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The Great Extravaganza: Portland and the Lewis and Clark Exposition, Third Edition
The Great Extravaganza details the Lewis and Clark Exposition of 1905 from its planning stage, through the heady days of the fair, and into the decade of growth and prosperity that followed. Abbott captures the progressive sentiments that motivated early twentieth-century developers and politicians and the part the Exposition played in the development of Portland.
Now in its third edition since its original publication in 1981, The Great Extravaganza includes a new introduction by Carl Abbott along with historic photographs that give readers a tour of the extensive fairgrounds, the grand exhibit halls, and the dozens of attractions that drew a million and a half people to Portland during the summer and early fall of 1905.
Now in its third edition since its original publication in 1981, The Great Extravaganza includes a new introduction by Carl Abbott along with historic photographs that give readers a tour of the extensive fairgrounds, the grand exhibit halls, and the dozens of attractions that drew a million and a half people to Portland during the summer and early fall of 1905.
- GenresHistory
71 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1981
29 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
December 15, 2021
Fun quick overview of this Portland Exhibition. Tedious financial details were not belabored, focusing more on the event itself and its impact, rather than the logistics involved in making it happen. Since I grew up in the Portland area, and, in all its 2021 glory, live here today, it was nice to know there was a time when the community pulled together to pull off something big that would benefit everyone. This would make a fantastic coffee table book for any Portland home, or that of any history buff. Beautiful photos throughout.
I wish I could have seen this one. I wish I had seen the Forestry Building before it burned; that looked like a masterpiece, from the photos. The crowd looked so happy and cool--all dressed in white for the summer, ladies in shady hats, strolling along the beautiful walks and staircases. The best part, though, was when the Exhibition turned a nice profit, the state wanted to get its paws on it--since the money "belonged to the people of the state." But the court ruled that the profits would be divided amongst capital investors, since it was a private corporation. Love it.
I wish I could have seen this one. I wish I had seen the Forestry Building before it burned; that looked like a masterpiece, from the photos. The crowd looked so happy and cool--all dressed in white for the summer, ladies in shady hats, strolling along the beautiful walks and staircases. The best part, though, was when the Exhibition turned a nice profit, the state wanted to get its paws on it--since the money "belonged to the people of the state." But the court ruled that the profits would be divided amongst capital investors, since it was a private corporation. Love it.
December 16, 2025
This book felt like taking a trip back in time to a moment when a small town dared to dream big. Abbott does an impressive job of piecing together the story of how Portland, Oregon, managed to pull off a massive event - the Lewis and Clark Exposition of 1905 - that captured the imagination of not only the town but of visitors from all over the world.
It’s not just a story about Portland, though; it’s a window into a time when world fairs were all the rage, and these events were like mini-worlds that brought the far reaches of the globe right to your local city.
One of the things I’ve always been intrigued by is the draw of these massive spectacles. Whether it’s gladiatorial combat in ancient Rome, public hangings in medieval Britain, or today’s Olympic celebrations, these events hold a unique power. Abbott captures that essence of grandiosity in his story, and it’s easy to see how world fairs fit right into this pattern. At a time when global travel was perilous, these fairs became an avenue to showcase indigenous cultures, architectural wonders, and customs from around the world, all without leaving home.
The book is comprehensive in its approach. Abbott goes beyond the surface to explore the layers behind the exposition. The planning and financing parts, which I found the most compelling, offer a look into the kind of ambition that goes into creating something of this scale. It’s interesting to see how towns like Portland navigated financial hurdles and secured investments to make their extravagant plans a reality. Abbott lays out the monetary side in a way that feels accessible, so even if finance isn’t your thing, you’ll find yourself nodding along.
What’s fascinating - and a little bit sad - is how often these grand architectural masterpieces ended up being so temporary. It’s like these buildings were the set pieces of a play, ready to be disassembled as soon as the applause died down. Abbott touches on this transience, mentioning that many of these “world-class” structures were simply abandoned or torn down within a decade of their construction. I can’t help but feel a bit melancholy over these architectural casualties, but Abbott handles it with a kind of resigned acceptance, almost as if to say, “It was all part of the spectacle.”
Now, while Abbott does a good job of piecing all this together, the book does have its slow patches. The early sections, especially, get bogged down with a lot of context-setting. I get that Abbott wants to paint a full picture, but there were moments when I felt like the story dragged under the weight of its historical details. It’s like he’s so determined to give you every bit of background that it comes at the expense of the narrative momentum. I found myself flipping pages a bit more briskly during these parts.
