Another well-known traditional/alternative rock station is back.

Following Cumulus Media revival of “99X”, Atlanta’s longtime home base for the genre, last December, and Audacy’s Conversion of the alternative flagship KROQ Audacy launched a year ago in Los Angeles and today relaunched “Live 105” KITS San Francisco.

From 1986 to 2017, Live 105 was the premier alternative rock destination in the City by the Bay. After Audacy (then Entercom) merged with CBS Radio in 2017, the station kept the format but eventually changed its nickname to “Alt 105.3”. Switch to adult hits “Dave FM” in October 2021.

“People have spoken, and we’re excited to answer the call,” said Stacey Kauffman, regional vice president and market manager for Audacy San Francisco and Sacramento. “After a six-year hiatus, Live 105 – the Bay Area alternative – is back on the air. We’re proud to bring back this local favorite that offers our loyal listeners and favorite alternative artists from the ’90s to today a place to call home again.”

Led by Audacy Regional VP of Programming John Allers as Brand Manager and KLLC Music Director Jayn, San Francisco’s hot AC sister Alice @ 97.3, the reboot of Live 105 will feature music from every era of the station’s history , featuring core artists such as Red Hot Chili Peppers, Linkin Park, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Blink-182, Foo Fighters and Depeche Mode. On-air talent will be announced in the coming weeks.

“Our entire team has great respect and admiration for what Live 105 means to the Bay Area alternative community,” says Allers. “We will continue to honor Live 105’s rich history and legacy by bringing back brand focuses like ‘Soundcheck’ starring Aaron Axelsen and other well-known voices, while also collaborating with Live 105 alumnus ‘Miles The DJ’ to advance the development of Live 105 into the future.” .”

In Nielsen’s April 2023 PPM rating book for San Francisco, “Dave FM” ranked 15th with a score of 2.0 among people ages 6 and older.

The post Audacy Revives San Francisco’s Legacy Various ‘Reside 105.’ | Story appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.

MOUNT PLEASANT, Iowa — Winds of change sweep across this idyllic southeast Iowa community of 9,000, where an Amtrak station separates an old-fashioned town square from a charming college campus.

But the hospitable temperature and blue skies in early May belie this picturesque slice of Americana. After 181 years, Iowa Wesleyan, the small Methodist institution of nearly 800 students located 30 miles west of Illinois and 35 miles north of Missouri, will shut down for good. With the school unable to pay a $26 million loan to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, the property becomes part of the federal government.

A proud university inaugurated five years before Iowa became a state now is relegated to the history books.

“On May 31, that’s when it’s probably going to really hit me,” says Mike Hampton, a 1972 Wesleyan graduate who has worked in the athletic department since 1995. “My wife graduated from here. I graduated from here. … It’s in the two-digit numbers of relatives that graduated from here. It’s a sad state of affairs.”

Of course it’s more than athletics that perishes with the school on May 31. Astronaut Peggy Whitson, a 1981 graduate, became the first female commander at the International Space Station in 2007. She wore purple Iowa Wesleyan Tigers socks on her three journeys and donated them to the school. Women’s college basketball in Iowa was born here in 1943, when Olan G. Ruble helped drive his players in station wagons from the East Coast to Texas.

“It was a really close-knit community where a lot of these professors stayed for 50 years for no pay and dedicated their lives to it,” says Jess Settles, a college basketball analyst for BTN and ESPN who coached the men’s basketball program for two seasons (2012-13). “It’s a huge blow to southeast Iowa to lose a campus like that.”

But when people recall Iowa Wesleyan’s legacy, it starts with its impact on college football as the birthplace of the most influential offensive trend in three decades, the “Air Raid.”

In a dingy basement beneath an old Iowa Wesleyan basketball gymnasium is where Hal Mumme and Mike Leach tested and perfected the fast-break offense that leveled football’s balance between size and speed.

But first, Mumme had to take a job nobody wanted. Two years removed from his job as UTEP’s offensive coordinator when the whole staff was fired, Mumme coached high school football and served as athletic director in Copperas Cove, Texas, years before Robert Griffin III starred there. Mumme ached for an opportunity to lead a college football program and wanted a wide-open offense like LaVell Edwards ran at BYU.

