by Sean Coker for pdxguide.com
February 2008

Goose Hollow Inn 1927 SW Jefferson St. Portland, OR 503-228-7010 Website

Suicide Bridge, aka the Vista Avenue Viaduct, spans the gulf between King's Hill and Portland Heights neighborhoods and rests above the Max tracks before they disappearing into the West Hills. The view peers east at a city full of glare and bustling traffic, with flickering lights and trees swaying to a breeze that cuts through fleece. My thoughts drift back to something my father once told me between drags off his cigarette, "It seems odd that people choose to kill themselves at beautiful places."

The name was given to the arch bridge during the Great Depression when people wanted to admire something beautiful before doing something ugly. The city looks at ease and peaceful from this distance.

Max chimes before departing the Goose Hollow stop, as patrons cross SW Jefferson Street towards a black and white sign saying Goose Hollow Inn, better known as “The Goose." I walk off the bridge and down to SW Jefferson Street to a white building in need of a new paint job. Pulling on the wooden handle I walk through the backdoor and seat myself beneath a dartboard disguised as a cabinet.

Amber bulbs circumnavigate the backroom, adding a saffron hue to the room. Looking down at the table, names are etched into the oak top and I wonder if Poncho still hearts Christine forever? Somewhere my name is written next to a woman I am no longer courting.

Doug and Sean are tending bar tonight and despite not visiting in some months, Doug furnishes a smile upon my entrance. The staff at the Goose makes you feel like a local even if you live across town.

There is no pretentiousness at the Goose, just honest service, great food and fair prices. Pitchers of beer start at $5. There is no hard alcohol, only beer and wine. Famished, I order the Rachel's Reuben ($7.25), a vegetarian version of the sandwich, which the Goose is famous for serving since 1967. While the Goose is frequented by PSU students, commuters, transients and other upstanding sections of the populous have found their way on a balmy Tuesday night. The bar is non-smoking but there is a heated, covered patio for those lighting up.

REM plays audibly but does not distract from conversations. The clientele are mainly couples, and that awkwardness or lack thereof between strangers makes for great people watching; inferring who likes whom more. My Rueben arrives with Swiss, sauerkraut, mushrooms, onions, tomato and 1000 island on rye bread. Flanking the sandwich are carrot sticks and potato salad. Despite wanting to order a pitcher of Henry's ($6) I decide to stay sober and order a root beer ($1) instead.

The toasted bread scratches the roof of my mouth while the tomato waits until I take a bite before diving back onto my plate. Melted Swiss cheese adds a creamy consistency to the sauerkraut. REM's "To the one I love" plays out speakers as I crack into my second bite. The Goose refers to their sandwich as "The best Reuben on the planet," and I agree with the statement. Crunchy, juicy, moist and fleshy; every ingredient adds something while subtracting nothing.

I use the men’s restroom and spot a favorite graffiti above the urinal "F@#k the whole fifth grade!" I imagine a fourth-grade educated man still bitter about never learning penmanship.

Leaving, I look back at 120-foot drop of Suicide Bridge, and wonder how anyone could kill themselves over money at a place so beautiful.

The opinions expressed within are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of pdxguide.com or The Columbian Publishing Co.