Showing posts with label San Francisco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label San Francisco. Show all posts

Friday, March 04, 2011

Worst Neighbor Ever (Charles Crocker and the Spite Fence)

We've been fortunate.  For the most part, we've had really great neighbors.  The ones to our right and left have always been pretty good.  There is a rental behind us that has had a string of both good and bad tenants, but none has been as awful as the robber baron Charles Crocker.

(Charles Crocker)

The other day, I was looking at the stats for this blog and I noticed that the post on Eadweard Muybridge has been the most viewed so far, which is understandable from my perspective since he's such an interesting fellow.  But in my readings on his photography, there was something I stumbled upon, somewhat related to Muybridge, that I thought I'd mention today.

(Hopkins Mansion under construction behind the Stanford Mansion)

In 1877 and 1878, Muybridge was able to take a series of photos from the top of Mark Hopkins' uncompleted mansion on Nob Hill in San Francisco.  Using mammoth-sized large format photography, Muybridge captured a 360° panorama of San Francisco on 13 plates.  Each exposure took somewhere between 15 and 20 minutes which meant that he spent the day photographing from about 11 am to 4 pm.

(Muybridge's Panoramic Images)

The prints are each about 20-5/8" tall and placed together form a panorama of over 17 feet in length.  I just love looking at these images.  If you haven't seen them, you can take a look at them HERE.  Or to get a really good feel for the full 360 feel, you can see a QuickTime Panorama HERE.

(The later complete Hopkin's Mansion)

There is so much to see in the photos, but prominent in it all are the mansions of the "Big Four" atop Nob Hill.  It had become fashionable for these tycoons to buy an entire block of houses to then level upon which would be built new mansions as architectural monuments of their wealth.  Many of the former homeowners sold for tidy profits with the last of the holdouts typically doing even better.  For example, when James Flood was acquiring his block, he ended up paying $25,000 for the final property.

(Crocker's Mansion Plans)

Charles Crocker, eager to match his rivals, began buying properties on his desired block and even before he had finished purchasing all the properties, his construction crews went to work building his palace.  One after another sold to Crocker.  All but one.  You see, Crocker, unlike his wealthy associates was unwilling to pay inflationary prices.  So when when it came time to purchase the final property on his desired block, owned by a German undertaker named Nicholas Yung, Crocker only offered him $6,000 for the home.  Yung, believing his home was worth more refused to sell and set his price at $12,000.


(Eventual Crocker Mansion)

Crocker became indignant towards Yung for setting his own asking price and made all manner of threats against the man, but Yung remained stedfast and refused to sell for less.  Crocker then ordered all the property on his block be graded lower, leaving Yung's home floating on a rectangular dirt pedestal.  Yung refused to sell for less than his asking price.  Crocker then threatened to build a fence around Yung's property, but Yung wouldn't compromise, so in 1876, Crocker made good on his threat and at the cost of $3,000, built a 40-foot high walled fence around the three sides of the Yung property that Crocker owned, effectively cutting off nearly all sunlight and air flow to the residence.  The fence was so high, giant braces were erected to keep the fence from blowing over.  The Yungs had to light candles in the daytime, all their plants died, and the house acquired a damp and gloomy feel.  Still Nicholas Yung refused to lower his price.


(Good detail if you click on this image)

So that's how things stayed.  Two years after the fence was built, Muybridge inadvertently captured Crocker's "spite fence" on film.  You can see it between the Crocker and Huntington mansions and if you look closely, you can just make out the very top of Yung's chimneys inside the fence.  The Yungs tried to get the city to provide them justice, but Crocker was too wealthy and influential and kept the legal system from providing relief.  Yung became so frustrated, he eventually mounted a coffin brought home from work on his roof facing the Crocker residence as one last measure to upset the Crockers.

(The Spite Fence just right of center and Crocker's Mansion to the top left)

Eventually, the Yungs couldn't take living in their home had their house moved to another lot on Broderick Street.  After the Yung family moved, the Crocker had the fence reduced to 25 feet, but kept the somewhat reduced structure in place to devalue the lot the Yung's still owned.  As the years went by both Nicholas Yung and Charles Crocker died, but the fence remained.  When Rosina Yung died in 1902, the lot was valued at $80,000.  Finally in 1904, the descendants of the Yungs sold the property to the descendants of the Crockers and the fence came down.  Two years later, the fire following the massive San Francisco Earthquake consumed the Crocker mansion.  Today Grace Cathedral occupies the same block, certainly a fitting structure for the site of the former 28-year fence of hate.



Sunday, December 12, 2010

Eadweard Muybridge

Yesterday's Person-of-Mystery was Eadweard Muybridge, a man whose life was full of genius, artistry, passion, adventure, murder, bitterness, curiosity, and betrayal – a flamboyant character that one contemporary described as "Walt Whitman ready to play King Lear."


Muybridge was born Edward Muggeridge, in Kingston upon Thames (in Southwest London), in 1830.  Over the course of his life, he changed the spelling of his name several times, eventually settling on Eadweard Muybridge.