A winless campaign in 1988 didn’t sit well with Iowa Wesleyan President Robert Prins. He enlisted friend and then-Chicago Bears special teams coach Steve Kazor to find a new coach. Kazor tracked down Mumme, and after some banter over the school’s location, Mumme asked Kazor a few questions.

“I said, ‘Do they want to win?’” Mumme recalls. “He goes, ‘Yeah, I know the president. He really wants to win.’ And I said, ‘Well, how are they now?’ He goes, ‘They’re the worst team I’ve ever seen.’”

If Mumme was interested, Kazor said, he should send Prins a telegram. About a month later, Mumme was hired.

When Mumme arrived, two reporters attended his news conference. He called a meeting of returning players. He was told about 40 planned to return. Two showed up. Halfway through his speech, one walked out.

A few days later, Mumme swung by Mount Pleasant High to talk with football coach Bob Evans and recruit a few players, including star receiver Dana Holgorsen. Evans sent a student to bring Holgorsen to his office.

“About 20 minutes goes by and Dana never shows up,” Mumme says. “Bob calls the little girl in his office. ‘Did you go get Holgorsen?’ She goes, ‘Well, I tried. But he said he’d rather stay in English class than talk to Iowa Wesleyan.’”

Mumme had the same luck convincing coaches to join him. Only two resumes came in. When he described his pass-first offense with linemen in two-point stances and wide splits, line coaches laughed him off.

“Nobody would take it,” he says. “It paid $12,000. Even in 1989, that wasn’t very much money. So I decided that I’m just gonna hire the smartest guy I can find and teach him what I want.”

Leach had submitted one of the two resumes. Although he played rugby at BYU, Leach followed the football program closely. After several conversations, Leach and Mumme met in Provo to watch BYU spring practice together. It was there that Mumme decided to hire Leach.

“He was at the College of the Desert coaching defensive ends,” Mumme says. “He was only making $6,000 and he had to watch the rec gym at night. So teaching a couple of business law classes and getting $12,000 was a lot better deal. Then we hired Sharon (Leach) to be our football secretary so they could get two salaries. So it was a pretty good raise for him.”

A year later, Mumme hired assistant Mike Fanoga for $10,000 a year. Fanoga built a recruiting pipeline from American Samoa to Mount Pleasant. Among the first arrivals was Doug Elisaia, now Utah’s football strength coach. Epenesa “Eppy” Epenesa arrived a year later and became an NAIA All-American before transferring to Iowa. Epenesa met his wife, Stephanie, who played softball and volleyball at Iowa Wesleyan. Epenesa’s oldest son, A.J., led the Big Ten in sacks at Iowa and now plays for the Buffalo Bills.

Epenesa first described his experience as culture shock. Then he fell in love with the community.

Mumme persuaded his old high school quarterback, Dustin Dewald, to head north. They cobbled together enough players to go 7-4 in their first year. He convinced a businessman from nearby Burlington, Iowa, to stage an NAIA postseason event called the Steamboat Bowl. The Tigers competed in it twice and won it in Mumme’s second year.

Entering Year 3, the Tigers welcomed back 18 starters, including Dewald, who had thrown for 7,627 yards in two seasons. Iowa Wesleyan moved up from NAIA Division II to NAIA Division I and became an independent. Its schedule included three NCAA Division II teams plus three NAIA playoff squads.

“We started looking for an edge, and like we usually did when we needed an edge, we would take a road trip to get the creative ideas going,” Mumme says. “So I told Mike, ‘Find somebody to recruit in Florida, and I’ll get us some airline tickets from Dr. Prins.’ And Mike being Mike, he finds a kicker in Key West.

“We only had enough money to get us to Orlando, which turned out to be a blessing.”

Leach and Mumme stopped to see the Orlando Thunder, then a World League of American Football member and led by longtime CFL coach Don Matthews.

