The Secret History of FRISCO

Bonus Episode No. 1—Call It Frisco!

• Knox Bronson • Season 1 • Episode 2

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This episode explores the long and often contentious history of the nickname "Frisco" for San Francisco. Despite the strong disapproval of many, including Chronicle columnist Herb Caen, the term has deep roots stretching back to the Gold Rush era.

We delve into the earliest documented uses of "Frisco" in the mid-19th century, finding it in letters from 1849 and newspapers like the Placer Times in 1850, suggesting it was once a common and respectable abbreviation, even appearing in genteel literature by 1868. The episode also touches on the theory of a Middle English origin for "Frisco" as a port term. We examine the contrasting perspective, highlighting how figures like Emperor Norton, the judiciary, and Herb Caen later campaigned against the nickname, viewing it as vulgar and disrespectful, particularly associating it with outsiders and the city's more unruly past.

The discussion then shifts to the more nuanced and contemporary understanding of "Frisco." We explore how, despite the traditional disdain, the term has persisted and even been reclaimed by certain communities, notably within Black San Francisco culture, as a sign of solidarity and identity. Even Herb Caen eventually softened his stance, acknowledging it as a "salty nickname." Ultimately, the episode concludes by inviting listeners to reconsider their own use of "Frisco" as a way to connect with the city's rich and complex history, particularly the "wide-open" era that this podcast aims to resurrect.

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Share your stories and knowledge of San Francisco in the 1930s and 1940s! If you have expertise or anecdotes to share, please reach out. Tell your friends who love San Francisco history about the podcast, and have a little fun... call it Frisco!


Don’t Call It Frisco. So proclaimed San Francisco Chronicle columnist, Herb Caen, Mr. San Francisco himself. He wrote a book called Don’t Call It Frisco, published in 1953.

 As I mentioned in the first episode of The Secret History of Frisco, I have caught a little bit of attitude from some people about the use of the term Frisco in the title and, while I do understand, Frisco is Frisco and this podcast is about Frisco! To be honest, I’ve never called San Francisco Frisco, myself, outside of this podcast. Well, maybe a couple times in my teens and early twenties, trying to be cool   . Like most people around here, I just call it the city.

San Francisco took its name, officially, in 1847, from the already well-known Bay of San Francisco, although sailors had already been referring to the town, the port, and the surrounding region as San Francisco for years.

The earliest published use of “Frisco,” according to the Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang, is from an 1849 letter written during the Gold Rush.

The letter was written by a New Englander whose name I cannot find. who had recently arrived by ship. He uses both the abbreviation and the full name:

“Made good passage to ’Frisco. Captain David Carter of Beverly [Mass.] died on the passage out. Think San Francisco the most contemptible dirty place one could wish to see. Not fit for man or beast.”

The first usage of “Frisco” in a publication dates back to March 9, 1850, of the Placer Times newspaper in Sacramento:

“A correspondent in a ’Frisco paper, writing from this city, says he saw ‘a female pedestrian galloping through our streets.’ Hope she had a good time.”

I’ve found several instances of this quotation online and I imagine that it’s supposed to be humorous. That said, 175 years later, I do not get the joke.

The term “Frisco” crops up some more that year in the Placer Times, the Sacramento Transcript, and the Sacramento Daily Union and gained widespread usage in subsequent years.

Daisy Barringer on the Thrillist website posited that the actual, no-apostrophe word "Frisco" goes back to Middle English, and means “a port where ships could be repaired”. It's possible that the treasure hunters who flooded San Francisco during the Gold Rush were actually being quite clever with a play on a word when they created the nickname.

I sincerely doubt that the miners were harking back to Middle English. But it’s a fascinating coincidence, isn’t it?

In an 1868 short story by C. J. Everett, published in the genteel Godey’s Lady’s Book and Magazine, titled, “The Gentleman From Honolulu,”one of the refined characters has picked up some slang on his trip to California and wishes he were “back in Frisco.”

One of his sisters says, “Frank, we are tired of hearing you talk of Frisco. Where in the world did you get that name for it?”

