Profile subject

Working on this profile story has really developed my journalist skills, especially interviewing.  My subject is very good at holding a conversation, which makes it easy for my to ease into the actual interview.  Every time I am going to speak or meet up with him, I find myself worrying about what to say and what to ask him.  But after our hello's and how-have-you-been's, the conversation starts rolling.

The hardest part is when to stop him and ask him to elaborate on something, especially when it is something sensitive.  I don't want to stop him midway while he is choking up about his past, so I let him continue.  But then he continues on and mentions something else, and now I have two things I want him to elaborate on.  I note the two subjects, but then I need to find a natural way to bring them up.  Then when I do ask him a new question or bring up another subject, it's hard to keep my subject from not going on a tangent.  Like I said, he can easily keep on talking about pretty much anything.

My subject is all about maintaining an image and keeping his guard up.  So I was surprised how much more he let himself go on this past interview, the first over the phone.  (Prior to this we had only met in person.)  I feel that he spoke a lot more freely and showed more emotion, in contrast to his usual casual and stern talk.

This phone interview was the first time he brought up confidentiality, perhaps because of the depth of the conversation.  He is unsure that he wants his real name used or if he would rather me not write about some of the things.  We still haven't agreed upon anything.  Any suggestions?

I still need to follow up with him on the interview.  This time I am going to have specific questions instead of just subjects.  I also need more sources.  I sort of feel like I am snooping around trying to find people who know him and ask them what they know about him.  Can't I just ask him who knows him that is willing to talk to me?

All in all, it's an interesting story.

Profile Progress.. and Roadblocks

So I've been avoiding posting for a while because I've been worried about my profile piece. Until recently I didn't have too much to offer to this blog.

Just getting through the convoluted network of voicemails, being in the right place at the right time, and coordinating meetings, I've finally arranged to sit in on one of the after-school classes at Temple Sha'ar Zahav for kids. I finally have a free Friday night to check out their services too.

But this doesn't make my story. My problem has been talking to the neighboring religious institutions to get an alternate view of the openly LGBT temple that I'm writing about.

There is a similar Christian church in my area that exemplifies a lot of the same ideologies. Rev. Dr. Arlene Nehring is a lesbian pastor who I worked with on my high school newspaper. She was sued by my high school for distributing LGBT educational materials during "Days of Diversity" week at my school, an event at which she was invited to present.

I asked her how I should approach the more conservative factions in the area and she said the best way to get an earnest reaction, is to take a direct approach. "They'll either hang up on you, avoid the question, or answer it. Either way you'll get what you need."

Encouraging words from a media veteran, having dealt with slander for a lot of her press-related career.

She also wanted to know what I was specifically looking to write about, like what angle I'm looking for, or the overall message. Good question. I explained that it's a profile piece where I'm pretty much just compiling information about the subject and that, if do my research correctly, an angle will show itself.

So I've been given a lot to think about. I'm going to bring my bike to the Mission tomorrow and see how many religious institutions I can hit up before my appointment at 3. I'm not too optimistic about on-spot interviews, but the phone approach is much less direct and more complicated.

I also think I'm much less threatening in person.

We'll see.

Hope everything is coming together for all of your pieces, and I hope you're enjoying the sunshine.

(P.S. LISETTE! This site might be a good way to check out places in the Castro, Arlene told me about it, it's like the LGBT craigslist for women: http://www.bettyslist.com/about.php)

Dear students,

I posted this to one of our class members but it is advice I wish I'd shared with you earlier. It's a little trick I learned when interviewing a convicted murderer right after his release, illegal dumpers who were being prosecuted because of my reporting, and other situations I got myself in. Here's what I wrote Vanessa, but it applies to many situations:

Let me say this to everyone by posting it separately on our class blog:

If you are ever concerned about being somewhere, such as in a stranger's house or apartment, or a neighborhood cafe, the trick is to say, as soon as you arrive, Oh, I'm expecting a call. I gave your address to my friend (mother/boyfriend/roommate/teacher/editor) so they could catch up with me later. Sometimes, I make the call right in front of someone I'm talking to when I first arrive and addressing the person I'm calling rather formerly, even if it's someone I know well. This little move also makes you look professional, especially if you use words like professor or editor. If you feel awkward about using the word editor with your mother or boyfriend, just ask the person to edit your story when you're done, making him or her your editor~!)

Deadlines

They're impractical for me at this stage in my academic career, to be honest. I've got a lot of forces pulling on m from a lot of sides (it's mainly a spanish vs. journalism war right now) and it's quite the time-consuming battle. Trust me, the concept of a GWAR class is at least ten times worse when you're taking two of them.

That being said, I was on it yesterday, as in on the ball. I was the best reporter I've ever been (in the ridiculously limited amount of time I had). I talked to everyone. I was walking around, talking to people on the street and working in stores and following any leads they can give me all in pursuit of information and opinions about Ted Loewenberg.

I don't know if it's the grand design or whatever messing with me, but I've never been less successful. It's highly disappointing to have basically gotten over (FINALLY) my fear of talking to people I don't know and be completely unsuccessful.

Yes, completely unsuccessful. No one had any idea what I was talking about. I name-dropped the organization as its full name and as an acronym. Nothing. I name-dropped Ted Loewenerg. Nothing. I gave some events and projects they'd been involved in. This almost got recognition, but still nobody had anything to say. I was mainly met with blank stares and shaking heads with responses of "I don't know what you're talking about."