“On the way out to practice I asked Coach Matthews, ‘What’s your best drill?’” Mumme says. “He goes, ‘Well, at the end of practice, we do what we call Bandit drill. That’s our two-minute offense.’

“I’d seen people do two-minute offenses before, but I’ve never seen it this well-organized and this fast. I mean, they literally were just running a play about every 15 seconds. I looked at Mike and I said, ‘That’s our edge.’ He goes, ‘Yeah, we’re gonna do that all the time, aren’t we?’ I go, ‘Yeah, we are.’”

After initially rebuffing Mumme, Holgorsen asked to transfer home and the coach enthusiastically welcomed him. Marc Hill, like Holgorsen, was a Mount Pleasant graduate and grew up next to the Mapleleaf Sports Complex, where both the high school and college played sports. Hill spurned walk-on opportunities at Iowa State and Wisconsin but wilted under a recruiting barrage from Mumme and Leach. At Iowa Wesleyan, Hill played linebacker and saw up close how the high-tempo offense impacted games and practices.

“They wanted it to be fun,” says Hill, now Kentucky’s deputy athletic director. “College sports were supposed to be fun. Practice was supposed to be fun. We’re not gonna grind you to death. We’re not going to run you to death … And because of it, we had a blast. I mean, it was always fun. Going for it on fourth down when it didn’t make any sense. It was just always a good time.”

In the season opener, Iowa Wesleyan hosted NCAA Division II Truman State, then known as Northeast Missouri State. The Tigers trailed 24-7 at halftime yet the locker room was fired up in an eventual comeback victory.

“I was kind of envisioning 48-14 and questioning my own sanity for inviting those guys to our place,” Mumme says. “But (my players) knew what I didn’t know. They knew that the other team was worn out already. We had played so fast and made them run so many plays. I think we ended up running about 90 or 95 plays that night.”

In addition to his job as offensive line coach and teaching business law, Leach was the football sports information director. He wrote stories and shipped them to The (Burlington) Hawk Eye or The Des Moines Register. The outlets would publish a box score with a recap but rarely what he wrote.

It frustrated Leach to no end.

“The big goal was to get in The Des Moines Register because if you got in that, you’d made it in Iowa,” Mumme says. “He was trying hard, and he couldn’t do it. So he comes into my office and he says, ‘Look, we need a name for our offense.’ I said, ‘Why do we need that? We say offense and they run on the field.’ He goes, ‘I’m not talking about for the players. I’m talking about my articles.’

“‘Oh, OK. What do you got in mind?’ He goes, ‘Well, I think we should call it “Air Raid.”’ ‘Sounds good to me, go for it.’”

That year, Iowa Wesleyan finished 10-2 and qualified for the NAIA Division I playoffs. Dewald threw for 4,418 yards, while running back Bruce Carter caught 125 passes and scored 112 points. All remain school records.

Mumme, Leach and several players left after the season for Valdosta (Ga.) State, where they coached from 1992 through 1996. Kentucky hired Mumme in 1997, and in 1999, quarterback Tim Couch became the No. 1 pick in the NFL Draft. Holgorsen followed them to Valdosta and now is head coach at Houston.

“It’s truly remarkable that literally what you watch in football today was invented in the petri dish basement at Iowa Wesleyan in the dump of all dumps,” Settles says. “I’d walk by there, and I’d think, ‘This is where these mad scientists and their whiteboard did it.’”

Mike Leach, above, coined the term “Air Raid” for Hal Mumme’s uptempo offense. (Jamie Squire / Getty Images)

The good old days ended abruptly after Mumme and Leach left for Valdosta. Iowa Wesleyan employed replacement coaches in three consecutive years, including Kazor, and twice the Tigers recorded winning seasons. Then the football program fell apart. From 1995 onward, the Tigers were 59-227 with only one winning season at 6-4 in 2014.

MD Daniels, who now coaches receivers at Bethel (Tenn.) University, guided the Tigers to a 4-7 mark last fall, the program’s second-most wins since 1998. In early May, only three football assistants remained behind to help athletes in their transition to other schools and programs. In the same basement office, assistant Brett Guminsky still has formations diagrammed on that old Mumme-era whiteboard. Like any football coach, Guminsky wiped the board clean before allowing photos inside the office.

