In the midst of the current blizzard, we’ve been reminiscing about past winters and pieces we’ve written here over the last 17 years (can it really be 17 years?) that explore the timelessness of snow.
Deadman’s Hill, February 2021
There’s the piece that explores the story behind Deadman’s Hill, which will once again be alive with sledders reenacting more than a century of tradition.
There’s our Billy Collins poem-inspired History of Snow piece that looks back at a century of Portland winters and a few photos from the snowy neighborhood in 1936.
There’s the Oregon Historical Society treasure trove of ice storm photos from 1916, and an analysis of ice storms before 1916.
We’re in it now. But the daffodils are patiently waiting.
In collaboration with the Alameda Neighborhood Association, I’ll be presenting a program on the work of the Oregon Home Builders Co., Wednesday, January 17, 2024 from 7:30-9:00 p.m. at the Fremont United Methodist Church (2620 NE Fremont), and you’re invited (RSVPs required, see below).
The Oregon Home Builders company set out in 1912 to pursue its vision of homebuilding market domination by selling stock to investors and by building memorable homes for its customers. During five years between 1912-1917, the company built more than 125 homes, including many in Alameda, several of which are listed today in the National Register of Historic Places.
The company was unique among homebuilders of the era because it catered to both ends of the economic spectrum: large, charismatic custom-designed homes for the wealthy, and simple, affordable thoughtfully-designed bungalows for those just entering the housing market. Join me for an inside look at the intriguing rise and fall of the company and the legacy of its homes today.
To reserve your spot for the January 17, 2024 program, please e-mail the Alameda Neighborhood Association at alamedanewsletter@gmail.com. Reservation deadline is January 10th. Doors open at 7:00 and the association will have light refreshments on hand.
The Alameda Neighborhood Association is a neighbor-led board that advocates for smart policies, takes action on neighbors’ concerns, facilitates communication about neighborhood issues, hosts events to bring residents together and publishes the quarterly newsletter AlamedaPDX.
In the spirit of all the year-end reviews and lists floating around at the bottom of the year, we thought it might be interesting to look back to 1923 for a little perspective.
100 years ago tonight, Portland was in the jaws of a cold snap with temperatures in the teens accompanied by a dusting of snow. The front page of our evening paper—the Oregon Journal—previewed celebrations on tap in local theaters, cabarets and dance halls and included stories about plans for bridges over the Willamette River at Ross Island and on Burnside.
From the Oregon Journal, December 31, 1923
Elsewhere in the newspaper 100 years ago tonight—and on our favorite topic of historic homebuilding—is a review of the very busy building business in Portland for 1923. 3,000 single family dwellings built at a value of $11 million. Have a look at the numbers that go back to 1912, a barometer of economic conditions in Portland that track with the trends we’ve found in our building permit review. Interesting discussion of architectural styles too:
From the Oregon Journal, December 31, 1923
Appearing with this story is a homebuilder’s greatest hits photo montage from 1923. Click in for a closer look:
Two new profiles to add to The Builders collection, both Swedish immigrants, one who had a brother in the business that we have already profiled, though they chose to spell their last names differently.
Stockholm Harbor, summer 2023
Herman Nelson, who immigrated through Canada in his early 20s a few years ahead of his younger brother builder Emil Nilson; and August Malmquist, or as he is more frequently referred to on building permits as A.C. Malmquist. Learning more about the third Nelson/Nilson brother, Oscar, is still on our to-do list.
Included in all of these profiles is a list of homes built by these builders, so by all means check to see if your address is here.
These three Swedish carpenters built hundreds of houses in Northeast Portland neighborhoods, and operated mostly as Mom-and-Pop businesses, with spouses’ names occasionally showing up on real estate transactions. Their business was building houses, but they were family people too, and were active members in the Swedish community in Oregon.
We are reminded about the contributions made by so many immigrants to the shaping of these neighborhoods, and about the racial restrictions and systems that have kept others away.