Cue frustration. (But props to me for finally growing as a reporter because it didn't - for once - spell defeat.)

I'm determined. Finally. I think it's the politics that interests me. I want to know more, and now I definitely want to know why as an organization slowly making waves of change in the Upper Haight they get no recognition.

That's not to say I agree or disagree with HAIA. I mean that I can't believe that these people live and work there and the only times I got any sort of recognition, I was referred to a busy or absent manager or owner.

I want to know what this says for the organization, for the neighborhood, for the people, and for the change.

Now it's only a matter of finding the time to do it.

Profile...

So my profile buddy has totally disappeared, well not really, but he apparently doesn't like to come out in the rain, so it's getting harder and harder to talk to him. I don't want to be left without a profile so I have researched an artist named Al, who has a studio in the Bayview. He has also been there for many years and according to my friend he is really friendly and unique so I will get started on his story today. I was able to get him to meet with me today so I will be going to visit and check out his cool artwork. I still am going to try to talk to Wilbert because I feel that his perspective and stories could be really great, but I will also work on my story with Al. If I get only one then I guess my assignment is done, but if I get to talk to both then I think it'll be really cool to get 2 different perspectives from such different people. The only thing I am not looking forward to is this freaking weather which is making everything harder.

A challenge

This profile story has turned into something more. It has become something more in depth than I ever thought the process of newsgathering could be.

When I used to work for The Sage at Miramar College, or The Patriot at George Mason University, I never before had to push the boundaries of memory, history, and time before now. Those stories were current. Underneath their surface of relevant, viable, and timely information, there was a paltry amount of research and energy expended. I would call for an interview, get it in a relatively timely manner, and then move to complete the story with the newfound information that I'd recently acquired.

With this profile story, it's different. I call, get a message. I call back, find the person who I'm looking for has just left, and will return within an hour or two. I receive a call from that person, only to find out that they weren't the ones that I needed to speak with in the first place, and that they have no idea where to send me next. Digging through the layers of generational knowledge, and discovering that no matter how close people were with their families, rarely is it the case that they have a relevant anecdotal story to tell me regarding the story I'm writing. I've spoken to 73 people now. I've made more than 120 phone calls and sent out more than 90 e-mails to individuals pertinent or... possibly pertinent, to my story.

Man... I only hope the feature story is a photo-story. Because this is making my brain hurt.

Cliff's Variety Pictures

Here are some old photographs of Cliff's Variety from the late 50s to early 60s, courtesy of co-owners Martha and Ernest Asten. I figured some of the photojournalism students and our professor might get a kick out of it.

Former owner Ernie DeBaca building something (1963).

Halloween at Cliff's (1959).

Cliff's Variety at its 515 location (1959).

The dinosaur Ernie made for Halloween on Castro Street (1959).

Mother and Daughter Outing (Blog 7)

This time at the Castro, I was invited to attend a drag show by one of my sources, John, who was one of the main drag performers at the show. The show was held at the Harvey Milk Academy at 8 p.m. (Adults only). When I told my mother about the event her eyes looked as though they were going to pop out of her head like of those screwball cartoons from the 50s. My mother snatched my keys from my finger tips and said I wasn’t going anywhere without her because she wanted to make sure I was safe.

I argued with her for a good 30 minutes before giving in when she said, “36 hours of labor and now you are going to make me sick with worry” (all in Spanish). Never underestimate the powers of good old fashioned Catholic guilt, especially from a hostile Hispanic mother.

When we finally got to the Castro I noticed my mother eyeing the cookie shop next to Twin Peaks, Hot Cookie. She offered to buy me a cookie, but I politely declined. She didn’t exactly take no for an answer and practically dragged me across the street from Harvey Milk Plaza. When we went inside the shop I prayed she wouldn’t notice some of their homoerotic pictures on their walls, which of course she did. Her lips pursed with disgust, but thankfully didn’t say a word. Mom bought me a peanut butter cookie (my favorite) as big as my head they because apparently she felt I was getting too thin (first I’m too fat, now I’m too thin).

As we walked passed Badlands on 18^th Street two incredibly drunk blond men scuffled out of the bar’s doors. They embraced one another, kissing passionately against a wall. My mother immediately covered my eyes as if I were still six years old, then quickly left 18^th Street. Mom ranted on and on about the “inappropriate behavior” between the two men, while walking by the recreation center.

I sighed when I saw John in front of the school. He guided us to the school’s auditorium, where the performance took place. John told us the performance is actually a fundraiser for the school’s tutoring program. He pointed out a huge plastic container next to the refreshment table and said we can place our donations inside of it. John’s eyes lit up when he saw mom slip $20.00 in the container, without hesitation.

The drag show had an old Hollywood theme with all the drag performers reenacting musical numbers from movies such as The Wizard of Oz, The Sound of Music, and Yentl. The show also included comedic skits from one of the heterosexual parents. I smiled when I noticed my mother clapping and singing along to most of the songs being performed (why didn’t I bring my camera?). Needless to say the night wasn’t completely terrible my mother for once got to enjoy herself without worrying about paying bills or cleaning the house. Although mom isn’t the most open-minded woman in the Bay Area, she’s not a hateful intolerant person. She just wasn’t used to seeing gays, lesbians, and transsexuals as a group.

http://www.yelp.com/biz/hot-cookie-san-francisco

http://harveymilk.com/

This profile project.... yeah.

