Earl Dunphy, the Man Behind the Park

By Larry Clinton, Sausalito Historical Society

PHOTO FROM SAUSALITO HISTORICAL SOCIETY

Earl Dunphy enjoyed a 5-decade political career in Sausalito

The reopening of Dunphy Park, after more than a year’s worth of improvements, brings to mind the man who gave the park its name: distinguished Sausalitan Earl Dunphy.

Last year the Historical Society’s Nora Sawyer described how the park was created on the site of what had once been a town dump:

”A group of local residents calling themselves the Community Park Volunteers proposed that ‘by means of volunteer labor and donated materials, a simple but pleasant park could be created.’

“This group, led by Barry Hibben, formally requested permission to develop the park in September 1971. Over the next few years, the park took shape, fueled by volunteer efforts and contributions of funds, services and supplies by various groups, civic organizations, and individual volunteers. By December 1974, the park, named for long term City Councilmember Earl Dunphy, was complete.”

Fittingly, the new, improved Dunphy Park was also the result of countless hours of volunteer work and years of effort by citizens, elected and appointed officials, and City staff.

It’s a great story, but just as interesting is the story of the park’s namesake. Long-term Sausalitan Earl Dunphy worked for the NWP Railroad and at various other blue-collar jobs while also serving as postmaster, town trustee and councilman, including multiple terms as mayor. He was also on the town planning commission and was coordinator of civilian defense during WWII.

“An interest in politics is something you just have inside you; you receive nothing, but you feel you are accomplishing something." That’s what Dunphy told the Sausalito News in 1966, having served in local government for 44 years.

In a 1990 oral history for the Historical Society, Dunphy related how he got into local government, and some of his valuable early political lessons:

“My next-door neighbor, Billy Hannon, was mayor when I was about 15 years old, and he used to talk politics with me and finally he said, “Why don’t you come to a meeting?” So I started attending council meetings when I was 15.  They didn’t call them councilmen then; they were town trustees.

“Finally, in about 1935 I attended a meeting when they were arguing about spending a couple of hundred dollars to fix the firehouse door. At that time, the firehouse was opposite from where Ondine is. I said to myself, “I think I’ll run for the council,” so I talked to a couple of my friends, and they said, “Why don’t you? You’ve got nothing to lose.” So, we financed my campaign which was a total of $17, and I ran and was elected.”

Instead of fixing a door, Dunphy pursued a larger goal:

“I finally convinced the council – I want you to remember this: you never do anything by yourself – you must have support, and you need a majority. And believe me I was in the minority most of the time.  But I said let’s buy the property at the corner of Caledonia and Johnson and finally we got them to buy it. And we decided to put aside some money to build the fire station on that site. And also, to purchase some waterfront property and to put in some streetlights. We put three bond issues on the ballot in 1939 to put some lights down through town, to buy a waterfront lot at the foot of North Street and to relocate the firehouse. But all three were defeated.

“When the votes were tallied, we found out what happened. On the lights, the people on the hill rose against it because the lights were going to be on the waterfront, not on the hill.  On the firehouse, the people in old town voted against it because it would move the firehouse from the old part of town to the new part of town. And on the purchase of the waterfront property, the people in the north end of town voted against that because it was down in the south end of town. The city council said, ‘the people want them all, but they don’t want to pay for them.’ So, we built them all [without issuing bonds], and it turned out cheaper that way.”

All politics, as they say, is local.

Later, when Dunphy was mayor, a different bond issue was proposed — to buy the land that is now Dunphy Park. “I took an important part in that,” Dunphy recalled, “and it passed very quickly.” 

So next time you visit the waterfront park to enjoy the new landscaping, shoreline paths or the bocce and volleyball courts, take a moment to honor a true Sausalito giant: Earl Dunphy.

Oral histories such as Earl Dunphy’s are accessible at http://www.sausalitohistoricalsociety. com.

Harbor Porpoise Comeback

By William Keener, and Larry Clinton, Sausalito Historical Society

Marine biologist Bill Keener began studying the of harbor porpoises to San Francisco Bay in 2008. In 2011, he wrote about his findings in BayNature Magazine.  Here are some excerpts from that article: From Cavallo Point at Fort Baker you can often see porpoises swimming past in groups of two or three. Such sightings are all the more remarkable because for many decades porpoises weren’t seen inside the Bay. But we know they used to be here. Bones found in the Emeryville shellmound suggest the local Ohlone people consumed harbor porpoises in small quantities for some 2,000 years.

It’s unclear exactly when harbor porpoises abandoned the Bay, or why, but they seemed to have disappeared by the 1940s. Disturbance from ship traffic and environmental degradation likely played a role. The onset of World War II may have been the final stroke. To protect the harbor from submarine attacks, the navy stretched a steel net across the Bay from Sausalito to San Francisco. The net would have been a formidable obstacle to porpoises, an acoustic as well as physical barrier. The heavy mesh, straining against the currents, must have made an underwater racket. For animals that depend on their acute hearing to communicate and to locate prey, the noise might have been deterrent enough.

PHOTO FROM BELVEDERE-TIBRUON LANDMARK SOCIETY
Navy Lieutenant L.A. Wilson with a model of the WWII submarine net

Aerial surveys by the National Marine Fisheries Service do show a long-term trend of increasing abundance in harbor porpoises locally, helped by a mid-1980s ban on gill nets, which killed many porpoises as bycatch. The most recent estimate is that 9,000 harbor porpoises inhabit coastal waters between Pigeon Point in San Mateo County and Point Arena in Mendocino County.

Meanwhile, variations in the marine environment may have resulted in changes to the porpoises’ prey. Harbor porpoises along our coast are known to eat schooling marine fish, such as herring, anchovy, and jacksmelt, plus rockfish and squid. It’spossible that unusually low rainfall from 2007 to 2009 led to an influx of salt water into the Bay, which brought in fish species that attracted the porpoises. Also, thanks to modern sewage treatment systems and the regulation of industrial effluents, Bay water is less polluted than it was the last time the porpoises ventured inside the Golden Gate.

Marine scientists have recently correlated atmospheric conditions in the Pacific Ocean with winds and upwelling that can alter the habitat in estuaries, including San Francisco Bay. For the past several years, the Bay has been experiencing an ecological “regime shift” toward higher productivity of plankton and fish.

I was first tipped off to the porpoises’ return in 2008, when I got a call from San Francisco State University minke whale expert Jon Stern, who was surprised to see them from his boat off Sausalito. That spurred me to search the shorelines between the central Bay’s three main bridges. Everywhere I went, I found porpoises! In particular, deep trenches and steep peninsulas seemed to attract them, presumably because fish are concentrated there by strong tidal rips. Near Yellow Bluff, just north of Cavallo Point, up to a dozen porpoises at a time were congregating and diving, foraging for fish in ebbtide feeding sessions.

Porpoises are now seen regularly at locations much farther inside the Bay, such as Raccoon Strait, and near Angel, Alcatraz, and Treasure Island. Passengers on the commuter ferries have seen them as far south as the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge.

Most of what we know about harbor porpoises is based on the examination of stranded animals — carcasses. With their regular appearance in the Bay, we now had a chance to learn how they live in their element. We have an extraordinary resource: The Golden Gate Bridge. From its deck, 220 feet above sea level, we can observe behavior nearly impossible to see from a boat: underwater feeding, chasing, and nursing, or riding the wake of a passing tanker. We have even seen porpoises mating, something never before observed in the wild.

The porpoises have a synchronized reproductive cycle, culminating in an early summer calving season quickly followed by a peak in mating behavior. Each spring the males’ hormones kick into overdrive. As with almost all of their behaviors, mating is done on the move. Copulation lasts just a few seconds, complete with a splash as the pair seems to fly apart. We know that gestation lasts 10 to 11 months and the single calves remain with their mothers for about a year.

By photographing their markings, we can tell individual porpoises apart based on unique characteristics, such as body scars and skin pigmentation patterns.

Our work to unravel the mystery of the porpoises’ return may also lead us to understand their social structure. It’s an open question whether they maintain long-term family bonds or form alliances, as other cetaceans do. One thing is certain: Observing these intriguing animals — as scientist or enthusiast — is a pleasure. We should all take the opportunity to get out and watch these porpoises once again making their home in our own briny “backyard,” San Francisco Bay.

Bay Area native Bill Keener has recently joined a new cetacean field research team at The Marine Mammal Center in Sausalito to advance the study of  local whales, dolphins and porpoises.

Sausalito’s Top Secret Dagwoods

The name Dagwood generally dredges up images of the venerable cartoon character, or his eponymous sandwiches. But in 1945, Sausalito was asked to produce its own, very different, Dagwoods. Jack Tracy tells the story in his book Moments in Time:

In the summer of 1945 as the war in the Pacific was drawing to a close, Marinship received a contract to as-assemble thirty prefabricated steel barges for the army, to be used in Pacific operations. A new site for assembly and launching was developed on the northeast section of the yard so Marinship's main business of tanker construction could continue uninterrupted. Sections of barges were trucked over the Golden Gate Bridge to Marinship to be bolted and riveted together. But an unexpected snag slowed the assembly process. It was nearly impossible to hire skilled riveters since riveting had all but disappeared since the advent of the welded ship. Marinship engineers, always quick with a solution, modified the barges under construction using a combination of welding and riveting. The completed 104-foot-long barges were quickly painted and launched after brief ceremonies. A second order came in for twenty more all-welded barges. But the surrender of Japan in September 1945, halted all work in progress with nineteen barges completed.

During that same summer, Marinship had been ordered by the Maritime Commission in Washington to undertake a top-secret, vitally important project known only as Dagwood. Military planners were proceeding along two avenues of attack to defeat Japan. One was the Manhattan Project, the secret development of the atomic bomb. The alternative plan, if the untested bomb failed, was a direct massive invasion of Japan; Dagwood was a key link in the latter program. Each Dagwood was a barge, a floating steel caisson 230 feet long. 70 feet wide, and 60 feet deep, with a blunt bow designed to nest with the concave stem of another Dagwood. Each section, ballasted with concrete with and living compartments below deck, would form part of a breakwater and unloading platform for troops and materiel in the planned invasion of Japan.

