Like many visitors I first encountered the Cliff House on a sightseeing tour of San Francisco in October 1995, calling in after the obligatory orientation stop at Twin Peaks. We had little more than half an hour there, just enough time to peruse the jewellery stalls on the pavement outside, buy a postcard or a packet of Californian seeds in the gift shop and, most importantly, avail ourselves of the washrooms.
We spied an enticing restaurant (there are two of course, but weren’t able even to fit in a coffee. The tour guide will probably have outlined the exotic history of the three different buildings that had stood on the site, including the Christmas Day fire of 1894, the majestic Sutro Baths and amusement park, the atmospheric remnants of which can now only be seen. But the history lesson will have passed most of us by, anxious as we were to move on to the more dazzling attractions of the Golden Gate Bridge and Fisherman’s Wharf.
Eighteen years and nine trips later, it has become a ritual for us to have brunch here on the first morning of each visit to the city. Sometimes by car, and on other occasions by MUNI bus, we ride out through the Inner and Outer Richmond neighbourhoods, excitedly counting down, or rather up, the numbers of the avenues. We sweep past Golden Gate Park on our left whilst craning our necks for tantalising views of the bay – and the great bridge – to the right as we pray for the interminable procession of traffic lights to be on our side.
We park up behind the wall separating the Great Highway from Ocean Beach and walk towards the Cliff House, hoping that the line for the bistro on the ground floor is not too long. Being told – as we always seem to be – that we have around a half hour wait, we venture outside to marvel at both the bird life on Seal Rock and the engineering masterpiece that is the Camera Obscura.
On returning to the restaurant, we are escorted by a cheerful waiter to a table at one of the large picture windows, permitting either views of Seal Rock and the vast Pacific Ocean beyond, or of the long, bullet straight shoreline towards Pacifica, Half Moon Bay, Santa Cruz and all points south. Golden Gate Park, with the Dutch Windmill signposting its coastal entrance, sits half a mile away whispering its hidden delights.
We are given ice cold water and divine warm rolls while we scan the menu, though we hardly need it as our order is always Crab Eggs Benedict for myself and Eggs San Francisco for my wife, accompanied by fried potatoes (not fries), onions and peppers, melon pieces, grapes and salad, juice and unlimited coffee. Heaven!
That’s the moment!
It is only now that we feel truly “home” again – with that meal, that view, that hum of civilised conversation that pervades the dining room. The next week, fortnight or, in our upcoming vacation, month, is laid out before us like a procession of Christmas Days, with lavish presents and sumptuous food and drink on every one of them.
As we leave the Cliff House to walk off the meal on the beach or the cliff tops of Land’s End, the next tour bus pulls up and disgorges its occupants, chattering of Chinatown, Pier 39 and Macy’s, all to be ticked off by lunchtime, to the washrooms, gift shop and jewellery stalls. Perhaps some of them at least will remember that short comfort stop next time they visit the City and decide to inspect the plain looking building by the sea a little more closely.
But I hope it’s not too many, as we would not want our wait for a table to be any more than that customary half an hour would we?
Another of the most serene and civilised spots in San Francisco is the Japanese Tea Garden in the heart of Golden Gate Park. It is at this time of year that it is seen at its loveliest as I hope the photographs below demonstrate.
For just $7, or $5 if you are fortunate enough to be a resident, you can walk among the cherry blossom trees, cross stone bridges and marvel at both the pagodas and koi ponds. And for the children – and those just young at heart – you can attempt to negotiate the arched drum bridge.
The tea house is a delightful spot for a light lunch or mid-afternoon snack, serving a variety of Japanese teas, soup, sandwiches, cheesecake and, of course, fortune cookies.
With a little over two months to my tenth trip to San Francisco, I am revisiting, and where appropriate, updating a handful of my articles on the city I fell in love with from afar in 1967 and in person 28 years later.
If I were forced to name the place I would most like to spend a couple of rainy hours, the Ferry Building would appear very close to the top of the list.
It was on 13th July 1898 that the first ferryboat and its passengers pulled into what was then called “The Union Depot and Ferry House”. At the height of its glory in the nineteen thirties, more than 50 million passengers passed through it each year.
Despite two major earthquakes and the construction of both the San Francisco – Oakland Bay and Golden Gate Bridges, not forgetting a hideous double-decker freeway along the Embarcadero, the latter thankfully demolished after the second of those earthquakes, the building with its 235 foot high clock tower inspired by the moorish belltower in Seville, has not only survived but become one of the most popular attractions in the City.
