Unscene Issue 1 Excerpt: Retracing Ruins
“Although the arched gateway is long gone, the two lions still remain,” reads the first sign off of an unremarkable trail that begins at the corner of Point Lobos and 48th Avenues.
Upon further inspection, the unsuspecting passersby might find herself surprised by the imposition of the Ocean Beach horizon, growing steadily taller with each step deeper into the park. Walking further down the main trail she’d also find the remains of Romanesque statues and rows of imperfect palms — in every way Sutro Heights park resembles a European urban ruin, but with an unmistakably Pacific flavor.
Golden poppies and overgrown wildflowers frame the park’s vista down the Great Highway all the way to Pacifica’s Mori Point. With stone foundations and Victorian ornaments left amongst the ground, the park has an undeniably mythical atmosphere.
In contrast to its well known sibling park, Land’s End, Sutro Heights isn’t well known by tourists or locals alike; perhaps it’s better to keep this space for explorers…
The public development of this space began in 1881, when Adolph Sutro purchased a parcel of land in the Point Lobos area, territory including where today’s Cliff House sits. And yes, Sutro Baths, Mount Sutro, and Sutro Heights all bear the name of Adolph Sutro the twenty-third Mayor of San Francisco. They are all in fact a product of his legacy.
Entranced by the views of the Pacific and Marin on a clear day, Sutro had the vision of the grounds being his own private residence, and was compelled to place a deposit on the property the very day he saw it. He remodelled the existing cottage into an ornate but relatively modest home only really extending out the terrace into a rear porch. With a commanding view overlooking Ocean Beach, the home seemed to let the natural beauty star. The foundations of that extended terrace are still visible from the Great Highway today although the original Sutro House is long gone.
The site commanded development that was as striking as its environment. Sutro even went as far as to build a glass conservatory to “shelter exotic plants from the local coastal fog and harsh winds,” so that foreign flora could thrive inside.
Sutro arrived in the United States from Prussia in the height of the Gold Rush in the early 1850s, and quickly orchestrated his own mining endeavor in nearby Nevada. He eventually made his fortune by constructing the Sutro Tunnel in 1869 there in Nevada, an innovation that drained water from the popular Comstock mining vein.
He returned to San Francisco newly wealthy in the late 1870s and increased his wealth through land investments, like those in the Point Lobos area. He quickly became a publicly lauded figure after developing the land for public recreation, most famously the bathhouse at Sutro Baths. It was on this reputation that Sutro then successfully was inaugurated as mayor in 1894. After his death in 1898, the Sutro Heights home was demolished due to disuse and the entire infrastructure began to fall to disrepair and vandalism.
Despite Sutro’s own reputation as a “failed mayor,” Sutro’s “for the public” approach to spaces still seems to resonate at this park and in San Francisco’s recreation outlook in general. Or perhaps it was one of the foundational spaces to lay the groundwork for such culture.
Today, the park is used by all. Dog walkers, local picnickers, packs of rowdy middle schoolers, and meditative wayfarers all enjoy the unkempt trails that criss-cross around living pieces of Victorian history on the cliffside patch. The history of the park is kept alive by commemorative plaques placed by the National Park Service and it seems that burgeoning efforts to repair the sculptural ruins are underway.
Famously, every San Francisco proper resident lives within a mile of a park, and while there are many cities in the country that are intertwined with nature, few of them have been so intentionally designed to conserve and showcase nature with such accessibility.
Park culture is undeniably a quintessential part of public life in San Francisco; the way that such an intriguing public space could fly under the radar underscores to me that it is just one of many, many such special places in our city.
