“The coldest winter I ever spent 
was a summer in San Francisco.” 
~ Mark Twain

Growing up in San Francisco, two weeks of each summer of my childhood would be spent as a camper at Silver Tree Day Camp, located in Glen Canyon, just a few hundred yards behind Glen Park Playground on Elk Street. My Dad had worked part-time for the San Francisco Recreation and Park Department in his younger years. Several of his colleagues, mostly educators during the school year, supervised the kids at the summer camp. The Silver Tree experience was always a positive one for me.

In the summer of 1967, I was hired to work as a junior counselor at the camp. My brother, Tom, and sister, Cathy, had worked there in the same capacity the previous summer and would be on staff again that year. I vividly remember my job interview at McLaren Lodge in Golden Gate Park. I was sitting on one side of a large conference room table. On the other side were three adults. They asked me a variety of questions which I did my best to answer. I guess I did okay, because I got the job.

Following the summer of ’67, I also worked full-time at Silver Tree in the summers of ’68, ’69, and ’70. In the summer of 1971, I had the opportunity to spend most of the summer working in Jamaica, but when I returned to The City in mid-August, I spent the final two weeks of the summer at Silver Tree, volunteering my services.

Being a one-week program, there were specific activities scheduled for each day of the week. Most of those activities took place at the campsite in Glen Canyon. On Wednesday morning, however, instead of beginning the camp day at Silver Tree, campers were brought to the San Francisco Zoo for a morning excursion. Chartered city buses would pick the campers up at their local playgrounds and drop them off in front of the old main entrance to the zoo on Sloat Boulevard.

Most of the high school age junior counselors, along with several adult counselors, would gather at the Doggie Diner on Wednesday mornings. The restaurant was located directly across the street from the old main entrance to the zoo on Sloat Boulevard. From there, through the large windows of the restaurant, we were able to see when the buses full of kids pulled up across the street. That was our cue to get to work.

Wednesday mornings at the Doggie Diner were memorable. Those were the only days when I could get away with having French fries and a vanilla shake for breakfast. Someone would always drop a coin or two in the juke box to play some of the popular tunes of the day. Two songs, in particular, stand out in my mind: Patches, by Clarence Carter and In the Ghetto by Elvis Presley. I’m sure many other songs were played, but those two come to mind when I think of Wednesday mornings at the Doggie Diner. 

I’ll admit that back then, when I spent so many foggy Wednesday mornings munching on fries, sipping vanilla shakes, listening to the music on the juke box, and hanging out with my summer camp coworkers, I was unaware of what an iconic place the Doggie Diner restaurant would become. Even today, while the business is long gone, a Doggie Diner head, like the one on the pole in the photo above, can be found in the center median on Sloat Boulevard at 45th Avenue. The Doggie Diner, even in its absence, continues to be a cherished institution in San Francisco history.