Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Company's Coming!: How Did People Get to the 1915 World's Fair?

From now through December, the San Francisco History Center is hosting an exhibition commemorating a World’s Fair held in San Francisco 100 years ago. The exhibit, Company’s Coming: San Francisco Hosts the Panama-Pacific International Exposition (PPIE), highlights how San Franciscans prepared for and experienced the Fair, and welcomed millions of visitors from California, the United States, and the world.

At the exhibit, you’ll see a variety of souvenirs, booklets, postcards, photographs, scrapbooks, and other physical items from the San Francisco History Center’s collections. They provide fascinating accounts of the people who visited and participated in the PPIE. In this blog post, we’ll start sharing some of their stories, and begin with tales that answer the question: Just how did company come to the Fair?

By foot or on stilts

Some visitors simply walked—from across the country, that is.

Vittorio Silva, “an alert, soldierly-looking young Italian,” hiked all the way from New York as part of a publicity stunt. He did it for a prize: $7,000, promised to the person who could walk to the PPIE grounds from New York in 100 days or less. Silva started his hike on March 22, 1914. According to the Los Angeles California Tribune, he was on the last leg of his hike, Los Angeles to San Francisco, on July 14.

newspaper clipping photo of man with bag
Vittorio Silva in the Los Angeles California Tribune, July 14, 1914. From Press Clippings Scrapbooks Book 16, Panama-Pacific International Exposition Records (SFH 364), San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library.
Yet walking to the Fair was hardly the biggest gimmick. The Panama-Pacific Exposition Commission, which oversaw funds for the PPIE, offered $5,000 to “the party who travels cross-country in the most unique manner.”

F.E. Wilvert answered the challenge by walking on stilts. He covered 3,000 miles from Harrisburg, PA to qualify for the prize. Amazingly, he traveled 22 miles daily along Lincoln Highway. This was the first transcontinental road built for automobiles, and it connected Times Square in New York and Lincoln Park in San Francisco.

By the time Wilvert reached Cheyenne, WY, he had been on the road for 118 days.

News clipping with photo of man on stilts
F.E. Wilbert, on stilts, featured in the Cheyenne Tribune. From Press Clippings Scrapbooks Book 16, Panama-Pacific International Exposition Records (SFH 364), San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library.
What did Wilvert say of his travels?

“I make good time and don’t mind the hot weather, although I am practically stranded when the wind blows. My stilts and paraphernalia weigh 22 pounds and it is almost out of the question to buck the wind.”

By covered wagon and “pushmobile”

For other people, using a pushmobile to get to the Fair wasn’t out of the question. The Trenton, NJ Gazette featured Jake Harris and M. Cramer, who set out for the PPIE from Philadelphia, PA in the toy vehicle:

News clipping photo of crowd gathered around man in pushmobile
A crowd sends off Jake Harris and M. Cramer on a pushmobile to the PPIE. Photo from the Trenton, NJ Gazette, July 17, 1914. From Press Clippings Scrapbooks Book 16, Panama-Pacific International Exposition Records (SFH 364), San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library.
The article notes, “They will alternate in riding and pushing.”

In turn, a trio from Norfolk, VA, opted for a more conventional mode of transportation:

News clipping photo of three men and covered wagon
"The Overland Three" traveled to the PPIE in a covered wagon. Photo from the Norfolk, VA Pilot, September 18, 1914. From Press Clippings Scrapbooks Book 16, Panama-Pacific International Exposition Records (SFH 364), San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library.
The canvas-covered wagon hardly befitted the innovative vehicles and machines displayed at the PPIE, and it emphasized the outdated way that people traveled to San Francisco in an earlier chapter of California’s history.

By hook or by crook

At least once, people took less-than-honest routes to the Exposition. The San Francisco Police Department Detective Bureau Scrapbooks, which compile news clippings on accidents and crimes, contain the story of two brothers who pocketed $20 just to make the trip. (It’s arguably the most forgivable story in a scrapbook full of sordid tales.)

