In April, the six tenants of the co-operatively run "Breakfast House" at Southeast 34th Avenue and Division Street received 30 days' notice from their landlord, who said he'd sold to a developer.

"He said not to do a super-thorough clean," said tenant Kim Hack, "so we assume it will be demolished."

Hack and her housemates won't know who the developer is until the sale goes through May 21. But after chatting with their neighbors on either side, they believe the same developer is trying to acquire all three properties.

Breakfast House is not leaving quietly. Thursday afternoon, the occupants of the communal living arrangement that has, since 2009, hosted poetry readings, art-making events, neighborhood potlucks and free breakfasts from Food Not Bombs, put on one final afternoon breakfast.

Tenants and their friends sat on the front lawn inviting passersby to help themselves to fruit, pancakes and hashbrowns. They handed out leaflets calling for a different future for Division Street. The literature envisioned mandatory low-income housing and the inclusion of existing residents -- renters among them -- in development and zoning decisions.

A decade ago, Division Street was a slightly ramshackle strip of old-school businesses, quirky stores and modest single-family homes. Now buildings and businesses are being replaced with upscale restaurants and condominiums at such a jarring rate that many locals have a sense of whiplash.

"Feel free to put your thoughts about Division Street down," Hack called out to curious passersby. A suitcase filled with scraps of paper and a pencil hung from a parking pole in front of the house. Several people had already jotted comments on the rapid transformation of the neighborhood.



"I love cities and the steps by which they become more urban," was a rare positive take. Such comments were heavily outnumbered by observations from people who hate the changes:

"Would love to see the whole Salt-n- Straw crowd burn in hell. (Jk) kinda?"

"I've lived in this neighborhood for five years . . . I now feel like I can't afford to walk down the street."

"Do we have to turn every area into a Pearl District."

Sam Smith, another Breakfast House tenant, said the whole process has left him feeling "tremendously disempowered."

"It feels like the aspects of Portland that are so valued are facilitating the influx of people that are destroying what we all love about the city," he said.

A former tenant, Becca Mellstrom, stopped by the party.

"I miss the reptile store," she said, remembering an old neighborhood fixture.

Another former tenant, Taiga Christie, said that she worked at Haven Coffee before it closed. She mourned the loss of "several queer-owned businesses along the street."

One worried neighbor, Cathy Ross, lives directly behind the Breakfast House on Southeast Caruthers Street. She said that she and her neighbors are forming a group to see if they can delay the rapid pace of change.

"I've been wondering what's to keep them from targeting this block next, and now this house has been sold," Ross said.

Jeffery James Erickson was enjoying Thursday's breakfast. He grew up in the neighborhood 50 years ago and now sleeps farther up the street, "near the vet and the teahouse." He was making a flower arrangement for the tenants from the selection on his cart and enjoying some home fries. He said that the new condos going up are "uglier than hell," but added that, "all these people moving into these boxes, that sure ain't gonna hurt these businesses around here."

Other passersby called the neighborhood's condominiums "characterless" and "appalling." They mourned the loss of street trees. They lamented the endless construction, the lack of parking, the congestion.

From audio speakers on the lawn outside the Breakfast House, the opening lines of the White Glove song rang out: "What happened to Division Street? The landlord raised the rent on me."

NOTE TO PARENTS: Video below contains some adult language and themes.

-- Rebecca Koffman