Long before The Haight was known for Jimi Hendrix, White Rabbit and the Summer of Love, it was the go-to place for family fun—offering amusement park rides, a zoo, and a vaudeville house.

Prior to the completion of the Haight Street Cable Car line in 1883, The Haight was an isolated area of sand dunes and four nine-acre dairy farms. These dairy farms were owned by Harry Haight, R. Beverly Cole, and the Stanyan and Grattan families.

With the cable car came streetlights, gas, sewer and water lines and finally urbanization. The initial development consisted primarily of saloons, hotels and restaurants, but as real estate moguls realized that the cable car could transport working-class commuters to the downtown area, they swept in and built housing.

This western end of Haight was the primary entrance to Golden Gate Park–already a destination for weekend entertainment–so when Captain Paul Boyton of Coney Island franchised his Chutes Amusement to San Francisco, it was a natural place to build it. Located on Haight Street between Clayton and Cole, The Chutes opened on November 2nd, 1895.

(Photo credit: San Francisco Public Library)

When The Chutes first opened, it consisted solely of the Shoot the Chutes ride. The Chutes was an inclined trestle track that was 300-feet long and rose 70 feet above the ground. There were two-car tracks that took passengers to a room at the top of the slides where they would get on boats for a return ride down to an artificial lake. Entry was one dime for adults and a nickel for children.

The Scenic Railway ride came next. It was a roller coaster with dips and climbs that circled the perimeter of the grounds, nearly a mile in length. It consisted of an upper and lower track, but only one train was on the track at a time (each train was made up of cars that could carry six passengers each). The Scenic Railway terminated in an 800-foot tunnel that featured a lighted diorama depicting foreign lands.

Two more rides were installed in the amusement park: the Galloping Horses Merry Go Round, brought from England; and the Bewildering London Door Maze, a maze consisting of doors—some fixed, some moving—that took some time to work through.

An ad that ran in the November 5, 1895, San Francisco Call read:

Good Morning
Have You Shot the Chute
On
Haight Street
One Block East of the Park?
Open from 1 to 10 p.m.
Admission Ten Cents
Concert Afternoon and Evening
If You Have Not
Shot the Chutes
You Don’t Know What Life Is

Wallace, the fiercest lion in America.  (Photo credit: San Francisco Public Library)

In 1896 a zoo was added. The zoo’s headliner attraction was Wallace the Lion. Wallace was hyped as the fiercest lion in America; it was reported that he was untamable. The zoo included a South American jaguar, kangaroos, wallabies, leopards and bears, as well as, a hyena that refused to laugh. There were various species of monkey all housed in the Darwinian Temple, and many of them were available to touch and feed.

On June 27, 1897, the Chutes Theater opened. It claimed to be the largest vaudeville house west of Chicago, seating 3500 people and measuring 100 x 300 feet.

The Chutes were moved to Fulton and 10th Street in 1902, and then to Fillmore in 1909. Their final move was to Playland in the 1920s, where they were enjoyed until they were torn down in 1950.

After the Chutes on Haight were dismantled, the artificial lake was drained, and Belvedere Street was extended past Waller and Haight. Subsequently, more stores and residences sprang up in its place.

The residences of the Haight are primarily Victorians. At the time, Victorian-style architecture was marketed toward a conservative middle-class; hundreds of these residences survive today. The 1900 census shows that the Haight was a solid middle-class neighborhood consisting of married couples with children.

Today the largest age group residing in the Haight is 25-to-34 year olds with approximately 75% of the residents being listed as “non-family.” Despite suffering considerably in the 1970s from urban blight, The Haight has once again become a go-to place for fun with its unique restaurants and quirky shops.

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Dancer/Answer

To be continued…

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It is near midnight at El Rio in the Mission. I step outside onto the patio to sip my margarita. The glow of the heat lamps falling gently across the sharp contours of the palms, the smooth lime that I inhale with a shock of salt, the pounding of the beat reverberating against the frail walls of the concert room, all add to the ambiance of sensuous contrast. A wave of sound sweeps over me, and I feel privileged to have discovered a band as raucous and fiery as the Jaunting Martyrs.

