Van Ness Avenue, stretching from its origin at Market Street to just north of Pacific Avenue, served as San Francisco's premier automobile showroom district from shortly after the 1906 earthquake and fire until the 1980s. Van Ness Avenue doesn’t just stretch through San Francisco—it prowls. From its grand entrance at Market Street to its bow just north of Pacific Avenue, the avenue once purred with the pride of polished chrome and exhaust dreams. After the quake and fire of 1906, the city rebuilt—and Van Ness became its showroom soul, the place where the future gleamed behind glass until the 1980s pulled the curtain. Today, I clock in at the Old Package Building, which sounds like a vaudeville stagehand but now hosts British Motor Cars. At 901 Van Ness, Land Rovers and Jaguars glare at passersby with aristocratic disdain; 999 Van Ness flaunts its Lamborghinis and Bentleys (Tesla now in 2025), as if James Bond and James Brown opened a dealership together. Just down the road, near the Bush Street Starbucks—the one where espressos come with existential dread—sit Infiniti and Nissan. And a few sips farther, the Academy of Art quietly hoards an entire British car museum. It’s a collection worthy of tweed and monocles, tucked between classes on fashion and figure drawing. These former temples of torque have mostly been reborn—adaptive reuse, as the architects call it. But peek through the façades and you’ll still catch glimpses: a grand cornice here, a plate-glass flirtation there. Within two blocks, relics of early garages and grease-stained dream factories still stand. The corridor is just 22 blocks long and maybe three wide—but it boasts the city’s richest concentration of auto-centric buildings, like a collection of heavyweight ghosts lined up for inspection. Their architecture tells tales: wide glass panes up top and down below, chunky proportions, ornamentation that screams “Look at me!”—because that’s what selling luxury meant back then. Most are made of reinforced concrete, strong enough to hold Cadillacs upstairs and survive both fire and fashion trends. Who needs a bulldozer when the bones are this good? After 1909, no one bothered tearing these buildings down. Not because they couldn’t—but because they didn’t need to. Trends changed, yes. Populations boomed, certainly. But why swap out a fireproof temple when it still whispered horsepower into the city’s ear? Between 1906 and 1938, nearly 300 such buildings took shape. Many have been leveled or transformed since the ’60s—turned into condos, theaters, or forgettable office blocks—but over 100 survive. Stoic. Solid. Mostly unchanged. The marquee letters may be gone, but the soul of Van Ness still leans against the curb, engine idling. AUTOMOBILE ROW
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AuthorCHARLES PEARSON Archives
July 2025
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