Bring Back Trespassing, For San Francisco’s Sake
The #sfdoomloop is a media dogpile that feels at times like a character assassination. The story going around is the city is dead or dying. With local politicians vying for tech and other profitable industries to (re)invest, it seems that way. Tech is never coming back, and these uninspired bids for an office-culture reboot are just Financial District models regurgitated. I have no hopes for a Fortune 500 company to “revive” San Francisco, because it isn’t dead. Don’t believe the rumors; in fact, I think we’re on the verge of a reclamation unseen for generations.
Beginning in the eighties, as the lingering stars of American industrialism finally burned out, the countercultural youth began receiving their inheritance. Massive disused spaces like automobile assemblies, abandoned shipyards, foreclosed-upon warehouses and office buildings. The bleak heirlooms dotting the countryside were becoming a common sight. Malignant vacancies plagued every downtown, waterfront, and meat-packing district across the USA. What would they do with those dead, forsaken spaces?
They repurposed them like their predecessors did with the mighty brick mills and urban factories they inherited. Instead of creating office space like during the post-war boom, they became artist studios, off-grid living quarters, ravehouses, performance venues. Warehouses sheltered strays and runaways, the broke and the beautiful. Where their counterparts saw blight, they recognized opportunity.
Years later, cities have transformed in ways that made these unconventional habitats rarer and harder to sustain. It’s a climate crisis of a different order when gentrification enters the picture. The climate is cultural, the crisis one of ingenuity. The house music I love is a direct descendent of warehouse scenes that started in New York, Detroit and Chicago. What might’ve happened to dance music if DJs and producers didn’t have space to experiment? Creative revolutions need a stage to happen on, a home base of radical potential.
I’m lucky to have been part of Oakland’s underground rave scene in my twenties. My fondness for Oakland is rooted in those glittery hazy memories of dancing my heart out til dawn. The best parties, newest music and coolest people were in one place. Besides the prerogative to have a little fun, the one thing everyone had in common: all of us were trespassing.
I propose we should bring back trespassing, for San Francisco’s sake. Of all the parties I went to, the cops busted one or two (my twenty-second birthday, for instance). The relative easygoingness of the cops felt like grace. It definitely was, but I realize now they were probably just relieved it was us drunk college kids. Whether it was white privilege, police in a good mood or both, the cops didn’t charge anyone. I’m not suggesting we’d get away with it now. There’s always a risk. California Penal Code Section 602 PC covers what would in this case be the victimless crime of trespassing private property. Aside from non-malicious intent, Pack In/Pack Out rules and easily removable decor may prevent a related vandalism offense. Just saying.
Sadly for nostalgic queens like myself, it isn’t warehouses we’re getting back from our economic forefuckers. It’s dead malls and office spaces, empty parking garages and big-box stores. That’s what we’re working with. It isn’t glamorous, but if you think about it, the idea’s got potential. Let’s rave in the abandoned Cheesecake Factory atop the soon-to-be old Macy’s. Skate the handrails of the Westfield Centre. Dance to drum and bass at the Ann Taylor Loft Party. Could you pay the first-time offender’s fine of $75 if you bump into a grumpy cop in the scatter? We’re older now so you might not be able to outrun the cops, but what a rush if you do! Even if you don’t, relax, it’s a misdemeanor. The story alone will be worth the attorney.
I don’t have the funds or connections to put it all together, but maybe you or someone you know does. Maybe you know a cool security guard working at a desolate downtown office tower. If you can pull the talent, the equipment, the artwork, I pledge to help you set up. I certainly promise I’ll dance to the deep cuts. You should know this has been done, locally too. In 2013 I attended a rave on the twelfth floor of a vacant highrise. It can be done.
San Francisco has been on the forefront of so many artistic movements. Who says it can’t be that place again?
2013. College friends (eye-dentities protected) and I on a San Francisco highrise rooftop during a rave. I was so skinny!
Howdy! My name is Katy Atchison and I'm an Associate Editor for Broke-Ass Stuart.
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