San Francisco Chronicle - (Sunday)
Texas transplant’s rise to toast of the town
It was a beautiful day in 1963 when Charlotte Ann Smith, a slender blonde from a small Texas oil town, landed in San Francisco for the first time. She was 29 years old, a nobody from nowhere, and she hardly knew a soul. But it was love at first sight. “Unless they throw me out of town,” she told herself, “I’m not leaving.”
When she died at age 88 just over a week ago, she was Charlotte Shultz, chief of protocol for the state of California, socialite, a philanthropist and a civic leader who had for years been the toast of the town. Mayor London Breed ordered the city’s flags flown at half-staff. Gov. Gavin Newsom called her “the quintessential San Franciscan.”
That was Charlotte exactly: She came from somewhere else, reinvented herself and then paid back her adopted city with a thousand gifts of energy, intelligence and hard work. She called it “paying my dues” to the city she loved. But why should we take particular note of Charlotte’s passing just now? She lived a very long and full life. She was famous in her day for grand parties and for entertaining world leaders and royalty. She had her day. But Charlotte represented more than that: She lived at a time when San Francisco enjoyed celebrating itself. Charlotte loved to have a good time, and she invited everyone to join in. She loved the city and wore her heart on her sleeve.
Now we seem to have entered a darker time — COVID, crime, an epidemic of homelessness and drug addiction, and a civic feeling that things are out of control.
Charlotte was an optimist, and she came to San Francisco when the city was glad to see new people. “The welcome mat was out,” said Willie Brown, who came to San Francisco about the same
time as Charlotte Smith. He was Black and she was white, but they had the same thing in common: They were both from small Texas towns, and both were ambitious. “If you are born and raised in the South, you actually know about hard work.” Brown said. “You had to be willing to work hard to get ahead. If you had to wash the dishes, you washed the dishes. That wasn’t who you were, but if work was required, you did it.
“There were opportunities then, and San Francisco was more welcoming to new people than it is now,” Brown said. Brown was an aspiring politician and Charlotte was also interested in politics and getting established in the city. She volunteered in the John F. Shelley-for-mayor campaign; Brown met her there, and they became lifelong friends.
Politics led her into the orbit of Cyril Magnin, the
city’s protocol chief and a well-connected power broker. About that time, Charlotte and Willie Brown both became pals of Herb Caen, the Chronicle columnist who was then at the height of his influence. Caen called her “Tex,” and she was in his column a lot. She was the perfect item: She was full of ideas and fun. And she made news.
Charlotte married well: Her first husband was John Mailliard, who was from an old California family; his brother was a congressman. When he died, she married Melvin Swig, whose family owned the Fairmont Hotel. Swig and Charlotte were instrumental in raising money for a new main public library, one of their gifts to the city.
After Swig died, Mayor Dianne Feinstein introduced Charlotte to George Shultz, the former secretary of state. They were married at Grace Cathedral. Charlotte had
come a long way.
She did it her own way — she was a patron of the arts, the Opera, the Symphony, Ballet, libraries. If any worthy cause needed help, she was there, full of ideas and enthusiasm. She worked hard. Until her health began to fail, she started work at 8 every morning.
She knew everybody from Tony Bennett to Henry Kissinger to the waiters at her favorite restaurants. She never forgot a name.
Some people are good at politics or science. She was good at organizing and entertaining. She did what she did best. To think she should have done otherwise is like asking why Giants catcher Buster Posey didn’t play in the NFL.
One of her grandest events was managing San Francisco’s reception for Queen Elizabeth II in 1983. The visit did not come at a propitious time: It was the height of the
troubles in Northern Ireland and San Francisco was a hotbed of proIrish sentiment. In addition, the royal family had heard of the city’s raucous lifestyle and Prince Philip worried privately about what he called San Francisco “weirdos.”
Charlotte was in charge. She combined an elegant dinner featuring President Ronald Reagan and the queen at the de Young museum with an event the next day where the stars were the crew of Beach Blanket Babylon with their enormous fantastic hats and with music by the loud and brassy Cal marching band. For a grand formal farewell breakfast, Charlotte served an oat cereal called “Cheerios.” A little joke: Cheerio, your majesty.
The queen, who is not the stuffy person portrayed on British television, was delighted and never forgot the good time she had in San Francisco.
More than 20 years later, when the occasion presented itself, she made Shultz an honorary commander of the Royal Victorian Order.
We are not likely to see someone like Charlotte again. “It’s the end of an era in a real way,” Brown said. Brown, who is organizing a memorial service for her at Grace Cathedral in January, said none of her many titles really fit her. “She was more than the first lady of the city. She was the first person of San Francisco.”