Bob Damir made his children open an Ice Cream Shop on Geary Boulevard between 6th and 7th Avenue after the horror at 815.
I met with Bob in West Portal in or around 2011, he took me to lunch and we talked about what had happened at his house on Dorchester in The Sunset. In fact we spoke about the telephone, I told him that I was unable to call him or E.K.P. Jr. on those days that the horrors happened at his home as he explained that I was meant to be safe on that side of town as Marge was there and the boys and girls would not be able to harm me any further. So, when I explained the phone his memory went to wherever it went as I recalled the above being said.
Memory is an interesting thing and now with computers people can understand that memory is no longer based on probability. Through the computer people can understand readily that it is just a fact that opening that file (specific dynamic) gives memory the actual write. As a result of the telephone conversation which was the same problem (the telephone was an adult height on a tall hallway telephone bench) that I had at 815, he and I finished our lunch and for the first time in my life I saw him at peace with something.
Bob Damir died in 2014 and listed below is his amazing legacy. In regards to memory I place once again on the Cops the burden to sort the details of all these horrors as the boys and girls that committed those horrors are still living. Should you be one of those boys or girls that listed me at Dorchester Way in The Sunset or listed me at 815 in The Richmond turn yourself in at your local Police Station and give your statement as there is no statute of limitation on murder. Should you be privy to the Ice Cream Shop or privy to any information by-proxy please go to your local Police Station and explain your involvement as when the Cops put this all together you will be found guilty by association in a court of law and that will be a felony and not by-proxy as you will be proven to be part of that gang. Gang activity begins somewhere and often times nobody will find the beginning of that activity however in this case the gang actions have actual addresses and the answer is found as there was The Sunset and The Richmond, St. Ignatius High School, Mercy High School and West Portal Elementary to prove your participation through your recorded behaviors. As time has delivered, and computers are finally capable to produce, it will be S.F.P.D. along with the F.B.I. and C.I.A. that profiles can be seen as the pattern of your personal behavior will make evident your participation in a cover-up or in the fact that your cover-up will be evident by facts that show you have turn your back, as you boys and girls from The Sunset went onto careers whereas the boys and girls in The Richmond disappeared, as all I have to say is remember Galileo as Roosevelt Middle School on Arguello will deliver a roster too.
Robert M. Damir
(1925 – 2014)
Robert M. Damir (Bob) was born in Fresno, CA, December 22, 1925, to Mamprey and Esther Damir. He was the sixth and youngest son of Armenian parents who left their homes in Betlis and Erzerom in western Armenia and came to America to escape the genocide.
Bob was raised in a large and loving Armenian family. He attended the Fresno Pilgrim Church Sunday School as a young child until his family moved to Riverbank, a suburb of Modesto, where his father went into the fruit business. Like many new immigrants, the Damirs spoke only Armenian at home. This was the time of the Great Depression, and Bob told stories of shelling walnuts and driving to San Francisco to sell them at the Crystal Palace Market, a San Francisco tradition of that time. There were also good times driving through the Damir orchard and picking peaches off the tree to eat, which were so delicious in comparison to the peaches of today, and summers filled with work throwing large fruit boxes onto trucks.
While growing up in a small Central Valley town, he became very active in his school and community. He became well-known as a singer in the local Catholic Church and in his high school band, and was nicknamed the "Bobby Breen of the San Joaquin". It didn't take long for Bob to develop into an entrepreneur and business man. He started a photography business taking portraits, and by age 17 he and his brother managed the family dry fruit processing plant in Merced.
After graduating from high school, Bob enlisted in the U.S. Navy during World War II, but the war was over before he could be deployed. His brother, Homer, was not so fortunate and was killed during the Normandy invasion. Bob completed his military duty by attending Naval Officers Training in the reserves.
After the war, Bob was off to Stanford Graduate School of Business, where he graduated in 1949 with an MBA. He then started a spice business in San Francisco, and while living there met and married Margaret in 1957. They soon started their own family, and were eventually blessed with three sons and two daughters. With a family to support, Bob made a decision to attend night classes at USF Law School while working as a real estate appraiser during the day. He graduated and passed the Bar Exam on the first try. Bob was an attorney at law for over 40 years, and a Bankruptcy Trustee for the U. S. Bankruptcy Court for eight years. Among his more interesting career experiences, Bob was privileged to become William Saroyan's attorney. After Saroyan's death, he and two other men took Saroyan's ashes to Soviet-occupied Armenia for burial. This was in 1982, and the delegation received a hero's welcome and celebration in honor of William Saroyan's life.
