If one wanted to have a barometer to check the changes in San Francisco, then the ever-evolving Chestnut Street would be the place to measure.
The shops, large and small, seem to come and go at an accelerated pace these days. That worries more than a few of us who see older businesses, older merchants forced out by the bewilderingly high commercial rents that keep climbing. To others, the merry-go-round is a sign of the Marina's vibrancy and youthful bravado. For longtime residents and the natives, the Marina keeps its charm through diligence, watchfulness, and respect for the neighborhood that's like no other neighborhood. To paraphrase Clifton Webb in Laura, "It may be beautiful, but it's home."
"San Francisco is a great writer's town," Herb Caen wrote. "It's tantalizing, just out of reach in its misty aloofness."
Caen was not a big fan of the Marina. I think it was too quiet for him. It really was quiet at one time. Honest. The Marina was a sleepy village when I first saw it in the 1970s. On the 30-Stockton bus, you were more likely to hear Italian than English. People knew their neighbors. There was a Woolworth's, there was an Eppler's -- there was even a bowling alley -- and there was an Original Joe's.
“The City is like a snake," observed Caen, "shedding its skin, changing constantly, moving about in unexpected directions."
The Marina was slow to change, though. It was a little bit out of the way, it kept its head down, it minded its own business -- and they were mostly mom & pop businesses.
But it all changed after the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake. The innocence that the Marina enjoyed was unraveled in 15 seconds. To this day, the file footage of the fire at Beach and Divisadero is a symbol of San Francisco's seismic vulnerability. But, instead for being a fearful plot of quicksand, the Marina got discovered, and became a real estate bonanza. The Gold Rush is still on.
It got very expensive to live here. Many of the characters who lived casually and comfortably found the Marina, and The City, too pricey. They had to go elsewhere. Where, I do not know. The City changed in ways lots of us do not like. Herb Caen's aloof, snake-like city could turn and bite us.
"I don't feel like this is my city anymore," lamented Cynthia Fine, at a party the other night. The party was really a wake for the John Barleycorn pub on Nob Hill so the mood was subdued, even a little mournful. The pub, a 40-year old fixture of the hill, will close at the end of the the month. Yes, they lost their lease. The new owner has her own plans for the property.
"It's just awful," Cynthia said. "Not only do I wonder if San Francisco is worth fighting for, I wonder if you think it's still worth writing about."
Worth writing about? Caen said it was a writer's city -- but San Francisco will always stay one step ahead of us. Caen's genius was his ability to accept change over the decades. He did not always like the changes, but he accepted them.
If San Francisco is always going to stay one step ahead of me, I want to see where she's going. If Chestnut Street will always bring a surprise of sorts, if the Marina, in all its misty aloofness, tantalizes the new residents, and gives cold comfort to the older ones, then yes -- of course -- she's still worth writing about.
That's one thing in this ever-changing city, that will never change.
Bruce Bellingham is the author of Bellingham by the Bay, write a column by the same name for the SF Northside. E-mail him at bruce@northsidesf.com
#####
No comments:
Post a Comment