A Lover's Guide to San Francisco

William Saroyan wrote, "San Francisco now sells what she once gave away for free." He was right, of course, and that was almost fifty years ago. This knowledge sometimes leads me to wonder what young people today - who only a few years ago groused about the "Dot.comming" of The City - would make of that, or the fact that nearly forty years ago the Gray Line bus company ran "Hippie Hop" tours through the Haight Ashbury district; they did a brisk business with little, blue-haired ladies gasping at the sight of young women without bras!!

I further muse over how today's young folk would react to "seeing the elephant", a 19th century colloquialism, meant to convey that the speaker had actually gone west to San Francisco in search of their fortune in the gold fields (which, ironically enough, were east of The City), and been horribly disappointed by the truth (or "elephant") of the town. The sheer sight of the place - dirty, loud, unkempt,and garish - was enough to send many an ambitious young man running back home to New York or Boston or Philadelphia.

But what would be the point of the telling? Most griping youngsters fail to understand that, tarnished as it is, befouled by the glass-glittered steel and concrete defecations of profit seekers though it may be, San Francisco is still one of the most beautiful and dream-inspiring cities on the face of the earth. It is North America's Xanadu, just as New York is it's Rome (forget D.C.; that's just the government's address), and a thousand years from now men and women will tell stories of it as we now do of Kubla Khan's dwelling place.

I know The City from first hand experience of a significant duration. From 1983 to 1992 I lived, studied and worked in San Francisco. I came to love it, but that love was and is complicated. Those aspects of the place that inspire my love I will share with you; those aspects that inspire loves opposite I will proffer as an urban caveat emptor. I will assume you have never been to The City; those who have will please pardon my windiness.

Now to my first, and most important, bit of advice: Come in February. Yes, you read that correctly. It will be cold and windy with rain beating down, but in San Francisco such weather, if properly prepared for, adds atmosphere to the place, a gray emanation that lends it a gravitas it lacks in the stark yellows and blues of summertime. At this time of year it also lacks tourists. This is VERY important. How so? Let me put it in simple terms. The difference between a June visit and a February visit is about 12 hours, the aggregate amount of time you will spend waiting in line for everything, including, on Fisherman's Wharf, entrance into a lousy liquor store to buy a pack of cigarettes, gum or a map. The City is bursting at the seams in season; out of season it is as serene a world-class city as you will find.

If you land at San Francisco International Airport, please accept The City's apologies. No one is quite sure how this cement fungus began to spread, or why, unlike a real fungus, it has no discernible pattern. Nor can anyone I've met say for certain why it is called San Francisco International Airport when it is barely within The City's borders. Perhaps one day there shall be two cities: San Francisco and "SFO". One can only hope The City sloughs off this mass more sooner than later.

When first you enter The City, ask to be taken to Nob Hill. This pinnacle will give you an unobstructed, panoramic view of the entire city, as well as easy access to the Mark Hopkins Hotel, and Grace Cathedral a bit further down the slope. One hundred years ago Nob Hill could have easily been referred to as Vulgotha, as its top was the squatting yard of the grotesquely large mansions of the banking, railroad, shipping, gold and silver magnates of the day. That all ended in 1906 when what surely must have been the Wrath of God - in the form of earthquake and fire - destroyed the "homes" and spared only one portico, which now rests, as a sort of warning, at the head of a lagoon at the far western end of what should be your next stop.

That place is Golden Gate Park, and it is wonderment. Designed by the same man who oversaw the making of Central Park in New York, it is very much in the English style - natural, meandering and lush. It is best to stay away from JFK Drive and Park Presidio, and their overflowing parking lots. Better to park nearby and walk in (people are often surprised to find unrestricted residential parking across from such a major "attraction"). Eventually you'll find a trail, and after you've gone a very little ways, you will be struck by how sudden comes the sensation of being deep in a real forest, far away from any city. Luxuriate in that sensation, for to my knowledge it can be had in no other urban park, including Central Park and Hyde Park in London. Part of the reason is that Golden Gate Park's western end opens out to the Pacific Ocean as opposed to, say, more blocks of urban effluvia.

