An Architectural Guidebook To Portland

For every building in the Guidebook, there are another dozen that had to be left out because of space restrictions, geography, timing, or personal vendetta. Here are a very few of them.

Gordon ("Usonian") House 1963 Oregon Garden, Silverton Architect: Frank Lloyd Wright This is the only Oregon structure designed by the world's most famous architect. Wright never saw it, though. (He died four years before it was completed.) In 2001, this famed home was moved twenty-six miles from its original location in order to escape the destructive intent of its new owners. The house had previously been sited on a concrete pad south of Wilsonville, but when the property was purchased by individuals with little interest in the structure ("Frank Lloyd who? I don't care what his name is, that's where I want to park my Escalade!"), the Frank Lloyd Wright Conservancy stepped in. Through its efforts, the building was relocated in three pieces to its current position in a sixty-acre garden. The 2,133-square-foot structure is known as a "Usonian home," a design that Wright innovated in the 1930s for middle-class home buyers. ("Usonian" was an adjective that Wright invented to refer to the United States. It never really caught on, but then, you already knew that.) In 1938, LIFE magazine commissioned Wright to design "A House for a Family of $5,000-6,000 Income." So the Usonian house was intended for working-class people who wanted something affordable, rustic, and private, with a sense of connection between interior and exterior space. One was built in Wisconsin in 1939, and this one was the second (and last) in the series. This home exhibits Wright's trademark horizontal design elements. It is made of cedar and cinder blocks, and sports twelve-foot floor-to-ceiling windows. Adding to its unique nature is the fact that out of the five Wright homes existing in the Pacific Northwest, this is the ONLY one open to the public. Usonian! Usonian! (I guess it's still not going to catch on.) When the AIA selected the "top ten" buildings of the twentieth century, four were designed by Wright. (He was the only architect with more than one listing.)

Mount Angel Abbey Library 1970
Alvar Aalto (On-site Architect: Erik T. Vartiainen, Architects of Record: John Wells, Vernon Demars)

Although not within the Portland metropolitan area, this building may be the most architecturally significant in the Pacific Northwest. The Mount Angel Abbey (founded 1882) was created by Benedictine monks from the Abbey of Engelberg in Switzerland. Having lost an earlier library to fire, the library's director wrote to Alvar Aalto (1898-1976) in 1963, asking the world-famous architect to design the rural monastery a structure that fit in with the existing structures, hillside, and the Benedictine order's traditions. While Alvar Aalto ranks among the 20th Century's very greatest architects and designers, his work is primarily in his home country of Finland (this library is one of only two Aalto buildings in the United States.) Because of this, he does not have the instant name recognition of say, Frank Lloyd Wright. Interestingly, despite his substantial accomplishments, Aalto was not licensed in the United States, and he is not the legal architect of record for this building.

Aalto designed the entire building in Finland, a country not noted for its topography. Using maps and photos, he managed to create this building with only one visit to the site in 1967, a trip which did virtually nothing to change the plans he had made a hemisphere away. In order to keep the building's (and its occupants') attention turned inward, no view windows were designed in the original blueprints.

One enters the library on its main floor, where its white brick subtly brings one in from the courtyard. This floor is built up to be on a level with the rest of the hilltop monastery. Below are two more floors which go down the hillside. The circular/fan-shaped building is something along the lines of an auditorium style-structure, or perhaps an amphitheater that has gone through a black hole and been marvelously transformed. In the library's central space, where the mezzanine balcony looks down upon the spoked design, one can appreciate the organic, rounded curves and the light woods and shades awash in ample natural light. A famous designer as well as architect, Aalto also designed all the building's furniture, the largest such collection in the world. The building is a significant work by a master of architecture; it is an understated, undulated masterpiece.

This library won a Presidential Citation from the American Institute of Architects in 1995; this is essentially the group's Medal of Honor award for a building.

"Pod" 2002 Sculptor: Pete Beeman Powell's Books, across from southeast entrance (Tenth and Burnside) This kinetic, brushed metal tripod is an inspired choice for the barren little traffic island it resides on. Give the bronzed knob at the bottom of the sculpture's shaft a shove. (That is, shove it if you're near six feet tall; half-pints need not apply.) If you CAN reach it, it's a lot of fun to set the steel swinging in a stately sweep. The fact that the interactive sculpture reminds me of a load of rebar shoved into an oversized walnut only increases my enjoyment of it.

