Sausalito has been an oddity
for well over one hundred years. Despite its well-established
appearance today, odds were against it ever becoming a town
in the first place. It’s unlike most of the other small
towns in Northern California in its beginnings and its growth,
and probably its future. When, in 1838, William Richardson,
an Englishman by birth and a Mexican by choice, received a Mexican
land grant of the entire Main Headlands, he took possession
and called it Rancho Del Sausalito (Ranch of the Little Willow
Grove). The original inhabitants of Sausalito, called Uimen
by the Spanish, and no doubt something entirely different by
themselves, had lived for centuries along the shore but, by
Richardson’s time, already had been decimated by European
ignorance, neglect, and exploitation. Now a new epoch was about
to begin. Richardson envisioned a sprawling cattle ranch similar
to other land grant ranches in the region, but with one big
difference. His property included a cove, a safe anchorage about
as close to the Golden Gate as one could find. The springs above
the cove poured abundant fresh water into Richardson’s
storage tanks, thus creating a salable commodity, fresh water
for visiting whaling ships.
Richardson wasn’t interested in starting a town. He wanted
to create an empire. He wanted control, power, and wealth: control
of the access to San Francisco Bay and its tributaries (he was
already Captain of the Port of San Francisco), political power
that would come from hobnobbing with the powerful Mexican families
of the region (he was already married to the daughter of the
Commandant of the Presidio), and wealth that would spring naturally
from his diverse enterprises. In addition to raising cattle
and selling water, he sold vegetables and firewood to visiting
ships, collected duties and port fees, and traded along the
California coast.
What Richardson didn’t count on was the California
gold rush. After the big strike in the foothills east of Sacramento
in 1848, he stood by with his trappings of Mexican authority,
certain of his impending prosperity as gold-seeking hordes
began to arrive in San Francisco en route to the gold fields.
But Richardson the Patron was ignored, his land got trampled
over and squatted on, his cattle were stolen, and his Whaler’s
Cove bypassed in favor of the new port of Yerba Buena across
the Bay. His pastoral world of patronage and genteel influence
lay trampled beneath the feet of thousands of newcomers who
cared nothing for local laws and traditions. He was forced
to concede defeat and sell most of his beloved rancho. He
died a broken, disillusioned man.
After the gold dust settled and Richardson was lowered into
his grave, the hottest game around San Francisco Bay was starting
new towns. Every creek outfall and river delta from Mission
San Jose to New Helvetia (the future Sacramento) was envisioned
as the new capitol city of the new state of California (admitted
to the Union in 1850). Land developers by the score came from
back east to start new metropolises. The Bay region was certainly
big enough for another San Francisco, or another New York
for that matter.
Fast thinkers and ambitious entrepreneurs gobbled the shambles
of Richardson’s Rancho Del Sausalito up. Charles Botts,
A Virginia lawyer and argonaut, had bought Sausalito’s
cove from a desperate Richardson during the gold rush and,
in the early 1860s, planned a city and a U.S. Navy shipyard
for Sausalito. Through political machinations beyond Botts’
control, however, Mare Island became the navy facility and
Botts abandoned any hopes for Sausalito’s future. His
stillborn town consisting of a few shacks and many unsold
waterfront lots sank back into the tidal mud.
Next came a hastily assembled agglomeration of San Francisco
businessmen who wanted in on a promising Sausalito real-estate
deal. Richardson’s lawyer Sam Throckmorton had been
left with a big chunk of Richardson’s debt-ridden former
rancho and was “highly motivated” to sell it.
He did sell out in 1868 to the San Francisco businessmen who
called themselves the Sausalito Land & Ferry Company.
They were poised to make a quick profit from view lots, summer
cabins, and duck blinds. A few of the nineteen partners in
the new venture, however, actually saw Sausalito’s potential
as a permanent town, with real homes and real shops. They
convinced the majority to give it a try. The mud flats and
hillsides were surveyed, roads were graded, and ferry service
inaugurated (with a little steamboat named Princess to the
foot of aptly-named Princess Street). The company directors
sat back to watch the money roll in. It didn’t.
No one got rich quick off Sausalito in those days, much as
they tried. The Land & Ferry Company struggled along riddled
with debt for a decade. They touted the magnificent views,
the sublime climate, the cheap land. They hinted that, with
the right capital investment, Sausalito could become the industrial
“Pittsburg of the West.” In spite of the natural
amenities, there were few takers. Sausalito had no rail service
hence no future growth. Besides, there were better deals to
be had elsewhere. Other settlements around the Bay were becoming
cities, ports, and agricultural centers. Still others rose
and fell with little trace. Sausalito did neither. It languished
but did not die.
At last came the breakthrough: Sausalito Land & Ferry
Company directors in 1871 cut a deal with the fledgling North
Pacific Coast Railroad to extend their tracks into Sausalito.
With the little town strategically located at the Golden Gate
and now linked to the north coast lumber empire by rail, Sausalito
at last began to grow. New residents came in a slow but steady
stream: Americans, Portuguese, English, Germans, Italians,
Chinese, Greeks, all adding to the emerging cosmopolitan character
of Sausalito. The railroad brought workers and merchants as
well as rich San Franciscans to Sausalito and a residential
pattern was established that lasted for decades: the wealthy
lived on the hillsides, the workers lived on the lowlands.