I started with everything I didn’t know. I’ll be the first one to tell you that there’s a lot under that heading. (But that’s why I picked journalism, right?)

So let’s put Ted Loewenberg under the heading of “things I don’t know anything about”. Or people. Whatever.

Welcome to my whole weekend project: Operation Discover Everything I Can About Ted Loewenberg.

At first, it was like shooting the dark, and I was pretty much happy to hit anything at all.  I honestly knew nothing except what he looks like (props to me, since I met him on Wednesday night) and that he’s president of the HAIA. The only other things I really knew were what Yvonne told me about him, and I was trying very hard to shove those into the back of my mind so that they didn’t sway my other findings.

It really wasn’t hard. I can be quite one-track-minded, which is exactly what happened when I started searching for him. A lot of what I found in the beginning was pretty lame stuff (address, phone number, small business owner of Harper House, he’s a movie buff, blah blah blah). Things I need to know, obviously, because they make up the man, but nothing particularly important to know for my profile. (I mean, unless readers WANT to know where exactly to find him, which I find highly doubtful).

Anyway, I continued my search and eventually found something about him from 2002. Part of me was super stoked, finally knowing something about him before 2010 or so, and another part of me very angry, because I now had a huge gap in his life from 2002 to 2010. Cue more searching.

I figured most of it out, with a lot of digging through the archives of this mysterious wonder known as the Internet, with one small gap of a year that I’m fairly positive he himself can clear up for me right quick. (Oh wait, nevermind, just as I said that, I looked through my notes and I have figured it out.)

So, over my weekend, I have learned everything I can about this man from Google. I know where he was and what political crusade he’s been working on for nearly the past decade without even talking to anyone about him.

I feel uncomfortable talking to someone about something I don’t know at all, so it makes me feel much better knowing all about him (from the completely impersonal perspective that only online pages can provide) before I talk to him. Otherwise, how would I possibly know what to say? Everything would be more shooting in the dark. I don’t feel like firing random questions at an actual person (which just makes me look like a newbie reporter who doesn’t know how to do her homework first) makes me look like far more of an idiot than doing the same to Google. Can Google trash-talk me, or deny me search results? No. Exactly.

Now my only problem is finding people who know some things about him, and getting them to talk to me about him. I see two crucial issues here: getting the officials he’s worked with to actually see me, and finding people who have something to say about him from the other side.

Challenges, challenges. At least I’ve already accomplished something. And I’m pretty damn proud of myself.

Profile is harder than I thought

So Ive been trying to get my profile going. Im a little behind since I didnt have the last week to talk to him since I was sick. What makes thing worse is that now the weather is terrible and he hasn't been coming out. Im worried because I really want to do my story on him because I know it could be a great one. Im definitely going to keep trying and hopefully it all works out.

San Francisco Community Recycling (redemption center)

The recycling center on the east side of the Market Street Safeway is a devastating glimpse down into the city's impoverished. Unless you look up the steep cliffs to the Mint, looming, fortified and under renovation to make it even more impenetrable.

Occasional, construction workers can be seen repelling down the cliffs, chipping away at any potential hand-holds starving ninjas might use. Their doing some beautification as well, planting shrubs and palms beneath the barbed-wire.

Meanwhile, lines of shopping-cart pushing homeless trade bags of recyclables for nickels. Unfortunately, they won't even receive tangible money if they've brought too much. If it's more than a couple of bucks, your given a check.

But if you don't have a bank account, doesn't it cost a couple bucks to get that cashed?

At the very least, they measure the cans and bottles by weight, potentially giving higher payback because of the excess liquid.

I've brought my recyclables there twice now. Inside resembles Barter Town from the movie "Mad Max Beyond Thunder Dome," with clanking, breaking, cursing bottles and voices.

The most humanized pigeons I've ever seen rule the foot-level, nibbling at the puddles of booze and cracked syringes. I actually stepped on one of the birds thinking it would move.

The smell is stale beer, steamy asphalt, mold, skin, human shit, fermenting juices of fruit and body fluid.

I've never felt more privileged, never more aware of the ever separating space of rich and poor.

There are no positives.

And the beat goes on: The new poets of North Beach.

I have met quite a few poets in North that I feel have a beautiful way with words. Here are some of my favorites:

Stellar Cassidy
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=un7J18o73Q4

J. Brandon Loberg
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibFES8j_m6M

Ricardo Luna 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uimpnZHlPI0

Philip Hackett
http://www.examiner.com/music-in-national/san-fran-s-king-of-poetry-continues-to-inspire-artists?fb_comment=27230021

The Meeting Adventure, Round 2

Let me preface this tale by saying that it is nowhere near as exciting as the first. This story has no five and a half hour accomplishment, nor does it have the interesting little (creepy) bit about being hit on by a man nearly three times my age.

Nope, nowhere near as exciting. Yet, still interesting in its own right.

I finally managed to find time to get to a meeting for the Haight Ashbury Improvement Association (more commonly written HAIA and pronounced "hiya"). I had to cancel a tutoring session and hurry over after right after school, feeling definitely underprepared to meet my new profile subject, but hey, I still made it.

What blew me away more than anything else right off the bat was the demographic. White people. Seriously. Not a single person in that room wasn't white. Three of the four board members who showed up were in the prime of their lives (as in, at least 50). Of course, they all either live or work in the Haight (except one who has apparently since moved to San Mateo for some reason unknown to me).