Of sixty Dagwoods, plans called for Marinship and Calship [at Terminal Island in L.A.] to construct twenty-four. The highest presidential priority was issued. Steel mills across the country stopped all other production to roll plates for Dagwood. A twenty-four-hour, seven-day-a-week work schedule was established, and key Marinship workers were assigned to the secret project. Plans were drawn and lines for the barges laid down on the floor of the huge Mold Loft (Industrial Center Building today). Sausalito and the world discovered what the Manhattan Project was on August 6, 1945, when Hiroshima was devastated by the atomic bomb. On August 15, the contract for Dagwood was terminated. The same day, the first two carloads of steel destined for the Dagwood barges arrived at Marinship.

PHOTO FROM SAUSALITO HISTORICAL SOCIETY

A prefabricated barge called Dragon Lady being christened by Marinship employee Frances Jung

Marinship completed the other vessels under construction at the time of the Japanese surrender. Three more tankers were launched, and by September 25, 1945, the work at Marinship was done. The U.S. Maritime Commission was already in the process of disposing of wartime shipyards. As the unemployed workers scattered to the four winds, the commission suggested to Bechtel Corporation that Bechtel take over the yard, operating it as a government-owned facility, or purchase it for private use. Not eager to get into the peacetime shipbuilding business, Bechtel recommended that the yard become the Army Engineers' operations center for the Pacific Island Reconstruction Program. This idea met with approval all around, and at midnight. May 16. 1946. Marinship be-came history as the Army Corps of Engineers took over the shipyard.

Moments in Time is available at Books by the Bay, the Ice House and on loan from the Sausalito library.

Sausalito’s Military Neighbors

By Jack Tracy and Larry Clinton, Sausalito Historical Society

“Sausalito's closest and oldest neighbor is the United States Army,” wrote Jack Tracy in his 1983 book, Moments in Time.  Tracy then went on to detail the military history of this area:

PHOTO FROM MOMENTS IN TIME

The guardhouse at Fort Baker, c. 1905, with soldiers of the 68th Company of Coast Artillery.

Shortly after California was seized from Mexico in 1846, it became apparent that a permanent military garrison was needed in San Francisco Bay. After all, a mere handful of Americans under Fremont had had no difficulty capturing the all-but-abandoned Presidio. The bay was defenseless against a determined aggressor. Other nations watched with keen interest as the United States attempted to hold the vast new territory with a thin thread of military occupation bravely called the "Tenth Military Department," assisted by the United States Naval Squadron on the Pacific Ocean.

The chaos resulting from the gold rush again demonstrated the glaring need for a strong military presence as hundreds of ships from many nations sailed through the Golden Gate. In the early l850s a defense plan was mapped out, and Congress appropriated funds for the project. Key points around the bay would be taken or purchased, and permanent artillery batteries installed. The U.S. Army occupied the Presidio in San Francisco and built new fortifications at the site of the old Mexican castillo at Punta del Cantil Blanco (white cliff point), which would be called Fort Winfield Scott (later to become Fort Point). At Punta de San Jose it built Fort Mason, named in 1882 for the second military governor of California, Col. Richard Barnes Mason. Alcatraz and Angel Island were also occupied by the military. Only the north shore of the Golden Gate remained unprotected.

The Army negotiated with William Richardson in 1854 for the Marin headlands, including Punta de San Carlos, now called Lime Point after the rocks' most obvious characteristic, a coating of bird guano. (The Americans were far less elegant in selecting place names than were the Spanish or Mexicans.) After Richardson turned over the affairs of Rancho del Sausalito to Samuel Throckmorton in 1855, Throckmorton offered 1,899 acres of Lime Point to the Army for $200,000. Congress felt that the price was exorbitant and initiated a period of negotiations and litigations with Throckmorton that lasted ten years. After the Civil War, during which not a shot was fired from Bay Area fortifications, Congress cooled on the idea of coastal fortifications. Throckmorton, sensing his opportunity might be slipping away, quickly reduced the asking price and in 1866 sold the entire headlands for $125,000 to the United States government.

Plans slowly got under way for construction of an artillery battery at Gravelly Beach (later Kirby Cove) on the newly acquired military reservation. Only two of the twelve planned gun emplacements were ever built, and in 1873 a single gun, a fifteen-inch smoothbore Rodman, was installed. For the next fifteen years, that gun and the rusty old fog signal cannon at Point Bonita were the only protection for the north shore of the Golden Gate. In 1897 a permanent fort was established at Horseshoe Cove, east of Gravelly Beach, consisting of two wooden barracks towed on barges from the Presidio, and a guardhouse, corral, and stables—all built on site. Named in honor of Col. Edward Dickinson Baker, who was killed in the Civil War, the new post was manned by Battery I, 3rd Artillery, U.S. Army, transferred from Fort McDowell on Angel Island.

For the next ten years Fort Baker grew at a steady pace. Lessons learned by Admiral Dewey at Manila Bay in 1898 demonstrated the importance of modern coastal defenses. New shore batteries were installed, and a road graded around Yellow Bluff to Sausalito, thereby making the fort accessible by land as well as by sea. The marshy beach was filled and seeded to become a parade ground; trees were planted, sewers and water mains laid; and brick barracks, a powerhouse, and splendid Victorian officers' quarters were built.

During WWI and WWII Fort Baker served as the headquarters and training command post for the newly formed 91st Division (United States) Army. In the late 1980's the fort became an army reserve training facility/resource called the 91st Training Division.  According to the website https://www.nps.gov/goga/learn/historyculture/fort-baker.htm: “In 1995, the military transferred its land to Golden Gate National Recreation Area and in 2000, the last soldiers left Fort Baker as the 91st Division (Training Support) moved their activities to Camp Parks, California.”

Today, Fort Baker is the home of Cavallo Point Lodge, famous for its world class views, its gourmet Murray Circle restaurant and Farley Bar, named after Phil Frank’s beloved cartoon character. The soldiers who were stationed there are now just a distant memory.

Sausalito or Saucelito?

By Robert L. Harrison and Larry Clinton, Sausalito Historical Society

This lightly edited article comes from the website of the Anne T. Kent Room at the San Rafael Civic Center library:

The spelling of Sausalito has had two official versions over the years.  In the 1880s the Sausalito News took note of this in an editorial: “It is a lucky town that knows its own name.  Sausalito is unlucky for it has a lurking suspicion that it ought to be called ‘Saucelito’.”

Illustration Courtesy of Anne T. Kent California Room

Detail from Frederick Beechey's survey of the Harbour of San Francisco made in 1827-8. Map was published in 1833.

The history of the town’s name most likely begins with the first expedition of Europeans into San Francisco Bay.  Juan Manuel de Ayala commanding the Spanish ship San Carlos entered the Bay on August 6, 1775. As de Ayala’s crew explored the area, they undoubtedly noticed brushy willow thickets covering the area that is now known as Sausalito.  Where willows grow there is usually a supply of water.  The Spanish word for willow is “sauce” and a place of abundant willows is “sauzal”.  The early explorers would surely have been grateful for the source of fresh water and added the suffix “ito” meaning endearment to form the name Sauzalito.  Another possible source of the name was formed by adding the suffix “lito” to the Spanish word “sauce” to derive Saucelito.

Whichever was the original Spanish name, it was anglicized in 1827 by British Royal Navy Captain F. W. Beechey when his survey map designated a portion of today’s Richardson Bay as Sausalito Bay.  In 1834 John Reed’s application for the grant of Rancho Corte Madera del Presidio included a sketch map showing his house in a region labeled Sausalito.

William Richardson was granted Rancho Saucelito by California’s Mexican governor in 1838.  When California became a state the Mexican land grants were legalized through the American court system. It appears in this process the name of Richardson’s rancho was given the legal spelling Saucelito.  An 1840 sketch map titled “Diseño (survey or sketch in Spanish) del Rancho Saucelito” was attached to the court documents.  

 In the mid-1800s the spelling of the Rancho’s name included several variants: Saucelito, Saulito, Sancolito, Sancilito, Sousilto and Sausilito.   The Pacific Railroad Survey of the 1850s used the land grant legal spelling of Saucelito.  This Survey and the Land Grant Court procedures made Saucelito the more prevalent spelling.  Many maps and property titles of that era adopted the Survey’s spelling.

The United State Post Office at Saucelito was established on December 12, 1870.  The 1873 Map of Marin County compiled from official records identified the Rancho, the Township and the School District with the spelling Saucelito.  The 1892 Official Map of Marin County continued to recognize Rancho Saucelito but also labeled the town and ferry terminal as Sausalito.  This map identified Lands of the Saucelito Land and Ferry Company as contrasted to its legal name when incorporated on September 27, 1869 as the Sausalito Land and Ferry Company. 

In the 1880s the Sausalito News presented a discussion of the correct spelling of the town’s name.  A letter to the News of December 3, 1885 expressed one point of view, “As a newcomer to your village I have quite naturally been somewhat surprised to find such a diversity of ways in the spelling of the Sausalito.”  The letter’s author suggested that reference to the original Rancho Sausalito land grant, the Sausalito Land and Ferry Company and the historic use of Sausalito by the county’s newspapers should be sufficient justification for designating the spelling as the correct one.

A contrary opinion was submitted in a letter published a week later, “Long established usage, confirmed by the official spelling, county, state and national, fixes ‘Saucelito’ as the name of our town.  This ought be sufficient warrant for us to continue its use unquestioningly….The tens-of-thousands of maps, globes and charts, official and otherwise in use, the official records of Marin county and of the State of California, the National post-office here, government reports of harbor and coast defenses, topographical and military surveys, etc., etc., designate the name as ‘Saucelito’.”

Despite the official recognition of Saucelito by the county government and in many deeds and legal documents, the spelling Sausalito was gaining in usage.  The United States Post Office was officially re- labeled Sausalito on November 12, 1887.  The ferry Saucelito burned at San Quentin in 1884 and a new larger ferry Sausalito was launched in 1894.

On February 4, 1886 the Sausalito News reported the results of an informal survey of Sausalito residents taken on the steamer San Rafael.  Six voted for Sausalito and four argued that Saucelito was the correct way to spell the name of their hometown.  It is not surprising that the newspaper titled the Sausalito News found, “It is only a matter of time when ‘Sausalito’ will be predominant, as many of the more intelligent class of our residents are now spelling it that way.”