Once the City’s principal transportation hub and beautifully restored between 2003 and 2007, it is now home not only to two storeys of premium office space, but also a permanent gallery of stalls selling locally produced fresh fruit and vegetables, cheeses, wines, meats, flowers, chocolate and pastries, as well as one of a kind gift items, many related to the kitchen and garden.
An outstanding farmer’s market takes over the plaza on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and especially Saturdays, when celebrated chefs from around the City demonstrate their skills to locals and tourists alike. Several appealing restaurants and cafés complete the scene.
Located along the Embarcadero at the foot of Market Street, it is now one of only a handful of landmarks that I make a point of visiting on every trip to the City, however short. Ten days in April didn’t yield a single cable car ride or journey over the Golden Gate Bridge, but it did include two trips to the Ferry Building, one on the way back from a spending spree at the ballpark (in fact, it is a perfect resting spot if you are making the bracing but arduous hike on a blustery day from AT & T Park to Fisherman’s Wharf, or vice versa).
Its role as a ferry port may have diminished (it now caters only for a handful of local services), and cruise ships may soon be getting their own spanking new terminal, but the building remains at the heart of the City’s transportation system with MUNI (Metro) and BART lines criss-crossing here, and the cranky, lovable F Streetcars rattling by.
Whilst there might be other excellent, if admittedly less expensive, farmer’s markets and wholefood stores around town, the Ferry Building might just be the best. Where else can you pick up those last minute snapper fillets, fresh vegetables, rustic loaves, Californian wines and cheeses, and even pig’s cheeks, to take back to your apartment in Noe Valley or the Sunset? And the visit alone, especially if you tarry awhile and experience everything it has to offer, is worth the journey alone.
Slip into the Ferry Plaza Wine Merchants , share a carafe or two of Napa or Sonoma wine, or indulge in one of the special tasting “flights” where you can sample half a dozen wines at once (I would caution, however, that if you are of a nervous disposition, it comes with a lot of (different shaped) glasses, and whilst it looks pretty, the potential for disaster is considerable). What better to accompany it than a tasty cheese board? And you may stumble upon one of the regular lectures on wine or even meet the individual who made the wine you are drinking, as has happened to me!
If the Giants happen to be playing on the live televisions, so much the better, just order another carafe. And don’t forget to pick up a couple of bottles before you leave.
With the closure of the large Border’s and Barnes and Noble bookstores at Union Square and Fisherman’s Wharf respectively in recent years, it is heartening also to find the excellent Book Passage in the building. It may be small but it stocks an impressive selection of books on San Francisco and the Bay Area in particular. Pick up a book and a cup of Peet’s (coffee) from the adjoining cafe, grab a seat outside and “waste” an hour enjoying the bay views.
San Francisco Chronicle columnist Herb Caen called it “a famous city’s most famous landmark”, adding that the “waterfront without the Ferry Tower would be like a birthday cake without a candle”.
With the 2013 Opening Day a heartbeat away, it seemed as good a time as any to showcase some of my photos of the World Champions’ home. These were taken during the official tour of AT & T Park on in April 2010 and the opening home game against the Pittsburgh Pirates last year.
Is there a better setting for a sports stadium anywhere in the States?
Three hours to the first pitch. Go Zito!
Filling up – yet another full house taking shape.
So disappointing to learn that I’m too old to ride the slides inside the Coke bottle!
Or play in this miniature ballpark! I think even I could hit a home run here!
Taken from the “Ride the Duck” tour – audio deliberately omitted.
The eventual World Series MVP starts the season how he means to go on.
Though many people – including my wife – prefer the Oakland Bay Bridge, this remains the most iconic image of San Francisco. And that is reflected in the number of photos I have taken of it from various angles over the years.
Here is a selection of those I am most fond of. Some are familiar images, others perhaps less so.
From the Marin Headlands with Sutro Tower
in the distance and the City to the left
I was walking, not driving, when I took this!
From Land’s End after a hearty brunch at the Cliff House!
“The Warming Hut” – does what it says on the tin
Peeking from behind the “Warming Hut”
Where the tourists get taken
Nearly there! From Crissy Field Beach
Towards Fort Point
Going under
Looks pretty sturdy to me
But it’s still the No. 1 “suicide bridge” in the world
Pending the imminent return of full-blown articles on aspects of San Francisco, I am posting a series of photo blogs on different neighbourhoods. The first subject is Coit Tower, perched atop Telegraph Hill with wonderful views of the “necklace of bridges, Alcatraz and the bay on one side, and North Beach and the Financial District on the other. And there is another treat inside – the marvellous murals produced under the New Deal in the thirties.
If you want to learn more about the woman whose generous bequest funded this much loved San Francisco attractions, read my article at:
I have been inundated lately with enquiries as to why I haven’t posted on this blog since before Christmas, and the overwhelming tumult has finally forced me to fess up.
