Fleishhacker Pool – A Strange Journey Through S.F. History
By Jonathan Haeber
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Drive to the San Francisco Zoo, and you’ll notice a fenced-off and decrepit building next to the parking lot. The “bath house” is all that is left of what was once the world’s largest pool. In fact, under the asphalt parking lot, the structure of the Fleishhacker Pool still sits, perhaps waiting to be excavated by future generations.
The year was 1921 and only a few years earlier, a grand scheme to bring water to the city of San Francisco came to fruition. Despite the protests of John Muir, the Spring Valley Water Company had succeeded in transporting fresh glacier water hundreds of miles from Yosemite to San Francisco. The Fleishhacker Pool was a final capstone in the symbolic “watering” of San Francisco, and the city of San Francisco had spared no expense.
- Landholdings of the Spring Valley Water Company
Spring Valley Water Company was the quintessential symbol of Pork Barrel Spending in post-Earthquake San Francisco. The company had used ruthless lobbying to derail John Muir’s efforts to save Hetch Hetchy. Spring Valley Water was so effective at reaping the rewards of politicians that they literally convinced Congress to turn what would become part of a National Park into the personal Bethsheba of San Francisco. To this day, the city depends on the water of Hetch Hetchy, but it came at a cost – the valley was considered only second to Yosemite Valley itself before it was inundated by the waters of the dam.
None of this controversy takes away from the beauty of the pool’s grand construction. There was little public discussion of the kickback made to Spring Valley Water for the land “given” to the city. The Fleishhacker Pool opened in April of 1925 to a crowd of 5,000. Butressing the edge of the the pool was the 450-foot-long Bath House — a Mediterranean, Italianate structure with three elaborate entrances, all surrounded by an Ionic order of pilasters. Inside were separate wings for men, women, and children. These wings were naturally illuminated by 22 skylights. Upstairs was a grand restaurant that looked out to the 1000-foot-long pool on one side and the Pacific Ocean on the other.
- Fleishacker Bath House Plans
How did this beautiful building and its record-setting pool come about? It was an eminent San Francisco banker, Herbert Fleishhacker, who decided to build it. In the 1927 book, Financing an Empire, he was called, “One of the most influential, progressive, and valuable businessmen of the Golden State.” Still others, including the author of a 1932 letter to the Editor in Time Magazine, had an entirely opposite view of the man as a “sugar daddy” to San Francisco Mayor Rolph’s campaigns. Fleishhacker, the man, was only second to Gianninni of Bank of America, when it it came to California Banking Dominance. His bank would eventually hold $200,000,000 in deposits.
- Herbert Fleishhacker, the Conceiver and Mastermind Behind the Pool
Whether he was acting with smart business sense, or if he truly wanted to provide a place of civic benefit we’ll probably never know. But as a result of his efforts as commissioner of the San Francisco Parks commission, Fleishhacker spearheaded the campaign to construct the pool. The direct beneficiary of the massive public project was the Spring Valley Water Company. The total cost of the project was estimated at $1.5 million – even for the roaring twenties, this was a huge sum of money.
Throughout its five-decade history as a public swimming destination, Fleishhacker would be the setting of San Francisco’s most unique lores and legends; there was the story of the shark being sucked in through the 200-foot-long intake pipe coming from the ocean, a stove discovered in the deep end of the pool when it was drained for maintenance, and the disembodied hand reportedly found by a gardener, floating in the pool. But the real amazing facts reside in the sheer size of the pool – 1000 feet long, over 150 feet wide, and 13 feet deep at its deepest point. The pool held 6,000,000 gallons of ocean water, continually cleaned once every six weeks by becoming completely drained and sweeped and pumped clean. It had a capacity of 10,000 people. Years after its construction, when Fleishhacker was asked by one of the pool’s lifeguards why he had built such a large pool, he responded by telling the lifeguard to swim the entire length. When the lifeguard returned, he responded, “Did anyone get in your way?” The lifeguard said no; and Fleishhacker promptly replied, “That’s why.”
The Fleishhacker Pool would be a place of rest and relaxation for almost five decades until an unfortunate storm had destroyed its outake and intake pipe. It closed in 1971.
I made my first pilgrimage to the site on a foggy summer day. Finding my way in, along with a fellow photographer, we discovered that the interior of the Bath House had turned into an elaborate tapestry for the local homeless. The grand staircases and rooms that once had been a dining room were partioned off and served as private quarters for the homeless. It was as if a mansion had been inhabited by survivors after the end of a nuclear winter. Natural light had brought out the mad ramblings of drug-induced artistic liberty. Purple and green paint, wherever the homeless could procure it, covered the walls. All matter of junk and detritus had found its way somehow through the tiny entrance. Once inside, this junk was turned to utilitarian purposes. A plastic bag became a lampshade. AN old, broken camping stove was the new mess hall. Huge trash bags were full of dried Marijauna; and 2×4s were haphazardly nailed together on a wall to create a makeshift bookcase – full of pulp novels.