Yet confusion over the correct spelling continued into the 1890s.   An 1894 Grand Jury report on the operation of Marin County government offered an illustration.  The report showed a Tax Collector’s account for “Unprotested municipal tax, town of Saucelito”.  In an explanation of this item the Grand Jury referred to the town of Sausalito.  Many of Marin’s property records continue today to reference Saucelito.

It is not clear, as suggested by the Sausalito News, that acceptance of the current spelling was prompted by the “more intelligent class of our residents”.   But today Sausalito is acknowledged as the spelling for one of Marin’s most scenic, historic and interesting towns.

Bay Dreamers

By Nora Sawyer, Sausalito Historical Society

In October 1979, five-year-old Sausalito houseboat resident Aliss Haas had a bad dream. A monster came and ate her up. Fortunately, “someone cut the monster” and she escaped. A big cat came and ate the monster up. All in all, not a bad night’s work.

Out on the anchorage, fellow boat-dweller Ale Ekstrom dreamed his “ear sucking Siamese kitten” leapt into a bucket of eels. Horrified at the “great clashing of teeth” inside the bucket, Ale had finally nerved up to stick his foot in and attempt a rescue when suddenly the eels came “boiling out in great fear and frustration.” The dream ended with Ale on one foot next to the bucket, his “little kitten licking her lips, not her wounds.”

Aboard the Ursa Major, Doreen Nagle-Thoshinsky dreamed she was “at a place that looked like the Steinhart Aquarium – the part where you go up a railed walkway to look at the porpoises from underneath.” She was in the midst of a wild “reception type party,” including lots of people she knew were from the waterfront, though she couldn’t name any of them. People were drinking champagne and listening to a “sermon-type lecture.” From the tanks, fish, some of them “like snakes, with scary eyes” peered back at the party goers. Though the crowd should have been in “tuxedos and gowns, it was that kind of thing,” everyone was casually dressed, the men in overalls and the women in dirty, torn dresses with bare feet. Nagle-Thoshinsky knew instinctively that she “needed to warn everyone about the people who had invited us to the party.”

These forty-year old dreams are among the hundreds captured in Gates, a “Sausalito Community Waterfront Dream Journal.” First published in 1977, Gates was the brainchild of Waldo Point resident John Van Daam. Arriving at the Waldo Point in the 1970s, Van Daam was struck by the community’s spirit and creativity. At the same time, the waterfront was changing, with some houseboat dwellers in favor of new development while others fought to maintain the community’s bohemian, unregulated vibe. Van Daam came up with the dream journal as a way to add to the creativity and beauty he’d found on the waterfront while trying to bridge the gap between the two factions. Despite differences of opinion, he hoped that dreams would provide a meeting place.

While waterfront unity proved elusive, Van Daam still calls the journal “the most beautiful thing I’ve ever done.” It was made up of dreams submitted by people from all along the waterfront, who would drop written accounts of their dreams -- some of them illustrated -- into a ‘Dream Drop’ at Waldo Works. Van Daam published monthly, with about thirty dreams per issue. The dreams captured in the journal surpassed his expectations. “There was such energy -- I couldn’t be on the docks when a new issue came out,” he recalls. “It was all too much, too fantastic.”

Even today, reading through the dreams of the Gates community is a profound experience. Here are the waterfront’s hopes, worries, and preoccupations, percolated through their dreamer’s subconscious but otherwise unfiltered. We see people -- some still with us, some gone -- encountering the same nonsensical dream logic we experience every night and giving straightforward and unaffected accounts of their experience. The dreams are vivid, relatable. The passage of time doesn’t blunt their immediacy. After a while, themes and connections seem to pop up. Ale’s cat defeats Aliss’ monster.

Dreams, according to Van Daam, are vital, a means for everyone to better understand themselves and their own experience. As a window into the unconscious, they also help us to better understand the world around us and each other. “All of us are contributing to the unconscious every day through our actions,” he explains. These experiences, in turn, fed the dreamscape. When we try to ignore or suppress our dreams, problems can come forward into the waking world.

“We all have craziness in us,” Van Daam explains. Most of us can keep it inside when we’re awake, and at bay even when we’re sleeping. People are sometimes put off by the oddness their dreams, finding them frightening, or too strange or nonsensical. “Those,” says Van Daam, “are the ones I’m interested in.”

Van Daam recently started soliciting dreams for a new collection: Inner Space, a Sausalito community dream journal that will be distributed for free every month via email. Those interested in sharing dreams or receiving the newsletter can find out more by emailing office@innerspace360.org, or by submitting to the Dream Drop at the Sausalito Public Library.

Sausalito, Alcatraz, and the Red Power Movement

By Nora Sawyer, Sausalito Historical Society

Golden Gate NRA, Park Archives

Late on November 20th, 1969, a cold night exactly fifty years ago, a crowd assembled in the dark outside the No Name Bar. Inside, regulars chatted quietly as Wednesday night became Thursday morning. Manager Peter Bowen, at his station behind the bar, looked up as two men entered. “One was large, not particularly tall, but broad across the beam,” Bowen would later write. “He wore a flat brimmed, high, round-top black cowboy hat with a colorful feather stuck in its band, and a red serape. The other, bareheaded, burly and compact, carried himself with a kind of tough swagger, under which lurked a smoldering dignity they both shared.”

The men, Al Miller and Richard Oakes, represented a group of Native people from more than 20 tribes from across the continent, united under the name Indians of All Tribes. Earlier that month, as part of a group that had occupied Alcatraz overnight, Oakes had read a proclamation “re-claiming Alcatraz Island in the name of All American Indians by right of discovery” and offering to purchase “Alcatraz Island for 24 dollars in glass beads and red cloth, a precedent set by the white man's purchase of a similar island about 300 years ago.”

Building on the success of that one-day occupation, the group planned a more permanent residency, with a larger group of people who would not easily be removed from the island.

Miller had reached out to Bowen earlier seeking transportation to an “undisclosed location” on the Bay. Recognizing the significance of the request, Bowen had agreed, as long as the trip could wait until he closed the bar at 2 AM. In addition to his own boat, Bowen enlisted the help of two friends: Brooks Townes in his 38-foot cabin cruiser, and Mary Crowley in a 30-foot sailboat.

As Miller, Oakes and Bowen sat at the bar, about a dozen more Native men and women came in, “young, some underage to be in the bar, and some in traditional Indian dress.” Bar patrons – some of them reporters -- stared as Oakes ushered the group outside, instructing them to keep a low profile.

Once his duties at the bar were done, Bowen led the way outside, where he encountered a large crowd “assembling – and disassembling – in the big parking lots along Sausalito’s downtown waterfront.” Patrol cars passed, shining lights into the fog, but the group kept out of sight.

Making his way down to the yacht harbor, Bowen saw a crowd of ninety-two people “with blanket rolls, sleeping bags, knapsacks of belongings, bags of food, bundles of cooking gear,” enough to weigh down the floating docks until their feet were under the water.

Suddenly, someone in the crowd pointed out into the bay, where “it appeared Alcatraz was ablaze with dozens of very bright white lights.” As “visions of confiscated boats danced in the air,” Brooks took off in a borrowed skiff to investigate. After a tense half hour, he was back. Alcatraz was dark, he reported. The lights were from a sand dredge at work out in the bay.

Later, Bowen wrote,

Bob, Mary and I agreed it was wise to head out first toward Belvedere/Tiburon, leaving the dredge and Alcatraz well to the west, then – when the boats’ running lights would be lost in the clutter of lights ashore in Berkeley and neighboring towns -- we’d douse our running lights and make for The Rock.

Mary Crowley’s boat was having engine trouble. As the boats pulled out of the harbor, she unfurled her sails. Bowen writes, “sailing at night, overloaded with Indians, braving the notorious black currents around the Rock and making a safe landing would be a challenge for any skipper. Mary wasn’t ‘any skipper.’”

Though only eighteen, Crowley was a skilled and confident sailor, and soon all three boats pulled safely alongside a water barge on the lee side of the island.

As their passengers disembarked, Alcatraz came to life. The island’s new occupants gathered around the fireplace in the former warden’s residence, playing drums and singing songs as day broke and Coast Guard helicopters circled overhead. Oakes would later recall, “We did a lot of singing in those days. I remember the fires at nighttime, the cold of night, the singing around the campfire … songs of friendship, songs of understanding.

Oakes biographer Kent Blansett writes,

It was this type of unity that drove hundreds and thousands to Alcatraz, which soon became a “Mecca of Indian Country”. . . The occupation called upon a revival of traditional ways, an awakening of Intertribal unity that had not taken place since the Ghost Dance of the late 19th century. Solidarity was key to creating one of the most powerful symbols of the 1960s Red Power movement: Alcatraz.

Join the Commonwealth Club and the Sausalito Historical Society November 21st at The Outdoor Art Club in Mill Vallley for Alcatraz Occupation at 50: Richard Oakes and Red Power, featuring Kent Blansett and moderated by Rose Aguilar. For more information, visit https://www.commonwealthclub.org

Edith Heath – Sausalito’s Creative Ceramacist

By Larry Clinton, Sausalito Historical Society

The recent screening of the new documentary, Heath Ceramics: The Making of a California Classic, at the Sausalito Library led me to the following article from a 1995 MarinScope:

PHOTO COURTESY UC Berkeley EDA

Edit Heath in her studio

January 7 through March 12, ceramicist Edith Heath is honored with an exhibit of “50 Years of Design,” on display at the San Francisco Craft and Folk Art Museum. Sausalito became the proud home of the Heaths’ timeless ceramic products when Edith and her husband Brian opened a studio here in 1946. Ever since, Sausalito and Heathware have been synonymous. Her first studio was located in the Village Fair.

