Silver Crest Closes After 50 Years as San Francisco Institution.
The portal to another dimension has finally closed: Silver Crest, a unique donut shop on Bayshore Boulevard, has ceased operations after more than 50 years. Known for its quirky offerings of eggs, cigarettes, and questionable donuts, the shop became a San Francisco landmark.
Silver Crest transformed from a simple donut shop into a multifunctional space. Over the years, it served as a restaurant, bar, and a popular hangout for locals. It was also a backdrop for photoshoots and at least one music video, making it a late-night curiosity for teenagers.
As reported by the San Francisco Chronicle, Silver Crest was boarded up on Monday, likely for good. Many feel a mix of shock and disbelief at the closure of such a beloved establishment.
I visited Silver Crest whenever I was in the area. While I never entered the bar at the back, I frequently stopped by for a donut to go. Like the nearby Old Clam House, it felt important to support this local gem while it was still open.
Co-owned by George and Nina Giavris, Silver Crest opened its doors in 1970. The shop had a distinct atmosphere, characterized by a fading menu above a Formica lunch counter, often empty seats, and a strict “CASH ONLY” policy. The countertop jukeboxes rarely worked, but five vintage pinball machines provided some entertainment.
To the left of the counter was an older woman who often managed the cash register, surrounded by cigarettes, a sad houseplant, and a display case of donuts.
Were those donuts? The five-inch puffs of dry bread, covered in a strange tart glaze, raised questions about their authenticity.
Just last week, I suggested to my wife that we stop at Silver Crest on our way back from the airport. “I don’t like donuts,” she replied. “You know that.”
“Oh, but these aren’t really donuts,” I insisted. “I’m not even sure Silver Crest is a real place.”
Unfortunately, I couldn’t convince her, unlike friends I had lured into visiting during late-night outings. The Giavris family had famously stated in interviews that they lost the front door key years ago. The neon sign outside once declared, “WE NEVER CLOSE,” though it seems that time has finally caught up with them.
Silver Crest may not have matched the popularity of Tommy’s Joynt or the longevity of Red’s Java House, but it occupied a unique place in the San Francisco landscape. Its absence will leave a surreal gap in the city’s character.
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