Friday, May 3, 2013 - Explore San Francisco

Friday, May 3, 2013
Friday, May 3, 2013
1848
BERKELEY
OAKLAND
YERBA BUENA ISLAND
(GOAT ISLAND)
TELEGRAPH HILL
YERBA BUENA COVE
NORTH BEACH
CALLE DE FOUNDACION
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1849
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TELEGRAPH HILL
THE BEACH
YERBA BUENA COVE
North Beach 1856
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FLAGS OF CALIFORNIA
DURING THE EARLY YEARS OF SAN FRANCISCO
**********
BEAR FLAG
THE ORIGINAL BEAR FLAG
"Monarch" the bear
CALIFORNIA
LONE STAR
FLAG
FROM THE 1ST REVOLT (1836)
in 1836, Juan Alvarado and Isaac
Graham led a revolution against Mexican
rule. During this first revolt, rebels were
able to capture Monterey and declared
California "a free and sovereign state".
Although their rebellion failed to secure
independence for California, it inspired
the design of the flag of the Bear Flag
Revolt. The Lone Star Flag of California
contained a single red star on a white
background.[3
Digital reproduction of the Gillis flag
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THE BEAR ON THE ORIGINAL FLAG LOOKED MORE LIKE A BLACK BEAR THAN A GRIZZLY BEAR AND HAD TO BE REPLACED
The first Bear Flag was designed by William L. Todd, a nephew of Mary Todd
Lincoln.[13] According to the book Flags Over California, published by the
California Military Department, the star on the flag was influenced by the 1836
California Lone Star Flag. William Todd, in a 1878 letter to the Los Angeles
Express, states that the star was drawn using blackberry juice and in recognition
of the California Lone Star Flag. The bear was designed to be a symbol of
strength and unyielding resistance.[3]
The bear on the current flag of
California was modeled on the last wild
Californian grizzly bear in captivity. The
bear, named "Monarch", was captured
in 1889 by newspaper reporter Allen
Kelley, at the behest of William
Randolph Hearst.[6] The bear was
subsequently moved to Woodwards
Gardens in San Francisco, and then to
the zoo at Golden Gate Park. After the
bear's death in 1911, it was mounted
and preserved at the Academy of
Sciences at Golden Gate Park.
Civil War in California
During the secession crisis and the early part of the American Civil War in 1861,
secessionists in Los Angeles County and San Bernardino County flew the Bear
Flag as their banner of revolt.[17]
The only Confederate flag captured in California during the Civil War took place on
July 4, 1861, in Sacramento. During Independence Day celebrations, secessionist
Major J. P. Gillis celebrated the independence of the United States from Britain as
well as the southern states from the Union. He unfurled a Confederate flag of his
own design and proceeded to march down the street to both the applause and
jeers of onlookers. Jack Biderman and Curtis Clark, enraged by Gillis' actions,
accosted him and "captured" the flag.[18] The flag itself is based on the first
Confederate flag, the Stars and Bars. However, the canton contains seventeen
stars rather than the Confederate's seven. Because the flag was captured by Jack
Biderman, it is often also referred to as the "Biderman Flag".
"Monarch" the bear
OFFICIAL RENDITION OF MONARCH THE GRIZZLY BEAR
1849
MISSION BAY
NOB HILL
CLAY STREET
GRANT ST
MONTGOMERY ST
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GOLD DIGGERS 1849
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BIRD’S EYE VIEW
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1869
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1848
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1868
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1880 BIRD’S EYE VIEW
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1855
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SITE OF THE
PRESENT DAY
LIBRARY
1852
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BIRD’S EYE VIEW 1868
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MISSION DISTRICT FROM 16TH AND BRYANT 1860
MISSION CREEK IS STILL NAVIGABLE TO 16TH STREET
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THE MISSION 1860’S
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MISSION DOLORES 1853
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YERBA BUENA
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1848
1906
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1890
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1.Transamerica Pyramid
Noted for its spire (which rises 212 ft. above the top floor) and its "wings" (which begin at the 29th floor and stop
at the spire), this pyramid is San Francisco's tallest building and a hallmark of the skyline. You might want to take a
peek at one of the rotating art exhibits in the lobby or go around to the right and into 1/2-acre Redwood Park,
which is part of the Transamerica Center.
From this spot it is easy to view the spots of three buried ships:
The Niantic
516 Clay Street
The General Harrison
408 Clay@Battery(under Starbucks & E&C bar)
The Apollo
412 Sacramento@ Battery (under Bentley Bldg)
The Transamerica Pyramid occupies part of the 600 block of Montgomery Street, which once held a historic building
called:
2. The Montgomery Block
Originally four stories high, the Montgomery Block was the tallest building in the West when it was built in 1853. San Franciscans called it "Halleck's Folly" because it was built on a raft of redwood logs that had been bolted together and Eloated at the edge of the ocean (which was right at Montgomery St. at that time). The Transamerica Pyramid is built over the most important literary site of the 19th and early 20th Century American West. An expensive four-­‐story building was erected here in 1853 by General Henry W. Halleck. Known as the Montgomery Block, the building was Eirst used for ofEices but later became the studios of (literally) thousands of bohemian artists and writers. Ambrose Bierce lived here, as did Kathleen Norris, Joaquin Miller, Gelett Burgess, W.C. Morrow, George Sterling, and James Hopper. Also known as the "Monkey Block," this is the place where in 1911 exiled Dr. Sun Yat-­‐sen wrote the Chinese constitution that was later installed after the fall of the Manchu dynasty. Mark Twain gamboled here in the 1860s when he met a San Francisco Eireman named Tom Sawyer in the Montgomery Block sauna. Twain later used the man's name for his 1876 novel The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. SF Bulletin editor James King of William was shot dead in front of the Montgomery Block in an 1856 confrontation with James Casey. Casey was later executed by the Vigilante Committee. The storied Montgomery Block survived the 1906 Earthquake and Fire but was torn down in 1959 for a parking lot. The Transamerica Pyramid was completed on the site in 1972. Friday, May 3, 2013
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1906
TOURISTS IN 1940’S
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If we are standing in what used to be the water, what are these buildings built on?
I started to wonder what all these buildings were really sitting on, if not solid ground.
The trivial answer, of course, is that the ground is made up of landfill. By itself, that’s nothing unusual—especially around
here. Since the mid-1800s, the San Francisco Bay as a whole has lost 40% of its area to landfill. But in the northeast
corner of San Francisco, the large, semicircular slice of land that was once called Yerba Buena Cove has a rather unusual
makeup: it’s composed partly of the remains of hundreds of old ships.
I Left My Ship in San Francisco
In 1847, the small settlement of Yerba Buena, which had just recently been claimed as United States territory, changed its
name to San Francisco. At that time, the town consisted of just 79 buildings and a population of less than 800. But the
following year, in 1848, gold was discovered nearby, and as the area’s major port, San Francisco rapidly ballooned in size.