Bob was a man of deep personal faith in Jesus Christ. He accomplished many great things, among them starting a Christian high school in San Francisco. He was the greatest husband, father, and grandfather . His children say that he personified such traits as integrity, tenacity, brilliance, warmth and fun. He walked through every stage of their lives caring, teaching, reasoning, correcting, challenging and advising them. In his own words from his diary: "I want to grow in my faith, to do God's will more and more as His servant, and to leave a legacy to my children and grandchildren that demonstrates the depth of my faith."
Bob passed away peacefully on April 23, 2014, and is survived by his wife, Marge, his five children Theresa Damir and husband Michael Krieger; Garrick Damir and wife Julia; Nonda Ebbinghaus and husband Bart; Christian Damir and wife Jennifer; and Timothy Damir, as well as eleven grandchildren: Corinne and Jenna Skover; Gabriel and Michael Damir; Elise, Briana and Luke Ebbinghaus; and Samuel, Joshua, Nicole and Benjamin Damir.
https://www.legacy.com/obituaries/sfgate/obituary.aspx?n=robert-damir&pid=172848807
The Comprehensive Guide to San Francisco’s Alleys; http://www.sfweekly.com/topstories/the-comprehensive-guide-to-san-franciscos-alleys/
From the gorgeous to the hideous to the absolutely
inexplicable, we scoured the city by foot and on bikes to document
hundreds of alleys, side streets, and lanes.
The Most Photogenic
Like many hideaways in Nob Hill, Kimball Place is a two-block jaunt lined with redwoods and cottages, like the nearby Golden Court and Leroy Place. Although its name suggests otherwise, hilly Pleasant Street is more functional (but with a great view of the Transamerica Pyramid). Just off the famous block of Lombard Street is Montclair Terrace,
lush and redolent of rose and jasmine. It gets a tiny fraction of the
tourist traffic of its notorious neighbor, something its inhabitants
almost certainly relish — and its northern end is accessible via public
stairs.
Citywide, other quirks abound. In the Tenderloin, Isadora Duncan Lane is best viewed from Shannon Street because of the way its pastel-colored buildings align from that vantage. Is Chula Lane angled to respect Mission Dolores’ cemetery? Could Noe Valley’s Juri Street
be more snugly placed nexts to a former railroad right-of-way that’s
now a small park? In the Castro, the mossy lane that is the Vulcan Stairs are a romantic must, while nearby Ord Court is another urban-forest aerie. Tales of the City fans eager to find Barbary Lane might be disappointed to hear it’s fictional — but Armistead Maupin based it on Russian Hill’s Macondray Lane.
Jack Kerouac Alley, like Saroyan Place
across Columbus Avenue, gets most of its Instagram-happy visitors owing
to the picturesque Vesuvio’s and the enduring appeal of the Beats.
Photogenic doesn’t have to mean pretty, as in the hyper-urban South of
Market intersection of Heron Street and Berwick Place, a
pair that could be straight out of London’s Camden Town. If you want
murals, you got ’em: The Tenderloin’s Veterans Alley — technically Shannon Street — harbors poignant political messages that pertain to American bellicosity. Most obscure is the art along Boswell Street,
formerly known as Avery (if one industrial building’s exterior is to be
believed), an industrial alley behind the Boom Boom Room.
But beautiful streets are hidden everywhere. The random Imperial Avenue in the Marina is full of gardens cordoned off by white-picket fences, while White Street is a study in how treelessness can be a boon to good architecture. Redfield Alley
is among the most wonderful finds, a staircase that turns into a gravel
path with sagging retaining walls and finally a garden that feels
almost illicit until you turn left and climbup Marion Street through
Molinari Mana Park.
The Ugliest
More than a few San Francisco alleys are
just plain hideous. They’re glorified parking lots and driveways —
except “glorified” oversells a dung-encrusted row of garbage cans that
never see direct sunlight — as with Bedford Place in Chinatown, or the two dead-end sections of Union Square-adjacent Derby Street that never meet. Many alleys are simply locked away behind gates. Emery Lane
runs alongside a police station in North Beach with tiny windows,
guaranteeing that extra bit of surveillance-state paranoia. Emery makes a
hard right onto Card Street, which would almost be charming if it weren’t an access way to a Bank of America parking lot.
