Wednesday, January 9, 2013

End of one kind of life for a corner

People sat on the pinkish wall at Eighth and Market for a generation. Sometimes people sold things there: sometimes secondhand goods. Sometimes, I think, other things. You'd pass by and sometimes there'd be an argument but mostly you'd hear cheerful backchat. Whether you liked the kind of there that was there or not, you had to admit there was there there.

Then Trinity Plaza's replacement development moved into the north part of the property. Fences went up. The wall can't be sat on any more.

There are new no-trespassing signs, though how exactly people could trespass on a vertical fence I don't rightly know. Does it mean no hanging stuff on the fences? No fencing stuff on the fences?

I'm sure the future mall-plus-apartments will be nice. It'll be a better use of space than the weird converted-motel complex that had been declining there since the 1960s. (Marvelous photos of the motel in its glory days here, via Tenderloin Geographic Society.

Just want to remember that it's not replacing nothing. That's all.

[Update: people are still selling stuff along the sidewalk there. I guess habit and commercial pattern trump physical awkwardness.]


  1. The DAY before they put up that chain link fence. I went to scoot myself up onto that wall, almost exactly where the person is sitting in the first photo. Not knowing my own strength, or something, I over shot the wall and landed flat on my back on the other side. Somehow I didn't crack my head open on the concrete parking block on the ground. The next week was the most painful of pains in the history of my back.

    Actually, looking at these photos, my idiotic tumble was probably on the day they were taken, unless they took the fence down and put it up again.

    1. So from a certain point of view the fence is a public service?