One of Ellen Lo’s main motivations is to beautify the spaces she’s in.

In this podcast, we meet and get to know Ellen. Today, she runs Ask Me SF, a site and handle she populates with reviews of spots around The City she wants to share with the world. Sounds familiar, but we’ll get to that later in the episode.

We start with Ellen’s childhood, which began in small-town North Carolina. It was a town so small, in fact, that the few times she’s gone back to visit, it hasn’t changed.

Ellen’s time in North Carolina wasn’t easy. Hers was the only Asian-American family in her school and town, and so she found it hard to relate fully to folks around her. Her family was in North Carolina, and Alabama before Ellen was born, because her dad, who’s a doctor, went to school but also wanted to go to small towns in the US to run his practice. He did well in that sense, but his American-born Chinese kids not so much.

The family moved to Taiwan when Ellen was 10, and that presented new challenges because of her decade in the US.

Before that move, she had taken up violin and piano (“like a good Asian kid,” she says) and dabbled in visual art. She drew and did some painting at home and at school, back when schools had art classes.

She kept that going in Taiwan. But she experienced culture shock just the same. Remember: She arrived when she was 10, and so she spent those very formative early teen years in a familiar but also not familiar part of the world. Other kids at the American school she attended were mostly relatable. But Taiwanese folks who’d never left their homeland presented some friction for folks like Ellen.

When it came time to choose a college, her parents encouraged her to do a pre-med program, but left room for that track not to stick with their daughter. She chose Washington University in St. Louis, Missouri, and ended up minoring in Visual Communication.

We go on a short sidebar here about Ellen’s older sister, Helen. Despite the age difference and their varied experiences back in Taiwan, the two have always been close.

[There’s a brief pause in the recording at this point. We relocated to the backyard at Ocean Ale House when the band began to play.]

Nowadays, in hindsight and with some life lived between then and now, Ellen has come to appreciate her ancestral homeland.

She says it was never a question whether to come back to the US for college. A counselor helped her choose a school that was both good for pre-med and had a solid art program. She chose Washington University sight-unseen.

She did pre-med, but only for the first two years. Then she switched, with her sister’s encouragement, to business with a vis-com minor. Ellen graduated in four years and set off for the East Coast.

Check back next week for Part 2 and Ellen’s move to San Francisco.

We recorded this episode at Ocean Ale House in February 2025.

