I don't know Portland well, but I've been there twice, most recently just a few months ago. I stayed at a hotel on the banks of the Willamette River, about three-quarters of a mile south of downtown. On a pleasant Saturday afternoon, I strolled along the river through a lovely waterfront park, turned into Chapman Square, walked past the Pioneer Place shopping center, and then zipped a few blocks north to the amazing Powell's Bookstore. I had lunch at charming little Middle Eastern restaurant near Powell, walked part of the way back, got a little tired and ordered an Uber.
What did I see? Not good. The city center was quite deserted. To the extent that there was activity, mostly around Powell, it was quite normal for the city: groups of millennial friends lingered, a couple of street guitarists played. Have I ever felt the slightest whiff of trouble? Not in the slightest. A small pro-Palestinian demonstration took place in Chapman Square. I inadvertently ventured about 10 feet away from these unwashed hooligans, but lo and behold, no one even sneezed on me.
Oh, and that block to which Washington Post applies? Well, according to Google Maps, the Portland ICE complex is just over a mile south of my hotel—which, you'll recall, was originally south of downtown—and wedged between the river and Interstate 5. In other words, pretty cut off. There's a small residential area there, but for the vast majority of people, you have to want to go there – and go out of your way to do so. To put this in, say, New York City terms, its location is roughly equivalent to a place like East 20s on FDR Drive: a place where, yes, a few people live, but no one else ever goes. I lived in New York for 20 years and I don't think I've ever been there.