In 1855, Muybridge immigrated to San Francisco, where he worked as a bookseller, but in 1860, he suffered a terrible head injury during a fall from a stagecoach.  For four days he lay in a coma and then for three months after awaking, he had double vision and could not smell, taste, or hear.  He returned to England between 1861 and 1866, during which time he learned photography.

(Yosemite Falls by Muybridge)

Returning to San Francisco he began a new career as a photographer and quickly gained a reputation for his landscape photographs.  Often using the pseudonym "Helios," Muybridge was one of the earliest photographers of Yosemite Valley (although much of his work were recreations of Carleton Watkins' slightly earlier photos) and these images would win Muybridge the gold medal at the Vienna exhibition in 1873.  Muybridge was served as the photographer of record for the US Army during the Modoc War.

(Muybridge photo of Albert Bierstadt painting indians in Yosemite)

The early 1870s would be a pivotal time in Muybridge's life and career.  In 1871, he met and married Flora Downs Shallcross, a 21 year old divorcee, and a former photography assistant.  Early the next year, he made the acquaintance of Leland Stanford, when he came to take photographs of his mansion.  Stanford was the wealthy former president of the Central Pacific Railroad, and former Governor of California, who had developed a keen interest in horse racing.  At the time, one of the most contentious issues of the day was if a galloping horse ever had all four legs off the ground at once.  Stanford took the position that the legs did leave the ground and hired Muybridge to try and prove it with his photography. Muybridge told Stanford, it couldn't be done (photography of the day required a typical 15 to 60 second minimum exposure), but Stanford believed that with enough money and effort, Muybridge could accomplish the task, a task that unbeknownst to either would eventually require five years and $50,000.

(Flora Muybridge)

Stanford became both friend and benefactor to Muybridge with Muybridge coming up with ideas and bouncing them off Stanford and Stanford directing Muybridge to try different approaches.  Muybridge was one of the few people who could call on Stanford unannounced and receive an immediate audience.

(Leland Stanford)

There were a number of setbacks in the equine research, apart from the technical aspects (which were daunting), was the birth of a son in April of 1874, Floredo Helios Muybridge.  Around the time of the birth, Mrs. Muybridge had formed an acquaintance with a certain Major Harry Larkyns, an English adventurer of sorts who had spent considerable time in Australia.  By all accounts, Larkyns was young, dashing, charming, the opposite of Flora's mature and business-like husband.  Becoming suspicious of Larkyns' friendship, Muybridge sent his wife and son to stay with Flora's mother in Portland, Oregon.

Within a short time, Eadweard received devastating news.  A female friend of Flora's came by Muybridge's studio and gave him some letters that Flora had mailed to her with the intent of her friend delivering the enclosed notes to Larkyns.  Naturally, Muybridge was sad and angry.  However, the crushing blow came when the same lady returned a couple weeks later with a new note.  This one contained a photo of his son which Flora had captioned, "Little Harry."  Muybridge openly wailed and wept and then collapsed in grief.

Larkyns was at the time working at the Yellow Jacket Mine where he was employed making a map of the Calistoga Mining District.  Muybridge took a train and wagon to Napa County where he arrived on the evening of October 18, 1874.  He proceeded to the hotel and called for Larkyns.  When Larkyns came down the hallway towards the front door, Larkyns approached him and said, "I have brought a message from my wife, take it!"  With those words he pulled a pistol on Larkyns and fired a shot through his heart dropping him instantly.

Muybridge was arrested and thrown in jail.  Hearing the news, his friend Leland Stanford organized and payed for Eadweard's defense.  His lawyers claimed that the injury Muybridge had received in the 1860 fall from the stagecoach had damaged his brain (proved by his altered demeanor since the fall).  Flora's clear betrayal had been too much for his weakened brain to endure.  The jury eventually tossed out the insanity defense, but ruled it justifiable homicide and declared Muybridge not guilty.

After the acquittal, Flora sued for divorce, but died of typhoid fever before the divorce case could be heard.  Muybridge, believing his son was not his own disowned him and placed him in an orphanage.  Perhaps tragically, in later years, many would remark on how Floredo bore an uncanny resemblance to his father Eadweard.  In an attempt to put the whole affair behind him, Eadweard took off on a photographic excursion of Latin America.


When he returned, Muybridge again set out to try and confirm Stanford's gait theory.  In late 1877, Muybridge was able to capture a photo of a horse with all legs airborne at Sacramento's Union Park racetrack, proving Stanford's theory.

(Animated Sequence of Muybridge Photos)

In 1878, Stanford invited the press to the Palo Alto Stock Farm, where Muybridge had rigged a series of cameras to wires set to expose Stanford's horse as it would break the tripwires.  The 21 cameras were positioned opposite a white canvas at a 20° angle marked with lines to show horizontal and vertical positioning.  The series of images was an immediate sensation.  Stanford was hailed as the man with the idea and Muybridge as the man who transformed Stanford's ideas into reality.