By the end of 1849, the population had skyrocketed to 100,000, making it the largest city in California. (A few years later,
incidentally, the mining town of Bodie—a few hundred miles away in the Sierra Nevada mountains—would become the
state’s second-largest city. It’s now the most famous ghost town in the United States.) San Francisco soon averaged 30
new houses built—and two murders committed—each day. And a plot of San Francisco real estate that cost $16 in 1847
sold for $45,000 just 18 months later.
Meanwhile, many of the new arrivals in the port of San Francisco headed directly to the hills to search for gold. In fact, more than 200 ships were completely abandoned
and left to rot in the Bay as their crews and passengers went off to seek their fortunes. This both caused and solved a problem. The empty ships were clogging up the
harbor, while the rapidly growing downtown business area needed room to expand. So the townsfolk took matters into their own hands and decided to put the ships to
good use. Some of the ships were salvaged for their wood, which came in handy as the city had to rebuild itself from no fewer than six major fires that nearly wiped it
out between 1849 and 1851. Other ships were towed onto the beach and turned into buildings—a hotel, a jail, a store, or a warehouse. But quite a few of them were sunk
intentionally in order to fill in the cove. In the late 1860s, what remained of the cove was enclosed by a seawall, running roughly along the path of what is now known as
the Embarcadero
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Discovered 1872
Niantic
The Niantic
516 Clay Street
The Niantic was uncovered in August 1872 after the demolition of the Hotel Niantic. She was 119½ feet long with
copper bottom plating. Twenty feet below the surface of Clay street the planks and ribs and stout keel were exposed.
The Niantic was hauled to the corner of Clay and Sansome in 1849. In one of the great fires that swept the city, on May
4, 1851, it was burned down to the waterline. Eventually, the land was filled in around it and the hotel was built on top
of the old hull. A brick building was built at the location which stood until the earthquake of 1906. The remains of the
old hull were rediscovered in 1907, but were left in place. In May 1978, during the construction at 595 Sansome Street,
the old hull was once again "rediscovered." During construction, most of the stern was destroyed, though some of the
timbers were salvaged by the Maritime Museum. Approximately fifteen percent of the bow has been left undisturbed in
an adjacent lot. Among the artifacts found were the ship's long windlass, two pistols, a rifle and derringer, 13 bottles of
champagne, stoneware ink bottles, leather-bound books, bolts of fabric, cabin doors, hundred-year-old brass paper
clips, copper sheeting, and nails.
The old hull is on display at the Maritime Museum in the Wharf
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"From them comes silence and awe," John Steinbeck said of Sequoia sempervirens, the majestic,
towering conifers that can grow well over 300 feet in height, 7 feet in diameter, and 2,000 years in age.
Not native to San Francisco, they are nevertheless the fog-nurtured essence of Northern California.
Nestled against the eastern base of the Transamerica Pyramid is a half-acre grove of young redwoods
transplanted from the Santa Cruz Mountains, their hushed dignity imparting a bit of reflective
quietude to the heart of the concrete jungle. The grove, designed by Tom Galli, also features ferns,
boulders, a fountain with jumping-frog sculptures (a fond remembrance of Mark Twain, who lived and
wrote on this site), and a paved walkway with some dozen benches where the city-addled can sit and
contemplate. Here's hoping these stately trees will one day place their spired neighbor in shadow.
Dog lovers will enjoy the bronze plaque here honoring two stray dogs that legend would have it were Emperor
Norton's sidekicks - though they were not. Bummer and Lazarus were "adopted" at large by early San Franciscans
who followed their adventures in the daily paper.
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Emperor Norton
San Francisco rewards self invention. This is no truer than in the case of English merchant Joshua Norton, who came to the City from South Africa in 1849 with
$40,000. Norton soon increased his fortune by prospecting real estate. When he went broke in a failed attempt to corner the rice market a decade later, a distraught
Norton dropped out of sight. Several weeks later, on Sept. 17, 1859, he reemerged, dressed in a Union Army uniform, brandishing a sword and sporting a long white plume
in his cap. He publicly declared himself Norton I, Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico. San Franciscans honored Emperor Norton by going
along with his new persona. His proclamations, such as that which disbanded Congress and another ordering the construction of a bridge between the City and Oakland,
were printed in City newspapers. Some merchants even accepted the money Emperor Norton minted. Arrested for involuntary treatment of a mental disorder in 1867,
Norton was the subject of a huge outcry of public support. The uproar prompted Police Chief Patrick Crowley to apologize to the Emperor after ordering His Majesty's
release. Only in legend was Norton sometimes attended by two stray dogs, Bummer and Lazarus, whose adventures were also followed in City newspapers. Bummer was
poisoned in retaliation for biting a child in 1861. When Lazarus died two years later, Mark Twain wrote an epitaph. Norton was a well known figure along Montgomery
Street in the Financial District. His address was listed as 624 Commercial Street by the U.S. Census Bureau. Neither the bench located on the sidewalk directly between
608 and 632 Commercial St. nor the site itself are landmarked or officially recognized except by Mister SF, and now by you. Visit this spot for a quiet moment to
remember Emperor Norton and celebrate San Francisco as a haven for the self invented. It was Emperor Norton who famously banned the term "Frisco" when he
decreed: "Whoever after due and proper warning shall be heard to utter the abominable word 'Frisco,' which has no linguistic or other warrant, shall be deemed guilty
of a High Misdemeanor." The tolerance and affection that San Franciscans felt for Norton were expressed when 10,000 people attended his funeral in 1880.
Detail I
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oldtransamerica
The original Transamerica Building is a Beaux Arts flatiron-shaped building covered in terra cotta; it was also the home
of Sanwa Bank and Fugazi Bank. Built for the Banco Populare Italiano Operaia Fugazi in 1909, it was originally a twostory building and gained a third floor in 1916. In 1928, Fugazi merged his bank with the Bank of America, which was
started by A. P. Giannini, who also created the Transamerica Corporation. The building now houses a Church of
Scientology.
Friday, May 3, 2013
(Optional Stop)
Black Cat Cafe (where Bocadillo's is now, 1 block from
Transamerica bldg)
710 Montgomery Street
Like many early gay bars, the famous Black Cat didn’t start out that way.
Just a few blocks from the center of North Beach, the Black Cat was first
distinguished as a bohemian hang-out (it billed itself as Bohemia of the
Barbary Coast) and provided the backdrop for part of Jack Kerouac’s On the
Road. Following World War II, when gay men and lesbians swarmed San
Francisco after service in the Pacific, the Black Cat assumed a “gayer”
personality. The poet Allen Ginsburg, who knew it in the ’50s, described it as
an enormous bar with a honky-tonk piano that “everyone” went to: “All the
gay screaming queens would come, the heterosexual gray flannel suit types,
longshoremen. All the poets went there.”
At a time when homophile organizations like the Mattachine Society
were largely conciliatory to the police and to city officials, the Black Cat
was noteworthy as a site of resistance. Its owner, Sol Stoumen, refused
to pay off the police for protection against harassment, and his bar was
routinely raided and fined from the 1940s through the early 1960s.
