During U2’s earliest shows in San Francisco, a ritual developed: Bono would lift a child from the crowd onto the stage and prop her on his shoulders. The girl’s name was Megan and I was acquainted with her family; they ran the Psychedelic Shop on Market Street, a remnant of the hippie days and an essential stop on our ‘80s routes as one of the few places in town that sold rock ’n’ roll badges. I haven’t seen Megan or her family for years but she appears at about the forty minute mark in U2’s live set from California Hall, May 15, 1981, just two months after their first San Francisco appearance at the Old Waldorf on March 20.
The band gave small nightclub performances with stadium energy. Their gestures – well at least one member’s – were at once big and grand, generous and self-indulgent, a harbinger of a future self. These were also the things I came to love and not so much love about Bono. In passage over passage in Surrender, Bono’s recently published memoir, the singer knows this about himself – he is a the ultimate showman and a humble servant to the stage. The two extremes come packed with the character traits that make him a frontman: He runs mostly in the red. I think I would have rejected him and the band entirely back then had I not felt like what my generation needed was a rock star of our own- not Bob Dylan or Patti Smith, the Ramones, or the Clash but boys and girls – just like us – who seemed capable of making something happen, of getting something done in the face of a new age of nihilism. The earnest young men of U2 seemed like contenders – a “nice bunch of Christian boys,” as photographer Chester Simpson characterized them. The band fulfilled its promise and then Bono went beyond the call of duty to become the most charitable of rock stars of my generation. His faith is estimable, though he is a man and U2 is a band of contradictions. There is much more to tell. Full story at the the link to Tourworthy.
If you read the national news- or even some of our local papers – you might think San Francisco is beyond redemption. I blame it on seven dollar coffee and toast (the fourteen dollar snack). Some will tell you it’s the corruption inside city hall, the mishandling of affordable housing, and the public school system, and I would believe them: All of it part of the unfinished jigsaw of our city’s story and there is more to it than that. But one thing we handled, and handled well, was the pandemic. So thanks for that, to the medical professionals and city officials, essential workers and everyday citizens who did their part to mask up and slow the spread. Though it might be fair to say the statewide reopening on June 15 felt hasty and confusing to those who adhered to the guidelines for the duration -no non-essential travel, social or business activity, six feet of distance, masking and no gathering. The mask off and the rush back to life is stress-inducing and no-wonder: There is so little known about the mutation of the virus, the variants; as it is, hospitalizations are up in some California counties…
In an effort to air some of the public’s immediate practical and emotional concerns and to feel uplifted during the transition, on June 13, a couple of days before “reopening,” we kicked off a livestreamed discussion series with our fellow San Franciscans, hosted by Bird & Beckett Books and Records. Our first guest was artist Anna Lisa Escobedo, an extraordinary San Franciscan with an LA background and a story to tell. Our second guest was columnist and independent publisher, Kelly Dessaint. Future guests will include many of the subjects of my column, SFLives, which runs every other week in the San Francisco Examiner: The folks I cover and tend to want to speak to in-depth are our on-the-ground leaders and everyday workers in arts, culture and various essential jobs that make San Francisco the place we call home.
In recent columns, I’ve covered the controversy surrounding the opening of the Great Highway from a very personal perspective; I’ve spoken to photojournalist/filmmaker Lou Dematteis, musician/composer Jon Jang, artist/urban farmer/community historian Lisa Ruth Elliott and Japantown community leader Grace Horikiri (You can peruse nearly 100 columns at the Examiner’s website).
