Mee Heng Low

Chinatown in San Luis Obispo is an almost invisible relic.  While the district (mostly confined to Palm Street, near the intersection at Chorro) was once home to probably hundreds of migrant Chinese laborers and several more permanent Chinese families, their presence is mostly gone these days.  Among the holdouts from yesteryear, relatives of Ah Louis still own his landmark store, and the Gin family still own the building housing the legendary Mee Heng Low (go ahead and titter if you haven’t heard that name before, we all still do) Chop Suey Shop.  But after generations of running the place, Kim, the establishment’s sole waitress, hostess and busser, and her invisible husband who was equally busy and alone in the kitchen, decided it was time to retire.  All of the regulars knew the end was near — so each trip for egg rolls and cashew chicken was like a trip to the grandparents once they had gotten up in age.  Every little cup of tea and fortune cookie joyfully relished as if it might be the last; Kim’s sing-songy voice recorded in memory lest it be forgotten:  ”Yes?  Anything ELSE? Thank YOU.”  The last words of each sentence lingered over before she darted to the next table.  

The restaurant was somewhat of a relic itself.  Vinyl booths and formica tables covered in glass lined the walls, chrome coat hangers neatly aligned at the end of each booth.  Place mats with the Chinese zodiac and curious looking chinese baby nudes informed patrons that they might be “strong willed and independent” or “artistic and poetic.”  No attempts at modernization had been made since the shop opened in 1957.  The china was probably original.  The menu evolved very little too.  Fusion food never made its way too Mee Heng Low.  Kim served the staples of Chinese-American cuisine:  Kung-Pow Chicken, Moo-Shu Pork, battered and deep fried egg rolls that looked like footballs, and of course, glorious Chop Suey.  

Mee Heng Low was a wonderful place that had to be discovered.  Two blocks from Higuera Street and the bulk of the city’s pedestrian traffic, the place relied on loving regulars for business.  With each trip one could overhear families in booths adjacent:  ”the first time I came here, I sat in a high chair,” “My mom used to order take-out from this place when we were kids.”  Loving Mee Heng Low required some humility.  Kim wasn’t going to take your credit card, wasn’t going to allow substitutions and wasn’t going to take special orders.  If she was busy with a full house, she certainly wasn’t going to meet all the expectations of most modern restaurant patrons.  She certainly didn’t pander for tips.     

When they closed shop, the building sat sad and empty for months.  The massive faux-gilt mirrors reflecting empty, dust covered chrome and formica.  Today, the shop is open again, taken over by a new family (not Chinese) with a very different vision for the place.  The furniture in the familiar little dining room is all gone, but plans for resurrecting the upstairs dining room (unused since the 70′s) are in the works.  The Low Mein with pork is wonderful.  It’s not the Mee Heng Low I once knew, but it’s still only a block away, so I’ll look forward to getting acquainted again.

B of A, Buh-bye

I became a “valued customer” of Bank of America in 1994, when I got my first job.  Fifteen years, hundreds of calls to “customer service” call centers, and thousands of dollars in account fees, late fees, service fees and exorbitant credit interest later, I am no longer a valued customer of B of A (incidentally “B of A” stood for something completely different when I was in the Marines).  

The tipping point should have come long ago in my relationship with America’s largest financial institution.  Like, perhaps when my credit card interest rate jumped to 19% because I had a payment post one day late.  Or maybe when I was charged fees for making transactions inside the bank, as opposed to online (I thought it would be nice to have eye contact with a bank teller, maybe get a piece of candy).  While those offenses angered me, they didn’t motivate me to change banks.  The tipping point came when my debit card began to be used for online purchases that I did not authorize.  My checking account balance dropped into the dreaded “NSF” zone.  I visited my local branch, which is only three blocks away, to try to resolve the errors.  I figured talking to a person would be preferable to the telephone dial-a-maze that is the customer service line.  But the teller simply wrote down a 1-800 number for me on the back of my receipt showing “NSF” and sent me on my way.  

I’ve since joined a local bank — San Luis Trust Bank.  I am greeted by Eileen, who remembers my name, every time I go in (I have the same birthday as her daughter, how much more personal can you get at a bank?).  She gave me a phone number to her desk, so I can call whenever I have a problem.  A teller actually called me to alert me to a problem with my automatic deposit, and assured me that they would fix my mistake and help me avoid “NSF.”  And they have a beautiful building.   