During the 1950s, the Black Cat’s flamboyant drag performer, Jose
Sarria, sang campy parodies of torch songs, giving them political twists,
and finished each set by leading the bar’s patrons in his rendition of
“God Save Us Nelly Queens,” even when members of the vice squad
were present. His brand of activist theater made him extremely popular
among gays, and in 1961 Sarria decided to campaign for city supervisor,
knowing that he had no chance of winning. Though he received only a
few thousand votes, Sarria said later that his intention had been to
show his peers that a gay man had the right to run, whether he won or
lost.
The Black Cat was closed in 1963. Said the attorney for the club, “That place
is like an institution. This is like closing the cable cars or the Golden Gate
Bridge.” There is now an upscale tapas and wine bar called Bocadillos on the
site.
Friday, May 3, 2013
4. Golden Era Building- Belli and Genella Builidings
Erected around 1852, this San Francisco historic landmark building is named after the literary magazine The
Golden Era, which was published here. Some of the young writers who worked on the magazine were known as
"the Bohemians"; they included Samuel Clemens (also known as Mark Twain) and Bret Harte (who began as a
typesetter here). Backtrack a few dozen feet and stop for a minute to admire the exterior of the annex, at no. 722,
which, after years of neglect and lawsuits, has finally been stabilized and is going to be developed. The Belli Annex,
as it is currently known, is registered as a historic landmark.
It's fitting that the Montgomery Street office building of Melvin Belli, the King of Torts, is mired in a seemingly unending morass of lawsuits brought by Belli's survivors, former business associates,
neighbors, and the City. The flamboyant and influential Belli was a pivotal figure in today's litigious society as an innovator in the area of personal injury law. He took on big corporations and
controversial clients. Belli's clients included Errol Flynn, Jim and Tammy Faye Baker, Lana Turner, Mae West, Muhammad Ali, and Jack Ruby. The Gold Rush era building at 722 Montgomery Street is a
historical landmark and the offices where the renowned attorney held court. Eventually reduced to a ramshackle, the offices were once a monument to Belli's $60 million success. Belli died in 1996 at
the age of 88, just a few months after filing for bankruptcy. Parties involved in acrimony over the landmark property and/or a fortune in unfinished legal cases include Belli's son Melvin Caesar Belli,
the senior Belli's wife of three months Nancy Ho Belli, the City's Building Inspection Department, and others. Particularly galling to San Franciscans is the fact that Mrs. Belli, who announced the
ground breaking for a Belli museum on the site in 1997, sat on the San Francisco Landmarks Preservation Advisory Board while she allowed the Belli building fall into ruin.
Looks like work has indeed resumed on the project at 722-728 Montgomery Street, better known as the Belli and Genella Buildings.
Originally built in 1851, the buildings are both city historic landmarks and previously operated as a cigar warehouse, theatre, and public
bath house (not all at the same time, of course). Famed/infamous SF attorney Melvin Belli bought and restored the properties in 1958, but
they fell into major disrepair after he died in 1996. A project was approved back in August 2007 for a 12 residential and 5 commercial condo
conversion out of the old office space, but due to some...financial issues with Belli's widow, the property was sold and the project stalled. It
wasn't until December 2010 that building permits were finally filed to complete the work. According to the permits, the upper two floors
will be converted into the residential units, with commercial space below.
Friday, May 3, 2013
5. 400 Block of Jackson Square
Here's where you'll find some of the only commercial buildings to survive the 1906 earthquake and fire. The building at 415
Jackson St. (ca. 1853) served as headquarters for the Ghirardelli Chocolate Company from 1855 to 1894. The Hotaling
Building (no. 451) was built in 1866 and features pediments and quoins of cast iron applied over the brick walls. At no. 441
is another of the buildings that survived the disaster of 1906. Constructed between 1850 and 1852 with ship masts for
interior supporting columns, it served as the French Consulate from 1865 to 1876.
In the basement of the Art Supply store which used to be the Hippodrome in Barbary Coast Days, is a tunnel that was
used for prostitutes and later for rum runners and more. It is being excavated but is open to the public now.
Cross the street and backtrack on Jackson Street. Continue toward the intersection of Columbus Avenue and Jackson
Street. Turn right on Columbus and look across the street for the small triangular building at the junction of Kearny Street
and Columbus Avenue, Sentinel Building.
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Barbary CoastPost Earthquake
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6.Sentinel Building
If you walk a little farther, turn around, and look back down Columbus Avenue, you'll be able to get a better
look at Columbus Tower (officially the Sentinel Building). The flatiron beauty, a building shaped to a triangular
site, went up between 1905 and 1907. Movie director and producer Francis Ford Coppola bought and restored it
in the mid-1970s; it is now home to his film production company, American Zoetrope Studios. The building's
cafe offers panini, pasta, pizzas, and antipasti; the store showcases all things Coppola, including his wines, olive
oil, and Parmesan cheese. It's a great place for a glass of wine, an espresso, or a snack. More detail on this
below...
Across the street from Columbus Tower on Columbus Avenue is:
7. Purple Onion (just closed for good)
140 Columbus Ave.
Continue north on Columbus Avenue and then turn right on Pacific Avenue. After you cross Montgomery Street,
you'll find brick-lined Osgood Place on the left. A registered historic landmark, it is one of the few quiet -- and
car-free -- little alleyways left in the city. Stroll up Osgood and go left on Broadway to 1010 Montgomery St. (at
Broadway).
Friday, May 3, 2013
Purple Onion-
Historical Essay
This article originally appeared in The Semaphore #200, Fall 2012 under the
title "The Onion That Was"
By Art Peterson
They say you’ve made it big time when you become a clue in the New York
Times crossword puzzle. If so, the Purple Onion Comedy Club, which closed its
door on September 28, 2012 after nearly 60 years in business, has received
appropriate recognition. A clue from the Aug., 23, 2011 puzzle read
“Legendary S.F. music/comedy club where Woody Allen and Lenny Bruce
performed.” Answer: Purple Onion. But the puzzle maker was a little off. The
Onion, located at 140 Columbus between Jackson and Pacific streets, is indeed
a legend, but Allen performed mostly at the Hungry i across the street where,
according to Chronicle Entertainment Critic Joel Selvin “nobody knew [him].”
Bruce, according to Selvin, played Basin Street West as well as Off Broadway
and Ann’s 440 club, “but any appearance at the Onion must have been pretty
shadowy.”The blogosphere also makes mention of Onion performances by
Richard Pryor, Jonathan Winters, Barbra Streisand and others, who are said to
have descended 16 steps to the 80-seat intimate cave of a club. None of these
performers, however, is mentioned in a 1978 Examiner interview with Bud and
Virginia Steinoff, who along with Keith Rockwell founded the club in 1953.
Instead, as Selvin says, the Onion was “mostly a place where up-and-coming
and unknown talent played.”
