The Biggest Party In San Francisco Nobody Knows About

Upon reviewing the rapid rebuilding of San Francisco after the devastating 1906 earthquake, president William Howard Taft made the quote in 1911 every San Francisco politician has referenced for over a century, "San Francisco is the city that knows how, and it has continually shown the world that, indeed, it does."  

San Francisco is where Levis denim and television were invented.  It's a city that built two transbay bridges, an artificial island, and a transit center in the 1930s.  Did I mention it was all within the span of five years, in the middle of the worse economic depression in American history?   This is something all San Franciscans can be proud of, but does anyone know it?  For some reason, San Francisco is lousy at promoting the milestone celebrations of its own iconic past.  

In 2017, I was the chief concierge of the Donatello Hotel, and was keyed into important events for that year.   The concierge community was well aware of the annual events which brought in hundreds of thousands of visitors, like the Gay Pride Parade, Fleet Week, and major conventions like Mac World and the Auto Show.  Yet 2017 was also the 50th anniversary of the Summer of Love.  

1967 was the year a small group of hippies living in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco disseminated their philosophy of peace and love to the rest of the world, through iconic music from the San Francisco music scene and psychedelic artists like Peter Max.  Songs like Scott McKenzie's anthem San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Some Flowers in Your Hair) and the Jefferson Airplane's White Rabbit, inspired tens of thousands of young people to ditch their conformist suburban upbringing and come to San Francisco to, "Turn on, tune in, drop out."   So popular was the movement that even Gray Line Tours ran sightseeing busses through the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood, and provided each customer with an English/Hippie translation brochure. 

An anemic turnout of mostly passersby, for the only commemoration of the Summer of Love's 50th anniversary.

Soon thereafter came the Grateful Dead, Carlos Santana, and many other notable bands from the era.  Then came films such as Roger Corman's Psych Out starring an unknown Jack Nicolson, and TV shows like the Mod Squad, cementing the Summer of Love ethos and icons forever in the American zeitgeist.  After the dreamers and seekers came, the exploiters and cult leaders followed.  What started out as a rarified moment of egalitarian living quickly became a nightmare for the lost and vulnerable.  The Summer of Love really lasted about a year and a half, but has been and continues to be celebrated well into the 21st century.

After 55 years, the Grateful Dead just completed their sold out, world-wide Farewell Tour.  There are four different Haight Ashbury tours alone.  In the span of what lasted about 18 months, the Summer of Love's cultural tendrils extend to today.   Clearly, the Summer of Love and the hippie ethos is one of the motivating factors as to why tens of millions of visitors come to San Francisco.

When its 50th anniversary arrived in 2017, I assumed the city would treat this civic icon (and tourism cash-cow) with the same attention it did when we got the Super Bowl, or the America's Cup for the first time.  Here is how the city commemorated.  A psychedelic light display was projected on to the Conservatory of Flowers in Golden Gate Park, while music from the era was played over speakers.  

In late August a hastily thrown-together event was held at the band shell in Golden Gate Park with a few local bands, some speakers, and iconic hippie ambassador Wavy Gravy.  About 30 to 40 people attended while I was there, and most of those just happened to be wandering by.  

That was it!

It was a sad flimsy husk of what should have been a year-long celebration.  How could the city that, "Knows how," drop the ball on what should have been a celebration for arguably the one of the few things that comes to people's minds when they hear the words, "San Francisco?"

Hippie icon Wavy Gravy, one of the few remnants from the 1967 Summer of Love.  Still making good trouble.

Naturally, I'm sure we won't make that mistake again, right?   I mean how could the city drop the ball a second time with a milestone anniversary of its most famous icon?  Guess again.  I happened to be walking by a cable car in July and saw a Manila envelope-sized poster announcing 2023, the 150th anniversary of the cable car.

What?!  

Even when the BART subway system turned 50 in 2022, everyone in the San Francisco Bay Area knew about it from an aggressive ad campaign.

The only display for the 150th anniversary of the cable car.  Found on the 6th floor of the main public library.

I took a chance and went to SF Travel, the San Francisco Convention and Visitors Bureau website.  Two pages in, and half way down I found this statement: "Celebrate the 150th anniversary of San Francisco's famous cable cars and explore the city. From now until Oct. 30, enter to win incredible San Francisco prize packages."

That's it?!

Fox News, and the media in general, earn their click-bait by portraying San Francisco as little more than a Soylent Green-esqeu dystopian hell-scape, with nothing but tent cities and Fentanyl sold on every corner.  And what does our mayor do?  Naturally she doubles-down on this false narrative by posing for photo-ops with the CHP on Skid Row.  

It would be nice if our current mayor, (and notable San Franciscans like Governor Gavin Newsom, Vice President Kamala Harris, and former Speaker Nancy Pelosi) could maybe mention the cable car is 150 years old in 2023?  They were quite eager promoting the 100th anniversary of the 1906 earthquake almost two decades ago, and it would be nice if they could share a little of that enthusiasm for the cable car's anniversary.

The California Palace of the Legion of Honor Museum turns 100 next year in 2024, and I wonder how the city will commemorate that?  If we are lucky, perhaps they will stamp its image on a beer koozie, and sell it at a Chinatown gift shop?

The San Francisco cable car, ridden by everyone in film from James Bond to Humphrey Bogart.  Immortalized forever with, "Where little cable cars, climb halfway to the stars."

The San Francisco cable car, the one symbol of San Francisco known the world over, as recognizable as that of the Eiffel Tower or the Statue of Liberty.  

Come on San Francisco, is this really the best we can do for our beloved little rolling monuments?   If I hadn't happened to serendipitously walk by that cable car, I would have never known it is 150 years old this year.