That was Mayor Willie Brown Thursday morning at Broadway & Columbus cutting up with the organizers of this weekend's North Beach Festival. The event's host, Precious Cheese (not a drag queen -- a company), commissioned a bust of Da Mayor, made from a 40-pound block of cheddar. As commuters slowed at the intersection, Willie's yellow formaggio face, topped with a sulfur-colored fedora, was unveiled to a TV audience on Channel 2. It brightened an otherwise chilly, late spring day. ... The bust was created by Sarah Nep, one of only four cheese sculptors in the U.S. "This work takes me all over the country," says the tall, blonde lass from Lafayette. "I am grateful to be of service to American farmers." The gigs are hard to come by these days. It's a kitsch-as-kitsch-can sort of life. ...
All this cheesy fun was occurring in front of Alfred Schilling's restaurant on Columbus & Broadway. Chef Alfred came out to greet the Mayor and inform him the restaurant will be going out of business today, putting 30 more people in S.F. out of work. "I've been paying $15,000 a month in rent," says chef Schilling, who has been a renowned S.F. chocolatier. He also ran the kitchens at Trader Vic's and Maxwell's Plum. "The landlord would not budge on this -- I don't think he cares if it stays vacant for the next 10 years," Alfred said. "I might sell cars now." Mayor Brown assured him, "We'll find you another place." Consoling, yes, but hardly likely to happen these days. ... This block of Broadway is now devoid of dining spots. The Garden of Eden stands alone. That's a strip club. Those pasties are not edible. ...
There was a full-blown street party in Half Moon Bay this week to raise money to rebuild the 100-year-old Cunha Country Store, which was destroyed by fire May 21. The calamity has stunned the town. Bob Sarlatte hosted the benefit. It included -- get this -- The Tubes, with Fee Waybill. They performed "White Punks On Dope." and their big hit from the '80s, "She's A Beauty." Sizzling Sarlatte dazzled the crowd with a version of Elvis' "Burning Love." ... Singles looking for burning love and other plentiful wastes of time might want to check out the Urban Diversion Open House at 1329 Columbus Ave., Sunday from 8 to 10 p.m. One of the silly things the zany, fun-seeking city slickers do is put on the Urban Iditarod. Unlike the Alaskan dog race, it's with people sniffing about the streets of S.F., wearing dog masks. ...
Craigslist is the hallmark of our culture, particularly for singles. For that, it embraces odd elements of our culture, such as the woman looking to date "a man who looks like Scott Peterson -- you know, kinda cute." I saw it. I wouldn't have believed it. ... The Examiner's Adriel Hampton noticed panhandling has emerged on CL. One fellow in Pacific Heights is asking donations be mailed to him because "none of my roommates have work either." Next, we'll see Scott Peterson asking for money for legal expenses. ... My favorite online story of the week is about the married U.S. Army colonel in Afghanistan who got engaged to 50 women by e-mail. "He was more romantic than Shakespeare, more romantic than even W.B. Yeats," sighed a saddened 43-year-old N.Y. woman who'd been wronged by Colonel Casanova. "He'd write things such as 'Oh, baby, I want to tell you how much I miss you' and 'I can't wait to get home to you.'" ... Which line is Shakespeare and which is Yeats is unclear. ...
Yeats and other writers, specifically Joyce, will be extolled at the Celebration of Bloomsday on Monday at O'Reilly's Irish Pub & Restaurant, 622 Green St. at 8 p.m. The day marks the 24 hours in which Joyce's "Ulysses" takes place. ... Celtic greats performing include Gránia Flanagan ... RenÈe Gibbons ... Oonagah Kavanagh ... and Esther Mulligan. ...
David Brinkley died on Wednesday at 82. He never suffered fools and he detested the dumbing-down of broadcast news. Years ago, when writing a radio documentary for KCBS, I called Brinkley at ABC out of the blue. He came on the phone with that famous clipped style of speaking. "Yes," he said impatiently. "What/do/you/want?" ... "Mr. Brinkley, I bet I can tell you what you were doing exactly 40 years ago tomorrow." ... "Oh?/Why/don't/you/tell/me?" he snapped. ... "You were a 22-year-old desk assistant at WRC Radio in Washington when you saw the Flash on the wire that read, 'President Roosevelt Dead in Warm Springs, Ga.' You ran to the booth so the announcer could break in with the news." ... Brinkley said, "Just/a/minute ... (pause) ... Yes/You're/right/What/can/I/do/for/you?" ... And he relaxed and chatted with me for a half hour. I remembered the WRC story from William Manchester's "Glory and the Dream." I wasn't there in 1945. ... Honest. ... I didn't have to be. Witnesses like Brinkley made history come alive.