Photo of opened scrapbook of news clippings
Note the story on the bottom left of this Detective Bureau's scrapbook: "Lads Take $20, Come to City to See Fair." From California Books Volume 30, San Francisco Police Department Records (SFH 61), San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library.
On September 15, 1915, the San Francisco Examiner reported that two boys from San Rafael, aged ten and fourteen, had gone missing with money from their step-father’s trouser pocket. Though they could have gone anywhere, their step-father—not to mention the reporter and the police—seemed convinced they’d run off to San Francisco:

“When he found the money gone yesterday, [D.F. Foley] thought that he had mislaid it. But when he found the youngsters gone also he remembered that he had been a boy once and hastily notified the San Francisco Police. Yesterday the Exposition guards kept a sharp lookout for the lads.”

Though we may never know how the story ended, the article concludes:

“[The boys] had not been found when evening came. Foley is not disturbed about the $20, but he trembles for the digestions of two small boys.”

But parents were not the only authority figures who had to deal with earnest individuals trying to get to the Fair.

By the good old (or brand-new) Muni

Just three years before the PPIE, San Francisco’s Municipal Railway, or Muni, was a one-street electric railroad. By 1915, it had transformed into a nine-line system with two lines supporting transit to and from the Fair. Between Muni, the competing United Railroads of San Francisco, and privately owned jitney buses, people had many options for traveling to the PPIE.

Much like today, pretty much everyone had something to say about Muni. A handful of these opinions can be found in the San Francisco History Center’s collection of Muni records, amongst them Municipal Railway Superintendent Thomas Cashin’s correspondence from 1912 to 1915. Cashin’s files brim with letters about traveling privileges to the PPIE. These include notes from organizations, ranging from the Divisadero Street Merchants Club to the Masonic Board of Relief, requesting special fares to the fairgrounds.

One letter dated March 16, 1915, from residents of the Richmond and Presidio Heights, even asks Cashin if the “C” line could run directly to the Exposition daily. (The “C” is the now-defunct Geary-California streetcar line.) Cashin deemed this last request impractical—but he was more generous with other appeals, especially when these involved bringing children to the Fair. The San Francisco Railway Museum’s exhibit, Streetcars to the 1915 Panama-Pacific International Exposition, gives a fuller picture of Muni in relation to the PPIE.

Photo of four letters arranged in a folder
The Divisadero Street Merchants Club's letter to Superintendent Thomas Cashin, with Cashin's reply to the right. From Letters to Superintendent Cashin, San Francisco Municipal Railway Records (SFH 84), San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library.
All these anecdotes form but a snippet of stories about the PPIE held in the San Francisco History Center’s collections. We invite you to visit the exhibit and the San Francisco History Center to learn more about this unforgettable event in San Francisco’s history.

Company’s Coming: San Francisco Hosts the Panama-Pacific International Exposition runs from Sept. 9-Dec. 31 at the Main Library. You won’t need a pair of stilts or a canvas-covered wagon to see the show. Just take the elevator or stairs to the Skylight Gallery on the 6th floor. We’re ready for company.

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Building Community and Leadership: San Francisco's Chinatown, A Model

On Saturday, September 12, 2015 at 1 p.m., the San Francisco Public Library, in association with the Asian American Studies Department of San Francisco State University, presents Gordon Chin to talk about his book, Building Community, Chinatown Style: A Half Century of Leadership in San Francisco. The lecture will take place in the Latino/Hispanic Community Meeting Room of the Main Library, Lower Level. A book sale and signing will follow the talk.

Today, Mr. Chin fills-in at "What's on the 6th Floor?" as a guest blogger:


When I first heard in October, 2013 that the American Planning Association had selected San Francisco Chinatown for its list of Top Ten Best Neighborhoods in America, I was both thrilled but also a bit surprised. I was thrilled because I was in the midst of writing my book, “Building Community, Chinatown Style,” sharing a personal memoir and my observations about this important place. I was surprised because I had never thought of Chinatown as a “best” neighborhood given the serious problems it has historically been challenged with–the lack of affordable housing in San Francisco, inadequate recreation and open space, traffic congestion impacting pedestrian safety, to name a few.

