The mystery of the majestic Pacific Edgewater Club that was never built

“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderly again….

There was Manderly, our Manderly, secretive and silent as it had always been, the grey stone shining in the moonlight of my dream…” From Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier

Pacific Edgewater Club by Hugh Ferriss from American Architect June 1927
Pacific Edgewater Club by Hugh Ferriss from American Architect, June, 1927

There are always unresolved mysteries to explore while researching history. In the world of architectural history, mysteries can include projects that were never built. In the life of San Francisco architect Timothy Pflueger, one of his more intriguing yet unexecuted projects was a monumental private club and resort called the Pacific Edgewater Club, planned during the roaring 1920s for the bluffs overlooking Point Lobos, part of the vast oceanfront property once owned by Adolph Sutro, and today part of Land’s End.

This unrealized project of Pflueger’s has always fascinated me and I had no room to include it in Art Deco San Francisco. Once you have seen the dark and brooding version as rendered by the famous architectural delineator, Hugh Ferriss (above), it’s easy to imagine how magnificent it would have been, perched high among the rocky, seemingly foreboding terrain above Point Lobos. 

The story of the magical club that exists only on paper is typical of the 1920s: it involved oceanfront real estate, a private club seeking out the well-to-do and nouveau riche, beauty queens, suspect business machinations, a grand jury investigation, and an ultimate lack of funds for the oversized ambitions of everyone involved.

The “highest knoll” in the Sutro Estate

The story begins in 1926, when a group of men, some based in Los Angeles, formed an exclusive club and purchased a section of the ocean-front property at Point Lobos from Adolf Sutro’s estate. In May, 1926, the San Francisco Examiner reported that a new membership organization, called the Club Farallon was to be built upon a scenic spot overlooking the Cliff House, occupying “the highest knoll in the Sutro estate.” The estimated $1 million club was to be financed through the sale of lifetime memberships. It would have a rooftop dining room for nightly musical reviews, and an observation lounge 300 feet long with unobstructed views of the Pacific Ocean, where one could see the Farallon Islands from the rows of proposed windows.

One month later, the San Francisco Chronicle reported that Miller & Pflueger architects had been selected for the new club and building was set to begin October 1, 1926. At the time, architects James R. Miller and his younger partner Tim Pflueger, were riding high on the success of the new corporate headquarters for the Pacific Telephone & Telegraph Co., which had been completed in 1925. The city’s first true high-rise skyscraper with setbacks also had unusual embellishments in the Moderne style that many decades later would be referred to as Art Deco. An ode to that skyscraper at 140 New Montgomery Street, known locally as the Telephone Building, even appeared on the same page of the Examiner, next to the story announcing the Club Farallon’s formation in May, 1926.

In addition to being popular in the moment, both Miller and Pflueger were club men, as were many architects and business men of the era. They both belonged to The Family, a private club formed by former Bohemian Club members, and the Olympic Club, where Pflueger would take his daily swim. These San Francisco private clubs were at the time (and some still are) for men only, while the city’s prominent women had their own social clubs such as the Metropolitan Club and the Francisca Club. A novel aspect of both the Club Farallon and its successor, the Pacific Edgewater Club, was that they were conceived as private social clubs for men, women and their families. 

A drawing in the San Francisco Chronicle in mid July was the first rendering published: a massive building faced in stucco, with two wings, organized around a colonnaded courtyard, designed in the Spanish Colonial revival style. A long walkway framed by low manicured box hedges led to a detailed entrance, with ornamental stucco in relief, possibly in a detailed Churrigueresque style. This rendering was signed by Francis Todhunter, a commercial artist who was then working for the H.K. McCann advertising company, one of the precursors to the McCann Erickson advertising agency. It is likely that this quick sketch  did not yet involve the newly hired architects. 

Pacific Edgewater Club Farallon first rendering in the SFChron July 15 1926
An early rendering of the proposed Club Farallon, San Francisco Chronicle, July 15, 1926

There is no indication of the sea or its stunning views in this first drawing, which served as an ad to draw in more members. Membership cost $400 before July 21, when the price jumped to $500. Membership was by invitation only, according to the ad. The public was invited to view the area to be built from an observation tower at the corner of Point Lobos Avenue and what was then called Harding Boulevard (now El Camino del Mar). Today, that area, just north of the old Sutro Baths, is all walking trails, a seemingly naturalistic setting, but one that has been interfered with by man over centuries, as described in this excellent cultural landscape report on Lands End by local historian John Martini. 

“Guns and search lights”

Another possible connection to Miller & Pflueger was the law firm working with the club,  Heller, Ehrman, White and McAuliffe, a firm they worked with frequently. Pflueger first met with the leader of the club, Justice B. Detwiler on June 1, 1926, where he recorded in his date book that he looked over the sketches they had done. He suggested closing off some streets to nearby Fort Miley. In July, Pflueger recorded that he went to Fort Winfield Scott in the Presidio with J.R. and Detwiler, where they met with a Colonel Halsey to talk about “guns and search lights.” There is no further explanation, but Pflueger probably wanted to find out what was left of the prior fortifications of the site. Two and a half decades after the the site was first surveyed after the U.S. Civil War, the Army secured a large section of Lands End for development as a coastal defense site, according to Martini’s report, calling it the Point Lobos Military Reservation. 

Pflueger probably wanted to find out from Colonel Halsey if the batteries constructed during the Spanish American war contained any active artillery that could pose a danger in construction, since his post was also in charge of Fort Miley. The mention of search lights could have been a consideration in the design of the club, especially since the area of Point Lobos was known for ship wrecks and tragically, a location of frequent suicides in the 1920s. Martini discovered that there were so many suicides in the area that the city morgue maintained a journal called “The Death Lure of Land’s End.” 

In mid July, the executive committee and the membership committee of Club Farallon hosted a dinner at the St. Francis to celebrate the first 1,000 life memberships in the club.

The state Commissioner of Corporations investigates

Suddenly, nearly three months later, the Farallon project was in tatters. In early October, the Chronicle reported that California’s Commissioner of Corporations had conducted two investigations of the club, and that on the order of the commission, its checking accounts had been put in escrow. The title to the property it had reportedly acquired from the Sutro estate was also said to be “clouded.” Chickie

At the same time, another group calling themselves the Pacific Edgewater Club emerged with a deal to purchase a separate plot of land facing the Great Highway, near Vincente and 47th Avenue for $220,000, and sought out the Farallon members to join. The lot was adjacent to the popular Tait’s-on-the-Beach, a roadhouse restaurant with good food, music and dancing. It was so popular in the 1920s that it makes an appearance as one of the hot night spots for the Jazz Age smart set in the 1925 novel “Chickie,” which was set in San Francisco, by Examiner writer Elenore Meherin.

The Pacific Edgewater group proposed merging their fledgling club with members of Club Farallon into their enterprise, by transferring the Farallon memberships to the new club. The property along the Great Highway was sold to the Pacific Coast Holding Co., headed up by two Los Angelenos, Frank A. Simmons and Fred F. Jamison.  

Pacific Edgewater Club logo on thick paper brochure cropped
Pacific Edgewater Logo, from printed brochure, 1927

A brief flurry of stories appeared about the rift between the two groups, and a row that took place at the Down Town Association. Eventually, 80% of the Club Farallon members agreed to join the Pacific Edgewater Club, believing their membership fees would then fund the next oversized plans for this club’s quarters, now along the Great Highway. In early December, the new club announced they had hired Miller & Pflueger as the architects for a U-shaped building fronting the ocean esplanade of the Great Highway. The eight story building would have 250 rooms, a roof garden, ballroom, gymnasium, two swimming pools, card rooms, a library, locker rooms and showers for men and women and a children’s playground. A putting green, tennis courts and handball courts were also envisioned. 

But in Pflueger’s datebooks, he appeared to be increasingly skeptical of the whole project. He had many projects going on in 1926, including other entertainment palaces in the forms of movie theaters — the Tulare in the Central Valley and the Royal on Polk Street in the city. In late November, after a meeting with J.R. Miller and the Edgewater’s Jamison, the firm agreed to take the project on, on a regular business basis. “That is if [the] thing flops, we are to be paid for work done,” Pflueger wrote. By mid-December, a few former members of the Farallon Club had filed law suits to get their money back, according to filings cited in the Recorder, a San Francisco legal newspaper.

On Christmas Day, 1926, the Chronicle published the first rendering of the club by Miller & Pflueger, and an estimated cost of $2 million. It is possible that the architect did not want to spend too much time on the risky project at that point. Two dramatic centerpiece staircases in his drawing lead down to the highway itself. Patrons would have to cross the highway to get to the beach, if they were inclined to leave the luxurious surroundings.