Friday, June 13, 2003
Monday, June 02, 2003
Bruce Bellingham's Commencement Address
Marina Times, June 2003
As I find myself swept up in this season of graduations, I am all atingle about pomp and circumvention, ivy-covered professors and bewilderingly specious but bittersweet farewells. While basking in this nostalgia for the academic years I never had, it occurs to me that I will likely never be invited to deliver a commencement address. So I will do it now.
Thank you, trustees, even the lesser-trusted trustees; President Schteppenschmutz; Chancellor Chauncey, other officers of the university and campus; my fellow honorees; distinguished faculty, alumni, graduates and their family and -- most importantly -- Uma Thurman, wherever you are.
As I traverse the grassy meadow that carpets this beautiful home to higher knowledge -- a platform for dreams of my youth -- it occurs to me, I have never been here before. Didn't go to college. Not on this grassy knoll. A good thing. I get terrible hay fever. Not only was I not enrolled here, I would never get into the parking lot. Wouldn't even be allowed to cut the lawn. But life is funny. You might want to hold on to that thought. It wasn't through the traditional academic channels did I come to speak to you today. I did not find myself safe in the arms of this lofty institution. Instead, of in loco parentis, I came to be here just by being loco. And your parents must be loco to send you here. Under the patina of pride that your mothers and fathers display today, I can almost hear a plaintive cry from inside them: "When do we get our money back?"
I'd like to remind you about a few things before you take your place in our society.
First, don't leave. Find an excuse for staying. If you do leave, don't worry about finding a job. There aren't any. I know that sounds a little negative, but consider this: You don't want to sacrifice your vibrant years to an unrewarding and mediocre gig. Your parents did that. Why? Because someone told them it was a good idea. Probably their parents. Stay somewhere where you can learn something just for the joy of learning it. Preferably something useless. No practical value whatsoever. See how the useless idea takes root in an insensible world. Watch how it becomes part of you. That is the only way you will own something that can't be taken from you. Cultivate an ability to remain open to new things. Be more concerned about giving things, rather than collecting things. Don't be afraid to be generous.
You must travel. Notice that most of the criticisms that Americans have about foreigners come from people who haven't gone anywhere. Don't listen to them. Find out for yourself. If you can't travel for some ridiculous reason, then go to the movies. A lot of movies. Especially foreign movies. Read movie reviews but don't take them seriously. Don't follow someone else's perceptions. Create your own perceptions. Just read the reviews so you review the critic. What do you go to college for. Oh, that's right. They skip over the thinking part sometimes. Independence is invaluable but avoiding arrogance is essential. Hubris. Good with pita bread, Or self-pita bread. One thing remains true: the gods were right and will remain right whether you did or did not read the classics. It's better to read them. Then you can make inside jokes with a splashy group of people who really think they're important. And they could be. Who knows? Remember: you don't. How could you? You only went to college.
You can tell much about people by the way they treat others. But you could probably find out more by going through their hamper. If you want to be a journalist -- that's what they call a reporter who doesn't drink -- then you might have to go through a few hampers. Better that than studying journalism in graduate school. Study anything else. Study semaphore or macrame or scrimshaw. Then at least you'll know something. Above all, study people. They are the creatures who are going to break your heart -- and make you happy that you have one. That usually happens on different days. Keep in mind the days are different. The most important one is the next one. I have never heard anyone say they were sorry they did not end it all the day before.
Remember that you are a part of history. It is not a subject, an abstraction. It is a way to mark human experience. We each mark our own. You have terrific technology. Use its speed to get to the right things sooner. That way, you'll know how wrong you were all the faster. Wrong is not bad. What's bad is not caring or neglecting to care to rectify the wrongs. You are in an amazing place in your personal histories. You have a little more time to fix things -- the things that I and my generation have left in pieces. Always keep music in your life. Only villains recoil from its sound. You might want to keep some Kaopectate handy as well.
You have every reason to feel very good today. There are people in your life who cared deeply enough to bring you along to this moment. Someone will buy you lunch. You can thank them by showing that sort of compassion and that sort of decency to others. Know it's not selfish to forgive yourself. It is also a very healthy thing to ask for help. The faster you tell the truth about anything, the better. It gives you protection. Conventional wisdom is a silly expression. When you believe in something, trust that feeling. Don't hold back. And always give yourself a little credit. Look at yourselves. You made it. It's Graduation Day. It's an odd occasion: most of us feel younger today because of you. Who knew? You don't. How could you? You only went to college. One more thing, please. Go have fun.