He replies: “Oh, that’s the pet name the ‘boys’ give their beautiful harbor-city, the pride of the State. You ought to hear them shout for Frisco, as they throng into the ‘What Cheer House’ of a gala-day; and at the ‘Occidental’ is tossed off many a bumper ‘to Frisco and the ladies.’ ” 

Roughly translated: the boys are raising a glass to Frisco and her ladies. 

One of the most commonly told origin stories for “Frisco” hinges on the departure of the ship   Bark Eliza from Salem, Mass., for San Francisco on 23 December 1848.  

With a crowd gathered to see the ship off, three passengers and crew members appeared on deck and sang a song that set fresh lyrics to the tune of Stephen Foster’s new hit, Oh! Susannah.

And they sang.

I soon shall be in Frisco

And then I’ll look around 

And when I see the gold lumps there

I’ll pick them off the ground

Any number of sea chanties of the time refer to San Francisco as Frisco.  There is a great recording available either on Bandcamp or as a cd, “San Francisco Sea Chanties of the Gold Rush Era,” by Dick Holdstock & Co. I’ll put links in the show notes. Here’s an excerpt from “Frisco Ship.” 

[Add audio]

My favorite Frisco song from the album is “Shanghai Brown.” I put an excerpt of the recording on the first episode of The Secret History of Frisco, so I won’t put one here, but I will read a few lines: 


When first I went to Frisco boys, I went upon a spree,

My hard earned cash I spent it fast, I got

drunk as drunk could be,

Before me money was all gone, or spent on some old whore,

I made up me mind and was well inclined to go to sea no more.

No more, no more, To go to sea no more,

I made up me mind and was well inclined to go to sea no more.

That night I spent with Sally Brown too drunk to roll in bed,

Me clothes was new me money was too, in the morn with them she

fled.

A feeling sick I left the house and went down to the shore.

There I went me head all bend and the crimps at me did roar.

Did roar, did roar, the crimps at me did roar.

So the use of “Frisco” seems to have been perfectly respectable up until the early 1880s, when public attitudes about the term began to shift.

We should talk about Emperor Norton a little. He remains one of Frisco’s most infamous and most beloved characters.

Born Joshua Abraham Norton in England around 1818, he arrived in San Francisco around 1850. 

In very short order, Joshua had made himself into a very prosperous and respected gentleman. He knew all the right people. He was a member of all the right clubs and committees. He was invited to all the important parties. He stayed in the best hotels. He had access. He had arrived.

Then, in late 1852, a famine in China created a shortage of rice, driving prices up 900%, Joshua was presented with an “opportunity” to corner the market by buying — at 12½ cents a pound, as opposed to the prevailing 36 — a shipload of Peruvian rice in San Francisco harbor. The price: $25,000.

He put $2,000 down, with a contract for the rest, on 22 December 1852. Had things gone as planned, Joshua stood to make a very handsome profit indeed. But, the next day, and then over the next two weeks, several more shiploads of rice arrived from Peru — all of superior quality to what Joshua had bought. The price of rice plummeted to 3 cents a pound. Suddenly, his good deal looked very, very bad.

Joshua sought to void his contract, on the grounds that he had been misled. The matter was tied up in litigation for nearly two years — at great cost to him.

Finally, in October 1854, the California Supreme Court ruled against Joshua. This ruling all-but-ruined him financially and he tried to regain his footing by running for San Francisco tax collector in May 1855. He did not win.

He was forced to file for insolvency in August 1856.

He continued to cast about for a new role, announcing his candidacy for U.S. Congress in August 1858. When the election took place in September 1859, he was not on the ballot. 

In July of that year, Joshua had taken out a paid ad in the San Francisco Daily Evening Bulletin newspaper. The ad was a brief “Manifesto” addressed to the “Citizens of the Union.” It outlined in the broadest terms the national crisis as he saw it and suggested the imperatives needed to rectify the situation.

He had been living in a Kearny Street boarding house since his bankruptcy. The accommodations were decidedly below the high style to which he had become accustomed in his first few years in the City.

