San Francisco in the 1970s was a city of stark contrasts, a vibrant tapestry woven with threads of cultural revolution and gritty realism. For those who lived and worked on the streets, like the ambulance crews of the era, this duality was not just a backdrop, but the very fabric of their daily lives. While the popular TV show “Streets of San Francisco” captured a dramatized version of the city’s police force navigating crime, the reality of emergency services painted a different, yet equally compelling picture of the streets.
Working for a private ambulance service like Federal Ambulance in 1973-74 offered a unique window into this reality. Compared to the city’s own ambulance service, which felt somewhat antiquated, private companies were seen as the “modern” alternative. It was a common occurrence for San Francisco residents, when faced with a medical emergency, to specifically request a private ambulance, seeking a more up-to-date service than what the city provided. The running joke among ambulance crews was the stark difference, often symbolized by the city’s ambulances still equipped with what seemed like “WW2 stretchers.”
This disparity wasn’t just about equipment. There were times when the lines between emergency medical service and law enforcement blurred, highlighting the raw, unfiltered nature of street-level operations. International ambulances, for instance, were sometimes repurposed by the San Francisco Police Department as makeshift “paddy wagons” when their own fleet was stretched thin, a testament to the city’s bustling and sometimes chaotic environment.
One particular memory vividly illustrates this intersection. During Fleet Week, when North Beach, with its burgeoning topless dancing scene featuring Carol Doda at the Condor Club and a collection of seedy bars and sex shops, was overflowing with sailors, a call came in for a “bar fight” with multiple victims. Arriving on the scene, we encountered a city ambulance already present, its back filled with “situps” – apparently, not patients in medical distress, but rather intoxicated individuals being transported at the request of the police. In a city known for its vibrant street life, even the ambulance service played a role in managing the ebb and flow of its more boisterous elements. The offer from the city ambulance driver, amidst this scene, to take “a patient or 2” if we had space, underscored the sometimes-unconventional realities of emergency response in 1970s San Francisco. The “PaddyWagon/ambulance combination” wasn’t just an anomaly; it was a reflection of the city’s dynamic and often unpredictable streets.
Private ambulance companies like Federal and Mercy-Peninsula recognized the need for a more modernized emergency medical service and attempted to persuade the city to privatize the ambulance service entirely. However, the city stood firm, asserting that their existing service was “adequate” and provided sufficient “value.” This resistance to change, while perhaps rooted in bureaucratic inertia, also preserved a certain character of the city’s essential services, a character that, in its own way, was as much a part of the “streets of San Francisco” as the stories depicted on television.
Looking back, these experiences offer a ground-level perspective on the San Francisco of the 1970s, a perspective that complements the more polished narratives of shows like “Streets of San Francisco.” It was a time when the streets themselves hummed with a raw energy, and even the wail of an ambulance siren carried a story far beyond medical emergencies, echoing the complex sounds of a city in constant motion and transformation.