Like a mosaic of fine old tiles, hundreds of subdivision plats rest atop Portland’s neighborhood landscape, creating a base-layer of orderly streets and lots beneath the places we know today. Drawn up over the last 140 years by different developers, each plat has a name: some are catchy, some are descriptive, a few remain in common use to describe the places we know. Most have been lost to time, like George Place.
We’ve written about most of the underlying Alameda plats here and for a series of recent stories in the Alameda Newsletter: Gleneyrie, Olmsted Park, Homedale, the Pearson Addition, Waynewood (which was remade from the labyrinth created by six of the original plats), not to mention the nearby Kennedy Addition, the distinction between plats and neighborhood boundaries, and many other plats on both sides of the Willamette. There’s even a plats category here on the blog if you are inclined to a deeper dive.
In this parade of plats, we should make sure one of the smallest ones doesn’t get away: George Place, a tidy square of 40 lots where grid meets slope at the far southwest edge of the Alameda Plateau. Take a look:
Namesakes Judge Melvin Clark George and Mary Eckler George traversed the Oregon Trail with their families as children and grew up on homesteads in the upper Willamette Valley. They married in 1873 and Melvin was soon elected to the Oregon State Senate (1876-1880), and then to Congress in 1881, where he served two terms before returning to Oregon to teach medical law at Willamette University (1885-1889). He served as Multnomah County Circuit Judge (1897-1907) and retired from the bench at age 58 to become director of public schools in Portland.
Melvin George, circa 1900
Sometime around the turn of the 20th Century, seeing development potential on the horizon (literally), the Georges purchased six acres atop the ridge. They filed the George Place plat with the Multnomah County Surveyor on April 25, 1911, two years after the Alameda Land Company platted the Alameda Park Addition which anchored their eastern flank.
At the time, the Alameda Land Company was blitzing The Oregonian and the Oregon Journal with advertisements stirring excitement for the much larger Alameda Park Addition. Agreements were evidently made and Alameda Land Company took over marketing the property, dedicating one full advertising panel to the topic in June 1910.
From The Oregonian, June 4, 1910
Of course in 1910, all of these places were still purely imaginary: the plats may have been filed or on the drawing board, but streets were just being carved out of the gravel, trees felled, stumps removed. In 1910, it was still a giant brush patch, with orchards and dairies down on the flats below.
Lot sales and homebuilding were slow to catch on in George Place during these first years. Streets and infrastructure were in place by the mid-teens, but Portland’s economy began to cool in the run up to World War I. A few lots did sell, but the George Place six acres remained mostly unbuilt until the early 1920s, when a new real estate and homebuilding company known as the Hiller Brothers Company bought the lots and started building into a fast improving real estate market. By the way, this is one of the things we love about paying enough attention to a particular place: pretty soon everything you bump into starts to connect (see our profile of Hiller Brothers on The Builders page).
From The Oregonian, March 28, 1926. Not sure where the reporter got 80 lots, you can count the 40 lots in four blocks on the plat above.
In 1926, the streets were still gravel, but three houses were under construction including the one with the best view, for company owners James and Sarah Hiller at 2024 NE Alameda Drive. Hiller Brothers built many of the homes here, using plans provided by architect Hubert A. Williams. English cottage style was clearly the most popular. The Great Depression paused homebuilding activity leaving multiple vacant lots in George Place that finally filled in during the 1940s and early 1950s.
As for the Georges, they raised their family in a comfortable house up the hill on Market Street in southwest Portland’s Goose Hollow, with no evidence in newspaper coverage they ever lived on or paid much attention to George Place on Alameda Ridge. Melvin died at age 83 on February 22, 1933. Mary lived on to age 91 and died on September 24, 1942. They are buried together in Lone Fir Cemetery.
There’s been a spike of recent interest here on the blog about original construction dates and early builders, which is great. Every house has an origin story all its own and they’re always interesting. I’m currently working on profiles of several more builders to join the 25 already in The Builders section, and I’ve appreciated the suggestions from readers about who to focus on next.
