Baghdad by the Bay

by Herb Caen

Book by Caen, Herb

Genres: History, Essays, Nonfiction, Travel

276 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1949

About the author

Herbert Eugene Caen was a San Francisco humorist and journalist whose daily column of local goings-on and insider gossip, social and political happenings, and offbeat puns and anecdotes—"A continuous love letter to San Francisco" —appeared in the San Francisco Chronicle for almost sixty years (excepting a relatively brief defection to The San Francisco Examiner) and made him a household name throughout the San Francisco Bay Area.

A special Pulitzer Prize called him the "voice and conscience" of San Francisco.

Reviews

[Deke · Rating 5 out of 5]

As a child, I never really understood the appeal of Herb Caen, as his column had devolved to his "triple dot" formula of gossip, not far from the society pages. Now I get it, as this collection of his early writings are like a time capsule back to three different San Franciscos: before, during and after World War II. If you're a native San Franciscan and wonder what the city was like before you were born, I can't think of a better book (and I have read many).

[Jenny K · Rating 4 out of 5]

A window into 1949 San Francisco. It's funny to see how some things haven't changed, the lack of housing, how each person interviewed exhibits a nostalgia for a San Francisco of the past (pre-WWII, or pre-1906), the diversity, and the hopelessness over the "Skid Rowgues." But most of the book is a love letter to San Francisco, its scenes and crazy cast of characters, how nobody can think of living anywhere else. That, sadly, is the one thing that seems to have changed.

[Donnell · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wonderful image of San Francisco circa 1948.

Had heard of this book, and had seen a signed copy in a an antique store, but had not yet read it.

Last week had to drive to South San Francisco several times for a medical treatment. As we left Yerba Buena island and approached the City, the title of this book would run through my head. Still, but just barely, Herb Caan's SF was visible, urging me to look for it--thus a dip into this book which, amazingly, happened to be sitting on the shelf in my local library.

Interesting to contemplate his memorial to those he knew who were lost in the Second World War. When he describes the San Francisco they are missing, it is an SF that is long gone, an SF that if those men had lived, into the 21st Century--like my buddies VETS Warren and Bob--would have been lost to them just as completely.

He mentions a famous conductor who lives with his wife in a suite at the Fairmount. The wife likes to support struggling artists and a favorite is Tom Lewis. As I've collected paintings of local Benicia artists, of Benicia scenes, she had similarly decorated her rooms, especially with Lewis paintings.

Thanks to the Internet, one can pull up paintings by Lewis--and they are pretty cool: watercolor sketches of SF buildings and scenes with a quirky cartoonesque flavor.

Need to mention Caan's sexism here, typical of his time and perhaps his youth (he was in his early thirties at the time.) In one chapter he mentions a collection of interesting figures including William Saroyan and Kathleen Norris, both extremely successful writers at the time. While Kathleen is mentioned with something like--you've read, or know of, something she's written, William gets pages and pages describing his personality and antics.

A significant element of this book is that it reminds that, before the tech invasion San Francisco was a vibrant, truly-special city. Caan even lists it with NYC and New Orleans as the top American cities at the time. Thus, the tech development did arise on open ground, it has arisen on this charming wonderful entity that was.

[David Allen · Rating 3 out of 5]

Herb Caen can't have known every soul in San Francisco, but you can almost believe that he does. This anecdotal account of his city is peopled by cops, judges, lawyers, hash slingers, bums, bartenders, tycoons, writers, doormen and dames, and his observant eye, lively prose and wordplay ("Skid Rowgues," "stuccommunity") keep his prose jumping.

[Michael · Rating 4 out of 5]

Charming. These are light-hearted columns, meant to be consumed daily in small quantities, so reading a whole book of them is best done slowly. But this is essential reading for those who live in and love San Francisco. So much has changed, but so much of what makes SF unique was obviously already there in 1949!

[Jay Butterfield · Rating 5 out of 5]

An unabashed love letter to the City from admittedly its biggest fan. Herb Caen writes a series of vignettes that capture post war San Francisco before the Haight Ashbury, the Castro, or Silicon Valley where society high and low meshed from the nabobs of Nob Hill to the gritty Tenderloin and everybody - from restauranteurs politicians labor leaders to cable car operators bellmen and shopgirls - “ knew” everybody. Caen was plugged into this world and names all the characters around town as well as the unique neighborhoods, architecture, and haunts that make the City “the City”. I grew up reading his column in the Chronicle (albeit a decade later). A colorful pastiche of what a “small town Big City” used to be. Probably not of much interest to those who never lived there but us who did - a nice traipse down memory lane.

[Mico C · Rating 3 out of 5]

“St. Francis Wood, Pacific Heights, and Sea Cliff, where the homes have room to puff out their chests in the satisfaction of success… the rattletrap streetcars… the thousands of newcomers glorying in the sights and sounds of a city they’ve suddenly decided to love, instead of leave,” remarked Chronicle columnist, Herb Caen in 1949. The Sacramento born Caen wrote for the Chronicle for nearly 50 years and the Examiner for almost 10. Speaking to John King, Caen revealed that he “goes out almost every night” where he gathers materials for his columns. His writing style, a “staccato. Very colorful…rat-a-tat short stuff,” resembles that of his mentor, Hearst journalist Walter Winchell of the NY Daily Mirror. In the end, Caen remained a proud San Franciscan. He is survived by a son from his third marriage.

[Rick · Rating 4 out of 5]

Like all of Herb Caen’s articles, this book brings out the true San Francisco and especially, San Franciscans. I only lived in the Bay Area for a decade before his passing in 1996, but to this day, his presence is still felt in Baghdad by the Bay. The San Francisco of 1948 was surprisingly like the San Francisco of today in countless ways.

[Karina · Rating 3 out of 5]

6

[Jake Goretzki · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm a total sucker for a city memoir (see also Joseph Mitchell for New York) and as a massive San Franciscophile, this was long on the list.

This one's jauntier and chattier than Mitchell, and his punning and coinages ('NobHillity', things like 'chowmeinspirited' and 'Skid Rowgue') are relentless yet hard not to love.

Besides its picture of street and social life, it's also fascinating as a record of everyday humour (several of the celebrated wisecracks are endearingly, well, mild and 'of a time' - a reminder that backtalk and innuendo were once much more racy in themselves).

I wish London had a go-to post-War diarist of Caen's kind. The best I can find is in fiction.

[Duke Cullinan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Such a wonderful writer. Such a wonderful window on San Francisco life in the '50s. You can't do better than this for nostalgia. San Francisco lends itself to nostalgia so readily, as it is so small and much of the topography remains unchanged. I was there in the '70s and it wasn't a stretch to imagine myself in the locales Caen writes about. Just change the people and the make-up of the neighborhood.

Herb Caen is such a treasure. Funny, clever, corny sometimes but winking at himself. Perhaps there are writers of New York or Chicago who capture their home turf as well, but I can't imagine anyone better. San Francisco was blessed to have Herb Caen. And so are us readers.

[Steve · Rating 5 out of 5]

These are excerpts from Herb Caen's column in the San Francisco Chronicle in 1949. It is surprising how much history you can pick up from his short anecdotes. I find the book is best read in small packets, in order to savor and contemplate the changes, and the constants, since the middle of the twentieth century.