The Jaunting Martyrs are natural storytellers, weaving magical prose around epic ballads. Although, in the tradition of the Beat Generation (think Jack Keroauc, for instance), they tend to meander on—when an earlier ending probably would be more organic.

The band is a 6-person ensemble that I originally mistook for a folk band before the on-stage acrobatics clued me in on the group’s true uniqueness. The Jaunting Martyrs are about as theatrical as it gets—they are a circus troupe. At least, they all met through their connections with the circus.

Before the band: Justine Lucas and Brendan O’Loughlin at the Cirkus Pandemonium

Justine Lucas hits the road with the circus

One of the original members of Jaunting Martyrs, Justine Lucas, describes the group: “There’s a certain element of theatrical silliness among all of us on stage; our individual quirks are connected by our past circus-related experiences,” she writes in an e-mail, “The circus taught me how to improvise…the structure of the music has to be flexible to be able to provide a soundtrack that syncs up with the drama of the circus act.”

The band members represent a wide array of circus troupes and organizations, including the Humboldt Circus, the Freelove Circus, the Marching Lumberjacks, Cirkus Pandemonium, and Flying Actors Studio.

It is a starless, brooding night outside the Grant and Green Saloon, and Grant Street is privy to fiery marquees silhouetted against a languid sky. A hop and a skip away is Café Trieste. A jump further is City Lights Bookstore, where the specters of Allen Ginsberg and William Burroughs still lurk.

Sitting at a cold, damp table, a stark contrast with the distant warm glow of Café Trieste, I wonder out loud about the band’s genre, given its clamorous sound. Across from me is the group: Carlos Nunoz (electric guitar); Justine Lucas (lead vocals, violin, mandolin, acoustic guitar); Brendan O’Loughlin (lead vocals, electric & acoustic guitar, banjo); Justin Boyle (electric & upright bass); Jimi Marks (drums/percussion); and Margarita Licon (trumpet, accordion).

Brendan answers, “I personally wanted to step away from the gypsy moniker and what it implies. We don’t exactly play gypsy jazz. That’s what we started as.”

To his right, Justin sits upright and attentive next to his fellow troubadours’ comfortable slouches. He chimes in, “On my phone I have Brendan as ‘gypsy jazz surf rock dude’ that’s the flavor that I [perceive]. It’s more about flavors than genres.”

Laughter spreads among the band members, situated in chairs sprawled underneath the awning of the Café. I find myself caught up in the energy.

The band’s influences, as it turns out, vary widely and range from Brendan’s interest in surf rock to Justine’s childhood inspirations, including Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan.

Justine adds, “My parents were kind of punks in the 80s. When they had me they were like ‘Oh my god! The baby’s screaming! Lets shut her up with the Sex Pistols!’”

“She’s mellowed out with age,” Justin insists, “We all have really different influences. The structures of the songs are written with folk and blues [in mind] and we kind of open it up for different solos and different melodies to come out.”

Oftentimes, these melodies are improvised.

“If you feel the beat, you feel the beat,” says Margarita, whose small size can only be an acrobatic advantage. Although she leaves the tumbling tricks for her moments with Justine offstage between acts, she does juggle on stage with alacrity.

Improvisation, acrobatics, tom foolery—these themes continued to emerge in my correspondence with Brendan after the Grant and Green Saloon interview. For Brendan, the connection between the circus and the band is the storytelling experience:

“We want a little madness in the room, a little switching up, maybe a little hard thinking and questioning, but mostly strangeness. The circus showed us all that. To be weird and tell a story and put on a show, and to know that there is seriously nothing better in this world than that.”

Brendan tells me that what drives him is “the desire to celebrate those who are on the fringes of society.” I am tempted to question his candor. Yet his years of cultivating connection through music and showmanship, while cobbling retail jobs together to make ends meet, convinces me of his sincerity. He continues, “For many of our friends out on the road out…and traveling people of all sorts…the circus arts have been a survival skill [for generations].”