Thinking about these things, I am reminded about the study of building inspection cards I did a few years back which really helped me understand geographic patterns of growth, Portland’s early waves of expansion and recession, and a very busy group of early homebuilders.
Construction inspection card from 1921 for Alameda School.
On many evenings over two years in the mid-2000s, I was granted research access behind the counter at the Bureau of Development Services to examine construction inspection cards. Slowly and carefully, I handled every inspection card in the Alameda Park addition and noted details into a growing record. While my scope of interest is much wider than just Alameda, it’s hard to boil the ocean so I had to define the boundaries of the search. The thought of recording details from every eastside inspection card (by hand) is overwhelming.
Back in 2010, I posted a summary of that research here on the blog. Because AH is up to about 300 posts since 2007, it’s possible current readers haven’t seen it. I realize that’s an ongoing challenge, by the way, of wayfinding through the content here (try using the categories feature, with drag-down menus which you can find on the far right edge of the blog).
Our recent post on the prolific Portland homebuilders known as Hiller Brothers Inc. grew out of our research on one of their classic bungalows on NE Knott Street. In the post, we mentioned several family resemblances among these homes: windows, built-ins, doors, hardware.
As it turns out there’s another distinctive feature that came to light as neighbors began talking with neighbors. It’s an archway that looks like this:
That distinctive coved shape defining the room is called a cavetto, or quarter-circle, joined to a couple of 90-degree steps top and bottom to create a decorative entry feature that reveals this cozy space–once a breakfast nook–located just off the kitchen. In at least a couple of the Hiller homes we know of, the distinctive cavetto cove is still there and the small space has been converted into a pantry-like area that offers a worktop as well. In some homes, the nook has likely already been annexed into kitchen extensions. Some homeowners might be eyeing that nook and arch right now mulling over remodeling plans.
It would be interesting to hear from others on the Hiller Brothers address list if this cavetto cove and nook feature look familiar. We bet there are more than few still out there.
Which leads to the topic of nooks (more formally inglenooks), a worthy eventual blog post.
Do you have a favorite nook space that operates near the heartbeat of the house? We do, in our 1912 Arts and Crafts bungalow, but it’s a design generation earlier than the Hillers and their hard working architect Hubert A. Williams.
We’ve just completed another builder profile, this time the story of two brothers who formed Hiller Brothers Incorporated in the early 1920s and built more than 400 homes in Irvington, Alameda, Grant Park, Garthwick and West Slope.
A Hiller Brothers built home at 2131 NE Siskiyou, from The Oregonian, March 14, 1926
In the early years, their preferred building type was the bungalow and in later years Tudor-revival and English cottage style. When you figure out the family resemblances, you’ll find them all over the neighborhood. Look for Hiller Brothers’ work on NE Knott Street between 29th and 32nd (virtually every house). They built 40 homes within a two-block radius of NE 32nd and Knott–most designed by Portland architect Hubert A. Williams (1887-1965)–so check out the profile to see a long list of addresses.
James was 16 years older than brother Gus. The two divided up responsibilities, with Gus supervising the construction wing and James focusing on real estate development and sales. In the 1920s, together with their teams of carpenters, tradespeople and sales force, they were among the busiest homebuilders on the eastside. During the Great Depression–like so many other builders–they switched to repair and remodeling work, but that wasn’t enough to sustain the company. Gus eventually went to work in the Portland shipyards and James–after a brief retirement to the Rogue River Valley–returned to Portland to develop hundreds of homes in the West Slope area.
We’ve been exploring the early history of the 1913 Arts and Crafts bungalow at 2503 NE Mason—one of the three we wrote about last week—and the plot has thickened. Its builder, a relocated Canadian citizen, Colorado miner, and livery stable owner, moved to Portland in 1911 and became a home builder, ship builder, all-around handyman and eventually a property developer working on projects in the Hollywood area and near Mt. Hood.
According to building permit and real estate records, Sterling A. Rogers started excavating the basement the very same week he bought the vacant lot in the recently platted Alameda Park addition for $823 in May 1913.
