Chapter Two, “Life in Vanport.”
Vanport. Manly Maben. Portland: Oregon Historical Society Press, 22-31
Reprinted by permission of the Oregon Historical Society Press

Life in Vanport possessed a hurdy-gurdy, kaleidoscopic, almost unreal quality, especially during the wartime years. Its 24-hour character, noise, 20-foot separation of apartment buildings, and sense of rootlessness all contributed to an atmosphere of vague disquietude so pervasive that two investigators of tenant instability concluded that it caused the illnesses (unrecognized by the tenants as psychic) that led many of them to leave the project. Perhaps it was this aspect of the city’s life that elicited the most intense reactions and memories from Vanport’s inhabitants. In spite of the fact that the literacy and expression level of Vanport’s population was below average, these same investigators received an unexpectedly high response to their questionnaire sent to former residents during the winter of 1943-44; 55 percent of the respondents even appended additional remarks.

Much of this under-the-surface impact was not apparent as tenants first moved into the green apartment buildings. Construction proceeded apace amid the mud of winter and the dust of spring and summer. Vanport became a city of the young, perhaps because the young are more adaptable and willing to change their environment. Neither military manpower demands nor the war’s end ever resulted in much change in the age composition. How this affected development at Vanport City is difficult to assess, although it may have played some part in the absence of community spirit.

During the construction period residents experienced many inconveniences. Ice was to be delivered to the door, but for several months none was available. Until April 1943, no stores, grocery or otherwise, or cafeteria service operated. It was a one- to two-mile walk to Kenton in North Portland for supplies or for bus service to Portland or Vancouver. The commercial centers that opened in 1943 proved to be inadequate, and bids for three more were called for the following February. Shortages of butter and milk grew more severe in the project than in Portland’s established communities, implying that suppliers took care of their old accounts first. The Kaiser Company demanded the milk products situation be remedied in order to retain workers, but the dairy industry replied that lack of a price incentive made this impossible. Streets in Vanport remained graveled until completion of construction, and so, after the winter rains, mud was replaced by dust.³

Postal service was inadequate, there was no grass, and the constant construction noise prevented swing and graveyard shift workers from sleeping. The nearest ration board, located at the intersection of North Interstate Avenue and North Portland Boulevard, quickly became swamped. A new board was finally created and situated in Vanport City. By mid-July 1943, it served 26,000 people. Although it did not deal with fuel oil stamps or wood priorities (since Vanport furnished coal heat), and had little gas ration stamp business (most Vanporters obtained stamps at the plants where they worked), a crowd big enough to fill the office quarters almost always collected before the doors opened.

There were other problems. One gigantic traffic jam resulted from a mix-up over a trivial matter. The public utilities Commission requested that state police check the “for hire” trucks crossing the Interstate Bridge. In the communications between the Oregon State police and Multnomah County Sheriff’s Office this somehow was turned into a stop-all-autos-for-license check. A two-mile tie-up occurred on Denver Avenue and eight to nine thousand workers were an hour to an hour-and-a-half late for their shift at Kaiser’s Vancouver yard, not exactly expediting war production. The very same day, a bridge opening for a tug pulling a log raft caused the swing shift to be late. While construction was still in progress most Vanport residents probably tolerated what, it was hoped, were temporary inconveniences. Because of the severity of many of their previous housing problems many were glad simply to get into the newly finished apartments.

An apartment for two consisted of one room opening off the front of the building. In it was a “daveno” (also used as a bed), two occasional chairs and a dining table to seat four. Toward the back of the room was a cupboard with a sink and icebox below, and a double electric hot plate and small oven at one side of the sink. A small closet and a tiny bathroom with a shower were in the extreme rear. For larger families one or two bedrooms opened off the basic living room, furnished with a bed, dresser, and mirror. Actually, all essentials for living in the apartments were provided except pillows, linen, dishes, cooking utensils, and silverware.

