Hollywood! Hollywood! Come and get me, Hollywood!

Not just another neighborhood, the Hollywood district promises glitz and magic fro its namesake alone. Imagine, a slice of the stars in fashionable Portland. Well, keep imagining. Other than a handful of mildly intriguing shops, with similar fare to our old Northampton, Hollywood is a lack-luster doppelganger to its internationally known overlord in California.


Behold, the grand Hollywood Theater! The roaring 20's era theater inspired the neighborhoods agnomen with its opening on July 17th, 1926 with the silent movie, "More Pay-Less Work". It stands as a still-working theater with close ties to the community, offering programs to students interested in created documentaries. The local theater focuses on low-budget films for the intelligently arrogant socially concerned set, with documentaries and political flicks speaking out against the world's crimes. The costs are low ($6.50 for adults) and the building is honestly striking. The blazing red and white HOLLYWOOD hangs into the street and is visible from several blocks, while the detailed and intricate Art-Nouveau spires draw in your visual interest.

It is gorgeous and anchors the neighborhood with a clear connection to its early 20th century roots, both celebrated and embarrassing.


The Hollywood District, touted as a shopping haven for northern neighborhoods, boasts several antique stores (like the one to the left, an antique mall, if you will). We visited three, and I would argue the 42 Station is the weirdest and has the strongest odor of old people possible outside a retirement home. The entire stock seems to be on consignment, with an awe-strikingly-large collection of periodicals in the basement and some of the strangest crap you can't imagine. They had furniture, records, toys, lunch boxes, and way more garbage than is worth remembering. However, one, note-worthy item was a cookie-jar, a la Tom & Jerry's housemaid, an Aunt Jemima, black-face minstrel in patchwork dress and cotton bonnet. I can't imagine I would have noticed. It seems innocent enough, an insultingly racist cookie jar from the 40's sold in a junk shop by an elderly couple and their lab Harley, but the history of Portland hints at a less-than-open minded past, one at odds with the city's progressive reputation.

As late as the 1950's, a restaurant touted the city's ignorant and latent racism, The Coon Chicken Inn. Popular for twenty years, the Inn offered reportedly good meals, cheap, and drew in most of the city. It's hard to stand here, now, fifty-odd years later and condemn a city for what was socially acceptable. It's not even like I actually care; I'm not the type. I'm just a little surprised, is all.

Hopefully each weekend, Amber and I will explore another section or neighborhood of Portland. We have our eyes set on the Alberta Arts District for next weekend.