In San Francisco, the Jaunting Martyrs draw on the tradition of traveling artists who have for years sought to gain a different perspective than that offered by our current “system.” In their responses to my queries during the interview and in my correspondence, I am reminded again of the Beat Generation that still haunts the air—especially in San Francisco. In particular, I think of the poem “Howl” by Allen Ginsberg. In the poem, Ginsburg describes his friends:

“…who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz…”

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Yes, it’s true. I’m sharing another piece about a dog park. But! Please keep in mind, this poor fool has been living with a broken foot since January. During these long months of recovery one of my only outdoor activities is sitting in a park and leaving my dog to romp about on her own.

As it turns out, dog parks in San Francisco are pretty awesome. I guess it makes sense, seeing as dogs outnumber babies by quite a large number around these parts. I found this excerpt from the SF Gate, which I find rather amusing:

“There are an estimated 120,000 dogs in San Francisco, according to the city’s Animal Care and Control department. There are anywhere from 108,000 to 113,000 children…”

The article is a bit outdated, but I’m sure the general takeaway hasn’t changed: Dogs rule in SF.

Anyone who has a dog and lives in my part of the city knows about Bernal Heights Park. Those of you who don’t, now’s the time. From the Mission District just head up Folsom Street, past Cesar Chavez, and climb the unimaginably steep hill spread out before you. At the very top you will find the base of yet another large hill – and you’ve made it. Now you can let the pup off leash and stroll up the paved road that wraps around the hill, stopping one bench at a time to take in the magnificent city views. Don’t take so long that you don’t make it to the top, though—those are truly the best. From there you can get panoramic views from the Marin Headlands and the Golden Gate bridge (when it’s relatively clear out), all the way across downtown and into the East Bay.

Bernal Heights Park actually started out as a rock quarry, so it’s pretty lacking in vegetation. I wouldn’t recommend you head there if you’re looking to have a quiet picnic in the sun; the hills are very steep so you’s probably tumble down them if you tried to set up a blanket. And forget having food within eyesight…the dogs in SF are seriously sneaky. They’re probably smart enough to set up a decoy and snag your sandwich and all natural sea salt chips from Bi-Rite. I mean, I would.

A few notes you might want to consider:

• There are hawks flying around up there, and I have personally witnessed one pick off a small rodent from the rubble. If you have a tiny dog that might be mistaken for one, you might want to reconsider the off-leash thing.

• You will likely find plastic bags already there at one of the two entrances, but you still probably BYOPBs. Keep it clean, people.

• Remember layers, it can get pretty windy up there.

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“Is there a Psych referee in the house?” asked Amy Fowler, keyboard player for The Aerosols, while onstage during the band’s set at The Brick and Mortar Music Hall on Friday, April 27. Though no one rose to the task, the question was fair, considering the range of psychedelic displays by the night’s line up. Four bands—three from San Francisco, one from Nevada City—huffed and puffed through the night at this Mission District venue.

Billy Cramer and Share The Land graciously welcomed the audience with a rocking set. The four piece of drums, bass, keys and guitar played songs that seamlessly swayed between sections that sounded like Classic Rock and others that sounded like 60s Psychedelic Rock. The former style was used for the core of the songs (verses and choruses) while the latter could be heard during instrumental interludes.

Up next were The Goldenhearts. The 7-piece band featured a string section accompanying a tenacious line up of drums, bass and guitar. Their sound struck me mostly as Alternative Rock—even though the band is sometimes labeled as Psychedelic Rock. (The wide range of textures and arrangements offered by the band makes it hard to classify.) The Goldenhearts’ music is highly developed and thought out, each song garnished by vocal harmonies, string arrangements, interludes and break sections. As their set progressed, the intensity of the night kept rising—culminating when guitarist/vocalist Roger Rocha abused one of his guitars, breaking several strings simultaneously during a solo.

The Soft Bombs provided a straight 60s Psych vibe, aided by the projection of kaleidoscopic imagery and other obscure footage on a blanket behind the stage. The Nevada City band—a four piece of drums, bass, guitar and keys—is completing a small West Coast tour as they promote their sophomore full-length album Embrace The Light. The Soft Bombs’s sound is solid and consistent. Frontman Michael Padilla’s voice glided blissfully between low and high registers, and drummer Ben Bodine kept the music blazing while mixing disco beats into songs reminiscent of Britpop. The band witnessed the peak of audience numbers and energy, thanks to good timing and a well-defined sound.

