Unleashed
Raining cats and dogs and beats and slammers, and Greens and rockers on the Matt Gonzalez campaign trail Nov. 30.

IT'S ONLY 11 a.m. and Matt Gonzalez is already surrounded by mud. Not the kind that usually gets tossed around in election seasons, but the stuff you wipe from your shoe. On this busy, rainy, Sunday morning, he's standing atop Alamo Square Park without a raincoat, with dogs sniffing his ankles while their human companions jockey for position to hold the candidate's umbrella. In a short 8 hours, San Francisco's point poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti will lend gravity and dignity to the Gonzalez campaign trail. In a short 56, Gonzalez should be civilly debating the finer points of governance on live TV. But right now, that trail is littered with dog doo – quickly picked up by a posse of S.F.'s most passionate dog advocates. Dogs engaged in the friendly ritual of butt-whiffing foreshadow the evening's mating rituals at the Cake benefit for Gonzalez at Great American Music Hall, where there will be stage whispers among the crowd, the must-lean-in-to-tongue-kiss-your-ear-because-the-music's-too-loud moments. But the Matt of this particular moment is demonstrating his ability to be "mayoral," even at an event titled "Mutts for Matt," which includes one passionate "Cat for Matt" – a woman who's painted whiskers on her face to celebrate the possibility of a pet-friendly mayor. Gonzalez is talking about bureaucracy, the Natural Areas Program, and the leashing of the city's most loved citizens. And while he's not making any promises to concerned dog companions, he had them at hello, it seems. It's a long way from Harvey Milk's comic pooper-scooper ordinance photo op 25 years before in a park now under the watch of Sup. Bevan Dufty, in which the legendary, late supervisor set a poop trap for himself to step on. Though this candidate veers more toward drama than comedy, the humor is not lost on him. "It's great to see T-shirts on constituents," he says of two bushy brown dogs named Ted and Buddy, warming themselves with nonsweatshop-made 100 percent cotton Gonzalez for Mayor T's.

By 1 p.m. at Gonzalez's Mission District H.Q., the news is all about the mysterious e-mail that emerged from a "GavinNewsomfor" Web address urging Greens to protest Al Gore's visit here in support of Newsom, but the action is in H.Q.'s Elector8 Lounge, where the night before, DJs Loosebeats, Goldilox, Smoove, Lazy, and Laird spun for scenesters. Now the art is all about primary colors, red, blue, and yellow becoming brown as five-year-olds splatter the windows with their visions in a "Kids Day!" activity at the lounge. Why do artists love Gonzalez? The question isn't rhetorical at this point on Sunday, as origami crane chains begin to fill the room. By tomorrow, this art may look more like the work of baby ravers than that of babies.

Matt turns up at 3 p.m. at the mosh pit of the Glen Park Recreation Center, where Jonathan Richman on acoustic guitar and Ralph Carney on bongos have been entertaining kids for the better part of an hour. Inside the pit: a toy kitchen set, a caterpillar-climbing toy, stage-diving toddlers, and a nursing mom, front and center. Gonzalez arrives with a song request for Richman, a Boston native who's donating most of his day (he'll be at GAMH later) for the cause, then the whisper-voiced mayoral hopeful demonstrates acumen in areas besides sensie-indie rock: pedestrian safety, schools, minimum-wage law, the Public Utilities Commission. "If he wins or loses," Richman says, "it's great for the city." But both Richman and Gonzalez are being drowned out by the most unruly of Bay Area crowds, the voting bloc that can't yet vote, as they scream past the candidate and his cohort and ram toy trucks into one another. Some sad soul is going to be picking up juice boxes for hours.

It's 4 p.m., and Santa Claus is at the Eagle Tavern beer bust, which is doubling as a Leathermen for Matt event on this drizzly afternoon. Holiday cheer aside, there are reasons to be disappointed in the political coverage of the local gay press: the Bay Area Reporter's conservatism has reached new lows during the election, and, the Bay Times refused to run an interview with Gonzalez submitted by one of its regular contributors. Newsom supporters have even accused Gonzalez of homophobia simply because of Tom Ammiano's defeat, as if they had any interest in voting for Ammiano. But it's hard to imagine Newsom knowing much about Kaliflower, the still-extant commune that bloomed the Cockettes. Gonzalez could teach most S.F. queers a much-needed lesson on the topic.

