Lesson Learned

At Montgomery Station today, another of the extreme end of the story came out. A man, whose name got lost in the jumble, came up and began to ask for change. What started normal escalated to him asking me for "anything", including the sunglasses off my face.

Sweaty and drooling, this man was the face of rock bottom. I did what I could-what I had to do-I told a riveting series of bald faced lies to get him away from me. If you are seen as vulnerable, someone will very well make you vulnerable.

I honestly felt for the guy. I didn't at all feel threatened, either. In fact, I think his friend a little further over put him up to it. This friend of his was able to reign the guy right in no problem when I walked too far away. I was perhaps a little more resourceful than they'd assumed.

I've met a lot of interesting people in the homeless community, and most of them have been really wonderful people. However, there are vultures.

One thing that I'm going to do in the future is not bring a big bag that says "Canon" on it. Somehow, I feel that carrying my camera in a less conspicuous bag could only help.

Homelessness in Downtown San Francisco

I’ve found the disparity between the classy neighborhoods of Russian Hill and Nob Hill pretty interesting in contrast to other parts of downtown San Francisco, especially after talking with some in the homeless community there. I’ve been building a rapport with “Big Man” who hangs out at his usual spot at the top of the stairs at Embacradero Station. Even though he’s not one of my beat’s denizens, I do like talking to him after hiking north over both hills, catching the ‘F’ on Beach Street, riding it back to Big Man’s station.

“Nickel for a smile, nickel for a smile man…” he repeats, shaking a near empty Starbuck’s cup and holding a portable radio playing the Giants game.

He’s very articulate. We talked baseball for a while before he pointed out a man hunched over a shopping cart headed toward Justin Herman Plaza. He told me that the man is pretty “hard” and is usually pretty strung out.

I’d really like to talk more with Big Man because he’s a great conversationalist.

The homeless in these nicer neighborhoods, in contrast to their counterparts in places like the Tenderloin or around Civic Center, walk up and down the street wearing dirty sport coats and an honest look on their face. One who can illustrate this was a man I talked to on my way home from The Union Room named Daniel. Despite the fact his sport coat was really dirty and buttoned incorrectly, I felt like he was genuine. After we’d talked I gave him the 30-something cents I’d left in my pocket and started to move on. He kept asking for more, almost begging. It was actually sort of hard to turn a shoulder and walk away after a while.

Sometimes, I feel like the homeless people I’m talking to are playing me like a fiddle, just trying to get something out of me.

Geary Street and O’Farrell Street are both really great for finding homeless people to talk to. That’s usually where the action generally is too. I spoke with a few business owners around Union Square and found that in general, they are really bothered that the homeless exist, especially in their city. At the same time, I did get a lot of those instances where the person I’m talking to lets out this long sigh before starting again with some compassion. It’s a fascinating coexistence and I’d like to explore it further to accentuate how these two neighborhoods have many faces. Russian Hill at night is usually pretty quiet in contrast to Nob Hill, but I’m wondering if Russian Hill Park is one of those places where camps form after dark.

I discovered a series done by The San Francisco Chronicle that detailed the city’s homeless. It is loaded with really great material that has helped to point me in a direction where I would hopefully find the right questions to ask. Very educating.

Cougars & Blues at The Union Room

Last night, I was invited to see my old friend Paul Steward and his dad Rich play a fill-in gig at The Union Room in what I also learned is sometimes referred to as the "Tendernob"-an area of Nob Hill on its border with the Tenderloin. Paul and Rich have played together in their band Twice as Good all over the country, maintaining standing gigs in Lake and Mendocino Counties, and my old stomping grounds, Santa Rosa.

The Union room is this tiny lounge above Biscuits & Blues and next to Jack in the Box at the corner of Geary and Mason. I got upstairs and ordered a drink just as Paul and Rich were starting their first set. Excluding the bartenders and doorman, I counted 6 people in attendance. I felt guilty, so I paid the cover, even though nobody was enforcing it.



It really wasn't long before the tiny lounge began to fill. I tucked my camera bag and jacket behind the bar and moved into the growing crowd of people. With the people came the dinners. They looked amazingly good, and the prices weren't bad, but Jack in the Box took care of me.

True to form, Paul and Rich entertained. Paul, the ever-consummate musician moved between various guitars, a keyboard, saxophone, and a harmonica while Rich held a steady rhythm, swaying slightly as he played. The set was eclectic too, especially given their relative lack of equipment and personnel.

