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Every second, another four people watch JaVonne Hatfield dance.

Two hundred forty people every minute. Fourteen thousand people every hour. Hatfield could be the most watched performer in the history of San Francisco.

“I never thought about it that way,” the Heart Guy says. “I’m just dancing and spreading the love.”

Hatfield’s stage is the 18th Street pedestrian overpass above Highway 101 in San Francisco. For six years, he’s been standing on the narrow walkway, dancing and waving a giant red heart at motorists below.

Some honk. Some wave back. Most don’t do anything. Every once in a while, someone flips Hatfield the finger. Usually it’s someone creeping along, trying to get someplace in a hurry, trapped behind the wheel and perhaps just a bit envious of the happy, joyful, oblivious man dancing on the passageway overhead.

Most afternoons he’s there, in a pair of high-top basketball sneakers, white gloves, multicolored sweatpants and a Giants cap. He dances to gospel, rap and country tunes playing in his earphones. His performance is a mixture of Michael Jackson moonwalk and Fred Astaire soft-shoe, with a little Marcel Marceau mime thrown in.

“I’m trying to give something back to the world,” he said the other afternoon, pausing between numbers to take a swig of orange juice.

Back to Gallery Overpass dancer’s heart goes out to motorists on... 3 1 of 3 Photo: Santiago Mejia / The Chronicle 2 of 3 Photo: Santiago Mejia / The Chronicle 3 of 3 Photo: Santiago Mejia / The Chronicle





He doesn’t get long to make an impression on a viewer. Two or three seconds, tops, unless there’s a traffic jam. How much artistry can you impart in three seconds?

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “A short glimpse is good. If they look up and smile, that’s all you need.”

He’s not like most street performers, working for tips. The nature of his audience, and its average speed, preclude any throwing of money his way. In six years, Hatfield has yet to see a dime.

The giant red heart is a big part of the act. He made it himself, with two sheets of cardboard and red duct tape. He holds it, waves it, caresses it, hugs it to his chest.

“The heart means love,” Hatfield says. “That’s my message. That’s it.”

When he isn’t dancing, Hatfield, 26, is the receptionist at a downtown high-rise. He was born and raised in San Francisco, and took classes to become a hotel manager at San Francisco City College. But his real job is 20 feet in the air above Highway 101.

Hatfield tries not to think too much about his audience. The fast-moving, full-speed motorists must generally be happier than the slow-moving, stuck ones. So Hatfield does most of his dancing above the slower moving lanes. The stuck-in-traffic people must be more in need of a break. But it’s hard to tell. Hatfield doesn’t usually see the faces of his audience.

On a Friday afternoon, the slow lanes are usually the northbound lanes, full of homeward-bound workers and weekend escapists trying to beat each other to the Bay Bridge.

Taxi. Dump truck. Google bus. Sedan, sedan, sedan. Ride-hailing car. Sedan, sedan. Sport utility vehicle with a ski rack, SUV with a bike rack. Sedan, sedan, sedan.

A half-dozen times over the years, Hatfield says Highway Patrol officers have made their way to the overpass to suggest to Hatfield that his dancing is a distraction to motorists and perhaps he might consider moving the show to another venue.

“I have a right to express myself,” Hatfield says he always replies, politely, and the officers go away.

Hatfield says he has no plans to stop dancing anytime soon.

“It’s something I can give people,” he says.

A two-second dance show is not unlike a human life span in the scheme of things.

“I want people to thank God for this brief moment we have,” he says.

Steve Rubenstein is a San Francisco Chronicle staff writer. Watch a video at www.sfchronicle.com/theregulars. The Regulars is a photo and video column that offers a glimpse into the lives of ordinary people in the Bay Area, caught in routine activities of modern urban life.