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To: portage who wrote (25745)3/30/2001 12:00:25 PM
From: JakeStraw  Respond to of 49843
 
Only spooky if ya believe in that kinda stuff. It's just like my office building doesn't have a 13th floor...



To: portage who wrote (25745)3/30/2001 8:14:50 PM
From: SIer formerly known as Joe B.  Respond to of 49843
 
Places in Time
A toast to the Bay Area's
historic 20th
century-and-still-going
watering holes
sfgate.com

Sally McGrane, Special to the Chronicle

Wednesday, March 28,
2001



From post-earthquake to post-war to
post-sexual revolution, the Bay
Area's last 100 years have been
raucous ones, filled with colorful
characters who often spent their time
- lots of it - in equally colorful bars,
cafes and "eating establishments."
Most of these places are gone with
the wind, but many are still going
strong, maintaining their link to
earlier eras while catering to
contemporary tastes.

You can still experience greater San
Francisco in one of its many vibrant
20th century incarnations the way
Jack London, Jack Keroac, Janis
Joplin and everybody in between did -
by bar-hopping. We've found a
century's worth of watering holes that
are rich in history, lore and 20th
century memories. Whether you're
looking for a 1910 tavern or late '60s
hippie chic, these spots will let you
sip and snack your way through the
last century, decade by decade.

Beginning a generation ago, here are
steps back in time.

THE '70S: EQUINOX

When Rita Plank left the Playboy
Club in June, 1973 to waitress at the
brand-new revolving cocktail bar on
the top floor of the ultra modern
Embarcadero Center's Hyatt Regency
Hotel, she was headed to the hottest
place in town.

"It was just jamming," she says. On
weekends, patrons typically waited an
hour and a half just to take the (still)
impressive Star Wars-esque indoor
glass elevator up to the bar. Inside,
there were mirrors between each
table, and the walls were covered in
red plush -- "a very '70s glitzy look,"
Plank says. It was packed with
celebrities and locals, and didn't serve
food when it first opened.

It was the site of a few wild incidents,
she recalls. One time, she says, a
couple of women snuck a live
octopus up the elevator in a garbage
bag and put it in a stall in the ladies'
room. "I had a customer come down
and all she could say was, 'There's an
o, o, o, in the bath, bath . . ."
Unfortunately, I don't think animal
services could save it." Another night,
she says, a woman came in, sat down,
took off all of her clothes, and folded
them neatly on the chair beside her
before anyone noticed.

"It was really a one-of-a-kind place,"
says Jeanne Falco, who was a
customer when it first opened and has
worked there as a waitress for 25
years.

Now, the mirrors and red walls are
gone, as are most of the crowds and
the locals. The Equinox is currently a
restaurant (although you can still go
there just for a drink), catering mostly
to hotel guests. The most popular
drinks are the super-sweet fruity
frozen kind, like Mango Madness
daiquiri ($12). But,

while elevator music has replaced
disco at the Equinox, the revolving
view is as good as ever -- and now it's
easy to get a seat, especially during
the week.

In the 45-odd minutes each
revolution takes, you can watch the
world as you go 'round. You'll move
from an expansive look at the Bay
Bridge to a surreal new perspective
of downtown, where, clutching a
chilly Mango Madness, you find
yourself eye-to-eye with late-night
office workers in the high-rises just
across the way.

THE '60S: HORIZONS

When the Kingston Trio remodeled
the Trident jazz club perched over the
water in Sausalito, one of the Bay
Area's earliest and most outrageous
hippie- health food-rock 'n' roll
restaurants was born. Completed in
1969, the new Trident was a hippie
artisan masterpiece -- handcrafted
woodwork curved through the dining
room and along the outdoor deck; an
Aztec-inspired psychedelic mural
graced the ceiling; and 40-pound
candles lit the room. Rock and roll
blared from the sound system, and the
waitresses wore see-through tops
with nothing underneath.

The loud music and waitresses outfits
are gone, but the restaurant, now
called Horizons, looks almost exactly
as it did in 1969.

"It was amazing," says Dick
Broderick, who worked as a
bartender at the Trident from 1977 to
1982 and met his wife there when she
worked as a waitress.

"It was a really hippie scene. It was
very sexual, as everything was in
those days -- the menus had drawings
of breasts, gurus and phallic symbols,
and were covered in quotes from
different philosophers, the Rolling
Stones, Bob Dylan and Shakespeare.
It was really part of the
counterculture."