Edgefield 1911 Originally Multnomah County Poor Farm, a.k.a. Multnomah County Home and Farm 2126 SW Halsey Street, Troutdale Architect: Weber and Bridges This once decrepit hundred-room Georgian-style brick edifice has been transformed into something well-nigh magical. The McMenamins' incorporation of historicism, art, and whimsy were used in good stead on this condemned property's physical rehabilitation. From 1911 to 1947, Edgefield was run as a "poor farm," a place where people who couldn't earn a living due to "infirmity, idiocy, lunacy, or other cause" were housed. The bell tower crowning the brick structure signaled when to return from working in the fields. After being subsequently run as a nursing home from 1964 to 1982, the building was abandoned until renovations began for its current incarnation as a lodge; it opened for business as such in 1993.

Marquam Bridge 1966 Just south of the Hawthorne Bridge State of Oregon Highway Department The stock line about the Marquam is that it is the first Portland bridge to be designed by computer . . . and it shows. It is essentially a glorified highway ramp that happens to cross a river. Considering the other notable bridges in the area, it's impressively ugly, almost as if the designers wanted it to suffer by comparison. The Oregon Art Commission condemned this bridge for its height and cutting into the city's panorama, but they filed their condemnation too late to stop the bridge's construction. (I guess that's about par for the course for those flaky artsy types.) The only good news about the Marquam Bridge is that it is the only one of Portland's bridges to be somewhat "earthquake-proofed." The cost of completely retrofitting the other bridges has been deemed prohibitively expensive. Reader Alan L. shares that “The reason that it is way up in the air is that there was a shipyard just upriver where ocean-going ships were brought for repair or scrapping. Since by the time the Marquam was being designed, they weren't allowing drawbridges on Interstate Highways, they had to (at considerable extra cost) build it way up there. But, within a couple of years of its completion, the shipyard closed and, to my knowledge, there hasn't been a vessel tall enough to justify the bridge's height under it since. Clearly a case of one company's financial benefit outweighing the public good. Without that shipyard…driving on it (especially the upper deck) wouldn't be so terrifying.”

Timberline Lodge 1938 Six miles north of Government Camp Architects: W. I. Turner, Howard Griffin, Dean Wright, Tim Turner, Linn A. Forrest, Ward Ganno, G. S. Underwood The Great Depression is responsible for the construction of this amazing lodge; work began on it in 1936 as part of the WPA's efforts to keep unemployed workers working. Much of the stonework was done by the same Italian masons who had worked in the Columbia Gorge on projects dating as far back as Benson's Bridge. Less than a year-and-a-half later, this alpine lodge - with its rough stone masonry, heavy timber, and rustic mountain landscape - was completed. Dedicated by President Franklin D. Roosevelt, father of the WPA (who was forced to beat a hasty retreat from the new lodge to avoid being snowed in), it is noteworthy for its "Cascadia"-style construction. This means that the workers used really big chunks of lumber. (Newel posts in the lodge were made from recycled telephone poles.) The central three-story lounge comes complete with a rubble-stone chimney rising up in the middle, which was designed to generally replicate the shape of Mount Hood. The first floor of the lodge is often covered with snow (people have skied down the building itself), necessitating entry through the second floor. And yes, this lodge was used in the movies The Shining and Lost Horizon.