Pacific Edgewater Club first drawing by Pflueger December 25 1926
Pacific Edgewater Club, by Miller & Pflueger, San Francisco Chronicle, December 25 1926

The Chronicle quoted Pflueger saying building would begin “as soon as possible” after the completion of interior plans. The style was described as both Spanish, with “exotic ornament of Oriental design, symbolizing San Francisco as the entrance to the Orient,” a theme he embraced for the lobby of the Telephone Building and the ceiling of the Castro Theatre.

Pacific Edgewater Pool SFC Jan 22 1927
Pacific Edgewater interior pool rendering, San Francisco Chronicle, January 22, 1927

Pflueger or one of his draftsmen in the office also did a set of interior sketches and drawings, which were photographed and are now in the archives of the California Historical Society. The dramatic pool that was shown in the Chronicle was surrounded by expansive floor to ceiling arched windows, with an unusual ceiling motif above the pool. 

Surprise news of a new venue

At another big luncheon at the St. Francis Hotel at the end of February, 1927, Simmons, the president of the Pacific Edgewater Club, announced that the group had purchased six acres from Dr. Emma Merritt, the daughter of Adolf Sutro. Both the Chronicle and the Examiner ignored the fact that this was the same land that had been purchased just a year previously for the Farallon Club, a deal described as having a “cloudy title.” Dudley Westler, the Chronicle Real Estate editor, gushed about the latest plans for a “magnificent club building,” and swallowed the following anecdote, hook, line and sinker. 

“The decision to change the site for the proposed club was reach by Simmons almost by accident,” Westler wrote. “He had formerly purchased a site near Tait’s-at-the-Beach, but when it became apparent that a larger site was necessary to really do the club justice, he happened to get off the main boulevard long enough to grasp the magnificence of the view at Point Lobos.” The six acres, he noted, was virtually “all the rugged ocean view water front property available in San Francisco,” outside of the homes long sold out at Sea Cliff.

Pacific Edgewater Club Pflueger and Carroll Downtown Assn Feb 1927 SFC
Pflueger and Carroll of the Down Town Assn with Pacific Edgewater rendering, February 23, 1927

Buried further in his story, Westler wrote that an $850,000 bond issue “has already been offered by a substantial financial house.” It does not appear, though, that the bond issue, which would have put the group even further in debt, was ever ultimately offered. The story was accompanied by a photo from the luncheon with Pflueger and Frank Carroll of the Down Town Association, standing in front of a massive rendering of the club and the site. Pflueger looks a tad out of character, with a slight morose look as he tries to smile.

One month later, Pflueger appeared to be taking the project more seriously. Hugh Ferriss was in the office in March, and Pflueger hired the New York-based architectural delineator for a rendering. The result was the dark, moody image of the proposed club, evocative of Point Lobos on a stormy night, in his signature style. Ferriss had drawn the Telephone Building for Pflueger after its completion, a stunning work that is today in the collection of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. The design was very similar to the club on the Great Highway, minus the oddly positioned staircase, with an enormous foundation that gives the proposed building with rows and rows of arches an almost institutional feeling.

Pflueger also had a meeting with Simmons and the builders Lindgren & Swinerton to discuss the foundation. At one meeting at the site, Pflueger noted they were joined by Sutro’s then 70-year-old daughter, Dr. Emma Merritt, who walked with them, “despite the dampness.” The Chronicle reported that a “stout fence” had been built around the property and pathways and stairways for pedestrian descent. An office was to be built on Merrie Way, at the ruins of an old signal house, once the home of a watchman who sent flag signals to Telegraph Hill on the approach of incoming ships.

A “Breakfast Club” amid the cypress trees

Nothing more appears in Pflueger’s datebooks for a few months, but the club organizers continued to promote the club, seeking to raise the membership. At some point the organizers printed a four-page brochure on thick paper stock that opened up to the big rendering of the club and its site, done by Pflueger and his draftsmen. Color cartoons also portray elegant couples dining, dancing and ready for outdoor activities. The brochure also noted that some members, “the married and unmarried alike, propose to make the club their permanent home, while many others will take apartments for the week-end.”

Pacific Edgewater Club couples dining cropped from brochure
Couples dancing and dining as depicted in the Pacific Edgewater Club brochure, 1927

A June article on the progress of the club said that the club had a “large membership,” but that it needed two-thirds of the roster to be completed before construction could begin. No further details were provided.

Another promotion was unveiled, where the club organizers hoped they could seduce potential members if they came to the magical venue for a bracing breakfast. 

In mid-July, a chilly and foggy time of year in San Francisco, especially in the western part of the city, the club hosted a “Breakfast Club.” Over 250 guests were invited to partake in a regal morning feast, amid “a magnificent growth of age-old cypress trees” that formed a “natural amphitheater and affords shelter from fog and winds.” The group constructed a large horseshoe table and an enormous outdoor grill, covering a brick oven, where they served fruit, hot cereal, muffins, crisping “ham and” and coffee. Sounding like real estate hucksters selling time-shares, they laid on the hyperbole. “The aroma of full rich coffee will drift about in the air mingling with the pungent suggestion of burning woodland fires and the tang of the restless sea,” club president Simmons was quoted in the Chronicle

Pacific Edgewater beauty queens visit August 1 1927 (2)
Visiting beauty pageant contestants, SF Chronicle, August 1, 1927

A few weeks later, the Breakfast Club hosted a group of beauty queens, in San Francisco for “California Beauty Week,” the week leading up to the Miss California amateur beauty pageant. On a Sunday morning, Grayline buses and Hertz “Driv-Ur-Self” sedans picked up the 60 lovely young contestants at the Mark Hopkins for the drive trip out to Point Lobos. Bedecked in cloches, silk stockings and fur-trimmed coats befitting the chilly July air, the beauties dined at the giant horseshoe table on their “ham and,” chatting with club members, accompanied by peppy music. Breakfast was followed by brief entertainment: vocal solos, a monologue by KPO radio host and vaudevillian Dan Casey, and some burlesque stunts. Then they were treated to an air show by a trio of Pacific Air Transport planes, their “air escorts.”

For the rest of 1927, all was quiet. In January, 1928 Pflueger had a meeting with some executives on the topic of the club, and the next day, Frank Simmons came to his office. Pflueger wrote that he told Simmons the results of the meeting, but he left no further explanation. No notes of any further progress in the building itself were in his datebooks. In mid-March, Simmons, Al Swinerton of the building firm, and two others met in Pflueger’s office, and discussed a “public club” proposition. The club executives must have been contemplating opening the club up to the general public, to increase membership rolls to meet their grandiose plans. 

A former beauty queen’s ire, the bunco squad and a grand jury investigation

In June, according to the Recorder, a lawsuit was filed against the Pacific Edgewater Club by a vendor, the Trans Credit Traders, for $950. And at the end of August, the wheels came off.  Members Iantha Henderson and Marie Pappas went to the police and filed a complaint against the club, seeking a return of their $400 in individual membership fees, which according to an inflation calculator would be worth around $6,000 today.  

Pacific Edgewater dining shot from brochure cropped
Magical ocean view dining was depicted in the brochure of the Pacific Edgewater Club

The ladies complained about high-powered salesmanship, and a club membership that started out resembling the social Blue Book of San Francisco, with bankers, doctors, brokers and other social leaders, only to see the list becoming less select. After paying $200 in 1926 to join the Club Farallon, when that club went defunct and its members were offered memberships with the Pacific Edgewater Club, the two went to Simmons’s office on Montgomery Street to talk to him.

“He is the man that has seven telephones on his desk,” Henderson told the Examiner. “He is always so rushed, talking on all the lines at once. He coaxed, begged to me pay the balance, which I finally agreed to do.” Henderson was also a former beauty queen, when in 1915, she was chosen to portray Eureka at the Portola Festival, an irony considering the club’s use of beauty queens as part of its promotion. She wrote Simmons a letter in July, asking for her money back. “I paid $400,” she wrote. “So far, there is no club, and no visible prospects of one, after waiting about two years.” When she visited the club offices again, Simmons was not in and she was told to write to a club official in Los Angeles. That letter was returned, and then she decided to go to the police.

The San Francisco Police Department and the District Attorney’s office agreed the events seemed suspicious, and the city’s bunco squad was assigned to look into the potential fraud. “Promises were made in 1926 that the club would be built within a year,” Deputy District Attorney Milton Choynski told the Examiner. “So far, not a shovelful of earth has been turned on the site.” When reporters went to the club offices, they were told the Pacific Edgewater Club had moved two months previously and had left no forwarding address.