Very nearby but in Chinatown, the former Churchill Street is now known as Turk Murphy,
after the trombonist and bandleader who once ran a club with the
magnificent name of Earthquake McGoons. In spite of that history, it’s a
barren block with a lot of unnecessary surface parking. Although more
properly classified as a side street, the two long blocks of Bernard Street might
be the ugliest such thoroughfare in San Francisco relative to their
tony precincts. But for a single lime-green garage, Bernard is almost
entirely bereft of charm or color, and could somebody please plant
something? You just know at least someone who lives there pronounces it
BURN-erd, too. There are plenty of other lost opportunities, though:
SoMa’s curving Kissling Street suffers from its proximity to a parking garage, while Lafayette Street ends at commercial dead zones on both sides.
Its name is all business, but Security Pacific Place
feels like a jail of a street behind the Museum of Ice Cream, perhaps a
waiting zone for armored cars during its previous life as a bank. And Stark Street? Yeah: indeed.
The Functional and the Ordinary
Short streets serve a purpose: getting you from A to B. Close to the Central Freeway, both Bernice and Isis are block-long streets with just enough of a curve to create visual appeal, while Trainor Street exists to help Rainbow Grocery patrons park. Cut in half by a freeway ramp, Erie Street now has a dead end that makes it ideal for large-scale events at Public Works, and shrewd drivers know how useful a shortcut Plum Street can be for getting off the freeway and onto South Van Ness.
Like Natoma Street, there are a number of blocks-long, discontinuous alleys in SoMa — Stevenson, Minna, Jessie, Tehama, Clementina — with Edwardian apartments cheek-by-jowl against machinists and auto-body shops. Ringold Alley used to have a fetish fair that later moved to nearby Dore Alley, a curio that runs for a block-and-a-half before picking up again under an on-ramp. Grace and Washburn streets are mural-lined turnarounds for your Lyft.
Many narrow, one-block streets are
largely residential on one side with blank industrial facades opposite,
ideal for murals — one block of Langton Street in SoMa is a great example of this. Others in SoMa are entirely residential, such as Moss or Rausch streets, as are Mission District examples such as Julian Avenue, Ramona Street, Brosnan Street, or the more fabulous Elgin Park and Clinton Park streets in the Mission. (Their toponymous green spaces are long-gone now.) At the T-intersection with Albion Street, nearby Camp Street has a plaque honoring the original location of Mission Dolores on its vanished lagoon, while Woodward Street was the home of a 19th-century pleasure garden. Lapidge Street is for lovers — or so its annual party claims — while parallel Linda Street has a jog that surely enhances its houses’ curb appeal.
Elsewhere in the Mission, back alleys like Osage, Orange, Poplar, Caledonia, Virgil, Horace, and Lucky largely flank the commercial corridors, although some have grown to become thick with Precita Eyes art.
In the Castro, Thorp Lane mostly allows back-door entrance to a few dozen houses, while Romain
lets you cross over Market Street without getting hit by a car. To feel
like a real urban-exploration pro, get lost in and around Kite Hill
Open Space’s tiny web of thoroughfares, like the utilitarian Short Street, the semipaved Grand View Terrace, or the secluded Mono Street and Acme Alley. Even the Sunset gets in on the game, with the theoretically easy-to-find 20 1/2 Avenue
between Kirkham and Lawton streets (and between exactly the two
numbered avenues you’d expect), along with the proletarian-sounding Dirt Alley a couple blocks northwest.
Completely Pointless
This category contains almost too many alleys to count, from the eternally locked Colin Place to the filthy Fisher Alley, with its view of Chinatown’s crime-riddled Ping Yuen housing complex. Spookily dark from its ficus canopy, Ada Court in the Tenderloin could use a little purpose, as could the dirtier Dodge Place behind Harry Harrington’s Pub. San Francisco’s namesake deserves a more dignified right-of-way, but St. Francis Place in SoMa is essentially a parking lot entrance. And in spite of its bucolic name, SoMa’s Oak Grove Street is home to little more than shadows from the freeway and the Community Division of the Sheriff’s Department.
Industrial SoMa has a ton of dead-ends, in fact — Julia, McLea, Converse, Laskie, Kate, Decatur, Sumner, Lucerne, Butte, the sinister Juniper — most of which certainly had railroad sidings on them to facilitate commerce and shipping.
Enterprise Street in the Mission sounds like it has a starship factory, but it’s just a dead-end off of Folsom, while Mistral Street connects Folsom to a section of Treat Avenue near Southern Pacific Brewing. Dehon and Harlow streets in the Castro were clearly truncated by the construction of schools, but tiny Adair Street serves no discernible purpose and Rondel Street isn’t far behind. SoMa’s Malden and Vassar streets are essentially parking lots, but possibly the most inexplicable street in San Francisco is Decker Alley in SoMa, which is barely a driveway. If it were delisted from the roster altogether, no one would notice.