I think what amazed me more than anything else about this meeting was the issues they were interested in. It reminds me of those little random things that my dad used to tell me about when I was growing up. Issues that seem to have nothing to do with anything (like the color you paint the trim on your house, or how long the trash cans can sit out in front of your house before you should be forced to put them behind the fence). I never really saw the importance of these issues until I went to this meeting.

Because let's think about it: the Haight is definitely the most upstanding neighborhood in San Francisco. No hippies, no homeless, and nothing to worry about. Except making sure that AT&T doesn't install more boxes to render internet and phone services to customers there.

(For those of you who have't figured it out: I'm poking fun.)

Seriously. Seriously? Twenty minutes on these phone boxes, including a vote to have the organization oppose their installation. Oh, and another twenty spent on how there needs to be volunteers armed with cell phones at Bay to Breakers (preferably two on every block) when things get out of hand so they can give a timely call to the cops. Seriously?

I'm trying to figure out why it matters. Maybe it's because I'm not a homeowner (or even a renter) and I don't see the problems that come with having to deal with such things. Or maybe it's because I don't really live in San Francisco and see the problems. Or maybe it's because I don't understand how rowdy the homeless can get. Or maybe it's because I don't understand why it matters that people spend some time sitting on the sidewalk and asking passersby for some extra change.

Maybe I just think that the Haight used to symbolize for some freedom and be a bit on the side of liberal, and this organization sounds like anything but.

Or maybe I just don't understand.

Profile... this is hard.

Last week I was trying to get my profile story subject all set so I would have no trouble this week doing it. I was really banking on Janice Mirikitani, a Poet Laureate and a founder of many services at Glide Memorial, to give me some time for an interview. However, her schedule was busy...busier than I had originally anticipated. She seemed very open  and willing to do it when I met her and her assistants. But it didn't go through. 

On top of that the Guardian Angels have moved from patrolling the Tenderloin to patrolling the Mission due to the increased gang violence. This is a bummer because they were going to be one of my mine sources in my story. However, I am hoping I will still be able to get some quotes from people who have been on the corner of Turk and Taylor. 

So I have begun to observe the corner of Turk and Taylor. But to top this off it has been raining so the activity on the corner is less than it usually is. Interestingly enough however there are still drug transactions going on. 

This profile story is by far the hardest I've had to do ever. It is not only very involved, but it will be difficult to get people to talk about the action on the corner. From the people I've talked to already some of the business owners on the corner may be in cahoots with drug dealers. They protect each others business. The owners don't report the drug dealers because it attracts more traffic to their businesses and the dealers protect the businesses from troublemakers because they want to prevent the police from coming to the corner. 

It is an interesting dynamic but one that will be dificult to uncover. Any suggestions may be much appreciated. 

A mile in 1900

The air is warm today. Without the misty ocean spray blowing over the rolling dry hills to refresh my sensibilities, it would be easy to lose myself in the tactile triviality of this particular moment. My shoes, just purchased from the general store, are uncomfortable on my feet. Yet, the way that they sink into the mud of the track where horses once ran is an inspiriting thought. I'm just wearing my white flanel shirt today. Ma would have been upset if I got my Sunday clothes dirty again. She hates doing the wash twice a week. I take a deep breath, trying to open my nostrils the way I've seen my cousin's horse do. It's difficult to pull in a lot of air, but the sweet scent of sweat and the tangy aroma of alum from the tanned leather fill my lungs. Maybe I can make it all the way around this time without stopping. I start to run again...

My but this, San Francisco, is different from Boston. The harbor is yet to be filled with ships and the houses are very nearly miles apart this far from the city center. Pa says in his boisterous voice, the one he uses when he's excited about something, "It is the epitome of urban and country living, all rolled into one!" At least that's what the pamphlet he's reading from says. I haven't yet learned to read and Ma says it could be some time before we can afford another tutor. We did get to walk down Market Street this morning though. Just like those who are better off. I put on my vest and derby hat for the occasion, so I would fit in better. Even though my shoes aren't exactly agreeable to my feet, they sure looked good all polished and shining as the fog cleared. That's another odd thing about this place. The fog. It seems to come when it wants, sits over the city like a slumbering sow, and eventually lazily departs once dinner is ready. It sure can be dreary at times.

I think my favorite part of this new city are the smells. Not old and stale like back home, but new, and inviting. Reminiscent of when Ma used to make freshly baked corn muffins for my birthday, and the smell would lure me to the breakfast table. Every corner of this, I think Pa called it a 'peninsula," is ripe for exploration. Yep. I'll grab my straw hat later today and see if I can't find a new place to set up. There's a hill just to the east of our house that looks out all the way to Market Street. I think I'll look there first. Ma called it, "Twin Peaks." Though, I'm not sure why as there's only one 'peak' really. It's just lumpy at the top.

The dust settles on my shoes as I come back to my starting point and look around. Taking in fresh air with each heavy, fatigue-laden breath. This place could be alright. At least I get to see the horses run again.

Here's the site I told you students I would post that shows the before and after tsunami photos:

http://www.abc.net.au/news/events/japan-quake-2011/beforeafter.htm

South Beach in the Rain

I know the rain hinders all foot traffic. But I swear, my neighborhood is like a ghost town in the rain. There is no one out or in restaurants or in the parks. South Beach is not easily accessible to Muni or Bart, and therefore foot traffic is pretty much the only means of travel. It's great on sunny days, people out, willing to talk. Rain=zilch. It's like two different places.

