Pacific Heights

The view from Broadway and Divisadero, more than 350 feet above sea level, can elicit a gasp from even the most jaded San Franciscan. At this elevation, the fog creeping along the low-lying Marina and the outer western reaches of the city seems far away, its white curls and billows unfurling gently, like the smoke from an extinguished candle. On clear, bright days (and there are many of them here, at this particular height in Pacific Heights), the pyramid point of the Transamerica Building thrusts upward on the horizon, like a rocket poised for liftoff. Other Financial District pinnacles are visible in the distance, too, including the monolithic Bank of America, as is the serene cylinder of Telegraph Hill, Coit Tower. Turn 45 degrees, and the eye falls on the hills of Marin, standing out against the blue-gray water of the bay. On all four corners of this juncture sit opulent houses, each with a defining style: one a solid manse of red brick so rarely seen in this quake-prone city; another a limestone-colored extravagance of Corinthian columns and triangular lintels and ornate brackets; a third edifice, across the street, a subtler version of this classical arrangement; and the last a modern, high-tech creation of glass and stucco. All the way up Broadway and down Divisadero the stunning buildings contrast the money and taste of the last generation with the money and taste of today.

Wealth is but one of the prerequisites of life in Pacific Heights. Another is the ability to live on some of the steepest inclines in San Francisco (which, conversely, is not an issue if you are wealthy). If money equals elevation, then some of the greatest concentrations of both in terms of opulent dwellings are found in Pacific Heights: The Spreckels Mansion, its colonnaded façade obscured behind a preposterously high hedge—as if the present owner, Danielle Steele, could shut out the world; the Flood Mansion, its Corinthian entry beckoning observers to explore the ornate interior rooms, many available to rent for elite events; Stanwood Hall (aka the Hamlin Mansion, one of three buildings that make up the Hamlin School), also available to rent; the Bourne Mansion, another of those rare brick buildings, this one with multiple chimneys that seem poised to tumble in the next quake; and the consulates general of many nations, including Germany, Italy, Russia, and Greece—all housed in edifices hereabouts.

That this is one of the most desirable addresses in San Francisco is without question. But, as with most of San Francisco’s desirable neighborhoods, that hasn’t always been the case. The Pacific Heights of today was not always the enclave of the rich and famous, or even those who aspire to such. Its first non-indigenous settlers came in the 1870s; they were laborers and tradesmen who built simple homes for about a thousand dollars on small rectangular lots. At first, they didn’t wander far from Van Ness (the Haas-Lilienthal House, today a museum, is a grandiose example from 1886 on a busy stretch of adjoining Franklin Street); then, when a new cable car made the area more accessible, they began settling on the ridge overlooking the pastures of Cow Hollow and the Bay beyond. After the Earthquake and Fire of 1906, the area became a prime spot for relocating “old money” San Franciscans, so the swells of Nob Hill, their homes burned and in ruins, rebuilt on this high ground. Before long, Broadway and its northern flank were chockablock with mansions and mini-chateaus, the facades a cavalcade of architectural styles and grandeur that became known as the city’s Gold Coast. It has remained so, more or less, to this day.

Two parks symbolize the neighborhood’s tasteful elegance: Lafayette and Alta Plaza. Both are fronted by grand houses and apartment buildings, and each has the well-tended grass and understated gardens, with wide paved stairs and paths, that hark back to an age when parks were meant for strolling. Views from each are impressive, particularly so looking north and west. The one concession to modern times are tennis courts at the summits of each park.

Another, different patch of greenery gives the neighborhood a certain cachet, not only for residents but tourists as well. The steps going down Lyon Street from Broadway are perhaps the grandest version of such standard features on other steep inclines throughout the city (like the Filbert Steps and the Vallejo Street Stairway, both in North Beach). Here, the wide stairway is hemmed on either side by well-groomed hedges, and the whole thing ends two blocks below Broadway in a balustrade-bordered garden of flowers and artful topiary.

Not all of Pacific Heights is this upper crust-y, of course, and not all of it is all that high, elevation-wise, either. The slope south of Pacific Avenue drops 50 feet or more with each block, and as the elevation drops, so does the magnificence of the houses (though most of the remaining Victorians are assuredly impressive) along with their frequency: a number of apartment houses and condo buildings have crept in over the years, some architecturally appropriate, others not—particularly the ugly 1960s-era high-rises that pop up in unlikely places, such as those around the western edges of Lafayette Park.

