The Journal’s piece is neatly framed by its title and subhead: “‘Youth Magnet’ Cities Hit Midlife Crisis: Few Jobs in Places Like Portland and Austin, but the Hipsters Just Keep on Coming” and artfully rendered by Sean Flanigan’s telling images. It’s far from a glowing report on any front. The fact that highly educated people migrate here and then find little or no work is a common, if not a somewhat self-reinforcing fact of life in Stumptown. The article picks up on that and runs with it until there’s no more track.
I don’t believe the Journal’s portrayal is wrong. You do need to be a willing and resourceful pioneer to make it here. It’s the price of passage on The Oregon Trail, now, as always.
Knowing that you have to prove yourself worthy is, no doubt, daunting for the comers, but what good materializes without a meaningful sacrifice of some sort? I can’t think of any. Can you?
For more on this subject, see the discussion at Silicon Florist.
Tom Crum, the writer I picked up at PDX on Thursday, has scaled said mountain three times and he tells me it’s all about having a deadline and the discipline to meet it.
Crum has lived in Aspen for 40 years. He taught mathematics to Hunter S. Thompson’s kid, worked in business, established a Martial Arts school, co-founded the Windstar Foundation with singer John Denver, and founded Aiki Works, a company which provides motivational speaking, workshops, publications and other services to aid people in their becoming more effective, happier, more centered humans.
His first book, The Magic of Conflict: Turning a Life of Work into a Work of Art was a best seller. Crum is also the author of Journey to Center: Lessons in Unifying Body, Mind, and Spirit and Three Deep Breaths: Finding Power and Purpose in a Stressed-Out World.
He was in Portland to give a keynote at Living Future ’09 put on by Cascadia Region Green Building Council, Darby’s employer and the group responsible for the “Living Building” designation, which pushes green building standards beyond LEED Platinum.
Ryan Frank, The Oregonian’s real estate writer, looks at the commercial real estate situation on Portland’s NW 23rd Avenue and paints a not pretty picture.
The 23rd Avenue shopping strip, Portland’s palace of posh, is fraying under the weight of the recession. Empty storefronts are now as visible as double lattes.
From every street corner between Everett and Raleigh streets — 13 blocks — shoppers can spot a “For Lease” sign or plywood-covered window. Demand has fallen far enough that a head shop called Mary Jane’s House of Glass can now afford a 23rd Avenue storefront.
Let’s look on the bright side. Frank points out that things were worse during the Dot Bust of ’01; easy access to a head shop isn’t necessarily a bad thing; and enterprising businesses in need of space can find good deals on rent right now.
Trendythird wasn’t always an expensive shopping district. In fact, not long ago at all, it was a forest. Tomorrow, it’ll take on another hue.
Our friend Colleen treated us to a private tour and tasting at Lemelson Vineyards on Saturday. It was a special treat for my 44th birthday and it was an honor to be welcomed as VIP guests from the minute our party arrived.
Colleen is Lemelson’s National Sales Manager, which means she travels to accounts non-stop to act as the winery’s ambassador. And from what we saw on Saturday, she’s quite the ambassador. In fact, it’s clearly time to start calling her Madame Ambassador.
First, Colleen showed us the facility’s vaulted high tech room where the grapes are destemmed and put into large stainless fermentation tanks. Then we descended like gravity to lower rooms with more tanks before reaching various cellar rooms where Colleen explained in great detail what was inside all the expensive French Oak barrels. Lucky for us, we tasted straight from the barrels so our education would be complete. After the tour we soaked up the day’s warm sun on the deck and let some of Oregon’s finest wine flow down our gullets.
It was a great time to put it mildly. If you have yet to experience a glass of pinot noir from Lemelson, do yourself and your loved ones a favor and let the good times roll…
Powell’s Books recently dropped plans for a $5 million expansion
The New York Times decided that Portland would make a good case study for cities feeling the pain of recession.
Portland, a metropolitan area of 2.2 million people, affords an ideal window onto the spiral of fear and diminished expectations assailing the economy. The area has long attracted investment and talented minds with its curbs on urban sprawl, thriving culinary scene and life in proximity to the Pacific Coast and the snow-capped peaks of the Cascades. In good times, Portland tends to grow vigorously, elevated by companies like the computer chip maker Intel — which employs 15,000 people in the area — and the athletic clothing giant Nike.
But in recent months, Portland has devolved into a symbol of much that is wrong. Housing prices have fallen more than 14 percent since May 2007. Foreclosures more than tripled last year, according to RealtyTrac. The unemployment rate for the metro area surged from 4.8 percent at the end of 2007 to 9.8 percent in January 2009, according to the Labor Department.
With a major deepwater port on the Columbia River, Portland has benefited from the growth of global trade, gaining jobs for stevedores, truckers and warehouse workers. But as the global recession tightens, Portland’s docks are a snapshot of diminishing fortunes.