Everything about the inside of the Fleishhacker Bath House seethed addiction and madness; yet it was beautiful at the same time, both for what it had become and what it once was. My fellow photographer, who had gone with me, said that one of the local homeless who lived in the bath house was recently pushed down an elevator shaft and had died. The door to his room was cracked open. Posted next to it was his last note (written before he passed away): “YOU HEARTLESS BASTARDS. DO NOT COME INTO MY ROOM. DON’T you have any respect for privacy!!!” Of course, nobody had paid attention to the note. Kids, probably recently back from a night out and in search of drugs or money, had rifled through his things. His pots and pans, his bed sheets and belongings were strewn all over – the leftovers of a fruitless search in thievery.
I will never forget my visit to the Fleishhacker Bath House. It was the most surreal experience among all of the buildings I’ve photographed. If you ever find yourself on the coast of San Francisco, you should pull off to the side of the Great American Highway. Walk around the bath house, and imagine what it was like, 80 years ago, when the pool hosted thousands a day, and swimmers went the equivalent of ten laps in a single, straight line South.
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November 24th, 2008 at 7:07 pm
Thanks for another great entry, Jon. The history behind this place is fascinating. I wish that pool was still there today.
November 25th, 2008 at 10:44 am
I just discovered this site, and I really enjoyed this entry. I am tempted to print it out and send it to my Uncle who used to live in San Francisco but doesn’t use the Internet. Unfortunately, this site doesn’t print very well. If you find yourself mucking in your CSS sometimes, you might consider specifying elements to be suppressed for @media print.
Thanks a bunch!
Sincerely,
-daniel
November 25th, 2008 at 10:47 am
Hi Daniel,
Thanks for the tip. As you can see, i’m not an expert at CSS and web standards, but I’ll see what I can do to fix it. If I may ask: is there any particular resource you can point me to, or a specific line of code that would help me fix this?
November 25th, 2008 at 10:48 am
Basim,
Same here. I’m looking forward to the day that the zoo itself becomes abandoned. Perhaps by then, there will be an effort to excavate the pool.
December 4th, 2008 at 1:34 pm
Great post!
This reminds me of the bathhouses in Pompeii– it would be interesting to do a study on bathhouses and pools throughout history and the impacts they had on their communities as public meeting places.
Thanks for the great research and photos. ~Bethany for MyWonderfulWorld.
December 6th, 2008 at 9:59 am
Great to hear from you, Bethany. I’ve seen photos of the Pompeii bath houses and it was eerily similar in the Fleishhacker Bath House, if only there were mosaics – I would have died and gone to heaven with my camera if that was the case. Photographically, it was an incredible place to shoot.
December 15th, 2008 at 2:30 am
I was born in The City in 1937 and I was told by my Parents that in Aug. 1938 the family spent the day
at the Pool. On Aug 11th. 1938 I became ill and went to the Shriners Hospital and stayed until June 1939 in an Iron Lung. i don’t know for sure but was told that other people [kids} who also swam there came down with Polio. My left side was crippled but only my left arm remained so. I would like to know if there were
others that contacted Polio around that time frame.
When a person is told things at a young age years after the fact, one has to assume that it is a fact. if any one could help me find the truth { facts} I would be very grateful.
Thanks Rich Marsh 07/11/1937
December 16th, 2008 at 12:36 pm
I have a postcard, in an old scrapbook, featuring the pool. I was curious to see if the pool still existed. Thanks for the information about the pool and its history. The postcard dates from around 1948 and is in good condition, if anyone is interested.
December 20th, 2008 at 9:40 pm
Jim, I might be interested in your postcard. How can I reach you?
December 22nd, 2008 at 8:42 pm
This is such a fantastic site. I live in the Outer Sunset, and grew up hearing amazing stories from my grandmother who swam at Ocean Beach and the Sutro Baths. A few years ago I met a woman who was an exhibition diver at Fleishacker. She was partially deaf and told me it was a result of bacterial infections she caught in the Pool. I’m always eager to hear more about the early residents of this part of the City…
December 22nd, 2008 at 8:55 pm
Hmmm… interesting, Emily. You’re the second person who said bacteria has affected someone who swam at Fleishhacker. It’s an angle I never really explored in this piece, but it seems to have some merit. Thanks for recounting your experiences. Sounds like there are scores of incredible stories about this place.
