Carzonia Apartments

Dr. Charles V. Cross was a wee eccentric. He was a real doctor who worked for the U. S. Army and the civil service, but also liked to be quoted in newspaper articles on... well, just about anything: anesthesia for child birth, “sand baths” for improved health, advice for diseases of the anus, and “golfer’s foot.”

Article in which Dr. Charles Cross tells us all about what he calls "golfer's foot." (Oakland Tribune, August 19, 1917.)

Dr. Cross married well. His wife, Bella, was the daughter of Anthony Zellerbach, who made a fortune in the paper business. Perhaps that security supported his kookier enterprises.

When the whole Carville craze took off in the 1890s (this was a bohemian community at Ocean Beach using recycled transit cars for cottages, bars, and clubhouses—read more), Dr. Cross bought his own old horsecar at the seaside and hosted late night salons with artists and writers.

(His secret in attracting luminaries like Jack London? Stocking the place with lots of alcohol and giving artists the keys to the booze locker.)

The 1906 earthquake and fire gave the doctor a chance to further explore his interest in vehicularly sourced architecture.

Behold the Carzonia Apartments:

View north from Cornwall Street and 5th Avenue at Carzonia Apartments under construction.

San Francisco used to have a lot of cable car lines, not just the three you may know about today. An 1890s city ordinance forbade unsightly overhead wires in much of downtown, which meant that electric trolley lines were banished to side routes and cable cars ruled Market Street and beyond.

The April 18, 1906 earthquake with its following firestorm changed things.

Cable Car 155 damaged at Washington Street car barn and powerhouse by April 18, 1906 earthquake. (John Henry Mentz photo, SFMTA/U00776)

The United Railroads was the big transit player in the city and a big loser of cable lines after the devastation. Most of its cable rolling stock burned and their powerhouses crumbled.

The company wanted to switch lines to electric trolley anyway, especially downtown. The rush to recover from the disaster—and some greased palms in city government—finally got the trolley wires strung over Market Street.

In converting to electric power, United Railroads found itself with extra cable cars on its hands.

Meanwhile, San Francisco had a housing crisis (yes, you have heard that before, but this one was very real, as the city’s core had been cinder-ized).

Dr. Cross owned a vacant slice of land ripe for housing development between California Street and today’s Cornwall Street, 4th and 5th Avenues.

Thinking long and hard (or maybe not), Cross bought 10 former McAllister Street-line cable cars for $40 apiece and made his own mini-Carville in the Richmond District.

Preparing the Carville Apartments. View northeast from Cornwall Street near 5th Avenue in late 1906.

Cross got his doctor colleague, Dr. S. Ward Moss, to design the Carzonia Apartments. We don’t have any plans or interior photographs to consult, but taking a pre-quake look at a McAllister-line cable car, we can try to suss out the floor plan.

Cable Car 260 at McAllister Car House, May 1904. (John Henry Mentz photo, SFMTA Archives/U00186)
View northwest at Carzonia Apartments from Cornwall Street and 4th Avenue, showing how the cable cars were elevated to install utility lines. Note the side entry steps and kitchen addition at far right. The 2nd and 3rd car houses over await enclosure of their platforms.

My guess is the interior seats were all pulled out to make three rooms per car. Each vehicle was raised to install sewer, water, and gas lines underneath.

The roof, ventilation windows, and 16 side windows (eight on each side), were left exposed for light and character. After all, what fun is having a cable car house if no one can tell?

The end platforms were enclosed in a graceful shingled curve with a window. The open-seated sections of the cars were enclosed. The small addition off that end of each car likely held the kitchens, based on the iron ventilation pipes visible in old photos.

Hmmm... actually maybe the bathroom was where I mark the kitchen. That looks like a sewage pipe at far right. What do you think?

This was long before the hip Tiny House movement—which, come to think of it, may not be hip anymore? Perhaps Covid was the end of that.

Cross told a newspaper he budgeted $1,500 for each of the tricky adaptive-reuse projects, which would be equivalent to about $50,000 apiece today.

The doctor emphasized how tasteful and artistic the streetcar-village would be once he got some flowerbeds put in. But local property owners “were very much annoyed, as they considered them a disgrace to their neighborhood.”

But, again, housing was in high demand. Just a few blocks away on today’s Park-Presidio Boulevard, more than a thousand earthquake refugee shacks had been constructed. Cross had lots of applicants for his ten apartments.

View west from Cornwall Street and 4th Avenue at the completed Carzonia Apartments with fence, flowers, and laundry lines, about 1908.

The doctor reserved one on the end for himself, which he called “Carzonia Villa.”

Like at Carville, the well-off rented some of the cars as a bohemian lark. Mr. and Mrs. Thayer (“formerly of Hotel Rafael”) had one apartment and Mr. F. E. Bannister of the firm of Britton and Co. rented another with his new bride.

An April 1907 Sunset Magazine article on the city’s recovery claimed that the car houses brought Cross “a profitable rental.”

But Carzonia had a short life.

In December 1910, Dr. Cross contracted with builders Reese & Rountree to construct him a conventional building on the site of the streetcar village. Architects Maxwell and Arthur Bugbee designed the distinctive three-story building, which is mostly Arts & Crafts, with a dash of Tudor-Revival and sundy what-nots.

Charles and Bella moved in upstairs.

398 Cornwall Street at 5th Avenue replaced the Carzonia Apartments.

I’ve always loved that building, but I am left with two questions.

My first—why Cross decided to give up on Carzonia—perhaps is easy to answer. The Richmond District boomed in population after the earthquake and the doctor likely just wanted to make more profit off his little block.

The California Street side of the Cross building (4200 block). A jumble of uses, styles, and, somehow, it all works for me.

My transit historian friends out there may be able to help with my second question.

Where did those old McAllister-line cable cars end up after Carzonia?

Did any find a third life somewhere else? And can I buy one as a pied-à-terre?


Woody Beer and Coffee Fund

I went for a second pint at Hockey Haven, while Athena K. smartly stuck with one.

Great thanks to folks who recently contributed to the Woody Beer & Coffee Fund: Lance L., Mike D., Jillian C., Pat K. (Super F.O.W., a category I just made up), Theresa C. (we are going to do coffee), and Monica M., (F.O.W., and we are doing beer, for sure).

It is chilly, so maybe coffee these days? Although the celebration ales are out now... Tough decisions that maybe you would like to make with me. When can we meet up to spend some of this bounty?


Sources

David Gallagher and I did an Outside Lands San Francisco podcast about Carzonia in 2016 that is mostly accurate.

“Improvements and Additions,” Richmond Banner, November 23, 1906, pgs. 4–5.

“Turns Old Street Cars into Modern Apartments,” San Francisco Chronicle, November 26, 1906, pg. 14.

“Carzonia,” Richmond Banner, January 4, 1907, pg. 4.

Charles Sedgwick Aiken, “San Francisco—One Year After,” Sunset Magazine, April 1907, pg. 504.

Cross contract details for building 398 California Street from Building and Industrial News, January 28, 1911, pg. 6.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Woody LaBounty  

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