Patricia Sanders is a retired art history professor and local historian. She is a regular contributor to villageportland.com with her Montavilla Memories column.
In 1911, Montavilla held its first “safe and sane” Independence Day celebration. In that year, Portland joined the national effort to reduce July Fourth deaths and injuries—to both adults and children–caused by various types of pyrotechnics. In 1903, when the national campaign began, Independence Day celebrations across the country resulted in 466 deaths and 4,449 injuries. As “safe and sane” policies were adopted city after city and as safer activities replaced dangerous ones, injuries and deaths began to fall. By 1911, Portland was among the 161 cities holding safe-and-sane events.
Headline in the Oregonian of July 4, 1911 Source: Historic Oregon Newspapers
Montavilla’s July 4th celebration began with a parade. It started at the intersection of NE 80th Avenue and NE Glisan Street, then proceeded to Stark Street. The Grand Marshall, William DeVeny (1853-1918) —Montavilla’s Buffalo Bill look-alike — led the way on horseback. This honor was typically bestowed upon a renowned community leader, and he was certainly that. He was living in Montavilla by 1899 and, from then on — as an active member of the Montavilla Sub-Board of Trade — he was in the forefront of practically every Montavilla improvement effort in the early 1900s.
Grand Marshall William DeVeny-as he appeared in an ad for his chiropodist business. Source: Immaculata Academy (Portland, Or.) Yearbook
Men on horseback led the parade, followed by a line of automobiles. One of the cars held the Goddess of Liberty—an Independence Day staple–and her entourage. The Goddess was elected in a contest for the prettiest and most popular young woman in Montavilla. At a penny a vote, 18-year-old Caroline Buehler was elected Montavilla’s goddess for the 1911 celebration. She garnered 12,480 votes, far ahead of the runner-up, Luly Bryson, who received only 1,768. It was “the most exciting contest held in Montavilla,” the Oregonian proclaimed, and it raised a little over $200.
Miss Caroline Buehler was elected the Goddess of Liberty for Montavilla’s 1911 Independence Day celebration.
Other neighborhoods—like Mt. Tabor—held their Independence Day events in public parks. In 1911, Montavilla did not yet have a park, so the day’s festivities were held at the new Altamead subdivision, which had not yet put lots on the market.
Google map detail with the Altamead subdivision boundaries superimposed.
All of Portland was invited to Montavilla’s grand celebration. Newspapers estimated that from 1500 to 2500 attended.
A band was playing as people arrived at the Altamead. Master of Ceremonies, John M. Conway – of the Montavilla Board of Trade—welcomed them to a sane and safe July 4th celebration.
The program began with a speech by Robert C. Wright of Mount Tabor, a well-known attorney and a Republican politician. Instead of a patriotic speech, he addressed a current Montavilla issue. Since Montavilla did not have a purpose-built public library, the Montavilla Board of Trade was seeking a Carnegie library grant. Wright spoke against this. He spoke of the dangers of the accumulation of vast wealth. Andrew Carnegie may be a philanthropist, but he was a steel-industry monopolist. The Republican Party, under the recent president Theodore Roosevelt and the current president William Howard Taft, tried to break up industrial monopolies.
Robert C. Wright, Oregonian, Feb. 22, 1914. Source Historic Oregon Newspapers
Clearly, the Montavilla July Fourth celebration was a community-building event as well as a commemoration of the beginning of America’s break with Britain. The formal program ended with the Goddess of Liberty witnessing the American flag as it rose to the tune of the “Star-Spangled Banner.”
After the formal program, it was on to the picnic and the games: races, baseball, a tug-of-war, a greased pig chase, and prizes awarded by Rev. Father James Fitzpatrick, pastor of the nearby Church of the Ascension.
Montavilla Independence Day Parade on Stark Street, 1911
Montavilla Parade on Stark Street, 1911 digitally colorized
The celebration ended in the evening with a band concert and fireworks rising, safely, over the unbuilt subdivision land. Even the weather cooperated for the sane and safe celebration. It was, after all, a perfect, balmy day in contrast to the killer heat wave that plagued the eastern half of the United States.
It was a grand—and safe—Independence Day in Montavilla.
By
Patricia Sanders
Title image digitally restored
This is part of Montavilla History Questions Answered, a series of history related articles. If you have questions about Montavilla’s past that you’d like answered, local historian Patricia Sanders will investigate your question. Please email your questions to history@montavilla.net and we may feature it alongside Patricia Sanders’ research in a future.
The Lincoln Memorial through the lens of 1922 media
Sunday, May 21, 1922, was going to be another sweltering day in Portland. So, 89-year-old Civil War veteran James Downing decided to read his copy of the Oregonian under a shade tree in his backyard. He had just returned from the Montavilla Methodist Episcopal Church morning service, where a fellow veteran had told him about an illustrated story on the new Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C. In his eagerness to see it, Downing skipped the front-page news about the Ku Klux Klan and Oregon politics and went straight to the magazine section.
There, he studied the photos of the gigantic statue of Lincoln and the temple-like building that housed it. He read, once again, the stirring words of Lincoln’s Gettysburg address inscribed on a huge marble tablet. Memories of those war-torn years came flooding back. How often had he shared his Civil War experiences with fellow members of the Montavilla McKinley Post of the Grand Army of the Republic? He also recalled his early days in Portland, when he went downtown to view the huge panoramic painting commemorating the bloody battle at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.
This little story is, of course, fiction. But the facts are true.
James Downing (1837-1927)
James Downing (1837-1927) was a real person who served in the Civil War on the Union side. As a young man, he enlisted in Missouri’s 3rd Cavalry. He did live in Montavilla, arriving in 1890 and opening a grocery store here. In 1891, he became Montavilla’s first postmaster. And he was a member of the McKinley Post of the Grand Army of the Republic, a national association of Union Civil War veterans. And he attended Montavilla’s Methodist Episcopal Church on SE 80th Avenue until his death.
There really was a huge panoramic painting in downtown Portland illustrating the Battle of Gettysburg. The circular painting occupied a purpose-built structure and was open to the public from 1887 to 1892.
There really was anarticle about the Lincoln Memorial in the May 21, 1922, edition of the Oregonian, as well as many column inches on page one devoted to Oregon politics and the Klan. And, yes, the newspaper really did predict a high of 85 degrees on that day.
James Downing was one of eight Civil War veterans whom I could positively identify as still being alive in 1922 when the long-awaited Lincoln Memorial was finally built. As far as I know, none of these veterans attended the dedication ceremony in Washington. So, like James, they would have experienced it vicariously through the Portland press.
Today we get our news through a variety of media, but in 1922, it mostly came in print and photos. Although, as we’ll see, that was beginning to change.
Portland newspapers were covering the Lincoln Memorial story by April 23, 1922, a little over a month before its dedication on May 30. The April 23 edition of the Oregon Journal informed readers that the Memorial was on an axis stretching from the Capitol to the Washington Monument to the recently dedicated U.S. Grant equestrian statue and finally to the new Lincoln Memorial. The alignment connected a critical institution and persons in American history.
Detail of the Lincoln Memorial in The Morning Oregonian of May 21, 1922. Source: Historic Oregon Newspapers
In the May 21, 1922, edition of the Oregonian, readers could view a half-page of fuzzy images and a little text in the magazine section. They marvel at the weight of the Lincoln statue—175 tons. They could see that the Gettysburg Address was carved into a huge white marble tablet.
Photographs of the Lincoln Memorial on page 4 of the May 21, 1922 Sunday Oregonian
Two days before the dedication ceremony, the Sunday Oregonian of May 28, 1922, informed readers that the 2,000-foot reflecting pool had taken ten years to build and was designed to symbolically join the Washington and Lincoln monuments. The article explained the symbolism of the Lincoln building: 36 columns represent the states that existed in Lincoln’s time; the festoons above the columns acknowledge the states in 1922. The reader learned that the Lincoln statue was 19 feet high and that sculptor Daniel Chester French took 4 years to complete it.