He describes the decor as "very
biologically oriented. It curves and
twists around like the human body in
a Kama Sutra position. It took a 100
hippie workers to do the woodwork
inside. In those days," he adds, "you
had hippie carpenters coming out
your ears around here."

The Rolling Stones, Grateful Dead
and Bob Dylan partied at the Trident,
and Janis Joplin was a regular
customer. "It was like having lunch at
the Fillmore Auditorium," Broderick
recalls. "The whole thing, all the rock
bands, and the hippie culture, with
sex so out in the open, it was all to
shock people who weren't part of the
counterculture. And of course,
people from the mainstream couldn't
wait to rush there and be shocked."

Today, the wait to be seated isn't as
long as it was in the restaurant's
heyday, when the line snaked out the
door. And there haven't been any
incidents like one Broderick
described, when a San Francisco 49er
threw a rowdy Hell's Angel into the
bay for swearing at a waitress.
Nonetheless, the view of the city
across the water remains as stunning
as ever, as does the extremely well
preserved interior. Brunch-time
Bloody Marys on the deck are a
favorite with the young (but
well-behaved) clientele.

THE '50S: JOE'S

When Joe's of Westlake was built in
1956, parts of Daly City's Westlake
district were still being constructed in
an area where that had seen only
artichoke fields and sand dunes. Daly
City has continued to grow around
the restaurant, and today Joe's is
hemmed in by fast-food restaurants,
parking lots, housing and a shopping
mall.

But, while the surroundings have
changed, Joe's hasn't. From the
boomerang carport over the entrance,
where drivers can drop their dates off
at the door before parking the car, to
the airy, open dining room with its
upswept roof and expansive
plate-glass windows, Joe's looks
almost exactly the way it did in 1956.

"Part of the atmosphere here is that
we don't change much," says owner
Hal Bobrow, who first came to the
restaurant as an 8 year old when it
opened.

The cocktail lounge which, in true
'50s fashion, occupies a separate
room, hasn't changed much, either.
Dusky and windowless, with a low
roof, brick walls and floor-to-ceiling
polygonal fireplace (in a rare nod to
the present, it's turned off because of
the current energy crisis), it still has
an ineffable post-war chic. A
pianist-drummer combo
(Wednesday-Sunday) takes requests
from the 1940s, '50s, and sometimes
the '60s. Customers are invited to
join in singing. Other reminders of an
earlier time (when dress codes were
enforced), include the men's hat rack,
which is still under the phone bank.

Bobrow, who worked as a busboy at
Joe's through high school and
college, then bought the restaurant in
the 1980s after retiring from a career
in real estate, says that the bar's most
popular drinks are those '50s classics
that were popular when he was a kid.
"We sell a ton of martinis," he says,
"and we always have. It's never let
up."

While food isn't served in the bar,
there are free hors d'oeuvres nightly
at 5 p.m., the likes of fried calamari,
prawns, finger-food sandwiches or
fried ravioli, depending on the night.
These make for solid bar food,
especially if you're drinking one of
Joe's terrific martinis, which, at
$2.75, are a bargain. You need to get
there exactly at 5 p.m., though, or
you'll miss the hors d'oeuvres. If that
happens, you can order appetizers
while sitting in one of the main
dining room's ample beige booths.

Be warned, though, that the crowd,
which is mostly locals of the
generation that brought their kids to
eat here in the '50s and '60s, tends to
eat dinner early. On very crowded
nights (like Valentine's Day) there
can be a wait to sit in the dining room
between 5 and 7 p.m.

One more sign that Joe's is truly
retro: "We've never had a no-cell
phone rule," muses Bobrow, "but I
don't think I've ever seen one in here."

THE '40S: MARINE'S
MEMORIAL

Opened as the Roof Garden in 1947,
the Marine's Memorial Club's 12th
floor Skybar serves as an unofficial
meeting place for club members,
many of whom have been coming
here since World War II.
Nonmembers can have a drink here,
too, even though it is, technically, a
private bar.

Redone in the mid-1980s, the bar has,
says General Manager Michael Allen,
"a kind of Love Boat look," with blue
carpeting, vaguely 18th century navy
blue chairs that roll around the room
on wheels, and decorative
embossed-glass panels. While the
'80s look may be back, that's not the
main attraction. What's great about
the Skybar is the 12th floor view of
the downtown skyline; the tranquil
Happy Hour that lasts from 11 a.m.
to 6 p.m., when triple- strength
Manhattans cost $3.25 instead of
$3.75; and the crowd, which consists
largely, but not exclusively, of World
War II vets.