(Muybridge setting up at the Palo Alto track)

Soon, Muybridge took his photo sequences and applied them to a common toy called a zoetrope.  A zoetrope was a spinning disk with different drawn images creating the illusion of movement for one person.  Muybridge took his photos and had them applied to a glass plate that was then spun behind a projector allowing his photographs to be shown to a large audience.  His invention was dubbed the zoopraxiscope which many consider the forerunner to motion pictures.  Muybridge took his zoopraxiscope show on the road, wowing audiences first in America and then in Europe all paid for by Leland Stanford.

(Zoopraxiscope)


Then in 1882, Stanford financed and published a book that permanently ruptured the Stanford-Muybridge partnership.  The Horse in Motion as Shown by Instantaneous Photography was written by another of Stanford's friends, Dr. J.D.B. Stillman.  In the book, Muybridge's photos were substituted for drawings and engravings based on his photos.  Although it centered nearly entirely on Muybridge's work, he was left off the title page and only fleetingly referred to as a Stanford employee.


Muybridge felt as though Stanford was trying to rob him of his rightful recognition and sued in court over what he believed was an intentional slight.  The case was eventually thrown out, but the friendship never restored.  But public recognition of his work with Stanford had already landed Muybridge a two year study with a new benefactor, the University of Pennsylvania.  Using 36 cameras simultaneously, Muybridge and assistants photographed animals and people engaged in almost every conceivable activity.


(Muybridge with athlete)

He continued lecture tours through the 1890s, even delivering a series of lectures at Zoopraxigraphical Hall during the Columbian Exposition.  After the Columbian Exposition ended, he returned to England where he published several books on his photographic work and tinkered on a number of side projects.  He died in 1904 of a heart attack while digging a scale model of the Great Lakes in his backyard.

(Zoopraxigraphical Hall)


And just in case you happen to find yourself at the Tate Britain Museum in London, there is an exhibition of Muybridge's work on display until January 16, 2011.  The museum even created their very own free iPhone app that allows you to mimic his work with your own camera (downloadable HERE).

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Emperor Joshua Norton

Okay, so I'm back from Los Angeles.  The wedding went well.  It was a very pleasant trip for me.  I was able to visit my younger brother and his family and also my good buddy Leon and his family.

Congratulations to DAG who correctly identified our last Person-of-Mystery as Joshua Norton, Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico!


Josh Norton was definitely one of the more unique characters to come out of San Francisco's past.  Basically, he was an eccentric man who lost a fortune when he invested in the rice market and it tanked.  He took to proclaiming himself Emperor of the United States and would write local newspapers and issue proclamations, the first of which he sent in 1859.


Newspapermen would publish Norton's decrees and in short order he became an eccentric celebrity.  He dressed in military garb and walked around with sword in tow.  Often he was associated with two stray dogs, Bummer and Lazarus, although Norton disliked the association between him and the two canines.  Norton would at times review the local police, check on city works projects, and was vigilant in seeing local ordinances enforced.  He also printed his own currency in denominations of 50 cents, five and ten dollar denominations and would pay for his meals at local restaurants using his own currency.  Being a local celebrity, most businesses took his currency and gave him free meals.


Some of his best known proclamations include:  proclaiming himself Emperor of the United States, abolishing the US Congress and both political parties, demanding royal attire be made for him and royal residences be built, dismissing Abraham Lincoln, declaring that Maximillian of Mexico surrender and be sent to the US or refusing to do so be shot, supporting air travel, called for a bridge be built from San Francisco to Oakland, banned the use of the term "Frisco" when referencing San Francisco, demanded a royal allotment of the Central Pacific Railroad profits, called establishment of one true Christian religion, and announced his intention to marry (many assumed the widowed Queen Victoria).  There were many other edicts and as his fame increased there were numerous false decrees written by others.


Emperor Norton died in January of 1880.  It is said that 30,000 people attended his funeral and the cortege was two miles in length.

Thursday, October 07, 2010

San Francisco's Lost Liberty

I work about about a 30 minute drive from my home, so I listen to a lot of podcasts in the car to help pass the time.  I have a few favorite podcasts, but I'm always looking for new ones to brighten my drive.

Today I listened to the 99% Invisible podcast.  This show is all about design.  It's an okay show, but I can't tell yet if it'll stay on my playlist.  They only have six episodes so far, each about 5 minutes long.  Today I listened to one from September 30 about San Francisco's former Statue of Liberty.



This news took me by surprise as I never knew San Francisco had such a statue.

(copy of Triumph of Light)

Apparently in 1887 (the year after the more famous New York statue was installed) a wealthy philanthropist named Adolph Sutro had a statue titled, "Triumph of Light," installed atop Mt. Olympus hill in the center of San Francisco.  It was a 12 foot bronze statue designed by Antoine Wiertz of Lady Liberty triumphing over Despotism while holding aloft her light was placed atop a 30 foot pedestal.  The statue commanded breathtakingly unobstructed 360 views of San Francisco.

(Triumph of Light in 1927)

Over time, the statue was largely neglected and eventually fell into disrepair.  Sometime in the 1950s it was removed altogether.  Today, only the pedestal remains with a mostly unreadable inscription surrounded by trees and condominiums.


Sad.  It looked like an interesting statue.