Jack London, Socialism, and Occupy Portland

Jack London’s birthday is coming up in a few weeks. This January 12, 2012, would be the 136th anniversary of his birth in San Francisco, back in 1876 (the U.S. centennial, one may note).

There’s a basement bar here in Portland called the Jack London, downstairs from a venerable lounge on 4th Avenue known as the Rialto. (For many, many years -- until less than a decade ago, I believe -- the latter had a huge misspelled sign out front that identified it to passing drivers on 4th as the “Railto”; now that it has been corrected, I wish I had taken a photo of that.)

The Jack London Bar is not venerable; it opened only last June, although it took its name from an ancient, unlamented fleabag hotel at that location called the Jack London.

The bar has garnered decent Internet reviews for a mid-sized dance floor, laser lights, “makeout-friendly dark corners and couches,” and other nightclub amenities. But the management also has been collaborating with the Oregon Historical Society to host lectures on local history, culture, and celebrities.

Which is how I discovered the place: I dropped in on Nov. 8 to listen to a talk about Tom Burns, a Portland eccentric who owned a bookshop on West Burnside between 3rd and 4th avenues, and used to make speeches on street corners which got him repeatedly hauled in by the police for attacking city government and advocating socialism.

This experience was not unknown to the future author of The Call of the Wild and “To Build a Fire.” After a colorful youth that included long hours working in a cannery at age 13, making an illegal living as an oyster pirate a couple years later and then turning around and serving the law as an employee of the California Fish Patrol, serving on a ship to Japan at 17, getting busted for vagrancy in Buffalo and doing a month in a penitentiary after crossing the U.S. as a tramp, and bulling his way into UC Berkeley at 20, Jack London also made socialist speeches in public (in City Hill Park, Oakland) and got arrested for it.

Raking Leaves and Revolution

I ran into an acquaintance Thursday afternoon, the day my picture appeared in the local paper raking leaves at the Occupy Portland camp site Wednesday morning.

It had been 31 days since the police evicted the campers, and 31 days that the squares had been fenced off so that no one -- neither the Occupiers nor the general public -- could take a step into those downtown blocks.

The City Parks and Recreation Department had originally planned to let volunteers onto the site to rake leaves on Nov. 23, only 10 days after “eviction,” but recent rains had made the job much less feasible and appetizing, so the job was postponed.

Good thing it was; Portland had pretty much no rain the first two weeks of December, so by this last Wednesday the ground and dead foliage were pretty dry and manageable. Poetically, a light rain finally fell Wednesday evening, hours after we finished.

Getting Occupy on the Program

The ex-Marine had served four tours of duty in Iraq. I went up to him after the meeting and asked him, “Looking back on your military service, do you feel that you were defending liberty and freedom?”

“Absolutely not,” he replied. “That’s what radicalized me.” He now works with and speaks for a veteran-run, anarchist collective known as Rose City Resistance. There is a growing, committed anarchist movement of military vets, he continued. Sort of like recovering Catholics, I suggested; he grinned and nodded. When I told him I had recently seen an Internet graphic on Facebook that consists of a photo of soldiers in the field carrying a wounded comrade on a stretcher with the legend, “We were too busy defending your freedom to Occupy anything,” he almost growled.

I met this man Sunday afternoon in a meeting at the Ace Hotel, SW 10th and Stark, organized by The Bus Project and The Portland Mercury. The former is a volunteer-driven nonprofit that works to get young people involved in political activism, the latter an alternative free weekly newspaper. (The founder of The Bus Project, Jefferson Smith, currently a state representative for House District 47, is also running for mayor of Portland.) They had brought in legislative activists, community organizers, representatives from Mayor Sam Adams’s and U.S. Senator Merkley’s offices, and the vet and a self-described “1 percenter” to exchange ideas with Occupy Portland vets and sympathizers about future directions for the movement.

I’m not going to write about what we heard and talked about there . . . not because it was particularly pithy or deserves top-secret protection; like most Occupy and post-Occupy events, such as the MoveOn.org gathering at Senator Wyden’s office I wrote about in my last blog commentary, it was more about getting to know people, seeing a few familiar faces, and learning a couple useful things for future activity.

Occupy Forever!

It’s weird to feel nostalgia about something that happened only a few weeks ago.

I’m not talking about looking back on a great meal, or recalling a terrific vacation, or even contemplating the memory of a distant teenage kiss.

I’m talking about a big event, something far bigger than you or me and everyone we know; so big it made the nightly news and splashed all over the Internet and our social media networks for weeks on end. And we were a part of it. But now it’s gone and it’s like . . . history.

But it was only a few weeks ago.

That feels weird.

Thursday evening I went to a photo exhibition at a local gallery -- really, little more than a live-in, street-level loft. Quite appropriate for the contents, actually, which were 140 photos of the people, places, and events of Occupy Portland.

The photographer, Mark Kronquist, says he shot 12,000 images over the course of Occupy Portland’s downtown sojourn between October 6 and November 15. He also collected some signs and other mementoes from the camp, and hopes to turn it all over to the Oregon Historical Society (OHS).