In the 60’s, the Heaths moved to a new workshop on Gate Five Road to accommodate growing orders from Gumps, Neiman Marcus and Marshall Field. So great was the demand for Heath dinnerware that 1940’s production changed from hand thrown to mold. Throughout the decades, Heathware has been marked by Edith's simple design and clean glazes. Edith is originally a Midwesterner, born in Sioux City lowa in 1911. When she was attending the Chicago Teacher’s College, she saw a potter demonstrating her craft at the 1933 World’s Fair and decided she would like to be a potter. In 1941 she came to San Francisco and studied at what is now the San Francisco Art Institute. The first showing of her work was in 1944 at the Palace of the Legion of Honor where the personnel at Gumps saw her dinnerware and offered her the use of their clay workshop. She worked in their space until the end of World War II. The San Francisco Craft and Folk Art Museum is helping Edith celebrate 50 years of production by showing a sampling of her work through the decades.

Mrs. Heath passed away in 2006, at the age of 94.  Today, Heath Ceramics his run by Robin Petravic and

Catherine Bailey, Sausalito residents who took over Heath Ceramics in 2003.  During a question and answer session after the screening, Robin mentioned that tours are hosted at Heath’s Sausalito headquarters as well as at the firm’s Tile Factory in San Francisco’s Mission District.  For tour times, and to make reservations, go to https://www.heathceramics.com/pages/factory-tours.

Treats — No Tricks — at Early Hallowe’en Parades

By Larry Clinton, Sausalito Historical Society

ILLUSTRATION FROM 1940S TEXTBOOK

Over the decades, Sausalito’s leaders learned that organized fun can help cut down on Hallowe’en vandalism.

Back in 1905, the Sausalito News reported on a themed costume party that got a bit out of hand:

Hallowe'en was very delightfully celebrated at the Lantern Club by the giving of a "Looking Backwards" party, which proved to be one of the most enjoyable affairs which has taken place in Sausalito in many a day. The club rooms were very attractively decorated in true old Hallowe'en fashion. Pumpkin faces looked out from everywhere, and very clever faces they were, too. There was nothing lacking in Hallowe'en decorations and good old Hallowe'en fun. Most of the merry makers arrived in dominoes and all sorts of masks — both fore and aft. Many of the makeups were highly amusing. The music was good, and about midnight a light supper was indulged in. Downstairs the card players enjoyed five hundred [a popular social card game back in those days].

However, the paper’s unnamed “lady reporter,” noted:

It is whispered about that many of the youngsters of the most staid residents quite overdid the Hallowe'en celebrating by removing gates and doing many other seemingly harmless things. But lo! there is trouble brewing! Boys will be boys!

By 1939, the paper was warning residents: “Hallowe’en Fun OK—But Don’t Go Too Far”:

The News does not wish to interfere with any youngster’s fun on Hallowe’en night, October 31, but we advise all the younger generation in Sausalito to be careful that their mischievousness does not outstep the bounds of harmless fun. For Police Chief Antone Quadros announced this week that he would have twelve special cops on duty Hallowe'en night to see that no damage is done to property.

In the 1940s, a safe and sane Hallowe’en parade was established by a young men’s group called the

Sausalito 20-30 Club: Here’s how the Sausalito News announced the group’s  seventh annual Hallowe’en parade in 1947.:

The parade will start at 7 p.m. at the firehouse, Johnson and Caledonia streets. All members of the 20-30 Club will be in costume, and the club will sponsor a special float on a Hallowe’en theme. Other floats may also participate, joining the costumed children. Ice cream and cookies will be served by the P-T-A, after prizes have been awarded for the best costumes in all age groups. Every child who enters the parade will receive a gift from the 20-30 Club, and any child planning to enter is reminded that he or she has only one week more in which to get that costume ready.

In Marin City the Community Service office announced a similar event.  According to the paper:

In an effort to insure well-mannered spooks and goblins, come Hallowe’en, come October 31, plans got under way last week for a gigantic party for all of Marin City’s children. The program will open with a big parade held at the school grounds, with a prize awarded to some lucky student from each grade, for the best costume. Following the parade, the children will march into the Auditorium for a program which is still in the planning stage. The Boy Scouts will present a skit and the Sunday school children of the Community church will contribute to the program. There will also be a 20-minute movie, probably of cartoons suitable for Hallowe’en. A half-hour show is planned by members of the Carolyn Snowden school of the dance from San Francisco. Further details will be announced letter. Project Services, who are sponsoring the gigantic party, are asking for 30 adult volunteers, in order to place adults at the end of every four rows in the Auditorium, and to help in the distribution of treats to be given at the end of the program. In asking for volunteers, Mrs. Ethel Johnson, director of Project Services, said: “Everyone in the community has a stake in the Hallowe’en festivities. We feel that if the children are provided with an evening’s entertainment, that will forestall the usual mischief which is typical of Hallowe’en and often is destructive to community property.’’

The strategy must have worked, because on November 3, the paper reported:

Treats instead of tricks occupied Marin City youngsters so successfully last Sunday night that sheriff’s deputies reported no serious incidents in the celebration of Hallowe’en. Complaints to the sheriff’s office involved only one broken streetlight and one shattered car window. Deputies cruising Mann City on the lookout for mischief makers were able to stop trouble brewing before it came to a boil. They found hundreds of children of all ages and sizes, dresses in a weird assortment of masks and costumes, knocking at doors for treats on their way to and from the Hallowe'en party sponsored by the Go-Getters and Community Services. Several residents of Marin City estimated they each passed out treats to approximately 75 children between the hours of six and ten Hallowe'en night. Mrs. Dorothy Crawford of Dot’s Sweet Shop stated that she gave away 500 bags of candy, a tray of doughnuts, and “more bubble gum than I could count.”

Enjoy Sausalito’s 79th Hallowe’en parade.

When the Trains Came to Sausalito

Nora Sawyer Sausalito Historical Society

North Pacific Coast Railroad's Engine Number One, was a Baldwin eight-wheeler. She is shown here in service with the White Lumber Company. Photo Sausalito Historical Society

On May 10, 1869, bells rang out across the country. Firecrackers and cannons boomed, and Chicago held the largest parade the city would see in that century, thronged with crowds numbering in the tens of thousands. The transcontinental railroad, connecting coast to coast, was complete. At Promontory Summit in Utah, Leland Stanford and Thomas Clark Durant ceremoniously hammered in a Golden Spike to mark the connection of the Central Pacific Railroad and the Union Pacific Railroad lines.

For the first time, news broke simultaneously across the country. Telegraph wires transmitted the ceremonial blows to listeners across the country and even on the other side of the Atlantic. One reporter noted that the message rang out “the fartherest of any by mortal men.”

The ceremony marked a faster, more connected age. In the next twenty years, the mileage covered by rail in the United States more than quadrupled, reaching nearly 164,000 miles and increasing at an average of 15 miles of track a day. Voyages that would have once taken more than six months now could be completed in two weeks. Mail became faster and more reliable.

Of course, not every mile of track was as grand as the Union Pacific and Central Pacific Railroads that thundered across the continent. Smaller, more modest ventures sprang up to serve local and regional needs.

A much smaller ceremony on April 10, 1873 marked the start of one such enterprise. “Amid much enthusiastic cheering,” Jack Tracy writes in Moments in Time, “a groundbreaking ceremony took place in Sausalito, marking the start of the construction of the long-promised railroad that would link Sausalito to the lumber empire to the north. “

Born out of a collaboration between the Sausalito Land and Ferry Company and the Northern Pacific Coast Railroad, the narrow gauge railroad offered a safer alternative to the trip by sea up the fog-bound, stormy coast. Less expensive than larger trains, the railway was also more nimble, able to handle tight curves and mountainous terrain. Its tracks were lighter, with smaller cars and locomotives, as well as smaller bridges and tunnels making it more adaptable to the varied landscape.

Railroad historian Lucius Beebe called the narrow gauge “the most personal of all rail roads… its diminutive tracks, locomotives and rolling stock… possessed of the endearing qualities of all small sympathetic things.” James Wilkins, a former mayor of San Rafael and the founder of the Sausalito News, took a less romantic view, describing the train that passed along the completed line in 1875 as “a ramshackle narrow gauge affair, built along the lines of least resistance, with lofty disdain of the laws of gravity and a preference for curvature instead of tangents.”

Still, it was an impressive journey. In San Francisco, passengers embarked from at the Davis Street Wharf. From there they crossed the foggy bay to Sausalito, where they were greeted by the railroad’s two steam engines (Sausalito and Olema) and “lemon-colored coaches.” Leaving Sausalito, the train would speed “gaily along the shore at the foot of the wooded hills, across the long trestle to Strawberry Point, over Collins summit, and through Corte Madera to The Junction.”

There, the tracks forked, with one rail leading southeast to San Rafael’s B Street Depot, and the main line continuing northwest over to the redwood forests.

Historian Gilbert Kneiss relates that passengers that on its inaugural journey, passengers “stared out the window in growing amazement as the pull up White’s Hill started; at the rugged beauty and the heavy railroading required to conquer it.”

Back in Sausalito, the railroad built a new ferry landing and railroad wharf, and purchased two elegant passenger ferries: the San Rafael and the Saucelito. Wealthy San Franciscans moved north, building homes in Sausalito and commuting by ferry to jobs in the city. Sausalito became a bustling gateway for both passengers and commercial cargo.

The cost of these improvements proved the railroad’s downfall. Massive debts and a sluggish economy forced the sale of the Northern Pacific Coast Railroad in 1880. A newly formed venture, the North Pacific Coast Extension Company laid new tracks, building track straight across the salt marshes from Sausalito to Alameda and Waldo Points, and expanding north to Cazadero.

Despite its struggles, the railroad transformed Sausalito, bringing visitors, new businesses, and entrepreneurs to the downtown’s bustling terminal. The city became more diverse, as the railroad brought first laborers and then merchants from a variety of backgrounds.

Today, not much physical evidence of Sausalito’s transit hub remains. But you can still follow the train’s route along the salt marsh toward Strawberry Point, and imagine the ribbons of track that used to twist northwest through the redwoods toward Cazadero.

The Sausalito Historical Society will host a dedication of the new Ice House Plaza on Saturday,October 26 at 10 a.m. The community is invited to celebrate the opening at a “Golden Spike” ceremony commemorating Sausalito’s railroad history.