As I find myself swept up in this season of graduations, I am all atingle about pomp and circumvention, ivy-covered professors and bewilderingly specious but bittersweet farewells. While basking in this nostalgia for the academic years I never had, it occurs to me that I will likely never be invited to deliver a commencement address. So I will do it now.
Thank you, trustees, even the lesser-trusted trustees; President Schteppenschmutz; Chancellor Chauncey, other officers of the university and campus; my fellow honorees; distinguished faculty, alumni, graduates and their family and -- most importantly -- Uma Thurman, wherever you are.
As I traverse the grassy meadow that carpets this beautiful home to higher knowledge -- a platform for dreams of my youth -- it occurs to me, I have never been here before. Didn't go to college. Not on this grassy knoll. A good thing. I get terrible hay fever. Not only was I not enrolled here, I would never get into the parking lot. Wouldn't even be allowed to cut the lawn. But life is funny. You might want to hold on to that thought. It wasn't through the traditional academic channels did I come to speak to you today. I did not find myself safe in the arms of this lofty institution. Instead, of in loco parentis, I came to be here just by being loco. And your parents must be loco to send you here. Under the patina of pride that your mothers and fathers display today, I can almost hear a plaintive cry from inside them: "When do we get our money back?"
I'd like to remind you about a few things before you take your place in our society.
First, don't leave. Find an excuse for staying. If you do leave, don't worry about finding a job. There aren't any. I know that sounds a little negative, but consider this: You don't want to sacrifice your vibrant years to an unrewarding and mediocre gig. Your parents did that. Why? Because someone told them it was a good idea. Probably their parents. Stay somewhere where you can learn something just for the joy of learning it. Preferably something useless. No practical value whatsoever. See how the useless idea takes root in an insensible world. Watch how it becomes part of you. That is the only way you will own something that can't be taken from you. Cultivate an ability to remain open to new things. Be more concerned about giving things, rather than collecting things. Don't be afraid to be generous.
You must travel. Notice that most of the criticisms that Americans have about foreigners come from people who haven't gone anywhere. Don't listen to them. Find out for yourself. If you can't travel for some ridiculous reason, then go to the movies. A lot of movies. Especially foreign movies. Read movie reviews but don't take them seriously. Don't follow someone else's perceptions. Create your own perceptions. Just read the reviews so you review the critic. What do you go to college for. Oh, that's right. They skip over the thinking part sometimes. Independence is invaluable but avoiding arrogance is essential. Hubris. Good with pita bread, Or self-pita bread. One thing remains true: the gods were right and will remain right whether you did or did not read the classics. It's better to read them. Then you can make inside jokes with a splashy group of people who really think they're important. And they could be. Who knows? Remember: you don't. How could you? You only went to college.
You can tell much about people by the way they treat others. But you could probably find out more by going through their hamper. If you want to be a journalist -- that's what they call a reporter who doesn't drink -- then you might have to go through a few hampers. Better that than studying journalism in graduate school. Study anything else. Study semaphore or macrame or scrimshaw. Then at least you'll know something. Above all, study people. They are the creatures who are going to break your heart -- and make you happy that you have one. That usually happens on different days. Keep in mind the days are different. The most important one is the next one. I have never heard anyone say they were sorry they did not end it all the day before.
Remember that you are a part of history. It is not a subject, an abstraction. It is a way to mark human experience. We each mark our own. You have terrific technology. Use its speed to get to the right things sooner. That way, you'll know how wrong you were all the faster. Wrong is not bad. What's bad is not caring or neglecting to care to rectify the wrongs. You are in an amazing place in your personal histories. You have a little more time to fix things -- the things that I and my generation have left in pieces. Always keep music in your life. Only villains recoil from its sound. You might want to keep some Kaopectate handy as well.
You have every reason to feel very good today. There are people in your life who cared deeply enough to bring you along to this moment. Someone will buy you lunch. You can thank them by showing that sort of compassion and that sort of decency to others. Know it's not selfish to forgive yourself. It is also a very healthy thing to ask for help. The faster you tell the truth about anything, the better. It gives you protection. Conventional wisdom is a silly expression. When you believe in something, trust that feeling. Don't hold back. And always give yourself a little credit. Look at yourselves. You made it. It's Graduation Day. It's an odd occasion: most of us feel younger today because of you. Who knew? You don't. How could you? You only went to college. One more thing, please. Go have fun.