Porthole photo by Denise Sullivan
In some of these talks we take on gentrification issues, the ways in which the city has ceded the people’s interests to newly minted tech barons and their minions and pretty much successfully destroyed our international reputation as a sanctuary for artists and outsiders. Yes, that. But mostly in 2020 and beyond it, we confronted pandemic issues, how we coped and how our hometown did that aforementioned exemplary job at keeping the spread under control, even though we as a city continue to fail our most vulnerable — those without homes, seniors without families, and developmentally and physically disabled folks. As for the rocky “reopening,” we’ll be talking about that too: Nobody really knows how to handle the summer rush. There are no workers for low-wage jobs. And as the unvaxed and unmasked descend upon us, the most committed lovers of this place are at the brink: There are stories we’re moving out in droves, moving to Tahoe (and ruining the way of life there). A recent New York Times story about organized shoplifting crimes at Walgreen’s is the latest outrage, meanwhile, children remain out of school while a dysfunctional school board (we voted for) squabbles over….don’t ask, most of us have lost the plot; discontent –no, rage–directed at the district attorney (we voted for) has degenerated into moms shouting down other moms at the neighborhood farmer’s markets. Finally, the web of deep corruption within city hall and other city agencies continues to be investigated by the feds. These are just a few of the challenges confronting us in perilous times. Yes, this place is for the birds. And where isn’t right now?
What I feel like I’ve failed to put into words, ever, but especially in these times, is there is nowhere else I would rather be. This is that elusive place called home. There is something about waking up in the City and County of San Francisco seeing the sun (or at this time of year, fog), and feeling in your bones it’s the right place to be; that there is something to be said for enduring our cold summer winters, days like these. And on other days, one peek at the sky, if it’s that particular shade of blue I have not yet found words to describe, with clouds that seem to move as I go, the contentment and acceptance that I’m in San Francisco turns to deep joy and gratitude that I’m San Franciscan. In the blue, I can breathe more deeply, though why that is I haven’t yet discovered. So until then, I’ll keep talking about this place with you. And taking photos. And writing about it. Here’s to another day in the beautiful city. I have so much left to learn.
Please join the conversation with San Francisco’s artists, essential service providers and and everyday people as we talk about this place we call home. Coming up, Sunday August 8, 10 a.m. live from Bird and Beckett, filmmaker Eric Goodfield.
If you’re reading this, congratulations: You survived 2020 and so far, the pandemic.
San Francisco corner store, 2020 photo by Denise Sullivan
By now, over 22,000 San Franciscans have contracted COVID and 182 have lost their lives. Others lost their homes and livelihoods and there will be more, according to the people who specialize in disease control and economies, two things among others in which I have zero qualifications to prognosticate.
Tempted as I was to skip the traditional year-end look back at the past 365 days, I remembered that grief is a process that we’ll all be in for awhile and though it may not feel natural, we may as well celebrate what we have and what’s left of this place and the people who call it home while we’re here.
The folks whose lives were featured in my column for the San Francisco Examiner this calendar year each made unique contributions to The City, their neighborhoods and communities, whether a coffee shop serving early risers in the Mission, or pampered pet lovers in the Richmond. Some of the subjects have moved out and moved on, though rest assured their words, actions and San Francisco-experience is having a ripple effect on the people and places surrounding them as they adapt to their current environments.
The pandemic has served to empty out the city of San Francisco leaving its park and recreational areas lightly traveled by locals. Photo by Denise Sullivan
Since mid-March when the City & County of San Francisco went early and hard on its shelter-in-place guidance and beat the odds by flattening its COVID infection curve, much has been written about the way our local and state officials coordinated – and didn’t coordinate – efforts to keep residents, essential workers and people living on our streets safe. Nine months later, we’re in a very different place: The coronavirus continues its surge on the West Coast, threatening to overload hospitals and death rates by early next year, particularly within our small city limits. A new stay-at-home order took effect this week, its aim to reverse the uptick in cases, but compliance with the mask, curfew and reduced retail capacity orders are hard to enforce. People still seem to be moving freely about and I’m as lost and confused as the rest of us.
As a columnist, specializing in arts and culture with an eye on our tightly-woven, interconnected communities, I’ve tried to cover a wide cross-section of folks contending with the virus. I’ve been fortunate that my fellow San Franciscans have graciously opened their lives and are willing to share their stories about the ways the pandemic has impacted their businesses, their art and their/our lives in general. My series of SFLive columns for the San Francisco Examiner can be read at the link here, and my work for the San Francisco Chronicle is here. With each, I’ve tried to give you a portrait of the person profiled, while painting a picture of what’s been on my mind in these months too: A couple of recent columns, one on the removal of our iconic, 83-year-old Coca-Cola sign and another on the city at holiday time, are a little more on the personal side. Both were harder than usual for me to write: I’m not accustomed to revealing that much of myself in the paper, though if you are a regular reader of my people columns, you probably get that I always leave a piece of myself in each one.
