San Diego: Sunny, Scenic, Civil, and Sometimes Scary

Found peace at the Japanese Friendship Garden in Balboa Park. Perhaps this experience will be the spark that leads me to take up yoga.

By Edward M. Bury, APR, MA (aka The PRDUDE)

One regular focus of this blog centers on what I’ve dubbed as “travelogues,” or basically posts built around observations and images from visits out of town.  My travelogues have focused on spring and summer excursions to cities in Europe, spring break trips here in the U.S.A., and visits to towns in Wisconsin.

Given the pandemic and other challenges of recent months, we did not venture too far from open over the past two years.

That changed last week, when we spent five days in place known as “America’s Finest City.” You’re probably more familiar with its official name, San Diego.

Unlike past travelogues, there’s only one image to accompany this post; and, I didn’t share any thoughts or photos on social media during our trip.  Why? Well, because we just wanted to get away and not feel compelled to “prove” we were on vacation. 

But, I took notes, and below are some thoughts and perspectives.

1. Out there having fun, in that warm California sun! Yes, as noted in refrain from the 1960’s hit, we enjoyed above average temperatures in the 80s, mild breezes, with nary a cloud in the sky. Did you know the hit version of the song, “California Sun” was recorded in Chicago by the Rivieras? As for the natives, we encountered mostly warm, friendly people — from Todd, the auto valet at our hotel, to the ticket taker at the spectacular San Diego Zoo, who once he learned we were from Chicago, told us there are Portillo’s restaurants in California!

2. Groovin’ in the Gaslamp Quarter. Historic structures in downtown San Diego comprise the Gaslamp Quarter, a linear playground of sorts with lots of restaurants, bars, and shops, along with the requisite noise and partying people. We equated the area to NOLA’s French Quarter.  And, our hotel, the more than century old Horton Grand, even offered balconies. While it was great to stroll a short distance to get dinner or a cocktail, it got quite noisy at night, especially guys revving motorcycle engines.  Like old neighborhoods in some cities, modern apartment towers and mid-rise rental properties had taken a foothold next to vintage buildings. 

3. Had to Visit the Hotel del Coronado. The locals referred to this internationally-known resort as the Hotel Del.  Like most who visit, we were taken by the sheer majesty of the place, its beach, and the amazing views of the Pacific Ocean during our breakfast, which cost nearly $100 — but that was with bottomless mimosas and an order of avocado toast. Plus, we were treated to ear-splitting sounds of military jet aircraft from the adjacent naval base. The ferry ride from the Convention Center Embarcadero to Coronado made the visit all the more special. 

4. San Diego Ain’t Sleepy No More. My first visit to San Diego was way back in 1981; I was on my own, having spent time with friends in Palm Springs. I recall a fairly relaxed urban area with a strong military presence and easy access to Mission Beach.  To the east there were a few high rise hotels and office towers, mostly several blocks away from the waterfront, providing somewhat of a true beach town atmosphere. That’s all gone. The San Diego we encountered features a modern skyline, currently punctuated by some eight construction cranes, by my count.  In recent years, the city added a grade level Trolley system, the ultimate urban mobility amenity.  (Being a transportation guy, of course we took the Trolley, especially with gas at $6.49 per gallon!)

5. Now, for the “Scary” Part.  One somewhat shocking aspect of our visit: The preponderance of people, many relatively young, clearly in need of mental health care. On my walk to get coffee in the morning, I regularly encountered men and women acting at times in bizarre ways.  One woman beat a stick against the side of a building while shouting at no one in particular.  Of course, I observe this kind of behavior in Chicago, sometimes while taking the CTA Blue Line to and from work. Still, it was disturbing to find it so prevalent steps from our hotel. We left town hoping these people find help soon. 

As noted at the start of this travelogue, I opted not to embellish the post with images.  There’s just the shot of me trying to be funny while we visited the Japanese Friendship Garden. To gain more on the beautiful and charming city of San Diego, visit the many links here within. 

