Photo by Flickr user Whole Wheat Toast

Since September, we’ve been collecting obituaries for the poor Muni lines that are getting the axe on Dec. 5. Riders like you have sent us their best tales from these lines in the forms of stories, death notices, poems, and pictures.

Here are our collective ode to these dearly departed lines:
Obituary: 4-Sutter, You’re the One Who Got Away (1979-2009)
Obituary: Farewell 7-Haight, I hardly knew you. Seriously, like, where were you?
Obit-lettes: 18-46th Avenue and 38-Geary Ocean Beach Branch (partial lines)
Obituary: 20-Columbus, an Exclusive Club (2007-2009)
Obit-lettes: 21-Hayes, 10-Townsend (partial lines)
Obituary: 26-Valencia, the Quiet Muni Cousin
Obituary: 26-Valencia, ‘The Rich Man’s 14-Mission’
Obituary: 53-Southern Heights
Obituary: 89-Laguna Honda

See SFMTA’s list of lines and parts of lines going out of service on Dec. 5, 2009.

Obituary: 4-Sutter, You’re the One Who Got Away (1979-2009)

All art from Muni brochure dated Aug. 29, 1979

Ed note: The brochures above came to us via longtime San Francisco resident and transit enthusiast Randy Alfred, who has kept an amazing record of transit documents dating from the early 1970s. He says he kept them around because “ephemera are always interesting to historians and collectors. They illuminate the fine detail of daily life years ago.” Look for more Muni documents from days gone past from Randy’s collection in the coming weeks on Muni Diaries.

Here’s my own eulogy for poor 4-Sutter, which runs very close to my apartment. — Eugenia

Bus number 4, remember the smile I’d give you when you’d sidle up to me at the bus stop? You liked to say, “Almost always late, but definitely worth the wait!” I didn’t know how good you were to me until now, when you’re gone from my life. I always think about the times when we’d skip down Sutter street, hand-in-hand, on our way to another shopping spree in Union Square (who else accompanies a girl so willingly to the mall?)

And you’d give me a ride back home after another night out with my girl friends, no matter how many cocktails I’ve had. You never seemed to care that, at that point in the night, I was always too drunk to make conversation with you. Sometimes I’d even put my face right up to the open window to get some air, and you never even said I was weird or anything.

On bus number 4, I never knew how good I had it until you decided to leave. You know what they say? You’re the one who got away.

@Margosita sent us this photo today via Twitter:12/1 photo: My last ride on the 4

We’re not the only ones with soon-to-be-defunct Muni lines on our minds. California Beat ran an excellent obituary of their own for the 4-Sutter earlier this week.
Comment on the original post, 4-Sutter, You’re the One Who Got Away (1979-2009).

Obituary: Farewell 7-Haight, I hardly knew you. Seriously, like, where were you?

Photo by Flickr user napolifd

Violence on Muni has once again been on our minds lately, seeing this week’s stabbing on the J. As much as we wish these weren’t the stories to remember Muni by, some of the things that happen on Muni are regrettable. Muni rider Gordo sent in this obit for the 7:

I once got punched in my shoulder riding the good ol’ no. 7. It didn’t matter to the random assaulter that I was wearing a sling on that arm after breaking my shoulder two weeks prior. the guy just laughed and then jumped off at the next stop. oh no. 7 I’ll miss you and your unprovoked acts of violence.

And Muni rider Rob Nagle had this to say about the 7:

Today, among other lines, the 7-Haight will no longer be with us. In an effort to save money, the San Francisco Municipal Transportation Agency will discontinue the 7-Haight along with seven other lines.

As for the 7-Haight, it’s a good bet no one will notice. I can’t remember the last time I’d even seen a 7-Haight let alone ride one. I live on Haight Street and usually get a 6-Parnassus or 71-Haight-Noriega whenever I need to catch a bus. Even if I’m not riding the bus, the 6 and the 71 are all I usually see when I’m out and about on my block. That is until Sept. 25 when I saw two heading downtown within an hour of each other while I was doing laundry on a Friday night (I know, laundry on a Friday night? = lame). “There goes my angle for the obit,” I thought to myself, regretting the fact I had put it off.

