Category Archives: San Francisco

What’s Moving Into The Former Son Loy Laundry Space On Stanyan?

Hoodline, 12/18/14

Straddling the border between Upper Haight and Cole Valley, Son Loy Laundry operated on Stanyan Street for more than 50 years. Since it closed several months ago, neighbors and passers-by have speculated about who’ll move into the 2,500 square feet commercial listing described as “wide open warehouse space.”

Yesterday, Hoodline learned that 784 Stanyan is coming off the market. According to Chris Homs, an agent with Lockehouse Retail Group, a new tenant is in the final stages of signing a lease. Homs wouldn’t say who’s moving in, but he said it won’t be a restaurant or a bar. “It’s a good local use,” said Homs, adding that his client already has a connection to the neighborhood.
After the laundry closed, contractors stripped the building down to the studs. Several skylights brighten up the now-cavernous interior; with 15-foot ceilings and no support columns, the space could accommodate nearly any retailer or service provider.
Built in 1940, a  Sanborn map describes the building as a Japanese laundry, which jibes with a 1941 directory listing for Tomoyuki Nozawa at this address. Following the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1942, the US government deported or incarcerated many Japanese-Americans. In a sobering reminder of that dark chapter of American history, records from the Topaz War Relocation Center in Utah indicate that a Nozawa family from Upper Haight/Cole Valley was held there.
A 1942 directory lists a VP Beck as the operator of  a hand laundry at 784 Stanyan St. The following year, Starlight Laundry moved into the space, and by 1954, the operation was doing business as Forest Hill & Stanyan French Laundry.
In 1961, Son Loy Laundry moved from 315 Broderick St. to the Stanyan building. According to a 1915 summary of a Board of Supervisors meeting, Son Loy Laundry had received approval  to install a 6-horsepower boiler on Broderick way back in 1914, making it one of San Francisco’s oldest laundries by the time it closed.
A century later, neighbors are wondering about the new tenant. Julianne Walsh owns Green Pawz, an environmentally-friendly pet shop at 772 Stanyan. “I would like to see ideally a local restaurant,” she said. “Another place to go to and dine after work. This neighborhood could use some more options.”
Katy Hooks manages the front desk at Yoga Tree, next door to the former laundry. She’d like to see a coffee shop. “Yogis can always use some caffeine intake before and after class.”
Zoning requirements narrow down the mystery tenant’s options, as 784 Stanyan is inside a buffer zone that restricts new restaurants and check-cashing establishments. We’ll let you know when we learn more about the next occupant of the space.

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San Francisco’s Video Rental Stores: Adapting To Survive In Changing Times

Since 1980, Le Video has provided film fans in the Inner Sunset and beyond with a well-curated selection that simply can’t be found elsewhere.
Standing firm against the likes of Blockbuster and Netflix, the store has built a reputation as a cinematheque, an archive of independent and foreign cinema boasting as many as 100,000 titles. In its heyday, the checkout line would snake out the front door and down Ninth Avenue on typical Friday nights.