So, if immoral banking practices like usury, theft and taking advantage of America’s poor aren’t motivation factors for you to chose a local bank, at least treat yourself to a financial institution that has some good architecture and a charming staff.  If you can get some free doughnuts on Fridays, all the better.

Horatio Warden Resurrected.

Following the 2004 San Simeon Earthquake, the City of San Luis Obispo enacted legislation requiring all unreinforced masonry buildings to undergo seismic retrofitting.  Over the course of the last five years, this has resulted in some pretty major construction work downtown, as much of the city’s oldest building stock was quite unsafe.  Thankfully, we can all worry less about having bricks rain down on our heads the next time an earthquake strikes this area.

In addition to improving public safety, many building owners have taken advantage of construction retrofits to give their older buildings some much needed repair and restoration work.  Beginning in the 1950′s, many building owners saw their cornice clad, ornamented and polychromed storefronts as anachronistic signs of days gone by.  Modernism was in, and so brick and stone were covered over in gleaming white planes of stucco.  Large plate glass windows and expansive storefronts were removed in favor of smaller aluminum frame windows and mechanical systems for lighting and cooling.  Like most attempts at building modernization, the results would be judged by the public as feeble.  

The Warden Block is one such example.  Built by a prominent local businessman more than a century ago, it was ruined in the 1950′s in an attempt to transform it from its late 19th century elegance into a bizarre attempt at the International Style. For nearly half of its life, the facade was wrapped in a formless layer of white stucco, with small holes punched for the windows.  The locally quarried granite was invisible.  The cast iron cornice removed.  

The building’s current owner, Rob Rossi, has spared little expense in his extensive retrofit and restoration of the building.  And while Rossi has had some difficulty finishing his work at other historic sites (Motor Inn, old French Hospital, the Fremont, etc), the Warden Block has been fully revived.  I’ve never met Rob Rossi, but I can appreciate his vision for this building.  It certainly could have been easy for him to ignore the restoration work that could be done while making the necessary seismic improvements to this building.  Likewise, it could have been easy for him to give the building a partially historic appearance using inexpensive modern means of construction. Instead, Rossi chose to make what I can only imagine was a huge investment in the careful restoration of this place using building materials that contribute to the age and history of Downtown.  The Warden Block serves as the standard by which other restored buildings should be judged.

Feed the Birds?

Sandra is my neighbor.  She sleeps at the Regional Transit Terminus one block from the Berk.  During the day she can be found all over town, usually sitting on a bench, covered from head to toe in layers of clothing.  Her wrists and fingers are covered in jewelry, most of which she has made herself.  She wears an enormous rosary around her neck, that she has also made, though she does not attend the Mission Church.  “I don’t agree with all of their teachings,” she says.  “They say Jesus loves sinners.  He doesn’t.  You have to stop sinning for him to love you.” 

Sandra has a lot to say, and the more she talks, the greater her suffering is revealed.  Paranoia, visions, voices…  I may specialize in drawing pictures of buildings, but I think I can see some very clear glimpses of schizophrenia.  Sandra is a woman who suffers from a severe mental illness that remains uncared for.  She is also a woman of great depth, whose enthusiasm for truth and beauty are heavily clouded. 

Sandra is one of dozens of homeless people who make their homes throughout town.  But she is part of a smaller group of homeless residents who are permanent.  Unlike many of the other homeless, most of whom are transient, Sandra does not panhandle.  She does accept help graciously, but never asks for it.  This is a contrast from the dozens of other homeless folks who make the city home.  Sandra does not treat people like ATM machines.  She knows my name.  She says “hello” and smiles. 

I met Sandra because I was challeneged by my brother, a former InterVarsity worker.  He passed the same homeless man on his way to work most mornings and decided he “wasn’t going to be the guy who just passed by everyday.”  I agreed.  I think in InterVarsity speak they call that “being intentional.”  I call it being a good neighbor.  I don’t have to solve all of Sandra’s problems.  But I can greet her warmly, and treat her like a friend.

Photos from around town

Chinese Guardian Lion, donated by Profs. Loh to the City of San Luis Obispo, Marsh and Santa Rosa Streets.

Can I get a cup of coffee?

 

One of the most commonly heard phrases among planner types who describe good neighborhoods is “a place to go sit and have a cup of coffee.”  For planners, architects, New Urbanists, and anyone else who likes to use the term “built environment,” a good coffee shop is one of the most essential components of a neighborhood.  Coffee shops can act like communal living rooms, allowing folks from all over town to get together and drink hot beverages while listening to good music, playing games, doing a little work, or having a nice conversation.  For many, the coffee shop becomes an extension of the home, or at least a place for a quick daily visit.  But is there such a thing as too many coffee shops?