But this is when the nostalgia turns to heartbreak. The women’s basketball team had qualified for consecutive NAIA national tournaments under coach Steve Williamson. The football team was five practices into spring when employees were ordered to attend a March 28 meeting. Iowa Gov. Kim Reynolds denied the school’s last-ditch funding request and the Iowa Wesleyan’s Board of Trustees voted to close the school.

“My stomach just wrenched. Just turned upside down,” Hampton says. “The toughest part was walking down the steps of the chapel and seeing my team at the bottom of the steps. That’s when it really hit me. That, man, we’re closing.”

Coaches and administrators then found a new charge: helping their athletes find new schools.

“As soon as we sat down with all the coaches, reality set in,” says senior offensive lineman Miguel Flores, a Naperville, Ill., native who was 12 credits shy of graduation. “They were starting to tear up, choke up on their words. It was not very pleasant to hear that everything that we were working for was just taken away. There’s nothing left.”

There are other sports and other stories. Too many to name and too many will fade. One that stands out belongs to Edmund “Bub” Krieger. A week into football practice at Iowa, Krieger became homesick and transferred to Iowa Wesleyan, which was closer to the Mount Union family farm. Three years later, in 1940, Krieger was named the Iowa Conference’s first-team plunging back for a squad that finished 2-6-1. He turned down a contract from the NFL’s Chicago Cardinals to farm. That’s only partially his story.

He and his wife, Lugene (Lucky), had 10 daughters, some of whom competed in college athletics. Jan Krieger Kittle became an All-American women’s basketball player at Drake. Settles’ mother, Mary, played women’s basketball at Iowa Wesleyan. Even more prominent were Bub’s and Lucky’s athletic grandsons, highlighted by San Francisco 49ers Pro Bowl tight end George Kittle, former Los Angeles Rams tight end Henry Krieger-Coble, University of Iowa all-time home runs leader Brad Carlson and Settles, who scored 1,611 points for Iowa men’s basketball.

The Air Raid. Ruble’s caravan. Bub’s story, like all of the others, now pass on strictly as memories.

“It’s pretty devastating,” Settles says. “Obviously, the economic impact is massive. But just the tradition …”

“I’m afraid that all people are going to remember is the closure,” Williamson says. “I don’t think that’s the way that you should remember Iowa Wesleyan. There’s a lot of great history here.”

(Illustration: John Bradford / The Athletic; photos: Scott Dochterman / The Athletic)

The post As 181-year-old college shutters, legacy of two ‘mad scientists and their whiteboard’ stays appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.

The celebrated fashion designer Patrick Kelly (1954–1990) was only 35 years old when he succumbed to AIDS, and yet his work today often appears as lively and boundless as it was when he was alive more than two decades ago. His enduring message of love – one that boldly reaffirmed the empowerment of blacks and fearlessly pushed the boundaries of fashion – is evident in the Patrick Kelly: Runway of Love exhibition, which runs from October 23, 2021 to 24 de Jung.

Lauren L. Camerlengo

“I want my clothes to make you smile,” said Kelly, who was born in Vicksburg, Mississippi and despite the many challenges he faced as a black gay adolescent, most of all from his mother and father, after that of his father Grandmother was raised, an optimistic, creative vision developed. In 1969, Kelly died. Kelly briefly attended Jackson State University in Mississippi before moving to Atlanta and then New York. With an anonymous ticket in hand, he arrived in Paris at the age of 25.

He worked as a freelance designer in the City of Lights for several years before founding the company and the fashion line Patrick Kelly Paris in 1985 with his business and life partner Bjorn Guil Amelan. Together they conquer the world with clothing that not only became internationally known, but was also representative of his personal expression, which fearlessly dealt with blackness, systemic racism and the queer experience.

