Graham Claytor takes us on a tour of the past, present, and future of the economic colossus that is the Port of Oakland. From its picaresque beginnings involving wheelings and dealings that would put Enron to shame, to its status today as an economic powerhouse of the Bay Area – indeed, much of the Western United States. The story of the Port of Oakland is as entertaining as it is powerful.
The Oakland Estuary c. 1869 Near 7th St. From an Oil Painting by Joseph Lee
By W. Graham Claytor
Published: June, 2005
Oakland, in 1851, was described as an “evil-smelling strip of muddy tidelands on one side and a flotsam-filled creek on the other.” A few scattered shacks inhabited by squatters on Don Luis Maria Peralata’s vast land grant and cattle ranch were beneath his notice, dismissed as mere gringos. The squatters didn’t care about the Grandee either; they were interested in the Redwoods and Oaks they could cut and trade for gold.
The area was then known as “Contra Costa” (Spanish for “Other Shore”), and ripe for the plucking, when Horace W. Carpentier and his two associates filed a claim for some 320 acres of Peralta’s land near the budding town of Contra Costa. Several, nearly violent confrontations with the Don, and tedious hours spent in a little courtroom, where the Don’s very-general land description was pitted against Carpentier’s audacious, but accurate, survey, resulted in a victory for the land grabbers.
Meanwhile, the squatters had formed a league to wrest clear title to their lands, as the population of Contra Costa soared to 70 by 1852. Carpentier saw another opportunity, and used his political connections to incorporate Contra Costa as the town of Oakland. This move was every bit as audacious as grabbing the surrounding land, as the residents of “Oakland” were unaware of this pending incorporation; and the legal filing at the new Capital did not include the usual signed petition by the residents. But the bill passed and Oakland became a town
An “election” was promptly held and trustees were appointed, without causing much fuss or even bothering the existing residents. Carpentier was not among the trustees elected and thus in a position to accept a grant of the entire Oakland waterfront in return for building a school, three piers, and paying two percent of the wharfage income to the new town.
During this construction, various travelers were arriving at Contra Costa and asking where the newly incorporated town of Oakland could be found. Residents of the area were mystified, and it became sort of a joke to find the mythical town of “Oakland.” Eventually, it dawned upon the residents that Oakland and Contra Costa were indeed the same place, and it didn’t take them long to smell a very big rat. They quickly reasoned that if they lived in an incorporated town and didn’t know about it, then there must be some other fraud going on.
The residents quickly realized that Carpentier had grabbed the entire waterfront, and the outraged citizens filed a petition in 1853 to get it back. The Trustees refused to consider the filing and hostilities broke out. By 1854, Oakland had become a city, and an election was held. Three hundred sixty-four votes were cast (considered by most to be more than the adult male population of the time), and Carpentier was elected mayor, but he had a hostile city council.
They promptly presented him with a motion to return the waterfront lands to the city; Carpentier refused, calling it preposterous, while claiming such a motion would abrogate the rights of private citizens (namely his). He wrote a 10-page legal brief examining the errors in this petition that even today is considered a classic. In this brief, he even wrote an opinion of his wharf: it was “well and substantially built…and according to the terms… of the contracts.” Carpentier would go on to fight with the city for nearly 20 years.
Oakland did indeed have a substantial wharf, but out in the Estuary it also had a substantial sand bar that restricted shipping to high tide. At Oakland’s two wharves, high tide generally gave a clearance of two and half feet. Thus San Francisco, with its ready access to deep water, became the bustling port city, while Oakland limped along with its tidal restrictions and waterfront fights.
Oakland’s first ferry service to San Francisco was an exciting ride in open whale boats rowed by 16 to 20 oarsmen and carrying some 30 to 40 passengers for the two hour and thirty minute crossing. Rates were dependent upon the captain’s assessment of the traveler’s urgency, with a weather eye to what the market would bear.
By 1851, the Kangaroo, a worn-out lumber schooner, was in service making two crossings a week. Soon, other steamers were added, including the Boston and Caleb Hope. Competing franchises were eventually organized into the Contra Costa Navigation Co., headed up by Carpentier.
But unhappiness with Carpentier’s high rates, miserable service, and poor accommodations gave rise to a new competitor, the Oakland and San Antonio Transportation Co. By 1858, this new company was charging 25 cents per passenger compared to Carpentier’s $1. Predictably, Carpentier sued; surprisingly, he lost.
The cheaper service stimulated interest in moving freight and people across the Bay. This, in turn, set the stage for public involvement in removing the sand bar blocking the mouth of San Antonio Creek.
By 1860, an act was passed to dredge the creek for an estimated $14,000 with the legislature paying some $11,000. In 1863, regular ferry service could operate some six trips a day and connect with the new railroad. Land values soared and lumbermen, cattlemen, farmers, and fishermen could now sell their materials in San Francisco for reasonable profits.