Headliners The Aerosols took to the stage to close what seemed to be an unofficial Psych Fest off shoot. The San Francisco four piece of drums, bass, guitar and keyboard played an impassioned set that ran late into the night. The Aerosols use blithe pop melodies that feel comfortable and easy. The psychedelia comes through in the keys arrangements that give movement to the harmony laid down by the bass and guitar. The resulting dynamic texture of the music provide frontman Joe Z. Armin’s voice a landscape to journey over. One of their most representative songs was “She’s So Far Gone,” of which you can find a recording on the bands’ MySpace page.

Overall, it was a fun night at this recently re-branded venue in San Francisco. Event producer and DJ Neal Martinson a.k.a. SMILE! showcased an impressive array of local talent.

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On January 19, 1873, 12,000 people showed up at Woodward Gardens in the Mission District to watch Frenchman Gus Buislay and a small boy soar aloft in a hot air balloon. The man who made it happen was Robert B. Woodward.

Woodward had made his fortune in the grocery store business. In 1849, he opened a store right off the waterfront to serve the ever-increasing number of people flooding into the Port of San Francisco for the Gold Rush.

With the acumen of a savvy businessman, he realized the ’49er economy was moving from supplies to service, and so in 1852 Woodward opened What Cheer House, a hotel and club for men known for its good food, safe accommodations and no alcohol policy.

Two women stand ready to enter the reptile house at Woodward Gardens in 1880. (Photo credit: San Francisco Public Library)

Woodward’s family left Providence, Rhode Island, in 1857 to join him in California. Woodward purchased four acres of land and a house that had belonged to General John C. Fremont. The property was located on the west side of Mission Street between 14th and 15th Streets. He and his family lived in Fremont’s house while he worked to construct a mansion on one of the many hillocks in the area.

A year-long shopping trip to Europe would necessitate the construction of a gallery and conservatory on his property. Here he could show off the copies of famous sculptures he had had made, as well as paintings and other curiosities he had collected. But the true show piece of Woodward’s estate was its fantastic gardens.

Woodward began these gardens during the original construction of the house. Supplied in 1861 with plants, animals and artifacts from Europe, soon the gardens came to be referred to as the Central Park of the West. In 1864, he opened the estate to friends and acquaintances.

As the garden’s fame spread, members of the public began to stand outside for hours on Sundays, hoping to get a peek of the grounds. In 1866, with a little nudging from his daughter the grounds were open to the public. Woodward moved his family to the Napa Valley and dedicated his time to expanding his San Francisco Woodward Gardens for the enjoyment of its visitors.

Woodward Gardens Art Gallery 1836 (Photo credit: San Francisco Public Library)

Recognizing the need for a constantly changing array of attractions, Woodward once again headed to Europe, bringing back crates of items ranging from the fashionable to the odd. Sailors he had befriended over the years also brought him curiosities from around the world.

It was said  that Woodward Gardens held the finest zoo on the west coast, with camels, zebras, buffalo, deer and even kangaroos. There was also a bear pit that held both grizzlies and black bears.

In 1873 Woodward opened an aquarium with sixteen tanks that held from 300 to 1000 gallons of fresh or salt water. The lighting of the tanks allowed visitors to see marine creatures in their natural environment. Visitors were entertained by the crabs, lobsters, shark, cod, flounders, rays, and the occasional ink-spitting octopus.

An amphitheater—that held 5000 people—presented shows featuring Delhi Fire-Eaters, Japanese Acrobats, Roman chariot races and Major Burke and his Rifle Review.

Camel Rides at Woodward Gardens 1880

Woodward’s home became the Museum of Miscellanies—a pair of 10,000-year-old mastodon tusks graced the front door. The house contained a mineral display as well as fossils and zoological specimens. At one point park goers could view the “largest gold nugget ever found” from the Sierra Butte mine, a privilege they purchased with an additional .25 cents.

There were several restaurants on the grounds, and, just like What Cheer House, they did not serve alcohol.

General Ulysses S. Grant visited the Garden in 1879. That same year Robert B. Woodward passed away. Although his sons took over the running of Woodward Gardens, they lacked their father’s showmanship and could never match his enthusiasm for the place.

