The Presidio Burger King Was My Childhood Happy Place

Frisco Foodies is a recurring column in which a San Francisco local shares food memories of growing up in a now rapidly changing city.

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s a proud millennial, there are certain foods that are intimately connected to my memories of childhood: pizza-flavored tortilla chips, sparkling fruit juices bottled like wine coolers, and Crystal Pepsi. So when I dip a salty French fry into buttermilk ranch, I’m immediately brought back to Sunday swim lessons with my sisters at the Presidio. Afterwards, our dad would take us to what must have been the most beautiful Burger King in the world, on Doyle Drive, for what became our weekly fries-and-ranch tradition. To me, the combination was a revelation: the saltiness of the fries offset by that buttermilk tang — all while I looked through the arched windows facing the foggy Golden Gate Bridge. (In those days, the fog was ever-present, ruining summer birthday picnics and July fireworks plans.)

Other times, we would spend the whole day out on the Presidio, which was still an active military base at the time. We’d drive from our home on Treasure Island across the Bay Bridge, through Broadway where I would peek through my hands at the fluorescent strip club signs, past the Palace of Fine Arts where we occasionally fed the ducks, past the Exploratorium, and through the security gates onto the base. After stopping to eat at that same Burger King, we would backtrack to pick my mom up from her job at the Letterman Army Hospital. Then we’d all go off to explore the bluffs overlooking the ocean together.

All of these memories gave me a special affinity for this northwestern portion of San Francisco. I was alarmed, then, when in February the incoming Trump administration announced plans to slash “unnecessary” government spending by all but eliminating the Presidio Trust, the federal agency that has managed most of the park since 1996. When the military handed the park over to the National Park Service, the Trust set up a unique revenue model that allowed the Presidio to achieve financial independence by renting out its historic buildings — a model of federal and community partnership meant to protect the park against threats like this. In fact, the Presidio hasn’t received any funding from Congress since 2013. Still, Presidio supporters can’t help but worry what Trump’s executive order might mean for the future of the park.

What I didn’t realize when I was a kid was that it’s only in the last 30 years, since the handover, that the Presidio has been widely accessible to the general public. Back when I used to visit with my family, I was part of a special minority of City kids who got to experience the entire park for free, thanks to my dad’s service in the U.S. Navy. And according to Presidio’s own internal visitor data, as recently as 2008 the park was mostly frequented by high-income residents from the five closest zip codes in San Francisco, and only 5% were “first-time” visitors. Back then, the park’s visitor numbers fell far short of reflecting the Bay Area’s racial diversity, with a disproportionately low percentage of Black and brown visitors. The truth is, for a long time, only a privileged few were lucky enough to spend time in the Presidio — or even knew it existed at all.

These days, however, the park’s diversity numbers track much closer to the overall demographics of the Bay. And new initiatives like the Presidio Tunnel Tops park, with its big play structures and grassy picnic grounds, make today’s Presidio feel even more family-friendly during a time when San Francisco as a whole has gotten more childless. In that way, Trump’s threats are coming at a time when the park is as open and welcoming as it has ever been.

Recently I decided to bring my kids to the Presidio, hoping to help them make their own memories there. We made the same drive across the bridge and through the park’s main gates on a beautiful Sunday morning. We headed to the Yoda statue first. My partner, Bam, a Star Wars fanatic, had been hoping to pass on the love of the franchise to my six-year-old daughter. It was a fun surprise to see R2-D2 and C-3PO peeking through the office windows at LucasFilm’s Letterman Digital Arts Center, which occupies the site of the old military hospital where my mom used to work. Afterwards, we checked out Andy Goldsworthy’s public art display, Wood Line, a 1,200-foot winding tree path of reclaimed eucalyptus branches. The installation snaked uphill through the trees, and my daughter hopped atop the curving backside like she was riding a mythical beast. We spotted a great blue heron in a field near a busy street, like something right out of a Studio Ghibli movie.

Finally, we arrived at the Presidio Tunnel Tops. Completed in the summer of 2022 by the same firm that designed the High Line in New York, the new park reconnects two parts of the Presidio that had been separated by Doyle Drive. In order to build it, my beloved Burger King had to be demolished. The exact spot where the restaurant stood is now occupied by the park’s Cliff Walk, where you can still experience that breathtaking Golden Gate Bridge view for free.

In a busy all-gender bathroom near the entrance to the Tunnel Tops, everyone seemed completely unbothered despite the ongoing national debate over bathroom bans. I was getting major green flags from the place, with its ADA-friendly community shuttles and placards boasting about how it was a “cultural crossroads.” As we meandered downhill, we saw signs sharing the history of the Ohlone and Miwok peoples who lived on this land before the 200-year U.S. military occupation. I was surprised to find out that 400 Buffalo Soldiers were buried here, many of whom were stationed at the Presidio before being shipped overseas to fight in the little-known Philippine-American War.

When we finished our walk at the play structures, the sun broke through and warmed us right up. My stomach was still grumbling in memory of those fries dipped in ranch, but knowing that the old Burger King was demolished for a greater good helped soften the blow.

Fortunately, the new Presidio has plenty of good things to eat as well. On the main lawn, we spotted four or five food trucks we recognized. I grabbed a couple tofu bao from Chairman Bao while my son grabbed a chicken tikka masala bowl from Curry Up Now. It was nice to have a range of healthier options even if we were eating on the go. (By summertime, the Trust plans to open a mess hall–style food court and up its food truck rotation to seven days a week.) Across the lawn was Dalida, a swanky, James Beard–acclaimed Mediterranean restaurant that opened here a couple years ago. Though I was eager to try it, I also wanted to keep San Francisco — especially this side of the city — at least somewhat affordable. As kids, we would drive through Pacific Heights playing “Which Mansion Is Mine,” but the area was never home to many families of color. Even now, I won’t be staying overnight at the Presidio Lodge anytime soon. I was happy to keep the day visit, before the fog rolled in through the eucalyptus grove and chilled the historic buildings into a haunted pallor.

Afterwards, as I drove back through the city the way I came, I thought about all the families like mine enjoying their Sunday in the Presidio, and how glad I was that it was no longer limited to an exceptional few who got to enjoy the park the way it was meant to be enjoyed — even if I still am one of the only City kids among my friends who knows how to swim.

Even now, in the face of Trump’s executive order, I feel great relief knowing that community stewards have always worked to keep the park self-sustaining so all of us can continue to enjoy that view I hold near and dear to my heart. No matter how much the Presidio has changed since I was a kid, I consider it at least one thing San Francisco got right for its residents.

Rocky Rivera is a journalist, emcee, author and activist from San Francisco. She has released four albums through her label, Beatrock Music, and a ten-volume mixtape series with DJ Roza — her most recent album, Long Kiss Goodnight, dropped in Sept. 2024. She released her first book, entitled Snakeskin: Essays by Rocky Rivera, in 2021.