Restaurant owner Chinnmaye has said that her business hasn't declined so much because of the rain, but that's because people like Indian food when it's chilly (I think her location of San Francisco is ideal for that reason). Visit her restaurant, it's called Ruchi on 3rd and Bryant. The Chicken Chettinadu and Green Pullakora are amazing. Or you can get a Dosa for $8.

On a side note, a lot of my investigating has been towards the yachting community of South Beach, specifically the Golden Gate Yacht Club and South Beach Yacht Club. I was surprised and happy to hear that they collaborating to raise money for Japanese tsunami survivors by donating all of their proceeds from their next youth sailing lessons.

A Friend Witnessing the Disaster in Japan

Due to my grandmother getting out of the hospital after her knee surgery on Sunday, I was unable to actually go to Japantown and interview people about their families back home. [I was at her house literally ALL weekend taking care of her].

Late Saturday night, I get a text message from a friend of mine who is studying in Tokyo. "OMG, Leigh... EARTHQUAKE! OMG...." Not knowing who the person was due to an international phone number difference, or whatever, I asked, "Um... who is this?"... Then I put two and two together and texted back "OMG MISSY! ARE YOU OKAY?!"

She texted me hours later saying she was fine and needed sleep. The 8.9 earthquake startled her. She said that she has never experienced such an earthquake in her life. (She doesn't remember the Loma Prieta earthquake). She also said that she can't stand to watch the news because of the tsunami.

According to Missy, more than 1800 people have been identified at dead.

"I keep watching my phone, seeing who will respond to texts or return calls. So far I have heard from all my friends except for three. I'm hoping they're okay," Missy said.

----

Now, since she is one of my best and oldest friends, I am just glad she is okay. I got NO sleep. I plan on writing an article for [X] Press and for my Journalism 226 (Digital News Gathering) class, since we did some work for the Japan tsunami.

I'll post what Elissa and I did for that class.

Retail Therapy Solves Everything

Note to self: NEVER attempt to drive in San Francisco again.

I set up a meeting with one of the owners of Green11 in Noe Valley. Bettina and I have talked a few times and she is one of the people in Noe Valley that I feel comfortable talking to. I thought that her store Green11 would be a great subject for my profile piece.

Saturday afternoon I got into my 2002 purple Honda Civic with my roommate Megan, we were ready for an adventure and that's exactly what we got. She typed in the address and we made our way to the 280 North towards Civic Center/Bay Bridge. We then exited Cesar Chavez St./Potero Ave. We realized by all the murals that we were in the Mission. Finally! I have never been to the Mission before and even though I didn't get out, I loved passing through the district. The colors and the happy people dancing to Mexican music made me smile. THEN ALL OF A SUDDEN I get cut off by a huge MUNI bus. A-W-E-S-O-M-E only not, this preceded to happen for the next few streets, getting cut off by cars, people not turning on their blinkers and not stopping at stop signs.

Megan and I were screaming and cursing every few minutes. Then we realized we were going the wrong way, the little red pin on my iPhone map showed Green 11 was in the opposite direction of where we were headed...cool! We then turned around on another street and went back towards the Mission, and then she said we're going the wrong way again. We stop at a stop sign, no one was behind us and we look at the phone. It seems someone put in the wrong address; we were headed to 3098 24th Street instead of 3980 24th Street. Ugh okay so we just headed toward the part of the map that showed where Noe Valley was, easy enough right?

We were driving and all of a sudden we see this huge hill that my little purple car was expected to go up. I screamed, "Meg, I can’t do this. I have this fear that my car will roll down the hill like in The Princess Diaries!” She told me to floor it and I screamed all the way until we got to the top. Then to my surprise another HUGE hill! Seriously what the hell. I floored it again and we made it.

I finally see MUNI tracks and recognized the place where we were, thank goodness. We pulled in front of Bernie's coffee shop and realize we have a 30 minute maximum for the spot. This is ridiculous, it was 4:45 and my interview was at 5. We decided to wait in the car for 15 minutes and when we get out fill the meter so we can start at 30 minutes.

We waited and put more money in at 5. It turned to 5 and I check in at Green 11 on my Facebook and walk in. A man with an accent was helping some customers so I waited quietly at the entrance of the tiny shop. He asks if I need help and I tell him I am waiting for Bettina, he then informs me she isn't there. UGH!!! He gives me her number and I call her. She said she didn't come into work that day and said she didn't have access to a computer so she couldn't email me.

This was the icing on my amazing day cake. Megan and I headed back home and stopped at Forever 21 for a little retail therapy.

What have I learned: never drive into the city and when you're sad just go to Forever 21 and buy a $15 high wasted blue skirt.

St. Patty's Day and Nude People (blog6)

I decided to wear shorts and a t-shirt at the Castro on Saturday because I knew it was going to be another sunny day. I had this odd claustrophobic feeling after the Metro Muni stopped at one of the Muni stations. A large group of people crammed their way into the train; I can tell most of them were going to the St. Patrick’s Day parade because of all the green and leprechaun hats they were wearing.

I felt as though I was a clown trapped with 50 other clowns in a tiny car, it was not pretty, especially with all the body heat and horrible smell from other peoples’ sweat. One particular odor stood out from all the rest, which smelled of onions, garlic and curry. I turned to see where the smell was coming from. The smell came from a tall heavy-set man wearing “Kiss me I’m Irish” shirt; one of his hands was hanging onto one of the Muni’s handle bars. I was able to see some of the sweat bleeding through his t-shirt; apparently someone has decided to go without deodorant.