A little more than two months later — and just 10 days after the election of September 7, 1859, the one in which he had not been a candidate as he had earlier announced — Joshua was back in the pages of the same paper, with the following Proclamation:

At the peremptory request of a large majority of the citizens of these United States, I, Joshua Norton, formerly of Algoa Bay, Cape of Good Hope, and now for the last nine years and ten months past of San Francisco, California, declare and proclaim myself Emperor of these United States; and in virtue of the authority thereby in me vested do hereby order and direct the representatives of the different States of the Union to assemble in Musical Hall, of this city, on the 1st day of February next, then and there to make such alterations in the existing laws of the Union as may ameliorate the evils under which the country is laboring, and thereby cause confidence to exist, both at home and abroad, in our stability and integrity.

Norton I.,

Emperor of the United States.

Instead of ridicule, the people of San Francisco largely embraced Emperor Norton. They treated his pronouncements with respect and affection. Local businesses accepted his self-printed imperial currency. He was given a reserved seat at public events, and the police saluted him on the street.

Emperor Norton wore an elaborate blue military-style uniform, adorned with feathers and a beaver hat. He patrolled the streets of San Francisco, inspecting the condition of the sidewalks and offering his opinions on civic matters.

Politically, he was a true progressive and a social visionary. As reported on the emperornortontrust.org website:

He was an adversary of corruption and fraud of all kinds.

He was a persistent voice for fair treatment and enhanced legal protections for immigrants and racial/ethnic minorities.

He demanded that African Africans be allowed to ride public streetcars and that they be admitted to public schools.

He commanded that the courts allow Chinese people to testify in court; and he pronounced that “the eyes of the Emperor will be upon anyone who shall counsel any outrage or wrong on the Chinese.”

He proclaimed, with respect to Native Americans, that all "Indian agents" and other parties connected with frauds against "the Indian tribes" were to be publicly punished. 

He was a religious humanist and pluralist who favored church-state separation and warned against the dangers of of puritanism.

He supported women’s right to vote.

He was a defender of the people's right to fair taxes and basic services, including well-maintained streets, streetcars, ferries and trains.

He issued decrees demanding bridges be built to connect both the east bay and Marin County to San Francisco. 

Emperor Norton, we salute thee.

 When he died in 1880, his passing was deeply mourned by the city, and his funeral was one of the largest San Francisco had ever seen, paid for by the citizens.

But back to Frisco:

In 1872, The good Emperor Norton issued a proclamation about the use of the term “Frisco,” which was duly reported in all the local newspapers. 

It read:

“Whoever after due and proper warning shall be heard to utter the abominable word “Frisco,” which has no linguistic or other warrant, shall be deemed guilty of a High Misdemeanor, and shall pay into the Imperial Treasury as penalty the sum of twenty-five dollars." 

That would be about $650 today.

So, even here, the Emperor was ahead of the curve in terms of popular sentiment. Ten years after his Frisco proclamation, an English author, T. S. Hudson, warned travelers not to use the abbreviation while visiting the city.  In his 1882 travel book, A Scamper Through America, he wrote:

“All Spanish names and expressions are proudly retained and you must never be heard using the irreverent abbreviation ’Frisco.” 

A Scamper through America? For some reason, I don’t think T.S. Hudson ever scampered across the Great Plains, up an over the rockies or the Sierra Madre … or anywhere past the upper east side of New York City, perhaps.

Later, the judiciary weighed in. A 1918 issue of the San Francisco Examiner reported that Judge Edmund P. Morgan chewed out a witness, a Los Angeles auto dealer, for using the term “Frisco” four times in his testimony.

“No one refers to San Francisco by that title except people from Los Angeles,” said the judge. “Don’t do it again.”

As we all know Los Angeles is anathema to any true San Franciscan.

Around the same time, the San Francisco Call newspaper opined:  "There never was and never will be a 'Frisco.' Neither before the fire nor since has this shabby abbreviation, born of vulgarity and laziness, ever been tolerated in this neighborhood."

As I mentioned at the start of this episode, Herb Caen wrote a book called "Don't Call It Frisco" and here he expounds on it. He wrote:

 "Don't call it Frisco — it's San Francisco, because it was named after St. Francis of Assisi. And because 'Frisco' is a nickname that reminds the city uncomfortably of the early, brawling, boisterous days of the Barbary Coast and the cribs and sailors who were shanghaied. And because Frisco shows disrespect for a city that is now big and proper and respectable.”

