Out in the Avenues

Hey there,

If I don’t mention the Chuck Prophet and the Mission Express live dates we have coming up, including this Sunday, I’ll bear the wrath of KC Turner. And no one wants that. Yes, our Twin Oaks Residency is going strong. Every Sunday in August. MORE HERE.

Meanwhile, have I told you about Porchlight?

It’s a storytelling series. It’s been going for years. And it’s just one of the many things I like about this town. I’ve told stories there a couple of times, and I always ended up floored by the characters they corral together to tell true, or sort-of true stories from their lives. Each show centers on a theme. Like, Pants on Fire: A Show About Lies. And Utilities Included: The Roommate Show. And Family Portrait: Who Are These People? These are actual past shows; I’m not making them up. Though probably the best name for a collection of true stories about families came from the Granta literary magazine from back in the day: The Family: They F*ck You Up.

Change in the Cool Gray City of Love is a constant, okay? I’m sure at one time people were like, “Bro, the Gold Rush was so rad. I had an apartment and I paid $3.00 a month for rent.” It’s all true except when it’s not. (Like this newsletter, where about 20% of it is BS). But if you want a little slice of the way things used to be, you can still find it out in “the Avenues,” also known as “the Sunset.”

Which brings me to this week’s Porchlight.

Yessir, this Friday Porchlight is celebrating their TWENTIETH ANNIVERSARY. And this time around it’s all about “The West Side,” yet another name for “The Sunset.” You can get all the deets here.

I’d be there if weren’t for this dumb-ass cancer. (Doctor says I have to stay away from indoor crowds. Again, color me immuno-motherf***ing-compromised).

I lived all over the Avenues back in the 80s, and I could tell you some Sunset stories. Generations of fireman families live out there. And surfers. Fireman-Surfers! I’ve met them! Cops, Dan White. Stucco houses keeping things quiet. Chinese restaurants… Irish bars… 1950s diners. It’s the Land That Time Forgot.

Take the Tennessee Grill, a classic diner on Taraval and 20th Avenue. If you were to airlift that place and drop it into the Smithsonian, you’d have a perfect specimen of a 50s diner. I haven’t been there in a dog’s age but according to Mr. Google, it’s still there. When I lived in the Sunset, I was at the counter most mornings. You’d walk in there and it was like going back to an earlier time in America. Sunday mornings were the best, with families coming in after church. And there was that smell. The sweet combination of grease, pancakes, and Benson & Hedges.

I don’t get out to the Sunset enough these days. Except to go surfing occasionally at Ocean Beach, also known as the surfers treadmill. It’s the toughest paddle-out on the whole West Coast. Do not try to learn to surf there. Trust me. Seriously, head down to Pacifica /Linda Mar. Or “Lake Linda Mar” as the short-board crowd calls it. You can find me more often down there with the sewing circle. On a longboard. On the boat-docks end.

Then there’s the Shannon Arms, just two blocks from the Tennessee Grill, where every Sunday night, I kid you not, the Beau Brummels used to play. Yeah, those guys. Two of the remaining members, Ron Elliott and Declan Mulligan held down that Sunday gig with a rotating cast of rhythm sections.

Ron Elliott and Declan Mulligan. I used to study what Ron was doing. He was a great session guitarist in his day. In addition to being the main songwriter of the Beau Brummels, he played on records by Dolly Parton, Randy Newman, and Van Morrison, to name a few. And was a first-call session guitarist for producer Lenny Waronker, who was also an A&R guy at Warner.

And Declan used to do “Maggie May.” He adapted that mandolin part to guitar and would play it on his Strat, out of phase position. Solid gold. We took Peter Buck there once when he was in town and he was thrilled.

This was the 80s. We’d get hammered, do coke in the bathroom. I don’t know where the Brummels are today. I remember that they played at our friends Mick and Andrea’s wedding.

For a while, we held down a weekly gig there, too. Patrick Winningham, a nice Irish boy, talked the owner into giving us a night. And the money was decent. Patrick and me and Stephie and Derek Ritchie; we held that gig down for a while. Until the flood came. And washed it all away. Yeah, The Shannon Arms. I called Patrick recently, and he remembers it being packed with Irish construction workers, most of whom, he reckons, had never even been downtown.

I returned for years to the Sunset to go to my dentist, also there on Taraval. Dr Presley. Yep, Presley. You know how at that age – 18, 19, 20 years old – you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re just trying to figure things out. Living on popcorn and 16-ounce Cokes. At some point you’ll need a dentist.

I say it all the time: San Francisco has been my education.

You see, I was born in Nixon's hometown. And I'm lucky I'm not down there still; running a printing press for my Dad's company or pushing a lawnmower in Orange County.

I came to this city to go to school. My college experience was brief. But before too long I moved around. Joined a touring band, started traveling. Saw some things, figured some things out. Fast forward a little and here I am back in San Francisco, still learning. San Francisco is an education, I tell you. It’s an education on different kinds of people, races, creeds, backgrounds, colors, sexes, all that stuff. It opens your eyes.

But don’t take my word for it. If you like stories, San Francisco stories, Sunset stories, drop by Porchlight this week. You’ll hear some authentic stories by some authentic weirdos. Wish I could see you there.

Onward,

- CP

PS: Oh, the fine art of newslettering. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m still making this up as I go. Why not become a paid subscriber today if you’re not already? If not, you can always donate to an abortion fund or any gun violence prevention group. Or you can do none of the above and just carry on. We are happy to have you.