Author: damongaynor

The greatest movie theater on earth stood on a half block patch of urine and blood-stained concrete on San Francisco’s upper Market street. Pawn shops and skid row flops clustered around it like a post-apocalyptic movie set, real life sirens and screams vying with the horrors on screen. The marquee up above looked like a giant squashed cigarette pack, S-T-R-A-N-D spelled out in exhaust-caked neon letters. Not The Strand…. More like someone tried to spell out “S-T-R-A-N-D-E-D”, but then gave up three quarters through.

Down on the street, an endless parade of dealers, hookers and addicts haunted the front entrance round the clock. Babbling, cursing drifters- casualties of Reagan’s deregulation of the mental health industry- roamed the lobby tirelessly, becoming such a regular nuisance that the theatre staff finally tacked up signs around the front entrance and snack bar:

Groping for your seat in the darkness was always a nerve-racking safari through broken bottles, dozing vagrants and raspy whisperers (“Hey mannn? Hey! Mannn! Mannnnn??“). It helped to bring an old coat with you when you sat down, adding an extra layer of protection over the crusty relief map covering nearly every cushion. (more…)