Photography by Nate Oliveira

In Part 2, we pick up where we left off in Part 1. Nato details the three times he's left his hometown of San Francisco.   The first was when he went to college, which was at Reed in Portland, Oregon, in the mid-Nineties. To get us there, Nato rattles off all of the ways that he was a "comedy head" before that was even a thing. At Reed, he met a guy who's dad was the manager of the Comedy Underground in Seattle. Nato's first time doing stand-up on stage was at the Comedy Underground, in fact.   As he describes it, to say that he bombed that first time would be an understatement. "It's the closest I've ever come to literally shitting my pants." Nato then does a rendition of his first joke that night. Audible growls are heard in our recording.   Nevertheless, he did a few more open-mics at that spot in Seattle. He liked it enough. But after graduating from college and moving back to The City, he dedicated his life to being a union organizer.   As a history student at Reed, he'd written a thesis about the anti-Chinese movement in San Francisco in the 1870s. Nato then explains how the series Warrior is based on this time in SF. There's bits in the story about the incredibly racist and anti-union human for which Kearny Street is sometimes attributed to. That thesis is what got Nato interested in doing labor work.   He resumed going to comedy shows, but not getting up on stage. Around the time he turned 30, he found himself laboring over the jokes he'd tell at all the weddings he'd go to. He was also asked to give talks at labor conferences, which doubled as canvasses for Nato to deliver more of his own comedy material.   All of these comedic sprinklings led him back to the stage. His first regular spot back in SF was the BrainWash (RIP) on Folsom Street. Once again, the jokes bombed, though his pants fared better this go-round. He offers up another telling of a joke from that era of his. You've been warned. As he left the BrainWash one of those nights, local comedy legend Tony Sparks asked him to come back the next week, and he did. Eventually, Nato invited his friends to come see him perform.   He'd moved back to San Francisco in 1997 to do union organizing, as we've mentioned. Two years before that, John Sweeney had been elected president of the AFL-CIO. Sweeney pushed to "organize the unorganized" and bring young people into the labor movement. Nato was part of this wave. He got a job at Noah's Bagels and organized a union there.   He went to anything he heard about that interested him. He and his then-girlfriend/now wife would attend talks and rallies together. Nato would sometimes find himself that only ally at, say, LGBTQIA union meetings. This was well before we even used words like "ally."   Nato was approached to organize workers at the Real Foods on 24th Street. Then the International Longshore and Warehouse Union was beginning to organize bike and car messengers in San Francisco. Nato worked as a car messenger, which he did for three years, and helped organize his coworkers. We go on a short sidebar about bike messenger culture in The City in the late-Nineties. It was huge.   A few moves from union to union here and there, and Nato found himself raising money and helping to open a low-wage workers' center for young and immigrant folks in the service industry. That center is still around today.   The second time Nato left San Francisco was in 2012. This flight took him to New York City, where he relocated to write for his friend W. Kamau Bell's first TV show, Totally Biased. As Nato puts it, he "got the chance to be a Jewish comedy writer living in Brooklyn for six months." Then, in 2018, he and his family moved to Havana, Cuba, for six months while his wife worked on her PhD research.   Nato says that the only time he was tempted to relocate permanently was during his time in NYC. His kids liked it there. They looked at different neighborhoods and even schools. But Nato wasn't all that happy in New York. The experience took a toll on his friendship with Kamau (they've since moved on and are tight once again). And then the show got canceled. The universe had spoken.   That center he'd helped to found back in San Francisco had passed the nation's first minimum-wage municipal law. In 2006, they helped pass paid sick days here in The City. Nato had left the organization just before that to join the California Nurses' Association (CNA). Through that org, he was part of the ultimately successful effort to keep St. Luke's hospital open.   It was after his time with the CNA, 2011 or so, that Nato returned to doing stand-up.   He recorded his first comedy album and went on his first comedy tour (with Kamau). In 2014, he returned to organized labor, joining Service Employees International Union (SEIU) 1021. He works there today, as head of collective bargaining.   We return to comedy and Nato lists off some more folks doing open-mics with him a decade or so ago who've moved on to various levels of fame and recognition—Ali Wong, Chris Garcia, Shang Wang, Kevin Camia, Moshe Kasher, and Brent Weinbach, to name a few.   Nato takes us on yet another sidebar, but it's a good one. It's all about the "Punchline Pipeline," the system by which local comics can test their chops for a while until they're ready (or not) to move on to bigger and better things.   It took Nato three years to work up to the level of paid host at The Punchline. Around 2006, to go back, he and Kamau started doing political comedy shows together. This was during the George W. Bush years, when "leftist," "liberal" comedy was big. Then Obama got elected and that type of comedy cooled off considerably. Nato started to host shows at The Make-Out Room monthly. He credits that stint as the time that he "figured it out."   Nato still does stand-up, though not with the intensity with which he performed in his Thirties. Today, he contributes regularly to The Bugle Podcast. He works with Francesca Fiorintini and her Bitchuation Room show. He's also trying to find time to write a book—a funny take on union organizing. And he's kicking around the idea of another comedy album, which would be his third.   Follow Nato on Instagram and Blue Sky. His two albums are available to stream or buy on BandCamp.   We end the podcast with Nato's thoughts on our theme this season: Keep It Local.   We recorded this episode at Nato's home on Bernal Hill in January 2025.   Photography by Nate Oliveira

Nato Green started hanging out at San Francisco comedy clubs when he was in eighth grade.

Nato’s parents met when they both still lived in the suburbs of Chicago. They got married in 1968 and moved to San Francisco soon after that. Nato says that they “were in the counter-culture, but bad at it.” What he means by that is they didn’t take their subversive lifestyles all the way like many of their peers did.

But they were definitely left-leaning folks. They settled in Noe Valley, which was quite a different neighborhood back then. It was much more working-class than it is today. Think: blue-collar Irish- and Italian-American families. They had their first kid, Nato, and five years later, their second, his younger brother.

When Nato was in middle school, his parents split up. He went with his dad to live at 22nd Street and Dolores, and then up to Bernal Hill. He split time between there and his mom’s house in Noe Valley. Nato is quick to point out that Bernal Heights was also very different back then. There were even unpaved roads on the hill when he was a kid in the Seventies.

Today, Nato uses history and some pop-culture references to date his own memories here in San Francisco. He remembers things like the Mosone/Milk murders and ensuing “White Night” riots, to name just one. The Forty-Niners’ string of Super Bowl wins in the Eighties are another.

Nato admits that he wasn’t the best big brother. He lists off some of the SF schools he attended—Rooftop Elementary, MLK Middle School, and Lick-Wilmerding High School, where he went on a scholarship. His dad worked to the SFUSD for 35 years and worked on desegregation, among other things. He also taught in SF public schools.