None of the windows opened save one in each of the upstairs apartments that served as a fire escape onto the porch roof. Most of the units contained no thermostat to regulate heat, and tenants who did have one were requested not to touch it, and to regulate the heat by closing the register rather than opening doors or louvers. At first there were no home telephones. In April 1944 the telephone company secured permission from the Housing Authority of Portland to use the light poles for phone wires, but the very few installed serviced only those persons able to get the difficult governmental authorization. A telephone exchange was not installed at Vanport until six months after the war ended. The buildings (one for each four apartment structures) had but two washing machines for 56 family units, while the original two shopping centers carried only a limited range of goods, and wartime restrictions made personal transportation difficult.

Vanport’s first tenants moved in amid much favorable publicity, anticipating pleasant conditions. However, it did not take long for dissatisfactions to grow, and ultimately the vast majority (administrators and tenants alike) agreed that Vanport was not a good place to live. As early as the winter of 1943-44 tenants were moving out at a rate of 100 per day (this later stabilized at about 35 per day).

During the first year of operation, if not before, HAP realized that life in Vanport had its drawbacks. In late 1943, the John B. Pierce Foundation, located in New York City, planned a survey of wartime housing to determine the minimum space needed to carry on the basic functions of family living. The study had full approval of the War Production Board and the National Housing Administration. Because of the favorable national publicity Vanport City had received, the foundation selected it as one of the eight communities to be studied.

The Housing Authority of Portland used every means at its command to quash the inclusion of Vanport City in the survey, and it was successful. Executive Director Harry Freeman, in his reply to the request, marshalled every possible argument to discourage the investigative organization: the Authority did not wish residents to be guinea pigs (even though only 100 families would be involved); people would react against the survey; the tenants were well adjusted and did not need surveying; there was a shortage of hotel accommodations for the investigators; travel conditions were had; and HAP would be unable to furnish space. To this communication Freeman received a devastating reply delineating the survey techniques, listing objectives, reasons for the selection, and noting the cooperation the foundation was getting from everyone else. The survey team could manage its own housing and transportation needs. In case the team was welcome the courtesy of a wire reply was requested so preparations could proceed. Freeman, after discussing the request with Board of Directors Chairman C.M. Gartrell, refused it, citing the temporary, substandard nature of the project and the planned liquidation. He suggested that the survey be confined to permanent housing built by private enterprise, and that Seattle might be a good place to go.

Charlotte Kilbourn and Margaret Lantis, who carried out a study that same winter, provide the best single source of information on resident dissatisfaction. They tabulated complaints about Vanport housing and the community in order of frequency (not necessarily in order of importance). Highest on the list for housing was the inadequate cookstove, followed by fear of fire, heating problems, mud, the cost of living, and other miscellaneous complaints. In regard to the community itself the complaint most often voiced was the presence of blacks and whites in the same neighborhood; then came (among others) inadequate shopping facilities, noise, troublesome children, the discriminatory attitude of Portlanders, and lack of segregation in the schools. The almost complete absence of community social organization received little mention; apparently most residents did not expect it.

How much could be inferred from these responses is debatable, as it turned out that of the three main reasons tenants had given for leaving the project, two had no connection with the above complaints and the third was only slightly related. The main reason for moving out was the family head entering the armed forces, followed by job conditions and, third, illness in the family. Certainly the first reason applied equally to individuals moving from any community in the United States, especially if the young age composition of Vanport is considered. Another contemporary observer who noted the high job dissatisfaction in Pacific Coast shipyards in general and the Vancouver yard in particular, offered an explanation that today might seem strange. The cost-plus system, on top of poor organization, made it almost impossible for workers to keep busy. Those who had come to do a conscientious job in furtherance of the war effort were disillusioned. For illness to be a particularly significant reason it had to be brought on by conditions in Vanport. Kilbourn and Lantis considered it legitimate to assume that many people were unable to adjust to the noisy, three-shift, individualistic, anonymous life, and gave illness as the reason for leaving. However, the fourth leading reason for leaving, heat, definitely was connected to project living conditions.

Obviously, many dissatisfactions did develop, and quickly. Another 1943 tenant survey contained the question, “Do you consider prices higher in Vanport?” Out of 194 responses to this question 174 replied yes, even though a December issues of Business Week observed that a contract lease provision that prices be kept close to Portland’s was being followed, and that HAP claimed many prices were lower than those in downtown Portland. However, by August, complaints of inferior food and higher prices in project stores did elicit comment from HAP commissioners.