On a recent day, parking lots at the port were full of 30,000 automobiles that had been shipped in from Japan and South Korea, yet sat unclaimed by dealerships as sales plummeted.
I’m not sure what to make of this story. Facts are facts and the fact is times are tough. Yet, something resembling normal life is clearly going on at the same time. New restaurants are opening in revitalized Old Town. Bands are playing. Coffee shops are full. Conferences are going off as planned.
As someone who writes stories, I know first hand how you shape a story by leaving things out. The story above and most stories on the economy today leave the good news out (on purpose) because it doesn’t fit with the story their editors are asking for. Why editors need to ask for that same negative reinforcement story over and over is beyond me, but since the habit is well established it pays to look past the paper directly to people in the community for news.
I believe in Oregon. I want to grow a business, hire people, and help the state realize a great economic future. I promise to hire Oregonians, grow my business in Oregon and keep my company in the state of Oregon. I want to build value not just for my employees and shareholders, but for State employees and the people of Oregon. -the pledge of Beaver State entrepreneurs
A group of Oregon entrepreneurs—Harvey Mathews, Wayne Embree, Josh Friedman and Mark Grimes—is pushing to raise $100 million to help support startup ventures based in the Beaver State.
With all of the talk of the Obama Stimulus Plan it just makes sense that some of the money is directed towards the people that want to create new companies. The case is simple. Small businesses employ a hell of a lot of people and could employ a lot more. It doesn’t take millions of dollars to get a smart entrepreneur down the path to success. This meeting was all about showing the state of Oregon that there is talent, there are ideas, there are businesses to invest in.
Rick Turoczy of Silicon Florist is encouraging entrepreneurs who did not make the meeting to fill out on online form he set up that asks some basic questions. Like how would your startup use $250,000 this year? Turoczy will compile the responses and forward them to the folks working on this who will in turn deliver them to the Oregon Treasurer’s and Governor’s offices, and to various Mayors’ desks.
I answered the questions with AdPulp in mind. I said we’d hire five writers. And now as I engage around this question again and consider the possibilities inherent in my own startup, I’m rightfully excited. With five full time, fairly compensated and totally motivated writers on staff, AdPulp could make some serious noise. I like that idea, maybe even enough to pursue funds from angel investors.
The nine stories in Livability by Jon Raymond are jangling around in my head, like chimes after the wind has come.
For me Raymond is a discovery, a new writer to follow and a local one at that. His book of short stories released just before Christmas has already garnered reviews from The Denver Post, San Francisco Chronicle and LA Times. Raymond also did an interview with Seattle Times art critic, Michael Upchurch.
Upchurch asks Raymond about his priorities, since he also the Editor of Plazm, an art mag, writes screenplays—two of Raymond’s stories in this collection have already been made into films—and has a novel under his belt.
Writing fiction is the “job” I try to keep at the center of things. The movie stuff has been a wonderful accident, though not entirely bizarre, either, as I have done some work in film before, and even directed a ridiculous, cable-access feature back in my 20s. As far as paying the bills, though, I’ve had the pleasure of falling into an odd series of freelance jobs over the years, mainly in advertising, or para-advertising capacities. I also teach from time to time and review books and art. So far it’s worked out all right, but long-term survival remains kind of mysterious to me. The father’s artistic/financial anxiety in “New Shoes” is definitely something I relate to, and something I think a lot of other artists probably would, too.
In the story “New Shoes” the screenwriter at the heart of the story learns to not get his hopes up. Here’s a sample of Raymond’s prose:
Along the way, dozens of people had proclaimed their love the project before ultimately, grudgingly, with great regret, etc., passing. In the movie industry’s spectrum of affection, Dan had come to find, loving something didn’t actually mean that much. It was all hyperbole. If something was “good,” it was generally terrible. If something was “great,” it was not embarrassing. Merely to love something was a form of neutrality at best. It implied fear that someone else might see potential there, and thus it might be worthwhile to buy the author a few lunches, but it foretold no commitment of any kind. In a world of delicate egos, Dan could see how hyperbole was useful. Loving ensured no one’s feelings got hurt. But he was not deceived by the word anymore either.
The only word that mean anything was “special.” “Special” was the highest praise. He never got “special.” (p.185)
There’s a deep yearning in Raymond’s characters. In “New Shoes” Dan the writer-director longs for the approval of distant producers and money men. His longing is palpable, but it doesn’t compare to the needs of other characters in Raymond’s book. In “The Suckling Pig” every character the reader meets has some sort of hole to fill with work, recognition, respect, and of course, love. The story “Benny” is another classic. Benny’s family needs to know their junkie son is safe. Benny’s childhood friend (and narrator of the story) needs to prevent himself from drifting too far away from his roots. Benny himself is desperate for his next fix. In the story “Young Bodies” a teen-aged immigrant from Russia is tough on the outside, but she’s desperate for the intimacy she’s never know. And so on.
