Glencullen History

From The Oregonian, September 19, 1999:

Mention ghost towns, we think of remote locales where civilization arrived, lingered for a short time, then moved on, perhaps leaving behind a hardy denizen or two but more likely only a few make-do buildings to molder away under the influences of time and the elements.

There may well be another kind, ones that success has not abandoned so much as overcome, trampled into obscurity with traffic until their sense of identity is faded nearly beyond recognition. Urban ghost towns.

Portland has several. Linnton springs to mind, as does Kenton or Montavilla. Once thriving crossroads widely identified as communities proud to stand alone, they now are at best mere "neighborhoods" where a loyal few may cling to their heritage but a mile or so away busy urbanites can't begin to tell you what they were ever all about.

A good example is on the fringes of Southwest Portland, a place we found still identified on only one aging urban map but missing on those more up-to-date, including the minutely detailed Thomas Guide: Glencullen.

The place was once small but nonetheless lively, perhaps even more so than today, at least in the mind of Jean McDonald of Lincoln City.

McDonald grew up there, and her parents, Charles and Lucile Williams, were prominent in its business community. He was the druggist and postmaster; she ran an adjacent dry-goods store.

It went by the name Fairvale until the early 1930s, when its name was changed to honor its leading citizen, whom we'll get to shortly.

Glencullen, nee Fairvale, was, still is -- there are some remnants left -- in the area of Dosch Road north of the Beaverton-Hillsdale Highway (still adamantly referred to as the Bertha-Beaverton by longtime residents) in the area of today's Albert Kelly Park.

McDonald recalls signs identifying the town's entrances not many years ago, but they have disappeared. The territory is now more likely identified either as Hayhurst or Bridlemile, "depending on which house the real estate agent is trying to sell," she said.

Glencullen boasted not only her mom and dad's enterprises, but its own grocery stores, butcher shop, restaurants, elementary school, the Fairvale County Club that served as the community social center, its own baseball team and a park along Fanno Creek.

The residents frequently staged fund-raisers for worthy causes. McDonald recalls one in 1929 to purchase a school bus, "so we could all go to Multnomah School."

Transportation was a problem, the only choices being the Red Electric line trains or by horse or later auto, over steep, twisty, bumpy Terwilliger Road (the Boulevard came later) into Portland.

One booster was Ben Riesland, a lawyer who dabbled in real estate, owned the Fairvale Land Co. and installed Glencullen’s first (wooden) sidewalks. He came up with the idea of tunneling through the hill to provide direct access to the city. Nothing came of it but Tunnelwood Street, which still winds part way up the hill. Barbur Boulevard and Bertha-Beaverton offered a more practical route.

South of Beaverton-Hillsdale is Cullen Street, a clue to Glencullen's namesake.

John Winchell Cullen was born June 18, 1838, in LaPorte, Ind. He arrived overland with his mother and father in 1847 and, according to Howard McKinley Corning's Dictionary of Oregon History, "lived in Portland first frame house built by John Morrison for Nathaniel Crosby; learned harness and saddlery trade and printing. Served in the Yakima Indian War, and in Civil War."

Well, not directly in the war. Cullen joined Company B, 1st Infantry, Oregon Volunteers, and commanded the post at Camp Reed on what is now the site of Twin Falls, Idaho. In the 1870s, he became a Methodist clergyman, with his first ministry in Twin Falls.

He served churches around the Northwest and eventually retired to enjoy his lingering repute as an Indian fighter. A November 1937 editorial in the Oregon Journal noted: "For years Captain Cullen has regularly presided at dinners given by the Indian War Veterans, presented in honor of his birthday. It has always been an occasion of interesting reminiscence and oratory, recalling great scenes and great acts by men in the Oregon County."

Likely not, it should be noted, from Native Americans' point of view.

The tribute also noted that Cullen "has lived for years at his home at Glen Cullen, near Portland." If you've been paying attention to the dates, you'll note he was at the time pushing near the century mark.

And he continued to push, on and past, until he died Dec. 14, 1939, at age 101.

McDonald remembers him and remembers thinking he looked even older than his years. "But you must remember," she said, "I was very young at the time."