Members of our San Francisco Bay Times team have been eagerly awaiting the arrival of Runway of Love, announced during the shutdown of the COVID-19 pandemic. Now that the museum is open and waiver is mandatory, the exhibition will bring Kelly’s captivating work to the West Coast public. It will highlight nearly 80 of its memorable designs.

“The de Young Museum has always been dedicated to showcasing the best fashion designers in the world, and we are delighted to present Patrick Kelly: Runway of Love to our audience,” said Thomas P. Campbell, Director and CEO of Fine Arts Museums from San Francisco. “Kelly was a pioneering artist who created an extraordinary variety of designs in her lifetime. Everyone should know the name Patrick Kelly and we hope this exhibition does just that. “

Despite the fact that black fashion designers have continually crossed the barriers of the industry, Kelly was a true pioneer. His bold and luminous creations stood out on the streets, in nightclubs, and especially on the catwalk. This extraordinary vision led Kelly to be the first American and first black designer to be elected to the Chambre Syndicale du Prêt-à-Porter des Couturiers et des Créateurs de Mode, a renowned French association for clothing designers. Perhaps more notably, Kelly received such awards while being and remaining one of the few designers who directly addressed racial issues in his work.

The exhibition places Kelly and his designs in the broader context of art and fashion history by looking closely at his inspirations. Its influences are examined in seven different sections, including his black legacy, memories of his childhood in the south, experiences in the club and gay cultural scene in New York and Paris, and his muses from art, fashion and black history.

We recently learned more about Kelly and Runway of Love thanks to Laura L. Camerlengo, Associate Curator of Costume and Textile Arts at the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco and Presenting Curator of the exhibition.

San Francisco Bay Times: It’s remarkable how Patrick Kelly was self-taught and had a vision of what he wanted to do so early on. Who were his main mentors during his childhood and formative years, and how did they influence him?

Laura L. Camerlengo: Patrick Kelly was born and raised in Vicksburg, Mississippi, by strong women. His mother taught him to draw and an aunt taught him to sew. In several interviews he recognized his grandmother as the “backbone” of his aesthetic. Another source of inspiration were the styles worn by members of his parish; he often said, “The Black Baptist Church on Sundays, the ladies are just as wild as the ladies at Yves Saint Laurent’s haute couture shows.”

San Francisco Bay Times: Vintage clothing stores were particularly popular in the 1970s. Kelly showed great initiative when he opened his own store in Atlanta. Do you know how long he owned the shop and which vintage fashions appealed to him the most at the time?

Laura L. Camerlengo: The curator of the exhibition, Dilys Blum, sheds light on Patrick Kelly’s time in Atlanta in her catalog essay. Kelly opened a small store called Moth Ball Matinee in 1974 shortly after moving to Atlanta. There he sold antique and used clothing as well as converted clothing and his own designs.

San Francisco Bay Times: Has he ever spoken or written about any problems he likely had while growing up as a gay, black teenager and young man in Mississippi? If so, are there specific stories you could share?

Laura L. Camerlengo: Yes, Patrick Kelly has experienced racism all his life and shared his experiences with racism. His former business and life partner Bjorn Amelan continued to tell these stories after Kelly’s death. Patrick Kelly’s children’s books, for example, were lore from white schools filled with racist notes for future readers. Kelly had to flip through pictures of Blackface to study – a painful memory that has stayed with him all his life.

San Francisco Bay Times: Has anyone ever found out who gave him (anonymously) his first one-way ticket to Paris in 1979?

Laura L. Camerlengo: Yes, it was the supermodel and superstar Pat Cleveland who bought him his one-way ticket to Paris in 1979. She met with Patrick Kelly in New York and saw that he was struggling to get there as a designer. In an interview that we shared in the exhibition catalog, she recalls: “People helped me, I thought – that’s why I gave him the ticket – so why not help each other to make our dreams come true? We only need one person to believe in us, and Patrick kept that dream alive for many more years. “

San Francisco Bay Times: Bjorn Amelan is a remarkable figure himself. How did he and Kelly meet?

Laura L. Camerlengo: Bjorn Amelan and Patrick Kelly met in 1982. At that time, Amelan was a photographer agent for luminaries such as Horst P. Horst and William Klein. They met in designer Willi Smith’s showroom in New York City. Kelly and Amelan got together again in Paris in 1983 and became business and life partners afterwards.