Fire on the Waterfront

By Larry Clinton, Sausalito Historical Society

PHOTO COURTESY OF SAUSALITO HISTORICAL SOCIETY

Herb Madden Sr. served two terms as Mayor of Sausalito — the second after serving time on a rum-running rap during Prohibition

During a recent library presentation featuring retired firefighters and chiefs sharing reminiscences, it was generally agreed that the fire that destroyed the Madden and Lewis shipyard in 1960 was one of the most disastrous conflagrations in our history.

The headline in the March 19, 1960 Sausalito News read: “MADDEN, LEWIS BOATWORKS RAZED - Ceramics Shop Also Destroyed.” Here are some lightly edited excerpts from newspaper reports of the day:

Property valued in excess of $lOO,OOO, belonging to J. Herbert Madden, Sr., and A. E. (Dick) Lewis, was demolished Wednesday evening in the torch-like blaze and series of explosions which brought regular and volunteer firemen from nine cities to the boatworks at Bridgeway and Locust. [The Mill Valley Record had already reported damages exceeding $750,000].

The conflagration, which was brought under control in about 75 minutes, was attributed to spontaneous combustion of rags in a construction building, the first structure which burned, according to Fire Chief Matthew Perry. The possibility of arson was, ruled out for the blaze, which started at 6:02 p.m. Herbert Madden Jr. was on the scene and raced across the street to the gas station to telephone the firehouse, about three blocks away. Exact financial damage may not be determined for another week, according to sources at brokers who handle the boatworks’ insurance. Three firemen received minor injuries, Capt. Harold Cardwell gashed his leg in a fall over the piers on which the plant was built. Harold Swift, volunteer fireman, received blistered hands while dragging a hose. Wallace (Wally) Wright suffered a cut hand from splintered glass. No other injuries were reported. The explosions were caused by exploding butane tanks. Two diesel engines belonging to the State Department of Fish and Game were burned. The engines were being stored gratis by Madden and Lewis. The company’s safe was so badly burned that firemen estimated Thursday it would take several days to cool so that it could be opened. Contents of the safe were not immediately ascertainable.

Approximately $lO,OOO damage was done to the La Paz ceramics shop next to the boatworks and there was some blistered paint on the Edgewater Boat Shop, according to Frank Pasquinucci, owner of both buildings. The Edgewater is leased to Clyde Kilian and Lawrence Zeiger. Their shop had burned down exactly one year ago Wednesday and it was only by quick work of the fire department that it was saved this week.

The ceramics shop was occupied by its owners, David and Helen Morris and their son Nicky 11. The Morrises lost everything but their kiln, potter’s wheel, and the handful of clothing they managed to grab while escaping from the building. George Gudckunz, part owner of Ondine, Thursday announced plans to sponsor a benefit buffet luncheon, with entertainment, for the Morrises, whose high-quality work has received praise in national and trade magazines.

Five boats were destroyed. One was the $lO,OOO, 40-foot cabin cruiser Hi Ho, which belonged to Herbert Madden. Jr. and was to have been launched within two weeks. Two smaller motorboats also were destroyed. Most of the boats, however, were saved by volunteers.

Regular firemen and volunteers from all over the county responded quickly. The city lost about 1900 feet of fire hose and a nozzle when chemicals flared up on the north side of one building. The hose was promptly re-ordered Thursday. Two 12th District Coast Guard boats stood just off the scene. The San Francisco fireboat Phoenix couldn’t get close to the scene because of low tide.

The entire Sausalito police force, aided by five state highway patrolmen and three sheriff's deputies, held back the traffic and curious onlookers most of the time. Volunteers such as Howard Peek helped to direct heavy northbound commuters’ traffic, which was routed from Bridgeway along Caledonia St.

Mayor Howard Sievers Thursday praised the many volunteers who rushed to aid in fighting the fire, serving refreshments and in carrying out boats and equipment from Edgewater Boat Shop. Volunteers included the Red Cross, hastily organized to serve hot drinks by Sally Stapp and the Sausalito Woman’s Club which donated coffee. Richard Phillips, husband of the Woman’s Club president, was seen passing out coffee from his station wagon. Members of the new Boys’ Athletic Club helped to cut boats loose. The Mill Valley Women's fire auxiliary passed out coffee. Mrs. Jay (Juanita) Musson provided coffee and hamburgers to the firemen. She was assisted by Mrs. Perry, wife of the fire chief, several other ladies, and members of the state patrol, the latter providing transportation.

About 25 persons assisted in carrying boats, motors and equipment from the Edgewater Boat Shop when it looked as though this building was going to burn. Among them was Mrs. Louis Souza, who carried two small motors on her back and later helped to move larger ones. “I didn't know I could do it,” Mrs. Souza said. Water pressure was described as “adequate” by Fire Chief Matthew J. (Mats) Perry, although some volunteers had complained of the lack of pressure. Out-of-town trucks hooked into the Caledonia street main. The county fire equipment pumped water out of the bay. Telephone service to seven subscribers was interrupted during the fire. Service was restored by Thursday to all except those whose buildings were burned.

Shortly after the fire, it was feared that Madden and Lewis would have to sell their property, but they persevered and developed it into the Sausalito Yacht Harbor. Today the SYH contains more than 600 berths, one of the largest harbors in Sausalito.

The Sausalito Historical Society’s latest exhibit, “FIRE!” features stories and photos of local fires plus artifacts, and ephemera from the Sausalito Fire Department. A timeline depicts significant fires, fire houses and fire chiefs throughout Sausalito’s History.  The exhibit is open to the public Wednesdays and Saturdays, from 10 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. on the top floor of City Hall.

Drake Meets the Miwoks

By Larry Clinton, Sausalito Historical Society

In 1579, Sir Francis Drake was exploring the West Coast in search of the elusive “northwest passage.” The ship’s chaplain, Frances Fletcher, and others kept journals of that voyage, that were later compiled into a book, The World Encompassed by Sir Francis Drake, published by Drake’s nephew Francis Drake in 1628.

In June of 1579, Drake and his crew anchored near San Francisco Bay for five weeks to prepare for the long sail across the Pacific Ocean. There they met the native inhabitants, the Coastal Miwok. Here are excerpts from the journals describing what happened next:

PHOTO FROM WIKIPEDIA

Miwoks considered Sir Francis Drake and his men as gods

Notwithstanding it was in the height of summer, and so near the sun, yet were we continually visited with like nipping colds as we had felt before; … neither could we at any time, in whole fourteen days together, find the air so clear as to be able to take the height of sun or star [latitude].

After our coming to anchor, the people of the country showed themselves, sending off a man with great expedition to us in a canoe. Who being yet but a little from the shore, and a great way from our ship, spoke to us continually as he came rowing on. And at last at a reasonable distance staying himself, he began more solemnly a long and tedious oration, after his manner: using in the delivery thereof many gestures and signs, moving his hands, turning his head and body many ways; and after his oration ended, with great show of reverence and submission returned back to shore again.

He shortly came again a second time in like manner, and so the third time, when he brought with him (as a present from the rest) a bunch of feathers, much like the feathers of a black crow, very neatly and artificially gathered upon a string, and drawn together into a round bundle; being very clean and finely cut, and bearing in length an equal proportion one with another; a special cognizance (as we afterwards observed) which they that guard their king’s person wear on their heads. With this also he brought a little basket made of rushes, and filled with an herb which they called Tabáh. Both which being tied to a short rod, he cast into our boat.

Our General [Drake] intended to have recompensed him immediately with many good things he would have bestowed on him; but entering into the boat to deliver the same, he could not be drawn to receive them by any means, save one hat, which being cast into the water out of the ship, he took up (refusing utterly to meddle with any other thing, though it were upon a board put off to him) and so presently made his return. After which time our boat could row no way, but wondering at us as at gods, they would follow the same with admiration.

The 3 day following our General first of all landed his men, with all necessary provision, to build tents and make a fort for the defense of our selves and goods: and that we might under the shelter of it with

more safety (whatever should befall) end our business; which when the people of the country perceived us doing, as men set on fire to war in defense of their country, in great haste and companies,

with such weapons as they had, they came down to us, and yet with no hostile meaning or intent to hurt us: standing, when they drew near, as men ravished in their minds, with the sight of such things as they never had seen or heard of before that time: their errand being rather with submission and fear to worship us as Gods, then to have any war with us as with mortal men. Which thing, as it did partly show itself at that instant, so did it more and more manifest itself afterwards, during the whole time of our abode among them. At this time, being willed by signs to lay from them their bows and arrows, they did as they were directed, and so did all the rest, as they came more and more by companies unto them, growing in a little while to a great number, both of men and women.

To the intent, therefore, that this peace which they themselves so willingly sought might, without any cause of the breach thereof on our part given, be continued, and that we might with more safety and expedition end our businesses in quiet, our General, with all his company, used all means possible gently to entreat them, bestowing upon each of them liberally good and necessary things to cover their nakedness; withall signifying unto them we were no Gods, but men, and had need of such things to cover our own shame; teaching them to use them to the same ends.

And so began the Westernization of the native Miwoks. They were able to continue living peacefully for two centuries, until the Spanish discovered San Francisco Bay in 1769.  By 1776, Mission Dolores had been built and the subjugation of Miwoks as laborers and servants was in full sway. 

Within 20 years, a combination of European illnesses and harsh treatment devastated the Southern Marin Miwok population, according to Miwok historian Lucina Vidauri, who spoke recently at City Hall on Miwok history and current attempts to preserve the tribal culture.

Golden Gate Bridge War on Ferries

By Robert L. Harrison and Larry Clinton, Sausalito Historical Society

This lightly edited article comes from the website of the Anne T. Kent Room at the San Rafael Civic Center library:

PHOTO COURTESY OF SAUSALITO HISTORICAL SOCIETY

The ferry Sausalito approaches its home port

The August 27, 1937 Sausalito News bore the headline: “Bridge Income Drops; Directors Decree War on Golden Gate Ferry.”  The Bridge District’s Board was concerned that competition from the San Francisco-Marin ferries would reduce traffic on the bridge.  Shortly after the May 1937 opening of the Golden Gate Bridge to traffic, the District’s attorney reported a 12 per cent decrease in bridge traffic following reduced ferry fares.

