The San Francisco call., 1910-08-14

Marcn, the SreeneSt month OF all,
when the Presidio and the Mis-
sion hills and the islands in the
bay are beautiful with spring, there's
only such a little bit Of green gets into
the city. It lies in the lap Of five hills.
climbing upward toward their crests
where the trees are all doubled and
bent by the trade wind. 1t seems to
give its own color to the growing
things in it: The cypress hedges are
dusty black; the eucalyptus trees are
gray as the house fronts they knock
against, and even the plaza grass looks
dark and cold, as if it had been the
same grass always. and never came up
new in the spring.
But for the most part there are no
trees, and only the finest places have
gardens. There are only rows and rows
Of houses painted gray, with here and
there white one, or a glass conserv-
atory front. But the fog and dust ali
summer gray these. too. and when the
trade winds blow hard it takes the
smoke out over the east bay and makes
that as gray as the city.
And yet the city doesn't look sad
The sky is too blue and the bav is too
blue around il. and the flying fog and
the wind and the strong tide flowing
IN and out Of the bay are like restless.
eager creatures that never sleep or
grow tired. When I was verv little
child the nerceness of it frightened me
All the noises OF the city made one
harsh, threatening voice to my ears.
and the perilous water encompassinr
far as the eye could reach: and the
high hills running up into the skv
new blinded by dust now buried in
fog, now drenched in rain, were over
powering and terrifying to me. Be
yond that general seeming of terror
there is little I remember of the early
city, except the glimmer of white tent
tops against gray fog or blue water.
the loud voices in the streets and a
vague. general impression Of rapid
and violent changes of place and cir
cumstance- Through their confusion
three figures only move with anv
clearness-my tall, teasing father. nv
grim nurse Abby and my pale haired
l--Dllirl AllnceNs lle 1rSI distinct In
cident that stands forth from that dim
background is the death of my mother.
II was puzzle for a child. One day
she was there, III in bed. but visible.
palpable, able TO speak, to smile, to
kiss-the next she had disappeared.
They said she had gone away, but I
knew that was nonsense. for when
people went away it was in the day
time with bags and umbrellas and
bar
where they went. but with my mother
81 was different. One dav she was
there-the next she was not nor in
any Of the rooms Of the house could
she be found. It was long before I
ceased to expect her back: long before
i ceased, by some process of child's
reasoning, TO blame her departure on
the gray, unaccountable city.
For as early as 1 can recall a CO.
herent sequence of impressions the
city appeared to be strange and unac-
countable. There was a secret shut
away from me behind every closed
house front; the eucalyptus trees
seemed TO whisper mystery" above
my head; and at night, when the fog
came heaping IN, thicker than feather
beds, across the Mission. and stream
ing down the long hills on the heels of
the wind, it brought an army of ghosts
TO inhabit the dark places beyond the
Though / lived among the seven hills
almost all my life, and though
in ways il had grown familiar
and even dear to me. yet
never seemed to grow quite used TO the
city. 1t had strange tricks of deception
that were enough to unsettle the finest
faith. For when I booked at it from
the windows of my room under the roof
st was as fat as plate. visible in it's
entirety from end to end, and It was
as easy TO find Telegraph hill or the
plaza upon it as II was 10 pick up a
block from the carpet But. when I
went abroad IN ii. ii hid away from me.
1t would never show me more than one
street at a time and never by any
chance would ii reveal to me. through
the tall houses, in what part of il I
was walking.
But by the time 1 was old enough to
play in the garden by myself and make
friends through the hedge with Halle
Ferguson, who lived a block below US.
/ had come to accept this trick Of the
city as somewhat less extraordinary
1t was developing other characteristics
not so fearful to my mind and Of far
greater fascination; and 1 spent hours.
when could not be out Of doors.
watching IL from the windows of my
room Father had built what was a
the time one Of the finest houses in San
Francisco. It had glass conservatory
at the side and a garden with a lawn
and palm in the corner: and on rainy
nights when the wind was high and
the house was shaking ! could hear the
long palm fingers tap-tapping on my
window glass. The house stood half
way up Washington street Hill on
what was then the western skirts Of
the city. and from my window under
the roof ] could look down over the
whole city TO the east water front with
RincOn hill misty on the south and
Telegraph bold on the north OF it, BY
leaning far out Of the window. as Hal
lie and I sometimes did when a snip
was coming in. we could see northward
as far as North beach and Alcatraz
island; and from Abby's room across
the hall we could continue the pano-
rama around to Russian hill, whose
hlgn crown cut off the Golden gate. It
was a favorite game Of ours. hanging
out the window, with our heads in the
palm leaves, 10 pretend stories of what
we saw going on in the city beneath.
All sorts Of strange and interesting
things were on in the city. We could
see the signals run up on Telegraph
hill when ship was sighted A.d
then the express would 20 dashing
furiously down some street below us.
the pony al ganop; and the line would
form in front of the postofice and