districts and scenic routes, unfolding views of
hills, forests, parks, forts, lighthouses and seals on rocks lashed by
surf.

Between the Ferry Building and the ocean front--what a sweeping canvas
it would take to suggest all this even in broad outline!

The "ships, towers, domes, theatres" which Wordsworth saw from
Westminster Bridge in London are here, and so are the added motifs of
San Francisco's own song of seduction.

Sea Glamour

Ever has the glamour of the sea enveloped San Francisco. From the sea
came Don Juan Manuel Ayala in the San Carlos in 1775, charting a course
through the fog and opening the Golden Gate. From the, sea also came the
Argonauts, transforming the somnolent Yerba Buena into the city, of San
Francisco. And from the sea, up to the time of the railroad, came
practically all of the goods with which the merchants of the city did
business. Today with the sea ebbs and flows the tide of wealth that
makes San Francisco the key port of the Pacific. The banks and exchanges
of California and Montgomery streets, the foreign trade and insurance
offices of Pine street, the downtown skyscrapers--all reflect in some
way San Francisco's debt to the sea.

From the sea also comes health. The breezes that blow from it and the
fogs that drift down over the ridges combine to give San Francisco a
paradoxical climate--winters as warm as those in the south and summers
that are matchless for their exhilarating coolness.

San Francisco shows a higher per capita industrial output than any other
American city of its class because of its ideal working conditions.

A city conscious of its obligation to the sea, San Francisco has always
been interested in its waterfront, which perpetuates Spanish origins in
its expressive name of Embarcadero--the embarking place.

The skyline of the city is no longer stenciled by the towering masts of
sailing ships discharging or loading cargo, or lying in the stream or in
Richardson's Bay awaiting charters, as in the days when wheat was king
of California's great central valley. The virility of the waterfront of
San Francisco, however, is as persistent as in the age that provided
Frank Norris with his epic themes.

The masts and yards of older outline have given place to stubby cargo
booms of liners, freighters and tramps of multiple flags and
nationalities. Along the Embarcadero they disgorge upon massive concrete
piers silk, rice and tea from the Orient, coffee from Central