More Middle of the Street Photos

In the first shot, we look down California Street, towards the Bay Bridge. If you look closely between the buildings, you can see part of the suspension section of the bridge.

The California Street Cable Car line is probably less well known than the Hyde-Powell line, but in a way is more fun because - depending on which way you're going - you find yourselves in the middle of a rousing downhill or uphill ride with terrific views. And because it's less well known, it's also a lot easier to get on than the more famous route.





The second shot was taken while standing on the waiting station for the vintage streetcars which now travel the length of Market Street, up to the Embarcadero, and along the Pier to Fisherman's Wharf.

In the distance you can see the Ferry building. This shot would not have been possible from 1958-1991, because the late and unlamented Embarcadero Freeway would have blocked the view of the building. As aficionados of the city are well aware, the much-hated freeway was torn down after suffering severe damage during the Loma Prieta earthquake in October 1989.

Hold Your Horses, I'm Trying To Take A Photo Here

A view of the Transamerica Pyramid, taken from the middle of an intersection on Columbus Avenue.

Don't worry - the light was red, and I was never in danger (not as if that's a concern of anyone, but still...).

This seemed like such a bizarre structure when it was built in the late 1960s (I remember that my parents absolutely hated it, and they were long-time lovers of the city), but you hardly hear anyone even mention it anymore. It's just there, and it fits in with the surroundings.

Random Olympic Notes

- I have real trouble staying up until midnight to watch. So I missed what may prove to be the most exciting moment in the entire games, the U.S. victory in the 4 x 100 freestyle relay. Oh well. It's not as if they're showing it live or anything.

- I don't get synchronized sports. Diving is an improvement over swimming, but I still don't get it. No disrespect intended.

- Alain Bernard? Welcome to the annals of all-time sports losers. Tough break, dude. Should have kept your big mouth shut. Or won to back it up.

- Yeah, those girls on China's gymnastics team are 16. Not.

- My patience for judged sports wanes with each Olympics.

- Beach volleyball? Not that exciting.

- Michael Phelps, you get my vote for Sportsman of the Year.

- Can't wait for track and field.

Pub

Some of the best restaurants and bars in San Francisco can be found in the alleys. Hard to find, unless you know where to look.

This is not one that I'm familiar with, but as we were heading back to the hotel after a long day's walk, it caught my eye as we were walking down Sutter Street. Based on how well it's hidden, you can almost be certain that it would be worth the trip.

Vesuvio

Vesuvio, on Columbus Street at Jack Kerouac Alley, is full of history and great martinis.

And this mural, on the side of the building, contains some of the best advice you'll ever receive.

I've been in this bar, but not on this trip...again, those pesky kids getting in the way. But it is well worth the trip.

The full transcription, in case it is too difficult to read:




When the shadow the of the grasshopper
Falls across the trail of the field mouse
On green and slimey grass as a red sun rises
Above the western horizon silhouetting
A gaunt and tautly muscled Indian warrior
Perched with bow and arrow cocked and aimed
Straight at you it's time for another martini

...indeed.

The Bars of San Francisco

Like most great cities of a certain size, San Francisco has its share of great bars. Therefore, the theme of today's posts is "The Bars of San Francisco," which is probably where Karl Malden and Michael Douglas spent a lot of time after long days filming on location.

First up, the Buddha Bar on Grant Avenue, in Chinatown. I really wanted to run in and have a quick one, but alas, we were on a walk with the kids, and a good martini should be savored - not quaffed as if it were a boilermaker.

Isaac Hayes on Stax

Most of the Isaac Hayes obituaries and tributes I've read today have mentioned "Shaft" and his role as "Chef" on South Park, so I thought I'd pay tribute with two absolutely classic soul songs, which he wrote with songwriting partner David Porter, that became huge worldwide hits for Sam & Dave.

Trust me...you've heard them.

Views of Chinatown

Gateway to Chinatown

I've been to San Francisco countless times in my life. When I was growing up, a trip to the city was a special occasion, and usually meant a trip to the Zoo, a walk through Chinatown, and then over to Fisherman's Wharf, for dinner at Fisherman's Grotto No. 9.

Debra and I spent part of our honeymoon in the city in 1987, and then took an annual trip up until the time that Son #1 was born in 1990. After that the trips became a little more intermittent, but we still tried to get there as often as we could.


When I started to work at my present job in 2004, that meant more trips to the city, because of its popularity as a conference site and its designation as a part of the annual conference rota for the Association where I work.

This trip was a lot of fun, and armed with my new Blackberry, I probably took more pictures than I had during the previous trips combined. Because we were there for just a couple of days, we didn't have time to hit every part of the city, but we managed to cover a lot of ground.