Jim Rush, the only patron at the bar
on a recent Friday early evening, was
stationed in San Francisco during the
war and has frequented the Marine's
Memorial Club on and off since it
first opened. He and bartender Arnold
Feraren, who's been there for 32
years, go way back. "You know,
Arnold was telling me," Rush
reminiscences, "that, by god, there
aren't too many of us left."

Like many of Feraren's customers,
Rush is drinking red wine, although,
traditionally, martinis, Manhattans
and old-fashioneds have been favored
here.

As for the bar's past, Feraren
remembers the 1960s when soldiers
about to be shipped to Vietnam drank
in the bar when it was still on the
fourth floor. "There were some wild
times," he says. "Some of them came
back, and some of them didn't."

THE '30S: TRADER VIC'S

Emeryville's Trader Vic's is the
second location of the world-wide
chain's original Polynesian-themed
bar and restaurant, which opened in
Oakland in 1934.

It moved to Emeryville in 1972 and
doesn't have its predecessor's live,
squawking parrots or the Tonga
Room's indoor tropical rain storms. It
does, however, have tiki gods, South
Seas Islands' tappa cloth wall
hangings, and Japanese fishing balls
draped in nets from the ceiling, but
all in all, the Emeryville location is a
little too neat and tidy to match
campy appeal of the original. But,
since Trader Vic's closed its San
Francisco location in 1993, the
Emeryville branch is currently as
close as long-time Bay Area habitues
can get to Trader Vic's tiki good old
days.

Take Steve Nipkow, who was sitting
at the bar with his wife on a recent
Saturday night, admiring the
bartender's soup-bowl sized rum
drink (a Scorpion) topped with a
gardenia. Nipkow, 60, has been
coming to Trader Vic's since he was
5 years old. As a child, he remembers
the old location's genuine shrunken
heads (now long gone); as a young
adult, he remembers that "you'd hang
around here in the bar forever, in the
days before drinking was a sin."

Today, the bar at Trader Vic's serves
appetizers and a host of specialty
South Seas theme drinks. There's a
view of the marina, and the crowd
includes dressed-down drinkers and
suit-and-tie dinner parties of three
generations of Trader Vic's patrons.

Still, says Nipkow, "It was more
special years ago. But now some of
us who grew up coming here are
starting to come back. It's just a
world away in here. Coming in here, I
drop back 25 years."

THE '20S: JULIUS'
CASTLE

In 1922, according to the Castle's
literature, an Italian immigrant named
Julius Roz opened his turreted
restaurant and soon-to-be speakeasy
on the eastern side of Telegraph Hill.
He had been inspired by the so-called
German Castle, a restaurant and hotel
that perched on top of Telegraph Hill
at the turn of the century before
burning down. The building (which
really does look like a castle, except
that it's pink), made an appearance in
one of Dashiell Hamett's novels, and
was declared a historical monument
in the late '70s. From the outside, it
looks like it did in 1922, but the
inside was most recently remodeled
in 1995.

The bar, which was the castle's garage
when the road was so narrow that
cars had to be turned around with a
cable-carlike turnaround, is small,
with just two tables and bar seating. It
offers an extensive wine list, with
wines by the glass priced from $8-20.

Food isn't served in the bar, but
appetizers can be ordered upstairs on
one of the restaurant's two upper
levels, both of which have wonderful
views of the bay.

Jeffrey Pollack, who has owned
Julius' Castle since 1980, remembers
the restaurant from his high school
days in the early '60s. "This was
where you'd go for proms. I think half
my high school came here," he says.

Today, the crowd tends toward the
suited and serious, although
prom-goers still flock here in spring,
and Pollack says he's seen plenty of
marriage proposals, including several
couples who've said their parents and
grandparents were engaged here, too.

While there is valet parking, you can
double your slice-of-San Francisco
fun by parking at the foot of
Telegraph Hill, near Levi's Plaza, and
walking up the Filbert Street steps to
the Castle.

THE EARLY YEARS: PTB

Phineas T. Barnacle (aka, PTB)
shares its location with the Cliff
House. Built in 1908, with another
seating area added in 1914, the entire
bar is constructed of rare redwood
burl. With relics from
Playland-at-the-Beach -- including
two wooden statues of Native
Americans and a larger-than-life
cowboy by the fireplace -- as well as
souvenirs from Sutro baths and
navigational equipment salvaged
from shipwrecks, PTB is a kind of
mini-museum of the westernmost
edge of the city.