But the truth is the 7-Haight was a rare sight. I’ve definitely ridden one from time to time, but it’s been at least three years since I did. I thought it had already been discontinued. I work at a newspaper that covers Muni all the time and remembered something about service changes to the 7 a while back. As it turns out, it was just a service reduction that I remembered. In September 2005, service on the 7-Haight and two other lines were curtailed, one of which – the 4-Sutter – is also dying.

A search on the rarely spotted 7 reveals two reviews on Yelp, one good and one bad, but one helps explain perhaps why I’ve so rarely seen the 7. “I used to hate the 7-Haight – but now I love the 7-Haight. It only runs at rush hour, they use the big double buses, it’s normally nearly empty in both directions, so there are many seats to choose from, and it’s faster than the 6 Parnassus,” opines one Yelper. If it’s true the 7 only ran during rush hour that would explain why I never saw it. Of course, the night I saw two was after rush hour but this is Muni we’re talking about, so making sense is not necessary.

The other reviewer’s sentiments probably help speak to reasons the 7 is no longer with us when he writes “The 7-Haight is a horrible bus line. It probably used to be really important and iconic and old school, but since Muni added the 6-Parnassus, 71-Haight/Noriega and 71L Haight-Noriega Limited, the 7 serves absolutely no purpose.”

So, farewell 7-Haight, according to Yelp, half of the time you were awesome and half of the time you totally sucked, but a .500 record isn’t a terrible thing. Those that actually rode you may miss you, but me, I feel I barely knew you.

Be sure to read California Beat’s obituary for the 7-Haight.
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Obit-lettes: 18-46th Avenue and 38-Geary Ocean Beach Branch

Photo by Akit

After the earlier posting of “Obit-lettes,” we received this one from Muni rider Akit:

It’s sad to say goodbye to San Francisco’s old friend, the 38-Geary Ocean Beach Branch. The little segment from 33rd Avenue to LaPlaya helps to serve the community businesses on Balboa, and provides frequent service for anyone who needs to connect with the 1-California for service to Chinatown and the Sutter Health hospitals in Laurel Village.

But with a loss comes another hero, the 18-46th Avenue to cover the route of the 38-Geary Ocean Beach branch. The realization is that anyone on Balboa who needs to get to Geary must depend on this bus line that only gives 20 minute frequencies, and a missing bus can make it up to 40 minutes. At least the 38-Geary Ocean Beach branch was a little more frequent.

But the sacrifice the 18-46th Avenue has to make will cost riders their access to great views along the route that serves the Cliff House, Pt. Lobos Avenue, and Geary Blvd. But it’s not just the regular riders, this route was popular with the people with large amounts of groceries from Safeway “at the Beach” and lives on Geary/Pt. Lobos between 48th and 33rd Avenues.

These huge changes could have been simply resolved by removing the Fort Miley route of the 38-Geary and having a shuttle van supplied by VA Hospital or a paratransit van cover the one block segment to Pt. Lobos/Geary for an easy transfer to a 38L or 18 bus.

Thanks Muni, you’ve just added an extra 20 minutes on my 30 minute commute.

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Obituary: 20-Columbus, an Exclusive Club (2007-2009)

Photo by Jeremy Brooks

Dates for the death of the Muni lines going out of service changed several times, giving many of you the chance to really think up a good obituary for your favorite line. Rider Whole Wheat Toast penned this obituary for the 20-Columbus with a note to the line’s history.

The 20-Columbus, also known by its name as the 20-line, died in October November December.

The 20-Columbus was born on July 2, 2007, as a result of the disastrous discontinuation of the 15-Third, which rendered indirect connections from Columbus Avenue to the Financial District. Not only did the route serve residents of North Beach, it also served commuters from the Marina, and students at the nearby Galileo High School. While often empty at times, it was a pretty fast way to get from Galileo to the Embarcadero Center whenever a student wanted to take his friends out for shopping after school, or as an alternative to the stuffy 30-Stockton bus.

On October 15 November TK, 2009 December 4, 2009, the 20-Columbus was discontinued with no regard to the residents and people who use the route every day, and was replaced by a rush hour, longer-vehicle service known as the 41-Union, which also had its share of cuts, being reduced from a Presidio-Downtown route to a Pacific Heights-Downtown route.

