Squeeze Play : Balboa Park Street Artists Claim Regulations Are Hurting Business

Ask the balloon sculptor, the country-Western gospel music singer, the painted man who temporarily tattoos young faces, and the artist with leather brushes whether Balboa Park is drawing the crowds it did in summers past, and they will say no.

They say that more-stringent regulations on park entertainment in recent years have driven away many street artists. And the crowds are leaving with the talent, they say.

Now the artists fear that new regulations the city is considering will hurt them even more. A meeting with city park officials is planned today to discuss a permit fee and more rules for street performing.

Park officials say guidelines are needed because they have received complaints from citizens offended by off-color, racist and insensitive remarks by performers.

The debate over guidelines for street artists has been going on for years, said Jack Krasovich, deputy director of the Park and Recreation Department.

About 15 years ago, the city began issuing permits to park entertainers on a first-come, first-served basis. Performance areas were drawn up, and rules laid down: donations only--no soliciting, no unsavory acts, no disrupting the tranquillity of the park’s 12 museums, half a dozen botanical gardens, the zoo, theaters, pavilions or cafes.

With the exception of minor turf squabbles, the system held up until about two years ago, Krasovich said.

At that time, a plethora of aspiring park performers forced officials to rethink their way of meting out space. Entertainers hoping to get permits began lining up at the park’s administrative offices earlier and earlier, only to be turned away when claims to the 20 available spaces had already been staked.

So first-come, first-served gave way to a lottery system by which the first 20 entertainers randomly pick numbers entitling them to choose which space they want, Krasovich said.

By that point, several artists had already hit the road, said Leo J. Porter, 47, who for the past 2 1/2 years has set up on the park’s El Prado strip and crooned gospel music with a twang.

Park foot traffic fell accordingly, Porter said.

“It’s been cut in half,” he said of the number of people on the Prado.

But park officials say that, even in the recession, the number of visitors has held steady at about 1 million each month.

After a $3-a-day performance permit fee was announced this spring by the parks department, Porter said, a group of entertainers protested and the fee was shelved.

Many artists haven’t stayed around to see what officials will decide.

Virgil the saxophone player, Mike the Tarot card reader, Leonard who reads palms, Silly Stars the clown, singer Rambling Rex; Porter ticks off the names of those who have moved on to better gigs or who are considering leaving if the permit fee goes into effect.

“I understand times are hard, and the city’s hurting for money,” Porter said. “But we all need to sit down and see if we can work something out. Maybe we can bring the performers back to the park.”

Whether street talent is universally appreciated is another matter.

In October, 1989, leading up to the Soviet Arts Festival titled “Super Powers Sunday,” street performers were at first banned from the park for the day, then, in an about-face by event organizers, were allowed to perform during the event if they eschewed tips. Entertainment paid for by Sea World and Seaport Village had already been arranged to guarantee the presence of street-type performers.

The feeling shared by the park’s regular street artists was that the city feared embarrassment in front of Soviet visitors and sought “higher-quality” performers.

The permit fee debate and the concerns about the quality of performers come as surprises to Chong Dae Chong, 56, who has descended from three generations of Korean leather brush artists. Having spent decades refining his technique, Chong plies his trade for tips, sometimes as low as a $1 for personalized paintings that sell for $15 at Korean tourist spots.

In five minutes, Chong takes any five letters and turns them into a grove of brilliant foliage, a gaggle of exotic birds or a school of fan-tailed tropical fish.

“When business falls down,” said Chong, who set up this week in the fountain plaza facing the Reuben H. Fleet Space Theater and Science Center, “it’s not the time to start charging those of us who provide a service. . . . That would drive even more people away.”