SAN FRANCISCO, U.S.A.

This is one of the few photos I've got from the time I was in San Francisco, California in April-May 1972. You see the lovely couch I'm sitting on? It would turn into a bed at night where I slept.

At Pepe's apartment on Larkin Street in San Francisco. See the little transistor radio? I used to listen to KCBS-FM on it.

You see, my going to San Francisco in late March 1972 was like pleading for Help! I had been living in Newark since the beginning of Fall 1971. I had no idea Winter could take so long or even if it would end at all. I was deep in a cultural shock living in the New York area. I thought I had to escape from that White Hell somehow. When my friend Nino, who I had met in the Brazilian Army in 1968, arrived from São Paulo and stayed at his friend Jose Luis's apartment in lovely San Francisco he sent me word that I would be welcome in sharing the living-room if I wanted to. I didn't think twice and took an Eastern Airlines jet to California.

Top 5 at Billboard on 25 March 1972

1.  A horse with no name - America

2.  A heart of gold - Neil Young

3.  The lion sleeps tonight - Robert John

4.  Puppy love - Donny Osmond

5.  Mother and child reunion - Paul Simon

Mister, can't you see?  (Buffy Sainte Marie) 

I can hear the rivers flowing and I can see the winds a-blowing

since the endless marching over time.

And if you don't know what I'm feeling, take a look 'cause I'm revealing

everything that's now running through my mind

Telling you the time is coming

you gonna have to start your poor legs running

part of this whole world you refuse to call your own.

Harm is coming and it may be tomorrow

gonna have to beg and to borrow

sanity from a man you've never known.

And if you know what I'm feeling, take a look, 'cause I'm revealing

everything that's now running through my mind

And I can see the rivers flowing, I can hear the wind a-blowing

since the endless marching over time

Mirrors come from every angle

I'm telling you you're gonna have to dangle your mind from living

why you're gonna think so small

I swear the day is coming, honey, soon

the troop is gonna bust a lot of balloons

there's gonna be a lot of people learning to crawl

And if you don't know what I'm feeling

take a look, 'cause I'm revealing everything

that's now going through my mind

And I can see the rivers flowing, I can hear the wind a-blowing

since the endless marching all the time.

Mickey Newberry & Towns Van Zant

from the album 'Moonshot' by Buffy Sainte-Marie

Listen it at:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qvbaovnOYyg

San Francisco was indeed an entirely different world from New York. As soon as I stepped out of the plane I noticed my heavy winter-clothes were utterly out-of-place in the land of milk-and-honey! I had escaped from Hell and was being welcome to Paradise. 

But Paradise had a price too. I soon realized I would not find employment in the Bay Area because my English was not up to scratch. I could not have worked as a busboy for I hardly understood what would be ordered. Working in a factory in San Francisco was out-of-the-question for Frisco is not this sort of town. I would have to work in the hospitality industry! I could have been a cleaner but I was out of sorts. Most of Jose's Mexican friends were bi-lingual. Actually many of them were going to University of California in Berkeley and had a bright future. I felt miserable when I realized I was just 'nobody' who could not even understand the most basic dialogue.

I remember walking through those long aiport halls still wearing a heavy US Army overcoat that protected me from snow & ice in New York and Chicago - where the plane that flew from Newark made a stop. It was very early in the morning. I took a bus to town and from some central point I thought it was convenient I got off and (probably) took a cab to 550 Larkin Street. 

Pepe had a 1 bed-room apartment on the 6th floor of a lovely building on a fine street. One would walk 2 blocks to Golden Gate Avenue, 3 blocks to McAllister Street and one would be at City Hall which was a great fine building with a huge dome (cupola) with other classical Greek buildings around it. Asian Art Museum and San Franciso Public Library buildings on Larkin; Exposition Auditorium on Grove Street. The Earl Warren building house the State of California's Supreme Court on 356 McAllister Street. You see, Pepe managed to find a place for him in the heart of the (beautiful) city. One could walk to Market Street.

Pepe worked as a clerk at a Western Motel. He did the night shift so when I arrived at his flat he himself had just got home. I had never met him before and was positively impressed. Pepe was a young man with deep blue eyes. I don't recall what that first day was like but Pepe obviously had to sleep when he got home so Nino & myself must have gone out somewhere so we could talk (aloud) about all those six months we hadn't seen each other. We had a history of talking away for hours regardless of place. 

Let me tell you a little about Nino & Pepe's story. For all I know, Pepe, a Spaniard native of Madrid from a middle-class background visited the USA in the late 60s and decided he wanted to live in San Francisco. Back in Spain and being of an adventurous bent he planned a big trip back to the US. He'd start it in Brazil, go down to Argentina and Chile; then move up north to Bolivia and Peru and somewhere board a plane to San Francisco, U.S.A. where he'd find steady work at the Western Best Motels and move into an apartament and furnish it gradually until it was a nice place to abide. 

While in São Paulo in the first months of 1971, Pepe met Nino in town and they had a little romance. Even though I didn't have a chance to meet him then, Nino said Pepe had invited him to live with him in San Francisco,  California as soon as he settled in town.