Mostly Worth Noting Because They’re Next to Something
Named for the late power broker, Rose Pak’s Way abuts Chinese Hospital, as does Stone Street. Ecker Street in SoMa is familiar to anyone who’s eaten at Yank Sing, while Helen Street just off California runs alongside Zeki’s bar. It might be a dead end, but sloping Acorn Alley is worth a visit just so you can be jealous of whoever lives in that adorable house at the bottom.
Over in Lower Pac Heights, Wilmot Street
runs near St. Dominic’s Catholic Church, the only Gothic Revival house
of worship with flying buttresses in town. Alongisde the 60-year-old
Motel Capri and gastronomic temple Atelier Crenn, one-way Pixley Street runs for several blocks, and you can’t drive down it all at once, since its traffic flow changes mid-stream. Moulton Street, essentially a service road for Lombard Street, does the same.
Ross Alley gets a lot of
pedestrian traffic from people waiting to enter the Golden Gate Fortune
Cookie Factory, but it still has plenty of Chinatown pizzazz, while Kenneth Rexroth Place lets you into Eight Tables. Behind the Palace Hotel is Annie Street, while highbrow Maiden Lane
is well-known to Grant Avenue shoppers and anyone lucky enough to get
inside the Frank Lloyd Wright’s only building in San Francisco, the V.C.
Morris shop at no. 140.
Dutch for “the tree,” De Boom Street is a dead-end SoMa alley onto which 21st Amendment Brewing sometimes drops watermelons, while The Stud has all but annexed Gordon Street. Rincon Street
on the hill of the same name has a noirish quality owing to its steep
grade and the adjacent factory that seems to sink into the slope.
Between Davies Symphony Hall and Bill Graham is Dr. Tom Waddell Place,
renamed from Lech Walesa when that lion of Polish liberation’s
homophobia became too awkward. (It was originally a part of Ivy Street.)
Plenty Charming
The north-south lanes off 23rd Street in Noe Valley — Quane, Mersey, Severn, Nellie, Blanche, Ames — are always worth a stroll, especially to see how alley-fronting garages maximize their utility. Same goes for the east-west Comerford Street several blocks south. Breaking up the rectilinearity of the Western Addition are a handful of streets, like Seymour, Beideman, and Farren, that survived Justin Herman’s mid-century program of urban renewal; Friendship Court is a relic of it, and also happens to be right next to the Holy Virgin Russian Orthodox cathedral.
Telegraph Hill and North Beach each hold plenty of worthwhile alleys, from Verdi Place to Bartol Street with its steps, but clues to where the city’s shoreline once was can be found in both Water and Vandewater (“from the water”) streets. Romolo Place and the much-larger Fresno Street
both contain plenty of places to get a drink, while an excursion
through the neighborhood all but requires a stroll along the
horseshoe-shaped Medau Place or up to the summit via Child Street and Telegraph Place. The boundary between Russian Hill and Chinatown never feels so acute as via the flowery walk to Himmelmann Place, just above the much-uglier Salmon Street.
Running a full four-and-a-half blocks near the Hall of Justice in SoMa, Harriet Street has
lots of random homes and aged factories, plus that ne plus ultra of
postindustrial charm: disused railroad tracks embedded in cobblestones.
Nearby Gilbert and Boardman streets might start out in the
bail bond district (so to speak) but they’re hardly bereft of
photogenic angles — once your eyes adjust to the level of decay.
The Weirdest
Looked at in Google Maps, it’s hard not to think that Eastman Street and
the lanes around it don’t form a swastika shape, but the Hyde Street
cable car is audible from this odd little Russian Hill warren, along
with Allen Street (near Zarzuela), Rockland Street, and Russell Street.
In spite of their narrowness, they’re mostly two-way. While Lurmont
Terrace might look unremarkable, it terminates in an unnecessarily large
parking plaza for all the garages of the upscale buildings around it to
use. (Very convenient.)
Like the hillside Chilean city of the same name, one of Valparaiso Street’s two blocks runs downhill and ends in a stairway, although vehicular traffic turns north to the unfortunately named Roach Street. Not quite pretty, Cyrus Place sits atop the Broadway Tunnel, starting out like a claustrophobic driveway and opening onto a mini-park.
