Ben Davis Sign at 2650 Mission: Conversation with George Harry Crampton Glassanos
Former site of Arik Surplus Co., known for carrying Ben Davis work clothes. 2650 Mission, Mission, from the series My Ancestors Followed Me Here, 2020; © Erina Alejo.
Photo-graphing the Ben Davis sign at 2650 Mission
Artist note:
as part of my investigation of anti-displacement resistance along Mission Street prompted me to look into the sign’s community history. Photographer homies Nick DeRenzi and Harvey Lozada reconnected me to muralist George Harry Crampton Glassanos, who was the latest community member to help restore the iconic neighborhood sign. I recall being mesmerized by his exhibition Livin’ for the City with his father, George Crampton, at Acción Latina’s Juan R. Fuentes Gallery in the summer of 2019.
One Sunday in November 2020, I met with George at 348 Precita Ave to see the newly completed Community Spirit and Legacy of Precita Eyes mural, which he participated in painting, along with more than twenty other artists. There, we ran into some of the other muralists: Susan Cervantes and Marina Perez-Wong and Elaine Chu of Twin Walls Mural Company. Afterward, George and I sat by Precita Park in his classic car—a 1973 Chevrolet Caprice—where he told me about his artistry, growing up in San Francisco, and his participation in one of many iterations of the community-driven and volunteer-led restoration of the iconic Ben Davis sign.
Photo by Hellene Piñero.
Interview with George Harry Crampton Glassanos conducted by Erina Alejo on November 8, 2020. PPart of My Ancestors Followed Me Here, created for Bay Area Walls, a commission series initiated by the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art in 2020. This in-person conversation with George Harry Crampton Glassanos was transcribed by Erina Alejo and has been edited for clarity. A downloadable PDF of this transcript is available on SFMOMA. An excerpt is also published in the newspaper format of this project, designed by Jerlyn Jareunpoon Phillips. Photos by Alejo and Hellene Piñero.
Ben Davis Sign at 2650 Mission: Conversation with George Harry Crampton Glassanos
By George Harry Crampton Glassanos and Erina Alejo
November 8, 2020
2650 Mission St., Mission District
Restoration of the Ben Davis Sign
In September 2016, there was an electrical fire at Arik’s that led to the store’s indefinite closure. The sign started getting marked up after that. It started with a small graffiti, written with a Sharpie. Then the sign got hit hard with more tags.
If you’re from SF, there is a good chance you know that these types of signs are sacred. The people who tagged on it didn’t know the significance of the decades-old sign for the city. My friend Charlie Ertola, who helped restore it with me, is part of the community of people who, throughout the years, helped bring the sign back to life. It was something Charlie and I did for the community—a rogue act. We did not want credit or recognition.
One morning, at 7 a.m., we went to the sign with a ladder and began painting. Charlie went to school for sign painting, so he did the lettering. Throughout the day, we worked to restore the sign to its full glory. Cars drove by, honking their horns in support. Passersby chatted with us. The neighborhood came alive. We put a photo of the finished sign on Instagram. The owner of Ben Davis saw it and contacted us to ask for our mailing addresses. Charlie and I received a box full of pants, painter’s overalls, beanies, and shirts.
George and Charlie lifting bottom corner flaps of their demin jackets, revealing a woolen layer beneath. By Erina.
I’ve been wearing Ben Davis clothing since I was in middle school. One of my teachers at the San Francisco Waldorf school once cited four or five of my classmates and me for wearing Ben Davis shirts. The school called in all of our dads and talked to us. We were told not to wear Ben Davis because it was “street gang clothing.” “What’s the big deal? We wear this to work!” my dad replied. He is a jack-of-all-trades, like my classmates’ fathers: carpenter, janitor, muffler guy, you name it.
I’ve always been a fan of the Ben Davis logo design. The gorilla has a smirk on his face. People have restored the sign at 2650 Mission many times over the years. I don’t know who the original painter was, but the sign was probably first painted sometime in the 1960s or ’70s. I think Ben Davis had a sign painter painting the logo across the city. When you texted me your photo of the sign in its current state, I remember replying, “Yes, a sad sight indeed.” So many of San Francisco’s signs, including the iconic Coca-Cola sign on Bryant Street in the SoMa, are disappearing. A forgotten period of sign painting slowly disappears.
Cinematographer and co-director Peggy Peralta filming George and Charlie at the former site of Arik’s Surplus Co. Documentation of behind the scenes for My Ancestors Followed Me Here film by Hellene Piñero.
Generations of Sign Painters
It’s a struggle nowadays, because sign painters are being hired less and less. Yet there is something beautiful about a hand-painted sign. Whenever I see a hand-painted sign, I stop and get to know it and its painter. There’s Ernesto Paúl, who also goes by Cruising Coyote and is from Tijuana and San Diego, and then John Seastrunk, who is part of a family R&B group. John paints half of the signs in the city and also paints shop windows for different holidays. He painted the back window of my car! While everyone was getting summer jobs at McDonald’s, John put himself through college by painting and learning from trial and error. I consider myself more of a muralist than a sign painter. I hate using oil-based paint. It’s messy and hard for me.
