To spot the Westin St. Francis, just look straight across the western edge of Union Square for a grand, historic hotel with a distinctive, castle-like stone facade topped by green cornices and American flags-right behind it, you’ll see a towering modern structure with wide, vertical stripes and glass elevators running up the side.
Take in this sweeping view, and let your imagination whisk you back to the early 1900s, when the St. Francis was the new jewel of San Francisco, gleaming with pride. Built in 1904 for the grandchildren of Charles Crocker-one of the legendary railroad tycoons-it was meant to be called the Crocker Hotel, but instead took on the noble name of an old Gold Rush inn, the St. Francis. Now, if these walls could talk, they’d probably ask for royalties-the stories in here would make any Hollywood scriptwriter jealous.
Picture those first guests, stepping into the ornate lobby, the air holding a faint scent of cigar and lavender water, marble floors shining beneath their feet. But let’s not forget the event that nearly brought the show to an end before it began: the infamous 1906 earthquake. Can you imagine? The ground roars, the chandeliers sway and clink, and terrified guests race for the marble stairs-broken, cracking, and collapsing as chaos reigns. In his bathrobe, manager James Woods tries to restore order while the guests flee outside into Union Square. Just fifty-five seconds, and the whole city spun upside down. Though fires gutted the hotel, its strong bones remained, ready for a speedy rebuild-so speedy, in fact, that a mini “Little St. Francis” was thrown up right in Union Square to house guests while workers restored the hotel.
Fast forward to the Gilded Age’s wild parties and see a different crowd: film stars and presidents, socialites and soldiers. The rooms have played host to legends-novelist Sinclair Lewis, circus showmen the Ringling Brothers, Isadora Duncan with her swirling scarves, and actor Charlie Chaplin, perhaps tipping his hat to the bellhop. Art Hickman’s jazz band filled the Rose Room with swinging, brassy music. Not to be outdone, the kitchen produced culinary marvels, like Victor Hirtzler’s extravagantly fancy mousse-so delicious that it (allegedly) bankrupted the King of Portugal. One dish, one king, two bankruptcies-now that’s the power of food!
Ah, but not every story here is delicious. In 1921, in the plush suites above, the hotel was rocked by scandal-the tragic Fatty Arbuckle affair. The headlines screamed as the beloved comedian faced trial three times in front of a nation gripped with gossip and outrage. All this unfolded just floors above the awestruck bellboys and society guests.
Step through the decades and the St. Francis weaves itself into the very heart of San Francisco’s history. Opera singer Enrico Caruso ran here from the nearby Palace Hotel after the quake, clutching a photograph of President Roosevelt and a vow never to return. During World War II, the lobby filled with uniforms as the city became a gateway for the Pacific Theater, big bands jazzed up the Mural Room, and the shops became tiny billets for officers. In 1945, the world’s eyes turned to the St. Francis as diplomats from around the globe-France, the Soviet Union, Latin America-gathered here for the founding of the United Nations.
Over the years, the St. Francis became the go-to place for the rich and famous: Cary Grant, Salvador Dalí (who once posed in his bathtub here with a lobster on his head-talk about shellfish behavior!), and even presidents-including JFK, Ronald Reagan, Gerald Ford, and Queen Elizabeth II. In fact, Ford was almost assassinated outside this very entrance back in 1975, saved by the quick reflexes of a bystander. The tension was enough to make even seasoned Secret Service agents sweat.
From the marble lobby with its historic master clock to the famed coin-cleaning service (yes, they’ll give your pocket change a polish, in case you want your quarter to shine while tipping), the St. Francis has always found ways to blend tradition and modernity. Look closely and you might spot Ansel Adams’ classic photos on the wall-or relics in the lobby’s memorabilia collection, like vintage room keys, ancient dinner menus, and press clippings from every era.
Even now, the story isn’t finished. Labor strikes and renovations come and go, but the Westin St. Francis stands strong-classic, bustling, and forever a canvas for San Francisco’s evolving tale. So go ahead-step inside where presidents dined, stars danced, and maybe, just maybe, the next great story is waiting to unfold.
