An air of disquieting calm
Most residents heed stayhome order that brings silent anxiety
A chainlink fence went up at San Francisco’s Pier 39. Knickknack vendors disappeared from a trendy stretch of the Mission District, where streets were all but deserted. Grocery stores allowed only a few shoppers in at a time.
Outside, all seemed calm on the first day of an unprecedented shelterinplace order for six Bay Area counties. Inside — behind closed doors — there was dread, uncertainty. People hid in their homes and merchants wondered whether their businesses would collapse.
The region’s virtual lockdown is the most severe yet in the United States, and it is to remain at least through April 7 — a strategy to contain the coronavirus pandemic about which little is known and for which there is no vaccine. Even with increasingly stringent interventions, the number of positive cases in the Bay Area shot up from 299 on Monday to 356 on Tuesday. Statewide, 12 have died from the virus.
Nationally, cases and the
death toll shot up Tuesday: 6,362 confirmed in the U.S. and 108 dead, including 55 in Washington state.
“I was here for September 11. ... I was here for the global economic meltdown. Nobody has been to a rodeo like this before,” said San Francisco Supervisor Aaron Peskin, who spent Tuesday morning on a weary drive through his district in the densely populated northeast quadrant of San Francisco. “This is impacting everyone’s bottom line, especially employees. But everyone is doing what they can to flatten the curve” and slow the spread of COVID19.
The uneasiness was apparent in Bay Area gun stores, which stayed open despite the shelterinplace orders, and sold firearms and ammunition to customers rattled by the pandemic.
In San Francisco, shops had shut their doors and drawn blinds along the entire north side of 24th Street between Shotwell Street and South Van Ness Avenue, with the exception of the Wise Sons deli. Shoppers looking for votive candles, a foot massage, a haircut, a vinyl record, a bowl of Pad Thai, or pearl earrings were out of luck. Those seeking a pastrami sandwich on rye could still get one.
Wise Sons manager Cecil McCracken was resolute.
“I’m trying to take care of the people who take care of me,” he said. “To make sure we make enough money to survive this.”
On West Portal Avenue, a normally busy shopping street, empty parking spaces abounded. Jesse Kidd, sitting crosslegged on the sidewalk requesting donations from passersby, said it was slow going.
“There’s nobody on the street,” Kidd said. “It’s already hard to ask people for help. When people are scared, I think they’re a little less generous. It’s understandable.”
Not every place was vacant. Despite the assurances that grocery stores would not run out of supplies, about 40 people were waiting in line Tuesday morning at the Grocery Outlet on South Van Ness.
“I was the one who didn’t panic yesterday,” said Julie Castro, who lives downtown near the Powell BART Station. “And now I’m panicking. I’m looking for water and toilet paper. Everywhere downtown was sold out. I’m late to the game.”
On Stockton Street in Chinatown, nearly 100 people streamed into Dong Hing Supermarket. Discarded pallets and boxes hadn’t been removed from the sidewalk, but the stalls were full — broccoli, bok choy, beans, ears of corn, pomegranates and apples.
And while the shelterinplace order that covers nearly 7 million residents restricts most “nonessential” expeditions beyond one’s home, there’s an exception for fresh air and exercise. In Oakland, on the promenadelike path around Lake Merritt, this translated to a steady stream of joggers, strollers and bicyclists.
But the commercial strips of Grand and Lakeshore avenues were largely empty, except for long lines in front of Arizmendi Bakery and Trader Joe’s.
Elisabete Tavares, 42, of Oakland, said she welcomes the new, stricter shelterinplace rules. The former resident of Canada was in Hong Kong in 2002 when the SARS virus hit.
“This is good. You’re trying to keep people safe, there are elderly people, there are babies. You want to be a good citizen and take care of your neighbors. Anything to keep people safe,” Tavares said, waiting to get into Trader Joe’s for meat and other items.
Scenes like this were what Oakland Mayor Libby Schaaf
wanted to see.
“I feel like Oaklanders are stepping up,” Schaaf said in a Tuesday afternoon phone interview. “I’m receiving so many offers of help. People want to know how they can help in this moment. It always makes me hella proud to be an Oaklander, even in moments of crisis.”
The biggest act of defiance she could report?
“I did hear about a hair salon that is still letting their customers come in and get their roots touched up,” Schaaf said.
Police reported no evidence of crimes or civil disobedience related to the current situation.
In San Francisco, a Police Department spokesman reported that after the shelterinplace order took effect at 12:01 a.m., both pedestrian and vehicle traffic were almost nonexistent. Nor did officers find bars or restaurants defying the Public Health Order close by 12:01 a.m.
Given the duration of the shelterinplace requirement, all this could change. And hints of unease could be seen.
On Valencia Street, the familyowned restaurant Lolo was being boarded up to lessen the chance of a breakin in coming weeks. Fresh plywood also covered the windows of Dogwood in Oakland, at Telegraph Avenue and 17th Street.
For the most part, though, incidents of any sort were few and far between. Instead, there were scenes like the one in downtown Berkeley. It was all but empty at around 10 a.m. except for a collegeage couple walking handinhand while each wore a mask. Otherwise, most of the people on the street were individuals who looked as if they had nowhere else to go.
At the Peet’s at Shattuck and Kittredge, tables topped by chairs were shoved against the wall of the ropedoff seating area. There was just one customer at the counter — Mike Vaughn, who ordered coffee and then added with a flourish “and I’ll get it — to go!”
“You’ve got to keep your sense of humor,” smiled Vaughn, a regular patron who was downtown picking up his computer from his office so he could return home to work. “I wouldn’t say ‘gallows humor,’ but we need a little levity.”
John King, Peter Hartlaub, Dominic Fracassa and Lizzie Johnson are San Francisco Chronicle staff writers. Email: jking@sfchronicle.com, phartlaub@sfchronicle.com, dfracassa@sfchronicle.com, ljohnson@ sfchronicle.com Twitter: @johnkingSFChron @peterhartlaub @domini cfracassa @lizziejohnson