In its August 20, 1922, edition, Oregonian readers were treated to a photo of the Lincoln Memorial illuminated at night by an Army searchlight.
The illuminated Lincoln Memorial. The Sunday Oregonian, August 20, 1922
The printed press, with its words and images, was not the only way to convey information about the Lincoln Memorial. New forms—such as movies—had been appearing since the late 19th century. In June, 1922, the Pantages theater in downtown Portland screened a film about the dedication of the Lincoln Memorial, which the Oregonian described as “impressive and inspiring.”
In 1922, broadcast radio was also emerging as cutting-edge technology. The Oregonian of May 30, 1922, announced that speeches by President Harding and Chief Justice Taft delivered at the Lincoln Memorial dedication ceremony would be broadcast in the U.S. from the Naval Aircraft Radio Laboratory in Anacostia, Washington, D.C. By this time, both the Oregonian and the Oregon Journal had recently begun radio broadcasting, but it’s unclear whether the Naval broadcast signal made it to Portland. It is clear, however, that the “radio craze” marked a new era of electronic communication and would change the ways we receive and process the news to this day.
Ad for a “Table Talker” in the August, 1924 edition of Radio News. Table talkers as well as headsets were used in the 1920s to amplify radio sound.
As the “radio craze” caught on, a store selling radios opened in Montavilla in 1927 at the corner of 90th and Stark. Mr. H. A. Hall’s store—built in the shape of a radio—was such a sensation that police were called in to control the turnout.
Ad for the Hall Spiral Antenna Company in the November 3, 1927 edition of the Montavilla Times. The building is shaped like an Orpheus radio.
For veterans of the long-ago Civil War, the new era of electronic communication must have seemed a strange new world indeed.
By
Patricia Sanders
This is part of Montavilla History Questions Answered, a series of history related articles. If you have questions about Montavilla’s past that you’d like answered, local historian Patricia Sanders will investigate your question. Please email your questions to history@montavilla.net and we may feature it alongside Patricia Sanders’ research in a future.
Doing laundry using a machine washer. Source: Delineator magazine, July, 1927
In the early 20th century, Monday was typically washday for American housewives. It was an all-day affair, even if you were one of the few who owned a powered washing machine. Home laundry required multiple steps: rubbing each item with soap, soaking it in hot water, wringing it out, and finally hanging it to dry. Even if you had one of the new-fangled powered washing machines—like the one shown above—this still required multiple steps, eleven according to an article in the Delineator Magazine of July 1927. No wonder washday was often called blue Monday.
For those who could afford it, a local laundry service would do the work for you. Some even had pick-up and delivery service.
Commercial laundry with delivery Source: Ad for Soapalite in the National Laundry Journal, December, 1920
By 1906, housewives had the option of doing laundry at home. At that time, Stevens’ Fancy Grocery on Base Line Road (now Stark Street) was a pickup point for City Laundry located in downtown Portland.
Stevens’ Fancy Grocery ad in the Beaver State Herald of November 30, 1906 Source: Historic Oregon Newspapers.
A few years later, the Acme laundry on Burnside—a little west of Montavilla—offered delivery service for Montavilla customers on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays. This was a wet-wash laundry, that is, a commercial laundry that washed your clothes and sent them back damp for you to dry and iron at home.
Ad for the Acme Washery in The Montavilla Sun of June 4, 1915
A purpose-built laundry in Montavilla proper may have appeared in 1910. According to the Oregonian of October 16, 1910, a group of men had purchased a site on East 80th and had already ordered machinery for a future plant. Unfortunately, I could not find information about whether this laundry was actually built or, if so, how long it was in business.
Whether or not a laundry on 80th Avenue materialized in 1910, we know for sure one was built in Montavillain 1925 for John Charles Fremont Brown (1856-1938). It was located on Glisan at 72nd Avenue. The building still exists, most recently housing O’Neill’s Tools.
John C. F. Brown was not new to the laundry trade. He had worked in the laundry business as a deliveryman from at least 1898 until 1920. He worked for two established downtown Portland laundries: Model Laundry and Palace Laundry. He owned his own delivery vehicle, exchanging his horse-drawn wagon for a motorized truck in 1912.
John C. F. Brown in front of his motorized vehicle around 1912
In 1920, Brown opened his own laundry business at 305 Russell Street between Williams and Rodney Avenues. Three of his sons—Floyd P. Brown (1886-1952), Frank Clair Brown (1895-1945), and Oscar L. Brown (1890-1973)—also worked in this business.
John Brown typically went by John C. F. Brown or J. C. F. Brown, perhaps to avoid confusion with C. F. Brown, who owned the Yale Laundry in downtown Portland.
This 1924 Sanborn map shows the location of Brown’s laundry at 305 Russell Street. The building no longer exists.
The Sanborn map describes Brown’s business as a wet-wash laundry. But Portland city directories list both Brown’s Wet Wash Laundry and Brown’s Towel Supply at this address.
As indicated earlier, a wet-wash laundry offered only washing services. A towel laundry, on the other hand, provided clean “linens” for businesses such as hotels, hospitals, restaurants, and gyms. A towel laundry delivered clean items and picked up the soiled ones for washing and pressing. To make sure soiled items returned matched the number previously delivered, the deliveryman had to keep an accurate count. In 1923, John’s son Frank noticed a shortage in the number of dirty items he was picking up from a surgeon’s office. When Frank mentioned this, the client punched him in the eye. Frank took him to court, where the surgeon was found guilty and fined $50.
In 1925, Brown’s towel service remained on Russell Street, but he moved his wet-wash business into a new building in Montavilla. It was located on the north side of Glisan at NE 72nd. With this new location, the corporate name for the business changed from Brown’s Damp Wash Laundry to The General Laundry Company. It was ready for occupancy sometime after the final plumbing inspection on June 16, 1925.
Photo of a damp-wash laundry–not Brown’s—showing the use of powered washing machines. Source: January 19, 1920 edition of the National Laundry and Cleaning Journal
The new laundry was built of brick—a wise choice, since the boilers posed a fire risk. Brown and his sons were probably aware of the fire that almost destroyed the Consolidated Wet Wash Laundry on Halsey Street, caused by an overheated boiler. The wood-frame building was almost completely destroyed.
Like most general laundries, Brown’s probably employed mostly women. The work was hard, and wages were typically low. At a wet-wash laundry, items were marked, sorted, washed, and wrung out. By 1917, a woman’s workday was limited to eight hours, but it still meant a lot of standing on concrete floors in a very hot, humid environment. Housewives may have been relieved of the washday blues, but laundry workers experienced them every day.
In October 1919, Portland laundresses went on strike, demanding better pay. Sometimes they were the sole support for their families, according to Portland’s Labor Press. Several sworn testimonials by the striking women describing their circumstances were published in that newspaper’s October 18, 1919, edition. Here is one example:
Testimonial by Lettie Stinson published in the Labor Press of October 18, 1919
Whether labor conditions at Brown’s laundry were better or worse is unknown. But he undoubtedly expected his business to succeed. He could afford a new building in Montavilla, so presumably the Russell Street laundry was doing well. The American laundry industry was growing rapidly in the 1920s, reflecting a growing demand and increased receipts.
Detail of a chart showing growth of the American power laundry industry in dollars between 1909 and 1929. Source: Joan S. Wang, “Race, Gender, and Laundry Work: The Roles of Chinese Laundrymen and American Women in the United States, 1850-1950,” Journal of American Ethnic History, 2004
Despite hopeful prospects, Brown’s Glisan-Street business failed. In December 1927, the General Laundry Company declared bankruptcy. Why this business failed is unknown. It was almost two years before the stock market crash of October 28, 1929. Whatever the cause, the plant equipment, supplies, and real property were auctioned on January 17, 1928.
