The Safari Club has closed…
The Safari Club was opened in 1970 by an Estacadian (or “Esta-COD-an” as my brother would say) timber baron named Glen Park. Over six years, Mr. Park went on 23 hunting expeditions, to six different countries, and shot a shit ton of wild beasts. A placard in the Club calls Mr. Park “the most active and outstanding hunter in the United States.” I don’t have much else to compare it with, but judging by the number of dead stuffed animals around the place, that placard may be right, Dude… The Big O published a pretty good piece about the Safari Club in 2011. It was a bar with a whole bunch of dead, exotic beasts from all over the world – tastefully taxidermied into “natural” scenes. Like giant dioramas. A hyena fighting with some big cat. Two tigers engaged in mortal combat. A polar scene with bears and other beasts just doing their snowy thing. It was drama. It was the survival of the fittest. It was an odd display of outdoorsy opulence. But above all, it was genuine…
And much to my surprise, just the other day, The Portland Mercury posted a little bloggy thing about the Safari Club suddenly closing (hat tip to Oregonic Blazer for the scoop).
My history with The Safari Club is, I guess I’d say “cloudy,” at best. I really don’t recall too much about the few times I went there in the early 90s. Mostly drunken stops on the way back into town, and Craig’s memorable BAD TRIP on some wicked LSD there – yeah, it got real bad…
Recently, I was an award for Know Your City’s Tom McCall Kickstarter drive for their new Tom McCall comic. So about 10 days ago, we took a little tour out to McIver park, and I talked about Vortex 1. We stopped off for drinks afterwards at The Safari Club, and sat around with beers and Jamesons talking Tom McCall and People’s Army Jamboree. Looking back on it now – the writing was on the wall – one server running the kitchen and the floor, out of tater tots, two orders of fries were so miniscule that we were not charged for the fare.
To prepare for the trip, I did a little research. My son and I went to McIver, and he had fun as we listened to the podcast 
on the drive out. He laughed at stories about the naked hippies grooving around the park. As we got back in the car to leave McIver, I didn’t tell him where we were going, or what to expect, but of course we then went to the Safari Club. My son and I enjoyed some tots and mini-corn dogs (remember appalled Portland Foodies – we were deep up in Estacada…). He is quite an animal lover and was just literally blown away at all the beasts on display. He was kind of bummed that they had all been shot, but at the same time, I think he knew that there just wasn’t anywhere else in Oregon to get this experience – mini-corn dogs and some crazy looking African grazing beast that I couldn’t begin to identify (he did pretty good with them, though. His geeked-out-ness includes quite a healthy helping of zoology). And now, that is all apparently all gone.
So is my subtitle a little too melodramatic? Is this REALLY The Death of Some Oregon History? I mean, maybe… It’s not like Dr. John McLoughlin ever spent the night at The Safari Club, or William Ladd’s corpulent yet well preserved corpse was stashed by the polar bears, and I’m pretty sure that DB Cooper never spent a single pilfered 20 at this watering hole. So in that sense, this really isn’t a historical Oregon locale…
But it IS a part of that Oregon weirdness, and it’s sad to see that slipping away. And I’m not talking some hipster ironic weirdness – or even iconic for that matter (you and your fucking wolf sweatshirt). It’s just weird because it is so Oregon – that’s what I’m getting at…
I texted about the closure with my fellow historian friend Finn John. When I commented that it was sad to see such cool Oregon shit go away, Finn said “I know, right? Applebee’s can only get so quirky…” And that’s EXACTLY the point! The Safari Clubs, The Church of Elvises, The Quality Pies, The goddamnned Organ Grinder Pizzas – all of that shit that is weird and crazy and Oregon just goes away. And homogenized or gentrified or haute cuisine establishments fill those empty spaces. Sanitized. Marketable. Trendy. The Old Oregon voids are filled with something that will never recount what had been in that location.
And it’s not wrong. Not in the least. We live in a free fucking market economy. That’s the way it works. If you can’t pay your bills, you gots to go! Let Bunk Sandwiches open a new spot. They’ll likely do a better job (financially) than the previous establishment did, and they won’t serve FSA freezer to fryer mini-corn dogs either (Son goes: *sob!*). But in that free market turning & churning, a little of our History – fuck – a little of Our State’s Soul – is lost…
So I call on you Dear Ass Kicker – GO to those Old, Weird Oregon places! Do it this weekend! Get some breakfast at Tosis*, have a beer at Oney’s, drop a few singles at Mary’s Club. Enjoy these Oregon Wierdnesses while you still can! Have a sense of urgency about it, but once you are up-in-that-historical-piece, go all in and just dig it! Really immerse yourself, talk to the folks at the bar, walk around the establishment and take it all in. Revel in it! Cause when they’re gone, Baby – they are fucking gone. And they take the mini-corn dogs with ’em…
[Note: I have corresponded with Cindy, one of the recent owners of The Safari Club. I told her I wanted to bring a bus tour out there, and tried to get her to open for a night. To have drinks and tater tots, and yes, goddamn mini-corn dogs. She said they were closed (which I knew), so I am not terribly optimistic that it will happen – but if it does, I will keep you posted…]
*Paul Anders pointed out to me on the Twatter that Tosis is now CLOSED too! Sorry about that, but just more to my point, I guess…
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