks old. It brings back a lot of memories of early morning hockey games, stops before family road trips and nights (or mornings) soaking up the events of the previous hours. It's a great place to me. It may not be a four star, foodie paradise, but to me it is truly a monument in it's own right.

The Original Hotcake House has turned out over a million pancakes and hash browns in their  50+ years in Portland.

Thanks. Until next time!

My Cobain Memory.

  Standing on the cold, rainy sidewalk of NW 6th on an aimless night I waited for my friend Scott. I was waiting for him to reappear from the confines of a group of friends and acquaintances that could get us into the venue. It was January 6, 1989 and I was in front of the Satyricon trying to see Mudhoney. Scott emerged and proceeded to saunter over. "Let's go in." he said with a brash overtone. Like there was never a doubt we could get in due to age. Cold and excited to see Mudhoney for the second time that week, I shrugged and headed through the back. "Who's playing with them?" I asked in an unmoved tone. "The band that we missed Tuesday. Who fucking cares?!?" he answered. Again, I shrugged. 

   We then entered the back entrance. Jorge, one of the promoters, looked at Scott and I and said "Have fun be careful." I had no idea what we were about to see. I am and have been a Mudhoney fan since the split of Green River and the release of the "Motives" and "Touch Me I'm Sick" singles. I waited for "Superfuzz Bigmuff EP" at Music Millennium the morning it was available. Even though I was the only one waiting. That being said, I was there to see Mudhoney. That's what I thought at least.

I don't know how many of these are in circulation. I know I saw a couple on line. I have 2 of them and I will keep them forever. The name was spelled differently.

   We wandered around the back area, through the storage and came out on the side of where "the stage" was. If you remember the Satyricon back in the day you will know why there's quotes. Off to the left I saw Steve Turner from Mudhoney talking to two guys as they approached the stage. I didn't want to interrupt and I was nervous. So I stayed put. As the two guys he was talking to were interrupted by another patron, I walked up to Steve.

"Steve?" I said in the most pitiful tone. He looked at me with a curiousness and after a brief chuckle, barked "What are you like seven years old?" and laughed a bit. "No!" I said with all the confidence of a 14 year old crapping himself. "I just wanted to say you guys kick ass. I'm a big fan." I remember it vividly because I still think that I'm an idiot for saying it that way. "Thanks little brother. You going to stick around and see us?" his voice was obviously gravelly from their shows in the week.
"Absolutely! That's why were here." I said as I panned the room for my cohort Scott. He was on the side of the "stage" area acting like he belonged there. "We caught most of the show Tuesday. We were late, but made most of it. Great set!" I said with the hopes that with that statement all of a sudden would make us best friends for life. "You ever heard of these guys?" as he pointed to the two guys he had been talking to earlier. The same ones which were now taking shots with another couple folks. "No. Not really. Who are they?" I said as I peered over at the group. "Nirvana, first show outside of Washington for them. Thought we would bring them along." Steve quipped as he drank out of a dirty looking Dixie cup. Then he looked back, yelled "Heap, hold on!" to some lady and said "Enjoy, thanks and have fun. Be careful though kid." as he walked off.
  I rejoined Scott by the side of the stage. "Did you kiss him?" Scott joked. I laughed and answered the obligatory "Your mom kissed him." remark with a middle finger. "This opening band, Nirvana, or something is supposed to be good he said. It's their first show out of Washington." I added.
"First show out of Washington?!? They probably suck then. At least they're with Mudhoney." Scott responded.
"I guess we'll see." is all I answered with. As Scott and I leaned against a rickety merchant table three guys approached. They headed to the area where everything was set up.

The next 45 minutes drastically changed my music mind for the rest of my life.

Kurt Cobain that night, January 6th, 1989.
Photo courtesy of David Ackerman. He might have the only photos in existence of this show.