Bankruptcy auction for the General Laundry Company. Oregonian, January 17, 1928
Although the Glisan-Street business did not succeed, Brown’s Towel Service survived for many years. It was still in business in 1943, operating at a new location on East Flanders Street.
Ad in the Northwest Journal of Dentistry, December, 1931
While the Brown family’s towel service lasted into the 1940s, many commercial laundry services declined during the Depression. Fewer families could afford this service. After World War II, home washers and dryers became more affordable, reducing the need for laundry services. If you could not afford your own equipment, you could find washers and dryers for personal use in laundromats, which became increasingly popular in the 1950s.
O’Neill’s Tool and Equipment company in the 1925 building
What happened to Brown’s building in Montavilla? After the laundry closed in 1927, Leonard Betz (1897-1957) purchased the building and opened his Fancy Dry Cleaners in June, 1932. The most recent occupant of Brown’s brick building was O’Neill’s Tools & Equipment store. In 2024, the building was sold for $1,010,000 to Tool Building, LLC.
Rendering of a remodeled version of the original Brown laundry building. Courtesy of Bill Neburka EAO
Soon, the historic building will have a new look, a new purpose, and a new life. The BAM collective is currently transforming it into a modern space to house several local businesses.
By
Patricia Sanders
This is part of Montavilla History Questions Answered, a series of history related articles. If you have questions about Montavilla’s past that you’d like answered, local historian Patricia Sanders will investigate your question. Please email your questions to history@montavilla.net and we may feature it alongside Patricia Sanders’ research in a future.
You might expect that Roscoe’s—the popular pub and restaurant at the corner of SE 81st Avenue and SE Stark Street—would be named for one of its owners. But no. Neither Jeremy Lewis nor Quyen Ly is a Roscoe.
According to current lore, Roscoe’s is named for the ghost of a man who died nearby and now haunts the premises.
History offers a different answer. Before Lewis and Ly opened Roscoe’s, there had been a previous restaurant and bar also named Roscoe’s in the same building. The first Roscoe’s opened in 1997. It was owned by John Hurst and Mike Winczeiwski. They chose a name common in the Hurst family tree. Hurst’s father and grandfather were both named Roscoe Patterson Hurst. His brother William used Rosco as a middle name.
Roscoe P. Hurst Jr. obituary. Source: Oregonian, May 6, 2005
The first Roscoe’s was smaller than today’s Roscoe’s. It occupied only what is now the middle area of the current Roscoe’s. That sounds strange until we realize that the 1910 building was originally divided into three separate commercial spaces.
The first Roscoe’s occupied what is now the middle section of the current Roscoe’s. Photo by Jacob Loeb
The 1910 building was designed by the architectural firm of Roberts and Roberts for the Ukase Investment Company. They divided the building into three separate spaces, which could be used by three different businesses, each with its own Stark Street address. Partition walls could be removed to create a larger space if needed.
The brick pilasters between the banks of plate-glass windows reflect the three-part division of the interior. Photo by Jacob Loeb
When the Ukase building went up in 1910, there was a lot of new construction taking place on Stark Street. Builders were replacing commercial structures destroyed in the July 4th, 1910, fire between 80th and 79th Avenues. To avoid future fire damage, builders used brick or concrete. You can still see the original brick construction in Roscoe’s back hallway.
Roscoe’s original brick construction in the hallway to the right of the bar. Photo by Jacob Loeb
Over the years, the Ukase building was occupied by a wide array of businesses. The interior looked quite different when the Montavilla Savings Bank—one of the earliest tenants—opened in May 1913. The Oregon Journal of May 11th, 1913, described it as “elegantly fitted up with fixtures of mahogany, marble, and bronze.”
“Montavilla Bank Opens with Excellent Prospects.” Inset profiles: President Lee Arnett (upper right) and cashier H. L. Smith (lower left). Source: Oregon Journal, May 11, 1913
At noon on September 3rd, 1919, what happened in the bank must have looked like something out of a silent movie. Two robbers armed with pistols walked into the bank and demanded cash. Teller William Burg refused their request, and bookkeeper George Pickering fired three shots with his revolver to attract attention. The frightened robbers scurried to their getaway car and sped down Stark Street.
These Montavilla Bank employees foiled an attempted robbery. From left to right, they are William Burg, teller, L. G. Mconnell, cashier, and George Pickering, bookkeeper. Source: The Oregonian, September 4, 1919
In 1924, the Montavilla Bank vacated the Ukase building and moved into its new brick building at the northeast corner of 80th and Stark. (Today, the same—but remodeled—building is occupied by the Ya Hala Lebanese restaurant.)
After the bank moved out, Ray Wilson opened his bakery in 1924 and eventually added a grocery store. In 1936, he moved to a larger building across the street at Stark and 80th, where Fred Mayer would later be, and where Lewis Rents is now.
Ad for Ray Wilson’s Puritan Grocery and Bakery. Source: Montavilla Times, February 13, 1931
Over the ensuing years, the individual stores of the Ukase building were home to a variety of small businesses. At different times, between the 1940s and the 1980s, you could find another grocery store, an insurance agency, a shoe store, a real estate office, a women’s apparel store, a mom-and-pop café, and a card shop, to name just a few.
Phils Wear-A-Bouts is one of several businesses once located in what is now Roscoe’s. Source: Oregon Journal, December 19, 1968
In 1997, the first Roscoe’s opened. It offered food, drink, and Wednesday-night comedy.
In 2004, the first Roscoe’s changed hands and reopened as Clifford’s. Clifford’s closed in 2006 just as Stark Street was revitalizing with new businesses, such as the Bipartisan Café (opened in 2005) and the remodeled Academy theater (re-opened in 2006). (Flying Pie Pizza, incidentally, had been in business since 1984).
In 2006, longtime friends Jeremy Lewis and Quyen Ly created a restaurant and bar in the Ukase building. They revived the Roscoe’s name for the pub portion of the operation. (Ly’s adjoining restaurant is Miyamoto Sushi.)
Roscoe’s hardwood floor with old layers of flooring still seen at the right under the bar’s edge. Photo by Jacob Loeb
With businesses in the 1910-Ukase building spanning more than 100 years, it’s not surprising that the current owners had to spend hours removing layers of carpet and tile flooring. A ghost may not have haunted Roscoe’s, but we might say it contains the ghosts of many businesses past.
Roscoe’s – 8105 SE Stark Street, open daily 11 a.m. to 2 a.m.
By
Patricia Sanders
This is part of Montavilla History Questions Answered, a series of history related articles. If you have questions about Montavilla’s past that you’d like answered, local historian Patricia Sanders will investigate your question. Please email your questions to history@montavilla.net and we may feature it alongside Patricia Sanders’ research in a future.
On April 30, 1913, Montavilla residents gathered at the northeast corner of Burnside and 82nd Avenue to attend the grand opening of Fire Station No. 27. For years, the community had fought for professional fire protection. At last, it had arrived.
Montavilla Fire Station at the northeast corner of 82nd Avenue and Burnside Street. Source: East Portland Historical Overview & Preservation
The need was evident as early as the early 1890s. The neighborhood was not yet part of the City of Portland, and it was on its own when it came to fighting fires. In June 1892, the residents of Montavilla’s first subdivision—Mount Tabor Villa Addition—met in their newly-created town hall to form their own volunteer fire brigade. The June 30, 1892, edition of the Oregonian reported that 56 people signed up as members. They elected officers. A committee would help raise funds for firefighting equipment. A “grand ball,” held in the town hall, raised “a handsome sum of money,” according to the Oregonian of July 20, 1892.
