You will find short stories on this site. Most are autobiographical. Some are fiction.

REBUILDING on MISSISSIPPI AVE.

In the 1990s Mississippi Avenue and the surrounding Boise-Eliot neighborhood, were considered to be among the most dangerous neighborhoods in Portland Oregon. It was not uncommon to be awakened by the sound of gunfire but never by barking dogs as was the case in the suburbs where I had lived before. I asked one of my neighbors, why there were no dogs barking at night, he answered “We don’t put up with barking dogs.” “What do you do about them?” I asked. “We shoot em” he replied.

One night I was awakened by the sound of gunshots in front of my house. From my second story window I could see a city bus nosed into the curb on Mississippi Ave. But I could see no one inside. I watched as the heads of passengers and the driver began to rise into the windows. They were cautiously peeking out to see if the danger had passed. Leonard later told me that someone “shot up the bus” from a passing car. No one was injured.

On another occasion, I saw that the police were examining a red sports car in front of Leonard’s Deli. I later ask Leonard about it. He laughed as he explained that the driver of the sports car had been at an all-night party. The woman who owned the car had told him to drive her car to the deli for pastry and coffee. Then, noticing that her car was gone, she called the police to report that it had been stolen.

There were two official efforts to improve the neighborhood. One was the Boise-Eliot Neighborhood association. One of the primary concerns in their meetings was the fact that drugs and prostitutes were available in the evenings on several street corners in the neighborhood.

A small group of neighbors became “night walkers” in an attempt to stop the street corner commerce. They would do this by hanging around and chatting with the dealers and ladies. No one in the passing cars would stop to buy what they were selling with a bunch of honkies hanging around. Eventually the whores and dealers moved on to find corners in other neighborhoods. There were no violent reprisals for this friendly approach to “street crime”.

There was a second neighborhood improvement effort by the Historical Mississippi Avenue Improvement District. This was an urban renewal project and so there was money to hire a project manger and to do other things to improve the appearance and reputation of Mississippi Avenue. This group offered assistance to homeowners who were willing to repair their dilapidated houses. They also held an annual street fair and made other neighborhood improvement efforts. These efforts were largely supported by white residents. The black residents either did not get involved or resisted the improvement efforts fearing gentrification. The objective of these two neighborhood improvement groups was to demonstrate that neighborhood improvement was possible without forcing the poorer residents to leave. But this goal was naive. While a few landlords made improvements without raising the rent, most did not. As the neighborhood improved, demand for rentals increased and landlords raised their rent. Despite having lived in the neighborhood for years, lower-income residents were forced out by higher rents.

Over the course of this period, I chaired both of these organizations. Our meetings frequently became confrontational. My tenant, Leonard, attended every improvement district meeting. He had been a fixture in the neighborhood for many years. He referred to himself as “The Mayor of Mississippi Ave.” Leonard and I had different views on neighborhood improvement. He and I occasionally argued during these meetings and yet we remained good friends.

Another positive influence on the neighborhood was the opening of The Rebuilding Center. It took over two vacant lots and a storefront across Mississippi Ave. from my house. It offered people a place to take unwanted home-building supplies and equipment. These items were sold for less than a quarter of what one would pay at a building supply yard. The Rebuilding Center was a success. It gradually grew into an important consumer magnet for Leonard and other shops. New busineses were opened in the vacant buildings on Mississippi Avenue.

Leonard was able to convince the city that he should have a beer and wine license. His delicatessen survived for several happy years in the new century. He had a large barbecue cooker out front. The aroma of sizzling barbecue together with Leonard’s infectious laughter, set a happy tone on our end of Mississippi Avenue.

Leonard taught me how racism is linked to differences in perception. On one occasion I placed several wooden braces under the fruit-laden branches of my apple tree. Seeing these, Leonard asked why I had put up symbols of lynching in my yard. At another time I had purchased a “Zoo Doo” bear to place under my rose bush in front of the house. It was a way to support the zoo while fertilizing my rose. Seeing this, Leonard was put off, referring to it as “The nigger baby you put up in your front yard”. He acquiesced when I explained what it was, but he still didn’t like it. It disappeared a few days later.

He could not bear to discard food, and so items like potato salad, occasionally sat in his display case until it was visibly out of date. Eventually the deli began to lose money. Leonard was too generous. His friends would drop by in the afternoon for a beer “on the tab”. In the end, Leonard made out well by selling his business to Brian Steelman who wanted to open a taco shop. Steelman was generous with Leonard when purchasing his business. The taco shop became the popular gourmet taco purveyor known as Porque No! Five years later I sold my property to Brian. Twenty years later Mississippi Avenue has become a great success as an upscale mixed commercial-residential district.