Portland's Lost Waterfront

Harry and Annie Lynch, a Couple of the Portland Waterfront's Obscure (and Comparatively Gentle) Crimps From the 1882 Portland Directory  Not everyone in the business of shipping sailors operated in a nefarious manner. When Jim Turk stopped using the name “Sailor’s Home,” H. J. Lynch, the hosteller who operated the old Keystone House on Front Street decided to enter the sailor’s boardinghouse business, changing the name of his establishment to “The New Sailor’s Home.” Harry Lynch was a well-liked, amiable fellow who was one of the fortunate males of the area—he had a woman. A woman didn’t have to be a beauty to be desirable in the far west, when they were greatly outnumbered by men, but judging from the commotion she caused, Annie must have been of somewhat above average looks. Harry and Annie managed to stay in business for over twenty years without ever bringing the wrath of the law down on them for shanghaiing, or any other illegal activity connected with sailo

The Claire in 1951, Ben Maxwell Collection, 7990, Salem Public Library From time to time one hears the indescribably lovely sound of a steam whistle echo from the river to the West Hills. Usually this is a vintage railroad locomotive, or, if it is the month of December, the Columbia River Sternwheeler pulling away from the dock at Caruthers Landing (by OMSI) for a holiday cruise. Of course I am prejudiced, but I think the most beautiful of all the whistles is the one on the steam tug, Portland , the home of the Oregon Maritime Museum—rarely heard, but a real treat. Now consider this, around the year 1900 there were riverboats arriving from (or embarking to) all points on the Willamette and Columbia Rivers throughout the day and night. At that time Union Station had about 100 trains passing through every day. Portland was alive with the sound of steam whistles, the same way the area around the Brooklyn rail yard is treated to the constant blasts of switch engine horns t