On Leaving San Francisco…Converse All Stars, High Rents and the Fillmore Jazz Fest

Um, yeah...right.
Um, yeah…right.

I was standing outside the Converse All Star Store on Market Street in San Francisco when it became clear to me it was again, time to leave this city.  The sign in the store window yelled, “SHOES ARE BORING! WEAR SNEAKERS!” in large, capitalized letters and behind this sign stood an equally loud, colorful scream of red sneakers, white sneakers and blue, all arranged on the wall to form a huge American flag of Converse, Chuck Taylor All Stars. It was a catching display, big and bright and then further inside the store, large banners did their turn, celebrating the rebelliousness of the shoes themselves, of the purchasing, owning and living in these shoes (or…sneakers) and what doing so might say about you and your lifestyle, about who you really are and hey…you know, you can step right inside and go to the “Create lab” and with the able help of a “Maestro,” actually design your own sneakers while playing “loud raucous tunes” to further express your unique individuality in their biggest store ever for the low, low price of $75.00! Yes-sir! Express all that you are, and can be:

With. Fucking. Footwear.

Yes sir, time to fucking go…Converse told me so, reminding me clearly of the power held in reputations and the potential emptiness existing below their surface. Them All Star’s got a reputation, an individuality image and so does San Francisco, often defined round here as: “Kook City,” and that is only one example. Some also consider it the land of gay rights, gay marriage and the Castro, or maybe it’s the hippies in the Haight (smaller in number, but still there). It’s known as a liberal playground of civil rights, of compassion and care, as the land of a truly progressive politics that tries to see the big picture for the benefit of everybody. Good lord, by reputation alone this is clearly not a city in America, it’s a nation unto itself, a utopian peninsula where the best of American liberalism has taken it upon itself to finally shine from the Pacific Ocean to San Francisco Bay.

Yeah. Okay…right.

Honestly, if any of that was ever really true, it’s bullshit level has been increasing exponentially the past five years or so, leaving a lot of longtime residents disillusioned about the myths they chose to believe in, kinda like the people who buy into that All Star reputation as some sort of independent status symbol only to later discover the black death of child factory footwear, Nike, bought out the whole chain years ago. Oops.

And who bought San Francisco?

Well, the San Francisco of today is real estate developers and speculators flipping properties and evicting people to work around rent control. It is tech companies getting tax breaks to stay in town while they make money hand over fist. It is the gearing of an entire city towards a luxury class while our compassionate citizens, lead by story after story in the Chronicle demonizing panhandlers and the homeless, help enact a set of brutal homeless laws that make it a crime to sleep in a park or sit down on a sidewalk. It is a wealth gap forming like a canyon between the quite well off and those unable to afford even the most basic needs, continuing an ever-increasing homelessness while the city also cuts shelter beds and mental health support in the same shelters. It is a glut of tech workers moving in and greedy landlords going batshit insane, raising rents to a place where the average rent for a one bedroom apartment in San Francisco is around $2400 dollars and at those prices, now left out of the new San Francisco are such mainstream salaries as teachers, nurses, cops, social workers and city employees (just to name a few) all being forced out by these high rents, forced to commute in from the East Bay or go away altogether. Right now, I pay $1000 a month for a tiny studio in one of the worst neighborhoods in the city. The only reason my rent has stayed so low over the past couple of years is rent control. New rentals in my building now go for $1,450 dollars, and by market rates this is still pretty cheap. If I were to be evicted I would have to leave this city, no longer able to afford it and I work a professional job, and that’s a fucking powerless feeling, and Jesus Christ, what if you were dumb enough to be here with fucking children? How do you put down roots knowing if your landlord decides he’s had enough of owning his building and sells to the speculators constantly knocking on his door with ever increasing offers, you would have to abandon everything?

Yeah, even childless, I say fuck that.

And that’s a big part of the problem, a lot of people are saying “fuck that.” People like…the aforementioned teachers and nurses, but also the musicians, artists, designers and writers. So many are leaving, and though many have tried Oakland…Oakland is now going the way of San Francisco and as their rents keep climbing, it too is being abandoned. The cultural center of San Francisco is hollowing out, leaving behind a shell of wealthy techies and other higher paying professionals who run around this playground trying hard not to get bored while people commute in from all over the Bay Area to serve them doing retail, restaurant, hotel and other service jobs.

Let them have tips. Let them eat cake.

That’s not a city.

