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Wednesday, June 20, 2012
STATE OF THE CITY ADDRESS
The Big Red Guilt, And Fear In San Francisco
The Golden Gate Bridge on May 27, 2012, the 75th anniversary of its existence.
Omar P.L. Moore
by
Omar P.L. Moore/PopcornReel.com
FOLLOW
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
SAN FRANCISCO
There's no doubt: San Francisco is a splendid city. One of the most
beautiful places on earth. Picturesque, mysterious, this city is a
contradiction. It is as conservative as it is liberal, and as "tolerant"
as it is
hostile. It is diverse but it is not
diverse. It is a place with some distant and cold inhabitants. It is
a place with nice, warm, helpful people. In some ways it is a city more
distinctly American than any other city in the country. In other ways it
is as European a city as you can get.
My good friend, the gregarious and talented film critic Tim Gordon, playfully
dubs yours truly "The Mayor Of San Francisco" on his Thursday Internet radio
show
"Keeping It Reel". I chuckle every time
he says it, and while I mean no disrespect to Ed Lee,
the
non-fictional mayor of this great city, I think that if I were mayor
of this town it would look and feel a lot different than it is!
I'd start with increasing the black population of San Francisco from its present
4% level. (It was closer to 20-25% back in the 1950s and 60s before
property rents were hiked forcing out blacks, who moved to more affordable East
Bay cities like Oakland and Heyward.) As soon as my controversial "color
increase" initiative occurred in neighborhoods like the overwhelmingly white
Marina District its majority population would inevitably fly, up, up and away
just like
5th Dimension's "beautiful balloon".
I'd ban all San Francisco residents from owning BMWs and Mercedes if they
couldn't drive them properly. I'd ban bad drivers, period. (And
there are plenty of them here.) I'd ban bad pedestrians. Especially
the ones who read their phone screens while crossing the street. Why pay
attention to the world and what's going on around you when you can bury your
head in your iPhone and risk getting hit by a somnambulist busy driving through
red lights, stop signs and pedestrian crossings?
I'd outlaw San Francisco Police Department laxness toward solving crime.
I'd ban police officers in the city from stopping at donut places on numerous
streets especially streets in the Marina. And if I was on enough crack
cocaine to think that would stir the wrath of the police unions I'd limit donut
consumption to two donuts per shift. By the way, there's a very good
police officer in San Francisco that I know, a beat officer who doesn't
beatdown. One of the nicest, most straightforward people you'll ever meet.
By contrast I've had a police officer here elbow me fairly hard twice for no
good reason I can think of. No good reason.
Back to my mayoral initiatives: I'd limit corporate encroachment into areas
where small businesses and family businesses operate. Namely everywhere.
I'd ban myself from being mayor on Saturdays and Sundays. Except in
emergency situations.
I'd dedicate any wasted taxpayer money to reopening the
Zodiac case that was closed here in 2004.
I'd sign a law specifying dog leashes to be no longer than four feet from dog
collar to human wrist. (If you're too tall, too bad.) I'd sign an
ordinance prohibiting people from wearing all-black clothing at night (after 8pm
in the summer, after 5pm in the winter.) A $500 fine for any and all
offenders. I'd mandate people in San Francisco to say hello to each other.
I'd outlaw fake smiles. I'd give extra tax breaks to people who are nice,
genuine and helpful. I'd fine people on buses who aggressively shout "step
down!" to tourists (some of whom don't speak English) who want to exit the
midsection or back doors of the local
Muni bus, but who are unfamiliar with the
reality that one has to walk down the steps for the back doors of a Muni bus to
automatically open.
Heck, I'd be a horrible, shitty mayor. Wouldn't I? (Laughing my head
off at the thought.) With policies like those outlined here I'd have lots
of enemies.
Double shitty.
The following however, isn't shitty so much as it is true: like many American
cities, the fear in some people in San Francisco is evident. You see it in
some people's eyes. Apprehension. Nervousness. Anxiety.
Eye contact in parts of this city is a no-no. Some live in their own
invented, pretentious, smug, snooty, self-sanctified worlds. At 6 am in
some parts of San Francisco on occasion a person will suddenly cross the street
if you and they are the only two people on the same sidewalk and gradually
approaching each other. Avoidance.
I don't think these observations are spoken out of any paranoia that either
myself or Will Smith's "Enemy Of The State" character may (or may not) have.
That early top-of-the-morning crossover dribble in the pants across the street
to the "safer haven" of that opposing sidewalk wasn't someone crossing to it for
convenience sake, at least not sometimes.