Infrastructure can be unkind: In the Bayview, busted-up Selby Street stands directly beneath I-280. In SoMa, never-see-the-light-of-day Perry Street has to suffer the indignity of Interstate 80 coursing directly on top of it, while parallel Stillman Street at least gets a little more sun as it points you toward the Clock Tower Building. Meanwhile, SoMa’s magical-sounding Merlin Street reconciles itself to elaborate murals visible through barbed-wire fences, although the equally magical Aladdin Place is just a dead end with some sidewalk plants. On what remains of Rincon Hill, Sterling Street and Essex Street have been totally subsumed into freeway entrances, while the bizarre Zeno Place
— seemingly the easternmost extant alley in San Francisco — abuts the
poured-concrete dinosaur that is the E. M. O’Donnell Copper Works and
terminates in a patch of fake turf.
Is Alert Street so named because
the mid-century apartment building at one end has a seismically unsafe
soft story? Probably not. Quarterpipe-shaped Waldo Street
precedes the literary character of the same name by decades but somebody
loves it enough to deck out its street sign in red-and-white stripes,
like a barber pole. The streets near South Park have a Bostonian feel,
although Jack London Alley’s biggest attribute is the pale-pink
Gran Oriente Filipino Masonic Temple, crowning that ethnic community’s
historical ties to the neighborhood. Farther west, Lapu Lapu, its community garden, and its feeder lanes — Bonifacio, Rizal, Mabini — will anchor the SoMa Pilipinas District no matter how much the surrounding blocks get upzoned.
If you like alleys that pick up from other alleys, SoMa’s noirish Hallam Street and Brush Place are for you, especially with their wonderfully bizarre architecture — ditto for Colton Street and Colusa Place in that otherwise horrid nether-vortex at the foot of Gough Street. Same goes for the much lovelier Bird Street, a short dead end branching off crooked Dearborn Street by the former Farina. Over by Potrero Avenue and Highway 101, a tiny section of Serpentine Avenue
is all that remains of a semi-legal, 19th-century street that blogger
Burrito Justice determined used to include the southernmost section of
Capp Street, half a mile west. And does creepy Elwood Street form an L shape because it alliterates with its name?
how did the 815 be grain?,
it said in private liberty that time is of its date,
a month to dial is not the chime as ringing in memories seat for what is was the plate a license do I permit?,
yes for brain to connect as murder has not statute of limitations too!!
From this to state of what is a cob of corn for my feet that ran to cake of where the Dorchester keyed my leap,
Damir said to plate of car that the Hedgey was a name,
the sweep of boys that lined that came of now its just a bide,
for in their eyes does hold the fee and that is what is shoulder bead,
a necklace showing on their tech not technical in hide.
So should I see those eyes a grain in sand the beach is waving,
no Cop will be on not in pine as race is what to flags and tied?,
it crams no money for quarters ruled the inch to loins and numbers,
spreading that to Geary Street French Hospital had its dime,
an that is more than dentist treed a doctor made to order,
emergency room to Stable clear.
Rode no plan as that was scribe whom writ the skate to ice and shade,
blinds are not my eyes to blink as reins became the geared,
first on left than on sighed a life is what is more,
from Balboa to what is a house it's 10th Clement and oceans meld for memory is tear,
the cheeks I plumb to rooms of rein is saddled with such girth,
an English Riding jump for true now are the Cops been stumped?,
today the year twenty-eighteen makes 9th Avenue be crumb,
for down the street the School complete makes Frank McCoppin creek,
the water of my vein in keep is knowing more of day,
at that the streetlamp said to fee that boys were on that cape.
Cloak for years to counted start for backwards does count fifty stoke,
a chimney as my legs were staked and now its just a cover?,
no plight will I be safer in than memory and speak,
each word adds to what is that math its marrow and its chalked,
outlined by the concrete core that sidewalk graveled too,
round the corner running?,
no.
I groan.
Sixth Avenue Police Station was down at what is Pound,
I ran to somewhere long ago however Women sewed,
the thread of string the words of lane a laundry and a store,
again I say to whom would shore it is more than corked,
the tip I spake to over laked as that is oceans floor,
ground that dry became my sate and over under became the blunt.
Remember should you weird this red than you are in the cheeks,
of flaps that showed my mouth and face and sticky mess is route,
for I do know that sticky Stow was representing loud,
again I say to all whom keep these secrets are you're feed,
control for life to what is now is not that pass me fire,
for controlling this from '64 makes Portland more and Oregon's porn for habits came with Wic,
a candle lit to where begun that fact is on your sort,
fact to this is people will not stop unless its writ.
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