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.
{