The sheer volume of noise was always a factor in Vanport. Only recently have scientists become aware of the insidious effects of high noise levels on human beings. The multi-occupancy dwellings, construction that allowed easy transmission of sound, around-the-clock life, cramped quarters (which encouraged sending children outside), and closeness of the buildings all contributed to an almost intolerable noise level. There were many complaints. By July 1944 the situation was so bad that Oregon Shipbuilding Corporation, believing it was affecting employees’ work performance, sent a letter to HAP regarding the noise and other disturbances. During the same month an irate Vanporter complained to radio station KEX. Executive Director Harry Freeman’s only answer was that HAP could not exclude families with children, and that noise was difficult to control because Vanport had to operate as a “24-hour town.” Implied, of course, was that the noise would continue.

Many additional complaints referred to “partying” and drunken brawls, and the disturbances they created, making it impossible to get sufficient rest. Allowing two single men to occupy a one-room unit added to the noise. These conditions, although real, became exaggerated in the telling — as did stories of juvenile depredation. One former Montanan moving to the area wrote to Senator Burton K. Wheeler that although he could not obtain other housing he did not want to go to Vanport because he was concerned for his children’s well-being. This eventually led to FPHA concern about Vanport’s safety for children. After the complainant received good housing somewhere else, however, he admitted he merely had been repeating gossip.

Two of the chief causes of mounting tenant antipathy toward Vanport were heat problems and fear of fire. Residents often resorted to the use of the surface stove elements and ovens for heating purposes. Heat pouring out of the open oven melted the bakelite control knobs so frequently that a serious repair problem ensued. Electric heaters were added surreptitiously, causing the fuses to blow, whereupon tenants simply overfused or added pennies to the switchboxes. Finally HAP issued a bulletin stating that on 1 November 1946, it would begin an inspection of units, and confiscate and hold any appliances that could cause “excessive load” until the individual left the project. If a second inspection again discovered offending appliances the tenant could be evicted.

Where wood buildings, each containing 14 units, were spaced 20 feet apart the fear of fire was well-founded. Moreover, the origin of a fire that could kill a tenant and his family, plus destroy cherished belongings, might easily be beyond an individual’s control. During the last half of the first year of operation there were many small fires. In 43 cases HAP attempted to collect charges for damages from tenants deemed responsible but it met with little success, collecting on less than one-quarter of them. The winter of 1943-44 also saw many fires for which residents were not responsible. These occurred primarily in the service and utility buildings. Because of the War Production Board restrictions the fresh air intakes had been constructed of plywood and in many places passed within five-an-a-half inches of the white-hot sections of the furnaces. Other fires began when water heaters ignited the walls behind them. By 1 May 1945, a total of 217 fires had broken out in these buildings. Alterations were finally made during that year.

The frequency of fires increasingly worried the Seattle FPHA office. Monetary loss and excessive fire protection expenses, rather than possible loss of life, seemed to be its greatest concern. On 30 March 1944, a fire killed one person and severely burned another; fatalities would have been much higher except for the lucky coincidence of a night shift worker who, passing by, noticed evidence of the fire and roused the tenants.

By now the HAP board of commissioners recognized that people hesitated to live in Vanport because of the fire hazard. Throughout the history of the project fire remained a serious problem. In early 1943, with 2,500 of the almost 10,000 units occupied, the Vanport fire Department had received only two pieces of fire protection equipment. The Oregon Journal quipped that until the rest arrived the residents would have to trust to the Lord and help from the Portland fire Department. Vanport citizens became even more apprehensive when, in December 1945, a series of arson blazes started with the destruction of Shopping Center Number I and did not halt until a young culprit was apprehended a month later. As late as the time of the flood, the school district was seeking funds to replace a school destroyed by fire.

The compactness of the units increased the tensions and problems of daily life. During 1943 and early 1944, the first period of maximum occupancy, many residents requested larger quarters. Tenants were assigned housing with the absolute minimum of space. Thus, a couple drew a one-room unit, and if the partners worked different shifts, which was not unusual, it was relatively impossible for one to do any housework as the other had to sleep in the room at the same time.