Perhaps the most unknown of these was a 37-year-old Alameda housewife and
mother of five, Phyllis Diller, whose husband talked her into trying out at one
of the Onion’s regular Saturday afternoon auditions. Almost against their
better judgment, Rockwell and the Steinoffs hired Diller. “None of us thought
she was very funny,” said Virginia Steinoff. The managers soon fired her. Yet
Diller won another chance because of her positive attitude. “She would never
blame the audience the way many other comedians do. It was always, ‘what
did I do wrong,’" said Virginia. Developing an onstage persona that “Tonight
Show’’ host Jack Paar later described as “that person you try to avoid in the
supermarket,” Diller went on to perform for a record breaking 87 weeks in
1957.
When Diller needed an opening act, the managers hired — after four auditions — the group known as the Kingston Trio. As local
boys from Palo Alto, the trio had a long mailing list of local fans and acquaintances who soon began filling the club. Their métier
was to draw on old folk songs such as “Tom Dooley.” “We started paying them $300 a week,” said Bud Steinoff. When Tom Dooley,
promoted by a Salt Lake City disc jockey, sold 3 million copies, the trio was in a position to command a lot more salary. For their
second album, they abandoned ship and went across the street to record, “The Kingston Trio from the Hungry I,” a venue that was
becoming nationally famous. Loyalty then brought them back to the Onion for one more gig.
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A few years later, another group was propelled to fame by an album, this time recorded at the Onion. It was “The Smothers Brothers at the Purple Onion,”
the duo mixed a folk-song repertoire with humor that depended often on a mock sibling rivalry. “Oh yeah, well, mom always liked you best,” a line
guaranteed to somehow make a 1950s audience crack up. One day a television scout from the Tonight Show approached the duo. “We’d like to use you,” he
said, and the brothers went on to perform almost 50 times on that program, which, of course, led to their own edgy variety show. As the fame of the
brothers increased, the Onion offered them $2,000 a week in 1965. “Sorry, ‘we make that in a night,’" they said. “That was the last we saw of them,” Bud
Steinoff said.
The Onion hosted many other memorable persons and moments. In 1954, 25-year-old Maya Angelou got a gig there as a folk singer. The Chronicle raved
about her “deep untrained, vibrant singing voice” — and her beauty. Another future poet of sorts, Rod McKuen, was hired at the Onion. “He didn’t sing very
well, but all the women wanted to take him home,” said Virginia. Bud Steinoff told of how he sometimes would get too busy bartending to fulfill his role in
Jim Nabors’ act. “Jim would hit a very high note and I was supposed to break a glass behind the bar. Sometimes I’d get distracted and miss my cue,” which,
in a way, might have been funnier.
By the 1970s, North Beach as a center of live music and comedy had given way to the Topless. Virginia said, “We and Finnochio’s were the only ones
left, and we depended on the tour-bus crowd to fill the club.” She did not see these visitors as ideal clientele. “They’d hold on to their drinks the
whole show and will break your arm if you try to take it.” The plucky club survived for a few years boasting a marquee that read simply “No Topless.”
By the 1980s, the Onion had transformed into a garage-band rock club, featuring such bands as the Groovy Ghoolies and the Trashwomen. The club was not
helped by a 1990 gang shooting outside its doors that killed one and wounded 11.
In 2004, when Mario Ascone, who runs the Café Macaroni upstairs, took over the Onion it returned to its comedy roots. Mort Sahl did a couple of shows there
in 2005 and Robin Williams would sometimes drop by. In recent years, the Onion has been primarily a venue for aspiring young comics, who managed social
media to attract weekend crowds. The fledgling performers seemed to appreciate working at this venerable location. Said one: “I’m walking in the bowels of
comedic history, entering a time where night clubs had table cloths, patrons sipped highballs and comedians wore suits.”
With the sale of the location that includes the Onion, Cafe Marconi and the 48-year-old Salio’s barber shop, the new use for the site is uncertain. Rumor has
it that the buyer is Roger Forbes, owner of the strip club conglomerate, Déjà Vu. Do you think anyone can locate that “No Topless” sign?
Friday, May 3, 2013
hungry i- early mid 60s
9. hungry i
Originally located at 599 Jackson Street acrossfrom the International Hotel, the hungry i and Banducci were also instrumental in the careers of actor/comic Ronnie
Schell, comic Bill Cosby, comic Lenny Bruce and minister Malcolm Boyd. Musically, The Kingston Trio recorded two famous albums at the hungry i,[4] including the first
live performance of their version of "The Lion Sleeps Tonight". Tom Lehrer's final satirical album That Was The Year That Was (1965) was also recorded there, as well
as The Limeliters' album Our Men In San Francisco (1963).
Jazz legend Vince Guaraldi, folk singer Glenn Yarborough, the Gateway Singers, and comedians Godfrey Cambridge, Professor Irwin Corey, and Mort Sahl were also given
career boosts from their appearances at the hungry i, as well as Dick Cavett and Woody Allen. The folk-rock group We Five were signed to A&M records after Herb Alpert saw
them perform there.
John Phillips (of The Mamas & the Papas fame) and his The Journeymen were the house band in the early '60s.
The young Barbra Streisand begged Banducci for a single night at his nightclub, insisting that she would soon be a huge star. Banducci agreed to sign the singer, who had
never performed professionally but was eventually starring in I Can Get It for You Wholesale on Broadway. The resulting concerts (March-April 1963) were well-attended, giving
Streisand nationwide acclaim.[5]
When the comedy and folk music scene wilted in the mid-1960s with the rise of hard rock and Vietnam war protests, Banducci closed the club and sold its name to a topless
club at another location nearby at 546 Broadway, where the name doubtless still draws in unwary tourists interested in history. Banducci and many of the club's performers
reunited in 1981 for a memorable one-night performance, captured in the nationally televised documentary hungry i Reunion, produced and directed by Thomas A. Cohen
and featuring separate reminiscences by Maya Angelou and Bill Cosby.
[edit]
Now a seedy strip club (at 546 Broadway), the original hungry i (at 599 Jackson St., which is now senior
housing) was owned and operated by the vociferous "Big Daddy" Nord. If you had been here while Enrico
Banducci was in charge, you would have found only a plain room with an exposed brick wall and director's
chairs around small tables. A who's who of nightclub entertainers fortified their careers at the original hungry i,
including Lenny Bruce, Billie Holiday (who sang "Strange Fruit" there), Bill Cosby, Richard Pryor,
Woody Allen, and Barbra Streisand.
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Hungry i
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The International Hotel on Kearny Street was
the last part of Manilatown. photo: Eddie
Foronda
After battling eviction proceedings for over nine years,
this community of manongs and poetry was brought to
a violent end in the early morning hours of August 4,
1977. At around 4 a.m., over 300 riot-equipped police
and sheriffs deputies cordoned off the surrounding
streets, encircled the Hotel, and began their assault on
3000 community activists and protesters.
