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Xavier Nuez photographs alleys.

His candy-colored images of urban decay have been exhibited internationally, including here at the San Diego Art Institute, and featured on NPR.

Ruin is his gig. “History,” Nuez says. “Rust, bent metal, all the garbage strewn about.” He scouts locations in cities across North America and shoots alone, at night, in the “shunned places” people avoid even during the day. Recently in an Indianapolis alley he was “almost clobbered by a street gang.” He’s been held at gunpoint more than once.

But something even worse happened to Nuez last spring in Barrio Logan. The alleys were too good, he tells me. Too clean, too new, and too safe.

I’m interviewing him by phone at his home in the Bay Area. Nuez assures me he can find a “dirty corner” in any city, but, he says, “San Diego falls into the not-so-run-down category, which is great for San Diego” and not so great for him.

I can’t hold back. Passion overrides what little journalistic detachment I possess.

It’s because, I tell Nuez, we’re paradise-in-rehab. Our façade is what’s history. Crispy lawns. No jobs. More potholes than tourists. Alleys are where our life is! They’re like the last frontier —

The demilitarized zone in the people’s eternal war against the city —

Maybe even our greatest seminatural resource —

I mean, really, I ask him — Has he ever seen cooler alleys?

On the other end of the phone, there’s dead silence. I’ve totally blown this interview.

Finally, the closest thing to a national authority on the subject of urban alleys as I can find speaks.

“I agree. I think the word ‘cool’ is the right word,” says Xavier Nuez.

Coors, Girls

Google/Bing “San Diego alley,” and nine out of ten hits will start with the words “Body found in.” Photographer Nuez eventually admits he’d lined up a police detective who’d promised him a tour of San Diego’s worst alleys, and the guy flaked.

But today this Pacific Beach alley south of Chalcedony is sunny and deserted. Palm fronds clatter softly. Bougainvillea overwhelms low backyard fences. From where I stand in the dark garage, the alley outside is so neatly framed by the open garage door that it looks like a stage set of the perfect San Diego morning.

Jack Whalen hands me a beer. “I’m king of this alley,” Whalen says, then points west. “Down there, the king of that next alley is Tom Sweet. He’s 97.”

Whalen is a laconic, tan man in shorts and a chartreuse T-shirt. He’s been king of this Pacific Beach alley for 20 years, ever since he rented the two-car garage in which we’re standing. By law, he explains, landlords must provide parking with beach rentals, but some rent out garages separately because there’s such a demand for them. All Whalen’s friends rent illegal garages. It’s an alley subculture.

In Whalen’s case, the garage provides storage for his work tools, his mother’s Christmas decorations, and a bunch of stuff he’s picked up shopping in “Alleymart,” including a poster of Richard Nixon, a radial arm saw, and a parachute.

But the real value of “The Compound,” as he lovingly refers to his garage, is its social function. “It’s definitely a vortex,” Whalen says. “Once I open the garage door, they just start coming.” If his blue truck is parked out front, everyone knows the Coors is on ice. Seven days a week, daylight hours only. “I don’t want to piss off my neighbors,” says Whalen.

What exactly does his alley mean to him? I ask. “Privacy,” he shoots back. “The wives are in the house. Police are on the street. In PB, you can’t go out front and drink a beer anymore,” says Whalen. “This is all we’ve got left.” Whalen speaks fondly of his 80-year-old neighbor Ben, who in the last years before he passed away would sneak down the alley to Whalen’s garage to smoke and hide from his wife.

Once in a blue moon, Whalen says, the meter maid makes a stink about his buddies’ trucks parked in the alley. The “drive-by bitchouts” are the worst. That’s when wives drive by, stop outside Whalen’s garage, yell at husbands to get home, then roar off.

“Girls hate the alley,” says Whalen.

My friend Mary Trombley agrees. Growing up in Clairemont, she says, “You just always knew nothing good happened to girls in alleys.”

My Texas friend Barbara copies me on an email featuring a woman at a firing range, wearing a T-shirt that says, “Gun Control: The theory that a woman found dead in an alley, raped and strangled with her own pantyhose, is somehow morally superior to a woman explaining to police how her attacker got that fatal bullet wound.”

But a few blocks from Jack Whalen’s garage, in an alley near Grand and Hornblend, jazz floats from the open door of Alicia Raposa’s duplex, wafting bits of Ella Fitzgerald down the otherwise barren canyon of automatic garage doors.

Raposa, 24, lives in the only rental on the alley, and her front door is always open. “My dad swears I’m gonna get broken into, but I never have.” In four years of living here, the only trespassers have been stray cats who abuse the open-door policy.

