When in doubt, go to the library. — Hermione Granger
At San Francisco’s Park Branch Library, a sign near the book return slot declares, “The Public Library is a Commons.” The handmade message affirms my sentiment, especially as we return to an unmasked civic life in shared spaces, that public libraries, these paragons of democracy and accessibility, just might be the best places in San Francisco.
I am a giddy commoner, one of 6 million annual visitors to an institution housing over 3.7 million items. Where else is such an infinite diversity of ideas and histories available to anyone, for free?
Where else are community programs, from zine workshops and plant swaps to pajama storytime and financial planning, offered to everyone, for free? And sometimes most immediately, where else can any of us pop in to use the restroom, for free?
Since San Francisco boasts 27 public branches — the second most per square mile in the nation! — touring my favorites seemed an ideal way to celebrate National Library Day this April 6th.
What I present to you is a whirlwind, and hardly exhaustive. (While our libraries collectively might be the best places in SF, some are more distinctive than others.)
So many options: We could begin at Cow Hollow’s Golden Gate Valley Branch, with its east-facing basilica and bookshelves arc’d in accommodation. Or the Presidio Branch, the setting for Richard Brautigan’s 1971 parodic novel, The Abortion: An Historical Romance 1966. Or the North Beach Branch, where Holosonic speakers in the roof eaves emanate sounds of the Bay Area in artist Bill Fontana’s acoustic sculptures.
But the Park Branch in the Haight seems the most appropriate starting point. It is the oldest in the system, built in 1909 on land that cost $7,000. It is on Slow Page Street and only a block from Golden Gate Park, full of countless nooks perfect for a blanket and a good book. It is the branch nearest SF’s geographic center as well as my heart — it’s across the street from the first studio I rented when I moved here 18 years ago.
Heading southeast from the Haight, the Noe Valley Branch deserves a stop, not so much for the brick building, but for the garden maintained by volunteers since the 1970s, with dozens of plants including camellias, five-finger ferns, and a lemon tree.
Look up
Pushing on eastward, I’m eager to see one of my favorites. The facade of the Bernal Heights Branch is enlivened with murals, a colorful mosaic draped with Tibetan prayer flags, and native plants. Funded by the Works Progress Administration in 1940, the interior exudes a cozy, antique-y vibe foreign to so much of the city’s austere steel and glass contemporary architecture.
I’m not sure what I love more: Wood the shade of warm honey, everywhere from the wall panels and French doors to the sturdy tables and desk chairs? Or the amber glow from the sconces, the leather armchairs, stenciled ceiling, sunbeams filtered through the high windows illuminating the dark stacks? I’m also charmed by a “Teens Only” section festooned in twinkle lights, and the lower level dedicated to a festive Children’s Room.
Visit the Bernal branch and make sure to look up from your book. (Photos by the author)
I jump back on my bike and head northeast. In stark contrast to Bernal, the Potrero Branch, about 2.5 miles away as the crow flies, is bright and modern. But even my anti-industrial ethos is captivated by several redeeming features.
The view to the north is one of San Francisco’s best, encompassing the Bay Bridge, various corporate skyscrapers, and a glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge backdropped by the Headlands. A wall of south-facing windows gobbles sunlight, making me want to be reincarnated as a literary cat.
Potrero doesn’t only lend books. It also offers a Seed Library where patrons can “borrow” a packet of seeds, sow them, and “return” the next generation to continue the cycle. The manila envelopes include a written passage or poem along with planting instructions.
But will they grow in San Francisco? The Potrero branch lends all kinds of seeds, and hides literature notes in the packets. (Photos by the author)
Even if we don’t start a garden, patronizing the local library is inherently ecologically friendly. As Shawn Rosenmoss of SF’s Department of the Environment says, “By nature the library is the ‘greenest’ institution around and always has been — from sharing resources and thus reducing the environmental impacts of production and consumption to being conveniently located so that people don’t use a lot of energy to get to them.”
Green stacks
At my next stop, the human and green worlds also intertwine. At the Bayview Linda Brooks Burton Branch, plaques tout the building’s “Green Stacks” bona fides, which include biodegradable linoleum, windows that save heat and energy, and a green roof — although the only plant I could spy was pampas grass, one of our region’s gnarliest invasive species.
In the courtyard, two Japanese maple trees, a wall of art, and a “Wisdom Walk” along 20 West African Adinkra symbols provide a refuge within a refuge.
To travel from a 21st century eco-mindset to the city’s 19th century roots, I head north. Stop for a moment at the city’s newest branch along the bank of Mission Creek for a water view, but no need to linger. The Mechanics’ Institute awaits, the only private library on our tour. It’s a members-only establishment near the Montgomery BART station.
Founded in 1854 as a place of learning for out-of-work gold rushers, it served as a combination library, community college, and community center. Today, people come to admire the spiral staircase twisting through the five-storied building, and folks from around the world visit the Chess Room, home of the oldest chess club in continuous operation in the U.S. and Tuesday night chess marathons. (Guided tours are free.)
The Mechanics’ Institute, from 1854, has a dizzying spiral staircase and Tuesday night chess marathons. (Photos by the author)
Moving westward, I would be negligent to bypass the Main Library across the plaza from City Hall. The Main’s six floors epitomize a commitment to provide not only an intellectual but also a physical haven for all. San Francisco became the first city to hire a full-time social worker as library staff in 2009. Based at the Main, a team trained in mental health and trauma counseling helps patrons connect with housing and other vital services.
The final chapter
In Golden Gate Park, I enter the San Francisco Botanical Garden, which houses one of the city’s smallest and — for those botanically inclined — most beloved book spaces, the Helen Crocker Russell Library of Horticulture. It’s a niche habitat for plant lovers, holding 27,000 volumes, 250 current plant periodicals, and 2,000 children’s books. (Pro tip: Used plant and garden books are for sale on the second level.)
I am a gardener, so my roots regularly bring me back here, even though I live much closer to the grand Italianate edifice of the Sunset Branch, which is worth a quick stop. If you close your eyes, you might imagine the sound of neighborhood boys shooting guns at the old barn that once stood on this spot.
As the day winds down, there’s no better spot to end my escapade than the Ortega Branch in the Outer Sunset. The kiddos from the adjacent schools and playground have gone home, and quiet rules. If that’s not enough to make a librarian’s heart sing, there’s the view to Ocean Beach and beyond to the Farallones, if the weather complies.
Past the shelves of books and rows of computers, doors open to a large deck, where with benches beckon in the fresh ocean air. Put on another warm layer and sit outside to catch the day’s last rays.
In November’s election San Franciscans overwhelmingly supported the renewal of the Library Preservation Fund for the next 25 years, garnering almost 83 percent of the vote. We love our libraries. Looking up from the page to the Pacific, contemplating the global commons of the high seas and the coming quarter century, I feel a rare sense of satisfaction, a bibliophile basking in the certainty of the setting sun.