When, after World War II, Buster Airey and I passed through San Francisco, we wore jackets and ties. Like most veterans, since returning home we had worn our service fatigues. But we knew that San Francisco was a "dressy" town so, before venturing out onto its streets, we parked in a glade in Golden Gate Park and donned our second-hand suits in the back seat of our old Ford.
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While waiting for our ship in 1943, Buster had fallen in love with a San Francisco girl. On shore patrol, I had walked a beat in the Fillmore district, along the wild stretchs of the International Settlement, and through secret passageways beneath Chinatown. In 1946 we carried those memories with us.
Years later, when I took these pictures, San Francisco was still "dressy," still invited the heart to come to life.1976-78