San Francisco Bay Times: How did Kelly first come into contact with Gloria Steinem? She seemed to play an important role in building his international career.

Laura L. Camerlengo: As Dilys Blum indicates in our catalog, Patrick Kelly was introduced to Gloria Steinem by New York television producer Carla Morgenstern. Kelly had a connection to Morgenstern through Ellie Wolfe, whom he met while residing in Atlanta from 1974 to 1978. Steinem also interviewed Patrick Kelly on the Today show.

Even more poignant, Gloria Steinem gave a beautiful eulogy in honor of Patrick Kelly during his funeral service at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York in 1990. She said, “He was an outsider who brought the outside with him and then the outside eliminated outside / inside division for everyone. He united us with buttons and bows, tassels and fringes instead of dividing us with gold and jewels. In his presence the ‘not powerful enough’ felt hope and the ‘too powerful’ humanity. “

San Francisco Bay Times: What are some of your own favorite pieces in Patrick Kelly: Runway of Love? Please do let us know why you are getting these pieces or why they appear noteworthy in some other way.

Laura L. Camerlengo: It’s hard to pick a favorite design – a bit like asking me to pick a favorite kid! But my dear, late friend and colleague Monica Brown – who initiated this exhibition – was a huge fan of Patrick Kelly’s wool suits, which feel both professional and whimsical. In her honor I will name these as my “favorites”.

San Francisco Bay Times: How many pieces / ensembles are new to the exhibition that are from FAMSF? Have these items been exhibited before? And please describe some of these items of clothing.

Laura L. Camerlengo: The Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco was honored to receive several designs by Patrick Kelly from two former Kelly colleagues: Elizabeth “Ms. Liz “Goodrum, Kelly’s longtime assistant; and Audrey Smaltz, a famous catwalk show producer who also coordinated Kelly’s spirited catwalk shows. Among the items of clothing that can be seen in our exhibition are a gray and black striped jailhouse skirt-themed knit dress donated by Goodrum and a chewing gum-pink quilted coat with small pictures of the American-born black entertainer and activist Josephine Baker is printed on. donated by Smaltz. Several pieces of jewelry donated by Goodrum will also highlight many of the ensembles that the Philadelphia Museum of Art has made available to us.

San Francisco Bay Times; What do you think is Kelly’s enduring legacy for the fashion and art world? Like Keith Haring, he seemed to be as much time man as he was, but also unique and timeless.

Laura L. Camerlengo: Patrick Kelly’s style signatures – like his use of tubular knit to create body-conscious styles – have become part of the fashion lexicon. Since his death, the designer himself has served as a symbol of hope and a rallying call for other black fashion professionals, as most recently with The Kelly Initiative. (https://thekellyinitiative.net/)

San Francisco Bay Times: It’s moving that the controversial Golliwog image he used in his work – taking control of this derogatory symbol – is on his tombstone along with an image of a heart. Was that his decision? Or maybe Amelans?

Laura L. Camerlengo: Yes, Bjorn Amelan was inspired by the signatures of Patrick Kelly Paris for the tombstone images, including the house’s Golliwog logo and the heart button. But it is the epitaph that perhaps best embodies the designer and his legacy: “Nothing Is Impossible”.

San Francisco Bay Times: Please mention anything else you would like to tell our readers.

Laura L. Camerlengo: The presentation of Patrick Kelly: Runway of Love in our museums marks the first time Patrick Kelly’s work has been presented by a West Coast museum. We were supported in this endeavor by many of Patrick Kelly’s friends, colleagues, and co-workers; aspiring scientists, such as our consulting scientist, Dr. Sequoia Barnes, and Established Academics; and various members of the Bay Area community. We are excited to share Patrick Kelly’s important contributions to fashion and his enduring legacy with our audience.

https://tinyurl.com/4f7yy7us

Published on October 21, 2021

The post FAMSF Curator Reveals Life and Legacy of Groundbreaking Vogue Designer Patrick Kelly – San Francisco Bay Occasions appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.