When I left the station I decided to get a slice of pizza from Marcello’s Pizza, which is on the left side of the Harvey Milk Plaza. I ordered a large slice of their plain cheese pizza, since I’m not a huge fan of pizza toppings. Walking on Castro Street while eating my pizza, my eyes widened when I caught a glimpse of a random nude man on my right side. I quickly looked away so that the guy didn’t catch me staring at him. The man was not particularly attractive; he was about 5’4, pot belly, graying hair and had a tan dark enough to even rival that of George Hamilton. I’m thankful I never caught sight of his penis because that would have ruined my lunch.

On 18^th Street I saw a jewelry store called Deki Jewels, which is known for its Tibetan handicrafts, jewelry, clothes, and hats. I admired Deki’s animal hats, but was put off by its price. The shop owner told me most of the hats were worth $20.00 because they were hand made from Nepal and Tibet.

I turned around when I felt something moist on my ankle, while I was still going through Deki’s hats; it was a light brown Chihuahua mixed dog. The dog probably smelled the cheese pizza I had earlier. I also noticed the dog was missing its left leg, causing it to limp constantly. The lady who owned the dog told me even though it is missing a leg but the dog is still active and has a lovable personality. Leg or no leg the dog was so cute I couldn’t help but pet it.

Today made me realize that the Castro is much more eventful during the weekend than it is on weekdays. However, as exciting as the Castro can be I hope to never see a naked person in the neighborhood again.

Who Runs Mid-Market?

Mid-Market has been the most difficult area of my neighborhood to cover. It hasn't been a lack of stories, there's plenty. It hasn't been hard to talk to people, those there (the homeless) talk to you. It's a lack of professional voices: landlords, developers, shop owners, etc. The place is both commercially and residentially barren.

Yet there's bizarre, interesting communities forming inside several of the closed buildings. Arbor Studios, for example, is an old theater prop rental shop. The props are still there, but now a community of artists as well have set up their many studios.

However, all the artists are extremely hard to reach-or even see-having strange hours and life-styles. I've been having to do some stake-outs, which feel cool, but haven't been successful. If I can't get my foot in the door by Monday, I think I'll have to switch profiles.

Reclaiming San Francisco.

Hey guys. I just ordered "Reclaiming San Francisco: History, Politics, Culture" through Amazon. I was flipping through the pages of this book at a friend's house and he suggested it to me. It gives a pretty interesting background on all of the neighborhoods. Here's the link if you'd like to read more: http://www.amazon.com/Reclaiming-San-Francisco-Politics-Anthology/dp/0872863352

The Tsunami

Just a commentary. I am not a fan of fear mongering.

I have friends in Spain terrified that their friends and family in the bay area are going to be hit by a natural disaster. I acknowledge the obligation journalists have to address the tsunami, but the proper research needs to be done to make sure that no misconceptions are spread.

It reminds me of the swine flu "pandemic."

This is not really about the Mission. I guess this is about San Francisco as a whole. In my Digital News Gathering class, we were told to compile information about the possibility of a tsunami hitting San Fran, and to research how the city would respond to such a warning.

I'm still deciding if it was overkill.

Another night in North Beach.

Monday night I decided to meet some newly-made friends in North Beach's Cafe Grecos. Every Monday night, there is an open mic event held from around 7-9 p.m. (depending on how many people perform).

I met up with my new friend Mitiku, who is from Ethiopia, and I saw my poet friend, Ricardo Luna. I got there kind of late and only saw the last two people perform. I talked afterward with the poet/host, Philip Hackett, who told us stories of when he used to hang out with Charles Bukowski.

It was a pretty good night, but I was quite tried from having class all day, so I kept it short.

I decided to talk to Central Station's Police Sargent Carl T., who was very helpful and told me about crime in North Beach and Fisherman's Wharf.  He told me that Fisherman's Wharf mainly has robbery crimes, as in pickpocketing. In North Beach, there are not too many noticeable crimes, although he did advise me to look into the clubs on the weekends.

Sunny at the Castro (blog5)

It was a nice sunny day at the Castro, a nice change from all that rain we’ve been getting. I was able to wear my Blink-182 sweater, which I hardly wore anymore because of the damp and cold weather we’ve been getting. It was also nice not stepping on deep puddles or worry about slipping on the stairs at the Harvey Milk Plaza.

Walking on Market Street I felt my stomach grumble due to the fact I didn’t have breakfast this morning. Unfortunately, it was too late for breakfast so most of the cafes are probably either serving lunch or brunch. Looking for a place to eat I found myself once again in front Café Flore. I stood there for a few minutes debating whether or not I should eat here. I rejected this restaurant before because I thought it was too expensive and never considered the fact that their food might actually be tasty.

To my dismay my stomach completely took over and ended up walking toward the restaurant’s entrance. I stood in front of the cash register and asked one of the servers for their brunch menu. As I looked over the menu one dish stood out like a sore thumb, the Kalua Pork Hash. The dish was comprised of two eggs any style, slow-cooked ti-leaf kalua pork, parmesan, pico de gallo, shallots, garlic fried potatoes, and toast. As strange as the name and the ingredients of the dish appeared I didn’t want to dismiss it right away without trying it. I handed the menu back to one of the workers and ordered the Kalua Pork Hash, which was $10.50 plus tax. I decided to eat my meal on one of their out door tables, since it was such a nice day. The Kalua Pork turned out to be worth every penny I spent, it was surprisingly delicious and I may consider coming back there again.

