A Hick in 'Frisco

It was 1966 and, after two months of army basic training at Fort Jackson, SC, I was sent to heaven. Actually, Monterey, California, which remains one of my favorite places on earth to this day.

There I was, a kid from the sticks turned loose in Babylon!

Having read ever issue of the teenage boy's version of Boys Life, i.e. Playboy, I was aware of the existence of a hedonistic, modern version of Sodom and Gommorah a few miles north of where I found myself. Even the words which formed its name conjured up dreams of freedom...which, of course, included free sex!!!

After all, the topless craze, and the hippie craze, was in full bloom right there in San Francisco.

"Are You Goin' to San Francisco", was a popular song. All the big names seemed either to be from there or appeared to consider the city by "the bay" some sort of Mecca for fun, expansion of one's self, and free love.

Sure, there were all kinds of things to see in San Francisco, Golden Gate Bridge, Golden Gate Park, Chinatown...the list seemed endless. However, for a hormone ridden kid from nowhere, Pensacola, Florida, there was only one place to go...

NORTH BEACH!!!

That's where the topless bars were. That's where the women performed, the women I had already seen bare breasted in the pages of Playboy.

I already knew the names of the clubs; Big Al's, The Condor Club, and Off Broadway. I also knew the names of some of the women who performed there...women who not only had their naked pictures shown in Playboy, but who had been written about in Time, Newsweek, and other, more respectable publications.

Hey! I was a kid whose biggest moments had been shaking hands with Doc and Kitty from Gunsmoke (Milburn Stone and Amanda Blake), and watching live performances by Ace Cannon and the New Christy Mintrels. My sexual experience was a little slap-and-tickle with a couple of girl friends. I had seen New York City, thanks to my sister and brother-in-law, who lived on Long Island, and driven past the hotel in Manhattan where the Beatles were staying.

I was ready for some real life adventure!!!

My mom had sent me some of my clothes, including the ghastly, brown, hick-from-the-sticks, three-piece suit off the rack at Sears on Palafox in Pensacola. Now, thinking back on that suit, I am reminded of Red Skelton's character, Clem Kadiddlehopper.

However, in those days, I thought that suit portrayed a worldly, sophisticated, individual...somewhat like the Simon Templar (The Saint) character I had been reading about for years.

Let's not even mentio the basic training buzz cut which was still growing out when I finally took the Greyhound (got that...sophisticated guy, three piece hick suit, buzz cut, greyhound bus), and headed for San Francisco.

I did get to see the Golden Gate Bridge, and I found a hotel room near Chinatown and took a walk through that famous area, but I was waiting for the night.

That night, wearing my heavy brown wool suit of armor, and carrying a few bucks, which rapidly disappeared as "covers" and "minimums" were met, I made my way through Sodom, excuse me, San Francisco, and turned dreams into reality...which, as usual, did not match the dreams.

Oh, I got to watch Yvonne D'Angers' act (term used loosely) at Off Broadway, and almost tripped over Carol Doda as she came out of The Condor Club pursued by reporters asking questions. I apologized for almost stepping on her, she smiled, but did not reply. I saw various young (again used loosely) ladies (ditto) in various states of undress undulate entertainingly, or not, and even had a topless shoeshine, which I had seen written up in some magazine or another.

I had no real adventures, other than satisfying a young man's lust for the view of acres of female flesh, and, on the bus ride back to Monterey the next day, I decided that I was glad I had gone, but wouldn't do it again.
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