After a year of packaging Bolognese and pork chops wrapping, Nopa joined the parklet scene in early March, allowing his longtime fans to finally eat in restaurants, if only outdoors, since the pandemic began. Since last week there are also 10 indoor tables. Exciting, but still not the same jam-packed, nightly party Nopa has basically been since Jeff Hanak, Laurence Jossel, and his then-fiancée Allyson Woodman opened the restaurant 15 years ago.

It was a different world then. In 2006, on the corner of Divisadero and Hayes Streets, there was nothing but a coin-operated laundromat with long doors, which is why they could afford it. The rent for the two-story, 4,000-square-foot room was $ 7,000 per month. Laurence trolls auctions and pays pennies for pots and pans. They asked their friend Brian Barneclo to paint a wall-length mural inside honoring the street. They called it Nopa (as in North of the Panhandle), and it became arguably the first full-service late-night neighborhood eatery – in their neighborhood – then known only as Western Addition, where culinary options were limited to Popeyes, pizza and a popular grill counter. Yet gentrification was quietly going on.

Laurence, Jeff, and Allyson had a common goal: to feed their people until 1am, heretical at the time for sleepy San Francisco. “The tipsters and speakers,” said Jossel, referring to all the bartenders and waiters who came in at the extra-long bar after their shift for elderflower and wood-grilled burgers. A busy brunch soon followed. (Just like Nopa’s new neighbors: Bi-Rite. Boutiques. Josey Baker was selling $ 8 toast (now).) At peak times, the kitchen was cooking for about 4,000 customers a week.

Fast forward to 2021 and Nopa – the restaurant and neighborhood that essentially renamed it (after years brokers tried and failed) – had what we all had: a difficult year. And how many COVID relationships (including Bill and Melinda): a breakup. The once close trio has broken up, 51-year-old Jossel remains standing. Somehow he is not exhausted, but full of energy, supported in Nopa’s next chapter by his new partner Holly Rhodes, who acts as a delivery driver. He’s also excited to see the new bestseller on his menu: Fried Chicken ($ 23).

I spoke to Laurence about the split, Nopa’s legacy and the future of his restaurant. The following conversation has been edited and condensed for the sake of clarity. (Disclosure: Rachel is a longtime Nopa regular and friends with Laurence, Allyson, and Holly; their children all go to the same school.)

Nopa was largely limited to takeout before Laurence Jossel managed to secure a parklet for the restaurant in March.

Carlos Avila Gonzalez / The Chronicle

Q: So what happened? Breakups are so hard. And I knew that you already had one personally. … It’s like a breakup over a breakup.

A: Yes, Allyson and I got divorced five years ago and the reality was, it was really hard to work together during that time. When couples split up, they can usually take their time. They can say, “I’ll talk to you in six months.” But we still had to see each other every day, sit across from each other at meetings and talk about paintwork or whatever and pretend everything was fine. It has taken an emotional toll. Back then I didn’t want to be there anymore, but how could I just walk away? We both had every right to be there. So we did it. We made it.

Q: Until the pandemic. The big reset.

A: It was scary the day after the shutdown. Jeff and Ally were both, we don’t want liability. Let’s just close it. I said: we can’t. We have too many people in this restaurant who don’t get government support. We have to show the neighborhood that smoke is coming from the chimney. They said, “We’re out.” The pandemic has made everyone look at their lives and say, “Is this really what I want to do?” And it wasn’t for Jeff and Ally. They have their other restaurants, like Liho and Nopalito. It was months of negotiations. At one point I thought you know what, well, just take it. Buy me out. I am conflict avoidance. I just start over. And Holly kept saying, “You will regret it. It’s no nopa without you. ”(The Chronicle reached out to Jeff with no response. Since the story went online, Jeff has said he had not received the Chronicle’s request for comment. Allyson declined to comment, adding for wishing Laurence all the best for Nopa’s future.)

Q: Now you are everything. How does it feel?