February 1st, 2009 at 9:34 am
In 1941, I learned to swim out at Fleishaker Pool. None of my four brothers nor anyone else we knew contracted any communicable diseases from many hours long swims. After swimming we would spend our 5cents carfare on a “brick” of pink popcorn and play at the surf until all wet and cold. Then the four mile walk home, vowing to never spend the carfare again. But of course we did. heh. Howard, D.D.S.
February 2nd, 2009 at 10:46 pm
Hi,
Interesting web site, however, it needs a little work. The menu on the right side overlaps everything almost half way down the page to part of the Fleishhacker bathhouse plans. It doesn’t look good and you can’t read the stories. I’m using IE 6.0.29 at medium text size.
February 19th, 2009 at 12:21 am
[...] (from TerraStories): [...]
April 19th, 2009 at 4:18 am
As a young child my Mother, a life long San Franciscan had brought us from the suburbss (Fremont) to swin and socialize at Fleishhackers Pool. It was emmense, especially for a young child. I was probably no more than 7-8 years old but have memories of the pool, the salt water, the many lifeguards, changing booths, and the pool side furniture.
My recent interest was rekindled when I went back to the Zoo recenttly. I remembered the pool house but had no idea that the parking lot was actually the structure of the pool itself. It does lend a sense of awe to the vast space rareely seen in todays society for such a venue.
What a sad thing it is to have lost this treasure; a monument to engineering. the stories of the decline of the Pool House are amazing. It is a horrible thing that the space is so under used and that while the homeless are using it, the possibilities had so much merit. Sad indeed.
I hope some day, in my lifetime that this historical gem can be returned to its former glory. Now THAT would be something to work for.
May 12th, 2009 at 8:13 pm
I so want to go there on a photography mission of mine next month, but I’m sure it’s illegal and dangerous to enter, but it’s so tempting
June 21st, 2009 at 4:27 pm
I was going through my mom old albums and we so a postcard of it. And we wondered if it was still there. She went there as a kid with her mom dad. My daughter was looking with me and wanted to go there. Then we got home looked on the net and was gone how sad, it should have been rebuilt, there all ways money in the system for stuff, for a landmark it would be worth it. Get rid of some unneeded stuff like the WASL. Then theres ton of money, I may get bitched at for say that but o ~well In my option dum test. That was a cool looking place and be a money maker. Just Like shaker you money maker. Lol.
September 30th, 2009 at 1:19 am
[...] Bilder von einer Titan I Missle Bay (erst Interkontinental-, danach Trägerrakete der USA), einem verfallenen öffentlichen Badehaus, einem alten Hotel oder einer Villa von Apple-Galionsfigur Steve Jobs sind so sehenswert, [...]
October 16th, 2009 at 5:19 am
[...] Street, Playland at the Beach, and the Fleishhacker Dive Club. What, haven’t heard of the Fleishhacker ocean-water pool? It’s one of my favorite “We had what in San Francisco??” [...]
October 17th, 2009 at 6:04 pm
I was a lifeguard at fleishhacker’s from 1958 through 1961, when it was run by the City Park and Rec. We had a great time, althought the weather could be a problem. Now at age 70, my memories are all good ones.
December 16th, 2009 at 2:01 am
Hi, thanks for this….makes me very sad. My sister and I took swim lessons at the pool. I hated every minute of it…it was absolutely freezing cold. I can still remember the way the SF Zoo use to be….how the restroom smelled on “Pinesol” and attendants standing there constantly cleaning and picking up in their black/white uniforms..as well as the pool, Playland at the Beach and the Cliff House. I am so sadened that things have to change and that our children will never see our true treaures. We lived on 47th Ave a block away from the beach and tunnel. At the end of our block was Roberts at the Beach where they housed the horses. Every now and then the horses would get loose and run down our block….our block was sand dunes until they completed the paving of the street. Thanks for the journey!
January 17th, 2010 at 9:10 pm
Thank you all for your experiences! Keep them coming. I love hearing from people who were there when it was an active pool.
–Jon
January 21st, 2010 at 12:27 am
Why has no one commented on Mac’s Hitchrack (Mac Fetritch)Sp? It was a tavern/breakfast spot across the street from the pool. It was a integrel part for those that hung out at Fleisshacker’s. A family with three boys who were swimmers helped run the joint and were regular swimmers.
February 22nd, 2010 at 5:58 pm
Aloha from Hawaii Johnathan, I just wanted to say thank you for putting this site together.It brought back fond memories of me and my mom. I remember her bringing me there when I was a kid and tasting the salt water in my mouth, LOL. I don’t know if you remember one time they actually shutdown due to finding a baby shark in the pool. I don’t remember if it was placed in the pool or if it was the Intake filters. Anyways, Just wanted to say thanks (Mahalo’s) for the great site. Aloha….