Toby Jackson

I suspect that like a lot of people from outside the bay area who moved here, my love affair with San Francisco began with a photograph. It was a black and white photo of a fog-shrouded Golden Gate Bridge with Alcatraz and The City in the background. It adorned the hallway of my parents Riverside Drive apartment and later in their Hudson Valley home where they raised me and my two siblings. Then, at 23, with an inexorable desire to set out and explore, I packed up my trusted 1981 VW Rabbit and drove west. The rest, as they say, is history.