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THE ASTORIA COLUMN
BY JOHN GOODENBERGER
The Astoria Column is much more than a monument
with curious artwork spiraling up its sides. It is a beautifully
rendered depiction of early North Coast history.
Two things make it special. First, the artwork is applied
in a centuries old technique, called sgraffito. The Astoria Column
may be the only outdoor monument in our nation to use this art
foim. Secondly, it is a view of our history seen through the eyes
of Attilio Pusteria, a leader of an impressionist movement in
Milan, Italy.
The Astoria Column's overall design was inspired by the
Trajan Column, a victory monument in Rome. Erected in 113 AD,
the Trajan Column depicts two successful military campaigns by
emperor Trajan against the Dacians. These stories of war are
illustrated in low marble relief — a medium which appealed to
an unread citizenry. So it was with the Astoria Column. Its intent
in 1926 was to educate the masses and rekindle a connection to
their roots. Its sponsor, the Great Northern Railroad, also hoped
for increased ridership on its line.
Unlike the Trajan Column, the founders of the Astoria
Column were adamant that this was a memorial honoring
explorers and times of peace rather than war. It was an attempt
to accurately portray Lower Columbia River history.
In a period when history was being romanticized, Attilio
Pusterla and his sponsors paid close attention to the regional
setting. Horses were eliminated from a scene dated 1792 on the
Lower Columbia Depictions of Chinook canoes were revised.
Ribbed canoes replaced dugout canoes.
Pusterla’s artistic style and familiarity with sgraffito were
ideal for this monument. He was known for impressionistic light
ing about figures with firm outlines. His subjects broke away from
their background and could be admired from a great distance.
Like the sculptors of the Trajan Column, Pusterla manip
ulated scale to heighten its story. The key was to pull it off with
out distracting the viewer.
Pusterla had that skill. For example one panel depicts
Lt. William Broughton naming Mount Hood. Broughton stands
in his canoe, with his men at his feet, pointing to the mountain.
To give the subject matter more prominence, Broughton and his
party appear three times larger than the surrounding riverscape.
Their gigantic size in no way diminishes the story.
Pusterla remained in control of a medium fraught with
complexities. Sgraffito is a wet-on-wet process. Outlines and
shadows were created by incising a trowel through layers of
light colored plaster, into a dark base coat.
Complications arose because the plaster was spread
over unevenly cured poured-in-place concrete. Moisture was
drawn from the plaster more quickly in some places than others.
A color shift in the plaster occurred. Bad weather had a similar
effect Pusterla avoided blotchy images by frequently remixing
the color and consistency of his plaster. He often chiseled away
the previous day’s work if he felt it was unsatisfactory.
A stubborn and temperamental man, Pusterla demanded
perfection, refusing to compromise his craft for the convenience
of his sponsors. Time-lines meant little to him. Pusterla was a
constant source of frustration to those who believed that artists
and their work could be run like a railroad.
Pusterla’s Italian background shines through his human
figures. Mediterranean blood seems to flow through their veins.
In some cases, the figures stand contorted, framing a scene in
the Italian Mannerist fashion. Other times they are frozen in
heroic pose, arms outstretched and overcome with emotion.
Pusterla’s sense of drama pulls the viewer into the scene as
he builds to an explosive climax — the destruction of the bark
Tonquin.
The artist’s work also reflects a European view of the
“noble savage." Idealized human figures are readily seen in the
Chinook men. Rather than short stocky builds, these men appear
ready for Olympic decathlon competition.
It is unknown whether any background figures bear
the faces of people known to Pusterla. However, halfway up
the Column, a seated Chinook woman clubs a salmon into paste.
The large-bellied woman has an uncanny resemblance to
Pusterla’s wife Henrietta
This fish processing technique, by the way, was a
specialty of the Upper Chinookians who lived near The Dalles.
Sun-dried salmon was pounded and packed tightly into baskets
lined with fish skin. When preserved in this manner, the fish
would keep for up to two years. Again, this scene is significant
because there was an attempt to accurately portray historic
detailing.