How often the Mount Tabor Villa Fire Company was activated is unknown. But the Oregonian reported that on the night of May 15, 1895, the brigade was called to action and partially succeeded. They were unable to save the Carlson house, but they did prevent it from spreading by throwing wet blankets onto the roof of the house next door.
Over the next few years, Montavilla’s population grew as new subdivisions were platted. Houses and commercial buildings multiplied. Better fire protection was needed. This task was taken up in 1902 by the newly formed Montavilla Board of Trade, a neighborhood improvement organization. The board’s first effort was to assess various types of fire extinguishers.
In 1902, the need was clear. In September, a Rockwood fire spread west to Montavilla and destroyed a number of houses. In October, the nearby Oriental Hall on Mt. Tabor also succumbed to flames.
Oregon Journal, September 12, 1902, page 1
William DeVeny—Montavilla’s Buffalo Bill look-alike and secretary of the Montavilla Board of Trade—advocated annexing Montavilla to the City of Portland. “For all the fire protection that we now have,” he proclaimed, “we might as well be located in the woods, many miles from the city limits.” With annexation could come local, professional fire protection.
William DeVeny of the Montavilla Board of Trade argued strenuously for annexation to Portland. Source: The Centennial History of Oregon, 1811-1912, Vol. 3, 1912
Many Montavilla voters opposed annexation, but it finally won in 1906. Now officially part of Portland, surely Montavilla would get better fire protection as well as Bull Run water, which would boost Montavilla’s insufficient water supply, a needed resource for squelching flames.
Portland fire protection did not come quickly. In 1908, Montavilla joined the nearby Mt. Tabor and Center neighborhoods to petition the Mayor and City Council for local fire protection. They failed. In August 1909, Montavilla resident Seth Lind lost his house on East Madison Street. A month later, the Montavilla Board of Trade pleaded with the City to at least provide 1,000 feet of fire hose and a hose cart. Again, they were turned down.
The Oregon Journal, September 10, 1909
City protection was still lacking when fire broke out on July 4, 1910 in one of Montavilla’s main commercial blocks. Despite the date, the fire was not caused by fireworks. It started at 4:30 am when confectionary store owner, William Armstrong, lit his gasoline stove to heat some water. He stepped away for a moment and the stove suddenly exploded, filling the store with flames. From his store in the wood-frame Leander Lewis building at the northwest corner of Stark Street and 80th Avenue it spread north to adjacent stores on 80th and west all the way to 79th Street. Soon most of that block was in ruins.
Lacking a local fire station, Montavilla residents rushed to the scene to help. They started removing goods until the rapidly spreading fire made this too dangerous. Now, residents could only fight the flames with garden hoses and buckets. At one point, the refrigerator plant in Giles’ meat market exploded, carrying the sound for miles.
By the time two east-side fire-engine companies arrived, 15 buildings lay in ruins.
Results of the July 4, 1910 fire in Montavilla Photo courtesy of the Oregon Historical Society
Michael Smyth’s dry goods store at the northwest corner of Stark and 79th survived the fire relatively intact. The repaired building is now home to the Bipartisan Café. Photo courtesy of the Oregon Historical Society.
The Oregon Journal estimated the total damage of the fire as $35,000. Fortunately, most businesses had insurance. Toll’s shoe store on 80th, however, was one of the uninsured, a $5,000 loss. Some businesses lost machinery as well as goods. And residents living above the stores lost clothing, furniture, and family heirlooms. These and other details of the devastating effects of the fire were reported at length in the Portland press.
Headlines in the Oregon Journal July 5, 1910 edition
Fortunately, injuries were minor. The destroyed buildings could—and would—be rebuilt, but this time with concrete and brick, not wood.
Surely now, the City of Portland would grant Montavilla a fire station. Just one day after the conflagration, the intrepid William DeVeny sprang into action and started circulating petitions for a Montavilla fire station. The Oregonian supported the petition, stating, in its July 9 edition, that “the narrow escape of the suburb from being completely destroyed has emphasized the need for a fire station and engine in the central portion of the district.” Montavilla also needed more water mains and fire hydrants: that campaign would begin in the fall.
Despite these efforts and the clear need, Mayor Simon and the Executive Board refused to grant Montavilla a fire station.
In 1911, the Montavilla Board of Trade launched another petition campaign, hoping to be more successful with the new Portland administration. By this time, Montavilla could argue that its new water mains could supply water for firefighting. The Oregonian again supported the effort, noting in its July 10, 1911, edition that the Mount Tabor fire station at E. 61st and Stark was too far away. This was demonstrated in August 1911, when Montavilla sent an alarm to that station, and its three horses refused to pull the engine over the hill.
In October 1911, signed petitions were presented to Portland’s new mayor, Allen G. Rushlight, and the Executive Board. They agreed to appropriate funds for a Montavilla fire station in the coming year. By June 1912, Battalion Chief Holden—an architect as well as a fire chief—had drawn up plans for a Montavilla station. Construction was underway by August.
The trend at this time was to use motorized vehicles, but Holden’s design would work for either horses or engines. The Montavilla station began with horsepower, but a few years later, switched to motorized trucks.
On April 30, 1913, Montavilla’s Engine Company No. 27 opened at the NE corner of Burnside and 82nd. That day, citizens were welcome to inspect the brick and concrete building, listen to a fireman’s band, and hear speeches by Mayor Rushlight, Montavilla booster William DeVeny, and others. 2,000—surely relieved–citizens attended. Finally, Montavilla had its own fire station.
The Montavilla Firehouse No. 27 opened onto NE 82nd Avenue. Photo courtesy of Jason Watson
The Montavilla fire station was established at the end of the fire-horse era. Mechanical engines were already replacing horses. Photo courtesy of Jason Watson
Four years after the Montavilla fire station was threatened with closure. In 1917, the City of Portland decided to reduce its firefighting budget. That meant selling horses, replacing them with motorized vehicles, and eliminating three fire stations. Since Montavilla was one of the three, it seemed doomed. But the Montavilla Board of Trade fought back, arguing that Montavilla—with its 1,936 houses, 50 businesses, four schools, seven churches, and a population of 15,000—deserved local protection. The Board also protested the plan to replace horses with engines, arguing that motorized fire trucks could not traverse Montavilla’s many dirt streets. City Commissioner Bigelow pointed out that fire engines using heavy chains could get to places horse-drawn vehicles could not.
Montavilla Station 27 survived the City’s economizing effort. But horses would be replaced by motorized trucks. The new vehicles, bedecked with flowers, were displayed in the 1920s Rose Parade.
The Montavilla fire truck covered with roses, delphiniums, and snapdragons won a fourth-place prize in the 1923 Rose Parade. Photo courtesy of Jason Watson.
In the 1920s, the men of Engine 27 sometimes joined other firefighting units to quell blazes outside Montavilla boundaries. A headline-catching Rocky Butte fire on July 23, 1924, is one example. After spreading east, the fire headed west to 82nd Street. Before the fire was extinguished, it burned an estimated 800 acres. It took nearly 100 people to beat back the flames. Fortunately, the damage was mainly limited to grass and brush.
During the Depression years, firefighting forces were reduced for economic reasons. The Montavilla fire station lost two crew members.
Montavilla Fire Station No. 27 continued in service until 1953. As part of Portland’s fire station replacement program, it was shut down, and a new fire station—engine 19—was built at 7301 E. Burnside. It serves the Montavilla, South Tabor, Madison South, and part of the Mount Tabor neighborhoods.
Portland Fire and Rescue, Engine 19, 7301 E. Burnside
The old Montavilla fire station was demolished, and the property—plus the two adjacent lots—became the site of a Carter Oil gas station in 1959. In 1986, the three lots were occupied by Sigler’s Auto Sales. Today, it is home to Cars to Go.