The lists of “Best Places” you usually see in travel magazines were about places that are ideal places, where anyone would want to live. But these were not the reasons why Chinatown was chosen by the APA for its annual list. San Francisco Chinatown was selected for its leadership, as well as for its strong history of social capital and institutions which has preserved this community since its founding over 170 years ago, protecting it from discriminatory legislation, natural disasters, and civic neglect. And this is the Chinatown leadership I wrote about in my book, with stories of individual courage and organizational persistence which have characterized the community over the last half century, the time span of my book.
Clayton Hotel ribbon cutting, 657 Clay Street, 1982. Chinatown Community Development Center's
first residential hotel acquisition and rehabilitation project. Courtesy: Chinatown CDC.
Chinatown is one of the least understood neighborhoods in San Francisco. It is alternatively viewed as a major San Francisco tourist attraction and a ghetto with one of the highest rates of poverty and housing overcrowding in the city, a living dichotomy of perceptions and images. Saul Alinski, the late community organizing theoretician, once described San Francisco Chinatown as the most organized neighborhood he had ever seen in America. Most everyone was active in community life as members of fraternal associations, music and cultural clubs, business organizations, kung fu studios, and churches; there was a vibrant community sense of volunteerism and social capital that the outside world did not know.

“Building Community, Chinatown Style” chronicles Chinatown activism in the community development issues I have been involved in for over four decades, starting with the fight for the International Hotel and ending with my observations about other Chinatowns and Asian American communities in the country. The book shares hundreds of stories about leaders I have had the honor of working with, but the book does not have one central character. That’s because the central character is Chinatown, “One of the ten best neighborhoods in America.”

Saturday, August 15, 2015

Company’s Coming to San Francisco Public Library’s Skylight Gallery!

Mark your calendars—Company’s Coming to the San Francisco Public Library.

On September 9, 2015, the San Francisco History Center will open its exhibition, Company’s Coming: San Francisco Hosts the Panama-Pacific International Exposition in the Skylight Gallery on the 6th floor of the Main Library. This exhibition highlights how the City of San Francisco and its residents prepared for the PPIE by completing numerous civic projects and building its impressive fairgrounds to host millions of visitors. The exhibition also explores how people from San Francisco and beyond engaged with the palaces, exhibits, concessions, and special events they encountered at the Fair, then commemorated their experiences in images, writing, and memorabilia.

All of these stories are captured in a variety of materials from the San Francisco History Center’s collections: PPIE artifacts, guidebooks, pamphlets, official documents, personal scrapbooks, photographs, postcards, and many other archival items. Just what will you encounter when you come to Company’s Coming? Here are a few objects you can look forward to.

Exposition Bonds

Company’s Coming traces San Francisco’s preparations for the PPIE back to the earliest days of the Fair’s conceptualization, the campaign to host it, and the movement to finance it. Things of beauty in themselves, bonds like this one were instrumental in the realization of the Exposition.

photo of bond
Exposition Bond, San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library.


There is no shortage of maps detailing the Exposition grounds, but there’s one in particular you shouldn’t miss. That’s an original Sanborn Fire Insurance Map documenting Exposition buildings, along with locations of fire alarm boxes, hydrants, and other fire-related information. But the map is more than the information it imparts: as an archival document, its physicality, miniscule working notes, markings, and pasted-in corrections suggest an entirely different story of how the map and the layout of the grounds evolved. 

photo of yellow and blue map detail
Detail of  PPIE Sanborn Fire Insurance Map, 1915, San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library.

High School Yearbooks

San Francisco’s youth were definitely among the PPIE’s enraptured visitors—the Polytechnic High School yearbook cover pictured below (evoking the Court of the Universe with the Column of Progress in the distance) indicates as much. Company’s Coming puts the spotlight on Polytechnic students’ experiences of the Fair, whether through the lens of their Fair-themed creative works or accounts of their participation.

photo of Polytechnic Dec 1915 yearbook
The Polytechnic Journal, December 1915, San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library.