The Chronicle reported then that the organization had deeded the six acres of land back to the Sutro Estate, and the detectives who investigated the matter concluded that “the promoters started something they could not finish.” The State Corporation Commission said hundreds of complaints had come into its office, but it had no jurisdiction to investigate. When the Club Farallon was initially formed in 1926, the Corporation Commission was about to charge the individuals with selling stock without a permit, but the Attorney General ruled it had no jurisdiction over the club’s plan to sell memberships. The Assistant DA said he didn’t have enough evidence to bring the Club Edgewater case to the grand jury.

One month later, in early September, the disgruntled club members again met with the city’s chief of detectives and made a formal demand to Simmons to produce the club’s complete records, which they said had not been made available to them.  A few days later, Assistant DA Choynski said that he was presenting the case to the grand jury.

In the middle of November, the grand jury concluded there was no evidence of fraud in the management of the club, and its cessation of building operations was due primarily to the failure of its membership drive. The club had spent too much money for advertising and acquiring the Point Lobos property. In an odd coincidence, florist Angelo Rossi, who later would become the mayor of San Francisco, as well as a client and friend of Pflueger, was the foreman. “It appears that the club undertook too many expenditures at one time and ran out of cash. But there was no evidence of fraud,” Rossi said, according to the Chronicle.

Since the Bancroft Library at UC Berkeley, the home of the Pflueger archives, is currently closed because of the pandemic, it’s not possible right now to find out if anything more substantial will turn up in the office correspondence, or Pflueger’s further thoughts on the pipedream. But it seems clear even from his quick notes that no matter how interested he was in the project, he was leery about the grand plans from the get-go, and was always conscientious that the firm be paid for the work that it did.

Perhaps, in the end, San Francisco and its visitors are better off without the imposing  edifice, which might have blocked access to the trails, nature and gorgeous views at LandsEnd, had this exclusive club actually been built. Even so, the lure of this stunning, magical site can lead one, like the narrator of the popular late 1930s novel, Rebecca, to dream of a magnificent property by the sea. Instead of being damaged by fire like the fictional Manderly, the dream of the Pacific Edgewater Club was ruined by hucksters and hubris, for it may have been just too grand, even for the roaring 1920s.   

Defending Victor Arnautoff’s WPA-era murals at George Washington High School

One of Victor Arnautoff’s murals in the lobby at George Washington High School, San Francisco. Photo by Tom Paiva

A debate is raging in art, history and education worlds over the fate of one of the largest installations of New Deal era-funded murals in San Francisco.

Artist Dewey Crumpler, now an associate professor at the San Francisco Art Institute, has seen this controversy before. He was once part of the solution.

In the turbulence of the late 1960s civil rights movement, Crumpler, who had just graduated from Balboa High School, was asked by a group of African American students at George Washington to paint more empowering murals at the school. The Black Students Union originally wanted the murals – painted in the mid 1930s on the walls of George Washington High School by Russian artist Victor Arnautoff – destroyed because of their derogatory and negative depictions of African Americans and Native Americans.

Arnautoff worked long hours on the fresh plaster of the hallways of the school during its construction from 1935 to 1936 with two assistants, painting 12 panels, or about 1600 square feet of frescoes. He was hired by local architect Timothy Pflueger, who just a few years earlier had been the brunt of criticism for hiring Mexican muralist Diego Rivera, to paint a mural for the San Francisco Stock Exchange Luncheon Club. Pflueger never backed down and continued to hire other left-leaning artists who worked in Rivera’s style for later projects such as George Washington High, including Ralph Stackpole and Lucien Labaudt, for murals in the library, and Sargent Johnson for the sculpted frieze on the athletic field. All these works were funded by the Federal Arts Project or the Public Works Administration under Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal programs.

Arnautoff’s murals tell the story of the life of George Washington, the first president of the U.S. But Arnautoff, an émigré from Russia and a student and friend of Rivera, painted an unflinching view of Washington, especially for the 1930s. There are no story-book tales and Arnautoff’s view of America as a leftist and Communist, was radical in its time.

Instead of mythical cherry trees, Arnautoff’s murals depict a dead Native American lying face down on the ground as colonists, portrayed in grey, black and white, march past, in a grim and uncomfortable portrayal of the westward expansion of the young nation. Two other panels show African Americans working in the fields at Washington’s home in Mount Vernon. In the foreground of “Mount Vernon,” an overseer appears to be showing Washington what tasks his slaves are working on, while women work in the fields in the background. Other African Americans are working in the tougher, more physically strenuous jobs.

Arnautoff’s Mount Vernon at George Washington High School in San Francisco. Photo by Tom Paiva

“The imagery was derogatory,” Crumpler said in a recent phone interview. “In the sense that even though Arnautoff was attempting to use it to address the contradiction in the founding father –  you know owning slaves, and having trodded over the native American – under no circumstances should that kind of imagery be the primary imagery that students be confronted with when they needed equally empowering imagery.”

“That was my stance. But I explained that I did not believe that history should be whitewashed or that artists or artists’ work should be destroyed or censored, because it was a teaching tool. If you had the original source and a counter source, you could use that as a way of dialoguing about the controversy and the contradictions.”

The students wanted the murals destroyed, covered up or painted over. Ruth Adams, then the principal of George Washington suggested getting Arnautoff, who was still alive, to come back and add to his murals. But he had retired from his position at Stanford University three years previously and had repatriated to the then Soviet Union, where he was settled in a painting studio in the Ukraine near the sea.

By the fall of 1968, nothing had been done and in an era where students were protesting around the world, about 250 students at George Washington marched in the hallways one day in October, shouting “Take it down, take it down.” The murals were briefly covered up with butcher paper by school officials.

“Blacks did more than just pick cotton,” Black Student Union President Roosevelt Thomas said at a meeting soon after between school officials, students, parents and artists, according to the San Francisco Chronicle. “During the revolution, more than 5000 blacks fought for this nation’s independence. They’re not depicted in this mural.” Thomas, who was also a member of the Black Panthers, received a standing ovation for his remarks.

Thomas was referring to another mural in which Arnautoff painted some of the memorable moments of the American Revolution, including the Boston Massacre.

Arnautoff GWHS Revolution Boston Massacre
Arnautoff’s panels depicting the Boston Tea Party and the Boston Massacre, photo by Tom Paiva

The students voted to keep the murals but they came up with a proposal to install plaques with more information alongside the murals. A group was formed to study the need for a new mural depicting events in black history.

That’s where Crumpler came in, as the artist the students selected to paint additional murals. He had sold a piece to Smokey Robinson which got him some attention with the students. But he faced some opposition from the San Francisco Arts Commission and the Board of Education because he was so young. Then, an unknown student threw ink on the Native American in the “Westward Expansion” mural, which got soaked into the plaster, and the school realized it had to do something.

“At that point, they really were nervous because they wanted to protect Arnautoff’s murals because of their historic value,” Crumpler said. So in early 1970, he was hired, but in one of his meetings with the students, he made it clear that he did not want Arnautoff’s murals destroyed. “I said I will make these murals on the condition that removing his is over with,” he said. The students agreed and they had a deal.

In researching murals to begin his work, Crumpler realized he needed to go to Mexico, to see the work of the master muralists, and to learn more about their techniques. He visited and studied murals all around the country, including many by Rivera, and met briefly with David Alfaro Siqueiros, who was still alive. He also got advice from Pablo O’Higgins, who had worked as Rivera’s assistant on three of his most important murals. In Mexico, he learned about scale and how the mural is integral to its location.

“It happened over a five year period,” he said. “When it started I had just graduated from high school and when it ended I had just graduated from graduate school… It was a long process because of the politics.”

Crumpler painted three murals in another location at the school, all facing each other in a U-shaped area, above student bulletin boards and school photos. The students got involved in developing the theme for the murals, and they decided to widen the focus beyond African Americans and Native Americans to include other races, including Latino and Asian students. In a statement about the story behind the mural, written in 1974, Crumpler noted that a number of students provide historical and pictoral accounts of figures that played roles in the developing of various cultures.

In April, 1974, Crumpler’s three murals were unveiled.

1974-04-dedication
Dewey Crumpler and his wife attend the unveiling of his murals at GWHS in 1974. Photo courtesy GWHS Alumni Assn.

 

TAB_5885
Three murals by Dewey Crumpler at George Washington High School, photo by Tammy Aramian, GWHS Alumni Assn

The center mural, called the Black Panel, has two men in the center, representing the spirit of African Americans, and how their strength and determination break the chain of bondage. Also pictured in the mural are two of the most inspirational leaders in the late 1960s, Malcolm X and Dr. Martin Luther King and other prominent figures, from Frederick Douglas to Langston Hughes.

