It is with considerable trepidation that I commence on a review of the Benson Hotel that refutes tombarnes' excellent review of this same property. Still, one of the hallmarks of a really good hotel is consistency of service, and while I'm willing to concede that my review is based on a sample size of only one, I think my conclusions are nevertheless valid.  
 
And my conclusion is this: you won't find me staying at The Benson again.  
 
As a native Portlander, I have of course always been aware of this place, with its distinctive architecture, prime location, and ridiculously liveried doormen. Most locals would not hesitate to name The Benson Hotel as the luxury lodging in town. It's a favorite for wedding nights, prom nights, anniversaries, and probably for sleazy but high-dollar office liaisons too.  
 
For my money, however, regardless of your intent, you can do better than The Benson.  
 
The hotel:  
Built in 1912 by local timber baron Simon Benson, the hotel lobby displays all the style and excess of the boom era in which it was built. The lobby features beautiful wood paneling, ornate finish work, and a chummy bar area. Chandeliers, marble floors, and a grand piano add to the elegance of the space.  
 
Unfortunately (and this is by no means a phenomenon limited to The Benson), the lobby also features hoardes of slack-jawed gawkers, at least half of whom are wearing bermuda shorts and talking too loudly. The room isn't especially large, and the hubbub of traffic makes it a less dignified and special place than the decor would suggest.  
 
There's a weird preponderance of ashtrays throughout the hotel. I think this is a vestigial reminder of the hotels boom days, when smoking was a far more prevalent practice. Every table in the lobby holds an ashtray, despite no olfactory evidence that anyone has actually smoked in that room since Simon Benson and his buddies sparked up their Havanas at the hotels gala opening.  
 
Checking in:  
We weren't even planning to stay at The Benson - but a last-minute bid on Priceline landed us a room for around $90 - about half the lowest promotional rate available on the hotel website, so we decided to investigate the place. Best I can tell, the rack rate for rooms at The Benson range from around $200 to well over $500 per night.  
 
When we checked in, the desk clerk offered us our choice of a smoking room with a king-sized bed or a non-smoking room with two double beds. I realize that Priceline makes no guarantees regarding the room, but my usual experience is that the hotel will do its best to accommodate visitor preferences. Not so at The Benson. Our choices were offered in such a desultory, offhand, "take it or leave it" fashion that I got peeved and loudly suggested that we indeed leave it and find lodging elsewhere. The cooler-headed PrfStars prevailed upon me to take the room with two double beds.  
 
Our room:  
Upon entering the elevator, we experienced a momentary burst of enthusiasm when we realized that our 12th floor room was at the top of the hotel, with only the astronomically-priced penthouse suites above us. Upon entering our room, however, all thoughts of luxury and/or panoramic views fled.  
 
Our room was, uh, cozy, particularly given the large footprint of two double beds. However, any consideration of the room and its amenities was completely overshadowed by the view, which was spectacularly bad - indeed, I don't know that I've ever experienced a worse one.  
 
If you want to experience our view, step outside, stand in a parking lot, bend 90 degrees at the waist and focus intently on the view at your feet - that's what we saw (minus your feet, of course). Our windows looked about 30 feet directly across an interior airwell to an absolutely featureless concrete wall. The scary part, of course, is that we were near the very top of the building, and benefited from at least a little light from the sky - I really pity the poor folks who pay rack rate for a gloomy fourth floor view of the same thing.  
 
For an old building, the room was in adequate, if not pristine, condition. Lighting was sketchy at best... at some point in the evening I tried to find something in the closet, and it was only by dumb luck that my flailing arms hit a dangling string that was attached to a bulb in the closet. Additionally, the desk lamp (which provided the only light other than the wall switch-controlled bedside lamp) was inoperable.  
 
The walls and fixtures were in decent shape, with trademark beige, white, and black window coverings and shower curtain (which I found eerily reminiscent of Yasser Arafat's headcovering), mottled beige walls, a couple of boring pictures, and so-so linens.  
 
Amenities included a ludicrously-priced honor bar, two nice terrycloth robes, and a two-line phone. Resident bathroom expert PrfStars reports that that room suffered from the lack of a fan and that the toiletries were only marginal.  
 
Instead of separate shampoo and conditioner, The Benson offers a "conditioning shampoo", which is evidently a bad thing. I didnt know that. Anyway, in addition, a small shelf in the bathroom held a shower cap (does anyone actually use those anymore?), sewing kit, rosemary-scented body wash ("Who wants to smell like focaccia?" PrfStars), and of course the obligatory lint-free all-purpose cloth thing. Oh, and a glass jar of cotton balls and swabs, which sort of skeeved me, like other people had been fumbling around in the same jar.  
 
The Benson offers nightly turn-down service. When we returned from dinner, our room had been straightened up, sheets turned down, and a couple of chocolates placed on the nightstand. Hideous lite rock music was softly playing from the bedside clock radio. Nevertheless, it was a nice touch, I guess.  
 
A final, comprehensive gripe:  
The most significant impression I got from our stay at The Benson was of rampant and utterly unwarranted price gouging. I have no problem with a hotel charging premium prices for unique and/or high quality products. Indeed, its sometimes fun to splurge on such luxuries. But when Im asked to pay three or four times the market price for ubiquitous, easily obtainable things, I just feel exploited.  
 
The rooms are substantially overpriced, at least at the rates that most guests will pay. Ancillary services, such as parking, honor bar, laundry, and business services are equally inflated. But nowhere is overpricing more evident than in the hotel's dining options.  
 
The Benson has two associated restaurants: the London Grill, located in the gloomy depths of the hotels basement, and the Gaucho Steakhouse, located at street level adjacent to the lobby. Both offer decent, if stuffy, food and service at prices that make places like The Palm or Mortons seem like a Vegas buffet. We happily passed on both.  
 
Similarly, the room service menu was so inflated as to be utterly laughable. The cheapest meal on the menu, a continental breakfast consisting of bread, fruit, yogurt, juice, and coffee, was $16.00, plus an obligatory 15% gratuity, plus a $2.00 delivery charge. Thats $20.40 for a breakfast that has an intrinsic value of about five bucks. Include me out.  
 
Conclusion:  
So maybe I'm being a little harsh - after all, we were low-rent Priceline customers, right? Wrong. Well, I mean, we were low-rent Priceline customers, but I don't think that should ever be a reason for less than standard service - therefore, I have to conclude that even had we paid full rate, we would likely have received the same service, the same room. The combination of ho-hum service, marginal rooms, and sky-high prices was simply unacceptable. With an abundance of nearby lodging and dining alternatives, I dont see any compelling reason to ever visit The Benson Hotel again.  
 
An excerpt from the hotel website gives some insight into the weird combination of hauteur and sloppiness that, to me, typify the hotel:  
 
"The Benson Hotel in the heart of downtown Portland, Oregon, provides travelers a truly unique experience among even the most distinct Portland hotels."  
 
While I can intuitively grasp what this tortured sentence is attempting to say, I really wish someone would shoot it in the head and put it out of my misery.  
