Side
entrance to the Transbay Terminal and the building's
only ornament: aluminum-framed windows and a streamlined
awning.
Industrial
scale windows let in natural light but their grandeur
was diminished when escalators were added.
Counter
for commuters that was part of the Harvey's chain to
grab a quick bite or cup of coffee.
An
old-style shoe-shine stand.
The MTC Community
Art Program presents:
The Transbay Terminal:
San Francisco’s Much-Maligned Commuter Terminal
Photos by Noah Berger and Tom Paiva
Text by Therese Poletti
When San Francisco’s Transbay Terminal
first opened to the public in January of 1939
as a new train terminal to replace the Ferry
Building, it had an inauspicious debut. Although
heralded as a “building of architectural
beauty and practical utility,” the gala
opening of the streamlined structure faced
in clean white granite was clouded by sentimental
stories in the local press reporting on “moist-eyed” farewells
to the 75-year-tradition of commuting to work
by ferry from the East Bay. Its first week
in operation was marred by traffic snarls caused
by glitches in new street car lines heading
to the terminal, delayed concession openings
and a city ill-prepared for such a major change.
The functional three-story terminal represented
the future, at a time of hopeful optimism.
After almost a decade spent in the Great Depression,
the opening festivities occurred a month before
the widely anticipated Golden Gate International
Exposition on Treasure Island.
Indeed, it was also the end of an era. The
romantic connection commuters had with the
San Francisco Bay ended abruptly after the
completion of the commuter terminal in December,
1938, the last phase of the massive $77 million
San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge project. Train
service replaced the ferries en masse, with
the first trainload of officials and passengers
crossing on January 14, 1939, and service beginning
on January 15. Instead of a leisurely boat
ride into the city, commuters were whisked
by trains traveling along the lower level of
the new aluminum-colored Bay Bridge, built
to carry trains and trucks. Two-way automobile
traffic traveled on six lanes of the upper
deck.
The electric trains operated by the Southern
Pacific’s Interurban Electric Railway
Company and the Key System shaved an average
of 15 minutes off passengers’ commutes,
but gone were the strolls with coffee and donuts
on the ferry decks, card games, and chats with
friends. Instead, morning travelers were packed,
sometimes like sardines, into trains that traveled
along the more claustrophobic level of the
bridge, where window seats gave a vertigo-inducing
glimpse of the bay far below, but a stunning
panorama for those who didn’t look down.
The trains rounded a big loop coming into the
terminal over a viaduct that paralleled the
vehicular off ramps of the bridge.
Coming into the city by train, a passenger’s
first encounter with the San Francisco terminal
was the roofed train shed on the upper floor.
The purely functional space enclosed six separate
tracks, where passengers would embark and disembark
onto loading platforms lit during the day by
skylights and by nine massive windows of the
terminal. Framed in aluminum, the two-story
tall windows were the only architectural extravagance
on the exterior of the building, a nod to the
aluminum-tinged Bay Bridge, completed just
two years before the terminal.
The three architects who designed the terminal,
Timothy L. Pflueger, Arthur Brown, Jr. and
John J. Donovan, were also the consulting architects
for the Bay Bridge. Their relationship with
the engineers, including California’s
chief engineer Charles H. Purcell — who
ruled the project with a tight iron fist — was
often stormy. The three were well-known for
major structures in San Francisco and Oakland
and were not shy in voicing their opinions.
Pflueger was known for the Telephone Building,
450 Sutter and sumptuous theaters such as the
Paramount Theatre in Oakland; Arthur Brown,
Jr. for San Francisco’s Neo-Baroque City
Hall and Coit Tower; and John Donovan for Oakland’s
Civic Auditorium (now Henry J. Kaiser Convention
Center) and many schools in the East Bay. The
architects tried to infuse art work such as
sculpted bas reliefs into the bridge’s
anchorages or its approaches, but were mostly
unsuccessful. One victory was improving and
elongating the suspension towers. One of the
biggest feuds which made it into the press
was a dispute over the color of the bridge.
The engineers wanted to paint it black, while
the architects preferred gray. A compromise
was eventually made: aluminum. After the brouhaha
was settled, Purcell, Pflueger and other officials
were photographed in smiling unison on the
gleaming, newly painted bridge.
By the time of the terminal project, however,
the architects had apparently given up their
quest for art or architectural details, with
the exception of aluminum staircase railings,
window frames and well-crafted benches. Still,
the completed terminal was elegant in its functional
simplicity, especially its façade and
entry foyer.
The terminal was officially named the San Francisco
East Bay Bridge Terminal but was often referred
to as simply as the San Francisco Terminal.
Later dubbed the Transbay Terminal, it was
among the most modern works of all three architects.
It combines curves and a sense of movement
found in the Streamlined Moderne style of the
1930s with the functional, spare aesthetic
of the Bauhaus School of Germany. The 870-foot
long building of reinforced concrete epitomized
the mantra “form follows function”:
Its primary raison d’etre was to facilitate
the movement of 60,000 commuters in and out
of the building every day. According to The
Architect and Engineer in January 1939, “convenience
to passengers was the governing motive in the
design.” Every detail facilitated passenger
distribution. There were 15 entrances and exits
to the building, 11 ramps and 14 stairways
that accessed the train platforms. Ramps were
built with no more than a 10 percent grade
and coated with a nonslip abrasive material.
To reduce the walking distance, the height
between floors was only 10 feet.
Concessions, which weren’t open during
the first weeks because of delays in approving
the leases, eventually offered passengers a
shoe shine stand, newsstand, flower shop, lunch
counter and soda fountain, and a bar last known
as Cuddles. There was also a small jail holding
cell, and a basement parking garage for 600
cars. The terminal’s low-ceilings, vaunted
for promoting quick movement through the terminal,
were also an oft-criticized feature, giving
the waiting room and other public areas a hemmed-in
feeling. The terminal had a brief brush with
fame, though, with two appearances in the movies:
The comfortable wooden benches in the vast
waiting room were featured in a scene with
actor Will Smith in the 2006 movie “Pursuit
of Happyness.” The main “grand” staircase
leading to the trains was used by a swarm of
bride hopefuls in a chase scene in the 1999
movie “The Bachelor.”
In 1958, after only 19 years of service, the
Key System ended its train service across the
Bay Bridge. After World War II, and the end
of gas rationing, travel by car became popular
again and the lower deck of the Bay Bridge
was converted to automobile traffic. After
the Key System was dismantled and train tracks
were removed, the Transbay Terminal was converted
into a bus-only station. Eventually, the terminal
became a popular place for the homeless to
sleep on its benches and in 1992, S.F. Mayor
Frank Jordan proposed closing the terminal.
Despite being deemed historically and architecturally
significant, the terminal became run down,
dirty and smelly after years of neglect, and
was demolished in 2011. In its place, a glass
and steel structure is set to open in 2017
as the home of a new bus/rail transit hub with
a 5.4-acre public roof garden, designed by
Pelli Clarke Pelli Architects. A plan now calls
for rubble from the destroyed terminal to be
used by local artist Tim Hawkinson in a sculpture
at the site. It is at least a slight homage
to a dignified building that suffered an inglorious
end and never had much of a chance.
Therese Poletti is a San Francisco-based journalist
and author of the book, “Art Deco San
Francisco: The Architecture of Timothy Pflueger,” published
by Princeton Architectural Press in 2008, featuring
photography by Tom Paiva. Please visit timothypflueger.com
for more information.