San Francisco

Jack London would probably never have eaten at most of the restaurants in the square which bears his name. It’s hard to picture Jack diving into a plate of frozen jalapeno poppers at T.G.I. Friday’s. I can’t visualize him in a generic franchise like the Spaghetti Warehouse, nor in the neo-cuteness of Hahn’s Hibachi. Sandwiches and pastries at Barnes and Noble would have been out of the question.

Across the Embarcadero, however, in the 60’s modern Jack London Inn, there exists a corner coffee shop which might very well have been to his liking. Alternately known as Kelly’s and the Jack London Coffee Shop, this is one of my favorite spots in the Bay Area.

The menu ranges from diner standards to soul food. Meats include amazing pork chops, meat loaf, fried catfish, barbecue, and chicken in a basket. They also serve a pretty fair hamburger. The real stars, though, are the vegatables. A “greens plate” at $5.50 includes collard greens, yams, macaroni and cheese and two other sides. This plate can also be combined with a meat for a mega-meal.

The place hasn’t been remodeled since about 1962, which is a big plus for yer humble host. Aqua booths and counter stools, colorful tiles, and a giant map of old Oakland are the decor. There’s a pretty interesting-looking bar connected.

I’ve hit the place several times with Dan the ex-roomie and once with co-conspirator Sarah. She had chicken. She was amused. Turns out my regular waitress is now one of the owners too. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.

Sunday is the best time to visit, to catch all the dinner specials which attract the after-church trade. Service is sometimes a bit sluggish, but it’s worth the wait. We hope Kelly’s never changes. It’s one more antedote to the cuteness which is swallowing San Francisco and the Bay Area.

Kelly’s Coffee Shop, Jack London Inn, Broadway at Embarcadero, Oakland.
Open 24 hours. Some credit cards accepted.

After living in the strange place known as San Francisco for a few years, we begin to take a lot of things for granted. I’m not just talking about the food, the weather, etc. I’m talking about some really strange shit. Things that people outside the city might find truly bizarre, but that we don’t even question.

For example, there are damned few American cities where an ad campaign featuring a giant pot leaf (the kind we used to draw on our notebooks in high school) would draw no incredulous looks when plastered on city buses all over town. The product is some hemp-enhanced shampoo, but the icon is unmistakeable. This ad (and probably this product) wouldn’t fly in, say, Charlotte or Oklahoma City.

Marijuana smokers aren’t outlaws here. Cigarette smokers are.

San Francisco is the sort of place where someone in full drag on Market Street draws no stares and where someone walking down the street in an army uniform is assumed to be en route to a gay bar. Here, the controversy is not over whether to have a gay parade, but over how may points in the Kinsey continuum should be included in the name of the parade.

We don’t argue about whether or not sex clubs should exist, but about how closely the city should monitor them. People here discuss their sex lives with an openness which might make even New Yorkers blush.

San Franciscans use terms like “liberating” and “negative energy” and “inner child” without even a trace of irony. San Franciscans think terms like “lesbian – gay – bisexual – transgendered – questioning” roll effortlessly off the tongue.

In San Francisco, people ask “do you drive?” or “do you have a car?” In most parts of the country, the question is skipped because the answer is just assumed. Transit trauma has replaced “my car wouldn’t start” as the primary exucse for being late to work. In many circles, people who DO have cars are viewed as the oddities.

People here take road trips to the suburbs to go to Target or Pak-n-Save. It’s a really big production, not a daily way of life.

No one here finds it the least bit strange that it’s easier to buy imported coffee than to buy a hammer, or that juice bars outnumber drugstores in many neighborhoods. We take it for granted that we’re never far from a nice Peruvian or Laotian resturant, but finding a meat and two vegetables for under ten bucks is all but impossible.

It’s not “liberal vs. conservative” here. It’s more “libertarian vs. socialist vs. communist”.

The strangest thing, though, is that people here have an annoying tendency to forget that things ARE different here. We forget that minority groups are more worried about keeping their jobs and homes than about which terms urban white liberals use to “empower” them. We are shocked and appalled when small-town diners don’t have our favorite brand of “imported from God knows where” coffee.

We can’t understand why most of the country couldn’t give a flying fuck about how our Board of Supervisors condemned the heinous injustice in Burkina Faso or Brunei last week. We can’t believe that the Des Moines city council didn’t pass the same resolution and thank us for the idea.

We can’t cope with the fact that most of the world does not share our eccentricities. It’s nice that we’re a little bit odd in San Francisco. It would be even nicer if we could remember that we’re a little bit odd in San Francisco.

Yer humble host has now managed to collect a grand total of 93 episodes of “The Streets of San Francisco” on tape. Should make for a strange weekend-long marathon party. Ot at least for an interesting page of video captures soon.

Thanks to Mark for lunch yesterday, and to Jay for the amazing Chick-fil-A calendar (with coupons yet). More thanks to Grant for the 1972-era urban planning textbook aimed at third graders (look for copyright infringements soon on this page).

While I’m at it, post-Christmas thanks to Mom and Dad for the care package which included two boxes of Count Chocula. Thanks to Sarah for the cool Sid and Marty Kroft book and to Dan for the Quisp T-shirt. Am I forgetting anyone?

By the way, you too could be mentioned here. Just give me cool stuff. I have no ethics.

Here’s today’s link du jour. They didn’t give me anything.

I know what you’re thinking, but I promise I had absolutely nothing to do with the protesters who hit Mayor Willie Brown in the face with a pie. Mind you, I completely support their protest against the “economic cleansing” of San Francisco. And I completely support anything which makes Emperor Willie the Pompous appear foolish.

I’m just pissed off that I didn’t think of it first.

There are, as yet, no pictures or journals from Road Trip 98. However, I have added a Statistics page, with some useless information, “best of” items, etc. Look for the real scoop within the next couple of days.

I’m going back to bed now.