May the 20-Columbus rest in peace.

from Whole Wheat Toast

Here at Muni Diaries, we love stories about Muni experiences that make your day. Rider Andrew sent this recap of how the drivers of the 20-Columbus can brighten a morning:

On no Muni line were the drivers as consistently friendly as 20-Columbus. Smiles, “good morning!”s, and perfect curb-loading stops, year-round. When I once asked why, the driver responded, “Well, all the passengers are nicer on the 20, too.”

And how true that was! Travel options abound from my stop — Hyde and North Beach — to the business district, and the daft among us would snatch whichever was quickest, usually (and, now, forevermore) the 10-Townsend and 30-Stockton.

But we 20-Columbus riders were a self-selected bunch, those with the foresight and experience to avoid the 10-Yuppie and the 30-Pink Bag. Those with the spare four morning minutes to walk from the Transamerica Building — “the outskirts” — to our soulless cubes. Those with some long-buried childhood love of the smile from the driver, the nod from fellow passengers, and the ample legroom.

Oh, the legroom. You see, the 20-Columbus was articulated, and empty, at an unsurpassed rate, which tends to eliminate nearly every major rider complaint. There were no jars of urine, no screaming children. No unbathed patrons. No chatty Cathys, no Muni DJs. No Two-Seat-Takin’, Big-Balls-Havin’ guys, although if there were, no biggie!

So, 20-Columbus, your drivers and passengers will miss you, and we thank you. For your solitary mornings, for your easygoing clientele, and, above all, for showing us that, yes, human decency extends past the curb.

from Andrew

If you’re curious about the history of this short-lived line, check out California Beat’s obituary for the 20-Columbus.
Comment on the original post, Obituary: 20-Columbus, an Exclusive Club (2007-2009).

Obit-lettes: 21-Hayes, 10-Townsend

Photo by Flickr user kodama (home)

SFMTA’s December 5 service changes include the elimination of portions of bus routes, in addition to the total elimination of some routes, and in other cases, increased service. A few riders wanted to share their thoughts on those parts of routes that will go the way of the dodo come this Saturday. First, here’s Noah, sparing no words for how he really feels about lopping off the Fulton portion of the 21-Hayes:

Good riddance.

Before the death of the Fulton portion of the 21-Hayes, people who lived on Fulton between Stanyan and 8th Ave had the benefit of two buses, the 5 and the 21. People who boarded the 21 on Hayes anywhere East of Divis had the benefit of zero buses during rush hour, because the 21 was always too full to stop.

Now, those of us who ride the 21 in a neighborhood where only the 21 goes by actually have a bus we can ride during rush hour.

SF Appeal has a helpful explanation of what exactly will be happening to the 21.

Next up is Muni Diaries favorite Tara, with a tale of woeful days ahead without her 10-Townsend:

Once BART drops me off at Embarcadero each morning at about 8:50, I scramble frantically, depending on what the NextBus prediction says, to Fremont and Market, awaiting my golden chariot: the 10-Townsend. It, usually reliably, takes me from downtown to the north end of town. It’s quiet, filled with polite folks (except for that one old guy I fought with that time), and rolls through one of the most thriving parts of town at 8:55 a.m. on a weekday. That said, it, um, pretty much empties by the time we pass Sansome and Lombard.

Though some lines are meeting their demise come Dec. 5, others, like the 10, are simply getting rerouted at certain points. Though yuppies like me should be able to deal with a minor glitch in his or her morning bus routine, yuppies like me end up having the biggest shitfits over this very thing. Total White Whine, if you will.

The long and short of it is that the 10 is now turning west on Jackson, instead of taking me all the way north, to my building at North Point and Stockton. I will miss you, that-part-of-the-10. Instead of jamming to my iPod or reading some to-be-a-movie-soon novel from Oprah’s list of recommendations, I usually preferred to stare out the window and watch the hubbub unfold. These are people going to work, bustling around in their businesswear and messenger bags. It actually makes me happy to be going to work, too, like we’re all in some sort of metropolitan club from 9-6 on weekdays. The best part was getting to see it all from my chariot, above the fray. I can still do some of that…but then I’ll have waited 10 minutes for a 10 minute bus ride, only to require another 15 minutes of walking. I might just have to bid adieu to the 10 altogether and walk the whole way, as it might not be worth the hassle when all is said and done.

