Portland’s Chinatown is fading, and two iconic restaurants are clinging to survival, hoping for a revival that feels increasingly distant. Once a bustling hub of culture and cuisine, the historic district now echoes with silence, its neon signs dimmed and walls marred by graffiti. But amidst the decay, the Republic Cafe and Golden Horse Seafood Restaurant stand as defiant remnants of a vibrant past. These are the last two Chinese eateries in Portland’s 10-block New Chinatown/Japantown Historic District, and their struggle is both heartbreaking and emblematic of a larger story.
But here’s where it gets controversial: Is this decline a natural evolution of urban neighborhoods, or a failure of community and policy? While some see it as the inevitable march of progress, others argue that neglect and systemic challenges have left these institutions on the brink. Let’s dive in.
The Republic Cafe, Portland’s oldest Chinese restaurant, once hosted politicians and celebrities. Today, its dimly lit booths sit empty, save for a few delivery drivers grabbing to-go orders. Next door, Golden Horse, the last spot for Cantonese lunch in the area, barely sees a handful of regulars. These restaurants aren’t just businesses—they’re living archives of a community that once thrived here.
And this is the part most people miss: The pandemic wasn’t the only culprit. Oregon’s brief experiment with decriminalizing small amounts of drugs turned the neighborhood into a hotspot for challenges that persist today. While things have improved, the scars remain, and customers are slow to return.
The Republic Cafe, established in either 1922 or 1930 (depending on who you ask), was once a glamorous destination. Its cocktail lounge attracted stars like Louis Armstrong and Ginger Rogers, and its owner, Victor Wong, was affectionately known as the ‘Mayor of Chinatown.’ Today, Sue Mui, who’s owned the cafe for 30 years, keeps it running on sheer determination. ‘People are scared to come down here,’ she admits, pointing to the neighborhood’s struggles. Yet, the cafe’s Ming Lounge has found new life with a punk-rock vibe, hosting underground events like ‘Headspace Circus’ that draw a younger crowd.
Golden Horse, meanwhile, is a labor of love for Sophy Li, who’s spent her entire adult life there. She met her husband, the chef, at the restaurant, and their two sons grew up around its tables. But business is down 30% since the pandemic, and Li worries about the future. ‘I’m emotionally attached to this place,’ she says, ‘but if no one wants to buy it when my husband retires, I’ll have no choice but to close.’
Efforts to revive the area are underway. Murals, lantern extensions, and grants for repairs aim to breathe life back into Chinatown. Peter Yue, a local designer, envisions a ‘Chinatown 2.0’—an AAPI business incubator with a thriving arts scene. ‘Art will push it through,’ he insists. But is it enough?
Here’s the bold question: Can a neighborhood’s soul be restored through grants and murals, or does it require something deeper—a renewed sense of community and belonging? As Mykal Ragonese, whose wife bartends at the Republic, puts it, ‘This place is a bridge between the past, present, and future.’ But without customers, that bridge risks crumbling.
What do you think? Is Chinatown’s decline a tragedy we can reverse, or a sign of the times? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s keep this conversation alive.
