“It was crazytown here,” recalls one San Francisco resident.
I know what you’re thinking: isn’t that always true of San Francisco? Yes, of course it is. But things got much nuttier than usual during the jittery aftermath of the 1989 earthquake, when hundreds of 800-pound sea lions began swarming the city’s docks, sending boat owners, tourists, and residents fleeing in alarm.
The first sign of trouble came when a guy tied up his boat at Pier 39 around two in the morning. (Why? News reports didn’t elaborate; I suspect it’s best not to inquire too closely.) You can imagine the man’s surprise when he stepped off his boat directly onto the body of an eight-foot long sea lion.
“I don’t know who screamed loudest, me or the big guy,” he said later.
When man and beast had recovered sufficiently to take proper stock of one another, the boatman realized his new acquaintance had a strand of plastic filament wrapped painfully around his neck. He (the human) flagged down some help, they somehow got the filament off, and sent the beast, now known as Melvin, on his way.
“The good deed quickly became front page news in the sea lion world,” reported
National Geographic
. “Melvin told one friend, who told another friend…” Soon hundreds of Melvin’s pals were climbing onto the docks at Pier 39, a complex of shops, restaurants, and entertainment on the edge of Fisherman’s Wharf. After the initial pandemonium, the city realized this wasn’t an infestation, it was a free tourist attraction. Pier 39 could hardly believe their luck.
To the delight of human and aquatic visitors, Pier 39 remains a major stopover for sea lions on the way to their mating grounds on the Channel Islands near LA. The beasts are frisky, with lots of boisterous barking, biting, and shoving matches. Last week their numbers suddenly surged to more than a thousand, thanks to a bumper crop of their favorite anchovies in the bay.
I love the idea that giant sea creatures have taken over one edge of a city famous for futuristic technology. Rich and I visited the sea lions this week, and although the surprise influx is over, there are still hundreds lolling about, gathering their strength for the romantic encounters they fervently hope lie ahead. This livestream captures the action but leaves out the barking and (thankfully) the eyewatering smell.
The sea lions contribute to the back-to-nature feel that prevails along a surprising amount of San Francisco’s northeast coastline. Which is ironic because every inch of it is man-made, as this 1895 map shows; artificial fill is marked in pink.
The fill includes hundreds of ships abandoned by fortune seekers sailing into the bay during the gold rush. At our next port of call, the Maritime Museum, Rich and I viewed the rudder of one of the first arrivals: the
Niantic
, dug out of the earth in 1978 at the base of the Transamerica Pyramid. (In case you’re wondering, it’s named for a financial corporation founded in 1928, not transgender Americans.) Abandoned by passengers and crew in 1849,
Niantic
served as a warehouse and hotel before collapsing into the landfill.
Another museum highlight is
Mermaid
, the 19-foot sailboat in which 23-year-old Kenichi Horie made his astonishing 1962 journey from Japan to SF: the first solo, non-stop voyage across the Pacific. Having set many more yachting records, in 2022 Horie retraced his earlier voyage in the opposite direction, becoming the oldest man to sail solo and non-stop across the Pacific. He was 83.
And speaking of golden years, the surprising co-tenant in the Maritime Museum building is America’s very first senior center, which opened in 1951. Every day at 11:30 a hot meal is served to anyone 60+ or disabled at a cost of $2. Sadly, we’d arrived too late to get in on what was clearly the best bargain in the city, served in a dining room with a stunning view.
Looking through the window, you can see
Balclutha
, an 1886 Scottish square-rigger. When I was growing up, every Bay Area schoolkid knew the story of the naked comedian found in her rigging in 1959. Loony comic Jonathan Winters was (allegedly) discovered in a state of nature high in
Balclutha’s
rigging, shouting, “Where am I from? I’m from outer space, man, outer space.” Even in San Francisco this kind of behavior attracts a crowd, and when the police dragged him away for psychiatric evaluation, he supposedly yelled, “This boat is a fake; it’s got an outboard motor on it.”
Much later, Winters said in an interview that all he did was joke around with the ticket taker, suggesting the fellow ought to wear a tri-cornered hat, carry a parrot, and add outboard motors to the vessel. “I went and sat down and the guy called the harbor police,” said Winters. “He figured I was on drugs. Not everybody has a sense of humor… I was only in for a two-week observation.” Hmmm, two weeks in a psych unit for jokes? I leave it up to you to decide what version of the story you believe.
Leaving the senior center, Rich and I climbed the adjacent hill to one of the loveliest and least known places in San Francisco: the Community Garden of Fort Mason. At the base of the hill, the former military post is now a center for arts and culture; at the top sits a peaceful garden that attracts picnickers, artists, and an astonishing variety of birds. We could hear them warbling long before we arrived; half a mile away, the baying sea lions added a deeper counterpart to the birdsong.
Rich, who had been waiting all day for this moment, eagerly pulled out his binoculars and field guides. In just a few minutes he spotted crows, a flock of six pelicans, hummingbirds, house finches, a western tanager, sparrows, a black bird with a yellow beak that might have been a European starling, and a plastic flamingo. There were many others too swift to identify.
By now it was getting late, and having missed out on the $2 meal at the senior center (drat!) we hastened downhill to reach the Chestnut Diner shortly before closing time. The décor was delightfully retro, and our sandwiches — veggie for me; grilled cheese for Rich, about $12 each — were fresh and hearty. At $2.75 the giant, bottomless ice tea was a bargain in a town where coffee starts at $4.
It was like stepping back in time, to the days when the Aquatic Park Senior Center was new,
Balclutha
was famous for her history instead of a naked comedian, and Pier 39 was just a comfortably shabby dock that hadn’t been discovered by sea lions.
Zalophus californianus
— the California sea lion — is said to be the most intelligent of their species, performing in circuses until that was
banned last year
and helping the US Navy attach recovery lines to equipment on the ocean floor. By lolling about looking cute, they have taken over a solid block of real estate in the city where land sells for $10 million an acre — the most expensive in the world. Well played, Melvin, well played.
Click here to see an interactive version of this map
with details of the places we visited.
This post is part of my ongoing series
OUT TO LUNCH IN SAN FRANCISCO
My goal is to discover cheap and cheerful eateries in some of San Francisco’s most colorful neighborhoods while I check out what’s really going on in this zany town. Are we in a doom loop? Already on the rebound? Still fabulous? Stay tuned! These and other questions will be explored in upcoming posts.
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