In another example, one panel tells of Wilson Price Hunt
crossing an endless snow-covered mountain pass. Hunt's party
included interpreter Pierre Dorian, his Iowa Indian wife Marie
and two children. Marie was the first immigrant to give birth in
Oregon. She is seen riding a horse with her children, including
the new-born baby. The baby’s figure is only three inches long;
yet it is found nearly 80 feet up the Column's shaft — indiscem-
able without binoculars.
Pusterla’s ultimately fragile artwork started to wash
away almost immediately The lime-based plaster was unsuitable
for our coastal climate He returned to restore his work in 1936.
Several attempts to preserve the frieze followed. .
The Astoria Column was more recently restored by a
team of 14 conservators and artists in 1995. A water repellent
was applied that, if maintained, will preserve the Column for 50
years or more. Astoria’s high winds and heavy rain demand
periodic inspection of the Column frieze. Maintenance of the
frieze is critical.
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PHOTOGRAPH B Y PHOEBE FRIEDMAN
The Astoria Daily Budget wrote, “There is nothing more
tangible for a city to build up its future upon as well appointed
park places and scenic spots. Strangers will go miles to see
a historical point and linger longer where the environment is
inviting.
The park was used largely for picnicking. Church groups,
high school classes and families spread out their blankets in the
grass and gazed over treetops to a city below and the ocean
beyond.
In 1920, sometime poet Major William F. Mannix
exclaimed:
. On Beauty 's mountain sit and rest,
Heart-glad, soul-sated, vision blest!
There nature flings o ’er land and sea
Her legend-woven tapestry.
Round Coxcomb!
Romanticizing reached beyond the view, however. As
a part of a national movement, explorers, pioneers and mission
aries were raised to the heroic. When the Great Northern Rail
road and Vincent Astor proposed the construction of the Astoria
Column as an interpretive memorial to pay tribute to those who
first settled here, Astorians eagerly supported the project.
Electus D Litchfield was hired to design the memorial.
An architect, he designed the Denver Courthouse, Saint Paul
Public Library, the Victory Monument in Newark and proposed
plans for the National Armory in Washington, D C. He was also
an accomplished urban designer.
When Litchfield inspected Coxcomb Hill he said it was
one of the most magnificent locations he had seen for a monu
ment. Furthermore, the view ranked with the great panoramas
of the world.
Litchfield recognized the picturesque qualities of Cox
comb Hill. He juxtaposed the forested hillside with an artifact
from the Ancient World — much like the paintings of Claude
Lorrain. The result provokes both intellectual and emotional
responses from the viewer.
Bernard Maybeck, a San Francisco architect, mastered
this technique. In 1915, he designed the astounding Palace of
Fine Arts at the Panama-Pacific Exposition. Maybeck designed
a Pantheon-like ruin on the edges of an “ancient" lagoon. He
seamlessly bound architecture with a romantic landscape, which
literally wrapped the structure.
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The beauty of the Astoria Column is both powerful and
sublime The passion it evokes is not accidental. The Column,
its siting and landscaping were designed to do just that.
The crest of Coxcomb Hill was a viewpoint long before
Robert Gray entered the Columbia River (on May 11.1792).
According to a newspaper article written by Frank Spittle in 1926,
early settlers remember a well-defined trail leading to the top.
Native Americans, and later pioneers, used the hill as a lookout.
Much later, the 1911 Astoria Centennial Committee
donated money to purchase Coxcomb Hill from a variety of land-
owners The view was deemed too valuable to be held by private
parties In 1914, the Astoria Parks Board endorsed a $25,000
bond to purchase and beautify the hill.
COLUMBIA RIVER
MARITIME MUSEUM
1792 MARINE DR., ASTORIA, ORE.
(503) 325-2323
When Litchfield designed the Astoria Column, its pictur
esque landscape — the lower Columbia River — was already in
place. There was no need to improve upon that. The monument
rises from an organic, oval-shaped mound. A small concrete
border, marked by a box-hedge, frames an all-grass “courtyard.
Three walks radiate from the border, providing a formal axis. But
that axis is broken at the edge of the mound. There, nature takes
over and dictates form.
When you consider precedents for the Astoria Column
are the Trajan Column of Rome and the Vendóme Column of
Paris — both in city squares surrounded by buildings — the
success of Litchfield’s design is all the more impressive.
