SF’s most-hated boats: Remembering Barney Gould’s nautical follies

It would take quite a voyage to find more despised vessels than these in San Francisco’s seafaring history.

While in The Chronicle’s archive looking through photos of Aquatic Park, I noticed a large, distinctive boat docked near the pier in most of the 1950s images. Digging a bit deeper, I learned about the history of the Fort Sutter, a retired riverboat that entrepreneur Barney Gould planned to turn into a floating restaurant and theater showcase. This ship’s fate ended in flames, and it wasn’t the businessman’s only nautical folly.

Gould’s first showboat candidate — called the Port of Stockton — got its initial shot at fame through the typewriter strikes of none other than The Chronicle’s Herb Caen. Gould bought the vessel in 1947 and planned to name it the Emperor Norton, after the famed San Francisco resident who in the mid-19th century proclaimed himself emperor of the United States.

A few weeks after Caen mentioned the ship in his column, Gould was quoted in the Aug. 24, 1947, edition of The Chronicle saying it would take a $100,000 investment to convert the Port of Stockton into a place for dining, dancing and old-time American dramas.

This bay-borne dream, however, was never meant to be.

It took Gould more than four years to gain approval for his plan from the city’s Recreation and Park Department, and when the boat was going through repairs near China Basin in March 1952, it sank in a storm.

This setback didn’t discourage Gould from chasing his dream, though. He went out and purchased another riverboat, the aforementioned Fort Sutter, and with the help of a couple of tugboats tried to tow it to Aquatic Park in February 1953.

The mission, as should have been expected, had its share of bumps.

On the first try, the former Sacramento River boat got stuck on a bar 10 feet short of the beach. Gould and his crew went at it again at high tide the next day, but the ship and the bay would not cooperate. Finally, a few days later and through a lot of sweat and effort, the Fort Sutter made it to its dock.

For years, Gould squabbled with partners, investors and the Recreation and Park Department. Things got excessively testy in August 1956 when the city gave Gould a three-month deadline to do something about the Fort Sutter, which was rotting away at Aquatic Park. Mayor George Christopher, sick of the situation, was quoted in The Chronicle as saying: “If he doesn’t (do something), I’ll go down there with a hand ax and attack the boat myself.”

Meanwhile, Gould was still getting flak from the San Francisco Port Authority about his first ship, the Port of Stockton, which two years after sinking was still blocking a shipping channel. It sat waterlogged until 1956, when tow truck operator John Haran, under a contract with the city, tried to demolish the ship using a giant tow truck crane. He failed.

Two years later, the boat was smashed to pieces by Sherman Crane Service after the city stipulated in July 1958: “No pay until the job is done.”

San Francisco was then down to only one of Gould’s maritime messes.

The Fort Sutter’s end, at long last, came on May 1, 1959. A dock watchmen, John R. Murphy, saw four young men run up a gang plank to the boat. Before Murphy could stop them, they poured gasoline on the deck and set the vessel ablaze.

San Francisco Fire Chief William Murray arrived at the scene with the second-alarm responders. “We’ll let ’er burn,” he said. “The city will save money on it.”

When Gould arrived, he let his opinion be known: “Sabotage!” he shouted.

Portals of the Past columnist and author Gary Kamiya, writing about Aquatic Park in 2015, provided insight on the Fort Sutter arson, whose flames could be seen in Berkeley.

“The four men were said to be members of the South End club,” he wrote. “No one was ever punished.” A member of the South End club told Kamiya, “We all know the guys who did it. We named a boat after them.”

Bill Van Niekerken is the library director of The San Francisco Chronicle, where he has worked since 1985. In his weekly column, From the Archive, he explores the depths of The Chronicle’s vast photography archive in search of interesting historical tales related to the city by the bay.

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