Grab Bag #43

The chill in the air has me thinking holidays. The chill in my aging bones has me nostalgic.

Here come the snaps in my head of Christmas time at the Emporium, Union Square lit up, and puppies cavorting around the elaborate holiday displays in Macy’s windows. 

We lined up for Santa at the Emporium because the Emporium had the roof rides. My memories of the mini winter-carnival are happy but humble.

Then I see historical photos of Ferris wheels, carousels, and whole cable cars being hauled up, making me both question my recollections and admire the structural integrity of the old building.

Quick catch-up for younger, newer folks: the Emporium was one of the premier downtown department stores of the 20th century. The poor place was eviscerated for a super-mall remodel 20-odd years ago, but you can still admire the classical facade on the south side of Market Street between 4th and 5th Streets.

The roof rides seem to have started in a small way in the 1930s, a draw for holiday shoppers: bring the kids for their fun, then buy every gift you need at the “Big E.” The set up was usually done the last week of October and ran through Christmas.

The roof rides and opening of the Christmas-shopping season really exploded after World War II, years when Santa would arrive at the Emporium by cable car to kick off two months of consumer mania...er, I mean holiday cheer.

The Santa-by-cable-car tradition went on for years, even if the production values declined. We have SantaCon now, here is SantaCade in 1974:

The rides also were a feature at the Emporium’s Stonestown store, but we always made a point of going downtown for our day of photo-taking and nippy-air carousel-riding.

That was Christmas time to me.

My grandmother was famous for saying each December 25th that “It just doesn’t seem like Christmas somehow.” There was some mythical yuletide of her past that made all others wanting, which was surprising, since Jean LaBounty's childhood was not exactly charmed.

But as I get older, I understand. We all fall into the same trap, right?

Fisherman’s Wharf 2024

Saturday, I drove slowly through Fisherman’s Wharf with my old friend, Dee Dee. We were returning from a late lunch at The Ramp.

We poked past Pier 39. There were so many cars trying to get in and out of the garage, hundreds of people gathered at the mouth of the pier, edging past each other in the slanting November light.

Being San Francisco kids (now in our late 50s), we of course don’t get to the tourist zone much and were both surprised at the crowds.

On slowly west on Jefferson, past the old heart of the wharf, past the big crab sign which I can never see without the Streets of San Francisco clavinet and drums playing in my head.

If you just get your news from the Chronicle (at least before the recent election), you would think this was a wasteland of cobwebbed restaurants and homeless encampments.

But the sidewalks were electric with people. Musicians played. Street dancers had a big crowd. It didn’t lighten up as we passed the Anchorage, the Cannery, the Hyde Street cable car turnaround, or Ghirardelli Square. 

I had just been in New Orleans, where I was impressed by the liveliness of the streets. Apparently, my own hometown has some action too. I just need to climb out of my rut and go get a sourdough crab bowl.

Fisherman’s Wharf 1973

David Gallagher, another old friend (I guess all my friends are old friends these days), recently posted on his SFMemory website images from a collection of some 700 vacation slides taken by photographer Cheryl Morris.

In composition and subject matter, the quality is a cut above the millions that must have been taken at Fisherman’s Wharf:

Shot in 1973, these images resonate with Woody LaBounty.

This was the wharf of my childhood, an easily accessed treat for my brother and me. Dad would take us there at night, which were not kid hours. (Very awesome just to be out after dark). We played early video games and walked through the Wax Museum and Ripley’s Believe or Not. There was a magic store. Hokey tourist land was kid heaven.

Just the mid-century typefaces give me a good feeling:

And look, there’s Grimes Poznikov, the legendary Automatic Human Jukebox.

Grimes was usually stationed on the sidewalk in front of the Cannery entrance on Beach Street. His hand-illustrated booth made of cardboard boxes encouraged passersby to insert a coin or a bill. Money deposited, a flap would open by string and Grimes played on his trumpet the tune of your choice. (He had over 20 you could pick from written on the side of the box.) 

If you dropped in too small a coin he’d open up and just give you a toot on a kazoo. That bit, and the flap unceremoniously dropping at the end of the song, always got a chuckle.

It was the best of busking of the time: authentic, clever, hippy-vibed. Grimes wasn’t a warm and fuzzy person among the street performers down there. (I was a fan, but I kept my distance.) He suffered from mental illness and alcoholism later in life, dying homeless on the streets in 2005.

But in the 1970s and 1980s he was one of the must-see draws of the wharf, an icon.

David will keep adding Ms. Morris’ slides to his site. Check out what’s up so far.

More Ponies in the Park

From Bambi S., responding to the Polo Fields piece:

“As a high school student in SF in the 1950’s we had a riding team that used the St. Francis Riding Academy on 7th Avenue between Cabrillo and Fulton. We rode English saddle and had a very English instructor, Mr. Jones, who had a clipped mustache and wore a tweed jacket and a brown fedora. We rode in Golden Gate Park entering on 6th Avenue. My favorite horse was named Anza. There were horses occasionally on the Polo Field, but I am not sure if there were still games there anymore. Our stables had a boarding facility and an indoor ring. We had competitions against other schools. I remember Burke’s, Hamlin, and Lowell. And probably others. The paths in the park were tanbark then so the horses could trot easily. I don’t remember when it closed and was torn down for the Safeway. Thought this might interest you to explore further.” 

Thanks Bambi! Yes, the first time I think I heard about the St. Francis Riding Academy was when John Freeman showed me a photo of the damage it suffered in the 1906 earthquake. It was a big place then!

There also used to be a place you could rent a horse and get lessons on Stanyan Street, but I think St. Francis may have been the last of the outfits just outside of Golden Gate Park. As a former student at the St. Francis, you share a bit of history with Miss Dianne Goldman:

Later, as Dianne Feinstein, the rodeo queen had the reins of City Hall as mayor, then a mere 30-year-tenure as a United States senator.

Seems like a good San Francisco Story topic for the future. Thanks Bambi!

More Monkey Block

Thanks to Caitlin C., LisaRuth E. (F.O.W.), and Lorri U. (F.O.W.), who reminded me of the source of the story of Sutro Library books moved from the Montgomery Block during the April 1906 fires.

The reference was in Idwal Jones’ 1951 book Ark of Empire:

“Wagons came up sent by officials of the Sutro Library, who were panic-stricken, for the great repository on Battery Street, which had held the bulk of the treasures, was lost. Unopened cases of Bibles, incunabula, and manuscripts were dragged from the block, piled into wagons, and stored in a remoter building, Mechanics Pavilion, which appeared to be safe, but within three hours both Pavilion and books were in ashes.”

Oh, and maybe somewhere in the world are stashed at least a couple of the gargoyles faces that once decorated the Montgomery Block. A dozen were offered for sale during the building’s 1959 demolition. Manufacturer Beall Ernst won two through a KQED auction and decorated his Sansome Street office with them.

But then again perhaps my hopes are too high. Chronicle columnist Millie Robbins wrote the next year that Ernst’s heads were “beginning to show the ravages of time. One even has a wide crevasse in its cranium.” 

I guess my cast-iron Atlas figures have a better chance of surviving and being rediscovered than the Montgomery Block’s sandstone faces.

FOMOOW (Fear of Missing Out on Woody)

Wendy H. wrote that she saw me leading a tour of the Outer Sunset and wanted to know how she missed out. It’s probably good she didn’t see me heading this battalion through Ingleside Terraces on Sunday.

I’ve been able to squeeze in a few walks and talks lately: tours offered as auction items from SF Heritage’s gala, fulfilling requests to help neighborhood groups build some community interest.

Trust me that each came with a twinge of guilt as I thought: “My Friends of Woody aren’t getting the love they deserve.”

So I need to remedy that. How about an early New Year’s resolution to book a series of 2025 FOW events. My deadline is January 1st. Stay tuned.

Woody Beer and Coffee Fund

Great thanks to Lorri U. (F.O.W.) for her big donation to the Woody Beer and Coffee Fund. She’s going to get some of it back in drink form when we meet up at the Tonga Room next month.

When are you free?