What the reader is left with is a sort of melancholy. The kind one might find in a certain brand of indie rock songs, say by The Decemberists. That is to say, it’s a charming and welcome state of mind, even when it’s not joyous. I also get the sense that these stories are a 21st century update on the pioneer’s dream. All the stories are set in Oregon, which is a grand stage, however you look at it. Raymond intentionally showcases urban and suburban Portland, along with The Cascades and the coast. It’s complex, this dream we dream in Pacific Wonderland. And like it’s always been, the dream comes true for some while others’ have their hopes crushed and possibilities continually minimized.
The last story in the book, “Train Choir” is rib aching sad. It’s been made into a film by director Kelly Reichardt. It’s called Wendy and Lucy and stars Michelle Williams. You can see in the trailer the sense of living on the edge that’s inherent in Raymond’s work. You can also see the Western themes played out cinematically, the pace is slowed and one’s struggles are made to seem almost picturesque.
If Jeremiah Johnson (as depicted by Robert Redford in the 1972 film) were alive today and living in Oregon, I’m confident Jon Raymond would capture him in a narrative framework.
This is the community weblog that gives crowdsourcing a good name.
I’m making note of it because MetaFilter is the work of McMinnville, OR resident, Matt Haughey.
Since moving to Portland last August, I’ve taken note of how many craftsmen and women are at work here. Many. In every conceivable field. To stay with content creators for now, I’d like to present my list of Portland’s top producers.
Dave Allen of music site Pampelmoose is a founding member of UK Post-Punk band, Gang of Four. He hosts a show on 94.7 knrk and holds down a big time day job at Nemo Design.
Rick Turoczy is the Silicon Florist. He keeps Portlanders up to date on all the local happenings in tech. He also writes for ReadWriteWeb, one of the most prominent tech publications online.
Marshall Kirkpatrick is Vice President of Content Development at ReadWriteWeb, and also the Lead Writer.
Dawn Foster is a social media maven, community manager and event organizer. She writes Fast Wonder and contributes to Om Malik’s WebWorkerDaily.
Amber Case is is a Cyborg Anthropologist and Consultant. She writes at Hazelnut Tech Talk and Discovery Channel’s new NerdAbout.
Julian Chadwick is the content generating mad man behind PDXPipeline, the best source for upcoming cultural events in the city.
Cami Kaos & Dr. Normal are the city’s husband and wife podcasting team par excellence. They produce Strange Love Live, a weekly interview show featuring Portland’s movers and shakers in the social web space.
By no means is this list exhaustive. A quick run through Strange Love Live’s archives, for instance, shows how much deeper it all goes.
This morning I headed down to SE Belmont for my first taste of Pine State Biscuits. I had a country ham and cheese biscuit and a side of hash browns. Both were perfectly prepared.
Afterward, I scooted down the street to Stumptown Coffee where I ordered an iced quad espresso. I decided to post up next door in the Annex since it’s a bit easier to focus in that space.
It turns out my choices were serendipitous. Glen in the Annex was busy working up his daily ritual—the 11:00 am cupping (there’s also a 3:00 pm cupping every day). I asked him what he was doing and the next thing I knew I was being offered an education normally reserved for coffee buyers and award show judges.
Glen had five different roasts available to smell and taste. We bent over each cup, using a spoon to release aromatics while dipping our noses into the rich brews. Glen mentioned that coffee is three times more complex—chemically speaking—than wine. My nose agrees. With wine I can detect the subtle gifts of chocolate, tobacco, berries, etc. Picking up the elemental differences in coffee is a bit trickier.
I did pick up an intense citrus nose in the Ethiopian Bera. Glen said that it evokes strawberry-flavored Jolly Ranchers for him. I brought a pound home, so whatever we were smelling, it was worthy of $14.00 and further exploration.
I have to give it to Stumptown. This free daily cupping is a wonderful experiential marketing offering. It solidifies Stumptown’s place in our minds, but even better, it tells us more about who Stumptown is. Many companies would be content with providing exceptional coffee. Stumptown is doing more and reaching higher. Coffee is passion and Stumptown is wisely inviting others to share in their particular passion.
I quaffed my first pint of Terminal Gravity IPA last night. While considering my choices at McPeet’s Tavern on Fremont Street, I found the branch-of-a-tree tap handle intriguing. Thankfully, the beer was right there with it.
Here’s how Beervana describes the liquid from Enterprise, in the NE corner of the state:
Pours a surprisingly dark, deep amber/orange with a nice head that, not suprisingly, doesn’t survive the alcohol long. Malt and alcohol dominate the nose, hops singing harmony.
I enjoyed this pint on the heels of Widmer’s Broken Halo IPA, which was a refreshing opener to the night’s beer session. Terminal Gravity’s IPA provided a deeper, richer, more brooding experience and the perfect segue into even denser liquids of the stout variety.