Besides, most people have a better phone camera than my old Samsung Avant.

 

A Sour Note: Replacements Biography Reveals More Than Just “Troubled Boys”

The album Tim contains my favorite Mats song, “Left of the Dial,” a sort of love song written when the band had yet broken onto the national rock scene. The cover design is pretty cool, too.

By Edward M. Bury, APR, MA (aka The PRDude)

To prepare for this post, I googled the phrase “never meet your heroes.” I was surprised to find the plethora of responses — from this 2020 article from The New Yorker to this Thought Catalogue online article offering 12 reasons against the practice.

For clarity’s sake, I never met the band The Replacements; and I wouldn’t classify the now defunct (I think) Minneapolis quartet as “heroes” of mine.  I did see the band on stage (three times over the years, to my recollection), own some of their later records they produced, and ranked them as among my top three favorite rock bands.

Ever.

However, after reading author Bob Mehr’s definitive biography on the band, Trouble Boys: The True Story of the Replacements, I grapple with what I learned about the individuals who comprised the group rather than their musical legacy. Employing profanity in this space is rare, if ever used. But to characterize The Replacements, here’s the most appropriate phrase that comes to mind: A condescending bunch of assholes, albeit talented assholes who delivered some stellar rock and roll over their career — live and in the studio. 

The story of the Mats, as the band was known, is one filled with episodes of drunken and drug-fueled debauchery, condescension and cruelty, outright lunacy at times, betrayal and vindictiveness, and as you would expect, a deep commitment to rock and roll. It’s a chronicle of how four guys — Paul Westerberg, brothers Bob and Tommy Stinson, and Chris Mars — erupted onto the then alternative rock scene of the 1980s, blending talent and drive to usher in what became known as the alternative style of rock.

In a decade known for materialism and consumerism, the Mats deliberately stunted what could have been a much more musically and financially rewarding career by regularly performing drunk, clashing with management and music industry people, refusing to actively participate in the then soaring music video genre, purposefully causing damage to touring vans and dressing rooms, and alienating many around them.  Episodes of this sort are found in Trouble Boys, from the early years gigging around the Twin Cities and the Midwest to the band’s dissolve into somewhat obscurity.

As noted in Chapter 61 of Mehr’s 400-plus page bio, Westerberg and Tommy Stinson even acted like, well, assholes in the early 1990s, after purported sobriety.  Here are two examples:

• “For all his attempts at reaching out to his fans, sometimes Westerberg couldn’t keep his nastier impulses at bay. ‘There were the typical stories you heard — some kid coming up and saying, “I’ve always loved your music,” and Paul lifting his straw out of his iced tea and blowing it in the kid’s face…”
• “Nor was Tommy immune to such petulance. Before a show at George Washington University, a fan gave Stinson a custom bass guitar he’d made … Tommy came out and played it during the first song of the show.  Then he smashed it and threw it in the guy’s lap.”

Okay, by now you’re asking: Hey, PRDude. The saga of The Replacements parallels who-knows-how-many bands before and after them.  Why single out the Mats?

Well, from a full disclosure perspective, I read stories about the band’s famous “drunk shows” over the years, and I knew they were far from behaving like choir boys.  It’s just by reading Mehr’s detailed account, I lost some respect for the members of the band as individuals, as people.  Upon reading chapter after chapter, I felt dismayed rather than enlightened.  Upon completing the book, I felt deflated.

During the 1980s, I was a freelance writer for the Illinois Entertainer and other local music/entertainment periodicals; I had the honor of interviewing some pretty big names in music, including Levon Helm, Mike Mills of REM (friends and contemporaries of The Replacements), and the guys from Chicago’s own arena-rock legends Styx.

Looking back, perhaps it’s good that I never had the opportunity to interview Mats front man Westerberg.

Final note: In case you’re wondering, my Top 3 list is rounded out by The Who and The Kinks.