  Scott and I watched these three guys, who just moments before had just been milling around the place, bumming smokes and drinking, turn everyone on their ears. While I can honestly say that it wasn't the best show I have heard or seen. It is still and always will be one of my favorites.
As the worn out, sweaty, gangly band finished they walked past Scott, myself, and a group of others to the side of where they had just upset my musical world. All I could say as the singer walked by was "That was great."
"Not so much, but thanks." is all he replied.
We stuck around and watched Mudhoney. They, as usual, put on a great show. However, it was too late I was already changed forever. Mudhoney finished up. Scott and I headed for the door. On the way out I bought a cassette tape that was crudely packaged in black and white with the word Nirvana strewn across it for $2.00. I was hooked. I listened to that tape so much. I still have it.
I saw Nirvana 9 times between that night and the day I got "Bleach" from the Sub Pop order. I wore it and the "Blew" EP out. I just felt like I had found something different. Something my own. I can't compare it to anything like the Beatles or Elvis because I wasn't there.

I was here though. It seemed right.

  Then something happened. I went and picked up a brush copy of "Silver" my friend Evan had for me. He said "These guys are gaining more airplay."
"I don't know how the mainstream will take them." I replied.
To be honest, I wanted to be selfish and keep them for myself. Again, it was too late. I look back now and am glad for that.

A writer put it best when explaining their effect on music:
"Despite the fears of some of their dedicated, solid, underground fans and newer alternative-music fans, Nirvana hasn't gone mainstream, though this potent new album may once again force the mainstream to go Nirvana."

  "Nevermind" was released on September 24, 1991. The music landscape once again drastically changed. However, this time it wasn't in my head, in a dank Portland club. It was everywhere. Things seemed to go by so fast and so awkwardly after that. I saw them every time they came here and tried to see them when ever I could. The thing I enjoyed the most is that each time I saw them it was like the first time. It's hard to completely explain.
Everyone knew there was sadness buried in those lines. It was too late to stop it. It had gone of the tracks, everyone had their hand in the cookie jar, and every other cliché. It was exciting, sad and anxiety all wrapped up in an 8 pound angst wrapped package.
Even after the releases of "Incesticide" and "In Utero" had a bit of a stranglehold on the mainstream audience. You could tell that from their earliest fans to the very newest felt right about what could happen.
MTV's Unplugged performance still ranks up there as one of the most engaging performances ever by them along with Reading in '92. I was very thankful for the experience that one night opened up for me. I never thought anything but seeing Mudhoney again would come of it.
  I went to Nirvana's final show in Oregon as well as the final 2 shows in Seattle, on a whim senior year. It was a day or two past exactly 5 years since I had first seen them.
The only regret I have is that I took it for granted. I saw them often enough to not even think about final shows.
Sadly, it was true. As most people know in 1994 after an accidental overdose on Rohypnol and alcohol an intervention was staged, the rest of tour was cancelled or "rescheduled" or whatever. After less than a week in rehab though, Cobain climbed over a lame wall of the facility and took a plane back to Seattle. A week later, on Friday, April 8, 1994, Cobain was found dead of a self-inflicted shotgun wound to the head at his Seattle home by Gary Smith an electrical employee who had an appointment. I was in shock upon hearing the news. Absolute shock.

This is the poster for the last U.S. show, and the last time I would see them live.

Do I remember where I was? Yes. I was at Ticketmaster trying to get tickets to a show that would never come again.

I went to the vigils in Seattle and Portland. I witnessed a grand smorgasbord of people that were influenced by a man that seemed so accessible, yet so distant and hidden from everything.

I was 14 again. Waiting on a rainy NW street to see Mudhoney. It had come full circle.

I was crushed.

Time passes and things grow shorter. Sadness fades. I know the memory of a 14 year old fades as the years go by.
Part of that innocence, angst and memory were fortified with it though on that day.

Kurt Cobain would have been 44 years old today. While I cannot truly imagine what he would have created or been like. I will forever be saddened that myself or any of us will never get that chance.

Who knows what is waiting for a wide eyed kid out there to discover musically? Who knows what will be the next change to turn the monotony of auto-tune and lip-synched heavy pop over. It's most likely already out there, in some dank venue. Most likely opening for someone else's favorite band.
I revert back to that night in 1989 as a kid that hoped, shrugged and said "I guess we'll see."

Thanks Kurt.

Play nice. 

Portland, sometimes you make me blush.

Technology is weird and amazing. I say this because I am writing this post from a phone, on a patio, in the middle of downtown Portland. It's 78 degrees with a slight breeze. The Blues Festival is this weekend. At this moment it is floating sound through the air like thousand melancholy butterflies.
I planned on going to the Blues Fest today, then heading home. We shall see how this works out. It's one of those pretty much perfect days. It makes me want to just listen to music and wander around this city. That is precisely what I'm going to do. Enjoy your day everyone, no matter where it takes you.

