We here at Haighteration frequently find ourselves criticizing Muni for its many shortcomings, service interruptions, and near-daily frustrations. But did you know there was a time when Muni was actually a symbol of pride and optimism for the city? 98 years ago today, the first Muni-operated streetcar went into service. And by the way its launch was covered in a local paper, the San Francisco Call (which later merged with the Examiner), you'd think Muni was a gift from the heavens. In honor of Muni's birthday, check out this front-page account from the Call, dated December 29th, 1912 -- full of accounts of various San Franciscans practically exploding with pride at the scene. It's over the top, to be sure -- but certain to put smiles on the faces of even the most cycnical Muni riders among us.

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From the Library of Congress's "Chronicling America" Project:

Wheels Turn on San Francisco's Own Streetcar Line While 50,000 Cheer

MAYOR ROLPH AS MOTORMAN BEGINS INITIAL TROLLEY TRIP --- Dream of 20 Years Comes True and Great Throng Shouts, Toots Horns and Throws Flowers on Geary Street Electric Conveyances -- Entire Official Family Make Journey and All of Them Pay Nickel --- "IT'S PEOPLE'S ROAD BUILT BY PEOPLE" --- Executive From Front Platform Addresses Crowd and Assures Them, the "Share Holders," That Enterprise Must Prosper and Extend to All Sections of Metropolis -- Residents Along the Route Very Enthusiastic --- Electrified by a current of enthusiasm that surged through 50,000 breasts and broke forth in cheers from 50,000 throats, San Francisco's municipal railway sprang into action yesterday, cutting with its pioneer wheels an indelible track across the page of history. There was hardly any need of the trolley wire overhead. The spirit of the crowd was enough to move a battleship. From 12:30 o'clock in the afternoon, when Mayor Rolph squeezed aboard the first car at Geary and Kearny streets, until the car returned at 2 o'clock, there was one long succession of cheering, shouting, horn tooting, flower throwing and general jubilation. And well there might be. It was a dream of 20 years come true, success carved out of many failures, realization after almost a decade of expectation. LIKE RIDING ON AIR The Geary street road is in actual operation. Some people pinched themselves to make sure they were awake. Old men, grown gray with waiting, stood in the doorways of their homes out in Geary street, feebly waving canes and hats. One old fellow brushed the tears from his eyes. The joy was too much for him. Like the march of conquering heroes returning home for their laurel wreaths the gray coated cars seemed fairly to prance along the line. The engineers insist that they ran on the rails like any ordinary car, but those aboard felt certain that they were riding on air, and that the real motive power came somewhere from the hearts of an exuberant people. Mayor Rolph called it "the people's road, built by the people's money," and the people were there to prove it. All knew from previous announcements that the 10 cars were scheduled to start shortly after the lunch hour, and that the first car would lead the triumphant procession at exactly 12:30 o'clock. GREAT THRONG AWAITS Apparently nobody bothered much about the noonday meal. Long before 12 o'clock the gore of Geary, Market and Kearney streets was black with a curious expectant throng, which spread for half a dozen blocks in each direction. Lucky for San Francisco that the city, in its first venture as a railroad magnate, had the police with it. They had their hands full keeping clear a space wide enough for the cars to come down Geary street to the starting point. When the first car hove in sight, graceful in lines and splendid in its new uniform of gray with gold stripes, the people spoke their welcome in a shout that woke an echo in Twin peaks. All San Francisco wanted to get on that first car. The nickel was the greatest coin in the realm. Protests, pushes and broad backs of the police finally carved a passageway in the pack for the official passengers. ROLPH'S NICKEL "KNOCKED DOWN" Mayor Rolph jumped from his auto and managed to get in the vicinity of the rear platform. Treasurer John McDougald had bribed the real conductor to let him collect the first fare. Rolph was actually boosted aboard. As advised by a sign on the side of the car, he had his fare ready. Rolph paid the first fare, but here is a secret quite as important. Treasurer McDougald, who is presumed to be the guardian of the city's coin, was the first to "knock down" on the municipal railway. He kept the mayor's nickel for himself, boldly placing it in a plush jewel box which he brought for that purpose. But McDougald, "conscience stricken," as he explained later, made the robbery good by tossing in the fare box another perfectly good nickel. He will keep that paid by the mayor as a souvenir. JOY RIDE COSTS NICKEL PER Rolph had $2 in brand new 5 cent pieces, the first nickels ever made at the mint in this city, and coined within the last week. Those given Rolph were the first put in circulation. They were sent to him by Thomas P. Burns, acting assistant treasurer of the United States, and were distributed by Rolph among his