You have to have a certain level of respect for OGs and the work they’re known for. Painting windows is John’s thing. His work is known by many businesses, so I know to hold off from selling my labor to one of his spots. Although in some cases, a new place will open up, and I will approach them with my skills.
There is a whole new generation of precise sign painters. In comparison, the OGs are a little looser and more organic, embracing imperfections. There is also something beautiful about that.
Lauren D’Amato is the queen of signs. She is highly skilled in painting backwards on the glass. I’ve assisted her with a few, including some of the ones at La Reyna Bakery, owned by Luis “Louie” Gutiérrez and family. We do their banner for Día de los Muertos in my friend Wray Velez’s garage every year!
George inside his 1973 Chevrolet Caprice. 35mm by Erina.
Growing Up in the City
I grew up on 18th Street, between Mission and Valencia. Our landlord evicted everyone in the building through the Ellis Act around 1999 or 2000. My mom and dad got lucky with a new place. We were able to move to Folsom Street and continue to live in the Mission. I got more into painting and got opportunities to practice at local shops. I became friends with the people at City Smoke Shop on 18th and Mission and asked to paint on their walls. I painted a MUNI bus and a couple of lowriders on the wall and paid homage to old 99-cent stores and to 1930s and ’40s art deco style. I also painted a girl walking down the street with storm clouds behind her. I included the hood in the mural for the younger generation and the kids from the Mission. The mural is still there. Throughout this process, I got into spray paint, then became more interested in brush. I feel like spray paint is solely for graffiti and vandalism, which I support, but I appreciate taking the time with a brush more.
It was cool, painting on that corner at City Smoke Shop. There was also a MUNI bus stop there. You meet so many people while painting. Sometime after finishing that mural, I was approached by Max Marttila to paint the big mural on 24th and Shotwell. I went to high school with one of the guys who was shot on that corner. We honored his life through the mural. The mural is called Once Upon a Time in the Mission. I like painting murals and jumping on projects, like the murals by my friends Lucía Gonzalez-Ippolito and Mario Cid. Mario recently painted the big mural on the wall of the Walgreen’s at 24th and Mission. I helped paint the roses. Lucia’s is on 24th and Capp and is about police violence in our community.
George in front of 348 Precita Ave at the newly completed Community Spirit and Legacy of Precita Eyes mural, which he participated in painting, along with more than twenty other artists. 35mm by Erina.
I love and devote my time to old music, old cars, old buildings, and San Francisco history. My friends tell me I’m thirty-one going on seventy-one.
I now have a flip phone. I don’t have a computer or television. I grew up without a TV, because my mom and dad raised us that way. I grew up reading comics. I do have Netflix, though. Yes, that’s a photo of my cat on my phone’s home screen. I had a mouse problem, so I adopted him. He’s an outdoor cat. I got a bell for him to wear. He brought a groundhog inside one time and I had to trap it with a cigar box!
Sometimes it’s frustrating to deal with technology and shit, like Venmo. While it’s hard for me to keep up with that foolishness, and I feel like I miss out on some business opportunities, I feel satisfied with being able to have what I have. I used to have Instagram. I was making a lot of art on it, making money through commissions. It’s frustrating that I lost that clientele when I stopped using it, but I wasn’t making art for myself while I was on it. I talked to my dad about it and had a realization. The platform also started numbing me to violence, like when images of my friend Sean Monterrosa’s death were being circulated on the app. I hate seeing that type of shit. I hated being there every day, wasting time. His family continues to seek justice and organize through the platform. Sean was a good friend of mine. He ended up with my first car, a 1974 Dodge Dart!
George and Charlie reading the newspaper format of My Ancestors Followed Me Here. By Erina.
On Photography, Archives, and Murals
I have to give credit to the photographers who are preserving the work we do. They are the ones who really see us. Nick DeRenzi will come to a car show, and I’ll see go him go through two or three rolls. He keeps a binder of negatives from many community events and actions. Film photography has come back through people like Nick, Harvey Lozada, Natalie Alemán, and Emmanuel Blackwell.
It’s about keeping good memory and taking notes in many forms. My friend Wray Velez, an artist and DJ, carried around a tape recorder. In the ’80s they threw a party at Diamond Heights and recorded a cassette, “Los Tiny Winos”, where these guys talked in between songs—a cool way to preserve history.
One way to archive images: get hard copies of your photos, even ones from digital files, and make photo albums. I have a shoebox full of negatives. Each roll of film is so much history and memory. A roll that’s been sitting around for ten years might contain photos of people who have since passed away, buildings that have been torn down.
A lot of people I know who have been displaced say, “Oh, you know, San Francisco is not what it used to be!” I hate hearing that. You can think that way, but you can also take action to preserve our history and culture. My friends and I do that. It feels great to just be yourself and do what you do. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. There’s still some originality here. It’s important to hold onto that.