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the area’s 25,000 or so inhabitants indeed echo “old money” San Francisco: predominantly white (upward of 80 percent), affluent (with household incomes in most of the area exceeding $100,000 annually), and early middle-aged (late 30s to mid-40s). Most own their homes (60 percent or more) rather than rent. They frequent such places of worship as the sober Calvary Presbyterian (on Fillmore and Jackson streets) or Congregation Sherith Israel (at California and Webster streets). Many of them have medical-care providers in the state-of-the-art California Pacific Medical Center on Buchanan and Clay streets, known for its organ transplants and cancer treatment.

Private schools reflect the neighborhood’s affluent pedigree. Most people who live here wouldn’t think of sending their children (even if they have them) to a public school (even if there were any close by). That is perhaps why the area abounds in exclusive educational venues, primary (Sacred Heart Schools, Waldorf School, Hamlin School, Town School for Boys, Sterne School, and Hillwood Academic Day School) and secondary (San Francisco University High School and Drew School—both college prep, naturally). In mid-afternoon, the neighborhood is crawling with kids in uniforms, traipsing back to a waiting SUV or being escorted to their nearby home by a nanny or even their well-heeled mom, tugging at the family dog on its leash.

Bus lines crisscross these streets—the 22 and 24 run north/south routes less than half a mile apart, and the 1, 3, and 10 lines make various east/west treks downtown and back. Not that anyone takes the bus around here (the neat and clean shelters are all but empty most of the day); people tend to drive themselves (if they’re not chauffeured) or take cabs (this is one area in San Francisco where you can actually hail one, especially along Franklin, Gough, Fillmore and Divisadero). But because this is a high-density residential area, on-street parking is tight. The city’s Department of Parking and Traffic issues permits with the letter “G” or “K” for Pacific Heights, and they are de rigueur if your penthouse doesn’t come with a garage space.

Crime in the neighborhood is comparatively low compared to other high-density neighborhoods, though not altogether nonexistent. There are few assaults off the main thoroughfares, and only one homicide in the last three years. But, as with the rest of San Francisco over the last decade, car theft and break-ins are increasingly common here, as are burglaries and, to a lesser degree, robberies and property theft of all sorts. Also more frequent is the incidence of so-called noise nuisances—car alarms, loud music, and raucous partying on the streets (or even indoors). But for the most part, after dark is usually a quiet period for this residential district.

That doesn’t mean you won’t find places to eat or shop here. The neighborhood’s main commercial drag, Fillmore Street (particularly south of Jackson), is elbow-to-elbow in restaurants (Chouquet’s, Elite Café, Fresca, and other upscale dining places along with less-pricey eateries such as La Boulange, Grove Fillmore, La Mediterranée and Pizzeria Delfina); coffeehouses (Royal Ground Coffees and Bittersweet Café, along with franchises like Tully’s, Peet’s, Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, and Starbucks); designer boutiques (Blu, Marc by Marc Jacobs, Betsey Johnson, Eileen Fisher—the list goes on); and old-style shops like Kiehls (a branch of the New York apothecary) and Mrs. Dewson’s Hats. And given that many residents spend most of their paycheck on rent or mortgages, a number of vintage/used clothing stores offer fashion at a bargain.

Divisadero also claims a number of lively restaurants, including Frankie’s Bohemian (a classic burger-and-beer joint serving the nabe’s young professionals), as well as a selection of Thai and sushi places. “Diviz,” as its known colloquially, also has a couple of small shops featuring artisan products from the Bay Area, such as Blue Fog Market, for those not inclined to shop at the more impersonal Mollie Stone’s supermarket a few blocks away on California.

As for homes in the neighborhood, there is a huge price range, mostly on the higher end. But modestly priced condos exist (a small one-bedroom on Fillmore recently went on the market for about $600,000). However, expect to pay anywhere from $2 million to $10 million for single-family dwellings—depending, of course, on location (especially north of Pacific Avenue, where a good view can add a million or more to the bottom line).

The rental market is, predictably, also pricey. Studios on the neighborhood’s fringes—the area south of Clay Street, known colloquially as “Baja Pacific Heights,” as well as along the Franklin Street corridor—start at $1,500 a month, with one-bedrooms ranging upward of $2,000 a month. More spacious apartments and those with views loom in the $3,000 to $5,000 range. Though it sounds like worn-out counsel, the adage “you get what you pay for” definitely still applies in Pacific Heights. And if it’s a breathtaking view from a two-bedroom, two-bath pad, you’ll pay for what you get. The high life has its advantages, and its high price.