Sterling and wife Lena had arrived in Portland in 1911 after selling their horses, home and livery business in Dunton, Colorado to his brother Robert. Sterling and Lena, then 29 and 26 respectively, had enough of the hard winters in the San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado. After a winter escape to the West Coast in 1909, they must have decided it was time to leave. Sterling had been a kind of renaissance man in Dunton, locating mines, constructing buildings, acquiring and looking after horses and wagons.
The Telluride Daily Journal described him like this in its May 23, 1903 edition:
Sterling Rogers, postmaster, merchant, hotel proprietor, and all around monopolist, of Dunton, was an arrival from the south on last evening’s train. He remained overnight and left this morning for Denver. He says that owing to the horrible condition of the roads between the Coke Ovens and Dunton, he cannot get enough lumber to put the finishing touches on his new hotel, but expects to be able to move into the building within the next two or three weeks.
Sterling finished the hotel, and added a pool and baths at the nearby hot springs, but in early 1911 the couple left for Portland. By December, he and Lena were buying vacant lots in the Vernon and Woodlawn neighborhoods. If the hard Colorado winters didn’t drive them out, could be they saw the writing on the wall: by 1919, Dunton had become a deserted and dilapidated ghost town, sidelined by its remoteness and primitive transportation connections, which Sterling knew all too well.
Rogers finished the Mason Street bungalow in August 1913 and advertised it for lease for $30 per month through the fall and early winter while the couple lived there:
From The Oregonian, January 18, 1914
Like many young Portland builders of that time, Sterling was trying to leverage financial momentum by living briefly in his brand-new house built on speculation, leasing or selling it quickly, and using the proceeds to fund other projects that could lead to a next-level income. The couple continued to buy, trade for, and seek additional vacant lots on the eastside. In the spring and summer of 1915, Sterling the entrepreneur was busy:
From The Oregonian, May 9, 1915
From The Oregon Journal, August 8, 1915
Sterling was not a butcher. The meat market had belonged to Daniel and Ethel Dyer, who not coincidentally had moved into the Mason Street house for about a year in 1916, under what must have been a creative financial agreement. But that didn’t last, and by 1917, Sterling and Lena were back. And according to auto registration records, they had indeed been accumulating quite a few vehicles, all registered to the Mason Street house.
In 1918, at age 35, Sterling registered for the World War 1 draft and gave his occupation as a ship carpenter (as well as his height at 5’9”, weight at 140, blue eyes and black hair) and home address as 801 Mason, today’s 2503. That year, he also petitioned for citizenship and renounced his allegiance to George the Fifth, King of the United Kingdom and the British dominions. Rogers had been born in the Canadian province of Prince Edward Island (Canada was then under the dominion of Great Britain). Lena was from South Dakota.
Meanwhile, the couple had been buying property along Sandy Boulevard and by 1920 they moved to a home long since torn down at the northeast corner of 43rd and Sandy. Sterling continued to speculate in real estate, take on repair jobs and build small bungalows—none as distinctive as the Mason Street house. In 1933 it looked like he was going to make it big with a planned development of summer homes on Mt. Hood (which sounds a lot like what is today’s Brightwood).
From The Oregonian, May 21, 1933
But the Great Depression of the early 1930s was a hard time to be building or selling anything. Sterling died of tuberculosis in 1936; his death certificate showed he had struggled with the disease since the mid 19-teens.
Rogers built it – Who designed it?
A look at the handful of relatively non-descript bungalows Sterling built in the 19-teens and 1920s—absent decorative trim, built-ins, columns or beveled glass—makes us think 2503 is a kit home, meaning he bought it as a package to be assembled, which was relatively common then. The design-forward detail of 2503 (see for yourself) is so unlike anything else he built.
So we’ve been poring over kit house and plan set catalogs looking for family resemblances. The external door and window trim is distinctive on this house, as are the three long beveled glass panel interior and exterior doors. Haven’t found it yet, but we’ll keep looking.
Having researched many early home builders, we’re well acquainted with the blend of boot-strap, hard-scrabble entrepreneurship they and their families brought to the building of our neighborhoods.