Baby's in black
My friend said he'd meet me here at Civic Center," murmured a bewildered Ginny Grant at the Black & White Ball Saturday night. "He said he'd be dressed in black." That was a cruel joke. Ginny was lost on a restless black ocean of formal wear with plenty of white caps amid the waves. It was a successful night for the S.F. Symphony's world-famous gala which occurs every two years. 11,000 people, dressed to the nines, sauntered from concert stage to buffet table to bar and back again. The Civic Center area was sealed off to car traffic for the night. Wouldn't it be nice to keep it that way all the time? ... If people are either charming or tedious, as Oscar Wilde said, then the charming were out in full force. ...
"It is a lot less crowded than the last time, said Mike Antonini, the dentist from the GOP. "It was unpleasantly jammed two years ago." But it was a different world two years ago. 9/11 was yet to happen and there was still some leftover money from dot com that hadn't quite done gone. There were jobs, too. ... But Saturday there was plenty of good food, plenty of strong drink, which was consumed prodigiously. Of course, there was plenty of music. The S.F. Symphony, conducted by Michael Tilson Thomas, played at City Hall. After passing through some pretty scrupulous security (quite impressive, according to San Jose police lieutenant Steve Ronco), I heard the Ball chairman Yurie Pascarella, in an eye-catching Oscar de la Renta B&W gown, tell her husband, Carl Pascarella, CEO of Visa Int'l., "I want to see the Emotions." I followed. Her instincts for music are good. The Emotions, a sister act, were big R&B stars in the 70s. Wanda, Sheila and Jeanette Hutchinson, with a tight backup band, tore up Davies. There are seats in Symphony Hall but who needs them for dancing? ...
John G.Conaghan says he danced with his wife at the B&W for the first time since their wedding. No, they are not newlyweds. "It is a night for amplitude and pulchritude," mused John. Not for politics or gloom or worry. That's for later. In a sea of cleavage and natty gents, it was all about food, drink, music and sex. In short, everything that is good. A young lady asked if I were rich. I have credit with my friends and I am bursting with sanguinity, I told her. She moved away. No, it was not a night to meet the next Mrs. Bellingham. More likely the ex-Mrs. Bellingham. But I'll leave it at that. ...
Not all wore black and white to the Black & White. Letitia Todd drew attention with her rose-red gown. "It's magenta," she said firmly. "Men never know what that is." Sure. It's the color we turn when we are told we are stupid. The Peninsula's Yanting Zhang was a knockout in a splendid, satin, peacock-blue gown. Was the renowned physician/acupuncturist needling convention? "No," said the doc, "I wanted to look beautiful." She did. ... Linda Carey Kunnath complained she had trouble finding long, elegant gloves, which she finally ordered online from Florida. Jan Wahl recalled how Rita Hayworth caused a on-screen sensation in "Gilda" just by the lascivious way she removed her gloves. Always a movie reference with Jan. ... Jia Jung, the arts editor at the Daily Cal, was also a sensation in her black bodice and homemade white bloomers. ...
At the War Memorial, the legendary Buck Owens, a little testy and a little toasted, delighted his fans with "A Tiger by the Tail" and other old tunes. You have to be a wee bit drunk to play country music. You have to be very drunk to appreciate it. Buck's vocalist, Kim McAbee, said later, "Buck is always picky about the sound. I'm just glad we can stay at a hotel in San Francisco tonight. We usually get on the Lear jet and head right back to Bakersfield." ... Deborah Harry and the Jazz Messengers (a tribute to Art Blakey) might have been a little too stylized for the party crowd. No Blondie tunes. Just melancholic, quirky, quasi-beatnik verses on hipster riffs. Well-done but the crowd was more in the mood for Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, who have produced a polished, nostalgia punk band. They were coifed, clean and ready for Orlando. All those punk tunes sound so, well, nice. ... What will rap nostalgia sound like in 20 years? "Gee, I haven't heard the M-F word in years! How quaint. I wish the kids would use nice dirty words like we used to." ... On a flatbed truck, twisting the night away with Chubby Checker were Nancy Bechtle, Yurie Pascarella and Nancy Pelosi, who got to use her skill as House Minority Leader to twist from left to right. ... 500 hula-hoops were tossed to a giddy crowd. ...
