An unearthed time capsule beneath the Transamerica Pyramid shows a glimpse of San Francisco’s past

Like other famous structures of similar dimensions, the 48-story Transamerica Pyramid, a revolutionary ‘70s modernist skyscraper and San Francisco icon, has a bit of history buried beneath its ground floor.

A recently unearthed time capsule, buried in 1974 and discovered during a recent round of renovations, offers a picture of San Francisco’s past. The site of the structure—then a parking lot—was initially part of the original shoreline of the city that reeked of historical significance, from the city’s growth as a shipping and banking capital. The capsule even contains a recipe for Pisco Punch, a cocktail that was invented at the nearby Bank Exchange Saloon, site of the city’s original stock exchange. 

Part of an exhibit in the building lobby opening May 18, the time capsule’s contents are timeless: pictures of the building’s steel frame beginning to stretch skyward, or vintage news clippings and images of the city after its last ’60s flowering. But within the cylindrical steel capsule, which looks a bit like a large propane tank, there’s also a narrative about building in America, and how that’s radically changed in the last 50 years. 

The battle over the permitting and construction of the Transamerica Pyramid in San Francisco from 1969 to 1972 offers a flashback to a different time in development, real estate, and construction. The tower was proposed and built in just three years, a sprint compared to the time it takes today to build a signature part of a city skyline. Construction alone for the One World Trade in New York City took eight years; the Comcast Tech Center in Philadelphia, which had issues with cracks in some of the steel frame, took five years; and the St. Regis in Chicago took four years. An analysis of high-rise buildings by Construction Physics found building speeds decreased significantly over the past century, in many cases extending the time it takes to finish by roughly 50%.

Buildings are more complex and require more permitting today, including complicated environmental review processes. This time-consuming process of development has led to backlash against what opponents call stifling building regulations. It has also led to more engagement from architects around code reform issues including elevator rules and exit stairs, and the formation of the abundance agenda, a center-left push by pundits like Ezra Klein to get the nation building fast again. 

“The pace of the approval and the construction here is unbelievable,” says developer Michael Shvo, who paid $650 million to acquire the Transamerica Pyramid in 2020, at the depths of the COVID office freeze.. “The ​​Mayor was very determined to get this thing approved, and Transamerica was very determined to get a building built, and with all the controversy, once they got the green light, they ran as fast as possible. They built it in two years, we couldn’t do that today.”

A more humane debate

Transamerica was then a massive business conglomerate with interests in banking, financial services, and insurance. According to former public relations staffer John Krizek, who worked for Transamerica during the pyramid’s construction and ultimately created the time capsule, the back-and-forth between protestors and developers at the time was more humane, more respectable, and more amusing. 

The conversation around the Transamerica Pyramid was, at the time, a larger debate about images, architecture, and aesthetics. The tower was not just a unique shape, but would tower above the skyline. It was to be the city’s tallest building, and wouldn’t be surpassed until 2018’s Salesforce Tower. 

Artists and community members protested the building for aesthetic reasons, and general distrust of large corporations. Posters passed around the city at the time proclaimed “San Francisco Gets the Shaft” or “Artists Against the Icicle.” The city’s then planning director called the pyramid, designed by architect William Pereira, “inhumane.” 

During early street protests in front of the company’s office, Transamerica execs sent secretaries to bring ice tea to the protestors lining up outside. During another protest, Krizek and his colleagues printed up fake fortune cookies at a nearby Chinatown bakery, frantically stuffing messages like “Transamerica–Not a square outfit” or “People who protest pyramid seek Che-ops publicity.” 

Krizek recalled that the company was determined to break ground in December 1969. The building plan was announced in January of that year, and there was a tax break worth approximately $750,000 expiring at the end of December. Since Krizek and his coworkers knew that as soon as the company was given approval to build, there would be an appeal, they planned to move fast and break ground before paperwork was filed. To head off any challenges, they staged a tractor and truck near the site and sent someone to pick up the approval during the midday lunch break; they were able to get a time-stamped photo of someone digging at site while those opposing the project saw their appeal delayed as staffer enjoyed their lunch.

“The emotions around this building, I’ve never seen this for any other building in the world,” says Shvo. “The debates today are more practical; this structure will block my view or cast a shadow. You can’t say that about this building, it was a pyramid designed to let the light down to the street level. It didn’t block views, the only thing people could complain about was this idea of the Manhattanization of San Francisco.”

Originally, Pereira’s design was meant for a new building for ABC in New York City. The network passed on the project, deeming the design too futuristic, and went with another architect’s vision. Today, the Transamerica Pyramid stands as an icon in San Francisco, with 80% of the space leased in a challenging office market. The building ABC picked instead? It’s since been demolished. 

View the full article