Author Archives: Doug

A Legacy Written in Stone (ok, concrete)

April 3, 2009 By in Builders, History Walks, Neighborhood History Tags: , , , 7 Comments

Who hasn’t come across the time stamp of history on neighborhood sidewalks? If you’re paying attention, even on a simple stroll around the block, you’ll find yourself on the trail of the past.

Curbs and sidewalks under construction, from The Oregonian, June 3, 1910.

Curbs and sidewalks under construction, from The Oregonian, June 3, 1910.

On most blocks–typically near the corners–you’ll find the name of the contractor who installed the sidewalks and curbs, along with the date of their construction, and even the names of the streets. Think of it as a signature, and appreciate the irony that even though the prestigious builders of the big houses are long gone, the identity of the grunt-work done by  ditch diggers, form builders and concrete finishers has stood the test of time.

The curbs and sidewalks on my block–block 23 of the Alameda Park Addition–were built by Warren Construction Company in the summer of 1912. Warren Construction, like other companies, had contracts with the city to excavate, frame and pour many city blocks worth of sidewalks and curbs. Look carefully and you’ll find the printed names of Hassam Construction, Krieq, Elwood Wiles and others.

elwood-wiles-stamp

So, here’s some insight into two of the of the companies you’re going to bump into walking around the Alameda Park neighborhood, and some great factoids you’ll want to hang onto for scintillating dinner conversation. After you’ve paid enough attention to these names–and learned a little about the companies and when they operated–you can almost tell what era and corner of the neighborhood you’re in just by looking at the names on the sidewalks.

Warren Construction Company

This company once employed world-renowned chemist and Nobel Prize winner Linus Pauling as its chief asphalt inspector. Pauling, born in Portland in 1901, was a young man when he worked summers for Warren, testing the quality of its asphalt production facility. Pauling recalled, years later, how company bosses didn’t want him to go on with his studies…they wanted him to stay put on quality control. In addition to giving one of the world’s greatest chemists his start, Warren Construction also made a name for itself building and installing all of the concrete decking on the Interstate Bridge (first opened in 1917), and applying the asphalt surface once the bridge deck was complete. They also worked on the Columbia River Highway as well.

 

Elwood Wiles

If you are a walker, this man is a household name. You see him everywhere on Portland’s east side. For years, I wondered about his identity, and after doing the research, I finally have a few answers. Wiles was born in Canada in 1874, and came to Portland in 1887. After high school he worked in a variety of jobs for a local harness maker before going into the sidewalk business. From 1903 til about 1917, Wiles held the majority of all city contracts for excavating, framing and pouring curbs and sidewalks. After the big building boom of these years, Wiles dabbled in timber speculation, concrete pipe manufacturing, stocks and bonds, and insurance. In his later years, he owned an illuminated traffic sign company. He died in Portland in December 1956. Be sure to check out this photo of Wiles and biography I’ve written in  The Builders section here on the site.

Interested in helping create an inventory of sidewalk contractors in Alameda? A couple of us are setting out to do some documentation, and we could use a studious person with some time to spare (and a digital camera) to help. If you’re interested in joining in, drop me a note: doug@alamedahistory.org.

Click here to see what’s been done in the Hawthorne neighborhood.

If this topic really piques your interest, check this out.

Alameda Theater Memories

March 28, 2009 By in Business History, Memories, Neighborhood History Tags: , , 6 Comments

A few months back, we came upon a photograph, taken on May 6, 1926, showing the nearly completed Alameda Theater, located at NE 30th and Alberta. Have a good look at it and soak up the details, and then look at an image from today. 

 

Alameda Theater, NE 30th and Alberta. Photo taken in May 1926. Note construction materials to the left. View looking southeast.

Alameda Theater, NE 30th and Alberta. Photo taken in May 1926. Note construction materials to the left. View looking southeast.

The same view today.

The same view today.