In other words, you can feel the fear.
During a recent conversation with a benevolent bus driver I told a rudely
interrupting stranger just what I've just written about in the previous
paragraph. She couldn't believe it. Then: "Really? It's racist
here? I know it's a very white city but..." Her voice trailed off.
If she looked in the mirror she would readily agree with me that she was white.
(After listening to me go on about these subjects that are rarely discussed in
public in mixed company I would assume she remains white.) She told me,
perhaps awkwardly if not misguidedly, to go and live in the South, since, as she
overheard me say the following to the bus driver before she verbally encroached:
"the South is a lot nicer where its people's everyday pleasantries and
genuineness is concerned than Northern California is."
Still, I love San Francisco. Like anyone who loves and admires the place
in which they live I also criticize it. People have asked me why I live
here. I think it is a silly question to ask. Why does anyone live
anywhere?
As a city, at least on the surface (read: cosmetically) San Francisco is having
a great year.
The country's longest running international film festival
ended with a fantastic closing night of festivities last month. The Golden
State Warriors
will build a new arena here. The U.S.
Open golf championship was here last week. Matt Cain of the San Francisco
Giants baseball club pitched the team's first perfect game in its 128-year
franchise history last week. There may yet be a World Series game hosted
here come October.
America's Cup events will be held here in
August, with the finals here next year.
The homeless remain here year round. The mentally ill too. Little is
being done by the city to adequately assist them.
San Francisco. My heart is here. Tony Bennett
left his heart here. Some forget to
bring manners and social graces here. The old argument is that all the
rude and nasty people who happen to live in San Francisco, the rude ones being a
small but distinct group, are from somewhere else, notably Los Angeles. I
don't think that argument holds much water. After all, no American in
America is from America, except of course, the Native Americans themselves.
I've never lived in Los Angeles. I know, don't tell me: it is a
pretentious, sprawling beautiful oasis of self-aggrandizement and
my-BMW-is-better-than-yours narcissism, right? People I know often tell me
that Angelenos are sunny and at least have a smile ready even if they are
pretentious folk. I've been to L.A. many times. Several years ago
minutes after I attended the announcement of the Oscar nominations, in a parking
lot not far from the Samuel Goldwyn Auditorium, a woman, unprompted, haughtily
told me she was Jack Nicholson's assistant. I guess it's
impossible to ask for a perfect scenario no matter where you live in the world.
Which abruptly brings me to my own sense of guilt.
That May 27, 2012 type guilt.
The above date was the
75th anniversary of the Golden Gate Bridge.
Celebrations of this grand spectacle of construction were held. That
Sunday in San Francisco was unbeatable.
Yet there was another event nearby that was unavoidable, and sadly one not
nearly as well attended.
The exhibit by the Bridge Rail
Foundation on May 27, 2012. The Golden Gate Bridge is at top right hand
corner.
Omar P.L. Moore
Less than three minutes' drive from the Golden Gate Bridge was an impromptu
memorial exhibit of 1,558 pairs of shoes, symbolic footwear representing the
number of people who ended their own lives by jumping from the bridge.
"The Bridge",
an unforgettable documentary by director/cinematographer Eric Steelberg goes
into some unsettling detail about the many suicide attempts and successes.
A member of the
Bridge Rail Foundation wearing a black t-shirt
with "1,558" on its back told me that Kevin Hines, a man who several years ago
had jumped from the bridge and realized on the way down that he made a terrible
mistake, and later survived, was walking nearby. He pointed out Mr. Hines
to me. My initial impulse was to walk over to Mr. Hines (also featured in
"The Bridge") to talk to him and ask him about his thoughts about the 75th
anniversary of the very bridge he jumped from. A split-second later I
decided that it was inappropriate. I didn't bother approaching.
When the amazing fireworks popped off the bridge just hours later I was wowed
but feeling guilty to be celebrating a bridge from which so many had chosen to
end their lives. I had mixed feelings at best, even as I snapped photos
and video. Why I was feeling guilt I don't truly know, but it was an
uncomfortable feeling.
Don't get me wrong: San Francisco has been through so much over the last
100-plus years, including
1989. It is a resilient city. It
is an excellent city, yet it can be even better than that.
The
fireworks extravaganza on the Golden Gate Bridge 75th anniversary on May 27,
2012.
Omar P.L. Moore
COPYRIGHT 2012. POPCORNREEL.COM. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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