Nato says he was a “sensitive, depressed kid.” He read a lot, especially comic books. He graduated from high school in 1993, when the local music scene was overtaken by thrash/funk. Bands of that genre were plenty. Nato went to those shows, where he was able to, anyway. He wasn’t yet 21.

The first indie comic book store in The City was on 23rd Street in the Mission—The SF Comic Company, and two doors down was Scott’s Comics and Cards. Nato became a Scott’s regular. Others who hung out there a lot became his buddies.

The SF band Limbomaniacs lived next to Scott’s. Nato goes on a sidebar here about how bands in the thrash/funk scene never really blew up, mostly owing to what a uniquely live experience the music was.

In 1990, when the Niners won the Super Bowl in a blowout, the Limbomanics played with guitar amps at the windows of their Victorian on 23rd Street, facing out. As Nato tells it, skater kids poured out of that house, and other neighborhood kids flocked to the scene. A mosh pit soon emerged, of course, on the asphalt.

Nato goes on another quick sidebar here about all the different neighborhoods and scenes interacting on a regular basis. At least when he grew up, they did.

Nato’s main modes of transportation in San Francisco were his feet and Muni. The main bus lines were the 24, the 49, and the 67. His high school was on Ocean Avenue, but he mostly hung out in the Mission. One of his good friends lived in Lower Haight and had a car, so Nato would sometimes take Muni over there.

That buddy with a car would also swing by and pick up Nato and his friends. They’d often go to the west side of town and hang out in coffeeshops. Nato rattles off several of those shops, also letting us what occupies those spaces today—Farley’s (still there), Higher Grounds in Glen Park (still there), Higher Grounds in The Mission (closed), Café Macondo (Gestalt today), Blue Danube (still there), and the Horse Shoe (empty today).

There’s another sidebar about Jello Biafra. Nato says, “Don’t meet your heroes.”

As mentioned up top, he started hanging out at comedy clubs in The City when he was in eighth grade. There was a show on KQED called Comedy Tonight that featured local comics. Originally, the show was shot at Wolfgang’s (now Cobb’s), but it later moved to Great American Music Hall. Alex Bennet was on Live 105 in the morning and Comedy in the Park was drawing 50,000 people to the Polo Fields. There were five seven-nights-a-week clubs in SF, and at least five more around the Bay. People made a living as regional headliners.

Around this time, Nato’s eighth grade science teacher’s roommate was the doorman at Cobb’s. Word got around to that guy that a kid was into comedy, and so he started taking him to that club. He saw comedians such as Greg Proops, Dana Gould, Paula Poundstone, Mark Pitta, Johnny Steele, Will Durst, Greg Behrendt, and Margaret Cho. He watched these folks, some of them anyway, become headliners.

Check back next week for Part 2 and the conclusion of our episode on Nato Green.

We recorded this episode at Nato’s home on Bernal Hill in January 2025.

Photography by Nate Oliveira

Part 2 picks up where we left off in Part 1. Barbara had just really become settled in San Francisco and was in what would become a decades-long process of learning the place (I can totally relate, btw). She hung out in the Castro more than the Mission, which in those days was a lesbian mecca. Café Flore (nowadays known as Fisch and Flore) was a favorite.   Eventually, though, Barbara moved to the Mission. The company she had been contracting with hired her and that provided the security she needed. She called an apartment at 19th Street and Dolores, across from Dolores Park, home. She's quick to point out how different the neighborhood was back then. "You wouldn't wanna walk through that park at certain times of the night," she says.   By the time Dolores Park Café and Bi-Rite opened and that area slowly gentrified, Barbara and her partner moved west to the Castro. They lived there for a few years before finally relocating to The Bayview, the neighborhood Barbara has called home since 1999.   Barbara's foray into winemaking started, as many things do, as a hobby. A coworker's husband was making wine at home with friends, and he asked her why, as an Italian-American, she had never tried it. It was a "challenge accepted"-type of moment.   1997 was the first year Barbara made wine. That coworker's husband served as her mentor for about two years. Having grown up out east, part of her winemaking education involved learning to enjoy good California wines. The first wine she made was the first one she fell in love with: Zinfandel.   The basement of her apartment on Dolores was a perfectly moldy, dank, dark space for making wine. They began with garbage-can-size containers of juice, and she and a friend took turns caring for the fermentation. They'd have bottling parties with their partners. They split the haul—six cases each.   The next year, that friend bailed on her, and Barbara was solo. The year after that, 1999, she found a new grower. It was an all-Zin affair until 2009, when she added a Cabernet Sauvignon to her repertoire. For the first decade or so, the wine was shared with friends, at dinners, at parties, that sort of thing. Her friends loved her wine, but she wondered whether they were just being polite.   Then opportunities arose for folks in The Bayview but outside of her circle of friends to try her wine. Art 94124 Gallery was one such opportunity. Barbara served wine at an art opening there and got excellent feedback. She'd already secured a permit for making wine at her home in The Bayview. We go into some depth discussing the permit process. After that, Barbara bumped her volume up to half a ton.   She took her wines to a weekly market outside the Bayview Opera House, now known as the Ruth Williams Opera House. It was early in the time of pop-ups, 2012 or so, but that's what it was. The Bayview Underground Food Scene convened every Thursday at the opera house from 6 to 9 p.m.   But when the opera house underwent renovations and the market moved to Pier 70, in Barbara's words, things "went downhill." Fewer people were willing or able to make the trek to The Bay. Eventually, it fizzled.   But through that group, Barbara had met a baker. In 2015, the two decided to open up in the space where Gratta is today. At first, the wine bar was in back (where it still is today), but the front was her business partner's bakery. Today, that space is an Italian goods retail shop that Barbara runs.   Seven years later, the bakery moved out. In 2017, Barbara had taken over the space just next door to the south, the idea being that it could serve as her winery. They moved everything from the garage in her home to the space where it is today (also the space where we recorded).   Today, Gratta Wines and Market comprises a wine bar in back, groceries and a deli up front, and winery next door. They're located at 2022 Lane Street/5273 Third Street. And they're open Tuesday–Thursday 3 p.m.–9 p.m. and Friday–Saturday 12 p.m.–10 p.m. Barbara hopes to have the winery fully opened by this spring. Follow Gratta Wines for updates.   We end the podcast with Barbara's take on our theme this season—Keep It Local.   Photography by Dan Hernandez We recorded this podcast at the Gratta Wines winery on Third Street in the Bayview in December 2024.