The bar itself, made of redwood tree
trunks with mirrors imprinted with
Ansel Adams' images, is impressively
different. But the best reason to come
here may be the floor-to-ceiling
windows in the 1914 addition that
look directly out over the waves
crashing onto Seal Rock below.

Dan Hountalas, whose father ran
eateries next door from the '20s to
the '60s, has run PTB and the Cliff
House since 1973, recalls swimming
out to Seal Rock as a 6 year old when
his father fished for crabs there. The
seals -- which perch on the rock from
January to June, depending on how
much feed there is -- would bark at
him, and he'd bark back. "I speak
seal," Hountalas says, with a modest
shrug and a smile.

The bar's 1914 section will be torn
down in a remodel scheduled to start
in 2003, and many of the artifacts
may be removed, including a
mounted moose head and the Ansel
Adams mirrors.

In theory, PTB is open until midnight;
in practice, it shuts down earlier if
there aren't enough customers. The
crowd, especially at night, is mostly
Richmond and Sunset district locals
of all ages; it is nearly always
possible to get a seat by the window.
The kitchen serves items from fresh
raw oysters ($9.90 for a half dozen)
to bar staples like nachos ($5.95).
One of the most popular drinks is
Irish Coffee -- perfect for watching
the chilly surf on a foggy Pacific
night.

TIME-WARP BARS

-- EQUINOX, The Hyatt Regency San
Francisco, 5 Embarcadero Center,
San Francisco; (415) 291-6602.
Open Monday-Thursday 4
p.m.-midnight (dinner 6-10 p. m.);
Friday until 1 a.m.; weekends noon-1
a.m. Sunday brunch 10:30 a.m.-2
p.m.

Food and drink: Mango Madness,
$12 (includes souvenir glass); crab
cakes, $13

Etcetera: Revolving restaurant brings
back disco memories; food is so-so.

-- HORIZONS, 558 Bridgeway,
Sausalito; (415) 331-3232. Brunch
11 a.m.-2:30 p.m. weekdays; 9:30
a.m.-2:30 p.m. weekends. Dinner
5-10 p.m. (approximately). Bar
closes around 1 a.m.

Food and drink: Bloody Mary, $5.50;
Crab cakes, $10.95; eggs Benedict,
$10. 95

Etcetera: Relive rock-and-roll's
heyday with a Bloody Mary brunch in
the sun.

-- JOE'S OF WESTLAKE, 11
Glenwood Ave. (at John Daly Blvd.),
Daly City; (650) 755-7400. Open
Sunday-Thursday 11 a.m.-11 p.m.;
until midnight Friday, Saturday

Food and drink: Martini, $2.75; fried
calamari, $5.95

Etcetera: Retro '50s cool; great place
for a martini.

-- MARINE'S MEMORIAL
SKYROOM, 608 Sutter St. (at
Mason), San Francisco; (415)
673-6672. Hors d'oeuvres

4-6 p.m. Open 11 a.m.-11 p.m.
Sunday, Monday; until midnight
Tuesday- Thursday; until 1 a.m.
Friday, Saturday

Food and drink: Manhattan, $3.25
before 6 p.m., $3.75 after 6 p.m.; free
hors d'oeuvres at

4 p.m. (cheese, crackers, nachos, hot
dishes; appetizers from the restaurant
served as well)

Etcetera: Have a Manhattan and
watch the skyline.

-- TRADER VIC'S, 9 Anchor Dr. (at
Powell Street), Emeryville; (510)
653- 3400. Open for lunch weekdays,
dinner 5-9:30 p.m. weeknights, until
10:30 p.m. weekends. Bar open until
11 p.m. nightly

Food and drink: No Tai Mai Tai, $4;
Egg rolls, $6

Etcetera: If you like rum drinks and
tiki gods, go here.

-- JULIUS' CASTLE, 1541
Montgomery (at Union Street), San
Francisco; (415) 392-2222. Open for
dinner 5:30-9:30 p.m., drinks until
11:30 p.m.

Food and drink: Wines by the glass,
$8-$20; Duck confit with cranberry
dressing, $13

Etcetera: A ritzy way to reconnect
with old San Francisco.

-- PHINEAS T. BARNACLE, 1090
Pt. Lobos Ave., San Francisco; (415)
386-3330. Open 10 a.m.-1:30 a.m.
daily

Food and drink: Irish coffee, $4.50; 6
oysters, $9.90; nachos, $5.95

Etcetera: Great view place to sip Irish
Coffee and watch the waves.

