History repeats itself

It was unusually warm in San Francisco when I went reporting in the Castro. My heels were starting to give and I could feel a veil of sweat starting to emerge, all the while I was searching for one thing: history. My last article was lacking of such information, and I knew it. But where, I wondered, would I find history now? The LGBT museum has since closed down, and most people I saw were too young (or careless) to have any knowledge of how the place was founded and how it grew into what it is today.

I passed this place a million times throughout the day, each time making a note to come back and each time making sure I would be able to make it back before it closed. The sign in the window said: "GOING OUT OF BUSINESS SALE." What is should have said was: "CASTRO HISTORY INSIDE."

I finally went in, and a finely dressed man named Omar Hampton greeted me. I hadn't a clue how I would get information from a man who was losing his business without seeming prying and vulture-like. I went with pure honesty. So went the interview back and forth about the economy, until he took it to another level.

"The younger generation think this is an antique shop. It's not. If you don't know what an antique is, I worry! Did you ever take history and geography in high school and grade school?"

"Yes, I have."

"So young people come in here and ask 'what style is this?' And I say 'It's an obelisk.' And they say 'what's an obelisk?'"

I nodded and kept a smirk to myself.

"Do you know what an obelisk is?"

The tables had turned. Suddenly, I had to ask myself: "DO I know what an obelisk is?" I nodded and pulled together what I remembered from ancient history before he had a chance to frown. Of course, my perception of an obelisk was probably sophomoric to a man who had been around elegant furniture and pieces of history from other lands for 30 years.

"I know this is a change of pace," I said. "But do you happen to know the history of the Castro?"

"Of course. What sorts of history would you like to know?"

This was when he pulled me into the 70s and told me of the setting up of shops run by gay merchants and those looking to escape the pressures and disapproval of society.

He then began to say: "And you know, even journalism was different back then. I love to watch old news clips with the anchors telling about today's news while puffing away at a cigar. Nowadays you've got Anderson Cooper showing off his biceps in Haiti and he's not even dirty. I mean, just let the people do their work and stop showing off! And now with the whole economy, it looks like we have forgotten our history. It comes back in a cycle. So, Megan. Remember your history to keep things like this from happening."

I thanked him as I looked over the tiny decorative lamps that would soon be practically given away and perhaps forgotten in a few years, all the while this man took the time to take care of these precious items. Did any of the customers get to hear him speak this way? And then I remembered how difficult it was to get many answers on the Castro's history. Is everything really going in the wastebasket?

Then he said: "If I may give you advice, be sure to let go of general dreams. Get specific. Try to find something with more detail."

It was almost as if he was trying to remind me why I am striving to be a journalist. After all, a story is worth nothing without specifics, and your reporting is nothing if you don't know your history.

(Megan Taros)