One set of Barbara Gratta's grandparents came to the US from Calabria, the toe of the boot of Italy. The other grandparents came from across the Italian peninsula—Bari. In this episode, meet Barbara. Today, she owns, operates, and makes wine at Gratta Wines in the Bayview. But her journey began in White Plains, NY. All four grandparents came to Brooklyn in the 1920s. They all eventually moved north to raise families away from the bustle of New York City. Barbara's grandparents were a big part of her early life, the extended families getting together often for "big Italian Sunday dinners" (yum!). These involved aunts, uncles, and cousins as well as the older generation. Barbara and her immediate family lived upstairs from her aunt, uncle, and cousins. Because of this set-up, she says it was more like one big family. And every week culminated on Sundays, with as many as 30 people coming in and out of these get-togethers. The sauce was on the stove starting early in the morning. And if more people came, it simply meant more pasta. If, like me, you're thinking of the "Fishes" episode of The Bear, you're not far off. Saturdays were spent going "up the street," which meant shopping at places like Sears or Macy's. Maybe they'd stop at White Plains Diner for lunch. But they always ended up back at her grandmother's house for cake and coffee. Her mom's youngest brother went to school with Barbara's dad's youngest sister. They came from different towns, but all ran in the same circles. And thanks to this, as well as a tight-knit Italian-American community in the area, her parents met. They got married in 1958 and had their first kid, a son, in 1959. Then Barbara was born in 1960. ​The family is Catholic, but that manifested more in traditions than any religious sense. They went to church on big holidays, and Barbara shares a story about her grandmother giving her money for the Easter Sunday collection. But she and her cousins pocketed the money and spent the service on the church roof. After she was confirmed, around eighth grade, her parents gave her the choice whether to keep going or not. Barbara chose to hang up her career with Catholicism at that point. By the time Barbara was in high school, her immediate family moved to Florida, in the Sarasota area. She says it was a hard time for her, being torn from all the people and places she knew. There wasn't a lot of Italian culture in her new home. Her mom searched for ingredients to make the food she was accustomed to. She spotted a sausage truck one day and followed it. Only through this was she able to maintain some semblance of her cultural past. Barbara stuck around after high school down in Florida. She got a degree in physical therapy and worked for about 10 years on the west coast of the state. Still, neither she nor her two brothers (one older, one younger) loved it there. Barbara left Florida around 1989 or 1990 for California. Her first visit, before she moved to San Francisco, was a vacation with a coworker in the mid-Eighties. They stayed in a hotel on Van Ness near The Bay. They did what tourists do—Fisherman's Wharf, drive over the Golden Gate Bridge, that sort of thing—and didn't travel to any SF neighborhoods. The visit involved a quick drive down to Monterey to see a former coworker of theirs. The entire trip left her wanting to visit again someday. When the time came to move here, her job set her up with a place to live for a few months. Barbara kept renewing these contracts every three months. She started in the southwest corner of The City, within walking distance of Joe's of Westlake in Daly City. We end Part 1 with stories of Barbara's early friends in SF showing her around The City. Check back next week for Part 2 and the conclusion of my episode with Barbara Gratta. We recorded this podcast at Gratta Wines in the Bayview in December 2024.

