Sodaville

The first thing I noticed about Sodaville Mayor Thomas Brady Harrington was that he didn't quite fit the stereotypical "Mayor" mold that I've gotten used to.  He's young, kinda scrappy, and friendly in more of a drinking buddy way than a statesman sorta way.  I met him in Salem at the Oregon Mayor's Conference and we talked a little about tubing down the Santiam outside of Waterloo, and a little about Sodaville in general.  He seemed like a nice guy and was definitely enjoying his first month of being the new Mayor of a town with just over 300 people.  

A couple months later I was in the Fairview Mayor's office and he asked me if I had met the "convicted felon Mayor."  I had no idea we had an Oregon Mayor that was convicted of a felony, and Mayor Weatherby couldn't remember what town he governed, so I just sort of forgot about it and went off to Canby for another autograph.  Well, a few weeks later I was talking with some folks from Lebanon, who told me the whole story.  Turns out, it's kinda interesting:

Sodaville, originally and ironically named for it's mineral water springs, was having a problem with their municipal water system.  Not enough water for the whole town, so they were having to truck it in from Albany and the city budget was in real trouble.  As the election for the new Mayor neared, the two names on the ballot were incumbent Ronda Bennett and Thomas Harrington.  Mayor Harrington won by just 13 votes, but after the election many of the townspeople admitted that they thought they were voting for Thomas Harrington Senior, the owner of a rock products place in town.  In a way, it's almost the same plot for the movie The Distinguished Gentleman starring Eddie Murphy.  Check out this news story about the whole thing.  It's kinda fun, and when you see Mayor Harrington's mugshots you'll understand why I felt he was a little different when he autographed our map.

There's a happy ending to this story presumably on the way.  With federal stimulus money, Sodaville may soon have the necessary $628,000 to upgrade their facilities.  The best news--for me anyway--is that convicted felons can still be Mayor.  Watch out in 2024, Woodburn!  I'm officially announcing my candidacy.  

  36 down, 206 to go.

Astoria

One of these days I'm going to quit my job and move to Astoria. I have been saving almost $70 per month since I got married, so at this rate I'll be there in 2108. Can't wait. I'll find an easily remodeled ranch in the South Slope neighborhood and teach old people how to kayak in Young's Bay. Seriously, Astoria has everything a transplanted Portlander would need: A natural foods store, a cafe that serves Stumptown, multiple places to enjoy a microbrew, a strip club, dive bars, and even the Columbia River just to remind you that you're never to far from home.
Hood River is a close second, but Astoria is my first choice for a place to lie low for an extended weekend. And there's no better place to do just that than the old Astoria Red Lion. That place must have been built just before the decline of the logging and fishing industry, and I imagine it must have been the jewel of the north coast after it was built. Every room has a sweeping view of the bridge and the marina with a deck right over the water. These days the attached restaurant has long been abandoned, and sometimes (when the maintenance people accidentally leave it unlocked) you can sneak inside and wander through the upturned mold-covered barstools and the rotting tablecloths while pretending you're in a post-apocalyptic version of 1980s Astoria. I once saw a mongrel pup limping out of there with what looked like a platter of potato skin apps, but it was late and I was just walking back from the Triangle Tavern so I could have imagined it. By the way, the smoking ban is all well and good but if there's any place in this state that you should be allowed to smoke, it's the Triangle. Two lawn chairs behind the building on a cold spring night just ain't going to cut it, especially since you can't bring your beer back there.
Astoria and its Red Lion have been with me through thick and thin. I spent two days there the weekend before I got married. Knowing my friends would throw me the world's most cliche bachelor party if I didn't get out of town, I hightailed it to Astoria and hid in the Wet Dog Cafe until it was time to tie the knot. Although technically littering, I took a friend of mine out there during one of the worst winter storms I've ever seen and we sent messages in bottles to his estranged girlfriend via the choppy Columbia and empty bottles of Henry's Blue Boar. To this day I'm sure you can find a dozen drunken missives addressed to Rita Tiwari at the bottom of the mooring basin. My ex-girlfriend downed a three-egg breakfast at the Pig-N-Pancake too quickly and had the most amazing upchucking experience I've ever encountered--barfing them up cleanly and neatly back onto the plate, a slightly different color but the exact same consistency. Good times.
I met Mayor Willis Van Dusen at City Hall, an amazingly beautiful building in historic downtown Astoria. Julie Lampi, the executive secretary, totally hooked me up with a Monday morning meeting and hung out with me while I waited. I had never met an executive secretary to a Mayor before, so I was relieved that she was so friendly. Before I walked up to the third floor where the Mayor's office is, I noticed that City Hall is attached to an abandoned hotel. Julie told me that it's called the Waldorf, and because Waldorf, Germany is the sister city of Astoria, it's slightly embarassing when one of their representatives visits to see that the Waldorf Hotel in Astoria is a neglected, boarded-up, yet gorgeous old building (for those of you keeping score at home, Waldorf, Germany is the birthplace of John Jacob Astor, for whom Astoria is named for). I wish I could afford to buy it and turn it into something. Oh, I should also mention that the poster for the movie "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III" is prominently displayed in the grand hallways of City Hall. I bring that up only because I wanted to get through this post without saying anything about the Goonies.
Mayor Van Dusen showed up and graciously signed our map even though I think I may have made him late for another meeting. He was wearing an Oregon Ducks coat, which proves my theory that any coastal mayor north of Yachats is a Ducks fan. One of the first things he asked me was who the most unfriendly Mayor I had met so far. I was so taken aback by the question that I actually answered it without hesitation. What a random question, I thought, but was too surprised to hem and haw. I'm willing to bet that Mayor Van Dusen uses that tactic a lot in his mayoral duties, and he probably gets a lot of straight answers out of people that way. He had just dealt with the plane crash from a few days before, so maybe that was it.

