Grab Bag #022

I was on the 38 Geary bus headed downtown and the guy next to me was watching a movie on his phone. From a couple of glances, I am embarrassed to say I recognized the film as Rush Hour 2. Maybe Rush Hour 3? Definitely Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker.

Many people on the bus now scroll through short videos on Facebook or Instagram. But I don’t usually see someone taking in a full-length Hollywood movie. Was he going to watch half going to work and the rest coming home during the real rush hour?

Anyhow (as my mother-in-law used to say three times in talking about anything), the moment made me think of a specific San Francisco story involving a movie on public transportation.

In 1929, two years after talking pictures had hit the movie screens of America, the voice of silent film star Harold Lloyd voice was heard for the first time by millions of fans in his film Welcome Danger.

Lloyd played a bumbling botanist, the son of a former police chief, who finds himself called to San Francisco to “quell the flourishing crime among Oriental and American gangsters.” The San Francisco premiere was set for November 8, 1929 at the Granada Theater at 1066 Market Street (which later became the Paramount theater, demolished in 1965, wahhh.)

In concert with the premiere, a little experiment/publicity stunt was arranged.

Welcome Danger was screened in its entirety—twelve reels—on a moving streetcar. One of the Market Street Railway’s #6 Haight and Masonic cars, which ran from downtown to the Inner Sunset District, hosted the showing. Here’s how the transit company magazine described the one-time event:

“This experiment was conducted by Publix Theatres and Market Street Railway. A 100 series car equipped with the latest type of quieting devices was turned into a theatre by removing all the seats in the smoker section and creating a projection room. The inside of the car was covered with acoustical cloth to darken it and keep out traffic noises. The seating arrangement inside the car was not changed. Ten rows of leather seats served the audience.

“The schedule was so figured that the car would leave Second and Market at the beginning of the picture and make a complete circuit of the city without stopping, arriving at the point of departure just as the picture ended.

“Those who attended this theatre on wheels were surprised at the comfort the car afforded and the exceptionally clear reception of the new Western Electric portable talking motion picture equipment.

“Many odd incidents added to the entertainment of the audience. During the railroad scene in the picture, the car was passing Third and Townsend depot and the sound of real locomotives traveled through the ventilators and mingled with those from the talkie. The only conception many of the audience had of moving was when the lighted screen in the darkened car raised or lowered before them, showing that the vehicle was either climbing or going down a hill. Officials of both companies were greatly pleased with the results obtained from their respective equipment.”

While I can find no repeat experiments of films shown on specially tricked-out streetcars, the struggling Market Street Railway, which would eventually get purchased and merged with the city’s system, tried other movie-related revenue-generating schemes. Check out this streetcar completely encased in a billboard in 1937:

And you thought those dotted advertising wraps on the buses were annoying…

A Good Man Gone Wrong

Stream of consciousness time:

If Harold Lloyd is known to people today, it is probably as that movie guy that hung from the building clock. You know, this photo:

While no Buster Keaton, Lloyd was known for his comedic physicality, even if he didn’t hang off a real building clock. My writing about Lloyd made me think of stunts, which made me think of when aviator daredevil Franklin Rose roller-skated on the edge of the old Bank of Italy building at 1 Powell Street:

Rose ended up becoming a brigadier general in the Air Force, but please don’t try this at home... or even in a doom-looped downtown.

Return of the Time Machine

My friend Bill Kostura responded to my San Francisco time travel itineraries with a very thoughtful and detailed plan of his own:

“I research early San Francisco architects, and I would take advantage of your offer of a loan of a time machine to fill in some gaps in my knowledge. The year would be 1898, when certain architects that I would wish to interview, and who I do not have photo portraits of, were still alive. Of course, any year that I pick will be problematic, omitting certain architects who died before then and omitting others who only began to work afterward. 1898 is generally appealing to me—it is perhaps the optimal time for “Old San Francisco”—cast-iron storefronts, lots of stone masonry, the earliest steel frame buildings, streetcars going everywhere, almost no automobiles. The sights and sound would be very rich.

“You say I can’t take a modern digital camera with extra memory cards back with me. However, it should be fair for me to find and purchase a camera such as was in use at the time of my visit, and take it back with me, shouldn’t it? If not, then I would purchase some genuine 1890s cash at a modern-day coin shop, take that back to 1898 with me, and then purchase a camera at a photographic supplies shop. I don't think I would have the stamina to lug a large view camera and individual photographic plates around with me all day: I’d have to settle for a fixed-focus Kodak with a single shutter speed that was preloaded with film for 100 exposures. Actually, I’d buy two or three of these. I would be sacrificing quality for quantity.

“I’d visit as many architects’ offices as I could, asking if I could take their portraits and asking each architect about his most important works. I would also take as many photos of buildings as I could. Interiors probably wouldn’t turn out well, but close-up photos of exterior details might. I’d take notes about coloration and materials so that I could do hand-coloring after I got back to the present. The day would be June 21st, the day of the year with the longest period of daylight.

“I think we all know that being back in the past for even one minute would change all future history. A drayman having to change his horse’s direction to avoid me on the street would be enough. His life would be slightly different and the effects would snowball from there. The same would be true for everyone I talked to or purchased a meal from. Thus, there is no way for a time traveler to avoid being an anachronism. Given that, Woody, you may as well allow me to take my digital camera with extra memory cards. I would come back with a thousand high-density color photos of Old San Francisco.”

All right, fine, Bill, as long as you share scans of your 1898 photos for me to share with everyone.

Woody Recommends

I very much enjoyed Sylvester the Mighty Real, an immersive, walking, theatrical, history tour in the Haight by Eye Zen Presents. If you remember the Cockettes, the I-Beam (sigh), and the world of disco here in the city you’ll be transported by the story of an incredibly unique and talented individual. During the show I was caught up roughly by my own memories of the city at the height of AIDS, losing friends and relatives, so be prepared…

Plus, Beth Winegarner’s new book on the history of San Francisco cemeteries is out. Check it out!

It looks like I will be doing a couple of talks on the same subject at the 4 Star Theatre in October, so stay tuned for that.

Woody Beer and Coffee Fund

Did I buy the people above a beverage at the Giants game? Somehow no. Have I bought them beverages in the past? I have. Am I more in their debt than the other way around? Most assuredly yes. I got some bevy buying to catch up on!

Thanks to Jonathan C. and Canice F. (F.O.W.) for their contributions to the fund this week. And reader: let me know when you are free for a drink. I’m back from Mexico City on September 20!

Sources

Inside Track, Market Street Railway, December 1929.

Charles Smallwood, The White Front Cars of San Francisco (Glendale, CA: Interurbans, 1978)