In the Asian panel on the right, two children form the Yin and Yang symbols, with local artist Ruth Asawa depicted on the right. In the Latin and Native American panel, the spirit of Native America holds the island of Alcatraz, representing the efforts of the Native Americans to reclaim the land that was once theirs.  There is also an old Navajo depicted teaching a younger Navajo about his heritage, the long-accepted tradition of passing on the true history among Native Americans, not history from the white, colonizer’s point of view.

“My intention was to create a Native American archetype, not just for all Native Americans but for all people who struggle, by taking that Native American and thrusting him off the ground and into the air, defining gravity,” Crumpler said. “Holding up Turtle Island, which at the time was occupied by courageous Native Americans…it was a symbol of the country.”

DSC_8676
The Latin and Native American panel by Dewey Crumpler, featuring the symbol of Mexico and the spirit of Native America, and other figures. Photo by Tammy Aramian

Today, Crumpler believes that there are options the school could take, instead of covering up the murals in this latest controversy. “Censoring art is going to make them more powerful,” he said. “Because the minute you cover it up, it becomes more important than it was….So you have to use history for what it is, which is a way of understanding how to shift the context from the past to the present.”

After complaints from a few students last year, the San Francisco Unified School District created a “Reflection and Action Working Group” that held four meetings in 2018-2019. “The group voted and the majority recommended that the “Life of Washington” mural be archived and removed because the mural does not represent SFUSD values. The majority of the group expressed that the main reason to keep the mural up at the school is focused on the legacy of the artist, rather than experience of the students,” the SFUSD said in a statement. The superintendent and staff are now reviewing the recommendation.

Dewey Crumpler 2019
Artist Dewey Crumpler, 2019

Crumpler said there are other options the school district could take, instead of destroying the murals. He also noted that if Arnautoff’s murals are destroyed, which would mean painting over them, since they cannot be moved since they integral to the walls, the context for his own work is also destroyed. “Because mine was counter-related to his mural. My point is you can’t remove history, history exists, so you have to use it to teach. That’s its role, is to teach,” Crumpler said.  He suggests making a large projection screen that brings the most offensive mural into the 21th century, and adding a kiosk of information, including a discussion on the problems with the mural, about how the mural doesn’t function today.

The George Washington High School Alumni Association also has several suggestions, instead of destroying Arnautoff’s work, from screening the murals, placing interpretive panels to adding new murals in prominent locations at the school.

But destroying Arnautoff’s social realist murals, and therefore engaging in censorship of art,  is not a solution. Let’s hope that the SFUSD decides against censorship and is able to come up with a better compromise, rather than wiping away history.

Disclosure: Author Therese Poletti is also the Preservation Director of the Art Deco Society of California, a non-profit organization focused on the education and preservation of art, architecture and culture of the Art Deco period.

 

 

 

Domed theaters in San Jose set for last picture show

Century 21
Century 21 Theatre at dusk (c) Therese Poletti

Three iconic domed movie theaters representative of the futuristic roadside, or Googie, architecture of the late 1950s and 1960s, are set to show their last films on March 31.

Last week, the current tenants of the Century 21 Theatre, Guggenheim Entertainment and the Retro Dome theater group, sent out an email alert that programming will cease at Century 21, 22, and 23 as of March 31st, because the lease for the theaters to Syufy Enterprises is up and it not being renewed. The theaters are known locally by their current name, the Winchester Theaters.

The property owners, including members of the family of the original architect, Vincent G. Raney, have filed a permit to demolish all three domes, and are fighting any attempt to save the theaters.

Many locals fear that the three theaters will be torn down for another shopping center, but no project or plans have yet been filed with the City of San Jose.

The trio of theaters, near the famous Winchester Mystery House, were originally dubbed the Century Theaters, as commissioned by Ray Syufy, a Bay Area movie theater entrepreneur, who hired Raney to design the domes. The Century 21, which opened in November, 1964, was the first dome in the Century Theaters chain and it was designed to showcase a new widescreen cinema technology called Cinerama. The Cinerama widescreen technology, one of the industry’s many efforts to combat growing competition from television, was originally developed using three synchronized cameras for filming and projecting. But when the first theater designed to show Cinerama opened in Hollywood in 1963, it showcased the improved single-screen Cinerama process using 70 mm film. One year later, Century 21 in San Jose, followed in that vein, showing the same opening film, “It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World,” in single-lens 70 mm Cinerama.

After the first Cinerama theater opened in Hollywood on Sunset Boulevard, other domed theaters ensued. Cinerama Inc., the developer of the technology, promoted the dome design as economical and easy to build. Hollywood’s Cinerama, which has been preserved and is now a city landmark, has a geodesic dome design inspired by architect and engineer R. Buckminster Fuller.

Postcard of Cinerama Hollywood, circa 1960s
Postcard of Cinerama Hollywood, circa 1960s

Los Angeles has preserved important moments and venues in cinematic history, but in the Bay Area — home of Silicon Valley — these domed theaters, representative of a unique cinema technology, are threatened. Last May, the domed theater in Pleasant Hill, also designed by Raney for Syufy, was demolished to make way for a sporting good store. And in the last few months, two other domed theaters, the Century 24, across Highway 280 from the Winchester domes, and Century 25, in San Jose’s nearby Westgate Shopping Center, were also demolished.

Architect Vincent G. Raney, Docomomo Noca
Architect Vincent G. Raney, Docomomo Noca

Last year, the property owners hired Cassidy Turley real estate and advertised for new tenants to develop the acreage. Preservationists though, including the San Jose non-profit Preservation Action Council, fear the land, targeted by the city as another “urban village” will become another bland Santana Row, the cookie-cutter, faux Tuscan style shopping center and apartments across the street from the theaters. After writing an article in the Wall Street Journal about the plight of the domes and learning about their historic significance, I have since become a supporter of saving at least one theater from the wrecking ball.

Century 21 Theatre, side view, (c) Therese Poletti
Century 21 Theatre, side view, (c) Therese Poletti

A campaign to save at least one of the theaters has gathered community support and over 5,500 people have signed a petition in Change.org.

But there are also detractors, and in an odd twist, those detractors include the architect’s family. In a letter to the city of San Jose a family member wrote that Raney “believed buildings have a life span and that as a community evolves, so should its architecture.” “He would think the Century 21 is ready for retirement, making way for something new that would serve the City’s and community’s needs now,” wrote Michelle Bevis, on behalf of the Raney and Farriss families, who own the land.

An architectural and historical debate

Does San Jose really need more bland shopping plazas and malls? Wouldn’t it be feasible to incorporate at least the earliest dome in the chain, a whimsical icon seen from Highway 280, into a mid-century style shopping area or office building? Some have argued that the domes are not historic, nor are they architecturally significant.

I beg to differ. The domes, which evoke notions of a spaceship, were emblematic of an era that has vanished, of optimism in the future, looking ahead to the 21st century and the space age with joy and anticipation. The domes were based on the concepts of Fuller, who patented his geodesic dome, a precisely calculated, patterned mesh that provided maximum strength at a minimum of cost. By 1959, Fuller had licensed his dome design to more than 100 corporations and city governments. At two futuristic world’s fairs of the early 1960s, for example, the World’s Fair in Seattle in 1962, and at New York’s World’s Fair of 1964, Fuller-licensed domes or copycats were popular exhibition venues for forward-thinking companies, in that brief interlude of post-World War II optimism. It is also worth pointing out that Apple Inc.’s plans for a new corporate campus, as envisioned by the late co-founder Steve Jobs, also recall the idea of a spaceship.

Architect Frank Lloyd Wright was another major influence. Producer Mike Todd, one of the original founders of Cinerama, had formed his own company to work on a competing but improved single lens version of Cinerama, called the Todd-AO process. Todd hired Wright to design a domed theater with a geodesic roof using aluminum from Kaiser Aluminum, a theater with gently curved walls to showcase the widescreen movies his company was producing. Wright used Fuller’s concepts, according to the book, “Treasures of Taliesin, Seventy-Seven Unbuilt Designs,” but also modified the size of the dome and the scope of its overhead curve.

Frank Lloyd Wright and Mike Todd and theater model, and Henry Kaiser right. The American Widescreen Museum, collection of Robert C. Weisgerber
Frank Lloyd Wright and Mike Todd and theater model, and Henry Kaiser right. Widescreen Museum, collection of Robert C. Weisgerber

Wright’s design, according to a rendering in “Treasures of Taliesin,” also included pre-cast concrete shells as walls. But Todd was tragically killed in a plane crash in 1958 and his heirs did not pursue movie theaters. Wright died one year later. Still, the Todd-AO single lens process was used by Cinerama and Panavision as an improvement on the original three camera process.