friends on the first car. Rolph's entire official family, or at least all those physically able to jam their way through the crush, boarded the car with him. The board of works commissioners, supervisors, city engineers, builders of the cars and others, 70 in all, managed to get aboard. Superintendent Thomas A. Cashin of the municipal railway, upon whose shoulders rested the success or failure of the road's maiden trip, called out: "Every one must pay his fare; this is no joy ride at the city's expense." All obeyed. McDougald was not over particular about making change. He did not object if an official dropped a dime instead of a nickel into the box, but he insisted on at least a nickel. WHEELS UNDER FEET, SAYS ROLPH Rolph made a speech from the front platform before the car started. Having in mind the saying attributed to Gavin McNab that "the wheels should be taken from the heads of the people and put under their feet," he announced that "the wheels are now under our feet." He called attention to the place the Geary street road will take in history, since in San Francisco the first cable road was built and the city is now first to build and operate a municipal railway. "It is a fact worthy of rejoicing that before 1912 draws to a close the Geary Street Municipal railway starts today and marks a new era of progress in the affairs of our city, and the wheels are now under our feet," said Mayor Rolph as he leaned from the gateway of the car. "It is, in reality, the people's road built by the people and with the people's money. The first cable road in the country was built in San Francisco, and now the first municipal railway of the country is built in San Francisco. Our operation of this road will be watched closely by the whole country. It must prove a success. We must run it by proper methods. When we have it built from the ferry to the ocean it will be the best single route in the city, and we must extend it wherever possible, until it becomes a great municipal system. SURPLUS FUND TO START "Results speak louder than words. The monthly financial accounts will sing its praises better than horns can do. As the share holders, the best information I can give you today is the financial status of the affairs of your railroad." The mayor then told the "share holders" that the road, embracing 5 1/2 miles of double track, had cost $139,000 a mile, and that there is still available out of the original $1,902,341.50 bond funds a balance of $842,376.26 with which to build the extensions to the ferry and the beach. While the share holders were sill voicing their approval of the management of their road, Rolph seized the controller and officially started the Geary street road in operation. There was an instant's quiver, a moment of tense hesitation, and, then suddenly the motor broke into its purr of satisfaction, the bell clanged, the wheels grumbled a business like answer, and the municipal railway was in motion. "GOOD LUCK, JIM!" CROWD YELLS Slowly at first, and in fact for many blocks, the first car ploughed its risky way through the blockade of spectators. Such a sendoff as it got will never be forgotten. Those aboard laughed like children. Mixed with the cries of man thousands was the tooting of auto horns, the blowing of fire whistles and calls to the mayor of "Good luck, Jim, happy New Year," and similar words of good will. Flags waved, moving picture men and photographers rushed hither and thither, and from the windows of every building the people shouted success to their own railway. At Union square and in front of the St. Francis hotel the auto horns played a deafening tune. Just beyond Stockton street little Edith Forrest, from the California florists, ran out with a gorgeous bouquet of pink roses and, lifted in the arms of a man, presented them to Rolph. The mayor accepted them as symbolic of the rosy future before the city road. LITTLE GIRLS WAVE GREETINGS Hanging on the iron railing about the Protestant orphanage in Franklin street a group of little girls waved and added their shrill childish voices to those of the throng. On sidewalks, steps, balconies, fences, roofs and every vantage point residents in Geary street who had waited so long for the city cars presented a row of faces that appeared, as the car swept by, to be one great grin. At Laguna street rice was showered upon the car and at other points along the line. Some one said it celebrated the wedding of the city to the policy of municipal ownership, but it was no doubt simply a happy people's way of showing their lightness of heart. One man at Buchanan street was completely carried away with excitement. He was a peddler of toy balloons. In his anxiety to wave both hands he let the whole bunch of colored gas bags escape, but he still smiled after the car. FILLMORE STREET OUT IN FORCE Fillmore street gave the new road a big reception. At Divisadero a fire engine just leaving the house shrieked its welcome. The city car barn in Presidio avenue was reached wihout a mishap or near accident. From there on the car jumped into high speed, running along Point Lobos avenue to Tenth avenue and turning down Tenth avenue to the park at Fulton street. "Everybody off," cried Rolph. "And you can't get back on again without paying your fare."