I enjoy the Tonga Room as much as anyone. The drinks served in fake coconut shells, the tiki motif, the indoor thunderstorms - who doesn't like all that?
But here's some advice, San Francisco: You can't save everything. At some point you have to let go of the big, lavish single-screen movie houses, the quaint shoemaker on the corner, and the Tonga Mai Tai. Now it is time to let go of the Tonga Room. You've probably heard the rumors about the Tonga going away. The people who run Nob Hill's Fairmont Hotel, probably fearing another of those citywide uprisings, are keeping their heads down, refusing to say for sure whether tentative plans to rebuild the hotel tower will mean the death of the Tonga. Spokeswoman Susan Sagy would only say in an e-mail that, "We expect the Tonga Room to be removed or relocated. The final outcome is being studied." Strangely, the Tonga's fate seems to have drawn more interest than the reason behind its possible demise: The Fairmont wants to build a bigger tower and sell ginormous condos. Bob Varni, a past president of the Nob Hill Association, said he's been told construction could take as long as two years. "When it is all done it will look terrific," he said. "The only objections I hear is from the 18 months or so it will take to deconstruct the (current) tower." Although the new tower will not be any taller that the current one, the total square footage will be dramatically increased. This is a major project in the midst of one of the city's most famous neighborhoods. Now that's something to start a petition about. Instead, we're off on this tangent to save the home of the floating bandstand and palm tree tables. It is the curse of living in the city that is famous for fond memories. There's a tendency to want to preserve everything in amber and never let anything change - even if the concept is long since outdated. "Everybody is so concerned about losing the Tonga Room. You should ask them when was the last time you were in there," Varni said. "The last time I stopped in, there were only two people." There are bound to be more than that between 5 and 7 p.m. on Friday. Colin Boyle and his "Save the Tonga" Facebook group are inviting everyone to a happy hour for a show of support. "We want to preserve one of San Francisco's traditional hangout places," Boyle said. "The Fairmont is a landmark, and the Tonga is a landmark within a landmark." OK, so when as the last time Boyle was there? "September," he said. And there we have it. "I think we have a romance of loving things that are old here," said Kevin Westlye, executive director of the Golden Gate Restaurant Association. Westlye cites the "new" Trader Vic's. The original Trader Vic's was where the elite went to eat. When a modern version opened two years ago, nostalgia freaks predicted a huge success. It closed about eight months ago, Westlye said. "I think San Francisco is more interested in new, cutting-edge stuff," he said. "They're not as supportive of retro." It's amazing the Tonga has lasted since 1945. That's when legendary hotelier Richard Swig, who owned the Fairmont at the time, decided he needed something to compete with Trader Vic's. "Compliments to my father, whose idea it was," said Rick Swig, Richard's son and a hotel consultant. "It is amazing something that kitschy has held up that long." But, as Swig said, the change isn't just in the dining and dancing habits of San Franciscans. When Moscone Center was built in 1981, it changed the center of gravity for hotels in the city. Conventioneers no longer wanted to stay on Nob Hill, preferring to locate South of Market, near the convention center. The Fairmont began to lose guests, which meant out-of-towners didn't stop in for a drink and a thunderstorm at the Tonga Room. That's always been the core audience - tourists looking for a unique experience, locals celebrating a special occasion, and Bay Area residents showing visitors a night on the town. No wonder all the memories seem so special. Consider Swig, whose family sold the hotel in 1998. He virtually grew up in the Tonga Room, riding the lagoon boat once used to ferry the band out to play. He also knew the secret location for the switch that turned on the rainstorm. "They always had an awful lot of rain on the nights I was there," he said. Those, he said, are very fond memories "But I don't disagree," he said. "It's time for it to go." Keep the memories but let go of the old place. It's something San Francisco can't seem to grasp. But we're working on it. This C.W. Nevius' column runs on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. E-mail him at [email protected]. Website address for hotel: www.fairmont.com/sanfrancisco
