A River Runs Through It ••••
Many people don’t realize this, but a network of forgotten creeks and waterways that run beneath the streets of San Francisco. I certainly had no idea about any of this until I began searching for the right building to house a new studio in the city.
What surprised me even more was learning how much of the city itself is built on land that was never meant to be land at all. Large portions along the edges of San Francisco, nearly the entire Mission Bay district and significant parts of SoMa, sit on landfill. Old ships were scuttled and buried, cargo was dumped, and layers of dirt and debris were piled on top until solid ground appeared where there had once been open water. It’s a fascinating bit of history, though perhaps slightly unsettling if you happen to be standing there when the next major earthquake arrives.
While I was touring buildings during my search, I came across one that immediately struck me as perfect. It had everything I wanted. But my agent, someone who knows more about commercial buildings in San Francisco than almost anyone I’ve met, quickly talked me out of it.
His reason was unexpected. “There’s a river running directly under that building,”
Naturally, that only made me more curious.
Instead of discouraging me, the comment ignited my imagination. I asked for a special tour of the property, insisting that it include a look at this mysterious river beneath the structure.
The space itself was extraordinary: a vast old warehouse with soaring ceilings and heavy timber beams, the kind of place that seemed to hold a century of stories within its walls. It was also conveniently located within walking distance of the best lab in town, which made the prospect even more tempting. Eventually, when I asked about access to the river, the building manager led us to an unusual feature in the floor: a heavy wooden hatch set into the concrete. With a bit of effort, he lifted it open.
Peering down into the darkness, I couldn’t see very much at first. Slowly my eyes adjusted, revealing what looked like an old wooden dock, weathered and worn with age. The space below was dim and cavernous. I couldn’t see the water itself, but I could hear it clearly. The steady, rushing sound of a hidden current moving somewhere in the darkness. That was the moment my imagination truly took over.
Standing there, staring into that shadowy space beneath the building, I began to picture an entirely different future. I imagined acquiring the warehouse and transforming it into something far more mysterious than a simple studio. In my mind, it became the headquarters of a secret operation. A kind of San Francisco,Batman headquarters.
I imagined slipping beneath the city through that hidden hatch, stepping onto a small, custom-built speedboat docked in the underground channel. From there I could navigate the forgotten waterways that snaked beneath the streets, quietly traveling unseen below the bustle of the city above. The more I thought about it, the more intriguing the idea became. After all, very few people are aware that these waterways exist. They’re never mentioned in guidebooks or city tours.
For weeks afterward, my imagination kept returning to that trap door and the sound of rushing water beneath the floor. I found myself daydreaming about the strange adventures that might unfold in those hidden spaces under the city. Of course, reality eventually reasserted itself. I had a business to run and practical needs to consider, and ultimately I moved on to find a building that made more sense.
Still, I have never forgotten that moment.
Even now, I can clearly picture the heavy hatch in the floor, the dim wooden dock below, and the sound of the unseen river moving steadily through the darkness under San Francisco.
And every once in a while, I still wonder what it would have been like to open that trap door late at night… and disappear beneath the city.