When the park closed in 1894, all the artifacts were sold at auction. Developers stepped in, graded the land, divided it into 39 separate lots and sold them—to become homes for the working class of San Francisco.

Plaque on the outside of Woodward Gardens Restaurant, now missing.  (Photo credit: San Francisco Public Library) 

While many people have never heard of Woodward Gardens, or could not conceive of a four-acre park filled with such wonders and curiosities in the Mission District, some signs hint to its existence. Today, Woodward Gardens Restaurant sits at the corner of Mission and 13th. Alas, the restaurant has no wandering ostriches or playful seals.

Looking Northeast from Robert Woodward’s house, 1865. (Photo credit: San Francisco Public Library)

The Mission Street Entrance to Woodward Gardens, 1862. (Photo credit: San Francisco Public Library)

Woodward Gardens, 1874.  (Photo credit: San Francisco Public Library)

Gus Buisley’s balloon often bumped the windmill when ascending. (Photo credit: San Francisco Public Library)

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We’ll be back next week with more of “The Whole Sha-bang”…

Peter Varshavsky, head of Porto Franco Records

San Francisco family-owned Porto Franco Records started three years ago as a traditional record label. Unlike most labels, the company has produced albums from multiple musical genres—with the caveat that the music be representative of the San Francisco music scene. Today, however, after failing to recoup on their expenses, Porto Franco is refocusing. In order to better support local musicians while also achieving financial stability, they are creating less-expensive artistic media products that help raise artists’ visibility.

On a recent Friday afternoon, I sat with Peter Varshavsky, head of Porto Franco. Located inside a nicely trimmed Victorian house on Valencia Street, the apartment where our meeting took place serves as Porto Franco’s headquarters. The “office” is furnished with a piano, a vintage kitchen oven and other old-time looking items that give the space a homey feel.

The label was started by Varshavsky and his parents in order to support the San Francisco music community. Inspired by the interconnectedness of the musical scene, the label’s mission was to work with San Francisco musicians placed across a wide range of musical genres. From Darren Johnston’s free jazz, to Copperwire’s hip hop to Undercover Presents’ tribute projects, the label has released 29 albums. A handful more are scheduled for release later this year. After that, however, the label will stop producing albums and focus instead on videos of intimate live performances, blog posts and show listings.

The change in focus began about a year ago after Varshavsky realized that the company wasn’t doing well. He admits that they weren’t looking for huge profits, but they also did not want to lose money. While sales of hard-copy CD’s or mp3 downloads were slow from the first, the idea of building an audience without being able to focus on one genre proved too big a challenge. “To generate income you need to generate an audience first,” says Varshavsky. Labels that are successful generally focus on one genre and have an identifiable sound. “We didn’t have a sound,” he continues, so “we decided that we needed to create a product that was very us.”

The “very us” product turned out to be videos that show musicians performing in an intimate environment. According to Varshavsky, “a video has more promotional value than an album.” It provides a more engaged experience than an audio listen, and if it goes viral, its impact to the artist’s visibility is much larger than any other promotional outlet.

By making videos, Porto Franco also allows itself to move faster from artist to artist and across genres. “Working with an artist to make an album takes 5 to 20 thousand dollars and many months of work. Making a video takes 2 hours of scheduling, 3 of shooting and 5 hours of editing. Then, you can move on.”

The videos are very straight forward. They are usually shot with two or three cameras and portray a live performance (without an audience). They represent what happened in the room that day quite accurately, with no audio or image enhancements.

One such example is this video of local blues man Seth Augusts performing “Everything is Everywhere” at Porto Franco’s headquarters. The energy and honesty comes through in the video drawing the viewer into the space.

In addition to making videos of ensembles doing what they regularly do, Porto Franco exercises artistic direction by pairing musicians that do not regularly work together and documenting their collaboration. For Varshavsky, “To shoot something that would have happened anyway is much less interesting that to help create something new.”

Under this model, Porto Franco plans on recouping some money through YouTube ads and iTunes downloads of the songs from the videos, which the label hopes to make available in the near future. And even if this does not generate a lot of money, at least they won’t be spending quite as much as they did when sponsoring the production of full-length albums.