It's also hard to imagine Newsom visiting the Eagle – he's more likely to court Castro landlords. Etta James and Iggy Pop blaze from the speakers as men wearing Matt buttons and the occasional chap in chaps mingle under the heat lamps. Gonzalez is introduced by Gary Virginia, Mr. S.F. Leather 1996. He gives a brief, humble speech praising Harvey Milk. Afterward, the space around the mic clears, and a gray-haired gentleman in a leather vest and tight shorts, his right hand clutching a beer-filled snifter, begins spinning as if he's been possessed by the spirit of a ballerina.

Another world is less than a block away from the Eagle, at StudioZ.tv, where, by 6 p.m., a couple hundred folks have gathered to hear poems – although there are still some sex-charged remnants (signs for lap dances) from a Lusty Lady event the night before. In many ways this event exemplifies the Gonzalez campaign's art activism; his ties to local poetry run deep (he's published a book, Sixty-seven Poems for Downtrodden Saints, that collects writing by Jack Micheline) and wide (the voices gathered here range from Carl Rakosi, whose objectivist roots date from the early '30s, to Bay Area Youth Poetry Slam champ Josh Begley). Gonzalez's brother Chuck starts the evening with songs that set words by Micheline and Micah Ballard – both of whom read later – to guitar. Then Rakosi launches into an anecdotal piece about Laura Bush's love of her husband's poetry; ever the romantic, the president describes his wife as a "lump in the bed" while abusing a "Violets are blue / I miss you" rhyme scheme. "This is what we're up against," Rakosi deadpans, instantly raising the level of discourse with the first words of his "Satyricon": "Guess what? Pygmies from the business world have taken over Congress."

Host George Evans says Gonzalez has an annual habit of calling people up to remind them of Federico García Lorca's birthday, while Ballard's writing and between-poem comments attest to Gonzalez's loyalty as a friend. Begley and Alejandro Murguia turn up the volume, Daisy Zamora ends a series of poems translated by her husband with a piece that should be posted on the front door of Citizen Cake, and Ferlinghetti adds a Viva! to the occasion. When Hirschman reads a sestina inspired by Gonzalez, the subject of his tribute returns the favor with an acrostic that's as fine as anything read in his honor.

By 9 p.m., Great American Music Hall is sold out. This time Richman is serenading a crowd of adults. He sings the praises of the Italian language and revives the Modern Lovers' "Pablo Picasso." The American Music Club have a hard act to follow. Mark Eitzel dedicates AMC's cover of "No Easy Way Down" to Newsom and retools its lyrics: "We all like to climb to the Pacific Heights of love." The characters who populate Eitzel's lyrics, with no one to catch their fall, are the type of people Newsom wants to drive from this town.

The success of the Rockers for Matt event is sweet, considering Newsom's campaign has run television ads that use the fact that Gonzalez used to play bass in a band as a reason to not vote for him. "Out of tune with San Francisco," the ads claim, though ironically, their corporate-cool aesthetic is tailored for music channels. After Chuck Gonzalez's band, Lessick, plays a trio of songs, his brother takes the stage. Gravel-voiced, he says he'll have to keep his speech short because he has a debate with Newsom coming up, and "there are some things I'd like to say to him." The fact that the drinkers at Great American's bar actually shut up and listen – more than they do for any of the musical performers – is a feat in itself. Gonzalez discusses the role of third parties within American history and the Green Party's current international activities. When he gets around to mentioning the Newsom campaign's alleged Gore-related e-mail treachery, he throws decorum by the wayside with a few choice words. The crowd loves it, but the funniest moment happens when someone yells a comment at the stage. "Alioto what?," Gonzalez answers. "My vice-mayor will be Jonathan Richman."

Susan Gerhard and Johnny Ray Huston

For more Matt for Mayor events, go to www.mattgonzalez.com.