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About Portland observer. (Portland, Or.) 1970-current | View Entire Issue (June 4, 2003)
lune 04. 2003 JInrtlanb (Observer Page AS V a n p o r t M e m o ria liz e d Vanport 1942-1948 Vanport and the dates o f its short existence are etched in the sidewalks (above) o f the future Max light rail Delta Park/Vanport Transit Center in north Portland. The site is situated where the former city o f Vanport was washed away by floodwaters 55 years ago. A poem telling the sto ry o f the African American experi ence in the vanished city o f Vanport is read by S. Renee M itchell (right), columnist for The Oregonian. P hotos bv M ich ael L eighton /T he P ortland O bserver Vanport was never intended to be a permanent city, but what Vanport gave us was diversity and a contribution to our community that was permanent. — Fred Hansen, TriMet general manager Remembering Vanport continued from Front car culture and bronze cast arti facts o f bottles and coins found on the site after the flood washed away. In 1948, Vanport was Oregon’s second largest city, with a popula tion of80,000people, 6,000ofwhich were African-Americans. Men and old when the flood destroyed his women came to Vanport from 40 fam ily’s home and possessions. different states to work in the Kai “I came down here representing ser Shipyards during World War 11. my parents, my brothers and sis Among a handful o f flood survi ters and other people o f my race vors,O.B. Hill, operations manager who were in the flood,” said Hill. for Reflections Bookstore, attended “ I’m happy to see this happen. It’ll the dedication. Hill was j ust six years be part o f my memoirs.” \ TriMet General Manager Fred Hansen (from left), U.S. Rep. David Wu. Vanport survivor and north Portland resident Marion Craig, City Commissioner Jim Francesconi and Metro President David Bragdon dedicate the Interstate Max light rail bridge in the name o f Vanport, the former city that brought African Americans to the Portland area for jobs and opportunities. ‘Vanport Voices’ World War II started in a decade short on hope The Great Depression's grip Was still tight on our throats Our brave young soldiers were sent to die In faraway cities that we had trouble finding on maps But there was no time fo r pity America needed its able to be strong and to work So it built up shipyards And pushed us out to its ports White. Negro. Latino. And Japanese A harmony o f refugees Opportunity explorers. Desperate fo r work Alabamans, Oklahomans, and folks from New York From Iowa and Pennsylvania And every stop in between They came On 17-cars trains, on buses, over desert sands On Magic Carpet Specials and Kaiser Karavans They came To build the ships To save the land That was the plan Their bags were unpacked in Kaiserville Built in just three months Just-for-now homes In a just-for-now time The tender young town suckled From the Jlow o f shipyard workers And was nurtured At the edges o f Columbia River’s mouth Vancouver to the north. Portland to the south Three shifts, men and women, toiled 24 hours a dav To bring forth Liberty and send it on its way It was a heady time fo r Portland A prosperous time o f sorts A melting pot o f races In the place they called Vanport But, alas This make-do town was never meant to last It was built on a river flood plain And the buildings went up too fast A compilation o f wood, aluminum and glass Built by whites who never moved Beyond their prejudiced past Who judged color as a certain reflection o f a lower class Portland was too quiet, too quaint to put up with blacks So residents put up signs instead They read "White Trade Only” In the community and the shipyards There was racial unrest And fo r the Negroes who built ships The pay was much less Union membership was temporary And the restaurant doors were closed Motels? Closed. Amusement parks? Closed Nightclubs? Closed Except fo r downtown’s Jolly Joan's Still, opportunity found a way to bloom its Flowers Seven Negro teachers. Two sheriffs Even a few black businesses Washington created human capital Dishman served. Ford drove young minds Shamsud-Din painted a new life And Peoples grew Neighbors held hands and hoses to form a chain To lead the way out fo r those who remained Then the war ended. And the jobs went away But many Negro families, they wanted to stay And keep sharing their small spaces with roaches and rats It was better than where they had come from They were determined not to go back Best to stay and squeeze all the life from scarce dollars Than risk being confronted By folks who liked to hunt And hang Negroes from their collars Eventually the blacks and whites laid off from war industries Were joined by veterans and Japanese camp refugees From 30,000, more than half stayed and confronted their fate In a ramshackle town built with an expiration date A college was birthed too from the spoils that war spew The Vanport Extension Center, now called PSU Its student store sold diapers, baby food and books too To its 1,000-plus students who lived near the Slough Memorial Day Time fo r church services with family And picnics with steak It was Sunday, May 30. The year: "48 The river was rising But the city handed out notices Don t worry, they said. Things were just fine Bv 10 minutes past four Police banged on the doors The dike! Il had broken Forget reassurances 'spoken The city was wrong And the river was right Behind them. Get out now! As the railroad tie broke from the river tide's force. The family ties weakened from the Vanport divorce. The wall o f water was high Ten feet tall, some had said And with damp, violent shouts From the river 's foul mouth Fate rushed in To collect the dead No time fo r reflection o f cherished collections Heirlooms? Forget it Family pictures? Don "t bother They 've already been swept into cold, murky water So to high ground they ran with suitcases in hand They would have snatched more I f they were given time to plan F or inform ation or copies o f“ V an p ort Voices,” contact S. ©2002 by S. Renee Mitchell “Somebody PLEASE save my baby ’’ A mother cries out. But her voice is drowned out by the sirens, the shouts The water is rising, to the chest, to the shoulders That mother can t breathe. She can 't swim. No one holds her. But she cannot go forth and leave her offspring behind It was a quarter past five and she had run out o f time. Her weak cries were silenced by the river's deafening sound Fifteen bodies, police said But those are just the ones who were found Homeless and scattered Survivors left that dismal place Where days after not even a rainbow would dare show its face Portland opened its homes, its churches The Y served daily meals To the thousands o f families who ran toward the hills Red Cross was there too, helping a nation to see A once-hostile community Responding with love To this sad tragedy Survivors eventually left To join families back home The Negroes w ho remained were broke and alone They clustered in the only neighborhood Allowed to embrace them Then Memorial Coliseum Then Emanuel Hospital Came in to displace them. State government came in too and divided their hood And put down a freeway where houses once stood Now blacks are dealing with another forced relocation From skyrocketing housing prices And gentrification And the promised land So many once thought bore all their dreams Gave birth to a g o lf course, a race track and things That have nothing to do with the reason we 're here Nothing to do with that piece o f land over there We 're here to honor memories O f the lives that were lost The promises broken: the pain that flood cost Survivors we call you And we give you your props A documentary. A memorial. A TriMet light-rail stop. And we gather today To say “We won't forget" And to say “Thank you ’’ For a legacy o f a black community That just w on’t quit Long live the spirit o f Vanport! or nappy roots«; blnckmail.com. {