Vignettes Of San Francisco

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Vignettes Of San Francisco?by Almira Bailey

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Title: Vignettes Of San Francisco
Author: Almira Bailey
Release Date: November, 2003 [Etext #4643] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on February 20, 2002]
Edition: 10
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
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Vignettes Of San Francisco

By Almira Bailey

Vignettes

Title
As Pilgrims Go to Rome At the Ferry The Union-Street Car The Latin Meets the Oriental The Pepper and Salt Man The Bay on Sunday Morning Safe on the Sidewalk Port O'Missing Men Market-street Scintillations Cafeterias The Open Board of Trade The San Francisco Police A Marine View Hilly-cum-go I'll Get It Changed, Lady Fillmore Street In the Lobby of the St. Francis The Garbage-man's Little Girl The Palace Zoe's Garden Children on the Sidewalk Feet that Pass on Market Street Where the Centuries Meet Bags or Sacks Portsmouth Square Miracles Impulses and Prohibitions Stopping at the Fairmont San Francisco Sings Van Ness Avenue The Blind Men and the Elephant You're Getting Queer The Ferry and Real Boats A Whiff of Acacia It Takes All Sorts The Fog in San Francisco A Block on Ashbury Heights The Greek Grocer Billboards or Art Golden Gate Park Extra Fresh On the California-street Car Western Yarns Mr. Mazzini and Dante On the Nob of Nob Hill

Vignettes of San Francisco

As Pilgrims go to Rome

In the same way that the poets have loved Rome and made their pilgrimages there - as good Moslems travel toward Mecca, so there are some of us who have come to San Francisco. Then when we arrive and find it all that we have dreamed, our love for it becomes its highest tribute. And I don't know why it is sacrilege to mention Rome and San Francisco in the same breath. As for me I greatly prefer San Francisco, although I have never been to Rome.
I love San Francisco for its youth. Other cities have become set and hard and have succumbed to the cruel symmetry of the machine age, but not San Francisco. It is still youth untamed. They may try, but they cannot manicure it, nor groom it, nor dress it up in a stiff white collar, nor fetter it by not allowing a body to stretch out on the grass in Union Square or prohibiting street-fakers and light wines served in coffee pots and doing away with wild dashing jitneys.
Then there is something about San Francisco's being away out here from everyone else, a city all alone. New York is five hours from Boston; Philadelphia is close between New York and Washington; Baltimore is a trolley ride away; Chicago is only overnight from all the other cities, while Atlanta is only two sleeping car nights from her sister cities. But San Francisco, out here as far as it can reach with one foot in the great Pacific, nearly a week from New York and a month away from China, some people wouldn't like it, but something vagabondish in me rejoices