That was the acceptable stance in 1953.

In 1956, speaking to the GOP delegates at the Republican National Convention at the Cow Palace, San Francisco Chronicle columnist Stanton Delaplane said to the throng: "You can call Los Angeles 'L.A.' You can call Chicago 'Chi.' But if you call San Francisco 'Frisco,' they will cut your Republican buttons off and drum you out of town."

In 1954, when my old friend Birney Jarvis founded the San Francisco chapter of the Hells Angels, the patch on the back of their jackets said Frisco. How could it have been anything else?

Birney was the real-life inspiration for the television series, “The Came Bronson,” which was kind of Kung Fu or Route 66, if you know those ancient shows, on a motorcycle. It lasted for one season in 1969 and has a cult following now. I got to know him in the seventies and used to drink with him at the M&M Tavern at 5th & Howard, a block from the San Francisco newspapers. He was a police reporter for the Chronicle. He retired in 1987 and moved to Alabama.

This has nothing to do with Frisco, really, but I want to share an anecdote. Birney died on June 3, 2012. I hadn’t seen him or given him much thought since he had moved away twenty-five years earlier. I was at home one Saturday night, June 2, to be exact, hanging out with my cats, and he popped into my head. I decided to track him down and say hello. I  googled him and found a bunch articles, videos, and interviews, one of which I posted one on facebook. The next night a mutual friend of ours from the Chronicle called and told me Birney had died that morning, Sunday. I do not believe in coincidences. I think he was flying around the night before, saying goodbye to everybody.

Emperor Norton was Frisco, Birney Jarvis was Frisco. San Francisco, Frisco, is unique in so many ways, the geography, the Bay, the air, the Pacific Ocean, the hills, the fog, all of it, but the only thing that has ever made Frisco, Frisco, is its citizenry. That will be a central tenet or refrain in The Secret History of Frisco.

There has  remains hints of elitism in the disdain for the term Frisco.

It evokes strong opinions, often along lines of local versus outsider status, class, and cultural identity. While some long-time residents and cultural figures have vehemently opposed it, seeing it as disrespectful, others, particularly within working-class and minority communities, have embraced it as an authentic and even defiant nickname. 

In 2022, Gunna Goes Global, a local rapper, said: "Frisco comes from Black San Francisco ... The word was popularized among Black San Franciscans before hip-hop fully bloomed, going back to the Black Panther Party of the 1960s... To say 'Frisco' is to stand in solidarity with Black, Latino, Samoans [and] Filipinos who are still here. That is why to ignore this as part of our lexicon is erasure." 

Even Herb Caen came around at last. He wrote: "It makes you feel good all over once in a while to say 'Frisco' right out loud... a salty nickname, redolent of the days when we had a bustling waterfront."

I would add to that “opium dens, gambling joints, all-night saloons,  restaurants, and bordellos.”

We opened with Herb Caen and so I guess we’ll close with Herb Caen. I’m glad he lightened up a little bit about Frisco in his later years.

Do you call Frisco, Frisco? I never have. Until now.

I would love to bring Frisco back, not just the word, but the long gone city the word evokes. I’m not sure that will ever be possible, but we will visit it here, often, in The Secret History of Frisco.

I’m your host, Knox Bronson.

Please join me at thesecrethistoryoffrisco.com, where you can find the show notes for episodes. Please sign up for free at the Patreon page at Patreon.com/Frisco. Frisco is intended to be a listener-supported podcast. Main episodes will always be free. For the next couple months, all episodes will be free, but, ultimately, bonus episodes an other perks will be available at the paid tiers, starting at $5 a month, on Patreon. 

I welcome input from the audience. If you know any stories from San Francisco of the 1930s and 1940s that I should research and report, please let me know. If you have some expertise in some aspect of that era and would be willing to be interviewed, please let me know. If you have friends who enjoy San Francisco history, please tell them about the podcast.

And … please … have a little fun and call it Frisco.

With that, I will say goodbye for now.