Ken Ross: A great place to grow up

No, I'm not talking about that famous city in the south during the Civil War. I'm not talking about a city at all. I'm talking about a part of a city, a neighborhood, a district. I'm talking about my part, my neighborhood, my district. I'm talking about the Richmond District in San Francisco.

I remember happy childhood days from the '20s and '30s, playing "kick the can" on Second Avenue or riding my skate coaster down Arguello Boulevard, going to the Saturday afternoon matinee at the old Coliseum Theater on Ninth Avenue and Clement Street.

We, the residents, considered, from east and west, Arguello Boulevard to Ocean Beach, and from north to south, Lake Street to Fulton Street and Golden Gate Park, our territory. We all identified with the Richmond District.

I left the Richmond when I was 18 to join the army, but I have very fond memories of my old neighborhood and the wonderful times I experienced there. I remember one summer when I was nine years old and playing in the street, this fellow approached me and asked if I would like to make some money selling magazines. That was in the days of the old "Liberty Magazine," five cents per copy. He gave me 15 magazines and a shoulder bag. When I put the bag on, it came down to my ankles, but George (that was the fellow's name) pulled up the strap until the bag came just below my knees and tied a knot in it. He told me I would get two cents for every copy of the "Liberty" I sold.

I started out and sold all 15 copies in two days. I took the money home and awaited George's reaction. When he showed up, he praised my enterprise and gave me 15 more magazines.

I excitedly started out but sold nothing the first day, and nothing the next day. I was steadily becoming very discouraged. When George showed up and asked me how I was doing, I said, "Gee George, I'm doing nothing. Everybody is saying 'no!'"

George said, "That's good. You're getting all the nos out of the way early. It will be nothing but 'yes' from now on."

So, I started out again, and sure enough, I sold all my magazines.

That was my very first sales lesson, and I have never forgotten it. I spent the greatest part of my career in sales, and I always used that little episode to pump up my salesmen. I kept telling them, "Never be discouraged with the 'no,' the 'yes' is there. You just have to persevere and look for it."

Going to the movies was a Saturday afternoon pleasure. I remember my mom giving me 15 cents, a dime for the show and a nickel for candy. I would dash down to a little store between Fourth and Fifth avenues on Cornwall Street and buy a nickel's worth of Abba Zabba bars, taffy on the outside and filled with peanut butter. They were two for a penny, but the kindly storekeeper would always throw in a couple of extra bars and make it an even dozen. All this and a show! I thought it was the greatest way to live. Of course, I hadn't met girls yet.

Most of the features were cowboy movies featuring all our western heroes, including my all-time favorite Charles S. "Buck" Jones. Once at the old Coliseum Theater, Buck Jones made a personal appearance with his horse, Silver. Some of my friends and I arrived hours early and waited for the theater to open. We were first in line and rushed to our favorite seats down front on the right side.

When Buck appeared, there was a deafening roar of applause and we were ecstatic. He told us if we were real quiet and didn't spook his horse, he would bring him onstage to do some tricks for us. In the hush of the moment, Buck softly said he would be right back and left the stage.

When it was all quiet, I felt a presence and looked up to my left to see the biggest six gun I had ever seen in my life. It was huge! I looked further up and saw this rugged looking man lean down to me and say, "Son, would you hold my horse while I check the ramp to the stage?" He handed me the reins and I almost fainted. I held those reins as tight as I could. He came back, took the reins from my hand, thanked me, and shook my hand. I was in such a state I don't remember much after that, but I do know Buck had his horse bow to us before he left the theater. What a thrill for a nine-year-old boy!

I've been around the world and lived in various parts of the country and abroad, but no place compares to the Richmond - my district, my home.

Ken Ross is an author and longtime Richmond resident now living in the North Bay.