ONE LAST EULOGY FOR HENRY FORD'S RESTAURANT AND PIANO BARPosted - 3/07/03 01:56 AM PST- 0 1 0 1 0 -
It's two in the morning and I'm sitting next to a man well into middle age. He looks like a banker but he's wearing leather boots. He claims to have played music at this same bar with members of Jefferson Starship. "What did you play," I ask. "I was a singer." He downs a tumbler full of whiskey in a single gulp and refuses to speak another word. Outside a fountain is spewing fireballs. Nearby there's an eerie velvet portrait of a cowboy. His name is Henry Ford and he used to own this place. He passed away three years back, but according to the staff, Henry still hangs around. His ghost has a favorite seat at the bar. People who make the mistake of sitting on "his" stool don't stay long. That night was a month ago. Now the windows of Henry Ford's Restaurant and Piano Lounge have gone black. Its doors closed forever on Sunday, February 23rd.
Crossing the threshold into Henry Ford's was like jumping down a rabbit hole straight to the heart of all that was good and great about America circa 1959. The only things it lacked were tikis and a drive-in movie screen. Like most landmarks, pictures don't do it justice. The building that housed Henry Ford's was once a private home, owned by an apple grower. Sometime during the 1920s, his widow converted it into a restaurant called Redmonds on the Hill. Around the same time, Henry's father was running a steakhouse in Canyonville, Oregon, which he eventually turned over to Henry. A sign out front read, "You can pass by Ford's, but don't let Ford's pass you by". Their restaurant served weary travelers until the mid '50s when it was bulldozed to make way for Interstate 5. With a pocket full of compensation from the federal government, Henry went looking for a new location. Up north in the big city, Redmond's was for sale, and Henry snatched it. Nothing changed much until 1961, when he closed it for a ten-day remodel. The velvet wallpaper went up -- along with the huge neon sign that lit up the sky over Barbur Boulevard for 40 years.
Back then Henry Ford's offered steak and lobster dinners for $6.99. On weekend nights the line would stretch out the door into the parking lot. Patrons would find standing room only in the piano lounge. For dozens of years it was one of Portland's most popular restaurants. As time passed, Ford's developed the almost magical ability to draw a diverse batch. You could find college kids gathered on the couches tossing back gin while retirees danced to covers of "Witchcraft." The average Saturday night crowd consisted of representatives from every corner of Portland: elderly regulars, Pearl District poseurs, families celebrating anniversaries, yuppies, yuppie puppies, recovering hippies, teens in prom dresses, middle-aged men in Harley Davidson jackets and devotees of Columbia Sportswear. No other bar in Portland could bring people of every age group together under one roof, let alone allow them to mingle and chat over martinis. While Henry Ford's may have looked like an airport lounge in purgatory, it felt like heaven after midnight.
The Ford's staff was always beyond friendly and eager to share its history and legends. Carol, a 69-year old cocktail waitress who served drinks in the lounge for decades, claimed three ghosts as regulars. Henry had his spot at the bar, but the other two mostly kept to themselves. One was named George. He was a friend of the Ford family and Henry hired him to work as a handyman when the restaurant first opened. He lived in the basement and died from a heart attack sometime in the '60s. Ford's granddaughter once made the mistake of going downstairs by herself. She caught George's spirit off guard and he quickly disappeared. Despite never meeting the man, she was able to describe his trademark red pajamas. Every staff member could offer a similar anecdote. Over the years, bartenders reported stories of dark figures blasting past the mirrors after hours. One night, a picture in the lobby, bolted down for 30 years, flew off a wall. According to Carol, the ghosts also liked to fiddle with the lights.
Henry Ford's will live on as Ford's when it reopens in a new location. Several spots have been considered, downtown Lake Oswego among them. The latest rumor suggests that the new incarnation will open in deep Northwest Portland. But the owners will make few attempts at recreating the past. While the menu and high-level of service will remain, the decor and ambiance will be left on the hill.
Places like Henry Ford's are becoming increasingly few and far between, especially in cultureless voids like southwest Portland. For every one of them there's a million Red Lobsters or Olive Gardens. It may have just been a restaurant, but hitting the lounge was like loitering in the past. A trip to Ford's was the closest many of us will ever get to jumping in a time machine. No amount of retro bars can capture the spirit of a place like Henry Ford's. And now it's gone forever.
|