While the isolation of the pandemic has suited this writer’s life and has served as an opportunity – a chance to recharge, slow down and catch up with myself – I understand this is a grievous time and it’s certainly not a gift to those who have lost loved ones, lost jobs, their homes and mental health. To those who are suffering, I wish you restoration and a sense of peace as we ease into the welcome new year. Stay safe and thank you for standing tall. Brighter days are surely ahead, we just need to keep seeking the light and it will soon come.
Curator and art history instructor Kathy Zarur (Kevin N. Hume/S.F. Examiner)
It’s funny when two stories I’ve worked on for a good while both wind up publishing on the same day, but that’s just how things work sometimes. In the case of these two pieces, the first on independent curator and adjunct arts instructor Kathy Zarur and the second on public art muralist Daniel Galvez, it turned out they compliment each other quite nicely.
One of the reasons I interview people and arts professionals is that I like them, they’re my people. In the case of Zarur and Galvez, it couldn’t be more the case. Both were extremely generous with their time with me, allowing me to probe into their personal and professional lives. They didn’t have to do that, especially not at a time when artists, professionals and everyday Americans from their respective communities are under extreme pressure.
Muralist Daniel Galvez. (Ekevara Kitpowsong/CurrentSF)
Zarur is a born and raised, second generation Palestinian American who has devoted her life to studying the arts and passing on her knowledge as a college instructor. She also independently co-curates exhibits and installations. It’s a precarious way to make a living in San Francisco but she is committed. An interesting side note which did not make it into this week’s SFLives column but which demonstrates the intersections between all of us who live, work and maybe were even born here in San Francisco: Zarur’s family and my family were likely on the same block at the same time in the early ’70s. I hope to explore these intersections in a future project but until then, I’m just counting it as more evidence that we are all part of one human family.
Galvez, also native to California but from the Sacramento area, has made his home in Oakland for the last 30 some years. His father was Mexican American and met his mother who was from Mexico; he is the first person in his family to attend college and the first artist among them. Galvez’s public works can be seen coast to coast but there is one mural of his that I pass frequently in the course of my own work in San Francisco’s Mission District: He recently restored this work titled Carnaval, based on photographs by photojournalist Lou Dematteis. Someday, I hope to visit the Audubon Ballroom where Galvez created a permanent mural depicting the life of the late Malcolm X.
I have to say I feel a bit of pride in our Bay Area for supporting the work of artists and arts professionals, diverse people across generational, gender and cultural heritage lines. But jobs in the arts are becoming more scare here due to extreme gentrification and the high cost of living. I hope and actually, I pray, that people like Zarur and Galvez can continue to thrive and contribute to the arts and culture communities here so that future generations can enjoy what they and their families worked hard to make possible: A richer life for all of us.
It hasn’t been a great month in public relations for the so-called “sharing economy,” at least here at the industry’s ground zero, not-so-affectionately known as San Francisco 2.0. Here, even regular citizens– and not even particularly politicized ones– are starting to get hip to what unfettered capitalism and unregulated business looks like in their town now that the umpteenth Uber driver was accused of threatening a female passenger with sexual violence, followed by Airbnb’s appallingly tone-deaf ad campaign calling out public works and employees.
The home-sharing app stirred further controversy as its misguided billboard and bus shelter ads sparked questions of the financing of the No on F measure they fiscally sponsored. Going to vote next Tuesday, if F passes, it could result in tightening existing regulations on the books by actually enforcing them, which would mean a new dawn for vacation rentals, and a bummer for the (mostly) pure profit margin of Airbnb.
“For those of us who are progressive, who believe the City of San Francisco should work for everyone, it’s a difficult time to be at City Hall…it’s a difficult time to be in that building,” said Supervisor David Campos over the weekend as he helped to launch Vision SF, a grassroots group primed to reclaim San Francisco from the forces of greed, corruption and narcissism that have poisoned municipal waters.