"I'm gonna play a little keys now," said Paul moving to his keyboard. Stopping himself mid-sit to adjust his mic and address the audience, he added, "and by little, I mean it has half the keys of a normal one."



The show was great, and it was nice to see Paul and Rich again. They ran through three sets of chugging 12-bar blues progressions and all the wining and wailing that makes blues guitar what it is.



While this was a really fun outing, I felt that it gave me a lot of insight into the practice of journalism, particularly interviewing.

Somewhere around the second set, the cougars began to stalk around the outer perimeter of the lounge. Actually, it was really more like a gaggle of saber-tooths. I talked to a lot, but one in particular, a very intoxicated 'Miss Margaret' of Noe Valley provided the best conversation. I started with the basics, 'what's your name?', 'do you live here in town?', that kind of thing. Then, I had the unmitigated pleasure of meeting her daughter, who unfortunately lives in Vermont. She said to me, "journalism is about specifics, you're asking way to broad-a questions!"

That really was my intention, though. Especially given what I got out of it. Margaret started getting very friendly, and then a little too friendly. She is absolutely one of those people that grabs your arm when they talk to you.

Margaret told me all about the Southern Pacific Railroad and how she used to be a conductor until they made her a trainer. She lived in San Francisco in '68 and apparently knew Janis Joplin and the guys in Starship. She's now an community activist doing outreach for victims of domestic violence. She's fantastic, and I hope to talk more with her, but I'm going to do it when she's sober. She leans in a little to far.



After the night wound down, I headed back for Powell Station. I talked to some more homeless people then got on the train.

This neighborhood is definitely more fun at night.

Russian & Nob Hills-Your Cardio For The Week

From the Powell Street station northward along Mason Street, as it gradually turns to a steep climb, visitors are treated to San Francisco’s finest shopping with Union Square only a couple of blocks east. My purpose here though wasn’t a new pair of pumps or some scissors that could effortlessly cut through the suspension cables on the Golden Gate, but to get to know Nob Hill and its neighbor to the north, Russian Hill.



Nob Hill is ripe with some of the finest shopping, dining, and lodging in the city. The Fairmont hotel, situated at Nob Hill’s picturesque summit near the Grace Cathedral, has been the location of fine symposiums and has served as lodging for the World’s most honored guests. It is also the first inkling I found to controversy in the neighborhoods after a conversation with the woman sitting next to me at The Fairmont's Tonga Room Lounge led me to a Facebook page for a group trying to save this unique lounge from being renovated into a high rise tenement building.



By the time my walk had taken me northward along Mason to Broadway at the foot of Nob Hill, my legs felt like jelly. It had been too long since I’d hiked.
Continuing northward, the grade began to again increase. Russian Hill, unlike its neighbor to the south, has considerably more residential zoning. The homes here are at a higher price point than most all of San Francisco, having first tipped over the $1 million mark in January 2004, and holding fairly consistently until significant spikes around January of 2008 and 2009. Meanwhile, the number of sales with respect to overall home sales in San Francisco held considerably lower, with slight price declines as Russian Hill’s median price went up. I've had contact with a couple of Real Estate Agents in the neighborhood, but I got the feeling they really just wanted me to buy a house.



Regardless, there is no blight in this neighborhood. Russian Hill market, near the hill’s summit, was the only store or home front that appeared abandoned. Russian Hill is still very much a lively neighborhood with community gardens and events being organized by leaders in the community.

Russian Hill has been a bit of a tough shell to crack, though. Given how residential it is, there are not so many storefronts and galleries to poke your head into. One thing that is true of Russian Hill for me so far is that its residents, being at home in their neighborhood, are very eager to strike up a conversation.



A huge number of people who travel up the hill are on their way to its sights, such as Lombard Street’s ‘crookedest’ section. “You can meet a lots of people just walking your dog, like, on any day.” Said one local traveling with her Labrador.



One tourist scoffed, "are you kidding? And people live here?" breathlessly as he reached the top of Lombard's crooked section at Hyde.

At the north side of Russian Hill along Bay Street at Ghiradelli Square is Russian Hill Park, where locals and tourists alike stop to relax. From Ghiradelli Square and Fisherman’s Wharf, I can cut across the Embarcadero back to Market Street, Embarcadero Station, and the 'M' train home. The first thing I did when I got home, after finding a helpful forum post on these hills’ grades, was sign up for a gym membership. I get the feeling I’m going to need it.