Vista House, a.k.a. Crown Point 1918 (a.k.a. Gateway to the Columbia Gorge, Oregon's Statue of Liberty) Architect: Edgar M. Lazarus (Baltimore) Construction director: John B. Yeon This fifty-five-foot, sandstone-faced, Teutonic thimble was the brainchild of Multnomah highway engineer Samuel Lancaster, supervisor of the Columbia River Highway project. He wanted to build more than a stretch of road; he wanted to leave a landmark that complemented the natural wonders already present. The dramatic rock point he chose for the site was called "Thor's Crown" by the Scandinavian homesteader who once owned the land. It was here that Lancaster said there would be "an observatory from which the view both up and down the Columbia could be viewed in silent communion with the infinite." The style in which architect Edgar Lazarus chose to execute this commission is called Jugendstil, (a German term meaning "youth style.") It is a Germanic version of Art Nouveau. Edgar Lazarus was evidently inspired by a painting by German Romantic luminary Max Bruckner, whose 1896 work "Valhalla" seems to be a clear precursor to the Vista House design. The result looks great, but it was expensive. Although the original estimate for the construction of was $17,000, costs ran to nearly $100,000 before the building was complete. The Alaskan marble used in the floors and stairs drove costs up, so as money ran low, the interior of the dome was painted to imitate the marble and bronze that could no longer be afforded. Resultantly, this building was initially referred to as "the most expensive comfort station [a.k.a. rest stop] in the world." County Commissioner Rufus Holman fired John Yeon as county road master over building costs because Holman had only approved $12,000 for a "small, covered structure." Vista House was the final capping glory to the Historic Columbia River Highway, which had been finished in 1916. Not only was it the Pacific Northwest's first modern highway, it was also the first scenic highway ever constructed in the nation, designed to take advantage of the area's amazing views and waterfalls. The incredible foundation for Vista House was laid by Italian masons who had been shipped in to work on the bridges and walls of the Columbia River Highway. Much of the highway is still in place, and the viaducts, walls, and bridges have taken on a mossy nobility with time. Though the building looks like it was built well enough to withstand the frigid blasts of the Columbia River 733 feet below, that was not the case. Keep in mind that the rain can hit this building at a horizontal angle, and there's a lot of it. And the freezing, my God, the freezing! A poorly designed 1949 copper-roof addition over the original roof tiles caused significant water damage to the outside and inside of the building, resulting in an overhaul that has cost millions of dollars. A new tile roof has seven layers of waterproofing beneath it, enough to give even a Nordic storm god pause. President Woodrow Wilson visited here in 1919 on a trip promoting the League of Nations. Two weeks later, he suffered a stroke, and he spent the rest of his term infirm.

Multnomah Falls Lodge 1925 50000 Historic Columbia River Highway, Bridal Veil Architect: A. E. Doyle The famous 1914 Benson Bridge in front of Multnomah Falls preceded the lodge itself; its stones were laid by the same Italian masons who created Vista House's foundation. (Every manner of stone found in the Columbia River Gorge is contained in the lodge's construction; let's hear it for igneous rock!) Falls owner Simon Benson purchased this site to prevent it from becoming the victim of "hot dog stands and mammy's chicken shacks." (He subsequently donated the site to Portland.) The city then hired A. E. Doyle to create the beautiful lodge, which fit in perfectly with both the bridge and the natural environment. Naturally, the building has fallen prey to exactly the cheesy tourist attractions that Benson feared; if you want to buy a coffee mug with a picture of the Falls on it, this is the place!

Washington State Capitol Building 1927 Olympia, Washington Okay, so I have expanded the geographical domain of Portland architecture to another state. Washington's capitol dome has been retrofitted for earthquakes, and that's a good thing. After an energetic shaker in 2001, there's a few cracks in the plaster, but it's otherwise okay.

Space Needle 1962 Seattle, Washington Architect: Jack Graham and Company Sputnik created the Space Needle. The Space Needle got its name from the "space race" between the United States and the USSR, which began in 1957 with the launching of Sputnik. This in turn inspired various Seattle business people and promoters to seize upon the theme of "science and technology" for the Seattle World's Fair of 1962. The Space Needle remains as the most significant legacy of this promotion/hucksterism. Made of steel and soaring over 600 feet over the Experience Music Project (Frank O. Gehry, 1999), the base of the Needle has 5,850 tons of concrete in it; this prevents the tower from wobbling overly much during earthquakes. A one-horsepower motor powers the restaurant as it turns at the top of the Needle; it takes nearly an hour to get a full 360 degrees. The first manager of the Seattle Space Needle, Hoge Sullivan, was afraid of heights. It had to be doubly unnerving for him to know that the Space Needle sways approximately 1 inch for every 10 mph of wind. There is a group known as the Committee Hoping for Extraterrestrial Encounters to Save the Earth (CHEESE) that believes that the Space Needle is an antenna being used to communicate with beings from other worlds.