I should point out that ever since we met in the Brazilian Army in January 1968, I talked to Nino about my plans to move to the USA one day. Nino loved the idea and promised we would go the the USA together. He told me his own family had been on the verge of migrating to Massachusetts, USA in early 1964, fleeing a Communist takeover - in case Brazil would turn 'commie' following the Cuban Revolution. Nino had Portuguese ancestors who now lived in Bedford, MA. Nino's mother was a staunchly anti-Communist Calvinist. They belonged to that Presbyterian Church on Rua Nestor Pestana. But Nino was nothing of the sort. He'd been raised as a Protestant but he didn't really care. He would enter Catholic Church to shelter from the heat or the rain and even crossed himself or knelt in front of an image made of clay (as Calvinists have orgasms in denouncing idolatry).

Ever since Nino & Me left the Army in mid-1968, we drifted from job to job. I had worked as a typist for newspaper 'Folha de S.Paulo' for a spell and Nino had been a clerk at Mappin, a great departmen-store in town which his own father had worked before retiring. Nino was notorious for not holding a job for too long. He was too unconventional to last at any position. He would start alright, become the star of the office but soon he would grow bored with the mortifying routine and did something outrageous. Then he would be invited to leave or he himself left with no misgiving. There was another time when he worked as a clerk at Club Athletico  Paulistano, a social club for the rich on Rua Honduras. I remember I went there to see him one day and he left the Club through a gate on Rua Estados Unidos, next to Rua Augusta. Needless to say it didn't last long. These 2 jobs was all Nino held during the time we were friends. 

After a bad spell with no work, I was lucky to have found me a fairly good paying job as a clerk at Sao Paulo Bar Association (AASP) in April 1970. I was still adamant to make that old dream of going to the USA come true. So when Nino met Pepe who visited Sao Paulo as a tourist I thought he would speed our plans up a little. But I was mistaken. As soon as Pepe left for the US and the novelty wore off, Nino went back to his old ways of 'living for today'. So I made up my mind: I would stop talking about 'going to the US' and work my way towards this goal silently. We still met often but I was mum! Nino usually showed up at lunch time and we talked for 2 hours. Sometimes he showed up in the evening and we talked until we dropped. But I never breathed a word about my plans. I knew it wouldn't do any good. And I was right.

Around May 1971, I hit the big time when my older brother Fernando came home onde day and said his friend Bernardo was back from the USA. He and a friend had lived in the New York City area for a whole year and told wonders about the place. I begged Fernando to ask Bernardo details about how to make this sort of trip. Two days later, Fernando came up with a scrap of paper with the address of a travel-agent in town who took care of all the paper-work. I went to see her immediately, had a long talk with her; I must confess I liked Licia Espalato Wielenska at first sight and decided to do whatever needed to be done to get the mission accomplished. Mind you, I kept Nino in the dark about the whole thing. I was afraid he would find some sort of hindrance and abort the plan.

Pepe started working about 5:00 pm so he'd leave the flat at 4:30. Nino was always in a good mood. He was living the time of his life staying with his lover in the city of San Francisco. Nino had the radio on 247 so soon I became familiar with the tunes playing on Stereo FM even though we listened to it in a small mono radio. Neil Young's 'Heart of gold' is the first song that pops into my mind. Whenever I heard the first notes of Rolling Stones' 'Tumbling dice' I went into a trance that Nino made a point of telling me about. He was right! That particular introduction went me up into the stratosphere... 'Morning has broken' with Cat Stevens was another one that sent me to a 'special place'. Nino had his favourite song... I remember he liked 'Brandy' (Looking Glass) a lot. Pepe chose Sammy Davis. Jr.'s 'Candy man' as his favourite.

Being near someone like Nino made me realize life was something we should have fun with and about it. Thanks Nino for having shown the way to get a bit of self-esteem again. We would talk non-spot for 3 or 4 hours in a row. As we talked and listened to KFRC or KSFO Nino would slowly prepare himself to go out to have fun in the evening. He would go to gay bars and he 'scored' most of the times. He would come back late from his night adventures and would tell me details of it. He made sure of being back to the flat some time before Pepe arrived from work in the early morning. 

I guess sometimes Pepe worked the night shift for I remember waking up in the middle of the night; the whole apartment with the lights on and 'Look what you done for me' with Al Green blaring on the radio. I got up but didn't find Nino around, so I turned the radio down a little. Nino must have shown up a little later. Sometimes we talked when he came back. 

One night he woke me up and shoved a cow boy into my bed in the lounge-room. The midnight cowboy didn't have a place to stay overnight so Nino brought him in - they made love and soon after he jumped into my bed and made love to me too.  He was good looking in a rough way and his name was Keith.