Representing the Mission, the City’s Latino cultural district and locus of its housing crisis, Supervisor Campos brought the additional dimension of the broken immigration system to the event conceived as a pre-election housing initiative forum. Referring to Donald Trump scapegoating immigrants following a recent murder committed by an undocumented person here, Campos cleaved to San Francisco’s sanctuary city status and pressed to keep local law enforcement out of the business of immigration. “Our sanctuary policy already says we’re not going to tolerate criminal activity,” underscored Campos. “No human being is illegal and every human being regardless of immigration status has human dignity.”
Intended to rally grassroots community organizations and free range citizens and spur them into a cohesive voting block for this election, there wasn’t much talk of San Francisco’s homeless population, though the ballot’s housing initiatives perhaps imply a way toward that solution too. Propositions A, F, I, J and K concern affordable housing, regulating Airbnb, pausing development of market-rate housing, protecting legacy businesses and using city-owned surplus land respectively—and were elaborated on by the Housing Rights Committee’s Sara Shortt, former assemblyman and supervisor Tom Ammiano, lifelong human rights advocate Cleve Jones and artist Roberto Hernandez (who learned to organize directly from Cesar Chavez). The activists were joined by committed singer-songwriter Tom Heyman, young filmmakers Joe Talbot and Jimmie Fails, comedian Mike Evans, and poet laureate, Alejandro Murguía, among others. A clip of Alexandra Pelosi’s new film, San Francisco 2.0, was to be screened but Vision-SF co-founder David Talbot announced that venture capitalist Ron Conway succeeded in scaring HBO and the filmmaker’s family from showing the film and attending the event (not exactly a good portent for the region that sparked the Free Speech movement).
Talbot and co-host, former supervisor and housing rights activist Christina Olague presided over the program that generally advocated coalition building across race, age, and economic lines. Addressing the need to include young, exploited tech workers in the movement for economic and housing justice, Cleve Jones invoked the name of his friend Harvey Milk which brought the crowd to a eerie hush. “It’s over,” Jones remembered, as he recalled the moment of seeing the slain body of Milk being removed from City Hall, “All I could think was, “it’s over’,” he said. Though as night fell and the streets filled with San Franciscans from all walks of life, candles lit to mourn the fallen at the evening’s march and vigil in 1978, Jones found a way to be inspired to push forward. “This is just the beginning,” he said, and it was that message he impressed on the crowd who left with house signs and a renewed spirit of solidarity.
Meanwhile, across town, thousands of San Franciscans and tourists reveled in Golden Gate Park while musicians, many with counter-culture roots of their own, entertained at the annual three-day music festival sponsored by deceased private equity investor, Warren Hellman. Mega-producer T Bone Burnett used his stage time to speak truth to power: “Who’s going to call this darkness, darkness. Somebody’s got to locate the bomb, dot com.” The founders and members of Vision-SF are trying, man, but they’re going to need a whole lotta help from their friends.
Author David Talbot was making the rounds of San Francisco’s booksellers earlier this month during California Independent Bookstore Day, though the author of Season of the Witch and Brothers wasn’t promoting a new book; rather, he was using the community-oriented bookstore scene as a platform for his insider knowledge of City Hall to promote someone’s– anyone’s– significant bid for a mayoral run against Ed Lee in November. Talbot believes the need for new leadership in San Francisco is so dire, he joked he would run himself were it not for the personal and fiscal demands of entering a campaign. “I don’t want my wife to divorce me, which she said she would do if I did,” he laughed. Other potential candidates like former Mayor Art Agnos, State Senator Mark Leno, City Attorney Dennis Herrera, Public Defender Jeff Adachi, and State Assemblyman Tom Ammiano have all opted out of the race after being rumored or considered as runners; former Supervisor Aaron Peskin is also nolo contendere since announcing his wish to fill an opening on the Board of Supervisors (as its few remaining progressives term out). Talbot says there may be one more viable candidate out there for mayor, but his sources have made him promise not to drop any hints. Meanwhile, Lee and his chief backer, venture capitalist Ron Conway, will stop at nothing to win the race, so we shall expect the usual vulgarities once/if reasonable opposition appears on the scene before the June 9th nomination filing date.”So what we lack and need is leadership, a media outlet and a progressive think tank,” Talbot concluded from his opening remarks on Saturday at Modern Times Bookstore. Then he opened the floor to the assembled crowd of activists, attorneys, homeowners, and young journalists for comment. One long-time community organizer was near tears as she contemplated the prospect of another four years for Lee. “You think it’s bad now. We’ll all be gone by then,” she said, referring to the drift of long-time San Franciscans and natives away from the city they call home. “I share your pain, but don’t leave!” the author responded. “We need you here as an advocate.”