Becoming a YouTube success and being able to make a living from it is a rare occurrence, but not a far-fetched idea. Bay Area indie artists Pomplamoose are able to make a living through YouTube and iTunes downloads. In 2009, the band had been posting videos of their original recordings and popular covers when one of those videos was featured on YouTube’s front page. Now, the duo has almost 350K subscribers on the website and has sold hundreds of thousands of song downloads through iTunes. But Pomplamoose did not cross the online fame threshold solely due to the YouTube feature. By the time they were featured, they had developed an innovative way to engage viewers with videos produced around the “you see what you hear” concept.

Porto Franco experienced this success to some degree last summer when LaTosha Brown’s video of “I Know I’ve Been Changed” was featured on YouTube’s front page. Right away the video got more than 500K views. That number has now risen to more than one million. Varshavsky hopes to recreate this success with current videos.

Having worked closely with scores of musicians for the past three years, Varshavsky acknowledges that in order to be successful, artists need to be curious about promotional methods and online tools. “They should not see online promotion as a chore but as a way to channel their creative energy.” Success for today’s musicians and artists in general relies on an interdisciplinary creativity and competency. “Artists who are successful under the current model are the ones who say: I’m going to post a song every week or make a video every month [and] have something interesting every time. After two years of that, something starts happening.”

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(Photo credit: UC Bancroft Library)

Adolph Sutro (1830-1898) was one of San Francisco’s most beloved mayors and esteemed citizens. Originally from Prussia, he amassed millions in the Comstock Lode (Nevada Silver Rush of 1859) by designing and constructing ventilated mining shafts. By cashing out just before the silver rain out, he was able to purchase fully one-twelfth of San Francisco, including all the western dunes and a section of the sea shore called the Outside Lands. Sutro’s name is commonly associated with the baths he built in the Outside Lands. He did, however, leave another legacy. The site of his home, now Sutro Heights Park.

Sutro first encountered the future site of his Sutro Heights home in March of 1881 while visiting 
the home of Samuel Tetlow, the owner of the Bella Union Music Hall. Tetlow had purchased the dwelling in 1860 from James Butler, the first developer of the Cliff House. It is said that Sutro fell instantly in love with the house and made a deposit of $1,000 (on a total sale price of $15,000) for the cottage and an adjoining 1.65 acres that very afternoon.

Carpet Bed designs including flowers, carefully trimmed grasses, hedges and moss were a standard feature in Victorian gardens. (Photo credit: GGNRA)

After purchasing the home, Sutro focused first on the grounds. He spent millions trying to recreate a European garden, dotted with statues, planters, and fountains. During an 1883 tour of Europe, Sutro arranged for the casting of more than 200 pieces of sculpture in Belgium. These were shipped to San Francisco in 1884. The sculptures (made of plaster, rather than marble, required an annual coat of white paint to keep the plaster from dissolving). In 1885, Sutro opened his gardens to the public for an entry fee of one dime. He hoped that the statuary would provide accessible examples of European culture to these visitors. The money he collected helped to pay the 15 gardeners employed to maintain the grounds. While many people brought picnic baskets for their visit, they were confiscated by the gate keeper and returned when the visitors departed. Litter, which often included peanut shells—hot peanuts were a popular snack of the era—were apparently too much for Sutro to bear.

Photo credit: UC Bancroft Library

In 1895, following a modest remodeling of the house, Sutro built a rock-and-sandstone parapet. Sited on the highest point of the estate, the parapet provides breathtaking views of the surrounding sea shore. Since its completion, the parapet has been a major focal point of visitors to the property.

As built, the parapet was a curved sandstone wall that extended in a semicircle for 280 feet. Thirty stone crenellations (notches), linked with iron railings and topped with statues or urns, defined the top edge of the parapet. Initially, the parapet also held freestanding chairs and two large Parrott-model cannons (each with a stack of cannon balls).

This small wood-frame structure originally featured carved wooden posts, iron grillwork doors, decorative shingles, and finials capping each roof end. 