Ultimately, if it’ll save Muni some cash, I can deal with it. The only thing it does is force me to leave the house about 15 minutes earlier in the morning, allowing me time to walk from downtown to Way Up There. Or, it forces me to hop on a 9x or a 9BX (soon to be rechristened the 8X, etc.), in the event I feel like a nice pushy morning ride or an elbow to the ribs is needed to jolt me awake for the day ahead. Either way, I will deal with it. But it doesn’t stop me from complaining about it here.

We’ll give you a break, Muni, if it’ll save you the cash. But try to cut us some slack next week while we all begrudgingly try to turn the speeding freight train around on our befuddled morning selves.

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Obituary: 26-Valencia, the Quiet Muni Cousin

Photo by Flickr user Noelster

We received a deluge of obituaries for the dear 26-Valencia which, along with the 4, 7, 20, 53, and 89 lines, will say goodbye to us after SFMTA’s service changes this Saturday. Rider Noelster sent us a pictorial memorial of the 26, which you’ll see with our two-part farewell to the line.

First, a poem from Beth W.:

Bubblegum-scented perfume and fried chicken — someone’s lunch — are competing to pollute the stuffy air inside this bus, whose windows are shut because nobody is tall enough to reach them. It’s a warm day; people are fanning themselves and my baby is squirming. At each stop more passengers pile on: the baby-store clerk with her blond pixie haircut, glamorous sunglasses and terrier; a cluster of teenagers; a man whose ponytail and wheelchair seem mismatched, even though this is San Francisco, where “mismatched” is a kind of civic duty. Each time a frail old woman or man carrying a cane or too many bags gets on, passengers give up their seats. Even the driver is polite, a rarity in this much-maligned transit system. It’s hard to believe that this route will be axed, a victim of budget cuts, on the grounds that nobody uses it.

From Angela:

Muni bus line, 26-Valencia passed away quietly in her sleep on Dec. 5, 2009. A somewhat urban school bus, the 26-Valencia serviced your local San Francisco public school students and commuters for many years.

The 26-Valencia started her route on the corner of 5th and Jessie Streets in downtown San Francisco, making frequent stops near or within walking distance from Horace Mann Middle School, Glen Park School, Balboa High School, City College of SF, to her final destination at 19th and Holloway, just steps away from San Francisco State University. Most recently, her route was shortened, due to low-ridership, to a final stop at the Balboa BART Station.

Considered quiet and shy compared to her more colorful and eccentric Muni cousins, the 26-Valencia was at times always on schedule and reliable. It would be an understatement to say that the 26-Valencia will be missed from the streets of San Francisco.

In lieu of flowers, her remaining Muni family requests that SF commuters continue to support public transportation.

Photo by Flickr user Noelster

From Muni Diaries ace reporter Tara:

I don’t have a whole lot to say about the 26, as I haven’t ridden it that much, all told.

(How’s that for a start to an obituary?)

It brought me home (safely) after a party once. It served as a sometimes-alternative to its cousins, the 14-Mission and 49-Van Ness, if it happened to be rolling by.

But as a woman who often walks alone on Valencia Street, sometimes at night, the 26-Valencia was always a welcome sight. Almost like a favorite barista, favorite Muni driver, or your own home, it’s comforting to see a cheery, new, tiny bus, garishly lit, rushing down the street as you walk home alone from work or from the bar.

Unlike Mission Street, no stranger to transit, traffic, and transit-related traffic, quieter Valencia, especially south of 16th Street, calms down quite a bit once the sun goes down. With the exception of neighborhood bars like Amnesia or Elbo Room, Valencia turns into a darkened set of window displays, dim restaurants, doors covered in cages, and Omer (“Bum Jovi”) the asshole musician causing some kind of random, startling hold-up near that Social Security building.

But you could always count on the 26 and its sum total of five passengers heading past, to who knows where. Though the where was never that important for me regarding this particular route, the when definitely was.

Thanks, 26! We on Valencia will miss you.

From JT:

I’m sad to see the 26 go. When I was a student ages ago at SFSU, it was an easy one-bus commute. It’s a clean and quiet alternative to getting downtown. It got me to Glen Park for my guitar lessons. I guess I’ll have to take the J and climb the stairs now.