Etta James sings as only she can at the 1993 Portland Waterfront Blues Festival.
One of, if not the best, performances ever at the festival.

Thanks. Until next time.

A View From My Youth #1

  It has been said that most humans do not recall much, if any at all, of their memories prior to the first two years of life. I like to think that it's because there wasn't really much to remember. I for one do not wish to remember sitting around in my own excrement while getting talked down to in baby voices. After all I have blurry memories of nights drinking heavily to remember that by. Like a lot of species our first memories are encouraged by our environment, our surroundings. I loved my surroundings growing up.
  I remember that at an early age I was frightened of the mice mascots at The Organ Grinder. Eventually I grew out of that. The memories of it being a treat to go to Bob's Big Boy when it resided on SE 82nd and Raymond, which subsequently was across the street from The Organ Grinder. One place that forever will be ingrained into my memory however is Kern Park. Outside of the Pacific Ocean, the National Forests of Oregon and my own house and yard, I have early, very great memories of that park. As cliché as it sounds,  that is an entire post all on it's own.

Age 2 at Kern Park looking like a cross between Oliver Twist and a greaser.

  As I wandered into an age where I was able to go out into the neighborhood with friends, I discovered how lucky I was. Countless hours spent playing, scraping ourselves up, making imaginary forts in the bushes in the alleyways that were curiously scattered throughout the blocks in my neighborhood. Planned trips to Elle's Thriftway during the afternoon for candy or whatever. Going to Elle's usually garnered a visit to Phoenix Rexall right next door, to look at comics and cheap trinkets.
It's weird to look at it now, my neighborhood. To see the changes through grown eyes seems like an injustice to the memories of my younger years here. I also know that things change, they come and go. What use would a memory be after all if everything was still the same? Nothing.

One of the many alley ways by my old house. Good memories of tag and "guns" in this alley in particular.

  There are things that stick out more of course. I remember the smell of Mt. Scott's Community Pool (which wasn't always a good thing) and the skating rink. The awkward ass skating rink. It's still there, the roller rink, with it's perilous posts wrapped in matting. It's where ankles go to die. I'm purposely leaving things out here because I want subject matter for later on. Obviously, I am not simply forgetting Allen Video, Penny Saver, Essex Park, and Eastport Plaza. There are too many things to focus on. Like I said before, I don't necessarily want this to be all memories and history. Although I will touch on things from time to time of memorable places from days past.  There is a lot of great things here now. That being said, there were lot of great places that are gone now. They currently house businesses that mock the memories of my childhood.

Many tokens, time and memories here.  Now it is a Super King Buffet or something.

Thanks for coming by. Until next time.

Stray Snapshot

  Ahhh, it's a stray snapshot! Stray snapshots will be on here from time to time. They will be anything from being historic or timely to a guy sleeping on MAX or a lady stepping in a puddle. Maybe even an occasional food wrapper? I'll stick pretty much anything in the Stray Snapshot, as long as it's in or around Portland. You get the picture.

Today's Stray Snapshot is the side entrance and breezeway between Renner's in Multnomah.

I can't count how many times I have walked out this way blurry and slurry.

Until next time.

The rain helps with the chaffing.

  There's been many, many things we have all seen that we wish we could "un-see" right? I know I have my fair share of them. Some of them ungodly, misshapen images I tuck away somewhere hoping they never resurface. Some of them are tolerable because they are oddly fascinating in a funny, quirky, maybe even have a moroseness to them. The latter is how I feel about thousands and thousands of people riding bicycles naked through Portland.
  It's that time of year again (like there needs to be an excuse) for the World Naked Bike Ride! I don't really feel like it's all that weird of a thing to do. What I did wonder though is exactly what kind of  city ordinances do they break? How many of them? How are they going to stop a team of thousands of slippery nudies? Why would they? While these questions don't keep me up at night. I did start to wonder about Portland's obscure city ordinances, some which date back to the city's earliest days. A lot of cities have some fairly unknown laws. Mind you some of these are outdated and haven't really been modified. Some are not too dated at all. Here are a few from the surrounding areas:

• In Myrtle Creek, Oregon you may not box with a Kangaroo.
• In Stanfield, Oregon no more than 2 people can share a drink, also, animals are not allowed to have sex in city limits.
• Ministers are forbidden from eating garlic or onions before delivering a sermon in Marion.
• It is illegal to predict the future in Yamhill, Oregon! So don't try it! Do NOT try leaving your cellar doors open. Cellar doors ARE NOT to remain open! That too is a no-no.

