Herb Caen was the type of journalist who made words dance across the page. He was San Francisco's beloved treasure, a columnist who captured the vices, virtues, and quirks of the city with an unmatched wit. From the 1930s until his death in 1997, Caen wrote for the San Francisco Chronicle, painting vivid portraits of society in his own charming style. His 'three-dot journalism', peppered with ellipses for dramatic pause, became iconic. Labeled as 'Mr. San Francisco', he earned this title not just for his loyalty to the Bay area but for the intimate understanding he held of its heartbeat.
Imagine the consistent buzz of a city, a place with its unique smell of sourdough, fog, and the faint hint of salty breeze from the ocean. Herb Caen was the chronicler of that ambiance. His words weren’t just descriptions; they were living, breathing tales that captured a city's soul. A liberal thinker in many regards, Caen reflected the moods and shifting tides of four distinct eras: the pre-war boom, the post-war prosperity, the tumultuous changes of the 60s, and the technological rise that began in the 80s. Known for firing off sharp opinions, Caen was both adored and critiqued, as every provocateur must be.
It was easier to argue with Caen than ignore him. His style was a cocktail of observations, satire, and affection. He critiqued politicians, pinned praise on local businesses, and mused over the absurdity of daily events. For readers, his columns were like indulging in a fine wine – each sip offering layers of insight and humor. Political figures often stood at the receiving end of his clever tirades, but what set Caen apart was his ability to find a thread of humanity in his subjects. Even the harshest politician could look just a bit more human with Caen's touch.
One of the magical aspects of reading Caen was the bridge he built between the notable and the everyday citizen. While he rubbed shoulders with celebrities, artists, and political personalities, he also gave a voice to the people who made San Francisco their home. This inclusiveness made him beloved among his readers. It was his style of writing that invited all—whether from prestigious hilltops or the bustling streets of Chinatown—to feel included in his narrative.
While Caen’s liberal voice often resonated with the progressive population of San Francisco, it wasn't without its critics. Some said his columns were a nostalgic whitewashed portrayal of a city more complex than even he could capture. Others critiqued the lightheartedness he offered amidst serious social issues. Still, Caen wasn't afraid to use his platform to challenge the status quo, although sometimes with a tongue-in-cheek approach. His supporters might say that the tongue was always firmly in cheek, poking just enough.
It’s increasingly challenging today to find journalists like Caen, who not only reported on a city but inspired a deep emotional connection to it. In the rapidly changing digital landscape, where the briefest tweet can shape perceptions, Caen’s prolific career offers a lesson in the patience of storytelling and the power of consistent voice over time. His columns weren’t only about what happened in San Francisco but how it made one feel. More than two decades after his death, this spirit remains a valuable takeaway for writers and readers alike.
Even if you never read one of his columns, understanding Caen is understanding a piece of San Francisco, a piece of history that remains vibrant as ever. In trying to capture the gusto of his columns, perhaps we can understand how to live with a bit more bravado, to speak with more conviction, and to write as if each word dances. Herb Caen remains not just a columnist but a memory for a city that continues to evolve. His story is a reminder of the enduring spirit of curiosity, humor, and love for life that makes a city come alive through ink and paper.