Christmas Trees in San Francisco

I just bought a Christmas tree for this year’s holiday season and was blown away at the price of a Douglas Fir. It did bring back memories of me going out shopping for trees with my dad in the 60′s.

We would jump into his ’56 Ford F-150 pickup with the oxidized red paint. (It later morphed into the robin’s egg blue ’69 Ranchero). And headed off to BayShore Boulevard near Goodman’s Lumber.

As I recall there was a whole stretch of tree lots from Army Street (Now Cesar Chavez) to Silver Avenue, and we would shop both quality and price. As I recall a good target price was $15-$18 for a 5′ Douglas Fir.

Despite the number of lots, each one was bustling on the weekend days, and there was always a bit of a way to pay for the tree. In part because many people were ordering the upgraded “flocked” tree.

(My uncle who lived upstairs from us would inevitably get a flocked tree. I recall white, green, and maybe even blue flocking, but that was never to our taste…we went au naturale.)

At any rate, it was an annual ritual and we often went to multiple lots checking out their expansive inventories, compared to what I see now, with postage-stamp lots by comparison. On one or two occasions I recall going to the big lot on the corner of 19th Avenue and Sloat, and even one out near Gets towards the Zoo. But that was a one-time adventure as I recall.

The other memory it evokes were the street decorations set up by the various merchant associations: San Bruno Avenue, West Portal, and Mission Street.

The Mission Street display was always grand. From about 14th street to 26th there were garlands that bridged the roadway from lam post to lam post with big golden bells, red ribbons, lights, banners saying “Merry Christmas” and “Happy Holidays” (The two were not mutually exclusive). My Mom would always take me out on a drive to to see what each of the streets had done that year.

Another big ritual that started on Thanksgiving, and almost all SF residence recall, were the
Christmas Villages set up on the roofs of the downtown and Stonestown Emporium Buildings. There were rids especially for the little kids (I liked the boats that went in circles) Ferris wheels, various merry-go-rounds of various sizes and styles (rocket ships, cars, etc.)

And of course this was centered around getting the photo taken with Santa Claus. Lots of kids eager to give their lists, and parents listening in so they could go downstairs to the toy departments and make the purchases. I was an anomaly here…for some reason I was not a Santa fan. There is only one photo in captivity of me, quite young, in a white sweater sitting on Santa’s knee. But I remember multiple pictures of cousin’s sitting with santa lining family mantle pieces.

The villages are long gone, along with The Emporium. The decorations are scaled back or non-existent, but the tree lots remain in the same places even in scaled-back size and just being there, and smelling the pine evokes a flood of old San Francisco holiday experiences.

San Francisco Movie Theaters

Poster for movie release at the Roosevelt Theater on 24th & York Streets San Francisco

San Francisco movie theaters have a long history…even in my lifetime. Many have come and gone, and I find myself remembering memorable movies as much for where I saw them as the movies themselves.

The Rooesevelt on 24th Street was a theater I passed often as a child but never open as a theater during my lifetime. As was the New Mission on Mission near 20th. (I recall family stories about them giving away dinnerware with each visit.) The first theater I recall was the Fox Warfield on Market where I saw a Dean Jones Disney movie when I was quite young. Also the Geneva Drive-In where I saw Mary Poppins during it’s first release.

Drive-Ins were not technically in San Francisco but in the outskirts or neighboring communities: The Geneva in Brisbane, The Spruce in South San Francisco (I saw the Heaven can Wait remake with Warren Beatty there. It was pouring rain and no cars left!)

Other Drive Ins dotted the 101 corridor down to San Jose and I recall them for their fantastic neon signs visible from the freeway more than movies I saw there.

The Ocean Theater on Ocean Avenue played horror and Godzilla B-movies and movies like Bugs or “The Equinox” feature Harryhausen special effects when I was a young teen, and a family friend used to take me to the Saturday matinees. The Serra 6 in Colma was my first experience with a multiplex and there I saw a really bad Chuck Norris Movie, Jaws, Agatha Christie’s “The Mirror Cracked” and many more.