These bastards are in trouble. There better not be a soothsayer down there!

  While I know all laws have a time and place. For the most part laws and ordinances keep things in line. I always thought the "no cruising" law here was not broad enough. Especially with as many one way streets as we have. All across the world there are fantastically lame or bizarre regulations. By comparison, Portland's are pretty tame. Many of the noteworthy laws were structured by city officials with little or no expertise. So I guess it's for the best that I don't plan on raising bears, lions or crocodiles in the city. I am curious as to why I cannot tie a chicken to my doorstep during Lent though? While I agree that it's a good law to not be able to carry a baby on a hood, fender or running board of a moving vehicle,  I don't see the harm in whistling underwater.

Thankfully 'Patience' was recorded above the water's surface.

  Now let's get back to the undraped cyclists, skateboarders, pogo-ballers and free spirits that roamed the streets earlier in the week. Oregon law states that "indecent exposure" is regarded as so only when it is intended for public arousal. Within the last couple years Portland revised it's own ordinance which included exposed genitalia to that law. There is no law that bans women from baring their boobs in public spaces.
  There were obviously a lot of various appendages free in the wind the other night, I didn't see anyone freak out or look like they were aroused. Essentially, there is a loop-hole for it. Which I think is fantastic. Doing a moderate amount of research on these basic, and at times obscure laws made me realize a couple things.
For one, there are a ton of laws that should be rewritten or thrown out all together to reflect the modern day. Secondly, a lot of these laws are not general knowledge to anyone including some on our own police force and people in political chairs.
Which brings me to my last thought. Before you start climbing up the soap box to scold someone for a minor infraction, think to yourself - "Did I break a law today?" - Odds are, you probably did.

Now, if you will excuse me, I must hurry and unload these dishes. I would hate to get a citation for not letting them drip dry.

Definitely watch out for this hardened criminal. Eating ice cream on a Sunday is as hard-core as it gets. 

Until next time.

A little, teeny bit of history.

I love Portland.

  My love for this city is unwavering. I guess in retrospect this city has been more like a surrogate parent.  All the feelings I have associated with the city I was born and raised in seem to encompass that. The wanting to leave and be apart, the missing it to tears, the frustration, the disappointment, the growth, the loss, the happiness and everything between the cracks.
   Over the years I have tried to learn as much about this ever evolving city as I possibly can. In this infinite search I have discovered a common theme: It's nearly impossible. Like a lot of cities throughout this planet, it grows in different forms and shapes. It's politics get scattered, people come and go, as do the trends. Buildings are raised and razed sometimes in the same day. Meanwhile, there are pieces of this town that are timeless, some that are untouched.
  There is rich history and enormous tragedy everywhere in the Rose City. At times they have occurred at the same place and time. While I don't have a true idea of the direction this blog will take, I have a faintly drawn 'blue-print' of sorts. I would like it to be a bit of everything in no particular order. No timeline to follow. There are many sites and books for that. I don't want to put a period on it.
I imagine it more like an amoeba like creature. The solid thing is the subject. I have no worries about that.

1960's Postcard from Portland picturing Harbor Drive. It is what is now part of Tom McCall Waterfront Park.

 I don't feel it's necessary to give a whole bio about who I am or anything. I'm not really a writer, I can tell you that. For now I think I will just post the following information about myself:

• I was born and raised in Southeast Portland.
• I take too many pictures.
• I don't take enough pictures.
• I think the Hydro-Tubes should still be running at Eastport Plaza.
• I'll never grow out of field trips.
• I still live in Portland.
• I will always have a place in Portland.

Thank you for your time. Keeping coming by or follow.

Would it not be great if we could still speed uncontrollably down these contraptions inside of a quickly built structure  like a lovely 1980's mall?