It's a great city. And it has a ton of character, but sometimes the character is lurking in the shadows of the places that you're focused on instead, because someone has told you that's what you need (or want) to see. This shot, I think, qualifies as both. I'm sure that millions of photos of this spot have been taken over the years, but it's still a great one (not my photo specifically, but the subject generally). It is the gateway to another world. And in the shots to follow, I tried to capture a bit of that atmosphere.

Stockton Tunnel

A view of the Stockton Tunnel, walking towards Chinatown.

Union Square

Walking towards Union Square, on Geary Street.















Macy's is celebrating a birthday - its 150th.















Did I mention that Macy's was celebrating a birthday?















Oh, it was 8-8-08. There was a Burma Day Celebration taking place in the square.

San Francisco Trip

The family just returned from a whirlwind trip to the San Francisco Bay Area, and many pictures are forthcoming.

You have been warned.

Heading Here...

and here:




















Back later...

"If You Weren't At Candlestick Park Tonight, Shame on You!"

It wasn't easy growing up as a San Francisco Giants fan in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Sure, there was Willie Mays and Willie McCovey, and the Giants made the playoffs in 1971, but aside from that there was a lot of heartbreak, and a lot of...well, let's call it like it was - bad baseball.

The Giants made a great run at the division championship in 1982, but fell just short in the last weekend when they dropped two out of three to the hated Dodgers. But the one they managed to win was also one of the greatest moments in Giants history: a Joe Morgan home run late in the game kept the Dodgers out of the playoffs, and sent the fans home delirious.

That great moment was followed by a few years of suckiness that makes what is going on today look good - at least now, we've got Tim Lincecum. Back then, it was pretty awful.

Things started to look up when Roger Craig came on as manager, late in the 1985 season. And in 1986, the Giants were probably the overachievers of the National League, managing to win 83 games when most experts expected them to come up far short of that. They had started to come up with some great players, most notably Will Clark at first base.

In 1987, the Giants showed early on that they were prepared to make a run at the division title. But it wasn't easy, and when August rolled around they were still in a dogfight with, among others, the defending division champ, the Houston Astros.

In early August of that year, the Astros came to Candlestick Park for a critical series. And on a Monday night, 10 August 1987, the two played what would turn out to be one of the most exciting games in Giants history. And tonight on Comcast Sports Net, they showed the game (not every second, but every moment that counted).

To set the stage, the Giants had fallen behind 4-1, and managed to claw back into the game in the seventh inning, scoring three runs to tie it up at 4-4. But then the Astros scored in the top of the eighth.

I was listening to the game on the radio, and my wife Debra - after hearing the swearing and the foot-stomping that resulted from the Giants dropping the lead - made a comment along the lines of "oh, don't worry - I'm sure the Giants will win in the 9th inning." Yeah, right. Like that ever happens.

In the ninth inning, the first batter was Candy Maldonado.

He hit a home run to tie the game.

The second batter was Will Clark.

He hit a home run to win the game.

Never again did I doubt Debra.

And on that night, Ron Fairly, the former Dodger who finally came to his senses and came over to the good Dark Side, uttered the immortal words, "If you weren't at Candlestick Park tonight, SHAME ON YOU!"

Well, I wasn't, but I was listening. And I can still remember it like it was yesterday.

With Apologies...The Jinx Lives On

Home Library: The Harlan Coben Section

The career of Harlan Coben can be divided into two parts: the first is the Myron Bolitar era, during which Coben wrote seven novels featuring sports agent Myron Bolitar and his best friend, the wealthy (and deadly) sociopath Windsor (Win) Horne Lockwood III. While such a thing may not be everyone’s cup of tea, a series of books about a sports agent (and former All-American basketball star at Duke) who solves crimes with the help of a wealthy sociopath and an assistant (later partner) who at one time had been one-half of the “Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling’s” world champion tag-team is my idea of a good time.

Through seven books, Myron, Win, Esperanza traded wisecracks, fought their way out of scrapes, and generally managed to figure out which way was up and solve whatever mystery had landed in their lap. The books included a host of colorful characters, including Myron’s parents, a couple of old-school gangsters known as the Ache brothers, and of course the professional athletes from all sports who somehow managed to find themselves in a heap of trouble, usually of their own making.

The passage that, above all others, proved to me that I would love these books appeared in “Deal Breaker,” Coben’s first. In the scene, Myron is trying to talk Herman Ache, the oldest and wisest of the Ache Brothers, into convincing his brother Frank that he (Frank) should drop the contract on Myron’s life. He’s not having much luck, until Win takes advantage of the fact that Herman has been practicing his golf swing during the entire conversation.

Win sat forward, moving for the first time. “Your club is too far open on your swing, Mr. Ache. Try turning your wrists a little more. Shift your grip to the right a little.”