"It is amazing how fast the night went," mused Paul James, who owns Fog City Leather on Union St. with his wife, Susanne James. It was soon 2 a.m. The Black & White Ball refugees went looking for cabs. Having tired feet was the biggest complaint. The more chivalrous of the sturdy swains carried their dates, shoes in hand. Some wandered aimlessly into the Tenderloin. But the creatures of the street seemed oblivious. Oblivion is what takes over during these hours before the dawn. For the brave revelers, it was a grand party to keep the tedious at bay -- at least for a little while.
"It is a lot less crowded than the last time, said Mike Antonini, the dentist from the GOP. "It was unpleasantly jammed two years ago." But it was a different world two years ago. 9/11 was yet to happen and there was still some leftover money from dot com that hadn't quite done gone. There were jobs, too. ... But Saturday there was plenty of good food, plenty of strong drink, which was consumed prodigiously. Of course, there was plenty of music. The S.F. Symphony, conducted by Michael Tilson Thomas, played at City Hall. After passing through some pretty scrupulous security (quite impressive, according to San Jose police lieutenant Steve Ronco), I heard the Ball chairman Yurie Pascarella, in an eye-catching Oscar de la Renta B&W gown, tell her husband, Carl Pascarella, CEO of Visa Int'l., "I want to see the Emotions." I followed. Her instincts for music are good. The Emotions, a sister act, were big R&B stars in the 70s. Wanda, Sheila and Jeanette Hutchinson, with a tight backup band, tore up Davies. There are seats in Symphony Hall but who needs them for dancing? ...
John G.Conaghan says he danced with his wife at the B&W for the first time since their wedding. No, they are not newlyweds. "It is a night for amplitude and pulchritude," mused John. Not for politics or gloom or worry. That's for later. In a sea of cleavage and natty gents, it was all about food, drink, music and sex. In short, everything that is good. A young lady asked if I were rich. I have credit with my friends and I am bursting with sanguinity, I told her. She moved away. No, it was not a night to meet the next Mrs. Bellingham. More likely the ex-Mrs. Bellingham. But I'll leave it at that. ...
Not all wore black and white to the Black & White. Letitia Todd drew attention with her rose-red gown. "It's magenta," she said firmly. "Men never know what that is." Sure. It's the color we turn when we are told we are stupid. The Peninsula's Yanting Zhang was a knockout in a splendid, satin, peacock-blue gown. Was the renowned physician/acupuncturist needling convention? "No," said the doc, "I wanted to look beautiful." She did. ... Linda Carey Kunnath complained she had trouble finding long, elegant gloves, which she finally ordered online from Florida. Jan Wahl recalled how Rita Hayworth caused a on-screen sensation in "Gilda" just by the lascivious way she removed her gloves. Always a movie reference with Jan. ... Jia Jung, the arts editor at the Daily Cal, was also a sensation in her black bodice and homemade white bloomers. ...
At the War Memorial, the legendary Buck Owens, a little testy and a little toasted, delighted his fans with "A Tiger by the Tail" and other old tunes. You have to be a wee bit drunk to play country music. You have to be very drunk to appreciate it. Buck's vocalist, Kim McAbee, said later, "Buck is always picky about the sound. I'm just glad we can stay at a hotel in San Francisco tonight. We usually get on the Lear jet and head right back to Bakersfield." ... Deborah Harry and the Jazz Messengers (a tribute to Art Blakey) might have been a little too stylized for the party crowd. No Blondie tunes. Just melancholic, quirky, quasi-beatnik verses on hipster riffs. Well-done but the crowd was more in the mood for Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, who have produced a polished, nostalgia punk band. They were coifed, clean and ready for Orlando. All those punk tunes sound so, well, nice. ... What will rap nostalgia sound like in 20 years? "Gee, I haven't heard the M-F word in years! How quaint. I wish the kids would use nice dirty words like we used to." ... On a flatbed truck, twisting the night away with Chubby Checker were Nancy Bechtle, Yurie Pascarella and Nancy Pelosi, who got to use her skill as House Minority Leader to twist from left to right. ... 500 hula-hoops were tossed to a giddy crowd. ...
"It is amazing how fast the night went," mused Paul James, who owns Fog City Leather on Union St. with his wife, Susanne James. It was soon 2 a.m. The Black & White Ball refugees went looking for cabs. Having tired feet was the biggest complaint. The more chivalrous of the sturdy swains carried their dates, shoes in hand. Some wandered aimlessly into the Tenderloin. But the creatures of the street seemed oblivious. Oblivion is what takes over during these hours before the dawn. For the brave revelers, it was a grand party to keep the tedious at bay -- at least for a little while.
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