Photography by Dan Hernandez

It's been a damn year, y'all. In this bonus episode, we catch up with friend of the show Vandor Hill, owner and creator of Whack Donuts. His brick-and-mortar shop in EMB 4 just marked its one-year anniversary (and last year was a Leap Year!), and I dropped by to chat with Vandor about the time since he opened, where things stand now, and the road ahead. This Saturday, to celebrate Whack Donuts' birthday, Vandor is hosting a breakdancing jam event:

• 5x5 crew
• breaking battle
• $1,000
• donuts
• line dancing
• free giveaways

Follow Whack Donuts on Instagram for more info. And if you're able to, please donate to help offset some of the costs of putting on this event. We'll see you there! ​We recorded this podcast at Whack Donuts in January 2025.

Photography by Jeff Hunt

In Part 2, we pick up where we left off in Part 1. We'd just learned of the call Ashley received from The Fillmore while she was working in Seattle. She'd visited San Francisco once to visit a cousin, but that stay lasted a mere 48 hours. She had one friend here at the time.   Up in Seattle, the shows she helped produce were huge acts like Beyoncé and Rihanna. What especially excited Ashley about this opportunity at The Fillmore was the potential to work on smaller shows with groups and people more on their way up, so to speak. For fans and showgoers, it was more about music discovery, as she puts it.   It was June 2012. Ashley's move to San Francisco was more or less sight-unseen. The City immediately felt like a "bigger" place for her, its music ... just a bigger city all-around. It was big, "but not that big." She landed in the Mission, moving in with a friend of that one friend she had in SF. Ashley lived at 24th and Potrero for nine years, until just three years ago.   We shift to talk about Ashley's time at The Fillmore. She shares conversations among staff there about the history of the place and placing that at the forefront. The venue partnered with the Bill Graham Memorial Foundation this past fall to reintroduce the public to the place and its long history, as well as really getting Bill Graham's story out there.   Ashley then shares that life story of Bill Graham. It was Graham who put The Fillmore on the map. His first show there was in December 1965. He had fled the Holocaust as a kid, went with family to New York, then ended up in San Francisco. He wanted to be an actor and found the San Francisco Mime Troupe. That first show at The Fillmore was a benefit for the Mime Troupe, in fact.   The place had been a dance hall and a roller rink previously. Graham might have had a hunch, but when he took over putting on music shows, it was right at an inflection point for rock music in The City. Bands like Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane, and Janis Joplin frequently played there.   Bill Graham had a gift for pairing musicians from different genres together in such a way that shows attracted different groups of people. Ashley points out, though, that first and foremost, Bill was a businessman. He followed and created opportunities to make money. A few years after taking over at Fillmore and Geary, he opened The Fillmore West at Van Ness and Market. There's a fun tidbit about Bill Graham appearing on David Letterman back in the Eighties—which just speaks to how big a personality he'd become.   Our conversation then shifts to two questions I had for Ashley. I wanted her to talk about the red apples that are always found in a bucket at the top of the stairs when you enter The Fillmore. That, and the posters handed out to showgoers on their way out of sold-out events.   No one really knows how the apples got started, she says. There are versions of the story. One holds that Bill Graham gave them out as a simple gesture of hospitality. Another was that putting a little food in your belly after a night out can't hurt anything. A rather elaborate telling is that, as part of an exhibit on Bill Graham at the Contemporary Jewish Museum, someone who'd been in France with him when they were kids shared the story of sneaking out at night to go to an apple orchard.   As for the posters, Ashley talks about their origins, when they were simply advertisements for shows at The Fillmore. The posters eventually took on a life of their own, though—for many of the early ones, the style of lettering worked better as a memento than an ad. It almost seems quaint at this point that the posters were anything but keepsakes.   I ask Ashley what it's like to now have her name appear on these iconic pieces of art (in her role as art director). "It's strange ... but cool." She speaks to how much work goes into each poster. And then Ashley talks about the logistics of making posters for.   "At this point, we have a pretty good idea of which shows are gonna sell out." (Seems obvious, but as someone on the outside, I wondered.) "It's not a perfect science, but we're pretty good at it," Ashley says. She thinks of her job as more art curation than direction. She considers the overall collection of posters a little more than the nitty gritty of what each poster's details are.   We end the podcast with Ashley's thoughts on what it means to "keep it local," our theme this season.   Follow The Fillmore on Instagram.   Photography by Nate Oliveira

Ashley Graham will be the first tell you, "There's no relation (to Bill Graham)." In Part 1 of this episode, meet Ashley. Today, she holds the titles of marketing manager and art director at The Fillmore, a San Francisco institution. But let's learn how she got here.