A rather powerful irritant at Vanport was the insect and rodent problem. Residents frequently complained they could not sleep because the bedbugs were so bad. An exterminating company was called so often that a regular schedule of charges was worked out, a roach or flea call being the cheapest, with a progressive increase through rats and mice, bedbugs, and finally, cyanide fumigation of the whole unit. By July 1944 complaints of bedbugs averaged almost 900 a month and of cockroaches, over 1,500. Finally in 1945 HAP obtained satisfying results with a new fumigation procedure. A heavy I)DT spray of eight apartments (one pint per apartment) yielded excellent results with no call-backs. Fortunately or unfortunately knowledge of the residual effects of the new pesticide was unknown.

How much the host of HAP regulations on buildings and grounds (which will be considered in detail in chapter 3) affected the general dissatisfaction with life in Vanport remains debatable, and HAP was not always the real culprit. Much of the unpleasant appearance of the project must be attributed to the residents themselves. On one scale, 90 percent of the whites and 100 percent of the blacks were classified as lower-middle-class. Many of the women were working, HAP believed the black residents crowded many extra persons into their apartments, and there was a general indifference to taking care of such a temporary abode. By 1944 many of the apartment interiors appeared rather tawdry, and although for a time tools and paint were furnished by the management division to those tenants who wished to improve their quarters, the practice was stopped when one of the labor unions maintained that furnishing this material was in violation of their contract.

Originally quite an effort had been made to beautify the exterior environment. Thousands of shrubs had been planted; there had been a slough improvement program, and slough banks were graded; trees that did not interfere with construction were saved; and 10 acres had been set aside for (admittedly small) tree-shaded parks. However, the project quickly acquired a “ratty” look. Seattle’s FPHA office began receiving uncomplimentary reports about the project’s appearance, and these quickly were relayed to HAP. Trash and debris were everywhere, along with broken windows. Half of the apartments had never been equipped with waste paper

boxes, and the containers that existed were soon demolished. Whatever the reasons, Vanport’s residents did not do much to maintain or improve the looks of the project, especially during the wartime years.

Outside the residences, other factors made life in Vanport at times unpleasant or inconvenient. The mosquitoes apparently were aggressive, and although the city and county were supposed to carry out a spray program with in-lieu-of-tax funds, the commissioners (early in 1944) decided unanimously to get the job done for that year no matter what the cost. As late as 1946 only one cafe in the project met all the requirements of the Multnomah County Health Department. The commissioners continually received complaints from Vanport merchants that peddlers were “over-running Vanport City,” indicating HAP licensing requirements were being widely disregarded. Two environmental features that perhaps were more favorable were the very small number of gas stations and the absolute absence of billboards.

The psychological effect of living on the bottom of a relatively small area, diked on all sides to a height of 15 to 25 feet, was vaguely disturbing. It was almost impossible to get a view of the horizon from anywhere in Vanport, at least on the ground or in the lower level apartments, and it was even difficult from upper levels. It is reasonably clear that most of the residents did not particularly enjoy life at Vanport, especially during the wartime years. This was also true, though to a lesser degree, following the war. Vacancies in Vanport were increasing in 1944 despite a general housing shortage. The Portland Chamber of Commerce Executive Committee sent a letter to HAP maintaining that unsatisfactory housing conditions at Vanport City were responsible for a heavy turnover and manpower loss in industry. In addition to many of the dissatisfactions previously noted, the letter cited inefficient refrigeration, jammed doors and windows, and discourteous personnel. Harry Freeman admitted the tenants were becoming “restless and testy.”

The distribution and type of Vanport’s occupants changed in the postwar period. Welfare recipients were concentrated there; income-adjusted rents were adopted; large numbers of veterans moved into the area’s only available housing (many as college students) and the proportion of black residents rose markedly. But it was still the same impermanent, concentrated project, only older. Its residents still regarded their stay there as temporary, although not as transitory as its wartime population did. Fewer women worked, and being cooped up in Vanport was particularly trying to them. To the very end, life in Vanport remained a unique, and for many, a distressing experience.