Emeryville

18 March 2024

Wedged between Oakland and Berkeley, little Emeryville is situated entirely on the flats where Temescal Creek, mostly buried, meets the Bay. Its eastern tip is about 55 feet above sea level; its native material has nothing in it bigger than a pebble.


Pink, artificial fill; Qhb, basin deposits (mostly clay); Qhl, levee deposits (mostly silt); Qhaf, alluvium (mostly sand)

The city perforce is all about the human presence; every square meter is under control. Besides the railroad and the freeway, buildings dominate the views along its streets: from east to west they’re mixed bungalows and Victorians, antique warehouse spaces and glassy corporate blocks.

Then offshore there’s the Peninsula, built from nothing in the 1960s. Here, at its western end, is the only place left to see what used to dominate every view in Emeryville: a wide coastal plain, a broad bay, a grand row of high hills, a wraparound sky.

Doyle Hollis Park is a clean young jewel in mainland Emeryville’s game-board terrain. Stretching between the Doyle Street bikeway and the Hollis Street bus corridor, it offers a bit of nature in a city starved for green space while making the most of a site without topography.

Its most basic amenity is a wide sky and, thanks to its east-west length, a view of the high hills. The hardscape in the foreground shows a willingness to play the city’s planar grid against curving forms both geometrical and natural.

Playgrounds are placed at both ends of the lawn, a conventional one toward the hills and an artistic one toward the Bay. Here a pavement of irregular dark granite tiles sets off fancifully sculpted boulders with most of their natural dressing left intact. Low concrete benches form an amphitheater facing the arrangement.

Scattered through the grounds are more stream-worn boulders from Sierra riverbeds. Some are cleverly cut, but most are lusciously whole.

Self-contained and indestructible, they also add textures and patinas no human artist can match.

A pint-size California: the Botanic Garden

4 March 2024

There are two great gardens in the hills above Berkeley. The UC Berkeley Botanical Garden, in Strawberry Canyon above the campus, has plants from all over the world. I’m here to talk about the other one: the Regional Parks Botanic Garden. It’s in Wildcat Canyon, hidden over the ridge in Tilden Regional Park, and focuses exclusively on California.

OK, the one garden is “botanical” and the other is “botanic.” In my mind the difference is subtle but noteworthy, like the distinction between “geological” and “geologic”: the shorter word has an air-quotes connotation of something scientific or scholarly. The Botanic Garden carries out its mission vigilantly, and wherever you’ve been in California, from the redwoods to the desert to the volcanoes to the coast, the garden grows plants from that place within its ten acres. That takes a good understanding of geologic matters.

Winter is a special time to visit. All the deciduous plants are bare with their structures on display.

That’s when to see the flowering manzanitas. California has dozens of species of Arctostaphylos in every part of the state. Last week, in February, this manzanita was on the late side of bloom while others were hitting their stride. Manzanitas get many California bee species through the winter when nothing else blooms.

The garden has local plants, like the redwoods in the river gorge at the north end, and plenty of smaller ones in their own plots. These are fun to spot in the woods.

The garden’s website points out highlights for every month of the year.

The gardeners use every trick to make Mojave Desert species happy in the cool, wet hills.

They can do a lot by controlling sun exposure, drainage and ground covers. I saw several examples of their geological thoughtfulness, too.

The native soil is moist and fertile, derived from mudstones and volcanic rocks. To grow alpine and desert plants here, it’s replaced with much leaner soils. Also, California has scores of unique species that thrive in serpentine soil, something alien to Tilden Park (lots of it in Redwood Park, though).

The garden’s visitor center has a good exhibit of serpentine and related rocks, with big hand specimens you can heft and peer at. (I wrote about it here during the great serpentine kerfuffle.)

Here a Sierra Nevada species is being raised on decomposed granite from its home locality.

This interesting plot is new since my last visit: an accurate miniature of a Sierran slope where the rock is not granite, but ancient slate and sandstone in what geologists call roof pendants. It’s a specific and widespread habitat throughout the Sierra Nevada.

The slabs of stone are tilted and stacked to reproduce the upturned layers of an outcrop, surrounded by slate rubble. This same habitat is found in the “tombstone rock” country of the foothills, pastureland that can’t be plowed because the slate protrudes in sharp blades from the ground.

