sponsored by

Hosted by
eROI

Where’s all the Portland stuff going? by Joel Gunz Portland is fast losing its identity, and it’s all my fault.   Dinner for High Five by Chris Parkhurst An enlightening discussion on the indie film industry   Customer Support by Edward Fishe Emails From The Edge     Email Licensing Exam by Greg Coyle   Top Ten: Tchotchke Watch by Kent Lewis Looking for the best freebies around? Are those battery-powered socks?   Lists   Cool Stuff Evolution Took Away That We Want Back   Uncool Stuff Evolution Has Yet To Take Back That We Wish It Would

“The things that spell San Francisco for me are fast disappearing.” --Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo, 1958

One of my fondest memories of Portland is standing on the (open air) bridge above the Lloyd Center ice rink and gazing up at the Aladdin Restaurant where, it was said, the waiters addressed you as “sir” or “madam” regardless of your age. The Aladdin, of course, is gone. On its site stands a food court that features, among other choices, a Taco Time and an Orange Julius. Portland is fast loosing its quirky, home grown business icons to out of state corporations, redefining the city’s identity, and it’s my fault.

Back in the ’80s I moved to New York, and while my back was turned, Lloyd Center was sold to a mega-conglomerate and subsequently capped under a glass geodome. Formerly the only city mall where you could breathe fresh air, Lloyd Center is now clamped under a giant Tupperware ®-like lid. From my apartment in Brooklyn, I heard the burp—and I was powerless to stop it.

Perhaps if I had remained in Portland and shopped at Meier & Frank or Woolworth’s or Larry’s Coin and Stamp, the original Lloyd Center—not the climate-controlled Habitrail that now occupies its space—would still be there.

Then again, while I was AWOL from Portland, Pioneer Square, arguably the city’s central pulse point nestled, in the heart of downtown, was co-opted by another corporate monolith—Starbucks.

I should have also done my part to support Henry Thiele’s on the corner of West Burnside and 23 rd. No matter that I didn’t care for Salisbury steak and bread pudding. Dining there was a civic duty for which I failed to report. Now a Gap Store and a Banana Republic dominate that intersection.

And am I the only one who mourned the passing of Waddles, Portland’s most famous diner established in 1940 ? What did Krispy Kreme ever do for Vanport?

All of these traditional business icons are the stuff that color and characterize this northwest town. Without these establishments Portland is losing it’s honorable sense of time and change and there are more venerable establishments that are on Portland’s endangered business list:

Poor Richard’s – Home of the two-fer steak dinner since 1959.

The Ringside – Forget Ruth’s Chris. Where would Bill Schonnely or Tom McCall go to assault their arteries?

The Galleria – Barely a pulse, even now. Maybe we’re already too late to save this one.

After a certain number of decades, business establishments become bound up in the identity of the city of which they are a part. What is Anaheim without Disneyland, or Tacoma without Boeing? These companies are owned as much by the citizenry in general as they are by their shareholders.

Lest it lose its identity completely to the Wal-Martization of the world, Portland needs a way to protect its indigenous businesses from the predations of out-of-state corporations.

As a Portland resident I’m tired of feeling like part of the problem, my solution? I call it the Historic Business Act (HBA). I propose that under this law, locally owned firms in operation for at least 35 years will receive special protection to insure their survival.

For instance, the HBA could offer qualifying businesses tax breaks. A special fund could be set up to help finance incentives for consumers to choose HBA-protected businesses over their franchised competition, like free hors d’oeuvres with every dinner, or a free necktie with every suit purchased. The HBA could also require the media to offer discounted advertising rates to these elder statesman businesses, much like the federal laws requiring a certain amount of airtime be dedicated to public service announcements. Further, established businesses will be granted formal protection: No developers will be allowed to purchase their business with a view to significantly changing (or obliterate) its character.

By attracting customers to old-growth businesses, the HBA will stimulate the local economy—keeping the money local, instead of losing that cash to out-of-state corporations. Eligible hometown establishments will not be allowed to go out of business. The businesses win, customers win, and Portland wins.

And I will win. Last week I stopped by Lloyd Center’s East wing, where remnants of the façade of the original Lippman’s Department store—an Escher pattern of cubist lips—remain like a capitalist-era Wailing Wall. I resisted the urge to slip a written prayer for the second advent of Lloyd Center into a potted juniper. With the Historic Business Act, I could to stop angsting about the demise of Lloyd Center and the rest of Portland’s endangered business icons and identity.