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Wonderfully Weird: Rain, beer and variety make Portland distinctive
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Published: June 7, 2009
Editor's note: Paul O'Connor, a free-lance editorial writer for the Journal who works from Raleigh, is traveling across the country this spring by car. We will publish his weekly travelogues each Sunday.
PORTLAND, Ore. -- A popular bumper sticker here pleads for locals to "Keep Portland Weird."
Nothing to worry about there. This has to be the weirdest big city in the United States -- mostly in a fun way. Weird because of the many contradictions living together -- the many different kinds of people with a wide range of outfits and lifestyles, almost all extremely polite and friendly.
Portland has an enormous population of young people, many living out of backpacks while they search for one more spot upon which to place a tattoo or hang a piercing. Panhandling appears to be their major source of income.
Friday a week ago, the dirtiest young man I've ever seen approached and asked for our doggie bag. "I'll trade anything I own for your food," he offered as we observed an open-air Christian rock concert. His second offer was his filthy white hat. His articulation was perfect. His manners impeccable. He'll grow out of this one day and run a bank.
Or a brewery. Every city is known for something, and Portland is known for its beer. Fabulous brewpubs and taprooms abound. It's the capital of brewing in the United States and maybe the world. Locals discuss the most recent seasonal beer from a local brewery in as much detail as senators vet a Supreme Court nominee. A bartender better know the differences between the five different India pale ales he has on tap or customers will go elsewhere.
At one public house we met a guy from Franklin, N.C., who was on a beer vacation. He was enjoying one of the incredible "happy hours" Portland restaurants offer with big discounts on food and drink.
In maybe the best known taproom, the aging hippie bartender told us that Oregon's new no-smoking law had changed the bar's character. The shaggy old-timers had left for the trendy cigar bars where smoking is still allowed. With the clean air, a wave of yuppies -- or whatever they call my son's generation -- had arrived "because they heard this is the cool place to drink." Then he said he had been very disappointed to read that North Carolina had passed the same kind of law. "I thought you would be about the last state to do that."
Portland is known for its drizzle. Much of the year, the city is covered in clouds. But in June, when I usually visit my son, it is gloriously blue-skied and temperatures touch the 80s. But last Saturday, in downtown's popular Pioneer Square, I watched a snowboarding contest in 86-degree temperatures. A cell-phone company had carted in snow, maybe from nearby Mt. Hood, which you can see from the city, and a thousand people watched while getting sunburns. And across the street, Burmese immigrants were holding a noisy pro-democracy rally.
There's public art throughout the city, most of it weird, some just bad. Like an elk bronze sculpture crafted by an artist, legend has it, who'd never seen an elk before. Sitting in a lovely park, it looks weirdly out of proportion.
Many people know that Portland claims to have the country's largest urban park -- Forest Park. Less well-known is the world's smallest park; Mill Ends Park is 452 square inches, houses one sapling and is the legendary home to Patrick O'Toole, its head leprechaun. Drink the right pale ale, and you'll see him.
So, if you ever come to Portland, bring your camera and your appreciation for weirdness.
P.S. In last week's column I confused two TV stars. Clint Walker is the former star of Cheyenne.
■ Paul O'Connor can be reached at ocolumn@mindspring.com.
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