Sausalito became a concentrated, prosperous transportation
junction, with working class modest homes in Old Town, the
site of Botts’ false start, well to do families on The
Hill, small vacation homes in the shady glens and steep sunny
hillsides, and a polyglot assortment of workers, merchants,
and residents in New Town, centered on Caledonia Street. Old
duck blinds became seasonal houseboats, houseboats became
permanent arks, waterfront businesses sprang up, saloons,
cafes, and boatyards, churches, railroad shops and grocery
stores.
By 1893 residents felt confident enough in their town’s
future to incorporate, in large part to control the town’s
development. Local politics was intense in those days, not
unlike the present (and probably the future). Although many
residents commuted by ferry to San Francisco, they usually
left their hearts in Sausalito. The town was not just another
bedroom community or vacation hideaway. It had a deserved
reputation as a refuge for freethinkers, for those with an
artistic bent and an independent streak. At first glance the
town appeared divided on almost any issue of significance
between the “hill people” and the “water
rats.” But a closer look reveals many points of view
and many groups, from quiet orthodox churchgoers to saloon
gamblers to exploitive developers and boosters. Contrary to
myth, Sausalito never was a wide-open, rip-roaring, collection
of brothels, gambling dens, and the town had its share of
seedy waterfront saloons. Bars (although in 1900 the town
had almost as many churches as saloons), and it had one hotel
where legal off-track horse betting was permitted. Around
this short-lived legal gambling establishment, which had been
booted out of San Francisco, assorted riff-raff gathered and
gave Sausalito a brief unsavory reputation.
As Marin Country grew after the turn of the century, Sausalito
became the principal “port of entry” for Marin
commuters, who largely ignored the internal, local life of
Sausalito as they passed through each day. When the Golden
Gate Bridge was proposed in the 1930s, some residents feared
the town would wither because the new bridge would bypass
the town. A movement began to bring the main bridge approach
through the center of Sausalito. The main thoroughfare, Water
Street, was renamed Bridgeway Boulevard, a not-to-subtle hint
to bridge planners. Another group of residents were horrified
at the prospect of all that traffic slicing through the serenity
of Sausalito. A compromise was reached: Sausalito got a roadway
direct to the bridge, but the main highway bypassed the town.
The bridge, as promised, opened Marin to increased development.
Land prices soared and people came. The bridge succeeded so
well that the ferries and trains were abandoned by 1941, and
Sausalito again became a backwater. Some predicted the eminent
demise of Sausalito with the loss of the trains. Good riddance
said others. Before the town’s fate had been decided,
the debate over the trains and ferries paled before another
momentous event: World War II.
After Pearl Harbor, government officials scurried about the
Pacific Coast for building sites for emergency shipyards.
Merchant ships were needed desperately. Most existing shipyards
were devoted to warships and repairs so new yards had to be
built. The Bechtel Company found sleepy little Sausalito and
the mud flats of Richardson’s Bay just north of town.
The Maritime Commission said, “go” and, before
anyone could utter “zoning regulations,” bulldozers
were pushing dirt into the Bay, houses were razed, concrete
was poured, buildings were built, and steel ships ready for
launching loomed over Sausalito’s waterfront.
Marinship employed 70,000 workers from all over America as
merchant “Liberty” ships and tankers slid down
the launch ways. The local housing supply was overwhelmed.
Attics and basements were converted to rentable rooms, and
a temporary residential center north of town, Marin City,
was built. The shipyard operated around the clock. Despite
the turmoil of wartime upheaval, Sausalito retained its essential
character and, when the war ended in 1945 to the business
of being Sausalito and the shipyard closed as abruptly as
it had opened, the town settled back
Change came in the post-war years but Sausalito missed the
explosive California building boom of the 1950s, principally
because most of the land was already developed residentially
or commercially. As cities across California annexed huge
open parcels and adjacent small towns for development, Sausalito
remained confined by adjoining military reservations and the
Bay. Tourism and tourist shops came to Sausalito in the 1960s
but, again, the town dodged the explosion of “recreational”
development of that decade, the golf courses, luxury high-rise
hotels, country clubs and the like.
Debate over what to do with the former shipyard, the moribund
lands along the waterfront continued for years. As in-fill
residential development took place in the hills, the downtown
areas of Sausalito changed little physically. Shops came and
went, the dime store gave way to the tourist shop, the butcher
and baker yielded to the candlestick maker, but the basic
architecture remained the same. Soon it became obvious that
the Marinship area was not dead, that it was home to many
small businesses, arts and crafts. Recognition of that has
guided development of the last large parcels in the city.
Change has come gradually to Sausalito, except for the wartime
upheaval, because people who choose to live here, generally
like what they find and are unwilling to see it altered for
momentary exploitation.
Sausalito has gained an international reputation for its
unique charm and character, visitors from all over pass through,
and some of them stay. Residents today, for the most part,
are imbued with the same spirit of involvement and participation
that has always characterized Sausalito. The town retains
most of its first-generation commercial buildings and residences.
Geographically Sausalito closely resembles the open landforms
of William Richardson’s time. Through a series of fortuitous
breaks and determination by residents, Sausalito’s heritage
is one of controversy and debate that has resulted in a highly
livable small town. I think even William Richardson would
recognize it, and approve.
|