A surfing instructor and SDSU double major in literature and furniture-making, Raposa needed something affordable. “When I first saw this place, I thought, ‘Cool. It’ll be cheaper because people won’t like the negative connotation of being in an alley.’ ” It was cheaper. It’s also bright and quiet.

Raposa points to a battered surfmobile just outside the front door. “You forget something in your car, and there it is. This is the best place I ever lived,” she says.

Across the alley, Heather Wilson sorts golf balls into a plastic bag. She’s standing outside an open garage, whose contents spill out and flood the pavement knee-deep around her. Like Jack Whalen, Wilson rents her Pacific Beach garage. She uses it to store the things she finds in alleys, on the street, or in the course of her work as owner of Heather’s Helping Hands, a cleaning and maintenance company.

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whyigotahaveid Sept. 17, 2009 @ 6:48 p.m.

i lived in cliaremont as a boy, roamed the canyons all the way to the bay. then to linda vista roamed the streets at night. then mira mesa , the malls .utc. icehouse. finally east san diego at 16 years of age. how fun the alleys were. many a great treasure was found . fruit to be picked hanging over fences , seeing men tinker with thier hot rods , older men polishing their classic cars . stopping to chat.


violadace Sept. 18, 2009 @ 5:11 a.m.

wow, whyigotahaveid. That's poetry. better than the story above. you made me taste it.


kriketx Sept. 20, 2009 @ 6:54 a.m.

Alex's article has made me appreciate my morning walks more than ever. I have always enjoyed walking the alleys over the streets. My dog knows every house that has a dog living there and I have learned so much about the personalities of the people that live in your zip code. The front is usually a facade, but the back is who they really are.

I live in Dallas, TX, and even though we have many alleys they seem to have no comparison to the ones described in this article. Or... maybe I just haven't explored enough of them. I'm inspired.

Who knew (I didn't), that cities actually promote their alleys as a tourist attraction.

It is a quarter to nine (in the morning). I'm going to fill up my travel mug with coffee and jump in my SmartCar and head out of my neighborhood in search of interesting alleys. Then I am going to plan an interesting alley-side of my own house. A description of my character. It is time to let my neighbors know who I am. It would be great if I will inspire the rest of my neighborhood.


mcmduke Sept. 20, 2009 @ 11:50 a.m.

"Cool"is the right word for this article. Having alleys to roam IS cool. I am from Dallas,Texas, and even though we do roam and pick up treasures in our alleys, there is no sub-culture of alley dwellers here (at least that I know of) and I personally don't even have an alley in back of my house, just an easement. A few years back I tried to grow a garden in my little easement and received a ticket for growing vegetables on city property! What a bunch of grouches! I would love to come to San Diego and do nothing but roam the alleyways. Hey maybe you could start a business that tours cool alleys in the area or an alley-way country club! What fun.


shizzyfinn Sept. 22, 2009 @ 5:26 p.m.

I'm surprised that Ocean Beach alleys didn't get a shout-out in the article...they certainly seem to be popular among treasure-hunters and folks out doing some canning. I'd estimate that my alley, which is a few blocks off the beach, between Brighton and Cape May, is cruised by about 50 people per day.

OB comedian Steven Kendrick jokes that the recyclers who cruise OB alleys work for a syndicate of powerful families - the Aluminati.


nan shartel Oct. 5, 2009 @ 6:38 p.m.

i loved this article so much i exported it to Canada


they loved it up there

what happened to all the original comments on this???


nan shartel Oct. 5, 2009 @ 7:34 p.m.

fish...i was wrong..this was all the comments on this one...i was thinking of the blond one which had 246 comment which still exist



SDaniels Oct. 5, 2009 @ 10:28 p.m.

Hey fishikins. Good eveeennninggng :)


SDaniels Oct. 5, 2009 @ 11:05 p.m.

She's a workin' and a studyin'!!

I slept from 2pm to 10pm, like a vampire bat, and now I'm ready to play, Puppy. Whatcha think of our nifty new blog comments page, thanks to Fish? :)


CuddleFish Oct. 5, 2009 @ 11:37 p.m.

cooooooooooeeeeeeeeeee! Hello there, SD!! xxxxxxx

And hello to all the rest of us Reader regulars!!

I gotta go look at this page everybody's talking about!!


SurfPuppy619 Oct. 6, 2009 @ 11:12 a.m.

Whatcha think of our nifty new blog comments page, thanks to Fish? :)

By SDaniels

They used to have the blog comment page about a year ago, maybe longer-and I could NOT figure out why they closed it down.

Yes, I like to the page, alot.


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