When Raney was hired by Syufy to design the first of many theaters in the chain, Cinerama sent Raney drawings of the standard dome theaters and the scaffolding used to erect it, according to the book, “Suburban America.” In addition, Raney had a personal connection to the site of the first theaters and the nearby Winchester Mystery House: his wife Edna was the oldest daughter of John H. Brown, the man who turned the bizarre tale of Sarah Winchester’s compulsive building additions and expansions to her rambling Victorian mansion into a major tourist attraction. Raney’s heirs today are among the owners of the vast parcel of nearly 12 acres of land the three theaters sit upon, and part of the group of 40 family members who are protesting the landmark nomination.

Finial atop Century 21 Theatre
Finial and bird atop Century 21 Theatre

Next month, California’s Historic Preservation Commission will review a nomination submitted by Docomomo Noca, the local chapter of an international non-profit focused on preserving and documenting mid-century modernism. The nomination seeks to add the Century 21 Theatre to the state’s register of historic resources. The nomination will be reviewed by the State Historical Resources Commission on April 22, at the California Preservation Foundation Conference at Asilomar. (disclosure: I am now on Docomomo Noca’s board).

If the theater is deemed by the state’s historic preservation commission as a “historic resource,” its survival is not guaranteed. According to historic preservation consultant Christopher VerPlanck, who is also president of Docomomo Noca, such a designation would require that any developer complete a costly and lengthy environmental impact report. “Any project that could negatively affect the ‘resource’ must take those effects into account with an Environmental Impact Report (EIR),” VerPlanck said. “Most developers will do whatever they can to avoid having to prepare an EIR, even if it involves preserving whatever it is they want to tear down.”

But it seems like in San Jose, it’s out with the old, in with the new.

Let’s hope some compromise can be achieved and that an important piece of the Jetsons era in Silicon Valley can be saved.

Former I. Magnin ladies room looking good again

Original light fixture in former I. Magnin ladies room
Original light fixture in former I. Magnin ladies room

Many San Franciscans remember the elegant department store that once graced the corner of Stockton and Geary streets, I. Magnin & Co. Like the City of Paris, once across Stockton Street, Ransohoff’s a few blocks away, and many other long-gone stores, these beautifully designed and lushly appointed stores evoke memories of a by-gone era when women wore hats and gloves to go downtown. Magnin’s was a favorite of the city’s socialites and other ladies who lunch with a taste for designer and haute-couture clothing. Its quiet marble facade on Union Square represented a graceful shopping experience.

In 1988, R.H. Macy & Co. bought the exclusive I. Magnin chain of stores, including the flagship store, the white marble lady designed by architect Timothy Pflueger. That deal was just one of many that began in 1944, when Magnin’s merged with Bullocks Inc. Ultimately, after more mergers and a proxy fight, the local retailing icon became part of the conglomerate Federated Department Stores, after Federated bought Macy’s. Magnin’s, though, a high-end luxury retailer, did not last long in the Federated chain, which sadly closed the stores in 1994. Many in the retailing business suspected that Federated/Macy’s only wanted Magnin’s for its prime location facing Union Square and adjacent to Macy’s.

A major renovation was done in the late 1990s to create a modern glass facade and unify the disparate Macy’s buildings on the Geary Street side of its vast complex, including a major seismic upgrade. The interior of the once-gorgeous I. Magnin store  was completely gutted. Long gone are the glorious pink Tennessee marble floors, the bronze elevator doors, the glass hand-painted mural on the ground floor, the intimate salons with scalloped ceilings and marble, chrome and glass everywhere. Glass chandeliers in the style of Lalique and gorgeous display cases were all hand picked by Grover Magnin, who traveled to Paris with Pflueger to get ideas for the store. While I. Magnin Union Square was probably Pflueger’s piece de resistance of all his work for the Magnin chain, he died of a sudden heart attack in 1946, and was not alive to see the store’s grand opening in 1948, or how it became a beloved fixture in San Francisco.

But what is little known – except to savvy shoppers in Union Square  – is that one small vestige of the original I. Magnin store remains. On the sixth floor of Macy’s, just off the hallway near the elevators, is part of the original ladies restroom. Upon entering the bland powder room for putting on lipstick, unsuspecting patrons are sometimes surprised by the gorgeous interior in the next room. Black green marble covers the walls, contrasting with a gold-leaf ceiling. A glass chandelier hangs from an ornate bronze ceiling mount. Floor length antique mirror doors provide privacy in the stalls, and white-veined marble sinks sit nestled in bronze pedestals.

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Ladies Room in Macy’s on Union Square is a Pflueger

For a brief time, the bathroom seemed to be in need of constant repair. One of the pedestal sinks was covered with a sign that it was out of order and on one visit last year, at least three bathroom stalls were out of order.

But on a recent visit, the Timothy Pflueger Blog learned that Macy’s has found a sink, and repaired most of the restroom issues.

Maintaining and improving the historical bathrooms has been an important ongoing project here at Macy’s Union Square,”  said Megan Prado, a spokeswoman for Macy’s, in a recent email. “We searched for several months and had distributors look for a historical sink to replace one of the three that cracked as it wasn’t able to be repaired.” Prado said Macy’s found one that was a great match. “We relocated the two existing functioning sinks and moved them to the exterior,  and installed the new one in the middle. This gave the area a balanced look.”  The stall door mirrors have also been replaced with new mirrors with an antique look. “We continue to do regular audits of the restroom to address issues as they arise in a timely manner,” she added.

At least one small slice of Pflueger’s original design remains.

For those of you interested in the history of I. Magnin, and other specialty and department stores founded by some of the city’s great entrepreneurs, I will be doing a talk for the San Francisco History Association on March 25. The talk is based on my research for a new walking tour I am working on for San Francisco City Guides. Hope to see some of you there!

Happy Birthday Tim Pflueger, San Francisco still loves you!

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Telephone Building, now officially called 140 New Montgomery, lit by floodlights at night. Photo (c) Therese Poletti

After realizing late in the day on September 26 that it was architect Tim Pflueger’s birthday, I decided to walk within a short radius of my office downtown and photograph a few Pflueger buildings. The big reward while walking around on a lovely balmy evening was to see the newly renovated Telephone Building, now officially renamed 140 New Montgomery, all aglow with gorgeous flood lights shining on the tower, just as it did back in the day after the building opened in 1925.

The current owners, developers Wilson Meany, recently finished a huge renovation and seismic retrofitting job. Yelp Inc. moved into several floors of the tower earlier this month, being the first company to occupy the building since AT&T moved out in 2006. As you can see, from this 1929 photo, the building used to have many floodlights highlighting the tower, and at Easter, Pacific Telephone had lights in the windows lit to form the shape of a cross.

Telephone Building at Easter, 1929 courtesy San Francisco History Center, SF Public Library
Telephone Building at Easter, 1929 courtesy San Francisco History Center, SF Public Library

New Montgomery Street is lively with lots of activity going on, due to the heavy concentration of tech companies in the area. I talked with a French entrepreneur who just moved to San Francisco to try to get his curation start-up company going, and he graciously contributed an excellent photo (see below) of New Montgomery Street. Other tech companies in addition to Yelp are moving into 140 too, including one named Terracotta (140 is finished with a white and grey speckled terracotta made by Gladding McBean). The 26-story building is now over 85% leased.

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New Montgomery Street at night, photo by Eric Poindessault

Wilson Meany, the developers who bought the building from AT&T Inc. in 2007, are trying to be both energy efficient and good neighbors and currently are lighting up the tower from about dusk until 10 pm.

It’s great to see the tower aglow. In February, 1926 the magazine “Architecture” wrote, “In the new Telephone building, San Francisco has her Woolworth tower.” I was reminded of that comment when I saw how stately the Telephone Building looks at night now, where past, present and the future all collide.

Note: this post was not posted on Pflueger’s birthday because just as I was trying to proofread and post, Comcast started to do maintenance in my neighborhood and I lost my connection for the evening!