35 down, 207to go.

Warrenton

I really do love living in Portland, but I love even more the opportunity to leave it. Laurie and Henry had to stay behind once again to take care of the chickens and the garden starts, so I rented a car downtown and hit Hwy 26 at full speed--fast enough to get a speeding ticket. Maybe it was the fact that my rental had Washington plates, or maybe it was just because I was going 72 in a 55. I like to believe it's because I subconciously wanted to have something in common with Vice President Al Gore, who in 2004 got a speeding ticket in the same place, driving a rented white Toyota Camry just like mine. Al Gore is the Mayor of awesome, so I'll pay the ticket.
I'll be the first to admit that I really haven't spent a lot of time in Warrenton due to the fact that Astoria is just over the Youngs Bay Bridge. I figure most people don't know that there's more to that town than just Ft. Stevens State Park and the wreck of the Peter Iredale. So I made a point of NOT visiting either of those two places and instead opted to hike the Skipanon River Peninsula Trail. Turns out Warrneton has a huge network of trails (and water trails!) that traverse the whole area.
I had called the Warrenton City Hall the week previous to ask for Mayor Gilbert Gramson's autograph on our big map of Oregon, and the City Manager told me that the Mayor has an open meeting every Monday morning at 9:30am. Perfect for skipping out on a Sunday night and just going to work late on Monday afternoon, I thought.
After strolling into City Hall on Monday morning and finding the right room, I was immediately offered coffee and donuts by some folks that looked like they may attend every one of these weekly meetings: Good civic-minded folks, I'm sure. By 9:37 the room was almost at capacity, which is relatively out of the ordinary according to the look on Mayor Gramson's face when he walked in and sat down. The first order of business was the vandalism to the park bathrooms. I never did figure out which park they were talking about, but apparently it's quite the problem as of late. The ideal solution, I learned, was to build new bathroom facilities in the style of the State Parks that are more easily maintained, but of course that's ridiculously expensive. Mayor Gramson brought up a plan to have park hosts that basically live there in their RV for the tourist season, which I thought was pretty brilliant. It seems like there is no shortage of retirees with RVs so I felt the idea was pretty Solomonesque.
After that business was over the Mayor asked who was next. When no one immediately spoke I stood up and volunteered: "I'm sorry to waste everyone's time, and I know you all have important matters to discuss, but I was wondering if I could get your autograph?" I explained to all present that we were visiting each town in Oregon to meet the Mayor, and everyone in the room seemed to think that was a cute idea. Mayor Gramson seemed especially intrigued and was happy that he got to sign before the Mayor of Astoria did. I love the fake rivalries these Mayors have with each other. I would totally be the same way.
34 down, 208 to go.

Umatilla

It's pretty much exactly like my wife told me before I left the house this morning: "You can pretend it's 2001 and just drive aimlessly around Eastern Oregon." She's pretty much right. It's been a great day driving back and forth over the high plateau stopping at random bars and truck stops and cafes and the like just talking to random people and talking about the town they live in. My only complaint is the no-smoking law. Out here in Eastern Oregon the only thing it seems the law's done is move people out into the wind.
Umatilla is somewhat of a border town. I say that only because there are at least three adult-themed businesses in the downtown section. I could totally see people coming down from Washington to see strippers. Truckers and college students from up in Walla Walla mostly. And admittedly I probably would have stopped in if this were the summer of 2001 but I'm in Umatilla for something a little more respectable today: To get Mayor David Trott to autograph our map of Oregon.
The current Umatilla City Hall building is unassumingly nestled on Oregon Highway 730, but a shiny new one is being built a couple blocks away. Mayor Trott invited me into City Hall even though it's closed for the weekend and we talk about Oregon for a while--my favorite topic of conversation. He showed me around the council chambers when I noticed that on the wall were portraits of all the former Mayors of Umatilla. One portrait in particular caught my attention, a Mrs. Laura Stockton Starcher, the first female Mayor in the United States. She apparently ran against her husband in 1916 and won--perhaps because there were so many more women in town than men (not to mention Oregon was only one of 11 states to allow women to vote). She and the four newly-elected female council members brought about a number of socially progressive changes to the town including the founding of a library and a sanitation department. I highly recommend you buy me the historical novel Operation Clean Sweep so that I can read it to little Henry some time.
Umatilla is also starting to become known its art community. The welcome sign near I-82 is a pretty good example of the metallic arty thingies that are popping up. Hopefully Umatilla will become known for this in the way that Joseph is known for its bronze sculptures. There are even a couple of pieces for sale inside City Hall. I almost bought a big metal salmon but I'm not sure if Mayor Trott takes American Express--probably not his job.
33 down, 209 to go

