For decades, a coveted Type 47 liquor license — the kind that lets a restaurant serve the full bar — traded on the secondary market for anywhere from $100,000 to $300,000 in San Francisco. It was essentially a golden ticket in a city that capped the number of available licenses. Demand was so high that restaurateurs would budget six figures just for the privilege of pouring a martini.

Not anymore. Prices have cratered, and some licenses are reportedly going for a fraction of their former value. That's not because San Franciscans suddenly stopped drinking. It's because fewer people want to open restaurants and bars in the city — and existing ones are closing at a pace that's flooding the market with licenses nobody wants.

Let's be blunt about what's driving this. Years of policies hostile to small business owners — from byzantine permitting processes to aggressive regulatory enforcement to a Board of Supervisors that treats entrepreneurs like ATMs — have made San Francisco one of the hardest cities in America to operate a restaurant. Combine that with persistent quality-of-life concerns that keep customers away and you get a city where the economics of hospitality simply don't pencil out for a lot of operators.

A liquor license is essentially a futures contract on a city's nightlife economy. When the value tanks, it means the market is telling you something: people aren't betting on San Francisco's restaurant scene anymore.

This should be a five-alarm fire at City Hall. Instead of dreaming up new fees and regulations, maybe — just maybe — it's time to ask why the people who create jobs, pay taxes, and make neighborhoods worth living in are running for the exits.

The price of a liquor license isn't just a number. It's a report card. And right now, San Francisco is failing.