The sudden change in subject caught everyone by surprise. Herman looked at Win. “I’m sorry. I never caught the name.”

“Windsor Horne Lockwood III.”

“Ah, so you are the immortal Win. Not exactly what I expected.” [Note: early in the book, Coben describes Win’s appearance as being the epitome of east-coast prep school]. He tested the new grip. “Feels odd.”

“Give it a few weeks, Win said. “Do you play often?”

“As often as I can. It’s more than just a game to me. It’s…”

“Sacred,” Win finished for him.

His eyes livened. “Exactly. You play, Mr. Lockwood?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing like it, is there?”

“Nothing,” Win agreed. “Where do you play?”

“Not easy for my kind to find good courses. I joined a club in Westchester. St. Anthony’s. You know it?”

“No.”

“It’s not much of a course. Eighteen holes, of course. Very rocky. You have to be half mountain goat.”

Golf stories. Myron loved them. Didn’t everyone?

“I don’t understand something,” Myron said, playing along. “With all your, uh, influence, why don’t you play anywhere you want?”

Herman and Win looked at him as though he were a naked infidel praying in the Vatican. “Excuse him,” Win said. “Myron does not understand golf. He thinks a nine iron is a vitamin supplement.”

Herman laughed. The hoods joined suit. Myron didn’t get it.

“I understand fine,” Myron said. “Golf is a bunch of silly-dressed men using massive tracts of real estate to play with a ball and stick.”

Myron laughed. No one joined suit. Golfers are not known for their sense of humor.

Herman put the club back in the bag. “A man does not force or buy or bully his way onto a golf course,” he explained. “I have too much respect for the game, for the traditions, to do anything so crass. It would be like putting a gun against a priest’s head to get the front pew.”

“Sacrilege,” Win said.

“Exactly. No real golfer would do it.”

“He has to be invited,” Win added.

“Right. And you don’t merely play a great course. You pay homage to it. I’d love to be invited to one of the world’s great courses. It would be my dream. But it is not meant to be.”

“How about being invited to two of them?” Win asked.

“Two…” Herman stopped. His eyes widened for a millisecond, then quickly dimmed as though afraid he was being teased. “What do you mean?”

Win pointed to a picture on the left wall. “Merion Golf Club,” he said. Then he pointed to a picture on the far wall. “And Pine Valley.”

“What about them?”

“I assume you’ve heard of them?”

“Heard of them?” Herman repeated. “They’re the top two courses on the East Coast, two of the best in the world. Go ahead, name any hole, either course.”

“Sixth hole at Merion.”

Herman’s face glowed like a little kid’s on Christmas morning. “One of the most underrated holes anywhere. It sets up with a semiblind tee-shot to a fairway that favors a soft fade. Start your tee-shot at middle bunker, then cut back to the center, keeping clear of the boundary, which comes in on the right. Long-to-middle iron to the modestly elevated green, careful of the bunkers on the left and right.”

Win smiled. “Very impressive.”

Snore.

“Don’t tell me, Mr. Lockwood, that you’ve played Merion and Pine Valley.” Something well past awe resonated in Herman’s voice.

“I’m a member of both.”

Herman inhaled sharply. Myron half-expected him to cross himself. “A member,” he began incredulously, “of both?”

“I’m a three handicap at Merion,” Win continued. “A five handicap at Pine Valley. And I’d like you to be my guest at both for a weekend. We’ll try to get in seventy-two holes a day, thirty-six at each course. We’ll start at five a.m. Unless that’s too early.”

Herman shook his head. Myron thought his eyes looked teary. “Not too early,” he managed.

“Next weekend okay for you?”

Herman picked up the phone. “Let the girl go,” he said. “And the contract is off. Anyone touches Myron Bolitar, they’re dead.”

If reading that doesn’t put a smile on your face, then these are probably not the books for you.

With “One False Move,” Coben began to take Myron and Win into darker territory, with greater personal stakes for Myron, in particular. But after “Darkest Fear,” the seventh Bolitar book, Coben tired of writing about Myron, and decided to try his hand at thrillers.

And he has succeeded, probably beyond his wildest dreams. The books he writes now are the kind that inspire clichés like “page turner,” “crackling spellbinder,” and “more twists and turns than an amusement park ride.” Though they’re all different, what they have in common is that nothing in them is ever quite as it seems. Even the most ordinary people have secrets, and the people who populate Coben’s thrillers have secrets – some going back as far as twenty years and more – that hold the potential to cause everything in the present to unravel.

Coben is an absolute master of capturing the reader with the very first chapter. Don’t take my word for it, read the first chapter of “Promise Me” (the return of Myron Bolitar, in a different kind of book) and see what you think.

You really can’t go wrong with the books of Harlan Coben.