The well house, built around 1885, is the last surviving building from the Sutro era. Although it is not clear whether the structure ever actually housed a well, it did contain the plumbing for the pair of drinking fountains mounted on opposite sides of the structure.

Sutro died in 1898, prompting a call for the City to purchase the property. In 1902, Charles Bundschu wrote in The Merchant’s Association Review: “He immortalized his name in our local history, not alone by planting of miles of forests near the ocean line, by the building of the monumental bathing establishment bearing his name, by the inauguration of a competitive electric [streetcar] line introducing the five-cent fare, but he showed his admiration of nature’s greatest gifts in the creation of Sutro Heights, a beautiful park elevation, overlooking the Cliff House point, affording an unbounded view of the vast expanse of the great Pacific Ocean.”

In 1920, Emma Sutro Merritt, Sutro’s daughter, transferred the ownership of Sutro Heights to the City of San Francisco under the condition that it be “forever held and maintained as a free public resort or park under the name of Sutro Heights.” The Merritts retained a lifetime residence on the property. Between 1920 and 1933 the Merritts continued to allow visitors access to Sutro Heights, which by this time was starting to show its age and lack of maintenance.

The Conservatory was built to house Sutro’s exotic plants collected from all over the world.  (Photo credit: GGNRA)

In 1933, at the request of Emma Sutro Merritt, the City of San Francisco agreed to assume maintenance of Sutro Heights. There were, however, no major improvements made or any rehabilitation of the grounds.

In 1937, the city submitted a proposal to the Works Progress Administration (WPA) for the rehabilitation of the grounds at Sutro Heights. Some repairs were undertaken, and staircases were constructed at both ends of the wall to provide access to the parapet terrace. In total, WPA “improvements” to Sutro Heights cost $90,994. When Emma Sutro Merritt died in residence at Sutro Heights in 1938, the City directed the WPA to demolish the aged home that had fallen into severe disrepair.

In 1976, the City of San Francisco transferred ownership of Sutro Heights to the National Park Service, to be managed as part of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area. The National Park Service is charged with identifying and preserving the historic features remaining on the site. Under Park Service direction, the grounds have improved significantly.

Today, Sutro Heights provides a large, green open space for visitors. The parapet still wraps around the hill allowing anyone to sit and gaze out onto the magnificent view. And now, at least, you can have your picnic on the grounds.

Sutro Heights Park [Map]
Point Lobos Avenue, San Francisco

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A day’s worth of San Francisco trash, being compressed before being trucked to a landfill in the East Bay.

In San Francisco though, a good deal of our waste avoids that fate. The Board of Supervisors passed a mandatory recycling and composting ordinance in 2009, and our curbside recycling and compost pickup is free. Our compost feeds soil at local farms and wineries. Partially used cans of paint left at the household hazardous waste dropoff are available for free. All told, 77% of our waste is diverted from the landfill. The city hopes to reach its goal of zero waste by 2020.

And a select group of artists is also chipping away at the city’s waste stream. In their hands, used glass becomes icy sculpture; discarded fur coats become a husk of jackrabbits; Styrofoam becomes a full-scale (non-operational) Hummer; and engine parts, a gas pump, baseball bats, ten-speed bike handlebars, vacuum parts, a lamp, extension ladder parts, a garden soil aerator and golf caddy cart wheels are reborn as a giant mosquito.

Dump-sourced artwork on display at the San Francisco Dump’s gallery and education center, including Nemo Gould’s Guzzler.

These artists are part of an internationally known artist-in-residence program hosted by Recology San Francisco. Recology is the employee-owned company that handles San Francisco’s trash, recycling and compost collection and operates the 46-acre dump on the San Francisco/San Mateo county line.

Since 1990, more than 100 professional and student artists from the Bay Area have held four-month residencies at the dump, where they have created paintings, sculptures, photographs, installations and other works of art, according to program manager Deborah Munk. The artists comb through the public disposal and recycling facilities (not the contents of your black bins) and receive a stipend and full-time use of a large studio and stocked tool shop for the four-month residency.