Engine 27 fire fighters relaxing in front of the old Montavilla station. Photo courtesy of Jason Watson
Montavilla was lucky to get its own fire station. As usual, in this feisty suburb, it took a community.
By
Patricia Sanders
This is part of Montavilla History Questions Answered, a series of history related articles. If you have questions about Montavilla’s past that you’d like answered, local historian Patricia Sanders will investigate your question. Please email your questions to history@montavilla.net and we may feature it alongside Patricia Sanders’ research in a future.
A – The Sunday edition of the May 7th, 1916, Oregonian, announced the formation of a Black church in Montavilla. By this time, the Black population of Montavilla had grown from only two in the 1900 U.S. Census to numbers large enough to warrant a mission church, that is, one by a larger religious organization. The Oregonian photograph shows a congregation of 40 men, women, and children. A few years later, Mission Church became Shiloh Baptist Church.
The 1916 Oregonian photo shows the Mission Church congregation standing in front of a brick wall. This is undoubtedly the east side of Scenic Theater, where services and Sunday school were held. The Scenic Theater — located at the northwest corner of Stark and 79th — was still an operating movie theater and also a meeting place for several Montavilla groups.
Photograph of the Montavilla Mission congregation Source: The Sunday Oregonian, May 7, 1916
The Oregonian credited George Gardner (1880-1937) and Ida Thompson (1872-1960) — misspelled “Thomas” — with founding the Mission Church for the sake of Montavilla children, who needed a local Sunday school. Mrs. Thompson already had experience operating a Sunday school. Before moving to Portland, she lived briefly in Denver, Colorado, and there supervised the Sunday school at Bethlehem Baptist Church. Once Shiloh Baptist church was established in a new location, she managed its kindergarten for many years and became known as the Mother of Shiloh.
In 1916, George Gardner was not yet a consecrated pastor. He was ordained in 1920 and served periodically as Shiloh Baptist’s pastor.
In 1916, the Montavilla Mission congregation hoped to build its own church. But by 1919, the congregation had dwindled to only nine. That’s when Mrs. Thompson and her friend, Mrs. Sarah James (1885-1953), sprang into action. Lacking funds for a new building, they purchased a house at the northwest corner of NE Everett and NE 76th, which they converted into Shiloh Baptist Church. (Coincidentally, this was just one block from today’s Highland Christian Center.)
Shiloh was and still is a popular name for Black Baptist churches throughout the U.S. This Hebrew name is associated with the New Testament Messiah. One famous example is the Shiloh Missionary Baptist Church in Selma, Alabama, which was a stop on the 1965 march from Selma to Montgomery.
Rev. Alexander E. Reynolds (1862-1923) was Montavilla’s Shiloh Baptist Church’s first minister. He was recruited from Bethlehem Baptist Church in Denver, where he had been pastor for 11 years. Perhaps he was recommended or recruited by Ida Thompson, his former parishioner and Sunday School supervisor. Perhaps Ida hoped Rev. Reynolds could perform the same miracles for the Montavilla church that he had done in Denver. In Denver, he had raised church membership from 12 to 125 and increased the church treasury from zero to an amount sufficient to buy two lots for a future church.
Unfortunately, the Montavilla congregation — despite repeated efforts — never had its own purpose-built church. The house on Everett remained its home until the 1950s. Despite the small space, the congregation grew. The Oregonian of July 19th, 1921, reported that the new church had “a large audience” of both Black and White churchgoers.
Rev. Reynolds left in 1921 to take a new position in Yakima. Later that year — the week of July 17th — Shiloh Baptist brought in an evangelist, Rev. Lowe of Cleveland, Ohio, to lead a revival. Did the Shiloh community need spiritual solace after learning of the recent horrible Tulsa massacre — one of the worst incidents of racial violence in U.S. history? Were they seeking to expand their congregation? Whatever the motivation, The Oregonian reported a large turnout of both Blacks and Whites.
In 1923, the church had a run of bad luck when the new pastor, Rev. Elijah Moseley, was arrested in a police moonshine raid. Rev. Moseley and two others were suspected of violating Oregon’s prohibition law. Rev. Moseley was accused of being disorderly and fined $10. The indiscretion was exposed in the October 11th and 13th editions of The Oregon Journal.
In 1924, Shiloh Baptist almost lost its property. But Rev. J. W. Anderson and Rev. W. D. Carter of the Northwest Coast Baptist Association came to its rescue. The Shiloh congregation publicly expressed its gratitude in The Advocate.
The Advocate, December 13, 1924
In 1926, George Gardner — now Reverend Gardner — returned to Montavilla Shiloh Baptist as an ordained minister. For the next couple of years, things seemed to go swimmingly for the church. It was enlivened by Christmas celebrations, guest speakers, plays, an athletic club, barbecues, street fairs, chitterling dinners, Halloween socials, a Freewill Workers’ club, and stirring sermons by Rev. Gardner. Sunday School attendance was also up, with regular attendance at 40.
The Advocate, October 15, 1927
The Advocate, July 2, 1927
In November 1927, Rev. Gardner resigned, leaving a list of complaints published in the November 12th issue of The Advocate. He said he was not only the pastor. He was also the janitor, the woodchipper, the fire builder, the window washer, and the errand man. He regretted leaving the church without a pastor and a debt of $300, but he was tired of preaching mostly to his wife, since church members seemed to prefer going to movies or staying home. Still, he did not forget Shiloh Baptist. He returned to reminisce for the church’s 8th anniversary in February 1928.
Photo of Rev. Gardner. The Advocate, April 28, 1928
Despite repeated efforts to build its own church, the congregation continued to meet at the house on Everett until the 1950s. It was a convenient location for most of Montavilla’s Black residents who lived between Burnside and Glisan, from NE 74th to NE 79th.
More changes came quickly, starting in 1928. Ida Thompson gave up kindergarten supervising and moved to her six-acre chicken farm in Barton, Clackamas County. Yet she continued to play a pivotal role at Shiloh Baptist to its bitter end.
A succession of pastors came and went between 1928 and 1929. By 1929, the church was finally out of debt and once again dreaming of building a church. Rev. Gardner returned once again in 1931.
Greater stability came in 1933 with a new pastor, Rev. Robert E. Donaldson (1885-1966), who was fresh out of Chicago’s Moody Bible Institute. He would serve Shiloh Baptist for 14 years, the longest period of pastoral stability in the church’s history.
Rev. Donaldson initiated several benevolent and outreach initiatives. For example, in 1938, he founded a retirement home for Black clergymen — the first of its kind in the Northwest. It was located across the street from the Church, in the 1890 house at 7524 NE Everett, which still exists.
7524 NE Everett formerly the Pacific Coast Aged Ministers and Missionary Home. Photo by Jacob Loeb
Shiloh Baptist carried on — although not without problems — until 1961, when the last known pastor, Rev. Robert H. Anderson (1890-1963) retired. Beginning in 1943, the church’s name changed several times: People’s Community Baptist Church, then Shiloh Missionary Baptist Church, then New Shiloh Baptist Church, and finally back to Shiloh Baptist Church.
These name changes occurred during a period of difficulties and discord, much of it stemming from the condition of the church facility. By the 1940s, it was in disrepair, and in 1948, the City of Portland condemned it. There were efforts to restore it or build a new church, which led to the congregation splitting into two factions: Ida Thompson, Sarah James, and Rev. Donaldson on one side, and congregants loyal to the current minister, Rev. Robert H. Anderson, on the other. The battle finally devolved into litigation.
Three of the main actors in the Church’s history died before the conflict could be resolved: Sarah James in 1953, Ida Thompson in 1960, and Reverend Anderson in 1963. The battle over how to sustain the church was over.
