“He received over 1000 letters in reply, many recounting specific details of just such a painfully remembered incident...”
We landed at MCAS El Toro and from there flew to SF. If any hippie puke tried to spit on us, we would’ve broke their chicken necks.
Spent a week in SF visiting family and the people in the bars refused our money and bought us all the beer we could drink. Met the fishing boats at Fisherman’s Wharf to buy fresh-caught crabs, and the fishermen gave us bags of crabs for a buck and refused to take a dollar more.
My memories of San Francisco are of great people.
>>My memories of San Francisco are of great people.
“The Streets of San Francisco” was one of my (cop) Dad’s favorite shows. Our family were regular watchers.
I grew up with the impression it wasn’t always the cesspool it became.
Nixon’s comments reinforce that impression. It had to start from somewhere before it....
NIXON: But it’s not just the ratty part of town. The
upper class in San Francisco is that way. The Bohemian
Grove, which I attend from time to time—it is the most
faggy goddamned thing you could ever imagine, with
that San Franciscon crowd. I can’t shake hands with
anybody from San Francisco.
Thak you for your service, Sarge!