I sought out the Botanic Garden staff to learn more. They love all kinds of questions. They said the rocks were quarried in the high Sierra and assembled here, using boulders to help hold the slices together. It’s taken them three years. To reproduce the chemical character of the scant soil between the stone layers, they placed an order for expanded shale from a Utah supplier because the expanded clay offered by nearer firms wouldn’t have the right chemistry.

I was told that by tweaking the recipe they can customize each crack to suit the exact needs of the plant they put in it. If you like the rock garden in the Gardens at Lake Merritt I wrote about three years ago, you’ll love watching this geological feature as the years and seasons proceed.

PS: I told about a great spot to enjoy our local manzanitas a few years ago, a real “bee-loud glade.”

Oakland building stones: the County Admin Building

19 February 2024


Gene Anderson photo from the Oakwiki, CC SA-BY

The County of Alameda Administration Building at Oak and 12th Streets was designed for work, not for show. Like “Whistler’s Mother,” it’s a study in gray. And at the moment the early-1960s structure looks kind of dingy. But its design lends itself to interesting effects in stone that are apparent at close range.

When it was built, the five-story reinforced-concrete structure was said to embody “contemporary classic” style, and it’s very much of its period. The idea was to add a much-needed annex to the 1930s-era county courthouse across Oak Street — both buildings house courtrooms and are connected by a tunnel — so the Administration Building was meant to complement rather than outshine the earlier structure.

The site is on the gently sloping edge of the downtown platform of ice-age sand dunes. The front entrance on Oak Street serves the ground floor while the rear entrance on Madison serves the second story.

In design and construction, as recorded on the black granite panel on Oak Street, the Admin Building was a local product in a way we don’t see any more.

The architects were an amalgam of designers. Van Bourg, Nakamura and Associates, a young Oakland firm that later became VBN Architects, is responsible for many public buildings in the area. The Berkeley father-and-son team of Walter and Robert Ratcliff added their own gravitas and experience. The construction firm of longtime Alameda resident Ferdinand “Fred” C. Stolte, which had left its mark all over town, handled the building of the building.

It went up relatively fast, easy, and cheap at $4.4 million. The money came from the county employees retirement fund, which the county paid back on good terms.

The design of the Admin Building, first publicized in 1960, included the plaza along Oak Street as we know it today, half trees and half hardscape dotted with massive planters. The walls were clad with precast concrete panels with a “crushed granite finish,” what appears to be polished clasts of dark Sierra granite.

If I’m ever assigned jury duty here, I hope to get a closer look at it and update this post.

To all appearances this is the same kind of cladding used to good effect in the great Kaiser Center edifice and other contemporary buildings, although unlike those cases it’s polished to an even flat face.

Ground was broken for the building on 1 August 1961, and a 3-ton granite cornerstone was laid on 25 September 1962 with a time capsule inside it. The building went up without fuss or undue delay, other than a brief kerfuffle over whether to make the basement level a fallout shelter (they didn’t), a worker strike in 1962 and heavy rains that October.

The dedication took place on 19 March 1964. At the time the trees in the plaza were palms; today they’re plane trees. The Berkeley Gazette called the building “magnificent”; the Tribune noted its “grace and economy of line” although as you can see the context was not particularly about architecture.

This full-page photo caught my eye because the bottom portion shows that the entryway was different, not disabled-friendly, in the early years. It appears that the whole plaza was raised to create today’s level entrance. That would be when the pavement of granite blocks was installed.

The bronze sculpture is not original either; it replaced a fountain that used to drench unwary passers-by on gusty days, leading Supervisor Kent Pursel to complain to the newly formed County Arts Commission in 1966. Another add-on is the white panels flanking the entrance.

These continue inside the lobby. They feature the same high-grade dolomite marble used on the Kaiser Building exterior.

The picture above of the engraved granite slab shows two other attractive features of the Admin Building ground. There’s the rugged pavement of carefully blended crushed stone set in concrete . . .

and the rough-finished panels of luscious blond granite — technically, a syenite — that frame the whole.

I said earlier that the Admin Building is a local product, but this stone is not from around here, or even from California. Probably India or Brazil.

Finally, we have a few boulders in the strip along 11th Street. Plain old clean stones, individuals with personality.

The Sierra Nevada rivers fashioned them, perfect just as they are.