Remarkably, most of the original exterior is still intact. The corner entry and box office; the two prominent display cases that frame the opening; the ornamental trim along the building’s parapet; the box office just inside the entry portico; the spider web window and Georgian doorway just left of the theater entry which opens into a steep stairwell to the second floor; even the store fronts to the left of the main entry (the transom windows are still operational).

You can’t see it in the earlier photo, but the original Mediterranean style roof tiles are still in place. The marquee was removed some years back, but a 1926 time traveler would definitely recognize the building today, at least on the outside (they might ask about all those antennas on the roof). On a recent visit, the building was locked so we didn’t have a chance to look around inside.

The observant reader will also note the streetcar tracks making a sweeping left turn from Northeast 30th to Alberta Street eastbound…the Alberta Line, which operated from 1903 to 1949.

Here’s a snapshot of its history:

From 1927-1937, it operated as the Alameda Theater (even though it is a few blocks north of the Alameda Park subdivision proper).

From 1937-1964 it was simply known as the 30th Avenue Cinema.

From 1964-1969 it went by the catchy name of “Cine 30.”

From 1969 until it closed for good as a theater in 1978, it went back to its earlier name: Alameda Theater.

Since 1978, the building has served as the home of the Macedonia Church of God, and its current role as home to the Victory Outreach Church.

Along the way, trips to the movies entertained generations of our neighbors, and provided some enduring memories, particularly for a couple of brothers who grew up here in the neighborhood in the 1950s. Steve and Marshall Turner talk about the theater in the same breath as Hunderups, the other neighborhood hang out at NE 30th and Prescott (see the earlier post about Hunderups). We’ve been in touch with Steve and Marshall, and they’ve shared these memories of a misspent youth:

We have fond memories of the 30th Ave. Theater. It was a place where kids could go with their friends and act like kids and generally misbehave without too much chance of parental repercussion.

We looked forward to the Saturday matinees which cost $0.25 cents as I recall. We would usually make a stop at Hunderup’s Drug Store on the way to “buy” candy because it was cheaper to charge it all to our account at Hunderup’s than to actually pay for it at the theater.

Matinees usually consisted of a cartoon such as Tom & Jerry, Woody Woodpecker, Porky Pig, Casper the Ghost, or Daffy Duck. Cartoons were followed by a News Reel and a short serial such as Flash Gordon, The Rocket Man, The Three Stooges, Spin & Marty, or Abbot  & Costello.

The main features always seemed to be a Sci-Fi film such as House on Haunted Hill starring Vincent Price, It Came From Beneath the Sea; Them (a movie about ants that became gigantic through atomic radiation); The Attack of The 50 Foot Woman; The Day The Earth Stood Still; It Came From Outer Space; Forbidden Planet; The Blob War of The Worlds; This Island Earth; and Monster on The Campus, starring Arthur Franz, just to name a few.

Sometimes management would feature a local personality to entertain the kids. We remember seeing Mr. Moon and Addie Bobkins too.

The manager would sometimes get up on stage before the movie started and remind us to be on our best behavior. But, of course, as soon as the lights were dimmed 5,000 pieces of candy would be flying through the air. Experienced movie viewers would never sit directly below the balcony as they were easy targets for “spilled” soft drinks and wads of chewed up juicy fruits, dots, or jujubes. If we had to sit on the main level it was always to the rear so as to not be in the line of fire from the viewers above.

The screen itself was even a target and since we didn’t like the black colored dots very well these made good ammunition. Every once in a while you could hear a loud “whump” against the screen.  Mr. Moon himself took a black dot in the temple. Once in a while we took pea shooters or squirt guns with us if we really felt mischievous.

In the movie Monster on the Campus, an actor who resembled Ralph Wampler, our Alameda Grade School Principal at the time, got killed. One of the neighbor kids yelled out “hey, they just killed “Wampie,” which got all the Alameda kids laughing and shouting.

Once the movie was over it was a good idea to hustle out of the balcony quickly to avoid being recognized by one of our targets below. We would then stop by the Blue Bird Ice Cream shop next door to buy an ice cream cone with the money we saved by charging our candy at Hunderup’s.

