There once lived in the old town an obscure poet whose thoughts over dwelt in “June’s palace paved with gold,” but whose feet trod the halls of dingy lodging-houses and whose appetite was appeased in “three for a quarter” restaurants. He finally decided to become a prosperous plumber instead of remaining a poor poet. But before bartering his minstrel harp for a plumber’s pipe wrench he twanged off a lay called “Where Purple Lupine Grows,” in which he lauded the sand dunes, expressing his reverence for the blossom-bedecked hills because of the memory of the days when he wandered over them in company with bonny Dove Eye’s sister, who probably later became his bride and the mother of a line of plumbers, and closing:
To some gay gardens are more fair,
But eye cannot impartIdeal of beauty—that is e’er The Standard of the heart.
And the poet-plumber had a lead-pipe cinch on the sentimental situation.
—Article transcription courtesy of Ron Filion [http://www.zpub.com/sf50/sf/sindex.htm]
The north and west sides of the city sported the sandhills while sand blew over the hills and filled the valleys in the southeast. Those valleys soaked up the water from rain runoff and artesian springs to form marshlands, lakes, lagoons, and streams. Just as the Potrero District was ideal for pastureland, the Mission District proved itself ideal for farming. It received more sun than the rest of the city and its softly rolling hills, sandy soil and abundant water made it ideal for row crops, grains, and orchards.
The 1867 San Francisco Municipal Report for Farms cited five thousand acres planted in barley and oats, another eleven hundred acres planted in potatoes, three hundred acres of hay, hundreds of bushels of beans, peas, onions, and beets harvested, as well as ninety tons of turnips and thirty tons of pumpkins and squash produced. Aside from reporting nearly seventy-five hundred horses, the city held within it over four thousand milk cows, more than fifty-six hundred hogs, nearly five thousand chickens, and numerous other farm animals. Orchards and vines accounted for the remainder of the report, with over three thousand fruit trees planted, one hundred raspberry vines, seventy-five grape vines, and thirty thousand strawberry vines producing. San Francisco must have had a hearty appetite for strawberries.
San Francisco’s primary crop remained houses and businesses, and soon the Mission District was apportioned with its own street layout and lots for sale. The lakes and lagoons were filled, the artesian wells were tapped and diverted through the storm drains, and the streams were routed to those storm drains as well, all emptying into the artificial Mission Creek and then directly into the bay. The land was leveled and the Mission became a working-class neighborhood for the city’s German and Irish immigrants. Not one remnant remains of the fertile land other than the occasional backyard garden, and few people have ever heard of Lake McCoppin that once covered nearly sixteen blocks in the heart of the Mission.
Is the city poorer for all its change? I would say, with apologies to the environment, no. For all its uniqueness, metamorphosis is the nature of San Francisco. We mourn the losses but hail the change that keeps this great city vibrant.
Woodcut of Woodward’s Gardens, ca. 1885. —Author’s collection
Chapter 2
Amusement Parks
WOODWARD’S GARDENS
A visitor to the Mission District of San Francisco sees an impoverished, rundown, somewhat intimidating section of the city. A local recognizes a neighborhood with heart, undergoing rejuvenation. I find the landmarks of my childhood and recall how it looked nearly fifty years ago. What no one sees is evidence of the magic that existed here just over a hundred years ago when Robert Woodward opened his gardens to the public.
Robert B. Woodward earned his fortune in 1849 with sweat and foresight, not in the gold fields of California but by opening a grocery store just off San Francisco’s waterfront. Like many a successful businessman, he knew when to say “enough” as the trend changed from a need for staples to a need for services. Woodward started investing his wealth in the burgeoning new economy. Seeing the demand for rooms and meals for those in transit as well as for the more permanent residents, he opened the What Cheer House on Sacramento Street, a hotel and club for men only, which sold good food ala carte and only non-alcoholic beverages. The hotel provided clean and safe accommodations at low prices, an unbeatable combination. The What Cheer House multiplied Woodward’s wealth.
In 1857, Woodward retrieved his family from Providence, Rhode Island. He purchased a four-acre tract of land once belonging to General John C. Fremont, located in the Mission District in the heart of the city. That district encompasses the original Spanish town of Yerba Buena, home to Mission Dolores originated by Father Junipero Serra. Like many a successful city investor, Woodward build a mansion for his family, but unlike most, he enclosed the spacious grounds and planted magnificent gardens.
The front gateway to Woodward’s Gardens. —Photo courtesy of San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library
The former grocer traveled to Europe in 1861 on an extravagant buying trip that spanned a year and a half. Plants, animals, and artifacts of all types were shipped back to California by the crate loads. During that trip, he developed a taste for art and sponsored an aspiring painter, Virgil Williams, to study in Florence, Italy, and to copy the masterpieces, a common practice of the times. Woodward displayed the results and his other purchases in his home and then in the What Cheer House, soon filling a library and small museum there with attractions from around the world. Copies of famous sculptures and busts soon followed the paintings. When display space became an issue, Woodward built a gallery and conservatory on his estate grounds to display his treasures. He longed for public and private museums and galleries in San Francisco to rival those of the East Coast and he set an example for others to follow.
Robert Woodward’s Gardens just before he went public—1866. —Library of Congress
The gardens of his estate soon became Woodward’s obsession, and much of the profit from his investments went into them. He opened his estate in November of 1864 to friends and acquaintances with an appreciation for art and elegance. Word spread and requests for visits increased. People stood outside his gates on Sundays hoping to get a glimpse of the glory inside. It took little convincing to encourage him to open his gates to the public. Cooley Altrocchi relates in The Spectacular San Franciscans, “One day at the Sunday dinner table Mr. Woodward exclaimed, ‘Did you ever see such a crowd of gapers and gazers? I might as well let the public have the run of the grounds.’ To which one of his daughters responded, ‘Well, why don’t you, Father?’ The philanthropist pondered this for a moment, and then said, ‘Well, that’s a thumping good idea. I think I will.’”
By opening his estate to the public, Woodward was ending his private life in San Francisco. After moving his family to his Oak Knoll farm in the Napa Valley, he prepared Woodward’s Gardens for the masses. The Gardens encompassed four city blocks bounded by Mission, Thirteenth, Valencia, and Fifteenth streets. The main entrance stood at the intersection of Mission and Fourteenth