Well, actually, nobody has asked me – not one individual.
Personne.
Nessuno.
Nadie.
Niemand.
So it is purely guilt that has forced me to explain myself now. And I for one am sick of opening the blog to find my ten favourite Christmas songs staring – and blaring – at me. And, by the way, I have already changed my mind about them (but you will have to wait another nine months to discover the details).
So why the silence?
Well, it’s not – as might be presumed – because I have contracted writer’s block, lost my muse (if I ever had one) or given up because it’s just got too difficult.
No, it’s because I am writing a book!
Not alone though, I have a co-author.
Having made the decision in early December I felt to do it justice, and the fact that there is time pressure on its launch, I would avoid the complication of posting blog articles at the same time. Focusing on a single aspect of your writing is not what the experts tell us is advisable, and had I not been collaborating with someone else, I might have attempted to do both in tandem.
So, anyway, what’s this book about?
At this stage, with seven eighths of the writing done, I’d rather not disclose any more information to the world (though friends and associates already know), other than to say that it is a non-fiction book about a niche subject, stretching to 300 pages with masses of photographs and other illustrations. A well established author and expert on the subject has agreed to write the foreword.
We hope to round up the actual writing by the end of March with a view to publication in early summer (we have been given quotes by several prospective publishers already, though we may yet self-publish).
I will blog again shortly on the lessons to be learnt from my first book writing experience (the three part novel about the little white bull, written at the age of seven, doesn’t count). Writing with another person who lives 150 miles away has posed additional challenges, though I have to confess that the process has been relatively painless.
With the writing complete, I will return to the blog with a vengeance. With a whole month in summer in San Francisco ahead of me I will be focusing once again on this endlessly fascinating subject.
There – what a relief, at least I won’t now have to look at that Christmas song list any more.
For doesn’t the music you prefer to listen to so often reflect the mood that you are in at that moment in time?
And then there’s the thankless challenge of breaking down an initial list approaching thirty into ten. That said, after much soul searching, I’d like to think that the ten I have chosen – at least for today would be broadly similar to those I would have plumped for last year and will do next year, and in the years to come. The order may differ slightly but the contenders will remain the same. I make that assertion in the full expectation that the future is unlikely (sorry X Factor) to unearth some sensational new numbers that will threaten the current status quo (those old rockers are not in it by the way).
So I have tried to avoid these potential pitfalls and focus on those songs and performances that transcend current inclination or mood.
A word of warning first.
One type of “music” you will not find in this list are the excrutiating seventies pop confections of Slade, Wizzard, Mud, Shakin’ Stevens and many others that are heard everywhere – TV programmes, shopping malls, parties – and are the bane of my life at this time of year. So if they’re your favourites, I’d stop reading now. And don’t expect to see any of the annual serving of mush served up by Cliff Richard either.
I am also unmoved by those songs that may or may not have a Christmas theme and content, but are forever associated with the holiday period purely because that is the time of year when they first came to our attention, often for commercial reasons. This is why I don’t share the almost universal idolatry of Fairytale of NewYork, despite the fact that I love both Shane MacGowan and Kirsty MacColl. I don’t dislike Band Aid’s Do They Know It’s Christmas? and you cannot knock the tremendous work it has done in addressing famine in Africa. But these are false friends and do not, for me, carry that indefinable spirit and “feel” of Christmas.
I’m an unashamed traditionalist, even sentimentalist, when it comes to Christmas music, indeed Christmas per se. So the list is essentially nostalgic, redolent of past times, especially childhood. And yes, I’m prepared to concede that, on this occasion, age is a contributory factor to this outlook. Maybe it also derives from being surrounded by Dickens from a young age.
Am I saying then that, for a Christmas song to earn my respect or adulation, it must either serve a lengthy apprenticeship – at least half a century – or evoke a romanticised version of a bygone age?
Perhaps I am.
But enough of this – let’s get on with my selection. Cue immediate quizzical looks with number ten.
10. Must Be Santa – Bob Dylan
Bob Dylan doing a Christmas song? You must be mad, or you’ve clearly had too much egg nog – or both, I hear you scream in disbelief. Well, maybe, but he produced a whole album of them back in 2009. And some of it is rather good. The grizzled near seventy year old voice, ravaged by red wine, cigarettes and constant touring, lends itself rather nicely to some of the old standards like Do You Hear What I Hear?, Winter Wonderland and Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, though perhaps less so to the assortment of Christmas carols he tackles.
But this is my particular favourite – a rollicking, boisterous romp with some less than traditional lyrics.