In 1965, the Crown Construction company tore down the house that had served the Shiloh Baptist congregation for over 40 years. It was replaced with a duplex that is still in use.
The story of Shiloh Baptist Church is remarkable, with many ups and downs, but it is also a story of persistence. The Church faltered at several points in its history, and yet it survived for over 40 years.
Someday, perhaps a plaque will mark the spot where Shiloh Baptist stood. For now, its memory is preserved in the National Register of Historic Places, as part of a multiple-property listing approved by the National Park Service in July, 2020.
By
Patricia Sanders
This is part of Montavilla History Questions Answered, a series of history related articles. If you have questions about Montavilla’s past that you’d like answered, local historian Patricia Sanders will investigate your question. Please email your questions to history@montavilla.net and we may feature it alongside Patricia Sanders’ research in a future.
Montavilla’s Academy Theater had been in business since 1948, when, in 1966, it faced a new challenge: the Eastgate Cinema opened at SE 82nd and Harrison, just a few blocks away.
The Eastgate, created by the future movie mogul, Tom Moyer (1919-2014), was bigger and more luxurious than the Academy. It also used the latest cinema technology. The Eastgate opened with a two-auditorium theater, then added another, single-screen building. Altogether, the complex could seat 2,200. The Academy seated a little over 600. The Eastgate closed in 2001. Today, the buildings are home to the Slavic Church Emmanuel.
Ad for the grand opening of the first Eastgate Theatre. Source: Oregon Journal, October 25, 1966
Despite the Eastgate competition, the Academy managed to stay in business for several years. It had one advantage: cheaper tickets. While the Eastgate screened first-run movies, the Academy showed cheaper second-run — and sometimes even third-run — films.
Jim Teeny found other ways to stay in business. He reduced screenings from daily to weekends. On Sundays, attendance was light, so he invented Portland’s first “dollar night” movies: for $1, you could see a double feature and cartoon, and drink unlimited amounts of free Boyd’s coffee. Another gambit was to book a lot of Clint Eastwood movies, which earned the Academy a reputation as the “Clint Eastwood house” of Portland.
Clint Eastwood in The Man with No Name (1964). Source: Wikipedia
Jim stopped managing the Academy in 1972 and devoted himself exclusively to his fly-fishing business. The Teenys sold the Academy to Warren Stanley “Sam” Crawford, who continued to operate it as a movie theater until 1974. For a brief time, Crawford also used it as a concert venue.
Sometime after 1974, Crawford remodeled the building to produce a “penny-saver” newspaper called Nickel Ads. The auditorium was gutted and flattened to make space for the big six-unit printing press. According to Andrew Hessel, former manager of Nickel Ads, this advertising newspaper was successful, but it relocated in 2001.
Nickel Ads occupied the Academy Theater building from about 1975 to about 2001. Photo courtesy of Heyward Stewart.
The Academy Theater was once again empty and available. In 2002, Ty DuPuis, owner of the Flying Pie Pizzeria, bought the vacated Nickel Ads building, with the idea of reviving the Academy as a theater-pub, a model that had saved many a neighborhood theater.
In 2004, DuPuis partnered with Heyward and Julie Stewart. Together they put a team of architects, contractors, builders, and designers.
Stephanie Brown, a Portland interior designer, helped restore the theater as closely as possible to its original Streamline Moderne style while also creating a theater that meets current standards of comfort, convenience, and safety. All this on a limited budget.
But restore it to what? It was unclear what parts of the original theater looked like. Portions of the entrance and lobby remained, but the auditorium was a mystery since it had been gutted and flattened to meet the Nickel Ads’ needs. Moreover, there were only a few old photographs to guide the restoration.
The auditorium before renovation. Photo courtesy of Academy Theater
The theater’s auditorium seated over 600 people, but this was considered too large for second-run moviegoers. The solution: divide it into three small theaters.
One of the three theaters in the remodeled Academy. Photo courtesy of Academy Theater
Fortunately, the original curved walls and round ceiling-well of the lobby remained and simply needed restoration.
The restored lobby. Photo by Julio Brown
Besides restoring the theater to its 1940s look, it was also upgraded to seismic standards.
Photos of the original Academy building guided the restoration of the exterior. The rock facing added by Nickel Ads was removed. The original marquee design was restored, down to the theater’s name in curvy letters.
Left: Academy Theater building as Nickel Ads. Right: The restored Academy Theater. Photos courtesy of Academy Theater
But what was the exterior color? There were no old color photos or accounts to guide the designer. The deep blue of the Streamline Moderne Greyhound bus terminals was an appropriate choice for both period and style.
Blytheville, Arkansas Greyhound Bus Station, built in 1937. Source: Wikipedia
Not every detail of the original Academy design could be restored. The original curving pattern of the lights on the underside of the marquee could not be replicated with available materials. The ticket booth of the original Academy was not restored; it was too small to meet Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) requirements. The original front doors had round windows, but these would exceed the renovation budget.
Although not every detail of the original Academy could be replicated, the design was so successful that in 2008 it won a Preservation in Action Award from the Architectural Heritage Center/Bosco-Milligan Foundation. It was one of 15 projects chosen by a panel of judges as outstanding examples of historic preservation created during the previous 20 years.
On March 11, 2006, the restored Academy opened to a sold-out crowd. The line stretched around the block an hour before opening. Old film buffs could choose the 1947 film “Tycoon” starring John Wayne, Laraine Day, and Cedric Hardwicke, the same movie featured on the Academy’s opening night in 1948.
The resurrected Academy Theater has become a Montavilla icon and a community favorite. In 2013, when Hollywood decided it was go-digital or die, a crowdsourcing campaign raised nearly $49,000 to buy the new projectors. The Academy was able to remain in business.
Not only did the historic Academy survive, but it also helped, along with Ya Hala, Flying Pie, and Bipartisan Café, to revitalize Montavilla’s historic downtown.
Olivia Knapp, “On the Other Hand,” mural creation on the west exterior wall of the Academy Theater Aug, 29 2015. Photo by Jacob Loeb
The Academy Theater received an upgrade in 2015, with a mural added to its west side. At that time, Seattle-based artist Olivia Knapp added a pen-and-ink style mural called “On the Other Hand” to the very wall that Jim Teeny helped to repaint every year.
Olivia Knapp, “On the Other Hand,” mural on the west exterior wall of the Academy Theater Photo by Thomas Tilton
Acknowledgments:
For this article, I am grateful to the following people for the information they generously shared with me: Heyward Stewart, co-owner and manager of the Academy; Jim Teeny, son of the original owners of the Academy; Stephanie Brown, the interior designer who helped with the Academy restoration; and Andrew Hessel, a general manager of Nickel Ads.
If you want to know more:
On the remodeling, see an excellent article by Inara Verzemnieks, “Trickle up effect tips the momentum on Stark Street,” The Oregonian, April 6, 2006
I think most would agree that the Academy Theater on SE Stark is one of Montavilla’s most outstanding historical buildings. When it opened in 1948, it could claim to be the most modern building on Montavilla’s main street. How it came to be and how it survived is a story with many twists and turns.…
This is part of Montavilla History Questions Answered, a series of history related articles. If you have questions about Montavilla’s past that you’d like answered, local historian Patricia Sanders will investigate your question. Please email your questions to history@montavilla.net and we may feature it alongside Patricia Sanders’ research in a future.
I think most would agree that the Academy Theater on SE Stark is one of Montavilla’s most outstanding historical buildings. When it opened in 1948, it could claim to be the most modern building on Montavilla’s main street. How it came to be and how it survived is a story with many twists and turns.