Sally McGrane is a freelance writer
in San Francisco.



To: portage who wrote (25745)3/30/2001 8:15:32 PM
From: SIer formerly known as Joe B.  Read Replies (1) | Respond to of 49843
 
Food Co-Op Closing After
65 Years
Demise blamed on waning
activism and shrinking
free time
sfgate.com

Suzanne Herel, Chronicle Staff Writer

Wednesday, March 28,
2001



They were neighborhood centers
where you could buy organic food,
thumb your nose at chain grocery
stores and chew over the political
issues of the day.

But customer-owned food co-ops in
the Bay Area, done in by increasing
competition, waning social activism
and shrinking free time, are about to
go the way of full-service gas
stations.

The end will come April 14, when the
Palo Alto Co-op Market closes its
doors after 65 years.

"The support for co-ops is not as
strong now," said manager Larry
Pinney, who has worked at the store
for 17 years. "People's priorities have
changed. People are so busy."

Created in the 1930s by scrappy
survivors of the Depression, co-ops
caught on in the politically charged
1960s and '70s. In their heyday, more
than a dozen dotted the East Bay, San
Francisco and the Peninsula.

The Palo Alto market was among the
oldest but was drowning in a sea of
red ink. Its board of directors this
week announced the sale of its
property for a shade under $4 million
to an unnamed buyer.

The co-op's demise signals a
widespread cultural and societal shift,
members say. But for patrons, many
of whom have shopped there for
more than 20 years, it's the small
things that will be missed.

Among them, the model train that
travels back and forth above the meat
freezers, the 1-cent mechanical pony
rides, the Chinese chicken salad
dressing that Safeway doesn't carry
and the clerks who know your name.

"Now, I'll just be another woman
behind a shopping cart," said 19-year
customer Jackie Tucker, pausing in
the soup aisle yesterday.

Bill Hill, who stood in frozen foods
selecting boxes of peas and beans,
joined the co-op in the 1960s, when
it offered a "kiddie corral," a play
area set aside for children while their
parents shopped.

"I just liked the whole idea of people
getting together and running our own
business," Hill said. "But society is
not oriented toward co-ops."

In San Francisco, two worker-owned
cooperatives remain: Other Avenues
Community Food Store and Rainbow
Grocery. They're not owned by their
customers but controlled by their
employees, a significant difference
when it comes to community buy-in
and running the business.

Angelynne Burke, co-manager of the
26-year-old Other Avenues, said she
had seen business improve since a
nearby co-op closed and her store
became worker- owned.

Palo Alto's co-op, meanwhile, boasts
13,559 members who each paid a
one- time $30 fee to have a say in the
running of the store.

The closing of the Palo Alto market
has greater repercussions than the
loss of specialty foods. Dozens of
area residents who can't leave their
homes rely on the co-op's volunteer
shopping program, which has
delivered groceries to shut-ins for 28
years.

Co-op board President Duane Bay
said two neighborhood groups had
stepped in to keep the program going.
However, he said, there no longer
will be a central resource for new
clients who want to sign up for the
service.

In the past 12 years that Bay has
served on the co-op board, he has
observed changes in the community
and the marketplace that have
rendered the cooperative initiative
obsolete.

"Competition in the business has
become great, and small retail just
can't make it," he said. As for the
customers, "the number of hours
people work has gone up, and
because they have more money, a
number of people are eating out.
There's not nearly as many people
who are cooking from scratch."

This is a change from 1935, he said,
when a group of 15 people got
together and bought a case of corn,
thus creating the Palo Alto Co-op.

In its granola days, the co-op ran six
stores. By 1988, that number was
down to three.

"At one time, the co-op was a leader
in innovation with bulk foods and
organic foods," Pinney said.

Now, he said, most stores stock such
specialties, along with hot food and a
wider selection of meat and fish.

In recent years, the store has been
hemorrhaging money.

With cash from the sale, the group
will just be able to cover its debt,
with between $300,000 to $500,000
left over for future programs.

Eric Redstrom, who has worked at
the co-op since 1970, will miss being
able to walk across the street from his
house -- the one with the Grateful
Dead stickers in the window -- to
work.

"I've watched kids grow up here, and
now they bring their kids here," he
said. "It's a family."

E-mail Suzanne Herel at
sherel@sfchronicle.com.