By 2014 however, Le Video was on life support. According to manager John Taylor, founder Catherine Tchen was keeping the store afloat using her own money to make payroll, pay taxes and expand the library.
“When I started here in 1999, there were 24 or 25 employees,” said Taylor. “There’s eight total now.”
On March 27, Le Video launched an Indiegogo campaign to raise $35,000 for renovating the store, moving the DVD collection upstairs and making room for a new ground-floor tenant, among other goals. In April, before the campaign concluded, Le Video announced a new retail partner: Green Apple Books, an independent bookstore in the Richmond established in 1967. Thanks to media exposure and a strong show of support from the community and its customers, Le Video raised $60,420.
After the campaign wrapped, the store reopened at the beginning of August. “It took longer than we expected,” said Taylor. “Supplies didn’t come through, the DVD sleeves didn’t show up, there were issues with the shelving, different contractors quitting the job, little things like that.”
According to Taylor, these logistical problems may have turned off loyal customers.
“When we opened, it was looking a little rough in here. People would come upstairs, and say, ‘what happened? Where did everything go?’ I think we lost a lot of people by opening too early, but at the same time, being closed a month was too long, and we couldn’t wait any longer.”
Today, posters and memorabilia adorn the walls and Le Video’s selection is neatly sorted and labeled for easy browsing. When we visited on a Tuesday evening after work, there were a few customers inside looking over the selection. But apparently demand hasn’t met Le Video’s predictions.
“Unfortunately, things aren’t working out the way we expected,” said Taylor. “We hoped that when we reopened, we could stay at the level we were at before and with slightly lower overhead… but that’s not the way it’s been working so far.”
Taylor said business is down 30% from where it was prior to Le Video’s move upstairs.
“We gave free rentals to people as perks for donating, but a lot of those people have never come in to rent anything since donating. It’s really helpful that they donated, but it’d be even more helpful if they just came in.”
Other goals in the crowdfunding campaign (e.g., creating an online database for their archive, customer seating, new computers for in-store browsing) have yet to be realized.
Based on the popularity of independent film and area festivals, Taylor said he sees a demand for the service Le Video provides.
“I went to The Roxie this weekend, and they played French film noir movies, and they were sold out… including 1pm matinees. But I didn’t recognize any of those people as being customers here. My guess for those people is that they get what they want on a daily basis from Netflix or Amazon or somewhere, but they reserve their more cultured film experience for going to the theater.”
A handful of video-only stores remain in the city. Some, like Top World Video in the Inner Sunset and Cole Valley’s Video Nook, have diversified to offer services like smartphone repair and accessories, mailbox rentals and home theater installation. Others, like The Mission’s Lost Weekend Video and Video Wave of Noe Valley, have stuck with their core business.
Gwen Sanderson and Colin Hutton have owned Video Wave for 10 years, but the shop first opened in 1983. Sanderson said a number of factors have combined to erode their business, including the 2008 economic downturn, gentrification, a historic drought that encourages outdoor activity, and televised events like Giants postseason runs and World Cup soccer games. Video Wave is down to one part-time staffer, and Sanderson and Hutton work in the store six days each week. “We’re barely hanging in,” said Sanderson.
Separately, Sanderson, Hutton and Taylor said stores like Le Video and Video Wave provide a higher level of service and expertise than Netflix, iTunes or Amazon, but video stores need to adapt to the way consumers now browse and consume content.
“We’re really just the preservers of a 30-year investment in the neighborhood and our movie collection, more than profitable business people,” said Sanderson. She wants to create a central database for independent video stores that lets consumers see what’s on the shelves at their local stores in real time.
“People want to have us here, but they want to be able to use the devices they’re using all the time to access this stuff,” she said.
“This is very much a neighborhood business,” said Hutton. “When we were talking to the owner who was selling, there was someone in here with their baby saying, ‘I was in here when I was a kid, and I’m still living in the neighborhood, and now, I get to bring my kids here.’”
Hutton said age is a contributing factor; customers over 40 enjoy visiting stores to browse and create a rapport with employees so they can get personal recommendations. “People who haven’t been exposed to anything but the Blockbuster model didn’t have a good time, so they’re not losing out on anything by just browsing on iTunes,” according to Hutton.

 
Hoodline spoke to one video store owner who said that home video rental isn’t economically viable because of a broader trend. 
“Anyone’s ability to manage a small business is being obliterated by digital industries.”
The owner, who asked to remain anonymous, cited Amazon same-day delivery as one of several examples where consumers are choosing convenience over supporting local businesses.
“People aren’t willing to leave the house to buy toilet paper. They’d rather get it brought to them on a little truck. It’s not sustainable; there aren’t going to be enough average jobs.”
According to this owner, renting videos near enclaves of senior populations like Scottsdale, AZ and Boca Raton, FL is still a viable business, however.
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On its Facebook page, Le Video posts regular updates to make sure customers know the shop continues to add new titles. Taylor estimated that if half of Le Video’s active customers visited the store once each month, the store could continue to operate.
“If we could somehow drone over the DVDs to people, I bet we would do gangbusters,” said Taylor.

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Filed under Inner Sunset, Media, Movies, San Francisco, Uncategorized

Serendipity with the South End Rowing Club

By 6:20, we’d set up our tripods along the Embarcadero behind Waterbar and Epic Steakhouse. I’ve never patronized either place, but the views couldn’t be beat; we were standing a hundred or so yards from the westernmost tower of the Bay Bridge.

