According to my map, I walked through the “T” in the Tenderloin this morning. Despite its pervasive poverty and pungent stench, the loin has a feeling of hustle and bustle akin to the financial district. Overladen shopping carts weave to and fro. Gristled old men push stained, empty strollers. Tourists examine the bottoms of their shoes.
Along Jones, I happened upon the “Anti-Saloon League,” established 1920. A windowless corner space whose single door had an eye slot. Above the door: an air vent and a featureless light fixture, like you’d install in a back alley. This must be Bourbon and Branch, I thought.
Pitiful boasts characterize the buildings along Jones. A sign on the Hotel Herald proclaimed, “Steel Frame Bldg.” Across the street, a Chinese Restaurant flew a banner with letters bigger than the name, “No MSG.” An hourly on the next block trumpeted, “Rooms Cleaned Daily!”