FROM THE BURNSIDE SKATEPARK, the Yard tower is hard to miss.
The “Death Star,” as Burnside’s regulars call the 21-story apartment building, is conspicuous even at a distance—being one of the only high-rises across the Willamette River from downtown. But up close, it hovers over the city’s most storied skatepark, generating a chorus of industrial noises night and day, and blocking out most natural light. The gritty skatepark and major residential development are next-door neighbors, separated only by temporary fencing and a few feet of mud and rocks.
And as the apartment project prepares to take on residents this summer—and needed upgrades to the Burnside Bridge loom further out—it’s easy to wonder: What happens to Burnside, a landmark founded when its now-hip locale was less than desirable?
The people who built the skatepark are wondering the same thing. But there’s hope among them that it will thrive.
“Burnside’s not going anywhere,” says Sage Bolyard, a skater who’s been a part of the park for almost all of its 25-year existence. “We’re just worried about having to continually fight for it.”
Mark Scott, co-founder and unofficial head of Burnside, credits Yard’s development team as being easy to work with. They’ve treated park representatives like stakeholders, he says, and will spend $30,000 on lights to illuminate the plunging concrete bowls and ramps their building perches over.
That good feeling isn’t universal. There’s grumbling at the park about construction workers taking all the parking. There’s been outcry on social media over the use of skaters in Yard promotional materials, which some feel is disingenuous, and the displacement of skating features by the construction.
Scott and the rest of Burnside’s founders have known for years something like this was coming.