San Luis Obispo has a designated Downtown district.  Within that district, there are no fewer than seven coffee shops.  Within the 24 city blocks that make up the Downtown district, there are 13 working espresso machines in various restaurants.  In the surrounding commercial neighborhoods (Uptown, Old Town, Railroad District) There are an additional eight places to get something foamy, caffeinated and expensive.

Apparently market saturation has not yet occurred, as there are no signs of any of these shops turning off their steamers.  So what keeps them all going? With so many to choose from — all in walking distance — proximity probably does not play the greatest roll in choosing one.  Perhaps it is the special niche that each shop seems to fill that creates a sort of brand loyalty among customers.  Here is a summary of those niches:

1.  Linnea’s:  Artsy.  Probably the oldest coffee place in town.  Rotating menu.  Regular art exhibits, live music, poetry, events, etc.  Beautiful garden.  Games to play, books to read.  A favorite among the “born in County General” and “Cuesta College class of ’69″ set.  

2.  Black Horse (aka Uptown):  Hip.  Street side patio allows smoking.  A favorite among the tattooed & pierced hipsters and county employees.  Has an indoor/outdoor fireplace and a big TV.  Bakery in back.  

3.  Starbucks:  Familiar.  Downtown Centre location makes it quick choice for folks who get lost downtown.  Great people (i.e. tourist) watching location.  Frequented by Republicans and off-duty Starbucks employees. Great choice of books, music and chochkies selected by Corporate Marketing Department.  Baked goods from a warehouse in the Valley. 

4.  Peet’s:  Alternative/Familiar.  A favorite among those who despise Starbucks’ largesse and who claim to enjoy a “superior” coffee bean, but who nonetheless are willing to go corporate.  Court Street location makes it another favorite among tourists who like to spot a familiar brand name.  

5.  Monterey Street:  Cozy.  This tiny shop is frequented by city employees and music browsers at Boo-Boo’s, with a strong following among those who shun the nearby corporate shops (Peet’s is just 300 feet away).  Morning and afternoon crowds only, as they close up shop early.  

6.  Steinburg:  Uber-artsy.  Art gallery and coffee shop are joined to make the ultimate setting for art shows, large lectures and concerts.  Probably the largest floor space in town.  Nifty Art Decco building.  

7.  Outspoken:  Political.  While most independent coffee shops tend to draw a left leaning crowd by default, these ladies tend to make their politics explicit.  Life sized Barrack Obama cut-out and “No on 8″ placards on hand.  The smell of beans mixes with the smell of rubber, as the floor space is also shared with a popular bike shop.  Popular with the design team at Westberg + White who like to take frequent coffee breaks to get away from the computer.  

8.  Koffee Klatch:  Shoppers.  A tiny shop with lots of coffee equipment for sale.  Probably mostly frequented by tourists making their way down Higuera Street.  Not a lot of space to provide a social scene, but a good space for people watching.  

9.  Westend (aka Rudolph’s):  Crazy.  Perhaps this is an unfair and anecdotal assessment, but given its proximity to the creek and other homeless haunts, this otherwise clean and pleasant place seems to attract its share of people who might yell at you for no reason.  They do sell coffee beans and tea to take home, so if you are accosted, just get a one pound bag and be on your way. 

10.  Cafe Luna:  Expensive.  Said to employ only the finest, fair-trade beans and most authentic coffee making methods to produce a pricier, and perhaps better cup of Joe.  Whatever.  Rotating art exhibits.  A favorite among Unitarians and Hope Dance and Rouge Voice readers.

Worn out shoes

Part of the appeal of living downtown — particularly in a town like SLO — is the ability to walk almost everywhere I need to go. For those of us in the architecture and planning fields, or those with a passion for all things “green,” the idea of walking, instead of driving, is nothing new. However, for those for whom a trip anywhere outside the confines of the home involves an automobile, the idea of walking most places may sound either hopelessly impossible or ridiculously idealistic.

Of course, most communities planned anytime after 1945 aren’t meant to be walked through — they are meant to be driven through.  So, while being on foot in San Luis Obispo can be quite liberating, being on foot in Bakersfield could be more of a punishment.  Choosing to live in the right city is the first step toward being an avid walker.  

