46th Avenue

I grew up on a reasonably typical Sunset District street in San Francisco. (We were the brown house – it was usually painted white with either black or blue trim and a bright red front door.)

The big difference on our street was, we were two blocks from the ocean, two blocks from the Zoo and Fleishhacker Pool, and we had a streetcar and a bus line in front of the house. There were about 37 single family homes on the street. There had been 38, but a big ol’ house directly across the street from us – probably built in the 1890s – was torn down and a 5-unit apartment house was built in its place. The old house was spooky – the perfect place for a little kids imagination to run wild.

We moved in in 1958 after my dad got caught living outside of the city limits. Back in those days, firemen had to live within the City and County of San Francisco. (They paid $16,250 for the house.)

At any given moment, there were about 40 kids in the one block stretch between Ulloa and Taraval. I was smack dab in the middle of the batch – the youngest of the older kids and oldest of the younger kids. It was an awkward place to be – I always wanted to be with the cool kids but the last thing I was was cool.

When we were youngsters, there were literally no cars parked on the street during the day. It was a wide avenue where we played any number of games. We could hear the streetcars turning at Taraval or see the busses more than a block away, so it was easy to get out of the way for a moment before resuming play. Summer by the ocean in San Francisco means fog. We stayed out as long as we could – but it was with a jacket.

Everything we needed was in the neighborhood. At the SW corner of 46th & Taraval was a rather large bar/lounge called The Sand Dunes. Across the street was Edgewater Delicatessen – Frank & Grace owned it – and Paul’s Barbershop. On the NW corner was Seabreeze Pharmacy – a drug store with soda fountain. And Sea Bee Cleaners, Great Highway Market – with full butcher shop – we called it Dick & Harry’s after the owners. Paul was the butcher. A shoe repair and liquor store next door. The Oar House – another local tavern – and a TV repair across the street.

Two blocks up Taraval was Amity Market – owned by Bert and Mitzi Quist. Lakeside Hardware was across the street on the SW corner. Everything we needed was within a short walking distance.

As kids, we had free rein of the West of Twin Peaks.  We could ride our bikes to Pine Lake and catch crawdads or to Lake Merced to fish for trout. We got there one day when they were stocking the lake and caught so many fish we had a fish fry across the street in front of Sonny & Jr’s house.

We’d bike to Golden Gate Park, to Playland and The Fun House, or up to Sutro’s. Head down to the beach – through the Taraval Tunnel that went under the Upper Great Highway. We’re still friends with a couple of girls who lived down the block – how many friends have you had for 67 years?!? It’s pretty amazing…

In the days before CCTV everywhere, mobile tracking on cell phones, and parents who were not neurotic about letting their kids out of their sight, we had a blast.

I realize we can’t turn back the clock to those thrilling days of yesteryear… For one, things and places are just too crowded and moving too fast. Back when we were playing in the streets, cars were big and made of steel with huge chrome bumpers. There weren’t as many of them and they weren’t driving down the streets at 60mph while talking on a cell phone. Even though there were a hellava lot more kids outside – people actually paid attention most of the time.

And, it was the generation… My grandparents were born in the 1890s. The oldest relative that I knew and remember was born in 1875. Our parents were mostly born in the 1920s and lived through the Depression. They were all pretty no-nonsense when it came to discipline and they laid out expectations. Granted, we got around them quite often, but you need to know and understand the rules to be able to break them and not get caught – because there were always consequences when you were.

The Zoo was free – we could go there with no money and entertain ourselves – usually causing a lot of mischief, but… we weren’t doing anything to get us arrested. Today, it costs money and you can’t enter on your own under 14. And it’s the same with just about any other place – minors must be accompanied by an adult. Kids aren’t allowed unmonitored time to just be kids. So much for going outside and being gone for a few hours – CPS would be getting calls left and right.

We only had to worry about nuclear bombs being dropped. Today, parents have to worry about their kid getting murdered at school or snatched off the street by a masked, unnamed government agent in an unmarked car.

No… we can’t turn back the clock – but we sure were lucky to be kids back then.