The Golden Gate Bridge was constructed using the funds from a bond measure passed in 1930 by the voters within the Bridge District’s six counties.  The $35 million bond measure was very popular with the electorate; it passed 145,057 in favor and 46,954 against.  Despite the election results the opposition continued to hinder sale of the bonds.  In 1932 a committee of Bridge District officials, including Chief Engineer Joseph Strauss, appealed directly to A. P. Giannini, chairman of the Bank of America.  Gianni pledged his bank’s support and with it building the bridge was assured.

In the 1930s the Golden Gate Bridge District Board of Directors worked to maintain the project’s financial viability.  They sought every means possible to assure maximum use of the bridge in order to bolster toll revenue.

The attorney reported to the District Board that the Railroad Commission had created a “deadly situation” when it permitted ferry fares to be cut by 50%.  Prior to the fare reduction both the bridge and the ferry each charged a round trip fare of $1.00 per auto. The Railroad Commission cited three factors for its decision to permit a reduced ferry fare: Ferries allow a diversion from the long, steep bridge approach [Waldo Grade] that add to the expense for heavy vehicles; the ferries provide an alternative service for drivers who cannot afford to pay a higher fare; and, the ferry system should be preserved to be available in time of emergency on the bridge.

As reported in the Sausalito News the Bridge District’s attorney proposed two courses of action: “…one is to reduce bridge tolls to the ferry level or lower. This will result in a ruinous rates war, which might make it necessary to go [to] the taxpayers for additional funds.”  The Board directed the attorney to take a second approach and go to the Railroad Commission for a rehearing and, should it become necessary, appeal the matter all the way to the Supreme Court.

The Bridge District tested an experimental round trip toll of just 50 cents per auto for a ten-day period in December 1937.  The lower toll resulted in the bridge serving more than 95% of the total crossings during the trial period, proving the bridge could put the ferries out of business if the rate war continued.

The Golden Gate Bridge war on the ferries ended in February 1938 when the ferry authorities offered a compromise.  The ferries would raise their round-trip fare to 65 cents per auto if the bridge toll for trucks would be set at $1.00 per round trip.  The Bridge District ultimately won the war on the ferries as the proposed compromise produced insufficient revenue to maintain north bay ferry service. The Southern Pacific Golden Gate Ferry Company’s Sausalito-Hyde Street and the Tiburon-San Francisco direct service ended on July 24, 1938. The Northwestern Pacific Railroad (NWP) ferry ended all remaining Marin-San Francisco service on February 28, 1941.

In 1938 on the first weekend after the automobile ferries stopped running, the bridge experienced a significant increase in traffic climbing from nearly 50,000 to 56,000 vehicles.  In most years since 1938 traffic on the bridge has continued to increase.  The bridge’s annual totals grew from 3.3 million crossings in 1937-38, the first full year of operation, to over 41 million annual vehicles today, a greater than 12-fold increase.   Yearly toll revenue in the same time span experienced an even greater growth from $1.6 million to over $143 million or nearly a 90-fold increase.

By the mid-20th century, growth in traffic and congestion on the bridge led to a search for ways to increase bridge capacity.  While the structure’s physical configuration limited the possibilities, the scope of bay crossings could be expanded by the District developing its own public transit systems.  To achieve this goal, a portion of the increased bridge toll income has been used to fund the Golden Gate Transit (GGT) bus service and the Golden Gate Ferry (GGF) system.  In 1970, in contrast to its earlier war on ferries, the Bridge District began operating its own ferry service from Sausalito to San Francisco.

The GGF service later expanded to include Marin County terminals at Larkspur in 1976 and Tiburon in 2017.   Service was also added in 2000 offering direct ferry connection from Larkspur to the San Francisco Giants ballpark.  Annual use of Golden Gate ferries is currently over 2.5 million passengers.  Estimates show GGF use combined with the GGT bus patrons represent about 30% of the total number of bay crossings from Marin to San Francisco in the morning commute hour.  Today the District is no longer at war with ferries as it was decades ago but is the sponsor of crucial transportation services that include ferries.

Fighting Fires in Early Sausalito

By Jack Tracy, Sausalito Historical Society

The following lightly edited excerpt is from Jack Tracy’s book Sausalito — Moments in Time

PHOTO FROM SAUSALITO — MOMENTS IN TIME

Around the turn of the century, membership in social and fraternal organizations was a popular way of making acquaintances. The Foresters of America, Native Sons (and Daughters) of the Golden West, the Society of Old Friends, and ethnic groups like the British Benevolent Society and the German-American Society all flourished in Sausalito.

The Sausalito Fire Department can trace its roots to February 6, 1888, when twenty-five prominent residents including J. W. Harrison, D. F. Tillinghast, John Broderick, William Reade, and Col. John Slinkey met at Arthur Jewett's blacksmith shop on Caledonia Street. At that meeting it was determined that a permanent volunteer fire department with modern equipment was a community necessity, and wheels were set in motion to accomplish that end.

Prior to that date fire protection was largely a matter of personal ability. Those with sufficient means built large water storage tanks next to their homes and kept fire hoses for personal use. Those less fortunate had to rely on bucket brigades or whatever means at hand, including a hasty exit if necessary. The North Pacific Coast Railroad maintained a rudimentary hose cart and saltwater pump at the ferry landing, and the ferryboats and smaller vessels relied on sand-filled pails stored on board. The municipal water supply was insufficient for firefighting. Before 1914 it was the common practice to shut off domestic water from 7 a.m. to evening due to short supply.

It was decided by the self-appointed committee to levy a special property tax within a new fire district to raise $1,000,000. A new horse-drawn Babcock steam pumper was purchased in March 1888, in anticipation of future tax revenues. But too many property owners within the proposed district felt the assessment was too steep, and the vote to establish a fire department failed by six votes in June 1888. It would be another sixteen years before Sausalito again attempted to establish a permanent fire department.

By the turn of the century there was again growing concern over lack of an organized fire department in Sausalito. For many residents however, ad hoc volunteer companies seemed perfectly adequate. During the debate on incorporation in 1893, public opinion held that paid fire departments were an unnecessary burden on taxpayers and that even permanent volunteers were superfluous. The big fire of July 4, 1893, that raced unchecked through Sausalito's business district changed many minds concerning the need for firefighting equipment and trained men. By 1904 the Board of Trustees was concerned enough to take some positive action. Arthur Jewett, the blacksmith, was appointed the town's first Fire Marshall. Along with his title, Jewett also got the job of building the hose carts.

The first hose cart station was established in a shed at the Sausalito Land & Ferry Company equipment yard. For this prime location at the ferry landing the city was charged twenty dollars a month. Still the carts were manned by disorganized volunteers.

Because the 1906 San Francisco fire convinced the Sausalito Board of Trustees that it was time to get serious about fire protection, they enacted an ordinance in 1909 creating a permanent Sausalito Volunteer Fire Department. Arthur Jewett was appointed Fire Chief at twenty-five dollars a month, and five more hose cart stations were established. The city bought a fire wagon and horses and by 1914 made plans for an actual firehouse. Residents were informed of the new fire alarm system, utilizing church bells to call volunteers from their homes.

The new station, housing both firewagon and horses, was built next to the San Francisco Yacht Club on Water Street (it was moved across the street in 1931, where the building stands today). To get the most out of its investment, the city later added jail cells in the station house, and to keep the chief busy when there were no fires, he was made official dogcatcher and poundmaster. There was never a shortage of stray dogs and horses wandering through backyards.

On Friday, September 20, past and present Sausalito firefighters will share their reminiscences in this panel discussion presented by the Sausalito Historical Society. The 7:00 PM panel discussion coincides with a new exhibit on fires, firemen, firehouses, and fire prevention in Sausalito in the Historical Exhibit Room on the upper level of City Hall. A reception will follow the event.

PHOTO FROM SAUSALITO — MOMENTS IN TIME

A hose cart company gathered at Richardson and Second Streets In 1909. The young lady wreathed in flowers on the cart is the mascot, a niece of Fire Chief Jewett.

This photo was gifted to the Volunteer Fire Department in Cascais, Portugal, one of Sausalito’s 3 sister cities. It proudly hangs in their conference roo,

Phil and Sue Frank Discover the Ameer

By Phil Frank, Sausalito Historical Society

In the mid-70s, Phil Frank wrote this charming memoir of his and Susan’s introduction to the Sausalito waterfront:

When people ask us "Why did you come to the houseboats in the first place?" I respond that...Cary Grant and Sophia Loren sent us here.

PHOTO COURTESY OF FLOATING HOMES ASSOCIATION

The Ameer as it looked during the 2014 Floating Homes Tour

My lady friend Susan, my son Philip and I were sitting in my rented room in a private home in North Berkeley, considering our plans for the evening.  The ten by ten space easily held the sum contents of my earthly possessions after a difficult divorce and the resulting sale of house and automobiles, furniture and appliances.  One of the items which fell into my possession because of its low marketability was a color tv which provided a choice of two colors — brown or purple, depending upon channels. Burned out from a day of house hunting in an effort to reestablish some roots of our own, we were-all pretty exhausted and the idea of catching a movie on TV required the least amount of effort. Enter Cary Grant and Sophia Loren.

The movie turned out to be a B grade classic called Houseboat, in which, through a variety of bizarre circumstances, the wealthy widowed father of three ends up with the Italian Countess turned children’s' governess on an ancient Hudson River houseboat.  The boat, though rickety and dingy when they find it, becomes miraculously restored to Victorian splendor in a matter of two commercials.

The next morning found us wandering the Gates area checking billboards, asking about rentals and even looking at an apartment on Kappas' gray barge.  Somehow it didn't look like the ancient riverboat in the movie.  We were wandering about aimlessly, the image of the dream boat fast fading from our consciousness when we were approached by a lady who asked if we were lost. We explained our plight and the story of our search and were directed by her to look at her neighboring boat which had been vacant for three months.  We threaded our way down the walkway and onto the deck of the old ark and looked into through the window into the vacant boat. We stood there for a full minute staring into the boat in disbelief, until Sue commented that it looked like the set for the movie.  It was sinking but that seemed insignificant.

We rented the Ameer for seven months before buying it. We salvaged a derelict barge, paid its back berthage, refloated the old ark and in the ensuing four years restored it to its former beauty.  It certainly took more than two commercials.