The police came down Kearny Street, with horses and
police cars -- "it was like the Roman legions," recalls De
Guzman. The police did not go through the front door.
Instead, they used extension ladders on fire trucks to
climb up to the top floors and fight through a group of
I-Hotel defenders. Sheriff Richard Hongisto, who had
spent five days in jail for refusing to enforce the
eviction court order, led the assault. Hongisto, who
would run unsuccessfully for mayor in 1992, was
featured in the pages of the San Francisco Chronicle
and San Francisco Examiner using a sledge hammer to
break down tenants' doors.
De Guzman, then the president of the International
Hotel Tenants Association, described what happened:
"Once the police and sheriffs got into the building, they
broke into the tenants' rooms. Then they started
breaking things up, stealing, taking what the manongs
had, broke the toilets that way there were no toilet
facilities, so the tenants could never return." The
Examiner featured a photograph of De Guzman being
dragged out by deputies in riot gear.
Meanwhile, in front of the hotel, over 2000 community
activists and protesters had locked arms in a nonviolent
attempt to prevent the police from entering the
building. Shouting "We won't move!" I-Hotel defenders
lined up nine rows deep as the police started their
frontal assault. The police were brutalizing people
outside in front of the hotel, said De Guzman. They
would run their horses up front and hit people with
their clubs. They just tore people up, hitting them on
the head, and jabbing them with night-sticks.
Friday, May 3, 2013
The Eviction of the International Hotel
August 4, 1977: Two people are descending the staircase to Kearny Street. One is a young woman, weeping, holding a bundle in one hand, supporting an old Chinese man who
had a cat under one arm. Both were weeping. The sidewalk was packed with sheriffs in riot gear; lines of police cars and fire trucks packed the street. Mounted troopers kept a
large crowd on the far sidewalk as the sun rose. I was limping and bruised, having been battered by clubs, knocked out of the crowd by a mounted charge, and then being
crushed between two horses and stepped on by a third. The crowd of a few hundred people mostly looked on in silence; the RCYB (Really Confused Young Bourgeoisie, a Maoist
grouplet) chanted “We're Organized! We're Disciplined! We Will Win!” -- a chant given lie by the actual eviction.
The Hotel, at Kearney and Jackson was one of the last remnants of Manilatown, a smaller and ethnically distinct cousin to Chinatown, whose border was directly south across
Kearney. Most of Manilatown had been destroyed by the advancing financial district in the 1960's and ’70s -- the area had more then 40 residence hotels in the early ’60s, and
less than 10 by the mid-’70s. The I-Hotel seemed destined to follow the rest into Redevelopment Oblivion. By the mid-’70s some had left, but others were staying, fighting both
in courts and in the streets.
The building was owned by a consortium including Walter Shorenstein, a local real estate mogul, and some foreign investors (apparently Thai money). Their initial plans were to
tear down the hotel and build a multi-level parking lot. These were changed in the face of opposition from tenants, neighborhood activists, and some labor unions, but the IHotel was still destined for eviction.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Re-Development, the Financial District Eats Manila Town
and wants the IHotel for Dessert
Between midnight and 3 a.m. on August 14, 1977, the mostly elderly Filipino and Chinese, low income residents of the hotel were brutally
evicted from their units in the building along a four-block enclave then known as Manilatown. About 400 deputies and police officers broke
through 2,000 protesters to seize the property and evict the residents. The incident, which was broadcast live on television, marked the end
of a nine-year struggle for the property. The evictions were denounced as a night of racism and injustice by housing activists and the Asian
community. At one time, a room here cost only $45 a month. When owners of the I-Hotel attempted to develop the property, its tenants
objected and engaged the City and property owners in an imbroglio over gentrification and treatment of the poor through three mayoral
administrations. Eviction notices were first given to 200 residents in 1968. In 1977, San Francisco Sheriff Richard Hongisto served five days
in jail for contempt of court after he refused to evict residents of the hotel. The tenants were dragged off anyway. Torn down in 1979 and
vacant since the evictions, the International Hotel site is slated to provide 105 units of housing for the elderly and a parking garage by 2004.
In 1983, director Curtis Choy produced an award winning documentary on the incident titled, "The Fall of the I-Hotel." The documentary was
revised in 1993 to include details on the impact of the evictions on the lives of evicted tenants.
From an eye witness-There had been several attempts at arson at the building, so night-time watches were
established. There was a CB set up in the basement and a few cars with CBs parked around the hotel watching
for any suspicious activity. There were a half-dozen or more people sleeping or reading in the basement who
were to provide assistance in the event of arson, or to try to hold the doors in the event of a police attack
while the volunteers mobilized the phone tree.
Eventually the legal battles were exhausted and the politicians made themselves absent (sometimes literally;
Mayor Moscone left town so as not to be present). Perhaps through friends in the sheriffs it was learned that
the eviction would be carried out in the pre-dawn hours of August 4, 1977.
For reasons that were never clear (at least to me), the organizers had decided upon a different
tactic than the mobile picket lines used before. Now, all the demonstrators were to link arms
with the people next to them and then grab the person in front of them around the stomach
with hands clasped.
The idea seems to have been based on the assumption that the sheriffs would attempt to grab
people and drag them away from the lines. There were thousands of people involved; we
formed a barricade 3-4 layers deep all along the front and two sides of the building. When the
sheriffs showed up, they
first cleared the street of rabble (too bad we didn't block it with junker cars chained together)
and then brought in their buddies, the Fire Department, who used their ladders to put cops on
the roof of the building. The defenders attempted to block the ladders, but obviously hadn't
counted on the enormous
power of those ladders. Meanwhile, the mounted troopers were riding straight into the crowd
and beating people with batons -- clubbing them in the head or stabbing them in the belly and
groin. Because people were holding each other's arms we were defenseless -- you couldn't even
raise your arms to protect
your head. In the end, this miserably passive tactic caused enormous pain and suffering while
proving worthless to the defense of the building.
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Before the Castro: North Beach, a Gay Mecca
Going back to the Gold Rush days the Barbary Coast extended from the Waterfront to Columbus along Pacific and lower Broadway. In this part of the City morality didn’t
seem to be a big issue. Locals, mostly immigrants and many who worked in these joints, had the attitude back then of, “it is what it is.” You make a buck however you
can. Even the local churches only paid lip service to the vices in the area.
Many artists came to the city to be involved in the 1915 Pan Pacific Exposition. Some stayed. During the depression there was the WPA Art Project. A huge influx of artists came
from around the world to work on murals, freezes, and sculptures. There was the Rincon Annex, Coit Tower, the San Francisco Art Institute (not to be confused with the Academy
of Arts) and Aquatic Park all in the vicinity of North Beach. The 1939/40 World’s Fair also drew more “arty” types to the city. Artists fell into the category of “Bohemians” which
really became a code word for sexually unconventional. Most lived in North Beach where rents were cheap. It was only natural that gay and lesbian bars would flourish in North
Beach and its environs. I should mention here that the preponderance of bars were lesbian. Why? Fewer doors were open through normal channels (work, clubs, organizations)
for women to meet other women of a like mind.