Works of art are entirely dump-sourced. Nemo Gould, a 2007 artist, wanted to buy hardware to hold together his sculptures, like Guzzeler, above, and Impala. Program leaders asked him to hold off before buying anything, and days later an elderly man brought a toolbox full of nuts and bolts to the public disposal area, exactly what Gould needed. Beau Buck, a current resident artist, is using feathers in his pieces. The feathers come from raptors handled by the dump’s resident falconer (more on that in an upcoming UntappedSF article).

The Public Disposal and Recycling Area at the San Francisco Dump.

Munk generally receives about 100 applications each year, and an advisory board selects four to eight artists for the upcoming year. Artists are completely self-directed, although they’re asked to speak to tour groups that come through the facility. At the end of the residency, Recology hosts a public exhibition at the artist studio, adjacent to the dump. Visitors can sift through and claim materials that the artists gathered but didn’t use. Artists leave three pieces with the program for its permanent collection and off-site exhibits. Dozens of pieces from former residents are also on display in the dump’s three-acre sculpture garden.

The program grew out of a project by local artist Jo Hanson. In the 1980s, Hanson began a practice of sweeping the streets in her San Francisco neighborhood and making scrapbooks out of the random items she found. She involved kids in her practice and eventually pitched the idea of an artist residency program to Recology and the San Francisco Department of the Environment. Decisionmakers saw the program as a great way to promote reuse and educate about waste, particularly because curbside recycling had just begun. Recology has recently launched a second artist residency program, called GLEAN, at its Portland, Oregon, facilities.

The current residents are Karrie Hovey and Beau Buck. Hovey is a former industrial designer who is interested in “the bi-product of our buy-product obsession,” she says. One project she had outlined in her proposal has shifted during her residency, since she was not finding the retail packaging—foam and plastics—that she expected to find. “You have access to so much, but you’re also limited by what you find,” she says.

Artist Karrie Hovey has scavenged from paint, books, plexiglass, glass and other materials.

Hovey is using discarded books to create chrysanthemum-like blooms. She has also taken glass, crushed or broken it in different ways and fired it into bricks in the program’s glass kiln, experimenting with the ways that the glass takes on the uneven appearance of ice. She is also working with latex paint, taken from the household hazardous waste disposal area. She pours it onto glass, then peels it off to create strips and other pieces she affixes to plexiglass in grids and patterns. The results highlight our efforts to control nature and to map our world in exacting detail.

Artist Karrie Hovey made these bricks of broken glass using the program’s glass kiln.

Buck is building an intimate greenhouse space with seating for two, using old French doors and Victorian windowpanes. Gathering the materials was hard, he says, because people will carefully pack these architectural pieces onto their trucks, then “throw it as hard as they can” off the trucks. For another project he is using melted-down, purified lead from a found box of bullets. His idea is to use the material, but separate it from the violent themes that the bullets suggest—a purification by reincarnation.

A view into artist Beau Buck’s architectural space.

Buck is also creating a group of stuffed jackrabbits, inspired by a rock-and-roll legend about the burial of Gram Parsons in Joshua Tree. He has sewn them using everything from a pair of cowboy boots to an old fur coat, a back brace belt and a half-woven tapestry he pulled off of a discarded and broken loom.

A discarded tapestry transformed into a jackrabbit by artist Beau Buck.

“This series has really gone in the direction I wanted it to,” he says. “The materials are things I couldn’t get by looking for them.” He explains that the materials he could find at a thrift store or garage sale are too nice, but the discarded pieces have the tattered look he wants to capture.

We still produce a lot of waste in this city. Recology takes 60 truckloads per day to the landfill in Livermore, each truck holding about 25 tons. And most of that trash just isn’t going to be reborn as fine art. But by highlighting the value that remains in our waste, the artist in residence program produces lasting artwork that forces us to think about what we produce, consume and discard. It is a poignant illustration of the lessons of Cradle to Cradle and the ways that we can and should recapture the energy and effort that goes into producing what we ultimately toss away.

1993 artist Marta Thoma’s work, Earth Tear, on display at the San Francisco Dump sculpture garden.

The exhibition featuring Hovey and Buck’s work will take place Friday, May 18, 2012, 5–9 pm and Saturday, May 19, 2012, 1–5 pm at the Recology studio at 503 Tunnel Avenue. This show will also feature student artist Calder Yates.

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