Americans are a friendly breed. We love parties, commerce, war and big cars. And we're joiners. The American handshake is a joyous, kinetic event, and it hurts a little bit, because we like to squeeze. Not wanting to feel wretched, Portlanders seek out places to be around people like themselves.
Artists scribble away in coffee shops.
Hustlers lounge in pool halls. And rich folks join private clubs. Though it would make for a more exciting story, Portland clubs aren't exactly blood-sealed covens of druidic illuminati. Like the rest of us, steel-haired steel heirs want to drink, play cards, tell dirty jokes and do favors for their friends. For a time, explicit bylaws and tacit understandings excluded Portland women, blacks and Jews from these private deals.