During WWII, San Francisco being their last chance before shipping out, many non-swishy gay soldiers declared their homosexuality rather than face a less than honorable
discharge if exposed later. Many lesbians joined the Woman’s Army Corps (WACS), which encouraged the development of “intense comradeship” in their recruitment brochures.
Both services were stationed in the Presidio and they took their leaves in a friendly city. After the war many simply stayed here where they could find support for their sexuality.
North Beach became their community.
Tommy’s Joint, 299 Broadway, 1948 to 1952, Tommy’s Place, 529 Broadway, 1952 to 1954 (Now the Garden of
Eden)
Tommy Vasu was the first known lesbian to legally own a bar in San Francisco. When out on the town she dressed
like a man in double-breasted suits, wide tie and a fedora hat. She used the men’s room, had a beautiful blond
girlfriend and loved to gamble. In short, she was a risk taker. She often came into Pierre’s for high stakes
prearranged liar’s dice games with artist/entrepreneur Walter Keane.
The 299 Broadway site was where businessmen from the nearby financial district could find a willing hooker out of
sight of prying eyes at places like Paoli’s. Stevedores from the docks close by also partook of the hookers on
paydays. The hookers were the girlfriends of the butches who hung out there.
Adjoining Tommy’s Place was 12 Adler (now Specs) accessible by a back staircase. It was a lesbian pick-up
rendezvous. Upstairs was entertainment pretty much by whoever cared to perform. During a purge of gay bars in
the early 50’s, 12 Adler lost its liquor license in what appeared to outsiders as a set-up. Drugs were found taped to
the drain under the sink in the ladies room.
Tommy ran the Broadway Parking concession and was around Broadway until the mid 60’s. Tommy’s high
maintenance blond was a heroin addict and Tommy became a dealer to supply her needs. She got busted and sent
to Tehachapi where she was murdered shortly after her release.
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The Beige Room, 831 Broadway, 1949 to 1958 (Now the Woo Yee Children’s Services)
Strictly gay, it featured female impersonators who were mostly gay. Unlike Finocchio’s it was not a tourist trap and gay men felt more comfortable hanging
out there. Also unlike Finocchio’s, where owner Joe Finocchio forbade such socialization for fear of losing his liquor license, the openly gay performers often
socialized with the customers. This often led to wild after hour parties. Many of San Francisco’s high society were to be seen there on special occasions, one
of which was the Tavern Guild’s Beaux Arts Ball, which like the Halloween event at the Paper Doll, was all about the costumes featured by the drag queens.
The establishment even had its own columnist Henry Diekow who called himself Baroness Von Dieckoff and called his column “Bag-a-Drag-by the Bay”
mimicking Herb Caen’s column “Baghdad-by-the-Bay”.
Mona’s, 440 Broadway, 1939 to 1948
Lesbian Pick-up and Male Impersonators. Women dressed like men and entertained customers. Mona Sargent and then
husband Jimmie started the biz right after the repeal of Prohibition at 451 Union Street (1933 to 1935), on the corner
of Varennes, between Grant and Kearny (now the Diamond Nail Waxing). In 1936 they moved to 140 Columbus (now the
Purple Onion). In 1939 they moved to 440 Broadway. It was actually opened by Charlie Murray as the “440” but he soon
brought in Mona as a partner and it became “Mona’s 440.”
Often men had to front for lesbians in bars and clubs in order to get the approval of the Board of Equalization for their
liquor license. Mona’s flourished during WWII and the Korean War. It was a favorite with lesbians but even with
servicemen as it was not “off-limits.” Tourist loved it for its entertainment but also knew they might be able to
connect with someone of the same sex which could not happen back home.
Finocchio's,
One of the most interesting things I've done recently was prowl
around the premises of Finocchio's, San Francisco's fabled female
impersonator club, which closed November 27, 1999 after 63 years in
the same location.
The club's history actually began back in the Roaring '20s, when
founder Joe Finocchio opened a speakeasy on Stockton Street on the
edge of the seedy Tenderloin District. The place featured female
impersonation even then. The club went above-ground with the
repeal of Prohibition in 1933 and moved to the trendy North Beach
nightclub district in 1936. Most gay men and lesbians today don't
think of professional female impersonator clubs as being particularly
queer, but in the days before gay liberation they provided valuable
semi-public social spaces for sexual minorities to congregate.
For decades, Finocchio's was a world-renowned venue. Hollywood
stars frequented the club, flying up to San Francisco from Los
Angeles to see themselves being impersonated -- as Tallulah
Bankhead did in the accompanying photo. Ms. Bankhead is joined by
members of the show, including Elton Paris (left) and Lucian Phelps
(3rd from left). It's worth noting the mixed-race audience, a rarity in
the era of segregation.
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The Beige Room, 831 Broadway, 1949 to 1958 (Now the Woo Yee Children’s Services)
Strictly gay, it featured female impersonators who were mostly gay. Unlike Finocchio’s it was not a
tourist trap and gay men felt more comfortable hanging out there. Also unlike Finocchio’s, where owner
Joe Finocchio forbade such socialization for fear of losing his liquor license, the openly gay performers
often socialized with the customers. This often led to wild after hour parties. Many of San Francisco’s
high society were to be seen there on special occasions, one of which was the Tavern Guild’s Beaux Arts
Ball, which like the Halloween event at the Paper Doll, was all about the costumes featured by the drag
queens. The establishment even had its own columnist Henry Diekow who called himself Baroness Von
Dieckoff and called his column “Bag-a-Drag-by the Bay” mimicking Herb Caen’s column “Baghdad-bythe-Bay”.
Other Gay and Lesbian Establishments
Artists Club—345 Pacific Ave, 1946–1949: Now a parking lot. Lesbian pick-up place.
The Anxious Asp—528 Green Street—Bohemian/Lesbian, 1958–1967: Opened and owned by Arlene Arbuckle
Blanco’s Tavern—905 Kearny St., (Manilatown) Female impersonators, mostly gay Filipino men, and pick-up place, 1943 to mid 1950’s: Run by Kay Blanco (half Filipino and
Caucasian and a lesbian)—owned by her father. It is now the “Grassland Cocktail Lounge.”
The Chi Chi—467 Broadway, Night Club, 1949–1956: Gay & Lesbian friendly, owned by Andy and Ted Marefos. Eventually became the Pink Elephant and then by 1966 became the
Club Fuji.
The Capri aka The Kiwi—1326 Grant Avenue, Lesbian bar, pick-up place, 1964–1972. Now the Royale North Beach Bar.
Cargo West—1105 Battery, Restaurant/Night Club, 1968–1976: Ironically now “Retail West,” a commercial real estate business. They had never heard of the Cargo West.
The Colony Club—711 Pacific, 1965–1976: Lesbian, now the Ping Yuen Tenants Association, a San Francisco Housing Authority project for Chinese.
Copper Lantern—1335 Grant Ave, 1955–1965: Lesbian, opened by Lisa and Mike, two former Paper Doll waitresses. It somehow survived the anti-gay purge of the Christopher
regime and in the 60’s they tried Go Go dancers for a while. In 1966 it became the “Crown Room” for an undetermined period. This location is now “Chong’s Barber and Beauty
Shop.”
Jackson’s—2237 Powell Street (Next to Caesars Restaurant), Male Bar/Restaurant, 1961–1976: A neighbor told me when they moved out he counted 28 mattresses being tossed
out of the second floor window.
Katie’s Opera Bar—1441 Grant Ave., Bar, 1965–1976: Now the Blue Sparrow Pilates.
La Vie Parisian—574 Pacific, bar/nightclub, Female Impersonators, 1947–1950.
Mary’s Tower—1500 Grant corner of Union—Lesbian bar/restaurant—1953 to 1967. Now the Mea Cines Ancient and Modern Artifacts.
Miss Smith’s Tea Room—1353 Grant Ave., 1954–1960, Lesbian pick-up place: Now “Maggie McGarry’s,” the owner was Connie Smith, a former Artists Club waitress.
Mona’s Candle Light Room—473 Broadway, 1948–1957, Lesbian: owned by Mona Sargent (formerly of Mona’s) with partner Wilma Swarts. Later it became the Club Gala owned
by Pete Marino, local Galileo HS boy. Later this location housed the Jazz Workshop, Burp Hollow and the Dixie Land Jazz. These Clubs all “morphed” between 473 and 477
where the Bamboo Hut is located today.
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Photo: Jerry Stoll
The Tin Angel, 981 Embarcadero, Restaurant/Night Club (Lesbian),1953 to c. 1962.
Originally opened and owned by artist/poet/raconteur/entrepreneur Peggy Tolk-Watkins, the Tin Angel was located about
where Greenwich hits the Embarcadero opposite Pier 23. The Angel was situated in a hand-decorated converted warehouse that
resembled a museum of Tolk-Watkins’ worldwide collectibles. For entertainment it featured Jazz. Entertainers such as folk
singer Odetta and the “Creole Songbird” Lizzie Miles appeared there along with local favorites such as Turk Murphy and Bob
Scobey and his Frisco Jazz Band. When Peggy bailed from the Angel it was taken over by Jazz legend Kid Ory who cleaned out
Peggy’s furniture, painted its walls with an antiseptic white and destroyed its campy atmosphere in the process. Savvy bar/club
owners have a saying, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!” (Later Guy Ferri at the Washington Square Bar & Grill learned this the
hard way) It never recovered its original ambiance and in 1962 succumbed to the Embarcadero Freeway.
PHOTOS FROM THE TIN ANGEL
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The Black Cat, 710 Montgomery, 1933 to 1963 (Now Bocadillo’s)
A Bohemian hangout located right across from “The Monkey (read Montgomery Street) Block Building,” home of Bohemian legends William Saroyan,
Benny Bufano and Enrico Banducci. They, along with socialites, gays and “butches” cruising for new talent, bikers, the curious and college kids like
myself looking for a cheap meal, could be seen there. On a Sunday morning you could cure a hangover with a great breakfast and a couple of Bloody
Marys for under $3 bucks.
In 1949, straight Black Cat owner Sol Stouman took the issues of identifying and serving homosexuals to court (Stouman vs Reilly) and won. George Reilly
was the head of the Board of Equalization (BOE), which at the time was in charge of enforcement and taxation. This was before the Alcoholic Beverage
Control (ABC) and enforcement at bars and clubs was hazy at best. The SFPD was saying that the Black Cat was attracting undesirables and Stouman was
being harassed and threatened with closure by the SFPD, the BOE and later the ABC. For help, Stouman formed the San Francisco Tavern Guild, which
became the first gay bar association and still functions to this day. However, the reformers (SFPD and the State Legislature) were relentless in their legal
efforts and eventually, after new legislation, the courts overturned the earlier ruling which forced the Black Cat to close October 30th, 1963, after a 14year legal struggle.
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Vallejo Wharf 1860’s
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Vallejo Street wharf seen from Telegraph Hill, 1864.
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George and Harry Gray dug at the east face of Telegraph Hill for about 20 years, mostly with the blessing of City Hall. They persevered through
bankruptcies, barrages of rocks from irate Irish and Italian hill dwellers who sometimes saw their small homes tumbling down the cliffside after a
quarry explosion. The Gray Brothers ignored and bribed their way through court orders and wide social opposition, even shootings of quarry personnel.
In 1909 the Gray Brothers disguised the detonation of several dynamite blasts by timing it to coincide with the fireworks of the 4th of July
celebration, but irate neighbors knew what had happened and chased the quarry workers from the site.
The Gray Brothers weren't particularly smart and didn't even put much value on their own lives. Their cashier was shot and killed in 1910 when an unpaid
worker lost his temper. And George Gray himself was murdered by a Joseph Lococo in 1915 when Mr. Lococo grew tired of demanding his back pay (a mere
$17.50).
The movement to save Telegraph Hill appeared among a group of women, mostly from other parts of San Francisco, not Telegraph Hill itself. Alice Griffith,
Elizabeth Ashe and eight other women formed the Willing Circle in 1890 which eventually became the Telegraph Hill Neighborhood Association. Their efforts
focused on resisting the quarrying of the hill, but also they tried to improve the neighborhood by providing classes in homemaking, a Boys' Club, and a
settlement house at the crest of Vallejo which provided two nurses for locals' needs. Once the Italian neighbors overcame their initial suspicion they began
giving fruit and vegetables to the house, and an evening club for girls working in the canneries was begun. Alice Griffith was the persistent force, badgering
city officials, local societies and merchant associations, to halt the destruction of Telegraph Hill. She found lawyers to take on the Gray Brothers, and
enlisted the aid of the famous John McLaren to plant flowering shrubs atop the then-barren Pioneer Park at the summit. After years their efforts finally
caught the public's attention. The local press began to feature the story, and sailors would obligingly hike up the hill only to fall over the side and gain them
even more publicity! The Improvement Club was joined by the daily press, but a number of local unions and their papers also took up the cause, including
the Coast Seamen's Journal of the Sailors' Union of the Pacific.
All blasting permits were revoked and the crushing machines stopped by court order in October 1903, but it would be more than a decade until the
demolition of Telegraph Hill really stopped.
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EL CID 1964
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Broadway 1960s
"I was there..."
by Dick Boyd
I had lunch in 2008 with Maurice Bessiere, my old partner in Pierre’s on Broadway where the Hungy i now resides, and another former club owner Art Norack.
During the ’60s and ’70s Art owned or was a partner in almost every club along Broadway. That list of clubs included El Cid, the Peppermint Tree, Pierre’s and
Basin Street West.