Telephone Building at night, 1929, courtesy San Francisco History Center, SF Public LIbrary
Telephone Building at night, 1929, courtesy San Francisco History Center, SF Public Library

Lots going on at the Telephone Building

Miller & Pflueger's Telephone Building, (c) Tom Paiva Photography
Miller & Pflueger’s Telephone Building, (c) Tom Paiva Photography

There has been a lot of speculation about potential tenants for the Telephone Building since construction began in March on a major renovation project, which I wrote about in the Wall Street Journal. The $50 million-plus restoration and seismic retrofit of Timothy Pflueger’s iconic Jazz Age skyscraper, which has been vacant for about six years, is underway. Owners Wilson Meany Sullivan have also redubbed the building “140” – a nod to the nickname given the building by Pacific Telephone & Telegraph Co.  An icon since it was completed in 1925, the skyscraper at 140 New Montgomery Street now even has its own very cool website, a promotion video and photo collage of architectural details.

The base is now covered in scaffolding so it’s hard to peek inside and a construction crane lords over the building (see photo below.) The Timothy Pflueger Blog apologizes for not keeping readers au courant with all the news. In addition, the San Francisco City Guides Downtown Deco tour will talk about the building from across the street, until the work is done.

Construction work on the Telephone Building
Construction work on the Telephone Building

Since construction began, some major tenants have signed up. The biggest is Yelp Inc., which announced plans in May to move into the 26-story building, and lease eight floors, or 100,000 square feet, when the work is finished next year. The San Francisco Chronicle reported in November that the popular Web-based review site’s lease is through 2021. Approximately 800 Yelpers will move in.

Restaurants to move in 

Now, the two public spaces off the lobby have also been leased. In late October, the Chronicle reported that Mourad Lahlou, the owner and chef of Aziza, a well-regarded Moroccan restaurant in the Richmond District, has leased the larger space on the Minna side of the building. This restaurant will also feature the Michelin-rated chef’s take on Moroccan cuisine.  Bar Agricole’s Thad Vogler has leased the smaller space.

While both leases are exciting for local foodies, it is not clear what the news means in terms of architecture. A look at photos of the other locations operated by Lahlou and Vogler respectively has the Timothy Pflueger Blog worrying that both of these venues will go down the path of the trendy, industrial warehouse-chic look.

Telephone Building Lobby, (c) Tom Paiva Photography
Telephone Building Lobby, (c) Tom Paiva Photography

Lahlou has hired Olle Lundberg, a San Francisco architect to design the new space, where, the Chronicle gushed, “exposed brick and concrete abound.” That’s not exactly how it was designed by architect Timothy Pflueger and his draftsmen, as one can see by the dark marble walls, detailed metal work, and the multi-colored plaster ceiling with Chinese motif in the stunning lobby. Many of the building’s interior office spaces are being gutted down to the brick walls to suit the needs of tech trendoids. To be fair, the last time I was in the ground floor space Lahlou is leasing, it was a museum for Pacific Telephone and did not seem to have any remarkable interior details, except for the 12-foot high windows.  The architects had likely focused their attention on the public lobby space.

Lundberg has a great opportunity to go beyond the tired industrial look and create a fabulous and exotic restaurant space evocative of the spirit of the 1920s. Fans of Pflueger and the building hope that he might seek to reference or incorporate Pflueger’s unique take on the Art Deco style, or even study some of his other works, such as the Moorish-inspired Alhambra Theatre on Polk Street, the high Art Deco Paramount in Oakland or his fabulous cocktail lounges from the 1930s, for inspiration. But Lahlou told the Chronicle’s blog, Inside Scoop:  “I don’t want the space to be a shrine,” Lahlou said. “I want a good vibe, good music.” And if Lundberg’s previous (and I should add well-regarded) work is an example, his is an ultra clean-lined, almost antiseptic approach to modernism, but he is also known for liking to work with his hands.

Perhaps there is more hope for the Whiteside Company, the proposed name for Vogler’s new location, which will be an all-day cafe, restaurant and bar. Vogler told “Inside Scoop” that he plans to serve up cocktails from the 19th and early 20th century, considered the Golden Age of the American cocktail, using recipes of one the city’s famous bartenders Bill Boothby. His bar book containing 400 recipes was reprinted by San Francisco’s Anchor Distilling Co. in 2009, with an excellent, well-researched foreward written by Fritz Maytag and David Burkhart of Anchor. Boothby was a bartender at the Palace Hotel, just down the block.

Boothby's American Bartender, published in 2009 by Anchor Distilling
Boothby’s American Bartender, published in 2009 by Anchor Distilling

There are even some examples, most in photographs only, of Pflueger’s stunning cocktail lounges that could serve as inspiration for Vogler’s new venue, should he or his architect decide to incorporate any references to Pflueger. My favorite is the former Patent Leather Lounge at the St. Francis Hotel. If you visit the registration area today you can see the stunning photos by Ansel Adams of the lounge which opened in 1939 with its unusual combination of black patent leather covered walls, carved Lucite ceiling fixtures and long serpentine-shaped bar. The interior of Pflueger’s Top of the Mark has been altered, but the Fairmont Hotel’s Cirque Room is the best extant example of a Pflueger cocktail lounge. While it is now slightly smaller in size, it retains its original circus-themed murals by local artist Esther Bruton, its original long curving bar, built-in banquettes and stunning mirrored columns. You can see Bruton’s circus murals below in a photo from a fabulous Art Deco Society of California party in 2008 for Art Deco San Francisco.

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Le Cirque, 2008 book party for “Art Deco San Francisco,” (c) Judth Calson Photography

It’s unlikely either of these two proposed venues at 140 will adopt any kind of Art Deco motif. It would be a lovely surprise if they did, and a nice homage to the building’s architecture. While they are at it, a signature drink named for Pflueger, a cocktail with his favorite spirit, rye, would also be nice.

“Mid-Century By the Bay” book is a must-have

Cover for Mid-Century by the Bay by Heather David

If you grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, or are a fan of the design style and architecture of the mid-century, Heather David’s excellent book, Mid-Century by the Bay is a thoroughly enjoyable stroll down memory lane. David, a San Jose-based freelance writer and cultural historian, is also a Bay Area native, and her 152-page book features a combination of notable local architecture, culture and kitsch. It’s both an informative and nostalgic send-up of the 1950s to 1960s in the Bay Area.

I first stumbled upon this engaging book in the San Francisco Public Library History Center when it debuted in 2010, but after my requested files arrived and I was quickly immersed in my research project of the moment, and forgot about the gem I found.  Last month, I ran into the book again, at the Builders Booksource table at the California Preservation Foundation conference and was lucky enough to also meet the author.

Mid-Century by the Bay is divided into eight main topics, after an introduction of the post-World War II building boom, population and industrial expansion that led to a suburban building frenzy in the Bay Area. The first main section, Bay Area Burbs, covers home design (with some photos of local homes built by Joseph Eichler of course), and the lesser-known Alec Branden, who built over 10,000 homes in Northern California, specializing in traditional and ranch style homes.  Schools, churches and shopping centers are included, with old photos of the then newly built Valley Fair shopping center in Santa Clara and Stonestown in San Francisco, both built in the 1950s. A view of Valley Fair’s once-open courtyard, brick planter boxes and concrete cantilevered roofs creating shady breezeways for shoppers reminded me of my childhood shopping trips with my mom, a big fan of stores such as Joseph Magnin, I. Magnin and Somer & Kaufman.

Photo of IBM Hydro Gyro sculpture at IBM campus in San Jose taken by Arnold Del Carlo, photographer, courtesy Heather David

The “Architecture of the Future” section features some stunning mid-century design in the Bay Area, much of which has been destroyed, or modified as unrecognizable today. As David writes in her epilogue, the Bay Area has suffered from both demolition and “the ’blandification’ of many of its mid-century structures.”  The buildings at IBM Corp.’s Cottle Road campus, designed by architect John Savage Bolles, were accented with brick and multi-colored tiles, the tile pattern mimicking an IBM punch card. Some art that graced the campus is now gone or in disarray, such as the stunning Hyrdo-Gyro sculpture by local artist Robert Boardman Howard, which is now in pieces on the ground. Howard, the son of architect John Galen Howard, also worked with Tim Pflueger on the Paramount Theatre and the San Francisco Stock Exchange.

“Refreshments” captures excellent views of some long-lost iconic local restaurants and popular chains such as Doggie Diner, Zim’s, Lyon’s and the still extant Mel’s (it’s original drive-in restaurant on South Van Ness, though, is long gone. A brochure image has a rarely seen full-color drawing of Pflueger’s Top of the Mark during the 1950s, the original bar still in the center of the room, its rose-toned leather knee cushion still intact, with a band is playing next to the famous bar, and an early version of the dance floor

Another one of my favorite sections is the one called “Bay Area Road Trip,” with photos of some of my long-lost childhood haunts, such as Santa’s Village in Scotts Valley and the Nut Tree in Vacaville. David’s superb collection of ephemera and photos includes a 1960s interior view of the fabulous Nut Tree restaurant (alas the bird aviary isn’t in the scene) and workers in the company kitchen, making sugar sticks and suckers by hand.