​Ashley comes to us from Spokane, Washington. Her mom is originally from there, too, but her dad's family moved around the Rocky Mountain West, from Colorado to Montana, and eventually, eastern Washington State. Her dad was a senior in high school when his family moved to Spokane. Her parents met a few years later and got married after knowing each other for a whopping five months (they're still married today). Ashley's mom worked at Bimbo's, a local Spokane burger joint. Her dad frequented the place ... with his first wife. At a certain point, he started to come in solo. And eventually, he asked her mom out. "The rest is history," Ashley says. Ashley's sister, Erin, is two years older than her. Growing up, the two had what Ashley calls "a classic older sister/younger sister vibe." They're close today, but it wasn't always that way. Ashley had severe asthma when she was young, and she thinks she was a drag to be around. Ashley is an Eighties kid. She was born in 1983 and grew up without cellphones and computers. At this point in the recording, we reminisce about those days and what it was like not having those things. She spent a lot of her early years playing Barbie with a cousin. She listened to a lot of music, too. She loved Michael Jackson, but it was his sister Janet who really stole Ashley's heart. Janet Jackson was her first concert, in fact. There's a good story about Ashley refusing to get on the school bus and her mom taking her home. After this incident, when she would take the bus to school, she'd receive a sticker. Once she accumulated enough of those, Ashley bought herself a copy of Rhythm Nation on cassette. Her high school years saw Ashley really, really dive into music. The Jacksons gave way to bands like Kiss (thanks to the movie Detroit Rock City), Aerosmith, and Poison. Then, in 1999, Ashley and her sister won tickets to see Sammy Hagar. "It was so good. So good," she says now. Looking back, she says that it was the relationship Hagar had with his fans that drew her in. The next day, she went out and bought a Sammy Hagar CD. A week later, she bought more CDs. She got a Hagar shirt on Ebay. Around this time, she also discovered Hedwig and the Angry Inch. She found the show thanks to her love of Stone Temple Pilots. Her, her mom, and her sister went to Seattle to see Stevie Nicks and Ashley seized the opportunity while there to see the Hedwig movie. Some in the theater were clutching their pearls, but the movie had a profound effect on Ashley. It "opened my heart and filled it with ... emotional intelligence," she says. ​Hedwig also helped open Ashley up to the wider world and the idea of possibility. This was all right before her senior year in high school. Despite her friends not really getting it, she took that inspiration and turned it into her drive to become a screen writer. And her senior English teacher encouraged those dreams. She read scripts while also writing her own. She graduated high school and moved to Los Angeles to attend Loyola Marymount. A year later, she came back to Washington to go to Seattle University and pursue a degree in "something between journalism and communications." But she says that about halfway through college, she decided that the old-school model of journalism school (think: hard news) wasn't a good fit. During her time in Seattle, though, music had started to take over her life. Ashley had gotten into The Strokes in her brief time in LA. "They felt like a band you could be friends with," the first time that had happened to her. At shows in Seattle, she started befriending bands. Eventually, she started a music site, and that blew up to the point that she cashed that in for internships at a local venue and a record label. One of those internships, the one at the venue, led to a job. And that led to her work with the Sasquatch music fest in Seattle. Rather than covering band quasi-journalistically, she was now working with bands behind the scenes, so to speak. Then, five years or so later, someone from The Fillmore called and offered Ashley a job. Check back next week for Part 2 with Ashley Graham. ​We recorded this podcast at The Fillmore in November 2024.

Photography by Nate Oliveira

San Francisco has such a rich history of comedy. No one can argue against that. In this bonus episode, meet SF Sketchfest co-founder and co-director Cole Stratton. I chatted with Cole about:

• his early days in Michigan and his and his mom's move to Davis, CA
• going to SF State, moving to The City
• meeting folks (David Owen and Janet Varney) with whom he later helped create Sketchfest
• how his desire to act drove him to Los Angeles, where he lives today
• the sketch crew he was in, which lead to the festival
• the 2002 launch of SF Sketchfest
• this year's 18-day event, which kicks off tonight!

Go to SFSketchfest.com for tickets and more info. We recorded this podcast on Zoom in January 2025.