It began as the dreamchild of Fred Teeny (1914-1979) and his wife Lillian Mary Shaheen Teeney (1920-2009). Fred came from an entrepreneurial family—his father and brothers owned numerous businesses in Portland. This business orientation goes back to Fred’s father, Joseph Abraham Teeny (1885-1952), who had emigrated to the U.S. from Lebanon in 1906. Joseph soon opened a dry goods store on Foster Road, and his son Fred opened his own dry goods store in the 1930s at the southwest corner of Stark and SE 80th—now the location of the 2005 building where Tinker Tavern is today.
By the mid-1940s, Fred and Lillian started thinking about building a movie theater. They decided the opposite end of the block, where their dry goods store was located, would be a good location.
The timing must have seemed right. By this time, World War II had ended. Restrictions on non-war-related construction had been lifted. Movie theater attendance was rising, hitting a new box-office high in 1946. While Montavilla already had a movie theater—the Granada—but there wasn’t one on SE Stark, Montavilla’s main street.
Presumably, the Teenys wanted a modern building, not something with the old-fashioned exotic details of the Granada. But something with a little flash, something different from the early 20th-century buildings that dominated Stark Street. So, they hired Portland James William De Young (1885-1965), an architect known for keeping up with the new architectural trends. De Young had been in business in Portland for over 30 years, and he had designed several movie theaters. The Teenys must have liked De Young’s Gresham Theater–its striking winged cylinder above the marquee would reappear in the Academy design.
J. W. De Young’s Gresham Theater design. Source: Oregon Journal, December 15, 1935
For the Teenys, De Young designed not just a theater but a building complex. On either side of the theater, he planned spaces for stores, including one for a Fred Tenny shoe store.
The Academy Theater and adjacent shops around 1948. The storefront on the left is yet unoccupied, but the others were occupied by the Montavilla Camera and Record Shop, Fred Teeny’s Montavilla Shoe Store, Fuller Wallpaper & Paint, and Gardner’s Restaurant. Photo courtesy of the Academy Theater
De Young’s plans were ready by September 1946, but construction was delayed until Fred Teeny could get a permit. His first permit was denied because the post-war U.S. government was prioritizing residential construction, but a few months later, Teeny got a permit, and his contractors, Knott, Rogers, and Dunbar, began construction.
When the theater was finished, it featured a single auditorium with a sloping floor and seats for six hundred. It also had air conditioning, a stylish lobby, and even a nursery for childcare. Behind the theater, there was a large parking lot.
The Teenys decided to name the Academy, so it would appear first in theater listings.
The grand opening took place on April 30, 1948.
A crowd gathers for the Academy Theater’s grand opening. Note the ticket booth was then in the middle of the entrance. Photo courtesy of the Academy Theater
Initially, the Teenys did not manage the theater. They leased it to Al Myers (1909-1979), owner of Montavilla’s Granada Theatre. Al and his wife, Polly (1920-1996), managed both theaters until the late 1950s.
Like many neighborhood theaters, the Academy featured second-run movies. For opening night, it was the 1947 box-office hit, “Tycoon,” starring John Wayne, Anthony Quinn, and Loraine Day.
Poster for “Tycoon” Photo source: Wikipedia
Managers Polly and Al Myers in the Academy lobby. Photo courtesy of the Academy Theater (donated by Polly Myers’ son, Vern Kjargaard)
Something special happened at the Academy in 1949. The May 28 edition of the Oregon Journal reported that movie star Janet Gaynor and her husband, fashion designer Gilbert Adrian, would be at the Academy for a screening of the 1937 movie “A Star is Born.” Gaynor starred in that movie and was nominated for an Academy Award. She did not win, but she had won the Academy’s best actress award for multiple movies in 1929.
Poster adverting the 1946 re-release of “A Star Is Born”. Source: Wikimedia
In 1958, Fred and Lillian Teeny took over the management of the Academy. At this time, they updated the theater by adding stereophonic sound and a wide, curved screen. They continued to manage the theater with help from their children, Sharon (1940-2014) and Jim (born 1945), until 1965.
Ad for the Academy’s “Grand Re-opening” in 1958. Source: Oregon Journal, January 20, 1958
The Teeny family, left to right: Sharon, Jim, Fred, and Lillian. Photo courtesy of Jim Teeny
In 1965, big-band leader Van Armitage (1917-1994) leased and managed the Academy for a brief time. But the theater did not do well, and Jim Teeny and his mother took over.
In 1966, a new problem arose. Montavilla’s first theater complex, Eastgate Cinema, opened just a few blocks away. Could the Academy survive?
To be continued in The Academy Theater Part 2.
by
Patricia Sanders
Title image: Academy Theater marquee in its renovated state Photo by Jacob Loeb, digitally edited to remove power-line
This is part of Montavilla History Questions Answered, a series of history related articles. If you have questions about Montavilla’s past that you’d like answered, local historian Patricia Sanders will investigate your question. Please email your questions to history@montavilla.net and we may feature it alongside Patricia Sanders’ research in a future.
Q – What are the metal rings in old Montavilla curbs?
A – Ringbolts, as these were originally called, were placed in Portland sidewalk curbs in the early 20th century as hitches for horses to stop them from running off. Individual horse owners needed hitches for private use. Merchants needed them even more for home deliveries of fuel supplies, ice, groceries, etc.
The Montavilla Meat Market on Base Line Road (now SE Stark Street) delivered to any part of the city. Source: Beaver State Herald, December 21, 1906
The iron ringbolts had the advantage of being more durable than the old wooden hitching posts and racks, which could decay. They also offered alternatives to the unfortunate use of trees as tethers. Tree-tethered horses liked to snack on tree bark, often damaging valued shade trees. Tree-hitching became illegal in Portland in 1877, yet as the Oregonian article below shows, it was still a problem in 1889.
The Oregonian, August 24, 1889
And still a problem in 1905, despite the threat of arrest or fines.
Illustrated in the October 26, 1905 edition of the Oregonian.
Ringbolts became mandatory in new sidewalk curbs in 1902 when Portland City Engineer William B. Chase ordered concrete contractors to embed one ringbolt for every 25 feet of curb. Portland ordinances specified the exact dimensions and form of the ringbolts. (This law would apply in Montavilla after it was annexed to Portland in 1906.)
Source: 1905 General Ordinances of the City of Portland
The above photograph shows just the ring portion of the ringbolt. The bolt itself was embedded in wet concrete. Photo by Thomas Tilton
Today, we can see only the top portion of the ring bolts, as the lower part is embedded in concrete.
This antique handmade iron ring bolt shows entire ringbolt. Found on Ebay on January 7, 2026.
As a means of secure attachments, ringbolts have a long history. The Oxford English Dictionary identifies 1599 as the earliest written example of the term ringbolt used to describe a means of fastening ships to walls.
Ringbolts, by the way, are still manufactured today for nautical uses.
A modern ringbolt. Photo courtesy of Sheridan Marine.
When automobiles replaced horses and hitching rings were no longer needed, they came to be seen by some as a public nuisance. In August 1938, for example, a man stumbled over a hitching ring in Portland and fractured his ankle bone. Portland City Attorney Lyman E. Lattourette told the City Council that these relics posed a public safety hazard and should be removed. He advised homeowners to bid their rusty hitching rings farewell and to chisel them away. One Oregonian reader, Spencer Akers, objected. To him, they were priceless antiques and links to the past.
But others saw them as useless. Oregon Journal columnist Dick Fagan, for example, ridiculed ringbolts in his “Mill Ends” columns of the 1960s. He called them “the most useless things in the city.” In 1967, he came across a jeep and a motorboat hitched to the rings.
As Fagan was proclaiming ringbolts useless, Portland contractors were removing the hitching rings when replacing or repairing curbs. The tide of destruction shifted in 1978 when a Ladd’s Addition homeowner, Paul C. Paulsen, objected to the removal of his horse ring. To him, they were not useless. They were pleasant reminders of the past.