As one might expect, the PPIE saw a wealth of souvenirs being sold, bought, and given away. Company’s Coming features a wide sampling of items that commemorate the Fair and highlights unique memorabilia, including the handmade keepsake for sale at the Exposition pictured here. 

photo of purple and yellow "S.F. 1915" banner
“S.F. 1915” Pillowcase, San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library.


At Company’s Coming, you’ll discover a rich selection of official photographs, personal snapshots, panoramas, and photo postcards documenting the PPIE. These capture the Fair, literally and figuratively, from every imaginable viewpoint. Images like this one of workers who helped build the Tower of Jewels suggest how the PPIE was just as much about grit as it was of grandeur.  

photo of workers standing in front of tower under construction
Iron Workers on Main Tower or Tower of Jewels, San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library.

Of course, the five items previewed in this blog post will never tell the whole story of how San Franciscans envisioned, built, experienced, and remembered the PPIE. To learn more, visit the Skylight Gallery on the 6th floor of the Main Library, September 9 to December 31, 2015. Company’s Coming will have arrived by then. We hope you’ll be there, too.

Friday, July 31, 2015

Guest Blogger - Alan A. Blackman: Letters to Myself

In 1968 well-known San Francisco lettering artist Alan A. Blackman began sending hand-written envelopes as a surprise for his young son, Stephen, across the bay in Berkeley. Blackman had been an avid stamp collector in childhood and remembered the excitement that a new postage stamp could create—and the excitement of receiving his own personal mail. At the same time he addressed an envelope to his son, he addressed a similar one to himself. 

Our guest blogger Alan A. Blackman vividly describes his thirty-six year calligraphic obsession. The exhibition Letters to Myself: The Calligraphic First Day Covers of Alan A. Blackman is on view now in the Main Library's Jewett Gallery, Lower Level, and continues through October 11, 2015.


POSTAGE STAMPS HAVE BEEN in my blood since early childhood. My older brother & I fought to the death for the possession of our stamp collections. We grew up in a remote New York State rural community, ordering our new stamps by mail. The monthly arrival of exotic & glamorous stamps was tremendously exciting. They taught us our geography lessons, for example, including such far-flung locations as Tannu Tuba, Bosnia-Herzogovina, Schleswig-Holstein, Sarawak & St. Pierre & Miquelon.

IN THE LATE 1960s I was a postal employee at Rincon Annex, the main distribution center near the waterfront in downtown San Francisco. I became aware of letters addressed to postmasters requesting first day cancellations for new postage stamps. I would often see envelopes passing through the mailstream bearing new stamps cancelled FIRST DAY OF ISSUE. Such cancellations always bear the date and the names of the issuing cities. Monthly posters in the Rincon Annex lobby announced the design of the latest stamps, the respective cities & the dates.


MY FIRST ENVELOPE dates back to 1968. I had begun my calligraphic studies some ten years earlier & was fairly competent in the italic & uncial alphabets. My eleven-year-old son, Stephen, lived across the bay in Berkeley. I wondered if "the stamp bug" would bite him as it had once bitten me. Postage was then six cents. I addressed an envelope for each of us, taping twelve cents to a card & mailing them within an outer envelope to postmasters of various cities. Some weeks later we received our respective envelopes, each cancelled FIRST DAY OF ISSUE. Doting fathers may appreciate the element of surprise that this method of indirect communication can bring to their children. My son resided in England for many years, eventually acquiring a collection identical to mine -- bearing his name & address. Our postal service later changed its procedure, requiring collectors to purchase & affix their own stamps, allowing them thirty days to do so & still receive the official cancellation.

THERE WERE TWO SHOPS selling stamps for collectors near my place of employment. I discovered that LINN's Stamp News, Sidney, Ohio, contained a wealth of information about new foreign stamps. I learned that certain foreign philatelic bureaus sent out periodic bulletins announcing their forthcoming new issues. My favorite countries became Great Britain, Canada, Australia, & Sweden. I eagerly requested their cancellations, sending them our blank self-addressed envelopes including a remittances for the price of the stamps plus a possible "fixing fee". Many overseas bureaus accepted personal checks in U.S. dollars including an additional amount to cover the rate of exchange. I believe that now most postal bureaus accept valid credit cards. Some collectors become fond of specific topics. Mine were stamps-on-stamps (new stamps that portray previous historical issues); coats of arms, manuscripts and -- my son's favorite animal, the pangolin -- a scaly anteater native to certain regions of Africa & Southeast Asia.