A note of caution about Golden Gate Park. Though it is indeed like a forest, said forest was planted and nurtured by one John McClaren, so you must always watch your step and look where you're going. McClaren, like most who've made their mark on The City, was of a singular mind. He believed that parks must remain unblemished, whereas the city fathers of the time believed that a civic park must contain as many memorials, statuary and honorarist plaques as possible. Since McClaren was in their employ he was obliged to obey, but seeing as he was never told where these things were to go, he simply hid them in groves of trees and clumps of bushes -- where now you're likely to bump into them, literally. At times he went too far with this, I think; on the north side of the park, in just such a hiding place, one can find a huge piece of granite upon which rests a plaque listing every young man from The City killed in the trenches of World War I. It is a tragically long list, its erection was paid for by an association of their mothers, and hiding it was callous and cruel.

There is much to be seen Golden Gate Park besides trees in. I recommend the Japanese Tea Garden and the public space between what was once the DeYoung museum and Steinhardt Aquarium. What is most of interest about this space, and the pedestrian tunnels that connect its corners to the rest of the park, is that it, the Tea Garden and the late DeYoung were all built for the 1894 Mid-Winter Exposition. Steinhardt is good for a few laughs if you've been to a world-class aquarium like the one at Monterey Bay; otherwise ignore it. Ditto the monstrosity that replaced the DeYoung. I would also stay away from the Asian Art Museum, as it rarely holds much of interest. Better to move along to the next glorious and natural part of The City: The Palace of the Legion of Honor.

This is one of the most austerely beautiful museums in the world, which makes sense as it was built specifically to honor the French dead of World War I. The best exhibits to come to The City are displayed here. I myself saw The Dresden Medieval Heraldry Collection within its walls when I was but a lad. Its standing collection is also first rate. You should be sure and wander the expansive grounds outside the palace, as they offer wonderful vistas of San Francisco's stone-strewn Pacific shore. To one side of the exterior of the Palace you will find a rather odd collection of what look like plaster figures surrounded by barbed wire. This is a memorial to the Holocaust, and the longer you look at it the more powerful it becomes. Look to your right, past thePalace, the lawn at its marble feet and the groves of pine beyond, and you may catch a glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge and, nestled below it, Ft. Point. This is where you should go next.

I won't belabor you with the history of the bridge, because that could easily fill a book. Just know that while it is no longer the longest suspension bridge in the world, it is still the most gorgeous collection of reddish-orange steel of any type or use on which you will ever set your eyes. So high are its two towers that 20mm machine guns were installed on them and manned during World War II. On The City side of the expanse, down a long hill from Highway 101 and the Bridge Observation Deck, you will find Ft. Point, the last surviving brick and mortar fortress in America. Ever wonder what Ft. Sumter looked like on the day of secession, before the bombs started falling? Ft.Point is the exact same type of structure, although the cliffs above it removed the necessity for walls on its southern side. Civil War re-enactors demonstrate the cannonry and drill practiced at this fort that never fired a shot in anger. Most fun of all, in my opinion, is to sign the huge guestbook at the entrance, then leaf through its already signed pages (you will of course have plenty of time to do this - if you go in February). I can think of no viewable artifact extant in The City that provides a better glimpse of the multitude of nations from which San Francisco draws its countless visitors. And you never know, you might find the signature of a celebrity or two. I myself found this message from an inveterate great-great grandson of the Confederacy: "We would have shelled this one if we'd had the chance!"

I would suggest that at this point you walk to Aquatic Park, where as often as not there is an impromptu jam session going on upon the steps of the grandstand, and continue straight to the docks near Pier 39 for a day trip to Angel Island, but I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, if you go to The City in February, you can't go to Angel Island. I have no idea why this is, and will take this opportunity to excoriate whoever made up that dumb rule (shame on you!). I guess my description of it will have to suffice. Angel Island, like Treasure Island after it, was the Ellis Island of the West Coast. Filipino, Chinese and Japanese immigrants were processed there, and some of those buildings remain. Of more interest to the historically minded are the barracks left over from World War I, when this was a combination fort and training base. They sit where they were left, like a virtual ghost town. There is hiking amidst a plentitude of forest, but beware; it's all uphill.

Next stop, Pacific Heights. Head north on Van Ness, towards Fisherman's Wharf, and stop at California Street. Walk west up (and I do mean UP) California until you reach Laguna Street, then walk north. Look around you. The buildings you will see contain some of the most gruesomely over-priced apartments in the world. You can bask in the knowledge that you are not being so fleeced, while still enjoying the look of the buildings themselves, from converted Beaux Arts mansions to Art Deco towers, to still other mansions that have not been converted, but are actually owned and lived in, and not by curators, either. The very thought of this may make you jealous, but don't let it spoil the elegiac mood in which such buildings and homes can put you. When you reach the peak of Pacific Heights, take another good look around. This is the second best panorama in The City, and especially of the bay and, of course, the Pacific Ocean. In the afternoon the sun gleams off that wet, endless mirror like a million bright torches held aloft.