It’s a pretty fiefdom of entitled, dull dilettantes wearing Google Glass and buying eight dollar cups of coffee. It’s a place that hosts the America’s Cup boat races. It’s the land of foodies and food snobs, and so many of the (new and old) wealthy entitled. Now, this doesn’t mean the city’s all bad, and not even bad for me. I love my job, the Bay, the views and the movie houses. I enjoy how most bands on tour stop here, the hills, the never-ending series of taquerias (I have a favorite in every neighborhood in the city and can recite them like poetry). These are all good things, but it’s not enough anymore. Not for me and not for many others, and certainly not when you have other options because everything I like about this town is also available somewhere else. Even one of the strongest reputations San Francisco is known for is losing it’s luster; the city may still be a gay mecca of sorts, but the country’s changing and is it really anymore of a Mecca than many other cities? Even the famed Castro neighborhood is now filled with families complaining about the noise of a scene they once were a part of, back before they decided to get married and adopt kids. It’s all changing. The reputation has expired. One hanging dick from some naked guy on Folsom street no longer makes you “Kook City” when your city council actually went to the trouble to outlaw nudity. Little by little, the unique character of the city gets stripped away. Hell, they even kicked the chess players off of Market Street, stating they (were homeless) attracted crime. The Castro Halloween party? Gone. The Lusty Lady? Gone too. The long trite phrase “Only in San Francisco” becomes vain and rather pointless when there’s far crazier and far friendlier shenanigans happening in Austin, Chicago, New York, New Orleans, Denver, Pittsburg and Seattle…just to name a few. Oh, and with the exception of New York, I can actually afford to live in all of those other cities (and many more) and much more comfortably, and with a much cleaner conscience, especially when I know that the guy who got my coffee or made my tacos or helped me find that book in the bookstore is actually living in the same city I am…maybe more difficultly than in the past but he or she is still there.

But not in San Francisco, here they would need several roommates in their studio to try it, and even then they still couldn’t afford a pair of fucking All Stars.

One more example: a couple of weeks ago, they had the Filmore Jazz Festival. The Fillmore District in San Francisco is a legendary neighborhood once known as the “Harlem of the West.” It was where Louis Armstrong played, where Coltrane, Charlie Parker, Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday performed in the clubs and shopped at many black owned businesses, historically important and culturally iconic. Every year, they still hold the Fillmore Street Jazz Festival in the district, but today Fillmore Street is a fucking joke, a collection of high end shops, pricy eateries and a Starbucks on every block. The only reason one might ever know the history of the neighborhood is by spotting a banner that hangs off a light pole when you walk out of the Mac cosmetic store or the cute little homemade organic soap shop. They might call it the “Jazz District,” but that’s about as accurate as referring to the famed Cable Cars as anything but a tourist trap. In truth, the Fillmore is nothing but  a series of cosmetic stores and clothing boutiques punctuated by the occasional artisan cafe all tailored to the new gentry of yuppies and other assorted professionals who can somehow afford the exorbitant rents.

And this is your new San Francisco.

Many people like it. These people often own and work in tech companies and/or own a lot of property, or maybe they own high end restaurants or shops that sell five hundred dollar handbags, three hundred dollar pairs of sunglasses or expensive organic food. The CEO of Apple? He fucking loves San Francisco but the people who work at the Apple Store…not so much. They all live in fucking Pleasanton or with their three roommates in Oakland or in their rent controlled studio hoping the owner of the building doesn’t decide to Ellis Act their ass and kick them to the streets so he can flip the building and double or triple the rent on new tenants. Cities change. I get it. I can accept that, and sometimes you roll with that change or you decide that the dissonance between what a city claims to be is too great from what it actually is and you get the fuck out. Sometimes you take a look around you and just get disappointed, and then maybe you even get bitter and start doing your research and realize how places do exist in this country that actually are what San Francisco (still) claims to be…

Growing up I used to wear Converse All Stars. Great fucking shoes…I mean, sneakers, but then they got bought out by Nike and the prices for them tripled over time and their reputation became only that to me, a reputation and I moved on…to shoes that didn’t define me, but were authentic and affordable and they’re fucking shoes! Who fucking cares! It’s not a lifestyle.

It’s. Fucking. Footwear.

And San Francisco is just a city, just another city, not really all that special anymore and sometimes, it even feels kind of ugly being here so very soon, it’s off to Chicago again and yes, I understand it suffers from many of the same problems as San Francisco but it’s way better off for a few reasons: hell 0f a lot more room to maneuver, it’s still affordable, there’s a real chance they might kick Rahm Emanuel the fuck out of there and maybe most important of all…it’s a hell of a lot easier to get to New Orleans from Chicago than it is from San Francisco. And I really love New Orleans too, despite what’s happening in the Bywater, and you know? Maybe because of what’s happening in the Bywater, you can bet your ass I’ll be watching for any sign of a Converse store on Canal or Magazine and if that should start to happen, I’ll be ready…

It’s only fifteen hours by car from Chicago to NOLA and even though I don’t smoke anymore, I seem to always have a lighter around and I’m betting that shoes burn a lot easier than a reputation, no matter how empty.

Have a nice day.