One of the last movies they showed was the Beatles’ film A Hard Days Night, but we didn’t see it.

Once the church is done with the building, somebody should buy this place, restore it, and start showing old monster movies. But they should consider shutting down the balcony.

What do you remember about the old 30th Avenue Theater?

Alameda Theater Box Office, today a spot for the greeters at Victory Outreach Church.

Alameda Theater Box Office, today a spot for the greeters at Victory Outreach Church.

Old House History in The News

March 26, 2009 By in Neighborhood History, Old House History, Research 1 Comment

We see this morning that a recent interview with The Oregonian has turned into a very nice story, which ran in the Thursday, March 26th edition of the paper. Feature writer Larry Bingham wrote the piece out of an interest in old house history, and in keeping with the paper’s focus on Oregon history during this susquicentennial year. You can find the story here at this link. Thanks Larry!

Ken Birkemeier, Prolific Alameda Builder

March 14, 2009 By in Alameda Park, Builders, Neighborhood History, Research Tags: , 7 Comments
A collection of images relating to Ken Birkemeier. Top left, Ken and his wife of 50 years Marge. Photos and drawings courtesy of Dan Birkemeier.

A collection of images relating to Ken Birkemeier. Top left, Ken and his wife of 50 years Marge. Below, homes he built in the neighborhood. More pictures in The Builders section. Photos and drawings courtesy of Dan Birkemeier.

After a very interesting few weeks of research, correspondence with the Birkemeier family, and lots of walking around the neighborhood looking at dozens of houses he built, I’ve posted some background on local architect and builder Kenneth L. Birkemeier. You’ll find the details (and some more photos) over in the new section called The Builders (click here). It was great to hear memories from various family members, particularly the story from his grandson Dan, who is today an architect in Seattle.

You’ll note that I’m inviting your stories or photos of Birkemeier homes, so let me hear from you and I’ll share them here on the blog.

The new section is up to four major builders now, with dozens more to go. One thought that occurred as I walked around the neighborhood this week is that Irwin, Read and Berkemeier must have known each other. Between the three of them, they designed and built dozens of houses here in the neighborhood…they must have been bumping into each other along the way.

Next on my list is Harry Phillips, who designed and built many of the homes along Ridgewood and Gile Terrace in the late 1920s. I also want to delve into the history behind the reference to the “Town of Wayne,” which is a small plat south of Fremont and between 32nd and 29th.

Inquiring minds want to know: Who was Wayne?

New Section on The Builders

March 10, 2009 By in About the Blog, Builders Tags: , , , 1 Comment

Today I’ve added a new section to the Alameda History website that provides a focus on the builders. Look up above and to the right and you’ll see the word “The Builders.” From there you can click into a sub-page that provides links off into biographies I’m writing about the men and women who shaped our neighborhood landscape. I’ve started out with three builders I am very familiar with, but soon there will be more.

Fans of houses built by Ken Birkemeier will be glad to know I’ve made contact with his family and will have lots to share soon, including early photos of some houses and a complete listing of Birkemeier houses in the neighborhood.

My goal in focusing on the builders is to pay tribute to them, to take account of and remember their work, and to create an interest, appreciation and curiosity about the homes we all live in.

“It lies on a slight eminence…”

March 4, 2009 By in Alameda Park, Neighborhood History Tags: , , 4 Comments
It was 100 years ago this week that the first newspaper advertisements began to run extolling the virtues of the newly platted Alameda Park district. The text is pretty flowery and the ad is jammed with words. Here, take a look:
From The Oregonian, March 16, 1909

From The Oregonian, March 16, 1909

This ad tells us much more about the men behind the Alameda Land Company than it does about the development itself. You get a very clear idea of who they were pitching to, and their intent to offer a “first in” deal to the early wave of investors and potential homeowners. It’s important to point out that in March 1909, there wasn’t much up here on the ridge but mud, Douglas-fir trees, brush, some small orchards and a rutted dirt road running up the hill (today’s 33rd Avenue). Panoramic views of lakes? Hmm. Not sure where they got that one. There was a small pond in the area near today’s NE 28th and Siskiyou. Maybe you could see that from the ridge…

Just one month previous to this advertisement, the Alameda Land Company filed its first plat. Even though there were no streets or curbs or water or any service in place, this March push of advertising was aimed at creating a personality for the new district and to put it on buyers’ radar screens. Different (but similar) ads ran each day this week.