Hermiston

Hermiston has at least two Starbucks. That blows my mind. I could see them having just the one pseudo-Starbucks in the Safeway, that would be okay. But no, they have a freestanding building on Hwy 395 (their main street) that is a dedicated Starbucks. I know that seems like a banal thing to talk about, but it's really upsetting to me. I guess I want Hermiston to forever be Conway Twitty instead of Billy Ray Cyrus, or whatever the country kids are listening to these days. Seeing a gigantic Chevy pickup pulling into the drive-thru of a Starbucks in Hermiston is--to me, anyway--like seeing Santa Claus in a porn movie. Granted, it's a soft-core porn movie like you'd see on Pay-Per-View at the Astoria Red Lion, but it's still porn. And Santa's in it.
I guess that's me being a typical Portlander, though. I want Eastern Oregon to remain this idyllic haven of rural bliss and the mere mention of development or progress makes me not only cringe but feel somehow offended as well. I guess that if I REALLY didn't want Hermiston to get a Home Depot then maybe I could stop shopping at the ones in Portland in protest. But a Wal-Mart distribution center? That's just too much.
After meeting with the mayor of Boardman I called Mayor Bob Severson and he agreed to meet me at the MacDonalds there in Hermiston. It's about a 35 minute drive no matter which route you take, so I decided to take the least scenic route via the Umatilla Chemical Depot, where they're burning up all that nerve gas from the cold war. I promised myself I wouldn't curse on this blog, but that place figuratively scares the shit out of me. Five years ago I wouldn't have thought twice about it, but now that I'm old and have a kid, I can't even feel good about eating the eggs from my own chickens without getting a lead test on the soil on which the coop is built over. I'm getting so paranoid these days that I'm thinking about making my own underarm deoderant because of the weird aluminum additives found in my Speed Stick.

So it's pretty dumbfounding how quickly all my fears melted away once I drove past the depot and into Hermiston proper. It's a real town: A real, working, honest town complete with a ridiculously authentic downtown drugstore and everything. Granted, the only thing that was open downtown tonight was the Cozy Tavern (chicken gizzards w/ fries: $7), but I imagine that the Kickin' Cowgirls Western Store does a fair share of business during normal weekdays. Twently bucks says that the drugstore has a soda fountain.
Mayor Severson gave me a Hermiston pin. I don't know if every town has these pins (Hermiston is only the third pin I've been given), but if they do then I'm doing this 242-city trip again next year. I'm not sure if I can describe to the five readers of this blog how much it means to me to receive a city pin, but if you know me then it would be on par with being asked to play the glockenspiel during halftime at the Oregon-Oregon State Civil War game. I don't know how to play the glockenspiel, and I don't even know which team to cheer for. I guess what I'm saying is that if you're going to pull out the city pin, don't be surprised if I get flustered and therefore overly chatty and nervous. To put it into terms that I can understand, a Mayor giving me a city pin is like someone saying "Run home, Charlie! And don't stop until you get there!" Except instead of the promise of touring a chocolate factory I have a pin that says "Yes, you've been there, the pin proves it, and the Mayor says you're pretty okay." So to all the Mayors I meet in the future: My apologies. I'm not trying to be rude and I'm not crazy. It's just that I'm more of a Veruca Salt than a Charlie. Hermiston is a river of chocolate and I can't help but jump into it, even if everything downtown except the Cozy Tavern is closed on Sundays.
Also there's a big watermelon painted on the water tower.
32 down, 210 to go.