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Obituary: 26-Valencia, ‘The Rich Man’s 14-Mission’

Continuing in our honoring the soon-to-be-departed 26-Valencia, here are five more poignant tributes we received:

RIP 26-Valencia by friscolex

O, 26. Your valiant tenure was at its peak in my high school days. Shuttling me to my boyfriend’s house so I could sneak in a smooch session before class, zipping me to the 23-Monterey so I wouldn’t have to walk at all on my way to school, always providing an alternative to the 14-Mission when very important Thrifttown trips were to be made; these are but a few of your to-be-sorely-missed accomplishments.

Could that have been more than ten years ago? Could they really be selling you to the glue factory? Could Muni really be so cruel as to choose you for the guillotine a few months after I moved to within 100 feet of your glorious bus stop? Sadly, the answer is yes. And so, oh 26, rest in peace.

The 26 Valencia by Alyssa

When I was in sixth grade at Everett Middle School on 18th and Church, my parents let me ride the bus home after school by myself. You would think I would be elated to be given this new freedom, but alas, I was terrified. Everett is only one block from Mission High School, and when my friends and I got on the J Church heading south, we knew some sort of bullying and smack-talking was about to go down. Us girls got off a little easier than our male counterparts. Those little blond boys might as well had targets tattooed on their foreheads. But I developed a confident strut to try to dissuade any high-school kids from messing with little me.

My fear made it so I only wanted to ride the bus home when I was accompanied by friends. You know, the ol’ safety-in-numbers theory. But my friends all got off the J before me, as they lived in Noe Valley or Eureka Valley or Bernal Heights. I had to ride the train all the way to the Glen Park stop, which was and still is in the middle of the freeway essentially, on a deserted concrete island between the whizzing cars on San Jose Avenue. If I had to get off at that stop alone, I literally sprinted up the stairs to the safety of the overpass, imagining I was just missing the grasps of Mission High thugs or the people who lived under the freeway.

What does this have to do with the 26, you ask? The 26 was my safety net. I could avoid all the aforementioned stress if I got off the J at 30th and Church, with the safety of Supercuts and the produce market nearby. From there I would wait…and wait…and wait…for the 26 to turn off Mission onto 30th and turn onto Chenery and take me safely and soundly home to the Glen Park of yore, with Diamond Super and Sunset Pizza. The moment I would start walking up Chenery instead because it was taking too long, it of course roared by me…damn 26! I don’t remember the last time I set foot on that bus, but it will always bring to mind that sigh of relief, that last leg of the journey before making it home in one piece.

Ode to the 26 by D@n Shick

I don’t know why I’m so sad about the loss of the 26-Valencia. I haven’t ridden it regularly in well over a decade; when I did ride it, it was unreliable, annoying to the many Valencia St. pedestrians, and frequently detoured; it’s a remarkably redundant route; and I’d much rather ride BART to Glen Park these days anyway.

Yet I am sad. I remember riding it home to my several awesome apartments on and near Valencia during the early &and mid-’90s from my summer temp jobs downtown or in Civic Center. It was my special bus that teleported me home and allowed me to avoid Mission Street. I rode it up and down Valencia when I had a Fast Pass and was too lazy, or needed coffee too badly, to walk to Muddy’s.

When I discovered that it went to the old Mint, it was the moment at which I felt like a real resident of San Francisco, and reading Cometbus on that ride home was imbued with a special magic that I still think of when I see new issues.

I’ll never forget how the 26 made me feel like a grown-up. I’ll miss ya, ya stupid bus.

R.I.P. 26 Valencia by Tony

Here is an outbound morning commute shot of the 26 Valencia approaching the 14th and Valencia Stop. You will be missed eventhough, I ended up walking many times, since the wait was sometimes inexcusable.

And lastly, 26-Valencia, I didn’t love you enough by Jeff (me)

Could it be that the 26-Valencia was one rider away from being pardoned? Could that rider have been me?

I’ve lived a half-block from Valencia for well more than six years now, yet I can count the number of times I’ve ridden the 26-Valencia on 1.5 hands. It’s almost always a foggy ride, not due to the weather, but more to how much liquor I’ve imbibed. Or sometimes, it was simply the amount of warm pizza in me, and with the wind-chill factor factored in, and the randomness of a 26-Valencia magically showing up to cart my friends and loved ones on down the avenue to the safety and warmth of our homes …

I could cry.

