James Irwin for The Bay Citizen

A couple and their dogs cross Haight Street at Clayton Street

After months of controversy, enough voters said yes to Measure L Tuesday to make it a crime to sit or lie down on sidewalks in San Francisco during daytime and evening hours.

At 10 a.m. Wednesday, a group of 10 homeless or transient young people strolling down Haight Street toward Market Street to check out the Giants’ victory parade had not yet heard the news.

“It passed?” said 26-year-old Troy, shaking his head and sounding dispirited. “I sleep on the sidewalk sometimes.”

His friends stopped and gathered around, most carrying big, dirty backpacks, a few with guitars, two with dogs in tow.

“It passed?” they murmured.

“I don’t think anyone’s going to listen to it,” said one young man, who declined to give his name. “You can’t fuck up Haight Street. It’s legendary. The hippies made it legendary.”

Jake, 24, who has dreadlocks and smiles a lot, said, “What are they going to do, run around arresting everyone? Let us be free. I can understand if you’re lying there covered in litter, but we pick up our trash — at least most of us pick up our trash.”

Measure L, also known as the sit/lie law, began largely in reaction to the Haight’s street-kid culture — homeless youth decked out like hippies or punks who panhandle spare change (“spange”), strum guitars and sleep in neighborhood parks. Some local merchants and residents, however, started complaining loudly this year that businesses were suffering and that the streets had become dangerous because of the violence, drug abuse and aggressive panhandling sometimes associated with the street-kid scene.

Homeless youth in the Haight have argued that they’re part of San Francisco’s cultural legacy, that most street kids don’t bother anybody and that Measure L will just punish a lot of innocent people for the actions of a few.

Jake and Troy said they don’t understand why people are so quick to pigeonhole street kids.

“People think that bums are always going to be bums,” Jake said. “We’re young, and we’re just having fun right now. If someone offered me a $125,000-a-year job, I’d jump at it, but right now, I love my life.”

Troy said he has plans for the future, too: “You know, I want to meet a girl someday, have a baby.”

Asked whether the new law is going to impact their lifestyle, the group answered in unison, fists in the air: “Hell no!”

“They’re going to make a whole culture of people extinct,” said Todd, a 26-year-old massage therapist who came to San Francisco from Arkansas via Chicago. “I’ve been on a spiritual walk and I’ve learned a lot about myself. I never wanted to travel; it’s just where my life took me.”

Does he think the transient lifestyle in San Francisco is in jeopardy?

“This place is amazing,” he said. “But yeah, I think so.”

Another young man who declined to give his name said the city already has adequate loitering laws and that sit/lie is just a way for moneyed interests to clean the kids off the streets.

“I say we all get arrested and clog the system,” he said. “What are they going to do, arrest 3,000 people in San Fran? I’ll go to jail with everybody. I’ll just take some mushrooms and eat them.”

Speaking of which, the group was eager to learn whether Proposition 19, the measure to legalize marijuana in California, had passed. Contrary to what one might expect, the news that Prop. 19 had failed was greeted with an eruption of cheers and more fists raised skyward. The young people said the measure would have put the pot trade into corporate hands, driving up the price of weed and killing off small, family businesses and grow operations.

As the group stopped in front of a liquor store at Haight and Webster streets to pick up beverages for the parade, a separate foursome wearing spanking-new Giants World Series regalia approached and awkwardly tried to navigate the crowded sidewalk. Jake noticed the confusion and said to his crew:

“Look out, you guys. They’re trying to get by.”

They all stepped aside, hollering, “Go Giants!”

The foursome cheered right back.

“The world needs a reason to celebrate,” said Chris, 21, homeless and smiling. “We celebrate every day.”