The Industrial City sign in South San Francisco turns 100 years old today.
The 65-foot-tall concrete letters on the southern flank of San Bruno Mountain are one of California’s largest examples of civic boosterism, an early 20th-century tradition of carving town’s initials into hillsides or building lighted roadway arches, like Redwood City’s “Climate Best by Government Test” sign.
Last month, crews from South San Francisco’s Parks and Recreation Department, apparently part mountain goat, braved the slopes of Sign Hill to coat the 34 letters with thick coats of chalk-white paint. According to Parks Manager Joshua Richardson, “It took 11 five-gallon buckets to just paint the word SOUTH” — and he joked, “It could be argued that a considerable amount ends up on my staff as they traverse the letters.”
In Southern California, the most famous example of civic boosterism is the Hollywood sign. It, too, celebrates a centennial this year. When created in 1923, it was intended as a temporary promotion for the Hollywoodland real estate development. It survived into the late 1940s before being restored and shortened to “Hollywood.”
While Tinseltown’s sign has achieved mythical status as a cultural icon, becoming a world-renowned symbol virtually synonymous with the movie industry, its humble, blue-collar companion to the north is seen mostly by locals only and northbound freeway drivers. It remains associated with the gritty smokestack industries that once fueled the Bay Area’s growth.
Blueprints from the sign’s 1929 reconstruction project, when the original lime letters were replaced with cement ones, hang in the South San Francisco Historical Society offices of Julie Chimenti. She says the hillside sign “signifies the blood, sweat and tears of the industrial workers who helped build this place.” In 1996 local efforts successfully pushed for its inclusion in the National Register of Historic Places.
For children growing up on the south flank of San Bruno Mountain, like former Congresswoman Jackie Speier, sliding down the Sign Hill letters was a rite of passage. She recalled in a 2019 KTVU interview, “We could break down a cardboard box and slide down those letters into our backyard. It was a great childhood.”
Chimenti’s husband, Alan, has family roots in the city going back to 1906. His favorite letter to ride was the “T,” the first letter of the third line. “I definitely wore out a couple pants sliding down the hill,” he said. Apparently, he didn’t know about the cardboard trick of the future congresswoman.
Letter-sliding is no longer condoned, says Candace LaCroix, the city’s natural resource specialist. “I get the appeal of sliding,” she said reluctantly, not wanting to sound like a spoilsport, “but we’re trying to preserve a historic landmark that is prone to erosion issues.”
LaCroix is also trying to restore habitat of two critically endangered butterflies, the Mission blue and Calliope silverspot butterflies. They are found almost exclusively on San Bruno Mountain. The rare insects are particularly fond of the grasslands around the letters. “I’ve found plants with hundreds of eggs there,” said LaCroix.
Twice a month she leads crews of Sign Hill Steward volunteers on work improving the two miles of trails at the 64-acre Sign Hill park.
While Hollywood sign advocates work with deep-pocketed donors to fund a shiny new tourist center, the future of South San Francisco’s hillside sign is mostly in the hands of local descendants of the meat-packing and metal-fabricating workers who built the town.
Mauricio Garcia is one of them. He’s volunteered the 50 hours it takes to earn a coveted Sign Hill Stewards’ Mission Blue Butterfly patch. “As residents of this area we have a responsibility to take care of the other living beings here. I’d like to keep a piece of it wild.”