In Part 2, we pick up where we left off in Part 1. The siblings use which school they were going to estimate the date of the family's move to Valencia Street to live above Puerto Alegre. Just one example: When Amparo was set to attend Mission High, they moved the school to Poly out near Kezar Stadium while Mission was retrofitted.   Then we turn to noteworthy things that have happened at Puerto Alegre in the 50-plus years that it's been open. Amparo shares how their dad, Ildefonso Vigil, brought pinball machines and a pool table into the restaurant. At one point, because Willy, Lorenzo, and one of their cousins got into fish, a 55-gallon tank went up in the front window. Their dad was also known to rescue dying plants he found around the neighborhood.   Amparo got married when she was 16 and had a kid the next year. By 19, she had divorced and moved back in with her family. She got a day job at an insurance company, which gave her access to a typewriter. With that, she was able to create the first typed menu for the restaurant. Prior to that, the menu had been written by hand.   The brothers being boys and all, they started to get into cars. They built cars and did some (probably illegal) racing. Other siblings would go watch, but at least one always stayed behind to help out at the restaurant.   Over the years, the menu evolved. The neighborhood was changing. The clientele in the restaurant needed to pivot. Their parents introduced fried chicken and milkshakes at one point, a carryover from the Mexico Lindo days.   Their mom, Maria Refugio Vigil, also made fresh flour tortillas. Willy and Lorenzo were big, big fans of those. They'd grab them as soon as they were ready, slap some refried beans on them, roll 'em up, and eat away.   At this point, Amparo tells the story of El Faro taqueria. Going back to the Mexico Lindo days, El Faro was just down the block. Kitty-corner to that was a place called Johnny's. The owner of El Faro would ask the siblings, "What'd ya get over there?" Johnny's eventually made poboy sandwiches, and the Vigils ate those up, literally. Those poboys inspired the owner of El Faro to create burritos. This story is, quite possibly, the burrito origin story.   Getting back to the topic of other immigrants from Ayutla in San Francisco, Amparo tells us about a club in the Mission where folks from that small town in Mexico would get together. The wife of the owner of La Rondalla (RIP) was from Ayutla. The owners of Don Ramon's and Taqueria La Cumbre were from there, as well.   Back to Puerto over the years, Amparo talks about how their dad always wanted a liquor license. He'd served beer and wine since they opened, but he wanted to expand. The owner of Vic's next-door (where Blondie's is today) was retiring and selling his license, and Ildefonso bought it. That changed everything.   Willy tells us about the learning curve to running a bar. This was around 1982 or so. Their liquor sales rep helped teach them how to set up a bar. Most importantly—he taught them how to make margaritas. Willy says he brought friends in to help "test" his new concoctions. It didn't take him long to get it down ... with ample feedback, of course.   One casualty of the liquor license, unfortunately, was the fishtank. Next was the pool table. A familiar site around The City today, but rarer back then, they started to experience folks lining up for a table or a seat at the bar.   We spend some time talking about a specific host from Puerto's past—Tirso, who has been beloved by me and my friends for decades now. We all talk about how much we love Debbie Horn (former server at Puerto, current co-owner of Royal Cuckoo Organ Lounge).   Amparo tells us about the art on the walls inside Puerto Alegre. It's not just for decoration. Rather, the restaurant serves as a community art gallery. What began as mostly neon beer company signs adorning the space turned into regular art shows and events that add to the magic that is Puerto Alegre.   Over the years, Amparo started collecting posters and art of various aspects of Mexican history. Figures like Zapata and Pancho Villa went up as framed posters. That turned into Carnaval-related art. A friend who was a regular patron of the place and a photographer himself helped with that. This was roughly 20 years ago.   When Carnaval season was over that first year, they wanted a new show. Another regular customer and artist, Bird Levy, suggested a show to honor Frida Kahlo on her birthday in July. That has become an annual show every July.   The Vigils connected with Mission artist Calixto Robles to do a show at Puerto Alegre. They've done shows with Calixto's wife, Alejandra, as well. They've done art shows on women during March (Women's History Month). There've been shows on resistance, climate, and Day of the Dead. And just as a true gallery would, they throw art-opening parties.   Willy shares what the restaurant has meant to him and his life. He met his wife there. She worked for a time at Puerto Alegre. They have three kids together. Lorenzo and Pattye follow their brother, talking about the role that the restaurant fulfills in their lives.   Pattye shares the story of how their dad, after Puerto was established, bought a second building in the Mission—Puerto Alegre II on 25th Street. Idelfonso moved over to run that place while Maria and all the siblings stayed at the Valencia Street location.   Amparo again stresses the importance of work, and how from a young age, their parents instilled strong work ethics in them all. Of all his siblings and cousins, Ildefonso was the only one to stay in the restaurant business all the way to the end.