The Alhambra on Polk near Green I recall for Saturday Night Fever, and the Polk Theater near California for the Bond Flick Moonraker. The Bridge around the corner on California was a art house for foreign films of which I recall several but not the titles. Grease I saw t the Alexandria out on Geary around 20th Ave. The Coronet on Geary near Masonic was a huge theater with loge seating section where I saw movies like Star Wars, ET and more. The Parkside Theater on 19th & Taraval for a time ran Saturday double features and I used to attend with friends. Usually an animated movie and a western or action movie. I saw Rio Bravo there for the first time, as well as Dumbo, and many years later: E.T. (again), Places in the Heart.

The Regency 1 and 2 on Van Ness and Geary were prominent theaters: lines out the door for the Planet of the Apes series, Star Wars, and other first-run blockbusters. The theater near Union Square I cannot recall that he moment, but I remember seeing Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life in the 80′s there.

The El Portal on west Portal is where I saw, the now cult classic, “The Hunger” with David Bowie, Catherine Deneuve and Susan Sarandon. There was a UA cinema in Stonestown, on Chestnut Street (where I first saw Animal House among others) and on Bay Street (“Gandhi”, “Sargent Pepper’s Lonely hearts Club Band”, and one of my most memorable theater experiences: “Alien”).

The Presidio Theater was also on Chestnut and ran porn in the 70′s then art house fare. I saw The God’s Must Be Crazy, and Wizards in that small space.

I know there are several others I am not recalling at the moment, but invite readers to add their memorable theaters to the list and which movies they saw at which venue.

100 Year old Mystery Time Capsule in SF School

Mystery time capsule hidden at S.F. school

Jill Tucker, Chronicle Staff Writer

Saturday, December 4, 2010

A century ago, San Francisco Mayor P.H. “Pinhead” McCarthy, with great fanfare, placed a copper box in the wall of Cleveland Elementary School and covered it with the building’s cornerstone.

Then, well, everyone forgot about the box.

No one, including Pinhead McCarthy, apparently thought to leave a memo advising future folks to dig out the box someday to see what’s inside.

So the box sat hidden behind a playground wall while children learned their ABCs over the course of 100 years.

The only evidence of its existence was one sentence in a Sept. 19, 1910, newspaper article.

While researching the school’s history for its 100th anniversary, former Cleveland student John Weidinger ran across the sentence while scrolling through microfiche at the San Francisco Public Library.

He wanted to yell inside the hushed room.

“I figured nobody knew about it,” said the 69-year-old Weidinger, who attended the school from 1948 to 1953. “I was really excited. I wanted to yell.”

Opening the time capsule would be the perfect thing for the Excelsior neighborhood school’s centennial, except for one slight issue: No one knows what’s in the box.

The article in the San Francisco Call, which disappeared in a 1913 merger, doesn’t say.

Other stories about the laying of the Cleveland cornerstone in 1910 don’t mention the box at all.

Speculation about contents

Weidinger hopes the box holds a letter from McCarthy.

Principal Kristin Tavernetti wants to see 100-year-old “kid stuff” tucked in the box.

The current Cleveland Elementary students have other ideas.

“A lot of kids think there are gold coins in there,” said Weidinger, who is a regular volunteer at the school.

Or the box could be empty.

The Call story simply states that, following a speech, “The mayor then stepped forward and placed a copper box in the wall and laid the cornerstone, while the band played ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ and the children sang.”

The laying of the cornerstone, four years after the devastating 1906 earthquake, drew thousands in the largely Italian neighborhood and featured a parade – perhaps a celebration of not only the new school, but also the rebuilding of the city in general, said David Goldin, the San Francisco district’s chief facilities officer.

There are no official records of the time capsule, or any list of similar boxes that might be buried in school cornerstones across the city. They were typically a last-minute thing, unmarked on drawings or building plans, Goldin said.