So who’s had too much egg nog now?
9. Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow – Dean Martin
Another standard sung in a more conventional manner. Recorded countless times but, for me, this is the best version. Deano’s lascivious, martini-soaked croon nails it for me.
8. It Came Upon a Midnight Clear – The Choir of Winchester Cathedral
Initially, this slot was filled by In the Bleak Midwinter, a lovely carol but perhaps just a little too familiar for inclusion here. I was then reminded, on hearing it for the first time this year, of this beautiful and too little heard melody. But, in truth, it could have been any number of other carols.
7. Here We Come A-Wassailing – Kate Rusby
The first of two – there could again have been more – offerings from the Barnsley Belle. It may only be number seven – at least for today – but it tends to be the first song I turn to each December to kick start the festive season with its atmosphere of celebration and community. A song ripe too for inclusion in an adaptation of any Thomas Hardy novel.
6. Angels From the Realms of Glory – King’s College, Cambridge
And glorious this indeed is. Truly thrilling. As a child, this would fill Rochester Cathedral at the school’s end of term concert more satisfyingly than any other carol, even if I and my school friends were more interested in our card and dice games beneath the pews. But we always found time to join in with our own version of the last line of each verse – something to do with a West London football team if I recall correctly.
5. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas – Ella Fitzgerald
“The Voice” has to have a place on this list. Warm, vibrant, nostalgic – everything that makes Christmas special. Along with Al Jolson, the Andrews Sisters and Tennessee Ernie Ford, Ella dominated the soundtrack to my earliest years. She has subsequently survived Elvis, the Beatles, Dylan, psychedelia and country rock to hold a similarly central place in my affections.
4. See Amid the Winter’s Snow – King’s College Cambridge
The more discerning reader might have observed that my carol selections are not the most frequently heard, hence popular. I have not developed the measure of contempt that the more familiar carols such as Once in Royal David’s City, Silent Night, While Shepherds Watched, O little Town of Bethlehem, Good King Wenceslas, Hark the Herald Angels Sing, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, The First Nowell and O Come All Ye Faithful might be thought to have bred – far from it, but these and the achingly beautiful melodies of my other selections carry the day for me.
A passing nod too to the two carols that I most associate with my childhood – Rocking and Away in A Manger which we “sang”, sat cross-legged on the frozen wooden floor of Glencoe Road Primary School when, apparently, we’d never had it so good (well, for a six year old, perhaps we hadn’t).
See Amid the Winter’s Snow has added resonance too in that this was my father and eldest brothers’ party piece at the end of the annual freemasonry lodge Christmas dinner and dance. Fuelled by a cocktail of beer, wine, gin and tonic and Irish coffee (not all at once though), they would – so I’m told, I never witnessed the spectacle myself – bring the house down with their heartfelt duet.
3. The Holly and the Ivy – Kate Rusby
This should have been The First Tree in the Greenwood but I could not find a video of Kate’s performance. Instead, I returned to the song of which it and many others are variants. Again, I could have filled this list with Kate’s lovely renditions of traditional carols, supported by the mellow tones of the Grimethorpe Colliery Brass Band.
2. Run Run Rudolph – Chuck Berry
The nearest thing to a “pop” song in this collection, even though it was recorded more than half a century ago. But what drive, energy, excitement and humour – classic Chuck, the godfather of rock ‘n’ roll. He may not have written it but he gave it its life.
1. For Unto Us A Child is Born from Handel’s Messiah – Sir Colin Davis & the London Symphony Orchestra
Probably heard – and certainly sung – more often as part of a carol concert, the opening bars of Handel’s sublime oratorio evoke Christmas for me more than any other piece of music, hence its pre-eminent position. A perfect accompaniment to a big breakfast and the exchanging of gifts.
But surely, you say, isn’t this one of those “false friends” you sneered about earlier in this article? After all, wasn’t Messiah first performed in the Great Music Hall, Fishamble Street, Dublin on 13th April 1742. It’s a Easter, not Christmas song goddamit!
Fair point, but I contend that not only does it fit my “spirit and feel” test, but it has become so inextricably associated with the Christmas season in the public consciousness that it is the most glorious expression of the life, and in this instance, birth of Christ.
I rest my case.
By the end of this journey through the last four centuries of western music you may be wondering if I have “got religion”, and specifically Christianity, so drenched in the christian tradition are my selections. It is an understandable question, to which I can only respond that, though the faith be long gone, the thrill of listening, and indeed reading, how gloriously others have expressed that faith, endures.
So you’ve heard mine. What are your favourites?
Please let me know either by commenting at the end of this post, or replying via Facebook or Twitter.
Tony Quarrington 