Another thing I struggled with was the pacing of the later chapters. Abbott jumps between various themes - like local politics, public enthusiasm, and the planning committee - without much warning, which left me a bit disoriented. I appreciate the thoroughness, but I could’ve done with a clearer roadmap. A bit more signposting to guide readers through the different topics would’ve helped me stay focused.
On the bright side, Abbott’s research shines through in his portrayal of the cultural tensions of the time. He doesn’t shy away from discussing the imperialistic undertones of world fairs or how these events often eroticized indigenous cultures for the sake of public spectacle. These sections were a strong point in the book and provided food for thought, especially when considering how society consumed and showcased these “foreign” cultures in the early 20th century. Abbott manages to balance admiration for the grandeur of these events with a critical eye toward their social implications.
All in all, this book is a solid dive into an often-overlooked chapter of Portland’s history. Abbott paints a vivid picture of what it was like for a little town to try and play with the big boys. While the pacing could’ve been tighter and the narrative less meandering at times, the book’s strengths lie in its thorough exploration of the spectacle and the fascinating details of its creation. If you’re a fan of historical deep dives, especially those that mix local history with broader cultural trends, this one is worth picking up.
It’s not just a story about Portland, though; it’s a window into a time when world fairs were all the rage, and these events were like mini-worlds that brought the far reaches of the globe right to your local city.
One of the things I’ve always been intrigued by is the draw of these massive spectacles. Whether it’s gladiatorial combat in ancient Rome, public hangings in medieval Britain, or today’s Olympic celebrations, these events hold a unique power. Abbott captures that essence of grandiosity in his story, and it’s easy to see how world fairs fit right into this pattern. At a time when global travel was perilous, these fairs became an avenue to showcase indigenous cultures, architectural wonders, and customs from around the world, all without leaving home.
The book is comprehensive in its approach. Abbott goes beyond the surface to explore the layers behind the exposition. The planning and financing parts, which I found the most compelling, offer a look into the kind of ambition that goes into creating something of this scale. It’s interesting to see how towns like Portland navigated financial hurdles and secured investments to make their extravagant plans a reality. Abbott lays out the monetary side in a way that feels accessible, so even if finance isn’t your thing, you’ll find yourself nodding along.
What’s fascinating - and a little bit sad - is how often these grand architectural masterpieces ended up being so temporary. It’s like these buildings were the set pieces of a play, ready to be disassembled as soon as the applause died down. Abbott touches on this transience, mentioning that many of these “world-class” structures were simply abandoned or torn down within a decade of their construction. I can’t help but feel a bit melancholy over these architectural casualties, but Abbott handles it with a kind of resigned acceptance, almost as if to say, “It was all part of the spectacle.”
Now, while Abbott does a good job of piecing all this together, the book does have its slow patches. The early sections, especially, get bogged down with a lot of context-setting. I get that Abbott wants to paint a full picture, but there were moments when I felt like the story dragged under the weight of its historical details. It’s like he’s so determined to give you every bit of background that it comes at the expense of the narrative momentum. I found myself flipping pages a bit more briskly during these parts.
Another thing I struggled with was the pacing of the later chapters. Abbott jumps between various themes - like local politics, public enthusiasm, and the planning committee - without much warning, which left me a bit disoriented. I appreciate the thoroughness, but I could’ve done with a clearer roadmap. A bit more signposting to guide readers through the different topics would’ve helped me stay focused.
On the bright side, Abbott’s research shines through in his portrayal of the cultural tensions of the time. He doesn’t shy away from discussing the imperialistic undertones of world fairs or how these events often eroticized indigenous cultures for the sake of public spectacle. These sections were a strong point in the book and provided food for thought, especially when considering how society consumed and showcased these “foreign” cultures in the early 20th century. Abbott manages to balance admiration for the grandeur of these events with a critical eye toward their social implications.
All in all, this book is a solid dive into an often-overlooked chapter of Portland’s history. Abbott paints a vivid picture of what it was like for a little town to try and play with the big boys. While the pacing could’ve been tighter and the narrative less meandering at times, the book’s strengths lie in its thorough exploration of the spectacle and the fascinating details of its creation. If you’re a fan of historical deep dives, especially those that mix local history with broader cultural trends, this one is worth picking up.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews