That first night I had dinner nearby, then just relaxed … really, after driving 5500 miles. Watched television and got to sleep early, as the next day was going to be a busy one … Balboa Park. The area of the park was placed in reserve in 1835, and it is one of the oldest sites in the United States dedicated to public recreational usage. Besides open areas and natural vegetation, it contains a variety of cultural attractions including museums, theaters, gardens, shops and restaurants as well as the world-renowned San Diego Zoo. My first stop.
The San Diego Zoo is one of the largest, most progressive zoos in the world with over 4,000 animals of more than 800 species, on 100 acres of parkland. The Zoo offered a guided tour bus that traversed 75% of the park, and due to time constraints I opted for that. Many exhibits are designed around a particular habitat, with the same exhibit featuring many different animals that can be found side-by-side in the wild, along with native plants.
The tour included stops at a plethora of exhibits and habitats, ranging from an African rain forest featuring gorillas, to the Arctic taiga and tundra in the summertime complete with polar bears … to name just two. Afterward I got an aerial view of the Zoo from one end to the other, riding the overhead gondola lift called the Skyfari (built by Vonroll of Switzerland). Spent some quality time waiting for glimpses of the very shy koalas, and my Zoo adventure culminated with a spectacular animal show.
Balboa Park was declared a National Historic Landmark in 1977. Many of the park's attractions are along El Prado, a long, wide promenade running through the center of the park. Most of the buildings lining this street are in the Spanish Revival style, a richly ornamented eclectic mixture of Spanish and Latin American architecture. Along this boulevard there are many of the park's museums and cultural attractions, of which I visited just three … the Timken Museum of Art, the Museum of Photographic Arts, and the San Diego Model Railroad Museum. I also checked out the Reflection Pond, the latticed Botanical Building, and the
Bea Evenson Fountain.
A long day, but being my second night in San Diego I had to check out the scene, so after Daffy’s walk and a nap, I checked out a couple of bars and then found my way to the Club San Diego. There I spent some time with a cute young Asian fellow, who asked me if I had ever been with an Asian before. When I said no he asked why not. Well, I told him, where I have been living for the last 36 years there were no Asians, except at the few Chinese Restaurants. We cuddled some more and then I went back to the motel.
Slept late the next morning, and spent the afternoon wandering around the Gaslamp Quarter, a historical neighborhood in downtown San Diego. Its main period of development began in 1867, when Alonzo Horton bought the land in hopes of creating a new city center closer to the bay, and chose 5th Avenue as its main street. After a period of urban decay, by 1982 urban renewal was well underway, and the neighborhood is now listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Within its 16½ blocks there are 94 historic buildings, most of which were constructed in the Victorian Era, and are still in use with active tenants including restaurants, shops and nightclubs. Dinner there and an early night, as the next day my faithful sidekick and I would resume our journey, weaving our way north up the Left Coast.
In the interest of getting to Big Sur by nightfall, the next morning we skipped the coastal route from San Diego to Los Angeles, and opted for the freeway north to L.A. La Jolla, Oceanside, Laguna Beach, Newport Beach, et al, would have to wait for another time … and so they waited, for nine years, when I returned and spent a week on that stretch of sand. Interstate 15 took us to Los Angeles, and dumped us in the midst of the jumbled maze of highways going every which way, but somehow we found our way to I-10 and landed on the Pacific Coast Highway at Malibu. From there we followed the coast until we connected with 101 north at Ventura.
From that point on it was really quite surprising. Except for Santa Barbara, a couple of the smaller towns, and the city of Santa Maria (not actually on the shore), this west coast was most notable for its lack of development, a complete contrast to much of the overdevelopment of the east coast. At San Luis Obispo we left 101 for route 1, and continued to twist and turn along the spectacular rugged coastline northward; passing Morro Bay and Cambria … giving San Simeon and Hurst Castle a pass for another time, which would be a few other times.
Onward we traveled through the Los Padres National Forest to Big Sur … Big Sur, California! Wow! Once again, parking as far from the office as possible, I checked into a rustic-looking motel, and had dinner at the adjacent rustic-looking restaurant, where I had my first Red Snapper. I was in California now. The next morning we were on the road fairly early, rapt with anticipation of our grand entrance into San Francisco. Well, my grand entrance, Daffy only got as far as the coastal town just south of San Francisco.
Once I landed in Pacifica, I went to a phone booth and searched the Yellow Pages for boarding kennels. Called Linda Mar Kennels at the Shamrock Ranch nearby, found my way there and checked Daffy in. Then I called Brian at Rucker Fuller, the office design and furnishings firm where he worked as a graphic artist and illustrator. He gave me directions to the downtown location, and was waiting for me at the street (so I wouldn’t have to park) to give me the keys to his apartment along with directions.
Pine Street west to a left on Divisadero, left at the fork onto Castro Street, and right on 16th Street just before Market Street and The Castro. Having been to Brian’s place a few times that summer, I was familiar with the area and found it again with no problem. After a nap I went down to The Castro to celebrate my arrival and, although I was drinking beer, I was plied with shots of schnapps from just about everyone who heard that I had just arrived … an impromptu welcome wagon. The rest is a blur.
The next morning it was up early to start apartment hunting … not! That had been the plan, but as soon as Brian left for work, I pulled the covers over my head and stayed in bed until afternoon, recovering from my night of celebrations. My second morning in San Francisco I went apartment hunting. Naturally, even in San Francisco there were more than enough naysayers. I heard horror stories one after the other about how difficult it was to find an apartment in the city, that it was next to impossible to find one with parking, and a fool’s errand to even think that I‘d ever find a place that would allow a dog. Even Brian was not very encouraging.
Nonetheless, I ventured forth that morning mustering as much optimism as I could, and first responded to a “For Rent“ sign that I saw on a building on Upper Market; a perfect location, too bad that the apartment was not located anywhere near the sign. The landlady hopped into my Datsun, and directed me on a long circuitous route to a tiny old house on a hillside, that had been converted to two small apartments.
The one available was on the back, and the views were so spectacular it was difficult to focus on the apartment itself, but focus I did … it was a dump. Even if I had liked the place I couldn’t have rented it, because I doubt I would ever have been able to find my way back there. As I later learned it is called Excelsior, an area that was destined to become a regular part of my life. All that aside, I moved to San Francisco to live in the city … well, not downtown but not out in the boondocks either. Somewhere convenient to The Castro would be nice.
The next place that I visited was a three story apartment building, running for about a half block west on the north side of Clipper Street, from the corner of Douglas; on a hillside overlooking Noe Valley. There was a vacancy on the first level. There was secure, assigned garage parking. They allowed a dog. The apartment itself was a cookie cutter one bedroom, the bedroom facing Clipper. The living room and dining area were in the typical “L” layout, created by putting the kitchen in one corner of the square space.
Both living and dining faced north, and had a drop-dead gorgeous view of the eastern slope of Twin Peaks, downtown, Noe Valley, Noe Hill, and to the east a panorama all the way to the bay … there was a big picture window and a sliding glass door that framed it all perfectly. Both opened onto a narrow balcony cum fire escape, or fire escape cum balcony, which was not actually a selling point, but nice to have a little outdoor space.
The only downside was the carpeting. Clean, not new but in good condition, in a rather tacky two-tone lime/olive green circa 1960s. With that view though, no one would be looking at the carpet. Not that I needed any more convincing that this was the place … it was just over the hill (albeit a big hill) from The Castro, and the rent was fifty bucks less a month than I had been planning to pay! By three that afternoon the lease was signed, and the apartment would be ready in three weeks (ADDRESS #23).
When Brian returned from work that evening he asked how I made out, and when I told him I had rented a place he was in a state of shock. “Nobody finds an apartment in this city in one day!” he said. “Actually,” I said, “It was more like four hours.” You know we had to go out and celebrate that night, but I restrained myself. With that hurdle surmounted and the three week time frame imposed, the next day I found my way to a U-Haul store where I rented a storage locker for a month, and unloaded my truck. Keeping my IBM Selectric with me, along with the business materials I had been working on since August.
Brian was a gracious host, and quite generous with his spacious studio and bed (there was only one), but as Ray and Mal always said, “Friends and fish stink after three days!” That seemed good counsel. There was no way I would impose on Brian’s hospitality for three weeks, and I certainly didn’t want to leave Daffy in the lockup that long. So I found temporary accommodations for me and my dog, at the Alfa Inn on Lombard Street (AKA motel row) in the Marina, at a reasonable weekly rate.
The next day I got settled there, then went and bailed out Daffy. It was a heartwarming reunion, including a walk on the beach in Pacifica before we went to our temporary home. Then down to work. First I went to the phone company, and had to make an appointment for 45 minutes later. Went across the street to a sandwich shop, run by a Chinese fellow, and ordered a ham and cheese.
At first I was impressed with how thick the sandwich was, but once I picked it up I knew something was amiss. The bread slices just squeezed together. The sandwich only had one slice of cheese and two of ham, one of the ham slices had been folded over six or more times, and then laid on the diagonal along which the fellow had cut. So there were six or seven layers of ham, all but one were only a half inch wide. Needless to say I felt cheated, and never forgot it … obviously!
Back in August I had rented a private mail box on Castro Street, so I already had what would be my business address, and once finished at the phone company I left with a phone number, and a tentative date for installation three weeks hence. On to the printers. Ordered letterhead, introductory letters, business cards, and envelopes, the latter being the top priority. They needed addressing, and my mailing list was about five hundred.
My time at Alpha Inn was productive, typing addresses on envelopes, taking Daffy for walks, getting more familiar with the hot spots in town … some of the hot men … and shopping for furniture. Not buying yet but selecting and pricing. By the time the apartment was ready my mailing was ready as well, sending to interior designers, decorators, furniture stores, window coverings retailers and workrooms, etc., announcing my measuring, specifying, and installing services. My letter had indicated that I planned to stop by in the near future to introduce myself in person, but I never got the chance … the phone started ringing and I was in business!
My new home took shape rather quickly, and it was really quite fun almost starting from scratch. For the living room I bought an off-white sofa in Haitian cotton, and an off-white rag rug to go in front of it, defining the area and covering some of the green wall-to-wall. My bentwood rock was light and easy to disassemble, so it had made the trip from Rhode Island. The chrome-and-glass coffee table was pushing it in the weight department, but disassembled it took almost no space, so it too make the cut and it looked great on the rug.
Although not actually light-weight, just practical, my large family heirloom-ish antique trunk made it as well, full, and served as a great end table; just needed a lamp. For the dining room I had bought a round oak table, which matched perfectly with the two foldable and easy-to-squeeze-in oak director’s chairs also from Rhode Island … the nicest director’s chairs that I have ever seen before or since.
After removing the hideous standard-apartment-issue draperies and rods from the window and slider, I became a window coverings specialist with naked windows … just that fantastic view! With a couple of pieces of art on the walls (moving 3000 miles with just one pickup truck full was a very effective filter) it was a minimalist look, compared to my years of clutter, and a rather refreshing change. A bookcase, a small two-piece desk with chair, all teak and veneer from Scandinavia Designs, turned one corner of the bedroom into an office. Finally a new queen-size bed and night table, and this new-boy-in-town was ready for … “entertaining!”
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