Opening the Cleveland time capsule, if it in fact exists, would be the perfect way to celebrate the school’s centennial, school and district officials said.

But digging it out won’t be easy.

The cornerstone is surrounded by a beloved mural created in the mid-1990s by artist Susan Cervantes, artwork district officials want to protect. The mural already needs some restoration and Cervantes will be hired back to do touch-ups, Goldin said.

Keeping cornerstone safe

Aside from the mural, Goldin is also concerned about keeping the cornerstone safe during the excavation of the box.

“We’re going to try to do it,” Goldin said. “What kind of a mason can we get out there who can break out this cornerstone in such a way, hopefully, that we don’t break it into pieces?”

Goldin thinks the cornerstone is perhaps a few inches thick, with a space behind it for the box.

Images of Geraldo Rivera and Al Capone’s empty vault come to mind, however, Goldin conceded.

“Maybe we’ll open it first before we open it in front of everybody,” Tavernetti said. “Whatever it is, we’ll make it special. Even if it’s nothing.”

The school plans to celebrate the centennial next fall, 100 years after the school actually opened for students.

Goldin plans to attempt the copper box excavation over the two-week winter break.

“I think it’s kind of an interesting story in a universe of tough times,” he said. “That’s what mysteries are all about. Life is fun for these kinds of things.”

E-mail Jill Tucker at jtucker@sfchronicle.com.

http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/12/04/BA1F1GJIE2.DTL

This article appeared on page C – 1 of the San Francisco Chronicle



Iconic San Francisco Neon Signs

Image via Wikipedia

There was a time in the 60′s when electricity and energy were not major concerns. During this period many companies thought “the flashier the better” when it came to advertising.

In San Francisco itself the most memorable to me were the Admiral Television, Coca Cola, Hamm’s Beer, Olympia Beer and Folgers coffee. On the 101 corridor down to San Jose, the drive in movies that dotted the landscape with multiple screens along the Bay side frontage road, also had entertaining sign with appearing and disappearing multicolored stars.  Not only were they illuminated, but they were also animated.

On the drive home after a long day of visiting relatives in the South Bay, I would doze in the back seat of the old ’59 white Galaxy 500 and keep and eye out for the “Big TVs” as I called the drive in screens, so I could be entertained by the signs on the long boring ride.

The City signs dotted the southern edge of the Highway 80 sky way that leads to the Bay Bridge. Living perched on one of the higher streets of Potrero Hill that overlooked the Downtown skyline, we had a direct view of the signs before the series of two and three-story apartments were built on the NE corner of 20th and Rhode island.

The Hamm’s Sign was a large glass of beer with gold and white lights that would fill and the head would “bubble” and the letters spelling “Hamm’s” would light. The Olympia Beer sign was large and flat and more elaborate, but I cannot recall the exact details. The Coca Cola sign, which is the last remaining, had a background of red and the letters would fill in with lights, sparkle, and cycle again. Folgers had the man in with turban and long yellow burnoose, and Maxwell House had a tipping coffee cup with drips that echoed the slogan “Good to the Last Drop”.

My favorite was the Admiral sign. it would start dark, then 4 or five different colored lines would begin to light in the bottom center of the sign and extend upwards to the top, they would spread out in the arcs on either side of the sign and terminate in little stars simulating skyrockets. While this was happening the letters that spelled “Admiral” would light up in outline, then fill in and sparkle.

These signs become more obscured as the years went on, and then many started to come down one by one. No doubt energy concerns, declining business, rooftop rentals, high rises, and other factors caused their demise.

So the rend with painted building signs. As you drive around the Inner Mission you can still see the painted signs on the sides of older buildings of companies long since closed. Two and three generations of other businesses have occupied the same building and no one had ever decided to pain their own sign. Is it the expense? Is it an ordinance or permitting issue?I know that the Chiotras Grocery neon sign which had been up for decades, The City tried to have removed in the 70′s due to zoning issues, but they reconsidered due to the grandfathered-in nature and letters of support from the neighborhood.