Interesting to note that the March 1909 ads, which seemed to claim well-paved streets, were roundly criticized by the developers of neighboring plats, particularly Irvington, which by 1909 actually had well-paved streets, homes, water, gas and curbs. In their own advertisements taken out the following weeks, the Irvington crew called the Alameda Land Company a pack of liars, literally, for their exaggerated claims. The ad sales guys at The Oregonian must have loved it!

Style Points | The Four Square

February 21, 2009 By in House Styles Tags: , , 4 Comments

It’s all in the name: four square.

Four sides of equal dimension, and each side equal in height and in width. In essence, that’s the four square house, though a variation on the style added a bit more space by making the front-to-back walls longer. These practical, attractive, stately beauties can be found in Alameda mostly north of the ridge, throughout Irvington, and in just about every other Portland neighborhood. The style was most popular in the 19-teens-Portland’s biggest residential building boom-and is seldom seen after the 1920s when builders and buyers turned their attention to the Tudor, the colonial, and other modern styles.

21_january_1912_517_e_42nd1

Here’s a shot of a classic four-square, which ran in The Oregonian on January 21, 1912.

The four square is almost always a two-storey house and is capped off with a hipped roof: a pyramid shaped top-hat that reflects the symmetry of the four walls. Sometimes the eaves extend out far beyond the walls with solid or ornate brackets (in a kind-of Prairie School style reference). Often four squares have a dormer or two up top which add a little head room to the attic and bring in some natural light.

In the purest form, the interior floor plan of the four square was also (you guessed it) a square: four rooms of equal size, which ensured a corner for each space and precious cross-ventilation.

Porches, ever-popular during the first part of the last century, almost always span the entire front wall. Interesting to note that lots of front porches simply wore out in the middle of the 20th Century. A review of building permits for the Alameda neighborhood shows a high frequency of porch demolition and reconstruction in the 1940s and 1950s. All that wood just couldn’t hold up against all that water. Sometimes the rebuilt porches, while practical and often concrete, left a lot to be desired historically. It’s not uncommon to see a lovely four square with a tiny porch roof just over the front door, with concrete stairs and wrought iron railings…clear clues to some early remodeling.

Most four square houses have some visible influence from the Craftsman style, whether inside with door and window trim and other details, or outside in the form of eave brackets, window trim, porch columns or other details. That’s just natural: the builders who constructed these houses were also building bungalows and larger houses. And the Craftsman style was popular with home buyers and home owners at the time. Over the years, as styles changed, often these details were removed or altered to keep up appearances.

A note about taxonomy: you might hear these houses referred to as “Old Portland Style.” Portland didn’t have a corner on the market for four squares…they are everywhere that homes were being built in the U.S. during this era. The Old Portland reference is a relatively new term, likely coined by realtors, that lumps together all two-storey, square, “boxy” looking houses. Don’t be fooled. Now you know: just look for four walls of equal dimension.

Prescott Fountain–Hunderups

January 16, 2009 By in Business History, Memories, Neighborhood History, Old Photos Tags: 9 Comments

I’ve embarked on a line of research that involves trying to understand the businesses that have served Alamedans over the years, with a focus on the smaller shops that existed around the perimeter of the neighborhood. Here’s one that will bring back some memories for those who knew it, and will intrigue those of us who didn’t.

Prescott Fountain, 1955

 prescott-fountain-1955

This view is looking northeast from the corner of NE 29th and Prescott. Photo courtesy of Tom Robinson, Historic Photo Archive. Below is the same place, 54 years later.

