CANDIDATES CAN BE JUICIER THAN TOMATOES

When local tomatoes fill the produce bins and campaign signs appear in
windows, can fall be far behind?

In other words, it was time to hit the tomato tasting at the very organic
Berkeley Farmers' Market, where a toothpick-wielding crowd speared freshly
sliced samples of varieties like Cherokee Purple, Green Zebra, Brandywine,
Great White, Marble Stripe and Early Girl.

"Everybody loves Early Girl," said Kirk Lumpkin of the Ecology Center,
which organizes seasonal tastings -- strawberries in May, peaches in July,
tomatoes in August and fall fruit in October -- at the market. "I mean,
they're a great tomato."

So, on the subject of produce, what's the big deal with Frog Hollow
peaches? I mean, they just taste like the peaches we had when I was growing up.

"Ah," said Lumpkin, sagely.

Oh, OK -- I get it. Well, the tomatoes were delectable and, importantly, an
antidote to that travesty of a fruit, the machine- picked tomato: "Talk
about an aberration in social, quote, progress," said Lumpkin.

AFTER THIS SUN-WARMED IDYLL, it was down to the Tenderloin police station
for the District 6 candidates' forum. ABCD (Anybody But Chris Daly)-ers in
San Francisco's poorest neighborhood will have plenty of alternatives to
the current supervisor in November; arguably the most alternative of these
is James Leo Dunn, who lost to Daly last time around and attributed his
candidacy to the power of kombu: "I got re- mineralized, man!"

With his long white beard, olive-green tweed three-piece suit, and green
fedora accented by a jaunty red feather, Dunn, who had brought along a
couple of model pyramids to illustrate his more esoteric concepts, is a
public figure in the tradition of Emperor Norton. Still, at this early
juncture, serious challengers to Daly -- who told the crowd he didn't need
the support of downtown or the newspapers -- are thought to be Michael
Sweet, Garrett Jenkins and Roger Gordon.

The rest of the field present included Malinka Moye, who invited
constituents to visit him at World's Gym; be-khakied Libertarian candidate
Robert Power, who maintained throughout that the answer is always less
government; and Burke Strunsky, an assistant district attorney who appears
to use the same hair gel as Gavin Newsom.

Newsom's Care Not Cash initiative defined much of the debate. Each
candidate was asked his position on it, and it formed the framework for all
discussion of the city and district's homeless problem. Had there been any
remote danger of its being otherwise forgotten, Sweet managed to work "and
that's why I support Gavin Newsom's Care Not Cash initiative" into his
answers any number of times.

How about medical marijuana and Proposition 215? Earnest support of the
district's cannabis clubs -- but the droll Dunn got the last word: "I'll
tell you, if you smoke weed, it could lead into coffee."

Youth issues? Limit liquor licenses, build a middle school, said Gordon.

Then again, maybe kids just need more . . . minerals. "I'm 61. I don't know
if I can kick Daly's ass, but I can scare the heck out of him," said Dunn,
waving a packet of kombu.

"These yuppies know where the power is! It's in the minerals!"

Shortly thereafter, he packed his models into a couple of Whole Foods
grocery bags and left.

I was walking back up O'Farrell when car headlights illuminated a small,
stubble-headed man sitting cross-legged on the pavement in the curb lane,
like a Buddhist monk about to immolate himself in the streets of Saigon.

Was he OK? He shrugged.

Did he think it might be better to sit on the sidewalk, where he wouldn't
be hit by a car? He looked away.

Two motorcycle cops swept up on their full-dress Harleys. They tried to
talk to the man: No, he didn't want to sit on the sidewalk. One cop took
him by the elbow and tried to steer him up onto the curb. As soon as he let
go, the man stepped determinedly back down into the bus zone. This sequence
of events was repeated several times. Another cop appeared; the man was
handcuffed.

Someone would take him to the VA hospital. Routine triage, District 6- style.

Laurel Wellman's column runs Tuesdays and Thursdays.