Railroad building continued and in 1869, the famed Central Pacific was nearing completion but had not yet selected its terminal city on the east shore. As each town vied to be the one selected, Carpentier again stepped in. Residents knew the winning city would be showered with wealth and growth, but Oakland was at a slight disadvantage to other towns, as Carpentier’s title to the waterfront was still in the seemingly endless dispute and insipient legal battles.
Carpentier argued that if the city dropped its claim, he would convince the railroad to come to Oakland. Despite nearly 20 years of bad blood between the city and Carpentier, Oakland agreed. In turn, Carpentier met with Leland Stanford and outlined what must have been pretty outrageous terms for access to the land. Stanford and his three partners refused and looked for alternatives, even trying the use of influence in Washington, DC. They met again with Carpentier and finally agreed to undisclosed terms.
What we do know is that Carpentier ended up on the board of the Central Pacific and incorporated the Oakland Waterfront Company with clear title to some 500 acres of waterfront land. That interest was eventually merged into what became the Southern Pacific Railroad, which bought up most of the area lines and became the dominant (and most hated) railroad in California.
But the waterfront fight was not over. Oakland still had many disadvantages as a port. Its land was privately owned and not eligible for federal dredging funds. The Estuary wasn’t deep enough for the larger ships and owners complained of excessive docking fees and disliked waiting to sail on the tide. There wasn’t even a city-owned pier. The irritated citizens fought for public control.
The River and Harbor Act of 1873 would change some of that, with a vast plan to dredge, build stone retaining walls, cut a tidal channel through the Alameda Peninsula, and build a retaining dam. Between 1874 and 1894, twin stone retaining walls consuming 95,000 tons of rock were built 9,000 feet out into the Bay and the dredged material filled in the useless and smelly marshlands on either side. The tidal channel was completed in 1902 and the dam was later deemed unnecessary.
Armed with a proper shipping channel and one Public Pier that opened in 1872, Oakland was poised for growth, but the land lock held by the Southern Pacific Railroad (SP) was a giant impediment. San Francisco’s public waterfront boomed, with the city building some 40 graceful and modern piers in time for both the opening of the Panama Canal and the 1915 San Francisco Exposition.
Over in Oakland, the waterfront battle was heating up again. The Western Pacific Railroad (WP) was building its route through the Sierra using the Feather River Canyon and seeking a terminus in bustling Oakland. Another railroad, the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe had given up trying to get into Oakland, and settled for a terminus in Richmond.
Oakland decided to grant the WP access to its filled land, and SP filed an injunction showing its ownership from Carpentier extended all the way to the vaguely worded “Shipping Channel.”
But SP did not only fight the WP in court, its crews did physical battle with WP’s work crews, tearing up track and doing everything it could to impede progress. At least that’s the way it’s usually recorded.
There certainly was a lot of violent conflict and destruction of property by both railroad’s employees. But the cause of this war was not the continuing dislike each company had for the other, but rather because “Diamond” Daniels, a WP construction boss, got into a fight with SP boss John Bradshaw over a woman. Bradshaw received the worst of it and since he recognized Daniels, he rounded up his SP men and attacked Daniels at work, beating his men and tearing up track.
The WP thought this was an organized attack, so they returned the favor. Things quickly escalated, including naval encounters in the vicinity of the WP Mole construction site. Oakland Mayor Frank Mott finally threatened to lock up all combatants and call out the National Guard and both railroads agreed to settle it in court.
Back in 1896, the city had won what should have been the final round of waterfront maneuvers, when the state Supreme Court fixed SP’s rights at the 1852 low-tide line and deeded all filled lands to Oakland. Upon the arrival of the WP in 1906 and the city’s clear intention to allow the new railroad access, SP appealed to a lower court. Judge Morrow decided that the California Supreme Court decision actually meant the property line was west of low tide to the “limit of convenient navigation.”
An outraged Western Pacific appealed to the U.S. Appellate Court, who declared against SP, “Nothing could be clearer…as a test of the low tide line.” The waterfront belonged to the city, but on every currently accessible inch of it, except two small public piers, rested private construction built by those that thought they had proper title. More years of litigation could be in store with possible claims of detrimental reliance, restitution, compensation, and whatever else the fertile legal minds of SP might conjure.
So, Mayor Mott worked out a compromise and gave SP a 50-year right to operate its ferry, rail, and shipping operations and SP agreed to not contest the final court decision. As part of this agreement, SP dismantled its long wharf, which opened new areas to development. SP also allowed city streets to access the new lands. The city then acquired immediate possession of the lands next to the Brooklyn Basin and fixed the price for railroad switching within the city limits —a valuable concession that encouraged the growth of business in Oakland. This agreement was ratified by the city in 1910, and in 1911, the state deeded over the remaining tidelands. The long fight to regain the waterfront was finally over, and Oakland could now begin to direct its own destiny.
Oakland - 1857. The earliest known picture - Beinecke Rare Book Library, Yale University