Puerto Alegre has been one of my favorite places in San Francisco since around the time I moved here in 2000. I'm finally able to share their story here, and I'm humbled and honored to do so. In Part 1, we meet the Vigil siblings—Amparo, Lorenzo, Willy, and Pattye. Their parents opened Puerto Alegre around 1970, and these four continue their family's legacy on Valencia to this day.

​To start things off, we travel to Ayutla, Jalisco, Mexico, which is where the Vigil family came from. Their dad was one of five boys and several sisters in his own family. They were working class folks who didn't have a lot of money, and so they decided to leave. Following a couple of his older brothers, their dad came to California when he was 14. He started in the southern part of the state and made his way north, working mostly in fields. The brothers from this older generation all ended up in San Francisco, where they lived together and eventually brought their wives up to join them. The Vigil siblings' dad had known their mom back in Mexico, and brought her to The City around 1957. At this point in the recording, we go on a sidebar about the size of Ayutla and how much it's grown over the years. The Vigil siblings do visit their family back in Mexico from time to time. Before their parents got started in the restaurant business, their dad worked at a laundromat here in SF on 17th Street. They had their first baby, an older sister who isn't affiliated with the restaurant at all, and made ends meet to support her. Their mom stayed home to care for their sister, and it was around this time that she started cooking. The parents lived in a shared space with family around 14th and Folsom before a move south to 24th and Folsom when one of the uncles bought a house there. More and more members of their dad's family moved to San Francisco, and the Puerto Alegre Vigils bounced around the Mission from home to home during this time. Their dad's idea was to save up enough to move back to Mexico (ed. note: The idea of saving money in San Francisco today is a different story). But eventually, the opportunity to buy an entire building, which came with a restaurant on the ground floor, arose, and their dad seized on that. That spot was between 19th and 20th streets on Folsom. And so the family moved again. Several members of their parents' generation worked at that first restaurant, which was known as Mexico Lindo. (The space is still a Mexican restaurant today—Chuy's Fiestas.) Various members of the family, including the Vigil siblings when they were young, took turns working at Mexico Lindo. Eventually, that worked out to different families taking over the restaurant for yearlong stints, while others went and worked other jobs. Two uncles branched out to open Vigil's Club, in the spot that today is Asiento, 21st and Bryant. The siblings' dad and one of his brothers stayed back at Mexico Lindo. In one of those years "off," 1968 or '69, the siblings' dad decided he didn't want to be away from the restaurant business for such a long period of time. He went looking and found the spot on Valencia between 16th and 17th where Puerto Alegre is today. The building's street-level space had been a second-hand store. The Vigils' dad built it out as a restaurant. Back then, Valencia was known as "auto row" and "funeral row." It was much different than it is today. The space next door, where Blondie's is today, was a bar called Vic's. We go on a quick sidebar about how, many years ago, it was common for kids to go into bars in San Francisco. It's something that comes up from time to time on this podcast. ​Then Amparo lets us know how good their dad was, even at his first restaurant, about creating spaces where people would want to hang out. Among other touches, he placed pinball machines and a jukebox in the eatery on Folsom. On the weekends, they served birria and menudo, which didn't hurt the operation at all. Getting back to their dad's venture over to Valencia, the siblings discuss the idea that he and their mom were really branching out on their own after so much time in business with their family members. But the new space, having previously not been set up as a restaurant, needed work done on it. A lot of work. There's a side story about a contractor from Watsonville who stiffed their dad on a deposit he'd handed over. Some of the siblings joined their father to chase the guy down. Wild. The new restaurant would be called Puerto Alegre. Pattye lets us know the meaning of the phrase in English, which is "happy port." The menu was all original, of course. Some items, in fact, came from Mexico Lindo. Many of the recipes were their mom's or their aunts'. Chile verde, enchiladas, chile rellenos, and chile Colorado were mainstays. Back at the old place on Folsom, the siblings all worked when they were kids. Their dad even built a box they could stand on to clean the meat for menudo. When he opened his place on Valencia, they all had kitchen experience and transferred that over to the new restaurant. We get into a detailed discussion of the various salsas that their mom used to make. They're the foundation for today's salsa at Puerto. Amparo says their mom used to carry peppers around in her pockets. To wrap up Part 1, Amparo shares the story of her dad eventually clearing out what had been SRO-type rooms for rent above Puerto Alegre for his family to move in. That move was from a one-bedroom to a four-bedroom. Movin' on up, as they say. Check back next week for Part 2 with the Vigil siblings of Puerto Alegre. We recorded this podcast at Puerto Alegre restaurant in the Mission in November 2024.