Club 21 Rocks on a Quieter Note

by Sam Soule, for pdxguide.com

Club 21 2035 NE Glisan St Portland, OR 97232 (503) 235-5690

Out rambling around this week, I decided to visit one of the great rock 'n' roll watering holes from Portland's recent past: Club 21.

Sidling up to the Club 21 bar on recent weekday Happy Hour, I commented to the bartender that it had been since EJ's closed that I had last been in the place.

The strapping, forty-ish redhead in a weight-lifting tank top raised her eyebrows in appreciation -- that would make four years since my last visit.

The place was nearly empty. A table of weathered bikers commanded one table. At another sat some workers eating hamburgers. A woman in the back ate candy from a video poker trough. Had business change much, I asked.

The bartender's eyebrows stayed in place for emphasis. "Sure," she said.

Situated on a modest spot of lawn, with peaked roof and mountain chalet construction, Club 21 looks less a gin joint to crusty rock locals than it does a concessions outpost to a fairyland theme park. But back when EJ's was in operation, a much loved rock music venue once located across busy Sandy Boulevard, it was all one and the same: gin joint and fairyland theme park.

Sadly EJ's closed for good in 2000. Today pawn shop now occupies the space. Remarkably, there are no sidewalk memorials to a single person struck down by traffic. Because when EJ's was in full swing the flow of drunk pedestrians making the rock club-to-ski lodge circuit was heavy and unsteady. Folks needing a reprieve from the noise at EJ's found relatively quiet Club 21 to be just the ticket. And they travelled in droves.

EJ's transformed the long-standing mountain chalet of Club 21 into a hall for Vikings, long tables and a crackling grill placating overly tattooed booze-hounds half-deaf on rock. A new scene was born. Too cheap to pay the cover charge at EJ's? Then just hustle yourself into the black t-shirted throng at Club 21.

By my measure, it was a period marked by high-fever enthusiasm, and little wisdom. One time I left the sweaty morass at Club 21 with the intention of scaling the walls of EJ's and to gain access through a third story window. Long story short: I ended up paying cover at the front door.

I made a follow-up visit later in the week, entering Club 21 a little past midnight. The scene hadn't changed much. My day bartender was off-shift at the bar nursing a drink, wearing a different tank top.

Peppermint candy still spills out of the video poker troughs in Club 21. The cluster of long tables still stand. Free-standing Mega-Touch machines and an internet jukebox are the most modern additions to the scene. And the black and white flyers stapled by the front door no longer advertise punk rock shows taking place a safe stumbling distance away.

Some of the old crowd still make Club 21 a hangout, cozy home to rockers and blue collars workers. I know. They tell me. Hipsters down the street at the purple Sandy Hut make the trip in. Boozy birthday parties are well looked after.

It's just a quieter day.

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