Paul C. Paulsen with his ringbolt still attached to his curb and a sign saying the rings may be needed soon.
City Commissioner Connie McCready was also alarmed to learn about the ringbolt removals. She created a policy allowing homeowners to request replacement of the rings after curb work was completed, with a $5 fee to cover the additional labor. Thanks to Paulse and McCready, Portland is one of the few cities with an abundance of antique ringbolts.
Portland’s reputation as a city of many ringbolts was augmented by Scott Wayne Indiana’s Portland Horse Project, launched in 2005. At that time, he began attaching miniature toy horses to ringbolts in Portland’s older neighborhoods, where embedded ringbolts in curbs abounded. The idea caught on, and individual Portlanders began attaching toy animals of various sorts to their own ringbolts. It became a signature Portland idiosyncrasy. Today, Indiana’s Portland Horse Project Facebook page has 5.1 thousand followers. He even has a short video on his website showing you how to tether your own small creature to a ring (https://www.facebook.com/PortlandHorseProject). For more examples, you can find them in Scott’s book, Portland Horse Project.
A tethered toy tiger, 2007. Source: Wikipedia
End note: Do you have a miniature toy animal hitched to your ring bolt? If so, please share a photo of it with us.
By
Patricia Sanders
Title image of Toy horses tethered to a ringbolt in Montavilla Photo by Thomas Tilton
This is part of Montavilla History Questions Answered, a series of history related articles. If you have questions about Montavilla’s past that you’d like answered, local historian Patricia Sanders will investigate your question. Please email your questions to history@montavilla.net and we may feature it alongside Patricia Sanders’ research in a future.
Q – Was cycling popular in Montavilla’s early years?
A –Soon after the invention of the modern two-wheeler, the bicycle craze swept the country. It reached its peak in the 1890s and early 20th century. In Montavilla, there were not only local bicyclists but also Portlanders who liked to head for the countryside in east Multnomah County. A popular bicycle route, the Base Line Cycle Path, went right through Montavilla on what is now Stark Street.
One sign of cycling’s rising popularity is the increase in bicycle sales in Portland. They grew from 2,000 in 1897 to between 14,000 and 18,000 in 1899. There was also an increase in Portland bicycle dealers: from 11 in 1895 to a high of 24 in 1899, then dwindling to 12 in 1905.
What accounts for the bicycle’s popularity? Partly, it was the thrill of riding fast and far wherever you wanted to go—at least, compared to walking. But, also, the availability of the new Safety bicycle and lower prices made bicycling less dangerous and more affordable. A new Vanguard, for instance, cost $85.00 in 1896, but by 1898, you could get a mail-order Acme for $39.50. This was still a high price for the average worker making less than $800 a year, with women, minorities, and laborers earning even less.
Portland cyclists liked to make excursions to the countryside for the fresh air, exercise, and scenery. But most roads were poorly maintained. They were also crowded with horse-drawn vehicles, whose drivers did not yield kindly to cyclists.
To solve this problem, bicycle organizations—particularly the United Wheelmen’s Association—advocated the creation of cycle paths along existing roads, like those already found in other U.S. cities. But who would pay for them? The answer was a road-poll tax on bicyclists who would use the paths. The United Wheeling Association issued tags to all its dues-paying members—1 dollar for men and 50 cents for women and minors—to help pay for bicycle paths. Then, in 1901, the Oregon legislature passed a bill requiring all those who used bicycles to pay an annual tax of $1.
The United Wheeling Association’s 1898 bicycle tag. Source: The Oregonian, August 19, 1898, page 10
One of these paths headed east from Portland and passed through Montavilla’s main commercial street on Base Line Road (now Stark Street). Multnomah County constructed four-foot-wide paths on either side of the road. By March 1900, they were completed from the Morrison Bridge to Montavilla. Later, they extended as far as Gresham.
An Oregonian reporter offered a preview of this new bicycle route in the newspaper’s March 26, 1900 edition:
“As the road is as level as any around Portland, and runs through a beautiful country, the route will no doubt be a favorite one. There is, to be sure, a stiff climb up the Mount Tabor hill, but there are no urgent reasons why the rider who is not inclined to exertion cannot get off and walk, and the view as the road swings around the north side of Mount Tabor is worth twice the climb. A dozen of the sinuous branches of Columbia Slough may be seen shining in the distance, the Peninsula country is spread before the rider, and closer at hand the cottages of Montavilla form a little city of themselves.”
The article was accompanied by a map showing the routes to the bicycle paths east of the Willamette River.
“Routes to Bicycle Paths,” Morning Oregonian, March 26, 1900. North points right. The Stark St./Base Line route is the vertical line below the “R” in River at the top of the map. Source: Historic Oregon Newspapers
The Morning Oregonian of October 16, 1900, called the Base Line Road cycle path “the most popular and attractive drive out of Portland.” But what did Montavillans think of the throngs of weekend bikers whisking through their community? What did they make of those athletic wheelwomen—some undoubtedly wearing the new, shockingly “masculine” attire: bloomers, knickerbockers, and divided skirts?
A woman wearing knickerbockers on a lady’s bike. Such “masculine garb” marked the beginning of more functional clothing for women. Source: Maria E. Ward, Bicycling for Ladies, N. Y., Brentano’s, 1896 (Google book)
Whatever they thought of the bicyclists and the new, controversial clothing, some were definitely worried about the dangers of bicycle traffic. In 1901, 80 residents signed a petition complaining about frequent accidents involving children. The County Court sided with the petitioners and ordered bicyclists to use the middle of Base Line—rather than pathways—for three blocks in Montavilla.
Business owners who offered food and drink no doubt welcomed the weekend bicycle traffic. An article on the bicycle trend in The Oregonian of September 17, 1899, mentions farmhouses and booths along the Base Line Road bicycle route offering lunch and refreshments for bicyclists. In Montavilla, they could stop for sweet treats at Mrs. Winnie Burdett’s confectionery shop—located about where the Academy Theater is today. Or they might enjoy libations at William Grimes’ roadhouse or Captain Schneider’s beer garden, both at the corner of Base Line and 80th.
Grimes’ 5 Mile Road House at Baseline (Stark) and 80th Avenue. Photo courtesy of Bud Holland Collection
This boost to Montavilla businesses was short-lived. As the bicycle fad faded, fewer paid the bicycle license tax, so path maintenance began to slip. Still, in 1903, the Base Line path was one of the most used, even though it had not been repaired for a year. By 1906, Portland’s cycle paths were generally disappearing. The Base Line Road path continued a little longer, but it is not mentioned in newspaper accounts after 1908.
Many Montavillans may have been happy to see the weekend bicyclists go, but soon new and faster vehicles—motorcycles and automobiles—appeared. An item in the local Beaver State Herald on February 27, 1913, described bicycle riding as a little better than walking and as requiring too much human energy. The motorcycle, on the other hand, needed only a little gasoline and some oil for the joints. “All you do is hold the reigns [sic] and do a little steering, no work, no danger of exhaustion, just like sailing.”
And then there was the automobile. In October 1902, a car traveling 35 miles per hour in Montavilla prompted locals to ask the Oregon legislature to impose speed limits on county roads. The world was changing from slow to high-speed propulsion.
Sunday Oregonian, September 16, 1906 Source: Historic Oregon Newspapers
Title Image: “Cycle touring,” Harper’s Weekly, April 11, 1896 (artist, A. B. Frost): Source: Library of Congress LC-USZ62-108253
By
Patricia Sanders
This is part of Montavilla History Questions Answered, a series of history related articles. If you have questions about Montavilla’s past that you’d like answered, local historian Patricia Sanders will investigate your question. Please email your questions to history@montavilla.net and we may feature it alongside Patricia Sanders’ research in a future.
Neighborhood news site focused on buildings and changing businesses