A: Well it was heartbreaking. Jeff and I were brothers. He gave my son his middle name – Louie. Long story. Holly and I lived on her 401k, we put our mortgage on hold. Our children raised themselves this year. But it feels great to be the sole owner of Nopa. I’ve never been the sole owner of anything. I am the boss. It remains to be seen whether I can be an entrepreneur. I have 10 jobs now. I clean bathrooms. But after 37 years of working in restaurants in San Francisco, this is my first time not under any obligation.

Q: And you have had a parklet since last month. Why did it take you so long to build one?

A: We had to move a bus stop! Holly heard the head of the SFMTA (Michael Krasny’s radio show) one morning and called: She said, hey, the Hayes-21 is no longer running. We clean up after the homeless, our business suffers. Help us. We want to build a parklet. I tracked down the head of Clear Channel Outdoor (an advertising company that runs billboards and other outdoor signs. It turns out they own the bus stops and we had to move one. I cooked the guy a chicken. Instead of their advertising, we asked after to rent it. We call it the Glass Canvas. There will be a different local artist every month. Holly is the curator. I also like that we have this neon-lit steel structure in front of our parklet. These parklets are not safe, man. If one Our car hits, it hits steel, not our guests.

Q: Thank you for thinking of us. Are people so happy to be eating at Nopa’s again?

A: It’s amazing how emotional everyone was. On Instagram, outside. They say: “We met here.” Or “We got engaged here.” Or “I ate here the day before my baby was born. … The day I found out my mother had died. ”They tell me,“ I can’t wait to go to the bar. ”They say,“ We ​​did it. We survived that together. ”To be honest, we did. It’s not just a pork chop for people.

Q: It’s not just a pork chop for you, either, is it?

A: Sometimes I think I could have been braver, started something new. But I did something at the beginning of COVID. Holly went home, everyone was gone. I was just turning off the light in the dining room and just stood there and swore to the building that I wouldn’t let it go. I said i love you I owe you. I owe this building. I owe it to the legacy of all these cooks and waiters, bus drivers, bartenders and guests that it goes on. I owe it to the neighborhood to show – that after all that is lost – we are still alive. Nopa is sitting in exactly the right place on the planet to make people happy.

Nopa added a fried chicken dish ($ 23) to its menu during the pandemic. It is the restaurant’s second most popular product after the burger.

Carlos Avila Gonzalez / The Chronicle

Q: You know what else makes people happy: your new roast chicken.

A: Holly and I were actually two days away from signing a small window lease in Potrero for nothing but fried chicken before COVID hit. I had tinkered with a table deep fryer at home. A lot of fried chickens are all about the crust, the outside. But I think the taste comes from the chicken itself; I focused on the taste from within. From slaughter to soaking buttermilk. It’s a fried chicken philosophy. I tried different spices and in the end I got a Ras el Hanout with 21 different spices including cardamom, nutmeg, ginger. It is wet-salted for three hours, double-dredged. I thought it was just going to be COVID comfort food, but it’s now Nopa’s # 2 best seller.

Q: # 1 is the burger? How much is it right now?

A: $ 24 with fries. We panicked when we first put a burger on the menu in 2006 – for $ 12. We thought: who pays $ 12 for a burger ?! Like bougie! But we said, look, we grind our meat every morning, and it’s good meat, shoulder; We bake our own rolls, we pickle our own onions, we whip our own aioli, we cut our own french fries by hand, we grill them over wood – someone has to stack the wood. There is so much work behind it. Twenty percent of the people who come through the door get burgers. In 2019 we sold 38,000 burgers. That’s a lot of burgers. And our burger is a lot of work. Maybe we should call it this: “A lot of F – working with cheese”.

Q: Meat seems to be falling out of favor quickly lately. Worried about your burger?

A: No. It doesn’t keep me up at night. Our burger will be good. But the fried chicken wins.

UPDATE: This story has been updated to reflect what Jeff Hanak said.

Rachel Levin is co-author of Eat Something and Steamed: A Catharsis Cookbook for Getting Dinner and Your Feelings on the Table, released by Running Press this month.

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