Or is it a lack of pride in business that used to be the prevailing attitude of the previous generation. Times and attitudes have changed, and what once was a badge of honor and pride is now considered an unnecessary expense.

 

 

The Corner Store and the Hard Roll Sandwich

Before the springing up of supermarkets all over San Francisco, the corner store was the neighborhood staple. Visits several times a day (especially for kids) was the norm and they were all fairly close to home.

The store on our block (my grandfather’s taken over by my uncle) was typical: basic food items, meat, deli sandwiches, some produce, cold beverages, ice cream and frozen foods, bread, candy etc.

Three blocks up Southern Heights was Bill Kobsoff’s store. Smaller but the same mix of goods and services.

Three blocks down 2oth Street, on the corner of Carolina was Marty DeRosa’s grocery. A more expanded deli with more exotic choices like soft jack cheese and focaccia pizza bread (We grew up calling it “fogasa”. I don;t know whether that was because of a dialect difference or ignorance). It was either “plain” which had some chopped onion greens and olive oil or regular: light tomato sauce and chopped green onion.

Another three blocks to Connecticut Street on the corner opposite what would be my father’s butcher shop and later Klein’s Deli, was Andy’s market. There was also a market about four blocks from him in the middle of the block on 18th Street which was a little beyond my walking or biking distance as a kid.

Heading towards Patrick Henry Elementary School was one store on the corner of 19th and Vermont which was owned by a Middle Eastern fellow whose name don’t recall. That was the store to go to for Chalreston Chews, Big Hunk, UNO Bars and chips of various kinds.

Diagonally from there on the other side of the school was Wong’s. Wong was known for his toys and candy selection. (Candy Buttons, wax lips, wax whistles, key chain puzzles and the like.) He had the best choice of the Willy Wonka candies when they first came out.

Almost all of these stores offered what we called a “Hardroll Sandwich”. These were deli sandwiches served on a hard sourdough french roll with a split top. The crust was thick and brittle, and many times the split would cut the roof of your mouth. My standard was ham and Swiss with tomato and lettuce, but you could have any variety of deli meats and cheeses. these were a staple of the neighborhood and our youth.

The rolls were provided by any one of a number of great old sourdough bakeries: Parisian, Ruby, Boudin, and several others. You made the choice of store partly by the style of bread and how they made their sandwiches.

At one time my aunt used to make such sandwiches for a catering truck company. Their rolls were not as exciting but a different experience: soft and covered in sesame seeds. I recall helping seal the plastic wrap using a heating iron after the sandwich was made and paper label inserted identifying the type.

This was a part of the neighborhood culture, at least on The Hill.

Supermarkets were a rarity. My mother would go maybe once a week to QFI on Alemany (Quality Foods Inc.) because two of my grandfather’s tenants were checkers there, and some fo the other checkers were like family. I grew up calling some of them “Aunt” and “Uncle”. There were a few Bell Markets around then too, but not much else.No major chains.

In that climate the local stores flourished. There were”big box” stores. When the first Safeway went in at the former site of Seal Stadium on 16th and Potrero in the mid 70′s, the climate started the inexorable decline. We no longer were on a first name basis with baggers and checkers. The corner stores started to see their business decline.

Rhode Island Street institution for 100 years

shop owners died out and the next generation moved on to other careers.

The face of the neighborhoods that had existed for decades was dramatically changed over a few short years and foods went into shopping carts and no longer on piled on a check out counter until you were done making your selections.

Local Experience in the Inner Mission

Mom downtown for shopping

There was a time when everyone used to dress up to go shopping. This is a photo from long before my time. But even my memories fall back to the Mission District being a major shopping hub: Lachman Brothers Furniture, Simons Clothing and Sundries, Kress, USE, a family jeweler whose name escapes me at the moment, and many others.

