Mission Mission

Our pal Carlos saw someone who looked like Woody Allen in front of Esperpento at 22nd and Valencia. Turns out it was him, along with his wife Soon-Yi Previn, confirmed by the NY Post (whose logo font kinda looks like ours… coincidence?).

I smell field research for Vicky Cristina Barcelona II: Vicky Cristina San Francisco.

Update: Woah, Esperpento owner Carlos Muela, who’s apparently a good sport about my gratuitous “overpriced small plates” jab, just sent us this:

If there’s any good time to throw the devil horns, it’s when you’re taking a picture with Woody Allen.

Update 2: According to tablehopper, he’s in town filming a new, untitled movie with Cate Blanchett, Alec Baldwin, and Louis C.K!

Countdown till a “Cate Blanchett having a beer at Zeitgeist” post.

I worked at Fayes Video on 18th Street from the late 90′s into the mid 00′s. The woman who set herself on fire on Dorland Street last weekend, later passing away at a burn center, was a regular customer during that time.

You can read a bit about what happened as well as reflections by members of her family (in the comments) at Mission Local. After the jump, the co-owners of Fayes and I each share a few thoughts about Colleen.

(more…)

Yesterday afternoon, when I read that the 24th St. BART escalator had been repaired, I was thrilled. It had been broken since March 22nd. That’s four damn months. Four damned shit-ass months.

On my way home, I felt something I had never felt before: excitement about riding an escalator. I haven’t felt this kind of anticipation since I waited in line at Disneyland’s Star Tours ride cerca 1989. But at 6pm, mere hours after its return to service, it was broken again. As of this morning, it was still out of service. Here was the scene:

Yeah, I know taking the stairs has its health benefits, and I feel them. I really do. But maybe that has more to do with riding a rusted Murray bicycle that’s stuck in the highest gear and not so much the three flights of stairs. Still, after 8 hours of being zombified in a half-cubicle in Oakland, sometimes you just want to relish that 45 seconds where you can enjoy the blissful miracle of machine-aided ascension.

Let’s hope for a speedy re-recovery.

Update (4pm): Our prayers have been answered! Burrito Justice tweets:

Now we can all resume checking our phones for the duration of that short ride to the surface! Please stay operational for the next hour, escalator. I am on my way.

[top photo via Mission Loc@l]

The esteemed time travel team at Pastmapper have released a little bit of history that you can hold in your hand — behold the Pastmapper iPhone app that lets you check into the ghosts of restaurants and bars past. The sixties welcomes you:

@bradvertising has started with 1966, with more years coming. But it’s fascinating to dig in and see what was where when. The Smile Awhile Tavern (aka proto-Farolito Bar) welcomes you:

You get more points for checking in close to the place, but fret not, I will destroy you on the leaderboard.

Anyway, more detail over on Pastmapper, so turn on, check in, and drop a note.

Reader David Gallagher of the Western Neighborhoods Project sent us these 1985 videos of a young Mr. Lucky interviewing some inebriated patrons of  Original McCarthy’s, which you may now know as Cha Cha Cha. Original McCarthy’s opened on Mission street in June of 1933.

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

Nothing too exciting in the videos, but it’s an interesting snapshot of the era. Before the Mission was known as a Mexican neighborhood, it was largely populated by German and Irish immigrants until the ’60s. McCarthy’s was one of the last original Irish bars in the Mission. Even at the time of filming this, McCarthy himself remarks, “I’m close to 70. It’s about time to clock out.”

The interviewer, Mr. Lucky, still croons around town with his retro-jazz group the Cocktail Party. You can catch him at the Lucky Horseshoe in early August.

[thanks David!]

Several cop cars have eastbound traffic blocked off between Mission and Valencia. No ambulances so far, so that’s nice.

The olympics are right around the corner! Here are a couple of locals trying to improve their relay race time on 24th and Alabama. Photo by Chris Atwood.

[via fecal face]

One of our readers seems to have a little problem with his musically inclined neighbors:

I live in a house on a purely residential block in the Mission. Like most of the homes in the neighborhood, we have a zero lot line with the neighbors (ie our exterior walls touch). My neighbor is in a band, and they regularly practice at the house on weeknights until after 11pm. Occasionally they will play past midnight. The sound travels quite clearly into my bedroom.

The music, incidentally, is pretty good. The problem is that I have a job that requires me to wake up before 6am. For me, this means I need to get to sleep around 10pm.

Over the course of 8-10 months, I have repeatedly reached out and asked them to music on the weekdays to 10pm. The response is generally friendly, but the next day I need to ask again, and again and again. They clearly don’t care at all.

I certainly realize that I live in a dynamic neighborhood, but it just doesn’t seem unreasonable to expect band practice to stop by 10pm on a weeknight in a purely residential neighborhood.

Am I out of line? If not, any suggestions on remedies. I would like to salvage the relationship, but am out of ideas.

My take on the situation?  This is bullshit.  These jerks need to get a practice space and play their music there.  That’s what bands do in a city where everyone lives in apartments.  If you don’t, you’re a selfish douchebag.

Note:  I am NOT referring to the amazing Dennis Richmond rooftop band that occasionally plays above the Attic.  Those guys are rad and have their own practice space at Secret Studios.

[Photo by Burrito Justice]

Just a minute or two after they were called.  Nice work fellas.  Everyone seemed to be safe, too.

Be careful tomorrow everyone!

Electrical lines are blowing sparks so please stay away. We’ve already called the FD.