26-Valencia, I did not do you right in our years near each other. For that, I am sorry. I hope that MTA does not close the book on you forever. You deserve resurrection someday, perhaps as a light-rail route.

A boy can dream, can’t he?

For the meantime, 26-Valencia, I wish you the most peaceful passing one can hope for a bus route. You will be missed, especially on those nights when I have no choice but to hoof it all … okay, all nine blocks of Valencia. If MTA leaves any stops or shelters in your wake, I vow to pay homage to them each time I encounter them.

Rest in peace.

There you have it. That’s the last of our obituaries, for now at least. Some more might trickle in, once the loss is realized starting next week. Meantime, check out California Beat’s obituary for the 26-Valencia, which can be found here. Spots Unknown has great photos of the old 26 streetcar. And here’s Mission Loc@l’s shout-out to the Valencia chariot.

This and top photo by Flickr user Noelster from the photoset Tribute to the 26-Valencia
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Obituary: 53-Southern Heights

Photo by Flickr user riz94107

The 53-Southern Heights is perhaps the greatest tragedy to occur during the Muni cuts this year. The reason that no one knows where it goes or what it does is because it serves those who are least likely to use current technology or be connected to those off the Hill – Potrero Hill – the community it serves.

The average daily ridership for the 53 is low, but it serves Grandmas and Grandpas, wheelchairs and walkers, and the people who assist them. The 53 traverses one of the toughest neighborhoods in the city, the Potrero Homes housing project, dropping down massive heights on Missouri and Vermont without the help of an overhead wire, connecting those who live by choice or by requirement at the top of the Hill down to connections to the outside world of the City at 16th and Potrero. Old ladies with their granny carts take the bus on their daily errand to the Safeway at the Potrero shopping center. The drivers of the 53 know their customers by first name and are happy to give a helping hand when asked.

The 53 is a lifeline from the high forgotten hill on the east side to the city, and the removal of the line will be distressing to many. For many Muni riders, the loss of a bus route will not truly be mourned, but for the 53 riders, there is no doubt that without this bus they will lose the social service that the city has provided for as long as one can remember. That no one spoke up for the 53 at the budget hearings nor on Muni Diaries is no surprise; it has been quietly doing its job and was an inconspicuous but necessary addition to the Muni fleet. For those who loved it, the 53 will not be forgotten. – by Rider “Fifty Three”

Click here for a couple of positive reviews of the 53 on Yelp. And SFGate has a 2001 story of a “runaway” 53-Southern Heights.

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Obituary: 89-Laguna Honda

Photo by octoferret

Here’s a shorty-but-sweetie from Inner Richmond rider Adam:

89 Laguna Honda.
Your obituary should be as short as you.

Regular contributor Whole Wheat Toast had this story to tell about the 89:

I just remembered that I happened to ride the 89 one time. Although that would be an unlikely route a young able-bodied person would ride when they can just walk, (and no I don’t volunteer over there), I rode the 89 just for fun.

It was one Sunday afternoon. I learned that there were goats hanging around the Laguna Honda Hospital area. Naturally, I would go and get some pictures of those natural lawn-mowers.

All of a sudden, I saw some of the goats getting rounded up. I wondered where they were going, and by the time I found out what was happening, it was too late.

I ran/walked to Forest Hill Station and boarded the 89 bus. Pretty nice bus route, being the shortest route in the city, and I think there was one or two other people that were elderly on the bus.

So off the bus went. Our first stop was at the hospital entrance. The one or two elderly got off, and I continued up to the parking lot of the hospital. That’s where I got off and looked for a way into the forest to find the goats. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find them, and I had to leave because I didn’t want to get detained for trespassing. Or can’t you?

Anyway, before I realized there was no direct way back to Forest Hill Station other than through Woodside and Idora, I hopped back on the 89. Same driver. Same bus. “You board the wrong bus?” the driver chuckles. I said I was just…erm…goat-hunting?

Well, even though that was my only ride on the 89, it was still a good experience. Well, at least I hardly knew ye, number Eighty-Nine. Rest in peace.

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