Talbot believes an institution devoted to educating future political leaders, as well as voters, would be a longer-term solution, and again he asked the crowd to speculate how such a venture, as well as a much-needed media outlet, could be funded. That question remained largely unanswered, though the one name that consistently comes up in these conversations is Marc Benioff, a tech billionaire and serious philanthropist intent on doing good with his wealth while encouraging others in his business to do the same.
Talbot’s overview of city governance and his depth of understanding of public versus privately funded projects here, as well as of the more general role media plays in democratic society, is owed to his background as a journalist: He’s worked for Rolling Stone, Mother Jones, and the San Francisco Examiner, and he founded Salon, one of the Web’s earliest full-service magazines/news destinations. He was raised in Los Angeles, and his father, Lyle Talbot, was a founding member of the Screen Actors Guild. Talbot’s self-proclaimed obsession with the Kennedys led him to write Brothers: The Hidden History of the Kennedy Years; he followed with Season of the Witch, a cultural and political history of San Francisco and how it came to be the city it’s known to be versus the city that it is (on Saturday he revealed that Season of the Witch will be this fall’s One City One Book).
In recent years, Talbot has followed the story of changing San Francisco and has delivered a series of talks, including “Don’t Be a Stanford Asshole,” which implores new and future Stanford elite to be mindful of the dehumanizing nature of technology. A transcript made the rounds on the Internet earlier this year when it was picked up by 48 Hills, the one-man operation helmed by former SF Bay Guardian editor Tim Redmond, who Talbot believes is creating the kind of deep investigative journal we need in light of the long-insufficient San Francisco Chronicle, and in the absence of SF Bay Guardian, which was abruptly closed last year.
“We are a city, a world, in a boom and bust cycle,” asserts Talbot, and of that there is no doubt, though he notes the strange mood here as most of us await the next bust more fervently than more boom.
Last month even the historically nonpartisan 58th San Francisco International Film Festival got into the spirit of imminent change by hosting a program titled “Boomtown.” Redmond delivered a PowerPoint presentation providing an overview of the housing crisis in progress, though it was cultural expressions like Vero Majano’s heart-stopping spoken word and found film from the Mission District, Melorra and Melodie Greene’s interactive tribute to the LGBTQ/Black Lives Matter movement, and The Last Black Man In San Francisco, a film in the works by Talbot’s son Joe, which if seen by wider audiences could potentially change hearts and minds. Joe Talbot’s film is based on real events in the life of its co-writer and lead actor, Jimmy Fails (whom Talbot the elder considers an honorary son).
Fails’ African American family experience is the most extreme example of a community’s disproportionate displacement here, and yet the feelings speak for many of us when the character says, “My grandpa came West…Sometimes I feel there ain’t nothing left of me here. But where am I supposed to go? Ain’t shit west of here but water.” It’s an apt observation for a city lost at sea without a captain, but in these young filmmakers’ art and music (which Joe Talbot also composed) there is also light and hope–things we natives and transplants can all use a bit more of right now.
I’ve been working on a new column series based on real life stories from the heart of Gentrification City. The first one concerns songwriter and recording artist Tom Heyman and visual artist and community college instructor Deirdre White, a couple of longtime Mission District residents who’ve found a way to survive in high-tech town as working artists.