Now down again, down Laguna Street into the long shadows of all those pretty buildings. Down until you reach Green Street, then turn left and continue. Eventually you'll notice a broad slice of Victorian wedding cake, in the Queen Anne style, resting across the street from you. This is The Sherman House, and it is in my estimation the most beautiful Victorian building in The City - and that's saying something. "Carpenter Gothic", indeed! I'm partial to the Queen Anne style of Victorian, so don't take my word for it. Drink the sight of it in for yourself and then decide.

If you keep walking north you'll eventually reach the southern fringe of The Presidio, which is now completely open to the public. It is yet another glorious expanse of trees and foliage, and the barracks and officers quarters of its former tenants - the Sixth Army - are surprising in their comeliness. Looking at them you'll understand why an assignment to the Sixth was one of the plumbest in the military. Exiting the Presidio, you'll likely find yourself on Lombard Street - the boring part (the fun part was designed that way to keep horse-drawn carriages from sliding down steep hills in the rainy season - The City used to have several such streets). My advice is to go left until you've arrived at the Palace of Fine Arts, all that remains of Bernard Maybeck's undoubtedly breathtaking contribution to the 1915 Panama Pacific Exposition. The columned structures and the ponds around them, taken together, may constitute the most romantic spot in the United States. Again, I'll leave that one up to you to decide for yourself. A number of movies have been partially filmed there, including Hitchock's Vertigo, and it is the home of the world famous Exploratorium, which is also a lot of fun.

Now what? I'd suggest you catch a cab so you can zoom down Lombard Street, past the awful miracle mile-esque motels and hotels and "eateries" until you're at Fort Mason, embarkation point for most troops heading to the Pacific Theatre during World War II. Fort Mason is currently home to a number of small, fairly well-funded art and theatre groups (including the legendary Magic Theatre, where Sam Shephard once plied his trade), and it's well worth a look around. Just past it you will find my favorite floating landmark.

The Jeremiah O'Brien, open most days, is the last surviving Liberty Ship. These vessels were cranked out in the hundreds and thousands during World War II by the Kaiser Shipyards in San Francisco, Oakland and Long Beach (if I remember correctly). Intended as supply craft, they were lightly armored; hence the current existence of just one. This boat is a three-fer, really; history buffs will love it just for what it is, movie buffs will love it because part of its engine room was used as a set for the movie Titanic and lovers of ordinance (like your's truly) will REALLY get a kick out of operating (though not firing) the ship's deck guns, including its primary anti-aircraft battery. Several years ago a friend of mine and I must have spent an hour on that thing, sitting on its metal seats, slowly turning its elevation and swivel wheels, "tracking" large aircraft in the sky. It was a wicked thrill, let me tell you. Another nice bit of history involving this craft is more recent: It sailed from its berth at Fort Mason all the way to Normandy, France for the fiftieth anniversary of D-Day in 1994.

Well, that's it. That's The City, as I know her. What, you say? What about Fisherman's Wharf, Pier 39, Broadway, Union Square, Chinatown, North Beach, the Cable Cars and California Street? I'm willing to bet that most of you reading this are intelligent folks, so allow me to pay you all the compliment of being blunt: Those places are for TOURISTS, not VISITORS. There is a difference. San Francisco can be the most romantic experience of your life, or the most sordid. It really depends on how hard you're willing to look, how far down below the gaudy muck you're willing to dig to find the rare diamonds. For example, I mentioned walking down Laguna Street to Green, then turning left. If you walked down one more block onto Union Street, turned right and kept going across Van Ness Avenue, you would find a nice assortment of unusual and curious antique shops. Of course, you would have to bypass the western half of Union Street in all its yuppie glory, but that's the point. San Francisco will open its most brilliant and colorful charms for you, like a flower in springtime, but only if you look past the garish plastic garden.

Oh and incidentally, you may have asked yourself why I kept referring to San Francisco as "The City". Provincialism, perhaps? Not at all. What else should I call a place like I've just described?