The Potrero View is San Francisco’s longest running neighborhood newspaper. For almost 56 years, every month – except for an occasional December – the View has appeared at Farley’s, The Good Life Grocery, and other distribution points throughout Dogpatch, Mission Bay, and Potrero Hill. For roughly half that time the paper has also been deposited at front doors and stoops.
I acquired the View from Ruth Passen, who, along with a volunteer band of “red diaper babies,” had spent decades handcrafting each issue. Bill and Jodie Dawson, alongside Lenny Anderson, Micky Ostler, and Rose Marie Sicoli, initially typed editions on blue stencil to be printed on a mimeograph machine. Later, under Vas Arnautoff’s watchful scrutiny, followed by Abigail Johnston, articles were cut and assembled onto boards using X-Acto knives and glue sticks. It was a physical process, in which words took physical form, presented as thoughts readers could hold in their hands.
My daughter was in kindergarten when I became the View’s publisher. She’s now in graduate school at the University of York in England. Like those before me, publishing the View hasn’t been my day job. While compiling articles from a rotating set of freelance writers, I consulted for the U.S. Treasury Department in Niger and Senegal, taught politics at San Francisco State University, worked for Native American Tribes, and founded San Francisco Community Power, an energy efficiency nonprofit dedicated to closing the Hunters Point and Potrero power plants. The paper, and the community it serves, was always in the background, giving me an insistent monthly tug to make sure there were enough ads and stories to make each issue a success. A monthly alarm clock.
I’ve received numerous complaints about the paper. For a couple of years, after almost every issue, a caller would leave a long voice mail mocking various headlines, particularly those attached to my columns. He disappeared after the COVID pandemic; I miss him. I’ve also received reader compliments about a particular story or issue. One of my favorites was from Roger Hillyard, founder of Farley’s, who was impressed that each issue was delivered promptly on the first of the month to his cafe, “like a real newspaper.”
At its best the View is a gift of hyper-local knowledge, a paper prayer for civic engagement and democracy, a reminder to buy from nearby merchants. The crossword puzzle offers a moment of heady entertainment, the calendar a mix of possible outings, Lester Zeidman’s and Kayren Hudiburgh’s thoughtful display of items on sale at The Good Life Grocery, what’s being celebrated at Farley’s, and the eye-popping prices of the latest real estate offerings. The printed form, slow-cooked cadence, and grab bag of stories about land use, neighborhood personalities, and local history makes the View distinctly different from social media. Nothing pops up, harvests personal data, or pushes specific news or products whilst its being paged through. Though a user’s fingers might get inked-stained.
For much of the roughly 20 years I’ve served as the View’s publisher, the production team has included Helena Chiu, who designs each issue, and Catie Magee, who prepares and manages invoices. Ad salespeople and reporters, ill-compensated and subject to my periodically annoying get-things-done management style, tend to cycle through more quickly. Some, including Jessica Zimmer and Rebekah Moan, have had more staying power.
Advertisers have followed a similar pattern, with Farley’s, Goat Hill Pizza, Good Life Grocery, and St Teresa’s maintaining placements through most of the View’s history. Others – Rickshaw Bagworks, Hiba Academy, Vanguard Properties, and Claudia Siegal – are of more recent vintage, making important contributions to paying the View’s bills while announcing what they’re offering the community.
I turned 65 last October. Not necessarily retirement age: Social Security pays maximum benefits at age 70. Still, the passage caught my attention. I’ve experienced elders who were slow, even resistant, to letting go of what they could no longer do well, especially when it’s what they cherished most. There comes a moment to say goodbye to everything, hopefully with grace. The clock, and my no longer youthful energy levels, tell me that it’s time to make transitions, for myself and my work.
In one way, the View is a community asset, a kind of information utility. In another it’s a chronically struggling, small business, kept afloat mostly by dedicated, civic-oriented, advertisers. I’ve spent the last year consulting with community members, merchants, and contributors, searching for the best opportunity for the View to survive, hopefully thrive, in our artificial, digital era. The journey ultimately led me to collaborate with the Gazetteer, a recently launched publication dedicated to citywide and neighborhood news conveyed on the printed page. While I’ll continue to publish the View until the end of this year, and contribute columns thereafter, this issue marks the beginning of a change to new ownership.
Ultimately, it’s the advertisers, subscribers, donors, and readers who will determine the View’s future. The paper needs your attention and affection to stay in business, especially as new threats emerge from outlets that’re leveraging philanthropic dollars to undermine longstanding neighborhood newspapers. Publishers like me, we come and go. Communities, in one form or another, are forever. I hope that whether or not my fingers touch a monthly issue, yours will. It’s your View.