Boardman

It's been a pretty amazing day. Amazing, that is, if you're a big Oregon nerd like I am. I spent the last couple of days trying to get a good Interstate 84 mix going on my iPod full of good predictable travel songs from the likes of Booker T and the MGs, Jackson Browne, Old 97s, Magnetic Fields, and all the other usual suspects. Laurie and Henry stayed home to mind the new chicks so I got to roll down the windows and blast some vintage Talking Heads through downtown Arlington. The thing I love most about I-84 is that there is such a defined line between the wet side of the state and the dry side (It's about 2 miles west of Mosier). And the thing I love most about the dry side of the state is that it makes me feel like I'm really traveling. Clatskanie and Creswell are all fine and good, but they do kinda have the same general terrain and flora of home, so it's incredibly liberating to see twisted junipers and abandoned lines of barbed wire decorated with years of tumbleweeds like a Christmas tree that you never take down.
I pulled into Boardman and checked into the Rodeway Inn, which is within potato-throwing distance of the freeway. Again, the family stayed home this time or I would have definitely checked out the River Lodge and Grill. Although I've been through Boardman at least a hundred times, this is honestly only the third time I've stopped here--and the first two times were because this happens to be where whatever jalopy I was driving decided to break down. So it was nice to finally purposely visit. I called Mayor Chet Phillips, and he drove right over to autograph our map.
I want to tell the story of meeting Mayor Phillips kind of backwards because I think it will be more interesting that way. The last thing he said before he left was, "You're a pretty tactful democrat for coming to Boardman to talk politics." I figured he was half-right. But it's not so much that I'm tactful, it's just that I can understand the frustrations of the eastern 2/3 of our state when laws get passed by the majority of Oregon's population that just don't make sense in rural towns in the middle of the desert. And I'd love to give an example, but I'm getting to this weird level of casualness in conversation with these Mayors that I'm beginning to think that what we talk about is sorta off-the-record. But I will say this: When it comes to cougars and coal plants, I think it would do a lot of us wet-siders (people from "the state of 503" as Mayor Phillips would say) good if we walked a mile in their boots. Or maybe drove a mile in their gigantic Ford F-350 King Cabs. Because it's true that everyone out here drives those things. I drive an '07 Nissan Versa and the maid at the hotel looked at it like it was a spaceship.
"On the river and on the way" is the official motto of Boardman, which is pretty genius since both sentiments are completely correct. The entire city of Boardman was relocated in the late 60s after the John Day Dam was being built. Hence the lack of any sort of cohesive downtown core. I find it absolutely amazing that we were displacing entire towns for hydroelectric power just 40 years ago. That whole concept seems so WPA or Chinese. Founded by Sam Boardman (whom I believe invented the concept of the rest area?) in 1903, the Columbia River inundated the original townsite just as the freeway was being built and PGE started erecting those modern power lines we're used to seeing. So there are actually three distinct sections of Boardman that are divided by I-84 and the 600-foot PGE easement. The oldest building in town must be the Longbranch Saloon (grilled cheese and tomato soup: $4), but I'm basing that solely on the width of the timbers supporting the roof.
If you come to Boardman (and you should), check out Boardman Marina Park. It was 57 degrees and partly sunny here today and I had the entire park to myself. I had a couple of leftover Session Lagers left in the back of the car and it was such a nice evening that I built a little fire underneathe a willow tree and enjoyed the sunset over the Columbia--just 40 or 50 feet above Original Boardman. I call it O.B., and it's the way you should be. They should totally change their motto. Yes, I'm ending this post with a mid-eighties tampon commercial reference.
31 down, 211 to go.

La Grande, Island City, Joseph

When I was at the OMA thing in Salem, Mayor Colleen Johnson of La Grande, Mayor Dale Delong of Island City, and Mayor Dennis Sands of Joseph all autographed our map of Oregon.  Honestly, I haven't been to that corner of the state since the summer of 2001.  I've been meaning to take Laurie out there since we met because that's probably my favorite section of Oregon.  It's hard to explain, but it's basically a mixture of all the best parts of the wet third of the state and the dry two-thirds of the state:  You have all the perpetual green of the wet side, but then you have the remote expanses of the dry side.  Give me 20 acres outside of Minam and I'm happy.

Maybe I'm being stupid or myopic here, but I honestly don't understand why any right-minded Oregonian would ever want to leave the state when we have all the little towns around the Blue Mountains to explore.  Did you know that there's a restaurant out there that's only accessible by plane or horseback?  I hear they have little goat cheese appetizers even.  There are three stages of food, in my mind:  Regular food that you eat every day, food that you eat when you are camping that tastes incredibly yummy because you're sleeping outside, and--finally, the perfect stage of food--a meal that had to be packed in via horseback.  C'mon.  How could a 3-day, 4-night trip to Cozumel compare to horsed-in goat cheese appetizers?  It just can't.

Like I said, I've been trying to get Laurie out to northeastern Oregon since before we got married, and it looks like this is the year.  We have ten days booked here.  With a little luck, we'll explore a little more of La Grande, Island City, and Joseph.  And hopefully get the autographs of Mayors from Enterprise (looking forward to that one), Halfway, Union, and all the other little towns from my favorite corner of the state.  And then Laurie will want to move there so screw Portland.  Come try our artisan goat cheese; We're farmers now.

30 down, 212 to go