After I finished my meal I asked one of the workers which store is one of the most popular shops amongst the Castro residents. He recommended I go to Cliff’s Variety, which is a general store on the same street as the Castro Theater. During my previous visits in the Castro I have seen Cliff’s Variety, but have never explored the items they had. People have told me it’s a great place to get knick-knacks such as lanyards, cookie cutters, and holiday items. Curiosity once again getting the better of me I walked back to Castro Street. I was intrigued with what I found; the store had a wide range of items from home improvement to games and toys. I was more impressed with their arts and crafts section, especially since I can actually afford them.

Today wasn’t terribly exciting, but at least it didn’t rain on me this time.

http://www.cliffsvariety.com/

http://cafeflore.com/

Meeting Draft!

Working on my meeting story I learned that gathering information and conducting interviews was easier than organizing a story into something comprehensive. At first I thought I knew what I was doing when I compiled all my notes and background information. I wrote up what I had and then checked for grammatical errors. My story had what it needed a news lead, sub lead, nut graph, and my sources were fully attributed. However, I wasn’t satisfied with the way my news lead and nut graph were written. I felt that my news lead could be a little shorter and I just wasn’t sure how to reword it without loosing its content. As for my nut graph I had no idea whether or not I did it correctly, since I haven’t written very many of them.

Before attending my reporting class, I decided to pay Professor Daley a visit during office hours. We went over my article together to see what was wrong with it. She told me I was a good reporter and I a lot of work went into my story. The problem was my sentences weren’t direct enough (or convoluted) and I had too many unnecessary words, which would probably lead most readers astray. I felt a little relieved when to hear that most of my classmates had the same problems with their stories.

I was glad to see Professor Daley had marked up and left comments on my paper like she did before, it would give me something to refer back to the next time I write an article. During class I had made some side notes on some changes I should make for my article so that I don’t forget what to edit. Having the right sources and accurate information isn’t enough was another thing I learned working on my meeting story. If the readers can’t understand what is going on in the story than all my sources and background information would become irrelevant to them. I will try to soak in my reporting professor’s comments and hopefully get a better grade on my final draft.

How to Write a Meeting Story on a Meeting you Don't Understand

The assignment to write a story about on a meeting sounded simple enough. Although I found it hard to find a meeting in my neighborhood...bummer. Then I found a meeting that I could do for the assignment.

The Board of Supervisor's Budget and Finance meeting was last Wednesday and I would be covering it with a few of my class mates. Doesn't this meeting sound like fun? Yeah right, maybe if you lived for political jargon and feeling completely lost when the item numbers come up. Yep that was my situation but as a journalist there are things that you will have to report on and you'll have to do your best to get the interviews and understand what reserve funds and add-backs are.

Overall the meeting was only an hour, thank goodness. Luckily I had a partner in crime when it came to writing this story; his name is Nick Moone. Nick knew ever item number, all the jargon and what add-ons meant. This blew my mind. He tried to walk me through everything and although still confused we managed to do everything we could to get this story out.

With a few corrections from Professor Daley we realized the legal jargon was confusing the reader. We set up a game plan in class and will begin to rewrite the paper on Thursday. Yay for rewrites and Nick's background in student government. Lets see how round two will go when we write this paper.

Numb to the human factor: Tasers in San Francisco

Last week the Police Commission debated whether or not to implement tasers into the SFPDs weapon arsenal. The meeting was full with strong evidence in support of taser adoption. Throughout the six hour meeting there were a plethora of factual evidence and statistics shown about the issue.

However, at one point in the testimonies there were stories of people who had died or were seriously injured from tasers. Commissioner R. James Slaughter said, "As a commission we need to understand the facts and not the anecdotes."

Percentages, ratios and numbers seem to be outweighing the human factor of this issue. Tasers when used as they are intended can kill some people. They especially have adverse effects of the elderly, the mentally and physically ill. How will police be able to tell if someone is physically ill? How will they be able to tell that they are diabetic or have heart problems?

The fact is that most of the times they can't.

If someone who is mentally ill did not comply with police would the taser be used? This is especially troubling in places like the Tenderloin where the ill have few resources to get better in the first place. If you really want to talk about number maybe we should keep in mind the cost of tasers. At the meeting there was talk that a taser and a defibrillator together can cost about $2000. There are roughly 2000 officers currently sworn in under the SFPD. If even a third of officers get to carry a taser and a defibrillator that would be over $1,200,000 in spending for non-lethal weapons. This is a program San Franciscans cannot afford.

This money could be better spent in programs for those in most need of help.

What will the homeless and mentally ill do when they cannot comply with the sit/lay law? Will they be tased?

The folks of the Tenderloin need compassion not tasers.

By Nelson Estrada

Taser meeting in pictures

San Francisco Police Commission met to discuss the implementation of tasers into the SFPDs arsenal.

A skit re-enacting a situation where tasers might be used.

Interim Police Chief Jeff Godown observes actors playing a situation where a teser might save a suspects life. 

Dr.Chuck Wexler, an expert at taser use and advocate of taser adoption, observes testimonies during the Police Commissions Meeting. 

Sgt.Joe McCloskey urges the Police Commission to adopt tasers as "another tool".

About 100 people were packed into the room. Both civilians and police officers were at the meeting.