The homes we live in—the materials they are built with, and the people who did the building—are from a different era that’s hard to imagine today. Each of our homes has its own origin story, the windows, walls and ceilings shaped by people whose stories we’ll never know.
AH readers know walking is the best way to observe the eastside’s century-plus houses and neighborhoods. At a slow pace, you can see the craftsmanship, the years of wear and change, the hands of five or six generations building, improving, maintaining (and sometimes not).
On our regular dog walks this summer, we’ve been watching three particular bungalows on NE Mason in the Alameda neighborhood, just a few blocks apart. All have been time travelers with their own stories and are now in transition. Two of them are essentially gone and no longer in their earlier forms; but one special little one is, at least for now.
1914 Arts and Crafts bungalow at 2503 NE Mason, September 2023.
The 1914 Arts and Crafts bungalow on the NE corner of NE 25th and Mason is a small beauty with unique and original trim and detail, both inside and out. You would remember it if you’ve seen it (we’ve never seen a house quite like it). It’s small but distinctive, has been essentially unchanged in almost 110 years, and it’s on the market now, listed by Emily Hetrick at Keller Williams.
Interior of 2503 NE Mason, September 2023. Note the coved ceiling, box beams in both rooms, beveled glass built-ins, beveled glass windows and doors, period decorative columns. Fine 110-year-old architectural detail inside and out.
A few years back, we had the good fortune to connect with family members who remember it from the 1940s and 1950s as the perfect small bungalow. Back in the day, David White remembers visiting his great aunt and uncle who lived there. Here’s a photo of their niece–David’s mother Agnes–at the front porch from 1940. That very same view is very much available today.
Agnes Coulter in 1940, front porch of 2503 NE Mason. Note distinctive window and door trim, still in place today. And of course the smiling subject and her flowers. Courtesy of David White.
David’s grandmother Isabella Coulter ran the Alameda Park Grocery at NE 27th and Going, which we wrote a three-part series about back in 2015. By day, Isabella worked in the store. In later years, after closing time, she returned home a few blocks south to this small corner bungalow she shared with her sister and brother-in-law. Frequently, nieces and grand nephews visited the bungalow and those memories are strong and clear.
Because it is small and because it’s on a corner, we’re a little worried about its future. We’re researching its early history at the moment and will have more to share, and would be glad to introduce the new owners to its long-time-ago former family who knew and loved it well.
A few weeks later we posted the origin story of this great little bungalow, which you can read here.
A couple blocks east on the south side of the street was the Clifton bungalow, built in the summer of 1921 by Enoch Clifton, who with his brother Knute immigrated from Norway and went into the homebuilding business on Portland’s eastside, making bungalows just like this one throughout the neighborhood. Their niece Nancy Clifton lived in the home for many years up until her passing earlier this year. The bungalow was bought by Liberty NW Homes in Oregon City and all but razed—the building permit refers to the work as an “addition.”
Here’s a look at before and during.
2617 NE Mason (on the left) before, and this week. The new house utilizes the foundation and several external walls of the former bungalow.
A few blocks west, on the southwest corner of Mason and NE 23rd (pictured below), we’ve watched the small red 1915 Arts and Crafts bungalow being taken apart piece by piece. Another somewhat unusual home, this one distinctive for its center hip-roofed cupola-like second story. The new home going up incorporates the foundation, and is also considered an addition, but the permit notes “whole house to be reconfigured.” The new framing does suggest echoes of the former building.
Here’s the before and during…
4067 NE 23rd before, and this week. It could be that the new construction will mirror aspects of the former.
For at least one of the bungalows on NE Mason Street, time will tell.
Note:
Summer seems to be “off season” for the blog: it’s hard to compete with sunshine and all things outdoors in Oregon. But the promise of rain and these cooler days brings us back inside. We have lots of topics for the blog this winter and fall, so even though it gets quiet around here between June and October, we won’t be a stranger in the rainy weeks and months ahead.
Alameda Old House History 