Naturally the topic of conversation was “the old days” along Broadway and some of the great and funny stories. Art had far and above the most stories
about entertainers as he had hired some of the best known at the time. To name just a very few; there was Duke Ellington, Lionel Hampton, Dave
Brubeck, Janis Joplin, Redd Foxx, Richard Pryor, Ike & Tina Turner, all at Basin Street West and Little Richard at the Peppermint Tree and “Topless
Mother of Eight” Gaye Spiegelman at El Cid. Maurice and I could only listen in wonderment although we had some stories of our own; Art’s were the
highlight of the lunch.
Here’s one: Basin Street had breakfast shows on Fridays and Saturdays. It was a Saturday night breakfast show. The breakfast shows started at 2:30AM.
Often other entertainers performing around town would drop by and Art would introduce them and a spotlight was cast on them. On this particular
morning, Tina Turner was the entertainer. Janis Joplin, who had just come in after a performance at Winterland for promoter Bill Graham, was in the
audience. When introduced and without an invitation she simply jumped on the stage. Tina gave her a “look,” then without missing a beat, did a
knock down drag out rendition of her favorite, Proud Mary. She then handed the mic to Janis, who gave her the “look” back, then proceeded to sing
her signature hit, “Piece of My Heart.” Needless to say, the audience was in a frenzy screaming for more. They obliged the audience and continued
this amazing duel until 4:30AM when Art finally had to turn all the lights on to get them to stop. How lucky was that unsuspecting Sunday morning
crowd to witness that once in a lifetime exhibition? Even Herb Caen mentioned this incredible event in his next column, lamenting he wasn’t there.
Art followed with another story this time courtesy of Redd Foxx. Every Christmas Art would arrange for many of the entertainers along Broadway to go
to San Quentin to perform for the inmates. Just coincidently, this particular Christmas, there had been an escape attempt about a week before that
failed because the rope the escapees used broke. After Redd’s act he looked out at the crowd and made the following invitation to the inmates, “I’ll
be appearing at Basin Street West through next week,” Then after a long pause accompanied by that classic Redd Foxx grin, “if you can get a new
Not surprisingly the conversation turned to the topless era. In all truthfulness I REALLY only saw one besides the girls who appeared at Pierre’s and I was
usually too busy behind the bar to pay much attention. The one I saw was at Cokes about 1967. It was more of an exhibition of female genitalia than a
dance. Anyway there was a consensus that the top three were Carol Doda, Yvonne D’Angier and Gaye Spiegelman.
Since Maurice, Art and myself are “older” and still around we shared what we knew about the fate of the top three topless dancers.
Carol Doda is still around the City. She has a Lingerie Shop on Union Street and sings from time to time at various clubs or events around the Bay Area. She
can be seen from time to time at Gino and Carlo’s or eating at various restaurants around North Beach.
All we knew about Yvonne D’Angier is that she is in Las Vegas and is reported to be in poor health.
Gaye Spiegleman suffered a tragic end. In November of 1968 she suffered the same fate as Jayne Mansfield who was decapitated in a tragic automobile
accident. The difference was that three of Gaye’s children died with her.
Art Norack is an enigma. Just short of 83, he still has a couple businesses that he oversees from a distance. Besides being a successful businessman, running
clubs at night back in the ’60s and ’70s, Art was one of the top high school basketball officials in the Bay Area at the same time. He is the only high school
basketball official to be inducted into the San Francisco Prep Hall ofFame
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The Place
Historical Essay
by Mark Schwartz & Art Peterson
"I was there..."
by Jane Juska
Remembering the Place
Walking on Upper Grant Avenue today it would be easy to overlook the
seemingly abandoned storefront at No. 1546, just two doors shy of the
Filbert Steps where Dan Maccharini’s bronze seal for poets lies embossed at
the corner, and next door to where Lawrence Ferlinghetti once had his print
shop.
But between 1955 and 1959, this presently dilapidated building was at the center
of San Francisco’s Beat culture. That’s because this was the location of The Place,
a bohemian bar managed by two recent Black Mountain College alumni, Knute
Stiles and Leo Krekorian. In a 1986 interview published in North Beach Magazine,
Krekorian, who became known as the “Grandfather of the Beats,” explained to
writer Jack Lind some of what was special about The Place: “When Jack Kerouac
wrote On the Road people started hitchhiking to San Francisco from all over the
country, even from foreign countries, and their first stop was The Place. They
walked in with the luggage and I usually let them park their stuff a few days until
they got squared away. What are you going to do?”
“I had everything at the Place,” said Krerkorian. The walls displayed the work of
later well-known artists like Jay De Feo, Wally Hendrick and Robert La Vigne.
Then there were the poetry readings. “We had all the famous poets of the time.
Ginsberg read his poetry in The Place. In fact, he tested out Howl in my place
before it was published. Kerouac was there all the time. And (Richard) Brautigan,
was only 19 when he started coming in.”
And the music. “A lot of good musicians used to come in and play. I had a piano
and guys like Paul Desmond and Brew Moore would come by. It wasn’t a regular
jazz place, but people would always come in and play.”
But the most celebrated aspect of the culture around The Place was probably
Blabbermouth Night, where, once a week, while the rest of the nation was
watching Gunsmoke, the locals—one at a time—would mount the loft—the
Blabberbox—and engage in off-the cuff, spontaneous talk about anything they
liked.
“A lot of it was politics,” said Krekorian. “When Nixon was vice president he was
the subject of a lot of speeches. Some of these speakers were really far out. The
best of them would get a bottle of free champagne. After the main speech,
The current owner of the building has acquired Ellis Act status everybody could ask questions and there would be rebuttals; the whole bar got
for the premises. But some are proposing 1546 Grant as a
involved. Sometimes it was so crowded that nobody could move, and I couldn’t
historic landmark.played out within its walls.
serve drinks—and I was in business, ya know.”
At one Blabbermouth Night, recorded April 15, 1957, Beat celebrity “Big Daddy” Eric Nord, maverick millionaire Jeremy Ets-Hokin, Chronicle art critic Thomas Albright and
comedian Irwin Cory were present, as well as other bohemian luminaries. Among those in the Blabberbox was a fellow known as Barney Google, who had a plan to run a six-inch
pipe up Coit Tower that would spew a 1,000 foot beer geyser every hour on the hour. “A beer company might sponsor it,” he said. Google also advocated establishing a boundary
from Montgomery up Columbus Avenue (with a detour to the west around Vesuvio and City Lights). Those crossing the boundary checkpoint would need to show a passport and pay
fees of up to $100 for admission. “This will save North Beach for the Bohemians,” Google claimed.
The Place could get noisy and, as the story goes, the Italian-Americans, who were still in the neighborhood, were up in arms. They didn’t want the hooting and hollering
associated with the scene. So the Beats developed an alternative. They would snap their fingers as a way of paying respect to the poets and speakers, while honoring the wishes
of the neighbors. This remedy must not, however, have entirely solved the problem: The poets were thrown out of The Place in 1959 because they were making too much noise.
By Mark Schwartz & Art Peterson
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