SF Modernism show poster, courtesy Penelope Productions

David’s book, like Pierluigi Serraino’s superb NorCalMod, showcases both the simple beauty and the eccentricities of the mid-century and the Bay Area’s rich development during the era. It also calls out the need for more preservation of our most recent past, before we lose even more of it.

David will be signing and selling her book today, June 9, at the San Francisco Modernism show at the Concourse Exhibition Center at 8th and Brannan streets, along with yours truly selling and signing Art Deco San Francisco at a discounted price. If you haven’t yet got a copy of Mid-Century by the Bay, it’s a great deal at $40 and a lovely Father’s Day gift. Come on down.

Castro Theatre saved from fire by SFFD

Fire trucks and ladder in front of the Castro Theatre Monday night.

It’s not a sight you want to see. As I came out of the Muni underground at Castro Street earlier this week, police cars were blocking traffic at the corner of Market and Castro, and three fire trucks and their crews were busy in front of Timothy Pflueger’s famous Castro Theatre. Two long ladders were stretched all the way up to the roof of the 1922 building.

A big crowd of concerned neighbors stood anxiously watching the drama from across the street, even though smoke was no longer visible. Rafael Noz, who lives in the Castro, called the theatre “the cathedral of the neighborhood” and he was thankful that the San Francisco Department had the fire under control.

SFFD putting fire out behind the Castro Theatre

A fire department spokeswoman later said that Monday’s fire was a single alarm fire and the SFFD arrived at 7:38 pm, after getting a call from someone in the neighborhood. The theatre, as of late, has been closed on Monday nights. The fire was limited to a small area behind the theatre, and was put out in 20 minutes. “There was trash involved in this fire,” said Mindy Talmadge, public information officer for SFFD. “However, the actual cause of the fire is under investigation.” She added that because the theatre was closed when the fire started, “investigators are looking at this more closely.”

Neighbors in the Castro and worldwide fans of the theatre, which is still owned by the Nassers, the original family who commissioned it, are thankful to the SFFD, and to the vigilant neighbor who called in the emergency, helping avert a major tragedy.

Golden Gate Bridge exhibit shows surprising influences

Golden Gate Bridge Postcard 1937 001
Postcard of the just completed Golden Gate Bridge in 1937

San Francisco’s iconic Golden Gate Bridge will celebrate its 75th year in service next month. Big festivities are planned all over the city, including a “spectacular event” organized by the bridge authority for May 27 at Crissy Field. A special website has all the details for the upcoming Golden Gate Festival. This year, there will be no bridge walk and the landmark will remain open to auto traffic, as officials seek to avoid a replay of the last big anniversary party. 

Locals will undoubtedly remember when the bridge turned 50 in 1987, 800,000 people turned out, when only 50,000 had been expected. The bridge became so overloaded with an estimated 300,000 celebrants that it flattened out in the center. Officials told reporters at the time that ”the bridge had the greatest load factor in its 50-year life” and a paper later written on the event said the suspension cables were “stretched as tight as harp strings.”

Fabulous exhibit at California Historial Society

Before the festivities in late May, there are plenty of ways to start celebrating now, including seeing some local exhibits around town on building the great bridge. One exhibit that will be of interest to architecture fans is a fabulous show on the history and the evolution of the bridge at the California Historical Society. The exhibition, the first under new executive director, Anthea Hartig, is called “A Wild Flight of the Imagination.” The title was borrowed from a promotional pamphlet written in 1922 by chief engineer of the bridge, Joseph Strauss, and city top engineer, Michael O’Shaughnessy. In that brochure, the two, who would later spar when O’Shaughnessy opposed the bridge, wrote that the bridge, once “considered a wild flight of the imagination, has…become a practical proposition.”

The CHS exhibition, which runs until October 14 , is a must-see for anyone interested in the bridge’s fascinating history. Especially intriguing are the fantastic renderings of concepts that were never realized, such as a dramatic Beaux Arts/City Beautiful promenade that would have lead to the bridge, and its not-so-well-known influences.

Influence of the theatre architect John Eberson

One of the most interesting elements of the exhibit is the obvious influence that theatre architect John Eberson had on the bridge from his brief work as a consultant to Strauss.  Eberson is not exactly a household name  but he is well-known to theatre historians as the father of the so-called “atmospheric theatre” and the designer of over 500 theatres around the U.S.

John Eberson’s rendering of the bridge’s suspension tower, circa 1930. Courtesy California Historical Society. Pencil on vellum, on loan from the Architectural Archives, University of Pennsylvania.

One of his more famous theatres in the U.S. is the Loew’s Paradise in the Bronx, New York, which opened in 1929 on the then-thriving Grand Concourse, which was recently restored in 2006. The Paradise was one of his three atmospherics in New York City, in which the architect sought to bring the outside indoors, typically with mechanics and lighting. These theatres often gave audiences the impression of seeing movies under an evening sky, with the moon and clouds moving overhead. Eberson, a native of Austria, worked in St. Louis, Chicago and other cities before moving his office to New York in 1926, according to his obituary in March, 1954 in the New York Times.

Strauss hired Eberson to work on the towers and some of the approaches on the San Francisco side of the bridge. As Kevin Starr described in his 2010 book, Golden Gate:The Life and Times of America’s Greatest Bridge, “the very fact that Strauss initially chose Eberson to stylize the towers and other aspects of the bridge underscores Strauss’s sense of the Golden Gate Bridge as, in part, a theatrical production orchestrating site, structure and atmospheric into a unified aesthetic statement.”

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Elevation study of the northern approach to the Golden Gate Bridge, circa 1930, by John Eberson, pencil on vellum. The Architectural Archives, University of Pennsylvania, courtesy of California Historical Society

If all of Eberson’s drawings, or those of his successor, had been realized, there might be a far more dramatic entrance to the bridge, with a grand colonnade or walled portals, which as John King opined in the Chronicle last month, would have been unnecessary “theatrical trappings,” distractions from the site’s natural beauty. Even so, the dramatic influence of the father of the atmospheric theatre remains today in the bridge’s suspension towers, where the Moderne setbacks in Eberson’s 1930 rendering made it to the completed bridge. According to Starr, Eberson asked for more money to complete the project, but Strauss decided, based partly on a recommendation of local artist Maynard Dixon, and the need to comply with planning changes, to work with Bay Area architect Irving Morrow.

It appears that by August, Morrow & Morrow were fully ensconced in the project, which was still trying to win public approval. An August 1930 article in the San Francisco Chronicle on plans for the bridge getting approved by the bridge district was accompanied by a large photograph of a painting by Dixon that was used to show what the 4,200 foot span would look like in its surroundings. Maynard’s painting was aimed at disproving the increasing opposition that the bridge would mar the natural beauty of the Golden Gate. Irving Morrow noted the controversy at the time. One of his notes, on display in the CHS exhibit, reads: “Sentimentalists tell you it would be a desecration of natural beauty to bridge the Golden Gate,” Morrow wrote. “The point is not whether bridging the Golden Gate will destroy its beauty but whether the particular bridge proposed will destroy it.”

Maynard Dixon courtesy GG Bridge
Maynard Dixon painting of the concept of the bridge, 1930, courtesy Golden Gate Bridge, Highway and Transportation District.

By October, 1930,  a series of drawings in the Chronicle’s Sunday photogravure section on October 5 included proposed renderings of the “world’s greatest span,” by Morrow & Morrow Architects. Some echo drawings by Eberson, with a dramatic, neo-classical approach to the bridge on both the San Francisco and the Marin County side. In the drawing of the Marin approach, below,  architect Irving Morrow was influenced by both Eberson’s ideas, and Bernini’s colonnade at St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, according to architect Donald MacDonald in his 2008 book, “The Golden Gate Bridge: History and Design of an Icon.” Morrow’s design for the San Francisco portal also called for high walls around a large plaza, acting as a wind barrier, and a grand plan for an exhibition hall.

Drawings by Morrow & Morrow published in the San Francisco Chronicle, Oct. 5, 1930

The exhibit at CHS has several drawings by Eberson, including another approach reminiscent of the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin. But a realignment of the roadway forced a redesign of the San Francisco plaza and money was also an issue. Still it is Eberson’s designs for the 746 feet high suspension towers, that set the tone for the bridge. “Eberson’s design of the towers was very influential I believe,” said Jessica Hough, lead curator of the exhibit. “His tower design was changed very little after Morrow took over as consulting architect.”

