You can’t go to San Francisco without thinking about Tony Bennett.  He just turned 91 years old on August 3rd, and was born Anthony Dominick Benedetto in Astoria, Queens, New York. In 1962, he recorded his signature song “I Left My Heart in San Francisco.”  It’s become the city’s identity, a postcard for tourism.  There are painted heart sculptures all over the city, as part of a fundraiser started in 2004 by San Francisco General Hospital, but none as popular as the one painted by Bennett himself at Union Square.  For the record, he uses the name Benedetto for his paintings that are on permanent public display in several institutions.

The lyrics to the song were written in Brooklyn by Douglas Cross in 1953, but misplaced in a shirt drawer until 1961 by Tony Bennett’s musical director.  The opera singer, Claramae Turner, originally performed the song done for her by George Corey, but never recorded it.  It was typically part of her San Francisco based contralto performances, used as an encore. It was far from Bennett’s biggest chart success, peaking at #19 in 1962.  It also seems ironic that it was brought to popularity by a New Yorker, but at least he performed it for the first time at the Fairmont Hotel on Nob Hill.  Other than that, there really isn’t much of a connection between Tony Bennett and San Francisco.  It was Pearl Bailey and Bob Hope who initially recognized his talents and encouraged him to shorten his name.

After spending several days in San Francisco, I found myself curious about the lyrics and why they strike such a sentimental chord?  The singer is homesick, tired of Paris and Rome, “forgotten in Manhattan,” and “going home to my city by the Bay.”

 

“I Left My Heart in San Francisco,

High on a hill, it calls to me.

To be where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars,

The fog may chill the air, I don’t care.”

 

It is a beautiful city, but a lot of the charm is hidden behind the modern, boxy construction.  The “little cable cars” make it distinctive, although standing in line for an hour waiting to ride one is painful.  In fact, “my love” is probably still waiting there in line “above the blue and windy sea.”  The hilly streets are spectacular, especially Lombard, and the views are breathtaking. “High on a hill” has a different meaning in the Haight-Ashbury district.  The fog is annoying and the air is beyond just chilly, and I definitely “cared!”  It was never quite warm enough, even after living in Portland for three years.  Plus, the fog and/or smog hides the stars and the sun.  The next part of the song could apply to any ocean-side city, even New York for that matter:

 

“My love waits there in San Francisco,

Above the blue and windy sea.

When I come home to you, San Francisco,

Your golden sun will shine for me.”

 

There was not enough “shine” by the  “golden sun” for me, the “homeless” situation was worse than Portland, and everything “was” too expensive.  I did leave my wallet in San Francisco and a good chunk of my retirement savings.  My Heart, however, has come home with me, and my feet are sore.  I will probably never call San Francisco, “home.”