Feature
Story & Photos by Robert Shurell
If you walk along one of the clean, quiet streets in Pacific Heights, what may be most striking (besides the view, of course) is the fabric of the neighborhood. Consider the neighborhood a tartan grid (similar to a Burberry trench coat). On the surface, it appears to be a simple grid, but another grid is offset in each direction. As the grids are further offset, they begin to intersect and interact differently with one another. A closer examination of these interactions will reveal details and relationships not noticed at first glance.
The Mansard Roof on the Left Has Been replaced. The Original Design Can Be Seen on the Right
In Pacific Heights, the large, dominant grid is the road system defining circulation throughout the neighborhood. The roads are old and their names evoke the place: Pacific, Buchanan, California and Broadway. A minor grid on these streets is comprised of cars, some on the move, more parked to the side, the gaps at the driveways providing relief from their colorful display. Beside the street, the first offset grid—the sidewalks—breaks into finer detail. On these sidewalks you’ll find the steady rhythm of trees providing shade over the cool, clean concrete. Between trees, the perpendicular driveways intersect the sidewalks, and upon these sidewalks is another moving, shifting pattern: pedestrians. Neighborhood dwellers head out with a road bike, or stroll with the baby; they are living their lives, walking alongside tourists and visitors from other neighborhoods enjoying a family walk. Everybody, though, at some point looks around, admiring the most special part of the neighborhood: its homes.
Some of the most prestigious, well crafted and cared for homes in the city line these streets. These homes are the other dominant grid in the tartan pattern. This pattern of homes, like the roads, is as old as the neighborhood. While the roads are a static background, the buildings lining their edges are just the opposite. They invite the play of light and shadow with variation in form, height and setback; they direct the observer’s attention to their stylistic offerings, each vying for attention. Roof forms may be plucked from any style and primly plopped upon whatever set of walls happens to be below. A large mansard may roost upon a deco façade with little guilt, while across the way a slope more apt on a ski lodge sweeps between a castellated tower and a modern addition.
The materials that construct these wild creations vary as much as the forms. Brick appears regularly, laid in fantastic, complex bond patterns, sometimes with boisterous stone quoining. There’s the sad, old mansion of weathered sandstone, pollution accelerating the decay, erasing its old carved capitals forever. Wood is used in any number of ways, from a pure old redwood structure to the mandatory Tudor logs.
As we zoom in once again, further details are discovered. The entryways are composed with delicate care, steps gracefully leading up to a landing that splits, two stairways curving up to their individual entries. The beautiful fragment composition of tile mosaic appears, and these tiled landings, viewed through ornate cast iron gates, either end abruptly at a door or slide off into the shadows of a protective interior courtyard. Details really stand out now—the carved wood trims around the windows, a stained glass window in the front door, a chandelier hanging from the porch ceiling.
Let’s step back for a moment. In the midst of Pacific Heights’s stylistic fandango there are certain ordering principles. The calm presence of a park, for instance, brings relaxation and relief. Alta Plaza and Lafayette Park crown hilltops in this neighborhood, offering an opportunity to view the intersecting grids and textures from a distance. From this refuge, you can view the massive apartment blocks set squarely all around the neighborhood. These buildings typically anchor the corner of a block. If a typical mansion or midblock multifamily building has three stories over a garage, the anchor blocks are seven stories over a garage—more then twice as tall.
Entry Stair Splits into Two Private Approaches
Since they are so prominent, these buildings could be considered nodes on our tartan grid, highlights where major gridlines intersect. The job urban nodes have to fill is that of a visual place maker, a direction finder or a local point of reference. Many of these buildings are the modern style you walk past without noticing. The historical ones, interestingly enough, are so similar it is difficult to tell them apart. These buildings, typically built during the 1920s, are rectangular concrete structures. The buildings are painted gray or beige, which is good—they reflect light, preventing the concrete from heating up more than necessary during the day. The base, encompassing a garage floor and the first residential floor, typically has rustication cast into the concrete, with a major entry element centered in the façade. Interestingly enough, this entry is often an embellished arch of Moorish revival design. The heavily sculpted and ornamented surfaces of this base, including its capital course at the floor line of the second residential floor, are cast stone panels. This applied decoration on the concrete box is a typical design solution for many of these buildings. The window trim is very plain and unornamented, unlike many of the smaller midblock buildings. The elephantine building, becoming more uncomfortable as it rises, stacks several undecorated, unornamented floors below an upper belt course, once again made of applied cast stone. The top floor receives a special treatment, with lighter rustication and an alternate window shape. Above the cornice sits a mansard roof, the preferred roof form in the neighborhood, apparently designed for the sole purpose of supporting the chimneys.
These buildings generally appear to be in excellent condition. But when examined closely, however, some issues come to light that bring into question the long-term health of the buildings. The most noticeable are shear cracks in the concrete. These occur when the building racks during a seismic event, and are easily identified in masonry buildings as cracks radiating from the corner of an opening at an angle of about 45 degrees. These cracks, if left untreated, may allow moisture to migrate through the concrete and into the reinforcing steel. When steel rusts, it expands and begins breaking up the material surrounding it. This creates a very dangerous and unfortunate circumstance wherein the building is “eaten” from the inside out. Another observation is the need for routine inspection and upkeep of the paint on the building envelope. A strong coat of paint is not only decorative, but protective as well. Wood is particularly susceptible to exposure to the elements, and windows with peeling paint may develop dry rot, which can only be repaired by replacement of the effected member. This is labor intensive, and therefore very costly. Finally, paint protects the decorative applied cast stone from the accelerated deterioration that automobile exhaust and other atmospheric pollutants promote. In just a few years, a fine piece of carved or cast stone can weather beyond recognition, if left unprotected.
The idea of Pacific Heights as a tartan grid allows a deeper look into the fabric that makes up the neighborhood. Beginning with the major elements—roads, sidewalks and buildings—we can begin to develop a frame of reference for the lesser elements. The tartan grid provides unique intersections and relationships, just as the elements of Pacific Heights come together to create a unique experience for the viewer.
The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the viewpoint of SFAA or SF Apartment Magazine. Robert Shurell is a licensed architect and designer with Architectural Resources Group, a firm specializing in historic preservation throughout the western United States. He can be reached at robert@argsf.com. Copyright © 2006 by SF Apartment Magazine. All rights reserved.