Barman Story

Note on this story: It’s one of the Überhaus Diaries I wrote in Portland during the late 1990s. The photo Karen selected this week is the inside of a bar around the corner from where I lived in Portland. The Überhaus was perhaps the last bandit lofts in the city, a 2000 square foot apartment […]

Überhaus Diary: Scams

September 27th, 1998 I pulled up in front of the building. This black guy in a beret and an open shirt leaned toward the car and asked if he could borrow a gas can. I had none and said so. He asked if he could ask me something. He fumbled with a cellular phone and began […]

More Überhaus Diary

Here is an Überhaus Diary entry from 1998 where I talk about a show and then bitch about rich people. Ever the trendsetter. I remember this Headhunters show well. Paul Jackson, the bassist, broke a string on his bass in the middle of a solo. Rather than abandoning it, he motioned his bass tech over. The guy knelt […]

Party Like it’s 1998

Here’s another one from September 1998. It was one of those long, end-of-summer nights that filled me with restlessness. I remember wandering all over downtown Portland, which back then still had its share of transient hotels and seedy dive bars. I was restless when I got home, so I fired up the giant 486 with […]