Dominican College of San Rafael - Firebrand Yearbook (San Rafael, CA)

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busy waterfront. The charm of Old Spain remains in Mission Dolores, in the old Arguello home in the Presidio, now an officer ' s club. The music of Spain lives on in the names of San Francisco streets: Em- barcadero, Portola Drive, Divisadero, Cabrillo, to mention but a few. Downtown San Francisco is as modern in its build- ings and crowded streets as any other world metropo- lis. Yet even there the flower stands are constant reminders that beauty as well as progress is a part of the San Franciscan ' s creed. Golden Gate Park, the third largest in the country and unquestionably the most beautiful (says the San Franciscan), is at its best when the cherry trees are in blossom and when the rhododendrons are in bloom. In its secluded beauty spots it is hard to realize that one is in the midst of a community teeming with life. And where but in San Francisco can be found a forest within a city? Her history presents a pageant of colorful scenes. The tiny village of Verba Buena, on the sandhills, the splendid years of the Spanish dons, the boom town of forty-nine, the sordid period of the Sydney ducks , the days of the Vigilantes, the Champagne days be- fore the fire, the first World ' s Fair, the prosperous years between two World Wars, the building of the bridges, the Fair on Treasure Island, the tremendous 112

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MY SAN FRANCISCO NO ONE who has ever crossed the bridge that spans the Golden Gate and seen across the blue waters of the bay the city of San Francisco rising on its twenty-nine hills will ever forget the sense of magic that stiperb view inspires. Familiarity does not dim this sensation, for this jeweled city has many facets. Seen through the fog that rolls in from the Pacific Ocean it has the shadowy charm of Camelot. There is a bit of all the world in San Francisco. Chinatown, with its fantastic pagoda roofs, its dazzling show windows displaying rich brocades and beautiful rare jade, with its narrow streets and alleys echoing to the spiked heels of high school girls and the clop- clop of the wooden sandals worn by the ancient Chinese waiters with trays upon their heads, is a world in itself. Little Italy, clustered about the magnificent Church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, boasts the finest restaurants in the world. To hear the fishermen sing- ing Santa Lucia in the early morning as they put their boats out to sea, is ample compensation for rising in the invigorating chill of dawn. Coit Tower, the despair of artists, does not keep them from making their homes on the slope of Telegraph Hill, where they can watch the ever-changing panorama of the 111

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activity of the var years— all these make a story no other American city can equal in color. Gertrude Atherton calls it My San Francisco. The great charm of the city is that to all who know her she is My San Francisco, this city of Saint Francis by the Golden Gate. Patricia Franks ' 50 113