 

Food King Market, 2009

food-king-2009

We live not too far from Food King and drop in from time to time, almost always in the evening after other stores are closed, to get a gallon of milk for the morning. When I found this 1955 picture, I stopped in to see if the owners knew anything about the building, but they don’t, so I turned to others I know (thank you Steve Goodman and John Hamnett) who do.

The building was built in 1922, so there are a couple of generations who shopped here before this early picture was taken, and about which we don’t know much (yet). But here’s the lowdown on this place from the vantage point of the mid- to late-1950s.

I’ll let Steve Goodman tell this story from here:

First, this is actually four businesses. The left door (about one-quarter of the total building), was the Prescott Fountain. But no one called it that. From the late 50’s until it closed (sometime in the mid to late 60’s), it was know as Hunderups, for its owner (we kids pronounced it “Hun-drups”).

It was not what you might envision.  Likely in earlier days it was a modern, clean, well respected establishment, but that’s NOT how we knew it. Adults would never go in there.  It was a dingy hang-out for kids. Emphasis on dingy. It was dark (seemed like only about  two lights lit the whole place), dirty (old Mr. Hunderup, who resembled Charley Weaver, let the store go into disrepair and never cleaned it). The product on the shelves was all old and never sold. Items you’d expect in a old drug store, hot water bottles, etc.

But it did have an old fashioned counter and stools where grade school and high school kids (boys — never a girl) would gather.  He’d have candy behind the counter, but we hardly ever bought it, as fresher was available next door.

The attraction was the iced Cokes in a bottle. I don’t remember, probably a nickel or dime each.  He’d keep them in a “too cold” refrigerator, and kids would go there to socialize in an “adult free” zone, and drink the Cokes from the bottle with a straw. Sometimes Mr. Hunderup would have to break thru the ice with his ice-pick so we could get the straw in.

Rumor has it that someone once saw a rat running thru the store.  Maybe yes, maybe no – but in this dark, dirty establishment it wouldn’t surprise anyone.

My mother went in Hunderup’s once (once) looking for some item, and I think she disallowed me from going in there again — or couldn’t figure out why we’d want to.

I got the feeling that before it was the run-down place we knew, Mr. Hunderup might have owned it when it was nice and new(er), but just let it get run-down.  Looking back, he loved seeing us and chatting with us while we kept him in business.

Mr. Hunderup passed away in the late 60’s. They cleaned it all out (and we joked about how much they probably had to fumigate the place), and it soon became part of the store next door.”

Steve explains that the second door from the left was a thriving, clean, well-lit family owned neighborhood grocery called Hume’s Foods…you can see it on the awning in the photo. It sold in 1963 to the Brandel family (which later owned Alameda Foods at 24th and Fremont).

Steve remembers…

It was unlike the convenience stores of current.  They had a large produce section on the east side of the store. In the back was a large butcher case, well stocked and staffed by a real butcher. While this wasn’t a “supermarket,” it’s where many in the neighborhood did their weekly shopping; always busy. And it had several adults working there – back when they could support a family with that type of job.  No turnover, but the same people.  Mr. and Mrs. Brandel would always be in.  I can remember their faces like it was yesterday.  They kept ledgers behind the counter where some customers ran a tab.”

On the east end of the building, down beyond Brandel’s, was a beauty shop and a barber shop, complete with the twirling red and white barber pole and a row of hair dryers against the wall.

What do you know about this place? Care to share a memory about another neighborhood business?

Post Script| March 28, 2009: Thanks to the helpful memory of blog reader Steve Turner, we know that the proprieter was named August Herman Hunderup. I’ve done a little genealogy on Mr. Hunderup and learned that he was born in 1891 in Minnesota. In the 1920 census, he’s living with his parents on SE 87th Avenue and is listed as a “minister” at a Catholic Church. Death records show he passed away on September 3, 1970. I’d love to hear from any family members, or others, who have a memory of Mr. H and his quirky, memorable shop.

