Sitting at the foot of Market Street is our own, homegrown icon – the Ferry Building. A rare survivor of the big quake and fire of 1906, she proudly reminds us of the time of Empire, when ferryboats brought some 45 million a people a year into the city, some from the Key System’s “Eastshore Empire” and others from the Northwestern Pacific’s “Redwood Empire.”
By Guy Span
Published: June, 2002
Sitting at the foot of Market Street is our own, homegrown icon – the Ferry Building. A rare survivor of the big quake and fire of 1906, she proudly reminds us of the time of Empire, when ferryboats brought some 45 million a people a year into the city, some from the Key System’s “Eastshore Empire” and others from the Northwestern Pacific’s “Redwood Empire.”
But the days of Empire are now gone - mostly paved over. Our own Ferry Plaza, the adjacent Justin Herman Plaza and Villancourt Fountain are good examples. Now, this curmudgeon is no landscape architect, but as a pedestrian, he still uses this space most workdays. So, one has to wonder, how did we end up with such cold, barren spaces?
The answer to the ugly fountain plaza mystery was revealed in the most unlikely manner, while riding an AC Transit bus. You see, some commute buses violate the commandment, “thou shalt not talk with other patrons.” Your humble author was waxing eloquent about his opinion of the sterile plaza and hideous concrete block fountain. A young lady chimed in, “Look, you esthetic moron, you are clueless as to what was going on, aren’t you?” (Wait! That’s a trick question.), “It was all about juxtaposition…” Juxtaposed to what? “You see, tourists like you…“ Wince, “probably don’t remember that there used to be an ugly two-deck freeway running in front of the Ferry Building and just behind the fountain. The fountain was, in reality, a comment and a companion to the freeway. I know this,” she stated, “because I am related to the architect.”
Well, that experience may give pause to expressing opinions in public, but eventually leads to the inescapable conclusion that, with the freeway gone, the fountain is now missing its juxtaposed companion, while sitting forlornly at the edge of the bricked-over Justin Herman Plaza. Worse than that, the pockmarked cement wall, so reminiscent of freeway construction, blocks the view of the Ferry Building and isolates the plaza from the waterfront. Maybe it’s time to think about replacing the fountain with something that can help ease the transition from the impersonal modern architecture of the marching Embarcaderos to the charm of the ancient Ferry Building.
But before that, there’s more work to do, as directly in front of the Ferry Building, we find a cold stone plaza and two Art Deco “light fountains” (what’s wrong with real fountains?). And then, just to show that today’s architects could grasp this “juxtaposition” thing, they then interposed ugly modern transit “shelters” formed as though from an airplane wing. Interestingly enough, these artistic “shelters” are served by the historic F-Line Streetcars, operating under wires and streetlights styled from the turn of the pervious century (more juxtaposition?). But “shelter” is used loosely because it shelters one not, while giving the appearance of doing so (sort of the modern equivalent of form ignores function, while trying to impersonate it).
And speaking of impersonations, we find some braincase has designed a LOGO for the Ferry Building. It’s placed at the transit stops and cast in bronze and on fences near the ferry gates. The logo portrays a slightly stylized picture of a mono-hull ferry, speeding through the waves. All very nice, but why would San Francisco’s premier icon (which is a logo unto itself) need another logo? Perhaps someone feared the tourists couldn’t recognize the giant clock tower on top of a two-block long building…
And except for the imitation Los Angeles palms, there is not a hint of softness or greenery in the plaza until one finally crosses the last leg of the Embarcadero, away from the Ferry Building and finds cement terraces with patches of green. So why do we insist on stone and brick public spaces? “Well,” advised one observer (who also told this author that it was necessary to micro-focus on the big picture), “that’s obvious.” Obvious? “Sure. You see it’s much easier to clean and less inviting for transients to want to hang around.” Ye gods! Not even this curmudgeon is willing to believe that we design public space to eliminate beauty and growing things because it’s more expedient to clean stone work and LESS inviting for people.
But in any event we are left with lots of juxtaposition. A seventies, proto-industrial fountain and wall, juxtaposed to a brick plaza, juxtaposed to the stone Ferry Plaza with its 1930’s Art Deco light fountains juxtaposed to artistically new transit shelters juxtaposed to the 1891 Ferry Building. Sprinkle liberally with stone balls, palm trees, historic light poles, 1950s glass block sidewalk lights and transit furniture and you have a carefully-concocted recipe for modern open space.
