A local builder estimated perhaps 70 percent of his colleagues really are encountering dry rot or other unforeseen conditions before requesting to tear out more than the plans said they would. But many never intended to go by the plan: "Thirty percent are savvy developers or architects or permit expediters working the system."
Unlike mere mortals, those savvy, well-connected parties can pass through San Francisco's overlapping regulations like water through a sieve. Being charged with an illegal demolition is the nightmare of any builder in the city. The guilty party may be hit with a five-year moratorium on developing the site. But, notes a longtime Building Department higher-up speaking on condition of anonymity, leaving a derelict building or hole in the ground for years just punishes the neighborhood. So, an in-the-field compromise can be worked out with builders nabbed taking out more than they ought to have. "We might impose more rigorous standards to make a trade-off," notes the higher-up. Seismic or other upgrades could be tossed into the mix. "We may ask you to do a few extra things."
Photo on left by Andrew J. Nilsen
Drake Gardner’s design to replace this building at 125 Crown Terrace has been approved. The next step: “Build it — and not get in trouble with the inspector for taking out more than you designated you were going to.”
Paul Trapani
Former Supervisor Aaron Peskin says the Planning Department’s take on metamorphosing buildings “is tortured beyond a Kafka novel.”
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Of course, he continues, it always helps "if you have the right connections and you funnel things to the right people. We might agree to whatever the Planning Department said — whether it's in the building code or not." The Building Department, he concludes, "is an amazing place."
And this is an amazing city.
The Big One in '06 proved that San Francisco real estate adheres to the law of gravity. But its behavior since then indicates the local housing market is not easily explained via the conventional laws of economics. When the housing supply goes down, demand goes up. But when the housing supply goes up, demand goes up more.
"If you look at housing production in San Francisco, the more we produce, the higher prices go," says Teresa Ojeda, the manager of the Planning Department's information and analysis group. A near-insatiable demand for high-end housing has crowded out those seeking any other kind. "Prices are pretty much determined by ability to pay. If people have money to pay, prices will go up."
People have money. People have so much money, John Pollard says, they're paying millions for century-old cottages, outbidding builders like him who'd blow those shacks up into luxury homes for people with even more money. A bidding war between profligates willing to pay through the nose for the San Francisco lifestyle and house-flipping entrepreneurial builders is just the latest factor driving the teachers, bus drivers, and other salt-of-the-earth types referred to in local politicians' speeches out of this city. As San Francisco becomes the bike-friendly, walkable, green metropolis it aims to be, housing costs will further skyrocket. For decades, however, the city has served as a virtual test case on how to price real estate out of the reach of ordinary people.
Even in the 1970s, San Francisco was still one of the cheapest places to live in the Bay Area. But the demise of the city's industrial economy flipped the script. San Francisco became a corporate hub of the FIRE economy (finance, insurance, real estate), and has now laid out the tax-incentivized red carpet for tech and biotech firms and their well-compensated workforces. In The Transformation of San Francisco, Chester Hartman noted that the typical price of a San Francisco home in 1965 was only $3,000 more than the national average — but $53,000 more by 1980. According to the real-estate website Trulia, the median San Francisco home sale price hit $735,000 in late 2012. The U.S. median is $178,000, per the National Association of Realtors.
The city's indignant nudists recently claimed that an ordinance requiring them to cover their genitalia in public marked the loss of the free-spirited San Francisco of yore. The stark numbers above reveal that city was lost long ago. Unlike development-friendly, sprawling towns like Phoenix, Houston, or even San Jose, vast swaths of San Francisco look roughly similar to how they did generations ago. But looks can be deceiving. This city isn't just inhabited by different people than it used to be, but different kinds of people doing different kinds of jobs and using the city and its housing stock in different kinds of ways. Between the 1960 census and the 2010 edition, San Francisco gained 65,000 residents while losing 31,000 families. All the while, the ratio of renters to homeowners remained constant at 65:35 — though San Francisco is now the nation's most expensive rental market, catering to a far different crowd. It brings to mind, once again, the Ship of Theseus: Does a city remain the same when its residents are replaced in this way? In San Francisco's case, it's hard to argue that's so.
Despite clearly prevailing trends, San Francisco's civic boosters like to claim that ours is a city of socioeconomic diversity. There's even something about valuing that in the General Plan, along with preserving affordable housing. Census data, however, reveals the heavy majority of San Franciscans — some 58 percent — are now impoverished or wealthy. Wealthy people seem to be doing fine and, to its credit, city government has been aggressive about providing housing for the needy. Since 1985, some 1,100 units have been generated via fees paid by office developers. Since 1992, residential developers have been mandated to build or fund an "affordable" unit for every 10 they construct; this has led to 1,600 units. Nice — but 2,700 units represent 0.7 percent of the city's housing stock. And the teachers and bus drivers aren't staying — a thirtysomething couple with those professions might earn in the neighborhood of $130,000 or $140,000 per year. That's too much to qualify for the city's affordable housing programs — but too low to outbid the nouveau riche or developers jockeying for a modest home.