The First Alameda School

January 9, 2009 By in Alameda Park, Alameda School, Neighborhood History, Old Photos Tags: , 4 Comments

When most Alamedans think about our lovely old Alameda Elementary School, we are probably thinking about the beautiful and classic building that stands today on NE Fremont between 27th and 29th. Built in 1921, this school has been the neighborhood hearth for generations.

But did you know there was an even earlier Alameda School? I came upon this tidbit while reviewing 1914 articles from The Oregonian, but never dreamed I’d find a photo of the place. You can imagine how pleased I was to find this remarkable shot of the first school in the neighborhood, built in 1915. Check it out:

"First crop of radishes and lettuce at the Alameda Park School, Portland, Oregon, June, 1916. Even in the primary grades children may learn much about the science of growing things. Courtesy L.A. Alderman"

The original caption reads: "First crop of radishes and lettuce at the Alameda Park School, Portland, Oregon, June, 1916. Even in the primary grades children may learn much about the science of growing things. Courtesy L.A. Alderman"

The photo is from a book published in 1919 by Rand McNally called “Vocational Guidance for Girls,” by Marguerite Stockman Dickson. You can have a look at this book (a remarkable story all on its own), thanks to Project Gutenberg, by clicking here.  The Alameda photo is in Chapter V, where you’ll find some other interesting photos from Northeast Portland.

The caption clearly identifies this as the Alameda Park School in Portland, Oregon. That’s us. Pair this up with the news story from The Oregonian on September 18th, 1914 and we can begin to fit some pieces together. Take a look:

From The Oregonian, September 18, 1914.

From The Oregonian, September 18, 1914.

Things to ponder:

  • This original small school building was viewed as temporary when it was first built. Only a relatively small percentage of homes had been built in the neighborhood by then, so it was clear there would one day be a real need. Not so much in 1915, but local kids still needed a local school.
  • It was first imagined in context with a school up the road in the Beaumont neighborhood, which was also to be temporary. Like Alameda, that neighborhood was just starting out in 1915.
  • The newspaper indicates that one site for the school was at the top of Gravelly Hill, NE 33rd and Fremont. It also says the site being offered by J.J. Cahalin was on Fremont between 25th and 26th, the next block west from the current site of the Fremont United Methodist Church. I didn’t find a follow-up story, nor have I looked at the property records, but my hunch just from looking at the photo is that the Cahalin site was selected over the one at the top of the hill. I’ll run that down next time I’m looking at property records, but that just seems likely.
  • Interesting to note the tall windows, lattice-work porch and woodstove chimney. And the fact that the kids had a busy and productive garden.

Where did it sit exactly? Who built it? Who was headmaster? Mysteries yet to solve.

The Scent of Memory

January 6, 2009 By in Beaumont-Wilshire, Memories Tags: , Leave a comment

I’ve just finished a history study on a two-story 1912 Craftsman in Beaumont, located on NE 41st Avenue. The story of the house is fascinating: four owners and one default in the first three years, with the title flowing from the original builder, to another contractor to a developer and back to the bank all in short order. The house itself is of interest too, with an unusual gambrel roofline dropped onto a Craftsman body.

But the pieces that will stay with me on this one are the memories of past owners. I was fortunate to find one of the children who grew up there in the late 1920s and early 1930s — now in her 80s — who shared some family stories, memories and photos. The one that sticks with me is the scent of memory, which goes something like this: in the summers, families all up and down NE 41st had wood delivered and stacked in the parking strip between the curb and the sidewalk where it cured in the summer sun. You could look up the street and see firewood stacked everywhere.

Twenty years earlier, the developers of Beaumont bragged that a dozen rose bushes would be planted in front of every lot in the new subdivision. But by the 1930s, residents had become quite practical about their parking strips, which were now a great place to dry firewood for the coming fall and winter.

So our young Beaumont girl, about eight years old at the time, always looked forward to August because that’s when men started to split the stacked wood. She remembers the sweet sappy smell of pine and fir permeating all corners of the neighborhood, and the house itself. You could smell it from Beaumont School, she remembers.

Amazing how the power of memory and smell intertwine. What scent do you remember from your old neighborhood?