Haight-Ashbury

Mention “Haight Ashbury” and most people over age 45 are likely to nod their heads and drift into a nostalgic reverie of the Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane, drug trips good and bad, long hair, free love, political engagement, and everything else associated with 1967 and the Summer of Love. To those younger by a decade or two, the name evokes more the edgy creativity of a new generation of rebellious youth, all black leather, spiky hair and pout.

The two versions and their variations are not really all that far apart. For Haight-Ashbury (or, as many residents say, simply, “the Haight”) has long worn the badge of nonconformity, of rebellion, of free-to-be-whatever-I-want-to-be. The counterculture feel of the place endures, especially along Haight Street itself, even as the neighborhood gentrifies and its older, more radical denizens move or die off, leaving to younger, wealthier, perhaps less hip but still creative residents the job of taking up the mantle of revolutionary ideals and putting them to work here.

Though the Haight is generalized by many San Franciscans as a place inhabited and frequented by zonked-out kids, from Gen X’ers to the Millennials, the truth is more complex. The neighborhood has always been primarily residential and open to newcomers—explaining why almost 100,000 young people landed here in 1967, when the area’s housing stock was in decline after the flight of old-timers to the suburbs of Marin and San Mateo counties, and many houses were abandoned after years of neglect. These massive homes, with their warrens of parlors and nooks and chambers, date from the district’s first heyday, when it emerged from the farms and sandy expanses of the “outlands” late in the 19th century with the arrival of the Haight Street Cable Railroad. By the mid-1880s, the newly laid-out streets were filling with large, ornate houses, built to entice well-to-do merchants and businessmen and their families to move here from more crowded areas radiating from Market Street. These single-family Victorians are among San Francisco’s oldest, having escaped the fires that devastated much of the city following the 1906 quake. Walk along some of the side streets (Belvedere, for example), and you’ll see relics from the turn-of-the-century era when the neighborhood had the feel of a town in the Midwest, gingerbread homes nestled cheek-by-jowl, with people passing the time knitting or playing cards on wide porches.

Some longtime residents have weathered the changing winds of fortune and fashion, and (especially south of Haight Street) new families and couples have moved in and revitalized the residential area. The renovations have always kept the 1960s in mind, so the palette remains vibrant, to say the least, with bright colors ranging to the psychedelic. With the real-estate boom of the late 20th-century, many of the homes have appreciated in value exponentially; to own here now is to be sitting on a small fortune, depending on square feet. A modest, two-bedroom flat or condo can go for as much as $1 million; detached single-family houses fetch twice that. Renting is thus the norm for almost three-quarters of the population of 25,000 (a portion of whom live at or near the poverty level), according to the U.S. Census Bureau--though it’s difficult to find studios for under $1,000, and one-bedrooms range upward from $1,200, based on recent Trulia listings.

Understandably for an area with so many tourists and transients, the neighborhood experiences moderate crime. As might be expected, drug infractions occur frequently here, probably more so than police statistics reflect, owing to a presumed tolerance of marijuana not only by law enforcement but the general population as well. (Breathe deeply on any corner near Haight Street and you’ll likely catch a whiff of weed from some doorway or window.) Most citations are of the “intoxicated person” variety, which assumes alcohol played a role. Dozens of “disturbing the peace” violations occur in any given three-month period, especially along Haight Street, but also in areas with a concentration of bars and restaurants (and rowdy clientele), like the intersection of Cole and Carl. Assaults are common as well, again along main corridors such as Haight or Oak (which flanks the southern side of the Panhandle) along with Stanyan, which fronts Golden Gate Park. In the last three years, there have been two homicides. Robberies and burglaries are frequent, and (reflecting a citywide trend) vehicle thefts and car break-ins plague the neighborhood, particularly for those who park on the street (residential permit “J” on indicated streets).

But not having a car is also an option (and even advisable given the tight parking), because public transportation serves the area well. The N Judah streetcar stops along Carl Street before disappearing into the Sunset Tunnel and emerging on the other side, in Duboce Triangle, for a quick (and mostly underground) trip downtown and to the Financial District. (Many riders also hop on the N going in the other direction, bound for the Inner and Outer Sunset as well as Ocean Beach.) Buses, including the 6 and 71, amble down Haight Street and then continue on Market for trips downtown as well. The 37, a local that makes a circuitous trip through several neighborhoods, meanders through the Haight, too. Starting from points east and west, the 33 and 43 buses make a mostly north/south trajectory through the area, converging on Haight Street, where, combined with double-parked cars and delivery trucks, they frequently prompt short-lived traffic jams.

