Acme
Where the back patio rules

by Sam Soule for pdxguide.com
July 20, 2005

Imagine a paved and fenced-in lot big enough to house a jet or, in reality, several viking lodge length arrangements of picnic tables. Get a few dozen young music scenesters sitting elbow-to-elbow—as was the case on a recent Saturday night. And what you've got is a bar that feels like work party held in employee parking.

You visit a neighborhood defined by warehouses and light industry, which is exactly where Acme is situated, and this is how you should drink. Unfortunately, Acme's interior is a rather poor complement to its stunning back patio. Once the site of a popular greasy spoon cafe, the six-month-old Acme is a bar with an acute image problem.

From outside, Acme's brick exterior, stunted shingle roof and large side-walk gazing windows hints at Acme's former life, a Denny's-esque bar and grill popular for lunch breaks and happy hours.

Upon entering, Acme shows initial promise. The dark wood panelling and low-slung bubble-padded oval booths go a long way to create a pleasant and authentically kitchy atmosphere.

It's a pity this cool initial vibe is effectively killed by the crushing hand of glaring irony: spiral-bound Time-Life books menus (which boasts the kind of annoying gourmet bar food upgrade that has become standard in this town—"Chicken Jerk Rub This"); an assortment of charmingly "odd" vintage photos and beer signage. And just where the chalkboard mural of swimming fish hanging above the bar fits into anything remains a mystery.

Acme is attempting a compromise that probably looks good on paper—an attempt to maintain the standing regulars during the daytime while appealing to a more youthful night time set makes sense. But in this case, results have been spotty and public perception has been unclear. To some Acme is an upscale Lucky Labrador; to others, a low-rent Doug Fir. And why would regular joe workers want to frequent either?

It would seem wise for Acme to concentrate on it's strong points, the potential the space has for hosting intimate live music events (the low corner stage and open, pragmatic table layout is well-suited here) and that freaking huge patio. Entertainment-wise, Acme needs a more daring booker. And on that fabulous patio front, how about some canopies and heaters so that space could be used all year.

And what about games? The place doesn't even have a pool table inside—kitchen and bar doesn't seem to be enough. Put games on the patio. Big games. Free use tennis court? Archery? C' mon, something.

The real irony here is in the bar's name, not the retro faux stone bar top. "Acme", literally means "apex" or "zenith". Anyone who grew up watching Bugs Bunny will always associate it with the manufacturer's name stamped on the side of the endless stream of misfiring killing devices Wile E. Coyote used in his vain pursuit of the Roadrunner.

With our bar Acme, the name is meant to be a cheeky rub within the context of the bar's location. The reality is the name only serves to remind how short our bar Acme is falling.

It certainly never worked for the coyote.

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