What does the right city look like?  It’s probably dense, with narrow streets and lots of diversity in the building types.  There should be houses, apartments, stores, restaurants and civic buildings all within a half mile radius (some folks like to extend that radius to a mile) of your home.  It’s probably an inconvenient place to have an automobile.  Traffic will move slowly and there will inevitably be almost no place to park.  But that won’t matter, because moving about on foot will be a breeze. 

The following entries in this category will describe the experience of getting around the city on foot.

Speaking of bells…

I’ve been noticing the graffiti on this Chinese bell on my block for more than a week now.  I can’t imagine why it has stayed so long, apparently no one really owns the thing, or wants to claim responsibility for its careful maintenance.  Since it is on my block (that’s right, I am Chinatown-adjacent you guys!) I decided I would go ahead and clean it myself.  In case you have a bronze Chinese bell in your neighborhood that has been vandalized, here are some instructions:

1.  Buy a bottle of graffiti remover, probably about five bucks at the hardware store (Don’t go to Home Depot!  They barbeque kittens).

2.  Spray the thoughtless vandalism with the removal solution.

3.  Scrub it with a scrub brush, be careful you aren’t using one that will scratch metal.

4.  Rinse the area with water, and dry with a rag.  Repeat as necessary.

5.  Congratulate yourself for taking ownership of your neighborhood.  Envision a scenario where the mayor gives you a key to the city for your boundless community spirit.  Plan your campaign for city council.

6.  Hope the removal solution doesn’t begin a chemical reaction to dissolve bronze.

7.  Run back to the affected area to be sure you haven’t contributed to the steady demise of Chinese history in your city.  

        

Ringing in the New Year

I like bells.  I live a block away from the Mission, and I always get a thrill when I can hear bells ringing for Mass.  I have no idea what the Catholics do for worship, but they sure do it often.  There are several cadences the bell ringers ring out, and my favorite is the one they use for celebrations.  I can hear it on Saturdays after weddings, and at Christmas, New Years and Easter at midnight. 

The bells are hung in a fixed position, and rung by attaching a rope to the clapper.  This involves a crew of bellringers, and occasionally they can be spotted in the bellfry portico wearing hearing protection.  The fixed position of the bells is typical for the type of construction the unskilled mission builders employed.  More sophisticated constuction would have allowed the bells to pivot, or be struck by mechanical hammers.

First Presbyterian doesn’t have bells.  It does however have a mechanical bell system, which consists of air-raid type megaphones on top of the Hart Building that make bell-like sounds.  At least it sounds real.  The computer which runs the system is capable of mimicking all types of bell ringing, including the familiar Westminster Chimes and tolling of the hours (the little song played by just about every hall clock in the world) and carillon concerts featurings selected hymns played at noon and 5 p.m. everyday.  I like to play Name that Tune when I walk home at lunch. 

Erick and I got a key to the cabinet and “snuck” into the building to play the bells at midnight on New Year’s Eve.  I selected a bell “peal” which is common for celebrations in England and parts of the Anglo-world.  It sounds something like this.

I don’t know if anyone heard it, or enjoyed hearing it, but I certainly enjoyed making all that noise.  Maybe one day we’ll have some real bells.

Probably the most interesting place downtown

The second Anderson Hotel sits prominently on the corner of Morro and Monterey Streets.  For more than seventy years it has been the tallest building downtown, though for the last thirty or so years it has not been a hotel.  

The first Anderson Hotel was consumed by fire (a common occurrence among hotels in this city, apparently).  The Anderson’s house can be found on seldom traveled Dana Street, a white Queen Anne with a green roof.  The Anderson’s built their third hotel in the 1920′s.  

In the early 1980′s, the mostly vacant upper floors and hotel lobby were converted into subsidized housing for elderly and disabled persons.  This is where the interesting part comes in, as the hotel has subsequently become a home to some of the most beautiful and interesting people who make up our downtown community.  Surrounded by boutiques selling $300 jeans and $5 cups of espresso and sugar, the residents of the Anderson could easily be called misfits.  They can be found haunting the arched vestibules out front, smoking, drinking coffee and gossiping.  Or around the corner at Louisa’s Place, enjoying the bacon and eggs plate, sharing the counter with college kids trying to eat away the morning’s hangover.  The residents are all familiar faces downtown, and they are their own community inside the building.  They share subsidized lunches in the hotel’s former dining room, and they play cards and watch TV together in the lobby.