Amid lion dancers and firecrackers, the Goemon Izakaya Bar & Karaoke Lounge grand opening on Clement Street wasn’t just a party. It was a declaration of Asian American pride and ownership. But behind the excitement lay a slow, brutal struggle: an obstacle course of opaque permits, hidden costs, and silent rules San Francisco imposes on every new small business, especially immigrant entrepreneurs like Lily Huang.
Huang saw opportunity where others saw decline. The previous owner at the site had struggled for years, and the combined izakaya and karaoke bar was no longer viable. He needed an exit. Huang and her friend Kellie Chen, both experienced small business owners deeply rooted in the community, recognized the signs immediately. A mutual friend connected them. The bones were good. Most valuable were the Type 47 liquor license and entertainment permit, transferable assets notoriously difficult to obtain in San Francisco.
Yet even starting required enormous risk, one borne entirely by the entrepreneur. The city mandates signing a lease before allowing the transfer of a liquor license or entertainment permit. This meant committing to paying rent without knowing if permits would ever come through. The landlord faced no risk. The city took on none. Every uncertainty, every cost, landed squarely on the small business owners, especially immigrant entrepreneurs like Lily and Kellie.
They signed the lease, started paying rent, and waited. Six months passed without progress. Lily repeatedly visited City Hall, asking: How much longer? Could she check the status of the licenses? Were there liens or tax issues? The city refused her requests — she wasn’t yet the official owner, so records remained inaccessible. The entrepreneurs were forced to make the biggest financial decisions of their lives completely in the dark.
Every delay and every unknown came at a steep cost. To move the permits forward, Lily hired two specialists, one for liquor licensing and another for entertainment permits, each charging between $3,000 and $5,000 — standard fees in a system that only works if you pay experts to navigate it. Meanwhile, the rent continued to accumulate.
Then came the Department of Public Health. A city inspector informed them directly: If ownership hadn’t changed hands, the older plumbing system would have been acceptable under previous regulations. But because they were new owners, every faucet now had to meet current code by reaching 110 degrees. The city provided no guidelines, no approved list of water heaters, and no technical advice — just an expensive mandate. The entrepreneurs had no choice but to overhaul the entire plumbing system at a cost of $70,000.
Immigrants Lily Huang and Kellie Chen believe deeply in our city. San Francisco needs to start working for people like them.
They hired a contractor who installed the new plumbing system, but a critical component was defective. When they sought support, the supplier became unresponsive, and the manufacturer refused to help. Only by sheer luck, running into a vendor randomly in the Sunset District, were they able to secure the replacement part. Without that chance encounter, getting the new water heater operational would have caused even more delays — delays entirely unnecessary except for the city’s demand that plumbing meet current codes solely because the business had changed ownership. Every additional day of delay cost them more money.
Without clearance from the Department of Public Health (DPH), the fire department wouldn’t conduct its inspection. And without fire department approval, no other permits could move forward. This shows how fragile the entire permitting process was. One delayed inspection from the DPH could stall everything indefinitely, even though the rent kept accumulating.
Even basic signage presented unexpected hurdles. Any sign extending even one inch beyond the building triggered thousands of dollars in additional permits, especially if illuminated. The city provided no advance warning or guidelines. Lily learned this only by chance, from another Asian small business owner located a couple of doors down, who had already experienced it firsthand. This encounter prompted her to hand-paint her own sign instead.
Because Lily and Kellie already owned another business in the Sunset and were expanding by opening this new venture, they needed to hire additional employees. This expansion triggered a city requirement to provide 72 hours of unpaid sick leave for every employee, regardless of hours worked or tenure. The city had extensive resources available for these employees — clear pathways to file complaints, lawsuits, and access legal help. However, as entrepreneurs, Lily and Kellie received nothing comparable: no hotline if they were sued, no advisory board, and no support system.
Lily says it plainly: “The city takes on no risk. We take it all.”
During my interview with Lily, her daughter was present. She recalled her mom waking up as early as 4 a.m. to make her shifts at Trader Joe’s when they first immigrated from China. Lily and Kellie immigrated here chasing their American dream. They put their kids through public school, where both children grew up watching their mothers work tirelessly, save carefully, and eventually buy their first business in the Sunset. Now, as they expand into a second location, Lily and Kellie feel they’re being treated the same as large corporations or chain businesses. There’s no small business support from the city. Instead, they face obstacle after obstacle from the city itself, bearing all the risk and confronting unnecessary costs due to bureaucracy and regulation. It’s fundamentally unfair to immigrant entrepreneurs like Lily and Kellie.
As Lily put it, “We weren’t born at the table. We started from the floor.”
The story of our city and our country is built on stories like Lily’s — stories of immigrants coming here seeking a better life. Back in China, Lily dreamed of coming to San Francisco, the Old Gold Mountain, whose streets were paved with possibility. She sacrificed everything to save every dollar she could to open their first business. Today, despite every obstacle, Lily has successfully expanded to a second location and continues to send her children through San Francisco’s public schools. People like Lily and Kellie believe deeply in our city. San Francisco needs to start working for people like them — and to do so, we must follow their example. Because their story isn’t just the story of Asian Americans or immigrants; it’s the story of everyone who believes in the promise of San Francisco and works tirelessly to realize their dreams. They are the ones who will pave the way to our city’s tomorrow.