The father of the atmospheric theatre may have not worked on any theatres in the Bay Area, but his influence here is profound.  MacDonald, who was the first architect to work on the Golden Gate Bridge after Eberson and Morrow, also notes in his excellent book that Eberson initiated the Art Deco style in the bridge.  The style in the corners of the suspension tower’s bracing also echoes a theatre proscenium, MacDonald notes, as can be seen in this 1930s construction photo from the San Francisco History Center.

North Tower under construction, circa 1930s, courtesy of San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Historical Photo Collection.

The gradual narrowing of the suspension towers as they rise was an improvement to Eberson’s towers by Morrow, according to MacDonald. Eberson’s stepped pattern in the towers also mirrored the gradual stepping of many skyscrapers built in the 1920s, which echo the pyramid shapes of the temples of the Maya and also allowed more light onto city sidewalks. Timothy Pflueger’s Telephone Building at 140 New Montgomery was the first skyscraper in San Francisco to deploy that technique. Chicago architect Louis Sullivan had suggested setbacks as early as 1891, MacDonald points out. But it was Eliel Saarinen’s second place design of a skyscraper with setbacks for the 1922 Chicago Tribune Tower contest that really brought attention to the concept. While Saarinen’s design was not executed, it was the winner in the architecture community, including unflinching praise from the ever-critical Sullivan, and was far more influential than the actual winner.

With the influence of both movie palace design and skyscrapers of the Jazz Age, no wonder the Golden Gate Bridge wins all the beauty contests, in contrast to her sister bridge, the Bay Bridge, whose 75th anniversary has not received nearly as much hoopla or attention.

Many other local exhibitions on the Golden Gate Bridge

In addition to the CHS exhibit, the San Francisco History Center on the sixth floor of the main library has a new exhibit called “Bridging Minds: San Francisco Reads, 1933-1937,” featuring books, photographs and ephemera of the period and the works of California authors. San Francisco librarian and author Jim Van Buskirk will be giving talks about movies that have featured the Golden Gate Bridge, which has starred in more movies than any other American architectural icon. Not to be outdone, the Marin History Museum in San Rafael has an exhibition on how the bridge changed life in Marin County featuring construction photos from the renowned Moulin Studios, and photos from local photographer Jeffrey Floyd.

High hopes for New Mission Theatre plans

New Mission Theatre, courtesy Jack Tillmany, circa 1943

Local theatre buffs and preservationists have high hopes for a new project to save the New Mission Theatre, which has been empty and languishing for over a decade.

In mid-February, a Texas group called the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema , and Toby Morris of Kerman Morris Architects, made a presentation at the city’s architectural review committee for the complete restoration and rehabilitation of the old theatre. The plans would restore the space to again show movies, but Alamo wants to convert the New Mission into five “boutique” theatres, a concept that has in the past raised the hackles of many theatre buffs.

Alamo Drafthouse also plans to serve higher-margin food and beer. The company is apparently an institution in Austin, where it serves snacks, food and beer to patrons, and is well known for vehemently enforcing its no texting, no talking policy. The only similar concept locally is the Kabuki Sundance Cinema, where patrons can buy beer and wine and food.

An executive from Alamo Drafthouse and architect Morris were saying all the right things at the city’s meeting. “We are movie fans for movie fans,” said Tim Reed, Alamo’s senior vice president of real estate. “And when you see a gem like the [New] Mission and the ability to go in and bring it back to its heyday and the quality of what it is, it’s very, very exciting. We think what we are going to present to you today is going to be something we can all embrace,” Reed said.

Tortured History

The New Mission is indeed a diamond hidden behind the rough, but it has also had a tortured past. It started out as a nickelodeon called the Idle Hour. In 1915, the owners hired local architects the Reid Brothers, to design a large auditorium and a new lobby, with seats for over 1,700 and a pipe organ that cost $26,000, a massive sum at the time. The theatre opened in 1916 and would become one of many theatres that brothers James and Merritt Reid designed, in addition to their major buildings at the turn of the century, such as the Spreckels Building and the Fairmont Hotel.

In 1932, the theatre’s owners the Nasser Brothers, who also owned the Castro and the Alhambra theatres, hired architect Tim Pflueger to modernize the New Mission, which the Reid Brothers had done in a mostly neo-classical vocabulary. Pflueger added Moderne touches to the main lobby, including some murals in silver leaf, but he mostly left the Reid Brothers auditorium alone. The most pronounced addition by Pflueger is the striking 70-foot high neon vertical, which remains today, albeit in disrepair, and a swank staircase in the main lobby (see photo below).

Pflueger's remodel of the New Mission Theatre, courtesy San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library
Pflueger’s remodel of the New Mission Theatre, courtesy Jack Tillmany and the San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library

In 1993, the theatre was shuttered and in 1998, it was purchased by City College of San Francisco, with the intent to build a new campus in the Mission District. But the only token of the theatre that City College wanted to save in its plans was the striking vertical blade. It planned to tear down the theatre, and a preservation battle ensued, one that got nearly as heated as the unsuccessful fight in the 1970s to save the City of Paris department store from the wrecking ball by Neiman Marcus.

This time around, however, preservationists prevailed. In 2001, the theatre was named to the National Register of Historic Places. Instead of working on an adaptive reuse plan with preservationists, the college decided to sell the building and in 2003, sold it to Gus Murad, the owner of the hip rooftop bar, Medjool, in the Mission. Murad planned to turn the theatre into a performance art space, but his project also included expanding and turning the Giant Value store next door into condominiums. After both of these projects hit too many brick walls with the city, Murad is fed up with San Francisco, and reportedly, has put Medjool up for sale.

The Mission Blog reported that Murad is in contract to sell the New Mission to Alamo Drafthouse, but the company is not commenting beyond a blog post by its founder and CEO Tim League and its committee comments. League posted some photos of the theatre which showed its current delapidated condition, but also showed some of its still-extant architectural features.

Reid Brothers auditorium today, photo by Tim League, Alamo Drafthouse
Reid Brothers auditorium of the New Mission Theatre, photo by Tim League, CEO of Alamo Drafthouse Cinema

It’s not clear how much the major project, which includes a seismic retrofit, will cost.

Morris told the architectural review committee that probably the most signficant aspect of the project is a concept of a “floating balcony,” by extending the lower balcony 15 feet toward the screen. This “floating balcony” is where auditoriums 2, 3 and 4 will be located. “We are going to hold the ceiling of the theatre off of the existing historic ceiling to preserve the interior volume and spatial relationships and to enable visibility of the historic ceiling,” Morris said.

Auditorium 5 will be located on the upper balcony, and the domed ceiling will remain intact. A kitchen and new restrooms will be added on the ground floor.

The plans include keeping and restoring as many of the historic details as possible, such as the Reid Brothers’ ornate plaster work. Where features cannot be saved or restored, molds will be made to help the architects and builders recreate the work. Sadly, the Pflueger lobby, also described as the promenade lobby, was described as needing “reconstruction” because of water damage and brick walls which have to be reinforced. The lobby is the oldest part of the building, and the Reid Brothers auditorium is at least made of reinforced concrete. The goal is to save as many of the mural fragments as possible and display them in the Pflueger lobby, possibly in their original location.

Katherine Petrin, an architectural historian at Architectural Resources Group who is also on the board of the San Francisco Neighborhood Theatre Foundation, said the proposed project is “a rehabilitation that is very exciting.” “The San Francisco Neighborhood Theater Foundation is in full support,” she said, adding that ARG is the historical consultant to Morris and had been working on various projects to restore the theatre for years.

As Morris noted in his presentation, “the devil is in the details,” and there may be some obstacles bedeviling this project. Theatre historian and author Jack Tillmany is not as sanguine about the prospects for the New Mission, nor for ACT”s plans to renovate the old Strand Theatre in the Mid-Market area.

“I believe a lot of people get emotional about saving old theaters without considering the economic and social reality of the times, particularly their locations,” Tillmany said. “The unwelcoming – to put it politely – surroundings and deterioration of business life along both Mission Street and Market Street are an often uncommented upon factor that had a lot to do with the demise of both these sites years ago, and, continue today with little sign of immediate or significant improvement.”

But, it would seem that the gritty location of the New Mission is a good fit for the Alamo Drafthouse, which started its first theatre in a warehouse district in Austin, Texas. League brings hope in his blog, noting that he was born in Berkeley, and that San Francisco is his favorite city in the world.  “We still have many permitting and planning hurdles ahead of us, so we don’t have even a target date to get this done,” League said.