BY CHANCE MY FIRST effort used a box of 100 Crane’s kid finish white envelopes. The paper takes ink flawlessly. I could carefully scrape off small errors with a surgical scalpel under a magnifying glass without damaging the surface of the paper. It’s a meticulous operation which calligraphers eventually learn. The back flap of each envelope was embossed with the name of a time-honored San Francisco department store or boutique—I. Magnin, Gump’s, Schwabacher Frey—a refinement which I cherished. During my long years of this hobby I continually sought out other brands, other envelopes, other papers, but I became quite enamored of Crane’s. They were always the best for me.

MY EARLIEST ADDRESSES were written with steel pen nibs and black ink. I discovered Boku-eki, a dense, glossy, liquid Japanese sumi ink that has remained my favorite commercial ink to this day. As my calligraphic skills increased I supplanted my use of steel pen nibs with turkey & goose quills, both of which create a finder line on the page. For colored writing I used gouache in tubes or water-soluble colored pencils. I later learned how to grind a set of colored Japanese stick inks on individual ink stones: one stone for reds, one for blues, one for greens, etc. For metallic effects I found that imitation pigments (for example, Winsor & Newton gold ink, Japanese cake colors, Pelican silver & copper gouache) were more attractive than authentic shell gold & silver. There is always the risk, however, that they will eventually tarnish. For greater adhesion I added gum arabic to the ink to prevent smudging as the envelope travelled on the bottom of mail bags, through people's hands & through the cancellation machines.

FOR THE FIRST TEN YEARS most of my envelopes bore identical addresses -- my italic & uncial handwriting. They were exciting to receive at the time, especially when they came from overseas. In the early 1970 calligraphy societies emerged on both the local & national scenes. Our artistic horizons broadened. The writing styles of Friedrich Newgebauer (Austria), Kennedy Smith (England) & David Mekelburg (Los Angeles) had a profound effect on my personal vision. I began to use color more adventurously. Most important of all --- & it happened very gradually -- the images on the stamps became the inspiration for the design of the lettering.

THE MOST INTRIGUING aspect of this activity—apart from the indirect communication with my son—was the creative process. Could I produce something new this time? How? How far could I go? Was legibility important? Where were the good designs when I really needed them?? Every envelope was not “a winner”. I have boxes of unsuccessful envelopes that are rarely opened, whose unfortunate contents never see the light of day. My friends would occasionally ask how I was able to sustain the high outpouring of continuous inspiration. My answer was that it was not continuous. My creativity has always run in cycles of indeterminate & unpredictable duration. I cherish the seasons when wondrous ideas occur: startling designs, whose equal I’ve never seen before. During these times I’m very happy. Then, try as I may to avert it, the sky darkens & a chill fills the air. Leaves fall from the trees. A witch with a bony hand appears at the garden gate extending a poisoned apple. Once again the land becomes arid and unyielding. I am compelled to wait—without knowing the length of the winter— for the coming of spring. Perhaps a truer insight into the above question is that I have learned to wait through periods of frustration without giving in to despair.

I HAVE OCCASIONALLY USED my envelope collection as a teaching example in classes & workshops. It was an obsession that I continued to maintain for thirty-six years. I relinquished it in the year 2004. By that time my son, Stephen, had become an adult, self-supporting as a talented TV cameraman, traveling the world on assignment, no longer resident in what had been till then his permanent childhood home. There was no longer a reason for me to continue, as newer envelopes would not reach him. I believe that by the time I leave the planet this collection will have become my most important work. --Alan A. Blackman

Courtesy Alan A. Blackman

This exhibition is dedicated to the memory of my beloved son, 
Stephen Anthony Richard Blackman (1957-2012).

Note: Please do not send mail to the addresses on the envelopes; the artist may be contacted through his website: