Lasting Love and Landmark #251

GLAZER-KEATING HOUSE
1110 TAYLOR STREET

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Built in 1906 shortly after the Great Earthquake and Fire, this Neo-Georgian dwelling served as the Coachman's House to the Flood Mansion, which still stands atop Nob Hill at 1000 California Street.

On October 16th 2002, the dwelling was finally designated by its owner, Dr. J Henry Glazer as: ZELDA d'ANGLETERRE GLAZER'S MEMORIAL LODGINGS, and such donated in his late wife's memory to the University of California , San Francisco for use and support of brain cancer research.

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Dr. J Henry Glazer's love is clearly depicted in this tribute to his beautiful wife Zelda. The heartwarming history of their relationship and the reason he donated this classic home to help UCSF continue research to the horrible disease that took his wife's life.

A book simply called 1110 Taylor Street, San Francisco was also produced to explore the historic home and it's contents. It's a wonderful jaunt down memory lane and a fitting compliment for the historic neighborhood of Huntington Square.

San Francisco's Urban Castle

Julius Castle at 302 Greenwich Street: Landmark #121
2012 Photo Credit Chris Carlsson

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How did this urban castle come to be? It all began on March 20, 1923 when Julius Roz, a local Italian restaurateur, began work on the castle-like structure perched on Telegraph Hill.

A Colorful History

The story begins in 1886 with the cliffside site as the location of Michael Crowley’s two-story grocery store. Years later, the John Mini family built their home there only to have it destroyed by a fire around 1918. In 1924, less than a year after construction on the Castle began, food service was underway. A thus established Julius’ Castle as one of the oldest San Francisco restaurants at its original location with its original name.

With Julius Roz’s collaboration, civil engineer and architect Louis Mastropasqua designed this amazing structure. Combining fairytale elements, such as pointed arched windows and medieval-style battlements on the upper balconies, a mix of Gothic Revival and Arts-and-Crafts influences lived side by side. Interior wood paneling was reputedly purchased by Roz from the city’s 1915 Panama Pacific International Exposition. The words “Julius’ Castle” on the redwood facade were added by Mr. Roz in 1928. A legend was born!

At the time, Montgomery Street was little more than a dirt trail wide enough for one vehicle. Because the street was so narrow, a turntable was installed in 1931 at the dead-end in front of the castle for employees to turn patrons cars around to parked them. During Prohibition, Julius’ Castle became a speakeasy for the carriage trade. Its patrons watched the Bay Bridge being constructed and completed in 1936. Regulars also witnessed the apparition of Treasure Island as it was dredged from the bottom of the bay for the World’s Fair of 1939-40. They also saw the wartime fleet moving in and out during World War II.

When Julius Roz died in 1943, the property passed through several owners including music promoter and restaurant owner Jeffrey Pollack (Nick’s Lighthouse). Before Pollack acquired it in 1980, the hillside icon gained landmark status. For 26 years, the gregarious proprietor hosted an intoxicating mixture of celebrities from entertainment, commerce, and politics. According to Pollack, table 34 was the for the city’s mayors. Huey Lewis, Journey, Robert Redford, Sean Connery and local characters, Melvin Belli and Herb Caen, were just a few of his loyal patrons. Even thieves appreciated the castle, when, in 1986, they stole its most expensive cases of Bordeaux from Pollack’s wine cellar.

Today, its current owner, Paul D. Scott, waits in the wings, poised to rouse the sleeping beauty. An attorney by trade and resident of Telegraph Hill, Scott purchased the property in 2012. He moved to the neighborhood in 1995 and dined at Julius’ Castle on Christmas. It was love at first sight. “There was a wow factor as you took in the view,” Scott recalls. “The interior was old-school, and the combined effect was unique.”

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Julies Castle 1940s

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Proprietor, Julius Roz

Julius Roz July 29, 1928

Julis Roz was born in Turin, Italy, around 1868. He arrived in San Francisco in 1902, working in various North Beach restaurants as a bus boy and waiter. Later, he became manager of several eateries, including the Dante Restaurant at 536 Broadway. At Julius’ Castle, he was all things to the restaurant: buyer, chef, and maître d’. A 1939 city guide comments on Roz’s cooking: “To taste his fish sauce supreme, his tagliarini and his banana soufflé is to have a glimpse of an epicure’s heaven.”

He was friends with many other local business persons and residents, including artist, newspaperman, and owner of the “Compound,’’ Harry Lafler. This “colony” consisting of five or so artists cottages was just across the street from Julius Castle. Thus Roz’s association with Bohemian North Beach.

Roz lived in the apartment above the restaurant with his wife, daughter and two dogs, from which he was inseparable. Elmer Gavello, of Lucca’s restaurant, describes seeing Roz with his dogs. “I’ll never forget him driving down Union Street in North Beach in a yellow Chrysler Imperial convertible. He always had the convertible’s top down and two beautiful collie dogs in the rumble seat, which had its own windshield and side windows to keep the wind off the dogs.

“…Should you get lost on the way up the hill, the small boy by the roadside will give you directions as only a small boy can. Many Italian eateries display their national colors of red, green and white. Here you can eat them in the form of red, green, and white tagliarini. As you arrive, and during your meal, Sandy will greet you with a smile and tail wag as Sandy is a collie dog. He will ask to play with you. Sandy has played with such celebrities as Jackie Coogan, Lon Chaney and Douglas Fairbanks. Yes, indeed, your host Julius Roz, has received radiograms from ships at sea on their return, asking that reservations be made for passengers as soon after their ship docks as is possible. Lunch from 12 to 2, $1.50 — Dinner from 6 to 9, $2.00.””

— Bohemian Eats of San Francisco” by Jack L. and Hazel Blair Dodd

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The Architect, Louis Mastropasqua

Louis Mastropasqua was born in Brescia, Italy, near Milan, in 1870. Graduating in 1899 from the Italian Royal Polytechnic School, he specializied in civil engineering and architecture. He studied architecture and art during his travels in Japan, China and Africa before his 1902 arrival at San Francisco. He didn’t speak any English, but quickly learned the language and established himself. He was believed to be an architect in the Italian community, especially after the building boom following the 1906 earthquake and fire. In the 1923 Crocker Langley City Directory, his office address at 580 Washington Street was listed as architect and civil engineer professional location.

Charles Bovone House 68 Macondray Lane Built 1893

Architect Louis Mastropasqua designed this small set of apartments, which was originally a residence. The design combines Colonial Revival elements (curved bay, modillioned cornice and general plan) and Craftsman elements (natural shingle cladding, the flared bay and the lost window-surrounds).

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Layman's "German" Castle

Historic records indicate Mastropasqua’s collaboration with Roz on the unique design of the Castle. It was, in part, inspired by Frederick O. Layman’s wooden castle, which had stood nearby atop Telegraph Hill between 1883 and 1903. Layman built the “German” castle as a business venture and cable car terminal for his proposed observatory and restaurant. Both the cable car line, whose operations ceased in 1887, and the castle became known to residents as “Layman’s Folly”.

The structure was destroyed by fire in 1903. As Roz and Mastopasqua had arrived in San Francisco from Italy in 1902, they were able to ponder the first “Castle” on Telegraph Hill. Apparently, this gazing was inspirational, and twenty years later Julius’ Castle was created.

Layman's Folly

Photo Credit: Private Collection

Layman's "German" Castle

Photo Credit: San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library

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Film Noir

“The House on Telegraph Hill” – 1951. 20th Century Fox, Director: Robert Wise

According to film archives, 20th Century Fox used the front of Julius’ Castle in this movie. Creative changes to the structure’s image were made, so that it would look like the entrance to a stately home. These alterations to the exterior were created by building a facade around the castle.

“The Raging Tide” (1951) Universal International Pictures, Director: George Sherman

One scene from this movie shows Shelly Winters running out of Julius' Castle, pausing on the entrance steps for an emotional dialogue. City lights are the backdrop. In another scene, Winters is having brandy at the bar in Julius’ Castle talking to a bartender.

Epilogue

According to Eater SF, Julius’ Castle plans to open its doors late this year. Right now Scott is interviewing candidates, some of whom have “more of a footprint in managing restaurants” than others. “But we’re not limited in our thinking,” says Scott. He’s casting a wide net. Anyone he works with will have to be open to tackling the project as “a consultant/management entity,” and will have to “respect the history of the building.”

“Because I own the building, and I am also in the neighborhood,” Scott says, “I am very sensitive for it to continue to fit in the neighborhood as well as fill its traditional role in San Francisco.” In other words, folks hoping to open a white wall/blonde wood/minimalist spot should seek greener pastures.

Once he finds his operator, Scott says that it will be full steam ahead to finalize plans for the interior and figure out a suitable menu. “Things always take longer than you expect,” Scott says (a phrase that should probably be embroidered on the San Francisco city flag). “But if all goes well, we should open some time next year, and people can start making memories with us all over again.”

Let’s HOPE!!!!

San Francisco Historical Home

Telegraph Hill Tavern and “Tea Party"
31 Alta Street, Telegraph Hill

From shipyard overlook to Prohibition era speakeasy, 31 Alta is a house with rich history, including stories of wild parties and resulting police raids. But perhaps its most impressive claim: that it’s the oldest surviving home in San Francisco.

In 1852, Captain Andrews built his home on the Eastern slope of Telegraph Hill, perched for a direct view of ships sailing into the shipyards below. The home remains virtually unchanged after over a century, during which San Francisco itself metamorphosed. Entire neighborhoods disappeared while others appeared; steep streets were graded over the hills; Coit Tower and a forest of skyscrapers grew in the distance.

A survivor of both the 1906 earthquake and subsequent great fire, 31 Alta traded hands several times prior to the 1920s but the most infamous inhabitant of throughout the last century was a reputed Russian noble, Myrtokleia Sawvelle who, according to David Myrick’s San Francisco’s Telegraph Hill, converted the brick dining room and kitchen into a “night club.” Myrick reports that printed cards were sent to a prospective clientele announcing her Telegraph Hill Tavern as having “all the atmosphere of the Montmarte with a Marine view.”

31 Alta, seen in this photo from the 1850s.

Apparently the views from the double balcony were even more striking than they are today. A photograph taken during the 1850s shows the broad, open view from Alta street before it was paved in the 1930s. Today that view is partially blocked by all the rest of the buildings now occupying the north side of Alta: modern architecture’s answer to straightforward utility. According to Myrick, Myrtolkleia (who came to be known as Myrtle) served tea at two in the afternoon, followed by dinner at six and supper after ten; while a Sunday morning brunch was offered from eleven to two.

On that eventful night in February 1927, Myrtle’s guests must have been carousing on the balconies and howling at the moon late into the night. However, the neighbors on Telegraph Hill were not putting up with it that night. The constabulary were called, and the Black Maria arrived to escort Myrtle and her party to the city jail for the rest of early morning.

Myrtle not only had considerable skill in the culinary arts and the charm to be a gracious hostess, but she was also a pro at public relations. While the press headlined the story “Wild ‘Tea Party’ Raided”, her account painted for the reporters a not unusual evening of tea and art appreciation. Apparently, Myrtle was giving a private exhibition of a new work of art by Elwood Decker described as “an esoteric blue damsel charging through a red fog.”

“We were sitting around admiring Elwood Decker’s new painting,” relates Myrtle Sawvelle’s account in the press. We weren’t even drinking anything but tea and I was making a pan full of biscuits for a little supper when the police came and made us all get in that black wagon. Some of the guests who arrived late were making quite a bit of noise but we didn’t realize that this was disturbing anybody, she said. We are going to start all over again with a tea room and this time there will be no nights in jail.”

— Myrtle Sawvelle

According to Myrick, it was not to be. Her food was exotic, her liquor was good — but her timing was poor because her teas were taking place during Prohibition. Her homemade brews landed her in jail again for 90 days, and she was promptly appointed jailhouse cook. Tackling her new job with gusto, Myrtle became the heroine of her fellow inmates. Her fellow prisoners never ate so well, in or out of jail, and it was a sad day when she was liberated. A year later, Myrtokleia retired to Carmel.

The current owner has owned the home since 2002 and placed it on the market for $3,800,000 in 2010 and again in 2011 for $1M less. The home did not sell and now seems to be used as a rental.

A few photos from when the home was on the market.

Landmark #119 and the Murder Mystery??

If you set out to unravel the facts behind one of San Francisco’s most gruesome murders, you’ll find yourself with a handful of details most likely culled from old ghost stories.

The tale always begins with Richard Craig Chambers, a silver baron from the Midwest. With his wealth, he moved to San Francisco and built the palatial home at 2220 Sacramento Street. Richard and his wife moved in in 1887. When Richard died in 1901, a few years after his wife, two of his nieces inherited the home.

It was an unhappy arrangement. The nieces did not get along. In some variations of the story, one niece built the house next door to get away from the other, Claudia Chambers. It is Claudia who meets the most unfortunate end — and under murky circumstances. Most sources say she died in a “farm implementation accident.” Many agree she was sawed clean in half. A few say it was no accident, that a deranged family member faked the accident in order to murder Claudia.

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Regardless of the circumstances, the Chambers mansion became synonymous with ghost stories. Ghost tours today still stop outside the home, warning curious looky-loos of Claudia’s spirit, which manifests itself in the form of flashing lights and shadows in the windows.

But the historical record says something else altogether: that almost none of this happened at all.

The truth behind the Chambers mansion

The first mistake becomes apparent immediately. There is no Richard Craig Chambers, the name universally attached to the historic San Francisco home. His name was Robert, as dozens of newspaper articles and census records attest. Some accounts also claim he was a U.S. Senator; Chambers never served in the Senate, although he was the Plumas County sheriff from 1858-62.

 He made his fortune as the superintendent of the Ontario silver mine near Park City, Utah. He eventually sold the mine to George Hearst, father of the newspaper magnate; by the time the mine tapered off, it had yielded $50 million in silver and lead.

Robert and his wife Eudora were well-known fixtures in San Francisco society but, for reasons lost to time, the pair never had children. Sometime before Eudora’s death in 1897, they took in two of Eudora’s nieces, Lillian and Harriet. If your interest is piqued by the mention of two nieces, they’ll become pertinent later on.

 Robert died of appendicitis, just short of 70, on April 11, 1901. The Chambers estate, valued at $1.5 million at the time, was split between Robert’s brothers and sisters. The house went to his sister Ada Chambers Martin, who appears to have lived in it with her husband until their deaths in the early 1910s. After that, the home passed to another Chambers sibling, Margaret.

 Those are the facts, backed up by newspaper accounts and property records. A further dive into census records and city directories turns up no trace of anyone named Claudia Chambers which, at least, should reassure anyone worried she was sawed in half.

A good ghost story, though, has some threads of truth, used to weave together the tale. And it seems Claudia’s haunted soul does have a model in reality: Eudora Chambers.

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The history of Eudora Chambers

We know little about Robert’s wife Eudora, save for a few sad episodes recounted in the San Francisco Call. In May 1893, Eudora went missing from 2220 Sacramento St. Her friends and family searched for her, but the 40-year-old had vanished without a trace. A week later, a man found her wandering the beach near Mussel Rock, “very weak and helpless.” Although she’d been missing for seven days, the family doctor said she showed no signs of exposure. The doctor speculated she’d been taken in at some point during her lost days.

Eudora went missing from 2220 Sacramento St. Her friends and family searched for her, but the 40-year-old had vanished without a trace. A week later, a man found her wandering the beach near Mussel Rock, “very weak and helpless.”

Her strange behavior comes tragically into focus seven months later when the Call ran an article with the headline, “Mrs. R.C. Chambers Tries to Commit Suicide.” On New Year’s Eve, a train engineer near Valencia Street noticed a woman walking perilously close to the tracks. As the train approached, he saw her throw herself in its path. Remarkably, she was thrown clear of the tracks, suffering non-fatal injuries to her head and hip.

“From persons who are acquainted with the family it is learned that Mrs. Chambers is thought to be slightly unbalanced mentally,” the paper callously reported.

Three years later, Eudora was dead. Her cause of death is not known.

Then there is the matter of Eudora’s nieces, Lillian and Harriet. There was indeed conflict with the nieces but not between each other. After Robert’s death, Lillian and Harriet filed suit against his family, alleging they deserved a cut of the estate. According to the lawsuit, Lillian and Harriet were taken in by the Chambers after their own parents died and had been raised "like [their] children." On the condition Robert’s will would provide for them after his death, the sisters handed over their tract of land in Butte County.

After Robert’s death, Lillian and Harriet filed suit against his family, alleging they deserved a cut of the estate.

Because they "were treated with such kindness after the marriage and after the death of Mrs. Chambers ... they had no hesitancy in complying with Chambers’ request they deed the property to him," the Chronicle reported.

Upon his death, however, Lillian and Harriet learned there was no such provision. They sued the Chambers, hoping for at least the land in return, but after some years and several appeals, the nieces lost their case.

They never again lived in the house on Sacramento Street.

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Last Sold November 8, 2013 for $4,085,000 by our very own Joseph Lucier.

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The Chambers mansion, today

As for the mansion, it’s had a few incarnations since housing the Chambers family. In the late 1970s, it was turned into a 15-room luxury bed-and-breakfast. Among its many celebrity guests were Robin Williams, Barbra Streisand and John F. Kennedy Jr. At night, the Mansion Hotel hosted magic shows (flashes of light in the windows, anyone?) and private concerts (once, Liberace performed).

In 2000, the Mansion Hotel was sold to a private developer and turned into two townhouses. The real estate site Zillow estimates they're worth about $6 million each. Today, the mansion is nearly hidden from the street by bushes and trees, easily missed by anyone walking to or from Lafayette Park. 

For those hoping to find answers beyond the grave, there's one last footnote: There is no grave. An obituary indicates Robert was buried at Laurel Hill Cemetery, a defunct graveyard that was moved to Colma in the 1930s. At that time, the graves were dug up en masse, although occasionally forgotten coffins are found during present-day renovation projects.

Eudora Chambers' final resting place is a mystery.

Credit: Katie Dowd, SFGATE Monday, October 22, 2018

The Big Scoop on Landmark #260

Michael de Young was the patriarch of one of the most powerful and influential families in San Francisco. He arrived to San Francisco during the Civil War years in 1854 from St. Louis with his mother Cornelia “Amelia” and brother Charles. De Young’s father, Miechel, was said too have died of a stroke during their journey.

In 1865, Michael and Charles entered the publishing business as teenagers by borrowing a $20 gold piece from their landlord. They used the money to buy an old desk, several fonts of used type, some newsprint, and then tucked themselves away in the corner of their landlord's Clay Street print shop. The brothers started with a free theater program sheet called The Daily Dramatic Chronicle, which debuted on January 16, 1865. The four-page Daily Dramatic conveyed itself to be "a daily record of affairs -- local, critical, and theatrical," but was seen as a gossip sheet. The two teenagers handed out the Daily Dramatic at hotels, theaters, restaurants, and saloons, and by the end of their first week they had payed their landlord back. According to the de Young’s, the Daily Dramatic Chronicle would be “the best advertising medium on the Pacific Coast.”

By the end of their first month, the de Young's had increased the circulation of their fledgling effort to over 2,000 copies. It was an encouraging start, but that successful first month would be soon forgotten when the de Young’s broke free from their role as upstarts and scored an even more remarkable coup.

Abraham Lincoln President of the United States 
assassinated by John Wilkes Booth

Word of the president's death appeared in the de Young’s first "extra" edition, hitting the streets several hours before the city's other daily journals reported on the national tragedy. The de Young’s had quickly legitimized their position as news reporters, marking the first pivotal step in their bid to become aggressive, competitive journalists. By the 1870s their paper was so influential and widely read that the de Young’s could make or break a politician, policy, business deal, or any other matter of importance in Northern California. We now know this paper as the San Francisco Chronicle.

M.H. de Young

Charles de Young

Helen Mary de Young Cameron

Constance Marie de Young Tobin

Over the following years, Michael De Young and his wife Katherine had five children:

• Charles de Young (1881–1913)

• Helen de Young (1883–1969), who married George T. Cameron (1873–1955)

• Constance Marie de Young (1885–1968), who married Joseph Oliver Tobin (1878–1978)

• Kathleen Yvonne de Young (1888–1954), who married Ferdinand Thieriot (1883–1920)

• Phyllis D. de Young (1892–1988), who married Nion Robert Tucker (1885–1950)

In 1911, Michael H. de Young purchased two lots on the south side of California Street between Gough and Octavia Streets, directly adjacent to his own estate. He gave the deeds to two of his daughters, Helen, wife of George E. Cameron, and Constance, wife of Joseph O. Tobin, an executive at Hibernia Bank and member of one of San Francisco's oldest and wealthiest families. Michael also offered to build homes on these lots for the couples and their young families. For a few years nothing happened as both the Tobin and Cameron families chose to live in the affluent town of Hillsborough, south of San Francisco. But in 1913, Michael’s wife Katherine succumbed to cancer and the couple’s only son, Charley, died in a fishing accident. These family tragedies prompted de Young’s daughters to reconsider their father’s earlier offer.

The M.H. and Katherine de Young estate at 1919 California Street

In 1915, de Young commissioned prominent architect Willis Polk to design a Tudor Gothic Revival style home on the lot adjacent the family estate. The original plan was to build two “mirror image” houses next to each other with a large half archway at the side of each house meant to complement, and complete, the neighboring home.

The “Tobin House” was first to be constructed and included a steeply pitched, slate-clad roof with projecting stuccoed chimneys topped with decorative copper chimney pots. A large, two-story bay window, with tall arched casement windows and small panes of leaded glass, dominates the eastern side of the front facade and is capped with Neo-Gothic inspired decorative panels. The half arch, formed with molded bands, leads into the a recessed side passage. The understated front door, east of the half arch, is accented with a lion’s head. With good fortune, Polk’s original intent of unpainted stucco, resembling stone to match the California Street lamp posts in front of the de Young mansion, has stood the test of time.

Ultimately, Helen de Young had plans other than to build a complementary home next to her happily ensconced sister, Constance. Thus, the second half of the mirror image house was never built leaving an abruptly ending archway where it meets the next building. The original de Young mansion met the wrecking ball in the 1940s, but not before portions of The Thin Man (1936), starring William Powell and Myrna Loy, were filmed there.

Today, 1969 California presents itself better than ever as it stands out among surrounding homes. The owners of this private residence have lovingly restored the interiors to keep the integrity and beauty of its original architecture. Willis and M. H. would be proud.

The Survival of Landmark #7

Audiffred Building

Early 1900s

c. 1905

c. 1964

Streetcar No. 952, a "Streetcar Named Desire

Landmark #7
1-21 Mission Street

In the late 1800’s, Hippolite d'Audiffret ("Audiffred"), a Frenchman who had been living in Mexico, reportedly walked to San Francisco from Veracruz due to the increasing French nationals unpopularity with native Mexican country men and women. Upon his arrival in the city, Hippolite d'Audiffret built a profitable business selling charcoal in Chinatown. The Audiffred Building was constructed for him in 1889 to presumably house his business. Over the years this corner building had many tales of survival that added to the fabric of its legacy. This history and it’s unusual architectural style led to the Audiffred Building being designated Landmark #7. To this day, it is one of the few surviving buildings on the waterfront.

1906
San Francisco had the busiest waterfront on the west coast with a harbor filled with ships, bustling commerce, and shops serving every maritime need. At the turn of the 19th century, the Audiffred Building’s first floor retail spaces were rented to a restaurant and three saloons. The Bulkhead Saloon was one of these tenants.

In an attempt to stop the fires following the 1906 earthquake, the San Francisco Fire Department wanted to create a firebreak between the burning city and the wharfs. They blasted every other building with dynamite except the Ferry Building. As the tale is told, the fireman spared the Audiffred Building because they received an offer they couldn’t refuse. The very wise bartender at the Bulkhead saloon bribed the firemen with a keg of whiskey and a cart full of wine if they would spare the building. Needless to say, the building was saved.

“The very wise bartender at the Bulkhead Saloon bribed the firemen with a keg of whiskey and a cart full of wine if they would spare the building. Needless to say, the building was saved.”

1934
The Audiffred Building served as headquarters for the 1934 West Coast Waterfront strike that lasted eighty-three days when longshoreman in every west coast port walked out. The strike peaked with “Bloody Thursday,” a day when sailors Howard Sperry and Nick Bordoise were shot dead by police outside. A monument commemorates this tragedy at the corner of Steuart and Mission streets.

1934 West Coast Waterfront Strike, As A Monument, Dedicated To Events Or People, As An Exhibit of Art

1946 - 1955
With the decline of San Francisco's waterfront in the mid-twentieth century, the Seven Seas Club for homeless sailors moved into the building in 1946. Bohemian artists and writers including Elmer Bischoff, Howard Hack, Frank Lobdell, Hassel Smith, Martin Snipper, and Lawrence Ferlinghetti occupied lofts and studios on the two upper floors. The living spaces had no electricity and were condemned in 1955 as unsafe for living quarters.

1978
A fire from a gas main break gutted the building in 1978 leaving it scheduled for demolition. The building was saved by public demand. The Audiffred Building became the City of San Francisco's Landmark #7 and was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in May 1981.

1983 – 1984
A domed penthouse was added in the reconstruction after the fire. The building was subsequently bought by real estate developer Dustan Mills. In 1983–1984 it was refurbished and repurposed into office space by William E. Cullen.

1991
It was restored over a two-year period, and then in 1991, after the removal of the Embarcadero Freeway, the handsome building again saw the light of day.

1993 - Present
Since 1993, the Audiffred Building has housed Boulevard restaurant.