There was another instance similar to Keith's midnight visit with a younger man called Michael who also arrived after 3:00 am and shared my bed after having made love with Nino. He was tall and lean; had deep green eyes and a shock of long profuse hair. He was a musician for he took possession of my acoustic guitar and played 'Turquoise', a Donovan tune. I was impressed for I loved Donovan ever since I had been introduced to his songs by Nelsinho of Rua Original, Vila Madalena in 1969. He told me he had an Irish heritage. He could also draw for he got hold of my music note book produced a felt pen in his white hand and wrote the lyrics of 'Turquoise'. Then he proceded to draw the shape of an eye next to the title of the song. He tried to explain what hue of blue torquoise is. I kept this page for years and years and I would always remember his beautiful face, his elegance, his gentleness and care with me. I felt he wanted to help me but he knew he couldn't do much for I barely spoke English. 

There is one particular night Pepe didn't go to work and we went out. We three took a cab and went to visit some friends of Pepe's somewhere not far from that area. They lived in a big apartament very well furnished. They were Mexican young men who spoke both Spanish and English as native languages and took art courses at University of California L.A. I remember one of them had the lean face of a Mexican Indian, with no facial hair. He was in a serious relationship with an American student who would become a doctor if I'm not mistaken. We all listened to Cat Stevens' 'Teaser and the Firecat' and the main course was artichoke. What a memorable dinner. I've never forgot it all my life. That was when I realized I could not live in San Francisco for I did not belong there at all. The only place I could ever work was in a factory in the East Coast. Actually I could have worked as a dishwasher in California but I then had to mingle with dishwashers not young bi-lingual Mexican hopefuls who studied to UCLA.

When we were having dinner everyone spoke English. I wanted so much to talk and made myself heard but I could hardly follow what the subjects were. Sometimes I spoke Portuguese softly to Nino. It was like I was trying to prove to myself I could speak too... if not in the National language at least in my own.

These seven weeks I spent with Nino at Pepe's apartment on Larkin Street, sort of mapped out my life for the next 20 years. I re-learned to listen to Top-40 radio stations and try to memorize the songs' lyrics. This was a good exercise to retain vocabulary. I learned from Nino's constant listening to cassette tapes he'd recorded from the radio in Brazil before he left for the States. I realized I could do the reverse. I could record American radio shows and listen the tapes in Brazil when I eventually went back. This I ended up doing with great success. After arriving back in Brazil I kept on listening to those 14 US tapes exhaustively until I learned the whole lot by rote. That's how I improved my command of the English language.

Sometimes I woke up earlier and went out in the vain search for a job. Many were the times I went out but got distracted by any little thing like a Creedence Clearwater-like band playing in a street corner. I used to go down Larkin Street, turn left and wander all the way to Union Square where many folk bands played. I used to look at bell boys working at posh Saint Francis Hotel and wish I could be one of them.

I remember reading Want Ads in a newspaper where they looked for dishwashers. It was a far away place near a highway with a lot of trucks and heavy vehicles. It was a desolate and ugly place and I remember listening to the strains of Paul McCartney 'Uncle Albert / Admiral Halsey' coming from a car radio or someplace else. As soon as the song ended I turned around and went back to town and back to the apartment.

soap from The Best Western Motels, where Pepe worked the night-shift.

I kept on deceiving myself I would find a job somehow... but that never happened. I was embarrassed to admit to Pepe I didn't find a job because I didn't understand what people asked me at interviews. It was hard to admit I needed a chaperone; I needed someone to translate the questions and answers. As Pepe was a nice person and maybe pressed financially with another mouth to provide food for he finally sorted the whole business by finding an acquaintance of his - Carey, an American blonde young man who had a VW beetle and was driving all the way to New York with Paul, a Native American friend of his. Carey could squeeze me in the back seat for a fee. I don't know how much Pepe paid him, but it was settled we would leave for New York in the morning of 22nd day of May 1972, four days after I turned 23 years old. 

That sounded like salvation to me! I longed to see New York again. Little did I know that NYC in summer is terribly hot and dirty.

Anyway, we left the Bay Area on 22nd May 1972. Carey drove the beetle and Paul, his Native-American friend from Wisconsin would sit on the side of the driver and I & my guitar would ride in the back. It took exactly 8 days for us to reach Newark, N.J.

Top 5 at Billboard on 13 May 1972.

1.  The first time ever I saw your face - Roberta Flack

2.  I'll take you there - Staple Singers

3.  Betcha by Golly wow - The Stylistics

4.  I gotcha - Joe Tex

5.  Oh Girl - Chi-Lites

When Carey and Paul left me on hot and dirty Ferry Street I knew I was in trouble again. No money, no accomodation, no food. I had only a few Brazilian friends to spare me a meal or a roof over my head to sleep at night. Worse off... everyone was leaving town because most of the factories were shutting down for summer and giving collective vacations to their employees. So there I was on Skid Row again.

I tried to collect unemployment benefit but due to my resigning my last job instead of being laid off made me ineligible. I phoned home and my dear Father sent me 300 dollars, which was quite a bit of money in 1972. That tided me over for a while until early September when I finally got to work at the record factory again.

Union Street on Telegraph Hill looking west in 1960; North Beach is down the hill.

Castro Street in 1966.