The Mission Street Merchants Association used to have a stamp program: for every so many dollars purchased, you would receive so many stamps. Paste them into a book, and each book could be used as case at any of the participating merchants. (Similar to the old S&H Green Stamps or Blue Chip Stamps). As I recall, they were pink. (I seem to think the yellow ones were the San Bruno Avenue Merchant’s association).

At one time I was told, the New Mission movie theater would give out dishes every week. You could collect a full set over time. A cup here, a saucer there, a dinner plate, etc.

There are few relics of those bygone days and many of them dilapidated hulks tucked in between the visual cacophony of cheap merchandise stores reminiscent of tourist areas or high density population areas in the Third World.

In my day, I would walk from the top of Potrero Hill once a month with money I had saved, walk down to 24th and Potrero where at that time there was a Safeway store with a brick front façade, and next to it a tobacco store/newstand that we all called “The Comic Book Store”. I’d stock up on the Marvel Comics, DC Comics, Archie, and Dell titles I liked before walking to the Saint Francis Ice Cream Parlor. (which is still there!) There I would have a grilled ham and cheese sandwich and a chocolate shake before the long uphill hike back home with several pounds of comic books under arm.

These are alien experience for City Dwellers now. The big mall-like structure that now stands on the former site of Seal Stadium on 16th and Potrero is the big draw in the area: Safeway, The Gap, Noah’s Bagels, Ross, the plethora of other Strip-Mall denizens that fill the space and draw much of the local retail traffic.

There was a different flavor to life and experience back then. Of course it is quite different now, but periodic glimpses of what was can give some context to what now is. An awareness of the past still has relevance and the reminder that the present is fleeting.

The Hill in The City

Christos and daughter Dimitroula Chiotras

At one time San Franciscans had their own accent. It pretty much died out in my generation but I experienced it being around my parent’s generation. I’ve heard people make a comparison with the Chicagoan accent, but to my ear it was milder.

However, many factors led to the demise of the local patois: economics drove many baby boomers out of The City proper, an influx of several waves of new residents. As a child I recall references to Oakies: those who escaped the  Dust Bowl days who moved to the agricultural areas of California, then found themselves in The City a generation later for jobs. There was the Beat Generation in the early 60′s drawn to North Beach and the figures like Jack Kerouac, Alan Ginsberg, Lawrence Ferlinghetti and others. (I grew up a few blocks from Ferlinghetti and had a thing for his daughter in elementary school, and it was not until I was a young adult did I know what that meant.)

Of course we had the Hippy influx in the late 60′s with the Haight Ashbury District and the music scene in San Francisco.

The 70′s brought an huge influx of Gay people who sought the more accepting environment San Francisco offered (though in retrospect, it was far from what it is now!)

In the 80′s we saw the growth of Silicon Valley and the birth of teh tech industry and of course the .com revolution in the 90′s that brought low vacancy rates in both commercial and residential real estate, that crashed a short time later.

All of these waves washed away a lot of the ethnic neighborhood roots of The City. I grew up on The Hill as locals called it. Of course there are many hills in San Francisco: Cathedral, Nob, Russian, Telegraph, Rincon, Bernal Heights, Diamond Heights, Pacific Heights, Laurel Heights, etc.

The Hill being Potrero Hill which some people also referred to as (the other) Russian Hill because of the many Russian Immigrants representing Baptist, Molokon, and Russian Orthodox faiths.

My grandfather served that community with a small neighborhood grocery store that is still there and is coming up on it’s 100th anniversary.

The Hill had its share of Italians, Greeks, Russians, Slovenians, and grocery stores that served each community, one every few blocks.

The soul of The Hill and The City have changed much in the past two generations, but there is still some spark that remains constant. Perhaps, like some sacred flame, it is a beacon that continues to draw new people to move to The City and San Francisco, in the sense of the Hegelian Dialectic, or the symbol of the Phoenix, continually reinvent itself as the previous generation fades.