…continued
In my previous entry I was writing about some of my favorite neighborhood places and how things have changed in the Western Addition along the Divisadero corridor. Café Abir, the Bean Bag Café, and the Film Yard Video are all still kicking but there are some other places I have to speak of, some still standing, others gone for good.
Preceding the establishments already mentioned is the legendary Eddie’s Café. Café is really not the appropriate word to describe Eddie’s. Greasy spoon soul food diner would be a more fitting label. Eddie’s was one of the first places I started frequenting when I moved to San Francisco in 1991. I have no idea how long Eddie’s has been in existence but from the looks of the place I’d say about a thousand years. The place was clean but it had that ancient dirt, grease, and grime that tends to build up in the nooks and crannies as the decades go by. The place was small and cut up by a half small to medium sized booths with classic red/white checkered cloth tables and red vinyl covered seats. The focus of the place was the old wooden counter that was long enough to accommodate 7 red vinyl covered bar stools. Five across the front and the coveted two on the wrap around end by the large plate glass windows looking out to Fulton Street. Across the bar was a set of wooden cubbies topped by a stainless steel counter that separated the kitchen from the restaurant where all the food came up. That’s where all the action was. From the counter you could see the cooks cooking and you could see clean dishes being stacked in the cubby holes and you could see the transaction ka-chinging on the old push button cash register located at the end of the counter. On the walls there was a plethora of old stickers and hand made posters usually advertising some local band or event, all of them outdated by at least 10 years. To round the place out there was a coin op rotary phone and a massive juke box that looked like it survived the 50’s playing soul music featuring much of the music I grew up listening to in the 60’s and 70’s featuring legends like Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, and the Temptations.
I started going to Eddie’s because it was in the neighborhood and it was one of the two or three places in the City that served grits and other soul food staples like catfish, collard greens, and ox tail. Eddie’s closed at 3pm so usually one went there for breakfast and Eddie’s featured the typical breakfast menu of eggs any way you like, pancakes, sausage, bacon, hash browns, biscuits, and grits. What made Eddie’s special was less the food than the colorful clientele that frequented the place and the group of fantastic people that worked there. There was a bond that existed with Eddie’s regulars and the never changing staff. Walking into Eddie’s was like walking into the Western Addition of yesteryear when the neighborhood was predominantly black. It was one of the few places left in the City outside Bayview/Hunter’s Point you could walk into and find a place filled completely with black people. You had old timers setting up at the counter with the daily paper as well has young hip hoppers and aspiring rappers who’d probably been dining on Eddie’s food since they were knee high. Everybody got along like one big family. Eddie’s had that working class chic that many newcomers to San Francisco would stereotype as ghetto. When I moved to the City the Western Addition was considered a dangerous area to be avoided. Being from Los Angeles to me that was absolutely laughable, even ludicrous. For the regulars Eddie’s was a home away from home. Everybody knew each other and it was the kind of place you could speak loudly as some black folks like to do or engage in counter-slapping-from-the-gut laughter which was always prevalent. Conversation flowed freely from barbershop style debates to the daily “whatcha been up to” community reporting. What made this all work was the crew at Eddie’s. You might expect the workers to be all black (which they once were) but the reality was they were all Korean. The formerly black owned Eddie’s was run by a group of Koreans who inherited the customer base as well as the restaurant. They didn’t change the menu or the ambience, they just kept it going while adding their unique brand of friendship and service. I don’t think the group was blood related, they seemed more like a bunch of friends who got together to operate a restaurant. The were all about 40-50 years old in age, three women and five men. The men manned the kitchen and the cash register and the women took care of the customers. One woman handled the counter, another handled the booths, and another handled the dishes. It was the same people everyday doing the same job, never a change in duties and never a change in the people doing the work. They were on a first name basis with all the regulars and treated them with dignity and respect, like a family. Walking into Eddie’s was like walking into a family affair. To these African Americans Eddie’s was the neighborhood hangout. You could tell by how well the people settled into the place, like they had been there since eternity. People felt welcomed and that is an important feeling for black people who have a history of feeling “unwelcomed”.
At some point in the mid 90’s just before the dot com takeover began Eddie’s was “discovered” by the newly anointed and mostly white slacker crowd. This crowd was representative of the wave of people that came to SF after the Loma Prieta quake drawn by the cheap rents of the Western Addition and the anything goes lifestyle. These were the first of the tatooed and pierced brigade that still smoked heavily and lived for the moment. These were the people that gave birth to Burning Man and Critical Mass. Eddie’s became popular with this crowd because it was the perfect place to with a group of friends to relive the previous night of clubbing and partying. On weekends there’d be a dozen or more people waiting for a booth to open up sipping on coffee acquired from across the street at Café Abir, ready to stuff themselves with cheap eats and exchange stories of the previous night’s debauchery. The regulars though present, relented graciously to the weekenders but they were still the people Eddie’s catered to first and foremost. I became semi-regular and I always enjoyed walking in and being recognized by name and taking my usual spot at the counter. I didn’t even need a menu. If I sat down and started reading the paper they knew what to bring me; two eggs over easy with grits, hash browns, bacon, biscuits, and a large milk, all served with a warm and friendly genuine smile. They would always ask me how I was doing at home and on the job and they would always ask about my mother who I treated to breakfast there on one of her visits. The people working at Eddie’s always remember when you bring family there to dine. It’s what they are all about, family.
In America often there is talk about the strength of diversity but a lot of the time that’s all it is, talk. Eddie’s was the real deal. Everyday two separate and distinct sub-cultures became one, the sum of it’s whole creating something greater than it’s parts. That has been my experience of life in the City. My San Francisco friends have come and gone but while were together it was like family and each of them left something with me that has made me a better person.
You can't go back home to your family-
to a young man's dream of fame and
glory
to a country cottage away from strife and
conflict
to the father you have lost
to the old forms and systems of things which seemed
everlasting but are changing all the
time
Thomas Wolfe
You Can't Go Home Again (1940)
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