Tucked away in Portland’s Buckman neighborhood, My Father’s Place looks like an ordinary dive bar at first glance. Step inside, though, and you’re met with classic American comfort food, vintage décor, and a crowd that feels equal parts neighborhood regulars and curious night owls.
The griddle stays busy late into the night, serving breakfast around the clock, while conversations drift easily between tables and bar stools.
But beneath the easygoing, lived-in charm, the bar carries a reputation that goes beyond burgers and hash browns. Ask longtime patrons or staff, and you may hear quiet stories of unexplained moments, subtle movements, and a presence that seems to share the space after hours…