It may be in a west coast state with a progressive history, but I can testify unreservedly that growing up in The Dalles, Oregon, during the 50's and 60's was the epitome of hometown Americana of that era. It is still situated in what most political observers consider a very safe Republican congressional district, and remains a place where the word "hippy" can sometimes be overheard used as an epithet. I stopped by the building today where I opened my first checking account about 48 years ago. I was only twelve, and had landed my first job for wages, an afterschool gig at a local print shop, requiring my parents to sign off on a special work permit. Back then, it housed The Oregon Bank, which used its assets to lend to local businesses and farms, before it was to be gobbled up after deregulation, first by Security Pacific, which itself was absorbed by Bank of America. And so it is that I found the gleaming glass and white concrete monument to Sixties modernity surrounded today by picketers. Photos and a few details past the jump.
I would like to have participated in the protest, but I could only take a few minutes away from my duties as primary family caregiver for my mother in her home. So, I contented myself with shaking hands, expressing my support, and thanking the stalwarts who were making the cause visible.
The event got mention in our local paper in a front page article on Occupy the Gorge (On Facebook), the second such news item this week. The "Move Your Money" movement and OWS, of course, are separate and in some ways distinct, although here, as elsewhere, there is much overlap in both personnel and purpose. Some of the protesters were handing out both "THE flyer" and one promoting the first Occupy the Gorge encampment in little Mosier, Oregon, about which I wrote in a previous post. The organizers vision is for the encampment to move to other towns and cities in the region to be selected by a consensus process.
The group was enthusiastic, and ranged in age from what appeared to be middle schoolers to senior citizens. Our only real industry may have moved away, our union hall may have closed, and our unemployment rates soaring far above the national numbers, but in this place, on this day, under unseasonably cold gray skies, there was enough hope evident to warm this hometown guy's heart.
I'm going to do my best to visit the Mosier encampment tomorrow, and will report on what I find there.
Pax vobis.