I arrived with a clear idea of the shot I wanted to get; foremost in my mind was capturing the the sunrise over the Oakland hills as the light glanced off Guardian, one of two SFFD fireboats. I pass this spot twice each weekday as my streetcar takes me to the train station. I can tell myself a thousand stories in the time it takes me to reach my desk each morning, so the city’s only wharfside fire station captured my imagination.

As I attached my POPA iPhone accessory to the tripod, a splash of color caught my eye; an aquamarine Chrysler New Yorker convertible coasted in off the Embarcadero and docked in front of the fire station.

The driver spoke to his passengers; a couple of middle-aged guys wearing Speedos and flannel shirts. Within a few minutes, about 15 more converged on our location, some in wetsuits, others wearing simple swimsuits and warmup gear. Everyone wore or carried yellow bathing caps.

Cynthia and I realized our postcard shot was being eclipsed by something much more spontaneous. One of the polar bears noticed me scanning his crowd with interest.

“Welcome to San Francisco!” he said, arms wide.

“I’ve lived here for 16 years,” I said, “but you guys definitely have my attention. This is much more interesting than the guy who unicycles to Caltrain.”

“Made you look!” he said, grinning.

I asked what I was watching; a woman wearing a tank suit and an insulated Gore-Tex robe explained that this was an annual swim event for the South End Rowing Club; they jump in the water near the Bay Bridge and swim north and west until coming ashore at their clubhouse just off Hyde Street at Aquatic Park.

“Wait, you do this just once a year?” I asked.

“Yep,” she said. “Lucky you!”

By this point, most of the swimmers had converged on the fire station. They were about 60/40 male/female, ranging in age from about 40 to 75. Friends paired up for earnest conversations while a few stretched hamstrings against fences and benches. Others kept to themselves, rubbing hands together and looking silently out at the water.

A handful of sea kayaks and Zodiacs coasted parallel to the seawall and encircled the fireboat. An elderly woman on one of the inflatable motorboats called up to friends on shore who responded with a headcount.

“We got two more!” called out a near-naked man in his early fifties. I tried picturing him 24 hours from now as he munched on a bagel and read the Wall Street Journal next to me on Caltrain.

The older woman in the Zodiac waved her hand to acknowledge and jotted on a clipboard. By this time, I’d started mixing freely with the swimmers. I’d got as many shots of my fireboat as I needed, and I was starting to share their anticipation.

By 6:30, the swimmers were in front of the fire station, knocking on the door. Moments later, a sleepy fireman rolled the sliding door open and ushered everyone through. We walked through a gleaming firehouse to a cluttered pier where club members boarded my fireboat.

I stood midship as the swimmers swarmed the bow and jockeyed for position. Spotters in boats and kayaks shouted encouragement as the swimmers took turns leaping into San Francisco Bay. I looked over my shoulder at the city behind me and noticed that the arms and feet churning the water had momentarily drowned out the outboard engines.

Twenty-four swimmers moved like a pod of dolphins away from the boat. They had a multitude of styles and techniques, but the end result was the same: forward.

I found myself along on deck with a yawning fireman who looked like he wanted to get back in bed.

Cynthia and I drove to Aquatic Park to drink coffee and waited for the swimmers to arrive. We walked through the South End boathouse and staked out spots on the club’s tiny beach as we watched the line of swimmers cut a beeline through the breakwater and into Aquatic Park.

I felt that flutter of anticipation again, along with a flush of admiration for these strangers who’d decided to get up early on a Sunday morning to swim around downtown San Francisco. Watching them come ashore was slightly thrilling, even if some of them seemed slightly blasé about the outing.

“Hey, you look familiar,” said the guy who’d welcomed me to San Francisco about an hour before. He emerged from the water like a sardonic Venus on the half-shell, adjusting his tiny trunks and wiping away the grime that collected under his nose.

A tall woman who landed in the first wave stood next to me for a moment, watching the new arrivals. She fluttered her right hand at another woman who stood on a pier with a clipboard checking folks in: “I’m heading back out!” she said, walking casually back into the water. Clipboard woman shot her a thumbs-up and went back to her accounting.

Some days, it pays to get up early.

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Filed under California, Personal, San Francisco