Now You Have The Rest of the Story

You may have been to Golden Gate Park or Coit Tower, even brought visiting relatives and shared with them your "insiders" information.  But most likely you are unaware of the whole story behind some of San Francisco's most famous and iconic locations.

Next to the Cliff House on the windswept western shores of the city, rests the Sutro Baths, San Francisco's own ancient ruins.  Upon first viewing, it doesn't look like much: a large round pit and square pit, partially inundated by the tides.  Adjacent to those are the concrete remnants of a grand structure that once dominated, but is now just a faded memory.

Self-made millionaire and former mayor, Adolph Sutro owned the land on the western edge of the city.  In the days before indoor plumbing, the bath house was a common place to get clean, relax in cool ocean waters on a hot day, and have a day of recreation.  Sutro Baths opened in 1894 and was a grand, 100-foot structure of wrought iron and glass.  In addition to multiple pools heated at different temperatures, Sutro Baths offered other enticements to travel to the edge of the city for.  There were slides and trapezes, educational and cultural exhibits from around the world, and many venues for dining and live music. It even had a funicular which traversed the complex from end to end.

 Sutro Baths, or what’s left of them

Changing health codes and waning interest from San Franciscans who began flocking to the post-war suburbs, meant that fewer people were passing through its doors.  Despite multiple attempts to renew interest, the Sutro Baths closed in 1966.  That same year a fire destroyed its skeletal remains, which is ironic because it was made of steel and glass.   

Regardless, what remained is what you see today, and became part of the National Park Service's Golden Gate National Recreation Area since 1973. Even today it is a popular stop for sightseeing tour busses.  So popular in fact, that the GGNRA opened a visitor center in the parking lot one level up, and a snack shop with the best view of the Pacific Ocean.

Coit Tower, the cylindrical-shaped edifice jutting from the top of Telegraph Hill, can be viewed from all over the city but ever wonder why it was built there instead of a hotel or an apartment building?   I mean it's on top of a famous hill in San Francisco.  And, why does the top of it look like the nozzle of a fire hose?  That's because it's supposed to.  

When the 1906 Earthquake struck, it was followed by a fire that ravaged a third of the city, but not the top of Telegraph Hill.  Why?  The fire fighters of Company Number Seven managed to save some of the homes on the hill from burning.  One of those whose home was saved was Lily Coit.  She was a wealthy eccentric woman who was so grateful for having her house saved she worked towards, and helped finance Coit Tower, to honor the city's firefighters who bravely fought  one of the worse urban disasters in US history.

 Coit Tower crowning Telegraph Hill

If I stopped there, you would say OK, that's the end of the story.  She honored the firefighters with a monument.  How nice.  

But wait there’s more.  

She was so grateful and enamored that she developed what would today be considered an obsession. So grateful was she for Engine Company Number Seven, she had her own uniform made with the number seven etched into its brass buttons.  Once more, and something you won’t see today, they actually allowed her (welcomed her, really) to accompany them on their truck to real fires.  

The San Francisco city hall is probably the most recognized city hall after the Los Angeles city hall.  James Bond, Dirty Harry, and Indiana Jones have all crossed its cinematic threshold.  It is where the late supervisor Harvey Milk and Mayor George Moscone were infamously murdered.  It is where the late Diane Feinstein, not the US Capitol, laid in state after her passing in 2023.  Yet its predecessor took decades to build, but collapsed in seconds in the 1906 Earthquake.

In the late 19th century, New York City had Boss Tweed and Tammany Hall, but San Francisco had Boss Abraham Ruef.  He was never elected and a lawyer by trade, but he held court for many decades in his favorite restaurant as politicians lined up to curry favor.  One of the major projects he was involved with was developing the new city hall.  With cost overruns exceeding six million dollars (a princely sum for the late 19th century) and a construction schedule that ran a just a little over what was originally planned.  It was finally completed after 27 years of construction.

Yes, I said 27 years.

This mighty new symbol of the city's relevance as a major cosmopolitan destination, collapsed in seconds, faster that other large buildings.  How could the people's house, which took 27 years to build, disintegrate so fast?   

 The New City Hall

The corruption behind the building of the old city hall was one of the worse kept secrets.   I'm dumbing this down because the investigation which followed took years and involved scores of people.  Basically the state had been investigating "Boss Ruef" for years, but because he was always one step ahead of them, they never could get the goods on him. 

As the story goes, it was later discovered that the walls of our old city hall were hollow and filled with random building debris.  That was the smoking gun the state needed, and the trial that followed resulted in dozens indicted.  Ironically only Abe Ruef saw any jail time.  Equally ironic was the crusading newspaper editor who had been Boss Ruef's loudest critic, but pivoted his position when he learned that Ruef was the only one who received a jail sentence when many others had been implicated.  When the current city hall was built, they made sure those walls were solid and not hollow filled with debris.

As the late radio personality Paul Harvey used to say, "Now you have, the rest of the story."