Officer Dan Laval presented non-lethal munitions. The weapon he is showing is currently used by the San Francisco SWAT team. He says that this weapon is not ideal for close quarter situation. 

Officer Dan Laval shows the encasing that the weapon uses. He says it may cause blunt trauma while the taser will not. 

Church of Mysterioso.

HERE IT IS!!!!

Sex is the goofy smile of the Spirit
Art is the sweet spasm of the Soul
Difference is the cool gift of the gods
Magick is the unwilling victim of Science
Death is the Great Reminder
Fear is only the Boo! of Change
Guilt is a prison for the Innocent
Greed is the small Suicide
Religion is doing what you are doing right now
Enlightenment is the old switcheroo
God is your secret name
Paying attention is your only bill
Belief is Mind Death
Enough is enough
No is always the wrong answer
Yes, you already have permission
There is no right way
Happiness is already yours
Anything not on this list is a lie

- Rev. Mel Ash
Church of the Mysterioso

 

Last week I went to an event at the Beat Museum entitled, "Dharma Bums: An Evening of Beat Zen with Mel Ash." I just finished reading "Dharma Bums," by Jack Kerouac, so naturally the event captured my spiritual curiosity. Rev. Mel Ash, from the Church of Mysterioso, led the meditation class and taught us how to live in the now. The three-hour class focused on the problems of thinking, sitting/walking meditation and the Beats. Everyone in the class was very friendly and best of all it was a free event. The owner of the Beat Museum, Jerry Cimino, read an expert from the once-controversial poem "Howl," by Allen Ginsberg.

These lines stuck to me, "Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy!
The nose is holy! The tongue and cock and hand
and asshole holy!
Everything is holy! everybody's holy! everywhere is
holy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman's an
angel!" (Footnote to "Howl," by Allen Ginsberg)

After a 10-minute meditation, hearing the words 'Holy', with such passion and intensity really opened me up. I felt not only spiritually aware, but connected to everyone and everything. It was a beautiful thing. I also made more contacts and found potential feature story ideas. North Beach is filled with amazing souls and everyone has a story.

Fred the firefighter

So, this was my first time really walking down Ocean Avenue. And although I'm pretty sure it's not the one from the popular punk pop song by Yellowcard, it was still an experience.

The air was crisp. Rain had fallen two days in a row now and people were poking their heads out to take a peek around, reminiscent of a famous rodent on Groundhog Day. I was coming up to the intersection of Plymouth and Ocean, somewhat struck by the finery of the vacant lot to my left. And thats when it hit me. Well, he hit me. It was Fred.

Fred was a gentleman I'd run into before (no pun intended) walking the neighborhood, but not someone I'd ever really had the chance to get to know as well as I'd like. Stumbling to pick up his books (he often carries enough to look a though he's just knocked over a Barnes and Noble) Fred gave me his best grin. The remaining two teeth in Fred's mouth stood out a bit, but something about his smile made me believe it was something he shared with a few select people.

I asked Fred if he'd eaten yet today and he told me he hadn't, so we went over to the nearby cafe and grabbed a coffee and some breakfast. He spoke of his books, his friends passed on, and his former life as a volunteer firefighter in southern Indiana. I wasn't after a story with Fred. Nor am I particularly interested in developing him as a source...but I did learn a lot from this man.

The main thing that stuck with me after our two hours together was this: "If you're going to love anyone in your life, make sure you spend time every day you have them in your life, letting them know exactly that. Make sure you love them more each day you have them. Thats the secret to staying young."

Not sure how valid the rantings of a 63 year old homeless gentleman are, but there was wisdom behind that toothless grin. I chuckled when he told me about his wife.

"Marrying her was the smartest thing I ever did. Dumbest thing she ever did, but man am I thankful she did it. And did she do it well..."

I hope I run into you again Fred. Perhaps we can share another breakfast, but please don't use all the creamer next time...

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Big 21, Big Plus in South Beach

Although being sick on my 21st birthday was a disappointment, I now have a serious upper hand in my neighborhood.

The scene of South Beach by day is oh so different than the scene of South Beach by night. I have finally found the resident of this area...at the bars!
The DNA Lounge on 11th Street is full of an eclectic group of South Beach residents. Even better, most of these patrons are not the typical middle class working suits, but rather the new upcoming trendy crowd filtering in to South Beach.

I found these last few trips that people are easier to talk to in a social setting...especially a few drinks in. I talked to a few residents who merely wanted to joke around, yet a few complied to my questions and talked to me about neighborhood concerns. One such fellow, Brad Jordan, talked to me about his concerns regarding parking and a nearby school for his daughter, who is now two. I wondered why a funky father and his family moved to South Beach of all the San Francisco neighborhoods. Then Jordan told me he's a sailor...which makes perfect sense. South Beach is crawling with sailors.

I'm finally finding it easier to determine which people to talk to, or rather, which people will talk to me. Some tips...avoid groups, closed off people with their friends are less likely to make room for you at their table. Talk to couples, especially those 35+. When you talk to couples, no one gets intimidated and your more likely to get a well-rounded answer. Avoid very drunk people. Look for people in suits as this might mean they live or work in the area. Avoid specific parties, celebrating people do not want to talk community problems.

Other bars include 83 Proof, Gordon Biersch Brewery, and the Grove (my favorite).

Still looking for more tips and more ways to meet residents. If my only chance is going to the bar, I will be a very broke woman in a very short time.