In 1983, Phil and Sue sold the historic ark to renowned architect Sim Van der Ryn and his wife, designer Ruth Friend.  Ruth and Sim undertook a major remodel, raising the boat enough to add a lower floor with substantial headroom. Snugly berthed at the end of South Forty Pier, the Ameer is the last ark still floating on Richardson’s Bay.

Joe Tate: Mischief and Music

By Christine Leimer, Floating Homes Assn.

PHOTO BY LARRY CLINTON

Joe Tate entertains during a recent floating homes tour.

Every Monday night, you can find Joe Tate and the Blue Monday Band jamming at the Sausalito Cruising Club. If you haven’t seen him there, maybe you’ve caught his escapades in the videos The Houseboat Wars or Last Free Ride. Joe’s one of the founders of the Sausalito floating homes community.

A life of music, mischief-making and community building wasn’t in his plans growing up in Normandy, Missouri, a suburb of St. Louis. As a high school senior, in 1956, Joe built a working cyclotron—an atom smasher—in the school’s basement for the St. Louis Science Fair. His physics teacher suggested it as a joke. Joe figured, why not? But then, after the fair, what to do with a $20,000, 5-ton machine? He took it with him to Wesleyan University where he was on his way to becoming a nuclear scientist.

 Then he hit UC-Berkeley. Even though Joe was a few credits short of a bachelor’s degree, he’d been accepted into the grad school where the cyclotron was invented. But it was 1964. When he arrived to register, protests were going on outside Sproul Hall. He couldn’t get in. After trying for a third day, he talked to student protestors who were playing music and smoking pot. That ended grad school. “I turned on, dropped out, formed a band and got into music,” he laughs. “I’ve got no regrets.” After all, “atmospheric bomb blasting’s not very safe.”

A knack for applied physics is useful for keeping junk boats floating and at least semi-livable with little money, which is what he did when he moved to the Sausalito waterfront a few years later. It probably helped to have a father who was a riverboat pilot too. Joe’s dad plied the muddy waters of the Mississippi River. So, it’s ironic that, when he bought the house he now lives in at the head of South Forty dock in 1999, its name was the Becky Thatcher—one of Mark Twain’s characters. It’s an 1890 ark towed over from the Belvedere Lagoon in the 1960s. It was sunk in the mud here when Joe fell in love with it. Now it sits sturdy on pilings, with dragon gates guarding its entrance.

If you like tales, Joe’s the man to talk to. He’s got plenty and tells them with a twinkle-eyed grin that would make Tom Sawyer proud. There’s the Houseboat Wars-era battle with the Marin Sheriff’s deputies and Coast Guard when they tried to tow away the houseboats. His split-second escape after pouring water on the generator powering the fire hoses police were using to spray protesters who were trying to stop them from removing houseboats to build a permanent pier. Another time, he led a flotilla of rickety boats and band members up the delta thinking they’d play gigs at bars and restaurants along the way. When they finally got a gig, a band member opened the kitchen and started cooking and giving away the owner’s steaks. He ran them off his property, of course. “We were our own worst enemies,” Joe says, recalling their exploits. “We were good at snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.”

Joe once played a concert with Chuck Berry, who accidentally fell on top of him as they scrambled to the stage. And he’s written a book about the narrow escapes, bribes, junkyard deals, at-sea fixes, and shifting configurations of crew members when his Houseboat Wars-era band, The Redlegs, sailed their re-constructed boat (they used a telephone pole for a mast), the Richmond, from Sausalito to Costa Rica, Acapulco, Hawaii and back, barely. He’s looking for a publisher.     

What’s Joe up to these days? “We play at weddings and other events when I can get a gig. All my acquaintances are dying, not getting married,” Joe tells me with a philosophical shrug. He’s got a new CD of protest songs called Free Bullet Wounds: Fight Back Against School Shootings and you can buy his CD Joe Tate with the Blue Monday Band and the Hippie Voices at the Sausalito Cruising Club on Mondays.

Joe and Maggie Catfish, who sang with the Redlegs back in the day, will appear at the Floating Homes Tour on September 14. For more information, or to purchase tickets, go to http://floatinghomes.org/visiting-and-tours/tour-information/

Remembering Herb Weiner

By Nora Sawyer, Sausalito Historical Society

It’s not hard to fall in love with Sausalito. People do it every day. You’ll see them on Bridgeway, stock-still on the busy sidewalk, gazing at San Francisco’s gray skyline across the water. You’ll catch them lingering on the houseboat docks, watching the tides.

If you fall in love with Sausalito and you’re lucky, you get to stay. That’s what Herb Weiner did forty years ago, trading his native Boston for our Western shores. He set up shop here, first with a car detailing business, and later as the owner of the Shell gas stations and car washes in Sausalito and in Novato.

Boasting the only self-serve island in Sausalito, his station was a novelty in 1979. Reporting on the oil crisis for the Marinscope, local reporter and historian Doris Berdahl described how she “found a scene that wouldn’t have seemed possible a few years ago. Smart young women dressed in crisp summer suits, silk blouses, and high heels were energetically pumping their own gas.”

Herb at a Car Wash in Cascais, Portugal

Though the gas was self-serve, the Shell station was far from impersonal. As one resident observed, “this may be the only ‘Self Service’ station in the nation that isn’t. Serving resident patrons is always the first order of the day.” It also housed the only car wash in town, where Herb himself could often be found performing minor repairs on customer’s cars.

He quickly became a fixture in Sausalito. After seven years here, Herb was named 1985’s Business Citizen of the Year by the Sausalito Chamber of Commerce. Announcing the honor, the Chamber cited “a myriad of charitable activities performed with a minimum of hype,” which today’s Sausalitans will recognize as a Herb Weiner trademark. Here’s another: at that year’s 4th of July parade, Marinscope columnist Harry V. Smith Jr. observed that Herb had, even then, a civilizing effect on local politics:

All five (count ’em!) Councilpersons in the same vehicle, smiling and waving their way down Bridgeway and Caledonia Streets, to the obvious delight of their constituents, none of whom pelted water balloons or cast snide remarks. Sure, there are those who would say, “After all, it is the Fourth of July.” I have my own theory. The 1967 Bentley convertible in which they were riding belongs to Sausalito Shell’s Herb Weiner, one of our town’s most congenial, kind and thoughtful citizens, and some of his attributes must have rubbed off on the illustrious group.

Though Herb wouldn’t join the City Council for another 28 years, his good humor and good works were already a constant in Sausalito’s civic life. He coached Little League, coordinated the adopt-a-park program, organized a classic car festival, and offered free rides to drunken revelers on New Years’ Eve. He belonged to the city’s Rotary Club and the Chamber of Commerce, and was a vital part of the Sausalito Art Festival. By 1991 he was already indispensable, “seemingly everywhere just when you need him, doing everything with a smile and a ‘no problem’.”

After so many decades of service, it was perhaps inevitable that he would run for City Council. He first announced his candidacy in 2006, promising transparency and accessibility – a promise he immediately made good on by publishing his home phone number in the Marinscope and inviting voters to give him a call. Once elected, he served on the Council from 2006 to 2017, and as mayor in 2011 and 2013. As hands-on as ever, Herb didn’t just talk about measures to accommodate bicycles and tour busses, he’d don a yellow safety vest and direct traffic himself. When the city’s police department did not have the budget for two dual purpose motorcycles, he was one of three major donors who stepped forward to fund the purchase. One of those motorcycles is named Herbie in his honor.

Herb and Enzo with the kids

He was an advocate for Sausalito’s Sister Cities program, and was the driving force behind Sausalito’s relationship with the city of Cascais. He visited every one of the Sister Cities, and hosted visitors from each in his own home.

After he stepped down from the City Council, Herb remained a fixture in Sausalito, volunteering on boards, appearing with his dog in the Fourth of July parade, and greeting friends and strangers as he walked to get his morning coffee. When he passed away late last month at the age of 77, news of his passing reverberated through the community, with remembrances posted to social media from civic organizations and individuals alike.

Herb’s warmth and civility defined his forty years in Sausalito. Though undeniably one of Sausalito’s most prominent citizens, he never sought the spotlight. As he noted himself in 2000, “I’m a very simple person. I like to give without expecting anything.”

It’s not hard to fall in love with Sausalito. Herb Weiner did. And Sausalito loved him back.

Memories of the Haight-Ashbury Free Clinics

By Rick Seymour, Sausalito Historical Society

PHOTO COURTESY OF RICK SEYMOUR

Rick at his desk on Haight Street

News that the Haight-Ashbury Free Clinics were closing after 52 years of service brought back some special memories for Rick Seymour, who had a 33-year career with the legendary institution. Rick, a long time Historical Society member, has written a number of memoirs about his days there.  In the following excerpt, he recalls how his career got started, after he had been living in a Mendocino County commune:

By spring, 1973, I needed something, anything by way of employment. Sharon [Rick’s future wife and future secretary of the Historical Society] went to work for another group of architects and I was offered a half-time janitor and assistant secretary of the Haight Ashbury Free Clinics Administrative Offices.

The salary was negligible. I had read something about the Clinics in the sixties and had no idea they were still going. Working in the Haight Ashbury neighborhood, then in the process of devolving from a psychedelic haven into a crime-ridden teenage slum with many of its businesses boarded up and its streets littered with garbage and dog feces, did not bode well either. Such menial employment meant at least some money, however, that I sorely needed by then to finance my ongoing search for a "real" job. Sharon and I had lived through the winter essentially on her savings.

When I reached the corner ex-dental office that housed the Clinics' administrative offices, I was met by a very thin, dark haired woman who appeared to be tripping on something. She gazed at me with her mouth hanging open and then abruptly told me I was hired and to show up for work the next day. And that was that.

Within a few weeks, the other half-timer quit for personal reasons and I was promoted to full-time janitor and secretary. After the daily emptying of wastebaskets and floor sweeping, my duties were similar to those I had performed for the 831st Air Clinic Division at George Air Force Base, in the late 1950s. I was good at it and soon I was taking minutes at the Clinics' various board meetings and learning to use phrases like "discussion ensued followed by a vote."

My desk was directly across from the entrance to 1698 Haight Street, the Clinics' executive offices, so I was the first person encountered by anyone from the outside world. Annie, the head secretary, made sure that I kept a short length of iron pipe, its nether end filled with lead, by my chair— just in case. Fortunately I never needed it.

