The emperor’s ghost comes back to life
S. F. character hits the outdoor tour circuit once again
The cable cars remain tucked in their barn, their bells silent. Hotel rooms sit mostly empty. Office towers are largely shuttered. Many stores and restaurants have closed forever. But if you squint, you can find signs of life in San Francisco’s downtown. Like the ghost of Emperor Norton, that kooky, beloved San Francisco resident who in 1859 proclaimed himself “Norton I, Emperor of the United States” and later added “and Protector of Mexico” — and who saw residents go along with it, embracing him as their revered leader. After seven long months of solitude, he’s back every so often walking the streets of Union Square, Chinatown and the Financial District. Back to tipping his big, colorful, feathered hat at passersby like a true gentleman. Back to waving in that fancy royal way, his wrist swirling around.
OK, he’s not the Emperor Norton, aka Joshua Abraham Norton, who died in 1880, collapsing at the corner of California Street and Grant Avenue and drawing more than 10,000 San Franciscans to his funeral. But he’s our Emperor Norton, aka Joseph AmPhotos
ster, 64, a tour guide from Bernal Heights who’s been leading tours through Emperor Norton’s Fantastic San Francisco Time Machine for nine years.
Everybody knows the COVID19 pandemic has slammed San Francisco’s tourist industry — its big hotels, big museums and big convention center. But less known is how it’s wrecked the livelihoods of the little guys like Amster who work as independent tour guides and might as well be ambassadors of San Francisco for their creativity, charm and friendliness.
And their ability to pivot points to the ingenuity of many of San Francisco’s smallbusiness owners who are trying their hardest to weather the coronavirus storm. Whether our tourism industry remains vibrant and unique hinges largely on whether its endearing little facets survive.
For the first time, these independent guides have formed a collective called Local Friends, banding together to try to survive. There’s Time Machine Tours, owned by Amster and his husband, Rick Shelton, which offers several historic tours including the Emperor Norton ones.
There’s the Bay Voyager, which offers historic boat tours. Dandyhorse SF Bike Tours gives electric bicycle tours. Fog Cutter Tours leads journeys in an opensided adventure vehicle. Green Guide takes visitors to cannabis dispensaries. SF Native Tours features walking tours by a fifthgeneration San Franciscan. SF on Tap provides brewery tours.
Small Car, Big Time Tours whisks people to Muir Woods or Wine Country or wherever, really, in a chauffeured convertible Mini Cooper limousine.
Me& You plans city dates for couples — like telling your partner you’re going on a walk in Golden Gate Park and stumbling on a candlelit picnic.
“We’re not just people trying to make a living and doing what we can in between jobs,” said Ariel Meave, founder of Me& You. “This is everybody’s passion and career.”
Unfortunately, it’s a passion and career that hasn’t brought in much cash lately as tourism has dried up. That’s why these companies are partnering by creating a joint website, sending business each other’s way and focusing on a new audience: locals and nearby tourists who can get to San Francisco in a car rather than on a plane. They’re promoting a relatively quiet city where it’s easy to book a tour pretty much whenever you want it.
“You’re never going to have this time of year again without tourists, without lines, without traffic and with ample parking,” said Charles Jennings, owner of Bay Voyager. “Well, hopefully.”
They’re allowed to operate under the city’s health orders as long as tours are outside and limited to 10 guests.
In the name of journalism — it’s a tough job sometimes — I headed out the other day with Amster as he gave only his second tour as Emperor Norton since March. We met in Union Square below the Dewey Monument. In some ways, it felt like old times. Protesters marched in front of Macy’s. Homeless people asked for money. Pigeons flew dangerously close to our heads.
“To be in full regalia feels good,” Amster said of his Norton getup.
Amster, who grew up in Orange County, visited San Francisco with his family when he was 7 and vividly remembers falling in love with the city from the top of a doubledecker bus.
“It was like nothing I’d ever seen,” he said. “I wanted to come here and be somebody, but I never thought I’d be this.”
He worked in marketing, publishing and retail before deciding about a decade ago that he wanted to lead tours of his beloved San Francisco. At first he thought of leading them as Mark Twain, but he doesn’t really look like him. ( He does, oddly, look a lot like Supervisor Aaron Peskin.)
Then Amster was perusing a book about Emperor Norton when his life was forever changed.
“It hit me like a bolt of lightening,” Amster said. “This is who I needed to be. Yes, this is the person who personifies San Francisco, the reinvention and the acceptance.”
Norton, a native of England, lived most of his childhood and young adulthood in South Africa before arriving in San Francisco around age 31. He made a fortune and lost it, and then one day marched into the offices of the San Francisco Daily Bulletin and handed the editor in chief a proclamation declaring himself emperor. The editor printed it the next day under the headline “Have We an Emperor Among Us?”
“Everybody in San Francisco says, ‘ OK, he’s the emperor,’ ” Amster said. “In any other city, it would have been dismissed as the ramblings of a madman — except for here.”
And Norton’s 21yearreign over San Francisco began. The 1870 census listed Norton as insane, but no matter. Openminded, funloving San Franciscans adored him. And some of his decrees became reality — like the annual display of a Christmas tree in Union Square, the forming of the League of Nations to promote world peace, and the construction of a bridge from Oakland to San Francisco.
Amster, acting as Norton throughout, reveals these biographical facts and lots of San Francisco trivia as he meanders throughout downtown— including Maiden Lane, Lotta’s Fountain on Market Street and Portsmouth Square in Chinatown. And, of course, the Palace Hotel where a host of presidents have stayed, but one failed to make it out alive. President Warren Harding died there in 1921.
As we walked and talked, it was clear I was in the company of a local celebrity, considering how many people yelled in delight upon seeing Emperor Norton.
“All hail his majesty!” boomed a man from across loud Market Street.
“They’re very glad to see me walking the streets again,” said Amster, whose reemergence clearly provided comfort and familiarity in our dreadful year. “I missed this so much.”
Let’s hope his tours — and those of his colleagues — survive our miserable times. San Francisco was enriched by the real Emperor Norton, and today’s city wouldn’t be the same without the man who plays him.