Central Library in Portland wasn’t open when I returned the next morning to get some snapshots, but you’ll have to take my word that they did a great job renovating it ten years ago. The outside preserves the original appearance of this historic building, and the early hour of the shot hides the hive of activity that I found the previous afternoon.

I have to thank Caleb and Caroline for showing around town, and offer my apologies to Heidi and Alice, who had offered me tips and suggestions that I (again) didn’t have time to follow up on. Someday I’ll enjoy a Stanich burger; someday I’ll find Rimsky-Korsakoffee; heck, someday I’ll even get to Powells.

But as wonderful as those suggestions may be, I couldn’t imagine a better evening than I had with food and conversation at Farm Cafe followed by a sweet treat at Staccato Gelato.

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I’ve been back from Oregon for about a week and a day now, and it’s really time to clear out my files. So here now are the attractions I had put on the list, but never got to see. I’m not complaining, afterall, I did get to see sprayfoam art, the US’s only municipal elevator, the world’s tallest barber pole, the Spruce Goose, Mt. Tabor, and the Velveteria. Clearly, Oregon has a lot to offer wacky travelers.

Anyway, I found these on RoadsideAmerica.com, and if I ever get back to the state, I may have to look them up.

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Howard Hughes‘ Spruce Goose now rests in McMinnville, at the Evergreen Aviation Museum.

The Goose is as long as a 747 with a wingspan a third again as broad, and for a short few seconds in 1947, it flew.

The docent was incredibly pleased to tell us that the tail almost broke off during those few seconds in the air. He claimed Hughes hushed up the story and maintained the aircraft in flight-ready condition to protect himself from further attacks from government accountants.

The turbine below is one of a number on display, including one from an SR71 Blackbird. The rest of the Blackbird crouches under the Goose’s port wing.

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I wasn’t just surprised to find a gallery of velvet paintings, I was further surprised to learn they were hosting a show of Valentines velvet works by local artist Juanita and had cards advertising a show of LA artist Arnold Pander’s oil on velvet works at the local Vault Martini Lounge.

But the fact is, Carl Baldwin and Caren Anderson’s Velveteria is the place, if ever there was such a place, where such forces will collide.

Sadly, my visit Saturday evening was at a time when the owners weren’t hosting, and the woman who was there wasn’t able to offer much to explain the works. Fortunately, artist Arnold Pander (whose works span a broad range of media, including oil on velvet) lays out this history of velvet painting in his personal gallery:

For hundreds of years velvet paintings have been created in various ways, dating back to the fourteenth century when Marco Polo discovered samples of velvet paintings in Kashmir, where velvet was first woven. During the Victorian era, painting on velvet became a popular hobby amongst the British upper class with floral and still life subjects. It later came to the U.S. during the post revolutionary period where biblical scenes and landscapes were the dominant themes of this romantic medium. Edward Leeteg revolutionized the velvet painting in the 20th century with his figurative “pin-up” style of Tahitian native culture in the 30s 40s and 50s. Leeteg transformed the way velvet painting was perceived, solidifying it as a part of American pop-culture.

(Pander’s works can also be seen at the Mark Woolley Galery.)

The Velveteria stands in northwest Portland and offers about 150 works in two rooms. My knowledge of the medium was limited to badly rendered paintings of Elvis sold along with bull skulls out of the trunks of big American cars from decades past.

Portland Picks tells me the genre is typically represented by a “Elvis/Jesus/Clowns trifecta,” but we both agree that the range represented in the museum is almost beyond words. I say “almost” not because I’m going to attempt to describe them, no. I say it that way because I have this further link to the Portland Mercury about the whole thing (though it’s worth noting that they apparently couldn’t begin to report the story without quoting Dave Hickey’s famous “good taste is the residue of someone else’s privilege”).

But the Mercury did also explain the Velveteria’s nude room, saying “buxom lasses” as are the dominant subject of the black velvet medium.

Painting on velvet (paint is applied either by brush or air gun, or frequently a combination of the two) results in a unique luminosity when done well, and skin tones highlight this quality best.

The owners are said to have over 1000 velvet works in their collection, so this is clearly a passion for them, I’m just sorry to have missed the opportunity to meet them. Admission is $3, and the bumper sticker is $2. Tee shirts, postcards, and keychain peepers are also available.

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Forest Grove, Oregon claims to have the world’s tallest barber pole, apparently presented by the Portland Area Barbershoppers in recognition “Ballad Town USA’s” role in promoting and encouraging barbershop quartet singing.

It stands in Lincoln Park (visible from sat photos!) just north of Pacific University. Barbershop poles and quartets they may have, but the barber I visited there did a lousy job trimming my beard. Such is life, I suppose.

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Oregon City apparently boasts one of only four municipal elevators worldwide. One hundred thirty feet tall, with an observation deck at the top, it seemed to be worth stopping for. Jason wrote in to Roadside America explaining:

It began as a water-powered elevator in 1915, but was upgraded to an electric-powered elevator in 1954. It is an example of Googie architecture, which is reminiscent of the space-age housing structures in the Jetson’s cartoon show.

The picture above is a badly shot and badly joined panorama from atop the observation deck. I was attempting to capture both the view and artworks below each window, but I didn’t do it right. The larger size actually reveals some detail, though.

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Here’s a lesson the rest of the world’s airports could take from PDX: free WiFi.

Most other aiports charge dearly for WiFi, but PDX offers it free. Knowing this, I arrived at the airport a couple hours early and got my dinner and caught up on my email here instead of elsewhere. The Port of Portland didn’t get my $7.95 an hour, but they did get an extra customer in their restaurants and shops.

And now that my flight is delayed (because the incoming flight had to land in Denver to top off its fuel tanks!), the WiFi is giving me something to do besides complain (I’m saving my book for on the plane).

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Above: tonight’s sunset view of Mt. Hood from atop Mt. Tabor, an ancient volcano. Roadside America claims:

this is the only volcano located within a city limit in any US city. You can view the cinder cone and a few feet away from the parking lot is a kids play area.

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What you can’t tell about the photo above is that the eagle is huge, and made of spray foam. It stands at Sprayfoam Inc., just off the I5 at Millersburg. Don’t miss the cornucopia-like sign, or the completely enfoamed Sprayfoam-mobile.

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So here I am looking up things to do in Oregon and I come accross the Tillamook Chamber of Commerce’s guide to local attractions and its note about the Pig-n-Ford races:

Vintage vehicles, daring drivers and squealing porkers. Mixed together, the outcome can only be described as frenzied farm-style fun. Most people would agree that individuals who race Model-T Fords must be strange to begin with. When competitors insist on carrying pigs as passengers, however, it’s a sure sign of a rare breed of driver. Yet pigs do race in Model-T’s at the Tillamook County Fair.

And then I found the official Pig-n-Ford website, where they’ve got pictures, race stats, and history:

The first Pig-N-Ford Race took place at the Tillamook County Fair in 1925. The idea for the race happened when a couple Tillamook County residents were transporting some pigs and one got loose. They proceded to chase the pig in their Model-T Fords and had so much fun trying to catch, and drive with the pesky pig that they thought “let’s do this at the Fair.”

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