While Annie was the primary secretary, my real boss was Richard Frank, a smart and able administrator who bore the title Central Administrator. His was in many ways a thankless job and several months after I arrived he left to return to graduate school. A troika composed of the Clinics' founder Dr. David Smith, Dr. George (Skip) Gay, Director of the Drug Detoxification, Rehabilitation and Aftercare Project, and Anne Gay, Skip's ex-wife and Head of Accounting, undertook interim management of the Clinics and I was promoted to Office Manager.

The Clinics Board of Directors decided that a strong but diplomatic force was needed at the top and met in a special session at the Copper Penny Restaurant on Masonic. I was there to take minutes of the meeting. As the directors solidified their thoughts on what was needed, a startling and in ways frightening thought came to me.

"I can do it! I can be the leader they're looking for!"

When the Board took a break, I followed David Smith into the men's washroom and told him that I wanted the job. David nodded and when the meeting resumed he recommended that I be put in charge of the search for a new Clinics chief executive.

In December the Haight Ashbury Free Clinics Board of Directors was ready to meet the candidates and choose a new chief executive. I had posted ads in appropriate publications and gathered resumes and applications that a board committee had winnowed down to six people, including myself, that they considered potentially eligible for the job. I had also written up a plan of action, based on my experience serving as business manager, outlining what I would do if I were chosen and distributed it to individual board members. I had also had my hair and beard trimmed.

When my turn came, I was called into the Board meeting room down the street from 1698 at the Clinics' Crackerjack vocational rehabilitation center. Dianne Feinstein, Board member and future Mayor of San Francisco and California Senator, had read a draft copy of my book Compost College and was presiding over the selections process. She pointed out that the Clinics needed a leader who was willing to take risks and asked me if I was willing to do so.

"You've read my book, Dianne," I answered. "If I take risks and fail, I can always go back to my plastic wickiup in Mendocino."

She laughed and thanked me. I was later told that when I had left the room, she turned to the rest of the Board and said, "There is our new Chief Executive Officer." Dr. Irv Klompus, a retired U.C. physician and Board vice-chair, came by my office a short time later to inform me that I had been appointed the Clinics Chief Executive Officer, effective immediately. The next person to come by was Bob "Skeezix" Corrado, Business Manager of the drug treatment programs to tell me that the Detox Unit's plumbing was backing up. My first act as Clinics CEO was to take a plunger down the street and unplug the Drug Detoxification, Rehabilitation and Aftercare Project's toilet at 529 Clayton Street.

The Name Game

By Larry Clinton, Sausalito Historical Society

California had a gilt-edge reputation for three centuries before 1849. 

In his book “Vizcaino and Spanish Expansion in the Pacific Ocean,” historian W. Michael Mathes pointed out that Spanish conquistadores exploring the new world had heard tales of an island, "east of the Indies," where black-skinned women, Amazons, adorned with pearls and gold, were ruled by a great queen, Calafia. So, when a mutinous member of Fernando Cortes' expedition discovered La Paz in what is now Baja California in 1533, he dubbed it Calafia, mistakenly believing that it was an island.  Later maps show the island as “Cali-Fornia.”

ILLUSTRATION FROM WIKIPEDIA

View of Presidio of San Francisco circa 1817 by Louis Choris

San Francisco Bay got its name inadvertently in 1603 when Sebastian Ceremeno sailed the Alta California Coast searching for safe harbors for gold-laden Spanish Manila galleons to use when returning to Acapulco from the Philippines.

According to the website foundsf.org, Ceremeno (or Cermeo, as the website spells it) landed his ship, the San Agustin, in present-day Drake's Bay. Cermeo named the inlet La Bahia de San Francisco, after Saint Francis of Assisi, the founder of the Franciscan order. What we now call San Francisco Bay lay undiscovered for over two centuries from the time of first navigation along the California coast. Often surrounded by fog, the strait was surprisingly elusive for the early 16th century European explorers Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo and Sir Francis Drake, who encamped and careened the Golden Hind in West Marin in June 1577.

By the 1750's, the Spanish monarchy had noticed that Russian fur trappers were settling in this area, so in 1768 King Carlos III dispatched land and sea expeditions to colonize the territory.

Don Gaspar de Portolá, Military Governor of the Californias, was given command of the land expedition and Captain Vila led the sea expedition which consisted of two vessels.

The sailing expedition called it quits in San Diego, due to loss of key personnel. But the Portola foot soldiers reached the San Francisco Peninsula by late October. A small group hunting deer reached the top of Montara Mountains' Sweeney Ridge and saw a body of water so great that an accompanying friar, Carlos Crespi, described it as “a harbor such that not only the navy of our most Catholic Majesty but those of all Europe could take shelter in it.”  

Portola and his men did not even realize they were the first Europeans to sight the bay. Everyone was convinced that what they were seeing was a large inner arm of Cermeo's Bahia de San Francisco. A few years later, Mexican authorities, confused over the presence of these two bays, began associating the name San Francisco with both, until the practice spread to Monterey and our larger, clearly superior bay, appropriated the name.

On August 5, 1775, Juan de Ayala and the San Carlos crew became the first Europeans to pass through the strait, anchoring in a cove behind Angel Island. Until the 1840s, the strait was called the “Boca del Puerto de San Francisco,” (mouth of the Port of San Francisco).  It was dubbed the Golden Gate by U.S. Army Captain John C. Fremont on July 1, 1846, two years before the discovery of gold at Sutter’s Mill.  According to goldengatebridge.org, Fremont gazed at the narrow strait that separates the Bay from the Pacific Ocean and said, “it is a golden gate to trade with the Orient.” The name first appeared in his Geographical Memoir, submitted to the U.S. Senate on June 5, 1848, when he wrote, “to this Gate I gave the name of Chrysopylae or Golden Gate for the same reasons that the harbor of Byzantium was called Chrysoceras, or Golden Horn.”

The settlement that sprung up by the Bay was originally known as Yerba Buena – after a native herb. Following the US victory in the Mexican American War, Lt. Washington A. Bartlett was named alcalde of Yerba Buena. On January 30, 1847, Lt. Bartlett's proclamation changing the name Yerba Buena to San Francisco took effect.

And of course, our town’s name, Sausalito, is a corruption of the Spanish Saucelito, referring to the little willow trees that alerted Ayala’s crew to the location of freshwater springs in our hills.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Early Concepts for Bridging the Golden Gate

By Robert L. Harrison and Larry Clinton, Sausalito Historical Society

The following article was written by Robert Harrison for the Anne T. Kent California Room’s website: https://annetkent.kontribune.com/articles/9074.

For more than 100 years European colonizers of the Bay Area dreamed of a bridge across the Golden Gate.  Some would stand at Fort Point in San Francisco or at Lime Point in Marin and imagine a mile-long structure linking the two counties. At the same time people possessing a more practical nature strongly believed that such a bridge could never be built.  The view that it was not possible to bridge the Golden Gate persisted into the early 20th century.

In 1869 “Emperor Norton” was one of the first to publicly call for a bridge across the Golden Gate.  Joshua Norton arrived in San Francisco in 1849 planning to make a fortune in California’s gold rush.  By 1869 he was bankrupt and had gone mad.  He declared himself Norton I, Emperor of the United States and began issuing decrees.  Most found him harmless and amusing and he gained considerable notoriety before his death in 1880.

Charles Crocker is reported by many sources as the first, in 1872, to propose a tangible bridge across the Golden Gate.  Crocker was a Director of the Central Pacific Railroad and one of a group of men known as the “Big Four” who oversaw the completion of the railroad across the continent to California. The Central Pacific was looking for a route into San Francisco and to block other railroads from entering the city.

James H. Wilkins, editor and publisher of the Marin County Tocsin, described Crocker’s bridge proposal to the Marin Board of Supervisors in an article published on September 2, 1916.  Wilkins noted, “In 1872 I was present at a session of the Marin supervisors when Charles Crocker explained his plans, among which was a suspension bridge across the Golden Gate.  Detail plans and estimates for such a bridge were actually made by the Central Pacific engineers.”

While Crocker made his proposal in 1872, an earlier description of a possible bridge at the Golden Gate appeared in March 1868 editions of the Marin Journal.  Four years prior to Crocker’s presentation and almost 70 years prior to the 1937 opening of the Golden Gate Bridge, the Marin Journal reported a company was formed to build a bridge connecting Marin County with San Francisco.  The Journal indicated that, “The idea was suggested by the necessity which exists of connecting San Francisco with the mainland, so that the coast and valley railroads may terminate in the city of San Francisco.”  The planning for this connection preceded the 1869 completion of the transcontinental railroad.

According to the Marin Journal of March 1868, the span would be “…. a magnificent suspension bridge across the entrance to the harbor, from Lime Point to a place just below Fort Point.”  Details of the bridge design included an immense oval center pier 200 feet across and rising to 175 feet above the Bay.  The Journal continued, “The span on either side, reaching to the shore abutments, would be 2,000 feet long and 175 feet above the high-water line, affording space below for the largest ships to pass. The body of the bridge to be of iron, sustained on the suspension principle, with wire cables.  It is proposed to construct a double railway across, and to have a lighthouse on the central pier.”

Photo Courtesy of Anne T. Kent California Room, Marin County Free Library

Golden Gate from Meigg's Wharf, San Francisco in the 1800s

That such a bridge could not be built in that era may have been known even to the engineers who drew the plans. The depth of the channel between Fort Point and Lime Point virtually eliminated the possibility of a middle pier. The proposed 2,000-foot spans exceeded what was considered possible in 1868.  Prior to the 1883 opening of the Brooklyn Bridge with its 1,595-foot center span, no more than about 1,000 feet was regarded as the maximum span for a suspension bridge. 

The plan for the 1868 bridge was overly optimistic at best.  San Francisco was never directly connected by rail to the north or east.  A railroad bridge was never constructed across the Golden Gate.  As late as 1962 the Directors of the Bridge District prohibited the use of a second deck on the Golden Gate Bridge for Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) trains. 

To read more about the history of the bridge, go to http://www.sausalitohistoricalsociety.com, scroll down to the Search window, type in Golden Gate Bridge, and hit Return.