Advertisements

Saints vs. Carolina, and Michael Jordan, and Barack Obama…

Beat Carolina for the city of New Orleans and California's medicinal marijuana...

Yes, I love the New Orleans Saints…but of equal important in this week’s game are the following five simple facts:

1. I hate Michael Jordan.

2. Michael Jordan is involved with the Charlotte Bobcats, located in the same city as the Panthers.

3. Micheal Jordan used to play for UNC, a college located very close to Charlotte.

4. I’m assuming that since Michael Jordan is so associated with all things North Carolina, he would be rooting for the Panthers today.

5. Did I already say I hate Michael Jordan?

Sure do, can’t stands the man, and so many reasons exist its hard to really know where to begin…but I shall try, oh yes I shall…okay, for starters, I used to work in a shoe store, back in the era of Air Jordan and the Chicago Bulls, back when these shoes were so outrageously expensive kids were killing kids for these shoes and you had Mr. Air Jordan at the time, not only saying little to nothing about it, but certainly doing nothing to work with the Nike company to lower the prices of the shoes. Nope, no way…Jordan was obviously HUGE at the time and could have applied a great deal of pressure on Nike. Yes-sir, he had to make a choice, he had to choose between being a role model, an advocating member of a community and dare I say, an activist of sorts, use his seemingly infinite celebrity for the good of humankind…or, he could play basketball, shut up so as not to cause any waves, and collect bigger and bigger endorsement checks.

He chose to get paid.

Rodney King and the riots? Same thing…if Jordan had opened his mouth and tried to speak out, tried to stop the violence, maybe it might have accomplished something, or maybe not…in any case, he said nothing, he did nothing…except to remain Teflon, remain mute, remain non-controversial, bland as bland can be so that his marketability could remain unaffected…

Paid.

And turns out he needed to, what with all the gambling…oh, and the utter lack of tipping…remember those stories? One of my regulars when I was bartending in the Quarter worked the poker rooms at Harrahs and he was working a night when Jordan, Patrick Ewing and Charles Barkley came in. Jordan lost over a hundred thousand dollars gambling with his fellow all-stars for hours and the story from my regular was how Jordan tipped nothing. Ewing and Barkley gave him shit for it apparently, and Ewing actually doubled his own tips to try to make up for Jordan’s complete lack of…

Paid.

Sure, tipping ain’t required of anybody, but anyone who’s ever worked in the service industry, especially in places like New Orleans, one knows those tips make all the difference in the world.

Paid.

Well, I’m also from the Chicago area, as people who read this website know, and being in Chicago, Jordan’s specter still looms all over this place, like Ditka or Harry Carey and when you have the misfortune of hating all the local sports teams…Jordan’s forever presence can be pretty damned annoying, especially when you already don’t like the guy. I mean, Jesus…oh, and now I gotta deal with his whole Obama thing. His picture is freaking everywhere, another Chicagoan and in his case, one of the biggest political sell-outs of all time…like his latest, this whole crackdown on medicinal marijuana in California…what an unbelievable asshole. Bottom line on this is to simply follow the money. US Attorneys talk about California pot crops supplying the nation and how the medicinal marijuana industry is the cover?

Right…

It’s the cartels…you want to talk cover?

Blaming California as the marijuana supplier for the country is the Feds cover, it’s Obama’s cover for doing yet more favors for Big Pharma, their patent laws and profits. You see, Big Pharma has a less effective marijuana pill called Marinol, which they can patent because it’s a pill and the lab work necessary to make it a pill, makes it possible to patent, and therefore control and profit from. Medicinal marijuana, however, is a plant, a natural plant, and you can’t patent a natural plant, therefore Big Pharma cannot patent it, control it, or profit from it, therefore all the medicinal marijuana dispensaries cut into their profits from Marinol.

That is, until Obama steps in to shut down the industry, essentially doing precisely what he said as recently as two years ago, he wouldn’t do. What? Obama caves again to big money, in a campaign season? Big surprise, so what the hell else is new?

Like I said, what a duplicitous asshole.

And pictures of this jack-ass are all over Chicago, just like Jordan…the same Michael Jordan, Mr. North Carolina…and I’m sure Barack Obama, he’s at least been to the state, if not Charlotte a few times…you know, so it’s total guilt by association, by proximity…so yeah, another glorious New Orleans Saints victory today will not only be a victory for the city of New Orleans, but by proxy and a twisted sense of logic, a wondrous defeat of both Michael Jordan’s greedy, non-tipping ass, and Barack Obama’s traitorous ways which this time will keep cancer sufferers, suffering, all so Salvoy Chemical and Abbot Labs can get paid for their Marinol, a far less effective product.

So come on New Orleans, in the words of Al Davis, “Just win, baby…”

Enjoy the game.

Damn right, who dat!