That Cool Blue Feeling album by Tom Heyman. Cover photo of sunset in the Outer Richmond by Deirdre White
Debuting this week at Down With Tyranny, I’m seeking a permanent home for the serial (it might be here, there or elsewhere). Until then, please find the first installment here and let me know what you think: The story is just beginning. Turns out this 49(ish) square mile patch of scenic beauty is smaller than ever before. The lives of those of us who remain here are all very much interconnected.
I look forward to sharing the stories of 21st Century San Francisco with you and am exceedingly grateful I’ve been given the opportunity to do so. Until the next installment, I’ll be here riding the waves and the ropes, too. Stand strong people: They can’t take away our souls or the songs in our hearts…
Text of Evolution of an Artist: San Francisco Appreciation Society Celebrates Eugene E. White, delivered at Elders Project 2013 Special Reception, African American Arts & Culture Complex, San Francisco, CA, July 11, 2013.
I have known of the artist Eugene E. White for decades, but it wasn’t until fairly recently, that I’ve come to know a little more about my fellow San Franciscan as a vital community member, with wisdom and experience to spare, and as a visionary artist. Humble heroes and heroines with rural roots, the people who raised families then sent them away from the South for better lives elsewhere, are the elders Eugene E. White honors in his work. Tonight, we honor the elder as artist.
Eugene E. White
From a boy in the backwoods of Arkansas, to a young man in the Cadillac factory of Detroit, Mr. White came to San Francisco in 1958 and made his way as a sign painter and electronics repairman. He opened his Kujiona Gallery in 1963 and followed with a show in 1964, sponsored by Bulart in Golden Gate Park’s Hall of Flowers; from that start, fine art became his full time pursuit. Traveling across the country and over seas, seeing all the great changes of the 20th and 21st Centuries, he brought his artist’s insights home with him. Yes, he’s known racism and participated in the fight for equality—and the artwork was part of that, whether at ’60s community meetings in his gallery, at the 1970s original Black Expo in Chicago, or as recently as this year’s Juneteenth festival in the Fillmore. He also paints great figures from the past—Harriet Tubman and Frederick Douglass—and from his lifetime—Rosa Parks, Malcolm X, Dr. King, and President Obama: They are the portraits of progress. But another story runs alongside that narrative: Mr. White has seen his community and neighborhoods devastated and dismantled. Poverty, violence, and prison statistics grow grim, courtroom injustices roll by and voting rights are rolled back, and yet he doesn’t flinch from these facts. He is an artist, and as such he holds a vision that we can change history from here—for the good and for the better—by coming together and writing a different script. That is in part why he agreed to show the paintings, so we could better see the here and now.
portion of A Song For My Lady by Eugene E. White
Mr. White has a calling, not only to paint, but to tell stories through images that help us better see everyday people—ourselves and each other—“the people without titles,” as he describes his subjects. When I came by to see him and his wife Lynnette late last year, it was as a journalist, to inquire about the paintings and the process, to find out what he’d been doing in the years since I first made his acquaintance. Of course he was painting, and had two commissioned portraits in progress, but he wasn’t publicly showing his work outside his own gallery—which is why tonight is a very special occasion. As we take time to admire the canvases and their images of beauty, resilience, and courage, let us also reflect on their maker’s message: Mr. White’s gift is a starting place for a dialogue on life, its sacrifices, and what can be done to improve circumstances, for ourselves and for those around us. His success as an artist is a demonstration of his passion and dedication not only to art, but to the art of life. May this night inspire a young man or young woman in the room to pursue his or her dreams to pick up a brush or a pen and make art in San Francisco, to become our city’s next fine artist for the next 50 years. We appreciate the White Family, for letting us into your lives; and especially Mr. White, who has made an indelible impression on our city: The San Francisco Appreciation Society and those of us assembled here tonight wish to say thank you.
Eugene E. White received commendation for his art and service to the City of San Francisco from Supervisor London Breed. Later in the evening, San Francisco Appreciation Society honored him with a Proclamation from Mayor Lee declaring July 11 Eugene E. White Day.
based on photographs by photojournalist Lou Dematteis. Someday, I hope to visit the Audubon Ballroom where Galvez created a permanent mural depicting the life of the late Malcolm X.
Denise Sullivan 