In addition to being the main thoroughfare through the neighborhood, Haight Street is itself a destination for shopping, errand-running, and people-watching in general, with a panoply of merchants offering everything from retro fashions to Himalayan and Tibetan handicrafts. Head shops (or, as they’ve become known today, “smoke shops”) dot the street (Pipe Dreams, Goodfellas, Puff Puff Pass, et al.) as do tattoo and piercing parlors (Cold Steel, Soul Patch, Haight Ashbury Tattoo and Piercing), along with bars (pubs like Martin Mack’s and bigger drinking halls like Hobson’s Choice) and new hangouts such as Magnolia (a self-described brewery and gastropub) as well as historic and beloved dives like Murio’s Trophy Room and Gold Cane Cocktail Lounge. Amoeba Music sells thousands of used records from a sprawling former bowling alley, and Haight Ashbury Music Center sells everything necessary to make your own kind of music. FTC Skateboard is a mecca of sorts for the street-boarding crowd. The street’s also a polyglot of ethnic eateries (Cha Cha Cha for Caribbean; Siam Lotus and Ploy II for Thai, both within the same block, and Best of Thai Noodle House farther east; Zona Rosa and Taqueria Balazo for Mexican; and the Blue Front Deli and Café with Mediterranean lunches and dinners, as well as American sandwiches and breakfast selections); there’s even a politically correct Ben and Jerry’s (on the corner of Haight and Ashbury, of course) and an incongruous McDonald’s at the point where the street ends at Golden Gate Park. Then come a number of curiosities: the Persian Aub Zam Zam, a bar named after the well holy to Islam and whose late owner, Bruno Mooshei, used to eject patrons he deemed unworthy of his establishment for ordering the wrong drink or sitting alone in a booth; the Red Victorian, a B&B and self-proclaimed “peace center,” which harks back to the Summer of Love with its color-splashed paisley rooms; the former not to be confused with the Red Vic Movie House, an art cinema whose eclectic programming is matched by the assortment of couches for viewers and organic toppings you can sprinkle on your popcorn.

Cole Street near its intersection with Carl offers a secondary commercial district for residents, one more low key and less crowd-oriented—though popular restaurants such as Eos (a wine lover’s haven) and Zazie (an unfussy French bistro), along with cafes like La Boulange de Cole Valley, draw swarms, especially on weekends. Cole Street also boasts the original Cole Hardware, a handyperson’s delight, with aisles stacked floor to ceiling with all the appurtenances of the do-it-yourself lifestyle. (No wonder this place became a citywide chain.)

Schools in the neighborhood are hit and miss: the former De Avila Elementary (part of it now a branch of the City College system) has become a magnet for those desiring a Chinese bilingual immersion school. Urban School, a private college-prep high school with an innovative bent, makes the neighborhood its home on Page Street. And there’s also Lycée Français La Perouse, an oddity in this otherwise unconventional neighborhood (French standards of education being as strict as they are).

Diversity—especially of lifestyles—is the key to understanding the Haight, even if the demographics (from Census stats) say the area is 75 percent white, with about 10 percent African American, around 8 percent Asian, and the rest of mixed race. One model of service to the community since the late sixties is the Haight Ashbury Free Clinics, which started in a storefront on Clayton and now include centers in the city’s neediest areas, notably the Mission and Tenderloin. Haight Ashbury Neighborhood Council keeps all the various voices in harmony, serving as not only an interface with City Hall but also a sounding board for residents with issues. Walden House has served men and women in recovery and children with special needs since the early 1970s. And then there are places like St. Agnes Church, a Jesuit-run outpost that welcomes all and among its many outreach programs offers coffee and donuts on Sundays after the 10:30 Mass.

The one blessing everyone here seems to agree on is the proximity of parks: the neighborhood is framed on the east by Buena Vista Park, on the north by the Panhandle, and on the west by Golden Gate Park. All represent the best of late-19th century urban planning, with wide open spaces framed by huge trees and gardens showcasing what thrives in this unique microclimate. When the hubbub of the Haight becomes overwhelming, these green spaces beckon.