I remember the first time I meandered up the street made famous by the Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful Dead. I was in awe that such a place of counter culture existed on the planet. Today, I find homeless kids and gawking brats from Concord crawling up the block. Been there done that seems like an understatement for shops hawking bongs, tye-dye shirts, hemp stuff, and the dreams of a past generation turned into marketable products. Maybe I am jaded and just too old (never trust anyone over 30), but more likely it is because the “times they are a changing.”
I meet a couple in there ballroom apartment. I am not kidding; it’s rumored to be a former San Francisco hang-out for Hollywoodites of the late 40’s. Supposedly, Joe DiMaggio and Marilyn Monroe once danced the night away. Of course my subjects remind me that it’s all just gossip and lore.
