SAN FRANCISCO
It might be the evening scene in any city slum. Unkempt youths clot the stoops of dilapidated tenements, talking overboldly of drugs; drunks reel along gutters foul with garbage; young toughs from neighboring turf methodically proposition every girl who passes by, while older strangers hunt homosexual action. The night air smells of decay and anger. For all its ugly familiarity, however, this is not just another ghetto. This is the scene in San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury district, once the citadel of hippiedom and symbol of flower-power love.
Love has fled the Hashbury....
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