As an interpretive memorial, the Astoria Column is
strengthened by — and inseparable from — its view. Its frieze
contains scenes of the Columbia River Bar, Tongue Point,
Tillamook Head, Astoria and Fort Clatsop — all visible from
the Column. Neither the Trajan or Vendóme columns allow
the observer to compare the historical reference with the
modern-day view of the site.
Litchfield created a memorial also meant to be viewed
from a distance.Tourists were drawn to the Column while enter
ing Astoria on the Youngs Bay Bridge, crossing the Astoria-North
Shore Ferry or arriving on the railroad. Their anticipation grew
as they ascended John Chitwood’s Coxcomb Drive, catching
glimpses of the sculpture through the trees. Then, rounding a
corner, the monument was fully revealed.
Litchfield beautifully maintained that tension between
architecture and nature. The Column was never meant to
compete with anything else.
In 1949, the city constructed a caretaker’s house on the
site. It was wisely placed to the side and rear of the Column.
Philippa Seabrook of the Evening Astorian Budget interviewed
the caretaker's wife, Lena Anderson.
Anderson noted the beautiful sunsets seen from Cox
comb Hill. She told of tourist cars from inland states lining the
parking lot at evening. Expounding, Seabrook wrote, they “watch
the brilliant colors sweep the sky, light up the distant mountain
peaks and reflect on the still waters below."
Anderson also recognized the value of the Column's
natural setting and was adamant that it be maintained. She
bristled at the thought of cutting more trees to enhance the view.
“Trees are what lots of tourists from the middle-west come to
see," she said.
When the Column was first constructed, the forest
wrapped the northwest corner of the park, near the current
tourist booth. A swath was cut through the trees aligning the
Column with the railway station below.
Today Astorians struggle with how best to accommodate
large numbers of visitors to the Column. An interpretative center
is said to be needed to elevate that experience.
Certainly the maintenance and continued restoration of
the Column and its site is a necessity. But the Astoria Column
and John Jacob Astor Park have served many generations well.
Tr.s success is not accidental. Litchfield’s plan draws deep
emotions from those who use the park — emotions which are
felt every time one enters the site.
It is fair to say Astorians and tourists never grow tired
of looking at the Column’s artwork or surveying what truly ranks
with the great panoramas of the world. No one can improve upon
that experience. Nor should anyone try.
If we forget or ignore Litchfield’s original intent, we will
destroy a defining experience in Astoria.
Like a festering sore, controversy continues on the
development of Coxcomb Hill. There is enough frustration
to make everyone angry.
Many Astorians feel there is no compelling reason
to construct an interpretive center.
Most are frustrated by a long, arduous process which
has produced uncertain, if not unsatisfactory results. Some
view the Friends of the Astoria Column, particularly the Portland
members, as presumptuous.
Listening to street talk and reading letters to The Daily
Astorian, one gets the impression this is a class struggle and that
John Jacob Astor Park and perhaps Astoria as a whole is under
occupation by Portland forces. It needs to be said outright, Astor
ians asked Portlanders — not the other way around — to join in
the venture of building an interpretive center.
Secondly, the perception that the Friends are untrust
worthy — simply because many live outside the area — lacks a
historic understanding of the city’s development. It was Portland
investors who did much to pull Astoria out of the ashes after the
Great Fire of 1922. The Liberty Theater, for instance, was not
constructed by local investors. Countless other projects would
never have happened without outside assistance. Although the
contribution of the Great Northern Railway was significant, the
construction of the Astoria Column was largely financed by
Vincent Astor, a true outsider.
Much anger has been focused on the Friends of the
Column board president Jordan Schnitzer who, as one of
Oregon's wealthiest citizens, is becoming larger-than-life.
Schnitzer may be philanthropic, but he is first and foremost
an aggressive businessman, and this assertiveness is the way
things are done in the Big City.
Some hope to stop this runaway train by a citywide vote.
Sorry, we voted for it when we elected the Astoria City Council.
Construction of the interpretive center is an established goal of
the city of Astoria
It has been on the city’s radar for more than 17 years
and it is highly unlikely the city will reverse its direction now.
Those who believe the city lacks vision need to find those who
have it and help get them elected
Both sides of the argument will have to agree, however,
the process of creating the John Jacob Astor Park Master Plan
A M A gallery
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